Free The Wicked Cyborg by Ron Goulart

mirror. “You’re a whiz at getting that scaly effect, Electro.”
    “Yes, you’re absolutely right.”
    Tad scratched at the back of his green scaly hand. “You really think we can fool a whole gang of thugs?” Both he and the girl had been converted into fairly convincing facsimiles of lizard people.
    Jana was, using a needle and thread found among Mother Zarzarkas’ effects, taking up the hem on the purple cloak the robot had loaned her. “I bet we’ll be able to fool the whole lot of them,” she said. “What sort of disguise are you going to use, Electro?”
    The robot bent, tugged the wig off the slumbering RI agent. “I’ll become a sweet-tempered old lady.” He plopped the wig on his skull, stepped closer to the mirror to change his gleaming face to a semblance of wrinkled flesh.
    “This Rhymer Industries agent recognized us.” Tad adjusted the floppy purple hat the robot had insisted he wear. “Most likely others will, too.”
    “He recognized us because we made the error of appearing undisguised,’” said Electro, rapidly changing his appearance. “My fault, letting down our guard. We should have remained in makeup.”
    “You couldn’t have,” said Tad, “anticipated an RI spy on board this showboat.”
    “A person of my abilities should have, my boy.” He cocked his head far to the left, far to the right. “A striking replica of the Sweet Singer of Senile Songs.” He stepped over to the fallen agent, undressed him quickly and slipped into his garments. “Ah, three more pistols concealed on him. A very crafty chap.” Electro began prowling the cabin, peeking into closets, squinting under the bunk. “Ah, exactly what I seek. The old dear carried a spare.” He hauled a second guitar from beneath the rumpled bed.
    “You aren’t going to need that,” said Tad.
    “It adds to the illusion.” The robot slung the instrument over his broad back. “I will be Mother Zarzarkas, going ashore in the company of two of my ardent local fans. My objective is to pay a brief visit to their clubhouse. Sounds plausible, looks plausible.”
    “You make an enormous old lady.”
    “I’ll affect a convincing and charming stoop.”
    “He looks fine.” Jana placed the modified cloak over her slim shoulders. “We all do. Relax, Tad, and let’s assume we’re going to con whoever your cousin sends to capture us.”
    “A little while ago you were gloomy, talking about how we were all of us trapped.”
    The girl laughed. “My outlook does tend to fluctuate, doesn’t it? Annoyed the hell out of my husband.” She shrugged. “Right at the moment I’m optimistic. Okay?”
    “We’ll venture now into the corridor.” Electro gathered his skirt up, tiptoed to the cabin door and opened it. There was no activity in the passway. “We’ll begin our act. Goodness, I never imagined I had so many admirers in a dinky place such as Siltville.” He stepped out of the cabins.
    “We have a hundred plus members, mother,” said Jana, following. “Each and every one crazy over your recordings.”
    “Oh, it gladdens my old heart to realize my music is reaching so many fine young people.”
    The three of them moved out of the corridor and onto the deck. The audience section was already over half full, with a line of patrons coming single file up the gangplank. The sky was completely dark now, blurred slightly with mist.
    “Red lizard men over there,” said Tad close to the robot’s ear, nodding at the seated audience.
    “An entire row of them,” amended the robot. “We can’t be sure all red lizards in this forlorn part of the planet are in the pay of your cousin. Nonetheless, the sooner we disembark from the craft the better.”
    “Ha, just who I want!” Commodore Snow, dressed now in a style similar to Elector’s and sporting a red bulb nose, came hurrying up to the disguised robot.
    “Goodness me, commodore, you seem all in a dither.”
    “Washboard Will’s having stomach trouble,” explained the