Robot Blues (4 page)

In his forties,
good-looking, with his dark eyes, Van Dyke beard, trimmed mustache, and
luxuriant black hair, Sakuta looked as if he would be more at home among the
rich and famous in the gambling casinos of Laskar. Instead, he was just another
goofy, absent-minded prof.

“I can imagine how
much it must upset you,” Xris lied sympathetically.

“So can I,” Raoul
said, and sighed deeply. “Your work must be fascinating. And your rockets,” he
added in a breathless tone, “they must be so big!”

“Cut it out,” Xris
muttered, and gave the Adonian a surreptitious kick in the shin. Aloud he said,
“We don’t want to take up your valuable time, Professor. If you could just
explain the nature of the work you want to hire us to do—”

“Oh, yes,
certainly.” Sakuta sat forward in his chair, regarded Xris with bright
enthusiasm. “What do you know about space-age archaeology?”

“Enough to pass
the final.”

Sakuta appeared
shocked at this response.

Xris grinned. “It’s
a joke, Professor. Archaeology wasn’t my field. Sorry.”

Sakuta’s
expression cleared. “Ah, yes. I understand. My nemesis was economics. At any
rate, on the planet of Pandor, which you will find located in the Zeta Three
quadrant, some construction workers have made a historic archaeological find.
They have uncovered the wreckage of a prehyperdrive spaceplane.”

“I don’t remember
much from my archaeology class,” Xris said, “but I do seem to recall that
prehyperdrive craft aren’t that rare.”

“You’re quite
right.” Sakuta seemed genuinely pleased with Xris’s answer. Xris had the
feeling he’d earned an A for the day. “The spaceplane itself is not of
interest. We have several on display already. It is what’s inside the
spaceplane that is of inestimable value.”

He had dropped his
voice; his eyes were moist. His hands actually shook with excitement.

“What is it?” Xris
asked, envisioning nothing less than a chest of jewels or maybe—considering
Sakuta’s interests—a case of antique microchips.

“A robot,” Sakuta
said, his voice soft with reverent awe. “Not just any robot,” he added hastily,
seeing that Xris was underwhelmed. “This is one of the first robots designed by
scientists to undertake space flight. On its own.” Sakuta looked from Xris to
Raoul, apparently expecting them to leap out of their chairs and go bounding
about the room. “Surely you understand the significance?”

“Oh, I do!” Raoul
breathed, half rising. “I truly do.” He licked his lips.

“Look, whether we
understand it or not doesn’t really matter, does it, Professor?” Xris said,
shoving Raoul back into his chair. “I don’t suppose you want to hire us to
write a research paper on it.”

“No, sir.” Sakuta
looked slightly abashed. “You’re absolutely right. You have your areas of
specialization and I have my own. It’s just that this discovery . . . well,
never mind. No, the reason I am hiring you is to recover this robot.”

Xris leaned back,
automatically reached for a twist, saw Raoul raise a disapproving eyebrow, and
desisted. Clasping his hands together, elbows resting on Ihe arm of the chair,
he regarded the professor speculatively. “What’s wrong with it?”

Sakuta was taken
aback by the question. “Why, nothing’s wrong with it... that I know of. It’s
very, very old, of course, and I think we can safely assume that most of its
circuitry is corroded. And it probably sustained a certain amount of damage
when the plane in which it was traveling crashed into the planet, though my
colleague who first reported the find stated that, in her estimation, the robot
was in excellent condition, all things considered. I’m not sure I understand
your question—”

Xris was shaking
his head. “Look, Professor, from all indications, it sounds like you need to
hire a salvage team, not Mag Force 7. We’re a crack commando outfit. I have the
best men and women in the business on my team and you’ll pay the highest rates
in the business for us. And if all you want us to do is dig out some moldy old
hunk of scrap metal—”

“Ah, I see. I wish
it were that easy.” Sakuta smiled briefly; his smile faded. He ran his
fingertips back and forth on the desk pad, back and forth, staring down at the
pad all the while.

Xris recognized
the signs. He waited patiently.

Sakuta looked up.
His face was tinged with a faint crimson. “I ... I am deeply ashamed of myself.
I could never have imagined ... Ethical considerations aside, I ...” He lapsed
into silence.

Suddenly he
clenched his fist. “But, damn it, this is too important!”

Sakuta shut his
eyes when he spoke, as if he feared to see the condemnation of his visitors’
faces. “I’m committing a terrible act. I know that, but I can’t help myself.
Gentlemen, I am hiring you to steal this robot.”

Thieves respect
property. They merely wish the property to become their property that they may
more perfectly respect it.

G. K. Chesterton,
The Man Who Was Thursday

Sakuta sat,
sweating, shaken.

He might have been
asking us to assassinate the prime minister, Xris thought, amused. Raoul had
leaped to his feet and was solicitously pouring the professor a glass of water
from a carafe on the desk.

“Thank you,” said
Sakuta faintly.

“My pleasure.”
Raoul was about to rest a comforting hand on the professor’s broad shoulder,
except that Xris growled. With a jerk of his head, he ordered the Ado-nian back
to his chair.

Sighing deeply,
Raoul obeyed, patting Sakuta’s hand tenderly as he left.

The professor
never noticed. He gulped the water, wiped his lips fastidiously on a white
handkerchief, which he then returned to his breast pocket.

“Who is in
possession of the robot?” Xris asked.

“No one, at the
moment. It is still inside the wreckage of the plane, where it was discovered.
The Pandoran government officials have taken into their empty heads to fear
that the ship is contaminated—some sort of ancient virus or bacteria that may
infect and kill everyone on the planet. They are, of course, completely wrong.
Any expert would tell them so. Several have. The plane crashed in a desert
environment. My colleague has inspected the spaceplane thoroughly and reported
finding only trace amounts of radiation and no bacteria or germs of any kind,
ancient or otherwise. The Pandoran government refuses to listen. And, I must
admit, we haven’t gone out of our way to convince them. Their irrational fear
is buying us time.”

Xris shifted in
his chair. “Professor, I don’t mind bending the law on occasion—”

He was forced to
wait to continue until Raoul recovered from a fit of coughing.

“—but galactic
salvage law clearly states that any debris which falls from space becomes the
property of the planet on which it falls. If the Pandorans want this robot for
their own Space and Areonautics Museum, then—”

“That’s just it!”
Sakuta cried in a hollow voice. “If they wanted it for a museum, that would be
fine with us! We could arrange to have it exhibited here on loan. But they don’t.
They are terribly afraid of it. They intend to destroy it.” Xris frowned. “Legal
action, then.” Sakuta was shaking his head. “We are in a quandary, gentlemen.
We could go to the galactic court and ask for an injunction to stop the
Pandorans from destroying the robot, but that would take weeks of legal
maneuvering and we don’t have weeks!

“The robot and its
spaceplane were discovered during the excavation of a construction site. The
Pandorans are far more interested in proceeding with their construction than
they are in saving the robot. They simply want to be rid of it. They have
threatened to bring in bulldozers and”—he shuddered at the thought—”cranes to
remove it to a safe area where it can be destroyed.”

“Money ...”

Sakuta was now
impatient. “We’ve offered them ten times the value of the robot. They’ve
refused. They keep yammering about flesh-eating viruses. I tell you, gentlemen.
I have had nightmares about rough, hulking Pandoran construction workers—”

“You, too?” Raoul
was sympathetic.

Sakuta regarded
them with pleading eyes. “It wouldn’t be precisely stealing, would it? We would
still honor our commitment to pay them for the robot. We are simply ensuring
that we save it for posterity.”

Xris considered. “You
want to hire us to travel to Pandor, retrieve this robot—”

“I will give you a
crate that we have specially designed for it.”

Xris resumed. “And
then you want us to smuggle the robot off-planet—”

Sakuta looked
stricken. “I know that this means breaking the law. Perhaps it’s not feasible—”

Xris waved that
small consideration away. “In the interests of science.” He looked over at the
Little One. “Well? Is he telling the truth? Is this on the level?”

The telepath gazed
steadily from beneath the fedora at Sakuta, then nodded.

Raoul gave the
professor a charming smile—to apologize for ever dreaming to doubt him—and
turned to Xris.

“The Little One
says that Professor Sakuta is telling us the truth, Xris Cyborg. But not all
the truth.”

Sakuta frowned
slightly.

Raoul hastened to
continue, anxious that Xris should understand. “Professor Sakuta greatly
desires this robot, my friend, far more than he is admitting to us. The reason:
His colleague considers the robot to be in working condition with its memory
intact. If so, it would be the first prehyperdrive robot ever recovered capable
of offering us an eyewitness account of conditions in the galaxy hundreds of
years ago. Scholars galaxy-wide will be willing to pay enormous amounts for the
opportunity to study the robot and its files. The museum will reap tremendous
financial benefit, as well as widespread publicity. Professor Sakuta himself
stands to benefit greatly and has already signed on with a publicity agent to
handle his lecture tour.”

Sakuta’s face was
extremely red. The professor attempted several times to speak, gave it up,
drank a glass of water, straightened his tie, and then regarded them with an
air that was half ashamed, half defiant.

“Very well. I
admit it Yes, we will stand to profit by this discovery—”

“To a considerable
extent,” Xris inserted dryly.

“But I assure you,
gentlemen, that money is not a motivating factor. The significance of this
discovery, from a scientific and historical perspective, is beyond measure—”

“Except to your
accountant.” Xris cut off the professor’s earnest protests. “Relax. We’ll take
the job. We’ll meet and plan the operation tonight. Tomorrow I’ll let you know
the estimated cost. I take it you want this handled ASAP.”

Sakuta had
regained his composure, though he still looked faintly embarrassed. “I would
have you on Pan-dor this moment, if that were possible. Yes, as soon as you can
make your arrangements. The ... um ... money will not be a problem. The museum
is prepared to pay whatever you require.”

Xris grunted. “I’ll
bet. Still, I’ll send you an estimate, along with the contract.”

Sakuta was alarmed.
“Do we ... do we have to ... put this in writing?”

Xris grinned. “Don’t
worry. The contract’s worded quite carefully. It’s for your own protection as
well as ours.”

“Of course.”
Sakuta managed a strained smile. “You are professionals. That is why I turned
to you for help. I have made up a dossier which contains information on the
planet, its people, the location of the robot—everything I thought might assist
you.”

He handed over a
disposable electronic notebook. Xris accepted the information, stood up.

“One more thing.
Where do we deliver it?”

“What?” Sakuta
appeared genuinely confused.

“The robot,” Xris
said patiently.

“Oh, yes! My
goodness. Of course. Delivery. Um ... I don’t suppose that bringing it here
would ... No, I can see that wouldn’t do.”

Xris had been
shaking his head.

Sakuta was
baffled. “I’m afraid I have no idea ... I’m so unused to this sort of thing.
Have you any suggestions?”

“Pandor . . .”
Xris recollected. “It’s near the Void, isn’t it?”

Sakuta nodded.

“There’s a place
known as Hell’s Outpost. I see you’ve heard of it.” Xris grinned at Sakuta’s
shocked expression. “It’s not bad. A quiet place. Everyone minds his or her own
business. Perfect for our transaction. Meet us there. We’ll let you know when.”

“I’ll be there,”
Sakuta promised, though he didn’t look happy.

The professor
rose, moved around from his desk. He extended his hand, shook hands with each
of them, had only slight difficulty in retrieving his hand from Raoul’s
affectionate grasp. He walked with them to the door of the office.

“I’d give you a
tour of the museum,” he said, “but this has left me with an upset stomach. If
you wouldn’t mind ...”

Xris assured him
that, much as they would love to view the exhibits, they were on a tight
schedule. They walked down the hall. The receptionist was not at her
desk—rather to Xris’s disappointment. She had seemed to regard him with a
certain amount of interest. Of course, he was wearing a suit that hid his
cybernetic leg, his fleshfoam and plastiskin hand, and a wig that covered the
scars on his bald head.

Xris considered
waiting. The Little One put an end to his hopes.

“The Little One
says she is not for you, my friend. She is interested in the professor and the
feeling is mutual.” Raoul heaved a despairing sigh. “Ah, well. It never fails. The
good-looking ones are always straight.”

Xris smiled, took
out a twist, thrust it into his mouth. They descended the stairs, stepped out
into the exhibit area, which was now packed with groups of schoolchildren.
Their shrill voices echoed, bounced off the high ceiling. Xris turned down his
augmented hearing. They dodged shrieking children, harassed-looking teachers,
stoic-faced museum guides, and were near the exit when the Little One suddenly
grabbed hold of Xris’s right hand, pointed.