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.