Defenders of Destiny, book one, the Discovery of Astrolaris

“Forty seven feet, head to toe,” called out Joseph, as he looked at the tape measure he was holding. The figure now lay at the bottom of a huge pit, fully exposed, still lying on its face with its arms to the side and fingers together, pointing down toward the feet.

  Thomas ran his hand along the flawless surface as he walked toward Joseph, who was winding up the tape. He could not stop marveling how cool to the touch the figure was, even in the blistering desert heat.

  As they approached each other, Joseph asked, “How are we going to get it home?”

  “We could put it on the backhoe trailer. It would hang over the sides at the shoulders, and out the back quite a bit, but I think we could strap it down; I’ve got the big tarp and the wide load sign in the truck’s tool box.”

  “How heavy do you think it is?” asked the boy.

  “I don’t know. Let’s see if we can move it with the back-hoe.” They put the bucket of the backhoe under one of the shoulders and lifted while pushing.

  “It’s rolling,” observed Joseph, as one side came a few inches off the ground.

  “It’s still too heavy and too bulky to lift with the backhoe,” concluded Dad.

  “What about hiring a crane?”

  “I think we better keep this to ourselves for now,” cautioned Dad. “I’ve got an idea…”

  They used the backhoe and dug a ramp down along one side of the giant figure until they could back the trailer down into it, with the deck of the trailer a couple of inches below the level of the giant. They unhitched the trailer from the truck and drove out of the gully up onto the desert and backed it up to the edge of the pit, perpendicular to the figure. The truck was now above the giant and about forty five feet away. They strung a chain from the truck, over the trailer and across the back of the giant and wrapped it around the far arm.

  “Now, Joseph, I think it is going to take both of us working as a team to load the robot onto the trailer. With the truck up here pulling, and the backhoe down there lifting and pushing, I think we might be able to roll the giant over on its back right onto the trailer.”

  Joseph was not old enough to legally drive, but at thirteen years he was already pretty experienced with the backhoe and he definitely knew how to drive the dump truck. “Okey dokey, Dad,” answered Joseph, with a huge grin.

  “I’ll honk when I want you to go and then I’ll honk again to stop,” instructed Dad.

  Joseph put his foot on the brake pedal and pushed in the air switch that released the parking brake. When he heard the backhoe’s horn, he slowly began to pull. The wheels on one rear axel began to spin, so he engaged the interaxel differential lock, which made both rear axels pull together. Suddenly, the truck moved forward and almost as suddenly he heard another honk. Joseph stopped, put the truck in neutral, pulled out the park brake button and jumped out. As he ran to the edge of the pit he heard his dad yell, “Ya Hooo!” He looked down to see the giant figure lying on its back right on top of the trailer. Dad climbed across the front of the backhoe and jumped from the bucket onto the top of the giant.

  “Yaaaa Hoooooooo!” Joseph echoed his dad, with a little added emphasis, as he ran down the steep bank and clambered onto the backhoe and then onto the giant to join his dad.

  “So,” contemplated Dad, staring down at the giant’s face.

  “So…” was Joseph’s reply.

  The facial features were very subdued, almost imperceptible, except the eyes: they were distinctively peculiar and arresting. From their point of view, standing on the chest, it looked like the eyes were portals into the galaxy with a view of two nebula set against the backdrop of deep black space; beginning with translucent swirls of the most vibrant blues on the outer fringes, then turning to yellows, then reds with the deepest darkest red at the center as if it were a red giant star shining from beyond the nebula.

  “Beautiful, yet powerful,” Joseph breathed softly.

  “My sentiments exactly,” responded Dad. “What an amazing work of art. The Smithsonian may have to build another wing.”

  “More like area 51,” countered Joseph.

  “Well, let’s get it home, then we’ll figure out what to do with it. We’d better hurry, if we want to get it ready to go before dark,” observed Dad, as he looked across the desert toward the sun hanging low over the western hills.