A Toaster on Mars (4 page)

‘Don't move!' Pomphrey boomed. ‘I'm getting a medic for you, Blake—and I'm sending in your new partner.'

Blake stared at the ceiling as the assistant director hurried from the room.

I can't work with a partner
, he thought.
Not after Bailey.

A distant tapping interrupted his thoughts—the sound of high-heel shoes. Someone was coming down the hallway.

Not a female agent!

The woman who entered the hospital room was six feet tall. She had a perfect nose, sparkling blue eyes, and lips that men would die for. Her burgundy-coloured hair was cut in a fashionable bob, and she wore a grey suit jacket so trim it had to be made to measure. Marilyn Monroe would have been jealous of her measurements. The woman's skirt rode high above her knees. Too high. It couldn't be regulation.

And her skin was golden.

Because she was a
robot
.

‘So, you're Blake Carter.'

‘What the hell are you?'

‘It's
who
,' she said, thrusting out a hand. ‘Special Agent Nicki Steel.'

Blake shook without thinking. Her hand felt human. ‘You're a special agent with the PBI,' he said, dumbly. ‘But you're a robot.'

‘I'm not a robot. I'm a
cyborg
.'

‘Cyborg?'

‘Part robot, part human, all woman.'

‘How much…of what is which?'

‘I'm nine per cent human,' Nicki said. ‘Sections of my brain, nervous system, half a heart, a few bones.'

‘How…why…?'

‘Don't you worry about that.' She peered down at him. ‘I hear you used to be a good agent.'

‘Used to be… I
still
am. Better than good. I've closed more cases than you've had…grease and oil changes.'

Nicki Steel rolled her eyes. ‘I don't need grease,' she said. ‘Or oil.'

‘I don't need a partner—'

‘Because I'm a cyborg? That sort of prejudice—'

‘Being a cyborg's got nothing—'

‘So you've met.' Cecil Pomphrey appeared in the doorway. ‘Good.'

‘Assistant Director,' Blake stammered. ‘I can't take a toaster out on a case.'

‘A toaster?' Nicki gasped. ‘Well, I can't work with some washed-up—'

‘Washed-up!'

Cecil Pomphrey held up a hand, cutting Blake and Nicki off.

A doctor walked into the room. He was a Telubrian, a three-foot-tall species that looked suspiciously like white rabbits. He took advantage of the silence and inspected Blake's leg. ‘Oh,
voy
!' He shook his head. ‘What
havt
you done?'

‘It's nothing, Doc,' Blake said, still glaring at Nicki. ‘Just needs a little reattaching.'

‘You policemen.' The doctor started working on the limb. ‘You're all ze same. Too
toukch
for your own
zoots
.'

Blake frowned. ‘Too
toukch
for our
zoots
?'

‘Tough for our boots,' Nicki explained.

‘Assistant Director,' Blake said. ‘I can't work with a robot.'

‘A
cyborg
.'

‘You can,' Pomphrey said, ‘and you will. You'll treat Agent Steel like any other agent. Yes, she's a cyborg, but that makes no difference. She had the highest arrest rate in the south-west.' He turned to Nicki. ‘You will treat Agent Carter with the utmost respect. You have brains, but he has experience. Years of it. In the past he has brought in some of the most dangerous criminals this planet has ever seen.'

Then Pomphrey turned to Blake, scowling.

‘You'll take Nicki Steel as your partner or you'll be walking a beat on Pluto.' He leant in close. ‘Pluto's very cold this time of year.'

Blake nodded, but he was already thinking,
I'll ditch her as soon as I can. Then I can get back to the Badde case
.

‘Looks like I've got a partner,' he said.

‘Good man,' Pomphrey said, slapping his shoulder. ‘And one more thing. You're not working on the Badde case.'

‘What? That can't be!'

‘I'm sorry, Blake. It's for your own good.'

‘But I'm the expert!'

‘You're in no condition to go chasing after criminal masterminds. The whole agency's following up on the information you've put together. If thousands of agents can't track him down, then no one can.' He paused. ‘You're on light duties until further orders.'

‘Light duties…'

‘Show Agent Steel how we do things in Neo City,' he said. ‘That's an order.'

Giving them one last nod, Cecil Pomphrey left. Blake fell back into the bed and stared up at the ceiling.

I'm off the Badde case. How can that be? I'm the expert on Badde!

He had to get out of here and back to work.

Struggling to sit up, he said, ‘Hey, Doc, you finished there?'

The doctor stepped back from his leg with a satisfied grunt. ‘Goot as new,' he said, admiring his handiwork.

Blake started to climb out of the bed but felt an odd tugging at his leg again.

What the—?

‘Sprot!' Blake snarled.

The leg was on back-to-front.

‘Vell,' the doctor muttered. ‘Nobody's perfect.'

5

Blake and Nicki left the hospital. Although Blake didn't have a bounce in his step, he at least had an air of satisfaction. He was free of the hospital. Now he just had to get rid of this robot—correction, cyborg.

‘It's quite a town,' Nicki said.

‘It is.'

Blake gave her a sideways glance. The assistant director might have placed him on light duties, and given him a toaster to babysit, but there were times when you had to follow the rules, and times when you had to screw them up and throw them away. This was one of those times.

Maybe he could send her out for coffee. He knew a really good place—on Jupiter.

Except Nicki Steel didn't seem the type to take orders. It was hard to believe they would hand a badge and a weapon to someone made of metal and plastic. What was the world coming to?

Blake's stomach growled. He took out his two bottles of food. One was bacon and eggs, but the other—

Sprot.

Sighing, he swallowed one of the bacon and eggs pills.

‘Do you ever eat any healthy food?' Nicki asked.

‘That's none of your business.'

‘Are you always this painful, Agent Carter?'

‘Yes.'

‘I hope that isn't going to affect our working relationship.'

‘We don't have a working relationship.'

‘You're a funny guy. About as funny as that movie
Snakes on a Space Station
.'

‘We're working together,' Nicki said, ‘whether you like it or not. So maybe you should start acting like a cop and ask me some questions.'

‘Like what? Your favourite oil?' Blake shook his head. ‘Look, I don't want to offend you. I'm sure you're very skilled, but if I wanted a partner—which I don't—it wouldn't be a robot.'

‘
Cyborg
. And why not?'

‘You can't shoot suspects,' Blake said. ‘Robots can't kill people.'

‘What part of “I'm not a robot” don't you understand? I'm a cyborg. I can shoot, maim and kill—and I might start with you!'

That stopped Blake. ‘I've never met a…er…cyborg before,' he said. ‘I didn't know we made them.'

‘You make me sound like a can of beans.' Nicki turned away. ‘I wasn't designed on Earth. I was built… elsewhere. I was found on Vargus Four. I had no name. No memory. It was as if I had been wiped blank. A family took me in and raised me as their own.'

‘Even if I were ready to work with a toaster—'

‘Which I'm not,' Nicki said through gritted teeth.

‘—I'd need someone who can do everything a human can.'

‘I can—and more. I've got double the strength, speed and agility of a normal human. Plus my brain is built from pure quazitone.'

‘Quazitone. That's amazing.'

‘You don't know what it is, do you?'

‘Nope.'

‘It's a compressed substance made from the residue found at the event horizon of a black hole.'

‘Doesn't sound like you can buy it at a supermarket.'

Two guys walked past, looking Nicki up and down.

‘You get a lot of that?' Blake asked.

‘It's not easy being a sex goddess, but I live with it.'

Some people used robots for companionship, but Blake had always considered it weird. A person dating a toaster, even one with a high-spec AI, might as well date a photocopier.

‘Anyway,' Nicki said, ‘I'd rather look like this than…'

‘What?'

She nodded at him. ‘You're hardly a movie star.'

‘What're you saying?'

‘How old are you? Sixty?'

‘Forty!'

He looked for a cab, but then caught sight of Sally. The assistant director must have organised for her to be brought to the hospital.

Nicki stared at the car. ‘It does fly, doesn't it?' she asked.

‘Of course! What do you think I am? A Neanderthal?'

‘Is that a rhetorical question?'

‘Blake!' Sally exclaimed as they climbed in. ‘Where have you been?'

‘Around,' Blake said, evasively. He introduced Nicki
and started the engine. ‘We're going to PBI headquarters.'

Nicki stared at him, aghast, as he gripped the steering wheel. ‘Uh, what are you doing?'

‘What do you mean?'

‘You're not
driving
this car, are you?'

‘I'm a good driver.'

‘He wrecked his last twelve cars,' Sally said. ‘I live in constant fear for our safety.'

‘Shut up!' Blake said.

‘You don't need to be rude!'

Blake resisted the urge to thump the dashboard. ‘You're a motor vehicle,' he said. ‘I don't need to be polite.'

‘Why are you so stressed? Have you had a hard day on the streets?'

‘Blake was in hospital,' Nicki said.

‘Hospital! My little Blakey Wakey was in hospital!'

‘Don't call me that!'

‘Sally,' Nicki said, smirking as she shot Blake a look. ‘Have you got a little crush on Blake? Is that what it is?'

‘I've got a subroutine that makes me fall for bad men! They can slam my doors as hard as they want and I just keep coming back for more.' Sally paused. ‘Is it that obvious?'

‘Only to me. Blake's not the brightest star in the sky.'

Blake groaned.

Blake slammed his foot on the accelerator and they took off. Sally and Nicki chatted away as he gloomily navigated his way through the traffic. Badde was somewhere out there. The PBI might be trying to track him down, but they didn't know Badde like he did.

‘Thinking about the investigation?' Nicki asked.

Blake frowned. ‘How'd you know?'

‘I would be if someone stole a case I'd worked on for years.'

Blake sighed. ‘Badde is the galaxy's most infamous criminal. He's committed robberies from one side of the Milky Way to the other: the Sirus Four bank job, the Mars gold depository, the First Interstellar platinum heist. The robberies were always carried out after-hours, and no one was ever arrested.'

‘So he's always stayed in the shadows.'

‘Until now. We're lucky he's finally surfaced.'

‘I haven't seen the Badde file,' Nicki said.

‘There isn't much to see,' Blake told her. ‘But I've got a current photo of him.'

‘Blake, darling,' Sally groaned. ‘Not the photo.'

But he'd already brought it up on the internal monitor.

Nicki stared. ‘It's a picture of an elbow,' she said.

‘I know it's an elbow! I've been showing that photo around for fifteen years and it's gotten me nowhere!'

‘That's a pretty nasty-looking elbow. Maybe people are afraid to ID him.'