Robot Blues (31 page)

The MPs had
stopped, were talking to a sergeant, who was wiping greasy hands on a rag and
looking considerably alarmed.

“The crate is over
there in the corner, sirs,” he said as Tycho and Quong approached. He nodded in
the general direction, apparently had no intention of getting any closer. “There’s
nothing wrong with it, is there?”

“We certainly hope
not, Sergeant. Now, have you or any of your people come within a three-meter
distance of the crate?” Dr. Quong asked crisply.

“Three meters.”
The sergeant ruminated, shook his head. “Nope, sir. Why? What would happen if
we did?”

Tycho produced a
strange-looking instrument from his briefcase. Activating it, he pointed it at
the sergeant and touched a button, producing a slight whooshing sound. A series
of lights began to flash different colors.

“What’s that, sir?”
The sergeant eyed it suspiciously.

“Have you
experienced any of the following in the past twelve hours: dizziness, nausea,
trouble swallowing, fever, swelling of the hands or feet, bloody stools,
coughing, vomiting, or premature ejaculation?” Dr. Quong asked, electronic
notebook in hand.

Huh?” The sergeant
blinked at them, backed up a pace. “I—”

“What about
tenderness of the stomach, swelling of the head, skin eruption, or attention
deficit disorder?”

The sergeant,
looking worried, put his hand to his brow. “Now you mention it, I—”

“Thank you!” Tycho
said abruptly, switching off his toothbrush and inserting it back into his
briefcase. “All appears normal, Doctor. He has not been contaminat—
er—affected.”

“Excellent,
excellent,” Quong murmured. “Now, Sergeant, if you could show us the crate ...”

“Over there, sir,
next to the Devastator. You can’t miss it.” The sergeant stood his ground, was
apparently not going anywhere near the crater.

“Thank you,
Sergeant,” said Dr. Quong, and turned to the other mechanics. “Perhaps you
gentlemen could wait outside.”

This request was
obeyed with alacrity, most of those within the work area having already sidled
over near the door. When everyone was outside the shed, the MPs took up a
position in front of the door, a completely unnecessary precaution.

“See, friend
Tycho?” said Quong, as they walked over to find the robot crate. “This was
easy.”

They discovered
the crate leaning up against the Devastator, just where Xris had described it.
Tycho bent his long, thin frame, crouched down to peer at it.

“You are being
overly pessimistic,” the doctor continued. Quong remained standing, keeping an
eye on the MPs.

“Am I?” Tycho
straightened. His expression was grim. His skin had Hushed to a fevered orange.
“Take a look at this and tell me if I’m being a pestilence.”

“Pessimist,” Quong
corrected; Tycho’s translator occasional lapsed into incoherence.

The doctor walked
over, bent down to study the robot crate. He took a good, long look. Quong
raised his gaze.

“Oh, shit,” he
said.

“Without a paddle,”
Tycho added gloomily.

Yet, ah! why
should they know their fate?

Since sorrow never
comes too late,

And happiness too
swiftly flies,

Thought would
destroy their paradise.

Thomas Gray, “Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College”

Ignorance is bliss
and Xris was, for the moment, blissful. Or rather, he had his own set of
problems and was operating under the assumption that these problems were his
most urgent problems. Which meant that he was currently blissful, if only by
contrast.

He and Tess, Raoul
and the Little One were all crowded together in the front of the rent-a-plane,
discussing Jeffrey Grant. Grant hovered near, shy, uncomfortable, and
persistent.

“You’re saying
that the Little One figured this all out telepathically.” Tess cast a scornful
glance at the rain-coated figure. “And that’s how he knows that this man knows
about the robot.”

“Of course,” Raoul
said loftily. “How else would he know?”

“Oh, maybe because
this man works for you. That he showed up right on cue—”

“For what reason?”
Xris asked impatiently. “To do what?”

Tess lifted her
hands helplessly. “I don’t know! I don’t know anything anymore. I don’t know
who to believe.

All right. Let’s
say, for the sake of argument, that the Little One is right. That this man does
know something about the robot. How?”

“Maybe he’s
Harsch,” Xris suggested. “Maybe he’s using the telepathic scrambler.”

The Little One
opened his small palms, slapped himself on the forehead several times.

“No. He could
tell,” Raoul stated flatly.

The Little One put
his head between his two hands, heedlessly smashing the rim of the fedora, and
rocked his head back and forth, rolling his eyes.

“He said that the
entire time we were with Sakuta, he”—Raoul gently touched his friend on the
shoulder—” felt dizzy and sick. He thought it was some sort of flu and he said
nothing about it, for fear Dr. Quong would start poking at him again. No
offense to the good doctor,” Raoul hastened to add. “But you must admit that
his bedside manner is somewhat abrupt—”

“The telepathic
scrambler,” Xris reminded Raoul. The iridescent-winged mind had fluttered from
one flower of conversation to another, required netting.

“Ah, yes.” Raoul
had to pause to think of where he’d been. “The Little One thought he was coming
down with the flu. He didn’t, however. His health has been excellent, as you
know. The strange feeling passed, but it left him rather out of sorts. In a bad
mood. He kept thinking that something was wrong and he should know what, but he
couldn’t figure it out. And then, during the party, when I mentioned to Darlene
that the assassins had scramblers, he put two and whatever that other number is
together and came up with—”

“Assassins?
Scramblers?” Tess looked from Xris to Raoul.

“Not important,”
Xris said. “Another case we were working on. I know one thing. This isn’t the
same person I met at the museum. Not by a long shot. Of course, Harsch might be
a master of disguise.”

“The Little One
says that this is
not
Harsch,” Raoul reiterated. “The Little One is of
the opinion that this Grant person is precisely the Grant person he claims to
be. He has acquired knowledge about the robot from years of study of ancient
space flight, with particular emphasis on ... on ...” Raoul waved a vague hand.
“Professor Lasagna ..

“Lasairion, sir,”
Jeffrey Grant corrected. He had been listening to the conversation with the
befuddled gaze of someone whose translator is on the fritz. He could understand
a few words from time to time, but most of the talk was meaningless. Now,
however, he had heard something he understood. He rose to his feet, literally
trembling with excitement. “Do you know about Professor Lasairion?”

Raoul bowed from
the waist. “God forbid. I am merely the translator. And then, of course, there
is his machine.”

“What machine?”
Tess demanded, clearly rattled.

Raoul pointed to
the copilot’s chair. They all trooped around to look. In the chair, strapped in
lovingly with extreme care, was some sort of strange-looking machine. A small
electric backlit screen tilted up from an ancient computer keyboard—the kind with
all the letters in the most inconvenient places. A blue light flashed
intermittently on the side of the machine. An odd, yet not unpleasant humming
emanated from it.

“Please don’t
touch it, Captain,” Grant begged, as the entire contingent stared at it. “It’s
very old and delicate.”

“Another antique,”
Xris said. “With a few more of these we could hold a garage sale.”

“It is very
special,” Raoul said, with a knowing flutter of his eyelids. “This machine is
in communication with the robot. According to the Grant-person, that is why it
is making that tooth-grating sound.”

Jeffrey Grant
gazed at the Little One in astonishment. “That’s
exactly
what I was
thinking! He’s quite remarkable, isn’t he, sir? As for the humming sound, I
know it
is
a bit irritating. I’m really sorry, but there’s nothing I can
do to stop it. I’m not completely certain how it works—”

Tess interrupted
him. “This machine’s in communication with the robot. . . Good God!” She bent
down, peered at it intently. “Are you telling me that this machine is a ... a
Collimated Command Receiver Unit?”

“Yes, ma’am!”
Jeffrey Grant clapped his pudgy hands together. “Absolutely correct! And may I
say, ma’am, that you’re the first person I’ve ever encountered who has studied
the work of Professor Lasairion. How did you—”

“I’m asking the
questions,” Tess snapped, and then she didn’t ask anything. She stood in
silence, frowning deeply at the humming machine.

Xris took
advantage of the lull in the conversation to have a private talk with Raoul.

“What’s going on
with this guy?” Xris asked quietly, keeping his back to Grant. “What’s the
Little One picking up?”

Raoul shook his
head—carefully, so as not to muss his hair. “You know how the Little One feels
about technology, my friend. He doesn’t understand it. He doesn’t like it. He
finds that it frightens him. This man’s mind is a technological jungle. The
Little One says that looking inside the Grant person is akin to looking beneath
the hood of a hoverjeep. It is filled with objects that make no sense to him.”

“No sign that this
is all a put-on? An act?”

The Little One,
crowding beside Xris to hear, shook his own head emphatically.

Tess had
apparently thought out what she wanted to say. “Where are you from, Mr. Grant?
How did you come into possession of the Collimated Command Receiver Unit? When
did the unit start to ... uh ... hum? How did you know to come to Pandor to
find the robot?”

Grant looked
somewhat confused, decided to take the questions in order. “I’m from the planet
XIO, Captain. I run a museum there—”

Xris snorted.

Grant paused,
regarded him anxiously. “Did I say something—”.

“I’ve had it up to
here with museum curators, that’s all. Never mind. Go on.”

“I have been a
collector of space memorabilia for over fifty years, sir,” Grant said with
quiet pride. He seemed to feel better, talking about himself. “Ever since I was
a child. This”—he laid a hand lovingly on the Collimated Command Receiver Unit—”is
my most valued possession, though not, I must say, my most valuable. The unit
was offered for sale over one of the computer bulletin boards. Its owner
obviously had no idea what he had. I recognized it immediately from his
description. He wanted a lot for it, mainly because it was old, not because he
knew its true worth. After a month of delicate negotiations, during which I had
to appear interested, but not too interested, I drove down his price and
finally acquired the Collimated Command Receiver Unit. It has resided in an
honored place in my museum for the last twenty years. Beneath it is a plaque
that reads:
only known relic of the
lasairion period.”
He
was
wistful. “I only need the robot to complete my collection. I have a special
place all ready to house it.”

“I’m sorry, Mr.
Grant,” Tess said, firmly but kindly destroying all hope. “That robot is
government property.”

“Yes, I know,” he
said softly. “But I would take good care ...” His voice trailed off.

Xris took a twist
out of the gold case, studied it longingly, glanced out the window at the MPs
on guard outside the spaceplane. He put the cigarette back in its case, the
case in his pocket. He looked at his watch.

“Captain Strauss,”
he said. “Could I have a word with you?”

Tess glanced
uncertainly at the machine, then at Grant. Keeping them both in sight, she
walked over to where Xris was standing. “What is it?”

“I know that this
is all very fascinating from a scientific point of view, but we’re running out
of time,” Xris said in a low voice. “I arranged to meet Sakuta at Hell’s
Outpost tomorrow. How long will it take you to debrief the robot?”

“You mean download
the information? Several hours, maybe all day,” Tess said. “I’m going to have
to experiment; finding the correct interface could prove difficult.

And now there’s
this unit. This makes everything a lot more complicated.”

“Yeah. Just answer
me one question: Do I or do I not take the robot to Sakuta?”

“Harsch.”

“Whoever!” Xris
was losing patience. “Look, you’ve got the robot. Let’s take it
and
the
unit back to the command cruiser and let the admiral deal with it.”

“What about Grant?”
Tess asked. “He may be as innocent and naive as he looks, but he may also be
one hell of a good actor. Suppose he is an agent for Harsch? He comes to get
the ‘bot, discovers that we already have it. So he plays stupid.”

“And brings along
an antique machine as a prop? Well, I suppose anything’s possible.” Xris was
edgy. He wanted to get this job over with, fast. He didn’t like the idea of
Darlene out there somewhere on her own. “Look, you can shoot him, for all I
care—”

“I can’t do that!”
Tess was shocked. “He’s a civilian!”

Xris grinned. “So
am I. And you were ready to shoot me.”

Tess ignored him. “I’ll
go back to HQ, relay all this to the Admiralty. You stay here with Grant.”

“What about the
unit?”

“The unit comes
with me for safekeeping.”

“Still don’t trust
me, huh?”

“Sure I do,” Tess
said, patting him on the shoulder. She returned to Jeffrey Grant. “I’m afraid I’m
going to have to confiscate your Collimated Command Receiver Unit, Mr. Grant.
Don’t worry. The government will compensate you.”

Grant looked
stricken, moved to stand protectively in front of the unit. “But I don’t want
to be compensat—”