William Shatner - Tek War 9 - Tek Net

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tek net [158-011-3.2]

By: william shatner

Synopsis:

Nineth and final novel in the tek War series.

This seems to be the last of the Tek books. It's been a long run and a

good run. I've dedicated the many previous books to various people who

had a lot or at least something to do with the success of the series.

I'd like to dedicate this last book to people who had nothing

whatsoever to do with this endeavor.

My sisters, Joy and Farla, have had absolutely nothing to do with this

book. My wonderful assistant, Stephanie Riggs, who is both cool and

beautiful, has had nothing to do with this book. And my ex-wife has

had nothing to do with this book except to get half the proceeds. But

most of all, I'd like to dedicate this book to Martika and Stifling,

who, as dogs, could not have written a word, but their bark is worse

than their bite. I can't say the same for Rod Goulart; my agent,

Carmen La Via and my editor, Susan Allison, all of whom absolutely had

a great deal to do with this book.

Just before they caught up with her on the grounds of the Hollywood

Starwalk Park that night--less than five minutes before, actually--she

made the call.

Not to her current husband, or her current lover.

On that chill, foggy evening in the late spring of the year 2122, Jill

Bernardino vidphoned Sid Gomez. She hadn't seen him or even talked to

him in over three years, but she felt he was one of the few people in

all of Greater Los Angeles who could help her.

A dark-haired woman in her late thirties, Jill wasn't quite ready to

turn to the SoCal Police. She had a couple of good reasons.

"But maybe I'll have to anyway," she told herself as she made her way,

cautiously and uneasily, along the quirky, seemingly tree-lined pass

ways of the mist-shrouded and nearly deserted park.

She'd initially expected to meet someone here tonight. An informant, a

man who could supply her with information for the vidwall movie she was

working on.

"Not so," she'd realized a few moments ago.

This was a setup, just something to lure her here. "So, obviously,

somebody knows about what I know." Suddenly off to her right a row of

holographic palm trees began sputtering. The noise made Jill flinch

and dodge to her left, shivering.

The tall trees, over a dozen of them, crackled and vanished. The fog

took their place.

Up ahead, beneath a large floating lite sign that urged Walk Thru

Movieland's Past, stood three rusty androids. They represented famed

Hollywood movie stars from an earlier century. The only one Jill

recognized was, she was nearly certain, Clark Gable.

The andy was in need of repairs and the lazy salute he gave her as she

approached was jerky. His grin was more a grimace and it locked into

place and wouldn't fade. "Welcome to bygone Hollywood, sweetheart," he

told her in a rattling, raspy voice.

When the blonde actress on Gable's left winked at Jill, her plastiglass

eyeball fell out. It hit the simulated white gravel of the path and

bounced once. "Hiya, kiddo."

The third mechanical actor, a lanky cowboy, lifted his pearl-white

Stetson, bowing to the unknown blonde. He bent to retrieve the

eyeball. "Allow me, ma'am."

Losing his balance in the process, the long, lean cowboy fell flat out

on the ground. His long legs twitched a few times and then he was

still and the night fog came rolling in over him. Jill hurried on,

glancing back.

She was certain she was being followed. Back there in the thickening

fog, there were at least two people on her trail. She'd caught

glimpses of them in the swirling mist. A small, bald man and a larger,

broader figure.

"Might be an andy, that second one."

Jill increased her pace, then went running up the steps of what looked

to be an old Southern mansion from several centuries ago. Another

Clark Gable was there on the wide verandah, dressed as some kind of

Southern gentleman this time. This android wasn't quite as

weather-worn and his grin was warmer.

"Good evening, my dear," he greeted, tipping his Mississippi gambler's

hat.

She pushed through the door, shut it behind her and found herself in an

immense drawing room. Some of the simulated furniture was flickering

and more than one of the hidden holoprojectors was making odd humming

sounds.

Crouching behind an ornate love seat, Jill yanked her palm phone out of

her jacket pocket and, hurriedly, punched out Gomez' number.

The curly-haired detective's smiling face popped up on the tiny screen

after the third buzz. "Buenas aoches," he said.

"Sid, listen--I'm in danger."

He recognized her now, frowning. "You've got the wrong hombre, Jill.

I'm your erstwhile husband," he told her. "Erstwhile, a word often

misused, means former. I no longer--"

"For Christ sake, knock off the whimsy and listen to me," his ex-wife

pleaded. "I'm in the old run-down Hollywood Starwalk Park--you know,

near where the Hollywood Bowl used to be. You've got to--"

"If one of your multitude of beaus has abandoned you, chiquita, I

advise you to phone a sky cab and--"

"Let's save time," she cut in. "During the two and a half some years

we were married, I was a Tekhead and I did fool around. Right now

though, Sid, I swear, I think I'm in serious trouble."

His frown deepened. "Okay, what sort of trouble?" "I'm not

completely sure," she told him, glancing toward the door. "I'm back

writing again, Sid, working on a vidwall movie. It's a thriller called

Hokori, and--"

"An entire movie about the late and sleazy Teklord?"

"Yes, but the point is--well, while researching the damn thing I came

across something. Some information and--Sid, get here quickly. I'm

sure was lured to this dump. A couple of goons are trailing me."

"Got any kind of gun?"

"No, I hate weapons and--"

"I'll be over there in ten minutes. Meantime, call the cops."

"The local police still don't trust me because of all the trouble

I used to get into when I was a Tekkie, Sid. I--"

"Call 'em nonetheless, cara," he urged her.

"Sid, okay, I will," she promised. "I'm in that imitation of the--I

think it's the mansion from an ancient movie called Gone

With the Wiad. And listen, this has to do with a plan to .. ." She

stopped talking then.

The door of the colorful old Southern mansion had started to swing

open.

Gomez' sky car came swooping down through the thick fog to make a

bouncy landing in the empty parking lot next to the ramshackle

Hollywood Starwalk Park.

"This isn't the first dump like this I've had to drag her out of," he

said as he stepped out into the chill, swirling mist.

He went running across the damp rutted surface of the landing area.

"Never thought I'd be doing it again. Jill was .. . Whoa, tastante,

enough," he told himself. "She's not your wife anymore so you can skip

the self-pity, amigo."

Sprawled flat on his back just outside the open, weather-worn plazmetal

gate was the android Charlie Chaplin who'd long ago served as ticket

taker.

Skirting the fallen comedian, Gomez eased out his stun gun from its

shoulder holster. He began to jog along a wide weedy pass way

flack in the days when he was a SoCal State cop, he'd visited this

place a lot, unofficially. He still remembered where the old Southern

mansion was located.

He halted, turning to stare into the swirling mist at his left.

Nodding, he moved on. The figure he'd spotted looming over there was

only an android, a defunct replica of a dark clad werewolf from some

forgotten motion picture of another century.

A moment later Gomez became aware of arguing voices up ahead on his

right.

"We only got one goddamn Tek chip, asshole," a teenage girl was saying

in a thin nasal voice. "And you dorfs promised me first turn."

There were three of them, the skinny girl and two lean young men,

huddled on the porch of a rickety log cabin. They were fighting for

the possession of a tattered Tek Brainbox.

Slumped in the doorway of the cat3in was an android Abe Lincoln,

stovepipe hat tilted far down over his craggy forehead. A plump grey

rat was sitting placidly in the andy's narrow lap.

The girl gave the Brainbox a violent tug, but didn't manage to get it

away from the others. She was red-haired and there were several green

and crimson snakes tattooed on her pale bare arms.

The larger of the youths said, "Let go, Snooky." His right hand

flashed out, hit her, hard, across the face.

She let go of the box, stumbled and fell backwards. She landed

directly in Gomez' path.

He crouched and, keeping his eye on the two youthful louts, aided the

skinny girl to rise. "Usually, pendejo," he said in the direction of

the one who'd slapped the girl down, "I'm noted as a gentle and patient

teacher of morals and manners. Tonight, unfortunately, I'm in a hurry

and this will have to suffice as your lesson in deportment."

Gomez aimed the stun gun and fired. The sizzling beam hit the

young man in his narrow chest. He went rising up on his tiptoes. The

Brainbox he was clutching dropped from his splayed fingers.

As the lout toppled over backwards to sit beside Lincoln and scare the

rat into flight, Gomez continued on his way.

"Thanks, greaser," called the redhead. "Now I'll get my turn ahead of

this pissant."

"De nada," he muttered, turning onto a side path that would lead him to

the Gone With the Wind mansion where his former wife had been when she

phoned him for help.

And she really was a former wife, he realized as he hurried along

through the foggy night. Jill had been his second wife and he was now

living with .. . either the fourth or fifth one. Sometimes, especially

when he hadn't had enough sleep, he tended to lose track of how many

there'd been.

"Muy bonita Jill was," he recalled. "Also very bright and talented.

Ai, if only I'd been able to do something about her fondness for

Tek--and for other hombres."

He slowed when he caught his first glimpse of the tumbledown mansion

through the mist.

Leaving the path, he cut across a field that in better days had

represented a trench-filled stretch of World War I battlefield.

Crouched low, Gomez moved closer to the looming house.

He approached the place from its left side. There was no light

showing, no sound coming from within.

Up close to the white neo wood wall, Gomez inched a handheld

eavesdropper from his jacket pocket and, gently, touched it to the

mansion's side.

The tiny dials indicated no human inhabitants. Circling around to

the front, he climbed the stairs openly.

The Clark Gable android nodded. "Welcome, sir," he said. "You look

like a true Southern gentleman."

"St. but from a little further south than you mean," replied the

detective, crossing the threshold into a shadowy hallway.

In the large drawing room he found a palm phone lying on the threadbare

carpet. "This has got to be hers," he said, not touching it.

From another pocket he extracted a small gadget, this one called a

sniffer.

Activating it, Gomez did a slow, careful sweep of the whole room.

After seven minutes the sniffer's tiny voxbox told him,

female of about forty years was here within the past hour."

"Si-and?"

"One human and a robot entered approximately five minutes later,"

continued the reedy metallic voice. "There was a struggle."

"What sort of a struggle, io?"

"A brief one. The woman was rendered unconscious--most probably by

means of a stun gun Then she was taken from here."

"Gracias." Turning off the gadget, Gomez returned it to his pocket and

glanced around the room. "Buero--that means Jill was alive when she

left this joint."

Spotting a chair that was real and not a holographic projection, he sat

down, leaned back and let out a long, slow sigh.

"But there's no way of telling if she's still alive." He rubbed his

hand over the lower half of his face, shaking his head. "This is a

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摘要：

teknet[158-011-3.2]By:williamshatnerSynopsis:NinethandfinalnovelinthetekWarseries.ThisseemstobethelastoftheTekbooks.It'sbeenalongrunandagoodrun.I'vededicatedthemanypreviousbookstovariouspeoplewhohadalotoratleastsomethingtodowiththesuccessoftheseries.I'dliketodedicatethislastbooktopeoplewhohadnothing...

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