“Meet Obie Three, Blaine.”
“An excellent delivery boy. If Domino’s had a few of these, they’d be able to guarantee delivery in fifteen minutes.”
“He didn’t just deliver my lunch and the drinks. He also prepared them.”
Blaine was astonished.
“His pincers and hand extremities are a hundred times more agile and precise than our paltry fingers, Blaine. Imagine him wiring explosives…or dewiring them.”
“Then this is your explosives droid.”
Ainsley nodded. “His hull is composed of titanium steel alloy with Kevlar coating on the outside and an inside layer of copper to reduce heat. His shell allows for the storage of sixteen cubic feet of explosives, supplies, anything.” The old man removed his sandwich from the droid and placed it on his lap. “Now take Mr. McCracken his drink, Obie Three.”
With no hesitation at all, the droid rolled six feet forward and spun so the soft drink was conveniently within Blaine’s reach.
“Thank you,” said McCracken.
“I’m afraid this one doesn’t talk.”
“Each one’s a specialist, kind of like a George Lucas version of The Magnificent Seven. If one of them looks like Yul Brenner, I’m leaving.”
“No, you won’t, because clearly something important has drawn you here. It’s been two years since anyone in the government’s come to see me for any reason other than to check if I’ve finally gone round the bend. They’re not crazy about me keeping the droids, but they know it’s the only thing that keeps me happy…and quiet. So when a man like you shows up on my doorstep with two hours notice, I can only conclude that somewhere something has gone very much awry.”
“In a word, yes.”
“I’m not a violent man, Blaine. But I understand violence, and I understand the need for it. I lost the use of my legs in a car accident when I was twenty. Maybe the creation of these droids is my subconscious way of working out the physical limitations thrust on me by fate.” Ainsley pointed at Obie Three and then Obie Four. “Each represents a different device my handicap has torn from me. They each carry a part of me in them, you see.” He smiled. “I know you, Blaine, better than you think. God made man in his own image, while I made my droids in images I cannot touch. But you are as close to one of them as I ever could have envisioned.”
“Obie One?” Blaine asked.
“Not quite,” Ainsley responded.
He pressed a button and a set of bookshelves built into the right-hand wall parted to reveal a darkened compartment. The old man hit another button and the compartment was instantly alight. Blaine’s eyes bulged at the steel-gray shape revealed within.
“Obie Seven,” the professor said.
The final entry in the OBD line was nearly as tall as the eight-and-a-half-foot ceiling. Its head was a globe dominated by a pair of red glowing lights. Its midsection was rectangular, a pair of arms extended forward, ending with open holes. Its bottom was a pod that widened into a housing for wheels or treads. Maybe both.
“Klatu barata nikto,” was all Blaine could think of saying, struck by the robot’s likeness to Gort in the science-fiction film, The Day the Earth Stood Still.
Professor Ainsley was gazing forward with intense pride. “You are looking at a simple killing machine. Perhaps not as fancy or elaborate as some of the other Family members, but equally effective in its own right. Those arm assemblies are fitted for Vulcan 7.62-mm miniguns—”
“I know Vulcans,” broke in Blaine, “but comparing me to this guy is a bit disconcerting.”
“I was talking in terms of effectiveness, and I meant it as a compliment. You’ll have to forgive me. I don’t have guests often, Blaine. What I’m trying to say is how much I enjoy meeting with someone who can appreciate what I’ve done.” The old man took another bite of his sandwich and spoke between chews. “And now that you know what Omicron was, you can tell me what it has to do with your coming here.”
McCracken’s eyes lingered briefly on Obie Seven before turning back to Ainsley.” What if Omicron wasn’t abandoned? What if the project was started up again after your work was squashed?”
“Under whose auspices?”
“Good question. I’m going to tell you a story about a different legion, Professor. Finish your sandwich…Maybe even have Obie Three make you another. This may take a while.”
In the end it took just over an hour, McCracken leaving nothing out and becoming especially explicit in his retelling of what happened after he and Wareagle had reached the Amazon. Ainsley’s reaction evolved from trepidation to befuddlement to a fear that set his hands trembling with Blaine’s depiction of their encounter with the Wakinyan.
“What do you think, Professor?” he asked finally, after allowing a few minutes for the story to sink in.
“Well, you’ve given me a wealth of information. I need time to think.”
“You’ve already got some notions. I can tell.”
“I’m a scientist, Blaine, and a scientist never speaks until he’s certain what he postulates has some merit.”
“A lot of people have died already. Plenty more may be about to.”
“I understand.”
“I hope so. What was going on down there wasn’t called Omicron for nothing. Whoever was behind it could only have had the same concerns in mind as you did when you created the OBDs, at least originally.”
Ainsley looked hurt. “My concerns never included murder, Blaine.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. But I need to know what was going on down there, Professor, and right now you’re my best bet. I’ll have a shorter version of my story transcribed and sent over.”
Ainsley smiled. “Don’t bother.” He stroked the neck of the snakelike reconnaissance droid affectionately. “I believe Obie Four got it all.”
Chapter 14
“Is that all you’ve got to say, Indian?”
Wareagle faced McCracken from the window. “This professor spoke words of science that have no bearing on what must be done.”
“He gave us our first insight into what this Omicron legion might be about.”
“The legion is about many things, Blainey — none of which he has any insight into.”
They were speaking in the living room of the suite Virginia Maxwell had provided for their use in a safe house used exclusively by members of the intelligence community. Blaine had heard from Sal Belamo that morning and accommodations had been arranged for Patty Hunsecker as well, something McCracken saw as an unwelcome distraction at this point. She was clearly in trouble, though, and Blaine wasn’t about to forget the debt he owed her. Sal had already stashed her brothers under guard back in California, but Patty had steadfastly refused to stay with them, insisting she had to see Blaine.
“You’ve lost me, Indian.”
“It is not for you to understand, Blainey, not this time. The system needs you — and to accomplish what you desire, you must work within it.”
“Which indicates you plan to do otherwise.”
“I went to Brazil in search of something that is now in this country. My search must continue.”
“Sounds personal. And you’re the one always telling me to detach myself, to let my will be directed by the spirits.”