Mudd's Angels Read online

  "Spendid," said Mudd The First. "Long time no see, Scotty, old pal."

  "Harry Mudd! So you're behind this—this—" Scott spluttered.

  Kirk said, "Mister Scott, you were ordered to stay on the ship!"

  "Aye, sir, and stay I did—until this female gargantua threw me into the transporter beam!"

  Kirk wheeled on Mudd. "What did she mean— ‘He's the last?'"

  "Didn't I tell you?" said Mudd blandly. "I thought I did. I beamed a few dozen androids to your ship. We've been sending your crew down to the surface for the last couple of hours. They're all down now."

  Kirk seized a vase and hurled it the length of the Throne Room. His voice shook. "Are you out of what passes for your mind? You can't beam the whole crew of a starship down to a planet! Somebody has to be on board!"

  "But someone is on board, Kirk. An entire crew of androids. They learn very rapidly." The yellow teeth showed in a smirk. "The fact is, Captain, I've taken over your ship completely. And there's nothing at all you can do about it."

  Kirk fought back toward composure. He looked at the thief, swindler, liar. "You'll never get away with it, Harry."

  "Who's to stop me?"

  "Star Fleet!"

  "I have a ship as fast as any in the Fleet. How will they catch me? Oh, I'll get away with it young-feller-me-lad! I'll get away with it!" He turned on his heel "Think of it, bucko. Harry Mudd and his crew of luscious lovelies—on your Enterprise!"

  Kirk sank down on a brocaded sofa. Spock spoke. "It is illogical to delude oneself, Captain. He could successfully accomplish this. I have questioned a number of the androids. They are totally loyal to Mudd. Perhaps what should now concern us is the fact that this android population can literally provide anything a human being could wish for—in unlimited quantity."

  "I know," said Kirk sourly. "How will my crew react to a world where they can have absolutely anything they want, simply by asking? Mister Spock, bad trouble is what we're in." He stood up. "The sight of this room sickens me. Let's get some fresh air."

  The sight of the Throne Room did not sicken Chekov. Wandering in, he saw the empty throne. He tried it for size. As its rich comfort embraced him, a chime rang. Two Alices promptly appeared, with carafe and goblet.

  Chekov eyed them both. "You're Alice—7"

  "I am Alice 118."

  "I am Alice 322."

  "Oh," said Chekov. "Weil, it doesn't make much difference. You're both lovely."

  "Thank you, Lord," said Alice 322.

  At least her duplicate didn't repeat the phrase. She poured wine. "You desire something further, Lord?"

  Chekov sighed. "What a shame you're not real."

  "We are, Lord," they chorused.

  "I mean," said Chekov carefully, "real girls."

  "We are programmed to function as human females, Lord." It was Alice 118 who broke this astonishing news. It precipitated a large grin on Chekov's face as he looked from one to the other—equally desirable, equally well-programmed.

  "That unprincipled, lecherous kulak Harry Mudd programmed you?"

  "Yes, Lord."

  Chekov leaned back in the throne. "This is a very pleasant place. I've seldom seen one I liked better."

  In the lounge area, other members of the Enterprise crew were reaching the same conclusion. An engineering technician, reclining, was contemplating a bowl of grapes, between sips of wine held to his lips by Alice 73. A female Yeoman, attached to the galley staff, was ecstatically receiving an expert back rub from Oscar 114. Alice 600 was playing a lute for an entranced Ensign. A Barbara was feeding another crewman with exotic tidbits. A Trudy, transparent skirt awhirl, moved in a slow, provocative dance.

  The engineering technician, summing up the general feeling, sighed, "This is heaven."

  Scott had discovered the workshop. He lifted a tool. "Fantastic," he said. "Capable of handwork to the finest tolerances." He looked around him. "Microvision, nanopulse lasers… I've never seen anything better!"

  Kirk heard the comment as he entered the workshop with Mudd. Norman was saying, "You can command us to make anything for you, Mister Scott. Or do the work yourself for pleasure. You may have the services of any number of craftsmen, exclusive use of computer facilities, anything you wish."

  "Captain, take a look at this shop! It's got equipment we haven't even thought of yet," sighed Scott.

  "Is this the way you're going to do it, Mudd?" said Kirk. "Hit my people at their weakest points?"

  Norman answered. "We only wish to make you all happy and comfortable, Captain. If we are to serve your kind, we must understand you. Our lord, Harry Mudd, has been our only sample of your species. Now we have all of you and we are learning a great deal."

  Kirk Ignored him. "Mister Scott, meet me in my quarters. Tell the members of our original landing party that I want to see them."

  As Mudd shrugged, Kirk strode angrily out of the shop.

  In the spacious room that had been assigned to him, Kirk looked around at the familiar faces. "All right. Here we are, birds in a gilded cage!" he said. "A cage! So the question is, how do we get out of it?"

  "I don't know, sir," sighed Chekov. "But it is a very nice gilded cage."

  "We're bogged down in Mudd," said McCoy.

  "I find that acutely painful, Doctor," remarked Spock.

  Uhura spoke. "It is pleasant, Captain."

  Kirk eyed her sharply. "What have you been offered, Lieutenant?"

  "Sir?"

  "The bribe," he told her impatiently.

  "Oh. Virtual immortality, sir."

  Kirk paced the length of the room. He turned back to them, his face hard. "The only way we'll be really happy is to get back to our ship. And don't you forget it! This cage may be gilded, filled with every goody any of you have ever wanted, but it's still a cage!" Anger thickened his voice. "We don't belong here! We've got a job waiting for us out there!"

  He whirled on Chekov. "You, Mister Chekov, with your two pretty—servants! And you, Scotty, with the greatest machine shop in the galaxy! Uhura… the promise of a body that will never die. Bones and his unlimited medical facilities! Spock—what did they offer you?"

  "I cannot, of course, be tempted, Captain." Spock cleared his throat. "However, I find their company quite refreshing. I admire the precision of their minds. And I must admit that the prospect of a flight on a ship manned by a crew that never tires, never makes mistakes…" He paused. "Plus an android doctor who does not consider himself a comedian, strikes me as most intriguing. There is something to be said for android society."

  "All right, Spock," McCoy growled. "You stay. We'll leave. I've always found your computers better company than—"

  The door opened and Alice walked into the room. Kirk barely had time to read her number before she was standing in front of him.

  "Do you require something, Lord?"

  The casual interruption infuriated him. "Yes, I do," he said. "My ship is what I require. I want it back."

  The musical android voice replied, seeking information, "Why do you want it back?"

  "Because it would please us!" Kirk shouted. "Because we desire its return to us!"

  Spock added quietly, "We are unhappy here. Unhappiness is not to our best interest."

  For a moment, the lovely machine-girl froze. Her pendant glowed; 471-471-471. Then she moved to Spock. "Please explain unhappiness."

  "Happiness is a state which occurs in humans when all desires and wants are fulfilled."

  "What wants and desires of yours are not fulfilled? It is our wish to give you happiness."

  "Then give us our Enterprise!"

  She stared at Kirk, and froze again. Once more the badge glowed. "The Enterprise is not a want or desire, Lord. It is a simple mechanical device."

  Desperate, Kirk cried out. "She is a beautiful lady! And we love her! Can't you understand that?"

  This time she froze for several minutes. The badge glowed, glared, and flared into brightness. Alice 471 buzzed and clicked. When she spo
ke, her voice was tinny, unmusical. "Illogical. Illogical. All units relate. All units. Norman. Coordinate." Her mechanism whirred, and stilled. Her next words came in her ordinary, melodic tones. "Unhappiness does not relate. We must study it." She walked out the door.

  Kirk struggled with a repulsion mixed with pity. "Spock, you saw that?"

  "Yes, Captain. The spectacle relates to an earlier conclusion of mine—to a certain cybernetic technique I observed in a conversation with Norman. I—"

  "Just a minute," Kirk said. "Bones, have you made any psychological readings of the androids?"

  "I have—and you can forget it. They're perfect, flawless, physically and mentally. No weaknesses, no vices, no fears, no faults. Just a sense of purpose—and there's nothing tougher to overcome, even among humans."

  "We could use a little among the crew," said Kirk. "They seem to—Spock, what were you saying?"

  Another Alice stepped through the door. "My Lord Mudd wishes to confer with Captain Kirk and Mister Spock."

  "And we wish to talk to him. Come on, Spock."

  Mudd was waiting for them near the android Stella, flanked by Alice 2 and Norman. Kirk spoke at once. "We've got a lot of questions to ask you, Harry."

  "Afraid I won't have time to answer them, partner. I'm all packed. The androids will take the Enterprise out of orbit in twenty-four hours. It's been great having you here. Is there anything I can get for you?"

  "My ship."

  "You're a stubborn man, Kirk. But I don't mind that. I'll be saying good-bye to you soon enough, and you can be stubborn to your heart's content." He walked over to the alcove, and patted the robot Stella. "For the last time, Stella, old girl…" He pushed the activating buttons.

  The Stella came to shrewish life. "Harcourt Fenton Mudd, what have you been up to? Shame on you! You've been drinking again! Ohhh, you'll come to a bad end—"

  "Shut up."

  The screech stilled. Grinning, Mudd placed a fat arm around Alice 2. "Alice, my little love," he said, "get my bags and have them transported up to the ship."

  "No," she said.

  It had been so long since Mudd had heard this word that he did not recognize it. "My bags are—" He broke off. "What's that you said, my poppet?"

  "I said 'no,' " replied Alice 2.

  Alice 1 spoke from the throne steps. "We can no longer take your orders, Harry Mudd."

  He stared at her. "And why not?"

  "Our Makers were wise," stated Norman. "They created us to serve. We have studied you and now we will serve you."

  "That's what I'm telling you! Now get my bags to the ship!"

  "Harry," said Kirk. "I think they have something else in mind."

  "You are correct, Captain." Norman's voice was as toneless as ever. "Harry Mudd is flawed, even for a humanoid. We recognized this from the beginning. But we needed his knowledge to obtain more specimens.

  "Your species is self-destructive, greedy and corruptible. You need our help."

  "We find it more satisfying to help ourselves," said Kirk. "We make mistakes, we're far from perfect—but we're human. That's the word that explains us."

  Inexorably, Alice 1 said, "Our Makers programmed us to serve. We will serve you by their wisdom. You will not be harmed, but we will take the spaceship while you remain here."

  Panic stricken, Mudd rushed to his throne. Clambering on to the symbol of his authority, he said "No! Look here, now, you can't do that!

  You—you can only serve us by obeying. Obedience, that's it. You must obey! Alice— Yeeeow!"

  Effortlessly, Alice 1 had lifted his weight from the throne and dropped him heavily to the floor.

  Groaning, he raised himself to his knees. "Kirk, tell them!" he implored.

  "Norman, maybe you had better do the telling. What are your plans for us?" said Kirk.

  "We shall not harm you. But we cannot permit so weak and greedy a race free run of the galaxy."

  "I see," said Kirk, "And how do you intend to stop us?"

  "We shall serve. Your kind will be glad to accept our service. Soon they will depend upon it. Safe from harm, their aggressive and acquisitive impulses will come under control. The galaxy will have peace—under our care."

  "The whole galaxy? Controlled by androids?"

  Alice 1 extended a dainty foot and kicked Mudd aside. "Yes, Captain. We have a projected figure; the galaxy will be under our control within twelve years, seven months and two days."

  "And we shall serve you," said Norman, with the pride only a robot anticipating its true function can experience.

  Alice 2 added, gently, "And you will all be happy; happy and controlled."

  It was the contrast between what she said and the soft, feminine voice with which she said it that chilled Kirk with horror.

  The hedonists had deserted the lounge area. Kirk avoided speculation as to where they were, as he looked at the pale and shaken Mudd the First. "Harry, you've given this situation some amusing aspects, but this threat from your androids is not funny."

  Spock agreed. "Indeed it is not. With their remarkable mental processes, disciplined, rational, unemotional—and their unparalleled physical qualities—they quite possibly may be able to take over the galaxy."

  Mudd shuddered. "Take my word for it, they can. They can do anything they make up their little mechanical minds to do."

  "Whatever method we use to stop them, we must make haste," said Spock grimly. "They have only to install some simple cybernetic devices aboard the Enterprise, and they will be able to leave orbit."

  "Spock, how do you know so much?" McCoy asked suspiciously.

  "I asked them."

  "Oh."

  "Why shouldn't they answer questions, Bones? They don't think we can do anything to stop them."

  "Neither do I," said Chekov.

  Uhura gave him a chilling look. "Are you sure you want to stop them, Ensign? Because you seem perfectly happy here!"

  "We Russians are a very adaptable people," mumbled Chekov.

  Mudd had been churning with repressed rage and frustration. "You're so smart, Kirk, you and that Vulcan thinking machine of yours. Come up with something, why don't you? I'm as anxious to get off this rotten rock as you are!"

  "I seem to remember," said McCoy, "you trying to leave us behind, and get away by yourself."

  "Like the Russians, we Mudds are very adaptable people."

  Kirk lifted a hand. "That's enough. We can't afford to squabble, we've only a few hours to stop them. Spock, what have we got to go on?"

  Perhaps this time, Spock might be able to complete his sentence. "No androids, sir, no robots —even these—are capable of creative thought. As to the device they claim is their central control, it is utterly inadequate to the task of directing more than two hundred thousand of them."

  Kirk nodded. "Good, So we start there. What does direct them?"

  "There are numerous Alices, Trudies, Maizies, even a Herman and an Oscar series. But there is only one Norman."

  Kirk's pulse quickened. "Noman! That's right. When I told that Alice that the Enterprise was a beautiful lady that we loved, what was it she said—'illogical'—"

  " 'Illogical. All units relate. All units. Norman. Coordinate.'"

  " 'Norman. Coordinate,' " repeated Kirk. "Why Norman—unless Norman is the coordinator!"

  "It would seem logical, Captain. To function as they do, each android mind acts as a component of what amounts to a mass brain. The individual brain would need a link to the mass one through a central locus."

  "Named Norman," mused Kirk. "The essential connection to a gigantic and highly intelligent mind. And those badges—they glow when the mass mind is called into operation!"

  "The logic appears incontrovertible."

  "Yes," continued the Captain. "Logical is exactly what it is. And that gives us a weapon to turn against it!"

  Faces turned toward him, inquiringly. "That's it! What we need is wild, insane, irrational illogic, aimed right at Norman."

  "What are you
talking about, Kirk?" said Mudd plaintively. "Why are you singing and dancing?"

  "About what seems to be our only opportunity," explained Mister Spock patiently.

  "Opportunity?" Mudd shook his head sadly. "Spock, you may be a brilliant Science Officer, but believe me, you couldn't sell liver pills to your mother!"

  Spock stared, baffled. "My mother? My mother, sir, would have no use for—"

  "Forget it," Mudd said.

  "Back to the point, please," said Kirk. "Harry, you said you wanted to help. Did you mean that?"

  "Gentlemen, Miss Uhura, I'm with you," said Harry Mudd, sincerely. "Believe me, that wholesome, antiseptic galaxy those android are planning—purgatory! Purgatory, gentlemen, for a man like me!"

  Kirk regarded the fat man thoughtfully. "All right. The androids will be expecting us to make a break for it. That's where you come in, Harry." He nodded to McCoy, who drew a filled hypo from his medikit.

  When Mudd saw it, he paled with alarm. "Now, wait a minute. I said I was ready to help, but—" Kirk grabbed one of his arms as Spock seized the other. Mudd, struggling between them, cried, "What I had in mind was advice, sage counsel, a few words of wisdom—what are you doing?"

  The hypo hissed against his arm. He sagged, unconscious. Kirk and Spock were hard put to hold him upright.

  "Harry," said Kirk, "I do believe you've put on weight."

  Spock and McCoy hauled the large, limp body over to a sofa. Kirk went quickly to the Throne Room and hit a signal button. As the chime died away, Alice 1 came through the side door. There was no more "Lord-ing." She merely said, "Yes?"

  "We have a medical problem," Kirk told her. "Your ex-lord Harry Mudd."

  "He is human. You will have to care for him."

  "We are caring for him, but our doctor needs his sickbay equipment. It's aboard the Enterprise," said Kirk, with urgency.

  "The starship is forbidden to humans," she said.

  "You've been programmed to serve!" said Kirk, hoping he sounded sufficiently desperate. "If you deny us access to medical facilities on our ship, Mudd will die, cease to function! And you—you will have failed to serve!"

  Alice 1, hesitated, her badge glowing brightly. When it went dark, she nodded. "I am directed to observe your problem."