FEDERATION Complete Trilogy (Federation Trilogy), page 64
They sat in silence, his hand finally finishing its exploration of her secret places, then sliding down her leg and back onto the steering wheel. He mouthed ‘I love you,’ as he swung the Mercedes around in the parking area and began the ten minute drive up into the mountains. Did he really mean it?
Nostra Palazzo sat majestically on the hillside, a solitary residence with uninterrupted views over the surrounding countryside. The sort of home that is owned by billionaires, famous actors, movie moguls and, of course, mafia bosses.
Three hairpin bends had to be negotiated once they departed the main road. The Mercedes’ tyres squealed as it pulled away from each bend, the automatic gearbox not quite adjusting for each new punishing one-in-three slope. Finally, the car pulled in through a fine stone archway and entered a large parking area, partly hewn out of the cliffs. The Mercedes parked between Roberto’s modern dark blue Bentley and his brilliant yellow Lamborghini. Sofia noted that Roberto’s wife was out, the red Ferrari Testarossa was nowhere to be seen. If Carlo hadn’t been sure that Sofia was arriving for sex before, he certainly knew now.
Carlo jumped out and ran around to the passenger side to open the door for Sofia. Roberto stood on the terrace, dressed in white trousers and a white, loose short-sleeved shirt which hid a bulging waistline. He shouted at Carlo, ‘That’s all, Carlo. I’ll call you later.’ Carlo waved back and returned to the driver’s seat. ‘Come up, Sofia, come up,’ Roberto said, ‘how lovely to see you. Join me on the terrace for a G and T.’
She forced a smile and climbed a flight of fifteen stone steps set into the terrace and arrived on a flat area adorned with a white-painted circular table and half a dozen lounger chairs. A sky blue parasol covered the table which held a silver ice bucket with champagne plus a tray of other drinks and selection of glasses. Roberto walked up to her as she reached the terrace, gave her a short kiss on the lips, ran his hands up and down her sides, across her bust, feeling its shape and then guided her to the table. His hand fell to her behind, easing its way between her buttocks as he helped her along.
‘Gin, Sofia? Or would you prefer some vodka, whisky or champagne?’ he asked.
She could see it was Dom Perignon in the ice bucket. He always had the best. That he wanted her said a great deal about her skills in the bedroom.
‘Whatever you’re having,’ Sofia said.
He poured two substantial measures of Harris gin. ‘Lemonade or tonic?’ he asked as he added tonic into one glass while awaiting her answer.
‘Tonic’s fine,’ she said.
He used a small silver scoop to add ice to both drinks and fished lime slices out of an attractive covered glass dish with ornate silver sugar tongs.
‘Enjoy the view,’ he said, patting the lounger next to his and sat heavily into the seat. Sofia walked around the back of him, feeling his hand on the back of her thigh as she reached the seat and sat delicately, crossing her legs decorously.
‘So, Sofia, why have you been avoiding me? I have money again now. Sorry about last time. Here’s the rest for last time,’ he said and tossed a wad of afeds onto the table. A rubber band stopped them blowing away. Sofia thought it was at least a thousand. ‘That’s more than I owe you, dearest. How about two thousand today? Okay?’ he asked.
How was he cheating the system to get all this cash? It had to be extortion from people’s automatic Federation incomes. He was keeping them in poverty through threats and beatings.
‘That’s not necessary,’ she said, looking at him and seeing a questioning expression crossing his face. ‘I’m not doing it anymore, Roberto. I am no longer your squillo. I came to tell you in person.’
She watched his face harden, ‘I want you, Sofia. I’ve been looking forward to this for a week, and you’d better behave, or you might find that life is no longer so good for you.’
‘No, Roberto. It’s finished.’ She stood, ready to leave and began to walk around the table towards the steps.
For such a big man, he was quite agile. He jumped to his feet and ran around the opposite side of the table to cut off her escape. ‘How dare you!’ he said, grabbing the top of her arm in a vicelike grip, hurting her and, she was sure, bruising her flesh.
Two cop-bots materialised either side of him and he was instantly in stasis. His hand was forced to release its grip and he stood, looking at Sofia, powerless to move and seeing the two cop-bots walking from behind into his view.
‘Yol Roberto Giordano. Nanobots have been observing you and the people who work for you for two days. Your people have been taking afeds with menaces from thirty-one individuals during that period. This young woman is under Federation protection.’
In stasis, it is impossible to speak, but the growing colour of Roberto’s face showed that he was apoplectic with rage.
‘As a gang leader, you are hereby sentenced to three months stasis. Your associates are sentenced to one month’s stasis. You will have a Federation hearing which will determine how many of your assets and how much of your wealth is actually yours. If it is determined that any of it was obtained by illegal means it will be forfeit. Nanobots will continue to observe you and your associates. Any attempt at violence or verbal abuse or coercion will immediately be punished. Reoffending will attract twice the sentence length. Do you understand?’
The stasis field dropped, and Roberto almost fell over. He grabbed the table which caused the drinks to tumble and some glasses to break, as he recovered his balance.
‘You can’t do this!’ he shouted, looking at Sofia and added, ‘and I’ll get you for this.’
‘You have just added ten days stasis with that threat Yol Giordano. Do you understand my original statement, or do I need to repeat it?’
‘How do I appeal? This is crazy!’
‘You cannot appeal the three months and ten days stasis as you are guilty of the offences. At your hearing you can appeal any judgements against your wealth or assets. Do you understand?’
He looked around him. There was no one to help. Carlo was standing beside the Mercedes looking up at them. ‘Carlo, do something. Call help!’ Roberto shouted.
One of the cop-bots dematerialised and appeared beside Carlo. It said, ‘Carlo Russo, you no longer have to work for this man. You will be protected, but I must also advise you that you’re being investigated for past deeds.’
Roberto saw the bot standing beside Carlo and watched the man raise his arms in a gesture of helplessness. ‘Damn you all!’ the mafia boss shouted at the world in general.
‘Do you understand the charges?’ asked the cop-bot for the third time.
‘I do,’ he said and was immediately back in stasis.
‘Sofia, you may now go home,’ said the bot.
‘Can I speak to Carlo?’ she asked.
‘You can do whatever you wish,’ the bot said and promptly vanished.
Sofia looked around at Roberto. He was staring at her but could no longer intimidate her. ‘You’re an evil monster,’ she said and turned to the steps, descending them and walking over to Carlo. The bot had gone.
‘Are you okay, Sofia?’
‘I am. Now drive me home.’
They both got into the Mercedes, which then swung around in the parking area and exited through the arched gateway. A cop-bot stood against one side of the entrance. Carlo’s hand found its way under her dress and she whispered that she loved him too.
24 Reign of the Robots2
Emily’s next visit to the esponging centre was forty-eight hours, on the dot, after the previous one. Rummy had told her this was where the automatons really came into their own and she couldn’t wait to find out exactly how.
The room-bot told her she was about to view the X-Jastu course, scenario five of five and she asked for the room-bot to select appropriate characters to give her the best feel for the history.
Emily found herself, once again seeing through the eyes of Boronic as he slithered into his office where five visitors’ chairs were occupied by four generals and an important manufacturer. They all stood as he entered.
The strange bulk of the Boronic/Emily body made its way around an ornate desk and manoeuvred itself into the bucket seat which made some sense of the fluid nature of the creature.
‘Well?’ he asked.
‘We’re ready,’ said the senior general.
‘How many automatons, Krishov?’ Boronic asked.
‘Close to a hundred million and over two hundred thousand coming off the production lines every day,’ said the only civilian among the visitors.
Boronic looked back to the senior general. ‘Is that enough. We cannot afford for this to fail. Arlucian mustn’t realise what has hit them until it is way too late.’
‘We’re sure, sir.’
‘Okay. I’ll contact the council and get the final approval. Dismissed.’
The generals and the manufacturer oozed out of their seats and were soon exiting the office door. Boronic relaxed back into his seat. ‘Deridid,’ he called on the intercom, ‘set up the Union videocon.’
‘Yes, sir,’ came the reply.
The right wall of the office comprised twelve video monitors, but on this occasion, only six came to life. The six other executive members of the Union of Planets.
‘Good morning, gentlefolk,’ said Boronic. ‘We are ready to act and are seeking final permission.’
‘Sounds good, Boronic,’ said Korodin of Pestoch. ‘Run us through the plan.’
‘As you know,’ said Boronic, ‘factories on each of the Union worlds have been producing the policebots. We now have around a hundred million and feel that is enough to carry out the invasion.
‘We have also built sixteen of our large battleships to support the robot transports.
‘Our first action will be for those battleships to appear in Arlucian orbit. Fifteen over the planet and one over the moon which is also inhabited these days.
‘The sequence is …’
The scenario faded through black and Emily found herself in one of the Arlucian people, living in the capital city, Oridin. She was a female who worked in one of the Arlucian government ministries, but at the beginning of the scene, she was at home with her family which comprised her husband, brother, and three children. Two were the equivalent of teenagers and one under ten. Emily could see that she was in a lounge area and the brother was bringing in a tray of mugs of some steaming beverage. Emily could smell something between chocolate and that strange Swiss-invented drink, Ovaltine. Emily found the latter unpleasant but managed to live with the combination which the female sipped.
They’d been watching a television drama, but suddenly, the programme was disrupted by a stark message. ‘EMERGENCY TRANSMISSION. SWITCH TO CHANNEL ELEVEN.’
She scrabbled for the handset, punched in the digits and the screen showed five or six of the huge X-Jastuvian battleships in orbit, being attacked by the Arlucian fleet. The smaller cruisers were moving rapidly, trying to avoid the beams which emitted spasmodically from the enemy ships. Each time a beam was seen, an Arlucian cruiser was completely disabled, losing all power and floating off in whichever direction it had been heading at the time. The Arlucian purple torpedoes never got through the X-Jastuvian forcefields and exploded harmlessly. It was undoubtedly an overwhelming defeat, but one in which there had, so far, been no death or destruction.
The scene continued to show an increasing number of cruisers floating in disarray and the battleships using fewer and fewer beams as the enemy floundered.
A communicator buzzed. Emily saw her character grab it off the table.
‘Vedriff,’ she said.
‘Minister Vedriff, can you get to the ministry urgently. The president is calling in the cabinet.’
‘On my way,’ said Vedriff, jumping up from the easy chair and, in seconds, she was out of the door. She shouted, ‘See you later,’ over her shoulder.
The street was strangely quiet. Perhaps people had stayed indoors to watch the newscast. Vedriff wondered what was happening. She recognised the battleships as X-Jastuvians, but why were they here now. All of the empty threats were nearly two years previous. It had seemed that there was to be no retaliation for the destruction of the Pestochian, Garnthian and X-Jastuvian administrative buildings and their sanction patrol cruisers. Most of the government felt that it had been just that, empty threats and posturing. This, however, was something tangible and very frightening. The Arlucian fleet was powerless against the enemy.
Vedriff’s hover-vehicle was winding its way through what remained of the unusually quiet rush hour. The parliament building and her ministry were now visible ahead. Parliament was a dome-shaped structure with an ornate gilt roof and elaborate walls peppered with sculptures of famous Arlucians. The ministry was more utilitarian – a glass and concrete-like block on the opposite side of the road. Vedriff guided the vehicle to an adjacent layby, tossed the keys to a valet-bot and, with the strange gait of a short-legged Arlucian in full flight, she dashed up the steps to the glass doors of the building.
Her assistant was waiting in the corridor outside her office. ‘Minister,’ she said, ‘you’re wanted in the cabinet office.’
Vedriff changed direction in mid stride and was soon heading towards the eastern end of the building. ‘Bring my secradarve, it’s on my desk!’
‘Will do,’ replied the assistant, disappearing through her office and into the minister’s.
Vedriff, somewhat out of breath, arrived in the cabinet room to find several of the cabinet already in situ and the president at the end of the table looking exceedingly glum. Everyone was looking at a monitor on the wall, where the admiral of the fleet was providing a report.
‘… and we cannot get through their defences, sir,’ the admiral said. ‘Our flagship was hit a few minutes ago and we too are floating without any power, shields or weaponry. I fear our orbit is deteriorating, but I’ll report for as long as I can.’
‘Nothing gets through?’ asked the president.
‘Nothing, sir. We even tried the new blursters, but they were completely ineffective. We’re trying to bring systems online, sir, but with no success so far.’
‘Let us know if there is any change,’ said President Duf.
‘There are new ships arriving, sir. Not seen them before. They’re even larger than the X-Jastuvian battleships but look more like gigantic freighters rather than military ships.’
‘How many of those?’
‘Unbelievable, sir. Too many to count and more popping out of hyperspace every second. Impossible numb…’ The screen went dead, cutting off the admiral in mid-sentence.
Two more cabinet members had arrived, the cabinet secretary filling them in on what was happening. Everyone looked at everyone else. No one had anything to say. Their fleet had been wiped out, or at least made ineffective. The planet was wide open to invasion and there was nothing any of them could do about it.
They were equally unable to deal with what happened next. The president and defence minister vanished from the room, slight plop sounds announcing that the space they’d so recently occupied had been filled by inrushing air.
Several of the cabinet jumped to their feet. An armed security detail rushed into the cabinet office. One of them, a colonel swung around looking at all parts of the room. ‘Where is the president?’ he asked.
‘Vanished. Minister Gord vanished at the same time,’ said one of the other ministers.
‘What do you mean, “vanished”? How the hell can someone just vanish?’ shouted the colonel.
Several of the ministers shrugged.
‘He can’t just have gone!’
‘They did. There one minute, gone the next,’ said Vedriff.
‘It’s madness!’ said the colonel.
The madness multiplied a few seconds later when four robots materialised at the president’s end of the cabinet table.
Each was humanoid in appearance, standing close to two metres in height with a square head on blocky, rectangular shoulders. Four arms were attached to the shoulders and chest. There was a narrow waist and two powerful legs with rather oversized feet, out of proportion with the rest of the humanoid impression given.
‘What the hell!’ shouted the colonel and opened fire on the closest.
No sooner had his gun begun to fire its pellets than it disappeared from his hands. The five armed police became strangely motionless.
‘What have you done to them?’ asked Vedriff.
She was almost surprised when she received a reply. ‘They have been put in what we call stasis. They are not dead, but they cannot cause any further harm.’
‘Where is the president?’ she asked.
‘He and the minister responsible for defence, have been transported to another location where they too, are now in stasis.’ The robot looked at the other ministers. ‘Please sit. You will not be harmed.’
‘What is going on? Why are you here?’ asked Vedriff and one or two of the others.
‘Please sit,’ the robot repeated and this time, they all took their seats. ‘I shall explain.’
‘Please do. This is outrageous,’ said the chancellor.
‘We are robots of the Union of Planets enforcement division. Arlucian is being punished for its attempted genocide of the Miiftian people and the rendering of Miift as uninhabitable for hundreds of millennia; the attack on the sanction patrol ships two years ago; the destruction of the parliament building on Garnth; the attempted destruction of the administration sector of Pestoch, including the death of tens of thousands of Pestochians caused by tsunamis created by your weapons, plus the failed attempt to strike at the parliament of X-Jastu, in which your shot down ships caused the death of hundreds when they crashed.’
