Free Robot Trouble by Bruce Coville

Paracelsus.
    â€œShut up,” hissed Rachel, “or I’ll disconnect your power source.”
    â€œAbuse!” cried Paracelsus. “That’s all it is. Abu-u-u— awk!”
    An uneasy silence filled the room. The others turned toward Rachel, who had done exactly as she threatened and disconnected Paracelsus.
    â€œDon’t look at me like that!” she ordered, blushing. “It’s not like I killed him. I’ll turn him back on later.”
    â€œMachine-icide,” said Trip sadly. “The crime of the future is with us today.”
    â€œOh, be quiet or I’ll pull your plug, too! Roger, finish what you were saying.”
    â€œThank you,” said Roger as Trip shrank from Rachel in feigned horror. “The point I was trying to make was that we should consider switching tactics. Right now we’re on the defensive. Black Glove acts, and we respond. Let’s reverse the process.”
    â€œWhat are you suggesting?” asked Ray.
    â€œI think we should set a trap for Black Glove. What’s more, I think Dr. Weiskopf’s rocket could be the perfect bait.”
    He waited for the noise to die down before he continued with his plan. “What’s the one thing B.G. wants most in life?”
    â€œDisregarding personal quirks, I’d say it’s to get information off this island,” replied Trip.
    â€œCorrectamundo! Now, since we recently succeeded in thoroughly screwing up his method for doing that, it’s reasonable to assume he’s a little desperate—especially given Brody’s security crackdown. All right, let’s imagine a perfect way to get secret information from here to somewhere else. How does a satellite sound? A satellite launched from this island and designed to circumvent the electronic shield that cuts us off from the rest of the world, since there should be no problem just sending information back and forth between Anza-bora and the satellite. Let me tell you, as soon as Black Glove finds out what we’re up to, he—or she—is going to spot the possibilities immediately. A little fiddling with the system, maybe plant a special device in the rocket, and Bingo!—our enemy has a new way to communicate with G.H.O.S.T.!”
    â€œWe can’t take that kind of a chance with Euterpe!” cried Rachel.
    â€œBut don’t you see, Rach? That’s exactly what we were going to do! We just hadn’t realized it yet. The only thing I’m suggesting is that instead of blindly letting Black Glove take advantage of what we build that we turn the tables and use it to take advantage of him. And, frankly, it’s the only reason I can think of to take the time to build that rocket right now. If we use our brains, we can build two things at once: a rocket to launch Euterpe, and a trap to catch a spy.”

    Â 
    The Brain Ceil
    Trip and Ray sat in Dr. Armand Mercury’s kitchen, watching him beat the living daylights out of a half dozen egg whites. After a while the portly scientist put down the bowl, peered inside, then dipped a stubby finger into the contents.
    â€œThis is going to be superb,” he pronounced, licking the goo from his fingertip. “I hope you can stay and have some.”
    â€œWhat is it?” asked Ray.
    â€œRight now? Nothing. When I am done? Ah, when I am done it will be a superb chocolate souffle with Grand Marnier and fresh orange slices.”
    Looking at Dr. Mercury’s rotund figure, Trip thought that the man had probably already had enough souffles to last him a lifetime.
    The scientist poured his concoction into a springform pan and carefully placed it in the oven.
    â€œActually, I’m making this for Dr. Remov. He’s coming over when he’s done at the Brain Cell. I’m sure he would be glad to see you if you can stay.”
    â€œThe Brain Cell?” asked Trip.
    Dr. Mercury’s eyes grew wide and he put his fingers to his full lips in