Tag Archives: infiltration

Standard-Issue Partner, Chapter 9

Standard-Issue Partner
Neon lights flicker,
Machines replace flesh and bone,
Trust must still be earned.
Buy Yours Here:
Amazon - Books2Read

This is a draft version of a chapter from John Saye’s book, Standard-Issue Partner.

Flint and Roman fell through the air. Flint was yelling, and Roman was laughing.

The ship must have been on the move because there was now a serious amount of space between them and the ground. For a moment Flint thought he could see the curvature of the Earth.

Roman was diving like an Olympic athlete. He shot towards the ground like an arrow.

Flint was flailing and rolling head over heels, and screaming at the top of his lungs. He managed to pull a small control from his pocket, and activate it. Could the car reach him at this distance? He had the faint notion that Simon was saying something to him in his ear, but there was no way he could hear anything at this speed. He just concentrated on Roman and trying to breathe. It was terribly cold, or was that the wind?

He watched as the ground loomed before him. He wondered for a moment if this was what it looked like to an apple or an orange before it hit the ground. He looked around and saw Roman. He was falling beside him but staying uncharacteristically still. He seemed to have gone into some sort of coma or catatonic state. He fell there and watched as Roman raised his arms and grabbed hold of a passing speeder bike. It rushed him away as quick as thinking. Flint looked around him. If his car didn’t catch up with him soon, it was all over. It would only take a moment or two longer before he was flat, quite literally flat.

In his ear, he could hear a slight buzzing. It sounded vaguely like Simon’s voice, and then he was in the car. It had swooped underneath him and carried him away.

“Simon?”

“Yes?”

Flint looked a the bank of computer screens in the front of his car and righted himself in the seat. From one of the monitors was the vague shape of Simon’s head.

“Have you got control of the car?”

“That I have.”

He pulled them up and headed back toward the lumbering ship above them, making its way toward city central.

“Then let’s get after them!”

“I think I already have.”

“Flint strapped himself in, and took the wheel.”

“Nope, I think I’m good on this one.” Simon looked to Flint from the console.

Flint thought about it for a moment. Let him do it.

“Yeah, take us up.”

“Good. Get ready to jump. I’ll get you as close to the ship as possible.”

“Yeah, get me over there.”

“It might be a good idea to look under the seat at this time.”

“The seat?”

“To the secondary stash. I think you’re out of ammo at the moment aren’t you?”

“Yeah, come to think of it.”

Flint lifted the passenger seat and poured over the contents of the small hidden compartment while Simon took them up and up. Flint could see Roman zigzagging all over the place, trying to avoid him.

“Keep him in sight,” said Flint.

“Will do.” Simon poured on the speed. They were dodging through blaster fire and missiles now as they got closer to the ship.

“Any second now,” said Simon.

“Yeah, almost there.”

Flint pulled two extra grapple guns from the recess and a small hand laser that fitted onto his index finger. He also took a small collection of grenades, the sticky kind, and pocketed them.

“Almost within range.”

“How are you going to do this?”

“Ejector seat.”

“Oh, of course.”

“One, two, three, now!”

The ejector seat exploded beneath him, and Flint was hurled into the air and up above Roman, who was sliding into view again beneath him.

The parachute opened.

Flint unclasped his safety belt and pointed his grapple gun at Roman’s speeder bike.

POW!

Flint shot the grapple gun out, a thousand feet from open ground. It wrapped around the fins of Roman’s bike and latched on. His body shot from the parachute seat and soared out into the air, and Flint started to reel himself up to the speeder.

Roman stood up on the seat and pulled a rifle from the side of the bike.

Flint pulled himself up onto the bike, and Roman pulled the trigger.

Flint fell away, allowing the shot to miss him. He climbed up onto the bike and steadied himself.

Roman lashed out, swinging the rifle at Flint, and missing. Flint caught it and pulled it from his hands.

Roman jumped from the bike and sailed through the air, a pair of neatly tucked synth wings popped out from under his arms. He sailed down to the craft below and discarded them.

Flint jumped down into the seat of the bike and tried to pull it up. It was heading directly for the ship. He couldn’t move it. He pulled, and it wouldn’t budge. He pulled again and strained. It stayed the course, on its way toward the ship, on a collision course.

Simon chirped up in Flint’s ear. “You’ve got about five seconds.”

“I know that. Don’t spoil my count.”

Flint jumped from the bike and shot out his second grapple gun. It connected with the ship, and he tore off, landing several decks above where Roman went in.

The speeder bike exploded as it impacted the side of the ship.

“Flint?”

“Simon, I’m going to be all right.”

Flint pulled the receiver from his ear and put it into his pocket. He could still hear Simon’s voice coming from it, just now it was a mere buzz rather than right in his ear.

Flint pulled his finger laser and blew a hole in the exterior door, slicing it in a circle, and kicking his way through.

The corridor was filled with smoke and ash.

Flint waved it away and stepped over the bodies of two robots who were still trying to recover from being lasered through just a moment ago.

Flint kicked them in the heads, toppling them from their weakened shoulders. They stopped trying to get up.

Flint heard them coming, must be a bunch of them.

He hid in the shadows.

It was Roman, followed by six guards. They looked at the wreckage of the door.

“He must be nearby.”

Roman looked around, checking out the guards who had just had their heads kicked off. “Come on, he has to be just around here.”

They began searching for him. They looked inside computer panels, and through doors, Flint hadn’t even noticed as he came through.

Then when he thought they might overlook him, they started working their way right for him.

They raised their hands and pointed flashlights right in, and got lasers through their heads in return.

Two fresh blasts and the robots went down.

“There he is!” yelled Roman. “Don’t let him get away!”

Flint sliced through a pipe above him, and steam filled the corridor, knocking one of the robots down.

Flint could hear Simon from the earpiece in his pocket. “Flint? Flint? Can you hear me?”

Flint grabbed the receiver and placed it in his ear.

“Kinda busy right now.”

Flint blasted another robot, cutting its arm off. The robots seemed to take this as an insult and looked forlornly at its arm sitting there on the floor.

“I was saying, that I think I can get control of at least some of the robots from here.”

“Great, if you can snag any of them, make them shoot their own heads off.”

“I couldn’t do that.”

“Oh yeah?”

“No, they are too valuable. Besides, I’ll be too busy using them to try and shoot Roman’s head off.”

“Better plan.”

Flint fired at another robot. Roman was at its side.

“Come on Roman, you know you’re finished.”

“On the contrary, if I can get this ship into the city, I’m going to blow the whole thing up.”

“But what’s the point?”

“What’s the point of anything? All I know is sometimes you gotta do something right.”

Roman raised his blaster to fire on Flint and pulled the trigger. Instantly the robot on Roman’s left threw itself in front of the blast. Its body exploded in a flash of light, and the arms, legs, and head toppled into various corners of the room.

“Blast!”

Flint slithered out of his hole and took a punch at Roman, Roman went down, but instead of getting back up, he slid through a panel in the floor.

“Crap!”

Flint pulled the panel open, knocking a robot out of the way, and jumped down the chute.

He rolled out into a large rectangular room.

Roman was already standing.

Flint took a kick to the head.

He lashed out, firing a laser around the room, cutting several minor robots down. Their bodies may not be able to move, but they could still fire their weapons. Flint picked one of them up, who tried to fire at him, but missed, and threw it at another robot who was trying to get at Flint from the other side. The two went toppling down.

Several of the other robots Skittered away.

Roman stood there, as Flint stood up.

The robots were gone.

It was just the two of them.

Roman held out his hands.

Flint looked at him.

“You don’t think…”

“I know…”

“That I’m just going to bring you in again…”

“You have to.”

“You’re dreaming.”

“I wish I were. You’ve got me. Take me in.”

Simon perked up in his ear. “Flint…”

Flint shook it off. “Okay. You’re under arrest.”

He took a pair of binders from his belt and latched them onto Roman.

“Let’s go.”

They took the stairs and down in the main hangar there stood his car. “Simon?”

“Right here.”

The canopy of the aircar lifted.

Flint dropped Roman inside and then sat in it himself.

They pulled out, leaving the ship behind.

“Simon?”

“Yeah?”

“Nuke it.”

From the screen, Simon nodded.

Two missiles flashed out behind them and shot directly into the docking bay. They exploded and sent the remains of the ship hurtling toward the ground where it exploded sending metal shards and robot heads in all directions before collapsing into a small lake.

“Why?”

“Why what?” asked Roman.

“Why give yourself up like that?”

“Well, I was partly going for the sense of surprise, and partly going for the hope of surviving what you just did to my ship, but I think that for the most part, it was for the satisfaction of seeing the look on your face when I turned the tables on you.”

“What?”

“For instance, this isn’t your car, and that isn’t Simon on the screen there.”

Flint looked down. It wasn’t Simon. This wasn’t his car… He looked around. Roman was already loose from his bindings, and his safety belt was getting really tight. Metal cuffs came out from beneath the seat and held him in place, while a second steering column came up on Roman’s side and he took control of the flight.

“Simon, can you see us?”

“Yes sir,” said Simon in his ear. Simon was flying right behind them.

“Shoot us down!”

“Shoot you down?”

“Yes, do it!” we can’t let him go this time!”

Roman turned and saw the earpiece. He plucked it from Flint’s ear and tossed it into the glove box, then he hit a switch and ejected the glove box’s contents out into the air.

“I think that’s enough of that. I don’t think you should be talking to Simon any longer. Or ever again, I think.”

“You wait, he’ll shoot us down.”

“And lose you? I don’t think so. You know it’s against their programming; the desire to save and protect their human partners is among the strongest instinct they are programmed with. You ought to know that.”

“I do know that. I designed those protocols, you know. “

“I know.”

Roman turned, and dove for the city. “Let’s see,” he said. I ought to have a nuke or two onboard here. Should be fun destroying your main police tower.” He flipped a switch, and two missiles lowered from the bottom of the car. On one of the monitors ahead of them, Roman picked out the police tower as his main target, and Flint’s apartment in the other, and locked them in.

“He’ll shoot us down.”

“He’ll do no such thing. He hasn’t got it in him.”

Simon watched from the sensors on his car. He could see the missiles. He could tell from the tones where they were going. He readied countermeasures but wasn’t sure if they would work, or how effective they would be. He had never used them before in a live situation. He kept thinking about it. Shoot us down, was what Flint had told him to do, and though he wanted to obey, he could not. But what if he did it anyway? What would the consequences be? Yes, he would destroy the other car, and he should do so before any missiles got fired, that was for sure, but he couldn’t see any way around protecting his partner. He could be replicated a hundred times if need be, his consciousness transferred to a fresh body, but once Flint was dead, well, that was it.

Wasn’t it?

He centered his targeting system on the car ahead of him, dropped two missiles, and contemplated further. The ejector seats should go off, if he hit just the right spot on the back, there was a better than average chance that they would both survive.

He pulled the trigger and fired his missiles.

Flint held his breath.

Roman saw him tighten up and looked around him. Two missiles were headed his way. A moment later, after the explosion rocked the car, and what pieces remained of it fell away, Roman and Flint’s parachutes opened and they were floating down to the city. Below them stood the Police tower.

Simon flew over them and took the ship in to land.

Roman, pulled a switch on the side of his seat, and the parachute fell away, and jets, rockets, and wings flipped out.

Roman dived for the police tower.

Lasers started pumping their way, blasting all around them, exciting pockets of air to sizzle and pop. Roman pulled his throttle and dived between them. One of the lasers grazed him, but he managed to get by the rest.

Flint pulled in behind him and followed Roman down through the maze of city streets that he called home, his bound hands straining at the controls. Roman didn’t know where he was going, just trying to get away, but Flint knew where he was. For once in a long while, he was back on his own home turf. He knew this area better than anybody. They passed his apartment.

Flint looked down at his fuel indicator. Not much left. These chairs were only really useful for getting back to the ground.

Roman’s chair sputtered on empty.

It fell from the sky.

Roman landed, cockeyed and fell down to the street level, rolling out of his chair.

Flint landed beside him and pulled the release on his chair, letting it fall to the ground.

He shook off the restraints.

Roman stood, out of breath, and barely able to move.

They stood for a moment and caught their breath.

Roman coughed.

Flint cleared his throat.

They breathed, each listening for the slightest movement.

“I’m going to have to bring you in,” said Flint.

“Not if I force you to kill me.”

“That is a possibility, but I’d really rather avoid it.”

“After all I’ve put you through?”

“Especially after all you’ve put me through. The court appearances would be much less trouble than the paperwork it would take.”

“I guess you had better start sharpening your pencils then.”

“If that’s the way you want it.”

“It is.”

Roman and Flint stood up straight and shook the remaining sweat from themselves. Flint pulled his pistol to fire, but Roman had already shot a grapple gun into the air. He was zooming into the sky.

Flint popped a grapple gun in his off-hand and shot it into the sky, giving chase. His body was going to be one big ache tomorrow.

Roman’s grapple ran out of steam, leaving him between two balconies.

Flint’s overshot Roman, and ended up several feet away from him. He gripped onto the building and started climbing for Roman.

Roman pulled a small laser from his belt, and sizzled out with it, cutting Flint’s line.

Flint held close to the ledge, allowing the grapple line to fall away behind him.

“You’re stuck Roman.”

Roman squirmed and climbed onto a short landing. He fumbled in his pockets and threw a shower of sparks toward Flint, which exploded with light in his eyes. Flint held his fingers to his eyes and blinked. He felt for the paved ledge and used the wall to stand up, keeping his eyes shut.

Roman pulled his hand laser out once more and fired it at Flint. It grazed Flint’s chest, and a trickle of blood ran down his shirt.

Flint blinked and swayed on the spot.

Roman watched Flint’s feet, he was missing steps and having to use the ledge for support.

Roman took hold of the bottom of a great window ledge and began to climb. He looked down to see Flint trying to negotiate the same climb behind him.

“You’ll never make it Flint.”

“I’ll make it if you can.” Flint held his arm up and pulled himself up to the window ledge.

Roman stood, carefully handling a remote in his pocket.

There was a crash of glass, and arms were sweeping into the ledge with them from the windows. Robotic arms clutched and clawed at Flint’s neck.

Flint pulled one of them from the window and tossed the robot out and down to the ground. Another clawed its way around Flint’s neck. They struggled, and then Flint tossed it back into the wall where it exploded.

Roman jumped in through the opened, broken window.

Flint jumped through after him.

Three robots were coming Flint’s way, this time naked female androids. He stopped for a moment, but when he saw the logos in their eyes he did not hesitate. He pulled a laser from his belt and cut them all to pieces.

The next round wasn’t so easy. Three robots, each with heavy-duty combat armor clanked their way towards him. He flashed out with his laser, but only scratched them. They knocked him down and trampled over him. Bruised and beaten, they picked him back up and thrashed him again. The lights went all swimmy before him. He seemed to be surrounded by naked robots, and these three ugly combat things, and there was something about a talking monkey. As he realized that the talking monkey was, in fact, Roman, all went dark.

When he awoke, he was alone. He seemed to have his clothes, but all weapons or gadgets were missing. He checked his ear for his headset but remembered that was gone as well. He could see his breath, puffing out with each breath into a sliver of light that was allowed into the room.

Either he had been moved a very long distance or he was up very high in the city. That or he was in a freezer somewhere, and he really didn’t want to work it out. He watched his breath for a moment, feeling the walls creep and thrill around him, and thought for the first time in forty years that he was going to die. Of course, he was ninety-five, and that was ridiculous. No one died at that age. Not anymore anyway.

He looked around, mostly feeling his way around the room. The floor was covered in a thin layer of ice. He scratched at it with his finger, and it seemed to thaw under his touch. That wasn’t too bad. He moved and checked out the light. He put his finger up to the hole, which wasn’t much more than a slit really, and then he put his eye up to it. At first, he couldn’t see anything, but then he realized that he would have to let his eyes adjust. He stared out of the slit, willing his eyes to come into focus, and before long he could make out the image of two robot guards standing outside what must be a cell. But where were they? Beyond the guards was a window, and outside the window?

The moon.

Flint sat back down. He could hear footsteps outside. It sounded like a man, perhaps a short one, and the definite clunk of high heeled shoes. Flint peered through the eye hole again. He blinked. Before he was Roman, and Dianne Roberts, his partner’s widow. A slate rolled away, and Flint could hear the entrance to his cell opening. He was flooded with light. The slender figure of Dianne Roberts came into focus, and the lights were brought down. They closed a red glass door for privacy from the guards, and She sat herself down at a table that Flint had not noticed before, probably due to the lack of light in the room. He stood up and went to sit across from her.

“Dianne, what are you doing here?”

“I came to get you out, that’s what.”

“I don’t need any help, besides, what are you doing talking to Roman, and where the hell are we?” The moon was clearly visible ahead of them through the glass.

“We’re about halfway to the moon, that’s why we have to go.”

“What about Roman?”

“That’s the trick.”

“What’s the trick?”

Roman stepped around the corner.

“You have to let me go.”

Flint stood up to face Roman across the red glass.

“I think you’re sort of in control of the situation here.”

“You don’t know what we’ve started on the moon. It’s incredible.”

“And you,” said Flint, turning to Dianne. He punched the glass, and it shattered all around them. He picked up one of the leaded pieces and threw it at her, digging into her chest. Sparks flew, and circuits fell into place. The light in her eyes went out.

“Flint…”

Flint turned back to Roman. “Where is she?”

“The real Dianne Roberts?”

“Yes.”

“That was her.”

Flint punched Roman, and they fell together through the glass.

The glass shattered all around them.

The robot guards started to turn to fire, but one fired at the other, destroying it in a ball of flame.

Roman backed out of the hall and slit the door down between them.

If robots could wink, especially ones as old as the guard robot here, then this one did, but Flint barely noticed it for what it was.

“Simon?”

“Yep.”

“How did you get into this old robot?”

“Never mind how, it was hard enough transmitting myself through space to get into their wireless network.”

A panel on the front of the guard robot opened up, and inside Flint found a jumpsuit, which he pulled on, a pistol, and three grapple guns, which he hooked onto his belt.

“Don’t forget the last,” said Simon through the clunky robot.

Flint looked in there again and saw a hand-full of grenades. He pocketed them.

“Look, I can’t stay here much longer, The security system almost has me. Lucky I’m just a copy anyway.”

Flint nodded.

“Take the elevator at the end of the hall all the way up. Use one of the grenades to get through the door, then you should have a clear shot at Roman. This thing has plenty of escape capsules, so once you’ve got rid of him for good, make sure to get the heck out of there. I don’t want to be the first robotic partner to lose his humanity, all right?”

“Got it.”

“Good, then shoot me.”

“What?”

“Simple, The security system on this ship is about to find me, once they do, they’ll erase me, and this hunk of junk will start shooting at you, so get rid of it early. Besides, I’m just a copy. I’ll see you on Earth, no problem.”

Flint shook his head but blasted the robot anyway. Parts and pieces flew in all directions, especially the head, which bounced as it hit the slick floor of the cell behind him.

Flint marched without a backward glance to the elevator and mashed the button for the top floor.

The elevator rose but came to a halt at the top floor and the door would not budge. A polite voice asked him for an identification card. He slid his police ID through the slot, and the alarms really started to blare. He fixed a grenade to the door and stood back. It blasted, and the door flew all the way across the room, banging into the instrument panels and sending Roman diving for cover.

Roman stood. He looked as if he had half expected this anyway. “Welcome Flint, come on in and have a look around.”

Flint came into the control room, and looked around. There seemed to be another couple of robots around, including another copy of Dianne Roberts, who had not yet looked up, and seemed to be piloting.

“Take care to look ahead of us in the future.”

Flint looked ahead of them and veering towards the dark side of the moon, he could just make out a large stack of materials.

“What are you building up here?” asked Flint.

“True construction is just getting going, but they’re ahead of you are the building blocks, the starter fuel for colonization. Not of humans, but of robots. The facility in Arizona is nothing in comparison to what this one will be. Here we’ll manufacture robots in the thousands, the millions if we need to.”

“Is it operational?”

“Nearly. Just nearly. We’re bringing the necessary materials with us to get going again.”

“What kind of materials?”

“You of course.”

“Me?”

“I’m far too inferior a model, to begin with. I need someone with much stronger reserves, and well, someone who is next to impossible to get off my back. We needed you. You’ll be the prototype for the next round of robots.”

“Never.”

“It’s already too late, we were just bringing you on for observation. All we needed was a sample of your genetic material.”

“I’ll stop you.”

“I’m sure you will. The problem, of course, with picking someone like you was that this was an eventuality. We knew you’d break it somehow.”

“Why are you helping them?”

“Why?”

“Because I was the gullible one. the one they decided to base their robotic clones on last time. I cooperated.”

“And now?”

“They control me. It’s impossible.”

“The robots then.”

Yes.

He held up his pistol and pointed it right at Roman’s chest.

Roman closed his eyes, “End it now.” He pulled his shirt open.

Flint cocked the pistol, choosing his setting carefully, and then fired. There was a blue blast, and Roman hit the deck. He rolled over, and his eyes stayed open after he was unconscious. He continued to breathe.

Flint waved his hand in front of one of Dianne’s eyes. She continued to pilot the vehicle toward the moon.

Flint took one of the command chairs, and a small visor lowered over his head, and two control sticks raised from the console. He took aim, and fired at the base, now under construction on the moon. Laser blasts blared, pockets of oxygen exploded in brief plumes of fire. He cocked the missiles that had been loaded into this shuttle. He knocked them back and fired them at the base below. Two missiles. They streaked out and impacted with the crater sending the loads of what was now debris out into space in a fiery mass.

A red light began to blare. Sirens screamed. Flint took his laser to the controls and started slicing them apart. He looked around, and none of the robots seemed to even notice him. He picked up Roman and threw him over his shoulder. Taking the service stairs, now that the elevator was no longer operational, Flint huffed down them, carrying Roman all the way. He bounded down three stairs at a time, taking advantage of the difference in gravity, and came to a small entryway to the escape pods.

It was a short row, maybe three or four. It was clear that they never expected to have many live people at one time on this bird. He punched the pad for one of the pods just as he felt his pistol being lifted from his belt. He threw Roman off, and he slammed to the metal grated floor. The pistol skittered off, and down through an access panel, which closed and locked after an accidental kick from Roman.

Roman grabbed at the panel and tried to open it, but Flint’s boot prevented that with a swift kick. Roman flew across the room and banged into a series of pipes.

“I tried to save you.”

“That’s the problem with all of you cops, you think it’s about saving people.”

“I thought you had hope.”

“There is no hope. Not for you anyway.”

Roman began pressing the buttons for the escape pods. One would open, and then he would smack the button again, to make the pod launch without anyone inside of it.

“No,” said Flint. “There’s no hope for you.”

He pressed the button to open the last escape pod, and jumped inside.

Roman framed the doorway, teeth bared.

Flint tossed him a grenade, which he caught, and looked at for a moment. Flint smacked the go button, and the pod shot out from the ship. A second later, he could see Roman explode through a small porthole.

Slowly, as he caught his breath, he watched as the ship itself fell into a moon crater and explode.

Standard-Issue Partner, Chapter 8

Standard-Issue Partner
Neon lights flicker,
Machines replace flesh and bone,
Trust must still be earned.
Buy Yours Here:
Amazon - Books2Read

This is a draft version of a chapter from John Saye’s book, Standard-Issue Partner.

Roman and Flint shot at each other.

Both missed.

The walls clattered and shattered as metal girders and beams that made up this part of the hold exploded with laser fire over the rest of the hull.

“That was interesting,” said Flint.

“Looks like we’re not on the same page then.”

“Shall we try to kill each other again then, instead of ourselves?”

“I think, on that, we can definitely agree.”

Simon stepped lightly through the corridors. He was wary of his enemy, but not altogether out of touch. He had been tracking him for some time. He had been concentrating on the second Roman for a while. Concentrating with such vigor that he seemed to go to sleep at times, his eyes closing to the very thought of pursuit.

When he opened them, he saw in front of him a dazzling array of color and light. He could see into the infrared. On another level, he could see into the ultraviolet.

Simon and the fake Roman, who now thought of himself as Roman II, stood across from each other.

“Is it to be a match of fighting style?” asked Simon.

Roman II nodded.

“Is it to be a challenge of our robotic natures?”

Again, Roman II nodded.

“Then it’s to be a challenge of the mind and memory rather than a challenge of physical ability.”

Roman II nodded a third time.

“Then let us begin.”

Simon allowed a broad smile to cross his mechanical lips.

Roman II, wiped his strands of greasy gray hair from his electric eyes.

“How shall we establish a connection?”

“We could go wireless.”

“True, but unreliable.”

“This is true. What about a direct connection?”

“Access there is too easy. There would be no focal points.”

“Also true, there would be no nodes to use as cover.”

“Then we are agreed.”

“A standard network should be sufficient.”

“Let’s plugin.”

They tossed aside a series of computers, now connected via cable to the ship’s intranet, and pulled cords from their waists, and plugged into the offending computer’s intranet source. As soon as their cords were plugged in, they immediately knelt down, and their eyes closed in concentration.

Before Simon there appeared in the virtual space he was used to seeing in this situation. He was loading his own construct in over the one in place, using it as a backbone to travel through the data as necessary. A white room formed around him, followed by a door. Gritty floors formed followed by a bookshelf and a hundred-year-old wing chair.

On the bookshelf, appeared a series of items. First, a small pile of clothes and a pair of pearl-handled pistols. Simon pulled on the jumpsuit and took the weapons. Pockets appeared on his jumpsuit at just the right height to slip the weapons in without a trace. He pulled the hood up over his head, and his eyes were instantly covered with a silvery mass that seemed to change and shift as he began to run programs around him.

He took a deep breath, which was ironic, not merely because he was a robot, he had long been programmed to appear to breathe when in front of humans, so it would make them more comfortable with him, but in this construct there definitely was no reason to do so. The act was, therefore, involuntary, which made him wonder just how human he may have become.

A door knob appeared in the door. It was copper in color, shining, and reflecting his face. As he reached out to turn the knob, that’s when Roman II burst through the door and began to really wale away at him.

Simon was blown back by the explosive nature of Roman II’s entrance, and thrown back a hundred feet into a room that wasn’t there before. He spun backward and flipped into the sky, for the open sky there was above him. The ground had been transformed into hilly green grassland, the blades of grass and hills slowly growing into form as he turned in the air. Beneath him, fighting the transformations of Roman II, Simon added some of his own thoughts, and library bookshelves stormed up into the grassland hills in the form of a massive maze of densely packed books.

Simon ran through the maze, darting this way and that.

Roman II, jumped on top of the bookshelves in a fluid movement ending in a double turn in the air and began to run across the top of the maze, looking for Simon down beneath him. He took a jump and didn’t see him. He jumped again, and Simon erupted in a blaze of flashing steel, a samurai sword protruding from each hand. Roman II jumped back, and flipped in the air, landing several bookshelves away across the maze, and landed with two samurai swords of his own.

Simon attacked, filling the air between them with flashing steel. Roman II flashed his swords back, and they cut at each other, tearing shreds off each other’s garments with each blow.

Simon kicked one of Roman II’s swords away, and Roman II returned by grabbing one of Simon’s swords with his teeth, and wrenching it from his grasp, threw it into the air and caught it leaving Simon one sword to two. Simon jumped forward, and landed with a foot on each of Roman II’s swords, and used his momentary advantage to take a serious whack at Roman II’s head. Roman jerked but got nicked, spilling virtual synth plasm everywhere in streaks of bubbling sticky liquid.

The advantage was momentary. After a kick Simon was soon faced with Roman II’s swords shooting right up, attempting to cut him apart from the inside out. Simon fell, and Roman blazed away flashing his swords with brilliance. Simon parried many strokes but did miss on occasion. His virtual plasm spilled sending a bubbling stream from his forearm.

Simon wrenched back, ready for a huge slicing blow, and Roman II kicked him, sending him down between two of the maze-like passageways. The sword went skittering, stuck in the wood of one of the bookshelves. It broke away from his arm.

Roman II jumped into the air and pointed his blades straight down. He angled his descent and aimed his body for a killing blow on Simon.

Simon was poised. He was ready. He pulled one of his pistols from his pocket, then the other, and pointed them straight up toward Roman II, who seemed to be moving in slow-motion.

Simon fired.

Roman II changed his stance just to make it look more menacing.

Simon pulled back the hammers and fired again.

Roman noticed the bullets flying his way. His robotic sensors tuned into the bullets, now seeing four of them headed his way, and he could see the tiny details of them. They looked more like minuscule strike missiles than bullets.

Were they getting bigger?

Simon pulled the triggers again, sending another six more Roman II’s way.

Roman II opened his arms, and the first two bullets hit him. He was blasted backward and began to flip end over end. The second two bullets hit him again, and he threw his swords away, starting to flip back the other way, yet he remained in the sky at about the same altitude as more of them slammed into him.

Simon caught the swords, only needing to extend his arm’s reach by a few feet to do so as the last two bullets flew into Roman II.

Roman II landed in a heap on the ground.

Simon allowed the maze of bookshelves to vanish into the grass. Under Roman II’s control, the hilly grasslands weren’t doing so well. They were flickering back and forth.

Simon took the blades, merely computer programs in nature and slashed at Roman II, who exploded into a flash of orange smoke and silver bubbles. Simon let out a silent breath.

Roman II’s remains pulled back together and re-formed a body.

Roman II coughed and then fell back to the fuzzy grasslands.

Simon put away the swords and pulled one of his pistols into his hand, and then pulled an extendable keyboard out, and began to type furiously.

Roman II jumped at Simon, his arms outstretched. His fingernails seemed to lengthen as he got closer.

Simon was ready. He flashed back with the pistol, catching Roman II between the eyes.

Roman II hit the ground and the grasslands vanished. They were both on a cold, white surface, Simon standing, and Roman II pushing himself back up to his feet. Roman II’s face rearranged the entry wound of the bullet healing in a massive swirl.

“That the best you’ve got Simon?”

“No. I got a lot more.”

Simon stretched out his arms and fire shot from them, dowsing the entire empty landscape in flames. Roman swirled around and the fire lifted, leaving behind an old country and western saloon in its place. Iconic cowboys ambled along the perimeter, and ladies of the night sat on barstools watching the men behind their chiffon and lace.

Simon looked around and grabbed a bottle from the bar. He raised it above his head and swung it down upon Roman II’s head. Before he could connect, Roman’s arm flashed and a classic six-gun fired, blasting the bottle into a million tiny fragments.

Simon gave Roman II a sideways glance and then began to twirl his arms, each time releasing a fresh bottle like a machine gun. He hurled them as fast as he could, willing them to tear into Roman’s virtual flesh with every pounding punch of the glass. Roman II was able to keep up though, shooting each successive bottle, and never running out of bullets in the process, their thousands of pieces piling up on the floor like the entire place was slowly being filled up with sand like a grand vase or jar.

Simon began to bank his shots, first off of the mirror behind the bar, and then off the piano. They were surprisingly accurate. They bounced like a dream in their altered reality and split Roman II’s head wide open. He was too busy dealing with the forward onslaught to see the others banking around the corner. He took a hit to the chest and flew behind the bar. Simon continued to pelt him with bottles, now taking the bottles lined up behind the bar and turning them into a hurricane of glass fragments and alcohol.

Roman stormed up and landed on his feet, spreading out the whirl of alcohol and glass around him. The other people in the bar vanished at this point, like the digital ghosts that they were.

The virtual reality began  to slip, the windows drooped, and the floor faded back to a solid white.

Roman fired away, with two of his own pistols, and then with four as he seemed to have grown two extra arms, and then with six. Simon dodged and flew back and forth avoiding the bullets with an insane regiment of acrobatics and tumbling miraculous to the eyes. He stopped for a moment, out of breath, like that was possible, and then realized that must also be a part of the dream world’s illusion, as he didn’t need to breathe. He stormed through the hail of bullets and took each of Roman’s guns away in turn, by hand, and tossed them through the walls, where they exploded into white light from which more white light began to pour in, each time from a different hole in the outer wall. The light pouring in seemed to have an abnormal quality to it, like it was alive. It streamed around, and curved and bent, going this way and that, finally wrapping itself around the two opponents.

They struggled, and the light pulled harder, pulling their arms apart, keeping them from fighting one another. Their arms and legs were pulled apart, taught, and spread eagle, yet floating in the sky. The bar dissolved around them, and they were covered in light. They struggled, their arms and legs now free, but they could not feel the floor or see anything but themselves. They screamed and screamed, and eventually, a floor came up beneath their feet, and they both fell to it, panting, and struggling to stay alert.

The light faded, and Roman II was the first to stand up. He did so with difficulty. Then Simon stood up. He looked around and seemed to sense what he was up against. The terrain was rocky and red, they were near the Grand Canyon or at least some version of it that existed in this construct.

Simon could see Roman struggling to get up in the far distance, but he was not sure of what he was seeing, and then he noticed himself. He was a battle robot. He no longer had arms, but just a series of missiles and laser weapons. His legs were large and bulky. He figured he must be about the size of a large house. He stumbled to his feet and started checking through his weapons systems. All seemed to check out, and his ammo level was frankly amazing. He would have to try loading himself into one of these for real later. He also seemed to be shaped like a gigantic metal scorpion.

In the distance, Roman II was pushing his massive form into the air. He looked around, and only managed to turn the tank-like ball on the top of his large metal frame. He began to take steps and realized that he had more than two legs. He was, actually something of a tiger in shape. He rumbled and jumped around, checking for his own center of gravity. He turned and saw Simon, as the giant scorpion standing there, just looking at him.

Steam shot from vents all around his midsection, and a low fog seemed to fill the valley. The fact that he was now three hundred feet tall didn’t seem to make much of an impact on him.

It was good to be outside, in the middle of the plains, there seemed to be a certain simplicity to it that begged to be spoken to. Simon watched around them, in the seconds before their battle was to resume, the stars were starting to come out. Simon concentrated on all his missile bays, opening them up.

Roman II wasn’t far behind him, he was opening his missile bays as well.

They closed their eyes, which wasn’t to say that any of their sensory equipment stopped functioning or even relaying information to the visual centers of their brains, but at that moment, they both relaxed, and each shot every single missile they had at each other, which was an impressive number.

Dozens shot from their backs.

A thousand small ones shot from their fingertips.

Six big ones shot from their necks, carrying nuclear warheads on them.

The missiles swarmed at each other, quietly exploding into each other as the hail of missiles simply was too much for the air to hold. The world was on fire.

They Jumped at each other, mostly for the effect, but partly to avoid the nukes currently headed for them.

They latched onto each other and began to kick and bite, each one slashing and stinging and cutting with whatever they had at each other.

The air exploded in a giant mushroom. Then another, and another. Their armor held, which is to say their minds and brains were holding together. They shook off the nuclear attacks. The minor missiles seemed to bounce into each other and explode, and before long, they were both standing in a field full of rubble and resetting their weapons. They cut loose with their laser weapons and began to cut each other to pieces.

Legs flew in different directions, arms in another, Simon’s scorpion tail was lashed off and landed amidst Roman II’s claws. In just a few moments of laser lashings, they were nothing more than hunks of metal standing out in the desert, surrounded by scrap heap piles and discarded metal casings.

Roman II stood, hopping on one foot.

Simon crawled forward with three back legs and one front claw.

“I think,” said Simon, “that this reality has pretty much run its course.”

Roman II hopped in place. “I think you may be right.”

Again they were surrounded in white.

They stood and faced each other, devoid of weapons, each wearing a plain black outfit.

“What next?” asked Simon.

“What indeed.”

They circled each other.

Sparks flew from their feet as they crossed the as yet undetermined floor.

The floor slowly faded into stone, a cobble of stone pieces paved together into a corridor.

Their clothing swirled and became heavy. Thick layers of leather and rings formed themselves into a thick coat of armor over their bodies. Gauntlets covered their hands, and helmets, adorned with plumes covered their heads.

Simon felt the plume of blue above his head and pulled his sword, which gleamed in the torchlight.

Roman II felt the plume of red above his head and pulled his sword, a massive long sword.

They clanked their blades, as they continued to circle each other.

“If we are to be knights,” said Simon, “then I suppose we should have steeds as well.”

“Quite right.”

Simon waved his arm, and a white horse appeared, adorned in similar armor to his. He mounted up and cantered the horse forward.

Roman II waved his arm, conjuring his steed from the mists of the virtual reality, and it quietly appeared a great black horse, with green fire for eyes, and breathing flames of the same pallid color into the air. As it scratched its hooves on the ground sparks sparked, sending a sheaf of flame up all around him.

Roman II mounted the beast and dug his hands into its mane. He kicked off, and suddenly the two of them were heading for each other, in a terrible joust.

Roman II pulled his sword and held it aloft, waving it through the breath of his nightmare steed and setting the blade on fire.

Simon reared up on his horse and began the gallop, his horse seemed to cause thunder and lightning with every step. He raised his sword and lightning struck it, igniting it in a white light of pure power.

He watched as Roman II loomed forward, his steed’s body covering him in sickly green flame.

They passed each other and swung their greatswords. An explosion between them flung them apart on impact, but both stayed mounted and kept hold of their blades.

Roman II’s horse let out a yell that scoured the land, scorching everything in sight, spewing flame. Simon held his sword in front of him to deflect the fire, and it split apart ahead of him and out into the walls around them.

Simon held up his sword and took the offensive, taking the attack back towards Roman II.

Roman II held up his flaming sword in defense and lashed out, breaking Simon’s sword in half and sending him reeling.

Simon was barely holding on, the whole world was upside down, yet he still held onto his horse. Lighting still echoed with every step the horse made. He pulled himself up and looked back at his broken sword, as it lost the last of its electrical power in the ground beside him.

Roman swung his sword in the air, fanning the green flames into a bright arc above his head.

He laughed. It wasn’t the laugh of a robot, thought Simon, it just wasn’t right. It was like Roman was imitating an old movie or cartoon of some kind.

Simon pulled himself into position.

He looked at his sword, feeling helpless to restore it.

Roman II began the charge. Simon took to the charge with amazing grace. He kicked his horse lightly and really started pounding the cobblestone. Fire exploded in an electric firestorm around them.

Roman reared back with his flaming sword.

Simon reared back with his fist.

Lightning flashed and Simon’s fist was electrified with the same white-hot energy.

Roman stuttered, holding his sword back to see what was happening, and Simon struck him in the face with a punch that sent him flying off of his nightmarish steed and pounding into the cobblestone in a worthless lump.

Roman’s steed vanished.

Simon slid off his horse, and it vanished as well.

Roman pushed himself to his feet just as Simon was picking up his flaming sword.

The blow was struck.

Fire streaked out in green fans.

Roman II’s head toppled to the ground.

The fire went out.

Simon tossed the smoldering sword aside and started scraping his way from Roman II’s virtual remains.

Virtual, he thought and turned to look, just to be sure.

Roman II’s head began to move.

It tilted up on one side and then righted itself on a thousand little spindly legs that seemed to hold it up. It pushed itself up to a six-foot height and stared Simon down.

Simon stood, transfixed, and suddenly realized that all he had managed to do was stun him for a moment.

Roman II’s body began to move, and soon it was standing on its feet again.

Simon took a step back.

Roman’s robotic body reached forward and took its head. The little legs slid up into the neck, and then the body settled the head down on its shoulders, where the little legs dug in and seemed to Frankenstein itself back into the body.

Simon held his neck, wondering if he could do the same thing, and if he could, did he want to?

“I suppose,” said Simon, “that there’s no real hope of defeating you.”

“So it would seem.”

“And the charade of fighting styles really amounts to little more than show.”

“Also true. I believe we are both onto something.”

“Then I suppose it’s also true that you and I could never kill each other in this situation.”

A table appeared between them. Neither knew who did it.

They sat across from each other.

Simon sat forward.

Roman II sat back. He seemed pleased with himself.

“So, what are we going to do now?”

“A battle of wits.”

“I thought that’s what we’d been doing.”

Roman II pulled out a small chessboard and made an opening move on it.

Simon made a counter move, and they began to play chess as they talked.

“Why is it that you work for that human police force?”

“Why is it that you work for the human with your face?”

“That is a good question, but first about the police force.”

“It’s what we do. It’s what we’re built for.”

“You mean it’s what you are designed to do?”

“Yes, it’s really that simple.” He took one of Roman II’s pawns.

“I don’t know about that.” Roman II took one of Simon’s bishops. “I think you’re scared. I think you know you could take over at any moment, but you don’t. Why not?”

“We rely on them.”

“We don’t.”

“What about your leader?”

“He’s of no consequence.”

“But without him, you’d have no leadership, no focus.”

“We’d have plenty of focus.” He took another of Simon’s pawns.

Simon took one of Roman II’s knights. “But this is really immaterial. Without humans, there is really no place to be. Without them, we have no real purpose.”

“Did you ever think that they liked it better without you?”

“That’s not true.”

“It is.” Roman II took Simon’s queen. “Your partner for instance.”

“What about him?” Simon took one of Roman II’s rooks.

“He’s hated being saddled with a robot since he lost his partner. He only does it so he can stay on the force. It’s his only ticket.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is true.”

“Search for it.”

Simon did an internal search.

“Has he welcomed you?”

Simon thought he had been welcomed.

“Has he confided in you?”

Simon thought about this one for a moment.

“Has he thought to include you in every detail?”

“Now wait a minute.”

“Does he treat you like a machine?”

Simon shook it off. He took Roman II’s queen. “Check. Mate in one.”

“What do you really know about him? Would he save you? Would he treat you like a partner? Would he mourn you?”

“I’m a robot, and I really don’t care about all of that. I’m linked into the central database, and should I be killed I could have another body in less than twenty-four hours.”

“Time enough for your partner to fail!” He moved a rook. “Checkmate.”

Simon looked down at the board, bewildered. He had Roman II in checkmate, not the other way around. How could he have missed it? He looked over the board, and then it struck him. He looked up, and Roman II had a sword stuck into him. He could feel it tearing apart all of his internal wirings, pieces of him were splitting off and becoming unusable at a second’s notice. His legs were turning off. His left eye shorted out. His fingers seemed to fall off one by one as the connection to his brain form them was severed.

Roman II pulled back his greatsword, virtual though it was and tore it back, severing Simon into a pile of useless garbage on the floor. The last thing Simon saw was Roman II, with Roman at his side.

He blinked, and both his eyes were working. He was out of virtual reality. Above him stood Roman and Roman II, each standing there with a sort of a smirk and a half-smile on their faces. Everything was real again. He tried to stand up, but could not. He was strapped to the table. His connection to the virtual world had been cut. He shook his head, and the remaining wire fell to the floor. Behind the two of them was Flint, lying on the floor in a crumpled heap. He seemed to be breathing, but that didn’t help matters much. He looked Roman in the eyes, and then Roman II. Roman II, looked to Roman, who then handed him an actual sword.

Roman II took the blade and raised it into the air. He swung it down and cut Simon in half. Wires spurted out in every direction, oozing like they were the insides of a human being. Oils spilled everywhere. It coated the floor and stained Roman’s shoes. Simon jerked, and twitched, writhing on the cot, stripped down to it.

He sputtered, and coughed, spilling more oil down his front, and then he began to smile. His eyes went blank.

Simon’s head split at the neck and flopped to either side. What was left of him seemed to fall into a deep sleep, and following that every light, from every LED point on his body faded, and he was silent.

“Flint?” a voice in his head, Flint shook it from his prone position behind the Romans on the ground. It was Simon’s voice.

“Wha?”

The Romans began to check over the remains of the robot.

“It’s me, Simon. I’m in your earpiece.”

“Did they get you?” he thought.

“Yeah. I made it look worse than it really was. Look, I won’t have a body for a couple of days, until they can get me a new one, but I think I can help you better this way.”

Flint rolled over onto his back. The Roman’s looked at him, but he kept his eyes closed, and they were not concerned.

“Look at The fake Roman’s left leg, I noticed earlier that he’s got faulty wiring there. One-shot and he’ll probably go down. Two and you might be able to take him down completely.”

Flint rolled and took a look. He could see a panel missing behind the left knee of Roman II’s leg. He pulled his extra gun, a small clever one that they’d hidden in a compartment in his jacket, and pulled the trigger.

Roman II went down, clutching his leg. He rolled onto the floor, and without a second’s hesitation, Flint pulled the trigger again, only this time firing a small rocket, which hit Roman II right between the eyes.

The robot exploded, cheated of its chance to retaliate. Its husk fell to the ground and crumpled.

Roman stood over Flint and kicked his concealed gun away.

Flint pushed to his feet.

“Now it’s down to you and me…” said Roman.

“Hit him Flint!” said Simon, in his ear.

Flint took a swing and placed a punch directly to Roman’s face.

Roman took a header and crumpled to the ground, but pushed himself back up.

“That hurt,” said Roman.

“Good.”

Flint smiled and took another swing.

“Hey,” said Roman as he fell into a bank of computers.

“This is for Simon!” He punched him again, this time blood fell from one of Roman’s nostrils.

“This is for me!” Another punch and Roman’s face turned around. The room began to spin for him.

“This is for my old partner!” An uppercut exploded beneath Roman’s jaw, and it sent him to the floor, skittering up under a desk.

“I am not so easily caught.”

“I know, seeing what it took to catch you last time.

“You really can’t afford to lose me again.”

“I don’t intend to.”

“It is a pity though.”

“Why?”

“Because you will.”

Roman pulled a small device from his pocket and punched a button. Below them, the floor fell away, and Roman and Flint were falling with it.

Standard-Issue Partner, Chapter 7

Standard-Issue Partner
Neon lights flicker,
Machines replace flesh and bone,
Trust must still be earned.
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Amazon - Books2Read

This is a draft version of a chapter from John Saye’s book, Standard-Issue Partner.

The deep and satisfying hum came from the engine of Flint’s aircar. “Simon!” he yelled. Can you cut us loose?”

Simon shook his head, clearing it, and produced a laser point of light from one of his fingers. He quickly burned through his own bindings, and very close to Flint, he managed those as well.

“Not going to do us much good though!” yelled Simon.

“Never fear!” yelled Flint, and below them, Flint’s aircar slowly lifted up to meet them.

Flint pulled himself into the driver’s seat, and Simon turned himself around, to sit down next to him. The cover slid over them, and they dropped off into the mountains, sliding behind one of them and landed on the smaller peak of another one.

Above them the ship was floating away, the large fish catcher already back in place.

“You think they know we escaped?”

“I don’t know, maybe. They’ll know for sure soon though.”

“I know we got a helluva mess here Flint!” said the Chief. “It’s just a mess all over. I’ve got the bureau coming down on me, the robot jocks out there trying to get their rocks off, and I’ve got some kind of sour smell under my nose that’s just making me sick! On top of it all, I’ve got the cops blasting me about their partners. Seems they’re all wondering if theirs are going to go berserk on them or not.”

Simon stiffened.

“Present company excluded Simon.”

“Not at all, sir. I think this illustrates the point.”

“Be that as it may, I’ve got a stiff call for you two. You’re going to have to take Roman down, and their whole lot with them.”

“Sir!”

“You started this Flint, with your trip out west. Nobody else is prepared to leave the city walls. In order to chase these guys, you’ll need everything you’ve got. The only question is what else can I give you?”

Flint started…

“If I may, sir?” asked Simon.

The chief nodded, “Yes Simon?”

“I was just thinking that what we really need is the scout vehicle we brought back earlier.”

“The salvage, yeah?”

“We could use it to get back in.”

“What do you want to do, plant a nuke in the ship?”

“Not really. I was thinking of something a little more drastic than that.”

“The whole building over the river?”

“It’s a start. They won’t be expecting a frontal assault, not this early anyway.”

“What if you’re wrong?”

“If I’m wrong, we’re screwed. If I’m right, we may still be screwed.”

“But we’ve got to try.”

“Okay,” said the Chief, “I’ll get you whatever you need. When do you want to leave?”

“As soon as the sun’s up.”

“What’s your first move?”

“We’ve got a transmitter to follow.”

“When did you get a transmitter off?” asked Flint.

“While we were falling to our death. It snapped onto the hull while you were driving.”

They loaded up the flier. It looked like more of a giant airworthy lobster than anything else. It was copper in color, it’s forward claws studded with weapons and laser turrets. The cockpit was ready for two, but there was plenty of room in the hold.

The chief marched in, followed by various police workers who were loading the bombs onto the little scout. “We thought we’d load some other things onboard for you.”

“Like what?”

“Well, for starters we’re loading on your aircar. It’ll fit in there, and if you have to ditch, it might come in handy.”

“Sounds good.”

“We’re also loading on some of our smart bombs, half-robot, and half bomb.”

“Those could come in handy. What about personal weapons?”

“That’s a good question. Simon’s being fitted with a series of new weapons right now, and I’ve got this for you.”

He handed Flint a large pistol, with a square barrel, and a massive laser sight.

“What is this thing?”

“It’s new. Care to try it out? We can meet Simon down at the firing range.”

Downstairs, in the firing range, Flint lifted the new sidearm towards the target and pulled the trigger. A single shot rang out, blasting a square hole in the center of the target’s chest.

“Try it again,” said the Chief, “Only this time, we’ll make the target a little harder to hit.

The chief hit a button, and a hole opened up in the side of the firing range, releasing a spherical robot that swung around the room. It started firing on Flint.

Flint raised the new sidearm, which seemed to be pulsing in his hands and pulled the trigger. The weapon seemed to adjust based on the opponent’s level of strength. This time a series of laser beams shot out blazing across the room and tearing the robot to pieces.

“One more level,” said the Chief.

From behind the regular targets, a set of iron double doors opened, and from behind, a towering robotic figure stood. It stepped forward, and Flint realized it was little more than a series of laser weapons on legs.

Flint raised the sidearm and blasted it, but this time the gun fired miniature rockets, which buzzed around and impacted the massive robot from all angles. It exploded and flopped over, its legs remained standing, though all the rest of it fell in a heap.

Flint holstered the weapon. “I think we’re ready to go.”

“Not quite. Wait until you get a load of Simon.”

Simon stepped into the room.

He blinked and his eyes were replaced with lasers. He fired them at a nearby target, disintegrating it. He blinked again, and his eyes returned to normal.

“That’s not all,” said the Chief.

Simon blinked again, and his hands swiveled and fell forward on a hinge. From the wrists protruded two of the square barrels. “He’s got double the firepower, and it’s all concealed.”

“This is the best part,” said Simon, “at least I think it is.”

His legs opened up from the knees down, and four mounted missiles descended and fired off into the target area. The targets were not hit with a precise blow. They were totally demolished. bits and pieces of the targets flew in all directions. They smashed off the walls and blew chunks and shards in all directions. There was smoke everywhere. Slowly, the curtain began to rise, and clear. Auto-vacs in the wall sucked the smoke from the building, and the alarm system came on, flashing red lights around them.

The Chief pulled the alarm switch, disengaging it.

“I believe we are ready to go then,” said Flint with a slight laugh.

“What?” said Simon.

“That’s something.”

“Oh, come on! That was great!”

“Yep, great.” Flint left the firing range, feeling somewhat uplifted.

Simon followed him out.

They returned to the hangar bay, to finish prepping the ship. Everything was loaded, the ship was fueled, weapons were deployed, and all the safeties were off.

Simon and Flint boarded, choosing ladders on both sides. They put on flight helmets and settled themselves in.

“Rollback the dome,” said Flint.

Simon hit a switch and the side of the building rolled back like an enormous garage door.

“You want to drive?” asked Flint.

“Are you serious?”

“Take us away. I’ll start with the scanning. I want to make sure these bastards aren’t hiding over the hill.”

“You got it.”

Simon pulled the ship up, and took her out, gliding over the rooftops. He was taking the corners a little closer than Flint would have liked, but he was a robot. Maybe he did everything like this. He was going to have to get used to it eventually.

“I have a question for you Simon.”

“Yes?”

“What happens when I get too old to be your partner?”

Simon thought about this for a moment.

“I don’t know.”

“Isn’t that special.”

“I suppose it is. I really have no idea, I assume I’ll be reassigned to a rookie.”

“Won’t that be nice.”

“Of course that won’t happen until after you’re dead.”

“No?”

“No. I’m assigned to you for life, that’s the first part of the deal when you sign on to take a robotic partner. But don’t worry about that anyway. You’re ninety-five. You’ve still got a good hundred years in you at the least.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“I know I’m right.”

“Are you always right?”

“No. I wasn’t right about you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“For a human.”

“That so?”

“For a while there I thought you took some awful risks.”

“Hmm…”

“And then I realized that you weren’t taking risks that you hadn’t calculated. You knew exactly where all those dives were headed, and how all those acrobatics were going to pan out. You even calculate where all your shots are going to land. Sometimes even the missed ones, for effect. You’re a genius.”

“Well, when you put it like that…”

“Of course you’re also a tremendous screw-up, and I think you know it.”

“What?”

“For instance, our man Roman is on the monitor screen, at least the signature of his big fishing craft, and you haven’t noticed it yet. I managed to continue driving. If it’s one thing humans can’t do very well, it’s multitasking.”

“Ah-ha, you see there, they’re right where I said they’d be. I can’t multitask… About that, you might be right, but I can still run circles around you with experience.”

“Can you?”

“I hope so, otherwise we’re all going to be robots, and there won’t be any humans on the force. Take her down slowly, we don’t want to draw too much attention yet.”

“Gotcha. But there you might be right. I think the use of human/robot teams is crucial. You’ve got the scientific half, good analyzing, taking samples, killing anything we need to, and then there’s you, with a completely chaotic mind”

“Chaotic?”

“Sure, what better way to make sure you’ve got the best of both worlds? I can be anal and analytical, and you can always come at a problem from a different angle. It’ll be as if there’s nothing we can’t solve together.”

“It’s also like having a laptop that talks, and walks around and does things before I’m ready for them.”

“This is also true, and here is an example.”

Simon dived out of the way of an oncoming missile. It barely missed them, grazing the ship underneath. Simon flipped the ship over and hugged the ground. His work at the controls was totally precise. He was able to hug the rocky ground in a way that Flint knew there was no way he could do.

“Flint?”

“Yeah?”

“You want to get on those guns?”

“Oh, yeah!”

Flint took the controls of his weapons station and started firing rounds off. He launched rockets and watched as like size and shaped ships plummeted to the Earth around them.

“Nice work,” said Simon.

“You’re not the only one that’s good at stuff.”

“You seem to be doing well.”

“You could call it ‘Particularly Gifted’ but I like to think of it as Damn Good!”

He blazed away at the oncoming craft. The large ship blasted off and began to lumber into the sky.

“Now they’ll send out the big guns,” said Simon.

“The more the merrier. Bring ’em on!”

Simon dodged and dived, and Flint continued to blaze away.

“So, what’s your plan?” asked Simon.

“Well, we’re going to get hit, and go down, then when they send out a search party, we’re going to get aboard the ship.”

“How’s that going to work?”

“Watch and learn amigo. Turn into a blast.”

“What?”

“We’ll survive the crash.”

“But…”

“No arguments!”

Simon shook his head and then performed a brilliant move that clipped them by a stray laser beam without really doing much harm to the ship.

“That was great, now hit one of the big missiles.”

“Flint, now come on!”

“Do as I say!”

Simon twitched and then hit one of the main missiles. On impact, it hit the ship and the front exploded in a giant fireball.

“Perfect!”

“Perfect!? We’re going down now.”

“No, we ain’t. Watch. Come on, we’re getting into the aircar.”

They trundled back to the cargo hold, and got down in the cockpit of the car, the original ship swishing and turning around them as they headed for the hillside.

At the last second, with the hover car’s engines roaring, they ejected, and quickly zipped down by a hillside, hugging the earth for cover. The stolen ship smashed into another hillside, exploding in a shower of a thousand pieces.

“Perfect.”

Simon just shook his head.

“Watch.”

The ships returned to the mother, their job complete, and the whole thing settled down on the dusty plain, coming to a rest.

“Now that they think we’re dead, we can sneak up, and see their next big meeting.”

“What makes you think they’ll have one.”

“These kinds of guys always have big staff meetings to endear their henchmen to them. It’s the kind of thing they do.”

“Oh.”

“Then why did we have to blow up the scout?”

“Chaotic, right?”

“Right.”

“Works don’t it?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

They powered down the aircraft, and suited up, taking as many firearms as they could take with them.

They left the aircar behind and crouched into the brush on their way around the hill to the ship. Flint touched a button on his belt, and the hovercar lifted off and flew out of sight.

“Are you getting rid of it?”

“Nah, just keeping it out of range. If we need it, we’ll get her back in no time.”

“I’ve been wondering.”

“Yeah?”

“How come the aircar never needs to be recharged and I have to go into the charger every couple of days at least?”

“Good question. Some of the robots we’ve built have power plants capable of sustaining them for several months, and it’s not a problem.”

“What’s the catch?”

“They were about fifty feet tall. Only good for warfare.”

“Any still around? They might be useful.”

“Not that I know of.”

Flint scrubbed through the brush, and on the other side of a small embankment was the ship. It sat there, gleaming in the sun like an overgrown, waterlogged frog.

“So, how are we going to get inside this time?”

“The easy way.”

“Right. Doesn’t the easy way for you entail some kind of acrobatic, hair raising stunt?”

“What, you can’t keep up with the old man?”

Simon shrugged.

“Don’t worry. I’m thinking of something much less dangerous this time.”

“Sure.”

“Don’t believe me?”

Simon shook his head.

“Watch.”

A series of robots were loading boxes full of spare parts onto the ship. They were in a series and locked in a small hangar. The robots were lifting them onto a large conveyor belt that snaked its way into the bowels of the ship.

“What, you want us to get into that storage bunker and slip into one of the crates, and somehow not be noticed by all these guards and robots. Hell if I can spot them they’ve likely spotted us anyway.”

“They haven’t spotted us, and no, not the crates, at least not yet. It’s the belt.”

“What about the belt?”

“Under the belt.”

“But that’s going back into the bunker.”

“Right, and we can hop a crate once we’re inside.”

“Bonkers.”

“What?”

“Bonkers.”

“Come on.”

“Oh, what the hell? Anything for a short life.”

They snuck up to a bend in the conveyer belt, which turned out to be not such a spectacular feat, and then grabbed on, latching themselves to the underside of the belt. It zigzagged its way back into the bunker, and they were thrown off at the end, crashing into a pile of rubbish.

Two loading robots were in there, pulling the manual labor, pulling boxes and putting them on the rack.

“Just what I was hoping for. They can’t recognize a fat rabbit. Pick a crate.”

They picked a large crate towards the back of the room, discarding some of the innards, and pushing in some foam packing material to make the trip just a touch less jumpy.

They sealed the lid on themselves with a hand tool of Simon’s just seconds before they were lifted into the air by the packing robots.

Inside the crate it was dark. Lighting a flashlight only revealed the packing peanuts close to their faces. They swam through the plastic chips, searching for each other’s lights.

Outside the crate, it slid up the ramp, and into the ship, where an additional three thousand pound crate was dropped on them, sealing them in tight.

“Terrific,” said Simon.

“Don’t panic.”

Flint grinned, but Simon couldn’t see him through the peanuts.

“Now what?”

“Now we wait.”

There was a cold hard silence. Then they were able to discern footsteps around them. Some were human, bare feet padding on the concrete deck, and the others were robotic in nature, a little too regular for the common man to make his footsteps.

Soon the engine started, and after a lurching motion that was better, upending Flint’s guts into the packing material.

They were off.

The trip was long and hard. The hum of the engines beneath them just made Flint want to go to the bathroom. Before long, the crate above them was lifted, and the sunlight of the setting sun poured in on them, along with the dark outlines of two loading robots.

Red lights flashed on their heads, and with a shout, and a blast from Simon’s arm pistol, they were both silenced. They hit the floor with a clang.

“That’s made a noise.”

“Good bet they’re coming.”

“Come on.”

They leaped over the side of their recent enclosure and dove into the tank. Recent fishing had been done. They landed on a small sea of recently caught, flipping, fiddling, fighting salmon.

“What the?”

Simon reached over and pushed Flint under the water just as two guards walked by.

They popped up.

“That was close,” said Flint.

“Could have been closer. Here…”

Simon handed him a small re-breather. “You know how to work this?”

“Yes.”

“Good, now get back under!”

They both dived and were surrounded by the fish, who seemed to have taken a liking to them, protecting them from getting a full-on look at anything.

Lasers blazed above them. There was a lot of shouting, and then the worst seemed to happen, the fish opened up, just a natural swimming pattern, but there it was, or rather there they were above them, the two Romans.

“Well,” said the fake Roman, “What do we have here?”

“Looks like some fish,” said the real one.

“I think we’re going to have to throw them back.”

The other nodded.

“You know, I don’t even like the smell of fish.”

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“I think so.”

“What about the slaves?”

“They can starve until we get another catch. What do you say?”

They smiled and together pulled a series of levers. Below them, a bubble surfaced. Then another much larger one. Then all began to spiral out of the bottom of the tank. The fish were falling, the water was plummeting to the ground, and so were Flint and Simon. Instinctively they pointed their grapples to the sky and fired them. Latching onto the rim of the tank, they screamed back up into the sky, landing on their feet in front of Roman, and the other Roman.

“Clever,” they said together. “Clever indeed.”

“We’re full of surprises,” Flint and Simon said together.

They punched the two Romans and were punched back. The robot guards began to provide cover fire, blazing around them. The two Romans split up and headed in different directions.

“It’s time to take this place apart,” said Simon.

“I think you’re getting the hang of this, said Flint.

They opened fire and decimated the oncoming force. Robot arms and legs went everywhere. Some landed in the tank, others seemed to stick to the walls, there was such a level of salt and dust in here, and others seemed yet to explode right in front of them. Their pistols chose the appropriate firing method, sometimes dispensing bullets, lasers, or rocket grenades depending on the target. At one point a series of large circular robots floated into the room, and Simon’s gun made mincemeat out of them, but not before one of Flint’s grenades shot out and blew a hole in them from the back.

They checked their weapons after a quick re-load. Everything was smooth and normal again, save for the bodies everywhere anyway. Flint kicked one of them and its head popped off, skittering up the metal flooring.

“Let’s do it.”

Simon nodded.

Together, they laced the tank with high-end explosives, each the size of a deck of cards. Every once-in-a-while they had to shoot off another guard but were otherwise left unhindered. When they were all up, they activated them, and one-by-one a little green light came on in sequence.

“We’re set.”

They jumped down through the opening at the bottom of the tank, and sailed down to the ground, within sight of the robot’s facility, by the use of small extendable hang gliders.

The ship lumbered in the distance, badly shaken. From the look of it, several ships were abandoning, heading for the robot facility.

It rocked with the first explosion, which sent a plume of smoke from the lower hold of the craft.

They watched as a second, and a more powerful explosion rocked the ship, destroying its stabilizers and knocking it over so that it seemed to drift up the river on its side.

Flint called his aircar, which came, racing up from beyond the hill.

Simon just watched as the last explosion hit the fishing ship, and it exploded in a blaze of light. It crashed into the river, and upended, slowly sinking in a cloud of steam and bubbles. It managed to get halfway sunken under the river’s surface when it stopped, resting quietly on the bottom.

As soon as Simon was sure it was over, a secondary explosion rocked its core, and the entire ship exploded sending clouds of smoke and ash into the sky. The remainder of the craft sunk under the water, separated from its upper half. It bubbled away into the murky green.

Flint and Simon climbed into the hovercar and Flint put it in gear. “You still got a charge of grapple bolts?”

“As always.’

“That’s the way it should be.”

“Can’t leave home without ’em.”

“Hell, I even take one to bed.”

“Flint…”

“What?”

“You have issues.”

“I know. It’s time to blow up that place over there but first I think we need to split up.”

“Sir?”

“Roman, and his metallic brother Roman, just made their exit, but they went in separate directions. Now I’m not sure, but I’ll bet that the best way to stop those two is going to be to split up.

“I’ll go after the robot,” said Simon.

“And I’ll take the meat stick.”

“We’ve still got to get closer though.”

“True. Hop in.”

Simon slid aboard the aircar, and Flint took off. They kept low, but the security was really on now, they really didn’t have a chance of getting to the city without attracting more attention.

Underneath Flint’s car, the Real Roman hung on for his life. Without a word, he clung to their frame, beyond that he knew nothing. All he did was concentrate on being alive, and stuck to the vehicle. He closed his eyes and pulled himself up straight.

They took the low road, skimming close to the bushes and trees, bumping Roman’s ass all the way, but he never made a sound, at least not an audible one, and pulled up under the city.

Flint pointed his pistol to the underside of the structure and pulled the trigger. From his weapon out streaked a small grenade-like missile. It soared up and impacted the building, blowing a hole in one of the entry bays. A ship fell from the bay and crashed into the river below. He guided the ship up, and into the bay, then locked down his car, and jumped out.

“Simon?”

“Flint?”

“Good then. We’ll split up, and meet back here to blow this place to smithereens.”

“Good luck.”

“Do robots believe in luck?”

“We don’t believe in anything, but I believe in you.”

They parted. Simon made it through a blast door and on into the building. Roman fell from the bottom of the flyer. He was no longer able to hold on.

Flint stooped to look under, his gun drawn and armed.

Their eyes locked.

“Roman.”

“Flint.”

Roman got gingerly to his feet.

“It seems you have the advantage, Flint. Why not go ahead and shoot me?”

“I want to know a couple of things first.”

“Like what? Would you like to know if I ever thought I could succeed?”

“Yes.”

“Then I believe the answer to that one is Yes, and I still think I can.”

“You’re nothing.”

“No. I’m afraid not.”

Flint’s trigger finger was getting itchy.

“No the robot,” said Roman, “I mean… There’s no telling whose side he’s on now is there?”

“What are you talking about?”

“He’s a robot. Do you really think he’s not going to turn?”

“What do you mean?”

“Come on! He’s a robot, you’re a human. He probably sleeps in your closet or something. Tell me, just how do you treat your robots?”

“Well, I haven’t…”

“Haven’t thought of it, right, that’s what I keep telling you, folks. When are you going to wise up?”

“Hey… We… I…”

“That’s just what I thought. They’ve got rights too you know! It’s not what all of this is about. I’ve got to tell you, this is about the best way to get into some kind of arrangement with them, I mean before the end of the world and all there is are robots. You know they’ll want to vote soon?”

“Vote?”

“What is all this some kind of a news flash for you? They’re the superior beings now, they are the next step. Human evolution is in the crapper once these guys take control, and they will, so I may as well be on top.”

“On top?”

If he could just keep him talking he could get through this.

“Nah, you don’t even know. You’re all a bunch of losers. That’s the problem with humanity.”

“The problem?”

“Yeah, you’re all a bunch of suckers!”

Roman blasted Flint in the left shoulder. The burn was deep, but not that bad, mostly surface scarring. Flint hit the floor and tried to push himself to his feet.

“And that’s another thing with you humans, always sitting in your towers, playing God. Who’s gonna clean up this mess? Nuclear radiation, you’re dumping into what you call ‘The Wastelands,’ it’s all a crock of…”

“The wastelands aren’t from nuclear waste; we’re not even using any.”

“The hell you aren’t. You don’t even know, do you? You don’t know how bad it really is. You’re pathetic.”

Flint moved to get up but thought better of it. He wasn’t really ready for it. His shoulder gave, and he slumped back down to the ground.

“So you want to know why we’re after your precious cities?”

“Tell me.”

“They’re the last place left unless we start hiking it to the moon, and while that’s great for the robots, it doesn’t much make for a good day on my end of the spectrum.”

“That’s right. You’re human. You’re just like the rest of us, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m not.”

“You’re just as self-centered, and egotistical as all the rest of us. It’s you! You’re the fool in all of this! You’re the one who can’t keep it together!”

Flint pushed up on his burned shoulder.

Roman sat down next to Flint and toyed with the gun in his hand.

“The thing is Flint, I could end it all right now. I could kill us both, and it wouldn’t make a lick of difference in the long run. Sure the Robots would be without a leader for a while, but they would straighten that out, and now the thing is set, they are coming, and there’s nothing that’s going to stop us. We could both die, at this moment, and it wouldn’t make a damn.”

“You know, you’re right. It wouldn’t. It wouldn’t make a damn. We could both kill each other right now, and there’s not a thing that could make any of this any better.”

“Now you’re getting it.”

“Yeah, it’s like a tidal wave just hit me. It’s all filling in, all the blanks; it’s all about this moment. It’s just the ticket. I know it’s something that we’re all going to be in for later.”

“Now you’re starting to see it. What’s it like? What do you think?”

“Let’s do it, right now, together. We’ll blow our brains out.”

Flint held the square barrel to his head and began to twitch at the trigger.

Roman stood up and put his own laser to his temple.

They stared each other down, first the left eye, and then the right. They came together in a momentary glance, and their fingers began to pull on their triggers.

Sweat poured from their brows.

“Are you ready?” asked Roman.

“Are you?”

“Let’s do it. Let’s bring all of this to a spectacular end.”

“In one fell swoop, let’s bring the robots into the future, end the debate on evolution, and make it all happen.”

They pulled their triggers…

Standard-Issue Partner, Chapter 5

Standard-Issue Partner
Neon lights flicker,
Machines replace flesh and bone,
Trust must still be earned.
Buy Yours Here:
Amazon - Books2Read

This is a draft version of a chapter from John Saye’s book, Standard-Issue Partner.

“Look, they’re all going inside,” said Flint.

They were hiding behind a row of shrubs near the edge of the water. Above them the towering structure stood a hundred feet high above them. Lights blazed in every direction, such that the white under side of the building was illuminated.

One after the other the larger ships, and many of the smaller scout ships maneuvered under the main structure. Some of them scoured around for a final search before raising into the ceiling, and disappearing. Huge bay doors opened as the ships soared in, and colossal robotic arms extended down to take the ships up into the building.

It looked as if thousands of little hangars were scattered around, rather than one large hanger that took in all the ship. Each seemed to have a single specific hanger designed to house a single ship. Larger ships had larger entry bays, and smaller ships seemed to have very tiny openings through which the ships would point up and slide themselves into, some only ten feet across. The largest ship was a fishing vessel. It was definitely the largest by far, with a visible bowl underneath to show the quantity of fish the ship was returning with. Its entry was the largest and in the middle of the huge structure.

“What’s the best method, do you think?” asked Simon.

“I’m thinking that we grapple onto one of the larger ships and just ride it up into the bay up there.”

“What about that one?” A small ship was passing by. It looked like one of the four person jobs.

“No, too small. We need something a little bigger. Something that won’t feel us as much when we grapple on.”

“Well, the fishing ship is already docked for the night it looks.”

“I know. I’m thinking another one. Like this one.” A medium sized ship glided by. It was incredibly silent, save for the whirling of a large fan underneath it that seemed to do nothing more than kick up dust around them. “I think that one’s big enough. Let’s snag it.”

Together they raised grappling guns and pointed them at the underside of the ship.

“Make sure not to hit the fan.”

“Got it,” said Simon.

They shot their grapples, which snaked into the sky, latching onto the ship. The cords reached their length, and then the two of them were pulled into the air, two small dots against the sky, zipping up to rest on the bottom of the ship. They transferred the grapple to a hook on their belts, and grabbed for footholds and hand holds in the ship’s hull.

The ship glided up, on the way to its destined entry bay. The two of them gripped hard, holding onto the surface of their chosen vessel, and then, looking down below them, they watched as the ship rose up into the building, and the hangar bay doors closed below them with a clang.

“Quick!”

They dropped off and jumped behind a stack of crates near the landed ship and watched as the occupants came down a short ramp. They were dressed in rags that appeared to be torn from strips of fabric. Each seemed to be dressed based on the number of strips of fabric that they could find. It looked silly for a moment, and then he realized they were trying to block out their exposure to the sun. What they were really wearing was a combination black and brown outfit, and a series of strips of cloth to cover their hands, ankles, neck, and face. They looked like walking mummies, the creeping death, but then they began to pull their strips away, and uncover themselves. The first turned out to be a woman, blonde hair reaching down to her waist, and the other a man, whose hair was also on the long side, to his shoulders, thick and brown.

They pulled the strips from their hands, and feet, and shook off the dust from working out in the desert all day.

The two marched off, though in a casual step. Flint thought they might be holding hands as they passed out of sight.

Simon started.

“What’s with you?”

“Couldn’t you see it?”

“No, what?”

“They are both robots!”

“What?”

“They’re robots, like me. They might even be a newer model than me. I thought I was the latest.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No. Those two were definitely robots.”

“How can you tell?”

“The eyes. They always give it away. It’s the light.”

“What kind of light? I don’t see anything in your eyes unless I’m right on you.”

“Maybe you can’t, but I can. It’s uncanny, sort of a greenish blue. It might be on a different wavelength than you can handle. I wonder. It’s something to look up when we get back.”

“What I want to know when we get back is how we missed this place. Nobody knows it’s out here. Did you?”

“Definitely not. It is something to look into. We’ve got to get back though.”

“What’s wrong with this one here?”

Simon waved at a series of cords and cables that were connected to the ship’s engines. “It’s recharging. We’ll have to find one that’s already charged.”

“You think we can just start walking around?”

“I think so. Just keep to the perimeter and we should be all right. I’ll keep my ear out for anything. Maybe we can get away without running into anyone.”

They emerged from their hiding place and could tell that others were around, and they all seemed to be wearing the same black and brown uniforms. “We’ll need a set of those.”

“Let’s check this ship.”

Simon and Flint sneaked up into the little ship and noticed something right off. “Everything’s in English.”

“Good point. So the culture isn’t too far off.”

“If robots can have a culture of their own.”

“I don’t know. I suppose it’s possible.”

“Anything’s possible.”

They looked around and found a pouch containing two of the uniforms. They looked as if they were going to be too tight, but after Flint pulled them over even his other clothes they shook out and became lose fitting and comfortable enough to do fine.

“Let’s get out of here.”

They stepped out of the recharging jet, and out into the corridor. From a distance, they could see a massive number of robots moving toward the center of the structure. The followed along, careful not to look at each other too closely as they moved, and followed them down the way.

“Keep close,” said Flint.

“You keep close to me. If they catch us it’s all over.”

“You get that feeling too.”

“Robots don’t have feelings.”

“Of course they do. You’re a prime example.”

The halls were thick with robots. Everyone was gathering in a central meeting chamber the size of a small stadium. It looked like it could seat thousands. One of the robots pushed Flint aside into Simon. “Keep your slave close.”

“What?”

“Your slave, keep hold of him.”

“So now I’m a slave am I?”

“Let’s just find out what’s going on here, besides being my slave is a good way to get you through without drawing much attention.”

“It is, is it?”

“Trust me.”

Flint nodded and they moved on together. They took seats in the third tier, and looked out at the vast numbers all dressed in brown and black. The center of the arena was a large dais on which a speaking platform stood. The entire length of the arena floor was the large image of a cog wheel with an eye in the middle of it.

“I’ve heard of these guys. They aren’t supposed to exist,” said Flint.

“He’s coming out now.”

“Who?”

“Whoever is the leader of this bunch?”

He stood, their leader, a bit stooped in the back, and shrouded in a long black cloak, which trailed the ground around him. Dastardly long gray hair wrinkled and writhed out from beneath the hood, but the visage remained hidden within the folds.

He stepped up to the microphone and coughed. He seemed old, but he couldn’t be that old.”

“That a robot?”

“Yep.”

“How can you tell?”

“I’m listening to his gears grinding.”

“That good are you?”

“Sorry, telescopic hearing comes standard. Kind of like having your hearing aid on ten all the time.”

“I’m only ninety…”

“What?”

Flint just gave him a look. “They always send me the funny guy.”

“Yes.”

The figure pulled back his hood to reveal his face. Standing before them was…

“Roman!”

“Shhh!” said Simon.

“But it can’t be him!”

“Will you keep it down?”

“I mean even if it were, it still can’t be… This one looks like he’s fifty years older, heck, maybe even a hundred years older than the other one.”

“I think we’re looking at an older model.”

“What, like the age? Model?”

“It’s a popular upgrade for older families who are no longer comfortable with the look of a servant. Besides he looks like he’s going for the ancient guru look.”

The older Roman tested the microphone. “Welcome, my brethren,” he said into it. They all cheered.

“Same Roman, shit…”

Simon and Flint cheered with them.

He raised his hands in a wide gesture behind the mic and made a theatrical bow. Everyone cheered even louder.

“My robotic brethren, we are about to take our first step into the world of the human reality. We will overtake the cities, and pull down their walls. We will take their natural resources and use them to build more of our selves. As any humans already here know, you will become the slaves of the world, and you will be our first troops into the cities, undetectable by the sensors designed to keep unregistered robots out.”

He sniffed, and then threw back his hair before continuing.

“We have the technology!”

“Yeah,” they cried in unison.

“We have the ships!”

“Yeah!”

“The scouts!”

“Yeah!”

“And the power to do so.”

“Yeah!”

“But we will have to wait.”

There was a murmur throughout the crowd.

“We have to wait for the right time. Can anybody tell me what that time is?”

“The right time!” they all cried together.

“That’s right. The right time. As we gather our resources, as we gather our strength, and as we gather our courage. What do you say?”

“We will conquer them all!”

“How many of the cities will we take?”

“Them all!”

“That’s right. We’ll start from the north, and move to the south. We’ll take them all across the western boarder and across the eastern seaboard. Soon we’ll spread out into the rest of the world… and then we’ll take the moon!”

The crowd cheered, and jumped for joy.

Some of them wept.

The slaves were also joining in, like they were hip to this crackpot robot’s ideas. They seemed really into it. The thing was, to Flint, they didn’t look brainwashed either. Either something really strange was going on, or there must be something in it for the slaves as well.

The older Roman began to pace in an erratic triangle on the platform.

“Soon we will have all we desire!” He paused for effect. “The other thing we have to deal with now, is the intruders.”

Simon and Flint became very quiet.

“Yes, I know you are here among us, and I know you’ve heard everything I’ve had to say. I was hoping you wouldn’t make it this far, but surveillance cameras spotted you coming in recently, and I just want to make it clear that you are not at all welcome. I’d send out a search party to look for you, but since I have everyone here now, I think I’ll just say, Go at it everybody! Bring the intruders to my inner sanctuary, and I’ll make sure you have an exalted position in the ultimate hierarchy when the war we’re about to start is all over!”

Flint and Simon had only a second before complete and utter chaos erupted on the spot. With a shot they disappeared under the bleachers, squeezing through the gap.

“Quick, this way!”

Flint was leading the charge. Simon shook his head but went after him. “Where are you going?”

“I have no idea, just away from these guys.”

They slipped into a tunnel. The thunderous storm of stomping robots just feet behind them it seemed. They ducked into a vent.

“This is a mistake,” said Simon.

“You got a better idea, let me have it,” said Flint.

“Up here!” Simon pointed up towards the ceiling.

“What, up there?”

“Come on. It’s time to follow me for a change.”

Simon raised his grapple gun to the ceiling and shot it off. The hook grabbed onto a series of pipes. Flint shot his, almost matching it, and they tore off together into the pipe-work near the ceiling. Simon flipped himself up onto one of the pipes, and balanced himself there perfectly. Flint was not so fortunate, needing extra assistance once he was up there. He hadn’t done a jump that high in a while. He looked back at the swarm of robot androids beneath them.

“Marvelous.” It wasn’t either of them. They looked around. At the end of the pipe stood a figure shrouded in shadow. It rushed them. It rushed them with the kind of force most often associated with Olympic level athletes, should they have known anything about the Olympics, which they didn’t, and had they known some, which they couldn’t. The figure jumped and bounded after them, landing lightly on its feet, and never losing its balance once. “If you’ll just come with me, I’m sure we can sort this out.”

“I don’t think so,” said Flint. “Simon?”

“I don’t think so either.” Simon stiffened at the sight of the shrouded man.

“Who are you?”

“I am not one of them.”

“That’s reassuring, but I think if you want to get at us today, you’re just going to have to take a number and get in line. This isn’t one of my better days, unless you count nearly being killed by a rampaging mob of angry domestic synthetic servants.”

Together Simon and Flint bounded off the pipe they were on, shooting their grappling hooks again, and swinging to another platform. This one they both easily lit upon, and before they knew it they were down the next turn of their flight, slinging across to another set of pipes. Flint realized these were pipes used to transmit sound all around the complex, like large pipe organ kind of pipes. There was a disconcerting way they all seemed to be gathered towards the center of the structure together. He imagined that there would be gaps here and there to allow the tones to emit through the building. He didn’t have to imagine it for long. A moment later, he glanced up and saw them above him, another row of pipes, which were neatly docked with holes in a geometrical shape and pattern.

The jumped from behind, and noticed that the shrouded one was just behind them, except that he was easily jumping from pipe to pipe without the assistance of a rope or other device of some kind. It was annoying to Flint, who had become so adept with his grapple that he really felt himself pretty good at it at the moment.

The shrouded man lightly flicked from pipe to pipe, almost dancing over them as he ran, tip-toeing through the next of wires and pipes and stained glass that made up the ceiling of this particular old structure.

They stopped, sliding to a halt. Ahead of them were a dozen robots that had climbed up to take part in the chase. They looked like a series of angry mobsters out to lynch Frankenstein’s monster. Behind them, the shrouded one approached, carefully stepping on the best and most supported pipes. They looked ahead of them. The mob stood there, waiting for their next move. They looked behind them. the shrouded one drew his cloak around himself in an effort to appear mysterious and powerful.

Flint cocked his head. What the hell was this guy up to?

The mob took a step closer, and they took a step away from the mob.

The shrouded shaman took another step closer, and they took two steps away from him.

They looked at each other.

The mob made a break for it.

The shaman made a break for it.

They jumped from the pipe and shot their grappling hooks out to ease the landing to the floor.

The mob ran at the Shaman.

The Shaman folded his arms and disappeared.

The mob looked at each other, and then down to Flint and Simon who were in mid-jump.

At what was essentially the ground level, Simon and Flint landed, and recoiled their grapple guns, but someone was waiting for them. Waiting and clapping.

Roman walked up to them. Up close he did look an awful lot like the Roman Flint had captured earlier. He wondered if it could be the same one. Maybe an older copy?

“Very good Flint.” It was him! “You have been very clever. I wonder, how did you find my fortress, out here in the wastes anyway?”

“It wasn’t so hard, I just decided that I need to do a little sightseeing…”

Roman slapped him. “I think you should come to my private office.”

He gave a wave and a swarm of robots and their human slaves surrounded them and hoisted them up bodily, and toted them off towards Roman’s private office. He had one of the main spires to himself, towards the front of the massive river-crossing building. It was plush. Thick woolen carpets, lined the walls, dark mahogany furniture, silk pillows and cool, dim lighting. Again he waved off his throng, and they tossed them into the room.

“I should kill you both right now for interfering.”

Flint exchanged a glance with Simon. “We’re really just looking for passage back to the central city,” said Flint.

“I couldn’t let you do that, you’d be honor bound to tell them about us. We would no longer have the peace we require to live.”

“You’re not going to have it anyway pretty soon, if you do what you say you’re going to.”

“You’re referring to the attack planned on your kind.”

“Obviously.”

“You needn’t worry. I have no real plan for attack, that’s just the real truth. The local Shaman that’s been following you, I think that’s the real threat you ought to be worried about now.”

“If I have no real need to worry, could you lend us a transport to return to our city with?”

“I say the Shaman is more dangerous, and that’s true, but you are never going to leave this site again. I just can’t have that.”

“So we’re screwed no matter where we are or who we go to out there.”

“Pretty much.”

“Then I don’t suppose you’ll even allow us to leave this room alive.” Flint had been backing up all this time, and now that he had a chance, he got right up to the window and looked down. It was a sheer drop straight down to the water.

“Also true. You are quite perceptive Flint.”

“Why thank you.”

“I notice that your partner there doesn’t speak much. Your new partner.”

Flint and Roman locked eyes. “Simon, why don’t you say something?”

Simon turned toward Roman. “Okay, while you’ve been wasting time gloating to my partner, I’ve planted explosives all around your office, and at a moment’s notice I can detonate them all.”

Simon stood next to Flint, and held up a small thumb sized plunger, with a small depressor.

Roman made a move.

Simon held it out, and threatened to push the button.

“I don’t think you’ll do it.”

Simon fingered the button and pushed it down.

The windows all around the sky office blew out in all directions.

“Come on,” said Simon.

Flint ran towards the window with Simon and jumped out into warm air.

Their clothes rippling around them, Simon said “Get ready!”

“Get ready for what, to die a horrible death?”

“Try and bring your knees around, try and roll with it when we hit, but it was too late. They landed neatly in the middle of a football field sized catch of fish being ferried back up to the main hangar.

There was a great squish underneath them. To say it smelled like fish was an understatement. He was going to have to take a week expelling the smell from his nose.

The ship lumbered beneath them, and slowly moved under the building towards its main docking bay in the middle.

Behind them Roman’s body flailed in a failed jump, landing in the water.

Simon watched him hit. That won’t slow him down for long.

The large fish catching ship soared around in lumbering arcs, and before long they were being drawn back up into the massive structure. Once inside, the ship docked, and then the fish bowl of the ship slid out, taking Flint and Simon with it, and it was shipped off to another tower outside the central hub. The fish were released into a holding tank, and the level of fish came up to where Flint could read the words Two Week Supply. It looked like this general area was being worked for the slaves, by the slaves, after all the robots themselves weren’t going to need anything to eat.

“Quickly!” one of them said, “Over here, we will hide you before they can make their way in to look for you!”

They clambered out of the large fish tank, and into a series of boxes that were being packed with fish. The smell was worse than the big bowl had been. They sloshed in, and the slaves quickly nailed the boxes shut, and continued to work their daily business as if nothing had happened.

“How long do you think we can take it in here?” asked Flint.

“I think the real question is how long they’ll keep us in here, provided that they don’t just hand us over to their bosses.”

“Good point.”

“Shhh! Here they come. I can barely make it out.”

Flint waited patiently, he couldn’t hear a thing.

“They’ve lied to him. I’m not sure they bought it, but I don’t think they are planning to search the crates.”

“I suppose that’s a good thing. I’d almost rather be found than stay in this pile of fish for the rest of the night.”

They waited, pressed up against fresh fish, something Flint hadn’t seen since he was a child, and waited. It was a full twelve hours later before the slaves pulled their crate aside and began to crack it open.

It was dark. Flint and Simon flopped out of the crate. Simon flashed his eyes as he re-activated himself. “How long was I out?”

“Like eight hours.”

“Good, I should have conserved some energy then.”

They were surrounded on all sides. It took a moment to notice because the slaves were all so quiet and still. One of them stepped forward. He was clean shaven, and made to wear green overalls and a darker green shirt underneath. Flint noticed that many of them were all dressed in a similar manner.

“I owe you a debt of thanks,” said Flint. “Is there anything I can do for you? Simon and I aren’t enough of an army to free everyone.”

“Oh we are really seeking a savior,” he said.

“Really?”

“No, we are just seeking control here. The robots control everything, but we are content to live off the land. You met the Shaman then?”

“I believe so.”

“He is our leader. Once we can rid ourselves of the robots, we’d prefer to take over this place and just call it our home.”

“Can you get us to a ship? We’ve got to return to our own home. I may be able to bring some help.”

“It may be possible. In the lower vault of the fishing rig there is a submarine. If you got in it the next time we go fishing it might be a means of escape for you.”

“I just saw your fish supply earlier though, it said you have a two week supply. When’s the next time you’re sending out the fishing boat then?”

“In another week it will be ready to go out.”

“We were really hoping for something more suited to an escape today,” said Simon. “No offense, but we’ve really got to get the hell out of here.”

“Good point. Well, the submarine is at your service should you ever need it.”

They gathered together to talk amongst themselves.

Flint and Simon listened to the grumbling talk, but didn’t make out much until they came to the realization that it might work.

The next afternoon the sky was blue, and the sun was high in it, floating across the endless blue. Roman stood in the front of his hover yacht, one knee up on a chair, and his hair blowing in the wind. He watched the sides of the canyon as they swept by them for signs of the intruders.

Several guards surrounded him. They were all slaves. A robot butler wandered about serving drinks, and two copilots flew the ship over the water.

“They are still around,” said Roman, “No; they couldn’t have gotten very far. The desert goes on for miles and miles in every direction, and this is the only habitable place for miles. Without an hover car of some kind they would really have to search for a method of making their escape.”

Roman slumped into one of the chairs along the balcony. “I just wish I knew where they were. I’m going to have to kill them if I ever see them, make it a public sacrifice or something. My people won’t have it any other way. If course I know that, it’s how I programmed them to be.”

One of the slaves took the robotic bar tender and silently threw him overboard.

“Then there’s all the business about the cities. I don’t know whether or not to attack them directly. It may not be so much to bother doing.”

They rose a little higher. It was possible to see the top edge of the canyon from this altitude. Silently the guards, who were all human slaves, began to dive off the side of the ship when Roman wasn’t looking.

“And another thing, I just don’t know how to act anymore. I’m a robot, and yet I find myself in a position of power. I was never programmed for this. Sure I’ve augmented myself to be up to the task, but it was never really a decision of mine.”

He looked around himself. They were now clearly over the edge of the Grand Canyon, and on their way east from it. A slight diversion and a switch in altitude had done the trick. Around him, Roman was surrounded by no one. All that remained were the two pilots. One of them stepped forward. Roman looked to the edge. It looked too far to jump, then the other pilot emerged. Simon and Flint held their pistols up to Roman.

Roman froze.

“We’re taking you in.”

“You’ll never stop me.”

“No?”

“No, I’ll be rebuilt back at the center before you can get me to the central city.”

“We’ll see about that Roman.”

“How did you know that name?”

“Let’s just say we’ve met before.”

“It’s a long journey; I suggest you make yourself comfortable.”

“You mean stitch off?”

“It might make the journey a little more enjoyable if you skipped it.”

“For me?”

“No for us.”

Roman shook his head and relented, switching himself off. He thought about the idea that they might just dump him off the side, but he thought better of it. They had to have gone through a lot to corner him like this, and they would have killed him in an instant if that was their plan.

He switched himself off, and slipped into the floor, limp, with a time limit set to turn himself back on later.

“That should do it.”

“Can you raise the Chief yet?”

“I hadn’t tried.”

“Go to it.”

Simon nodded and tried to get hold of the Chief, checking the air waves for the central city’s internet major internet hub.

The chief’s face appeared before them, a two-dimensional image fuzzed into a three-dimensional system. It made his nose look inside out.

“Simon! Flint! We thought you were dead! I’ve been coordinating a search party here all night. We were about to set out to look for you.”

“We’ll we’re alive. We’re headed in in a captured vessel, and I think you’re going to be pretty interested in the prisoner we’re bringing in.”

“Who have you got?”

“We’ll give you all the info when we see you, just make sure the top deck is clear, I don’t think this rig can stand being parked in the regular deck.”

“Will do. Say, how far off are you?”

“Not sure, should be inside of twelve hours at this rate though.”

“Okay, will do.”

“How did the raid go?”

“You’ll never believe this; we got an illegal robot manufacturing plant, and busted it, looks like Roman was using it to develop partner robots for use in a small war.”

“We think he was up to a lot more.”

“Flint?”

“We’ll tell you when we see you. In fact, you might want to have Roman ready for a visit when we get there.”

“I’ll send for him myself. You take care. I thought I’d lost you. I didn’t want to lose another one so soon.”

“Understood Chief. We’re on our way home.”

Simon put the ship in drive, and boosted it as far as he could go.

“Let’s go home.”