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IG-88 knew the path he must take. Blueprints of the stronghold as well as locations of weapons emplacements and complements of mercenary guards had been on Grlubb’s datadisk.
    From a fortified cul-de-sac, five guards began firing at him with blaster rifles. Their bolts spanged off IG-88’s duraplated armor. No simple energy weapon could damage him unless the beam struck exactly the right spot—only a few of IG-88’s original designers knew such vulnerabilities, and most of those designers had been slaughtered at the Holowan Laboratories’ massacre.
    IG-88 used laser cannons in each arm as he methodically struck down one target after another, blasting through armor shielding when necessary. Finally unhindered, he powered down his laser cannons and continued his relentless march to the inner levels of the stronghold.
    Another group of guards attacked him by spraying instant-hardening epoxy in a novel defense that clogged his gears and servomotors. IG-88 pondered for a moment then raised his body temperature until the epoxy bubbled and smoldered, finally snapping when he bent his powerful limbs. When the guards continued to fire on him, he launched one of his concussion grenades into their midst.
    He shifted through various optical filters for a better view through the growing smoke in the corridors. Up ahead he saw sealed doorways marked with danger symbols indicating biological contamination. Behind thick transparisteel windows, people in bulky environment suits and heavy masks ran about, trying to shut down experiments in progress while others attempted to escape the lab.
    IG-88 went to the contamination-sealed door, decidedit would be too difficult to rip free, so he targeted the observation window instead. Both durasteel hands struck five times with planet-cracking force until the thick transparisteel shattered, collapsing inward with a popping sound as the lower air pressure equalized. The masked lab workers ran about frantically.
    IG-88 crashed through the rest of the wall, then scanned for three seconds, analyzing the containment systems and cataloging the inventory of deadly toxins. Finished, he calculated the best way to release them all.
    IG-88 walked about in a carefully chosen path that must have appeared a bestial frenzy to the fleeing observers. He ripped out power packs from containment fields so that puffs of deadly gas sprayed out; he smashed canisters, and clouds of lethal microorganisms wafted into the air. An emergency field came on to seal the entire laboratory, but IG-88 found the controls and shut that down as well.
    When all of the horrible substances had been unleashed into the fortress ventilation systems, IG-88 went about catching the fleeing technicians in their masks and sealed outfits. Delicately and precisely, he tore their faceplates free, exposing them to the noxious chemicals and diseases they had themselves created.
    The laboratory burned around him. Blinded mercenaries staggered about, gasping and retching in air clogged with purplish smoke. This had been a satisfying experience, but he wished to waste no more time. He shot those who delayed his exit and left the rest to rot in the poisonous carnage.
    Mission accomplished. First objective achieved.
    Before departing from Peridon’s Folly, IG-88 sought out his second objective, the more personal goal.
    He moved quietly in the darkness, using stealth routines and camouflaging algorithms to insinuate himselfinto the fortified household of Bolton Kek, one of the original neural network designers of the IG series.
    Kek had laid the groundwork for the Holowan Laboratories’ project, but then he had taken another consulting job, retiring from Imperial service on “moral grounds.” Bolton Kek had retired to the world of Peridon’s Folly, where he sold his services to the various weapon runners.
    The target lay asleep in his dim bedroom, and IG-88 moved forward in utmost silence. Talking directly to them in binary, he had bypassed the myriad