Hal Spacejock 7: Big Bang Read online

  Clunk ignored him and continued to work the controls, guiding the ship to the end of the valley before angling it up to avoid the incline at the end. They passed over a clearing, then descended once more.

  "Oh look, it's another valley," muttered Hal. "Never mind, I'm sure we'll find the right one eventually."

  "I'm doing my best," protested Clunk.

  "Maybe I should take over."

  Clunk's hands tightened on the controls. "Over all of our dead bodies."

  Hal grunted as he looked at the screen. "It's not getting any lighter, is it?"

  "That's because it's evening, Mr Spacejock."

  "Why don't we give up? We could go back to the spaceport and find a nice easy cargo job."

  "Mr Spacejock, you know there's no such thing. Anyway, you told Ms Ryder you'd give her a hundred and fifty percent."

  "Yeah, but she hasn't paid us yet, and a hundred and fifty percent of nothing is still nothing." Hal gestured at the controls. "Hit the throttles and head for the sky."

  Clunk shook his head. "You can't let Meri down."

  "You heard her … she didn't want us, she wanted Spearman. Let him tool around looking for valleys and sunken houses."

  "By the time Mr Spearman arrived, it really would be a sunken house."

  "Who cares? It's probably full of junk anyway." Hal gestured impatiently. "Come on, let's go. I bet we'll find a real job on the next planet."

  "Mr Spacejock, we've only been searching for thirty minutes. If we gave up on a job every time you —"

  "Hey, what was that?" Hal pointed at the screen. "Quick, go back! I saw a house!"

  The ship heeled round, the image on the viewscreen tilting like crazy. When it settled down again, there was a large, two-storey house in the middle of the screen. It was an imposing building with arches, stark whitewashed walls, and even a small turret in one corner, much like a guard tower designed to keep a lookout for marauding invaders. Through the windows Hal could just make out an impressive brass telescope, and shelves crammed with books.

  The rear of the house was built into the hillside, and a pair of garage doors were set into the cliff alongside. A washing line turned slowly in the downdraft from the Volante's jets, and the shutters on the windows rattled and shook as they were buffeted by the turbulence. The area in front of the house was laid with gravel, and a drive lead downhill, straight into the rising waters.

  "That's the place," said Hal. "It has to be."

  "It's a little more grand than I expected."

  "An old trick. You don't tell people you're a millionaire when you're getting quotes. Playing poor keeps the price down."

  "Perhaps." Clunk checked the data in the corner of the screen. "The heading and distance are correct."

  "I'm telling you, this is the place. The agent said there weren't many houses out here, and we've checked more hidden valleys than a gyn—"

  "We have to make certain. Emptying the wrong house would be a disaster."

  "If they're all getting flooded, what's the difference?" Hal looked thoughtful. "You know, there could be an earner in this. There must be other abandoned houses - some of them might be worth a look."

  "Maybe so, but first we have to do the job we're being paid for." Clunk applied himself to the controls, and the ship rose into the air. "I'll do a widening spiral around the house. If there's nothing within a kilometre we'll know this is the correct location."

  "Suit yourself. I know when I'm right." Hal glanced at his watch. "It's nearly dinner time. I'll rustle up some grub while you're busy."

  "You can't. We don't have any supplies."

  "No, after we land. I'll empty the larder while you clear the rest of the house."

  Chapter 3

  Twenty minutes later, Clunk was finally satisfied. He'd circled an area more than two kilometres in diameter, and then hadn't spotted so much as a cubby house. Not only that, but the weather was closing in and it would soon be dark.

  "About time," was Hal's only comment, as the Volante turned back onto the original heading. But instead of landing on the broad gravel drive, Clunk continued for several hundred metres before setting the ship down in a clearing. "Why so far away?" demanded Hal.

  "If I land on the gravel, the force of our jets will kick up thousands of stones."

  "So?"

  "They will damage the house."

  "It's about to get flooded, Clunk. I don't think a few stone chips will make any difference."

  "Nevertheless, I cannot cause wilful damage."

  "Okay, let me land the ship." Hal flexed his fingers. "I could use a bit of practice."

  Clunk shook his head. "That would be endangering the house, not to mention the Volante." Before Hal could argue any further, the robot shut down the engines. "Carrying the items a short distance won't add too much time, and the exercise will do you good."

  Hal was still protesting as Clunk unsealed the airlock, extending the passenger ramp towards the ground. As the slender structure unfolded itself, dust from their landing swirled around, blowing grit into Hal's eyes.

  Clunk stepped onto the landing platform outside the ship's airlock, and as soon as the ramp was locked in place he took the first step towards the ground. He was already halfway down by the time he realised Mr Spacejock wasn't following. Looking back, Clunk saw the human still inside the airlock, peering out cautiously. "What is it?"

  "What sort of creatures do they have here?"

  "Birds, insects, a few mammals. Why?"

  "No giant orange apes, right?"

  Clunk shook his head. "This planet was terraformed centuries ago. Imported species only."

  Hal looked towards the nearby forest, where the tree trunks were lost in the gloomy twilight under the canopy. "Why don't you walk around for a bit? See if anything attacks you."

  "I assure you …" Clunk was about to argue the point, then relented. After all, they were going to be working through the night, so what difference would it make to waste a few minutes? He upped his volume level and faced the trees. "Here apey-wapeys, unky Clunky has a nice metal bone for you. Come and partake!"

  "Stop messing about and do it properly," said Hal. "Pretend you haven't seen it."

  "Seen what?" Clunk looked around in concern, spinning his head this way and that. "What did you see? Who's out there? What did it look like?"

  "That's more like it. Now turn your back to the trees and don't look round. They always sneak up from behind."

  Unwillingly, Clunk complied. His confidence had evaporated, and he was beginning to wonder whether his sketchy research notes on the planet were good enough to stake his life on. There had been one or two incidents in the past where he'd used the wrong database - and even the wrong planet - leading to some very unpleasant encounters.

  As he stood there with his back to the forest, waiting to be attacked, he wondered exactly what Mr Spacejock had seen.

  * * *

  Hal waited a few minutes, then decided the forest looked safe enough. If there were any dangerous life forms he could always use Clunk as a shield while making a hasty getaway. The robot wasn't indestructible, but he'd probably last long enough for Hal to get to safety.

  The two of them left the clearing, making their way along a rough path towards the house. To their right, the ground fell away, with trees already vanishing under the rising waters. To their left, imposing trees towered over them, the thick undergrowth alive with insects and birds.

  After ten minutes or so they reached the gravel drive, and their feet scrunched on the stones as they walked towards the house. The entrance was imposing, with a pair of weathered stone lions sitting on columns, and a door which towered over them by a metre or more. It hadn't been used for some time, though: leaves had drifted into the corners, and the doormat was half buried.

  "I hope the owner isn't still here," said Hal suddenly.

  "According to Ms Ryder, he died a while ago."

  "Exactly."

  Clunk inspected the lock, then flipped through the
keys until he found one to match. Unfortunately, it didn't turn.

  "Stuck?" asked Hal.

  "Could be." Clunk indicated the leaves all over the porch. "It's weeks since anyone came here."

  "The agent said we could break in."

  Clunk stood on tip-toes to peer through a bottle-green porthole in the door. "I don't like the idea of forced entry."

  "Here, let me," said Hal, reaching for one of the granite lions. He managed to pick it up, then staggered towards the door with it, eventually giving the handle the gentlest of nudges with the stone head.

  "What's that in aid of?" asked Clunk.

  "I need a proper run-up."

  "No, you need some proper strength."

  Hal backed out of the porch, holding the stone lion around its midriff. "Move out of the way," said Hal, puffing under the strain. "Quick, or I'll drop this thing on my toes."

  Clunk obeyed, and he watched in concern as Hal staggered past with the heavy lion. There was a thud as it hit the door, and a bigger thud as it fell out of Hal's grasp and landed on the doormat.

  "Keep going like that and we won't need to open the door," remarked Clunk. "We'll just walk through the tunnel you're making underneath it."

  Hal struggled off with the lion, panting and puffing, and this time he managed a solid bump before tottering out of the porch backwards. He lost his footing, and barely managed to drop the heavy statue before landing on his backside.

  Clunk sighed. "Mr Spacejock, I feel it's only a matter of time before you do yourself a serious injury."

  "Too late," said Hal, rubbing a bruise.

  "Much as I dislike breaking and entering, I believe I must make an exception in this case." So saying, Clunk extended his hand like a ramrod, punching a hole through the door panel. Then he reached inside to undo the catch, and within seconds the doors swung open.

  * * *

  The interior was spacious, and their footsteps echoed off the marble floor and stark white walls. Paintings hung beneath angled spotlights, ranging from detailed landscapes and portraits to abstract works spanning several panels. There was a large amount of furniture concealed under snowy-white sheets, and when Hal rubbed a piece of fabric between finger and thumb he discovered the dropsheets were better quality than the ones on his bunk.

  Clunk inspected an oil painting depicting a rural scene. "You know, this reminds me of Farrell's place."

  "Farrell?"

  "You remember, the Hinchfig brother who tried to kill you. The one you stole your ship from."

  "Oh, that Hinchfig." Hal shrugged. "All these posh gaffs are the same. Showy artworks and huge rooms filled with furniture nobody uses. I bet there's even a limo in the garage."

  "I sincerely hope not. Remember, we're supposed to be clearing this house."

  "Oh hell." Hal looked around, struck by the enormity of the task. Until this moment he'd pictured a modest house with a few sticks of furniture which they could load into the Volante in under an hour. Now it looked like they'd really be earning their money. "Do you reckon all this stuff will fit in the ship?" he asked, hoping Clunk would say no so they could chuck the job and leave.

  Hoow-ooooow-ooooowl!

  Hal's hair stood on end at the mournful, drawn-out sound, and he fought the impulse to run for the safety of the Volante. "What the hell was that?" he whispered.

  Clunk looked uneasy. "I don't know, Mr Spacejock, but it seems we're not alone."

  Chapter 4

  Clunk reacted instantly as the footsteps thudded towards him. They were moving at speed, and he barely had time to move in front of Hal before a large bundle of orange fur launched itself at his throat. Time slowed, and Clunk noticed several things: First, the fur had a mouth, and that mouth was filled with wicked-looking teeth. Second, the creature was actually of the genus Canis familiaris, or more specifically a red setter. And finally, it wasn't aiming to tear his throat out … it was just very happy to see him.

  Time sped up once more, and Clunk danced around, arms waving, as he tried to fend off the dog's frantic attempts to lick his face. He'd barely noticed the grey hairs around its muzzle when it bounded past, tail windmilling. Then he heard Hal's 'uuuurgh!' as the eager dog barrelled into him. When Clunk turned round, the human was sitting on the floor, the dog nuzzling his cheek.

  "Mr Spacejock, are you all right?"

  "Yeah, fine. What about this, eh?" Hal rubbed the dog's neck, then looked closer. "She's lost her collar."

  "How can you tell?"

  "The hair's all flattened." Hal took the dog under the chin and looked into its eyes. "What's the story, old girl? Did you run away, or did the nasty people leave you behind?"

  "Surely they wouldn't …" began Clunk.

  "I've known people leave their own family behind," said Hal curtly. "Are you hungry?"

  "I don't eat."

  Hal glanced at him. "I meant the dog. Let's organise some food, eh?"

  The dog barked and charged off down the corridor, leaving Clunk frowning after her. "I must inspect the rest of the house. Perhaps you could take care of the wretched animal in the meantime."

  Hal frowned. "Don't call her that."

  "What do you suggest? Spot? Fido?"

  "Maybe we'll find a collar with her name on."

  "And the fleas to go with it."

  "What's your problem, Clunk? First you hate cows, and now it's dogs. It'll be cute little hamsters next."

  "Animals don't communicate properly."

  "Sure they do. Watch." Hal stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled. There was a bark, and a clatter of nails along the passageway, and the dog came bounding in. "See?"

  "Now ask it where its owners are."

  "Very funny."

  "No, I'm serious. That's exactly what I'm talking about. Dumb animals can't …"

  "She's not dumb," said Hal, patting the dog on the flank. In return she licked his hand.

  "And their attitude towards hygiene is appalling," added Clunk. "For example, how do you know where that tongue's been?"

  "You can't ask a lady questions like that!"

  "Only because you don't want to know the answer."

  "Come on, girl. Let's find the larder and leave unky Clunky to his moany woany ways."

  Clunk opened his mouth to protest, then closed it again. Hal could almost read his mind: with human and dog out of the way, the robot would be able to inspect, catalogue and organise to his heart's content. "Very well, Mr Spacejock. You feed the creature, and I'll start working."

  * * *

  Clunk hurried from room to room, taking snapshots of the contents and converting the images into 3D models. While his legs carried him around the house, his brain processed the models, rotating them and fitting them together until they took up the smallest possible space. Another process fitted the resulting tangle into a scale model of the Volante's cargo hold, and when that was full he moved on to the lower deck, the passageways, and the cabins.

  By the time he reached the last room, Clunk's model of the ship was packed from stem to stern, leaving a tiny crawl space to get around. There were items balanced on the flight console, carefully placed so the legs weren't resting on any important controls, and chairs and tables hung from the roof on hooks. Even the engine room hadn't escaped his notice, with boxes of belongings piled up around both engines and the hyperdrive motor. It was crowded enough to give a compulsive hoarder the screaming fits, but even so Clunk allowed himself a triumphant smile. He'd done it! Every item aboard the ship, and it would only take … only take …

  His smile slipped. According to his calculations, it would take three days to move everything, by which time half of it would have floated away.

  Well, perhaps they didn't need to wrap everything in spare blankets, and they could carry a little more on each trip if Mr Spacejock really put in a good effort. Clunk altered the parameters and ran the simulation again, and his face fell even further. Two days!

  Worried now, Clunk altered the parameters again. If they carried thre
e times as much, ran back and forth, threw the items into the hold any old how and sorted out the mess later it would just be possible to empty the house in time. Some items would be damaged, or left behind, or trampled, but that was always to be expected with one of Mr Spacejock's cargo jobs. The bulk of the goods would arrive in reasonable condition, and that would have to be good enough.

  Of course, all his careful planning was for nothing if they didn't make a start right away, and with an overriding sense of urgency, Clunk ran off to find Mr Spacejock.

  * * *

  The dog led Hal along the passageway, turned right into a large kitchen and stopped before a smart wooden door. "So that's the larder, eh?" said Hal, spotting the sign. "Good girl." He opened the door and grinned as he saw the overflowing shelves. Tins of biscuits, vegetables and soup, jars of pickles, jam and sauces, bottles of drink and packets of dried noodles, rice and spaghetti were crammed into every available space. Despite his recent biscuit purchases, the Volante's stores had been a little thin lately, and this lot would be a most welcome addition.

  Then Hal's gaze fell on a tall cabinet in the corner, glossy white with rounded corners and a row of green status lights. It was as big as a fridge, but it wasn't a cooling device. No, the tall, sleek box was a stasis cabinet!

  Inside a stasis cabinet, time stood still as long as the unit was powered up. You could pop anything in there, hot or cold, and remove it a decade later in the same condition. They were very expensive, but a vast improvement on simple refrigeration. And with the owner sparing no expense on the container, what kind of luxurious delights would Hal find inside? Hot meat pies running with gravy? Thick ice cream with chocolate crumble? A leg of ham, cured on the bone?

  His mouth watering in anticipation, Hal reached for the handle. Then he hesitated. Apart from food storage, stasis cabinets had also proved popular in the funeral industry, and the last thing he wanted was a face-to-face meeting with the owner of the house, even if he was in pristine condition.

  When describing the job, Matthews had skipped any details on the house's owner, and whoever had neglected the dog could just as easily have left a stiff behind.