RK did not vote out loud, but instead sprang for the android’s neck, where the cat began biting and digging at the plastiskin with his claws.
“Oh, is that where the homing beacon is coming from?” Becker asked. “Okay, if you’ll move your furry carcass I’ll see if I can disable it and reprogram this dude.”
With a little physical persuasion, and the inducement that the man was actually doing what the cat wanted him to anyway, RK eventually subsided and Becker was able to concentrate totally on the android-so totally, in fact, that he lost track of time and place. He felt peckish and grabbed a handful of cat food but, after having to fish some of the food pellets out of the android’s inner workings, he gave up on snacking.
He had set the Condor on voice control for most functions. The voice control had the voice of Buck Rogers. For a while, Becker had used the usual ploy of having the computer sound like a husky-voiced woman, but he’d found he wasn’t getting much work done. He was always heading back to port to find a pleasure house. Now he used the voice of a heroic space voyager. He figured that would help him be proud and happy to be voyaging among the stars.
So, with Buck’s backup, and having committed himself to the task of debugging and rehabilitating the android, Becker gave it his full attention. Locating the main axis of the homing beacon wasn’t the only problem. The damned thing was thoroughly integrated with both the central nervous system and the circulatory system of the android. The wiring had to be
removed completely and redone with minimal harm to the KEN unit.
Becker was very good at this kind of thing, when he wanted to be. It was one of his talents, prolonged intense focus on a single complex problem. Unfortunately, although the ship was still under his command, the part of his brain not devoted to working on the android was occupied fully with the problem at hand. The ship told him about wormholes and black water, space pleats and folds, and he took physical control long enough to negotiate through or around these, but all the best part of his brain function was devoted to the problem lying on his ship’s deck. He really didn’t register how long his work was taking until the ConDor came within the orbit of the planet where they’d found the horns.
As he was just then managing to extract the last of the homing beacon, the Condor’s computer had to clue him in. “Captain Becker, do you wish to land? Or would you prefer to crash in a dramatic, explosive ball onto the surface when at last we have orbited until we run out of fuel?”
Becker looked up from his task. The extraction of the homing beacon had been successful. The bleep was gone, though it was almost as if he could hear the echo of it in his head, he’d been listening to it for so long. RK had finally gone to sleep and had opened one eye when the computer spoke.
“What? Oh, guess we should crash. No, just kidding, Buck.”
“Not funny, Becker. You programmed me with a sense of humor, but I did not find that amusing. I was already implementing the orbit by the time you said no.”
“Of course I programmed you with a sense of humor-otherwise I’d have taken a crowbar to you years ago. The cat isn’t much for laughing at my jokes.”
“I’m waiting, Captain Becker. This planet, however, is not. It continues to exert its gravitational force upon me.”
“Oh, yeah, okay. Let’s set down in that green patch where we found the horns the last time-you have the coordinates, right?”
“Accessing … can’t seem to find them, Captain Becker. Will that open volcano crater do just as nicely?”
“What? Huh? Are you crazy? Of course not!”
“Just kidding. I accessed those files nanoseconds and nanoseconds ago!”
“Now I know why usually I run the ship myself and talk to the cat!” Becker grumbled.
He figured he would have plenty of time to put the android back together after they landed. He’d have to wait to dispose of the deactivated beacon in space again. He certainly didn’t want it to lead Kisia Manjari to this planet. He finally returned his attention to the landing procedure.