Hal Spacejock 6: Safe Art Read online

  Chapter 15

  Hal and Harriet strolled through the spaceport together, following the signs to the Peace Force office. When they got there the door was locked, but there was an emergency terminal on the wall. Hal lifted the handset and Harriet leant closer so she could listen in.

  "Thank you for contacting the Peace Force," said a flat, emotionless voice. "Please state your name after the tone."

  "Anonymous tip-off," said Hal.

  "After the tone, citizen."

  Hal waited.

  Beep!

  "Anonymous tip-off," repeated Hal.

  "Please state your gender."

  "Male."

  "Thank you, Mr Tipoff. Please state your address."

  Hal glanced at Harriet. "Not applicable."

  "Please re-state your address, beginning with the street or apartment number."

  "For heaven's sake!" grumbled Hal. "Can't you just take my crime report?"

  "You said 'Four, Haven place'. Is this correct?"

  "Yeah, that's it."

  "Please say yes or no."

  "Yes."

  "Thank you. Please hold while your details are analysed."

  There was a brief delay.

  "According to our records, Mr Tipoff, you have three speeding violations and an outstanding warrant for urinating in public. Please remain where you are until a Peace Force officer arrives to take you into custody. Due to unexpected demand, estimated time of arrival for your personal Peace Force escort is sixteen hours. Should you leave your present location, your wanted level will be upgraded to fugitive status. In this event, officers will be authorised to shoot on sight."

  Hal hung up. "Well that's great. Fantastic. I feel so much safer having you lot on my side."

  "You did give them false information," said Harriet mildly.

  "I could hardly tell them I'm the pilot of the Volante, could I? If they know I'm here, they'll want to know who's flying my ship when it magically arrives by itself." Hal frowned. "That's another thing. We'll have to sneak aboard the second Clunk sets down. Do you have a pass for the landing field?"

  "I do, but I can't use it. It would go into the system."

  "We could try talking our way past."

  "Not dressed like this. They'll want to see my ID."

  Hal eyed her uniform. "What about civilian clothes? Ditch the jacket, pick up some really dark sunnies and a nice long trenchcoat …"

  "Hal, I'd arrest myself in that get-up."

  "Why don't we take a look at the landing field access? There might not be any security."

  Unfortunately, his hopes were soon dashed. There were two uniformed guards watching the doors to the landing field, and they didn't look like the types to sneak away for a quick coffee. Hal frowned at the imposing sight, racking his brains for a solution. They had to get outside, sneak aboard the Volante when it landed, then contact the Peace Force and pretend they'd been aboard all along. There was no other solution, unless … "Wait, I'm getting an idea. Let's tell Clunk to land somewhere else!"

  "You don't think that'll look suspicious?"

  "Not if he has a good reason. He can set down in the countryside, and we'll be aboard long before any nosy officials turn up."

  "It sounds like a workable plan, except …"

  "Yes?"

  "How are you going to tell Clunk? All the channels are monitored."

  "Clunk's smart. I'll work out a code and he'll pick up the meaning like that." Hal clicked his fingers to illustrate the point.

  "Won't he be surprised to hear from you? He thinks you're still on Forzen, and when you pop up on the Volante's screen …"

  "That's the clever part. I'll disguise my voice so well only Clunk would recognise me."

  * * *

  "We're being hailed," said the Navcom.

  "Not now. I'm busy." Clunk was sitting in the Volante's flight deck, a book in one hand and a mug of coffee at his elbow. He didn't drink coffee and he'd finished the book in two blinks, but he was getting a feel for piloting the ship as a human. More specifically, he was emulating Mr Spacejock.

  "I detect a customs vessel astern," said the Navcom. "They're insisting we stop our engines."

  "I don't care if they say please in two languages." Clunk paused. "I am not going to drink cold coffee while the cows come home," he added in a stilted voice, "and I will get very annoyed if you keep disturbing me. Please tell them to get lost."

  "Yes, that's a bit better," said the Navcom, who was coaching Clunk in all things Spacejock. "I'd lose the 'please' next time, and Mr Spacejock doesn't talk about cows very much."

  "Good," said Clunk, with feeling.

  There were a few moments of silence while Clunk pretended to read, and then the Navcom piped up again. "Incoming call from planet Pegzwil."

  "Oh, very well. Put them on."

  There was a crackle from the speakers. "Hello, is this the Volante?"

  "Go away, annoying human-type person," said Clunk, who was starting to get the hang of things.

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "You heard me. Take your unwanted call and shove it where the …" His voice tailed off as the Navcom flashed a message on the main screen: This is a REAL caller.

  There was a long silence.

  "Hello?" shouted the caller. "Are you there? Is anyone listening?"

  "I'm sorry, your call could not be connected," said Clunk, using a high-pitched voice with a heavy accent. "Please try again later."

  "Nicely done," said the Navcom.

  "No thanks to you! Why didn't you warn me that was a real caller?"

  "I did. I told you it was an incoming call from planet Pegzwil."

  "Yes, but —"

  "They're back again. Would you like another go, or shall I hang up on them?"

  "How do they sound?"

  "A tiny bit annoyed."

  Clunk eyed the coffee. What would Mr Spacejock do in a situation like this? Lie through his teeth, or go on the attack? Well, lying was out so that only left one option. "Very well, Navcom. Put the call through."

  The speakers crackled. "What the hell's going on up there?" demanded an angry voice.

  Clunk frowned. The voice was familiar, but it sounded distorted and muffled and he couldn't get a fix. "Everything is fine up here. How are things down there?"

  "You'll find out as soon as you land."

  Clunk covered the microphone. "Navcom, who is this calling?"

  "Unknown. They're using a public terminal and the cheapest available call quality."

  "What do you want?" shouted Clunk into the microphone.

  "This is red leader, and I have a message for a robot you might or might not have onboard. I want you to remember planet Oliape II, particularly the landing zone. Do you copy?"

  Clunk tutted. Some poor human had clearly lost its mind, and was making a nuisance of itself over the public comms system. He fired off a quick complaint to the network provider and hung up again. "And don't put them through again," he advised the Navcom.

  Time passed, and the coffee got colder. Clunk fiddled with the mug, then inspected the book. Then … "Did they call back again?"

  "Seventeen times, so far. No, make that eighteen."

  "Headstrong as well. Determined and single minded." It dawned on Clunk that these traits were reminiscent of someone he knew rather well. "You don't think …?"

  "It's possible," said the Navcom slowly.

  "It didn't sound like him."

  "The voice didn't, but the choice of words was familiar."

  "It can't be him. He's still on Forzen." Clunk ran a couple of tests, and the true horror of the situation dawned on him. It didn't matter where the human was supposed to be, because the speech patterns checked out. "Navcom, it is Mr Spacejock," he said in alarm. "Put him on immediately!"

  The console speakers crackled once more, and a seriously angry human came on. "What are you running up there, a two ring circus?"

  "I'm sorry, Mr Space—"

  "Don't talk. Listen! There's a
bomb aboard your ship, and it's set to detonate just after you land. You can't set down at the spaceport, understood? You'll endanger hundreds of people."

  "Is this a credible threat?"

  "It comes from the highest source."

  "Very well, I shall halt the Volante and search the ship from nose to tail."

  "No, don't do that. I need you to land, but away from the spaceport. Somewhere with a similar environment to that landing zone on planet Oliape II. I'm sure I don't have to say any more. See you when you get here. Red leader over and out."

  Clunk ran through his recent memories, then turned to slightly older events. He found an entry for the planet Mr Spacejock was talking about, but he didn't see the significance. They'd landed in a wooded valley with a stream running down the middle, an idyllic spot which had been slightly less idyllic after the Volante's super-heated exhaust and broad landing feet had done their job. "Navcom, bring up a planetary map," he said slowly.

  "Shouldn't we warn Hans about the bomb threat?"

  "Don't be silly. He's already emotionally scarred from the AutoChef incident. Any more shocks and we'll tip him over the edge." Clunk waited until the surface of Pegzwil was displayed on the screen, then marked four areas of forest with rolling hills. Three were on the opposite side of the planet, while the last was within a hundred kilometres. Clunk zoomed in, and a smile creased his face as he saw the valley with its ribbon of silver running down the middle. It wasn't identical to the planet Oliape setting, but it was close enough. There was even a small mesa on the biggest hill, just the right size for landing a large interstellar freighter.

  Chapter 16

  "That business about the bomb," began Harriet Walsh hesitantly.

  "Brilliant idea, eh?"

  They were standing under a stand of trees, sheltering from the midday sun and enjoying the cool breeze on their faces. The trip from the terminal had barely taken any time at all, and Hal was looking forward to seeing his ship.

  "You don't think it'll trigger even more interest in the Volante?" said Harriet. "It's exactly the sort of keyword they scan for."

  Hal gestured impatiently. "They'll just think it's some kid messing around. Anyway, I disguised my voice and used a false name. What could possibly go wrong?"

  Harriet looked pensive, but said nothing. Meanwhile, Hal eyed his watch impatiently. According to the arrivals board the Volante had been on final approach for several minutes, but there had been no sign of the graceful white ship.

  Beep!

  Hal swore as a truck careered past, blowing a cloud of fumes in his face. The road outside the River Valley motel was busy, with a steady stream of traffic in both directions, and the noise made it hard to think. The trees were the only greenery in sight, and their drooping plastic leaves were dark with road grime. Just beyond was the spaceport fence, a three metre chainlink affair with coils of barbed wire on top, and if it wasn't the vehicle traffic pounding Hal's ears it was the hammering roar of departing spaceships.

  "Do you think Clunk got the message?" asked Harriet at last.

  "Sure he did. How many River Valley motels can there be on this planet?"

  * * *

  Clunk stepped out of the airlock and paused at the top of the landing ramp. Sunlight filtered through the trees, and the river sparkled and bubbled as it ran down the narrow valley. Insects chirped, birds twittered and little furry creatures peeped out of their burrows to see whether the intruder had left yet. Clunk shielded his eyes and scanned the horizon, but there was no sign of Mr Spacejock. He glanced over his shoulder at the airlock, but decided to use his radio instead of shouting. Navcom, do you detect any signs of human life?

  Your stand-in pilot is waking up.

  Not him. Out here.

  Negative.

  Clunk pressed his lips together with a squeak. Whatever Mr Spacejock was planning, it needed to happen soon, else the artworks would be late for the exhibition. Clunk glanced behind the ship, where the substitute rock was sitting on the ground in its rough cradle. It was still smoking gently from re-entry, and he wasn't sure the scorch marks would clean off. Still, they'd help to disguise the fact it wasn't the original rock.

  But never mind the artworks. Where were the errant humans?

  "Hello?" Clunk shouted into the trees. "Mr Spacejock? Ms Walsh? Are you out there?"

  He was about to take the ramp to the ground when the Navcom signalled. I have a call for you.

  Very well. I'll take it in the flight deck.

  Clunk returned to the ship and accessed the comms channel. "This is Clunk speaking. How may I help you?"

  "It's Hal. Where the hell are you?"

  "At the river valley, as instructed."

  "No you're not! We're at the —" There was a burst of traffic noise, followed by the sound of a spaceship lifting off. "—motel, standing in the sunshine like pair of over-ripe bananas. If you don't get your —"

  Beep!

  "— over here in ten minutes I'm going to kick your little round —"

  Ah-ugah!

  "— all over the —"

  Ring ring!

  "— planet!"

  "Meet at a motel?" said Clunk, puzzled. "You said to land at the valley with the river."

  "Not the valley with the —" beep! "— river!" Thoroughly annoyed, Hal threw subtle hints to the wind. "Land at the —" honk! "—ing River —" beep! "—ing Valley motel!"

  Toot! went a passing car.

  "We'll be there before you know it," said Clunk hastily. He cut the connection and turned to the console. "Navcom?"

  "Yes?"

  Clunk twirled his finger in the air. "The River Valley motel, and make it snappy."

  * * *

  The Volante hovered above the parking lot, her exhaust shredding the motel's plastic trees and blasting dust across the busy highway. Underneath, the large rock swung pendulously in the haze. The passenger ramp came down slowly, unfolding segment by segment, and when it was fully extended Hal guided Harriet up the metal ramp to the airlock. They were barely inside when Clunk fired the thrusters, carrying the ship over the spaceport fence. A few seconds later they set down again, properly this time. While Harriet Walsh went to inspect the cargo of artworks, Hal decided to have it out with Clunk.

  "Why did it take so long?" he demanded. "Did you take the scenic route or what?"

  "Never mind the rendezvous," said Clunk. "What's all this nonsense about a bomb?"

  "Oh, I made that up. I had to think up an excuse so you could land outside the spaceport."

  Clunk looked doubtful. "Wouldn't it have been easier to meet the ship on the landing field?"

  "We couldn't get to the landing field. There were guards, and the Peace Force would have known Harriet and I didn't travel here aboard the Volante."

  "Speaking of which, how did you both get to Pegzwil so quickly? Did you hire a fast ship?"

  "Not exactly. You remember that teleporter scientist?"

  "I'm not completely senile." Clunk blinked. "No! You didn't …"

  "We did!" said Hal proudly. "Straight between two planets in the blink of an eye."

  "But the side-effects …"

  "There weren't any."

  "Not physical, perhaps. Have you considered the ramifications for your business?"

  "What do you mean?"

  Clunk gestured around the flight deck. "Now that you've demonstrated how well teleporters work, who's going to hire cargo ships to move freight?"

  "Don't worry about it, there'll be plenty of work." Hal rubbed his hands together. "They're going to need cargo ships to place the teleporters, right?"

  "That's like a condemned man getting paid to build his own guillotine."

  "I know. Great, isn't it?" Hal looked around the flight deck. "So, that Hans guy. It wasn't really him I saw on that awful show, was it?"

  Clunk started. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

  "Oh yeah?" Hal turned to the console. "Navcom, show me a list of files you've uploaded in the last day or so."


  "How would you like the results displayed?"

  "Just a regular list will do."

  The screen filled with tiny writing, with a flashing 'next' icon at the bottom. Hal squinted at the lines, trying to make them out. "What's that stuff?"

  "Log files, status reports, sensor readings and location data."

  "That's a lot of files."

  "I send a lot of logs."

  "Show me the next page."

  The screen displayed even more lines.

  "Next."

  Once more, the screen filled with filenames.

  "How many pages are there?"

  "Seventeen thousand, nine hundred and sixty-two," said the Navcom promptly.

  "Can you filter it down to video files?"

  "Complying."

  The list came back, showing the exact same files. "That's a lot of video," said Hal.

  "Oh, they're not videos. My filtering software is broken."

  "Did it happen to break in the last, say, five minutes?"

  "Negative. It hasn't worked since you tried to do your own taxes."

  "But what if I wanted to inspect the logs, check the ship was running okay, maybe identify a problem before it happened?"

  "That's what Clunk is for. The log files are not meant for humans."

  "That's not very user-friendly."

  "It's a debug log. It's not supposed to be useful."

  Defeated, Hal turned away from the screen. "So this Hans character. What happened?"

  "He insulted me," said Clunk.

  Hal made a face. "A lot of people are rude to robots. I don't like it, but how can you change their backward attitudes?"

  "Next, he insulted the Navcom."

  "Computers don't have feelings. Anyway, the Navcom can take care of herself. There was no need to subject Hans to that pain and humiliation."

  "Then he insulted you."

  "Everyone insults me, Clunk. You don't see me retaliating, do you? Roll with the punches. Take the good with the bad. Turn the other cheek. Water off a duck's back."