Having already been told that the assassin's transporter had touched down briefly on the rogue's docking space, Harry was not surprised to see that Dorijen had used the opportunity to come aground.
He said: "Greetings, kid. How's my old buddy, the assassin? Any message for me?"
"I am currently carrying no message."
Dorry explained that at the moment when the spacegoing machine touched down, she had made a quick decision and moved as briskly as she could to get out of the transporter and into the berserker base. The assassin had ignored her movements, and for all she could tell it might have forgotten her completely—no doubt it was too fully occupied with launching its attack, all its resources stretched too thin for it to know or care what the tame robot might be up to.
Her overall objective on entering the base was to locate whatever human life might still exist within its walls, and offer whatever help might be possible. She concluded: "Have you reason to expect such a communication?"
"Probably not." Harry gave a twisted grin. "It's just that the assassin must be a bit unhappy with me—ready to assassinate."
"I do not understand."
Harry quickly explained the reasoning that had led him to treacherously switch sides, and his current tentative arrangement with the rogue.
Dorry indicated her understanding. "I must inform you, sir," she went on, "that I am now willing to assign a higher probability to the hypothesis that you are not truly goodlife, that your offers of cooperation to these berserkers are made only with an intention to mislead the enemy. Had I your assurance that this revised interpretation is correct, that might be sufficient to tip the balance of my computations in your favor."
"Yeah? And when your balance tipped—?"
"That would allow me to place myself once more under your command."
It sounded to Harry like convoluted uncertainty, arrived at through a process of pure logic. He knew that the thinking machines were rarely any good at picking up on such subtleties as When is a human lying?—unless the contradictory facts were plainly visible. Dorry evidently understood her own weakness in this regard.
"Good," he said. "Consider yourself reassured. Yes, I'm lying to both the damned machines, and hoping for some kind of miracle, that my people are still alive and I can help them. I do indeed have in mind a glorious plan, by which the cause of life will ultimately triumph. Can't tell it to you now, because the enemy might be listening." And also, he thought to himself, because I really have no idea what the hell it is.
Having announced her intention to be of service, Dorry followed close on Harry's heels as he worked his way up out of the base's artificial gravity, then swung himself in weightlessness from one precarious handhold to another, along the slightly crumpled flank of Ship of Dreams. Briefly he had considered sending the robot on ahead, but decided against it, not wanting to alert any enemies who might be waiting there.
Soon Harry gained a position that afforded him his first real look at the Pod, a bulbous shape intermediate in size between the two ships to which it was now attached. The sight of it gave him another jolt. Any human who might have been inside when that happened had certainly been at risk; the damage he had earlier observed looked even worse from this angle. Obviously the assassin as well as the yacht had been firing to suppress the rogue's modest ground defenses, and obviously the attempt had not been entirely successful. Return fire from the ground had blasted a sizable hole in this new intruder's hull. Harry could chalk up another ship that couldn't be used to get away. But the third ship's presence opened up new possibilities for the discovery of usable launches and lifeboats. And if he could reach the ship, he ought to have no trouble making his way inside it.
He could see enough to decide that clambering the whole distance along the outside of the smooth-hulled ships was not going to be possible. Harry's only way to get into the Pod would be to pass first through the Ship of Dreams, and then traverse the Secret Weapon.
In a few moments he had entered Ship of Dreams—this was the first time Harry had been aboard Cheng's prize yacht, and things were somewhat unfamiliar. The passenger compartments were still airtight, and its internal gravity still worked. But the vessel had been emptied of people and of purpose. Harry encountered nothing that surprised him. A quick look into the control room confirmed the discouraging fact that the main drive was dead, and other internal damage had been extensive.
Leaving Dorry aboard Dreams to check on the status of launch and lifeboats, Harry himself pressed on, looking for the airlock that would connect him to the next vessel, the more familiar Secret Weapon.
With some difficulty he made his way on, through the mated hatchways, to board the smaller vessel. Here too, signs of extensive damage were immediately apparent.
On entering the first small interior chamber on the Weapon, Harry paused to listen. In a moment his airmikes, tuned to great sensitivity, picked up the sound of faint, rapid breathing in the control room, the next compartment forward.
He was well aware that this could be some berserker trick. But he was going to have to look and see.
The first purposefully moving object Harry encountered on board the Weapon was a crude-looking club, swung with robotic speed and power in the hands of the tame robot Perdix, who was standing armed and ready to defend his master against any intrusion by the bad machines. The robot pulled its swing at the last instant, so the club only grazed Harry's helmet, hitting the deck with an impact that gouged out chunks of material. Harry ripped out an oath, and came with a hairsbreadth of blasting the cabin's two occupants, before he realized just who and what they were.
On perceiving that the intruder was a human being, the robot Perdix lowered the crude weapon he had improvised by twisting free a damaged stanchion. Naturally Perdix offered no apology.
The haggard face of Professor Gianopolous was peering anxiously at Harry from the copilot's seat, on the other side of the control room. The inventor's voice broke in the middle. "Harry! Thank God it's you—I thought you were one of them."
Little more than the man's face was visible, above a web of forcefield binding, entangling his limbs and body, effectively shackling him into his chair.
Harry burst out with a demanding question.
Gianopolous was almost gibbering. "Your people? I've no idea, Harry, why ask me? I've just been stuck here, where the lady bound me up, before she went dashing out to join Cheng. Perdix has been trying to get me loose, but he can't make a dent in this stuff . . . What's happening out there?"
"What's happening is that all hell's broke loose. And the lady's not coming back." Harry paused to survey the inventor's situation, and gave the silvery blur of the forcefield a testing touch with his armored hand. "I can fire a shot into this web, and that'll probably break you free. Of course there's a chance that you'll be mangled by the recoil when it breaks."
Gianopolous closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. "Go ahead. I'd prefer to die quickly rather than sit here till I starve to death, or the berserkers come— Silver, you've just passed through the yacht, haven't you? Isn't there anyone there? What about Satranji? He was supposed to stay on board, and fight the ship."
"He seems to have decided that he had other business." Harry warned the inventor: "Turn your face away, bend over as far as you can. There's going to be some fireworks." Harry brought up the muzzle of the carbine, and Perdix, quick to catch on, swiftly interposed his metal body in the crucial place.
A single shot from Harry's carbine—its gauge indicated he could count on half a dozen more—set the inventor free, and the flaring explosion in the confined space scorched the tame robot, though not seriously.
Gianopolous seemed to have been partially deafened by the blast, but was otherwise unhurt. He quickly set about providing himself with a spacesuit from the spares on board—unfortunately none of them were armored. Harry delayed his own passage through the ship just long enough to ask a question or two.
"What about the next ship? There's another attached to this one, on the opposite side from the yacht."
Gianopolous had heard the sounds of its arrival, vibrating through the hull of his own ship. Then he had been told by his robot that a third ship was indeed attached in that place. "But I haven't detected any signs of life from it. I thought maybe it was another berserker."
"Not quite. I'm heading over there."
But again Harry's further advance was momentarily delayed, this time by the arrival of Dorry, who reported having checked out the possibilities of escape by means of the yacht's small craft, and found that they were nonexistent. The robot also reported that terrified refugees were beginning to creep into the yacht. "I have told them that the small craft are all inoperable, but they are disinclined to believe that."
"I can't do anything about that. If they stay there, it'll keep 'em out of my hair, at least."
The inventor, still struggling to get into his protective suit, sounded almost eager. "Then what are we going to do, Silver? What are we going to do?"
Harry grunted. "You can suit yourself. I'm moving on. How about borrowing your robot?"
"If Perdix goes, I'm coming with you too. I'm not staying here alone."
Perdix picked up his club again.
A few minutes later, Harry, now with two robots and one man at his heels, at last found his way into the Chewing Pod.
Dorry had informed him that she was still carrying some key or code, given her by Satranji many days ago, for opening the hatch of the Chewing Pod. The same device would also give its possessor control over the Pod's automatic pilot, but that would probably not help. The appearance of the ship strongly suggested that its drive would almost certainly be useless.
The tame robot had been given this key by Satranji at some earlier time, or had acquired it during the days she spent aboard that ship. Dorijen went on to remind Harry that she had almost perfectly memorized the vessel's interior layout, and could guide him to the limited number of places aboard where two, or even more, living prisoners could be kept with some security.
"I was of course never privy to my former master's plans in this regard. But confinement in a state of suspended animation seems most likely," Dorry suggested.
"I was thinking along those lines myself. The quick and easy way to keep people on ice is to put them into medirobots."
"Yes. There are only a small number of places aboard the Chewing Pod where that would be feasible and convenient."
Dorry paused, then added: "Perhaps I should remind you, sir, that in the event we encounter the confessed goodlife Satranji, I stand ready to provide active assistance. As he is human—"
"That's doubtful."
"Excuse me. As he is human, I say, I of course cannot use deadly force against him, under any circumstances."
"Of course."
"But I can and do volunteer to put on a spacesuit at your orders, sir, then move about as a decoy, an imitation human to draw enemy fire."
"Thanks for the offer. When the time comes, I'll consider it."
"Sir, to a robot, no thanks are—"
"—ever necessary. Yeah, I know. It's a bad habit I'll try to break."
Once inside the Pod, brought to a momentary halt by its garish decorations, unlike those of any spaceship that Harry had ever seen before, he let the crippled robot take the lead. Dorry made short work of guiding him to the place where the two medirobots had been put away.
This was a short hallway intended primarily for the use of maintenance and service machines, running between the galley and the dining room, kept air-filled because of frequent traffic between it and the dining room. The two coffin-sized, waist-high units had been shoved close against one wall, leaving only a narrow strip of passage open along the opposite one.
Dorry suggested that with the help of Perdix, the two medirobots with their unconscious burdens could be fairly quickly loaded into the ship's launch, or one of its lifeboats, assuming at least one of those small craft was still functional, and a quick getaway accomplished.
Thinking quickly, Harry decided against that plan. The best and simplest way would be to awaken and release the people first.
The robot could consider, or suggest to Harry, the possibility that Becky and Ethan would be in somewhat less danger staying where they were.
But Harry overruled the suggestion: in this situation the only path to real safety lay in escaping from the Gravel Pit entirely.
Bending over first one of the long boxes and then the other, Harry could see the small indicators showing that both devices were occupied, and in operation.
Suddenly the rogue's voice was once more an active presence in Harry's helmet, affecting to be surprised that the medirobots were here.
Harry growled back something nasty. "You didn't know that, I suppose. But when I got aboard this ship, you managed to locate me in a hurry."
"Of course, Harry Silver, when the Chewing Pod is this close to me as it is now, I find it relatively easy to establish communication with any entity aboard. Did you not know that this vessel was once my gift to your goodlife enemy? But that does not mean I constantly monitor the function of every device on board. And, as you must know, a human body in a state of suspended animation is not easily detected."
Harry only grunted, not wanting to waste time in argument.
He focused his attention on the pair of medirobots. Crippled Dorry knew where spacesuits were kept, and somewhat clumsily began the process of getting out a pair of them, one child-sized, and bringing them into the hallway.
Seizing the opportunity for a moment's private talk with the tame robot, Harry told Dorry that he wanted to keep watch on the inventor. "Also, I have my reasons for not wanting Mister G to be armed."
Dorijen accepted the idea calmly. "You are fearful that if he finds a ready means of escape he will immediately take it, without waiting for anyone else."
"Exactly. So do whatever you can to prevent that." He hesitated. "If you can come up with a spare weapon somewhere, better give it to Perdix. We can all feel a little safer that way."
If the readouts on the coffin-shaped boxes were to be believed, Harry's wife and child were both in good shape. Both faces were dimly visible, through semitransparent lids. Harry stared at each of them for only a moment. There was no time to spare.
Harry found the right control and started his son's revival process. But Becky had to be awakened first, if for no other reason than that her skills as a veteran spacer and combat veteran might be needed immediately. Harry wanted someone standing guard over the kid while he and Dorry finished checking out the Pod's lifeboats and launch, to see what the prospects were for a quick, successful getaway.
Harry's armored fingers fumbled with the clasp. If there was a lock, it wasn't very formidable, and his powered gauntlets tore it free. In a moment he had unfastened the outer coffin lid and thumbed the emergency revival button.
This body also was nude, and Harry could see at a glance that all its major parts were still in place. As had been the case with the members of Cheng's family, there were no plugs stuck in their wrists and ankles.
The thick lid eased itself away. Becky's eyes opened slowly, and her voice lacked any urgency. "Harry. It's you."
"Who were you expecting?" Somehow his voice was warbling all up and down the scale. He heard himself say: "Damn it, woman, you knew me, even in this motherless suit."
The crease of a frown appeared in Becky's forehead. "Looks like someone's been using it for target practice. Of course I knew you, Harry, I've seen you in a lot of strange getups. Harry, don't cry, I'm all right, my God, where's Ethan?" Raising her head enough to look around a little, she goggled at the unfamiliar narrow corridor. "I can't remember anything. Where are we?"
"You always wanted to ride on a ship that was fixed up in real luxury. Well, see, this is it." Though she wouldn't be able to tell it from her immediate surroundings; no gaudy decorations had been wasted on this corridor. There was no time to waste, and Harry was lifting her out of the coffin, hoping she would be able to stand up.
"Where's Ethan?" More insistently this time; motherhood was awakening.
"He's right over here, in the other bin. His readings are fine, I'll get him out in a minute. Don't stand around like that with nothing on. Here's Dorry, a good robot, she's got a spacesuit ready for you. Get yourself into it. I'll do the kid."
"All right," said Becky doubtfully. "Dorry, you look like hell."
"Indeed I do, ma'am."
Becky was beginning to move, slowly. Harry remembered, all too well, how coming up suddenly out of that deep artificial sleep could hit you, like a combination of drunkenness with a bad hangover. His wife's voice was sleepy again, luxurious with blissful ignorance. Confusion persisted, but the peculiarity of her surroundings was beginning to sink in. "Harry, what happened to this poor robot? Is this your ship?"
"Yours and mine. For as long as we need it."
"All paid for?"
"Gods of deep space, is it paid for! I doubt any ship has ever cost like this one—but the rent's been paid, in advance. And a good down payment on something better."
At last Becky was starting to come fully awake, and alarm was naturally setting in. She turned back, resisting Dorry's gentle two-fingered tug.
"Harry, these are bloody motherless medirobots, what am I doing in a medirobot? I don't remember . . . you know what I think . . . ?"
"Tell me later. Or I'll tell you about it. Right now, will you just get moving?"
Harry turned to the other lifesaving device, saw that emergency revival was having its effect, and in moments was reaching into the warm interior to deliver a smooth child-body back into the world.
"Daddy . . . are you the doctor?" came Ethan's sleepy murmur. And the five-year-old's arms went around Harry's armored neck. Ethan was just as quick at identification as his mother had been, though he could hardly have seen much more than a bulky shape in a strange suit. He must have heard Daddy's voice on the airspeakers.
"Today I am your doctor, kid. Daddy's checking you and taking you home. Got to get you right into your own suit." Not that the launch had children's sizes available, but an expert like Becky, once she got her mind together, would be able to fit a child into an adult size so it would at least serve as backup life support, even if the kid could hardly move. Under these conditions, cutting down the five-year-old's mobility, keeping him in one place, could be a definite advantage.
Becky wasn't up to full speed yet. But, working on instinct, she had managed to get her own suit on already. Now she was complaining. "Harry, this suit's not going to fit him. It's just way too loose."
"You take over, do the best you can. And tell him he'll grow into it. We're going home."
The five of them, four suited humans and Perdix, had just left the service hallway, passing through the doorway into the ornate dining salon, when an elaborate screen, part of the room's lush decoration, was knocked aside, revealing the asymmetrical body of Harry's dedicated assassin. The ring that the assassin had taken from him, days ago, was still visible on its right hand.
Professor Gianopolous squealed and turned to run. The berserker's monstrous other hand swung through the edge of the falling screen to pulp the inventor's skull before he had taken a full step, spattering its bone and clever brain over walls and floor and life-units alike.