Look Out For Space (Seven For Space) by William F Nolan Page B

the gray market and he asked me to sprinkle some on Charlie's backside. Just to see him scratch!"
    "That's revolting, all right," I said. Her mentioning the market told me I might be getting somewhere.
    "Pendorf's pretty chummy with the market, wouldn't you say?"
    "Sure," she nodded. "He's deep into it, as buyer and supplier."
    "What does he supply?"
    "Worms mostly," she said. "He's got a whole rack full of orders for slave worms in his faxden upstairs. That's where he tried to get me to chew bones with that disgusting hound of his."
    Paydirt !
    "Where's the den?"
    "Third landing. End of the hall. He keeps a tough robo posted to guard the place. But the day he took me there he gave the robo the afternoon off. Said he wanted to be left undisturbed." She looked at me intently. "I've often wondered about that, Mr. Steadman …"
    "Wondered what?'
    "About just what a robo does on his afternoons off. I mean, what's there to do if you're a lousy machine?"
    "Maybe he gets his screws oiled," I cracked.
    This nonsensical bit of whimsy broke her up. She fell into a finger-sofa, howling with glee. Doesn't take much to get a Dogstar female hysterical. They just can't hold their booze.
    I left Looly on the sofa and eased toward the stairbelt. Third landing. End of the hall … This caper was working out better than I'd hoped.

Sixteen
     
    I knew that I'd have to get past the "tough robo" Looly had mentioned before I could check out Wrenhurst's faxden.
    And she was right, he was tough looking: a big naked seven-footer with polished metal studs covering his wide body. All the servant robos wore clothing but this was a warrior-robo, and they aren't supposed to look civilized.
    He carried a lasergun strapped to his thigh and his knuckles were spiked. When I walked back to him he had his fat metal arms folded across his chest.
    "Hello, there," I said, smiling up at him.
    "Good evening, sir," he said.
    This one had a face — or, rather, he had a large scanner eye in the middle of his skullcase, with a small grill under it for his speakbox.
    "What's your name?" I asked.
    "I do not require a name," he said.
    "Number?"
    "K-84000723116. But I doubt that you will be able to remember it, sir. Most humans are incapable of retaining complex numerical sequences for more than a few seconds. Thus, if you wish to address me as K, I shall respond to that cognomen."
    "Are you always on guard here, K?"
    "Yes, sir. Always."
    "Well …" I chuckled. "I happen to know of at least one occasion when you were given the day off."
    "That is correct, sir. The master himself told me I was not needed at my post. I returned to the downstairs workroom where I sat in total darkness for several hours."
    "Bet that pissed you off, eh?"
    "If you mean that you are willing to wager that I was, in slang terms, annoyed at having to sit for several hours in total darkness, sir, then you will be ill advised to place the bet."
    "Meaning you weren't pissed off?"
    "That is correct, sir. Actually, I found the experience quite soothing."
    As we were gabbing I slipped a small silver disc from my vented snugcrotch and began idly spinning it in my hand.
    "You seem to be pretty self-sufficient."
    "Totally, sir. I never require food or sleep. And I am fully self-repairing. In that respect, I am very expensive. Most robos are not self-repairing."
    "Yeah, I know. I ran into one that went blooie in the hallway. Tried to eat my hat."
    "I would never do that, sir. I might crush you to death in seconds, or impale you on my spiked knuckles, or send a laserbolt through your brain, but I would never attack your hat."
    The disc kept spinning in my hand.
    "I would resort to extreme measures only in the event of your attempting to force your way into the master's faxden. That is my job, sir. To guard."
    "Oh, sure. I see what you mean. But frankly, you don't sound as if you have much fun out of life."
    "I was not designed to have fun, sir," the big robo said. "I was designed to be a warrior-guard. I do not