***
The scrappers froze in place. Two men, armed with guns, approached. Both were mean-looking individuals, one totally bald while the other sported scraggly long hair and a beard.
“Drop the weapons, boys,” Bert whispered.
The clubs all thudded to the ground as the armed men arrived.
“Get this, another batch of demon spawn,” the bald man said.
“Hands up, you scum!” the hairy man said.
The scrappers all raised their hands.
“Relax, they can’t fight us,” the bald one said. “You saw how Sister Reedy knocked them around.”
“Uh ... that’s right, sir,” Bert said. “We’re only looking for our friend, the blue robot. Have you seen him?”
“Sure,” the hairy man said. “We’ll take you right there, first class.”
He pointed to a lighted window in the castle tower.
“It’s up there with the others.”
“Thank you, sir,” Bert said.
“Why are you talking to this damn rust bucket?” the bald man said.
“It beats talking to you,” the hairy man said.
Bert looked over his gang members.
Three to one odds, he thought, pretty good if we can get the timing right.
“Please forgive us, sir,” he said. “We did not mean to cause any dispute.”
“Another diplomat,” the bald guard sneered.
Both men motioned with their gun barrels.
“Move it, demon spawn!”
“Yes, sir,” Bert said. “Let’s go, comrades.”
The scrappers began walking en masse toward the castle, hands still raised above their heads. The two guards followed, but they obviously did not perceive any threat from their prisoners. They walked casually, gun barrels down, chatting with each other.
“It’ll be nice to get inside for a while,” the bald man said.
“Yeah, it’s creepy out here,” the hairy one said.
The bald man gestured toward the lake.
“I keep sensing ‘them’ hovering above the water,” he said. “It’s like they’re just waiting to grab somebody.”
The hairy one nodded agreement.
“I know what you mean,” he said. “So, how come we got stuck with outdoor guard duty again?”
“Me, because I’ve always had bad luck,” the bald man said. “And you, because you stink. If you washed up more often, people could stand having you around.”
“Very funny,” the hairy man said. “You ain’t exactly a bouquet of roses yourself.”
Bert glanced back over his ruined shoulder at the complacent guards.
“Now!” he commanded.
The scrappers rushed the startled men, beating them down with overwhelming mechanical strength. In moments, both guards lay dead. They had not even been able to cry out.
Bert picked up one of the fallen guns. Soon he began shaking uncontrollably as his anti-firearm program kicked in. Not even the ravages of the Che Syndrome had overcome this ultimate taboo.
He dropped the gun with disgust.
“I wish we could use these damn things,” he said.
The scrappers retrieved their clubs and continued on toward the castle.
22. Confrontation with Greatness
From her tower window vantage point, Star observed events with growing excitement. She had to restrain herself from crying out joyfully at the scrapper gang’s victory.
Dangerous events were transpiring. Those scrappers could not be considered “friends” by any stretch of logic, but they were definitely enemies of the cultists – and they were headed for the castle!
How can this work to our benefit? she wondered.
For a moment, Star wished that she had Winston’s brilliance or Iridium’s keen intuition. They’d know how to handle things.
But she had capabilities neither of them possessed, right? She smoothed her hands down her voluptuous figure and primped her hair. Soon, she would need every one of her weapons.
Across the vast room, a key jiggling in the door lock jolted Star out of her ruminations. She left the window and walked briskly toward the door. She was almost there when it opened.
She paused. An armed guard entered, followed by the messiah.
“Leave me now,” the messiah said.
The guard bowed. “Yes, Father.”
He looked dubiously at Star for a moment, then departed, closing the door behind him. His footsteps faded down the corridor. Star crossed the remaining distance to stand directly before the messiah.
The change in his appearance was astonishing. He was freshly groomed and scrubbed. His hair was trimmed, and his beard was gone. He no longer wore the ceremonial robe over his old, but immaculate, clothing. An involuntary thrill ran through Star’s circuits.
“I was hoping you’d come, Father,” she said, bowing her head reverently.
The messiah waved his hand in a weary gesture.
“You don’t need to call me that,” he said. “It’s all so ... boring.”
Star looked up and gazed into the messiah’s face. His pale blue eyes connected with hers, and an intense energy passed between them. She felt herself being sucked into their depths.
Careful, girl, he’s the enemy!
She bowed her head again to sever the almost unbearable contact.
“How then should I address you?” she asked quietly.
“As a special dispensation, you may call me ‘Roddy,’” the messiah said.
“Oh, yes ... Roddy,” Star repeated.
It seemed the perfect name for the most perfect man in the world. How could anybody not find its owner to be devastatingly attractive? He was the supreme leader here, he had the right to rule everywhere ...
Roddy looked away from Star toward the open window, and his erotic hold on her lessened a bit. He spied the fallen tapestry.
“What happened there?” he said.
Star wrenched back enough of her senses to craft a reply.
“Oh ... it fell when I was trying to look outside,” she said.
“Is that so?”
“I just wanted some fresh air, Roddy,” Star said, positioning herself to block his path to the window. “Is that okay?”
Roddy hesitated, calculating whether the situation was worth the effort to exert control.
“Sure, why not?” He shrugged. “I’ve been needing some air myself.”
Star took his hands and led him toward a small couch out of the window sight line. They sat down together.
“I was beginning to think you weren’t coming, Roddy,” she said. “I’ve been so lonely here by myself.”
“I needed to get cleaned up,” Roddy said. “I’ve been working so hard for my people that I sometimes forget.”
“Yes, your people,” Star said. “They must be so grateful for everything you do.”
Roddy stiffened.
“Are you kidding!” he said. “Without my leadership they’d all be dead by now. But do they appreciate me?”
“I would certainly hope so,” Star said.
Roddy snorted. “Hell, many of them would leave if they could – abandon the Cause!”
Roddy’s composure was dropping away fast. Without meaning to, Star had jammed her finger against his rawest nerve. Oh, if only she had Winston’s gift for diplomacy!
“How terrible,” Star said, trying to sound sympathetic.
Roddy was on his feet now.
“Wasn’t it the same with the first messiah?” he said. “They crucified him, for God’s sake. But it won’t happen this time!”
Extreme violence lurked within the anger. Star was frightened by it, but also greatly excited.
She was in the grip of intense, contradictory passions she’d never before imagined. On one hand, she wanted to destroy the evil man standing before her, on the other she’d be willing to commit any violence to protect him – to experience his erotic power.
This is crazy, she told herself, think about Winston,
about Iri!
A vision of her great love appeared in her mind, along with a companion view of precious Iridium. But the images could not dispel the attraction she felt for the demonic messiah.
I’ll have to tear myself in two! she thought desperately.
“Those people just don’t understand your greatness,” she said.
The steadiness of her own voice amazed her. It seemed to have a powerful effect on Roddy as well.
“That’s fucking A right!” he said. “Nobody understands me.”
The rage was draining out of him now, eased by Star’s acceptance.
“Come sit beside me,” she said, “rest a while.”
Roddy did so. Star brushed his cheek with her finger tips. An electric thrill coursed through her circuits.
“Don’t let it bother you so much, Roddy,” she said, “not while I’m at your side.”
He calmed down, the way Iri always did at her touch. He turned a hopeful look her direction. She rewarded him with an alluring little smile.
“Isn’t this better?” she said.
He nodded.
“You look so fresh and clean,” Star said. “I wish you’d bathed here, where I could assist you.”
“Really?”
Roddy moved closer, his thigh was pressing fully against hers now. Star’s rigid self control vanished. She seized him and pressed her mouth to his in a hot, passionate kiss that seemed to last for hours.
She felt an almost physical ripping occur inside her. She had two personas now. One was lustful, wicked, exploding with sexual ardor. The other was remote, icy, and calculating.
God, let the icy one have the final say!
Star terminated the kiss, Roddy sagged in her embrace.
“It’s wonderful to be around a real man,” she said in a husky voice. “A true leader.”
Roddy smiled dreamily, still adrift on a cloud of sexual pleasure. Then his eyes turn hard and suspicious.
“What about that Winston character?” he said. “He seems to be very sweet on you.”
“Oh, him?” Star said. “Forget that loser. I did the moment I saw you.”
She hated herself for saying this, especially as it seemed to have the ring of truth on some level. Roddy settled back. Star brushed his cheek with her finger tips again.
Then he leaned forward abruptly, hard suspicion returned.
“Then why did you threaten to jump out the window if I hurt him?” he demanded.
“Oh, Roddy! You don’t know the first thing about what turns a girl on.”
Star gave him another long, probing kiss. Again he melted in her arms, totally under her spell. She pulled away, leaving him groping for more. She reveled in her erotic power, like some ancient sex goddess.
“It must be difficult for you, cooped up in this place,” she said.
Roddy struggled to come back to reality, to assume his infallible leader persona again. Star smiled naughtily at his discomfiture.
“I’m sick of it,” Roddy finally said. “But it’s not yet time to leave on the last phase of my mission.”
“A mission?” Star said. “That sounds fascinating.”
“I’ve prepared for it my whole life, so I can wait a bit longer,” Roddy said. “But my people are getting restless.”
Star drew away. A jealous pout occupied her face.
“What’s the matter?” Roddy asked.
“There are lots of women among ‘your people,’ aren’t there?” Star said.
“Yeah.”
“And I suppose you’ve had them all?”
The messiah shrugged noncommittally.
“Well, I think they leave much to be desired.” Star gestured toward the huge bed. “That must be a very cold and unsatisfying place for you.”
Her manner had become severe, Roddy wilted under it. The all-powerful leader began to run for cover.
“Well ... I do have to make many sacrifices for the Cause,” he said.
“Do these ‘sacrifices’ involve other men as well?” Star demanded. “Are you a ‘switch hitter,’ Roddy?”
“There are so many demands on me.” Roddy’s voice had degenerated into a childish whine. “My people call upon me to serve them in various ways. I-I cannot refuse!”
Star crossed her arms and fixed a cold stare upon him. Roddy looked back with an almost puppy dog expression of pleading in his eyes. Star would have none of it. The jealous anger she projected was quite genuine.
“I’m supposed to just accept the way things are then, huh?” she said.
“Everything is for the Cause,” Roddy said. “Please try to understand.”
He gazed into the beautiful, incredible face, studying it desperately for any hint of approval. It was not quite the face of a woman; it was different in subtle ways. Beneath its sensuous warmth existed an un-human, alien hardness that promised erotic pleasure undreamed of by mortal men.
Her entire aspect was alien, illusive – the sinuous manner in which she moved, the look in her eyes – these were not the movements and expressions of a real woman. This Star being was much more than that. She was a new frontier to conquer, or to be conquered by.
During his many sexual exploits, Roddy had tried the bondage, SM route, but had found the various dominatrix to be ridiculous figures. This creature beside him now, though – she could take him anywhere.
His sham persona as infallible leader hung by a thread now. In his heart, he knew that he was a contemptible hoax, but he could never afford to let others find out – especially not this incredible female! He dreaded what he’d be forced to do to her if she saw behind his facade ...
Star sensed that things were hovering on a lethal edge.
Time to ease up, girl.
She slid closer to Roddy and took his hands. They were soft, almost feminine, the hands of someone accustomed to having others perform the difficult tasks that life required.
“Okay, I forgive you,” she said. “Let’s not talk about it anymore.”
Roddy let out an immense sigh, he looked almost pathetic in his neediness. Star brushed back a strand of his hair.
“So ... tell me about your Cause, Roddy,” she said.
“Cause?”
The topic that had been of paramount importance only moments before now seemed distant and trivial to Roddy. How could he even think about it in the presence of this erotic deity?
Star’s eyes bored into his.
“Tell me, Roddy,” she commanded. “I want to know everything about you.”
He could do nothing except obey.
23. Origins of Roddy