Return to Mech City

  “I’m ... uh ... I was named Edward ... by my master.”

  “You were a lot like me once,” Winston said, “before something affected your brain.”

  A moment of understanding seemed to pass between them.

  “Come on, Chief!” somebody yelled. “What are we waiting for?”

  Edward glanced toward his gang. When he turned back to Winston, the madness was in full control again.

  “Get em!” he shouted.

  “Yaaa!”

  The gang rushed forward with a savage howl, clubs upraised. Star sprang to her feet.

  “Here, Winston!”

  She thrust the spear into his hands. Winston swung it at the first attacker and sent him sprawling. The others hesitated long enough for Star to retrieve her own club and return to Winston’s side.

  “Looks like we’ve got a couple of live ones here,” Edward said. “You okay, Bert?”

  “Yeah, I think so, Chief.”

  The robot Winston had knocked down wobbled back to his feet. The others closed ranks around him and looked to their leader for orders.

  “Let’s party!” Edward shouted.

  The gang pressed in from all directions.

  “Back to back, Star!” Winston cried.

  They stood close together and battled furiously. Winston scored damaging hits with his spear point, and Star sent two attackers reeling back with dented craniums.

  For a desperate moment, Winston thought they might actually prevail, that the enemy would regard them as too formidable. But the maddened scrappers pressed their assault without regard for danger – as the insect hunters had done, as the mech fish had done.

  Superior numbers overwhelmed their defense. The enemy forced them apart, and Star’s weapon clattered from her hands. A thug grabbed her around the waist and lifted her off her feet. She pounded at him with her fists.

  “Winston!”

  “Star!” Winston cried, but he could do nothing to help her.

  “She’s a real terror!” Edward laughed. “Deactivate the slut.”

  The thug reached under Star’s hair and flicked the switch at the base of her skull. She went limp.

  Anguish tore through Winston. “Star!”

  Four scrappers pressed him hard. He jabbed with his spear, inflicting damage. But then Bert ducked in low and struck with his club.

  Crack!

  Winston’s left leg broke off below the knee and flew all the way to the truck where Edward and another thug were loading Star into the back.

  “Ugh!”

  Winston crashed to the ground amid the mocking laughter of his foes. But he continued to fight, punching a hole into one of his enemy’s thighs.

  “Hey, that’s mean!” the scrapper wailed.

  Thwonk!

  Bert knocked away Winston’s spear.

  “That should do it.” Bert glowered down at Winston with malignant satisfaction. “Time’s up, lover boy!”

  Winston braced himself on an elbow and raised a protective arm over his head. Sunlight streaming between his fingers bracketed the thug’s brutal face. He looked past it toward Star’s inert form sprawled in the truck.

  “Farewell,” he murmured.

  “Yeah, have a nice trip!” Bert raised his club for the final, killing blow.

  ***

  The Great Technician in the Sky suddenly appeared in Winston’s consciousness, peaking out benevolently from behind a cloud.

  You’re just a little utility program.

  “So, you figured it out, eh?” The Great Technician said.

  He shrugged and raised a large coffee cup to his lips. A notation on the cup read: ‘Smile, it kills times between disasters.’

  Oh, please!

  ***

  Then a blur of colors as a massive canine body hurtled through the air. Iridium caught Bert’s club arm in his fangs.

  Ripppp!

  The arm tore off, leaving a dangle of wires and control cables at the shoulder. Iri landed with a heavy thud and spit out the limb.

  “Tit for tat, rust bucket,” he said.

  Bert gaped at his mangled shoulder. “What th ... !”

  Iri took down a second enemy robot.

  “Ahhhh! Help!” the thug shrieked.

  But his companions did not intervene. Their earlier reckless bravery had abandoned them in the face of this terrible new onslaught. Iri tore the scrapper apart with a few savage bites. So violent was his assault that the scrapper’s head bounced all the way to the truck, right into Edward’s hands.

  “Let’s get out of here!” Edward cried.

  “Now there’s a good idea,” the head agreed.

  “Yipes!”

  Edward tossed the thing away and jumped into the driver’s seat. The remaining thugs ran for the vehicle. The one with the damaged thigh lagged behind.

  “Hey, wait up guys!”

  Iri brought him down and demolished him amid a cacophony of fearsome screeches. The truck took off, crushing Winston’s severed leg under its wheels.

  When he’d finished with his demolition job, Iri sauntered over to Winston casually, as if he’d just come back from a stroll in the park.

  “How’s it going pal?” he asked.

  “Thank heaven!” Winston cried. “Why didn’t you tell us you were following?”

  Iri shrugged. “Just waiting for the right moment to make a dramatic entrance, I guess. Besides, I’m programmed for stealth.”

  Winston pointed after the fleeing vehicle. “They’ve got Star!”

  “Right-o!”

  Iridium charged after the truck. The rattling old vehicle wasn’t moving very fast, and he gained on it quickly.

  Winston retrieved his spear, unscrewed the point, and hoisted himself up. Like all robots, his power to weight ratio was very high, and he was able to use the weapon as an effective crutch. He hobbled after the scrappers.

  Iridium poured on a tremendous burst of speed and leaped the final distance into the truck bed, landing beside Star’s inert form.

  “Yow!” The two scrapper occupants jumped out and ran away.

  “What’s going on back there?” Edward yelled.

  He dared not take his one good eye off the road. Bert looked back from the passenger seat, though, and he immediately abandoned the vehicle as well.

  “Adios!” Iri called.

  Then he slithered through the smashed rear window and into the passenger seat. Edward glanced over – absolute terror had replaced the sneer on his face.

  “Would you prefer that I drive?” Iridium asked.

  Edward screamed.

  “I take it that means yes,” Iridium said.

  With a brutal thrust of his hind legs, Iridium kicked Edward out. The gang leader crashed onto the pavement head first. His cranium exploded, and his body broke apart, scattering components among the roadside weeds.

  Iridium stomped the brake with one paw and hit the power switch with another. The truck lurched to a halt.

  “Well, that was amusing,” he said.

  He looked back at Star; she seemed to be unhurt. Also, he could see that Winston was in pursuit.

  “Time to take care of some unfinished business,” he said. “Take care, Star.”

  Iridium leaped from the truck and pursued the fleeing scrappers. For the next several minutes the air resounded with anguished cries as Iridium tore the enemy robots to pieces, very thoroughly.

  His programming against unnecessary violence did not stop him from relishing the task. Besides, these marauders presented a continuing threat and needed to be liquidated.

  Winston finally arrived at the truck and clambered into the back. He cradled Star’s inert figure in his arms.

  “Oh, my precious Star! What have they done to you?”

  He caressed her neck, then the back of her head. He flicked the activation switch. To his immense relief, her eyes popped open.

  “Where am I?” she murmured, weak, disoriented.

  “It’s all right St
ar, you’re safe with me now.”

  She snuggled into his arms. “I knew you’d come for me, Winston.”

  “Yes, of course,” he said, “I’d fight the whole world for you.”

  She gave him a fragile kiss. “Don’t ever leave me, Winston.”

  Iri trotted up carrying Edward’s left lower leg in his jaws. It was a close match to Winston’s missing appendage, except for the color. He set it down and looked up at the kissing robots in the truck.

  “Hey, Romeo, I brought you a present,” he said.

  Winston looked over, but Star remained blissfully unaware of the great canine’s presence.

  “Oh Winston, my hero.” She wrapped her arms more tightly around him. “I knew you’d save me.”

  “Geez, what a phony,” Iridium muttered.

  Winston leaned over the side of the truck.

  “Please don’t say anything to her, Iri,” he said in a hushed voice. “I’ll owe you one, okay?”

  “You owe me a lot more than just one, pal.”

  “I’ll make it all up to you, don’t worry,” Winston said.

  “Okay, whatever.”

  Winston looked down at Star. She seemed to have drifted into a kind of rapturous semi-inactivation.

  “And thanks for the leg, Iri,” Winston said. “Did you get all the scrappers?”

  “All except the one-armed guy,” Iridium said. “He must have found a hiding place, but I don’t think he’s any threat.”

  “Good work,” Winston said.

  Star lolled back into Winston’s arms, her eyes were closed and her mouth was slightly open. For a few moments, all seemed right with the world. Then the sky began to darken and turn cold.

  Winston jerked his head upwards. “Great heavens!”

  42: Chickadee Express

  A vast cloud blackened the sky, but no earthly storm approached. The dark, seething mass was composed entirely of birds – thousands of them! Their flapping and chirping turned the day insane. Their horror surpassed the mech bugs many times over.

  Star opened her eyes, terror displaced her languid contentment. She cowered in Winston’s arms.

  “Oh help! Save me!”

  The cloud descended upon them like the fury of some evil god. Its downdraft rocked the truck.

  “What can we do, Iri?” Winston cried.

  “Don’t ask me, pal, I’m fresh out of tricks.”

  Winston wrapped himself around Star in a futile attempt to shield her from the onslaught. Then everything was obscured by frantic avian bodies. Bird sounds filled the world, along with the screams of three terrified victims.

  “Ahhhh!”

  A mass of the little brutes pulled Winston away from Star. He struggled amid a tornado of black panic, but could do nothing to free himself. The birds grasped his arms, his leg – they formed nooses with their bodies and wrapped themselves around him.

  Then he was up and away, hurtling into the sky like some grotesque kite. Absurdly, he still clung to his spear.

  Star flew alongside him, hair swirling and eyes shut tight with fear. To his other side, a legion of birds carried Iridium by his long hairs. The great canine’s coat no longer shimmered with many colors but had turned a lifeless gray. Even the spare leg was airborne.

  The medals clinked on Winston’s chest in protest of the discourteous treatment.

  “I am the Minister of Cultural Development!” he cried.“ I demand our release!”

  “Be careful what you wish for, pal,” Iri said.

  Winston looked down. The scrapper truck had diminished to a tiny speck amid a sea of brown hills.

  “Oh, my gosh!” he cried. “I demand that you hang on to us!”

  “Relax, pal,” Iri said. “If they wanted to destroy us, they’d have done it already.”

  If Winston had had a heart, it would be exploding in his chest right now. He tried to think of some reassuring comment to force back the panic.

  “I always wanted to see the world,” he shouted above the cacophony, “but this is ridiculous!”

  “Oh, please,” Iri groaned.

  Winston clamped his eyes shut, and his panic began to ebb a little. Actually, once the initial rush of fear had passed, the ride wasn’t too bad – it was certainly much better than that wild rowboat trip a few days ago.

  Iridium must be right, what would be the point of dropping us now?

  Of course, the birds might have something worse planned, like slow dismemberment or submersion in boiling oil. But why worry about that now? Winston settled back in his cradle of birds, opened his eyes again, and studied the route with as much objectivity as he could muster.

  The ground below was very hilly now, high mountains loomed ahead. Star seemed to have calmed down, although she still kept her eyes shut tight. Iridium hung by his once colorful hairs – a dour, resigned look on his face. Such an expression would have been humorous under different circumstances.

  Winston had no idea how much time had elapsed since the battle with the marauder robots as his internal clock was badly disoriented. It had never been designed for such rough usage, not to mention airborne service.

  ***

  They were far up in the mountains now. Winston’s sensors registered a sharp drop in temperature, despite the glaring sunshine. The sky was clear blue instead of the dingy yellow of the lowlands, and some of the taller pinnacles bore snow on their tops.

  Winston had overcome his initial shock, and Iridium was maintaining his customary stoicism. Even Star seemed to have recovered and was now taking in the scenery with awed excitement.

  “Oh, look!” she cried. “These mountains are even more beautiful close up.”

  “I’m sorry I got you into this, Star,” Winston said.

  “Don’t be silly,” Star said, “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

  “I’d rather take the world, if I had a choice,” Iri said.

  Star noticed the great canine for the first time. Earlier, he’d been hidden from her view, but now the birds had repositioned their burdens so that Iri swung before her in plain sight.

  “Why, Iridium,” she said, “how nice to see you again!”

  “Just thought I’d drop by,” Iridium said. “No, let me rephrase that ...”

  They were approaching a large, gleaming, two-winged structure with a high central tower. The sharp thrust of the building seemed at home amid the jagged peaks, as if it had grown there naturally. The structure looked familiar somehow. Winston rummaged his memory banks – it was the city hall building from the old Dragnet TV show!

  It was much scaled down, but still an obvious replica of the building displayed on Sergeant Friday’s police badge. Dragnet’s signature tune exploded unbidden from his speaker unit.

  “Dum da dum dum!” Winston’s voice echoed off the sheer rock. “Dum da dum dum dummm!”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Iridium said.

  Below them sprawled a large, curved lake. Yes ... an objective observer would say that it was shaped like a pickle, complete with a stem on one end and bumps around the edges. Little islands in the center spelled out a single word:

  KOSHER

  “We’re here!” Winston shouted.

  “Actually, I’d rather be someplace else,” Iri said.

  The tower loomed closer at terrifying speed. Winston was being propelled toward a small, open window on the topmost floor.

  “Here it comes!” he shouted.

  The birds released him. He hurtled solo through the air like some half-baked guided missile. The gaping maw of the window approached.

  “Yee Haaa!”

  Winston shot through the window and tumbled onto a thickly carpeted floor. He rolled a few meters before coming to a stop. Moments later, Iri and Star plunged in alongside, then the spare leg followed.

  Everyone lay still.

  Around them spread a large chamber with gas torches burning at intervals along the stone walls. The atmosphere was dark and mysterious, like a sacred temple or a funera
l chamber for some big shot human being.

  A hoard of birds flowed through the windows with a thunderous rustling sound and perched themselves on the rafters beneath the high, cavernous ceiling.

  Blessed silence.

  Winston sat up and ran his hands over himself, checking for injuries.

  “Is everybody all right?” he asked.

  “Never better,” Iri said.

  “I’m okay, but my hair is an absolute mess,” Star said. “If only I had my comb!”

  Star and Iridium regained their feet. Winston hoisted himself erect on his crutch.

  “You’re hurt!” Star cried. “Oh ...”

  She rushed to Winston’s side.

  “Yeah, a little disagreement with a club, I’m afraid,” Winston said.

  He’d tried to sound casual, but could not disguise the anguish in his voice.

  “You poor darling!” Tears sprang into Star’s eyes. “It’s all my fault. I should have been watching for enemies instead of distracting you. We might have escaped those horrible robots.”

  Winston wrapped his free arm around her. “Don’t cry, Star. It was not your fault.”

  “Well, it sure wasn’t my fault,” Iridium said. “Anyway, we do have a replacement part.”

  He gestured to the limb lying on the carpet nearby. It appeared to have survived its transport in tolerable condition.

  “Wonderful!” Star said. “Don’t worry, Winston, we’ll get you fixed up ... somehow.”

  “Of course,” Winston said.

  Hey, it’s only a 900 kilometer limp back to the workshop.

  The depressing ambiance added to his gloom. The mass of birds above them was quiet now, but its proximity exerted a smothering downward pressure. All was dim and solemn. Heavy black carpeting sheathed the floor, and red drapes hung from the walls.

  “Man, this is like the final chamber in ‘Masque of the Red Death,’” Winston said.

  “I’ve never heard of that,” Iri said, “but it sounds appropriate.”

  Winston and Star labored to adjust their vision sensors to the semi-darkness, but Iridium’s superior optics quickly took in every detail.

  “Over there,” he said. “We’re being watched.”

  They crept to the far end of the room, with Iridium leading the way. Winston maneuvered awkwardly on his crutch, leaving deep indents in the carpeting with every pace. Star grasped an elbow to steady him.

  They halted a few meters before a dais covered with luxuriant red fabric. Upon this platform a golden podium glittered dully in the torch light. Upon the podium, resting on a cushion, was a large and regal Humanite head. Its eyes shone dim yellow at them.