Mirror Friend, Mirror Foe 5 страница

Hopefully, it would be regarded as the result of the interoffice rivalries Turner had mentioned, though there would doubtless be a great deal of curiosity as to how the alarm floor and camera were bypassed. Still, the bloodhounds would be looking for any un­usual behavior, which was why he was here.

“Look,” he said firmly to the robot. “It was last Wednesday night. I fed the card into the waiter robot myself. I know the charge was made, so why wasn’t it shown on my pay stub?”

“There is no record of the transaction you are ref­erencing. I have rechecked the records each time you asked,” the robot replied without rancor. “However, as this is the fifth time you have repeated the same question or a close variant thereof, I must assume you find my answer unsatisfactory. If you wish additional clarification, so indicate and I will summon a human to deal with your problem.”

“Please.” Hosato sighed.

“That phrase is unclear. Do you wish—?”

“Please summon a human,” Hosato amended.

“Your request is being processed. There will be a short delay.”

The desk-robot lapsed into silence. Hosato sank back in his chair to wait. He was beginning to won­der if he was really pursuing the right course in this matter. Maybe...

“Oh, hi!”

He swiveled his head toward the source of the voice. The same petite redhead who had first wel­comed him to Mc. Crae Enterprises had just entered the room.

“Are you the one with the problem?” she asked.

“Yes.” He smiled. “I must say that was quick. Were you waiting outside, or what?”

She made a face at him. “Mc. Crae employees are always eager to serve your every need,” she recited. “Besides, it’s not like I was busy. This is the second problem I’ve had to deal with this month. What’s your gripe?”

“Well, actually it’s more of an accounting problem than a personnel problem.”

“That’s okay,” she insisted. “I handle both. Shows you how many problems we normally get, doesn’t it. I tell you, the machines are doing everything these days.”

“Yes, well, it’s nothing, really. I charged a meal onto my account last Wednesday night, and it didn’t show on my pay stub as a deduction. I just wanted to be sure my records were accurate, that’s all.”

She cocked her head at him. “You know, you’re a strange one. Most people wouldn’t even notice what was or wasn’t charged to them, and the ones that did sure wouldn’t complain if a meal got charged to some­body else.”

She stepped to the desk computer and started key­ing in data. “What’s your employee number?” she asked over her shoulder.

“Actually, if it’s too much trouble—”

“Too late to change your mind now.” She grinned. “Now that you’ve confessed, we’re going to see this through. Come on, this is probably going to be the high point of my week.”

He gave her the number, and she keyed it into the robot.

“No,” she said thoughtfully, scanning the view-screen. “There’s no record of that transaction.”

Hosato shut his eyes for a moment as he fought back a sarcastic comment. “Look,” he said finally, “I was there. I personally fed my card into the waiter robot. I know the charge exists somewhere.”

“Don’t get panicky,” the girl assured him. “We’ll find it. Could you give me a few details?”

“Well, Sasha and I had dinner at the mall restau­rant.”

“Sasha. Well, well.” She smiled at him and bent over the robot once more. “Here it is.”

“Where was it?” he asked.

“My friend, you’ve been flimflammed. Thursday morning your charming dinner companion used her security override to erase the charge from your record and had it added to hers instead.”

Hosato felt a mild pang of annoyance. “Well, just transfer it back,” he ordered.

“Can’t.” The girl smiled. “You’ll just have to give her the money yourself if you want to pay for it. I just wish I could be there when you try.”

Hosato controlled his temper and forced a smile. “Well, I guess that’s between her and me. Thanks for your help, though. I probably shouldn’t have gotten you involved.”

“Don’t mention it. Say, urn, Hayama. Maybe I shouldn’t say this, but about your girlfriend there.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he corrected.

“Really. Good. That makes this a little easier to say, then. Did you know she’s trying to get you re­placed?”

“What?”

“Now, don’t blame her. She’s probably under or­ders from on high to save a few bucks on the budget. You know what they say, '. Never mix friendship with business.' You should hear her side of it before you tell her to drop dead.”

“First,” Hosato interrupted, “I think I' should hear your side of it.”

“Well,” she began eagerly, “remember I said this was the second special problem I had to deal with this month. Well, the other one was her. She called me up last Thursday and said she wanted me to send out a personnel-scouting request to all our field agents. You’ll never guess what for.”

“A fencing coach?” Hosato supplied.

“Wrong,” she said triumphantly. “For a spy. For someone who specializes in espionage and sabotage, but—and here’s the kicker—a spy who can double as a fencing coach. It looks like someone thinks your job should be doing double duty. That’s what hit me, you know. We used to have two girls here, one handling accounting problems and one covering personnel. Then...”

Hosato wasn’t listening as she rambled on. The Ninja trap. So that’s what Sasha had up her sleeve. Instead of proving the fencing coach had other tal­ents, she was simply putting out a call for a list of dubious characters who could fence. All she would have to do would be to see if the existing coach were on it. If he were Would it work. How many of his contacts would supply his name in response to that request. Would she make the connection between Hosato and Hayama. There were a lot of Japanese in space, but how many of them could fence?

“Hey!” The girl laid a hand on his arm, interrupt­ing his thoughts.

“I didn’t meant to get you upset. Even if she finds someone, you can always find another job, can’t you?”

“Sure,” he said bitterly. “As a professional duelist. I was trying to leave that behind. Not much job se­curity, and the retirement plan is rotten.”

“Gee, I’d like to run interference for you, but well, you know, it’s my job. Still,” she said, “I do feel somehow responsible. Tell you what. I get off at four, why don’t we' get together over drinks, and maybe be­tween the two of us we can come up with something.”

“Okay.” Hosato smiled. “Where shall I meet you?”

“Why don’t I drop by your room?” she suggested. “And we can decide where we’ll go from there.”

Suzi will love that, he thought.

“Terrific,” he said. “I’ll see you then.”

“Okay,” she said, standing up. “And in the mean­time, don’t worry. Sasha’s going to have her hands full for a while after what happened last night.”

Hosato was suddenly alert.

“What happened last night?” he asked casually.

“Haven’t you heard. Somebody killed Turner. Blew his head off with a blaster.”

“What. Who did it?”

“Nobody knows, but it had to be one of the guards. They’re the only ones in the complex with blasters. The president has ordered them all to turn in their weapons until the investigation is complete.”

A spark burned in Hosato’s memory. “Was he in the manufacturing area?”

“No, he was in his office. That’s about all I know. See you after work.” She started for the door.

“What about the boy. Turner’s son. What happens to him?”

“Gee, I never thought about that. I suppose the company will take care of him somehow. See you later.”

Hosato sat in thoughtful silence after she left. Fi­nally he leaned forward and spoke into the desk-robot.

“Can you connect me with Harry Turner’s personal quarters?”

“I can function as an intercom system,” the robot responded.

“Then would you connect me, please?”

There was a silence; then James’s voice came out of the speaker. “Yes?”

“Hayama here, James.”

“Oh. Hayama. I won’t be able to take my lesson today—”

“I know, I just heard. What I wanted to say was that after all this is over, if you’re still interested, we can talk about your coming in with me as an appren­tice.”

“Thanks, Hayama. I appreciate that.”

“One more thing, James. What was your father do­ing in his office last night?”

“It was the security-robot thing again. He was go­ing to be looking at the first working prototypes.”

“But you have my every assurance that such a thing is impossible!” Suzi floated at Hosato’s heels as he paced up and down his apartment.

“Look, Suzi,” Hosato said grimly, “I was almost killed twice yesterday by robots. How do you explain that?”

There was a moment of silence before the robot replied. “The only possible explanation is equipment malfunction.”

“Twice. In the same area. Within fifteen minutes of each other?”

“The probability is admittedly low, but the possi­bility is still there,” Suzi insisted. “Do you recall your arguments with my creator to program me so that I could attack with a fencing foil. It was safe, you said, there could be no injury so the programming would be acceptable. Do you recall what he said?”

“He said he wouldn’t do it.”

“He said he couldn’t do it. Because you and I can converse like this, you keep forgetting one basic con­cept. Machines are dumb. That’s why the base “no-kill' programs are ingrained so deeply. A machine can’t tell a blunted sword from a real one. If I were able to be programmed to fight with a mock weapon, you could then substitute a real weapon and I would kill with it. Our 'no-kill' programming therefore ne­gates any such secondary programming.”

There was a knock at the door. “Please reconsider,” Suzi begged. “The repercus­sions of your chosen action could—”

“No, Suzi,” Hosato said and opened the door. “Well, Hayama,” Sasha said, sweeping briskly into the room. “What’s the big emergency?”

“Sit down, Sasha.” Hosato smiled. “This could take a while.”

“No it won’t,” the security chief said coldly. “My entire force has been disarmed, the whole complex has gone crazy with accusations and suspicions, and I was supposed to be in the president’s office five min­utes ago. This won’t take long at all.”

“But this has to do with Turner’s death,” Hosato supplied.

“Fine. If you have information to give, then give it and let me get out of here.”

Hosato sighed. “Look, Sasha. Will it slow you up at all if I say everything you’ve suspected about me is true. That I’m a Ninja?”

Sasha stopped abruptly and studied Hosato with dark eyes. “Did you kill Turner?” she asked softly.

“No, but I think I know who did... or what did, to be specific.”

The security chief sank into a chair. “I’m listening,” she announced. “I must say you’ve got the knack for getting my undivided attention.”

“Before I get into my theory, there are a couple questions I want to ask you. As head of Security, any breach in an restricted area would be reported to you immediately, right?”

“That is correct.”

“Aside from Harry Turner’s death, were any other disturbances reported to you yesterday?”

“No.”

“Specifically, in the manufacturing areas?”

“No. Why. Have you heard something—?”

“Next,” Hosato interrupted, “is Turner’s product family introducing any new robots that you know of?”

“That’s a definite no.” Sasha grimmaced. “They haven’t come up with anything new in the last two years.”

“Turner controls the Household line, doesn’t he. Tell me, can you think of a household use for a rock slicer?”

Sasha frowned. “Not really. We use them in some of our construction robots, but slicers are too danger­ous to be used around humans.”

“How about blasters?”

“Look, Hayama. Enough games. If you have some­thing to say, say it.”

Hosato sighed and took the plunge.

“Okay. My name isn’t Hayama, jt’s Hosato. By profession I am a Ninja, an advancement on the old-world model you’ve studied. I was hired by Ravensteel to infiltrate your complex for the express purpose of sabotage. I feel relatively safe admitting this to you, because so far I have done nothing except look around. I haven’t killed anyone, destroyed any equip­ment, or transmitted any information to Ravensteel. My contract is now voided, but to my reasoning, the worst you can do is export me as an undesirable.”

“That’s quite a mouthful, Hayama... Hosato. The big question in my mind is, why?”

“For the money, of course.”

“I mean, why tell me?”

“I’m coming to that.” Hosato began to pace the room as he talked. “I’m breaking cover because I think there’s something bigger at stake.”

“Like what?”

“Killer robots. I think Harry Turner was killed by one of his own prototype security robots and that we’re all in potential danger of sharing that fate.”

“Whoa. Hold on, Hosato. Robot’s can’t—”

“Hear me out, Sasha. I mentioned I had done some looking around yesterday. I was specifically scouting Turner’s manufacturing area for sabotage. I saw two things there that didn’t make sense. First, the main­tenance robots were constructing a new assembly line, yet you say there are no known new products planned for that area. Second, I saw a prototype robot being assembled with a built-in blaster in one arm and a light industrial slicer in the other.”

“But robots can’t kill people, they can’t even injure them. Even if they have built-in weapons, they couldn’t use them on anybody.”

“In that same scouting trip, I was almost killed twice, both times by robots. One time, one of the maintenance robots tried to knock me off a catwalk; and a few minutes later one of the design robots tried to shove a screwdriver through my chest. Does that sound like harmless robots going about their work?”

“It could be a malfunction,” she suggested.

'. That’s what I thought at first myself. Then I found out that when Harry was killed, he was supposed to be looking over the prototypes of the security robots. It just seems like too much of a coincidence to me.”

“But even if they were able to kill people, would robots have the necessary data tb perform the func­tion?”

“We can check that easily enough,” Hosato said, turning to Suzi. “Suzi. We’re going to need your help.”

The robot remained stoically silent.

“Come on, Suzi. She knows already. There’s no need for secrets anymore.”

There was still no response.

“Am I to take it from your actions,” Sasha asked, “that Suzi is more than the Class Two robot she’s been pretending to be?”

“That’s right,” Hosato responded. “She’s actually rather advanced. A Class Seven.”

“Class Eight,” Suzi corrected him.

“Ah.” Hosato smiled. “Since you’ve decided to join us, what data are available to robots on the subject of killing?”

“Robots are incapable of killing or injuring hu­mans,” Suzi recited. “As any idiot knows.”

Sasha snickered.

“That’s right,” Hosato said. “You all have 'no-kill programming. But how do you know not to injure anyone?”

“'. No-kill' programming includes a complex matrix of human vulnerabilities,” Suzi informed them. “We know the breaking strength of every bone in the body, modified for sex and age, the pressure necessary on what type of an edge to break the skin or rupture an internal organ, the sensitivities of the eyes or ears—”

“So you have all the information necessary to inflict injury. All robots do.”

“The information is of a negative nature. These are things we are to avoid doing at all costs.”

“But if the blocks were somehow removed, and you had programming to that effect, you would know pre­cisely how to kill. Correct?”

There was a painful silence.

“You see, Sasha,” Hosato said. “Robots could—”

“Even if we were physically able to inflict injury,” Suzi interrupted, “there would have to be specific in­struction to that effect before we could act. Robots are incapable of independent thought, and merely act out instructions given them.”

“A mirror unto man,” Sasha murmured.

“What’s that?” Hosato asked.

“Oh. Just paraphrasing Shakespeare. The original quote was 'a mirror unto nature,' but that isn’t what we’re dealing with here. What we have is a mirror unto man, one that will reflect our efficiencies and maybe our weaknesses.”

“Then you agree that we could be in danger.”

“No, I don’t, Hosato.” Sasha was her brisk self again. “While I’ll admit it may be a possibility, there is nothing to prove—”

The shrill beeping of her belt unit interrupted her. She palmed the unit off her waist and held the ear plug against her head.

“Sasha here. What. Who is Hello... Hello!”

Her hands sank slowly into her lap as she stared at Hosato.

“I think you’ve got your proof,” she said vacantly. “While we’ve been here talking, someone or some­thing raided the meeting in the president’s office and killed everyone there. Security reports unidentified ro­bots moving through the corridors, armed and capa­ble of inflicting fatal injury.”

Hosato grasped the situation immediately.

“Suzi,” he barked. “Full battle equipment!”

The robot obediently pivoted around, and a door swung open.

“What...?” began Sasha.

“Here. I assume you can use this,” Hosato said, tossing her a blaster.

The security chief plucked it from the air and blinked at it. “I sure can. You’re a bag of surprises, aren’t you, Hosato?”

“I try,” he said dryly, peeling off his shirt.

There was a knock at the door.

“I’ll get it,” Sasha volunteered.

“Watch it.” Hosato began, but she already had the door open.

The little redhead stood there. “Hi. I... Oh!”

Her glance took in Sasha and a half-naked Hosato at the same tune. “Hey, if I’m interrupting anything, I—”

“Get in here, fast,” Sasha ordered, beckoning with the blaster.

The girl obeyed, focusing on the blaster for the first time. “Hey. What’s going on?”

“The robots are running amok and killing people. I know it sounds crazy, but. What are you doing, Hosato?”

“What does it look like I’m doing. I’m changing clothes.”

“I didn’t know it mattered what you wore to an emergency.”

“Take my word for it, it does.” He continued don- ning his Ninja suit and produced another blaster from Suzi’s depths.

“Here,” he said, tossing it to the redhead. “Ever use one of these things?”

The redhead wrinkled her nose at the weapon. “No,” she announced proudly.

“Well, honey, you’re about to learn,” Sasha said grimly.

“First things first,” interrupted Hosato. “Get on your radio and alert your guards. Tell them to get to the armory and arm themselves as fast as they can. Then send a squad of them to secure the spaceport, and get the rest over here to guard the living quar­ters.”

“I know how to do my job, Hosato,” she snapped. “Then do it!”

He reached for his room telephone and dialed hast­ily. “James. Get over here to my room, fast. Don’t ask questions, just do it... That’s right, and if you see any strange robots, avoid 'em like the plague. Robots—it looks like your dad’s security robot scheme has backfired. Just get over here fast!” He slammed down the phone. “Suzi. Let’s see those layout diagrams again!”

The robot pivoted, and once more the viewscreen blinked to life.

Hosato studied the drawings. “What’s this?” he asked, pointing to an unlabeled outline, forgetting for a moment Suzi’s limited powers of observation.

“That’s the Maintenance Building,” the redhead commented, peering over his shoulder. “Hey, that’s a pretty neat robot. Who manufactures it?”

Hosato ignored her. “What’s the story on the life-support systems, Suzi?” he asked.

“Life-support systems for the living quarters and mall are self-contained and independent of the main computer control. They are located at this point.” An area of the layout diagram began to Sash.

“Bad news, Hosato,” Sasha interrupted. “The ro­bots have the spaceport.”

“Could someone tell me what’s going on?” the red­head whined.

“What about the armory?”

“The robots have that, too,” Sasha informed him. “My team managed to get some of the blasters out before the robots closed in, but not many. I’ve told them to pull back to the mall here to concentrate our forces.”

There was a knock on the door.

“Stand back,” Hosato hissed, motioning them away from the door.

With a fluid motion he rolled to the floor and lay, blaster ready, in front of the door.

“Who is it?” he called.

“James Turner,” came the muffled response.

“Come on in, James,” Hosato called back, his blaster never wavering.

The door burst open and the boy hurried into the room.

“There’s firing in the...”

He stopped short, gaping at Hosato’s blaster leveled at his midsection.

“Shut the door,” Hosato ordered.

The boy groped behind him and closed the door, his eyes never leaving the blaster.

“Never mind Hosato,” Sasha said briskly, stepping to his side. “He’s a bit jumpy. We all are. What were you saying about firing?”

The boy gulped. “There’s somebody’s firing blasters in the main corridor. The one leading to the rest of the complex.”

Sasha swore absently. “That means they’re on the way,” she growled at last. “I’d better get down there and organize the defense.”

“Wait a minute, Sasha,” Hosato said, rolling to his feet. “Is there any other way out of the complex. One humans can use?”

“What?”

“Wake up. We can’t hold them forever. They’re probably manufacturing more while we’re talking. We may have to evacuate the complex. Now, besides the spaceport, how can we get people out of here?”

Sasha thought for a moment. “I can’t think of any—”

“How about the sand crawlers?” James interrupted. “The maintenance crews use them for gathering mal­functioning robots. They let me ride along with them a couple of times.”

“How big are they and how many are there?”

“They can hold six, maybe ten in a pinch,” Sasha supplied. “And there are only two of them.”

Hosato grimaced. “It’s not much, but it’s all we’ve got. James, you and.What is your name, anyway?”

“Since you asked so nicely, it’s Carolyn,” the red­head retorted.

“Okay, you and Carolyn start going through the liv­ing quarters. Tell everybody to move down to the Maintenance Building. Don’t take time to try to ex­plain why, just tell them to do it and keep moving. Sasha will be organizing the corridor defense, and Suri and I will go ahead to check the status on the sand crawlers... Does that sound all right, Sasha?”

The last was added as he remembered his manners. He was starting to take command again.

“Sounds good to me,” she replied, unruffled. “Do you have any more blasters to spare?”

“Just one, and that’s mine,” Hosato apologized.

She made a face at him. “Some spy. Well, let’s go.”

“Spy?” asked James, looking at Hosato.

“Later, James. Like the lady says, let’s go.”

The mall was a madhouse. Crowds of people were milling around in various stages of confusion and panic. Disembodied hands seemed to pluck at Hosato’s sleeve as he and Suzi traversed the corridors. Voices babbled questions and demands at him, but he shrugged them off without breaking stride. The few who noticed he was carrying a blaster hurried to catch up with him, only to find his smooth pace deceptively fast.

Sasha had disappeared shortly after they left his room, but he assumed she was following her own route through the chaos. He could not waste energy worrying about her. She had her job and seemed competent enough to handle it. He had his. He had to make it to Maintenance, hopefully ahead of the crowds.

The narrow off-corridor to the Maintenance Build­ing was unoccupied. Apparently no one else had rec­ognized it as a possible avenue of escape. After the dimness of the mall, Hosato found the silence unnerv­ing, and without realizing it, began carrying his blaster at the ready position.

The metal door at the end of the corridor was closed. A prickly, chilly sensation ran along Hosato’s spine. He hesitated, then made his decision. He hadn’t survived this long by ignoring his warning instincts. Motioning Suzi back against the wall, he bent and sealed his suit. Then, gripping his blaster, he reached out and jerked the door open.

The Maintenance Building was a wreck. Three men who had been huddled over something on the floor sprang apart and desperately dived for cover behind workbenches and boxes. As they scattered, Hosato saw they had been at work dismantling a security robot. Beyond it, several bodies lay on the floor.

“Who’s there?” a shaky voice called out, and Hosato heard the quick scrabble as the man changed positions after speaking.

Stepping back into the corridor, out of their line of vision, Hosato broke the seals and rearranged his Ninja suit as he replied. “Hayama,” he called. “I’ve got my robot with me, but she’s stable and functioning normally.”

“Come on ahead, Hayama,” came a new voice Hosato recognized as Rick Handel’s. “It’s all right, you guys. I know him.”

By the time Hosato reentered the room, two of the men had resumed their work with the fallen robot, leaving only Rick to greet him.

“Hayama, do you know anything about what the hell’s going on?”

“I was just about to ask you. It looks like you’ve had a firsthand taste of the action here,” Hosato ob­served. “All I know is, somehow Turner’s security-robot plans backfired, and now we’ve got a pack of robots taking the place apart and killing anyone who crosses their path.”

“Turner, huh. Well, that’s one bit of information we didn’t have. We got a call a while back that there were a couple of malfunctioning robots headed for the president’s office wouldn’t respond to commands, they said. We sent a team out on the hustle, then got another call saying those 'bots had just broken into some high-level meeting and killed everybody in the place, including our section chief. We were trying to raise our team on the beepers to warn them off before they walked into a bad situation, when Mr. Personal­ity there burst through the door and started burning everybody in sight.”

He jerked his head toward the downed machine.

“Lucky for us, it could shoot in only one direction at a time, and it picked the wrong direction to start. Doc, there, has had some combat training and smashed in its front with a crescent wrench before any of the rest of us could move. We’ve been trying to find out what makes it lock instead of tick, but so far we can’t figure it.”

“Well, you haven’t got much time,” Hosato ob­served grimly. “The things are in the main corridor to the mall.”

“Oh, lord!” Rick exclaimed, his eyes widening.

“That’s right. Sasha and her security team are try­ing to stall them, but they can’t hold them for long. We’re trying to work out an evacuation plan, but we’ll need your help. The spaceport’s gone, so we’ll have to use the sand crawlers. Where are they?”

“Through there.” Rick pointed to a door at the rear of the shop. “There’s an airlock at the far end of the garage that gives direct access to the surface area, but only one crawler is operational. The other one’s half apart for preventive maintenance. It’s scattered all over the garage.”

“How fast could you put it back together?”

The mechanic gnawed at his lip. “Half an hour if I had isome help,” he said. “But—”

“Suzi,” Hosato said, turning to his partner. “Go with Rick here and help him as much as you can.”

“Hey, I can’t take tune to train a Class Two...”

“I am a Class Eight robot,” Suzi replied coldly. “And am more than capable of following simple or­ders.”

“A Class Eight?” Rick looked at her speculatively. “Say, Hayama, what are you doing with a Class Eight?”

“Sshh!” Hosato held up a hand for silence, then beckoned the mechanic closer.

“What’s through that door?” he whispered, pointing to the ruined metal door af the side of the shop.

“The new corridor,” Rick whispered back. “It runs past the main computer building and comes out—”

Hosato motioned him to silence again, and they lis­tened. Coming from the door was the muffled whine of motors moving toward them down the corridor.

“Get to work on the sand crawler.” Hosato whispered the order as he started sealing his Nirija suit.

“But what are you?” Rick began, then for the first time focused on the blaster in Hosato’s hand. “Hey, where did you get the blaster. And what’s with the funny outfit. Who are...?”

Hosato finished sealing the suit and vanished.

“I suggest we do as he says,” Suzi said to the stunned mechanic. “I’m sure he will explain later, if we get the time.”

Hosato didn’t delay to see the final resolution of Rick’s dilemma. He moved across the room in a smooth glide and stepped through the ruined doorway into the corridor.

There were three of them moving slowly down the corridor. He had never seen a robot try to “sneak” but guessed this was their attempt to duplicate that form of motion. At these speeds, their motors were next to noiseless. If Hosato had riot already been alerted and nervous, it is doubtful he would have heard them at all.