Space For Hire (Seven For Space) (7 page)

Mouse Headquarters was an odd jumble of flat white windowless cubes in a dizzying variety of sizes. If you were a giraffe head from Oberon they had a very tall cube for you; if you were round and squat, as were the slugbellies from Callisto, they had a wide cube to fit; if you were Earthsize they used yet another special cube designed for humans.

I was impressed.

They took away my contra-grav belt after I was seated. My body suddenly seemed gross and massive. Under the crushing pull of Jupiter's raw gravity it took immense effort simply to raise my arm.

The mouse in charge of questioning sat down at a tiny desk facing me. The desk was on a raised platform in line with my nose.

"I'm Police Inspector McFarlin," he told me. He was solemn and gray, with multi-dyed neckfur; he wore thick rimless glasses just above his whiskers. "You are guilty of a very serious crime, Mr. Space."

He prodded my ID papers with a large pair of forceps.

"How can I be guilty of anything? I haven't been given a hearing."

"Unnecessary," he piped. "We dispense with hearings when we have mouse-eye evidence, as in this case. You are clearly guilty of attempted assault with a lethal weapon, combined with potential forced entry." He removed his eyeglasses with a brown paw and regarded me with watery eyes. "Why are you Earth people so violent?"

He didn't expect an answer to that and I didn't have one for him. Instead, I asked him a question that had been rankling me. "How did you know I'd be there? Did that nosy bizmouse I talked to in the tube turn in a police alarm?"

"No, he did not," said McFarlin. "You needn't concern yourself with who tipped us. Suffice to say that we had prior warning that you were on your way to the site. We were, of course, helpless in a legal sense until you pulled out your weapon. This gave us full authority to move in and arrest you."

I wondered if Nicole had set me up. Again. It didn't scan otherwise. No one else knew the address I was headed for. Had she given me another con? I wasn't sure. But I'd find out.

"As to my weapon," I declared, "I have an in-date solar permit to carry my .38 and it's legal anywhere in the System. I had good reason to believe that a dangerous criminal — a murderer — was inside that office and I felt fully justified in apprehending him by force."

"You were ill-informed, unwise and extremely impulsive in a destructive sense of the term," the mouse said coldly. "You were acting well beyond your licensed authority." He laced his paws in front of him, peering intently at me. "And just who is this dangerous criminal?"

"I wish I could tell you. His name begins with F."

The Inspector mouse-clucked at me. "And is that all you know about him?"

"I know he's ruthless. I know he tried to have me done away with and that he hired professional Loonies to kill Dr. Emmanuel Q. Umani on Mars."

"But you don't even know his last name?" The tone in the tiny voice was heavily sarcastic.

"I was about to find out when you cop mice swarmed all over me," I growled. "I was hitting one of his branch offices."

"That branch office, the one you were about to ‘hit' with your deadly weapon in hand, belongs to one of the most respected citizens of the System."

"And who would that be?"

"Ronfoster Kane of Mercury."

"The Robot King?"

"Precisely. The entire robo force of Pluto lies under his direct control. We wouldn't be eating Zubu eggs today were it not for Ronfoster Kane!"

"I hate Zubu eggs," I said.

"That is wholly beside the point," said McFarlin.

"Maybe F. and this Kane are in cahoots," I suggested.

"I am not familiar with the term."

"Maybe they're tied together somehow," I said. "F. sent a faxcard from Kane's office, using that address. How do you account for it?"

The mouse had reached the end of his patience. "I do not have to account for anything," he declared. "But you do, sir. To suggest that Ronfoster Kane is in any way connected with murder is simply outrageous. Why, he developed all of the robot Moonsaints — a most holy and respected group."

"Whomping up tin saints doesn't make him one," I snapped. "I'm going to have me a little talk with Mr. Kane."

The mouse shook his head. "Not after Minnie is through with you."

"Who's Minnie?"

"She's the key to your future, Mr. Space." The Inspector chuckled softly and stroked his neckfur. His black eyes shone behind the thick glasses. "We shall retain your weapon as a legal curiosity — as you'll have no further use for it."

"Hey, I don't think —"But the mouse had touched a section of his desk and the floor of the cube suddenly dropped away. "Go in peace!" he said. I felt myself falling into darkness … into unconsciousness. I woke up inside Minnie.

I was flat on my back on a hard metallic surface. Sitting up was a job without the contra-grav belt, and it took some doing, but I made it, feeling like the fat woman in an Earth circus.

It was dark but the darkness was shot with eyes — countless winking lights which danced and sparkled from the walls. Sounds filled the chamber; clacking, buzzing, rasping, clicking, giant-bee sounds. And I could smell lubricants and fluids.

It was a machine, and I was in its bowels.

But what kind of machine?

Hello, there, Sam,
it said.
My name is Minnie.

Not said. Not aloud. The words were fired directly into my brain; the machine could read thoughts and answer them internally.

"Why am I in here?" I asked. "And what are you going to do with me?"

You must not speak aloud
, the machine said.
Your voice is grating and unpleasant.

Okay, I'd play Minnie's game. I mentally repeated both questions.

You are here because you broke the law. You did so because you are mentally defective. As to what I intend to do with you: I intend to cure you.

How?

I shall simply erase all aggressive impulses and thoughts from your mind, substituting non-aggressive impulses and thoughts.

A brainwash. McFarlin had sent me down here for a lousy brain-wash. A crummy little mouse with dyed neck-fur was going to put my thinker on the fritz!

You see
, said Minnie.
That's just what we wish to protect you against — angry, violent thoughts regarding inspector McFarlin, Mr. Kane and your other neighbors in the System. Such thoughts can only harm you and those around you. I shall remove them.

And she did.

Minnie's interior humming rose to a shriek. I felt metallic vibrations enter my body, my brain. Red and yellow fire seemed to bloom within my head. Colors fireworked before my eyes.

The vibrations diminished, died away. The fire and the wheeling colors sparked to black inside my skull. I was aware of the normal humming sounds of Minnie's interior.

I blinked, swallowed, ran my tongue over my dry lips. My heart had been pounding; now the pounding slowed, became regular. My pulse slowed, evened. I sighed.

How do you feel, Sam?

Fine, Minnie. I feel just fine.

That's nice. Isn't it nice to feel fine?

Everything is nice, I told her. I am nice. You are nice.

It is nice to be sitting here inside you. It is nice to be visiting your friendly planet. And all mice are nice.

I chuckled at my little rhyme.

Are you happy, Sam?

I am very happy, Minnie.

And what do you wish to do?

Nothing at all. I wish to do nothing.

But every member of the System does something.

Anything. I'll do anything. I smiled at all of Minnie's pretty lights.

That's nice to hear, Sam. I'm going to send you back topside where you'll be gainfully employed. Won't that be nice?

Very nice. That will be very nice, Minnie. It is very nice of you to help me.

It is my duty and my pleasure to help anyone in the System who is entrusted to me. You are a very nice man.

That's nice
, I said.

And Minnie sent me topside.

* * *

I don't remember much of what happened after that until I got to Pluto. My new job on Pluto was helping the work robots find Zubu eggs.

"Look," said a large freckled scaly creature, speaking to me during my first workperiod, "I'm a Zubu and I've got a lot of problems. First of all, I don't know whether I'm a fish or whether I'm a bird — and I'm not sure what sex I am. That's for openers."

"Yes," I said. "I'm listening."

"Well, I think I'm both male and female which would explain the fact that I never seem to have any fun with other Zubus. That is to say, I seem to impregnate myself and fertilize my own eggs."

"Please continue," I urged.

"Fine. Next, I go to one heck of a lot of trouble hiding these eggs of mine. There's a lot of work and time involved."

"I'm sure there is," I said.

"Not to mention intensive thought and exacting location selection. No sooner do I finally hide the last of my eggs than you people come along and go around digging them up. It's downright depressing. Believe me, it just adds to my basic insecurity and sexual maladjustment."

"I don't know what to tell you," I said to the freckled fishbird, or birdfish. "I just work here."

"It's no good talking to a work robot." The creature whistled sadly. "They're round and shiny and have metal heads and lack sensitivity to Zubu problems. The minute I saw you I said to myself: he's different. I could see right away that you were not round and shiny and metal-headed. I figured I could really talk to you about my situation."

"That's very true," I told him. "I shall certainly be happy to discuss any situation with you. So long as I am allowed to do my job of uncovering Zubu eggs."

The creature looked nettled. "But that is just the thing," he said. "I want you to stop uncovering Zubu eggs."

"Oh, goodness me, I could never do that," I declared. "I must not let the Big Mouse down. He's depending on me to do a good job."

"I thought all you egg-grabbers worked for Ronfoster Kane, the Robot King?"

"They do," I said, pointing to the stooped and laboring work robots."But I was sent here by the Big Mouse. He found a productive job for me and introduced me to a full and productive life. I am now helping feed the great masses of the System."

"And do you know what you are feeding them?" queried the disturbed creature. "I'll tell you what you are feeding them. You are feeding them my freckled eggs!"

I shook my head sadly. "Frankly, and in all honesty, I don't see any solution to your problem. It seems that you are supposed to hide your eggs and we are supposed to find them. That's the pattern here on Pluto and you can't alter the pattern."

"It's awfully depressing," said the freckled creature. He stood on one thin leg, then on the other. "Sometimes I feel like never hiding another egg."

"I can certainly sympathize with your plight," I told him. "Yet you have your cosmic purpose and I have my cosmic purpose. It is not up to us to question the established order. My goodness, if everyone questioned everything we'd have no order at all."

"At least it's been good talking to you about it," the sad creature said, ruffling its scales. "Maybe I'm some kind of rebel. I could cause trouble for myself. I shouldn't go around questioning things."

"You really shouldn't," I agreed. "It can only lead to grief and unhappiness."

"Thanks," said the birdfish. "I'm certain I'll straighten up. I get in moods. But I'm basically not a troublemaker."

"I'm sure you're not," I said.

He waddled off, muttering dolefully to himself.

I discovered two more freckled Zubu eggs and added them to my day's catch.

* * *

Pluto is 3,670 million miles from the Sun and it tends to get chilly.

But I didn't mind. The Big Mouse was generous in finding me such a nice place to work. I was allowed to eat three Zubu eggs per workperiod, and they were certainly delicious. I slept in a nice wooden box called a coffin, built for me by a work robot — and I was provided with some nice reading material. I read it all through my nonworkperiods and enjoyed it a lot. Some of it was called
The Three Little Pigs
. Other reading materials I especially liked were
Goofy Goes to Market
and
Donald's Big Birthday Party
.

I read them over and over.

I don't recall exactly how long I uncovered Zubu eggs. But I do recall the day my nice friend Nicole showed up on Pluto with a metal box under her arm.

"Hello there, Nicole. It is surely nice to see you. I hope you are well. Isn't it nice up here on Pluto?"

"They've brainwashed you, Sam," she told me.

"What is brainwashed?" I asked her.

"Never mind, just do as I say." She put the metal box on the ground. Then she attached some nice wires to my head. They led back to the box.

"Now sit very still and don't talk," she said.

"I have to go to work soon," I told her with a smile. "There are a lot of new Zubu eggs to uncover."

"Not for you," she said. "Not anymore."

Before I could ask her what she meant she did something to the box.

I felt a vast humming inside my skull.

Vibrations.

Red and yellow fire.

Whirling colors.

I blinked. My heart slowed. I swallowed.

"Are you okay, Sam?"

"Yeah, I'm okay," I said. "Thanks to you, sweetheart. Those mice had me daffy. How'd you find me?"

"F.'s gungoons broke in after you left," she said. "They tortured me into telling them where you'd gone."

So I'd been right about Nicole's tipping the address.

"Go on," I said.

"I finally got away from them and took off for Jupiter. Found out you'd been sent here for breaking the law. The rest was easy. I borrowed this clearbrain juicer from a supersolar agent I know on Ganymede and brought it here to Pluto."