Hal Spacejock 6: Safe Art Page 4

  "What is it?"

  Hal pointed. At the front of the display, an elderly man in a white lab coat was tinkering with a complicated-looking control panel, picking through the exposed wiring as he touched a probe to various contacts. Behind him stood a gleaming silver cabinet, and above the cabinet was a printed banner: The Galactic Teleporter Co. There was another person on the display, a beefy young man wearing a tight red T-shirt. He was lounging against the silver cabinet, completely absorbed in a trashy novel.

  As Hal eyed the display, he realised there was something missing. Every time he encountered the teleporter scientist there were two cabinets. Here, on this stand, there was only one. Despite their cargo job, despite Harriet Walsh, and despite the deadline, Hal found himself drawn towards the display. The scientist looked up at his approach, brochures and sales pitch at the ready. Then he recognised Hal.

  "So, it is you."

  Hal nodded. "Are my shares worth anything yet?"

  "Once my genius is recognised they will be worth untold millions."

  "Still working on that, huh?"

  The old man gestured at the cabinet. "As you can see, I have upgraded my equipment."

  "I noticed." Hal glanced around. "Where's the other one?"

  "You mean Kurt?"

  "No, not your other son. I mean the other cabinet."

  "Oh, that's on planet Pegzwil. We have a matching exhibit there."

  "So you can con twice as many people in the same amount of time? Good thinking."

  "Still you think my work is a con?" The old man shook his head sadly. "Did I not teleport you successfully once before?"

  "You teleported me all right, but it wasn't much of a success."

  "Now the equipment is better. Here, give me your watch."

  "Hal, no!" protested Harriet. "We don't have time for this."

  "If he loses his watch he won't have time at all," muttered Clunk.

  Hal hesitated, then removed his watch and passed it to the scientist.

  "Hans. Catch."

  The young man in the red skivvy caught Hal's watch in one hand, opened the cabinet and placed the watch on the floor. Once the door was closed the scientist turned to the control panel, humming under his breath as he adjusted the settings. Then, with a rather nervous look at the cabinet, he pressed a large red button.

  There was a crackle of electricity, and Hal felt his hair standing on end. The cabinet glowed with a deep purple light, and then … nothing.

  "Hans?" said the scientist.

  The young man opened the cabinet, releasing a cloud of grey smoke. The floor was empty.

  "Never mind," said Clunk. "It wasn't a very good watch."

  "I am merely confirming it has gone," said the old man.

  "I know it's gone," said Clunk. "I can smell the remains."

  "Hans, the door please."

  Hans closed the door, and seconds later there was another flash of purple light. When the young man opened the door, Hal saw his watch on the floor - sitting on top of a glossy photo.

  "Please, bring it here," said the scientist.

  Hans grabbed the watch and the photo, handing them both to Hal. The watch was unharmed, still working as well as it ever had, but the photo made him pause. In it he could see the scientist's second son, Kurt, and he was holding Hal's watch up to the camera.

  "Hey, that's amazing," said Hal.

  Clunk sniffed. "No, that's simple photo manipulation."

  "It's not a trick," said the scientist. "If you wish, I could send your robot through."

  "Okay," said Hal.

  Clunk backed away. "I will not subject myself to this charade. We have a cargo to deliver, and time is getting short."

  "He's right," said Harriet. "We've wasted enough time on this nonsense."

  "It is not nonsense!" thundered the scientist. "You people will not accept the evidence of your own eyes!"

  "I want to try it, but we really do have a deadline," said Hal quickly. "We'll be back, I promise."

  "Very well," said the scientist stiffly. "I expect your future presence … and an apology."

  They left the display and continued across the concourse in silence. They found the rental counter, eventually, and Hal groaned when he saw the sign propped on top:

  Closed for Winter. See Arnie's Rentakars (Main car park).

  "Great, just great," muttered Walsh.

  Hal glanced at her. "Can you commandeer a vehicle?"

  "Not without the right paperwork, and that'll take hours."

  "Okay, Arnie's Rentakars it is." Hal glanced outdoors, eyeing the driving snow and icy cold wind. "Off you go, Clunk. Harriet and I will keep watch here, in the warmth."

  Chapter 6

  Clunk made his way across the car park, moving sluggishly in the cold. The headwind was strong, and the icy slush made every step an effort. He slipped several times, barely saving himself from a nasty fall by thrusting forward into the driving wind.

  When he finally reached the middle of the car park, he found a shuttered kiosk. A small, tattered sign explained that Arnie's Rentakars would re-open in the summer.

  Clunk stared at the sign in shock, while snow continued to build up on his head and shoulders. What kind of planet greeted its visitors like this? It was … it was impolite! Fighting down anger, he grabbed the door handle and shook it, rocking the entire kiosk on its foundations. He pictured Mr Spacejock's expression when he returned empty-handed, and only his upright, law-abiding nature prevented him kicking the door down and grabbing a handful of keys. Clunk released the door handle and glanced across the car park. The closest vehicle was only fifty metres away, but he couldn't just get in and drive. That would be stealing.

  Frowning, he approached the problem from another angle. They'd been invited to the planet, and in a manner of speaking that made them guests. As guests it would be appropriate to borrow from their hosts. They had already borrowed space on the landing field, and they'd borrowed a little fresh air. Borrowing an entire vehicle was not much different.

  Keeping his thoughts firmly on guests, the appropriate behaviour of, Clunk strode across the treacherous tarmac to the nearest buried car. He cleared a well in the snow, being careful not to damage the vehicle, and repeated the mantra 'it's okay to borrow from your host' under his breath as he cracked the car's security system.

  There was a hiss as the door shot into the air, almost batting Clunk into the snow. He ducked just in time, then slipped into the driver's seat and activated the vehicle's systems with practised ease. The dash lights came on after a little coaxing, and behind him the turbine spooled up. Once the car was ready, Clunk reached up and pulled the door down, sealing it. He switched on the headlights, and an intense white glare filled the cabin, reflecting off the piled-up snow in front of the car. Clunk reversed the engine's thrust, and the snow melted in a blast of super heated air, leaving a perfect tunnel rimmed with glistening ice.

  The car moved forwards in a cloud of steam, and Clunk angled it towards the terminal. A blip on the throttle hurled the vehicle across the icy ground, the rear fishtailing as thrust modulators compensated for the drift.

  Clunk drew up to the doorway and tooted the horn, and moments later Hal and Walsh staggered out, bent double against the wind. The passenger door shot up and they clambered in, noses and fingers blue from the cold.

  "I hope this thing's got a heater," said Hal, through chattering teeth.

  "Of course. And be sure to fasten your seatbelts. This is a sports model."

  "That's a bit extravagant. Couldn't you find anything cheaper?"

  "Not really, no." Clunk waited until his passengers were buckled in, then hit the throttle. There was a howl from the rear and the vehicle leapt forward, throwing fountains of snow out on either side.

  "How do you know where the road is?" asked Hal, as they left the car park.

  "Onboard sensors."

  Hal explored the seat pockets, pulling out an assortment of maps, tissue boxes and pen lids. He found a couple of cre
dit tiles, then cursed as a wad of used chewing gum stuck to his fingers.

  "What are you looking for?"

  "They have diamond mines on Forzen now." Hal lifted the floor mat, feeling underneath.

  "And?"

  "Someone might have dropped a few samples." Hal sat up and looked around the car, seeking more compartments. "While we're on this planet, it's finders keepers. Understood?"

  "I cannot steal," said Clunk, somewhat forcefully.

  "Nobody's asking you to." Hal glanced over his shoulder at Harriet, then lowered his voice to a whisper. "If you come across any clear bits of stone, stick 'em in your pocket for safekeeping."

  The car rounded a barrier and drove onto the main road. It was lined with green fence posts, the illuminated blue triangles on top barely protruding from the snow. As the car accelerated, the triangles blurred into a continuous line, dividing the road from the surrounding countryside like a gleaming blue fence.

  Hal gave up his search and sat back in the chair, his eyes half-closed against the glare. Clunk saw him squinting and activated a filter, darkening the windshield and turning the outside world into a dim moonscape. Then he turned his attention to the navigation system, traversing the menus until he'd programmed their destination. "Thirty minutes to the warehouse."

  "Wake me up if you see the snow go," said Hal, making himself comfortable. "And stop for any shiny rocks."

  * * *

  Clunk drove in silence, his attention on the road. Judging from the pristine snow, they were the first vehicle to pass through in quite some time, and he was a little concerned about the state of the roads. The car was running one notch off full power, which meant they were barrelling along at incredible speed. He didn't like it, but they'd never make the deadline if he slowed to a more sensible pace. Anyway, he was a robot, and he had total confidence in his skill.

  Alongside him, Hal was snoring gently, while Harriet was napping in the back seat. Clunk felt a warm inner glow, happy the humans trusted him enough to put their precious lives in his hands.

  The snow got deeper, until the icy walls on either side of the road encroached so far overhead there was only a sliver of sky visible between them. Before long the gap closed completely, leaving a long, frozen tunnel.

  Clunk clicked the throttle to full. Visibility was good in the glaring headlights, and the road was as straight as a ruler. He kept one hand on the throttle in case of emergencies, but the chances of slamming into anything were slim. Even so, Clunk glanced round to check the humans had secured their safety harnesses. Harriet Walsh had done hers up properly, but Mr Spacejock's had a little too much slack for the robot's liking. With a paternal smile on his face, Clunk reached across to give the loose end a hefty tug.

  * * *

  Hal was dreaming about a five-course meal, with platters of tender, gravy-soaked beef followed by half a dozen creme caramels. He was just tucking into the final course of tasty cheese and crackers when someone threw a straight jacket over his head and hauled on the straps, squeezing his chest until he could barely breathe.

  He woke with a start, arms and legs flailing as he gasped for air. His left elbow crashed into the ground-car's window, his left knee slammed into the underside of the dash, the point of his right elbow collided with the side of Clunk's unyielding chest, and his right foot rammed the car's control column.

  There was a whine from the turbine as the car shot off the road, and Hal's eyes widened as they raced towards the wall of snow. Marker posts went flying, thok-thok-thok, as the car mowed them down, and the shiny blue lights bounced off the canopy to skitter along the road. Clunk struggled with the controls as they plunged through virgin snow, mowing down shrubs and bushes.

  Hal was frozen in his seat. Eyes wide, fingers clawing the soft leather dash, he was still trying to decide whether this was nightmare or reality. Then the car jinked to one side, smacking his ear against the window and bringing tears to his eyes. Reality, then.

  Thok-thok-thok went another batch of marker posts, as Clunk desperately steered back onto the road. The car zoomed to the opposite side, swerved back again, then resumed its arrow-straight course in the left-hand lane.

  "You ran off the road?" exclaimed Hal. "Mr I'll-drive-it's-not-safe-for-humans put us in the hedge?"

  "We left the road momentarily, but we sustained very little damage." said Clunk. "Incidentally, your seatbelt was loose."

  "Yeah, but why?"

  "Because you didn't tighten it properly."

  "No, why did we run off the road?"

  "Your seatbelt was loose."

  Hal studied the robot. "I'm not going to get a straight answer, am I?"

  "You must tighten your seatbelt. It's not safe when it's loose."

  Hal shot Clunk an exasperated look and settled back in his seat.

  "Loose belts are dangerous," said Clunk under his breath.

  Hal glanced round to see if Harriet was all right, but she was still fast asleep and hadn't stirred. He assumed her Peace Force training included seminars on 'how to grab forty winks during death-defying car chases'. As for Hal, he was about to close his eyes and return to the sumptuous banquet when Clunk spoke up.

  "I shouldn't bother if I were you. Ours is the next turning."

  Hal tried to sit up for a look, but the seatbelt held him like a steel band. By the time he'd slackened it off the car was travelling along a narrow track between snow-covered buildings.

  * * *

  They drew up alongside an imposing structure with thick concrete walls, barred windows and solid-looking doors. Hal eyed the substantial chain threaded through the metal handles, and snorted at the sight of a shiny new padlock. "Something tells me they're not expecting visitors."

  Clunk popped the car door and climbed out. "Are you coming?"

  "No chance. Have a look around and let me know what you find." Hal sat back in his chair, lacing his hands behind his head. "Take your time. No rush."

  Clunk slammed the door and crunched through the snow to the warehouse. There were broad wheel tracks leading under the big double doors, and he decided even a human could have worked out what that meant: the truck was locked inside. As he got closer he eyed the chain, paying particular attention to the padlock. It was carved from a solid chunk of metal, and it had a finger pad, four proximity indicators and a red status lamp. Unfortunately he knew the type, and they were impossible to crack. He rattled the chain and yanked on the door handles, but the warehouse was locked up tight. Clunk turned right and started a circuit of the building, leaning forward and pushing his leg motors to the limit to negotiate the deep snow. Unfortunately the walls were all featureless grey concrete, and there was no other way in.

  Disheartened, Clunk returned to the car. He saw Hal and Walsh watching him through the frosted windows, and he took a perverse pleasure in opening the door wide to let the freezing air in.

  "What did you find?" demanded Hal. "Any sign of the truck?"

  "There are wheel ruts leading inside, but the doors are locked."

  "So unlock them."

  "Certainly. Would you hand me the key?" said Clunk, putting his hand out.

  "What key? I don't have any key."

  "I see you're beginning to understand."

  "Can't you bust the lock?"

  "Nobody's breaking any locks," said Harriet firmly.

  "In that case, maybe you could arrest the whole building," said Clunk.

  "What about knocking?" demanded Hal. "Did you bang on the door?"

  "No."

  "Typical robot. How about a bit of lateral thinking for a change?"

  Clunk's grip tightened, his fingers creaking audibly as he restrained himself. "Very well. I shall sit in the car while you go and announce our presence to any hardened criminals waiting inside that building. If they open fire, I suggest you run away from the car so as not to put Ms Walsh in danger."

  "You're both staying right here," said Harriet. "I'm a trained Peace Force officer. If anyone's going to approach a gang hideout
it's me."

  "You may have a badge," said Clunk. "But you're not bulletproof."

  "Neither is Hal!"

  Not for the first time, Hal debated chucking the whole cargo job. Nothing had gone to plan so far, and from where he was sitting things looked like they were going rapidly downhill. He eyed the building, deep in thought. "What were the penalty rates on this cargo job again?"

  "A hundred thousand credits, payable if you don't deliver the artworks in time."

  So much for giving up the job. "Seems like we don't have much choice. You two wait here, and I'll find out what's in store for us."

  "No, wait!" shouted Harriet. But she was too late.

  Chapter 7

  Hal pushed the door up and rolled out of his seat. It was supposed to be a swift, graceful exit which would leave him poised for a dash to the warehouse. Instead he landed flat on his back, arms and legs waving in the air while a boulder pressed into his left kidney. Before he could call for help, Clunk shut the door.

  Hal struggled to his feet and limped around the car, keeping his head low to give the enemy a smaller target to aim at. The fact a sniper could shoot straight through the car's windows didn't occur to him.

  He hesitated for a moment, then ran full pelt towards the warehouse, arms and legs pumping. After four paces his left foot snagged a buried obstruction, and there was a resigned look on his face as he cartwheeled into a snow drift. Hal bounced up straight away, spitting frozen dirt, and jinked sideways to put off the enemy's aim. Unfortunately his foot slipped on the ice, and he came crashing down on his hip.

  This time he got up a little more slowly. Part of him was beginning to wonder whether there were any sharpshooters itching to loose off a volley in his general direction. Another part of him was convinced their bullets and grenades would hurt less than repeated crash-landings on the frozen ground.

  Now limping on both sides, Hal hobbled to the doors and stood with his back to the wall. He strained his ears, but all he could hear was the moaning wind and the sound of his own panting. Turning his attention to the door, Hal inspected the impressive padlock and the heavy-duty chain. There was no chance of breaking the padlock, and the chain's metal links were as thick as his fingers. That left the door handle, which was cast from solid steel and was as thick as his arm.