Robot Blues (48 page)

Xris ripped the
sleeve from his cybernetic arm, tore off the fleshfoam, laying bare the metal “bones,”
the instruments, the flashing lights. He popped open the panel on his steel
leg. Taking out his weapons hand, he attached the hand to his wrist.
Fortunately, he was so accustomed to doing this that he could work in the dark.
He felt the hand click into place, made adjustments. A green light blinked on;
the hand was operational.

Xris looked
around. Everyone was set. He could talk now; the banging would cover his voice.

“I have my weapons
hand attached and ready to use. At my signal, jump the guard nearest you. Don’t
worry about the Corasians; I’ll take care of them. When you take out the
guards, grab their weapons. Jamil, whatever happens, don’t let that door shut.
Understand?”

He heard a chorus
of affirmatives and one hysterical hiccup. The banging had ceased for the
moment. Harsch came across clearly now, loudly berating someone. A computerized
voice offered explanations. The voice was tinny, mechanical, without feeling,
and a shiver started at Xris’s tailbone, went up his spine.

Soon he might be
listening to those voices talking about him, talking over him, as he lay stretched
out on a table while they slit him open and tore out ...

He shook his head
angrily. What was he doing, letting his imagination run amuck!

A small body
barreled into him, grabbing him by the knees. Startled, Xris looked down.

The Little One had
hold of Xris’s pants legs, was tugging on them emphatically, nearly pulling
them off.

“What the—” Xris
was keyed up. “Raoul, what the devil is wrong with him? Get him off me! Hurry!
They’ve almost got the door mechanism fixed! They’ll be in here any second! I
can’t fire with him hanging on to me!”

Raoul, chuckling,
sauntered over to retrieve his small friend. “I know that you are fond of Xris
Cyborg. We are all of us fond of him. But this is neither the time nor the
place in which to express your—”

Raoul stopped
talking. He stared at the Little One, who was clinging to Xris’s trousers with
one hand, gesticulating with other.

“Oh! I see!” Raoul
cried in delight. “I see! You were right all along! My friend!” He turned to
Xris, who could have sworn that the Adonian’s eyes glowed red in the darkness,
like a cat’s. “The Little One says to tell you that Tess works for Naval
Intelligence!”

“I bloody well
know that!” Xris shouted, fuming. The banging had started again, was
accompanied by an ominous-sounding clank, as if a seal had given way. “Get him
off me!”

“Company coming,”
Jamil reported from his position near the door.

“She’s only
pretending to work for Naval Intelligence She’s really working for Harsch!”
Xris attempted to pry the Little One’s clutching hands loose.

Raoul was
performing some sort of mad, insane dance, revolving on his tiptoes, his hands
clicking in the air like castanets. “She’s working for NI, working for Harsch,
working for NI!” He made it a little song. “She’s been working for the Naaa-vy!”

“Good God! He’s
stoned out of his skull!” Xris muttered.

He ripped the
Little One’s hands loose, shoved the empath away. The Little One stumbled into
Raoul. The two collided, tumbled onto the deck.

“And stay there!”
Xris ordered. “Keep your fool heads down or they’ll get blown off.”

The Little One
made a frantic attempt to regain his feet, but he tangled with Raoul, who was
attempting drunkenly to accomplish the same task. The two weren’t having much
success.

Xris hurriedly
thrust the hand that was no longer a hand but a rocket launcher into the front
of his uniform jacket. He stood cradling the limb as if ashamed to reveal the
fact that the arm was missing an appendage.

The door—little
more than a crack in the wall—was starting to open. A hideous red light welled
through. Heat radiated.

Jamil was plainly
visible now, flattened against the wall near the door. Sweat beaded on his
black skin. He was peering out the opening. He raised a hand; it was bathed in
red light. One finger—that was Harsch. Another linger—probably Tess. Four
fingers—the bodyguards. Two more fingers—Corasians.

The door swung
wide, the Corasians rolled inside. The light and the heat grew brighter and
stronger.

The implications
of what the Little One had been saying struck Xris.

Working for
Naval Intelligence, working for Harsch, working for Naval Intelligence!

A ... triple
agent?

Was that possible?

Yes! Something in
Xris shouted hopefully, but he ignored the voice, because he refused to listen
to the part of himself that was talking; the emotional, irrational, damnably
romantic part of himself who wanted very much to believe that Captain Tess
Strauss was on his side.

Xris didn’t trust
that part of himself and he didn’t trust her. He couldn’t trust her! His life
and, more important, the lives of his people were at stake.

The door opened
wide enough to allow the Corasians to enter.

Orange blobs of
molten goo encased in plastisteel bodies that trundled about on wheels. The
Corasians were more repulsive than frightening—that is, unless you’ve seen them
ooze out of their robot cases, swarm over a living human being, burn the flesh
off the bones, then start on the bones....

The Corasians were
followed by Harsch, his four bodyguards crowding on his heels. Tess entered
next. Xris was supposed to be watching Harsch, watching the bodyguards, waiting
for an opening. But his gaze kept going to Tess. Could he read the truth in her
face?

Of course not. She
was good. Very good. Whichever side she was on. She refused to make eye contact
with him, had glanced in his direction only very briefly, and that to make
certain she knew where he was and what he was doing. Her gaze took in everyone
else at the same time. Her face was set in concrete, hard, without expression.
Her eyes were dark as the darkness in the corridor behind her.

Xris cursed the
Little One, cursed him for putting doubt in his mind. Xris had been going to
kill her; he could have killed her with a clear conscience, without regret. Now
he wasn’t sure....

Harsch held a
lasgun in his hand. He turned the gun on Xris. “Where is the robot?”

Xris shrugged,
nursed his maimed arm. “I don’t know.”

“I don’t believe
you.”

“I don’t blame
you,” Xris said. “I don’t much believe myself. But it’s the truth. We don’t
know where the robot is.”

“We could help you
look,” Quong offered politely. “Where did you see it last?”

“Did you try under
the bed?” Tycho was helpful.

“You gentlemen are
funny.” Harsch glanced at each of them, a slight line marring his smooth
forehead. One side of his mouth twitched, one hand flexed. He was angry ... and
scared.

“Very funny.
Unfortunately, my customers don’t have much of a sense of humor. They are
growing impatient. Tess ...” Harsch stepped back. “You know these men. Handle
it.”

Tess raised her
lasgun, aimed it at Quong. Her gaze flicked to Xris. “Tell us where the robot
is or your friend the doctor dies. You have five seconds. I’ll count. One.”

Her hand holding
the gun was steady, never wavered. The eyes were empty.

The Little One was
wrong.

“Two.”

The small rockets
mounted on Xris’s weapons hand were of his own invention and design, intended
to be used specifically against the Corasians. He owned the patent. He’d sold
it to the Navy, made a small fortune. It was that fortune which had allowed him
to put the team together. With one rocket, he could take out one Corasian, plus
Tess and Harsch.

But the moment he
lifted his cybernetic hand, aimed, Tess would fire. Quong would be dead. And
there would be nothing Xris could do.

“Three.”

That left the four
bodyguards and one Corasian. Xris would take out that Corasian with his second
rocket, and by that time the bodyguards would have recovered and he would be
dead.

“Four.” Tess was
frowning, not pleased.

Quong stood still,
stoic. He knew the score. Harry was balancing on the balls of his feet, ready to
hurl his bulky body at the nearest bodyguard. Jamil was by the door, the only
escape route, for those who survived. Raoul, giggling, had made it to his feet.
He staggered, stumbled, veered in Harsch’s general direction. The Little One’s
hands were hidden in the raincoat pockets. Tycho’s skin tone had altered to
red.

“You won’t tell me
where the robot is?” Tess kept her gaze fixed on Quong, addressed Xris.

He needed to make
her shift her attention to him. “Now!” he yelled loudly, and jerked his weapons
hand out from his coat. He jumped forward. Tess shifted her aim, fired.

The laser blast
burned through the back of Nick Harsch’s skull, exited the front. Xris had
never seen anyone look so surprised.

Do not remain on
isolated terrain.

Sun-tzu,
The Art of War

Harsch died
standing on his feet, his mouth gaping nearly as wide as the hole in the back
of his head. His bodyguards—hearing the sound of the blast—turned to see what
was happening, discovered that their jobs had just become superfluous. Harsch
started to crumble. “Now!” Xris yelled—again.

Harry, bellowing
like a bull, charged his man, caught him amidships. The guard’s beam rifle flew
from his hands, hit the deck. Tycho was on hand to grab it. He turned, fired,
took out another bodyguard, who was lining up on Quong.

The third guard
was swinging his rifle around to take out Xris. He hoped somebody would deal
with that, couldn’t take time to do anything himself. A Corasian was standing
directly behind Tess.

“Strauss!” Xris
bellowed over the laser blasts and whines of the beam rifles and screams of the
wounded. “Down! Get down!”

Tess dropped face
first to the deck, covered her head with her arms. Xris fired one missile,
struck the Corasian in the robot head. The head exploded, destroying the computer
“brain.” That didn’t kill the Corasian. Its plastisteel body cracked open; the
fiery amoeba form began to crawl out, oozed toward Tess’s feet. Xris dashed
forward. “Die, damn you, die!” He swore helplessly at the Corasian. Laser
blasts didn’t affect the aliens. They appeared to thrive on the energy. Xris’s
missile used a negative charge that drained the alien, negated the energy. This
time he’d failed, obviously. The lavalike blob was almost on Tess, was creeping
up to her booted foot. She kept her head down, couldn’t see the danger.

Xris had watched
the Corasians kill humans before, had seen them devour the living flesh in
flame. He would have to fire again, although that left him only four missiles
and they still had a long way to go. He took aim.

The Corasian’s
red-orange glow began to dim. It continued to move, but more slowly. The blob
began to blacken.

Xris reached Tess.
He grabbed her roughly by the shoulder, dragged her behind him, put his body
between her and the dying Corasian. Tess’s head jerked up, startled. She saw
the Corasian, sucked in a breath, and scrambled the rest of the way on her
hands and knees.

“Xris!” Jamil’s
voice, urgent, warning.

Xris swiveled.
Corasians, being each single units of one gigantic collective brain, had the
ability to communicate with each other instantly. The second Corasian had
apparently alerted central control. The door was sliding shut. And once it
shut, there was no way to open it from the inside.

Jamil stood in the
doorway, prepared to use his body to try to keep the door open. Unfortunately,
the metal door was heavy, massive. Jamil wouldn’t be a doorstop very long. He’d
be jelly.

Xris fired a
second missile at the remaining Corasian. His aim was low; he hit it square in
the massive body. The missile exploded on impact, but only cracked the
plastisteel case.

Tess was on her
feet at his side. She fired her lasgun. The Corasian’s head blew up. The
lavalike larva inside the case was still alive, but one of the shots had
damaged the case, destroyed the mechanism which allowed the case to open. For
the moment, the Corasian was trapped.

And so were Xris
and Tess. Laser fire flashed in front of them, lighting up the dark room. The
two surviving bodyguards were using the dead Corasian’s broken case for cover,
trading shots with Quong, crouched behind a girder, and Tycho, lying flat on
the deck. The chameleon was so excessively thin that he was a difficult target,
as long as he kept his head down. It looked to be a stalemate. Xris didn’t have
time for stalemates.

Harry had added
his weight to the fight with the door—he was wedged in tight—and, for the
moment, the door was holding. Jamil had disappeared; presumably he’d gone out
the door into the corridor. Outside, the red glow was steadily brightening.

More Corasians.

Xris was suddenly
very tired.

Why fight it? he
asked himself. It would be a whole lot easier on everyone concerned if we just
gave up right now.

Tess tugged on his
sleeve. Leaning close, she shouted, “The spaceplane! The PRRS! It’s in the
docking bay at the end of this corridor!”

He eyed her
grimly. “You really work for the Navy?”

“I really do.” She
smiled. “You want to see my pension plan?”

“I just want to
see you live to collect it. The rest of us included. You say that the plane’s
nearby?”

“Not one hundred
meters away.”

“You had this all
arranged?”

She shook her
head. “Not really. I’m making it up as I go along.”

“Great!” Xris
grunted. “Well, you haven’t done bad so far. When this is over, remind me to
kiss you.”

“It’s a deal.”
Tess peered out through the smoke and laser flashes. “My plan only works if we
make it to the door. How do we get rid of these two? It looks like they’re
figuring on settling down here.”