Nyssa rubbed her temples. What if the information Albriet had sent her to recover was the blueprint for creating human/robot atrocities? That sort of knowledge was best forgotten. “What do we do now?”
“If you’re with me, take the RAM. There’s a port on the right side of my frame you can plug it into. I’ll activate it, and then even if there are more restrictors on other systems, you’ll still be able to carry me with you. If we can get to the main computer in the lab, I can examine the files, try to put things together. The Creator was first and foremost a scientist, always taking notes so he could easily replicate his work.”
Nyssa plucked the RAM from her belt. I should throw this device away, shatter it and run for my life … but if I don’t go through with this, where am I going to go? A memory of the man with his strange eye-hat made her hair stand on end. She stepped forward and brushed away the heavy coat of dust from the frame. A circular port, about the size of her thumb print, lay just where Hart had described it. Lining up the handle of the RAM to the port, she snapped it into place, and the dials and lights on the RAM spun and flashed.
“All right, it’s done.” Hart’s voice now rose from the RAM. The lights in the larger mirror faded.
Nyssa slipped the RAM from its port and held it in front of her face. Her own reflection stared back at her, as if it were a normal hand mirror. “Whoever designed this interface system had vanity issues.”
Hart laughed. “It has a purpose. Look. I can pull up images.”
A schematic of the mansion flashed onto the RAM’s screen, obscuring Nyssa’s face.
“We need to go up a flight of stairs to the third floor, then across the Grand Hall. There’s a long spiral staircase that connects to the laboratory in the attic. I should be able to guide you around any security systems. Are you ready?”
Nyssa shrugged. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Your skirt’s seen better days.”
Nyssa glanced down. A long jagged rip rent it from the hem to just above her knee, causing it to drag like a train behind her. She clicked her tongue, took a knife from her satchel, and sliced her way through the fabric. She cast aside the removed section and stepped back to view herself in the larger mirror. Her skirt now ended mid-thigh. Easier to move in, if scandalous. It wasn’t like anyone could see her, anyway. “All right, now I’m ready. Let’s go.”
Chapter Seven
A dusty curtain shrouded the entrance to the Grand Hall. Nyssa held her hand over her nose to avoid sneezing and pushed through. The odor of mildew lingered in the thick fabric, which might have been a rich burgundy, but was now faded to match the dust.
The Grand Hall stretched before her. Gray light filtered through high windows, casting odd, dappled patterns through three great chandeliers, all frosted in layers of spider webs. A regiment of suits of armor lined both sides of the hall, tucked away in alcoves. As with the other rooms, mirrors lined the walls.
Hart’s mechanical voice rose from behind her. “As nice a view as your derriere is, I’d feel more useful if I could see what’s in front of us.”
Nyssa’s ears burned. If he were a man, I’d slap him. She reclaimed the RAM from her back belt loop and faced it forward.
“Uh-oh,” Hart said.
Nyssa’s brow tightened. “Uh-oh? What do you mean uh-oh?” She flipped the RAM to glare into it.
“Hush. Step back.”
Nyssa ducked behind the curtain. “Aren’t computers supposed to be all factual and precise? So tell me: what do you mean by uh-oh?”
“Those suits of armor? They’re all automated. They used to be programmed to apprehend and restrain intruders, but if you’re apprehended here, it might be a while until someone finds you.”
Nyssa’s stomach twisted at the thought of starving to death in the iron embrace of a robot.
“Is there a way around?” she whispered.
“There’s only one entrance to the stairway, and it’s through here. Maybe they aren’t activated.”
Nyssa glanced around the corridor. A small table sat a few feet away, several dust covered decorations on top of it. She snatched up a spherical, glass paperweight and tossed it through the curtain. It shattered against the wooden floor.
The nearest iron-knight lurched from his resting place. He clanked forward several steps, then stopped.
His head turned a full three-hundred and sixty degrees, and red light glowed through his visor. A grid projected from his helmet, flitting over the room, his fellow knights, and the fragments of paperweight. Even though the grid didn’t reach her, Nyssa cringed into the curtains.
“Threat not detected.” The knight’s voice was harder than Hart’s, like a rasping of rusty cogs. He took several jerking steps backwards to re-position himself in his niche.
Nyssa let out a long breath. “Definitely activated. How are they triggered? Sound? Image? Both?”
“You saw that scan he did? There’s a beam constantly sweeping the Grand Hall. When it detects anything, the knights are activated. If I can access the control panel, I can power the system down.”
“And where is the panel?” Nyssa squinted down at him. She had a bad feeling about what his answer might be.
“Fifth mirror down on the right.”
Nyssa counted and ended at a mirror with a slightly more ornate pewter frame. Red and blue lights studded its top and bottom.
“Great, so we only have to pass four of them.” She tucked him in her belt, in the front loops, facing outwards this time.
“Do you know how laser scans work?”
Nyssa bit her bottom lip.
