Robot Trouble (16 page)

Wendy pushed back her work hat and dug through the pockets of her “Twerps in Space” coveralls. After a little searching she retrieved a candy bar and a small pocket watch.

She sighed. Another three hours until Rachel, Roger, and Hap were scheduled to arrive. There had been a bit of a security crackdown on the domestic side of the island, too, and Trip and Ray would be even later, depending on what time their parents fell asleep. Fortunately, with the launch scheduled for seven a.m. sharp, even the strictest of the parents had agreed the kids needed to be out before dawn to be on hand for the final preparations. They were expecting their kids to leave early—just not as early as the kids themselves had in mind.

Actually, the excuse of making last-minute checks was a little lame. The launch pattern was already locked into the computer, and the takeoff could only be altered under extraordinary circumstances, and then only with extreme difficulty.

Wendy yawned. She had better find something to keep herself busy if she was going to be awake when it was time to let the others in. She patted her pocket. The control device for Brody's robots was right where she had put it.

She wandered around the control room, trying out the various chairs. She felt a little silly
—Like Goldilocks and the Three Astronauts,
she thought—but getting access to this place had been a real thrill. It made everything seem so real, so professional.

She glanced at the launch clock and frowned. Still two hours before the others would arrive! Leaning her face against the window, she began to count the robots scurrying around below.

Two minutes later her eyes closed and she began to snore.

Ramon Korbuscek slipped from his guard post and headed for the missile silo. Since he was officially a part of security, it was not that hard for him to breach it. All he had to do was alter his assigned patrol, take care of his “personal business,” and then be back in time for his regular check-in. As long as he wasn't late, no one would suspect a thing.

Actually, Korbuscek would rather have performed this task on any other night. But Weiskopf's robot had not been loaded into the rocket until this afternoon, and Korbuscek had finally decided that if he tampered with it any earlier his work might be discovered—and removed—before the launch. By waiting until now, he could be fairly certain that what he did would remain untouched.

Slipping through the shadows, he made his way to the maze of tunnels that crisscrossed the area under the airfield. It had taken him several nights of exploration to learn them well enough to move freely and without hesitation. Now he could find his way through them blindfolded.

Following a tunnel he had located three days earlier, he quickly came to the door that opened onto the upper level of the missile silo.

A narrow catwalk led across the forty-foot chasm of the silo to the door of the rocket. When Korbuscek found himself dancing along it like a tightrope walker, he realized how bored he had become. It felt wonderful to be in action again.

Pressing a sequence of panels, he opened the door of the rocket and stepped inside. Euterpe stood in the middle of the chamber. The lights on the robot's chest were flashing as it computed the music of the spheres.

Korbuscek made a snort of disgust.
That is the dumbest-looking robot I have ever seen,
he thought scornfully. Then he realized that, foolish as the thing looked, the music it was creating was extraordinary. To Korbuscek's astonishment, he felt the small hairs on the back of his neck rise. He shivered. Nothing had affected him like that in a long time.

He shook his head. He wasn't being paid to judge the quality of the robot's music. His job was to alter its capabilities.

Squatting in front of Euterpe, he pulled a complex device from his backpack and prepared to install it.

The workspace was cramped, but he had plenty of time. Holding a pair of micropliers, he studied the front of the robot. Getting into something like this was a little like performing an operation. Recalling the diagrams he had photographed, he reached out and touched what he thought was the right spot to begin.

Immediately Euterpe began to shriek like an opera singer whose shower has just run out of hot water.

Korbuscek cried out in pain and clamped his hands over his ears. Pushing himself against the wall of the rocket, he tried desperately to recall where the diagrams had indicated the key to turn off the alarm. But the shrieking was making it impossible to think. He clamped his eyes shut and used a deep-breathing technique to relax himself enough to concentrate.

Right! He had it.

He took his hands from his ears. The shrill alarm, amplified terribly by the small chamber, caused tears to form in his eyes. Wondering if his hearing would be permanently damaged, he groped desperately over the robot's chest panel until he found the switch to turn off the alarm.

Immediately Euterpe stopped shrieking and began to sing again.

Sweat pouring down his face, Korbuscek collapsed against the robot and tried to recover his equilibrium.

The Phillips twins and Hap Swenson crouched at the edge of the airfield, just outside the range of the guards and the robots. The dark blue of their coveralls helped them blend into the surrounding darkness.

Gaining entrance to the restricted area would not be as simple for them as it had been for Korbuscek. Even as the spy was working his way toward the missile silo, the trio was waiting impatiently for Wendy to alter the pattern of the robot patrol so they could sneak past it.

Roger checked his watch as two of the fierce-looking things crossed in front of them for the fifth time.

“What's going on?” he muttered. “Why doesn't she redirect them?”

“I don't know,” said Hap. “Do you suppose something could have happened to her?”

“I doubt it,” said Rachel. “I learned a long time ago not to worry about Wendy. The question is, what do we do now? We've
got
to get in there.”

“Maybe we should tackle the robots ourselves,” said Hap. He didn't sound happy about the idea. “I wish Trip and Ray were here,” he added.

Aside from Wendy, who had designed the robot control mechanisms, Trip and Ray were the only ones who could be considered really expert with the devices—largely because they had gotten so much practice with them on their scrounging missions.

Roger pulled one of the black boxes out of his pocket and looked at it uncertainly. “I don't know. It's a bit of a chance.”

“We've
got
to get in there,” repeated Rachel. “If we don't, Black Glove may pull whatever he's got in mind before we can get in position, and we'll have lost our chance to get a photo!”

As she spoke, she touched the miniature camera, no bigger than a stick of gum, that hung around her neck.

“All right, we'll give it a try,” said Roger. He studied the control device for a minute, then whispered, “Be ready to move. I'll try to stop them the next time they cross by.”

The three youngsters tensed themselves for action. Suddenly the robots rolled into view, sooner than they had expected.

“Now!” said Roger, pushing a button.

Anticipating that the robots would stop, he stepped forward.

He had anticipated wrong. The mechanical sentinels wheeled and headed straight for him, their red eyes flashing. Roger jabbed desperately at the controls. Nothing happened.

“Run!” cried Rachel.

It was too late. Roger felt the blood drain from his face as the lead robot reached out and snatched him into the air.

 

Down for the Countdown

The sound system carrying Euterpe's music into the control tower had helped lull Wendy into a deep sleep. Now that same sound system carried the shrieking of the robot's alarm, which would have roused any normal human to instant wakefulness, and did indeed actually begin to penetrate the Wonderchild's slumber.

“Whazzat?” she muttered, lifting her head. “Who-zere?”

The alarm sounded for another thirty seconds, then abruptly fell silent.

Someone's going to pay for this,
thought Wendy as she pushed herself away from the window. She wiped the drool from her squashed cheek, a dazed expression on her face. Where was she, anyway?

Suddenly everything came back to her. The launch! The robots! She glanced up at the clock. She was late! The others would be waiting for her.

She barreled out of the control room and headed down the stairs. Seconds later she emerged from one of the small buildings at the edge of the airfield—just in time to spot a robot snatch Roger into the air.

This,
she thought dismally,
is not gonna enhance my reputation
.

Moving into high speed, she raced across the blacktop, ducking a searchlight that swept across her path. As she ran, she searched her pockets for the control box.

It was missing! It must have fallen out while she was asleep!

“Take this one!” cried Hap, tossing his own control to her as she came running up.

She caught it just as the second robot was about to grab Rachel. “Take that!” she cried, jabbing one of the buttons. “And that!”

The robots froze in position.

“Wendy,” said Roger quietly. “How very nice of you to come. Do you suppose you could get me down from here?”

“Sure thing, Chief,” said the Wonderchild, snapping him a salute.

She twisted a dial and pushed a button.

The robot set Roger gently onto the ground.

“Where have you been?” asked Rachel angrily.

“No time for that now,” said Roger, interrupting before tempers could really flare. “Let's get to our stations!”

Rachel nodded. Since she had stored the plans for the airfield and its tunnels in her highly trained memory, the next move was up to her.

Success is almost at hand,
thought Black Glove, caressing the device that would reestablish contact with G.H.O.S.T.
All I have to do is get this transmitter into the rocket and I have a first-class communications satellite that will enable me to send the Executive Council everything we do here
.

A grim smile lit the spy's face. Waiting until the last moment had been difficult, but it was the only way to avoid detection. And that was important, for this time there could be no mistakes. Nor could there by any interference. The moment for gentle persuasion was long past. Those foolish brats had been warned. If they tried anything tonight, their fate would be on their own heads.

Stepping out of the secret room beneath the computer center, Black Glove chuckled at the thought, almost wishing they
would
interfere. It would provide an excuse to get rid of some of them, an act that would be unwise, but deeply satisfying!

The thought made the spy chuckle all the way to the launch site.

Euterpe's rocket could be reached by one of two paths: the trapdoor at the bottom of the missile silo, or the door that opened onto the narrow catwalk Ramon Korbuscek had traversed earlier that night. Anyone who wanted to tamper with the rocket had to come in by one way or the other.

The A.I. Gang, unaware that Korbuscek had already entered the rocket, was covering both routes.

Wendy represented the first line of defense. She was huddled beneath the metal stairs that led up to the catwalk or down to the trapdoor. She had been stationed there, not entirely to her pleasure, so she could leave when it was time to help Trip and Ray through the security lines. If Black Glove came while she was still here, she was to attempt to take a photo through the wire grid of the stairs.

Rachel was above her, at the top of the silo, lurking in one of the little control alcoves that flanked the corridor leading to the catwalk. Like Wendy, she carried an infrared camera.

Each of the gang had one of these.

Each was hoping to be the one to snap a photo of Black Glove.

And, secretly, each was dreading the possibility of discovering that the spy was someone they knew and loved.

Ramon Korbuscek wondered vaguely what the device he was installing would do. Not that it mattered very much, as long as he was paid for it.

He made the final connection and checked his watch. A grimace twisted his face. The problem with the robot's shrieking alarm had thrown him off schedule. It was later than he had anticipated.

With no time for safety, he opted for speed. Even as Rachel was taking up her vigil, Korbuscek was clambering swiftly and silently down the metal ladder that led to the bottom of the silo.

While Rachel missed the spy, her twin did not. Roger was coming up through the trapdoor just as Korbuscek reached the bottom of the silo.

“Hey!” cried Roger. “What are you doing here?”

Hap, hearing Roger's surprise, scrambled through the trapdoor and was standing beside him almost instantly.

Before either of them could make another move, Korbuscek snapped open the tiny capsule he reserved for such emergencies. Instantly a potent sleeping gas filled the concrete-walled area.

Hap and Roger hit the floor like two sacks of flour dropped from an upstairs window.

Without an instant of hesitation Korbuscek pulled a length of thin but incredibly powerful polyester twine from his pocket. He bound the boys together, hands behind their backs, and pushed them under the rocket.

The spy actually began to whistle as he made his way back to his assigned patrol. Once the rocket was launched and he could report that the device he had installed in the robot had made it into space, he would have more money than he would know what to do with.

And the only two people who could identify him would not only be dead—they would have been completely vaporized!

Rachel toyed restlessly with her pennywhistle, which she had put in the pocket of her coveralls just in case she had a time to practice. But she dared not play it now, of course, for fear of giving away her position should Black Glove come along.

Suddenly the question that had been nagging at the back of her mind since she first took her position forced its way into her consciousness. Though she kept trying to force it aside, it insisted on being paid attention to.