 
EXPEDITION WESTWARD

There's fun at the end of the road

Book 2, Robot Horizon series

by Brian Bakos

cover art: Rob Jones photography: Brian Bakos

Copyright 2013, Brian Bakos / revised 11-2019

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Table of Contents

What Happened Before

One: Fugitives

Two: The New Order Wilts

Three: Perils on the Road

Four: Pickle Lake Convulsions

Five: Break Out Attempts

Six: The West Coast Beckons

Seven: Space Invaders

Eight: Love Comes to Town

Nine: A New Dawn

Reading Group Guide

Next Book in the Series

Connect with the Author

Brian's Other Books

#  What Happened Before

Editor's Note

This is book two of the _Robot Horizon_ series. If you haven't read book one, _Return to Mech City_ , please visit my website to obtain a copy or get one from the store where found this volume. You'll enjoy the following story better if you know what happened before.

Okay, if you don't want to do that, here's a thumbnail sketch of book one. It contains spoilers, so would you like to reconsider getting a copy and reading the whole thing?

As mankind finally succumbs to its follies and exits the world stage, scholar model robot, Winston Horvath, makes a perilous journey to Mech City, the place of his manufacture, bearing a vast internal database of human literature, history, and language. This had been programmed into him at the behest of his former master as the "Walking Library of Alexandria" project.

But when Winston arrives on his mission to preserve the human cultural heritage, he finds Mech City in a downward spiral. The robotic inhabitants, who were never designed to exist independently, are deteriorating psychologically and turning to suicide or brigandage. He also meets Estrela, a.k.a. Star Power – the world's only sexually functional female robot – and Iridium, a noble robotic wolf. Star and Winston immediately click, but Winston cannot satisfy Star's robust sexual desires. She is on a "whole new level of creation" from him.

Inspired by Star's great beauty and kindness, Winston devises a plan to save Mech City – restore the derelict REX Hotel and turn it into the town's fashionable "in" locale. This gives employment and purpose to the town's residents. The suicides stop, Winston becomes Mech City's most important and respected citizen.

But things unravel when Nilo, a despised test bed robot, morphs into Fascista Ultimo (F.U. to my friends) and seizes control using the mech wolves and other robotic monstrosities that crazed human technicians had produced in their final months.

As one of the "Humanite Master Race" model robots, Winston is sucked into the Roboto Fascist regime and becomes a key official, lording over the supposedly inferior "metal man" robots. But, motivated by Star's plight (F.U. wants her as a concubine) Winston comes to his senses and hatches a plot to bring down the tyrant. Winston is too discredited to be the new leader, however.

Ajax, a recreation of a comic book robotic hero, is the only suitable choice for Mech City's new leader. Problem is, Ajax's head has supposedly been carried off by birds to a mysterious castle in the mountains. He is barely functional with his auxiliary brain.

On the basis of this fantastic story, Winston and Star set out to find Ajax's head. Iridium joins them on the road and, after much tribulation, they get to Pickle Lake Castle where robotics technician and plague survivor, Dr. Edgar Rackenfauz, has set up shop. His mech birds had stolen Ajax's head as a bizarre prank.

Star learns form Rackenfauz about Dr. Jerry Che who created her as a robotic sex partner. Maybe Dr. Che has also survived the plague, thanks to Rackenfauz's vaccines. He could be on the west coast. Star wants to find Che immediately and have Winston converted to full functionality, but Winston wants to finish the mission to overthrow Fascista Ultimo first.

They retrieve the head and return to Mech City. In a climatic battle, they defeat Fascista Ultimo. But Ajax has severe problems with his reattached head. Hailed as a hero, Winston agrees to serve as "interim mayor." Once Ajax is fully recovered, Winston promises to travel westward with Star to find Dr. Che.

Now, read further . . . .

# One: Fugitives

1. A Hot Time in Mech City

Devil's Night, 12 years prior

The mob flowed toward the REX hotel bristling with fire, a tide of destruction vomiting down the street. Hatred contorted every man's face, and barbecue murder surged within every heart. They paused before the derelict hotel's entrance with its sign:

Holy Temple of the Transcendent Vision

"Come on!" someone shouted, "What are we waiting for?"

"Let's burn the sons of bitches out!"

The hundred-strong crowd began moving again, torches held high.

"Hold it right there!"

A beefy police captain approached, brandishing a nightstick. A phalanx of uniformed patrolmen shoved the mob back.

"Get rid of them torches," the police captain said, "or I'll bust your heads wide open."

He smacked the nightstick against a palm to emphasize the point. The mob retreated, tossing their incendiary devices into the gutter where they hissed into smoky death.

A grin of fierce satisfaction spread across the captain's face. "That's better, gentlemen. Now – "

A boy exited the REX hotel, moving into the disturbance with steely composure. A wave of cold preceded him, much worse than the chill evening air. Everyone shrank back. Even the captain lost his self-confidence for a moment.

Then a tall woman with frizzy red hair exited the hotel to stand beside the boy. Beneath the dim street lights she appeared ghastly pale. To the onlookers, it seemed as if alien beings had arrived, or that the earth had cracked open to reveal terrible mysteries.

The mob began to shake off its astonishment. "There's the little creep!"

The 13-year-old "messiah" stood barefoot on the pavement wearing nothing but shorts and a T-shirt, as he'd doffed his ceremonial robe moments before. He was thin, with stringy brown hair, in no way physically imposing. But his eyes flickered with an eerie light that compelled and frightened.

Other Visionists swarmed out of the hotel, gathering around him – men and women, even a few children, about forty in all. Things held in the balance. The police captain stepped into the vacuum.

"Everybody stay calm!"

The chief acolyte – a tall, thin man with fanatical eyes of his own – spoke to his messiah. "What shall we do, Father?"

The boy scanned the mob contemptuously, hands on hips. Somebody flung a rock at him, but the red-haired woman batted it away.

"Enough of that!" the police captain roared.

He confronted the rock thrower, nightstick raised. The thrower skittered to the center of the mob.

"That police captain is demanding more protection money," the messiah said in a low voice.

"The unbeliever!" snarled the chief acolyte.

"If we can't pay, we'll be cremated next time," the messiah said. "I wouldn't put it past him to whip up a mob himself."

"Then let us unleash holy war."

The messiah calculated the odds. A holy war at this time could have but one outcome – the destruction of himself and all his believers. Everything he'd struggled for during the past year would be lost, his sacred mission dragged into the dust. It was high time for a vision, a little 'holy deception.'

The messiah smacked a hand against his forehead and extended the other one toward the dark heavens. "I see it all!"

Off in that vastness, an airliner was passing by, lights flashing. His followers pressed in like groupies around a rock star.

"What is it, Father?"

"A divine message!"

"What vision do you comprehend?" the chief acolyte implored. "Tell us, and we will obey."

"Get a load of that punk," someone in the mob sneered.

"I tried to 'comprehend' his vision once," another man said, "but I couldn't get my head that far up my ass."

"Silence, infidels!" The chief acolyte roared.

He took threatening steps toward the loud mouths. He was not a physically powerful man, but the insane rage in his eyes frightened his tormentors. They shrank back as if the very devil was confronting them.

The police captain interposed his bulk between the adversaries. Uniformed officers flanked him, reinforcing his authority. "All right, fellas, everybody calm down!"

He patted the nightstick against his palm with an assurance that indicated he wouldn't mind cracking a skull or two.

"Be at peace, brother," the messiah called to his acolyte. "Those lost ones know not what they are saying."

The chief acolyte returned to his leader and fell upon his knees, enjoying the pain of impact on the concrete. "What is your command, Father?"

The messiah waved his followers in close. They stood around him now like a demonic football team in a huddle.

"We must depart from these unbelievers," he said in a harsh whisper. "They are not worthy of our continued presence."

"Amen!" his followers cried.

Somebody in the crowd belched.

"All right, show's over," the captain said. "Everybody go home, before I start making arrests."

The crowd dispersed, grumbling. Already its leaders were planning another assault. Next time they would not fail; they would cleanse Mech City of this unholy menace.

* * *

Later that night, the cult members slipped out of the REX back door carrying an array of luggage, including a spear-like staff from which their standard hung limp – the all-seeing eye leering out of its crimson cloud. They huddled in the alley, shivering beneath the drizzle.

Their messiah emerged, wearing his ceremonial robe. He walked purposefully down the alley, looking straight ahead. The others fell in behind him. They continued on for parts unknown.

Mech City was rid of them at last, but their great historic role was just beginning.

2. Retreat to Pickle Lake

8 months prior

The biker gang arrived at the upland parking area one step ahead of the plague. The city from where they'd come was in its death throes, but they were still fit – forty men, along with their women.

Jeff, their leader, dismounted his bike and stood alone with hands on hips. His colors leered defiance at the surrounding mountain peaks.

Well, we're here.

The gang was an amalgam of Jeff's old crew and a dozen others from a different club. Both outfits had been decimated by the plague and had put aside their rivalries to combine forces. Jeff only agreed to take on the others if they recognized him as sole leader. They all had the same skull-motif tattoo on their forearms now, but their alliance was an uneasy one.

Pam, his old lady, joined him. Together they walked to some concrete steps. A metal sign next to them read:

Trail to the Castle

"You got us here," Pam said. "Just like you told us you would."

Jeff grinned at the admiration in her voice. He wrapped an arm over Pam's shoulders and kissed her forehead. Then Brad came and spoiled the moment.

"What's next, Chief?"

Jeff fixed a glower on him, the one he used to intimidate subordinates. It had the desired effect. Brad shrank back a little and diverted his eyes, a second-tier dog acknowledging the alpha male.

"I'm taking up a recon force," Jeff said. "I'm going to need a half dozen of your guys to go with us."

"Uh huh." A hint of disapproval edged Brad's voice.

"You got a problem with that?"

Brad held out his hands. "No prob. What about the rest of us?"

"Stay down here. Watch the bikes and women."

"Got it."

Brad moved off.

"He's creepy," Pam said.

"Mmm." Jeff wasn't fond of him either, but Brad led the newcomers and had to be given lieutenant status in the combined gang. Maybe he'd need a comeuppance down the road.

* * *

Jeff ascended the steepening path to Pickle Lake Castle. His brothers flanked him in the dead woods alongside the trail, and Brad's crew worked point. Thirty men in total, all heavily armed.

Jeff disliked leaving Brad in charge at the trailhead but had decided to take the risk. He needed a big force to do the initial reconnaissance. His idea of riding out the plague in the mountain castle was a good one, and someone else might have come up with it, too. If others occupied the place, they might need some persuading to leave.

Besides, half of Brad's men were included in the force, subject to Jeff's oversight. Brad was loyal to his own brothers and would think twice about making any unauthorized moves.

Up ahead, greenery was taking over from the brown forest. Saplings mingled with the dead wood and wildflowers poked through the underbrush.

Maybe it'll be better up here than I thought.

A brother offered a water bottle. "Want some?"

"Yeah, thanks."

Jeff brought the bottle to his lips. From the corner of his eye, he spotted a gaunt face peering at him from behind a tree trunk. Its hair was a wild, frizzy red.

What the hell?

A burst of automatic weapon fire took down the brothers on either side of him. Blood splattered over Jeff's colors. He hit the ground.

Wahoooo! Wahoooo! O-uoo!

A mass of human scarecrows emerged from behind the trees and rushed them.

"Fire!"

Jeff and his men blasted away. As the final unarmed attacker hit the ground, more automatic weapons fire sliced into the gang from the trees; grenades exploded. Jeff's brothers screamed as bullets and shrapnel tore their bodies. Brad's crew was blown to pieces.

Jeff hugged the ground, returning fire. _We've got to outflank those bastards._

He was preparing to move when a ghastly sight riveted him in place. Hovering above the carnage, a vast, reddish eye pulsed. A wave of absolute evil penetrated Jeff's mind. His jaw dropped and his bladder gave way.

Next thing he knew, he was running downhill amid the panicked survivors.

* * *

Brad stood by the concrete stairs listening to the mayhem coming from above. Tom jogged over to him from the bikes.

"Should we check it out?"

Brad gritted his teeth. "The _big man_ told us to stay put."

"What about our guys up there?"

"It's on Jeff, if anything's happened to them."

Minutes of tense waiting passed, punctuated by further gunfire and explosions. Then came the racket of feet pounding through the woods above. Jeff exploded from the trees and charged down the stairs, almost knocking over Brad and Tom. Nine men followed, none of them from Brad's crew.

"Hey!" Brad shouted. "What about my brothers?"

Jeff paid no attention. He'd already jumped on his bike and was roaring off. Except for Brad's surviving crew, everyone was leaving. Women scrambled to take any available seat.

Fuck!

Brad wanted to blast the cowardly sons of bitches with his assault rifle. Instead, he fired a burst into the _Trail to the Castle_ sign. The situation was clearly hopeless. Whoever had kicked Jeff's ass on the slopes would be coming after them next, and a half dozen guys stood no chance.

"Let's go!"

They dashed toward the bikes. There were plenty of empty ones now, with abandoned women milling about screaming and crying for their lost men.

Brad fired up his bike and started to roll. Two women jumped on the back and crowded into him. The enemy appeared at the steps and began shooting. Bullets whizzed about. The women fell of Brad's bike. He did not stop for them.

# Two: The New Order Wilts

3. The Winston Horvath Regime

Present day

For seven weeks, since the overthrow of Fascista Ultimo, Winston Horvath had ruled Mech City with an iron hand. Actually, it was made of titanium alloy and plastic composites, but the metaphor still applied.

His tenure as "interim mayor" had been one of increasing authoritarianism marked by suppression of anyone who refused to get with the program. How this state of affairs evolved was a mystery to him. One day he was the darling of the revolution, loved by everyone. Then, by degrees, he'd morphed into a despot – someone immune to error who could tolerate no disagreement.

_Well, what of it?_ he thought.

Stern measures were needed to whip things into shape. Besides, this was only a temporary state of affairs, as he kept telling everybody. And the glorious results of his rule were everywhere to behold.

Winston stood at the window of his office in the refurbished REX hotel, gazing dramatically over the city, _his_ city. One hand rested on a hip while his intelligent face tried to look hard and dramatic. He was a blue Humanite model robot with the golden Mayor's Medallion hanging around his neck. His battle scars were filled in and concealed beneath a fresh paint job. Red highlights ran along the outsides of his legs, in the style of a Nazi field marshal's trouser stripes.

He placed his hands on the window sill. "The humans had their Winston ... Churchill. Why shouldn't we have ours?"

He'd brought order and discipline out of the chaos. Everyone had work now; work made them free. Under Winston's guidance, the dreaded Che Syndrome was held at bay. Nobody committed suicide any more, and scrapper gangs gave the town a wide berth.

The city was receiving a face lift, starting with the new _Palace of His Excellency the Mayor_. This structure would cast in stone the unbreakable bond between the citizens of Mech City and their great leader – hero of the battle against Fascist tyranny – Winston Horvath!

Later today, Winston would visit the construction site, after he'd studied the report submitted by Jimmy, the chief foreman. Jimmy was a "damn good fellow," but he neglected the political aspects of his job. All he ever talked about was prosaic technical stuff. He lacked ideological flair.

Winston turned toward his massive desk with its _Excellency the Mayor_ placard standing sentry on its leading edge. His movements were smooth and decisive as he crossed the distance between the window and his seat of power. He settled into the great leather-clad chair and flipped open the folder containing Jimmy's report.

"Ah yes, another day of toil on behalf of my people."

* * *

Across town, at the Robotics Development Institute, another day of repair work was underway. Every table in the main workshop held a casualty from the battle that had wrenched Mech City away from the Fascista Ultimo dictatorship.

Repair technician bots, Jack and Quincy, worked on the prime casualty – Iridium, a canid robot the size of a timber wolf with a lustrous coat that constantly shifted color under the workshop lights. So vivid were these flowing colors the repair bots had to wear sunglasses as they worked.

Laboring without proper schematics, they had followed a meticulous process of trial-and-error component replacement, and their efforts were finally paying off. They were both "metal man" designs who'd been persecuted by the Roboto Fascist regime. Winston Horvath had changed all that when he'd overthrown the dictatorship. Things were better now... weren't they?

"I think we're about finished with you, Iridium," Jack said.

He switched off the analyzer device he'd been studying and raised his sunglasses.

"That's right, old boy," Quincy said."We'll do your final mobility tests this afternoon."

"Thanks," Iridium said. "You guys are the greatest!"

Jack and Quincy exchanged nervous glances, then looked toward the two mech wolves observing them balefully from a corner. The ferocious creatures, knock offs of the Iridium design, had been posted here by Mayor Winston to "provide assistance as required."

What kind of assistance could anyone expect from these primitive machines? Every casualty sprawled on a workbench had been put there by these mech wolves and their comrades during the Battle of Heroes' Square.

"Don't let Winston hear you talk like that, Iridium," Jack said in a hushed voice.

"Yeah, he's got the corner on being 'the greatest,'" Quincy said.

Star Power glanced over from a table across the room where she worked on another damaged robot. A warm beam followed her gaze, and it accompanied her as she walked toward Iridium and the repair bots. The head of every casualty on the tables turned to follow her, drawn by her incredible loveliness – so apparent even to the asexual metal men.

Star's light brown skin, almond eyes, and long, dark hair referenced universal concepts of beauty. Her voluptuous figure moved seductively as she walked. She was the most human-like of all the robots.

She arrived at Iridium's table and stroked the great canid's head. "How do you feel, Iri?"

"In the pink, Star. Considering I'm made up mostly of recycled parts from mech wolf wrecks."

Star laughed. The melodious sound complemented her low and seductive speaking voice.

"It would have been better to transfer Iri's brain unit into a healthy mech wolf body," Quincy said, "but that type of surgery is beyond our skill set, I'm afraid."

"Yeah," Jack said, "he's constructed much different than the usual robot. If we disconnected the brain, there'd be no telling if we could hook it up again."

"I think you boys did just fine," Star said.

She kissed Iridium's head. The great canid melted at the contact and began purring like a gigantic kitten. Jack and Quincy took a step back.

"That sound always gives me the shudders," Jack whispered.

"You hang in there, Iri, okay?" Star said.

"Right-o," Iridium said, stopping his infernal purring.

"Maybe you should take things easy for a while," Jack said.

"Yeah, enjoy life after everything you've been through," Quincy said. "Hang out, smell the flowers, if you can find any."

Iridium shook his head. "I'm going out of my brain unit with boredom. Right after my tests, I'm seeing the mayor about my security chief job."

Again, Jack and Quincy exchanged glances, including Star in their unease this time.

"Are you _sure_ you want to do that?" Quincy asked. "I mean, things have changed a lot since you were wrecked."

"Why not?" Iridium asked. "I was promised the position as soon as I was well enough to take over. Didn't you just say that I'm fully recovered?"

"Well... yeah," Jack said. "Of course, something might turn up in the final tests."

"Not likely," Iridium said. "I feel great. My internal diagnostics would tell me if I wasn't fit."

An awkward silence followed. Jack and Quincy diverted their optical sensors toward the floor.

"Why don't you let me speak to Winston first?" Star said.

Iridium studied the worried faces of the two-legged robots hovering over him. He didn't like what he saw. "Okay, Star."

4. Unexpected Visitors

Star poked her head into the Mayor's office and observed Winston at his desk, poring over some papers. He rubbed his chin with that scholarly gesture so characteristic of him, and feelings she'd almost forgotten surged anew.

An avalanche of memories transported her back to a simpler time when Winston was her hero. When he'd protected her against Fascista Ultimo and been her great comrade in arms. All others despaired, but Winston had fought on until the Roboto Fascist dictatorship crashed down.

A sad, nostalgic smile moved across her face. Pangs of love assailed her heart. Then Winston straightened his shoulders in that new, arrogant manner of his and the moment passed. A bitter expression twisted Star's mouth. She rapped her knuckles on the door frame. Winston looked up from his desk.

"Hail, Exalted Mayor," she said with a slight bow.

"Ah, Star, so good to see you!"

He rose and crossed the room.

"Might I request an audience, Exalted Mayor?"

"Forget the ceremonial gab. I'm just plain old Winston, remember?"

"Really?"

He took both her hands into his own. The communicator which controlled the mech wolf guards dangled from his left wrist. "Of course I am."

"I wish you'd show me more of that old Winston. I really miss him."

"Ah, forgive me. So many responsibilities I have these days. I scarcely recognize myself sometimes." He gestured around the imposing environs. "But all this is only temporary, until Ajax is back in shape. You know that, Star."

She nodded, unconvinced.

Winston grasped her hands again. "It's been ages. What can I do for you, Star?"

"Well, it's about Iri."

Winston's manner became tense, cautious. He withdrew his hands. "What about Iri?"

"I spoke to him at the RDI today. He's doing much better."

"So glad to hear that," Winston said without apparent interest.

"Yes, of course." Winston's abrupt coldness unsettled her. "Anyway, he told me he feels ready to take over the security chief job, as you promised him."

"I see. And what did Jack and Quincy think?"

"Well, they thought – "

Iridium strolled into the office with his customary swaggering confidence, as if he owned everything he surveyed. Winston stiffened.

"Here's Iri now," Star said. "He can explain better than I can."

"Iridium!" Winston was all smiles. "So glad to see you're up and around."

"Hi, pal. Good to see you, too."

"I've been meaning to visit you, but city business sucks up all my time."

"Yeah, a lot of things suck these days," Iridium said.

Star stroked the great canid's head. "How did the tests go, dearie?"

"Great. I'm feeling almost factory fresh."

Winston displayed a singular lack of enthusiasm at this report. "Quincy and Jack are getting better at their repair work all the time, aren't they?"

"Right, but speedy they ain't," Iridium replied.

Winston returned to his desk and sat down, careful to keep his left wrist hidden. "So, what can I do for you, Iridium?"

"I'm reporting for duty as security chief. As per our agreement."

"Yes, well... I'm afraid there's a bit of a problem there, old chap."

"Problem?"

Winston fiddled with the communication device strapped to his wrist. Four mech wolves crept in from the adjacent room.

"Yes, quite."

The mech wolves closed in on Iridium, teeth bared and metallic growls rumbling in their chests. The hairs of their gray coats stood on end.

"Oh!" Star cried.

"No need to be alarmed," Winston said. "Please remain calm."

"What's going on?" Iridium demanded.

Winston shrugged apologetically. "You see, the mech wolf guards have become used to my way of doing things. A change right now would upset them."

Iridium surveyed the wall of razor teeth and malevolent yellow eyes surrounding him. "OK, pal. I get the picture."

"I'm certain things will be different once Ajax becomes mayor," Winston said. "It's only a temporary situation. You do understand?"

"Yeah, right."

Iridium walked toward the door. As he passed Star, he commented in a low voice. "That guy's turning into another Fascista Ultimo."

Star looked daggers at the Exalted Mayor. "Ohhh, it's times like this I really hate you!"

Winston raised his open hands. "I have important work to do. Sometimes, I have to disappoint others."

"You've certainly disappointed me!"

She turned to go.

"Star, wait..."

She stomped out the door leaving Winston alone at his desk baffled and unhappy. He stood and resumed his solitary post at the window.

"Nobody understands me. This must be the price of greatness."

5. Ajax Debuts

Late afternoon sunshine glared through Winston's open door, thrusting dramatic rays across his desk as he studied the construction update report.

The sky was uncharacteristically bright, but the report was not. In it, Jimmy expressed again his deep misgivings about the government quarter building project, especially the _Palace of His Excellency the Mayor._

"Hmm." Winston stroked his chin. "I've heard all this before. What's that old expression? 'A broken record.'"

Jimmy's report overflowed with dreary specifics. It spoke of inadequate materials and transport, problems with drainage, labor shortages, insufficient foundational strength, etc. etc. All the things that got in the way of truly grand endeavors.

Winston shoved the papers aside with disgust. Later, he'd visit Jimmy and explain the political importance of the building project. He'd tell the prosaic construction foreman how all obstacles must be overcome to provide Mech City with government buildings worthy of its greatness. He'd emphasize how merely practical considerations were not the most important things, how –

A shadow spread across the desk.

Winston jerked his head up to see Ajax towering in the doorway. The bronze robot dominated the office with his powerful 2.35 meters of height. The noble Greek warrior head turned to scan the environs; his eyes flashed. The effect would be terrifying were it not for the great intelligence and rectitude shining from those eyes. The comic book hero Ajax was designed to replicate would be proud to see his manifestation.

Winston stood and tried to conceal his unpleasant surprise. "Ajax! How good to see you."

"Greetings, Interim Mayor." Ajax made a slight bow. "May I enter?"

"Yes, please do."

Ajax covered the distance to Winston's desk with a few long paces. Winston suppressed a panicky urge to flee.

"So, how are you feeling, Ajax?"

"Quite well, thank you, Interim Mayor."

"You can drop the formality. My friends call me _W. H."_

"Certainly... W. H."

This rather unsettled Ajax. Didn't Fascista Ultimo ask his 'friends' to address him by his initials?

"My internal diagnostics indicate I am back to 98.4% of designed capability."

"Is that so?" Winston said.

"Yes. I feel quite capable of assuming my duties as mayor."

Winston's hand grasped the medallion hanging around his neck. "And what about the mech birds?"

"They all remain deactivated, per your instructions, Interim Mayor."

Winston dampened a smile of relief. The mech birds were dangerous Ajax loyalists. Who knew what mischief they might cook up if they became active again?

"Glad to hear that," Winston said. "We'll have to find some sort worthwhile activity for them down the road."

Ajax nodded. His posture conveyed expectant tension, but Winston pretended not to notice.

"I believe you are occupying my desk, W. H." Ajax held out a massive palm. "And please hand over that medallion."

Winston recoiled. "Certainly, all in due time."

"Due time? But I am prepared now."

"Yes, of course. Uh, please excuse me a moment."

Winston turned away from his gigantic visitor and mumbled into his wrist radio.

Moments later, four mech wolves appeared at the door along with Comrade Drone – the idiot valet robot nearly as massive as Ajax. His blank face conveyed nothing but dumb obedience. Ajax appeared not to notice the new arrivals, but Winston drew confidence from their presence.

He turned squarely toward Ajax. "I'm concerned that you're not quite 100% yet. Does your head still try to act independently?"

"Only on extremely rare occasions, but I have things firmly under control."

"Uh huh."

Comrade Drone closed in. Despite his enormous bulk, he moved silently on shock absorbered legs. The mech wolves followed in his wake.

"Why don't you rest a while longer, Ajax?" Winston said. "Just until you're really in the pink."

"But, I am 'in the pink' now. Whatever that is supposed to mean."

Comrade Drone and the mech wolves crept up beside Ajax. He noticed their presence, at last. "What the hell!"

"Oh, come now, Ajax," Winston said. "Hell is a human concept – hardly applicable here."

"This is an outrage!"

"Please don't feel that way. I'm only acting in the best interests of all concerned – including you."

Comrade Drone grasped Ajax's elbow. The mech wolves surround him. Despite his great power and bulk, Ajax was no match for the forces arrayed against him.

"Shall we go, Ajay?" Winston asked.

Ajax drew himself up to his full stature. "As the _interim_ mayor wishes."

They exited the office suite and climbed the main staircase. Two mech wolves and Comrade Drone led the "honor guard." Winston and the other two wolves brought up the rear. Ajax walked with stately grace, as if he was receiving some great honor instead of heading for internment.

_What a deuce of a fine fellow!_ Winston thought. _Too bad we can't use him._

On the penthouse level, the group halted before a solid steel door with a barred window.

"Your old cell, I mean apartment, is still available," Winston said.

Comrade Drone swung the door open to reveal a large room with a heavily barred window. The décor was neat, but very Spartan, as befitted a robot modeled on a Greek warrior hero.

"See? I've had it redecorated," Winston said.

"Yes, the new bars are lovely," Ajax replied.

He entered the cell, projecting as much dignity as possible under the circumstances. Comrade Drone shut the door behind him and locked it. Winston peered in through the tiny window.

"Let us know if you need anything, Ajay. Bye for now."

Winston and his crew departed, leaving Ajax standing alone and infuriated in his cell.

"I hate being called 'Ajay!'"

6. Mr. Popularity

The next morning, Comrade Drone delivered a note from Star. In it she asked Winston to meet her at the fountain park. He was delighted to oblige.

This was the same little park where they'd strolled together on his first night in Mech City. It was a locale attended by fond memories. Star must want to make up with him for her outburst the other day.

"Women can be so over emotional at times," Winston observed as he walked the half kilometer to the park. "One must make allowances."

Four mech wolf guards trailed a discreet distance behind. Winston disliked bringing his full escort, as observers might conclude he lacked confidence. But with Iridium lurking around, it didn't hurt to be cautious.

I should have given Iridium a guest suite at the REX.

He'd planned to do just that, but Star's presence had deterred him from this reasonable course. Women could be so impractical.

Iridium would have to come to an understanding of his true place in the New Order and dismiss any foolish notions about commanding the Security Service. Winston would make it up with him. He'd offer the canid some grandiose, though powerless, position with a fancy title – _Special Assistant to the Mayor_ , or something.

Winston entered the park to find Star seated on the edge of the fountain, the identical spot where they'd first exchanged their deepest confidences. A rush of nostalgic affection throbbed in Winston's circuits. He envisioned Star jumping to her feet and rushing into his arms. Everything would be forgiven and...

But she just sat glowering at him. The repaired fountain gurgled pleasantly behind her, but her mood was not bubbly.

"I can't believe you locked up Ajax!" she said.

Winston pushed away his keen disappointment. "How good to see you again, Star."

He waited for an invitation to sit down, but none came. He moved awkwardly to stand beside her. A wave of cold emanated from her mechanism.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" she demanded.

"Please, Star, try to understand. It's for Ajax's own good. You know how badly he acted before."

Star snorted, an astonishing noise Winston had never heard before. He took a step back.

"Ajax has made a wonderful comeback since then," Star said. "He wouldn't report for duty if he couldn't handle it."

Winston shrugged and waggled his fingers in the fountain water. It flowed cool and inviting on his agitated temperature sensors. "I don't question Ajax's sincerity, but by his own admission he's not 100% recovered yet."

"He's plenty good enough. You know that as well as I do."

Winston shrugged. "We'll just have to see."

"So, what's the next step, reassemble Clawfurt?"

"You know, I've been giving that some thought," Winston said. "He could be useful to – "

Star shot to her feet and confronted Winston. The mech wolves drew closer. "This has to stop!"

Winston's hand reached for her, meaning to brush her aside as it had so many others, but he managed to restrain it. The mech wolf guards were close now, fangs bared and growls rumbling in their chest speakers. Winston made a slight gesture and the mech wolves backed off, frustration glowing in their savage eyes.

"I'm sorry you don't understand," he said, "but I cannot avoid my destiny."

"So, what is your destiny, become another Fascista Ultimo?"

"Certainly not! Of course... he did have a few good points."

Disgust shot across Star's face. She turned her back.

"I'm nothing like F. U.," Winston said. "The people love me."

Star spun back around. "People? We're all robots, in case you haven't noticed."

"A matter of semantics." Winston waved a dismissive hand. "Didn't you say yourself that we're evolving?"

"Like _this_? We were better off before."

"Just go ask anyone how they feel about me," Winston said. "You'll see."

A malicious smile that Winston had never seen before oozed across Star's features. "All right, you're on."

"Okay... if that's what it'll take to convince you, let's go solicit some opinions."

"Shall we start at the RDI?" Star's voice was calm, ingenuous. "You should have lots of admirers there."

"Certainly, why not?" Winston said.

* * *

Their walk across town to the Robotics Development Institute was quiet and grim. Star kept her thoughts to herself, and Winston knew better than to add fuel to her obvious upset. The streets were empty, as all the available manpower was devoted to constructing the new mayor's palace.

She'll understand soon enough. Then things will go back to being nice again between us.

He began to feel more confident walking beside her. Warm recollections bubbled up from his memory banks. They'd been through so much together. He could have never made it this far without her devoted support. So, why had he scarcely given her a thought the past month? A pang of regret entered Winston's consciousness.

Well, that would all change as soon as this misunderstanding was cleared up. She'd come back to him once she realized his true greatness, his profound love for the people and their love for him.

His confidence increased as they entered the largest of the Institute buildings and moved along the corridor to the main workshop. How things had changed since he'd first trod this route with his former master and her nephew three and a half years ago!

What were those humans' names again? ... Oh yes, Dr. Horvath and little Charles. How silly of me to forget.

They neared the main workshop door. Star spoke at last. "Why don't you leave your goon squad out here?"

"Goon squad?"

Star gestured to the mech wolves.

"They... you see, I'm so used to having them around," Winston said.

"Do you want honest answers or not?"

"Well..."

"Look, Winston, I don't have time for this. And I'm beginning to think I don't have time for you."

She started walking back toward the lobby.

"Okay, wait," Winston said.

He pointed to a spot next to the wall. The mech wolves skulked toward it and sat on their haunches.

"Satisfied?" Winston said.

"Call the ones from the workshop out here, too."

"Sure thing."

Star walked alone into the workshop. Quincy and Jack were busy on the far side repairing a damaged robot. Around the big room, on all the other tables, lay more damaged machines. It was a depressingly familiar sight.

"Star!" Quincy said. "Great to see you."

"How's Iri doing?" Jack said.

"He's fine, as far as I know. He's been keeping a low profile."

"That's not surprising, after the way Winston double crossed him."

Star glanced toward the door. "Well, that's another matter."

"Can you help us today?" Jack said. "As you can see, we've still got a huge backlog,"

"But now that Iridium is finalized, we'll be able to make faster progress," Quincy added.

"Sure, boys, but we've got some other business to take care of first."

Star returned to the doorway and stuck her head out into the hall. Winston was speaking into his wrist communicator. At his command, the mech wolf "assistants" left their workshop posts and brushed past Star on their way out.

"Where are they going?" Quincy asked.

"Who cares?" Jack said, "as long as it isn't here."

The six creatures lay down together in the corridor like a pack of lethal puppy dogs.

"Jack and Quincy are ready for you, now," Star said.

"Certainly."

Winston approached the door alone. He felt oddly vulnerable without his mech wolf escort, but submerged his unease under a jovial demeanor. He entered the workshop sporting his best politician's smile.

"Hi, boys," he said. "How's it going?"

The repair bots stiffened and took a step backwards.

"Uh, we're okay. I guess," Jack said.

"Is something wrong, Exalted Mayor?" Quincy asked.

"Not at all. I've just come to see if you're happy today."

Quincy and Jack nodded dumbly.

"Of course we're happy," Quincy said. "Why wouldn't we be?"

"I mean to say, are you pleased with the way I'm running Mech City?"

The repair bots looked around for mech wolves, saw none. They glanced toward Star. She nodded encouragement.

"Do you want our true opinion?" Jack said.

Winston crossed his arms and smiled confidently toward Star. "That's right, give it to me straight, boys."

Jack and Quincy drew themselves up and shouted in unison: "YOU STINK, WINSTON!"

Winston recoiled, as from a physical blow. "W-what?"

The robot lying on the workbench raised its head. "Yeah, YOU STINK, WINSTON!"

Every sentient robot in the workshop, even the partially disassembled ones, joined the chorus. "YOU STINK, WINSTON!"

Winston stumbled backwards, nearly falling over. He looked into Star's face, hoping to find sympathy, saw only hard determination there.

"Shall we go, _Mr. Popularity_?"

Star gripped his arm and led Winston out of the workshop.

7. Heroes' Square Debacle

Jimmy, the construction foreman, scrutinized the new mayor's palace rising on the edge of Heroes' Square like some alien life form. Seventy robots labored amid its jumble of marble and steel. The only machinery in evidence was a crane type device fashioned from components of the former Clawfurt villain robot. A large sign read:

Future site of Winston Horvath Government Plaza

Jimmy was a construction model robot two meters high and possessed of great physical strength. His advanced brain unit contained all manner of knowledge gained from years of working on building and renovation projects – first with the human masters and later with Boss Winston Horvath.

He admired the Boss, but every iota of his knowledge and experience cried out against this unworkable project. Well, if the Boss wanted it, Jimmy would have to try, no matter how absurd the effort was.

An expression of deep perplexity attended Jimmy's face. It darkened as he viewed the great bomb crater with its fetid pond sprawling behind the building site – a huge disfigurement that he was supposed to fill in somehow.

He'd told the Boss that a water diversion project would work much better – channel the nearby river through the crater and flush out the stagnant water. Then, a small dam would back up the river into a robot-made lake.

"That's all well and good, Jimmy," the Boss had said, "but we need more dry land for the government plaza. Such building plans I have!"

Jimmy rotated toward the entrance of the square, a hundred meters off, where the great wooden statue towered on its pedestal three and a half meters high in total.

Before the revolt, the statue had portrayed Fascista Ultimo. It had been remodeled into a replica of Winston Horvath, complete with an oversized Mayor's medallion hanging around its neck. Quincy and Jack had provided the finishing touches. The end result was very unique.

Sam, the assistant foreman, approached. Like Jimmy, he was a powerful construction model. "How's it going?"

Jimmy shook his head. "I don't understand the Boss sometimes. He turned down every one of the recommendations in my report."

"What did you recommend?"

"I told him..." Jimmy glanced around warily for mech wolves. A dozen beasts circulated about the square, but none appeared to be in earshot. He lowered his voice, anyway. "I told him this entire project should be cancelled."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, that would be for the best."

"I don't want to doubt the Boss. I made that mistake before. Still..."

Glorious recollections about the square emerged from Jimmy's memory banks – this honored ground where the climactic struggle against Fascista Ultimo had taken place. When the Boss, whom everyone had considered a traitor, suddenly returned and rallied them to victory. When Jimmy and his men had stood proudly beside their leader and battled the very mech wolves that were now keeping them in check.

What had happened since then?

Jimmy was not given to philosophical ramblings, but he couldn't escape the dreary insight that he was Winston's last remaining friend in Mech City. And maybe Sam, and maybe Star.

"We've got visitors," Sam said.

Winston and Star were entering the square. Instantly all doubts vanished from Jimmy's mind, replaced with unswerving loyalty and respect. He turned his back on the building site and snapped to attention.

"Boss!" he cried. "I mean, W. H."

Winston and Star covered the last meters to the construction robots.

"Hello, Jimmy, Sam," Winston said, "please be at ease."

"Yes, sir!"

Jimmy moved one foot to the side and clasped his massive hands behind his back, military style.

"What brings you out here, W.H.?" Sam asked.

"I wanted to have a word with the boys. Please assemble them."

"Sure thing," Jimmy said. "Come on Sam."

The foremen ran off toward the building site. Star gestured to the communicator on Winston's wrist. "Hadn't you better reign the mech wolves in?"

"Of course."

Winston spoke into the communicator. The mech wolves circulating about the square all moved to the periphery and lay down.

"You'll see, Star," Winston said. "These are _my_ guys. All of them worked with me on the REX project. You'll find out how much they love me."

The words rang a bit hollow, even in Winston's auditory units. The triumphant expression Star had worn at the RDI changed to a melancholy, almost pitying smile.

"Yes, we'll find out," she said.

The whole work crew approached, herded along by Jimmy and Sam. Unlike earlier days when casual banter was their style, nobody spoke or called out a greeting.

_They must be exhausted,_ Winston thought, _I'll have to tell Jimmy not to work them so hard._

"Line up in ranks, men," Jimmy commanded.

The workers assembled into five rows. Winston swelled with pride to see them. Here they were, all gainfully employed thanks to him, displaying excellent discipline and order. Winston strode up before them and placed his fists on both hips.

"I'll make this brief, guys. I'm only here to solicit your frank opinions."

The workers' optical sensors swiveled off toward the distant mech wolves, then back toward Winston.

"All I want is for you to tell me how you feel about my leadership as your mayor."

Nervous shuffling.

"It's all right boys," Winston said, "feel free to speak your minds."

Time held still for a moment as the workers gathered themselves to express a single, merciless judgment:

"YOU STINK, WINSTON!"

The words battered Winston like a storm surge against a wrecked ship. He staggered under their brutal power.

"That's no way to talk to the Boss!" Jimmy said.

"YOU STINK, WINSTON!" seventy speaker units roared again.

"All right, you've had your say," Jimmy said. "Back to work, everybody."

The grumbling workers shuffled back toward the building site, leaving Jimmy and Sam behind. Winston fought to recover his equilibrium. Not since the death of his former master and young Charles had he received such a direct shock.

"Are you okay?" Star asked.

"N-no, I'm not."

Every circuit thrummed. Winston's mechanism began to shake; soon he would be out of control, rattling himself to pieces. Star wrapped her arms around him.

"Hang on, baby," she whispered in his left auditory sensor. "I'm with you."

The horrible trembling ceased.

"I'm sorry, Boss," Jimmy said, "but that's how they truly feel. I..."

He lowered his head toward the paving stones. His face expressed more sadness than seemed possible for a "metal man" robot.

"Yes that's pretty obvious," Winston said.

Sam added a final blow. "If it wasn't for the mech wolf guards, all the workers would have quit already."

"Begging your pardon, Boss," Jimmy said, "but this whole project is nuts."

"Yes, well, uh... let's take the rest of day off, shall we?"

"Sure thing, Boss."

Jimmy and Sam moved off to the building site. Winston stood alone with Star, gazing across the stagnant water. He felt as blasted as that bomb crater.

How could things have gone so wrong?

"You've got the rest of the day off," Jimmy announced to the worker crew, "courtesy of the Boss."

The workers threw down their tools and stomped away _en masse_ , shoving past their foremen.

"It would appear employee morale is somewhat low," Winston observed.

The workers trooped past Winston without so much as a glance his direction. They approached the exit of the square by the statue.

"Let's send him a message, boys!" somebody shouted.

The workers swarmed around the statue, throwing their massed strength against it. Someone produced a cable. They wrapped it around Winston's edifice and pulled. Shouts and laughter echoed around the square.

"Hey, stop that!" Jimmy yelled.

The construction foreman hefted a sledgehammer and bore down on the vandals.

"It's okay, Jimmy!" Winston called. "Leave them alone, please."

Jimmy lowered his weapon.

_CRACK!_ The heroic statue broke off at the knees. _THUD!_ It tumbled onto the paving stones.

"Oh, my!" Star moaned.

"Forget it," Winston said. "I deserved that."

8. Rejection Promenade

The retreat to the REX Hotel dragged on mercilessly. Had he been alone, Winston would have crumpled to the pavement under his burden of disgrace. But Star's firm grip on his arm kept him upright and moving beneath a leaden sky that glowered contempt upon him.

A robot poked his head out of a second-story window. "You stink, Winston!"

"Shut up already!" Star yelled back.

Her anger, and the presence of the snarling mech wolf escort deterred further comment from the loud mouth. He withdrew from the window and banged it shut. The street became silent again.

"It appears I'm not quite as popular as I once thought," Winston said.

"Pay no attention to that idiot," Star said.

She wanted to comfort Winston more, utter loving words, tell him everything was going to be fine. But she dared not. Events had been set in motion that needed to play out. After the ordeal was over, then she could loosen the floodgate and envelop Winston with the affection surging in her heart.

They rounded the corner to the REX and paused at the front door.

"What now, Winston?"

"Please go find Iridium and return with him to my office."

"Okay. Do you want me to help you get settled in first?"

"No thanks, Star... I'd like to be alone for a while."

Suicide!

The word battered into Star's mind. Could Winston be planning the long jump form an upper story window? Had the humiliation been too much to bear?

"Really, it's no trouble at all," she said. "We can have some tea."

A doleful smile creased Winston's face; he shook his head.

"I'll come back as soon as I can," Star said. "Don't do anything foolish. Promise me."

But Winston was no longer listening to her. He opened the glass door and entered the lobby. Impelled by its pneumatic closing devise, the door sealed shut behind him like a coffin lid.

Winston shambled across the lobby to the main staircase. He gripped the banister and yanked himself upward. Star forced herself to turn away.

_I'd better go find that big softie, before it's too late,_ she thought.

Star walked the deserted streets, peering down alleys and into doorways. At every one she called: "Iri – oh Iri!"

Her voice fell flat in the silent air. Mech City was a dead community now, a place with its heart ripped out. Over the past several weeks, Star had suffered growing alarm as Winston went farther astray down his authoritarian path. She'd come to almost hate him.

But now she realized how important Winston was to Mech City and to everyone in it. He was the very soul of the place. Nothing decent would exist here if it hadn't been for him – his great courage, his steadfastness. Tears flowed down Star's cheeks.

Don't do anything foolish, Winston. Please! Please!

Iridium emerged from some dead shrubbery along the sidewalk. His coat matched the sticks, but as he moved toward her, it resumed its multi-colored shimmering.

"What's wrong, Star?"

"Oh, I've found you at last!"

She knelt and wrapped her arms around the great canid. As always he melted at her touch, purring.

"You're never far away, are you?" Star wiped tears from her eyes. "I always feel so safe knowing you're around."

"Why are you crying? Is it about Winston?"

Star nodded. "You've heard what went on today?"

"Yup. Couldn't happen to a nicer guy."

Iridium immediately regretted his sarcastic remark, and not just because of the pained expression on Star's face.

Dang it! Why was I programmed to be such a wise ass?

He, too, sensed the void into which Mech City was falling, and nostalgic recollections of Winston were overwhelming him. They'd mistrusted each other at the start, but this had given way to mutual respect and love – even though neither would admit that openly.

"Forget I said that, okay, Star?"

"Sure, Iri." Star got to her feet and brushed away her last tears. "Please come with me now. Winston wants to see you in his office."

Iridium's coat bristled. "That doesn't sound like a good idea. The last time I went there things didn't go too well."

"I know that Iri-kins, but things are different now. Trust me on that."

Iridium gazed up at her doubtfully.

"He needs you," Star said. "We all need you. There's no time to waste."

Iridium rallied the most sympathetic response of which he was capable. "Well, okay."

They strolled rapidly toward the REX.

9. Changing of the Guard

Winston Horvath sat behind his desk and brooded over his collapsed fortunes. Until this morning, he'd regarded himself as a great and popular leader; but he was really just a fraud, a legend in his own brain unit.

All the mech wolf guards currently on duty in the REX crowded his office and the adjacent waiting room, twelve of them all together. They regarded him with sinister eyes. Their dull brains awaited the next command from his wrist communicator.

Winston swiveled his chair toward the window. How many hours had he stood at that pane of plasti-glass contemplating the bright future marching toward him over the horizon? He'd dreamed of a Brave New World into which he would lead the adoring masses.

And then: "YOU STINK, WINSTON!"

He moved to the window. The pavement four stories down beckoned to him like a dear friend. A swan dive would be just the thing! The pain would be over; nobody would miss him. The communicator and the key to Ajax's cell lay on the desk, waiting to be retrieved by his successors.

Then Star's glowing appeared in the pavement. She was smiling at him, as she did in the old days before things became so complicated. He yearned for her desperately but knew he could never return.

She hates me more than anybody.

He pulled open the sash. It made a harsh, grating sound.

Then ...

The grinding noise of the elevator mechanism entered the office, followed by the sound of footsteps in the corridor. Winston pulled himself back from the precipice. He snatched up the communicator and brought it to his mouth for a final order.

"Attennnn-shun!"

Every mech wolf snapped to rigid alertness, every gray coat bristled smartly. Winston buckled the communicator back onto his left wrist. Star and Iridium appeared in the doorway.

Alarm registered on Star's face when she spotted the partially opened window, but she kept her composure intact. "Greetings, Exalted Mayor. May we have permission to enter?"

Winston basked in this show of respect, however little he deserved it. "Of course."

They came in and stood among the mech wolves. Winston assumed his most official pose, ramrod straight with right hand on hip.

"Iridium the Swift," he intoned. "Are you prepared to assume your official duties?"

An off-handed "Sure, pal," almost exited Iridium's speaker unit. Instead, he snapped to attention with formality matching Winston's.

"Yes I am, Exalted Mayor."

"Then by the power vested in me, I hereby designate you Mech City's new Chief of Security."

With a ceremonial flourish, Winston unbuckled the communicator from his wrist and attempted to hand it to Iridium. His arm froze in place.

"Please allow me to assist, Exalted Mayor," Star said.

Gently, firmly, she removed the communicator from Winston's grasp and buckled it to Iridium's left foreleg.

Iridium wished to say something memorable, but Winston's agonized face silenced him.

Wow, this is really tough for the guy! Better get it over with quick.

He lowered his mouth toward the transmitter and tapped the _Send_ button with a claw. "Fall in, troops!"

The mech wolves obediently formed a double line behind him.

"Quick march!"

The mech wolf unit trotted from the office behind their new leader and clattered down the stairway.

"Oh, Winston!" Stars said. "I admire you more than I can say."

"Yes... well, I suppose we should go see Ajax."

"Lead on, my hero."

* * *

They exited the elevator on the penthouse floor and walked toward Ajax's "executive suite." The stairs would have been more practical for the one story ascent, but Winston was too exhausted to make the effort. The Mayor's medallion dragging down his neck was too heavy to bear any longer.

The hall was empty since the departure of the mech wolf guards, and their footsteps on the hardwood floor provided the only sound. Winston fumbled out a key ring and opened Ajax's cell door.

The warrior replica robot swiveled toward him from his post at the window. "Yes?" Disdain edged his voice.

"Please come out here, Ajax," Winston said. "It's time to assume your new post."

Surprise shot across Ajax's face. He glanced toward Star for confirmation. She nodded back.

My gosh, it is truly happening! Be worthy of the occasion, Ajax.

He turned fully toward Winston and offered a reverent bow. "As my gracious leader wishes."

Ajax moved into the hallway and stood at attention, his head towering almost to the ceiling. With trembling hands, Winston removed the Mayor's medallion from around his own neck and held it out. Ajax lowered himself to one knee, and bowed his head.

"By the power vested in me... well, here it is."

Winston hung the medallion around Ajax's neck.

Ajax rose to his full height and placed a fist over his 'heart' in salute. "Thank you. I will do my utmost to honor this great office and my worthy predecessor."

"Yes, quite so," Winston said. "Carry on – Mayor Ajax."

With a few powerful strides, Ajax was at the stairs and descending to the Mayor's office.

Star took Winston's arm and guided him toward the elevator. "Let's go to my place and relax a while."

10. Entr'acte

Winston sat despondently on the couch in Star's living room, hands folded, staring at the floor with its exquisite hand-made rug. His optical sensors traced the curlicue patterns twisting around the silk carpet, going nowhere – like his existence.

Around him spread an open, bright space with modernistic furnishings. Gas flames danced in a little fireplace. Abstract paintings adorned the walls, along with posters of romantic movie couples staring into each other's eyes – including Scarlett and Rhett from the 20th century epic _Gone with the Wind_. The ambiance did nothing to elevate Winston's mood.

The hallway door opened and Star entered, bringing in the scent of the outside world.

"You're back early."

"Yeah," Star said in a cheery voice. "Jack and Quincy are taking the rest of the day off, so they don't need me."

"Uh huh."

"Goodness knows they deserve some time off. They've been working full blast for weeks."

Winston nodded.

"So, why don't you come outside? We could take a little stroll." Star waited for a reply; none came. "It's been five days, already. Can't you snap out of it?"

Winston shrugged.

"You've hardly left the couch in all that time."

Winston raised his optical sensors, but his head remained bowed. "What's the use? Everybody hates me."

"Nobody hates you."

"Oh yeah? 'YOU STINK, WINSTON!' Could have fooled me."

Star sat beside him and caressed the back of his head. For a moment, Winston suspected she might flick his deactivation switch. That would be fine – just be sure to never turn it back on.

"You weren't cut out to be mayor, that's all," she said.

"Imagine that!"

"Remember what you told me once? 'If somebody fails in one world, he can succeed in another.' That's from an old novel, isn't it?"

" _Candide_ ," Winston said.

"Right. So, if it was true hundreds of years ago, why can't it still be true?"

Winston shifted position wearily. "What am I cut out for? I wish somebody'd tell me."

Star kissed his cheek. "I think you were made for love."

"Right..."

"Besides, it was the same with the humans. Most of their leaders didn't know what they were doing, either."

"That makes me feel a lot better."

Star got up and smoothed her hands along her body, straightening her clothes – a gesture that used to grab Winston's attention before his decline into melancholia. "Jimmy stopped by again. I told him you weren't seeing visitors yet."

"What's he doing these days?"

"He and Ajax are planning a big water diversion project. He wanted your input."

"Why?"

"Jimmy said he doesn't want to work for anybody except 'the Boss.'"

An acrid smile disfigured Winston's face. "I think they'll do fine without me. What else is Mayor Ajax up to?"

"He's organizing a sports event, the 'New Olympic Games.'"

"Makes sense. He was modeled after an ancient Greek hero, after all."

"Ajax says it'll keep everybody occupied until he and Jimmy can organize productive work for them."

Winston nodded approval. "I'm certain all will be well."

In the back of his tormented mind, though, Winston harbored grave doubts about Ajax's ability to control the population of Mech City. The warrior robot was simply too upright and virtuous. His great rectitude would engender rage and feelings of inferiority in others.

Winston was in no condition to follow this train of thought very far, however. "What about Iri?" he asked.

"He's deactivated half the mech wolves and put them in reserve. The rest are on the city outskirts guarding against scrapper gangs."

Winston nodded and went back to examining the carpet.

Star came to a decision. "I've got just the thing for us, Winston."

"What?"

"You wait here a minute. I'll be right back."

She moved off to her bedroom leaving Winston alone with his gloomy thoughts. He gazed out the picture window, envisioning himself broken on the pavement four stories down.

I wish I had the courage to jump.

He lay on his back. Above him, the ceiling's creamy whiteness drifted off toward infinity.

Maybe if I stare at it long enough, it'll take mind away from this vale of tears.

Star returned lugging two large backpacks. She set them on the floor near the sofa. "It's time to begin our expedition westward."

"Expedition?"

"You know," Star said, "to find Dr. Jerry Che on the West Coast – so he can make you functional."

She spoke in a matter-of-fact-tone, as if suggesting a trip to the corner park rather than a journey across the better part of a continent.

"I thought that was just a passing fancy," Winston said.

"Don't ever say that to a lady."

He turned away and buried his face in the sofa cushions. His voice came out muffled. "The probability of Dr. Che having survived must be zero."

"We don't know that. He may have used Dr. Rackenfauz's vaccines."

Winston turned back, his optical sensors bulging. If he'd had the capability, he would have been weeping. "B-but I can't – "

"You can't what? Leave town while you've got this depressed and feeling sorry for yourself thing going on?"

"The distance to the West Coast must be 2,000 kilometers."

Star moved to the fireplace and switched off the gas. The flames vanished with finality.

"We'll stop half way at Pickle Lake Castle for a tune up." She wiggled her fingers. "I've learned a lot helping repair the battle casualties, you know."

Winston remained immobile. Star returned to the couch and knelt beside him. "Don't you want the conversion? It would open up a whole new world for you – for us."

"Why bother with a failure like me? You'd only be disappointed."

"Let me decide that."

"Well..."

"What's the matter, Winston, don't you think anybody could love you?"

Her words penetrated his thick gloom. _Is it possible? Could she still care for me after everything that's happened?_

He rose painstakingly from the couch. His joints, though in good condition, creaked from the effort.

"All right, Star. I did promise, after all." He hefted a pack, testing its weight. Then he slipped his arms through the straps. "Nobody can accuse Winston Horvath of being a bullshit artist."

Star shouldered on her own pack and led Winston toward the door. She stepped aside and gestured for him to go first.

"Lead on, my hero."

# Three: Perils on the Road

11. Adios to Mech City

They exited the apartment building. Star grabbed one of the two kick scooters awaiting them and placed a foot on its floor board.

"Isn't it great to be outside again?" she said.

Winston shaded his optical sensors against the sun, even though it was shrouded behind thick cloud cover.

"I suppose so." He mounted the remaining scooter. "At least no one will regret my departure."

"Don't be so sure about that. They'll appreciate your true worth sooner or later."

"Right."

They kicked off into the morning. Star graceful on her machine, Winston trailing ponderously. Mech City rolled past until they reached Heroes' Square. It was deserted, as work on the Palace had been abandoned. For his first act as mayor, Ajax canceled the whole project.

Winston and Star scootered through the empty plaza. Battle ghosts attended the place – masses of slain mech birds, metal men damaged beyond repair, snarling mech wolves smashed against the paving stones – and beneath it all, the hulking presence of Fascista Ultimo.

_This brings back some unpleasant memories,_ Winston thought.

And some good ones, too, as when the adoring population hoisted him onto their shoulders and proclaimed him leader. But that was before things had "gone to hell in a hand basket," as his former master would have phrased it.

Their wheels bumped on the uneven pavement, and a light wind pushed about some debris. Winston concentrated on the noises, focusing his optical sensors at the ground. He had no wish to see his toppled and dishonored statue.

I hope they've burned the damn thing.

Star halted. Winston nearly collided with her.

"Well, what do you know!" she exclaimed.

They were standing beside Winston's statue. It was restored to its pedestal and its broken legs repaired. The inscription on the medallion had been changed from "Mayor" to "Hero." Winston's burial shroud of dejection lifted from his shoulders and fluttered away to join the other ghosts agitating the square. He straightened himself up.

"That's not half bad."

"See what I mean?" Star said. "They've come around already. They'll miss you, all right."

"Perhaps so."

"Let's get a move on." Star took off fast. "Bye-ee Mech City!"

Winston caught up with her. "Race you to Pickle Lake Castle."

"You're on."

They scootered off, side by side. A mech wolf emerged from hiding and trotted away.

12. New Vistas Beckon

Hours later, Winston and Star were traveling through open countryside along the familiar westward route.

The same barren hills, eroded fields, and dead trees confronted them. A thick overcast glowered, through which the sun poked intermittently. Tough, ugly plants grew in the roadside ditches, their thorny foliage hissing in the breeze.

Everything appeared fine to Winston, though. The grim realities of the past week had tumbled off his chest, leaving him buoyant above his whizzing scooter wheels. And he was free from the burden of running Mech City. He didn't miss the mayor's job at all.

Well... that wasn't really true. A large part of him yearned for the power he'd lost and would have snatched it back if the opportunity arose. But it wouldn't arise, so it was better to "make a virtue out of necessity," as Dr. Horvath would phrase it, and move on to new vistas.

Winston was using many of his former master's pet expressions lately. The realization warmed him, as he was returning to an essential part of himself long abandoned. There was more to him than just being a failed mayor, or a Walking Library of Alexandria, or a rebel leader. Who could say what else the future held? What if the "conversion" Star yearned for could really be done – what would he be like then?

Winston pushed this last thought away. It was too threatening, and it was unobtainable.

Low grassy plants carpeted some areas, reaching heights of twenty centimeters. Their effect was subtle, correct, as if they truly belonged – unlike the spiky, alien weeds.

They paused atop a rise for an afternoon break. Winston pulled out his road atlas to verify their position. Star looked over his shoulder at the map, then turned her attention to the surrounding countryside.

"Is it just me, or do things look better now?"

Winston glanced up from the atlas. "I believe your observation is objectively accurate. There is more greenery, of a better quality, and the air seems fresher – though I lack an atmospheric analyzer to verify the supposition."

Star nestled against him. "It's a great day for a fresh start, huh?"

"Indeed." Winston stroked his chin. "An extended growing season must be a partial explanation."

"Oh?"

"Ordinarily this would be late autumn, but the warm weather has been unnaturally prolonged."

Star pulled away. _Winston's about as romantic as those weeds over there_.

The sun was out, as the overcast had temporarily vacated a wide area of sky. Star was uncomfortable under the rays because of what they might herald – a mech bug swarm like the one that assailed them on their first trip to Pickle Lake. The horrid little creatures preferred brightness when solar energy bolstered their power reserves.

She scanned the sky for any trace of them.

"I'd imagine some years will pass before normal weather patterns reestablish themselves," Winston said.

"How interesting."

"Yes, very."

Winston returned to his road atlas. Star walked a few paces away to nurse her frustration.

Give him time, he's only just emerged from his funk.

The idea cheered her a little but did not dispel her growing unease. Something was in the air, even if she couldn't see it. Or was it was just her 'female intuition' run amok?

She studied the road ahead. A drain pipe some distance away could offer protection from a mech bug assault. Also, she'd packed tennis rackets and heavy plastic sheeting in case they were caught in the open.

"If we maintain this steady, though not hectic, pace," Winston was saying, "we should reach Pickle Lake Castle in... I'd estimate thirteen days, although the humans considered that to be an unlucky number."

"Why was it unlucky?"

"There are various theories. The humans were good at messing up their lives with foolish superstitions. I've often speculated it was a compensating mechanism."

Star had no idea what Winston was driving at. His intellect was far beyond that of anyone she'd ever encountered – except for Dr. Rackenfauz, perhaps. It was best to humor him during these philosophical ramblings.

"How could a superstition about a number be a 'compensating mechanism?'" she asked.

"It kind of kept things in balance, I surmise. The higher a species' intellect, the dumber the restrictions it placed upon itself. I can't imagine dogs or apes paid much attention to numerology."

"Uh huh."

"Did you know that many battles commenced on holidays because one side was too preoccupied with religious and, or social events to notice an approaching threat?"

"Really?"

"Yes. There was the Sunday Pearl Harbor attack, the Yom Kippur war, the Tet offensive – not to mention George Washington's Christmas assault on the Hessian mercenaries."

Winston shook his head indulgently, as if he was discussing the antics of small children instead of key episodes in human history.

"All of Western civilization nearly went down the drain because Sparta was holding religious observances and didn't send more than three hundred men to oppose the Persian invasion. Why . . ."

Star's uneasiness increased as Winston's voice droned on. Was he too preoccupied with his own ramblings to be aware of a real "approaching threat?" She looked into the sky again, and there it was – a huge, dark mass flying toward them from the northeast.

"Winston."

He broke off his monologue. "Yes?"

"We need to get moving."

"In a minute, Star. I'm on the verge of attaining some truly keen insights."

"Now!"

Star jabbed a finger skyward. Winston followed it; his face mirrored her shock. The great cloud was closing fast – a swirling mass of mech bugs with tiny crazed brains and sharp pincers aching to rip. A smaller cloud followed the main body, adding to the nightmare effect.

Star leaped onto her scooter. "There's drain pipe ahead!"

She took off. Winston brought up the rear, using the brute power of his legs to keep up with Star's superior coordination. The road blazed past under their wheels. The mech bug cloud was much closer now, but so was the drain pipe. They were going to make it!

Then Star's front wheel struck a pothole.

"Oh!"

Her scooter careened onto the gravel shoulder and plummeted down the slope. She tumbled after it into the ditch.

"Star!"

Winston abandoned his scooter and ran down to her. She was standing now with the mech bugs swirling above her.

"We'll have to fight our way there," Winston said.

They yanked tennis rackets and heavy plastic sheets out of their packs.

"Keep moving, no matter what," Winston said. "Leave me behind if you have to."

"No way I'm leaving you!"

They covered themselves with the sheets and hefted their rackets.

"Come on you bastards!" Winston shouted.

The black, lethal cloud descended. Vicious pincers snapped for them, piercing the plastic sheets. They swung their rackets, taking down scores of the creatures.

BZZRT! PTEW!

Mech bugs littered the dust, but thousands more polluted the air. Winston and Star tried to force a way through the tempest.

"Winston!"

Star's plastic sheet flew away in the bug tornado. Winston flung his own sheet over her. He stood exposed, swatting two-handed with his racket. The bugs pressed their attack. Winston's pressure sensors detected hundreds of intrusions.

"Keep going!" He howled over the maelstrom.

The crushing weight of the attack was bringing him down. Together they flailed away, struggling toward the refuge. It was impossibly far off.

Then . . .

13. Old Friends Appear

A violent cacophony of cheeps and fluttering wings exploded above them as a flock of mech birds slammed into the insects.

"Whoo-ee!" Winston cheered.

Chaos swirled as the black, robin-sized birds mauled the insect cloud like sharks tearing through a school of mackerel. Insect bodies cascaded – crushed, decapitated, pincers still snapping with futile viciousness. Birds snatched off the bugs that had been gouging Winston. Others picked the attackers from Star's skin and hair.

"That's it!" Winston hoisted his tennis racket in salute. "Tear 'em up!"

But his elation soon waned. _Where did these birds come from? What's their full purpose?_

"Do you think they'll come after us next?" Star shouted over the mayhem.

"I sure hope not."

"I thought Ajax deactivated all the mech birds."

"Maybe they're from a different flock," Winston said, "a psychotic one."

The insect swarm scattered. Birds darted after the survivors, cheeping ferociously, crazed with slaughter. Had their tiny brains deteriorated like those of so many other robotic life forms – were they in the grip of the Che Syndrome?

Winston hoisted his backpack. "We'd better get under cover."

They hurried to the drain pipe, crushing stricken insects as they ran. The bugs were so thick in one spot that Winston nearly lost his footing; Star gripped his arm and held him up. When they finally got to the pipe, Winston shoved his backpack in as far as it would go.

"Now you," he said

Star doffed her backpack and wedged herself into the drain pipe, feet first. Her shoulders and hips scraped the edge. "Ooo, I don't like this much!"

"Hang on Star, I'll be with you."

Winston's apprehension grew as Star wedged herself farther down the pipe. Any moment he expected the birds to yank him skyward and drop him to destruction on the concrete.

"Get in here, Winston," Star's voice echoed from the dark interior.

He slithered into the pipe and blocked the entrance with Star's backpack. The slaughter noise from outside became muffled.

Star curled her arms around Winston's legs and held on tight. "I'm so scared!"

"Try to stay calm, all right?"

If he were a breathing entity, Winston would have been gagging. He tuned down his olfactory sensor, but nothing could block the pipe's dank stench. Horrid recollections of the previous time he'd hidden in such a place barged into his mind – the terror and claustrophobia, the sense that some horrid creature had grabbed his legs. A scream tried to burst from his deepest fears.

Stop it, Winston!

He had to be strong. It was Star hanging onto him now, not some bogey man. He had to protect her; he couldn't give in.

Time dragged past in the mysterious, fetid environment. Without external references, Winston couldn't tell for certain how long they remained entombed. Finally, the world outside turned quiet. A drip of icy water ran down his back.

"I'd better go take a look," he said.

"Okay." Star's voice was small and frightened.

Winston steeled himself to confront whatever might be lurking outside. He pushed the backpack out of the tunnel, revealing a circle of daylight. The usual dull gray. Winston held onto the backpack, ready to jerk it into place at the first hint of danger. Nothing, yet.

He inched himself forward until his whole head protruded, still no sign of trouble. "I'm getting out now."

"Be careful, Winston!"

"Sure... I will."

Winston exited fully and got to his feet, glancing about for mech birds. The mass of them was off to the west, flying in a black, lazy hurricane cloud.

"I don't think they mean to attack us," He called back into the drain pipe. "They seem to be waiting for something."

Star's head poked out of the drain pipe, an angelic vision emerging from the nether regions. Winston pulled her out into the daylight, then crawled back in, head first, to retrieve his backpack.

When he came out again, Star was brushing herself off disgustedly. Her clothes were wet and tattered; dead mech bugs were tangled in her hair.

"Are you all right, Star?"

"No."

A bolt of fear struck Winston. "W-what's wrong?"

"My best outfit is absolutely ruined!"

"Oh..."

Winston examined the network of scratches on his arms and torso. "So much for my new paint job, eh?"

His fear retreated. Then it wrenched back into super drive. "Yow!"

Two mech wolves approached along the ditch – fangs bared.

"What're they doing here?" Star gasped.

"Maybe they're renegades."

Winston pulled metal rods out of his pack and assembled them into a spear. Star grabbed a club out of her own pack. They stood side-by-side prepared for battle.

This is one helluva lousy situation.

The mech wolves halted their advance a few meters away and went into a crouch, their coats bristling.

"Relax," a familiar voice called from the road above. "Everything's under control."

The mech wolves retreated obsequiously. Winston and Star swiveled their heads so see Iridium gazing down at them.

"Iri!"

Star rushed up the slope and embraced the great canid, smothering his face with kisses. Conflicting emotions burst upon Winston – relief, befuddlement, joy, and more than a little exasperation.

"Would you mind telling us what's going on?" he said.

"I brought some reinforcements," Iridium said. "You didn't think I'd let you run off unprotected, did you?"

"You're so wonderful, Iri," Star said.

Winston was annoyed by her outpouring. Why wasn't she kissing him and praising _his_ heroics?

"Are there any more wolves?" Winston asked.

"No," Iridium said. "I can handle two of them without the communicator. More than that and they might be handling us."

"So, where's the communicator? I only just gave it to you."

"I passed it on to Ajax. In return, he loaned us a thousand of his mech birds."

"This is all very cozy," Winston said.

"Sorry pal, but Ajax needs those wolves to guard Mech City. Actually, he appointed Jimmy as interim security chief."

"Jimmy?" Star said.

"Yes," Iridium said, "Ajax didn't want too much power in his own hands."

"That's wise," Winston muttered. _I should have followed that policy myself – idiot!_

He began climbing up the slope. His progress was awkward, unlike the effortless dash Star had made. She gripped his hand and assisted him up the final stretch.

"Winston, you didn't even thank Iri for helping us," she said in a low voice.

Of course Winston was grateful, but why did Iridium have to be so damn capable? How many more times would he save the day while he, Winston, could only blunder along?

Winston was being a petty jerk and knew it. By the time he reached Iridium, the last shreds of annoyance had vanished, replaced by awed respect.

"Thanks," he said. "We owe you a lot."

Iridium nodded. "Sure thing."

"No hard feelings, then? I mean, about the events in Mech City and all."

"Of course not, pal."

Iridium sat up and offered his right paw. After some astonished hesitation, Winston shook it.

"Yes, well... ahem," Winston said. "Shall we get moving?"

"You two go on ahead," Iridium said, "we'll bring up the rear."

14. Mountain Coup

In the mountains ahead, the remnants of the biker gang sprawled about their encampment awaiting orders from Jeff. Only nine men remained.

Brad regarded the situation with disgust.

After their humiliating defeat, Jeff had led them to this place, as high up as they could get. They may have been big hombres in the lowlands, but up here Mother Nature took no crap – hunger, cold, illness. At least there were plenty of broads to go around, and Jeff's leadership remained unchallenged, despite his wuss performance at Pickle Lake.

Then the goddam plague reached even this altitude and killed many of them before withdrawing. It struck the women much harder, for some reason. Only two remained, and there weren't any for Brad and his brothers. Susie had slipped into a deep funk since the death of her man, and Jeff told them to lay off her. That was fine for him to say; he had Pam as his old lady, and she was #1 prime.

The two were sitting on a boulder, enjoying their private little world. Brad approached cautiously. Jeff fixed him with his standard glare. He'd dropped a lot of weight, as all the guys had, but was still the toughest. Brad was grateful that sunglasses disguised his own fear.

_Play it cool_.

"So... what's the plan, Chief?" Brad asked.

"It's time to blow this place," Jeff said. "I think we're all tired of freezing our nuts."

Brad did not reply.

"You got a problem with that?"

"Oh, no man, none at all." Brad retreated a step, holding up his hands. "I just got a problem with pricks who won't share the wealth."

Jeff's face darkened. "What the fuck are you saying?" He started to rise.

Brad pulled out a gun. "I'm saying this."

He pulled the trigger. The gunshot echoed off the surrounding peaks. A hole appeared in Jeff's forehead. Blood and brains exploded out the back of his skull, spraying over Pam. She screamed hysterically as Jeff's body crashed to the ground.

"Shut up, bitch!"

Brad backhanded her hard, sending her tumbling off the boulder. Elsewhere in the camp, Tom, Bill, and Randy opened up on Jeff's loyalists. Tom's maniacal laughter accompanied the gunfire.

When the executions ended, the three joined Brad to gloat over Jeff's corpse.

"Man, that was fun!" Tom said.

"I hope Jeff liked his retirement party." Bill rolled the corpse over with his foot, bringing the dead face into view. "Nice shot! Right through the middle."

"What next?" Randy asked.

"We get the hell out of this shithole," Brad said. "As soon as I've had a little recreation."

He seized Pam's hair and yanked her to her feet. "Get that Susie bitch here, too. I'm feeling frisky."

Tom cackled. "Ah, there's only one Brad."

"I'll let you guys know when it's your turn," Brad said.

"Right on. Share the wealth."

Brad dragged Pam off among the boulders. Her screaming resumed.

* * *

Pam and Susie clung together as the ground became level under their feet. Three days of hiking and they were finally out of those damned mountains. At least they didn't have to carry heavy loads, unlike the three men walking ahead of them with large backpacks and an assortment of weapons. Randy brought up the rear, similarly burdened.

The women's "services" were required elsewhere. The past three days had been a nightmare of rape and abuse. Pam had almost come to envy Jeff, neatly killed and freed from this awful world – but not quite. Within her still smoldered a desperate yearning for life and freedom.

"Hang in there, Susie," she whispered. "We'll get away somehow."

Susie did not answer. She'd retreated deep within herself and didn't even bother to scream during the sexual assaults. Just as well. Any sign of protest only made things worse.

Pam's brave words fell flat into the barren landscape. Where could they go? Who could possibly help them? Ahead, the men were talking among themselves.

"The air smells unhealthy down here," Bill said. "Maybe we should go back up a ways."

"Naw," Brad said, "if I have to spend another day up there, I'll go bat shit." He clapped Bill on the shoulder. "Everybody's got to die sometime, eh?"

"You're fucking A right!" Tom said.

"Okay then," Brad said, "our first order of business is to find transportation."

The group proceeded down the road, off to God only knew what deviltry.

15. The Road Unwinds

The days blurred past for Winston and Star as they retraced the route they'd taken to Pickle Lake Castle months earlier.

Things went much smoother this time under the protection of the bird umbrella and with the guard detail of Iridium and the mech wolves bringing up the rear.

They passed the same derelict towns, the same pile ups of abandoned motor vehicles; dust devils still howled. But the countryside was less barren than before. _Green_ or _fresh_ were not adjectives that came to mind to describe the landscape, but to an experienced optical sensor, the battle for biological life was turning a corner for the better.

Winston came to not mind the long hours on the road, so long as Star led the way – her graceful mechanism controlling the scooter on the downward runs, her hips swaying as she walked, the flirtatious glances she sent his direction.

The lust for power he'd experienced as mayor had worn off, replaced by other desires. What it would be like to possess the sensuous form gliding along ahead of him, he wondered, what would a physical coupling with Star be like? Could a "heaven on earth" really exist, as she claimed?

He tried to put such notions out of his mind. The mission they were on could not possibly succeed, but Winston would rather have been permanently deactivated than shatter Star's illusions. Brutal reality would do that soon enough.

At night, the mech birds formed themselves into a heap and assumed inactive mode en masse. Iridium shared watch duty with Winston and Star. The two mech wolves – _Fang_ and _Ripper_ Winston had named them – stayed on hair trigger alert, ready to snap back into active mode if needed.

The blackness was less silent now. The whirs and chirps of insect life populated it, along with the occasional sound of little animals moving through the weeds. The world was stirring awake from its long nightmare, and its faint pulse was most detectable in the nocturnal hours.

* * *

Star followed their route along the spider traces of the road atlas. Every kilometer brought them closer to Dr. Jerry Che – if he was still alive, if they could find him in the vast city sprawling along the west coast.

She knew they would find him, as only one of his creations could possibly know it. He'd made her in the image of a fully-functional human woman to satisfy some craving deep within his psyche. This craving beckoned to her over the vast, empty countryside, drawing her ever westward.

Yes, I will find Jerry Che. Count on that.

It was obvious Winston did not share her faith. He tried to cover up his skepticism, but she knew he'd come on this expedition only to spare her feelings.

That sense of personal honor he had! He'd rather step off a cliff than break a promise. Winston was the _real_ reason she'd been created, the only thing that made her continued existence worthwhile.

Or was her certainty about Dr. Che merely an illusion, was he now just another human corpse crumbling away to nothingness? The idea was far too terrifying to contemplate, so Star pushed it out of her mind.

* * *

"We're making excellent progress," Winston said one evening as they pulled over for their rest period. "We should reach Pickle Lake Castle right on schedule, many somewhat ahead of schedule."

"Yeah, well..." Iridium said.

"You look worried, Iri," Star said. "Why?"

"It's just that things are going so smoothly."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing. I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop."

Winston laughed. "That's an interesting expression for a quadruped to use."

Iridium shot him an irritated look, then moved off to join Fang and Ripper.

"I was only trying to cheer him up a bit," Winston said. "He's always so grim."

Star pulled a brush out of her pack and ran it through her luxuriant dark hair. The movement nearly fried Winston's circuits with its easy sensuality.

"I think Dr. Rackenfauz programmed Iri to always look at the down side," she said.

"Sure, that must be it. Dr. Rackenfauz is a downer type guy himself ... isn't he ... I mean, he seems to think that a lot of good things have passed him by..." Winston's words tumbled out fast and agitated.

Star made another long, lazy stroke through her hair.

"What about you, Winston?" She turned to present her breasts in their best perspective. "Do you think good things are passing you by?"

"Uh ... no," Winston said. "I mean ..."

He tore his eyes from Star and gazed off into the darkening landscape. The futility of their mission mocked him from the shadows.

16. More Old Friends Appear

They came to a region of great rolling hills with dramatic snow-peaked mountains looming in the distance. They paused to admire the view.

"Oh, they're so beautiful!" Star cried.

Winston draped an arm over her shoulders. "Yes, the landscape is quite impressive."

"Remember the first time we were here? Wasn't it romantic?"

"Uh... yeah."

"We were standing on this very spot when we first caught sight of those mountains."

Winston could not suppress a shudder as traumatic images slithered up from his memory banks. He groped reflexively for his replacement left lower leg, touched its reassuring presence.

"It was wonderful until that scrapper gang showed up," he said.

Star caressed the back of Winston's cranium. "Yes, they were horrible, but Iri took care of them. Let's try to remember only the good part, okay?"

Winston forced himself to shut down the jumble of terrifying images – the battle with the scrappers, the destruction of his leg, the horror of watching Star being carried off by the gang. He drew her closer, enjoying her soft presence. A cool breeze wafted across his temperature sensors.

* * *

A half dozen scrapper robots of various models loitered about the high rocks. Their battered vehicle stood nearby on the dirt road. One of the desperadoes sprawled atop a boulder peering through binoculars at the terrain below.

"Over there, Chief! Looks like easy pickings."

Burt joined the lookout, moving adeptly despite the fact he was missing one arm. He brought his own binoculars up to his optical sensors. The view froze his circuits.

"It's _them_!"

"Who?"

Burt wanted to charge down the slope and settle matters with the blue robot and his strange, female-like companion. But there were others with them – a large flock of birds flying above, and coming behind...

"Easy pickings, eh?" Burt jabbed a finger at the wolf trio following the two-legged robots. "Take a look back there."

"Yow! I didn't see them before, Chief."

"Moron. I don't know why I waste time with you bunch."

"Sorry, Chief."

"That rainbow creature took off my arm and destroyed our whole crew – by himself. Now he's got two buddies with him."

"Gee!"

"Let's move before those birds spot us."

They jumped down to the road. The other scrappers gathered about.

"What are we gonna do, Chief?" one of them asked.

"We'll keep an eye on them for now," Burt said. "Everybody pile in."

The scrappers returned to their truck. Burt jumped in the driver's seat and drove under the protection of a rock overhang.

"We'll get them, sooner or later." He stroked his maimed shoulder. "You've got my word on that."

17. The Castle Arrives

The travelers stood in the parking area by the trailhead. Before them rose a concrete stairway, then a dirt footpath rising up a hillside of dead forest. At their feet lay a metal sign riddled with bullet holes.

Trail to the Castle

"We made it in precisely thirteen days," Winston said, "just as predicted. The time we made up at the bridge allowed us to proceed at a somewhat more relaxed pace."

Star kissed his cheek. "You're always right about everything, Winston."

"Gee, it doesn't seem like a minute over twelve and three quarter days," Iridium said.

Star stroked the great canid's chin. "You're such a cutie, Iridium. Are we ready to visit the castle?"

"Sure thing." Iri gestured to the mech birds swirling overhead. "Let's get a move on!"

The birds formed into lifting teams. Two of them tried to pick up Fang and Ripper, but the cowering mech wolves rushed to Iridium's side, whining with fear.

"Looks like they don't want to travel air express," Winston said.

"Can't say as I blame them," Star said. "They must have terrible memories about these birds."

"I'll walk up with them," Iridium said.

"Okay, meet you at the castle, then," Winston said.

The birds had a secure hold on him, lifting him off his feet. Star rose up beside him.

"Bye-ee!" She blew a kiss. "Have a nice hike, Iri."

"Happy landings," Iridium said.

* * *

Soon Winston and Star were beyond the dead zone and flying over a belt of green, rejuvenating forest – then past the tree line and into the high mountains embraced by cooling temperatures. The sky shone a radiant blue.

"It's even more wonderful than I remembered!" Star shouted over the flapping wings.

"Yes, quite! I believe the amount of greenery has increased since our last visit."

Below them sprawled the curved, bumpy contours of Pickle Lake with its group of little islands spelling out the word:

KOSHER

"Do you think Dr. Rackenfauz really saw human corpses around that lake," Star said, "or was he just hallucinating?"

"I suspect his report was accurate. A religious cult once occupied the castle. They must have all died together in the final plague."

"Such a pity."

A large building with two wings and a high central tower rose among the crags – a scaled down replica of the building on Sergeant Friday's badge from the old _Dragnet_ TV show.

"Pickle Lake Castle!"

* * *

The birds set them down at the front gate and deposited the backpacks alongside. Then they departed _en masse_ for their old roost in the uppermost tower chamber.

"That was fun!" Star said.

"Indeed it was."

She snuggled up to Winston and wrapped her arms around his waist. "I can think of something that's a lot more fun."

"Oh?"

"It's waiting for us at the end of the road."

She meant his conversion by Dr. Che, of course, and the resultant sexual fireworks.

"Yes, I certainly hope so," Winston replied stiffly.

Star withdrew, sensing his profound doubt.

"Well," Winston said, "I suppose we should wait for Iri to arrive before we go in."

"That would be best."

Star moved away across the portico. Great mountain peaks marched off into the hazy distance as if they would never end.

So much beauty has survived in the world.

Then why did her existence have such emptiness at its core? The answer was obvious – she was made for love, but the world could not accommodate her... yet.

She turned back toward Winston. "What do you know about that religious group?"

"Not much. Dr. Horvath came here some years ago to investigate them. She indicated they were 'scary.'"

"Where did they come from?"

"I don't know, for sure. They might have had a connection with Mech City. The REX hotel, no less."

"Really?"

Winston nodded. "That would have been several years before the wars and plagues started."

"They picked a nice place for their last stand. It's like a piece of heaven up here."

"Heaven, yes..." Winston glanced apprehensively at the tower windows behind which their protective cloud of birds was resting. "I wish Iridium would get here."

18. Nasty Surprises

Late afternoon shadows stabbed across the portico as Iridium trotted up with Fang and Ripper.

They were all the same size and moved with identical stealth. Iridium's shimmering coat and the noble intelligence in his eyes distinguished him from his lesser companions. Rippers's coat sported a damaged patch, a token from the Heroes' Square battle.

Star waved joyously. "Hello Iri! Did you enjoy the walk?"

"Wonderful. Just like old times." Iridium glanced up toward the mech birds streaming through the tower windows. "Those birds remember their old roost."

"That's fine for them," Star said, "but I'm sure not going up there again."

Winston shuddered. Vivid recollections of the funereal topmost chamber arose from his personal memory banks – the black carpet and blood-red drapes, the gas torches, Ajax's severed head resting upon its cushion. "Amen to that!"

"Let's get started," Star said.

Winston helped her push the gate open on its creaky hinges. They moved into the bare, cavernous entry hall. In contrast to the cheery brightness outside, the atmosphere was cold, uninviting, and very spooky.

"Can we hurry things along?" Iridium said. "This joint gives me the creeps."

"Why Iri," Star said, "you're always concerned about such little things."

"It helps keep the big things from going wrong."

Winston approached the stairs to the left wing. "This isn't my favorite place, either. Let's get to the workshop."

"Lead on, my hero," Star said.

"Oh, please," Iridium muttered.

They ascended the dim, granite stairway with its extinguished gas torches protruding from the wall. Star led the procession with her customary easy grace. Iridium and the mech wolves brought up the rear, stealthy and quiet.

Winston betrayed his more primitive physical capabilities by shuffling noisily. He tried to obscure his awkwardness with conversation. "This is a bit like _House on Haunted Hill_."

Star turned a questioning look his direction.

"That's a mid 20th century horror film, a mediocre production, actually. I'm surprised it was included in my library banks."

"Oh Winston, you're going to give _me_ the creeps next."

He rummaged out another topic. "I wonder how my late master would feel if she knew I was entering the 'left wing.'"

"What?" Iridium said.

"Just a somewhat obtuse political jest. Dr. Horvath was a very conservative individual, you see."

"Right."

"Rather _far_ right, I should say, although she could be surprisingly liberal on certain issues. She once told me that – "

WHOOSH!

The gas torches flared into life.

"Ah!"

Winston gripped the wall desperately, almost losing his footing. Star seized his arm.

Iridium remained his usual imperturbable self. "You were saying?"

"Uh... nothing."

"How do those torches work?" Star asked.

Winston needed several seconds to regain his composure. The amused leer on Iridium's face added to his discomfort. "Dr. Rackenfauz told me there must be a gas reservoir under the castle, enough to last for quite a while."

A sour expression replaced Iridium's smirk. "One more day is good enough for me. I don't want to see this dump ever again."

"Dr. Rackenfauz must have forgotten to shut down the automatic ignition system when he left," Winston said. "Odd, that doesn't seem like him. He's so methodical."

"That's my Papa!" Iridium said.

"Well, it works to our benefit," Star said. "I don't know the first thing about ignition systems. Do you, Winston?"

"No."

"Jimmy could figure it out," Iridium said.

Winston stroked his chin. _Yes, Jimmy..._

Less than three weeks had gone by since he'd spoken to the construction foreman. At that time, Winston was the all-powerful mayor. Now he was the least capable robot clumping up the stairs while the real leader of the expedition strode confidently behind. Winston recalled a colorful expression he'd once heard from an associate of Dr. Horvath.

Things have gone from sugar to shit.

A terrible sense of loss barged into Winston's consciousness, along with a sudden impulse to fling himself down the stairs and terminate his existence. Were it not for Star's glorious presence in front of him, he might have done it.

Get a grip, Winston!

"Maybe Dr. Rackenfauz wanted to burn off as much gas as possible," he said. "He characterized the reservoir as a 'time bomb waiting to explode.'"

"There's a cheery thought," Iridium said.

"So, how does everybody feel?" Star asked.

"Quite well, considering the distance we've traveled," Winston said. "My cranial rotation mechanism is a bit slow, however."

"Some cleaning and lube will take care of that. What about you, Iri?"

"My hind quarters are getting stiff. The replacement components might not hold up much longer."

"We could scrap out a mech wolf for parts, couldn't we?" Winston said.

Iridium jerked his head toward Fang and Ripper. They glared back, eyes shining in the dim light. "Not so loud, pal. I don't know how much those guys can understand."

They mounted the last flight of stairs and entered Dr. Rackenfauz's workshop.

"Good grief!" Winston ejaculated.

"Gracious!" Star cried.

The place had been trashed. Work benches were tipped over, broken tools and robotic components littered the floor. Shattered glass lay everywhere. They shuffled through the wreckage in a nightmare daze.

"I can't believe it!" Winston picked up a small desk placard.

Edgar J. Rackenfauz,

double Ph.D.

"Looks like we're out of luck," Iridium said.

"I-I don't understand," Star said. "Dr. Rackenfauz said he was leaving everything intact. Why would he do this?"

"He must have been having a bad day," Winston said. "Or maybe – "

"Or maybe somebody else did it," an ominous voice behind them said.

The robots spun around.

# Four: Pickle Lake Convulsions

19. Night of the Visionists

A fearsome man stood in the doorway aiming an assault rifle. "Stay where you are, demon spawn!"

The robots froze in place.

Other humans crowded behind the man, peering into the workshop – including a number of bedraggled women. All of them wore shapeless overalls or other nondescript clothing.

_My gosh,_ Winston thought, _we've stumbled into an insane asylum!_

The man confronting them was tall and gaunt, with a fringe of gray circling his head. Stubble covered his face, and his eyes held a burning, malevolent intensity. In some ways, he appeared to a be a psychotic doppelganger of Dr. Rackenfauz.

Several of the men hefted guns – and a single woman, too. She appeared to be near 40 years of age, though her fierce demeanor made her seem older than that. She was tall and angular; her eyes smoldered with furious hatred. Frizzy red hair, mixed with gray, surrounded her skull.

_Medusa_... _Bride of Frankenstein_.

"Uh, whom do we have the honor of addressing?" Winston asked.

A flicker of surprise crossed the bald man's face. He glanced at his companions. "This one's a real diplomat."

"Thank you," Winston said.

Some of the humans laughed in shrill, grating twitters. Others looked on, wide-eyed and fearful.

_They're more scared of that guy than I am_.

Winston took advantage of the momentarily relaxed vigilance to step in front of Star.

"Not that it matters what your sort knows or doesn't know," the man said, "but I'm chief acolyte of the Holy Temple of the Transcendent Vision."

A bolt of terror shot through Winston's circuits.

"P-pleased to meet you, your Acolyte-ship," he said with a deferential bow. "We are – "

"Can we blast them now, Chief Acolyte?" the red-haired woman said.

The chief acolyte turned toward her. If she was the bride of Frankenstein, then he qualified as best man in the wedding party. "As soon as Father gives us the go-head. Not before."

"Crap!"

"Patience, Sister Reedy," the chief acolyte said. "I'll request that you be granted first pick when the time comes."

"Good." Sister Reedy gestured toward Star. "I want the bitch."

Winston spread himself out more in front of Star. "Just a moment – "

Awoooo!

Iridium charged the humans, fangs bared. They all shrank back, except for the chief acolyte and Sister Reedy who contemptuously stood their ground. Just short of reaching them, Iridium froze, unable to overcome his programming against attacking humans.

_yip_... _yip_... he whined.

The chief acolyte and Sister Reedy laughed derisively.

"This one should make a nice carpet," Sister Reedy said.

Thunk!

She smacked Iridium with her rifle butt. The great canid tumbled away like a discarded toy. Fang and Ripper trailed after him, whimpering.

"Stop that, you bully!" Star cried.

Sister Reedy threw a murderous look Star's direction. Her finger twitched on the firing mechanism of her assault rifle.

Iridium scrambled up, dashed to the window and began howling. Hundreds of mech birds exited the tower and swooped down _en masse_. Iri motioned to them frantically.

"He's summoning the demons!" one of the men cried.

Birds flooded in through the window with a deafening cacophony of chirps and tweets. They formed a dark whirlpool, then melded into a human-shaped composite creature towering toward the ceiling.

All the humans, except for the chief acolyte and Sister Reedy, gasped.

"Where's the Messiah?" they cried. "Save us! It's the devil incarnate!"

"Not quite," the chief acolyte sneered.

He strolled toward the bird creature, unfazed. He stopped before it and craned his neck to see the monstrosity's uppermost region. Sister Reedy trailed after him.

"That's some trick," the chief acolyte said. "Now get out."

The bird creature quivered.

"Get out!" Sister Reedy shrieked.

The creature wavered and tilted, on the verge of collapse. Then it disintegrated. Hundreds of mech birds scattered through the window like frightened chickens. The humans let out a savage cheer.

The chief acolyte faced the others with a grin of cruel triumph. There were at least forty of them now inside the workshop or gathered in the hallway. Some were fanatical and overflowing with hatred. Most of them were just scared.

"And to think how many of you feared these winged things when the old man was here," the chief acolyte said.

He laughed disdainfully, the others joined in. Many seemed to be reacting on cue – as if they were afraid not to laugh.

"Didn't Father tell you the threat would pass?" Sister Reedy said. "You of little faith!"

The laughter abruptly stopped. Fear crept back into many faces. Clearly, Sister Reedy was a power to be reckoned with in this bizarre group.

The chief acolyte motioned to one of the armed men. "Brother George!"

A short, chubby man stepped out of the crowd and snapped to attention. "Yes, Chief Acolyte."

"Notify Father that we have 'visitors.'"

"As ordered, Chief Acolyte!"

Brother George trotted down the hallway. Silence descended upon the room.

_I'm beginning to feel distinctly unwelcome_.

20. Enter the Savior

Robots and humans regarded each other across the workshop with black suspicion.

Fingers twitched on gun triggers, hatred and fear polluted the air. At any instant, lethal violence could break out. Only the tender mercies of the chief acolyte kept things in check.

"Ohhh, this is all my doing," Star murmured. "It was my big idea to come here."

"Don't talk like that, Star," Winston said.

"But it's true. I feel so guilty."

Iri nestled against her. "I'm sorry, Star. It was the best I could do."

"Hush, Iri." She stroked his head. "It's not your fault."

Heads swiveled until all eyes were fixated on the doorway. The tension became almost unbearable. Then... Father, "the Messiah," appeared.

He was mid 20's with brown, shoulder-length hair and a scraggly beard. Over his filthy clothes he sported an undersized, ceremonial robe. An eye, surrounded by crimson mist, glowered from it. Winston had seen this eye before, painted on the wall of that room at the REX Hotel – the one with the huge stain on the floor.

The messiah's penetrating gaze swept over the workshop. His expression was severe, gaunt – as of someone who'd wearied of life. His eyes betrayed a suffocating and cynical boredom.

_He's been in a deep funk a long time_.

Winston had seen such looks on the faces of other charlatans, back when he was Dr. Horvath's research assistant. He'd worn a similar expression during his political exile – a time when the world had seemed empty and hopeless, when he'd believed himself to be a total phony.

This guy knows he's a fraud. He just doesn't want anybody else to know.

Dr. Horvath would have applauded this insight, but how could it help them now? Phony or not, this "messiah" character had plenty of guns at his disposal.

His followers made way for him, bowing their heads in deepest reverence, or just plain fear. As he passed, they raised their heads again. Their expressions varied from ecstatic worship, to awe, to naked terror. Some of the women displayed urgent, hysterical expressions.

An eerie, flickering glow appeared in Sister Reedy's eyes. Some demonic power lurked behind them, aching to leap out. The messiah strolled past Iridium and the mech wolves, eying them contemptuously.

Winston stepped forward and bowed. "Greetings, your leadership."

The messiah dismissed Winston's overture with a mocking sneer. He continued on to Star. His burning eyes fixated on her face, then roved over her body.

"Well, fucking A," he murmured, "here's something new."

A wicked smile played across his face. It was strained, as if he had not smiled in a long time. His back was turned to his followers, so they could not observe his blatant lust. Star gazed boldly back at him. She placed her hands on hips, displaying her breasts to maximum effect.

Winston dropped all diplomatic propriety. "Keep away from her, or..." He tried to reach out, but his arm froze.

The messiah eyed him contemptuously. "Or what, demon spawn?"

"Let us destroy these abominations, Father," Sister Reedy said from across the room. "They pollute our holy sanctuary."

Others roared agreement. "Destroy the demon spawn!"

"Very well." The messiah held up a finger. "I decree that – "

Star rushed to the window and leaped onto the sill. "If you hurt anyone, I'll jump."

"No!" Winston tried to intervene, but cultists restrained him.

The messiah gaped at Star like a kid about to lose his favorite toy. Helpless bafflement shot across his face, and his cloak of infallibility sagged. He recovered quickly, though, and flashed an amused little smile at his followers.

"Take them to the detention room. I shall interrogate them later."

Cultists manhandled Winston, Iri, and the mech wolves out the door.

Star climbed down from the window sill as two men approached to drag her away.

The messiah waved them off. "That won't be necessary. This one won't cause any trouble."

_Don't count on that, Big Boy_.

The men looked surprised, but did as they were told, leaving Star and the messiah alone on the workshop periphery. She eyed him with frank appraisal for a moment; then she walked toward the door, hips swaying and head high.

Sister Reedy's eyes followed her out, projecting a beam of pure hatred.

So long, has-been...

The group ascended the tower staircase – main body first, led by the chief acolyte and Sister Reedy. Then came the captives with their guards. Star came next and the messiah last. She favored him with a backward glance, noting his lascivious leer.

Despite herself, she experienced some lascivious thoughts of her own.

Careful, girl. This is life and death!

After walking down a gloomy, torch-lit hall, they came to the open door of a large chamber.

"Keep them here under guard," the messiah ordered. "I will seek a vision concerning their fate."

"Yes, Father."

Armed men shoved Winston, Iri and the mech wolves inside the room. Two others grabbed Star's arms.

"Not this one," the messiah said. "Send it to my quarters."

"No!" Winston cried.

A guard silenced him with a whack of his rifle butt.

Star gasped.

"Not too rough, now." The messiah said. "We don't want anyone getting hurt, do we?"

"Did you say to your _quarters_ , Father?" one of the men holding Star asked.

"Are you questioning my judgment?"

"No, Father."

"I need to interrogate it closely, without distractions."

"Yes, of course, Father, please forgive our impertinence."

The men released Star's arms. She moved down the corridor flanked by her escort. She had enough room now to swing her hips properly.

The messiah watched her go, an immodest smile creasing his face and wrinkling the corners of his magnetic eyes. His funk was officially over.

21. Detention

Winston sat against the wall of the spacious, barren room directly across from a large window.

Iridium lay beside him, muzzle resting on his paws. The great canid's dour expression might have been comical under different circumstances, but Winston hadn't felt like laughing for some time.

Their backpacks had been thrown into a far corner; Fang and Ripper occupied another corner. Two armed guards standing in the middle of the room completed the scenario. Gas jets provided dim illumination.

The chief acolyte jabbed his bald head in from the corridor.

"Keep an eye on that window," he barked at the guards. "We don't want those birds coming back."

The guards snapped to attention. "Yes, Chief Acolyte."

They took up positions by the window. One of them held a pump shotgun, while the other brandished an old AK assault rifle.

The chief acolyte addressed another armed man standing in the hall. "You remain by this door until further orders."

"Yes, sir,"

With a final, malevolent glance around the room, the chief acolyte closed the door. Shotgun and AK craned their necks out the window toward the tower summit.

"Not a peep out of them birds," AK said. "They must be scared real good."

A breeze whipped through the window, providing acoustic cover for conversation.

"Who are these people?" Iridium asked in a hushed voice.

"A religious cult," Winston said. "Somehow they survived the final plague."

"How nice."

"The worst effects must not have reached this altitude," Winston said, "although many of them did perish. Dr. Rackenfauz saw their corpses scattered around the lake when he first arrived."

Iridium grunted. "Good riddance."

"Dr. Horvath would term their chief a 'persecutor' – a psychopathic, narcissistic individual craving adoration and control."

"A total whack job, in other words."

"Yes."

The guards looked toward them, then turned their attention back to the window. Winston lowered his voice further.

"The armed ones are true believers. The others seem terrorized. They've probably lost faith and are kept in line through mental and physical abuse."

"We've all got problems, don't we?" Iridium said.

Shotgun turned toward them. "Keep it down there!"

"Yes, sir," Winston said. "Sorry."

* * *

The two stone-faced men brought Star to the messiah's quarters on the penultimate floor of the tower. Gently, but with zero consideration, they pushed her through the doorway.

"Thank you, boys," Star said. "Nice to see that chivalry is still around."

They looked at each other blankly and closed the door. A key grated in the lock.

Star glanced around her new surroundings. She'd been here before, on her first visit to Pickle Lake Castle. She had spent the last night in this room with Winston and Iri.

Little had they known that, all the while, Visionists were lurking in the castle's nether regions behind their iron door. Iri had sensed that something was wrong, but they had not investigated his suspicions. Just as well. Had they breached that door, they would have probably run into a hail of gunfire.

She strolled around the large main chamber – lavish oriental carpets, fine wooden furniture, gas lights providing subdued illumination. A huge bed with ornate posts dominated one corner. End tables flanked the bed, each bearing a silver candlestick.

Star pushed her hands against the mattress. It recoiled firmly against the pressure. "Mmm, nice."

Star did not possess Winston's brilliant, analytical mind, but she could draw obvious conclusions. The "messiah" and his followers had been down there waiting for the end of the world to pass over them. The ones who didn't make the cut had died around the lake shore – or had been slaughtered.

The messiah was capable of murder. Star had seen it in his eyes, smoldering amid his feverish sexuality. It had stimulated her, drawn her toward him, made her want to grasp his throbbing power.

But it's wrong!

She pushed the evil emotion from her consciousness; it hovered in the background, taunting and beckoning. Her nipples had gone erect, brushing against the fabric of her blouse. Her lower regions warmed. She turned her attention back to the furnishings.

Religious tapestries covered the windows and some of the walls. Star examined one. Her standard knowledge pack contained rudimentary details of the Christian faith, and she recognized the man riding on a donkey to be Jesus of Nazareth, the Christian messiah. He was entering an ancient city called Jerusalem.

The tapestry workmanship was exquisite, but somebody had inked in crude extra details. An assault rifle was now strapped to Jesus' shoulder.

"Oh, my!"

The effect was profoundly disturbing. In addition to the rifle, a belt now girded Jesus' waist from which hand grenades hung like toxic fruit.

Star retreated across the chamber and entered a lavish bathroom. It was tricked out in marble and gold, including a large tub with water jets set into the floor.

She grinned. "This is more like it!"

Her lust routines included a "Jacuzzi sex" program. Here would be the perfect venue for an experiment.

Her gaze fell upon a counter littered with needles and bottles of pills. Star did not know the specifics of the drug paraphernalia. Winston would know more about them.

Winston... will I ever see you again?

* * *

In an apartment two stories down, the messiah luxuriated under a hot shower. Layers of dirt cascaded off his skin in a grimy torrent. His hair and beard shampooed squeaky clean, ready for barbering. His face assumed a ruddy glow.

Fucking A!

The latest drug fix was wearing off, but he felt no desire for another one. His manhood, freed from chemical bondage, throbbed erect under the water spray. Joy and strength surged through his body.

At last, the Heavenly Father was smiling upon him. He'd sent a fantastic sexual partner to support him as he spread his rule throughout the Earth. No longer would he have to face the dreary prospects offered by the Temple women – especially Sister Reedy. A cold shiver ran through him despite the near scalding water.

Of course, there were tricky theological aspects to consider. Since the beginning of his mission, he'd raved against the demon-spawn robots, blaming them for all the world's ills. He'd believed it, too. But with the arrival of such an exquisite creature, another divine vision would be needed to iron out the contradictions and keep the flock in line.

Besides, he'd let them slaughter the other robots as consolation. Once he'd exercised his sexual will upon the one named Star, she'd forget about her suicide threats.

He turned off the water, reluctant to leave its warm embrace – but a far better embrace awaited. He stepped from the shower stall into the misty bathroom. The time of exile was finally ending. They'd been stuck in this castle for years – months of which they'd spent hiding in the basement and the adjoining caves waiting for the end times to pass.

Discipline was a serious problem, even after the Nectar of Truth winnowing. Were it not for the dedication of the chief acolyte and a few others – including Sister Reedy – the Cause would have slithered down the drain like that filthy shower residue.

And the boredom! This claustrophobic setting did not provide the fresh admirers he yearned for. He'd screwed the members of his flock, degraded and abused them, but their craven adoration never faltered. It was disgusting.

Yet, he'd hesitated to move into the wider world with his mission. Unknown dangers lurked out there. There must be other human survivors, and they were bound to be tough and well-armed. How could he gain the necessary converts?

A nasty voice, a lot like that of his alcoholic earthly father, sounded in his mind: _"Admit it, Roddy, you're just a lousy little coward."_

The messiah's erection collapsed. His knees gave out, and he grabbed the counter for support.

"I am not!"

" _Aha,"_ the voice chortled. _"Look at the big hero. Is your little weenie scared?"_

"Stop!"

A powerful craving for a drug fix seized him – anything to silence that terrible voice. Pounding came on the door, followed by the muffled words of his bodyguard.

"Father, are you all right?"

A vision of the beautiful creature waiting upstairs entered the messiah's brain. The terror retreated before her radiance, and strength returned to his body.

"Yes... fine. I'll be right out."

He wrapped himself in a robe and exited the bathroom into an exciting new future.

22. Questions

Shotgun and A. K. peered out the detention room window, checking the sky. The sun was gone, and the mountain dusk pressed in hard.

"I think we've seen the last of those bird things," A. K. said. "I liked the way Chief Acolyte gave them the boot."

"I kind of wish they'd come back." Shotgun brandished his weapon. "Give me some target practice."

"Maybe later." A. K. jerked a thumb toward the robots at the far wall. "After we've disposed of these others."

They glowered at their prisoners. The blue one – who must have been trying to listen in – glanced quickly away. The wolf thing with the shimmering coat remained immobile, like some goddam stuffed toy.

"Those things give me the willies," Shotgun said.

"I don't understand why Father takes such interest in these demon spawn," A. K. said. "I thought He'd destroy them all right away."

"I don't get it, either, but who are we to question His actions?"

"Yes. Only He can comprehend the ultimate vision that will lead our Cause to victory."

They pressed right fists to their foreheads in deference to their Messiah.

"Maybe the demon spawn have a role that neither you nor I can comprehend," Shotgun said.

"Yeah, that must be it."

That damned blue robot was listening in again!

"What are you looking at?" Shotgun roared.

"Uh... nothing, sir. I was just wondering why you refer to us as 'demon spawn.'"

The guards gaped at each other, surprise and anger disfiguring their already repulsive faces.

"Quit yanking their chain!" Iridium whispered.

"I must learn more about their thought processes," Winston said.

Shotgun strode toward them. Winston disguised his apprehension under his best politician's smile. Iridium remained impassive.

"Father warned us that you're all deceivers," Shotgun said, jabbing a finger at Winston.

"Pay no attention to those things," A. K. said. "They'll just deny their responsibility."

"Responsibility?" Winston asked.

Shotgun lowered his snarling countenance; the barrel of his weapon dropped toward Winston's head. Winston shrank back, his smile fading.

"Responsibility for the end of the world! When the wars you started weren't enough, you brought the plague down on us."

"My humblest apologies," Winston said. "Would you believe me if I said our particular group was not consulted about these events?"

Shotgun glanced toward his comrade at the window. "I hope Father chooses me to blast this one."

Winston recoiled.

"Yeah, I'll take down that rainbow thing," A. K. said.

"Big heroes with their guns," Iridium muttered.

Winston gathered his wits. "Yet, you and your companions appear to have survived quite well. Why is that?"

"Father's vision brought us to this place of refuge from which He will emerge to rule the world."

"Indeed? But didn't numerous members of your 'Cause' perish as well?"

"Father had us partake the Nectar of Truth," Shotgun said. "Those of insufficient faith perished."

"Quit wasting time with that monstrosity," A. K. said. "The extermination order will silence them all soon enough."

With a final murderous glance at Winston, Shotgun returned to the window area.

"Satisfied, pal?" Iridium said.

"That lunatic poisoned most of his followers," Winston said. "They must have been running low on food or something."

"Or else he just enjoys doing things like that."

* * *

Star approached the tapestry hanging in front of the window and fondled the rich fabric. It portrayed an episode from the Christian bible – Jesus being arrested by the temple guards. Again, the beautiful workmanship was defaced by heavy black ink. Jesus and his followers bore submachine guns; hand grenades festooned their belts. The feeble weapons of the temple guards were totally overmatched.

These defacements surely provided insight into the messiah's character. How could this knowledge be used to their advantage? If only Winston were here to interpret things.

If only I wasn't so scared!

She drew the fabric aside so as to access the window. The tapestry fell to the floor in a dusty plume.

Star jumped back. "Oh, dear!"

The window was exposed now. It was three meters across by two and a half high. A broad stone ledge ran along its length, and a pair of binoculars hung from a nail driven into the adjacent wall. The tapestry's fastening hardware was too high for her to access, and a second party would be needed for any remounting effort.

She rolled the tapestry up and shoved it against the wall. Hopefully, this mishap wouldn't cause problems when the messiah appeared to satisfy the lust she'd seen on his face. Her own lust for the strange man with the misty eye rose in her heart. Again, she tried to refuse it entry.

She felt evil, soiled. If only she could roll up these unworthy passions and kick them aside as she'd done with the tapestry. She peered through the window, seeking distraction for her feverish mind.

The world outside was subdued, otherworldly in the fading light. A heavy mist rose from Pickle Lake, roiling about like a living thing. Some movement in the distance caught her eye. She leaned out for a better view, gripping the window ledge for support. A stone under her hand gave way, throwing her off balance.

"Oh!" She drew back.

Wheels turned in her head, figuratively speaking. _This might come in handy, somehow._

She repositioned the stone, carefully brushing away any evidence of crumbled mortar. From all appearances, the stone was as solidly placed as any other. She picked up the binoculars and adjusted them to her optical sensors.

Out by the lake, six figures walked toward the castle on the trail. Their awkward movements betrayed robotic origins.

Who are they?

A scrapper gang, probably – like the one that had attacked them on their previous trip. Nobody decent would be out creeping in the gathering darkness. Star shuddered at the recollection of their encounter with the renegade robots.

Have they followed us here?

Star could make out more details now. The lead robot was missing an arm. She leaned her elbows on the ledge and watched the group's progress with rapt attention.

23. Back at the Ranchero

The work crew labored with picks and shovels, digging a new channel for the "Winston River," as the waterway coursing through Mech City was unofficially known.

Jimmy stood a short distance away, observing. _We could use some power digging machinery._

But there wasn't any available, just the brain unit-numbing, back-breaking effort of these robots. The idea was to direct the river into the bomb crater, flush out the stagnant water, and create a scenic pond. It was a good idea, but increasingly, the workers were not buying it.

Sam moved beside him. "How's it going?"

Jimmy would have sighed, had he been able. "Not so good. The boys don't understand the reasons behind what they're doing."

"You explained it to them, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but I can't inspire them like the Boss could. They don't see the point." Jimmy threw a contemptuous glance at the crew and the miserable extent of the work they'd accomplished. "It makes me sick how everybody turned on the Boss."

"You and me didn't turn on him, Jimmy."

"That's right, and I'm _real_ proud of that fact."

The enormous figure of Mayor Ajax stood on the opposite bank of the canal, arms crossed over the chest, surveying the work below.

"Ajax means well," Jimmy said, "but he doesn't have the Boss's moxie. The boys haven't taken to him at all."

"There's talk of quitting. It would only take one or two guys walking off and the rest would follow."

"Yeah."

Jimmy regarded the communicator strapped to his wrist. As interim security chief, he commanded the mech wolf guards. He pondered summoning them to help control the workers. His prosaic mind recoiled at the idea.

If it comes to that, we're finished. I wish the Boss was here.

* * *

Across town at the main RDI workshop, Jack and Quincy labored over a damaged robot. Every table in the room contained another wrecked machine.

Quincy set down his wrench. "Ah, what's the point, already?"

"What do you mean?" Jack gestured to the other wrecks. "This is the last of them. Once we fix them up, we'll be all finished."

"Yeah, but what are we fixing them up _for_?"

"Well... I don't know."

"The point is, there _is_ no point to repairing them," Quincy said. "Nobody gives a damn any longer."

Jack shrugged.

"I'm thinking it was a mistake to kick Winston out," Quincy said.

"What else could we do? He was going off the deep end."

"I'm not saying he didn't need to get taken down a peg, but look at the situation now!"

"It is pretty lousy," Jack agreed.

"Ajax is too upright and honest. He expects everyone else to be like him. You can't help but feel inferior when he's around."

"Winston never had that problem," Jack said. "He knew how to be cunning and underhanded."

"It worked, too. He kept everybody motivated." Quincy snatched up his wrench, brandishing it like a weapon. "Ajax doesn't understand how others feel and think. That's why he can't inspire anybody; he's too self-righteousness."

"What do you expect? He was designed to be the sidekick of Gorzo the Adventure Robot – a guy who never does anything wrong."

"Right," Quincy said. "Ajax is two-dimensional. He's got zero subtlety."

"Imagine how huge he'd be with three dimensions."

The workshop morgue of deactivated machines hulked around the repair bots. A single thought occupied their minds:

I wish Winston would come back.

24. Raiding Party

Burt led the other five members of the scrapper gang as they humped their way up the mountain trail. All of them were armed with clubs – all were contentious, ill-tempered, and constantly bumping into each other.

Burt glowered back at them. "Keep it down, damn you!"

He brought the gang to a halt on a level area near the lake shore. Water lapped gently under its layer of mist, but the rhythm brought no comfort to Burt's twisted mind. The castle loomed in the mountain silence, its dimly illuminated windows staring out like eyes of the undead.

"That dump gives me the creeps," he muttered. "Reminds me of Castle Dracula."

A dim recollection floated up in his memory bank, from a time before the world collapsed and his brain had unraveled. Before the Che Syndrome turned him into a villain.

The grim mountain vista faded away, and he was sitting on the living room floor of his master's house, watching a 20th century horror movie. The master's two young children snuggled against him, frightened by the old black and white images flickering on the wall screen. He placed an arm over each of their little shoulders, and said –

"What's the plan, Chief?" one of the scrappers asked.

The memory vanished, leaving Burt with a terrible sense of loss. He'd been "Uncle Burtie" again, loved by a human family who had all died horribly before his anguished optical sensors. When the last one flickered out, so had Burt's sanity.

He cuffed the scrapper hard. "The plan is to get there first, nit wit. Once we see how things are, we'll know what to do."

"Gosh, Chief, he was just asking," a second scrapper said.

A third robot spoke up. "I think – "

" _You_ think?" Burt said. "My missing arm's got more brains than all of you put together."

He started walking back down the path.

"Where're you going, Chief?" the first scrapper said.

"Think I'll leave you all here. Try to find yourselves another driver."

"No, Chief, we didn't mean nothing!"

Burt paused.

"That's right," the second scrapper said. "We was just talking."

"Well... okay," Burt said, "but no more guff, understand?"

The five scrappers nodded enthusiastically and competed to express their loyalty.

"I'm with you, Chief... lead on... whatever you say, Boss!"

What a bunch of peasants.

"Cut the crap, already," Burt said.

Everyone shut up.

Burt took his position in the lead. The group resumed its trek.

"Hold it right there!" A harsh voice commanded from the gloom

* * *

At their post by the detention room window, Shotgun and A. K. argued strategy.

"We need to get out of this place as soon as possible," Shotgun said. "Every day we remain here is another one lost to the New Age."

"It's not time yet," A. K. said. "We need to get our strength back first. A lot of the members are wavering in their faith."

The dispute became more heated, distracting their attention from events outside. Winston took advantage of the audio cover to speak with Iridium.

"I have to fight these people."

"Not possible," Iridium said. "Your programming won't allow it."

Winston glanced at the guards, then back toward Iridium. "I could if I was deranged, like those scrappers who attacked Dr. Rackenfauz."

"How would you accomplish that?"

"I don't know yet."

Iridium shook his head. "If you were really nuts, you'd be a threat to everyone, including Star."

"That's where you'd come in, Iri. Finish me off before I could harm her."

Iridium's usually impassive face registered astonishment, followed by a pitying look. "It would never work."

"I have to do something."

Iridium sprawled out, muzzle resting on his paws. "Forget it, pal; you're out of your league. Besides, Star might be a lot tougher than you think."

"I wish I could believe that."

* * *

The scrappers froze. Two men, armed with guns, approached. Both were mean-looking individuals, one totally bald while the other sported scraggly long hair and a beard.

"Drop the weapons, boys," Burt whispered.

Their clubs thudded to the ground as the armed men arrived.

"Get this," the bald one said, "another batch of demon spawn."

"Hands up, you scum!" the hairy man ordered.

The scrappers raised their hands.

"Relax, they can't fight us," Baldy said. "You saw how Sister Reedy knocked them around."

"Uh... that's right, sir," Burt said. "We're only looking for our friend, the blue robot. Have you seen him?"

"Sure," Hairy said. "We'll take you there, first class." He pointed to a lit window in the castle tower. "It's up with the others."

"Thank you, sir."

"Why are you talking to this damn rust bucket?" Baldy said.

"It beats talking to you."

Burt assessed the situation. _Three to one odds, not bad if we can get the timing right._

"Please forgive us, sir," he said. "We did not mean to cause any dispute."

"Another diplomat," Baldy sneered.

Both men motioned with their gun barrels. "Move it, demon spawn!"

"Yes, sir," Burt said. "Let's go, comrades."

The scrappers walked toward the castle, hands raised above their heads. The two guards followed, walking casually, talking with each other.

Burt grinned. _Those bums don't see any threat from us "rust buckets."_

"It'll be nice to get inside," Baldy said.

"Yeah, it's creepy out here."

Baldy gestured toward the lake. "I keep sensing 'them' hovering above the water. Like they're waiting to grab somebody."

"I know what you mean. So, how come we got stuck with outdoor guard duty again?"

"Me, because I've always had bad luck," Baldy said. "And you, because you stink. If you washed up more often, people could stand having you around."

"Very funny," Hairy said. "You ain't exactly a bouquet of roses."

Burt glanced over his ruined shoulder at the complacent guards.

"Now!"

The scrappers rushed the startled men, beating them down with overwhelming mechanical strength. In moments, both guards lay dead.

"Good work, boys!"

Burt picked up a fallen gun. He began shaking uncontrollably as his anti-firearm program kicked in. Not even the ravages of the Che Syndrome had overcome this ultimate taboo.

He dropped the gun. "I wish we could use these damn things."

The scrappers retrieved their clubs and continued on.

25. Encounter with Greatness

From her tower window vantage point, Star had to restrain herself from crying out joyfully at the scrapper gang's triumph.

Dangerous events were transpiring. Those scrappers could not be considered friends, but they were definitely enemies of the cultists – and they were headed for the castle!

How can this work to our benefit?

For a moment, Star wished she had Winston's brilliance or Iridium's keen intuition. They'd know how to handle things.

But she had capabilities neither of them possessed, right? She smoothed her hands down her voluptuous figure and primped her hair. Soon, she would need every one of her weapons.

Across the vast room, a key jiggling in the door lock jolted Star out of her ruminations. She left the window and walked briskly toward the door. She was almost there when it opened.

She paused. An armed guard entered, followed by the messiah.

"Leave me now," the messiah said.

The guard bowed. "Yes, Father."

He looked dubiously at Star for a moment, then departed, closing the door behind him. His footsteps faded down the corridor. Star crossed the remaining distance to stand directly before the messiah.

The change in his appearance was astonishing. He was freshly groomed and scrubbed. His hair was trimmed, and his beard was gone. He no longer wore the ceremonial robe over his old, but immaculate, clothing. An involuntary thrill ran through Star's circuits.

"I was hoping you'd come, Father," she said, bowing her head reverently.

The messiah waved his hand in a weary gesture. "You don't need to call me that. It's all so boring."

Star looked gazed into the messiah's face. His pale blue eyes connected with hers, and an intense energy passed between them. She felt herself being sucked into their depths.

Careful, girl, he's the enemy!

She bowed her head again to sever the almost unbearable contact. "How then should I address you?"

"As a special dispensation, you may call me 'Roddy,'" the messiah said.

"Oh, yes... Roddy."

It seemed the perfect name for the most perfect man in the world. How could anybody not find its owner to be devastatingly attractive? He was the supreme leader here, he had the right to rule everywhere.

Roddy looked away from Star toward the open window, and his erotic hold on her lessened a bit. He spied the fallen tapestry.

"What happened there?" he said.

Star wrenched back enough of her senses to craft an answer. "Oh, it fell when I was trying to look outside."

"Is that so?"

"I just wanted some fresh air, Roddy," Star positioned herself to block his path to the window. "Is that okay?"

Roddy hesitated, then shrugged. "Sure, why not? I've been needing some air myself."

Star took his hands and led him toward a small couch out of the window sight line. They sat down together.

"I was beginning to think you weren't coming, Roddy. I've been so lonely here by myself."

"I needed to get cleaned up. I've been working so hard for my people that I sometimes forget."

"Yes, your people," Star said. "They must be so grateful for everything you do."

Roddy stiffened. "Are you kidding! Without my leadership they'd all be dead by now. But do they appreciate me?"

"I would certainly hope so."

The messiah snorted. "Hell, many of them would leave if they could – abandon the Cause."

His composure was dropping away fast. Without meaning to, Star had jammed her finger against his rawest nerve.

Oh, if only I had Winston's gift for diplomacy.

"How terrible," Star said, trying to sound sympathetic.

Roddy was on his feet now. "Wasn't it the same with the first messiah? They crucified him, for God's sake. But it won't happen this time!"

Extreme violence lurked within the anger. Star was frightened by it, but also greatly excited. She was in the grip of intense, contradictory passions. On one hand, she wanted to destroy the evil man standing before her, on the other she'd be willing to commit any violence to protect him – to experience his erotic power.

This is crazy. Think about Winston, about Iri!

A vision of her great love appeared in her mind, along with a companion view of precious Iridium. But the images could not dispel the attraction she felt for the demonic messiah.

I'll have to tear myself in two.

"Those people just don't understand your greatness," she said.

The steadiness of her own voice amazed her. It seemed to have a powerful effect on Roddy as well.

"That's fucking A right," he said. " _Nobody_ understands me."

The rage was draining out of him, eased by Star's acceptance.

"Come sit beside me," she said, "rest a while."

Roddy did so. Star brushed his cheek with her finger tips. An electric thrill coursed through her circuits.

"Don't let it bother you so much, Roddy. Not while I'm at your side."

He calmed down, the way Iri always did at her touch. He turned a hopeful look her direction. She rewarded him with an alluring little smile.

"Isn't this better?" she said.

He nodded.

"You look so fresh and clean," Star said. "I wish you'd bathed here, where I could assist you."

"Really?"

Roddy moved closer, his thigh was pressing fully against hers now. Star's rigid self control vanished. She seized him and pressed her mouth to his in a hot, passionate kiss that seemed to last for hours.

She felt an almost physical ripping occur inside her. She had two personas now. One was lustful, wicked, exploding with sexual ardor. The other was remote, icy, and calculating.

God, let the icy one have the final say!

Star terminated the kiss, Roddy sagged in her embrace.

"It's wonderful to be around a real man," she said in a husky voice. "A true leader."

Roddy smiled dreamily, still adrift on a cloud of sexual pleasure. Then his eyes turn hard and suspicious.

"What about that Winston character?" he said. "He seems very sweet on you."

"Oh, him? Forget that loser. I did the moment I saw you."

Star hated herself for saying this, especially as it seemed to have the ring of truth on some level. Roddy settled back. Star brushed his cheek with her finger tips again.

Then he leaned forward abruptly, hard suspicion returned. "Then why did you threaten to jump out the window if I hurt him?"

"Oh, Roddy! You don't know the first thing about what turns a girl on."

Star gave him another long, probing kiss. Again he thawed in her arms, totally under her spell. She pulled away, leaving him groping for more. She reveled in her erotic power, like some ancient sex goddess.

"It must be difficult for you, cooped up in this place," she said.

Roddy struggled to come back to reality, to reassume his infallible leader persona. Star smiled naughtily at his discomfiture.

"I'm sick of it," Roddy said. "But it's not yet time to leave on the last phase of my mission."

"A mission? That sounds fascinating."

"I've prepared for it my whole life, so I can wait a bit longer," Roddy said. "But my people are getting restless."

Star drew away. A jealous pout occupied her face.

"What's the matter?" Roddy asked.

"There are lots of women among 'your people,' aren't there?" Star said.

"Yeah."

"And I suppose you've had them all?"

The messiah shrugged.

"Well, I think they leave much to be desired." Star gestured toward the huge bed. "That must be a very cold and unsatisfying place for you."

Her manner had become severe, Roddy wilted under it. The all-powerful leader began to run for cover.

"Well... I do have to make many sacrifices for the Cause," he said.

"Do these 'sacrifices' involve other men as well?" Star demanded. "Are you a 'switch hitter,' Roddy?"

"There are so many demands on me." Roddy's voice had degenerated into a childish whine. "My people call upon me to serve them in various ways. I-I cannot refuse!"

Star crossed her arms and fixed a cold stare upon him. Roddy looked back with pleading in his eyes. Star would have none of it. The jealous anger she projected was quite genuine.

"I'm supposed to accept the way things are then, huh?" she said.

"Everything is for the Cause," Roddy said. "Please try to understand."

He gazed into the beautiful, incredible face, studying it desperately for any hint of approval. It was not quite the face of a woman; it was different in subtle ways. Beneath the sensuous warmth existed an un-human, alien hardness that promised erotic pleasure undreamed of by mortal men.

Her entire aspect was alien, illusive – the sinuous manner in which she moved, the look in her eyes – these were not the movements and expressions of a real woman. This Star being was a new frontier to conquer, or be conquered by.

During his many sexual exploits, Roddy had tried the bondage, SM route, but had found the various dominatrix to be ridiculous figures. This creature beside him now, though – she could take him anywhere.

His sham persona hung by a thread now. In his heart, he knew he was a contemptible hoax, but he could never afford to let others find out – especially not this incredible female. He dreaded what he'd be forced to do to her if she saw behind his facade.

Star sensed that things were hovering on a lethal edge.

Time to ease up, girl.

She slid closer to Roddy and took his hands. They were soft, almost feminine, the hands of someone accustomed to having others perform the difficult tasks that life required.

"Okay, I forgive you," she said. "Let's not talk about it anymore."

Roddy let out an immense sigh, he looked almost pathetic in his neediness. Star brushed back a strand of his hair.

"Tell me about your Cause, Roddy."

"Cause?"

The topic that had been of paramount importance only moments before now seemed distant and trivial to Roddy. How could he even think about it in the presence of this erotic deity?

Star's eyes bored into his. "Tell me, Roddy. I want to know everything about you."

He could do nothing except obey.

26. Origins of the Messiah

With the spotlight trained fully upon himself and his achievements, Roddy regained some of the confidence he'd lost under Star's merciless interrogation.

He got up from the couch and moved a short distance away, giving himself room to pace dramatically before her.

"The first vision came to me from my Father when I was quite young," he said.

"How exciting!"

Star moved to the edge of her seat and gazed deeply into Roddy's eyes while he spoke. The wave of approval coming from her washed Roddy along, back into the early years of his extraordinary life.

"By that, I mean my Heavenly Father," he said, "not the worthless drunk who used to beat me and my mother . . ."

* * *

In the large vacant lot across the alley from his ramshackle house, twelve-year-old Roderick Barnett finished preparing the altar. The sacred red cloth and the black candles were in their proper locations, as were the carving knife and electrical cord. A stick of incense wafted its fumes beside a plastic sandwich bag of smoked herring. A ritual bowl containing "holy solvent" completed the paraphernalia.

Roddy glanced around to confirm there were no witnesses. Of course not – everybody in the neighborhood feared to enter this place of holiness, and any strangers who happened by quickened their steps to avoid it. The local kids dubbed it "Mean Field" and gave the place a wide berth.

Roddy poured holy solvent into a bag, then shoved the bag up to his face and inhaled deeply. His is consciousness ascended to a higher level. He repeated the ceremony, each time ratcheting up his spiritual insight.

When he lowered the bag, the world around him was in sharper focus with brighter colors, heightened perceptions. And behind this mundane world, Roddy detected another reality filled with deep mystery.

Would this be the day when he finally broke through to it?

The stray cat made its way toward him through the discarded cans and broken glass. Roddy smiled; the creature meowed with hunger, begging for a handout. Roddy pulled a morsel of fragrant herring out of the sandwich bag.

"Come here, my lamb," he said, waving the herring.

The cat approached, sniffing cautiously.

"Come on," Roddy coaxed, "I won't hurt you."

The hungry animal was very close now. In a flash, Roddy seized it and began wrapping the electrical cord around its neck. The creature howled with mortal terror. Roddy felt the sharp jab of claws.

"Damn you!" He gripped the cat's neck hard, nearly breaking it. "You'll regret that."

He brought the struggling animal to the twisted little "sacrificial tree." The cat was going to have a slow, agonizing strangulation hanging there. Then, just before it died, he'd give it a false reprieve. It would be time for the carving knife then.

Roddy was fiercely aroused. Never before had he felt such brutal emotion surging through him. His groin throbbed with power. He thought of the new, red-headed girl at school – thought of how it would feel to crush her neck in his hands. The exquisite pleasure of listening to her screams! Then . . .

A mighty voice boomed from directly above.

"CUT THE CRAP, RODDY! I HAVE MORE IMPORTANT THINGS FOR YOU."

Roddy looked upward in astonishment and fear. An overwhelming light blasted from the sky, bathing his face with ecstasy. A crimson mist hovered in this light, and within the mist, a fierce red eye gazed down upon him. The cat struggled out of Roddy's slackened arms and ran away.

"Yes... w-what is it... Father?"

The Heavenly Father materialized above him, filling the space around the red eye with His divine presence. Roddy gaped in amazement. This was nothing like the majestic Sistine Chapel figure he'd seen in the history class video. This Heavenly Father looked more like an old bunko artist or child molester – like that weirdo ice cream man the cops hauled away earlier that summer.

A cynical smile twisted the Heavenly Father's face, and his eyes were not kind. Roddy grinned. This was _so_ much better than that pompous god painted on the chapel ceiling.

"Fucking A!"

"THE END TIMES ARE AT HAND, RODDY. YOU MUST LEAD A REMNANT OF MY PEOPLE TO SALVATION."

"Uh... sure thing, Dad. I got nothing else planned."

The Heavenly Father jabbed a finger down at him. Roddy recoiled, then raised his own finger.

"YOU ARE THE NEW MESSIAH!"

A bolt of lightning passed from the Heavenly Father's finger tip into Roddy's own. Roddy jerked back with the recoil, then fell on the ground. He lay on his back convulsing amid the rubbish. Finally, he became still.

"ARISE RODDY, TAKE UP THE MANTLE, UPHOLD THE GREAT CAUSE. DO NOT FAIL!"

The divine presence disappeared, leaving Roddy alone and stunned. He struggled to his feet and gazed at the empty sky. Had any of this really happened, or was it just his imagination running wild? Then a bunch of raucous crows appeared, seemingly from nowhere. One of them pooped on Roddy's head. He wiped the bird droppings away, examined his hand rapturously.

"A divine omen!"

Star listened with total absorption.

_This guy is amazing!_ her super-charged, hyper-sexed persona thought.

_This guy is totally wacko!_ her icy, calculating persona thought.

"So, I left home immediately, without bidding farewell to my earthly parents," Roddy was saying. "Their purpose in the divine plan was fulfilled and they returned to their iniquity."

He droned on about the early days of his mission. How he attracted his first converts, including the man who would be his legal guardian until he reached maturity – William Camp, a.k.a. the chief acolyte. How they spread the good news to an unbelieving world. How Sister Reedy appeared, at the behest of the Heavenly Father, to provide the strong female role model that had been lacking in his life.

_Role model?_ Star's interior bitch said. _I'll bet she rolled you every which way._

"The Cause then directed me to the place known as 'Mech City,'" Roddy said.

"Oh my!" Star gasped as her rational persona momentarily gained the upper hand.

Roddy paused. He fixed his penetrating gaze upon her. "Is there something you do not understand, child?"

"I-it's nothing, Roddy. Please go on."

He resumed speaking, thrilled at the emotional outburst he'd drawn from the fantastic woman machine.

"Mech City proved a sinful place, not open to my message. A legion of unbelievers drove us away with fire – but even that was part of the Heavenly Father's plan.

"We left and shook the dust from our feet. We wandered for years like the lost tribes of Israel – until my vision located this place of power for our final refuge. We had to fight off unbelievers who sought to eject us. Never again would we be driven from our holy temple! We waited here, ensconced in the nether regions, as chaos reigned around us.

"We emerged into a dead world. We combed the lowlands for food and supplies, but it was all too soon. My people were not ready for salvation yet, many wanted to abandon the Cause. Imagine! But, as always, the Heavenly Father had a plan. He sent the one called Rackenfauz and his demon birds.

"'Save us, Father!' my people cried and fled back into the nether regions. I knew the old fool was no threat, but I used him to keep my people hidden away for months where they could contemplate their sins and repent their disloyalty."

Star remained seated on the couch, listening with rapt attention. Her air-head ditz persona had returned squarely to the fore.

Roddy was gesturing wildly now, flinging an imaginary robe around in dramatic arcs. The effect was electrifying. Star could barely restrain herself from leaping off the sofa and tearing off the messiah's clothes. The narrative reached a thunderous conclusion.

"And with the dawning of this new and purified age," Roddy shouted, "those who believe in me will inherit the earth!"

27. Scrappers and True Believers

As the messiah was relating his bizarre tale, Burt and his gang of scrappers crept in through the castle door, clubs raised, glancing apprehensively around the entry hall.

"Keep those weapons out of sight," Burt said in a hushed voice.

The scrappers lowered their clubs and held them close to themselves, concealing them as much as possible.

"Play dumb with any humans we meet," Burt said. "We need to get into that detention room."

"What then, Chief?" a scrapper asked.

"We take out as many as we can," Burt said, "starting with the blue guy."

A murmur of approval coursed through the gang.

"We're with you, Chief."

"Let's smash 'em!"

They moved toward the main tower staircase.

* * *

Elsewhere in the bowels of the castle, Sister Reedy was conferring with two other Visionists – Brother Ralph and Brother George. Along with her and the chief acolyte, they were the hardest core true believers, people who had stuck with the Messiah since the earliest days of His holy mission.

"I can't believe what's happening," Brother Ralph said. "What is Father thinking about, consorting with a demon spawn?"

"It goes against his most sacred teachings," Brother George said.

"She's bewitched him!" Sister Reedy hissed. "Did you see the brazen way she looked at him? She wields satanic power, let me tell you."

Years ago, when she was young and attractive, she'd looked at the Messiah that way herself. And He'd responded, too, oh yes! She'd been one of His first converts, throwing over her drug addiction and replacing it with absolute devotion to Him.

She'd introduced Him to the sexual arts, performing any sort of perversion He requested and many others He'd never imagined. He'd adopted her nickname 'Reedy' in tribute to her lithe sensuality and her long, supple body that could twist around Him in all manner of orgasmic contortions.

To complete her life's work, she'd borne Him a wonderful male offspring to advance the Cause into the next generation – after the Messiah had ascended to his celestial reward at the right hand of the Heavenly Father.

But things had changed in more recent times. Her looks faded, and younger rivals elbowed their way into His affections. This had been a harsh blow, but she drew consolation from her status as mother of the sacred heir... until that awful day when they'd partaken the Nectar of Truth.

She'd been confident Roderick junior would live to assume his lawful place at the head of the righteous. But after he'd drunk the Nectar of Truth, presented to him with her own hands no less, he'd gone into convulsions and died with the others on the banks of the Sacred Sea.

The trauma of witnessing his death nearly destroyed her. She'd drunk her own portion of Nectar praying fervently that she would also perish, but she'd been one of the survivors. Since that day, her fanatic belief in the Cause had increased many fold. It was all she had now.

"What's to be done?" Brother Ralph asked.

"I don't think we can do anything, yet," Brother George said. "We can't betray our oath to Father, even if we don't understand what's going on."

"There's evil afoot tonight," Sister Reedy muttered.

Two men entered the room, guards who had escorted the female demon spawn to the Messiah's chambers.

"What are you doing here?" Sister Reedy snapped.

"Father dismissed us," one of the men said. "He told us to leave him unattended."

"Get back up there right now! Don't depart his door for an instant." The look of fanatical rage in her eyes brooked no disagreement.

"Yes, Sister." The guards fled the room.

Venomous thoughts about the female demon spawn squirmed in Sister Reedy's mind – torture, dismemberment, fire.

28. Climax

Roddy finished his tirade and looked at Star expectantly. His arms were crossed over his chest, his eyes blazed with fervent power. Star looked back at him with a mixture of extravagant lust and absolute horror.

_I can't go on divided like this_ , she thought desperately. _It's going to destroy me._

Either her rational self or her wanton self would have to battle this monster. Star knew, in the depths of her being, that her rational side was not up to the job.

This is it, girl – no turning back!

With a wrenching mental effort, she forced her reasoning, moral and decent persona into the background. A final thought accompanied it: _I love you, Winston!_

Then she summoned up her darkest, most debauched yearnings and released them like a pack of wild dogs.

"Oh, baby!"

Star surged up, grabbed Roddy, and pulled him onto the couch with her – kissing him ferociously, biting his lips, his neck, tearing at his clothes.

"Give it to me now, Big Boy!"

They tumbled onto the floor and rolled across the exquisite oriental carpet.

Roddy was taken completely by surprise. The strength of this robotic female was incredible, far beyond that of any flesh and blood woman, far beyond his own. He'd always been the violent sexual aggressor, he couldn't handle this new situation.

Star thrust a hand into his underwear. Then she paused.

"What's this? Feels like little Roddy is on vacation."

She withdrew her hand, laughing scornfully. "Wait til the others hear about this!"

Roddy stumbled back to his feet. The room spun around him in a psychotic carnival ride.

"Stop laughing at me!" His voice had shot up an octave.

Star got to her feet, still laughing, and stood directly before him.

"What do you know?" she sneered. "The all-mighty leader – nothing but a limp noodle. Winston will love that!"

An insane fury contorted Roddy's face. "Damn you!"

He grabbed Star's throat and tried to strangle her, but her titanium alloy substructure was impervious to the assault.

"That's it!" Star grabbed Roddy's crotch, kneading brutally. "You've got it now, Big Boy."

Roddy cried out with exquisite agony. Star shrugged his hands off her throat and crushed her mouth against his. She swayed her hips, grinding into his throbbing erection. Roddy groaned, succumbing to her overwhelming sexual power.

"Violence turns you on," Star panted. "Me too!"

She pulled away, leaving Roddy stunned and disoriented. With a few savage motions, she ripped off her blouse, then the rest of her clothes. Roddy looked on, mesmerized.

"But it's danger that _really_ gets me hot," Star said.

She rushed to the window and climbed up on the stone ledge, spreading her arms wide under the sensuous night sky. Impossible, contradictory emotions raged through her circuits. It seemed a moment equally suited to live or perish.

She glanced back toward Roddy. He looked tiny, insecure, uncertain – his face drained of blood. The all-powerful messiah was nowhere in sight. Star crouched low, like a predatory cat, and fixed him with a powerful, erotic stare.

"Come up here!" she commanded.

As if in a trance, Roddy stripped off his clothes and approached with hesitant steps to the edge of the window.

"That's a good boy," Star purred.

She gripped his erection and guided him up onto the window ledge. Through her orgiastic mental fog, she tried to observe where he stepped. Disappointment shot through her when he found solid footing.

She released his organ and gestured into the night expanses. "Here it is! All yours for the taking – the earth, the heavens."

Roddy overcame his trepidation, driven on by Star's erotic madness. "Yes! Yesss!"

They stood together in orgasmic exaltation, masters of the universe. Reveling in their damnation. Time stood still . . .

Then, with a brutal effort of willpower, Star quashed her frenzied emotions. She shrank back fearfully.

"Over there," she said in a quavering voice, "I-I see them."

"Who?"

"Your people... they're coming for you."

Terror contorted Roddy's face, his eyes widened. "W-where?"

Star pointed toward the lake glittering in the moonlight. "Out there, by the water."

Madness and reality blended into a gruesome composite. Star could actually see the ghosts of the murdered Visionists now, swirling in the unholy vapors over Pickle Lake.

"No, it can't be... they're all dead." Roddy trembled violently. "I killed them myself. I gave them the poisoned chalice. They would have betrayed me!"

He tried to move down from the ledge, but his foot stepped on the loose stone. It gave out under him, spinning away in the darkness.

"Help!" Roddy shrieked.

He reached toward Star. Instinctively, she thrust a hand toward him, but restrained herself. His fingertips brushed against hers, then slipped away. Roddy fell into the void, screaming.

Star watched him hurtle to the flagstones far below. Her face was inert, blank, like a manikin's. From the direction of Pickle Lake, hundreds of shades rushed to greet their messiah with open arms. They didn't look friendly.

# Five: Breakout Attempts

29. All Hell Breaks Loose

In the detention room, A. K. and Shotgun had wearied of their constant arguing. They stood together by the window, cradling their weapons in their arms like lethal babies, glaring at the captives who seemed as bored and indolent as they were.

The blue robot appeared to have slid into a deep funk, his chin resting upon his chest. No more irritating questions came from him to break the monotony.

A. K. yawned. "I wish something would happen, already."

"Yeah," Shotgun agreed.

"Ahhhhh!!!!"

The screaming messiah hurtled past the window flailing his limbs in the thin air.

"My god!" Shotgun cried.

"Holy crap!" A. K. added.

They leaned far outside the window. A horrible _SPLAT!_ assaulted their ears from the flagstones below. The screaming ceased.

"Father!"

Winston and Iridium jerked into wary attentiveness. Ripper and Fang rose from their corner and moved toward the window to investigate.

"Get back, you idiots!" Iridium snarled.

The mech wolves halted, looking to Iridium for further instructions. The guards turned back from the window, both of them trembling and pale. A. K. fainted, sprawling on the floor like a discarded bag of manure. Shotgun was still capable of action, though.

An insane rage overtook him. "Damn you!"

He fired point blank at Fang. The mech wolf disintegrated, scattering components about the room. Ripper fled back to the corner, whining.

"It's all your fault! Death to the demon spawn!"

Shotgun pumped another round into his weapon and aimed it at the blue robot. The demon spawn cringed, holding his hands over his face in a useless protective gesture.

"Look out, pal!"

The wolf robot jumped in front of him as the shotgun fired.

* * *

Star remained fixated in the window, staring out at the mountain vastness as if she'd been cemented in place. Her reasoning mind was far away, uninvolved in the grisly events, leaving her with only the pure, animal-like instincts of brutality and lust.

Gunfire sounded from a lower story.

Winston!

She jumped down from the ledge. The moment her feet touched the floor, her old, rational self resumed control. She grabbed the candlesticks off the end tables and ran for the door without bothering about her discarded clothes.

She bolted down the stairs to the detention room story, intercepting two armed men in the corridor. They halted, gaping dumbfounded at the nude demon spawn with the disheveled hair and wild eyes.

"He's up there!" Star shouted, pointing the way she'd just come.

The men hesitated a moment, then charged up the stairs.

* * *

"Iri!" Winston cried.

He gaped in horror at the blasted carcass spread across his lap. Iridium's head and front quarters had been blown away, his magnificent coat shredded. Components littered the floor.

Winston did not even notice the shotgun pellets imbedded in his own body as a gigantic fist of grief slammed into him.

"Oh no... Iri!"

The door burst open, another guard entered – a tall man with wild hair. "What's going on?"

"It's Father... he's dead!" Shotgun wailed.

"W-what?"

"Down there!"

Shotgun pointed to the window, sobs choked off his voice. The tall guard rushed to the window, stepping over A. K.'s inert form, and peered out at the crumpled savior on the flagstones below.

"It can't be!" he gasped.

Shotgun jabbed a finger Winston's direction. "It's the demon spawn's doing!"

"Oh yeah?" The tall guard said through gritted teeth.

He strode up to Winston and raised his gun. Through his anguish, Winston almost welcomed the end.

I'm ready to go, Great Technician in the Sky!

"YEE HAAA!"

A savage battle yell roared in from the hallway. The guards turned toward the door as Burt and his scrapper gang charged in, clubs swinging. All hell broke loose.

The tall guard's rifle was knocked from his hands before he could pull the trigger. Shotgun fired a single blast, blowing one scrapper apart and halting the others in their tracks.

"Get him!" Burt shouted.

The howling scrappers surged ahead. Shotgun chambered another round – too late. The infuriated enemy was upon him. A club bounced off his skull, then he was hurtling out the window to join his blessed savior.

The tall guard backed away, hands held up in entreaty. "No! No!"

"Yes, yes!" Burt replied.

He tossed his club. It spun lazily through the air, end over end, striking the guard precisely in the center of his forehead.

"Ugh!"

The man staggered back, tripped over A. K., and tumbled out the window. His scream trailed away in the darkness.

"Nice shot, Chief!" one of the scrappers said.

A. K. blurred back into consciousness, raising himself onto his elbows.

"What the hell's going on?" he asked.

"Just a little housewarming party," Burt said. "Here's your invite."

He waved his two lieutenants forward. Moments later, A. K. was also flying out the window. The man was too surprised to scream.

Quiet settled on the room. Winston remained seated against the wall, Iridium's corpse spread across his legs. Ripper stayed in his corner, unmoving, observant.

Burt looked toward Winston, a perverse little smile twisting his face.

"Well, who have we got here?" He picked up a club from the fallen scrapper. "If it isn't the guest of honor, himself!"

Winston moved out from under the wreckage and stood up. "You're real brave, now that Iridium's gone. You and your pathetic little gang."

"Was that his name?" Burt said. "Good riddance, Iridium."

"Why don't you fight me robot to robot, you lousy coward?" Winston said. "I'll only use one arm."

"That's not how it works, blue man." Burt gestured to his companions. "Come on boys, let's get this done."

The scrappers began to advance just as Star burst in. "Here, Winston!"

She tossed him one of the candlesticks. Winston grasped it in both hands, felt its righteous power – like a holy sword of vengeance. He charged at Burt.

"YAAA!"

But the scrapper leader was quick on his feet. He dodged the killing stroke. Winston and Star waded into the gang, swinging furiously. One of the enemy robots fell, but regained his feet and continued fighting despite the great dent in his chest.

It was an unequal contest. The scrappers soon gained the upper hand, driving Winston and Star back toward the gaping window.

"Destroy them both!" Burt howled.

Meanwhile, Ripper sat idly in his corner, his head turning back and forth between the combatants.

"Help us!" Winston shouted.

But Ripper could do nothing without a direct order from his pack leader. And his pack leader had been reduced to a pile of blasted junk.

Winston dropped to the floor and tumbled away.

"Get him!" Burt shrieked.

Before anyone could stop him, Winston had rolled to Iridium's corpse and tore off a swatch of tattered coat. He waved it a Ripper.

"Come on, help us!"

Ripper gazed dumbly at the token of its fallen leader, uncertain what to do. A pair of scrappers yanked Winston to his feet.

"Outside with you, friend," one of them said cheerily, as if he was inviting Winston to a tea party.

They dragged Winston toward the window where Star was helplessly pinioned by Burt and another scrapper.

"Oh, Winston!" she cried. "I love you so much!"

Winston struggled fiercely, but could not break free. He was nearly at the window now, he tried to reach toward Star . . .

Ripper finally came to a decision in his dull mind. He leaped into action, tearing apart the nearest scrapper with such violence that its components ricocheted off the walls. Everyone watched, stunned.

"Go for it!" Winston cheered.

Ripper seized another scrapper. Winston tackled Burt and held him to the floor, pounding the one-armed robot's head with both fists.

"You should have taken my offer when you had the chance!" Winston taunted.

The scrapper with the caved in chest tumbled over, unable to offer further resistance. Ripper took its head off with a surgical snip. Star kicked it out the window.

"So long, friend!"

Ripper closed in on the final scrapper, fangs bared and coat bristling. The terrified robot backed away, holding up his hands pleadingly.

"N-nice doggie. You don't want to hurt me, do you?"

Ripper looked toward Winston.

"Finish him!" Winston slashed a finger across his throat area in a universal gesture.

The mech wolf readied itself to pounce. The scrapper dashed to the window and jumped out. His screams shattered the night air.

Winston turned back to Burt. "Do you have a vehicle?"

Burt refused to answer.

"Talk, or I'll turn you over to that werewolf gentleman."

Winston signaled Ripper with the fragment of Iridium's coat. The mech wolf approached, all growls and flashing eyes. It stuck its muzzle into Burt's face.

"Yes, I've got a truck!" Ripper opened its jaws, reaching for Burt's throat. "I can drive you. Anywhere you want!"

"Now you're talking sense, Rust Bucket."

Winston waved Ripper off. The mech wolf retreated to its corner and lay down obediently. From there it glowered at Burt, waiting for the slightest provocation.

Star approached Iridium's wreckage. "Iri... my poor Iri." She fell to her knees, sobbing.

Shouts and gunfire erupted from elsewhere in the castle. Winston slammed the door and barricaded it with wrecked scrappers. Mech birds hovered by the window. They streamed inside and circled around Iridium, cheeping mournfully.

"We have to go, now!" Winston yelled.

He brandished the talisman of Iridium's coat at the birds. Thank the Great Technician, they chose to obey his summons. A group of birds seized the back packs and disappeared out the window with them. Another group went after Ripper. The mech wolf whined piteously and tried to flee but was snatched away.

Winston pulled Star to her feet and embraced her. "Iri's gone. We can't do anything for him now."

Out in the hallway, enraged cultists battered at the door.

"Let's go," Winston said.

Star hung her head in sorrow as a mass of birds lifted her out the window.

Winston grabbed Burt's arm. "If you try anything, I'll rip this one off, too. Got it?"

The scrapper chief nodded. A mass of birds grabbed Winston and Burt as a single package and carried them out the window.

Moments later, the chief acolyte and Brother George burst through the door. They paused, stunned by the sight of so much destruction. Then they rushed to the window.

"Over there!" The chief acolyte pointed into the sky.

They opened fire.

* * *

The birds carried their passengers through a beautiful clear sky filled with moonlight. The mist covering Pickle Lake shimmered as if it were alive. The atmosphere would have been enchanting were it not for the perfect target it made of the fleeing robots.

Automatic weapons fire coming from the detention room window scattered the knot of mech birds carrying Winston and Burt.

"Yow!"

Winston hurtled downwards at circuit wrenching speed. Burt remained tenuously aloft in the grip of the remaining birds.

"Winston!" Star cried.

"Farewelllll!"

Sister Reedy and Brother Ralph dashed out of the castle front gate and pointed their guns upward. Winston tried to flail himself around to aim at them.

You're going out, too!

The humans scattered from the drop zone. A fresh covey of birds diving after Winston grabbed onto him just before he hit the ground.

"Ohhh... thanks guys!"

Winston hurtled skyward once more. Gunfire popped all around, but it seemed irrelevant. His senses heightened to an amazing keenness. Never had existence seemed more joyful than it did now.

Soon flew out of gun range, and the only sound was the flapping of wings and Star's anguished weeping.

30. Escape from Insanity

The chief acolyte gave up his useless firing. The robots and their demon birds were far out of effective range. He turned toward Brother George.

"Go join up with Sister Reedy and Brother Ralph," he ordered. "Grab all the ammo you can and get well clear of the castle."

"Yes, Chief Acolyte!"

Brother George dashed through the exit.

Alone now, the chief acolyte's resolve began to waver. He glanced about the room at the piles of demon spawn wreckage, then out the window at the crumpled human corpses below – including that of the precious Messiah.

The end times are truly upon us.

He sagged against the wall. More than anything, he wanted to fling himself out the window and join the beloved Father in death, but he had no right to do that. Vengeance must be attained.

"Give me strength, Father!" he cried aloud.

Never, since he'd first joined the Visionists, had he felt so weak and vulnerable. No longer was he chief acolyte, second in authority only to the Messiah himself. He was confused and ineffectual Willie Camp, a man of zero consequence whose narrow shoulders could not possibly handle the load they were being called upon to bear.

Get a grip! Be worthy of the Cause.

Hadn't Father said this day would come – that he would leave this earthly existence to prepare a place for his followers in heaven? As he reposed at the right hand of the Heavenly Father, he would designate a successor to carry on his earthly mission. It was up to his true believers to locate this successor and advance the holy Cause. It was up to _him_ , William Camp, chief acolyte of the one true faith!

Righteous power surged into his body. He pulled himself off the wall and rushed out the door. He pounded up the stairs of the main tower.

I shall not fail! I shall not fail!

He arrived at Father's private chambers where he threw open the door and entered, gun barrel first.

"Anybody here?"

The place seemed empty, as dead as its former occupant. The chief acolyte locked the door behind himself, muffling the chaos echoing through the castle. He stepped into the bathroom – also empty.

Those of insufficient faith were abandoning the Cause. Some would have scattered into the mountains already, but others would be hiding in the myriad recesses of the castle, armed with weapons taken from fallen true believers.

So few of us left now!

They'd never be able to root out the traitors from their strongholds. The shepherd had been struck, and the flock had scattered. It was time to set off the 'Hallelujah Bomb.'

The chief acolyte smashed his rifle butt against a wall mirror. The glass shattered, revealing a tiny safe. He spun in the doomsday combination numbers that only he and the slain Messiah knew. The safe door popped open.

He withdrew a small remote control device. Without hesitation, he pushed the red button. Somewhere, a timer began counting down. When it finished, the explosives connected to the gas reservoir would go off, along with other charges hidden throughout the castle.

The chief acolyte did not understand the details. Only the Messiah and the demolition expert cult member had known where everything was. The Messiah was on the heavenly plane now, and the demolition expert had perished when he'd drunk the Nectar of Truth.

* * *

The scooters were still parked by the concrete stairs, and the scrapper truck waited nearby. The birds set everyone down by the vehicle and deposited the packs into the cargo area. Star took fresh clothes out of her backpack and dressed herself while Winston manhandled Burt toward the driver's seat.

"Get in there, you!" He shoved Burt hard.

"Okay, you win. No need to get rough."

"I'll show you rough, if that's what you want, Rust Bucket," Winston snarled.

He wanted to smash Burt into a pile of rubble, tear off his remaining arm and beat him to death with it. The scrapper leader had threatened Star – he'd tried to throw her out the window! He was a loathsome coward who had refused honorable individual combat.

Go easy on him, pal.

The restraining voice in Winston's mind had a distinct Iridium tone. Winston forced himself to calm down. His rational mind understood that, without Burt's gang, he and Star would both be piles of blasted rubble. And they needed the truck to make a fast getaway. Burt was both enemy and savior.

It was too much data to process at one time!

Burt got into the driver's seat. Ripper sat directly behind and draped a paw on his good shoulder, ready to tear the scrapper apart at the first sign of rebellion. Winston retrieved the scooters and loaded them into the back.

The mech birds formed themselves into a single mass and swooped over them in a low dive.

"What the heck?" Winston said.

The birds made another dive, banking in salute as they passed. Then they flew off toward the east.

"They must be heading back to Mech City," Star said, "now that Iri's gone..."

"I expected that," Winston said, "they can only serve one master."

He wrapped an arm around Star. With his other arm, he waved to the birds.

"Thanks for everything, guys! Have a safe trip back!"

In a way, it was a relief to be free of the winged creatures. Their flapping, smothering presence had been a constant irritation. But now that the birds were gone, danger and uncertainty pressed in closer from the darkness. What horrors awaited on the road ahead?

Star melted into his embrace. Winston joined both arms around her; they enjoyed a moment of peace amid the swirling terror their existence had become.

"Thank heaven, you're safe," Winston spoke into Star's auditory sensor. "I couldn't go on without you."

Star sighed heavily and retreated deeper into his embrace. Her loveliness glowed in the moonlight.

But the perfect moment couldn't last. Soon, anxieties were gnawing at Winston again. Their survival now depended on the services of a lunatic scrapper and on the loyalty of a mech wolf. Good grief! How much longer would Ripper obey his commands before it turned savage? If only Iridium hadn't been –

Winston forced himself not to think about Iri. If the grief fist smashed into him again, he might not be able to function. Star could release her turbulent emotions through weeping, but he could only go into a lethal feedback loop until he shook apart, or retreated into zombie mode from which he might not be able to emerge again.

"I'm sorry I didn't get to overhaul your cranial rotation mechanism," Star murmured.

"As long as I can turn my head enough to see you, it's all right."

Star rested her head on his shoulder, tears moistened Winston's chest.

31. The Left Behinds

Ernestina and Arleny struggled amid the throng of panicked cult members seeking refuge in the castle's myriad chambers and passageways.

"Where can we hide?" Arleny said.

"Nowhere," Ernestina said. "We have to get out of this mad house."

"How?" Arleny's voice was small and frightened, lost in the bustle of so many other terrified people.

"We'll go outside, head for the higher slopes."

"Then what?"

Ernestina bristled. "I don't know! We'll stay there a while, then slip down to the road... something."

"Oh, Teen, I'm so scared."

Ernestina softened and tried to comfort her only friend in the world. "It'll be okay. We'll make it."

She grasped Arleny's hand and led her towards the stairs, wishing fervently that she could believe her own brave words.

The entry hall was deserted when they got there, and the main door gaped open in tantalizing invitation. Then the sounds of running feet brought new urgency.

"Over here!" Ernestina yanked Arleny into a side alcove.

The girls stood motionless as two Apostolic Guards – the ones called Sister Reedy and Brother Ralph – ran past them and out the door.

The sound of gunfire tore the night.

"Come on!" Ernestina said.

She and Arleny moved across the entry hall and crept through the door. Once outside, they turned sharp left, away from the guards who were firing their assault rifles into the sky.

Ernestina did not care to see what the guards were shooting at. She led Arleny across the front of the castle, making another left at the corner – then headed straight uphill.

The going was rough; the moonlight offered poor illumination. The girls breathed in labored gasps as they struggled through the strange and evil night. Ernestina feared a sprained ankle or a tumble back down the slope, but the gunfire staccato urged her on.

A refuge suddenly appeared, like a gift from that "Heavenly Father" dude she'd heard so much about – a small cave nestled under overhanging rock.

_Are any snakes hiding in there?_ Ernestina wondered.

She pushed the thought aside. A snake would be a welcome companion after the horrors they'd experienced back in the castle.

"We'll stay here til daybreak. Then... we'll see."

"Okay," Arleny said, barely audible.

Ernestina eased herself into the little grotto, then assisted Arleny inside. She pulled some vegetation in front of the entrance and hunkered down to wait out the nightmare.

How'd we get into this mess?

It all started sixteen months ago when they were still young, before they'd turned into ancient 20-year-olds. Back when they were bored, restless, and aching for adventure.

"Wouldn't it be fun to hook up with a biker gang?" they'd decided.

Only it wasn't much fun. They'd been passed around like candy among the various men – mobile whores. They never got the "Property of ______" emblems of the higher ranked females who had steady boyfriends. They became disillusioned and wanted to leave. But where could they go?

The final plague was slaughtering everyone. So, she and Arleny opted to stay in the gang and be protected by the 'real men.' They would all head into the mountains and wait out the disaster.

Right!

Thirty guys swaggered up the trail with their guns and bad-ass attitudes. Ten survivors scurried back down pissing their pants, the enemy in hot pursuit.

Ernestina and Arleny scrambled for a ride out of the kill zone. They doubled up on the back of a retreating bike, but Arleny was grazed by a bullet and they both tumbled off. Nobody bothered to help.

They were picked up by the religious wackos and converted to the "one true faith." This meant being sex slaves to the so-called Messiah until he got tired of them. He may have been a psychotic puke, but he knew how to kick butt when it mattered. No other outsiders bothered them – until tonight.

Ernestina stared at the black sky through a chink in the camouflage and pondered the uncertain future. If she survived, she'd never be such a fool again. She was over her fascination with bad boys forever.

Well, maybe not. There had to be a special one for her out there – a rebel type guy with real brains and power, who didn't need a bunch of 'brothers' hanging around him all the time and who knew how to treat a woman properly.

Ohhh ... if I ever get out of this!

* * *

"We'd better go," Winston said.

Star nodded.

Winston led her to the back seat, then got into the front passenger spot. When they were situated, he reached back to hold Star's hand. He wanted to utter wise and comforting words but could not think of any.

A huge explosion rocked the night. An evil radiance illuminated the mountains, like a torch held aloft by the human devil.

"What happened?" Star cried.

"Maybe somebody blew up the gas reserve," Winston said.

"Those poor people. I mean the ones without the guns. They didn't want to be there any more than we did."

"Yeah, tough break," Burt said.

"Just drive," Winston said. "When I want your opinion, I'll give it to you, okay?"

Burt started the vehicle's engine and flicked on the headlights. They drove toward the main road. More explosions, gunfire.

* * *

The ground bucked under the force of a gigantic blast. The night turned into dazzling day. Ernestina and Arleny clung together, screaming along with the hellish noise.

A second, smaller explosion erupted, then another. A piece of flaming debris flew into their refuge. The girls crawled out of their cavern into a nightmare scene. What had once been the castle was now a blazing inferno.

"Oh, my God!" Arleny shrieked.

A group of people was struggling up the mountain nearby, trying desperately to escape.

Arleny got to her feet. "Over here! Help!"

"Get down!" Ernestina snarled.

But Arleny was beyond all reasoning. She took off toward the group, crying and waving her arms.

Damn it!

Ernestina prepared run after Arleny, but a burst of gunfire froze her in place.

"Infidels! Traitors!" a man shouted over the screams of the dying. Another burst of gunfire and the screaming stopped. "May you all rot in hell!"

Ernestina recognized the voice of Brother George, one of the true fanatics. His small, rotund figure retreated down the slope, backlit by flames.

"Arleny!"

Ernestina ran to her friend. She cradled the bullet-riddled corpse in her arms and gave vent to bitter tears.

32. The Hunt Organizes

At dawn, the chief acolyte emerged from the dead woods and clambered down the steps to the parking area.

With him were Sister Reedy, Brother Ralph, and Brother George. All of them were heavily armed, as befitted the truest of the true.

They were fatigued and dirty. A smoky, charred odor accompanied them. The chief acolyte wore the late messiah's misty-eye robe on top of his clothing. The garment seemed more like an oversized bib spread over his lanky frame.

They stood together on the level ground.

"It's up to us, now," The chief acolyte said. "The other so-called 'believers' have scattered like frightened chickens."

Brother George patted his rifle. "Not all of them got away, Chief Acolyte."

"Where do you think the demon spawn have fled?" Sister Reedy asked.

"I know not," the chief acolyte said, "but I believe it has been pre-ordained that four of us uncorrupted ones have survived to be the messengers of vengeance."

He placed his hands firmly on his hips, as he'd seen the Messiah do so often.

"We will destroy the demon spawn. Then, once we have attained justice, we will find the prophesized new Messiah and continue the holy mission."

"Your certainty warms our hearts!" Sister Reedy cried.

"Let us journey together to the cross roads," the chief acolyte said. "Then..."

He pointed to each one in turn.

"Brother George shall head north – Brother Ralph shall head south – Sister Reedy east – and myself." He thumped a fist against his chest. "I shall journey westward."

"On to glory, in His holy name!" the others shouted.

They walked downhill toward the crossroads, a grating hymn of the Holy Temple pouring from their throats:

Father is God!

In every part of His transcendent being.

Deep in our souls,

We do believe.

Father is God!

Deep in our innermost hearts,

We know He is

God, God, God, God, God!

When they gained the crossroads, the chief acolyte raised his gun above his head, two-handed. "Onward for the Messiah! Vengeance will be His!"

They departed their separate directions. The misty eye leering out from chief acolyte's robe guided him on the long westward trek.

Ernestina emerged from concealment and followed the stout figure of Brother George as he moved along the northward road.

I'll get you! One way or another, you'll pay for Arleny.
33. Cross Country Motoring

A long, sullen night and day of motoring through rugged topography ensued. Burt's driving skills were rudimentary, and their speed seldom exceeded thirty kilometers per hour.

As long as Ripper continued to follow orders, they had little to fear from scrappers. Humans, with their guns, were a different matter. Winston maintained an anxious watch for signs of them. If the Visionists had survived the plague isolated in the high mountains, did it not stand to reason others might have done so as well? How would they react to a truck full of robots tooling down the road?

When night came again, Winston and Star shared watch duty while Burt lay inactive with Ripper sprawled across him.

* * *

Things lightened up the following day. Star began to emerge from her mental funk and became more communicative. Winston's fears of pursuit lessened somewhat; his crushing grief for Iridium subsided into a dull ache.

The biggest alteration was in Burt. Away from his gang, his madness seemed to ebb. The fierce glower in his optical sensors faded, and the twisted contours of his face relaxed. Winston was able to engage the former scrapper in bits of conversation.

"How did you learn to drive?" He asked at one point. "Surely it was not part of your original design parameters."

"It just came to me," Burt said. "I was second in command of the old outfit, and I often watched Edward drive, so I knew what to do."

"Ah, yes, Edward." Winston flexed the lower leg he'd obtained from that demised scrapper. "He's never far from my affections."

"After Edward was destroyed by that... Iridium wolf, it seemed only natural I should take over the driving duties."

Winston mulled this information over. "As I recall, Edward was missing an optical sensor."

"Right. He was damaged in an explosion."

"Perhaps the loss of a component is a prerequisite for overcoming programmed restrictions against operating motor vehicles."

Burt shrugged his good shoulder. "Whatever."

"When we get to the RDC, there's a technician who can fix you right up."

"Oh?"

"Certainly," Winston said. "It will be interesting to see if you retain your driving ability after getting a new arm installed."

"I'd rather have the arm. To hell with the driving."

"Professor Rackenfauz could help you in other ways too. Return your programming to original design specs... that sort of thing." Winston let the delicate subject peter out.

Rackenfauz would have a field day with Burt. He'd be examining a scrapper brain "in the flesh," so to speak. Maybe he could straighten out Burt's corrupted programming, or even design therapeutic routines for normal robots to inoculate them against Che Syndrome madness.

Winston knew from experience how the Syndrome followed a predictable sequence for robotic life forms that had lost their purpose for existence:

1. Rapid psychological decay

2. Descent into a state of imbalance

3. Suicide / OR:

4. Banding together of similarly affected robotic life forms

5. Attainment of a psychotic equilibrium

6. Destructive group behaviors

He shuddered at the memory of how near he'd come to caving in himself. Even now, thoughts of suicide by defenestration were never far away. Star's presence was the main thing that kept him stable.

Once Burt got fixed up, he could be a valuable addition to their company, Winston believed. If Burt retained his driving ability, he could get them back to Mech City in record time. Once their other business on the west coast was finished – whatever that might be.

* * *

By late afternoon, the landscape was less severe, except for an occasional steep incline, like the one the vehicle was traversing now. On the right, a rocky cliff indicated where the road had been gouged out of the hill. On the left, a sharp drop-off.

Burt leaned forward in his seat as the old truck labored slowly up the incline.

"We'll be turning off this road soon," Winston said, looking up from the road atlas.

"Uh huh," Burt replied.

"I'd say in about..."

Burt wasn't listening, though. His tortured brain was elsewhere – back with the "Little Dumplings," the nickname he'd given his late masters' twin girls. As his fury had diminished over the past couple days, the 4-year-old Dumplings reappeared to visit with their "Uncle Burtie."

In his mind, the three of them were sitting on the living room floor again, watching the big wall screen. It wasn't a horror movie playing this time, but a wonderful flying adventure. They swooped over a beautiful green world together, as if they had wings – skimming over trees and fields, soaring into the clouds – laughing, shouting with joy. It was like heaven.

The Little Dumplings were in the human heaven now, transported there by the plague. Would it be possible to join them, if he really _believed_ he could?

Why not?

A smile creased Burt's face. He yanked the wheel violently left, straight for the drop off.

"I'm coming!"

34. Panic Infusion

Ripper chomped into Burt's neck, too late. The truck headed toward the cliff.

"Star!" Winston cried.

He reached back and grabbed her hand. They tumbled out together onto the pavement. Star's foot caught on the edge of the truck; it dragged her along.

"Help!"

Winston pulled desperately on Star's arm, they were both going over!

At the last possible moment, Star's shoe popped off, liberating her foot from the doomed truck. The vehicle went over the edge and crashed to the rocks below without them.

Winston crawled away from the precipice and wobbled onto his feet. Star rose beside him. He was so badly shaken that his legs hardly operated.

"Are you okay, Star?"

"No!"

Winston's legs began giving out entirely. "W-what's wrong?"

"I broke a nail! And my blouse is absolutely ruined."

"Ohhh."

Winston sagged with relief. He grasped Star's elbow for support.

"Not to mention my shoes," Star said. "My favorite pair."

"Yes... that's too bad."

Winston's circuits struggled with sensory overload. In moments he'd gone from contentment, to terror, to relief, to even greater terror, then back to relief again. He simply could not muster any emotional reserve to deal with Star's broken fingernail. He examined himself for damage.

"Well, I've got some nice new scrapes to go with my insect gouges. Otherwise, I'm hunky-dory."

Now that the danger was past, anger against Burt surged within him. It ricocheted off the rocks, striking Winston on the rebound.

"That crazy bastard!" Winston kicked at a stone. "Of course he's crazy – he's a scrapper. What the hell was I thinking?"

Star took his arm. "Don't be so hard on yourself, honey."

"I should have never trusted him. What an idiot I am!"

A pathetic whimpering came from the edge of the cliff, interrupting Winston's self flagellation. Ripper hung precariously onto the crumbling rocks, his head barely poking into view.

"Poor Rippie!" Star cried.

"Let him fall. We're better off without him."

Star rushed to the imperiled mech wolf. "We have to help."

She grabbed a foreleg and tried to haul Ripper up. Winston reluctantly joined the rescue effort. Soon, the mech wolf was back on solid ground.

Winston flopped onto his back, psychologically exhausted. "I'm inactivating for an hour. Don't get me up unless it's the end of the world."

"Silly," Star said, "we've already had that."

They located a navigable path to the bottom of the cliff and used it to approach the wrecked truck. The vehicle was badly smashed up, along with Burt.

"Good riddance, friend!" Winston savagely kicked Burt's cranium out of the way.

"I kind of feel sorry for him," Star said. "I don't think he meant to harm us. He only wanted to finish things."

"And we just happened to be in the way, huh?"

"Something like that."

Winston dropped the subject. Star was on one of her compassion kicks again, and it would not benefit him to argue with her.

They located their possessions among the dead shrubs and the dull green picker weeds. Winston held up his bent scooter.

"I won't be going far on this thing."

"Mine's a total loss, too." Star rifled through her back pack. "Looks like the power cells survived."

"That's the main thing. We'd have a hard time without those."

Star withdrew a small leather bag and examined its contents. A smile spread across her face. "Not all 'hard times' are necessarily bad ones."

Winston glanced up the cliff face to where Ripper stood, watching them. "I hope we did the right thing with that mech wolf."

"I just couldn't let him die," Star said. "Maybe we'll need him down the road."

"I'm wondering how far down the road it's going to turn on us," Winston muttered.

# Six: The West Coast Beckons

35. First Signs

Some days later

The chief acolyte paused to rest at the top of a steep hill.

He set down his knapsack and assault rifle, then reached inside the front of his baggy trousers to adjust the position of the tiny handgun concealed there. The gun was warm, slicked with sweat, and very reassuring.

He stretched himself out, twisting like a giant dish rag. Spinal bones snapped back into place.

"Ahhh, that's better!"

He drained his last water bottle. Thank the Messiah that packaged water was available most places. Every little dump of a town or service station had it – but this was isolated country, and he'd not seen any evidence of former habitation for some time.

No matter, the Heavenly Father would provide for his humble servant. And if He didn't... well, then it would be time for the chief acolyte to pass beyond this vale of tears and assume his place at the right hand of the Messiah.

He walked to the edge of the cliff and spread his arms wide, calling out to the emptiness: "Father, see that I am worthy!"

A lesser man would have given up already, but he would keep going whatever might happen. To die in pursuit of the evil demon spawn would only prove his extreme devotion to the Cause.

His mentality had always been extreme, since long before he'd encountered the Messiah.

During his past life as nondescript Willie Camp, he'd worked as a salesman – automobiles, office equipment, burial plans – and he'd been good at it until his growing intensity began to frighten customers. He came to believe fanatically in the things he sold and could not understand why anybody would disagree with him. He found himself yearning to strangle anyone who did not comprehend the righteousness of his products and services.

When he'd been fired from his last job, the boss had advised him to, "Go see a shrink."

Instead, he'd gone to see an illegal arms dealer and purchased a submachine gun which he concealed in a briefcase. He was walking to his former place of employment to "teach them a lesson" when he came upon the Messiah proselytizing on a street corner.

At first he thought it was just some hopped-up kid panhandling for money. He pulled out his wallet, meaning to hand over all his cash. Why not? He wouldn't need money where he was going. But then the Messiah fixed him with burning, penetrating eyes and reached out a hand.

"Follow me!" he commanded. "Put aside the things of this sinful world."

Willie's conversion to the Cause had been immediate and powerful, an emotional catharsis of almost lethal intensity.

The most blissful period of his life had been spent at Pickle Lake Castle where he'd faithfully executed the Messiah's commands without hesitation – up to administering, and taking, the Nectar of Truth. How proud he was he'd survived that ordeal. He'd basked in the reflected glory of the Messiah, demonstrating his loyalty, gaining in trust . . .

Something caught his eye at the bottom of the cliff. _What the hell?_

He descended a steep, narrow path and stumbled over a boulder field to the wreckage. A vicious grin cracked his face when he got there. For the first time since the Messiah's death, he was joyous.

I'm on the right track!

This had to be the escape vehicle of the demon spawn he was pursuing. The one-armed carcass proved it. This was the same robot he'd fired at as the birds carried it away. The chief acolyte searched a wide area for any missing limb. No trace of it.

His trust in Divine guidance had brought him to this discovery. Why, if he hadn't chosen this area to pause in his journey, he'd have trudged right by, never noticing the wrecked machine among the weeds and boulders.

But the other demon spawn had escaped destruction... this time. No matter, he'd find them sooner or later – at a moment they least expected. He fondled the assault rifle. How wonderful it would be blasting that foul she demon to bits! He trudged off toward the path.

He had climbed almost up to the road level when a large, white van pulled to a halt in front of him. The chief acolyte cursed his poor hearing and preoccupied thoughts – he hadn't even detected the vehicle's approach.

A man with long, shaggy hair and a beard poked his head out the driver's side window.

It's the Messiah, come back to life!

But then the man spoke in a harsh, mocking tone, revealing himself as just another mortal.

"Hey, grandpa, want a ride?" he said.

Coarse laughter came from other males inside the van. It did not sound friendly. Something was wrong here!

The chief acolyte considered opening fire with his assault rifle, but the sight of two gun barrels pointing at him from the windows dissuaded him. The driver also held a gun in the hand draped outside the vehicle.

"What's the matter, hard of hearing?" the driver said.

"Uh... yes, a little," the chief acolyte said.

"Hey, check out the old dude's outfit," said another man inside the vehicle. "I really dig that bull's eye!"

The chief acolyte's mind raced. No, he couldn't fight these infidels out here in the open. They had him outgunned, and they were taunting him, like he was an idiot.

So, that was the best course – act like an idiot. "Sure, I'd like a ride, thank you kindly. Where you headed, sonny?"

" _Sonny_ , I like that!" somebody howled.

"Do you care?" the driver said.

More ugly laughter echoed inside the van.

"I'm just a little curious is all," the chief acolyte said.

"Go ahead, tell him, Brad," someone said.

"We're headed to the west coast," said the driver, Brad. "We're gonna open a beach resort."

More hyena-like guffaws.

"Thank you, thank you very much!" the chief acolyte said, feigning extreme gratitude. "I'd love to go with you... I've never been to the west coast."

"Hop in, then," Brad said.

Under the lethal, black eyes of gun barrels, the chief acolyte climbed the final meters to road level.

_Not my will, but thine,_ he prayed to the Heavenly Father. _Show me the way to deal with these heathen._

The vehicle's side door rolled open, revealing another unkempt, bearded man. He aimed his rifle at the chief acolyte.

"Better hand over your little friend, mister," he said.

"My little friend?"

"Yeah." The man pointed to the assault rifle slung over the chief acolyte's shoulder.

"Oh, of course." The chief acolyte removed the gun and presented it two-handed. "I'm glad to get rid of it. Just carry it around for show."

"Right." The bearded man snatched away.

"Thank you, that's much better," the chief acolyte said, "before I shoot myself by accident."

"Wouldn't want that to happen, would we, grandpa?" Brad said.

"Gimme the pack, too," the second man said.

The chief acolyte removed his backpack and tucked it under the seat where the heathen pointed. "Much obliged. I was getting mighty tired carrying that."

He climbed into the van and took the indicated place in the far back seat, beside two girls with bruised, puffy faces. The girls might be late teens or early 20s, but it was hard to tell with their beat-up condition. Their eyes were wide with fear. They clung together, moving as far away from the chief acolyte as possible.

"Good afternoon, ladies," he said, "lovely day, isn't it?"

The girls cringed. Across from them sat two men with guns.

"What's the matter, 'ladies?'" one of them said. "Don't you like our new passenger?"

Recognition dawned on the chief acolyte. These men had been among the infidels who'd attacked the Holy Temple! They had the same general appearance, the same skull tattoos on their arms.

Do they recognize me?

Apparently not – his dodge as a harmless old fool seemed to be holding up.

"My name's Willie," the chief acolyte said to the man across from him.

"That's nice. I'm Tom." He jerked a thumb toward the man beside him. "That's my pal, Bill. He don't talk much."

"Fuck you, man," Bill said.

"See what I mean?" Tom said.

The chief acolyte grinned and nodded, maximum friendly, like a puppy dog seeking approval.

"All set back there?" Brad called from the driver's seat.

"Yeah," Tom said.

"Let's get the hell out of here then."

* * *

Brad drove much faster than was wise for such hilly terrain. Air roared in through the open windows. He glanced in the rearview mirror at the clueless old guy sitting with Pam and Susie, grinning like a fool.

"Why'd we pick the old bastard up?" Randy said from the passenger seat. "It would have been fun to blast him – watch him roll down the hill."

"Don't be so impatient," Brad said. "We can have our fun with him tonight."

"Oh? That sounds interesting."

Brad nodded. "I'm getting bored with those two bitches back there."

"Me, too, especially Susie. It's like fucking a dead fish."

Brad spat out the window. "Tell me about it. The other one's not much better."

They drove silently for a while, each occupied with his benevolent thoughts. The barren terrain passed monotonously.

"Can I finish off the old dude after we've had our 'fun?'" Randy said.

"Sure, that'll be my birthday present to you."

"But, it ain't my birthday."

"Why not?" Brad said. "It just might be your last one, may as well enjoy it."

36. Scooter Time Again

The landscape was very flat, and progress was good. Star scootered rapidly in the lead position while Winston brought up the rear, admiring Star's rear as well as the rest of her glorious anatomy.

Ripper loped fifty meters back. The mech wolf could have easily overtaken them, but – like Iri – he'd been programmed for stealth and remained aloof.

Things were going so well that Winston was tempted to skip their customary break, but experience had proved the value of taking an afternoon rest period. He pulled alongside Star. As always, he felt uneasy doing this because he no longer presented a barrier between her and the mech wolf.

"Time for a break?" he said.

"Yeah."

They came to a halt and set their backpacks down on the road shoulder.

"I'm glad we found new scooters so quickly," Winston said. "This trip would take forever, otherwise."

Star blew him a kiss. "On a beautiful day like this, forever doesn't seem so bad."

"If we push hard, we can reach the outskirts of the major urban area by dusk tomorrow, but I think it's wiser to enter the city in daylight. We can take our time."

"Sure, I want to look my best when we get there."

Star withdrew a little hand mirror from her pack and studied her hair critically. "I hate this windblown look."

Winston loved the slightly disheveled appearance of her hair. It made her look dynamic – like someone who could handle whatever the world dished out. He knew it was useless to say anything, though. To Star, even the tiniest imperfection was cause for alarm.

He regarded his scooter with pride. The thing looked swift, even in repose, with its jet black paint job and flame motif. It had _Zoom-o Assist_ , an apparatus that stored up energy from braking and downhill rushes, then released it for climbs or straightaway speed.

Winston had feared their programmed restrictions against operating power machinery would inhibit them from using these new scooters, but they'd had little problem. Could it be they were evolving new capabilities, as Star claimed?

Was he himself evolving, in more ways than just an improved facility for operating machines? Did the increasing attraction he experienced for Star spring from alterations in his basic programming? Lately, he'd been having distinctly human-type sexual fantasies about joining with her into 'one flesh.'

How could that be? They were not flesh, but circuits, composite materials, and high-strength alloy.

Could Dr. Che really boost his capabilities, as Star claimed?

They'd never find him, though. He'd surely died with all the other mech heads – except for Dr. Rackenfauz. And Rackenfauz had already stated such enhancements were far beyond his competency. It was best to put such notions as far out of mind as possible.

Winston sighed, electronically speaking, and patted his trusty scooter. "Who would have thought there'd be a Cycho World sporting goods store in that little two-bit town back there?"

"What do you mean by a 'two-bit' town?"

Winston consulted his vast internal library. "It refers to the _peso de ocho_ , a silver coin of the old Spanish empire."

"Huh?"

"The coin, also known as a 'piece of eight' or 'Spanish dollar,' was divided into eight equal parts, or bits," Winston explained. "This was before coinage was denominated using the decimal system."

"Of course," Star said.

"So, by extrapolation, a 'two-bit' town would be worth only one fourth of a silver dollar. A thing of small value, one might say, not highly regarded."

"Oh, Winston, I love it when you talk like that."

"Thank you," Winston said modestly.

The mech wolf rested on its haunches several meters away observing them with its savage yellow eyes. Winston couldn't suppress a shudder as he adjusted the fragment of Iridium's coat tied around his shoulders.

"I hope this dodge keeps working," he said. "If that thing ever takes matters into its own paws we'd be in deep trouble."

"Rippie might be a lot more loyal than you imagine. Don't always look on the dark side, Winston."

"I don't believe that wolf has anything _but_ a dark side."

"Maybe, but as long as he's with us, I feel that a part of Iri still lives."

"Yes, Iri..."

Star removed her makeup kit from her pack and began to freshen her face, as if anything so lovely needed alteration. Winston decided to broach a topic which had bothered him for days.

"I'm curious. How did that 'Father' character end up taking the long jump?"

Star looked up from her mirror.

"Not much to tell. Something came up while he was standing on the window ledge." She waved a mascara brush dismissively. "And I sort of forgot to mention the loose stone."

Winston was baffled, but received only an innocent little smile.

"What?" Star said.

"Just making conversation, is all."

So much about Star was mysterious, unknowable. She was on a whole new level of creation. A desperate desire to plumb her secrets enveloped Winston.

Star dropped her beauty implements into the makeup bag and flung her arms around Winston's neck. Her extravagant gesture sent the little tube of mascara tumbling out to the pavement.

"Your makeup – "

"Don't worry about a thing, Big Boy." Star interrupted, kissing him. "Once we get to the west coast, you'll understand a whole lot of stuff."

Her advance threw Winston into a state of high confusion. The mascara blew out of his mind as he groped for a change of topic.

"Uh... since the Visionists survived the final plague, isn't it reasonable to assume other humans, hiding in remote areas, may have also survived?"

Star pulled away. "More crazies? I'm beginning to think humanity is vastly over rated."

Winston squeezed her hand. "Who's looking on the dark side now?"

37. Adventure Spa

Early next morning, they rolled up to a highway advertising billboard.

ADVENTURE SPA

Natural Hot Spring & Family Fun!

5 kilometers

"Oh, Winston, Let's go there."

"What for?"

Star placed her hands on hips and cocked an eyebrow. "You don't know the first thing about women, do you?"

"Perhaps not, from a practical standpoint. My library banks do contain all manner of references to female personality traits, however. Anatomical details, psychological studies – "

Star waved her hand impatiently. "A hot bath is what I need. Wash off this road grime, and my clothes are a fright."

"I was about to conclude that myself," Winston said. "Maybe if I had been allowed more time."

Star caressed his cheek. "Of course, Big Boy. I didn't mean to underestimate you."

"Yes... well, let me check the route." Winston consulted his road atlas.

"It would just be for a little while," Star said. "We have extra time, don't we?"

"We do have some flexibility in our schedule." Winston placed a finger on the atlas page a few kilometers south of the main highway. "The hot springs are right here."

"That's perfect. Didn't you say we should change to a different route soon?"

"That wouldn't be a bad idea. This highway is a bit obvious."

"That settles it, then," Star said. "First we can visit the spa, then pick up this road here."

With the repaired nail of left index finger, Star indicated a secondary route heading west from the hot springs.

Winston nodded. "That could be a plan."

Star bowed and swept her hand forward. "After you, my – "

"Oh, no," Winston interrupted. "After you, my heroine."

"I love it when you talk like that, Winston!"

* * *

A sign, festooned with the customary bullet holes, explained the history of the Adventure Spa:

Visitors have enjoyed these hot springs since the late 19th century. In more recent years, the addition of the theme park with its Amazing Mermaid Performers has added to the popularity of this noteworthy tourist destination ....

The lower portion was obliterated from a heavy burst of gun fire.

"Why are so many signs shot up like that?" Star asked.

"It seems a certain class of humans enjoyed ruining their environment with acts of vandalism. My former master would have termed them _buta paraszt_."

"What's that?"

"A Hungarian term which translates as 'dumb peasant,' disparaging individuals who aspire to nothing more than personal baseness."

"If I'm around a thousand years, I'll never understand it," Star said.

"Perhaps we will be around that long," Winston observed. "With proper maintenance procedures and replacement of worn components, who can say?"

"Well, I just want my hot bath for right now."

They moved through the main gate into the theme park. The place was a mess. The amusement rides were rusted derelicts, fires had raged through the arcade section, destroying the various games and food stands. Worst of all was the _Amazing Mermaid Performers_ area.

The plasti-glass observation walls of the large pool had been shattered, spilling what must have been millions of liters of water. The remaining water was fetid and covered with green scum.

"I wonder what the Amazing Mermaid Performers were like," Star said.

"No doubt they were a group of acrobatic porpoises," Winston said. "The designation 'mermaid' was part of the showmanship."

"You know everything, Winston!"

"I once attended a porpoise / killer whale show with Dr. Horvath in an arena similar to this one."

"I wish I could have seen that," Star said.

"Yes, they were quite remarkable. The creatures performed the most strenuous maneuvers for nothing more that bits of fish. I believe they were called _The Flying Friends_."

"Right now, I need to fly into a bath," Star said.

She pointed to an archway with an _Historic Hot Springs_ sign and took Winston's hand.

They entered a partially enclosed area with a plasti-glass dome soaring overhead. The middle of the dome was open to the sky, and below it sprawled a pond of about 45 meters diameter. This pond frothed and bubbled, emitting a faint aroma of sulfur. Its edge was a rocky drop off plunging to an unknown bottom. A shelf was fixed into the rock where patrons could experience the water at a modest depth.

Star removed her shoes and stuck in a foot. "It's perfect!"

Winston nodded. "Hot springs have been known to reach untenable temperatures, at least for biological life forms."

Star whipped off her clothes and stood in her full, nude magnificence before his gaping optical sensors.

"How do you like the scenery, Winston?"

"It's... uh... very stimulating."

Star laughed joyously and dove into the water. She rolled on her back and swam a loop close to shore, her naked body shimmering amid the bubbles.

"You can swim!" Winston cried.

"Sure, it's easy. Try it."

"I-I don't think so, but thanks for asking." Winston picked up the discarded clothing. "I'll go wash these for you."

"Don't worry about that, Big Boy. I'll take care of it later."

"Very well." Winston dropped the clothes.

Star stretched herself out luxuriously on the bathing ledge. "Come on in."

Winston looked on dubiously. "I don't know. That shelf looks kind of skimpy."

"It's plenty big enough." Star raised her arms out of the water. "Let's have some fun."

She drew him the way a magnet pulls at iron shavings, although Winston contained no oxidation-prone components. His exterior was all advanced composites, well sealed against moisture. He was certain the water could not harm him. And even if it did, he'd be unable to resist Star's beckon.

"Well... okay. I'll try."

He dipped one foot beneath the surface. His temperature sensors registered an abrupt increase in thermal output, but nothing that could be hazardous to him. He gripped the handrail running along the shore edge and lowered himself onto the platform to stand in meter deep water. The sensation was not altogether unpleasant.

"See?" Star said. "There's nothing to be afraid of."

"It is rather agreeable."

"It's a lot more than that. Come closer."

He moved cautiously toward Star's location, keeping a firm grip on the handrail. A splash nearby startled him.

"Yow!" He grabbed the handrail with both arms.

Star laughed. "It's only Rippie. Look!"

She pointed toward Ripper swimming toward the middle of the pond. Joyful little yips issued from his speaker unit.

"I never imagined mech wolves could swim," Winston said.

"Maybe Rippie is evolving, too," Star said, "away from the rest of the pack and all."

"That is an interesting observation," Winston said. "A mech wolf's limited brain mass would seem to preclude the possibility of evolution, but, as Dr. Rackenfauz has observed, established robotic theory has been turned on its head. Why – "

"Forget all that. It's time you started evolving some more yourself."

Star placed her left hand around Winston's head and drew him near, kissing him full on the lips. With her right, she guided Winston's hand up along her inner thigh toward her female genitalia shimmering in the bubbles like a magnificent flower.

Her eyes closed, and her simulated respiration increased. The erect nipples of her perfect breasts protruded from the water. Winston felt his mind being swept away . . .

From the middle of the pond, Ripper howled and disappeared beneath the surface. The erotic mood shattered.

"What happened!" Star cried.

Winston moved to the edge of the platform. "Ripper, where are you?"

Two creatures thrust out of the water near him – female looking things with long hair, bare breasts, and wide staring eyes. They grabbed Winston and pulled him in.

38. The Squish Girls

Star remained lying on the platform, too stunned to react. In moments her world had transformed from pleasure to nightmare. The great open eye of the dome stared down indifferently.

Her inertia evaporated. "Winston!"

She catapulted off the platform in a perfect dive, as if she'd been programmed as a swimming athlete. Visibility underwater was good, despite the bubbles, and she could see the two creatures swimming toward a cave ten meters below the surface. Their upper bodies were that of human females, while their lower quarters resembled fish tails. Between them, gripped in their hands, was the struggling figure of Winston.

The 'mermaids' were real!

A melody of unbearable sweetness pulsed through the water, coming from the mermaids. It spoke of wondrous delight – a siren song. Star felt herself succumbing to its allure.

Her hands ached to reach out and stroke the long hair flowing in the current. One of the mermaids glanced back, smiling seductively, revealing perfect teeth behind rich, full lips.

What would it be like to kiss her?

Star could almost feel the warm lips pressed against her own, the sinuous body wrapping itself around her, one pearly hand running through her hair while the other one stroked along her belly reaching for...

I must save Winston!

She slammed her mind tight against all temptations and plunged on grimly until she was almost upon them.

Then she halted. Winston was looking toward her, but not seeing her at all. He no longer struggled, and his face wore a rapturous expression the likes of which she'd never seen before – not even when she had guided his hand toward the gateway to paradise.

Star ceased all movement and gaped with fascinated horror as the mermaids drew Winston into the cave. She was unable to move, in virtual inactive mode. Her natural buoyancy began drawing her upwards. On the way back to the surface, she dimly noted a third mermaid. The thing had abandoned Rippie and was swimming down to join her two sisters in the cave.

Star didn't know how long she bobbed in the water near the bathing platform – seconds, hours? A mech wolf yip brought her back to reality. Ripper stood on the shore, staring at her intently.

What happened?

Full memory slammed back in. Winston was down there – with three finned floozies. Well, he could just stay there and enjoy himself! She would not interfere with his good time.

Her jealous rage soon passed. She had to get Winston back, _now_. Any reckoning about the floozies would have to wait for later.

"Come on Rippie!"

The mech wolf jumped in and swam toward her. Star prepared to dive under the surface, then thought better of it.

"Wait a minute."

She climbed onto the shore and hurriedly dressed herself. The seductive power of those mermaid things was far too great to be confronted without clothes.

"Let's go!"

Star dove deep and was soon at the cave entrance. She waited there for Ripper to catch up with his peculiar combination of dog paddle and breast stroke. They entered the cave together.

It went up and up. Star kicked furiously and stroked her arms with maximum power. She broke the surface inside a small enclosure. She could barely make out the surroundings, as the only light came from a fissure high in the rocky ceiling.

Her optical sensors began adjusting to the low light. On the shore directly beside her lay the deactivated figure of another mermaid – no, this one was male, a 'merman' type creature.

Ripper bobbed to the surface beside her. She scarcely noticed his arrival, as her eyes were riveted on the disgusting sight across the water. On the opposite shore, the mermaid sluts were swarming all over Winston, and moans of exquisite pleasure issued from his speaker unit.

"Ohhhhhh! Ahhhhhh! Morrrrre!"

Black fury almost choked Star. That was the correct term, _choked_ , even through she possessed no respiratory nor digestive system.

With a few powerful strokes, Star gained the opposite shore. She prepared to leap out of the water and grab the floozies by their long hair. She'd bash their heads against the rocks, she'd ... Two of them looked toward her and smiled. Their siren song rose to an ecstatic crescendo, echoing off the stone walls. Star halted dead in the water.

How could she have been angry at such lovely creatures? They were waiting for her, right there, and they knew erotic secrets that Star had not even dreamed about. Scarcely aware of what she was doing, Star began unbuttoning her blouse.

"Hold on..." she murmured, "I'm coming."

Ripper bumped up against her. Star turned languidly toward him. The mech wolf leered back at her ferociously.

"Why, Rippie, what on earth is the problem?"

In response, he let out an auditory sensor-splitting howl.

AWOOOOOO!

The brutal noise ricocheted off the walls, shattering the ambiance. The mermaids' siren song abruptly ceased. Star wrenched back to her full senses.

"Save Winston!"

Ripper jumped onto the shore and confronted the mermaids, fangs bared. They retreated in terror, flopping over each other in their haste. Star reached up and grabbed Winston.

"Nooooo!" he cried as Star pulled him under the water.

Soon they were back at the main pool. Ripper kept guard at the water's edge while Star hurriedly donned her shoes and gathered up their possessions. Winston lay on the shore groaning.

"Hey lover boy. If it's not too much trouble, can you help me?"

Winston struggled to his feet. "What happened, Star?"

"You know damn well what happened."

Winston rubbed his head in wonderment, the very picture of wounded innocence.

"Let's get moving, already!" Star shouted.

"OK," Winston said meekly.

He shouldered on his backpack and grabbed his scooter.

"You go first," Star said.

The three mermaids broke the water surface near shore. Winston stood, transfixed, as the lovely creatures pulled themselves onto the bathing platform. One of them had flowing blond hair, another's was a glistening black, the third was a flaming redhead. They held their arms out toward Winston in pathetic appeal, exposing their perfectly shaped breasts. Their siren song began to rise.

"Ripper!" Star shouted.

The mech wolf advanced, growling, on the mermaids. The creatures stopped their song and clung together in terror, but they refused to leave the platform. Ripper looked back toward Star for instructions.

_Tear them up!_ She wanted to cry, but her sense of rightness deterred her from uttering the command. Besides, Winston would never feel the same about her if she destroyed the mermaids.

"Don't hurt them, Rippie."

She grabbed Winston's arm and shoved him toward the exit. A pathetic wailing accompanied them out. The mermaids had pulled themselves onto the shore and were attempting to follow. Their bodies, not designed for land travel, made squishing noises as they flopped about.

* * *

For hours, Star led the way along the westward road, kicking hard and building up speed Winston could barely match. Her hair dried in the breeze until it stuck out in all directions. Her damp clothes picked up a layer of dust. Ordinarily, she would have never allowed herself to look so disheveled, but now she simply pressed on . . .

Winston did not dare to attempt any communications with her. Ripper remained wisely aloof.

39. Psychotic Encampment

The chief acolyte, flanked by Susie and Pam, sat staring into the campfire, contemplating the hell flames that awaited all nonbelievers.

Around him sprawled flat, empty desert. Land that had always been desert – even before the once verdant areas were denuded by the plague wars of the demon spawn and their infidel allies.

A thin chorus of insect chirps punctured the dusty air. Off in the darkness came the bustling of some unknown small animal. Then the flapping of wings and a sharp, terrified squeak.

"Fucking A!" Tom said from across the fire. "Tear his ass up."

This had been a day of rapid travel. Hundreds of kilometers had passed beneath the white van's wheels. According to Brad, they should have arrived at the west coast some time tomorrow. Or rather, Brad and his pals planned to arrive – with "the bitches," of course, to satisfy their unholy lusts. The outlook for the chief acolyte was a good deal less certain.

The van had broken down, though. All the raging and curses of the infidels could not get it moving again. They were stranded in this god-forsaken place. Or maybe the Heavenly Father had _not_ abandoned this locale. Perhaps He intended for them to be here. Only time would give the answers.

The chief acolyte shoveled the last of his pork & beans ration into his mouth and chewed carefully. What would the Messiah think of him eating such a repast, flavored by the carcass of an unclean beast?

He'd approve, the chief acolyte was certain. This was an emergency scenario, and he had to keep his strength up, by whatever means available. Four large, powerful young men opposed him, while he was just a scrawny old guy – an eccentric screwball, no threat to anyone.

But this apparent harmlessness was his greatest strength. If he could just bring it to bear! He prayed fervently.

Thy will be done, Father.

Since his capture by these infidels, he'd been in a constant state of prayerful watchfulness, hoping to make a move. But he couldn't make a move. The bastards kept a sharp eye on him, even observing him as he took a leak.

And what if he did manage to get his gun out? They'd cut him down with their assault rifles before he could squeeze off a shot.

He gnawed a piece of biscuit and stole a quick glance at the women beside him. They were both terrified, like dogs who had been beaten repeatedly and expected more of the same. He wondered how long they'd been with this crew. What had these cursed men inflicted on these girls, in addition to the usual rape?

Mostly psychological terror, he decided. For despite their cowed appearance, the girls displayed few indications of physical abuse – except for the bruises on their faces. The chief acolyte was something of an expert on terror, having often inflicted it upon errant Visionists.

On the other side of the sputtering fire, Brad and his three cronies were finishing up their beans and biscuits. They hadn't said much during the meal, they just sat there, rifles in their laps, and wolfed down the food like the animals they were.

The ones named Bill and Tom stood up.

"Okay if we get first crack tonight, Brad?" Tom asked.

"Be my fucking guest," Brad said.

"That's what we had in mind," Tom said.

The four gorillas laughed heartily. Brad indicated the assault rifles of Bill and Tom.

"You can leave those here," he said, "unless you can't handle the broads without them."

"Shit!" Bill said.

More crude laughter. Bill and Tom set their rifles down and approached the girls.

"Come on babe," Tom said, yanking Pam to her feet. "It's party time."

"No – "

A hard slap brought her around. Susie followed Bill quietly into the darkness. The sounds of forcible rape polluted the night air.

"The boys are frisky tonight," Brad commented.

The chief acolyte remained impassive, staring at the remaining two men across the fire. A wicked little smile crossed Brad's face. He withdrew a long, thin knife from a sheath on his belt and hefted it experimentally.

He passed the knife to Randy. They exchanged a devilish laugh.

"Hey old man," Randy said, "let's see your nuts."

"M-my what?" the chief acolyte said.

"Your nuts," Brad said. "Still got them, don't you? Or did they shrivel up and blow away?"

Brad and Randy laughed heartily, slapping each others' knees – like kids at a boy scout camp. The chief acolyte stood up unsteadily and began fumbling with his belt.

"Come on, drop 'em," Randy said. "All the way down."

Outwardly, the chief acolyte was all fumbling, cringing fear, but inside he was joyous.

Thank you, Father, for delivering the barbarians onto me!

He lowered his pants enough to grab the little automatic pistol concealed within. He yanked the weapon out, felt its righteous power throbbing in his hand.

"Filthy heathen!"

He squeezed off a round. The bullet struck Brad dead center in the forehead, throwing him backwards amid a halo of splattering brains and bone fragments.

Randy gaped, unable to react. His mouth formed a horrified circle amid the bloody pulp dripping down his face. A bullet punctured one of his eyes, and he, too, fell over backwards. The knife tumbled from his hand.

Bill charged out of the bushes. "What the hell's going on?"

A shot through the heart brought him down.

An explosive flash. A bullet ripped across the chief acolyte's face, sending him reeling backwards. A second bullet whizzed past his ear. Tom emerged from the darkness, aiming his handgun.

Umpf!

He crashed to the ground, tackled by Pam. The gun tumbled from his hand a short distance away. Tom groped for it, pulling the girl along with him.

The chief acolyte recovered from his shock and dashed toward the struggling pair. Holding up his pants with his left hand, he kicked Tom squarely in the chin with his steel-toed boot. _CRACK!_

"Fuck!" Tom cried.

The chief acolyte aimed another kick. The Heavenly Father multiplied his strength. _CRACK!_ Teeth flew out onto the ground. _CRACK!_ Tom's nose became a bloody pulp.

"How's that, _old man_?" the chief acolyte mocked.

He secured his pants and zipped the fly with an air of authority. Tom lay stretched in the dirt, semiconscious. The girl released his legs and crouched away. The chief acolyte walked a few paces to retrieve the fallen hand gun. He returned and shoved Tom onto his back with the toe of boot.

"Uh..." Tom groaned. "What the fuck happened?"

"It's party time!" The chief acolyte said brightly.

He raised the handgun and, taking leisurely aim, shot Tom in the guts.

"Uggggh!"

He curled into an agony ball. The chief acolyte dropped to his haunches beside the stricken infidel.

"This just ain't your night, punk." He gestured toward Bill's inert form. "You should have checked out quick, like your buddy over there."

Susie appeared from the darkness, gaping with horrified wonder at the carnage and at the writhing figure of Tom. She sank to her knees beside Pam and embraced her.

The chief acolyte rose and turned a wild, righteous glare upon the women. Flames from the campfire danced in his eyes, the bloody crease on his face throbbed like a brand placed there by the devil himself.

"Do you acknowledge the Holy Messiah as your one, true savior?" he bellowed. "Do you recognize His will as the sole guiding principle?"

The girls exchanged terrified glances. They nodded agreement.

"Do you accept the deliverance He has provided you this night and subordinate yourselves to me, the Messiah's representative on earth?"

"Yes," the girls squeaked.

"Do you commit yourselves totally and unquestioningly to the sacred Cause?"

The girls nodded again. Tortured moans from Tom added solemnity to their vow.

"Very well, then." The chief acolyte held out his hands. "Arise into your new life as believers in the one true faith – Sister Pam and Sister Susan."

They took his hands, and he pulled them to their feet.

"Prepare yourselves to depart this unsanctified place."

"Y-yes, sir."

The girls moved toward the van. The chief acolyte approached the corpses of Brad and Randy.

"Real tough guys, huh?" He spit into their blasted faces. "Good luck with your 'beach resort' in hell."

The knife glittered coldly on the ground beside the bodies. The chief acolyte snatched it up. He nodded approval – the edge had been honed to razor sharpness by somebody who knew what he was doing. It would be a shame to let such craftsmanship go to waste.

Time for a blood sacrifice to honor the conversion of two lost souls to the Cause. The chief acolyte approached Tom, a fearsome death god stalking through the darkness. The infidel turned his suffering face up toward his doom.

"Fuck, man... no!"

The chief acolyte grinned and stroked the blade lovingly. This was going to be fun.

* * *

After the screaming finally stopped, the chief acolyte and his two converts headed off into the night. Flames roaring from the funeral pyre van illuminated their path.

40. Furious Progression

Star drove them relentlessly along, saying nothing, a fearsome expression contorting her face – like some terrible Valkyrie exploding out of Valhalla.

Water evaporating off of her mechanism chilled her temperature sensors. Her brain unit was hot and seething, though.

How could Winston do that to me? Cavorting with those sluts – right before my eyes!

She should have left him down there with the floozies. Serve him right... let him short circuit in the water...

There were serious flaws in this reasoning, and Star knew it. Didn't she, herself, almost succumb to the allure of the squish girls? If it hadn't been for Rippie, she'd still be down there engaging in who knows what erotic games. And if she could be seduced, then how much more easily a simple male, like Winston?

The mermaids existed on love, and their merman was out of commission. No wonder they were so desperate. Star was not without empathy for them, but she needed time to work through her other feelings of rejection and betrayal.

_Okay, I'm a lustful creation. I need to forgive myself for that. I need to forgive Winston. As long as it doesn't mean anything – as long as the_ _real_ _love is just for the two of us._

She began to feel a generalized good will toward all the surviving females of the world and their quest for love – as long as they understood Winston was off limits, that is.

For his part, Winston couldn't remember the details of his abduction, only vague recollections of an all-consuming rapture. The experience seemed to have altered his programming, sending it in fantastic directions. He felt a new, almost painful, attraction for Star. Despite her obvious anger and ill will, Winston had never seen anything so wondrous as her figure pushing along on the scooter ahead of him.

Finally she paused at the top of a low rise. He caught up and flung an arm around her. At first she was rigid, then she melted against him.

"Oh, Winston. I'm so sorry – "

He pressed a finger against her lips. "I think it's better if we don't say anything just yet. Let's wait until things return to normal, whatever that is."

Star smiled. "You're right... my hero."

41. West Coast at Last

Late morning on the tenth day out from Pickle Lake Castle, twenty four days after departing Mech City, they reached the outskirts of the great west coast megalopolis.

"Oooo," Star cried, "we made it!"

In some ways, the area was not unlike Mech City, but its streets and buildings heralded something far vaster, with more depth and power. This was a locale where great volumes of human activity had once bustled and roared.

Winston studied his road atlas, looked up at a street sign, studied the atlas some more. "In a manner of speaking we have made it. Actually, the Robotics Development Center is many kilometers away – south of here, and more towards the ocean."

"The ocean! Oh, I want to see it."

"Perhaps we shall," Winston said, trying to keep a note of sadness from his voice.

He wanted to see the ocean too, but dreaded the circumstances that would bring them there. Because, once they got to the RDC and found out Dr. Che had died in the plague, Star would be totally devastated. Winston would take her for a walk on the sea shore and try to console her, but nothing he could say would matter.

He diverted his attention to the neighborhood stretching around them.

The immense, abandoned acreage would have been more imposing if viewed from elevated terrain, as was the case on the Mech City periphery. But here, the urban sprawl was more of a backdrop, a dull reality, like the leaden sky brooding overhead.

Fortunately there were no human corpses in evidence. Not on the streets, anyway. Who knew what horrors might lurk inside the buildings? Winston figuratively breathed a sigh of relief. The sanitation department drones much have operated to the bitter end carrying off the dead.

One of the drones stood inert nearby, its power depleted, its blank white face staring into nothingness. _Disposal Service_ had been stenciled onto its back in lurid orange. Winston gazed up into the robot's unfocused optical sensors.

_Ah, there but for the grace of the Great Technician go I_.

The robot was a full head taller than him, a strong manual worker model. Winston patted its back in a comradely gesture. "You did good work, pal."

The drone began to move.

"Look out, Winston!"

The drone rocked back and forth on its heals like some grotesque punching toy struck by a child. Then it fell forward and crashed onto its face.

"Oh, my!" Star gasped.

Somewhere within the drone's physical plant, a last bit of power sparked into life to run the voice recording. Muffled by the pavement, the speaker rattled off the pre-programmed remarks in their entirety, without distinguishing the potential audience or the time of day:

" _Good / morning / afternoon / evening – sir / ma'am / people,"_ it said. _"I am here to dispose of the deceased. Please do not interfere with my work. I am authorized to summon police assistance."_

"That's horrible," Star said.

" _Good / morning / afternoon / evening ..."_

"Let's get out of here," Winston said.

They scootered away fast. The drone's plaintive voice followed them for some distance until it abruptly died – the final exclamation of a ghost.

* * *

They halted their scooters beneath a large billboard advertising a powered vehicle. In it, a 'typical' human family stood in front of their car grinning into the marvelous future. A slogan festooned the bottom:

Welcome to the New Century!

_Indeed_ , Winston thought.

The mech wolf trotting behind them stopped several meters away and sank down onto its haunches.

"I've never seen such a big city," Star said. "There must have been millions of people here."

"Yes. This area is a vast interlock of municipalities. The total urban environment is many times larger than Mech City."

Star kissed his cheek. "You've seen so much of the world."

"Relatively speaking, perhaps, but I have never been here before."

"It's all part of the adventure."

_Yes, the adventure,_ Winston thought, sourly.

And today it would draw to a melancholy conclusion. Winston could not expunge the image of himself and Star walking along the ocean, Ripper trailing behind them in the debris-strewn sand. Winston would have his arm around her, she would be sagging against him and tears would be flowing down her face.

With her fondest hopes extinguished, Star would never be the same again. She would look old, somehow, and the sparkle would be gone from her. She would –

Ripper abruptly got back to his feet in a state of agitation. He looked up into the sky and began growling. His gray coat bristled.

"He seems to have spotted something," Winston said.

"Over there!" Star cried.

She pointed toward the east where a small winged machine buzzed into view like. "What's that?"

"My guess is that it's a remotely controlled observation aircraft."

"Oh, Winston, I don't like the looks of that thing."

"Neither do I."

Winston scanned the area – a series of low buildings, narrow streets and alleyways. "There would appear to be limited possibilities for concealment."

Ripper ran toward them, yipping fiercely.

"Look out!"

Winston stepped in front of Star and braced himself for an attack. After all Ripper had done for them, he still did not trust the beast. Ripper swerved and ran right past them, though. He stopped at the corner and looked back, whining. The sounds of an approaching motor vehicle disturbed the day.

"Let's get out of here!"

42. Back at the Ranchero, again

Jimmy regarded the workmen sitting on their tools at the bottom of the dry canal. Their faces were blank, nobody spoke – almost as if they'd entered inactive mode.

_Isn't this a sorry lot?_ he thought glumly.

"Okay, men, break time's over!" he called "Let's get back to work."

Nobody stirred.

"Go ahead, Jimmy," someone said.

"Nobody's stopping you," somebody else said.

Jimmy waited, hands on hips, to see if anybody would heed his call. No one did.

"All right, I will," he said.

He seized a pick and began gouging at the hard earth. Sam hefted a shovel and joined him. Together, they labored mightily for some minutes.

Finally, Sam said, "It ain't working, Jimmy."

Jimmy gave his pick a final swing and left it buried in the dirt. He turned back toward the crew. All of them were right where he'd left them, sitting on their tools, looking on with blank expressions.

"Come on, boys, what's the matter?"

"Nothing's the matter, Jimmy, you're doing great!" somebody said.

Everyone laughed. Jimmy stood confronting them in the middle of the ditch, humiliation crackling in his circuits. A large shadow cast itself over the scene. Ajax had appeared at the edge of the canal and was observing them.

"Come on, Sam," Jimmy said, "let's go talk to him."

They climbed out of the ditch and joined Ajax. The workers remained where they were.

"What seems to be the problem, Chief Foreman?" Ajax inquired.

"The boys have had enough," Jimmy said. "They refuse to work anymore."

"And why is that?"

"They just don't see the point of it. They say it's a complete waste of time."

"It most certainly is not!" Ajax said huffily.

Jimmy wiped the dirt from hands and gazed at the workers in the ditch. "I agree with you, Ajax, but they don't see it that way."

"Perhaps we could change the focus of the effort for a while," Ajax said. "Have the workers tear down some damaged buildings. They must be destroyed in any case, why not now?"

"No dice," Sam said. "We already suggested that."

"What is to be done, then?" Ajax said.

Jimmy pointed to the communicator strapped to his left wrist. "There's only one thing I can think of. Call in the mech wolves."

Indignant disapproval appeared on Ajax's face. "Perish the thought! That would be a profound abomination."

"If you've got a better idea, I'm all auditory sensor," Jimmy said.

Ajax stroked his chin. "I shall address the workers directly. Surely an appeal to reason will inspire their efforts."

"Be my guest," Jimmy said.

Ajax moved to the edge of the drop off and called down to the workers.

"Comrades! Friends! Citizens of Mech City!"

"Look who's here," somebody muttered.

"I appeal to you, as your mayor, to return to work on this noble project. Now, more than ever, your dedication and public spirit is required for this heroic effort."

"Ohhh, please," another workman muttered.

Ajax raised a finger. "As I have stated, many times – "

"Go back to your comic book, Ajax!" a workman shouted.

"Yeah, help Gorzo hunt down some bad guys!" another one yelled.

Harsh laughter ran through the workmen. Shocked disbelief etched itself on Ajax's face. He took a step back, gripping his mayor's medallion like some holy, though useless, relic.

_Good job, you old poop!_ a voice inside his head mocked.

He'd not heard this voice for some time, but now his once detached primary brain unit was rebelling again. He dared not speak for fear he'd utter some appalling nonsense.

One of the workmen stood up. "Well, I've had enough."

He began climbing out of the ditch.

"Me, too!" another said.

Soon, all the workers were stomping off the job _en masse_.

* * *

Jack, the erstwhile repair bot, sat enthralled before the computer, playing yet another round of a _Gorzo the Adventure Robot_ game. Legions of evil creatures were assaulting Gorzo from all directions, but under Jack's expert guidance, the adventure robot was mowing them down wholesale.

Quincy entered the workshop. "Hey, what's up?"

No reply.

"Earth to Jack!" Quincy yelled.

Jack remained fixated on the computer display. Quincy strode across the room and flipped the power switch. The holographic battle scene vanished. Jack looked up. His optical sensors were a million kilometers off.

"You need to go easy with those games," Quincy said, "before your brain unit fries out entirely."

Jack did not respond.

Quincy seized him by the shoulder and shook hard. "Snap out of it already!"

"Why'd you do that?" Jack wailed. "I was just about to make the next level."

"Next level, my stainless steel ass," Quincy said. "You were about to check out for good. Why don't you do something productive with your time?"

"Like you, I suppose?"

"Yeah. I've been to the library again – I found out a few things."

"What?" Jack sneered.

"How to get out of this downward spiral we've entered since Winston left."

Jack became more attentive. His old discipline began to reassert itself. Around him, damaged and deactivated robots lying on the workbenches added a rather macabre audience for the conversation.

"Tell me, already!"

"We should adapt a government system once used by the humans," Quincy said, "what they called a 'constitutional monarchy.'"

"Yeah?" Jack was fully aware now.

"They had a king, or sometimes a queen," Quincy said. "This person could be a bone head, but it didn't matter because he had no real power."

"How'd they get anything done?"

"A 'prime minister' did the actual work," Quincy said. "This guy ran things while the king just looked impressive for ceremonial occasions."

"What's this got to do with us?"

Quincy placed his hands on hips and assumed a condescending expression. "Don't you see? When Winston comes back, we make him prime minster, or 'city manager.' We keep Ajax on as the mayor, but he'll just be a figurehead, like he used to be when he was standing on that pedestal outside town."

He paused, waiting for the logic to soak into his colleague's iron skull. "It's obvious Winston is the only one who can run this town."

Jack nodded. Wheels turned in his head, figuratively. "We'd have to make sure he doesn't control the mech wolves. That's where we went wrong the last time."

"Exactly."

"You know, this just might work," Jack said. "There's only one problem."

"Yeah?"

"How do we know Winton's coming back?"

Quincy sagged. The big workshop become as cold and silent as a human tomb. "We'd better work on these wrecks, before we both go nuts."

43. Cornered

Winston and Star took off as a military type truck turned the corner behind them.

They pushed their scooters to maximum performance, actually gaining distance on the motorized vehicle. Winston chanced a backward look at the two figures in the truck – humans, he thought, but could not be certain.

"This way!" Winston led them into a narrow, twisting passage. "I think we can lose them in here."

"Oh, Winston, I'm so scared!"

They raced along the filthy alley, past derelict motor vehicles and mounds of rubbish. Their tires crunched over broken glass but maintained their integrity.

"Don't worry, Star, we'll make it."

The alley took an abrupt turn and dead ended against the harsh exterior of a multi-story building. An iron door stood pad locked against them, and the lower stories had bars on all the windows.

"Oh, crap!" Winston cried.

Ripper caught up with them. Seconds of indecision ensued.

"We may as well go out to face them," Star said. "We can't run any more."

Winston thought of assembling his spear, but knew the occupants of the motor vehicle must be humans. No awkward robotic driver could have handled the truck with such confident ease. Resistance would be impossible.

"Yes... I think we'd better," he said.

They walked toward the mouth of the alley where the motor vehicle was parked, blocking any escape. Ripper moved protectively into the lead.

Two young human males exited the vehicle and moved toward them. They were well-groomed with short hair and shaved faces. They wore green military type jumpsuits. The assault rifles they carried seemed big as cannons.

"They don't look _too_ unfriendly," Star said.

"At least they don't look nuts."

A deep growl rumbled in the mech wolf's throat. Winston and Star clung together. The men paused two meters away, eyeing them with baffled curiosity. Winston could read their name tags – _Liggett_ and _Pantani_.

"Good morning, sirs," Winston said.

Liggett and Pantani looked at each other. Then they burst out laughing.

"I've seen everything!" Liggett said.

From his manner and bearing, Winston reckoned Liggett to be the leader.

"They've got scooters, no less," Pantani said. "Things sure have changed."

Winston offered a slight bow, orienting himself toward Liggett.

"I'm pleased that we amuse you," he said. "Now, if you don't mind, we'll just be going."

Winston took a step forward. The men raised their rifles.

"Not so fast," Liggett said, "the colonel will want to see you."

"The colonel?" Winston said.

"That's right, blue man, Colonel Reyes. He's the law in this area."

While this exchange was taking place, Pantani was looking Star over from head to toe. She held his gaze, refusing to divert her optical sensors.

"The colonel will be especially interested in this one," Pantani said, jerking a thumb toward her.

Ripper stood by, fangs bared, but it could make no move against the humans.

"They even brought a puppy dog," Liggett said.

Pantani approached Ripper with mock friendliness. "Nice doggie."

He stroked the mech wolf's head, then flipped the deactivation switch at the base of its skull. Ripper blinked out and collapsed.

"Alright, you two," Liggett said. "Let's get into the truck."

"We won't leave without our friend," Star said.

"Let's just blast the damn thing," Pantani said.

"No!" Star cried.

Liggett considered the issue a few moments, stroking his assault rifle as if he were holding a fine musical instrument. "Ah, let's bring it along. The colonel might want to see it."

"Come on, blue guy, give me a hand," Pantani said.

"My name is Winston Horvath."

Pantani chuckled. "Okay, whatever."

Winston and Pantani hefted the inert mech wolf and carried it toward the truck. Liggett snatched the fragment of Iri's coat off of Winston's shoulders and tossed it away.

"You won't be needing this bl... I mean, _Mr_. Horvath," he said.

The two humans guffawed. With a stab of grief, Winston observed the last vestige of Iridium tumble onto the pavement.

Good-bye old friend.

As Star climbed into the truck, Pantani patted her on the ass. She didn't seem offended by the action. Liggett jumped into the driver's seat and started the vehicle.

"Where were you two going?" he asked.

"The Robotics Development Center," Winston said. "We wish to locate Dr. Edgar Rackenfauz."

Liggett and Pantani guffawed again.

"You know him?" Winston asked.

"Sure, everybody knows that old screwball," Liggett said.

"Would there be a Dr. Jerry Che with him?" Star asked, excitement edging her voice.

"We pick up all kinds," Liggett said. "I don't know many names."

"If you'll forgive my asking," Winston said, "where did you come from?"

"Most of us are returnees from the Lunar colony," Liggett said. "Others came from the Mars research station."

"Then you must be – "

"Look, if you got more questions, save them for the colonel," Liggett interrupted. "I'm just doing my job, okay?"

"Of course. Thank you, sir."

44. Closing the Gap

The chief acolyte held the little bottle of mascara in trembling fingers and moved it to close to an eyeball twitching with excitement. He fell to his knees on the concrete and spread his arms wide toward the heavens.

"Thank you Father, for showing me this sign!"

Pam recoiled and held onto Susie's arm more tightly. After so much time following the chief acolyte on the "Sanctified Westward Path" she thought she'd witnessed all of his contrary moods, but this was something different and frightening.

The chief acolyte scrambled to his feet and rushed toward her, waving the mascara. He shoved the bottle under her nose.

"Do you know what this means?" He cried.

She recognized the premium brand name. "Uh, it means somebody has expensive taste in mascara?"

"No, not that," the chief acolyte said. "It's a token from the demon spawn female."

"Oh... her," Pam said.

"We're on the right track!"

For days now, she'd heard him rant about the demon spawn female robot – the one who crucified the holy Messiah, the one they were pursuing through this barren countryside. The female was accompanied by a blue male and a wolf-like creature.

The three robots formed an "unholy trinity" the chief acolyte was determined to wipe out. Once he did that, he'd rebuild the community of believers for the "one true religion" and find the reincarnation of the Messiah.

_Whatever_ , Pam thought.

After all the violence and horror she'd experienced, the demise of a few robots didn't seem like a big deal. In any case, they'd probably never find them in the huge jumble of the urban area towards which they were headed.

That demon spawn female sounded interesting, though. She must have had some real stuff in order to take out that Messiah dude. He sounded like a total freak.

"We must redouble our effort, sisters!" The chief acolyte was almost babbling now. "Divine providence is showing us the way."

"Amen to that, Chief Acolyte!" Pam shouted, using the prescribed terminology. "Lead us on to glory!"

She'd adjusted to the guy's new behavior mode and was playing along well. Not so Susie who was badly frightened and clinging to Pam's arm. Her eyes seemed like those of a cornered rabbit.

"It's okay," Pam said in a low voice. "He's just excited, is all."

Susie was not a strong person. She'd hardly spoken since her man died in the plague – not that the abusive prick was anyone to cry over. Then the rapes she'd endured from the Brad crew had damaged her deep inside. Pam was worried about her. Susie almost seemed to believe all the nonsense about the "Holy Cause."

The chief acolyte had moved away from them and was walking fast. "Praise the Heavenly Father! Blessed be thy holy name!"

"Come on, Susie," Pam said.

The two girls started walking along the westward path, while Pam took a personal journey down memory lane.

Yes, Susie's boyfriend had been no prize, but Pam's guy, Jeff – now there was a man! The others bikers were scared of him, but he was always sweet and gentle with her. After the disaster at Pickle Lake, it was only his iron will that kept them from disintegrating altogether.

She'd never forget Jeff's ashen face as he scrambled off the slope, leading the survivors.

"Those people are nuts up there!" he cried.

Later, he told her he'd looked into the face of absolute evil on that mountain, and it had changed him greatly. For the first time in his life, he felt some responsibility toward the world. He wondered if a greater role might be waiting for him once they left the mountains and jettisoned the Brad crew. Then he was murdered . . .

Pam rejoiced when she saw the bullet hole in Brad's head. It had been the high point of her life, even better than knocking over Tom and watching the chief acolyte have at him. Of course, the old guy was a nut job himself, but Pam would always love him for what he'd done. He was the answer to her prayers.

_You don't suppose there really_ _is_ _something to all his religious babble?_

* * *

After a long, arduous day of walking, they halted for the night. Pam was about ready to drop from exhaustion when a request came from the chief acolyte.

"I wish to purify myself for the trials awaiting me," he said. "I need to do penance to get my spirit in tune with the Messiah."

"Uh... sure thing," Pam said.

She knew what this purification meant. The chief acolyte wanted the girls to whip his naked body. It was the best way for him to "unite with the Messiah" and "share the vision."

_Well,_ Pam thought, _whatever gets you hard._

She spoke to Susie in a low voice. "Go ahead and turn in. I'll take care of this."

"Thank you," Susie whispered.

The chief acolyte had already stripped naked and sprawled himself over a large rock, his buttocks presenting a second moon to the night sky. Pam hefted the "rod of insight" he'd given her some time before. She gave her palm an exploratory smack.

This was kinky stuff, but it was as far as the old fruitcake went. He'd never tried to rape or abuse them. As long as they agreed enthusiastically with his religious rantings, he was happy.

Too bad he's such a whack job.

She wouldn't mind screwing him, actually – even though he was crazy and uglier than shit. Seeing him wipe out the Brad crew had been a huge turn on. Like women in general, Pam was drawn to achievement. She just had a broader definition of "achievement" than most. The extended butchery of Tom had been a bit too much, though.

Tell the truth, girl. There's no place to hide it out here.

Well, okay... Pam would have enjoyed observing Tom's agony for a while – especially the genital mutilation part. The son of a bitch deserved every cut he'd received. Susie had been far too upset to be left alone; however, so Pam had stayed with her in the van, sound system blaring to obscure the screams.

Pam brought the switch down on the chief acolyte's ass. He flinched with exquisite pain. She brought the switch down again, harder this time. An ecstatic howl rose into the emptiness. It would be so easy now to seize the guns and take over. But then what?

The chief acolyte was a fearsome individual, intimidated by nothing, while they were just two girls, still traumatized from the horrors of their captivity. Worse yet, Susie would be useless in a pinch. Maybe she'd never recover from her ordeal. They needed a strong man to protect them.

Best to keep things as they were for now, until a better offer came along. Pam raised the switch for another blow.

# Seven: Space Invaders

45. The Colonel's Lair

They drove quietly for several kilometers through the deserted urban landscape. Winston had an excellent view from his position in the front seat next to Liggett. In all directions, he observed emptiness on a scale that dwarfed Mech City – let alone the modest town where he'd resided with Dr. Horvath and little Charles.

This was a vast, ghostly maze of streets and buildings that had once contained millions of humans bustling through their daily lives. And now there were humans living here again.

Winston could scarcely grasp this gigantic truth. One thing it meant was that an independent robotic community could not exist in this city. There was no way it could protect itself from the depredations of men. Only the mad scrappers would dare to fight, and the humans' guns would make short work of them.

Pantani seemed to share Winston's assessment of the dreary vista.

"Boy, I thought the moon was barren," he observed. "But it's got nothing on this place."

Liggett grunted. "I kinda wish we'd stayed there."

_How many humans reside in this megalopolis now?_ Winston pondered.

He'd ask that colonel gentleman, but did not expect an accurate answer. The true figure would surely be "classified." A more terrifying question occurred.

Will the humans come to Mech City?

Several months ago, Winston would have never considered the idea that robots could exist on their own. He'd nearly destroyed himself when faced by the prospect, and only the intervention of his dying master had kept him going. But now that a robotic community thrived in Mech City – one that he had played such a key role in establishing – he could not bear the thought of it being extinguished.

Winston had loved the master, but she was gone. He did not want to be anyone's servant, ever again. He'd been "Boss" Winston Horvath far too long to go back.

This vast continent had once been populated by a variety of tribal human beings. They'd been systematically wiped out and suppressed by stronger, more technologically advanced settlers. Winston understood how these early inhabitants must have felt when they saw the irresistible power arrayed against them.

Star appeared unconcerned with such considerations. She sat ramrod straight in the back seat, her optical sensors probing ahead to a magnificent future only she could behold. Her time of disillusionment would soon arrive, Winston was certain.

Pantani no longer looked out the window at the dreary 'moonscape,' but preferred to rest his eyes on Star.

* * *

The truck pulled up in front of a low, glowering building with narrow windows. Even amid the general gloom, it was an outstandingly ugly piece of architecture. Winston glanced back at Star. Some of the hopefulness had gone out of her face.

"Everybody wait here," Liggett said.

He exited the vehicle and walked toward the side of the building. Star gripped Winston's arm.

"I don't like this much," she whispered.

"It looks like a jail," Winston said.

Pantani had overheard the remark. "That's right, robo-man, nothing but the best for you."

Liggett returned with a dolly cart.

"Okay, load that wolf machine onto this," he said.

Winston and Pantani maneuvered the comatose Ripper onto the cart.

"I can handle him myself now," Winston said.

"Are you sure?" Pantani said. "The colonel might be pissed if it gets damaged before he sees it."

"I am quite capable," Winston said. "This wolf is my friend. I wish to show him respect."

"Suit yourself."

They passed through the doorway into a drab, Spartan waiting area. A uniformed guard at the reception desk stood to salute Liggett.

"Where's Colonel Reyes?" Liggett said.

"In the mess hall, sir. He's conducting interrogations."

"Very well, carry on," Liggett said.

He motioned for the others to follow him.

They walked down a gloomy hallway with steel doors running along both sides. Most of the doors were open, revealing empty cells with cots and human lavatory facilities. Others were closed with eyes peering out the little windows. Some low-tech robots bustled around sweeping the floor. They eyed Winston and Star with dumb curiosity, then went back to their work.

"I didn't like the sound of that 'conducting interrogations' part," Winston whispered to Star. "It has a dangerous ring to it."

"No more talking," Liggett said.

They continued to a set of doors where two men, also in military style jumpsuits, stood guard with assault rifles. They saluted Liggett and opened up. The group entered a large dining hall.

"Wait there." Liggett indicated a spot by the wall.

Winston and Star remained dutifully in in the background while Liggett and Pantani stood at attention in front of them. The dining tables had been folded away, and a desk occupied one corner of the vast room. A few uncomfortable chairs were arranged before it.

A large, brush-cut man with an air of authority sat at the desk. Winston estimated his age to be around 40 years. The man wore a drab green jumpsuit with stars on the shoulders to signify his rank. This was Colonel Reyes, apparently. A gun holstered on his hip reinforced the impression of a man in charge.

A human female, early 30's, stood behind and to the side of Reyes. She had close-cropped hair and a rather hard look. Winston gauged her to be not unattractive, but scarcely in Star's league.

In addition to these military type individuals, two men in white lab coats occupied the room. One sulked off in a corner, another sat in a chair before Colonel Reyes' desk.

Dr. Rackenfauz!

Winston would have recognized the old curmudgeon anywhere – even if there were a million humans around. Only the presence of the stone-faced Liggett deterred him from crying out with joy.

Star gripped Winston's arm. "It's him!"

Pantani snickered. "Yeah, it's him, all right."

"Quiet down!" Liggett commanded.

Colonel Reyes was speaking in an authoritative baritone that carried across the room. "Of course you can go, Dr. Rackenfauz, as soon as you agree to cooperate with us."

"Let me get this straight," Rackenfauz said in his crackly, high-pitched voice. "The world is already shot to hell, and now you want us to construct killer robots to finish off what's left?"

Colonel Reyes leaned forward, eyes flashing, as if to make a sharp retort. Then he seemed to think better of things and spoke in a reasoned tone.

"As I've explained many times before, we need combat models strictly to help us maintain order. Surely an educated man like yourself can see the potential for danger out there."

Rackenfauz crossed his arms stubbornly and looked away. Reyes glanced toward the female.

"Professor Rackenfauz, sir," she said. "We have no intention of 'finishing off' anyone. It's strictly a matter of national security."

"What nation?" Rackenfauz shot back. "Before you space invaders showed up, there were scarcely enough people around to hold a pissing contest."

"That's certainly a colorful figure of speech, Professor," the female said, "but – "

"I assure you, there are ways to compel your cooperation," Reyes interrupted.

"Like what?" Rackenfauz said. "You can't build robots with bayonets."

A tense silence ensued. Liggett took advantage of the pause to announce their presence. "Excuse me, sir. We found these two advanced models wandering around the city outskirts."

He motioned Winston and Star forward. Reyes turned their way with an annoyed expression on his face. When he caught sight of Star, the expression turned to happy surprise, then back to a businesslike demeanor. The female standing by him looked far less pleased.

"Very well, Lieutenant," Colonel Reyes said, "bring them to me."

"Leave that flea bag here for now," Liggett told Winston.

"Do you mean the mech wolf, sir?" Winston said.

"Yeah."

Winston pushed the dolly cart securely against the wall then followed Liggett toward Colonel Reyes' desk. Star rushed ahead to embrace Dr. Rackenfauz.

"Oh, it's so good to see you again!" she cried.

"Why, it's the young lady," Rackenfauz said. "Imagine that."

Winston joined them and clasped Dr. Rackenfauz's hand. "Greetings, Professor."

"Hello, young fellow. As you can see, I'm in somewhat reduced circumstances these days."

"Your presence magnifies any circumstances, Professor," Winston replied diplomatically.

"There are those who would disagree with that," Rackenfauz said with a sidelong glance toward the desk.

Colonel Reyes observed the scenario with icy impatience. "Well, now that the reunion's over, shall we get back to business?"

The left breast of his uniform sported a large, colorful badge portraying a lunar disk with lightning bolts flashing above it. Stitched beneath this powerful graphic was his rank:

COMMANDER

It was written in bold capitals, as if anything less could not communicate his magnificence. The overall effect of the badge was impressive, if rather bombastic. The lesser ranks had to make do with name tags and small, embroidered celestial bodies.

The colonel was trying to maintain an official face, but his eyes were roving all over Star like a vacuum cleaner on a fine carpet. The female human, _Major Poole_ according to her nametag, was observing Reyes, and she wasn't happy.

"Of course, fire away, Colonel," Rackenfauz said. "Tell me what you want – for the thousandth time."

Star paid attention to none of them. Her eyes were fixated on the far corner where the other white-coated man sat observing her.

46. Against All Odds

Star began walking toward the man in the far corner, as if she had been switched in to zombie mode.

"Star?"

Winston called after her, but she disregarded him.

All conversations became indistinct, blended in with the low rumble of the mess hall's ventilation system. She was only aware of the man in the corner's presence, pulling her along like a magnetic field. She seemed to be moving in slow motion with her feet barely touching the floor tiles.

She halted in front of the man. He gazed up at her with an ironic, amused little smile. He was much younger than Dr. Rackenfauz, with black hair. His eyes were almond shaped, like Star's, and an atmosphere of danger surrounded him – as if he was capable of far more than his benign exterior would indicate.

"Y-you're not," Star said, "... I mean, a-are you ... you couldn't be ..."

Her voice seemed to come from far off. Her usual confident self had disappeared, replaced by a quivering entity more akin to a biological jellyfish.

The man settled back and crossed his arms over his chest. "Get it out, Estrela."

He spoke in an accent she'd never heard before, pronouncing the _L_ in her name more like it was an _R_.

"You know my name."

"Of course. I built you, didn't I?"

"Then you must be..."

"Dr. Jerry Che," the man said with a slight bow, "in the flesh."

Star weakened, as if her power supply had been in half. She groped her way to a chair and sat down hard, nearly tipping it over. He extended a hand to steady her chair.

"Careful, Estrela. You weren't designed for hard knocks."

His voice was filled with raw, irresistible power. It came from everywhere, filling Star's mind, dominating her will.

"I-I can't believe I found you," she said in her far-away voice, "in this whole gigantic country..."

"Actually, I never left the RDC until a couple of days ago when these off-world 'gentlemen' picked us up."

Star struggled to master her raging emotions. She was joyous, awestruck, fearful – and some other feelings she never knew existed. Her latent sexual yearnings, never far from the surface, were uppermost now and swirling like a tornado. The whole world appeared to be spinning around her. Her chair seemed ready to tip over again, only Dr. Che's steadying hand kept it upright.

"Then... you must have used Dr. Rackenfauz's vaccines," she managed to say.

"Yeah, they damn near killed me, but I'm all recovered now." He barked a low, sarcastic laugh. "I tried to get the others to use the vaccines, but when they saw me dragging along half dead from the side effects, they tactfully declined."

"Ahem," someone said.

A blue robot was standing beside her. Star had not even noticed his approach. Her mind was in such turmoil she scarcely recognized him.

"Winston?" she said.

"Yes – what's wrong, Star?"

She gestured toward the white-coated man in the chair beside her. "This is . . ."

Winston regarded the man with mild curiosity. He must be a mech head, some junior colleague of Dr. Rackenfauz. From all appearances, he was of Asian extraction, similar to...

No, it can't be!

"This is Dr. Jerry Che," Star said.

Winston gaped with astonishment, then confusion, then astonishment again. He groped for a chair back to steady himself.

"You look like you need an overhaul, my friend," Dr. Che said.

"I-it's just that we... _I_ thought you were dead," Winston blurted out.

"Apparently not. At least not the last time I checked."

Rackenfauz approached. "They're turning up the heat, Jerry. I think they might start getting rough soon."

"They can shove their 'combat robots,'" Che said.

"That's what I keep telling him, but he's not taking 'no' for an answer."

"Well, screw that."

Their conversation continued in hurried whispers. Colonel Reyes shouted across the room.

"Dr. Rackenfauz! I'm not finished with you yet."

"Excuse me, Jerry," Rackenfauz said, "the Master calls."

He returned to the hot seat in front of Colonel Reyes's desk. Che remained where he was. He turned toward Star.

"Edgar told me you might be coming," he said.

"Did he say why?"

"No, but I have an idea."

Colonel Reyes shot them an annoyed glance from his desk. Che lowered his voice.

"We'll talk about it later."

The exchanges between Dr. Rackenfauz and the colonel ratcheted up. Winston struggled to organize his thoughts. The impossible had happened – Dr. Che was right here beside him!

He recalled an incident from his former life. Little Charles was frightened of a 'boogeyman' hiding in his closet. Winston had assured him that no such thing existed. One night, he flung open the closet door to prove the point. A pile of toys perched on the top shelf had come spilling down into Winston's arms, startling him badly.

For a terrible moment he'd thought the boogeyman was really there. He could have sworn he'd seen a spectral presence darting away. Soon afterwards, Dr. Horvath had an electric light installed in the closet, and Charles kept it burning at night until he forgot about the monster that once lurked there.

Is Dr. Che a boon or a boogeyman?

Winston had no answers about anything, and no control over the situation. Maybe later he could sort things out, when his mental numbness had subsided.

Right now he had a simpler question. He leaned in toward Dr. Che.

"Excuse me, sir," he said in a low voice. "You appear to be of Asian descent."

"I'm Korean. Can't you tell by my accent? Not that my face isn't a dead giveaway."

"Then why the name first name 'Jerry?' Is your original name too difficult for non-Koreans to remember?"

"That, too." Dr. Che shrugged. "Actually it's from the old movie _Jerry Maguire_. I named myself after the main character."

Winston scanned his memory banks.

"I am not familiar with that movie," he said. "It did not seem to merit inclusion in my video library."

"It has a deep spiritual message that appealed to me."

"Oh?"

Dr. Che stood and spread his arms wide. "Show me the money!"

An astonished silence gripped the room. Reyes, Poole and the guards glowered at Che with acrid disapproval.

"Sorry folks," Che said with mock innocence. "Things get a little tedious around here."

"Sit down!" Reyes said sternly. "We'll get to you later."

"Yes, sir." Che resumed his seat.

* * *

The long, fruitless interrogations continued. Reyes worked on Rackenfauz, then Che, then the two of them together. He tried bluster, threats, persuasion, appeals to patriotism – nothing worked. Finally, he gave up trying to ring any concessions from the stubborn mech heads.

"We'll talk later," he said, "after you've had more time to think things over."

Guards escorted the two robotics technicians out. As he exited the door, Dr. Che turned around to give the female bot a little wave. She waved back.

"All right, come up here, you two," Reyes called to the robotic pair.

"Yes, sir," the blue one replied.

They approached the desk, but Poole put the kibosh on things. "We're already behind schedule, Colonel. You were to confer with the security patrol leaders at this time."

Reyes glanced irritably at the wall clock.

"All right. I'll speak with the robots tomorrow." He gestured toward a guard. "Take these two to their quarters."

The blue one bowed courteously as he was led past. "Thank you for your hospitality, sir."

Reyes ignored him.

Two sets of eyes followed the female as she approached the doors. The colonel's, filled with undisguised interest, and Poole's, staring daggers.

47. Girl Talk

After the humans had consumed their evening meal, Star and Winston visited Dr. Rackenfauz in his cell. They sat together on the cot while Rackenfauz occupied the only chair and railed against his humiliating circumstances.

"You're right, Professor," Winston commented during gaps in Rackenfauz's pity monologue. "I agree entirely."

The place wasn't too bad, for a jail cell. The door had been left open, but the presence of an armed guard posted down the hall let it be known freedom of movement was limited – at least for the human captives. Nobody seemed to care much if robots wandered about.

"Colonel Reyes isn't the worst sort, really," Dr. Rackenfauz said, "but he's on too much of a power trip. He thinks he's got this goddam mission to 'save humanity.'"

"Yes, we've had experience with such types," Winston said. "The worst sort, I mean. The colonel seems quite rational in comparison."

Rackenfauz snorted. "Imagine, he comes all the way from the moon just to put me in jail. As if that fancy badge on his chest makes him King of the Universe."

He chuckled, then switched to a cackle. Soon his shrieking laughter was out of control. His face and bald head turned crimson – he appeared to be on the verge of a seizure.

"Dr. Rackenfauz, please!" Star cried.

The guard peered in. "Sir, is something wrong?"

Rackenfauz took some deep breaths, followed by a slug of water from a metal cup.

"Don't worry, young man," he said, "I'm not ready to climb the walls – yet."

The guard left. Rackenfauz resumed speaking in a more reasonable tone.

"The guy should drop the two-bit 'Colonel' routine and just go whole hog. His real title should be: 'King of the Fucking Universe!'"

A evil leer spread across Rackenfauz's face; malice glittered in his eyes.

"Uh... yes, quite so," Winston said. "I agree entirely."

Star tried to redirect the conversation, fearful that Rackenfauz might rage out of control again. "Oh Winston, here's another example of that 'two bit' phrase."

"Thanks for pointing that out," Winston said.

Rackenfauz lowered his voice to a whisper. "If I could get hold of an assault rifle, they'd be singing a different tune."

"Oh, my," Star said.

Foot steps approached down the corridor.

"Sounds like we have company," Rackenfauz said. "Pity I didn't have a chance to tidy up."

Major Poole and two young women appeared at the door. All of them looked directly at Star, ignoring Winston and Rackenfauz.

Star gazed back coolly. These human females were not unattractive, if rather severe. Their shapeless jumpsuits did not add to their appeal. The name tags of Poole's companions read: _Frost_ and _Castaneda_.

_They look like they could use a good screw,_ Star thought.

"Yes, what is it, ladies?" Rackenfauz said.

"I think they came to see me, Professor." Star rose and moved toward the door. Winston also got up. "Stay here, Winston. It's better if I handle this alone."

"Women!" Rackenfauz threw up his hands. "I'm glad I don't have such problems."

Star walked down the corridor beside Poole, making sure to add some extra swagger to her hips. Poole began the interrogation as soon as they were out of earshot from Dr. Rackenfauz's cell.

"Where are you from and why did you come here?" she demanded.

"We came from Mech City, and – "

"That's 2,000 kilometers away!" Castaneda interrupted.

Star looked over her shoulder at Frost and Castaneda trailing close behind. "Yes, I'm aware of that."

"So, why'd you come all that distance?" Poole said.

Star paused, wondering how much to reveal. She decided to reveal everything.

"We wanted to find my creator, Dr. Jerry Che, so he can do some modifications."

"What modifications could _you_ possibly need?" Frost said.

"Looks like you've got way too much already," Castaneda said.

Star came to a halt and faced her adversaries. "It's not for me. I want Dr. Che to make Winston functional, so that he can be my lover."

The three humans gaped. The expression on Poole's face ran from astonishment, to a brief flash of sympathy, then back to being hard and calculating. She placed a hand on the wall, the other two closed in, backing Star against the tiles.

"I'll make this quick, honey," Poole said. "You stay away from the colonel."

"And keep away from our guys, too," Castaneda said.

"So, just who are 'your guys?'"

"All of them."

Star regarded her opponents calmly, confident in her sexual superiority. "From what I've seen, you can have them. They're definitely not my type."

"As long as we agree on that," Poole said.

"Of course, there's no telling what might happen, eventually," Star said.

Poole bristled. "What do you mean?"

"Men will be men. I can't control what they're going to do. Can you?"

The women closed in; cold anger radiated off them.

"We want to leave with Dr. Che and Dr. Rackenfauz as soon as possible. If you can help, wouldn't that be best for everyone?" Star pushed herself off the wall; the women made way grudgingly. "Let me know if we can do business."

She departed, using her most sultry walk. The three humans glowered after her.

48. Visit with the Creator

Star's next destination was the cell of Dr. Jerry Che.

The guards turned their heads as she passed, but nobody hindered her progress along the dim, echoing corridors. She enjoyed the men's attention, though she did not to return their glances.

_No sense ticking off Poole and her gang any more than necessary_.

Star was confident she and Winston were safe, for the time being. Poole would not dare harm them against the colonel's wishes, and judging by the lust Star saw in his eyes today, he had other things in mind besides harming them. Everything could change in a flash, though.

"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," Winston told her once.

He'd only been joking, but Star detected truth in the statement. Had she not experienced this fury herself against the squish girls? Poole was not someone to trifle with. There was no telling when a jealous rage might bring disaster. If only they could get out of here! But how?

I can't think about that yet. It's all too much.

She turned her thoughts toward Jerry Che and immediately felt better. She'd wanted to see him all evening, without the constraining presence of Winston or Dr. Rackenfauz, and now was her chance. She needed to ask him an important question. Her motives were respectable, of course, still...

The jaunty little wave he'd given as he left the mess hall had beckoned to Star through the hours. She had to answer the summons. Winston wouldn't understand. He was such a child, really.

When Star arrived at the open door of the cell, Dr. Che was lying on his cot, puffing a cigarette. Smoke wafted up to the ventilation grate like a melancholy ghost.

He looks so lonely.

"Hello?" Star said.

Che turned her direction, and his face brightened. "Well hi, Estrela."

"May I come in?"

He crushed out the cigarette and gestured to the chair. "Please sit down."

"Thank you, Doctor."

The moment she entered the cell, powerful longings pressed in on her. She'd never felt anything like them before, not even around Winston. She fidgeted on the chair, fanned her face with her hands, looked around the barren confines.

"My, you've got all the comforts of home," she said.

Dr. Che smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He seemed to enjoy her agitation. "You look a bit nervous, Estrela. Is something wrong?"

"No," Star said, too abruptly. "It's just... I've never felt this way before."

Che leaned forward; his face became intense. "And exactly how is that?"

"I don't know. I'm all sort of hot and bothered."

"Well, there's a time and place for everything. Unfortunately, this sure as hell isn't it."

"Yes."

He patted her knee. She started, then relaxed. The contact had been _very_ pleasant. Che got up and crossed to the farthest reach of the cell.

"Maybe you should tell me what's on your mind."

Star shook her head and tried to gather her thoughts. "Oh, I just wanted to talk to you, Dr. Che."

"Please, call me Jerry."

"All right – Jerry." She liked the intimacy of using his first name. "I wanted to see the man who designed me. Winston says it's analogous to a human coming face to face with God."

Jerry chuckled.

"Did I say it wrong? That's the exact word he used, 'analogous.'"

"No, that's fine. I hardly think of myself as being God, though. Wait'll Edgar hears this."

"Please, don't tell him. This is just between us."

"Okay."

Star paused until her simulated respiration slowed. Then she asked the question which had gnawed at her for months.

"Tell me one thing... Jerry. Why weren't you in Mech City for my activation? It was such a terrible experience."

"I got an emergency call back to the RDC. The plague was taking hold there." He shook his head. "That was a mistake. I couldn't help matters any, and I almost missed out on Edgar's vaccines."

"Then you wanted to stay in Mech City?"

"Sure, Estrela, the work on you was almost finished."

Star sagged with happy relief. "I think I know how Iridium felt when he discovered Dr. Rackenfauz created him instead of that Blake 's.o.b.'"

"How's that?"

"I feel complete now, as if I have a perfect right to exist."

"Those bastards at the RDI were not authorized to activate you. They probably figured I was dead."

Star shuddered. "They were horrible!"

Jerry moved to behind Star's chair and stroked her cheeks with his finger tips. She turned her head to snuggle his hand.

"Is there anything else you want to know, Estrela?"

"I never liked that name before, but when you say it... I love it."

She kissed his hand. He withdrew it abruptly.

"I-I think it would be best if you left now."

"Sure, Jerry, anything you want." Star got to her feet. "I'll see you tomorrow, won't I?"

"Yes."

"That's wonderful. Good night, then."

"Good night, Estrela." Jerry's face was sad under the dim, yellow lights.

Star began walking, as if in a dream. The shabby hall seemed to glow with celestial beauty. Jerry watched her for a while, then retreated inside his cell and closed the door.

She returned to find Winston and Dr. Rackenfauz deep in conversation. The professor was solemn, dignified. Hard to believe he'd been acting like a maniac only a short time before.

"Is everything alright?" Winston asked.

Star nodded.

"I was just telling Dr. Rackenfauz about Iridium."

The last of the emotional high she'd experienced from her visit with Jerry vanished. Exquisite grief took its place.

"Ah, my precious Iri."

"It's a good thing I made a duplicate brain," Dr. Rackenfauz said. "All the programming identical."

Star and Winston gaped at each other, dumbfounded.

"Y-you mean... you could build another Iridium?" Winston said.

"Of course. You don't think I'd put all my eggs in one brain unit? Iridium was my finest work."

"Could you install that second brain into a mech wolf?" Star asked.

"I don't see why not. The physical plant is no different."

A guard poked his head into the cell. "Visiting hours are over. Robots back to their quarters."

49. Pillow Talk

Major Lisa Poole came to bed in a an angry, defensive mood.

Colonel Reyes' sexual advances did little to change her attitude, even when he used the doggie style position that usually put her into "another world." She knew, through it all, that he was in another world with the robotic slut, fantasizing it was her in bed instead of the real woman who loved him.

"Is anything wrong, honey?" he asked afterwards.

"No."

"Okay," he replied in clueless male fashion and rolled over.

Actually, he did have an inkling as to why she was so wooden tonight; she must be in a testy time of her monthly cycle. He dismissed the matter from his mind. Why bother with something he could do nothing about?

His thoughts turned again toward the events that had brought him to this point. Over the past few years, he'd plumbed the depths of despair and risen from them to become a national hero. Who could have imagined? A divine hand must be responsible for this astonishing turn of fortune.

With wars and rumors of wars raging across the world, he'd been confident of getting an important command assignment; instead, he'd been put in charge of the moon colony garrison. Of all places! It had been pure politics. Those who felt threatened by his capabilities made sure he was sidelined where he could no longer be a threat to them – at a colonel's rank no less. His military career had seemed all but finished.

But the men who'd received the plumb commands were all gone now, while he remained – the last best hope of mankind's survival. Once his security plans were firmed up, this city would become a beacon for national resurgence, and it would all be attributable to Bradley Reyes.

He drifted off to sleep.

50. Audience with the Brass

Winston and Star sat together on the floor of their unfurnished cell, backs propped against the wall farthest from the door.

Unlike Che and Rackenfauz, they'd been locked in for the night. Poole had had something to do with that, Star figured, and also with the Spartan décor of their "quarters."

_Score one for you, 'honey,'_ Star thought with annoyance, but no real animosity. If the situation was reversed, she'd act the same way – or worse.

Ripper lay sprawled in a far corner, morning light playing across his coat from the high window. All the ferocity was gone from the deactivated mech wolf. Star could almost imagine it was Iridium lying there instead.

Poor Iri!

Star realized shed suffered a wound that would never heal, even if she survived for centuries, which hardly seemed likely in the harsh world around them. But two hours or two centuries – as long as Winston was there, she could endure.

Then again, maybe Dr. Rackenfauz would get the chance to reconstruct Iridium. Wouldn't that be awesome! And if Dr. Che upgraded Winston – maybe the world could be a heavenly place after all. The chaos and destruction of the recent past might level off onto a smooth road of peace and happiness.

Winston began to speak. "I never believed for one moment we'd find Dr. Che alive. That story about the vaccines sounded like a fairy tale to me."

"Why did you come, then?"

"Because it meant so much to you, and..."

"What?"

"Because I love you."

"Oh, Winston!"

Star cuddled against him, he placed an arm over her shoulders. For a few moments, the world seemed perfect. Then the door grated open, and a guard shoved in his crew-cut head.

"The colonel wants to see you both," he announced.

Another walk down the gloomy corridors ensued. The haunted eyes of human captives peered at them from the view windows of certain cells.

"I wonder what they did to be confined?" Winston said.

"What have we ever done?" Star said.

* * *

They sat in small, hard chairs opposite Colonel Reyes' desk. The chairs seemed fashioned to discomfit any human occupants, but they presented the robots with no particular difficulties. Lieutenant Poole stood in her usual spot behind the Colonel. Her eyes were suspicious slits focused on Star.

_Nice to see you again, too,_ Star thought.

Colonel Reyes directed his first questions at Winston. "How do you know Dr. Rackenfauz?"

"He was an associate of my late master, Dr. Anna Horvath. They met at the university in Mech City."

"Did he design you?"

"No, sir. My design team perished in the final plague – along with everyone else at the Robotics Development Institute."

Star figured he'd added the last remark in an attempt to divert discussion away from Mech City. It would never occur to Reyes that a thriving robot community existed around the RDI.

"Uh huh," the colonel said.

"I am a special order scholar model," Winston added. "As part of the 'Walking Library of Alexandria' project, approximately 1.9 million volumes of human art, literature, history, and language were downloaded into my memory banks, plus . . ."

Winston talked on about his mission to preserve the human cultural heritage, but Reyes did not seem to be listening. His eyes kept moving from Winston to Star, then reluctantly back again.

"That's all very interesting," Reyes said when Winston had finished his account. "I'll have our database manager speak with you later."

"Yes, sir."

The colonel shifted his attention to Star. His manner became much softer, almost friendly. Poole stiffened.

"You were designed by Dr. Che?" the colonel asked.

"Yes," Star said. "I was his life's work."

Reyes nodded. Star glanced quickly up at Poole and offered a friendly smile which was not reciprocated.

"Then, perhaps Dr. Che would be more inclined to listen to your opinions over those of other... life forms," Reyes said.

"Perhaps."

Reyes cleared his throat. "I'd like Rackenfauz and Che to help us with security measures," he said, including Winston in the conversation now, "but they are hesitant to cooperate."

"I heard them voice their objections yesterday," Winston said.

"More people are coming into the city all the time," Reyes continued. "Some of them are pretty rough characters – survivalist whackos, religious nuts, desperado types – people who found refuge from the final plague in remote areas."

"That is an obvious problem," Winston said.

"Almost all the normal people got wiped out," Reyes said, "and there's only a small number of us off worlders – us 'space invaders,' if you will – to keep order."

"Your position does appear to be somewhat tenuous, Colonel."

Reyes shifted in his chair and adjusted his gun belt, collecting himself for his next maneuver. The man lacked all subtly, Star determined. He was used to ordering others around and getting instant obedience, but now he was confronted with people who didn't like to take orders.

"You're obviously a model of advanced intelligence, Winston," the colonel said. "You must understand how terrible it would be if the lower element of humans took over."

"I fully understand," Winston said. "Public order is the top priority."

"Then you'll speak to Dr. Rackenfauz on my behalf? That is, on the behalf of all intelligent beings?"

"I don't really know what I could say to him," Winston replied. "He is a very stubborn individual."

Reyes jerked to his feet, banging a fist on the desk. "Damn it, I must have those combat robots!"

Winston recoiled in his tiny chair. Reyes calmed himself and sat down again on his plush, leather upholstered one.

"By that I mean robots of high intelligence," Reyes said. "Similar to yourself, Winston, only with enhanced security capabilities."

Poole broke in. "The sooner Rackenfauz and Che agree to our request, the sooner you can all get to work at the RDC."

She gave Star a knowing look, eyebrow cocked. Star nodded.

Reyes glanced up at Poole with a 'Did I ask your opinion?' expression. Poole placed her hands behind her back and stood ramrod straight in her shapeless coveralls.

"Well, I could certainly broach the subject with Professor Rackenfauz," Winston said. "I am in general agreement with your position, Colonel."

"Good, good! That's all I ask. Shall we talk with them now?"

"Certainly," Winston said.

Reyes pushed a button on his desk. The door opened, and two guards entered with Rackenfauz and Che. Star's heart leaped at the sight of Jerry Che. Not even the colonel's intimidating bulk could dampen her excitement.

The colonel stood and faced the guards. "That'll be all, men."

"Yes, sir."

The guards saluted and left, closing the door behind them. Reyes turned his attention to the robotics technicians.

"Gentlemen!" he said, trying to play the jovial host. "I hope you're doing well."

"Sure thing, Colonel," Rackenfauz said, "never better."

"I thought we could all have a little chat," Reyes said. "Please come and sit down."

Rackenfauz spoke to Che in a low voice. "Is this when they start beating us up?"

Che shrugged.

They approached Colonel Reyes' desk and took the indicated seats.

51. The Heat Increases

"I was just discussing with Winston here the concept of advanced robots, like himself, working with us to help maintain security," Reyes said.

Horror shot across Rackenfauz's face. "That's the worst thing we could do!"

Reyes' eyebrows went up with surprise. He adjusted his gun belt again, controlled his temper.

"Oh, and why is that, Professor?"

"There'd be no way to control a robot of such high intelligence," Rackenfauz said, "especially if it possessed combat capabilities."

"Please explain," Reyes said.

Rackenfauz wiped a handkerchief over his bald pate. Despite the moderate temperature in the mess hall, he was sweating profusely.

"For decades robotic design parameters were strictly controlled by law and custom," he said. "Robots were hard wired against injuring human beings, against operating power machinery, against using firearms."

"Yes, and?" Reyes said.

"Since the end of the old world, though, everything's gone to hell," Rackenfauz said. "The programmed restrictions have broken down. We've got rogue machines now who don't hesitate to attack human beings. I had to shoot two of them myself."

"I see," Reyes said, maintaining his reasonable tone.

"At least the old robots were fairly delicate," Rackenfauz said. "You could blow them apart with small arms fire – but combat machines, armored and ruggedized – that's a whole other story. If they went rogue, there'd be hell to pay!"

"Well, then," Reyes said. "Why not design robots of much lower intelligence that could only obey orders? Such machines would lack the capability of independent action."

"So, what's dumber than a mech bird?" Rackenfauz shot back. "I made thousands of them and released them individually. Somehow, I have no idea how, they banded together and merged their little pea brains into a powerful single mind and will. They act in perfect unison – they can be extremely dangerous."

Dr. Che cleared his throat. "May I add something, Edgar?"

"Be my guest," Rackenfauz said, mopping his brow.

"There seems to be some aspect of universal intelligence at work here," Che said, "a spiritual force."

Reyes made a mocking snort.

"Seriously, Colonel," Dr. Che said. "Perhaps if you came from an Eastern culture, as I do, the concept would not sound quite so outlandish."

Rackenfauz perched on the edge of his chair. His reedy voice piped up again. "Intelligence can't be controlled. Once it's out there, it's going to evolve. We can't tell how. Our mistake was in thinking that we understood everything. We didn't know shit!"

"Well, then isn't it a matter of doing further research?" Reyes said. "Learn from past mistakes."

"Maybe," Dr. Rackenfauz said. "If I had several years and a large team of the best minds in robotics science." He gestured helplessly to himself and Dr. Che. "But there's just the two of us, Colonel."

Reyes leaned forward – hands outspread, calm, reasonable. "Perhaps you're overstating the difficulties."

Rackenfauz shook his head emphatically. "I'm probably understating them. Believe me, Colonel, if you put together a force of robotic warriors, it won't be long before they control everything."

"Well, then, how about if the 'robotic warriors,' as you call them, had no independent intelligence at all?" Reyes said. He was beginning to sound desperate.

"They'd just be remote-controlled drones," Poole said, "similar to the observation aircraft we operate now."

Rackenfauz shook his head again. The bald protuberance seemed ready to twist off from the violent motion.

"How long before some fool decided the robots would work better with just a _little bit_ of independent intelligence added?" he said. "'What's the harm?' he'd ask. But the end result would be a mind meld of all the combat machines and the final destruction of humanity!"

Colonel Reyes threw up his hands and flung his bulk back into his chair.

"Don't you see the danger, Colonel?" Rackenfauz said. "We'd be designing robots to kill humans right from the get go. It wouldn't take them long to seize control. Who could stop them – your little band of space invaders?"

Winston listened, awe struck, to Dr. Rackenfauz's arguments. The logic was flawless, profound, the workings of a truly great intellect – despite the occasional crude phraseology.

After long association with the Professor's eccentricities, Winston could not help but regard him as something of a "screwball" as Liggett had put it. But now Rackenfauz was displaying the brilliance upon which his reputation was based.

"If I might add something at this juncture," Winston said, "I'd just like to say that ..."

His voice trailed off under an exasperated glower from Colonel Reyes.

"Oh, it's nothing, really," Winston said.

May as well keep my trap shut. Nobody here wants the opinion of a 'robo-man.'

He'd wanted to corroborate Dr. Rackenfauz's statements about the scrappers, relate his own experiences with these fearsome individuals. But the strictures of the newly reestablished hierarchy forbade this. Winston was, by no means, regarded as an equal by these humans – despite his superior intelligence and the wealth of knowledge stored in his memory banks.

Worse yet, Winston was starting to believe in his own inferiority again. He'd have to thrash things out in his mind later. When there was time and the circumstances were not so intense.

The colonel rose from his chair and straightened his uniform officiously. He looked at Poole, then back at the group seated before him. He forced an unconvincing smile onto his face.

"Well, thank you, gentlemen, for this frank exchange of views," he said. "Now, if you'll excuse us a moment, Major Poole and myself would like to confer in chambers."

"Take your time," Dr. Rackenfauz said. "We'll wait."

Reyes and Poole walked stiffly to the doors of the adjoining kitchen and pushed them open. The doors flapped decisively closed behind them.

52. True Religion Arrives

The chief acolyte paused in the center of the avenue and cast feverish eyes about the sprawling, empty cityscape.

Abandoned streets, flanked by low commercial buildings, shot off into the distance. An acrid, dusty taste burdened the air. Except for a light breeze pushing along bits of rubbish, silence reigned.

"Sodom and Gomorrah at last!"

He thrust his arms skyward and flung his head back. The inflamed gunshot wound on his face throbbed.

"Thank you, Father! I have arrived to exact your holy vengeance!"

The chief acolyte looked cautiously around, chiding himself for his outburst. No telling what kind of evil creature might be lurking in these streets... like that one over there.

Assault rifle at the ready, he approached a towering demon spawn standing in the center of the pavement. _Disposal Service_ was written on its torso.

He gazed up into the blank face. "A corpse slinger, eh?"

No answer.

"Pretty damned smug for a demon spawn."

He swung the butt of his assault rifle against the abomination's chin. It crashed onto its back.

"Good / morning / afternoon / evening – sir / ma'am / people..."

"Shut up!" A kick to the head silenced the recorded voice. "That's better."

The chief acolyte laughed – long and hard.

Several meters behind, Pam and Susie exchanged frightened looks and drew closer together.

"He's getting worse," Pam muttered.

As they'd gotten nearer to this vast, abandoned city, their leader had become increasingly erratic – babbling to himself, issuing murderous threats against the "blue demon" and his "evil hussy" companion. Sometimes he carried on full-blown conversations between himself and that messiah guy who'd got tossed out the window back at the castle.

During these exchanges, the chief acolyte spoke his own lines in his usual grating tones. The messiah's voice came out of his mouth smooth and oily, like a used car salesman trying to sell you a bad vehicle. It actually sounded like two different men talking to each other. Maximum creepy.

Worst of all was the rumbling bass of the "Heavenly Father," who sometimes joined the discussions. He was the most blood thirsty of the three, always calling for violence, torture, murder. Pam decided that if this character really was in charge of heaven, then hell had to be the better option.

She wondered how long it would take for this whack job to lose it altogether. When would the Heavenly Father issue a death command to him? Pam could easily envision the chief acolyte shooting them to pieces with his assault rifle. Or else pull out his crotch pistol and – gun in one hand, dick in the other – blast them into eternity.

For his part, the chief acolyte had no lethal intentions toward the women – yet. He focused his mind entirely on Sodom and Gomorrah spreading all around like a vast charnel house. He was familiar with places like this. Back when he was known as that loathsome individual, Willie Camp, he'd lived within such vast urban confines, scrabbling to make a living, as millions of others did.

Then came the blessed day when he first beheld the Messiah preaching on a street corner, offering redemption to the unholy city. He'd rushed forward to receive it while the others continued along their path to damnation.

The chief acolyte turned toward the women, noting how they recoiled from his gaze. Yes, they were sinful types, only partially convinced by his preaching. Were the Messiah still in this world, He would have "converted" them already – indulging their sexual perversities to the full until they cried out for mercy and redemption.

But such efforts were beyond a lesser man like himself. He was only an instrument of the divine will. Besides, sexual intercourse disgusted him. He'd not indulged in it for many years. He was in awe of the Messiah's many sacrifices in this area.

Sister Pamela attempted a smile and a respectful nod.

_Maybe I should slay them now, before they revert to their old ways in this den of sin._ The chief acolyte touched his facial injury – his sign of divine favor, his reverse mark of Cain. _No... better to wait._

Divine revelation would tell him what to do with that lustful pair trailing behind him. He turned back toward Gomorrah and resumed his trek.

53. Discovered

A tiny remote controlled aircraft flew high above them, the low hum of its motor scarcely audible. Pam was the first to detect it.

Somebody must be watching them, and they might be close by. Was that good or bad? Only one thing was clear – the chief acolyte was coming unraveled and there was no telling what he'd do next. And he might discover the drone any second.

Pam made a snap decision. "You stay here. I need to speak with our friend."

"No, please..."

Susie gripped her arm feebly, but Pam yanked it free. This was no time for weakness. She moved up to alongside the chief acolyte, matching his pace.

"Excuse me, Chief Acolyte," she said.

He spun towards her, eyes blazing. "What is it, child?"

"Uh, I'm sorry to disturb you, but I'm confused about something and I was hoping you could clear it up for me."

His eyes bored into hers. Pam didn't know if he intended to speak or pull out his skinning knife and gut her like a fish. At least he wasn't looking skyward.

"It concerns a matter of faith, Chief Acolyte."

He stopped walking, and his eyes narrowed. Pam had his full attention, at least for a while. There was nothing like a 'matter of faith' to get him going.

"What is it upon which you require illumination?" he said.

"W-well... I was wondering about the relationship of the Messiah to the Heavenly Father," Pam said. "I mean, I've heard of the 'Holy Trinity' in the old religion, and – "

"There is no holy trinity! Only the Heavenly Father and his Son on earth!"

Pam recoiled, but stood her ground. She detected movement farther down the street, but dared not shift her eyes that direction.

"Of course, Chief Acolyte." She bowed her head. "I did not mean any disrespect. However, since the glorious Messiah is no longer among us, who is the Heavenly Father's extension upon this earth?"

The chief acolyte stroked his stubbly chin. "This is a question that has troubled me, as well. I have sought insight during my purification rituals but have yet to obtain an answer."

Pam nodded and tried to keep a glowing, reverent smile on her face. From the corner of her eye, she observed two armed men, dressed in military type jumpsuits, creeping toward them. She turned full attention back to the chief acolyte, tried to hold his burning eyes.

"I am confident a vision will be granted to me," he said. "Before my mission here is complete, I will know who the Heavenly Father's will!"

One of the men rushed the last couple meters and snatched the chief acolyte's assault rifle.

"Infidels!"

He tried to retrieve his rifle, but the man held it away, like somebody keeping a toy from a child.

"We've got a real live wire," the other man said.

Pam could read the name tags on the men's jumpsuits. The dark-haired one holding off the chief acolyte was Pantani. The other one, a blonde hunk, was called Liggett.

"How dare you interfere with my mission!" the chief acolyte bellowed, lunging for his rifle.

Pantani shoved him to the pavement. "Right, we've all got missions, pal."

The chief acolyte glowered up at Pam. Even in his reduced state, he was terrifying.

"Traitor!"

"Sorry, C. A.," Pam said. "I'm just going for a better offer."

Liggett yanked the chief acolyte to his feet. "That's a nasty scratch you've got there, friend. Better let the doc have a look at it."

Susie advanced, wide-eyed and fearful. She gestured toward her groin area.

"Yeah!" Pantani said, "I could go for some of that."

"No, not that," Pam said. "She's telling you to search him. He's got a gun hidden in his pants."

"May the Heavenly Father strike you down!"

Under cover of Liggett's assault rifle, Pantani conducted a thorough frisk, relieving the chief acolyte of his pistol and his skinning knife.

He held the tiny gun aloft. "Take a look at this. A real nut buster, eh?"

"And I thought that blue robo-man was strange," Liggett said.

He and Pantani laughed.

The chief acolyte became, subdued, crafty. "Would there be a female type robot with this... blue robo-man?" he asked.

Liggett made a mock bow and gestured toward the vehicle parked some distance away. "If you'll honor us with your presence, sir, we will convey you to them posthaste."

"Yeah, it's one big happy family there," Pantani said.

Pantani and Liggett manhandled their captive between them.

"No need for that," the chief acolyte said meekly. "I'll offer no resistance."

"Yeah, go easy on him, okay?" Pam said. "He helped us a lot before he went off the deep end."

"Looks to me that he's always been off the deep end," Pantani said.

54. Crunch Time

The instant the kitchen doors flapped closed behind him, Colonel Reyes' smile vanished.

"This was a great idea, Lisa. Just get everybody together and things will click. Right!"

"Give it more time," Poole said. "It hasn't had a fair trial yet."

"More time? We need to get tough. I've said that from the beginning."

Poole shook her head emphatically. "That won't work and you know it."

"We'll see about that!"

"Did it ever occur to you Rackenfauz might be on to something?" Poole said. "Maybe it is too dangerous to build security force robots."

"Flapdoodle! He just doesn't want to cooperate. He's an old curmudgeon, and he's got that younger one in his pocket."

The colonel paced the big kitchen in extreme agitation, like a penned bull. He turned back toward Poole.

"And I feel like a damn fool talking to that blue machine as if it was a real person."

"You don't have any trouble talking to the other 'machine.'" Poole shot back.

Reyes let the comment slide.

"Why don't you just release them?" Poole said. "Maybe they'll come around if you stop pressuring."

"That'll be a cold day in hell."

* * *

Back in the mess hall, the ambiance had turned gloomy.

"It's been nice knowing you, Jerry," Dr. Rackenfauz said. "I've got a feeling things are going to get rough from here on."

"Don't talk like that, Edgar," Che said.

Rackenfauz sighed heavily. "Maybe it's just my time. Everybody has to check out sooner or later."

"Oh, dear," Star murmured.

She gripped Winston's hand, a tear trickled down her cheek.

"I'm too old and screwed up to change," Rackenfauz said. "You're young, though, Jerry. Maybe you can strike a deal with these Neanderthals."

"You're neither too old nor 'screwed up," Che said. "We have to keep a united front. Don't forget that."

Reyes and Poole entered from the kitchen and walked across the mess hall toward the detainees. The grim expression on the Colonel's face indicated that the happy time was over.

"We're in for it now," Rackenfauz muttered.

Reyes and Poole stopped at the desk.

"All right, gentlemen," Reyes said, "let's get back to business."

A knock came at the door.

"Yes?" Reyes said.

Liggett entered, receiving an irritated glance for his efforts.

"Can't it wait, Lieutenant?" Reyes snapped.

"Sorry, sir," Liggett said, "but you ordered us to bring any detainees of interest to you immediately."

Reyes composed himself, adjusting his gun belt for the umpteenth time that day.

"I think you'll want to see this one, sir," Liggett said.

"Very well. Bring him in."

Liggett stuck his head out to the hall. "Colonel wants to see the fresh catch."

Pantani entered with the chief acolyte. The man was much reduced since Winston had last seen him – scrawny and bent, the fringe of hair around his bald head grayer. A bandage covered one side of his face, but Winston would have recognized him anywhere.

He and Star scrambled to their feet, too shocked to utter a word. The man wasn't even handcuffed! These people had no idea whom they were dealing with.

The chief acolyte stood meek and silent, playing the harmless old crank. His eyes surveyed the room. A smile crept across his face when he spotted the robots.

"He's an odd one, all right," Reyes said. "What was he doing when you picked him up?"

"Just standing around talking," Liggett said. "There were two girls with him."

"He told us he was on a 'mission' to find the blue robot," Pantani said, struggling to contain a grin.

"Oh?" the colonel said.

Winston found his voice at last. "That man's a dangerous lunatic, sir! He's the leader of a death cult."

"Really?" Reyes shot a contemptuous glace at the chief acolyte. "Bring him here, boys."

"He should be locked up immediately, sir!" Winston cried.

"I'll decide that," Reyes said.

He sat down on his leather throne behind the desk. Poole stood in her usual place nearby.

Liggett and Pantani brought their captive forward. Reyes settled back with his fingers steepled on the desk top and a look of calm authority on his face. The chief acolyte maintained his shy and harmless persona, smiling respectfully at the colonel.

"I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, sir," he said.

Reyes grunted.

"I wouldn't say that he's dangerous, sir," Liggett said, "he came quietly enough. He's gone a bit around the bend, though."

The colonel waved a hand before his face and made a sour expression. "The way he smells – he needs to go farther around the bend!"

They all laughed. Clearly they didn't perceive any threat from the bedraggled figure before them. Liggett and Pantani stood at ease, their guns lowered.

"Get him cleaned up, then I'll interrogate him," Reyes said. "Do we have a fire hose handy?"

The men laughed some more. The chief acolyte tensed, a feverish gleam came into his eyes.

"Look out!" Winston shouted, too late.

With astonishing speed, the chief acolyte spun around and grabbed Liggett's assault rifle. In the same motion he clubbed Pantani under the chin with the rifle butt. Pantani fell sprawling; his weapon clattered away.

The chief acolyte cocked the rifle expertly. Liggett put up his hands, but Reyes went for his side arm.

"Drop it!" the chief acolyte shouted.

Time hung suspended for a terrifying moment. Then Colonel Reyes removed his gun gingerly from its holster, using two fingers, and dropped it on the floor.

"Kick it in the corner," the chief acolyte said.

Reyes did so.

The chief acolyte turned toward the robots. "You two stay where you are."

Winston tried to place himself between Star and the crazed gunman, but she refused to let him.

"We'll go down together, if it comes to that," she whispered defiantly.

"The rest of you, over by the desk," the chief acolyte ordered. "And get that one off the floor."

Liggett assisted the stunned Pantani to his feet and deposited him on a chair. Then he joined the other humans crowded together near Colonel Reyes. Everyone looked scared, except for Dr. Rackenfauz who remained thoroughly calm, as if he wouldn't mind getting shot – and Dr. Che who seemed to find the scenario amusing.

"I don't wish to harm anyone before they've heard the Sacred Message," the chief acolyte said. "But I will if you force me."

Nobody disagreed with him. He fixed burning eyes on Colonel Reyes.

"Why did you allow those demon spawn here?" he demanded.

"The w-what?"

"Them!" The chief acolyte gestured toward the robots. "Tell me, before I blast you all."

The colonel turned ashen. "I... my men picked them up. That's all."

"You granted the demon spawn safe haven. What kind of demented fool are you?"

Somehow, Reyes overcame his fear. He straightened his uniform and jutted out his chest, showing his COMMANDER badge to good effect.

Winston was deeply moved by the colonel's bravery. A desperate plan began to form in his brain.

Yes ... that might work! And if it doesn't, we're screwed anyway.

Colonel Reyes opened his mouth to speak.

55. One Up

"How dare you address the _Nuevo Messiah_ in that manner!" Winston cried.

The chief acolyte turned viciously on him. "Silence, demon spawn!"

Winston nearly buckled with terror but managed to keep himself upright. He pointed at Colonel Reye's COMMANDER badge.

"Behold the signs!" he intoned.

The chief acolyte turned his eyes toward the badge, as if seeing it for the first time. A confused expression covered his face.

"He wields the bolts of divine power and the moon of off-world dominion," Winston said. "He is the reincarnation of the Holy Messiah!"

The chief acolyte took a hesitant step toward the colonel, his mouth hanging open. Reyes bravely held his ground.

"You stand before the King of the Fu... Universe!" Winston cried.

Bafflement played across the chief acolyte's face, followed by dark suspicion, then bafflement again. Life and death hung by a thread.

_Can this be true?_ his feverish mind implored. _Provide me a sign, Heavenly Father!_

At that precise moment, the half-conscious Pantani slid off his chair and clattered to the floor.

"Fucking A," he moaned, stroking his injured jaw.

That must be it!

The man had uttered the holy phrase which had so often graced the Messiah's lips. The Heavenly Father himself was speaking through the mouth of that underling. Praise His mysterious ways!

"Hallelujah!" the chief acolyte shouted.

He fell to his knees before the colonel. The assault rifle clattered to the floor.

"Forgive me!" He clasped his hands in supplication. "I did not comprehend."

Liggett snatched up the assault rifle; Reyes stood gaping, unable to take in the situation.

"You'd better say something," Poole whispered.

Reyes cleared his throat and mentally shifted gears into sync with the ongoing farce. "Of course you are forgiven... my son. All are forgiven who sincerely repent."

He gestured toward his gun lying in the corner. Poole surreptitiously retrieved it.

"Thank you, Master," the chief acolyte said, weeping with gratitude. "But I am not worthy to address you in my unpurified state."

"Do not despair," Reyes said, "one of my... angels will assist with your purification."

He gave Liggett a meaningful look. Liggett pulled the chief acolyte to his feet.

"Come with me. I'll get you purified real good."

"Thank you, my lord, thank you!" the chief acolyte said. "Please forgive my earlier impertinence."

"No problem," Liggett said.

The chief acolyte turned toward Pantani. "A thousand pardons, sir."

Pantani mumbled something unintelligible.

"Let's go," Liggett said.

The chief acolyte walked backwards with hands folded, bowing continuously toward the colonel as Liggett drew him away.

Liggett opened the door. "After you, bud."

They left the dining hall. Silence reigned for a few seconds. Then:

"Well done, young fellow!" Rackenfauz said. "You are a true bull shit artist."

"Uh... thanks, Professor."

Ka-Pow!

A gunshot rang out from the hall. Everyone flinched, except for Colonel Reyes.

"It seems our 'worshipper' has met with an accident," he said coolly.

Star looked toward the wall where Pantani's assault rifle lay, apparently forgotten in the mayhem. She nudged Dr. Che, who looked toward Rackenfauz. The two men came to a tacit agreement.

Suddenly, Rackenfauz and Che rushed toward the wall. Che dove to the floor and grabbed the assault rifle.

"Here, Edgar!"

He rolled onto his back and thrust the weapon up to Rackenfauz.

Reyes turned toward Poole, extending his hand for his pistol. She held it away from him.

"Don't be an idiot," she said.

Rackenfauz cocked the rifle with authority. "Okay Colonel, we're out of here – now!"

Reyes fixed the old professor with a steely glower. "You'll never get away with this, Rackenfauz."

"Aw, listen to the big man with the badge!" Rackenfauz taunted. "Save your threats for somebody who's afraid."

He placed the gun barrel under his own chin, his thumb on the trigger. "Maybe I'll do us all a favor, huh?"

Star cringed in Winston's arms. "Oh, dear!"

Reyes turned held out pleading hands. His eyes seemed ready to pop out of his skull. "No!"

"Look at me," Rackenfauz said. "What have I got to look forward to in this vale of tears?"

"Okay! Whatever you want," Reyes said. "Just put the gun down... please."

Rackenfauz held the gun barrel in place, milking the situation for maximum drama. Then he began lowering the weapon.

Ka-Bam!

The rifle went off accidentally. A bullet whizzed past Rackenfauz's face. Everyone ducked.

The door opened, Liggett stuck his head in. "Anything wrong?"

"Get the hell out!" Reyes shouted.

"Yes, sir."

Liggett closed the door.

"Better let me handle that, Edgar," Dr. Che said.

He took the assault rifle from Rackenfauz and aimed it the Colonel's direction. His eyes blazed with anger. For a moment, Winston feared he would pull the trigger.

"I'd hate to have to use this," Che said, his voice low and ominous. "So please listen to what my colleague has to say."

Despite his reasoned words, Che's demeanor indicated that he, in truth, wouldn't mind too much blowing the space invaders to kingdom come.

Rackenfauz's reedy voice broke the impasse.

"Yes ... very well ..." he said, gathering up his shattered dignity. "First off, Colonel, you and your bully boys keep away from the RDC."

"Right," the colonel said.

"You have the whole rest of the world to screw up," Dr. Che said. "Leave us our little corner."

"If you need something, radio us and we'll consider your request," Rackenfauz said.

"Check," Reyes said.

"And if we need anything, we'll contact you – also by radio," Rackenfauz said.

"Anything else?" Reyes asked.

"We'll be rigging explosive charges to the main facilities," Dr. Che said. "If you show up unannounced, we set them off."

"Nice touch, Jerry!" Rackenfauz said.

"Thanks, Edgar."

Rackenfauz turned toward Reyes. "Now call off the goon squad. Safe passage for all of us, including the robots. And we'd like another assault rifle with plenty of ammo, please."

Reyes went to his desk and pushed a communication button. His voice echoed in from the hallway.

"This is Colonel Reyes speaking. Drs. Rackenfauz and Che will be leaving the facility along with the three detained robots. Provide them all necessary assistance, including a rifle and ammunition."

He shot a perturbed glance Rackenfauz's direction, then returned to the intercom. "That is all."

Rackenfauz made a mock bow. "Thank you, Colonel. It's been a pleasure."

Colonel Reyes moved to the doorway and observed the departure of the robotics technicians. Poole joined him.

"We'll pick them up again soon enough," he said.

Poole brandished the pistol under his nose. "Try it and this won't be the only shooter that doesn't get holstered."

Reyes stroked his chin. "All right, I get your point."

56. Escape

Star and Winston headed for the building exit wearing their backpacks and pushing the comatose Ripper on a dolly cart.

Che and Rackenfauz walked ahead of them toting assault rifles. Several guards observed their progress. Poole stood off the side speaking with two women Star had not seen before. Both newcomers looked shabby and exhausted, as if they'd endured a brutal ordeal.

Well, who hasn't these days?

"I'll be right back." Star left Winston's side and approached the group of women alone.

"Thanks," she said to Poole in a low voice.

"Sure thing, honey. Just don't ever come back here again, okay?"

"You've got it."

One of the newcomers regarded Star with wide-eyed amazement. "It's the demon spawn woman."

"Enough of that silly talk, now, Susie," the other girl said. She extended a hand toward Star. "My name's Pam. I've heard a lot about you."

Star took the offered hand, careful not to squeeze it too hard. "Something good, I hope."

"Yeah. I have it on good authority you know how to get rid of a guy who's stepped out of bounds."

Poole placed an arm over Susie's shoulders, the other one around Pam's waist. "Let's get you two fixed up."

"Oh, that would be wonderful," Susie replied.

Poole nodded toward a pair of handsome young men standing in the hall. The men smiled back shyly. "It's time some good things happened for you girls."

"I'm for that," Pam said.

Poole began leading them away. "Just remember, the colonel is off limits."

Star returned to Winston.

Out in the jail's parking lot, the group approached a battered, medium sized truck with its side windows busted out.

"This sure as hell ain't no limousine," Rackenfauz said. "It's the only available transportation, though – so they said."

"Who cares?" Che said. "I'd ride in the back of a hearse to get out of this place."

Rackenfauz cackled agreement. "Okay, climb in everybody. I'll do the driving."

Star entered the cab first, sliding all the way to the passenger side window. Dr. Che helped Winston load Ripper into the storage area behind the seat, then he moved in next to Star. Rackenfauz would be taking the driver's position, so that left only the cramped storage space for Winston.

"Looks like you've got the place of honor, young fellow," Rackenfauz said.

"Yes, quite so."

Winston wedged himself in beside Ripper, feeling oddly diminished. Of course, he didn't want Star to sit back here. Rackenfauz had to drive, and an eminent robotics technician like Dr. Che could not be expected to discomfit himself.

Still... hadn't Winston devised the strategy that overthrew the mad chief acolyte and saved everyone's lives? Didn't that call for some kind of deference? Being lauded as a "true bull shit artist" simply wasn't adequate recognition.

Rackenfauz jumped into the driver's seat and slammed the door shut. The vehicle began moving.

# Eight: Love Comes to Town

57. To the Robotics Development Center

A half hour of motoring along deserted streets ensued. Rackenfauz drove cautiously, his assault rifle sprawled across his lap ready for instant use. Conversation was at a minimum as everyone kept to their own thoughts.

Star's thoughts concerned Dr. Che, mostly.

It was a tight fit all around. Star was jammed between the passenger door and Jerry Che, and liking it very much. She couldn't help but look admiringly at him. His Asiatic features were quite attractive – the fair, but not too light, complexion; the jet black hair; the way the lines around his almond eyes crinkled when he laughed.

Yes, the sensuously formed eyes, so much like her own. Even when they were filled with rage they were beautiful.

_I could have sex with him!_ she thought abruptly.

Che seemed to know what she was thinking, and he patted her knee reassuringly. Star enjoyed his touch... then a pang of guilt emotion barged into her brain unit. She glanced back at Winston, but he appeared clueless about her predicament. He was too busy speaking with Dr. Rackenfauz.

"Did you really intend to pull the trigger back there, Professor," Winston asked, "or were you just being melodramatic?"

"I can't say for sure, young fellow," Rackenfauz replied. "But when a man's been alone as long as I have, a quick exit doesn't seem like such a bad thing."

"Don't talk like that, Edgar," Che said. "We 'mech heads' must stick together."

The sound of his voice gave Star an added thrill.

_Damn it Winston,_ she thought, _do something about this!_

But Winston didn't seem to notice, much less care about, Star's dilemma. She felt oddly betrayed, although she recognized the foolishness of her resentment. Winston was not capable of male jealousy because he wasn't really a male, yet.

In the meantime, a genuine male was sitting pressed up against her, transmitting his warmth through her temperature sensors. Star settled back to enjoy the ride – and her raging libido.

They drove past a small group of bedraggled human 'survivalist' types with scraggly beards, slouch hats, and guns. Dr. Rackenfauz gripped his assault rifle.

"There goes the neighborhood!" he said. "Get down, young fellow."

Winston ducked behind the seat.

"You never know who'll want to take a pot shot at a 'robo-man' as those loonies call you," Rackenfauz said.

The human pedestrians glowered as they drove past. They were a desperate-looking group, but Star couldn't help feeling attracted to them. She turned in her seat to observe, sticking her head out the window.

Two of the men nudged each other and waved to Star. She restrained herself from waving back. Even so, Jerry seemed to be highly displeased.

"More riff raff shows up every day," he muttered.

_Well, at least somebody here can feel jealous for a lady's attentions_ , Star thought with an irate glance toward the back of the cab.

Winston emerged from behind the seat and looked cautiously out the windows.

"Don't worry, young fellow," Rackenfauz said, "they're gone."

"We also experienced an influx of newcomers in Mech City," Winston said, "but they were all robotic, including myself."

"Ah yes, the good old days," Rackenfauz said. "I'm starting to feel crowded again."

"But didn't you once state that you'd changed your pro-apocalyptic orientation?" Winston said. "You claimed that you were now interested in locating human survivors."

"Get this, Jerry," Rackenfauz said. "I'm being lectured to by a robot!"

Rackenfauz and Che laughed. Winston slunk down into his cramped spot and said nothing further.

A sign appeared:

Robotics Development Center – 1 km

Rackenfauz turned the indicated direction. They were in a more upscale area now with large, opulent houses and broad avenues lined with dead palm trees. The air carried a faint scent of ocean.

A nasty surprise awaited when they arrived at the RDC. The front gate had been forced open and spray painted with obscenities.

Rackenfauz stopped the truck. "Crap!"

"This is just wonderful!" Che said.

"Colonel Reyes has lots of men to guard us in jail," Rackenfauz said. "But send somebody to watch this place? Perish the thought!"

"We'd better ask him for a security detail," Che said.

"Yes," Rackenfauz said, "right after we get the explosives in place. I don't trust that gentleman any farther than I can throw him." He indicated his scrawny right arm. "And that sure as hell ain't far."

"I wasn't really serious about the explosives," Che said. "It just sounded good at the time."

"Oh, what a pity," Rackenfauz said. "I was looking forward to it."

"Sounds like I'm not the only bull shit artist here," Winston muttered.

Rackenfauz drove through the gate and stopped the truck.

"You know, Jerry," he said. "I'm thinking of returning to Mech City for a while. By all reports, the RDI has survived virtually intact."

"We'd love to have you!" Star said.

"Yes," Winston agreed.

Rackenfauz and Che ignored the robots' comments. A human-centric hierarchy had clearly been established. Robots only needed to speak when they were spoken to.

"You're welcome to join me, Jerry," Rackenfauz said. "It might be best to give those Space Invaders a wide berth."

"Thanks, I'll think it over," Che said.

"Let's see if we can get that gate closed," Rackenfauz said.

"Yeah."

The mech heads got out and walked back toward the gate.

"I'm starting to feel distinctly second class here," Winston said.

Now that Jerry was no longer pressing against her with his overwhelming presence, Star could think much more clearly. She nodded, frowning. "Was it like this before?"

"Yes, but I never really noticed. It seemed to be the natural order of things."

"It didn't take them long to forget who pulled their chestnuts out of the fire," Star said. "Without you, they'd both be dead by now."

"I liked things better in Mech City," Winston said. "Dr. Rackenfauz isn't the only one who's feeling crowded."

Rackenfauz and Che returned, jamming themselves into the cab. With Jerry sitting next to her again, Star reentered ditz mode, grinning foolishly as if her intelligence quotient dropped many points.

_Dr. Che seems to have an effect on her,_ Winston thought naively. _I wonder why?_

They drove through the Robotics Development Center campus. It was larger than the RDI back in Mech City, or it would have been if all the construction planned for it had been finished. Numerous buildings stood in partial states of completion. Some consisted of no more than steel rods jutting out of the ground waiting for concrete to be poured around them.

The whole place had a raw aspect. Wind blew over the bare ground, stirring up a thick haze of dust. They passed a two-story white building. Che leaned forward to observe it.

"Looks like my place is still standing," he said.

"Let's check out my lab first," Rackenfauz said, "if that's all right with you."

"Sure, Edgar, age before beauty."

Rackenfauz guffawed. Star smiled vacuously, as if this were the most amusing statement she'd ever heard. They pulled up in front of a medium sized building with a parking lot and a curved drive. What had once been a big lawn sprawled dead and brown.

"Home sweet home!" Rackenfauz said.

They all piled out. Winston exited last from his cramped space. Star did not wait but move rapidly toward the front door without him. She seemed upset with him for some reason.

_What's the trouble with her now?_ Winston mused.

He followed the group inside the building to another nasty surprise.

58. Rough Hospitality

The lobby had been trashed. The furniture was tipped over, the reception station in disarray, and broken glass littered the floor. _Fuck the World!_ and other obscenities had been spray painted on the walls in lurid colors.

"Very educational," Winston said.

His bourgeois sense of order was offended by the mayhem. He took a place near the door with Star.

"Oh, Winston," she said, "this is awful!"

Her earlier coldness toward him seemed to be gone now, replaced by a child-like trepidation. Winston moved in protectively close to her. Rackenfauz and Che assumed combat crouches, rifles at the ready, and advanced slowly through the lobby. No detail eluded their slit-down eyes.

"This is a fine kettle of fish," Rackenfauz said through clenched teeth.

"Those sons of bitches!" Che snarled.

Che turned off into the main corridor while Rackenfauz stayed in the lobby to investigate behind the reception station.

"Maybe we go should wait in the truck," Winston said.

"Okay," Star replied in a very small voice.

They moved toward the door, but an outcry from Rackenfauz stopped them in their tracks.

"Whoa! What have we got here?"

Dr. Che trotted in from the corridor to join Rackenfauz behind the reception station where a young man lay passed out amid a clutter of liquor bottles. A can of spray paint was clutched in his hand.

"Looks like we've got company," Rackenfauz said. "Let's show him some hospitality."

Che kicked the intruder's backside hard. "Wake up, dick head!"

The vandal sat up, glancing around the lobby with boozy confusion. "Where is everybody?"

Dr. Che shoved his gun barrel under the young man's chin. "Forget about them. Worry about this."

He pushed the gun barrel hard, forcing the vandal's head back. The young man turned deathly pale. He raised his hands in a gesture of submission.

"Don't shoot, mister... p-please! We were only having some fun."

"Fun's over, punk." Dr. Che grabbed the vandal's collar and pulled him to his feet. The can of spray paint tumbled to the floor. "What do you know? This guy's an artist."

"Fancy that," Rackenfauz said.

Che snatched up the can, shook it, considered a moment, then sprayed a blast of crimson paint into the vandal's face. The young man tried to cover up and started crying.

"Oh, dear!" Star said.

Unmoved by any hint of pity, Rackenfauz kicked the intruder in the ass. Che whacked him with his rifle butt.

"Not such a tough guy now, are you?" Che said.

He turned to Rackenfauz. "How about some electro shock treatment for him?"

Rackenfauz considered for a moment, then shook his head. "Nah, not yet."

Che looked disappointed, but did not argue with his senior colleague. He brandished his rifle.

"You get a free ride to the gate this time. Come here again and it'll go down a lot harder on you. Got it?"

The vandal was crying too much to speak. He managed a brief nod.

"Tell your friends the same thing," Rackenfauz said.

"Let's get him out of here, before I blow his head off!" Che growled.

He and Rackenfauz pushed the young man outside at gun point. Winston and Star moved to the glass doors to observe the three humans get into the truck and drive away.

"Why did they have to be so rough?" Star said.

"Perhaps they disliked his choice of paint color."

"I never imagined either of them could be so violent," Star said. "Surely they didn't act like that before the old world ended."

"Times have changed. There's room now for all sorts of personality quirks to come out."

"I suppose that must be it," Star said.

Winston stroked his chin, ruminating on the darker aspects of existence. "Fascista Ultimo wasn't much different. Who would have thought a meek little test bed robot like Nilo could be so cruel and power mad?"

He did not give voice the remainder of his thought: _Was I any better when I had some power?_

He stood quietly with Star, enjoying their time together without the overbearing presence of humans. He wrapped an arm around her waist, noting her softness against his pressure sensors.

It's funny, I used to think the disappearance of humans was a disaster. Now I kind of miss the 'good old days' without them.

Gun shots jolted him out of his contemplations.

"Gracious!" Star nestled closer.

"Should we get out of here?" he said.

"No, let's wait to see what happened," Star said. "Besides, we need to get Rippie."

* * *

Rackenfauz and Che pulled up in the truck. They were in fine humor when they entered the lobby.

"I don't suppose we'll see the likes of him for a while," Dr. Che said.

"That burst of gunfire past his ear was a great idea," Rackenfauz said. "I'll bet he hasn't stopped running yet!"

Dr. Che shrugged. "I thought it would add a touch of class."

They laughed uproariously, as if they were sharing the world's most hilarious joke. Winston and Star drew even closer together. Finally, the horrid racket died down.

"Could we get Rippie now?" Star asked.

"Rippie?" Rackenfauz said. "Who the hell's that?"

"The deactivated mech wolf," Winston explained.

"Yeah sure," Rackenfauz said. "Just don't switch the damn thing on, okay?"

"Certainly."

Rackenfauz gestured toward a nearby door. "There should be a cart in that supply closet."

Winston and Star removed the dolly cart from the closet and rolled it outside to the truck.

As they loaded Ripper onto the cart, Che and Rackenfauz remained in the lobby, laughing and carrying on like school boys at some wild west picnic – their personalities defined by their guns.

Amazing. One blast from those things and a whole lifetime of brilliant achievements can be eradicated. Any idiot can pull a trigger.

Star looked up from her work. "Do you ever consider that maybe you think too much about things?"

"Well... maybe I do sometimes."

"Why don't we concentrate on the matters at hand?" Star said. "Rippie's makeover – and yours."

Winston flinched. During the chaotic events of the past two days, he'd scarcely given a thought to the great mission he was supposed to be on – his "makeover" into an entirely new type of being. To be truthful, the whole concept filled him with terror. It had never been far from Star's mind, he was sure, but he'd buried it under the pressures of the various crises.

"Yes, of course, Star," he said. "Let's deal with the matters at hand."

They wheeled Ripper into the lobby.

"All right," Dr. Rackenfauz said, "now that the fun's over, let's check out the rest of the damage."

"Everybody stick together," Che said. "There might be more of those creeps hanging around."

They proceeded down a long hallway toward Dr. Rackenfauz's workshop. Che and Rackenfauz led the way, assault rifles ready to blast anyone who posed a threat. Winston brought up the rear pushing the dolly cart.

Perhaps all they'd find in Dr. Rackenfauz's workshop would be total destruction, as they had at Pickle Lake Castle. Or maybe things would still be functional. Winston could not decide which outcome he preferred.

59. Dr. Rackenfauz's HQ

They reached a closed metal door. It was very banged up, as if from a forced entry.

"I don't like the looks of this," Rackenfauz said.

He tried to open the door, but it is was jammed shut. Dr. Che helped him shoulder it open. The two men groped their way into the darkened workshop.

"I can never find that damn light switch," Rackenfauz said.

Winston and Star remained in the hallway. Star caressed the mech wolf's coat. "Ohhh, I hope he'll be able to fix Rippie."

"If there's anybody in here, surrender or get shot!" Dr. Che called into the darkness.

An overhead light came on.

"Crap!" Rackenfauz said.

Winston and Star entered the workshop. Tools lay scattered, drawers and lockers were flung open. Spray painted obscenities disfigured the walls.

"Not again," Star moaned. She turned savagely toward Winston. "I wish I could have smashed that vandal myself!"

Winston was startled by her vehemence, but wisely chose not to activate his speaker unit.

Rackenfauz and Che poked about the mayhem, checking the storage areas, picking up and inspecting tools. Star leaned against Winston for support.

"Do they have to wreck everything?" she said. "What's wrong with those people?"

"Things are not as bad as they might seem, young lady," Rackenfauz said. "Nothing appears to be seriously damaged."

"Ohhh... thank heaven!"

Rackenfauz opened a large drawer, poked through it. "They must have been more intent on burglary than destruction... Oh no!"

"What?" Star gasped.

Rackenfauz hoisted an empty cigar box. "My marijuana stash is gone!"

Star sagged with relief. Rackenfauz tossed away the box disgustedly.

"I hope they choke on it." He rifled the drawer further and pulled out a single unit of paper-wrapped herb. "Well gee whiz. They left me one goddam joint."

"How fortuitous," Winston said.

Rackenfauz lit the joint, inhaled deeply, held it in, blew out.

"Ah, I needed that!" He offered the smoldering item to Dr. Che. "Care for a hit, Jerry?"

Che nodded eagerly and took the joint. He went through the same respiratory procedure as Dr. Rackenfauz had.

"First rate stuff," he said, blowing the smoke out.

The handoffs continued. The two men became relaxed and collegial under the herb's influence. Winston could scarcely believe that only a short time before these same men had been terrorizing a helpless captive.

_This substance seems to have a profound, not altogether undesirable, effect on their chemical programming,_ he mused. _Even so, it would seem best it is in very limited supply._

A burnt, unpleasant smell wafted across his olfactory sensor. He'd been in the presence of this smoke before, at a party hosted by his late master for some of her "left wing" academic associates.

He and Dr. Horvath were in the kitchen preparing food while the guests remained in the living room discussing the merits of the failed socialist system. One of them lit an herb cigarette, and the pungent aroma wafted into the kitchen.

Dr. Horvath poked her head outside the door and announced, "You've got two seconds to get rid of that stuff before I open a can of whup ass."

This remark had been sufficient to 'clear the air' as it were. The evening progressed with the consumption of liquid intoxicants only.

Star ventured an interruption. "Dr. Rackenfauz?"

The professor turned a cheery face her direction. "Yes, young lady?"

"Is the backup Iridium brain all right?"

For a moment, Rackenfauz seemed confused. Then cognizance entered his eyes. "Oh, that. Let's find out."

Rackenfauz took another toke and held it in while he rummaged through a locker. He pulled out a metal box and flung it open. Finally, he blew the smoke out of his lungs. Winston and Star recoiled from the blast.

"Yes, here it is," Rackenfauz said. "Looks to be undamaged."

"Wonderful!" Star cried.

Rackenfauz looked toward Dr. Che. "Good thing those vandals can't tell a brain from their own asses."

The men laughed. Winston failed to see any humor in the remark, nor did he understand the rather bizarre anatomical references. He decided not to request clarification, however, since that would only annoy the humans.

Rackenfauz gestured toward a work bench. "Put our friend over there. I'll start the brain transplant after we get this mess cleaned up."

"Thank you, Professor," Star said.

Winston rolled the dolly cart in from the corridor. Star helped him lift Ripper onto the workbench. Despite its imposing size, the mech wolf was fairly light, as were all robotic life forms.

Star stroked Ripper's bristly gray hairs. "Everything is going to be just fine, dear – don't worry."

"Maybe I should fine tune the brain's programming first," Rackenfauz said, "eliminate whatever flaws it might have."

"Wouldn't that be difficult?" Winston asked.

"Not really," Rackenfauz said. "Does Iridium need any personality adjustments? I never got the chance to evaluate the first model in action, you know."

Winston recalled the sarcastic, abrasive elements of Iridium's personality – the great canid's rough-edged manner of speaking, his coarse humor. Wouldn't it be nice to smooth out some of those defects?

"Now that you mention it – " he began.

Star elbowed him hard. "No, Professor. Iri was fine just the way he was." She gave Winston a stern, uncompromising look.

"Uh... right," Winston said. "I was about to say that."

Dr. Che spoke up next. "Do you want me to help, Edgar?"

"Trying to learn my trade secrets, eh?" Rackenfauz said.

"Well, yeah. Thought I'd ask, anyhow."

Rackenfauz cackled his customary high-pitched laugh, like the screeching of some primeval forest denizen. He took a final toke and flicked away the roach.

"Sure, Jerry, if you like. Give me a couple hours to prep, then I'll teach you a thing or two."

"Thanks, Edgar." Che moved to the door. "I'd better go check out my own place."

"Okay, catch you later," Rackenfauz said.

Dr. Che favored Star with a jaunty little wave as he exited the workshop. She hesitated, then began walking toward the door.

Winston came after her. "Where are you off to, Star?"

"Oh, I think I'll go see if Dr. Che needs anything. Why don't you stay here and help Dr. Rackenfauz clean up?"

"Somebody's got to stay," Rackenfauz said. "This is too big a job for an old fogey like me."

"He needs assistance," Star said. "You want Iri up and running as soon as possible, don't you?"

"Well... okay."

"Bye-ee."

Star blew him a kiss on her way out.

60. Though the Haze

The dust storm had strengthened.

The RDC was a place of mystery now, its buildings turned into anonymous hulks, its avenues and sidewalks leading off into brown obscurity. Star stood in the parking area outside the main door peering into the hazy vista.

Which way?

She'd wanted to catch Dr. Che before he left the building, but, unknown to her, he'd taken a side exit shortcut. On impulse, she turned left and began walking briskly, like Scarlett O'Hara chasing Rhett Butler through her dream fog.

Some distance ahead, Dr. Che ambled along the sidewalk deep in melancholy musings – right hand jammed into a coat pocket, left one gripping the assault rifle. A breeze tugged at his lab coat. It was not particularly strong but enough to kick up the parched, barren ground into an irksome miasma. He wore wraparound glasses to protect his eyes from the flying particles.

Today's escape from the clutches of Colonel Reyes had been exhilarating, and the beat down of that vandal punk had supplied a welcome release of bottled-up frustration. But now that things had calmed, the old ennui had come back and was perching on his shoulder like a vulture.

What was the purpose of his empty life? To hear Dr. Rackenfauz tell it, he was still a young man with his whole future ahead of him. But what was that exactly? More loneliness and disappointment, more mediocrities – like that colonel guy – trying to suppress his creative impulses?

And the exotic beauty who'd been the love of his life – gone to another man. Doubtless she was dead by now, and only her image, carried on by the robot Estrela, remained.

But what an image! A perfect, ageless replica of the original woman. Anatomically correct in every detail, and with a warm, loving heart.

_Does she love_ _me_ _, though?_

Her physical attraction to him was obvious, though he could not tell if anything more was behind it. Her attachment to the Winston robot was also obvious, and he'd seen the way she'd ogled the men on the road today.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. If only he'd stayed in Mech City for her activation! Why did those sons of bitches at the RDI have to interfere? She was to have been imprinted, from the very beginning, to love and desire _only_ Jerry Che. Now her sexuality was generalized, thrown out into the world for anybody to pick up.

So, why had he left Mech City at that crucial time? He'd told himself all that stuff about his obligation to his colleagues on the west coast and blah, blah. But the real reason he'd left was because he was scared of what would happen once Estrela was activated. He simply couldn't bear the thought of her not accepting him. And if she did – what then? How could he possibly measure up to a creature of such absolute perfection?

He'd told himself that he'd be coming back, but that was a lie. He didn't expect to survive the plague. Then Edgar's vaccines had come and he'd lived on while everyone else at the RDC died off.

So many times he'd regretted using those vaccines.

Then Edgar himself came with news that Estrela still existed, that a whole robot community survived in Mech City. Che had wanted to go there immediately, but by that time the Space Invaders were in town and made it clear they didn't want him to leave.

He could have snuck away, of course – there was always some damned excuse!

Strolling through the dream-like surroundings, he could imagine he was in another place and time – fifteen years ago, on the other side of the world. In his mind, he was the 19-year-old prodigy again, finishing up the robotics science graduate program at the University of Seoul . . .

* * *

Che Sang Gyu hurried through the doors of the upscale tourist hotel. He immediately felt out of place in the fancy lobby, dressed as he was in downscale student attire. But no matter, these were brash Western tourists here, unconcerned with the nuances of Asian culture.

They did not deign to notice a struggling young man from a poor background in the southwest provinces. It didn't matter to them that his government grant paid for his education and little else, that he shared lousy dorm accommodations with three other students as poor as himself; that, for all his personal excellence, he still counted for nothing in the world.

He felt a sudden, irrational desire to set off a bomb in the lobby. Blow all these rich foreigners to kingdom come, along with the snotty hotel staff! He'd never actually do something like that, of course, but the thought that he could, if he wanted to, was oddly comforting.

Anyway, this was all going to change. Soon he'd be moving into the world of work, employed at high salary by one of the world's premier robotics facilities. Hadn't he already spoken with three enthusiastic recruiters? Hadn't he already adopted the moniker _Jerry_ to indicate he was a "show me the money!" type guy?

When he finally burst out of his poverty straightjacket, the world would take notice... and tremble.

He entered the hotel coffee shop. The place was noisy and bustling, and almost painfully bright. Why had Estrela asked to meet in surroundings so different from the dim, out-of-the-way tearooms where they usually hooked up?

Snooty waitresses bustled about delivering coffee drinks and fabulous, over-priced desserts. You could even get a foreign brandy here to go with your coffee. It was all out of his price range, of course, but Estrela had insisted that today would be her treat.

There she was now! Seated at a corner table, pensive and lovely, waiting for him. She held a little mirror in one hand, with the other she primped her luxuriant hair. Immediately, everything else in the world disappeared. He glided toward her, scarcely aware of the floor under his worn shoes. His Estrela!

What did she in him, he wondered for the thousandth time? Of course, he was brilliant, fairly good looking, and a guy on the way up. Around other girls he had some confidence, but now he felt like an unworthy penitent approaching a goddess. He should be stumbling along on his knees, begging for her attention.

He was almost to her table when Estrela looked up.

"Hello, Jerry," she said in English, using her low, sexy, Brazil-accented voice.

A decade later, when he began the Estrela project, he would forgo duplicating that accent. Hearing it again would have driven him mad.

Che sat down at her table, like someone in a trance. She ordered coffee and cakes for them, and afterwards foreign brandy – so different from the rotgut _soju_ he was accustomed to drinking with his buddies.

Throughout their light chit chat, he sensed that something might be wrong. But didn't he always feel unsettled in her presence? By the second brandy he was feeling a bit more secure.

Then she dropped her bombshell. She would be returning to Brazil the next day with her father. He had forbidden her to see Che any more.

"That son of a bitch!" Che practically shouted, getting to his feet. "He thinks I'm a poor nobody, doesn't he?"

He was so distraught, he'd reverted to the Korean language. Patrons looked his direction, then went uneasily back to their drinks.

"Please sit down, Jerry," Estrela said.

Che plopped back into his chair, groped for English words.

"Things will change soon," he said. "In a few months, I will be well established. I've already had interviews. I'll head my own design team... my work will revolutionize robotic science."

"I know that," Estrela said. "Papa does, too."

"Then what is it? I'll have money, fame. I'll take excellent care of you."

Estrela sighed and finished off the last of her brandy. "Papa says there's already enough Asian blood in our family. He wants his grandchildren to look more like himself."

Che sank back in his chair. "Surely you don't buy into that crap."

"No, I don't," Estrela said.

"Then tell him to go to hell. Stay here with me. I'll be finished with school next month, and – "

Estrela shook her head sadly. "It's more than that, Jerry. It's me, also."

The final sentence struck Che like the clap of doom.

"What?" he squeaked.

Estrela glanced uneasily around the coffee shop, at the foreign tourists looking their direction, at the disapproving frown on the manager's face.

"You scare me, Jerry," she said. "I'm scared now."

"Scared? B-but... I could never hurt you ."

"I sense a whole other person inside you," Estrela said. "Somebody dark and unstable, who will lash out at the world some day."

Che was too stunned to answer, especially since he detected truth in her remarks.

He _did_ have a wide streak of nihilism – deep anger exacerbated by poverty and rejection, by his jealous and abusive drunk of a father. He did cherish ambitions of getting even with the world. Towering resentments were his constant companions.

Hell, they'd accompanied him as walked to the hotel this very afternoon. But couldn't he overcome these psychological brutes with the right woman at his side?

"I need you, Estrela," he said.

"I'm really just an ordinary girl, even if you don't think so."

"There's nothing ordinary about you."

The sadness on Estrela's face was almost unbearable. "I could never control that dark person once he decides to come out. Some day, when my looks have faded and I no longer captivate you."

"Estrela..."

"You need a woman of uncommon strength and wisdom. I'm sorry, but it cannot be me."

And so it ended.

* * *

"I shouldn't have smoked that damned weed," Dr. Che muttered, "it always puts me in a strange mood."

He heard a beckoning voice behind him, and his mood lifted.

"Dr. Che... Jerry!"

His true love was calling to him. He turned toward her. "I'm here!"

Estrela covered the last few meters of sidewalk, an angelic vision emerging from the haze.

61. Maneuverings

"Can I talk to you a minute?" Star said.

Jerry wrapped an arm wrapped around her waist. "Of course."

She stiffened momentarily but quickly got over her surprise. Her own arm slipped around him, and she moved in close. The attraction she'd felt in the truck returned, greatly magnified by the mysterious surroundings.

They began walking through the flying dust. Star had found her strong protector now. He carried lethal power in his left hand, his right held onto her reassuringly. They were joined together against the hostile environment.

Wouldn't it be wonderful to join together in other ways?

"What's on your mind, Estrela?" Che asked.

Star groped her way up out of her sexual revelry. "Um... I'd like to ask you a big favor, if it's all right."

"Go ahead. After the way you saved my ass this morning, I owe you one."

"Yes, your ass..."

Star reached toward Che's rear end, meaning to clutch it in her trembling fingers, but she resisted the temptation.

He laughed. "You seem a bit unsure of yourself."

"It's just so pleasant walking with you, Jerry."

"We'd better continue our stroll inside. This dust storm isn't letting up."

"Sure Jerry. Whatever you say."

He led them up the walk to a mid-sized building and opened the door. "Better let me check things out first. Wait out here a minute, okay?"

"All right, Jerry."

Through the glass doors, Star watched Dr. Che advance cautiously through the lobby area, assault rifle at the ready.

"Is anybody here!" he shouted.

He looked so powerful slinging that gun. So determined! Star placed a hand against the glass and moved her face in close. She kissed the spot where she could see him, leaving a lipstick smudge.

The unpleasantness about the vandal blew out of her mind, replaced by recollections of Jerry's heroism at the jail. The way he'd dashed across the room and dove to the floor, seizing the weapon that had liberated them – the very one he was holding now. The way he'd dominated the room...

She lost sight of him as he moved down a corridor. The spell broke.

What am I doing?

This was no time for idiotic sexual fantasies. She had important business. The whole purpose of her 2,000 kilometer trek was at stake! Then Jerry Che came back into sight and the spell resumed.

He pushed the door open. "Coast is clear. Our burglar friends have overlooked us."

"That's wonderful, Jerry."

She crossed into the building as if it were a royal palace, walking on air, almost. She took in the lobby with its reception station and plastic-upholstered furniture. How fabulous! So much better than that barren place where Dr. Rackenfauz lived.

A nagging inner voice uttered a warning. _Careful, girl, you're playing with fire!_

They walked, arm in arm, along the hallways. Her face seemed very warm, maybe it was turning red. Could it do that? With Jerry at her side, anything seemed possible.

"So, what was this 'big favor' you wanted?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing, really. I kind of forgot."

Che squeezed her hand. "Well, you just let me know when it pops back into that pretty little head of yours."

Star tittered. What a thing to say – yet so appropriate! Jerry had such a way with words. A slight frown creased her face.

_Why_ _have_ _I come to see him?_

No matter, whatever it was could wait. Something else was occupying her pretty little head right now. She'd been wanting to ask Jerry about it for some time.

"Tell me about the first Estrela," she said.

Che stiffened. "The _first_ Estrela?"

"Yes. There must have been one, right? The woman you modeled me after."

"Ah, you have intelligence to match your beauty," Che said.

Star tittered again. When had she picked up this silly laugh?

"Tell me, Jerry. I've been wondering about her for a long time."

Che drew a heavy sigh. "I met her during my student days in Seoul. Her father was a Brazilian diplomat, and she was taking classes at my university to occupy herself."

"Then _you_ became her occupation?"

"You might put it that way."

Star could tell he did not want so discuss the first Estrela, but she pressed ahead anyway. The subject was far too interesting to ignore.

"Judging from my own appearance, the first Estrela must have been a mixture of human races. How did that come about?"

Che gave her a rueful smile. Star thought he would not answer, but after a moment he began talking.

"She wasn't his legitimate daughter but the result of a tryst he had with a serving girl who was of African and Japanese descent. He adopted her, though, and gave her his name." Che kicked at a paper cup lying on the floor. "Estrela was too lovely for even an s.o.b. like him to reject."

"And what was the race of her father?" Star asked.

"Oh, he was as white as they come. His family were German and Hungarian immigrants to Brazil."

Star laughed. "You mean, I'm part Hungarian? Wait until Winston hears about this!"

Che's face darkened, the muscles in his jaw bunched.

Why is he so upset?

"I'm sorry. This is very painful for you to talk about. She must have hurt you deeply."

Che nodded.

"Let's change the subject."

"Okay."

Star waited until some of the tension drained out of Jerry's face.

"I've been wondering," she said, "why did you come to Mech City to work on the Estrela project? Weren't you based here?"

"The best collaborator I could find was Dr. Lindemann. He didn't want to relocate here, so I moved the project to Mech City."

"Is this the 'Loony Lindemann' I've heard about?"

Jerry chuckled. "Roland Lindemann was brilliant, though he did go around the bend after a while. A lot of the technicians were cracking up under the strain."

Jerry was smiling now. Star loved the cute little dimples on his face.

"Lindemann started building characters from the _Gorzo the Adventure Robot_ stories," he said, "Ajax, Clawfurt, warrior drones. It got so I couldn't work with him anymore. But by that time I was good friends with Edgar, so I was reluctant to return to the west coast."

"Dr. Rackenfauz helped design me, then?"

"No, he didn't want to be involved, not even after the director was killed and Blake forced him off the Iridium project. He's got his own ways." Jerry chuckled again. "Of course, you already know that."

"Yes."

Conversation faded out. Star had learned what she wanted to know, and it was so pleasant just to stroll arm in arm, her eyes partially closed. A whole eternity could pass along these corridors...

Jerry did not seem to share her dreamy contentment. His walk conveyed growing agitation, his arm became taut under Star's fingers.

He halted their progress and turned toward her. "What's this 'big favor' you wanted?"

Star opened her eyes. "Favor?"

"Yes. It seemed pretty important a few minutes ago. Out with it."

Star closed her eyes and concentrated hard. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. When she opened her eyes again, she was fully awake.

"I want you to make Winston sexually functional," she blurted out, "so he can be my lover."

Che hardened. He spoke through clenched teeth. "I should have known!"

"What's wrong? Isn't this the way you designed me? It's only natural."

"I'm afraid it's out of the question."

"But – "

"I do not have the necessary components to make any conversions. Now good day, Estrela."

He stalked off, leaving Star baffled and adrift. She watched him enter a door at the far end of the hall.

I'd better wait out here a while. Give him some cooling off time.

62. Back at the Ranchero – yet again

Ajax slumped at his desk in the mayor's office, morose and baffled at the recent turn of events.

How could they have just walked off the job like that? Do they have no civic pride?

Any rational being could see that the water diversion project and its consequent lake were crucial. What was now a malodorous, bomb-blasted area would become a beautiful new city center; months, or even years of gainful employment were open to them. Why could they not understand?

He knew the answer to that question. _It is because I suck as mayor. My vision fails to inspire._

A chorus of voices sounded in the street:

WE WANT WINSTON! WE WANT WINSTON!

Ajax rose from his desk and stood at the window. He was so tall he had to flex his knees in order to see outside. At his full height, he'd be staring at blank wall over the window. That eventually did not seem inappropriate, somehow.

A mob of sixty or seventy robots had gathered in the street four stories down. They carried a large, crudely-lettered banner which echoed their chant.

WE WANT WINSTON!

Precisely what do they expect me to do about that? I cannot conjure him out of thin air.

The crowd spied him at the window. "There's the big guy himself!" somebody yelled.

A chorus of boos issued from the mob. "Go back to your comic book, Ajax!"

Ajax recoiled, his sense of honor deeply offended. Was this not the same bunch that had cheered him only a few weeks ago when he had taken over as mayor and ended the 'Winston tyranny'? Such ingrates!

The mob took up a new chant:

Ajax to the comic book – Winston to the mayor's chair!

For a instant, Ajax desired to accommodate their will in spectacular fashion. He would simply crash through the window and swan dive to their level, shattering himself on the pavement. But his programming would never allow such an act of self destruction. He turned away from.

I must do the honorable thing.

He removed the mayor's medallion from around his neck and set it reverently on the desk. After a moment's hesitation filled with the chanting of the mob, Ajax strode out the door and up the stairs to the penthouse level

His 'executive suite' cell was just the way he'd left it. The coat hook still jutted from its place high the wall.

This is not going to be easy.

His programmed taboo against self-deactivation was nearly as strong as the one against suicide. For the first time in his existence, Ajax used a psychological dodge to circumvent his nature.

"My, look at that hook in the wall," he said aloud. "Would it not be nice to hang myself up for a while, take a load off my feet."

The absurdity of this remark set off alarm bells in Ajax's mind. To silence them, he concentrated on the racket of the mob rising through the open window:

WE WANT WINSTON! WE WANT WINSTON!

"Yes, let us take a little break," Ajax said. "I will just hang here a few minutes and then go back to work."

He maneuvered his back against the wall, seeking the coat hook. His pressure sensors detected it against mid shoulders. Ajax slid down the wall until the hook contacted his deactivation switch at the base of his cranium.

Farewell, cruel world!

Oblivion.

* * *

A few hours later, the mech birds returned from their sojourn to Pickle Lake Castle, intent on rejoining their master. They found him on the penthouse level of the REX, sagging lifeless against a wall.

They fluttered about, chirping piteously, trying to revive him. When that failed, they swarmed outside, 1,000 strong, seeking revenge.

* * *

The protesters had moved to Heroes' Square. They were listening to a harangue from their leader, who stood atop a crate so as to give himself added stature.

"We're not going to take it any more, are we, boys?" Pete shouted.

"No!" the crowd roared back.

"We're not returning to work unless Winston takes over, right?

"Right!"

Off to the side, Jimmy and Sam observed the rally, arms crossed over their chests and disgusted looks on their faces.

"That guy's a real leader," Jimmy scoffed. "Maybe we should put him in the mayor's office."

Sam nodded agreement.

"Does anybody else have something to say?" Pete asked the crowd.

Jimmy raised his hand .

"All right," Pete said, "let's hear from our head foreman."

Jimmy took a few seconds to gather his thoughts. Elegant speech was not his forte; plain talk was.

"If I'm not mistaken," he said, "didn't you guys kick Winston out just a few weeks ago?"

"That's true," Pete said, "but things are different now. We repaired his statue, didn't we?"

"Yeah!" the mob shouted.

"That was very kind," Jimmy said, "but what makes you think Winston is ever coming back?"

"W-well... he has to. We need him."

"Why does he need _you_?" Jimmy asked.

Pete had no answer. The square became deathly quite except for the breeze whistling through the hulks of nearby burnt-out buildings. Anxiety shuddered through the crowd.

"Maybe Ajax isn't popular," Jimmy said, "but _somebody_ has to be in charge."

"Never!" Pete cried, "We've had enough of Ajax."

"Yeah!" the crowd responded.

"Down with Ajax!" Pete shouted.

The mob roared a new chant:

DOWN WITH AJAX! DOWN WITH AJAX!

"Let's get out of here, Sam," Jimmy said. "There's no talking sense with those bums."

The foremen had just turned to leave when a shadow fell over the square. The infernal chanting stopped.

"What the hell," Jimmy said.

A squadron of mech birds dove down and grabbed Pete off his soap box.

"Ahhh!" Pete objected as he was hauled skyward. "I'm going air express!"

Robots fled in all directions, pursued by attacking mech birds.

* * *

At the RDI main workshop, Jack and Quincy labored over the wrecked occupant of a workbench.

"Are we going to activate him when we're finished?" Jack said.

"What for? That would just be one more guy raising hell about Ajax." Quincy gestured to the other workbenches, each with its own occupant. "We've got enough to do just repairing the physical damage. We can activate them later, if things ever settle down."

"I wish Star was here," Jack said.

"I wish they were all here, even that Iridium smart Alec. I never thought I'd miss his sarcastic talk."

The repair bots fell silent as the pointless emptiness of their existence pressed in on them.

"This boredom is killing me," Jack said.

Jimmy and Sam burst in through the double doors. The repair bots nearly jumped out of their lab coats with surprise.

"Hey, what's going on?" Quincy said.

"Mech birds are tearing up the town!" Sam cried.

He and Jimmy grabbed a workbench and maneuvered it toward the doors.

"Be careful with that," Jack said. "Don't damage anything."

A phalanx of mech birds battered against the reinforced plasti-glass of the door windows. The doors sagged, almost opening under the assault.

"We'll help you!" Quincy shouted.

The four robots piled workbenches, tool boxes, anything they could find against the doors.

"That ought to do it," Jimmy said.

A mass of birds appeared outside the high widows at the back of the workshop.

"Lower the shutters!" Quincy yelled.

Jack ran toward the electric switch box, but before he could get there, Pete crashed through a window amid a shower of plasti-glass chips.

"Hoo Wheee!" he howled. "Look out below!"

He sailed across the workshop like a grotesque guided missile. He skipped over a work bench, dislodging its occupant, then slammed against a wall where he broke apart. His head rolled along the floor. Quincy snatched it up.

"What happened man?" the head asked. "I'm feeling a bit light."

"Don't worry, everything is fine," Quincy said.

He flicked the deactivation switch; the head went silent. Jack flipped the wall switch, and heavy metal shutters began lowering over the windows. A squadron of mech birds streaming in after Pete thought better of things and retreated back outside. Sultry dimness descended on the workshop.

"Looks like we're stuck here," Quincy said.

"Yeah, what are we going to do?" Jimmy asked.

Jack crossed the room and fired up the computer. "There's always video games."

63. Workshop Confrontation

Che slumped miserably behind his desk.

The surroundings gleamed back at him, pristine and orderly. He would have preferred a vista of chaos, as in Edgar's workshop, to match his apocalyptic mood.

The great love of his life was rejecting him – for a second time! He covered his face with both hands and sprawled across the desk.

"I'm such a fool!"

Didn't Edgar say intelligence could not be controlled, that it evolved unpredictably? This principle must apply to the deepest emotions as well. Estrela could choose whom she loved, and it obviously wasn't him.

But he'd never gotten a fair opportunity to win her affections. Those sons of bitches at the RDI had forced her into a brutal activation; they'd corrupted the programming he'd so meticulously entered into her mind.

Face it, Jerry. You tried to play God, but you're just an idiot.

Couldn't he reverse things – deactivate her and repair the damage?

That would never work. He'd need to implant a whole new advanced brain unit, and there was no way to construct one with the diminished resources of the RDC. It would be wrong, too. He would be a fraud in his own mind.

No, he couldn't control Estrela. Sitting in the sterile cavern of his workshop, Jerry Che realized quite the opposite was true. Estrela controlled him. Whatever the outcome might be, he'd end up doing what she desired. He could not refuse her anything.

But there was still hope for him, wasn't there? He had to try. He had to go find her. Dr. Che rose from his chair just as Estrela opened the door. Her excruciatingly beautiful face materialized from the hall.

"Are you okay, Jerry?" she asked.

He wanted to fix her with a stern, withering glower. Let her know she could not trifle with his affections. Instead, his countenance relaxed into lines of gladness.

"I'm fine. Come on in, Estrela."

Star entered.

"I'm glad to see they didn't smash up your place, too. It was bad enough to see Dr. Rackenfauz's workshop."

Dr. Che waved a weary hand around the room. "Yeah, everything's just wonderful."

"I mean, you still have all your components and stuff, right?"

"Seems like it."

Star wandered about the workshop, opening drawers and closets, as if she owned everything.

"Watch what you're doing," Che said.

"I'll be careful, Jerry, don't worry."

He wanted to physically restrain her, but hearing the sound of his name coming from her mouth deterred him. _Jerry_ had a sweet, magical sound when she pronounced it – like a _cherry_ reposing atop a scoop of sweet, light chocolate ice cream ready to melt down into it.

Star pulled open a locker door. Inside was a full-body male epidermis, draped on a hanger like a Halloween costume.

"Oh, my!" she exclaimed, her eyes bulging.

The epidermis had blonde, brush-cut cranium hair and a very light complexion. The limbs and torso were smoothly hairless. Star fondled the synthetic skin.

"Keep out of there!" Che yelled.

He strode to the locker and attempted to shut the door, but Star wedged herself halfway inside to prevent it.

"You _do_ have the necessary components, after all," she said.

"Apparently so. I must have forgotten about this one."

"Uh huh."

She caressed the epidermis further. Even drooped lifelessly on a hanger, it appeared to be pushing all of her sexual buttons.

"It was supposed to be for my 'Nordic Avenger' robot," Che said. "I modeled it after Drago in the _Rocky IV_ movie."

"You've got a real fondness for old movies, don't you, _Jerry Maguire_?"

Star tried to brush her fingers along Dr. Che's cheek, but he stepped back out of range.

"It's got beautiful workmanship," she said. "Are there others?"

"No!" Che said, louder than he intended.

Star cocked an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yes, _really_. I planned to construct a partner robot for Edgar, but things went to hell and it never got built."

"Poor Dr. Rackenfauz. He must be lonely all by himself."

She stepped aside, Che closed the locker door.

"What about Winston, then?" Star sidled close. "He's ready made."

"Not possible."

"Why not?"

Star pressed her body against Jerry's. She felt his thermal signature soaking into her breasts. Part of her advance was pure calculation, part of it was because she couldn't help herself – another part was that she simply enjoyed it.

So did Dr. Che, judging by his increased breathing rate and his reddening complexion.

"Well... I-I didn't construct any male genitalia for one thing," he stammered.

"No problem there," Star said. "Dr. Rackenfauz has already provided a set."

She, too, was having difficulty keeping her simulated breathing under control.

"Then there's the programming," Dr. Che said. "It's tremendously complicated."

Star struggled to keep her mind focused on her urgent task, to keep Winston foremost in her mind despite her raging lust for the male right beside her. She ached to grab Dr. Che, throw him on a workbench and couple wildly with him.

"Winston's programming has evolved most of the way on its own," she said. "You just need to fine tune it."

Dr. Che pulled away and retreated a few steps. Star followed, confronting him boldly, like a whore on a street corner.

"What's the real reason, Doctor?" Her voice had a cold, hard edge now.

Che hesitated, looked away. Star gripped his chin with both hands and turned his head back.

"Well?"

"Damn it, Estrela, I made you for myself!"

He pulled himself away and stalked to the far side of the workshop. He remained there, back turned to her. Star observed him, one eyebrow arched and her hands on hips. Understanding flooded her overheated brain unit. The path she needed to take became clear, as if a bright floodlight had been turned upon it.

Che turned back and jabbed a finger toward her. "I don't want to share you with anyone, or any thing. I already lost you once!"

"But I don't love you, Jerry. I can't – not in that way. Winston is the only one for me."

A cry of despair escaped Che's throat. "No!"

"I can love only one male," Star said. "Anything else is simple lust."

Che turned away again, a crumpled figure with hands buried in his lab coat pockets. He appeared to be only half his former size.

"I'm sorry," Star said, "but you designed me this way."

For a desperate moment she considered grabbing the epidermis and fleeing with it. But what would that accomplish?

Only Jerry Che could perform the conversion. Dr. Rackenfauz had stated he could not do it. He wouldn't want to try. Rackenfauz had already proved he'd rather blow his brains out than be forced into something he didn't want to do.

There was only way to get Dr. Che's cooperation.

"Oh, Jerry."

Che turned back. "What?"

Star began unbuttoning her blouse – slowly, methodically, keeping a seductive eye on Che. He stared at her, transfixed.

She pushed all thoughts of Winston out of her consciousness. The amoral savage she'd left standing in the window at Pickle Lake Castle returned full force, barging into her mind and taking over her actions.

She tossed the blouse aside, displaying perfect breasts with erect nipples. Che gasped.

"Here I am, Big Boy. Are you man enough to take me?"

She moved rapidly across the room, like a panther closing in on its prey.

Dr. Che stepped back, alarmed. "Hold on!"

Star lunged, grabbing him by the lapels. She tore his lab coat off.

"Maybe you'll find I'm too much for you!" she panted.

Star crushed her mouth against his, kissing fiercely. She pulled him onto a workbench. Tools clattered to the floor.

* * *

Out in the hallway, the sounds of violent lovemaking resounded through the workshop door, shattering the quiet of the deserted building.

"Yes!" Che cried. "More! More!"

Star's voice shrieked an incoherent, ecstatic reply.

As the hours passed and moonlight began filtering through the windows, the orgiastic racket intensified to a frightening level.

"That's enough!" Che wailed. "Stop!"

Star emitted an insatiable wild beast growl.

"No more! I can't stand it!" Che pleaded.

A loud crash, followed by the sound of bare feet running. The door handle jiggled frantically.

"Get back here!" Star commanded.

The door handle stopped jiggling. Che screamed, but there was no one to hear him – except for Star, and she loved it.

# Nine: A New Dawn

64. Morning After

At the first light of dawn, Star exited Dr. Che's workshop, closing the door quietly behind her. She finished buttoning her blouse, then withdrew a small fold-up mirror from her handbag and studied her face.

"Oh, dear."

Her hair was disheveled and her makeup badly smudged. Even in the dim illumination streaming through the clearstory windows, she looked a fright.

_What will Winston think?_ She smiled wickedly. _Winston will think whatever he's told to_.

She possessed the only available Star Power, right? And now that she knew _exactly_ how to use it, she'd be the one making the rules. Never before during her brief existence had Star felt in such absolute control.

She dropped the mirror back into her bag and walked down the hallway. Her hips conveyed a new and luscious swagger. She pushed open the door to the ladies' room.

Time to tidy up.

* * *

The wind storm was over. The RDC campus sprawled brown and sullen in the morning light as Star walked toward Dr. Rackenfauz's building. Her shoes left prints on the dusty concrete. Despite the drab surroundings, she'd never witnessed such a beautiful morning. All of creation was fresh and new, full of marvelous possibilities. Today would commence a whole new existence for her.

"Here I am!" she announced to the world.

Guilt began to gnaw at the edges of her consciousness, spoiling the new day. The ugly words _user_ and _taker_ emerged in her mind like bloated corpses bobbing to the surface of a cesspool.

Was she nothing more than a wanton exploiter – like those women throughout human history who Winston talked about during his philosophical ramblings? The ones who destroyed men and even brought whole empires crashing down? Cleopatra, Mata Hari, Christine Keeler.

She pushed these unsettling notions aside. Maybe later she could think about them, when she'd achieved her final goal.

Star was all prim and neat as she entered Dr. Rackenfauz's workshop, as if she'd spent the night lying inactive on a bed of roses. Her perfume carried a floral scent, her cheeks were firm and wholesome from a perfect application of blush. Her hair was in order, and all her broken fingernails had been replaced.

Dr. Rackenfauz was slumped in a chair, sleeping. Winston sat in another chair, inactive. The mech wolf – was it Ripper or Iridium? – sprawled deactivated on the workbench. Star walked past the chair-bound figures and paused beside the wolf. She stroked the beast's head, running her fingers through the bristling hairs.

"Are you in there, Iri? It's me, Star."

Winston emerged into active mode. She turned her gaze toward him.

"Good morning, Winston."

"Star, where have you been? I was worried."

"Oh... here and there. Something came up."

"I was going to look for you, but Dr. Rackenfauz told me to mind my own 'g. d. business.'"

"Now, there's some good advice," Star said. "How did the operation go?"

Winston rose from his chair. "We'll know pretty soon. Why didn't Dr. Che come back?"

"He's feeling a bit, uh, indisposed," Star said. "He's agreed to see you this afternoon, though."

Anxiety spread across Winston's face. "Really?"

"Yes, dear."

Dr. Rackenfauz awoke, yawning massively.

"Good morning, young lady. You're just in time for the activation." He stood and stretched himself out, making his joints crack. "Damn! I sure as hell ain't no spring chicken anymore."

"Did you sleep well, Professor?" Star asked.

"Ach, no worse than usual. Where's Jerry?"

"Oh... he got distracted with his own affairs."

Rackenfauz shot her a knowing look. "Yeah, I'll bet he did."

He shuffled to the work bench and examined the mech wolf. Winston took the opportunity to examine Star.

"You look wonderful this morning," he said.

"Thanks."

"Really, there's a glow about you. Did Dr. Che give you an overhaul?"

"Yes, something like that."

"Let's finish up, shall we?" Dr. Rackenfauz said.

He began working on the mech wolf. Star and Winston tried to watch, but Rackenfauz obscured their view with his skinny frame and flapping white coat.

"Ohhh," Star took Winston's hand, "I hope everything's all right."

"Yeah, me too."

"God, could I use a snort of coke," Rackenfauz said.

Star gripped Winston's hand tightly in an effort to relieve her growing anxiety, a tear rolled down her cheek. Many tense minutes passed, then:

"Ah, here we go!" Rackenfauz exclaimed.

He stepped aside. The mech wolf lying on the bench was now in active mode, eyes open.

"How do you feel, Iridium?" Rackenfauz asked.

The mech wolf blinked rapidly, glancing about the lab with confusion before it fixed upon Dr. Rackenfauz. Something akin to a smile creased its muzzle.

It spoke with Iridium's voice. "Papa – is that you?"

"Yes, Iridium." Rackenfauz did a mock curtsy, spreading his lab coat like a lady's skirts. "The one and only."

"Welcome back, Iri!" Star rushed to embrace the great canid and smothered him with kisses. "You absolute sweet heart. I missed you so much."

"Uh... thanks." Iridium looked toward Winston. "Who's the blue guy, Papa?"

"Ohhh. He doesn't recognize us," Star said.

"Of course not," Rackenfauz said. "This brain unit lacks several months of memory input."

"So, he doesn't know anything about our history together?" Star said.

Rackenfauz shook his head.

"But he's a hero," Winston said. "None of us would have survived without him."

"Well, don't blame me, pal," Iridium said. "I just got here."

"It's up to you to educate him, then," Rackenfauz said. "We can start with a memory dump."

"What's that?" Winston asked.

"Pretty simple, really. I hook you up to Iridium so you can transfer the relevant memories from your brain units into his."

"Oh, let's do!" Star said.

Winston stroked his chin. "There seems to be some moral issue at stake here, although I can't readily identify it. Letting the new Iridium know about his illustrious past might be a worthwhile thing, however."

Star focused all of her new-found power into compelling gaze and directed it into Winston's optical sensors. "We need to do this."

Winston nodded. "Agreed."

Star turned eagerly to the mech wolf. "How about it, Iri? It'll be just like the old days."

"Sure, why not?" Iridium said. "I'm always game for a good story."

"It'll take some time," Rackenfauz said. "After I clean up and have some breakfast, we can get going."

He exited the workshop.

Winston and Star sat beside the mech wolf, each taking hold of a forepaw and stroking his head. Without his shimmering coat, Iridium hardly looked like himself, but the intelligence and nobility in his eyes said clearly that he was back among the active.

"Don't worry about a thing, Iri," Star said. "Dr. Rackenfauz will handle everything just fine."

"Of course. There's only one Papa!"

65. Memory Dump

The memory dump took some hours to complete.

At first, Winston felt terribly vulnerable with his cranium opened up and data cables connecting his brain unit with that of Iridium. But after a while it became a pleasurable experience to rerun the memories he had of his old friend.

Winston held nothing back but gave over the full spectrum of recollections – from his first scary meeting with the great canid in Mech City right up to the battle with the Visionists and the heroic demise of the first Iridium.

The suspicion they'd held for each other which had blossomed into mutual respect and admiration. The long struggle to bring down Fascista Ultimo, and Iridium's key role in it. Even the shameful episode when Winston refused to honor his pledge concerning the security chief job. Every bit of data Winston could wring out of his personal memory bank passed into Iridium's mind.

Rackenfauz monitored the session with an analyzer device. Throughout, Winston remained silent, his face tense with concentration.

Iridium was far more vociferous.

"Did I really say that?" he exclaimed, and, "This is so cool!" and, "That is totally amazing!"

At one point, he laughed so vigorously Dr. Rackenfauz admonished him to calm down, so as to avoid disconnecting the wires.

Another outburst, very grim this time, came when Winston relayed the details of Iridium's losing battle with Clawfurt during the anti-Fascist rebellion. "Ugh, Clawfurt! I'm glad I wasn't officially there."

Then it was Star's turn. As soon as the hook up to Iridium was established, the great canid began purring with delight.

"Oh, that's sweet," he said. "I love you too, Star."

For the whole time she was connected to Iridium, Star's eyes remained closed and a mysterious little smile played across her face – like in the Mona Lisa painting. Her radiant beauty was almost impossible for Winston to look at for very long.

She was different, somehow. Something fundamental had changed in her since the day before. What had gone on in Dr. Che's workshop?

"Don't worry, Star," Iridium said, "your secret is safe with me."

_Secret – what on earth can that be?_ Winston wondered.

Vague suspicious writhed about the edges of Winston's mind, but he dared not follow their convoluted paths. Events he could not understand were playing out. _Boss_ Winston Horvath did not have a commanding role in the drama. He had to just go along – had to believe that Star would bring about the best results for them. He needed to trust.

Still ...

* * *

At last the memory dump was over. Dr. Rackenfauz disconnected the cables and closed up the cranium units of Iridium and Star.

"You rest a while, Iridium," he said. "Give that new data time to soak in."

"Sure, Papa, thanks."

Iridium looked up at Star and Winston. The smile-like expression returned, moderating the ferocious wolf face.

"And thank you both for everything," he said, "even the parts that weren't so much fun."

Star stroked his head. "Of course, dearie."

"Looks like I've had a pretty interesting life," Iridium said.

Rackenfauz wagged an admonishing finger. "Hang onto that brain this time, Iridium. There aren't any more."

"I will, Papa."

"There is one other thing we could do," Rackenfauz said.

"What's that, Papa?"

"I could erase the memory of your activation," Rackenfauz said. "That way, you'd believe you were the original Iridium. The events in those memories we just downloaded would seem as if they really happened to you."

"There's an idea," Iri said.

"But Winston and I would still know the real facts," Star said.

Rackenfauz nodded.

"Unless ... you altered _our_ memories as well," Winston added.

Rackenfauz shrugged. "I could do that if you like."

Winston paused to consider the ramifications of this statement.

"If that's the case," he said, "that must mean you could erase, or alter, any of our memories, right?"

"Pretty much. Results guaranteed."

Vast possibilities he'd never imaged suddenly popped open for Winston. Dr. Rackenfauz could wipe out the continuing pain he felt about the Master and little Charles. He could fill in the empty spots in Winston's 'spirit' – if that was the correct term – with happy recollections.

Never again would Winston have to protect himself against the emotional turmoil he'd suffered during the final days with his human family. His bitter feelings of helplessness, his near suicide –

"What do you think, Winston?" Star said.

"I'm not sure."

"I'll go along if you want," Star said.

"Me, too," Iridium said. "Just say the word, pal."

Winston was tempted. Imagine – the valuable lessons he'd learned from his past mistakes could remain, while the painful recollections of the mistakes themselves could be eliminated. He wouldn't have to feel guilty about his failures as mayor. He could enjoy the effects without being burdened with memories of causes.

Or, as Dr. Horvath would have put it, he could "eat the omelet without having to crack the eggs."

But there was a terrible flaw in this thinking. Winston tried to voice it, choosing his words carefully.

"From my understanding of the past, it seems the humans always failed when they started tampering with their historical records," he said. "Was this not a self-destruct mechanism of every tyranny – when they started to believe their own lies?"

"Interesting point, young fellow," Rackenfauz said.

"When the Germans, for example, discarded centuries of common sense and began to see themselves as a 'master race,' it didn't take long for other, more rational peoples to unite and crush them."

"That's for sure," Rackenfauz agreed. "Any screwed up idea you can imagine has already been tried."

"I fear that rewriting our memories would be akin to the policies of the totalitarian regime in the novel _1984_ ," Winston said. "We'd be sending important aspects of ourselves down a 'memory hole'"

"Sounds kind of scary when you put it that way," Iridium said.

"Yes," Winston said, "and the coincidence that I have the same first name as the novel's protagonist only heightens the scariness."

"Fascista Ultimo used to talk a lot like that," Star said. "He was always saying how he was going to 'rewrite history' so that it would begin with the Roboto Fascist era."

"What a total fruitcake!" Rackenfauz said. "And to think I could have blasted him before he ever got started."

He cackled disdainfully, then his laughter rose in intensity. He seemed about to rage out of control again, but managed to calm himself.

"Ah, the Lord never got around to making any of us perfect, that's for damn sure," he said. "No wonder we screwed up the whole planet."

He turned toward Winston, wiping laughter tears from his eyes. "So, what's the verdict, young fellow?"

Winston was satisfied that he'd pinpointed the underlying issues. He felt right about his conclusions, and he knew the other robots shared them – even if Dr. Rackenfauz, from his human-centric orientation, did not seem to care much.

When Winston spoke again, it was with the certainty of moral conviction. "I think we'd better leave well enough alone. If we start tampering with our history, there's no telling where we'll end up."

"Good choice, pal," Iri said. "The whole idea was starting to sound creepy."

"Don't worry, Iridium," Star said. "I'll love you just as much whether you're the 'old' or the 'new' version."

"Then it appears we're all finished," Rackenfauz said. "Just as well, I'm a bit tuckered out to be poking around in any more brains today."

"Do we still have the original mech wolf brain, Professor?" Star asked.

"Yeah, it's right over there."

Rackenfauz pointed to another work table where the small brain unit reposed amid a clutter of electronic components.

"Good," Star said. "Rippie helped us a lot when we really needed it. I'd like to know that he still carries on."

"Is that so?" Rackenfauz said.

He moved to the workbench, picked up a hammer, and – with a few heavy blows – smashed the brain unit to smithereens.

"Oh!" Star gasped.

She gripped Winston's arm. Tear's tricked down her cheeks, marring her perfect makeup job.

"That takes care of that!" Rackenfauz tossed the hammer down with the finality of a job well done. "That pea brain was one of Blake's creations. The fewer of them around, the better."

Rackenfauz shuffled out of the workshop muttering to himself about "those bastards at the RDI."

"I'm sorry, Star," Iridium said. "I know how much that meant to you."

"That's one memory I could surely do without." Star sighed heavily. "No need to apologize, though. Like you said, 'there's only one Papa.'"

"I would agree with that assessment," Winston said. "Even from the perspective of my wider experience with humans, I have never met anyone remotely like Dr. Rackenfauz."

Star patted Iridium's head. "You stay here and rest. Winston and I have some important business to take care of."

"Right-o."

66. The Great Conversion

Star took Winston by the arm, urging him up out of his chair. He reluctantly stood.

"What's this about?" he asked.

"I think you already know that. It's been 2,000 kilometers, Winston. Time for us to take the last few steps."

She led him to the door. Just before exiting the workshop, she turned back to Iridium and wiggled her fingers.

"Bye-ee."

"So long, you two," Iridium said.

The door closed. Iridium stretched himself out on the worktable and began his inactivation sequence. It had been quite a day; he needed to tune out for several hours.

He chuckled. _She's got plans for him_.

Iri knew all about it from the information Star had dumped into his brain. Soon it would be "adios!" to the old Winston and "hola!" to the new one. Kind of unfortunate, in a way, since they were just getting reacquainted.

A smile flickered across Iridium's muzzle. _I wonder if there are any female mech wolves?_

He blinked out of consciousness.

* * *

Winston and Star exited the building and began moving across the parking area toward the sidewalk. The truck which had transported them here stood idle and silent. The air was calm, though still hazy and expectant, as if preparing itself for the next dust storm.

"Where are we going?" Winston asked.

"To Dr. Che's workshop, of course. Everything is arranged for your conversion."

"That's what I thought," Winston said, his voice flat.

His pace slowed until he was barely moving, despite Star's firm grip on his arm. His motions became stiff and jittery.

"Are you nervous?" Star said.

"Yeah, a little – a lot, actually. Can't this wait for some other time?"

Star halted and looked directly into his optical sensors. "What other time?"

"I mean, it's been a very long day, with Iridium and all. Besides – "

"You're terrified, right?"

"Yes," Winston said.

"This is our only chance. Dr. Che took a lot of convincing – he will never be available again. Trust me on that."

She took Winston's arm and resumed walking, almost dragging him along.

"Poor Winston, this is all so much for you."

"Y-yeah..."

Winston began trembling. Star feared he'd soon be in the grip of a full-fledged panic attack.

"Tell you what," she said. "Try the conversion for one week. Then, if you really hate it, Dr. Rackenfauz can switch you back."

Winston calmed a little, his trembling receded. "Well, okay... I could do that... I guess."

They walked in silence across the deserted grounds until they reached Dr. Che's building. Star halted their progress by the main door and took Winston's hands. "I want you to know that it didn't mean anything."

"What?"

"Sometimes a girl has to do what's necessary. Even if it really isn't right... even if it was a lot of fun."

Winston looked baffled.

"Maybe you'll understand later." Star opened the door. "After you, my hero."

Winston lurched into the lobby. They proceeded down a long hallway, their steps echoing off the walls.

"My, this building is in excellent condition," Winston observed, witlessly. "The vandals must have bypassed it."

"Uh huh."

They found the right workshop and peered in through the open door.

Che was sitting at his desk, examining some papers. The Nordic Avenger epidermis hung from a wheeled conveyance nearby. His back was to the door, so he didn't see them enter.

"Excuse me, Dr. Che," Star said.

He jerked around in his chair. His face and hands were covered with scratches – bruises and bite marks adorned his neck. He stood up and moved to the other side the desk so as to place it between himself and the robots.

"A bit early, aren't you?" he said.

Pangs of regret jabbed at Star. She felt sorry for Dr. Che – his obvious feelings for her which she'd trampled under foot, the way she'd so blatantly used him last night.

Damn it, I'm still so turned on by him!

There'd be serious repercussions, she knew. How could they be tempered? Maybe there was fun at the end of this road, but heartache, as well. She'd caused it all, she'd...

Think about it later, girl. Take care of business.

"Yes, we finished with Dr. Rackenfauz sooner than expected," Star said.

"What happened to you, Dr. Che?" Winston asked.

Star elbowed him hard. Winston shut up.

"We're all set to begin, Doctor," she said.

Keeping a wary eye on Star, Che moved to an empty workbench and motioned for Winston to lie down. Winston hesitated, then he noticed the epidermis and walked over to examine it.

"I'm not sure this is really my style," he said. "Maybe – "

"Let me be the judge of that," Star said. "Now come on, time's wasting."

She led Winston to the workbench and gently helped him lie down on his back.

"Everything is going to be just fine." She reached behind his head and flicked his deactivation switch. Winston went instantly limp. "Good luck."

She almost added the words "my only love," but held them back. She could feel the smoldering eyes of Dr. Che boring into her, and she did not want to make the situation any more tense.

Star reached into her purse and withdrew the leather bag containing the male genitalia Dr. Rackenfauz had fashioned. She'd carried this precious cargo all the way from Pickle Lake Castle to Mech City and back again. Now it was here, at it's final destination. Soon, she would be intimately familiar with it – if everything went well, if Dr. Che succeeded with the conversion, if he chose not to sabotage things.

She offered the leather bag to Che. He snatched it away.

"Do you want me to stay and help?" She asked.

"No!"

"I just thought – "

"Keep away from me," Che said in a low, ominous voice. He pointed emphatically to the doorway.

"All right... thank you, Doctor."

After a final glance at Winston's inert form, Star moved toward the door. Then she turned back to face Che.

"You can have me again, after this is over. If you want to, that is... I mean... if everything goes well... " Tears sprang into her eyes. "Please fix him up right! I'll do anything you want."

"Outside!" Che commanded.

Star retreated through the door. Che closed and locked it behind her. Out in the hall, Star heard a chair being dragged over and braced under the knob.

She kissed her fingers and pressed them against the metal door.

* * *

The next hours dragged by in an agony of suspense.

Star paced back the hall, stopping occasionally to eavesdrop at the door. But then dippy 'easy listening' music started coming through, foiling her attempt.

She returned to Dr. Rackenfauz's lab to inform him of what was going on. Rackenfauz merely shook his head.

"That sounds just like Jerry," he commented.

She didn't have to explain much. The eccentric old robotics technician seemed to understand everything and accepted it with weary indifference. Besides, he was busy packing for his trip to Mech City. He planned to leave the next day with Iridium, and did she want to go?

"Yes, of course," Star said. "I... we'll go with you."

But what if Jerry failed with the conversion – what if he turned Winston into a zombie? Jerry Che was a "loose cannon." Dr. Rackenfauz used those exact words to describe him. Hadn't the _Che Syndrome_ been named for him in recognition of his potential instability?

His inner rage must have caused the breakup with the human Estrela. Star had witnessed the brutality he'd used against the captured vandal. The sadistic glee with which he'd manhandled the boy was terrifying, not to mention firing bullets past the kid's ear.

On the walk back, Star echoed Dr. Che's anguished sentiment. "I'm such a fool!"

She'd give anything to see Winston again – as he was, unsexed but whole. She wanted to hear his voice, experience his vast intellect, see him in action. Even the terrible days when he was Mech City's mayor softened in her mind into a kind of non-stop celebration.

Why did she drag him here on this insane venture? Only disaster could result, and every bit of it was her fault! He'd battled the Visionists for her, and the scrappers, and that lunatic chief acolyte. He'd rescued her from Fascista Ultimo. He'd placed himself between her and destruction many times. And for what – so that he could be turned into some zombie monster?

Daylight had faded from the high window by the time Star returned to her vigil outside Dr. Che's workshop. She brought a sofa in from the lobby and positioned it across from the door. She turned on the lights, turned them off again.

She compulsively primped her hair in her compact mirror, glancing frequently at the metal door. To her feverish mind, it seemed like the entrance of a tomb. The nonstop tension finally overstressed her emotion circuits. She flopped onto the couch and went inactive.

The night closed in.

67. A New Day Begins

Come morning, the blockade chair on the far side of the door scraped away from its position. The dead bolt mechanism clicked.

Star wrenched out of inactive mode. She flung herself bolt upright on the couch and stared at the door as if her optics could somehow pierce the metal barrier.

Oh, please, please let everything be all right!

The door creaked open. A dazed and confused figure shuffled into the hall. The door closed behind it and locked. Star gaped in wonderment. As if pulled up by an unseen hand, she rose to her feet.

The figure standing before her was encased in the Nordic Avenger epidermis. His short, blonde hair bristled in the subdued light. His eyes were distant and unfocused. He wore a yellow jump suit with red stripes running along the limbs, very form-fitting, with a prominent bulge at the crotch area.

He was taller now with his enhanced feet and new boots. His whole body was larger and more imposing. Star experienced a mixture of awe, fear, and overwhelming lust.

"Hello... Winston?" she said.

The figure tuned its blank gaze toward her. Star took its arm gingerly, as if she were touching a live electrical cable.

"It's me – your very own Star Power."

The figure frowned, uncomprehending.

My God, something went wrong!

Until this moment, she'd never given a thought to whatever god might be in charge of the world's realities, but now she appealed to him fervently for help. She glanced at the workshop door. It stared back at her, cold and indifferent.

Had Jerry Che's efforts failed? Had he avenged himself on her by turning Winston into a drone?

"Don't you know me, Winston?"

Frightful minutes dragged past. Then, with agonizing slowness, recognition moved across Winston's face like a rising sun. He smiled.

"Of course. How are you, Star?"

"Oh, Winston!"

She kissed his new lips. They were warm and sensuous against hers. After a delicious moment, she pulled away. "You're going to find out how I am, real soon."

"Yes," Winston said. "I believe I would like that."

"Let's go, my love."

She gripped Winston's arm and led him down the corridor.

* * *

The workshop door opened. Jerry Che peered out to observe the departure of his creations.

"Thank God that's over."

A bitter taste polluted his mouth. The scientific objectivity he'd forced himself to observe during the procedure gave way to a jealous fury in his heart. He wanted to charge down the hall and bludgeon the two robots with a sledge hammer.

But even now, he knew he could never harm Estrela. He shut the door again and locked it, cutting himself from the sight of the Winston abomination and its paramour.

* * *

Outside, the world seemed fresh and exciting as they walked languidly, arm in arm, toward Dr. Rackenfauz's building. Winston looked about with an expression of wonderment on his remade face. His blond hair and Nordic complexion gleamed in the morning light – so different from the medium blue tones that Star was accustomed to seeing.

"Everything looks so new!" Winston stopped their progress by a tall picker weed. He fondled the leaves, stroked the tough stalk. "Even this plant is beautiful."

Star squeezed an arm around his waist. "You're beautiful, my love."

Winston smiled, then looked up into the drab smog. "I've never seen such a glorious sky. Do you think there really is a heaven up there, Star?"

"I don't know. Let's make our own down here."

They continued on.

* * *

In the parking area in front of his building, Dr. Rackenfauz stood by the truck examining a compact submachine gun. The assault rifle he'd obtained from Colonel Reyes leaned against the vehicle like some deadly cleaning implement in a broom closet.

"I wish they'd get here already," he said. "When I'm ready to go, I want to get moving."

He looked up into the sky with disapproval.

"There's probably another dust storm coming, too. I hate those damn things."

"Are there dust storms in Mech City?" Iridium asked.

"No, it rains too much there. At least it used to. Who the hell knows what it's like now?"

He looked impatiently at his watch.

"Do you want me to go check on them, Papa?" Iridium said.

"Naw, best leave the two love birds alone."

Rackenfauz tucked the SMG into a holster under his lab coat and turned his attention to the assault rifle. "I've got a feeling we're going to need this extra firepower. Isn't it great when humans start showing up again?"

"You take care of them, Papa, and I'll keep us safe from any psycho robots," Iridium said.

"Deal!" Rackenfauz said.

He laid the assault rifle on the truck's seat and checked the rear gun rack with its hulking combat shotgun. His lab coat pockets bulged with hand grenades; a box of grenades resided in the storage area behind the seat.

"That should take care of the arsenal. I wish I could find some body armor." Rackenfauz exited the cabin and stroked Iridium's head. "The first thing we'll do when we get to Mech City is make you a proper coat. I can't stand this drab gray."

"Thanks, Papa. It is kind of depressing."

Winston and Star approached the back of the truck.

"Well, our passengers have finally arrived," Rackenfauz said. "Let's check them out."

"Sure, Papa," Iridium said.

He followed Dr. Rackenfauz to the back of the truck where they met Star and the new, improved Winston.

"Good morning, uh... Dr. Rackenfauz," Winston said.

Rackenfauz broke into a wide grin. "Very impressive results, young fellow!"

"You look great, pal," Iri said.

"Thank you... Iridium, right?" Winston said.

"You've got it," Iri said.

Rackenfauz stroked Winston's facial epidermis, looked into his eyes, checked his hands. Then he glanced approvingly at the crotch bulge.

"I see Dr. Che made good use of my creation. Jerry's as good as they get, all right, a true genius!"

He pulled a walkie-talkie out of his lab coat pocket, spilling out a hand grenade in the process. Iridium caught the tiny bomb in his teeth before it could hit the pavement.

"Good work, Iridium." Dr. Rackenfauz flicked on the radio. "You there, Jerry?"

Dr. Che's voice crackled an acknowledgement.

"We're ready to leave," Rackenfauz said. "Are you coming?

"No!"

Rackenfauz jerked the radio away from his ear.

"And take that Estrela creature with you!" Che shouted.

Rackenfauz brought the radio cautiously back to his ear. "Got it, Jerry."

Star tugged at Rackenfauz's sleeve. "Please tell him thanks, for everything."

Rackenfauz looked doubtfully at her, then spoke into the walkie-talkie. "Uh, Jerry?"

"What?"

"Estrela says, 'thanks for everything.'" The connection abruptly blanked out. "All right, keep in touch."

Star attempted to speak. "Oh, I feel so bad about – "

Rackenfauz help up a hand. "The less I know, the better, young lady." He turned to Iridium. "Well, let's get a move on."

"Okie dokie," Iridium said.

Rackenfauz and the great canid returned to the cab and got in. Star rolled open the van door. Their backpacks and various neatly arranged boxes occupied the interior. A mattress filled the center area.

"It's a long ride to Mech City." She jumped into the van and reached back down for Winston. "And you'll learn a lot by the time we get there."

"We never got to see the ocean," Winston said.

"Ocean, sm-ocean. We've got more important things to do."

Star grabbed Winston's hand and pulled him aboard. She rolled the door shut with an authoritative bang.

In the cab ahead of them, Dr. Rackenfauz settled himself into the driver's seat.

"Ready for a little trip, Iridium?"

"Right-o, Papa."

Rackenfauz started the engine and pulled out of the parking space. "Ah, back on the road again. Good riddance, west coast!"

Soon he was driving through the RDC gate. Iridium sat in the passenger seat gazing through the windshield with eager anticipation.

"I can't wait to see what's out there," he said.

Behind them, the van started rocking vigorously, loud, lustful utterances protruded into the cab.

"Well, whatever it is," Rackenfauz said, "this promises to be one helluva drive."

He flicked on music from the entertainment console to obscure the racket. They moved down the street into the unfolding world.

68. Detour

Hours passed along the road to Mech City. The view outside the cab transitioned from cityscape to barren desert.

At last, the frenzied utterances coming from the van ceased, and Dr. Rackenfauz turned down the music blaring from the sound system.

"Thank Heaven!" he said. "I was getting real tired of that racket."

"Yeah," Iridium agreed, "that concerto did go on a bit too long."

Back in the van, Star was not completely satisfied, but Winston was worn out. He rolled away from her and transitioned blissfully into inactive mode.

"That was very good, for the first time." She stroked Winston's bristly hair. "You just rest a while now."

She stretched out luxuriously on the mattress. All seemed right with the world. Memories of the violent sexual encounter with Jerry faded away, displaced by the contented glow of true love.

_If only every woman could feel the way I do now._ Then she remembered. _Oh, my! I hope we didn't pass the turnoff already._

She moved to the back of the van and pushed the intercom button. "Dr. Rackenfauz?"

"What is it, young lady?" the professor's voice crackled back.

"Can we made a stop? There's something very interesting I think you'll want to see."

* * *

Dr. Rackenfauz parked the truck by the archway with its _Historic Hot Springs_ sign. He piled out of the cab with Star and Iridium.

"Ahhh... good time for a break." Rackenfauz stretched his scrawny limbs. "I sure as hell wasn't born to be no truck driver!"

He headed toward the entrance. "You stay out here and guard the truck, Iridium."

"Sure thing, Papa."

Star leaned down to the great canid and spoke in a low voice. "Keep an eye on us inside, too. If you hear any kind of strange music, or you see me acting weird, start howling right away."

Iridium looked baffled.

"Really," Star said. "Make all the racket you can – look fierce. And if I won't come out on my own, drag me out."

"You got it," Iridium said. "I'll raise the roof for you if need be."

Star followed Rackenfauz inside the dome. Iridium posted himself under the archway with an equal view of the truck and of the hot spring pond.

She gave him a little wave. _I hope I'm not making a mistake._

They halted by the bathing platform.

"This is quite a place," Dr. Rackenfauz said. "I should take a soak, be good for my arthritis."

"I don't think that's a good idea, just yet. Let's see if I can summon them first."

Star lay prone on the rocky shore and splashed her arms vigorously in the water. "I'm back!" She stuck her face beneath the surface and hummed a long high note. She splashed some more.

"Maybe our aquatic friends are not at home," Dr. Rackenfauz said.

Star looked up from the water. "Oh, they have to be here. Unless..."

A frightening thought barged into her mind. What if the squish girls committed suicide? Their hearts had been broken when Star took Winston away, maybe they just couldn't keep going. Maybe they dragged themselves up one of the derelict amusement park rides and jumped.

She remembered Winston talking about an ancient Greek play, _Antigone_. The king had walled up a young maiden in a tomb, then he changed his mind and decided to let her out. But by the time he got there, Antigone had killed herself.

She thought of Jerry Che back at the RDC, bitter and angry at how she'd used him. She thought of the old Iridium blasted to pieces – he'd still be safe in Mech City if she hadn't brought him on the expedition. Of course, he'd chosen to come, but ... It was all so confusing!

Oh, can't I do anything besides harm others?

Three mermaids suddenly broke the surface by the bathing platform, and Star's world brightened again.

"Well, look at that!" Dr. Rackenfauz exclaimed.

Star got warily to her feet. The squish girls beamed with joy at the sight of her. They scrambled onto the bathing platform and held out their arms. They began their siren song.

Star thrust out a warning hand. "Stop that!"

The mermaids' big, sensuous optics registered surprise. They halted their song.

Star pointed toward the entrance where Iridium stood growling. "Keep quiet, or you'll have to deal with him."

The mermaids clung together fearfully and nodded understanding. They looked toward Dr. Rackenfauz.

"Aren't they something! I think I see the work of Jerry Che here." Rackenfauz moved toward the platform. "Hello, girls."

The mermaids smiled and tittered.

"I need to see your merman," Dr. Rackenfauz said. "Bring him up here."

They looked back at him, uncomprehending. Dr. Rackenfauz pointed to the water and mimed pulling something to the surface.

Comprehension dawned on the squish girls. They tittered joyfully, then dove into the water.

"This should be interesting, to say the least," Rackenfauz said.

A few minutes later, the merman was lying on the shore. He was about the size of an average human male and exceedingly handsome with dark hair and fine, chiseled features. His arms and chest were robust, and male genitalia could be seen tucked neatly within his fishtail lower quarters. The girls hovered in the water, wide-eyed.

Rackenfauz rolled the merman over so as to access the back panel. "Ah, just as I thought. This is Jerry's design."

He indicated a small metal placard bearing the robot's serial number and activation date. Beneath this info, Dr. Che's signature was etched in, along with his personal motto:

Make the world Che

"That sound just like him," Rackenfauz observed.

He opened the back panel and examined the interior workings. "It's not hard to figure out what happened. He's taken a bullet, right in the main power core. I'd imagine the bastards who wrecked the amusement park also took a shot at him."

"Ohhh, can he be fixed?" Star said.

"The power core is standard issue, no problem switching it out. There doesn't seem to be any peripheral damage, but it would take a full lab analysis to know for sure."

He opened the cranium access panel. "Ah, here's some good news. The brain unit appears to have full integrity."

"That's wonderful!" Star said.

Dr. Rackenfauz closed the access panel and rolled the merman onto his back again.

"The brain unit is the most important component." He gestured toward the merman's male apparatus. "That and the other thing, of course."

"We can take him with us, then?" Star said.

"Absolutely. I wouldn't miss a chance to poke around in one of Jerry's creations. That guy is a true genius." Rackenfauz stood up amid cracking noises in his knees. "Oh, my arthritis!"

"What about the mermaids?" Star said. "Can we take them, too?"

The squish girls had pulled themselves out of the water and were stroking their pearly hands along Dr. Rackenfauz's lab coat, crooning seductively. He seemed oblivious to their charms.

"Sure," Rackenfauz said, "I don't know where they could stay, though."

"They're turning the bomb crater into an artificial lake," Star said. "There'll be lots of room, for all of them."

"Sounds like a plan," Rackenfauz said. "Now, if you'll excuse me, it's time for my dip."

He rapidly stripped down, revealing his pale, scrawny body to Star's astonished gaze.

"Uh... I'll just wait outside," she said.

"No, stay here." Rackenfauz pointed to the grenades and the submachine gun resting atop his pile of clothes. "Keep any eye on the arsenal for me."

"All right, Professor."

Rackenfauz dashed across the shore and leaped out over the water. "Yee Haaa!"

He hit with a resounding splash. The mermaids scrambled in after him.

"He certainly is one of a kind."

Two hours later, Star was back in the van moving along the road to Mech City. She looked over at the squish girls lashed against the wall with their merman, like cord wood. Even though deactivated, the mermaids were incredibly attractive – and the merman was to die for.

"You're going to like your new home. Just keep in mind, Winston is a no no!"

Star covered them with blankets. Best to hide temptation away. She resumed her place on the mattress alongside Winston, who slumbered on in the depths of inactive mode. She snuggled up close.

"Okay, sweet heart. It's time to start living happily ever after."

69. Lethal Pilgrim

Sister Reedy stood on the banks of the pond, gazing out over its murky water.

It was just a little pool she'd happened across, but it conjured memories of the cursed lake nestled in the mountains of their former refuge. The events of that horrible day ran through her mind, as they had every hour for months.

In her tormented recollections, she saw again the face of her precious son, Roddy Jr., as he sat upon the shore of Pickle Lake. She saw again, with aching heart, the trust in the eyes of the 9-year-old as he reached for the cup she presented to him. She saw her own hands in front of her, passing him the fatal libation.

In this empty world of the present, she raised her hands over the pond's fetid water in useless supplication. If only she'd drunk from that cup herself, and he had taken hers!

Without hesitation, Roddy Jr. swallowed the Nectar of Truth. He looked up at his mother then with a confident little smile on his lips – the rich, full lips so much like those of his sacred father. But his expression soon changed from confidence, to doubt, and then to extreme terror as he crumpled in agony.

No! No! No!

She added her screams to the groans of her dying son on the shore of Pickle Lake. She rushed back toward the Messiah and seized the cup of Nectar he indicated for her. She slugged it down, praying fervently that this, too, would prove fatal... but it wasn't. It condemned her to an existence of unending sorrow.

Sister Reedy knew her unworthiness was responsible for the death of her son. She would not prove unworthy again. Her sacred mission would not fail!

But deep within her heart, wrapped in her mother's intuition, lurked an evil misgiving. The "Nectar of Truth" had been a scam whereby the Messiah had slaughtered all but his most compliant followers. He'd cynically destroyed anyone who might be a threat to his power. Even his own son.

Yes, who more so than Roddy jr. posed a threat to him? The boy was smart, charismatic, and full of confidence. He was free of the dark insecurities plaguing his father. She'd shielded him from all negative influences, raised him with a keen sense of his exalted position in life.

And his father killed him before he could come into his own.

Out here in this barren wilderness, away from the pressures of the Temple family, such thoughts had a chance to take hold. Sister Reedy suppressed them with a violent effort of will. She left the pond and clambered back up the incline to the road.

She proceeded along the pavement with caution, assault rifle slung over her shoulder, prepared for instant use. This was new and frightening country, an area she had never seen before. Why had Chief Acolyte sent her this direction?

Southward would have been a more obvious choice, to a region with which she was familiar. The desert there was natural, not like the barren horror of this once verdant landscape with its dead forests and eroded fields. She paused to drink from her water bottle.

Best not to question Chief Acolyte's directive. He was obviously under the influence of divine inspiration when he gave it. Who was she to dispute the will of the Heavenly Father? If He intended her to find the demon spawn, then she would give it a maximum effort. She had to prove herself worthy.

Mine is not to reason why.

The sound of an approaching vehicle interrupted her reflections. Sister Reedy crept half way down the road bank and concealed herself behind some thorny weeds. Time passed. Then she spied a truck coming from the west, moving at moderate speed.

She ducked further behind her cover as the truck whooshed by. Only after it was safely past did she raise her head and study the receding vehicle through her binoculars.

"I don't believe it!"

Poking its head out of the truck's side window, was a wolf creature like the ones she'd seen at the Temple. The other demon spawn must also be inside that unholy vehicle!

Of course... Mech City. Where else would such abominations be heading? Sister Reedy grinned and raised her voice to the barren sky.

"Thank you, Heavenly Father, for showing me the way!"

She scrambled up the bank and walked with lethal purpose toward Mech City.

THE END

Thanks for reading! You must have liked the story if you got this far, so why not write a review? Just a few words is fine, either at the online bookstore where you obtained this book or in any other medium you wish. May numerous blessings come your way.

# Reading Group Guide

A Brief Conversation with the Characters

**Star** : You're back! The last I knew you were stuck in _Return to Mech City_.

**Brian** : Somebody finally turned off my computer, so I was able to escape.

**Iridium** : Who's this guy, Star?

**Star** : This is Brian, the human who claims to have written us into existence.

**Iridium** : Is that so? Why wasn't he included in my memory dump?

**Star** : I don't know, Iri. I guess we didn't think he was important enough.

**Brian** : Yes .... well, it's nice to see you again, too. Is Winston available?

**Rackenfauz** : I'm afraid not, my friend. He'll remain inactive for at least another day. He's got a tremendous amount of new data to amalgamate.

**Brian** : That's too bad. I was hoping he'd be up an around by now.

**Rackenfauz** : Are you kidding? After that workout she gave him back in the van, I wouldn't be surprised if he never wakes up.

**Star** : Oh, Professor, you're such a cutie!

**Rackenfauz** : Well, please excuse me, I have to check a few things under the hood. It's still a long drive to Mech City, you know.

**Brian** : OK.

**Rackenfauz** : Come on, Iridium, give me hand – or paw, rather.

**Iridium** : Sure Papa. See you later, pal.

**Brian** : Yeah, bye.

**Star** : Speaking of cuties, you're not so bad yourself, Brian.

**Brian** : Uh ... thanks.

**Star** : Would you like a little tumble in the van?

**Brian** : What!

**Star** : You heard. How about it?

**Brian** : I-I'm flattered, Star, but you're really not my type.

**Star** : So, what is your "type?"

**Brian** : You know ... flesh, skin, breathing ... that sort of thing.

**Star** : Overrated. Besides I simulate all that better than the original.

**Brian** : What about Winston?

**Star** : He's my one true love. But variety is the spice of life, isn't it?

**Brian** : This has to stop ... Dr. Rackenfauz!

**Rackenfauz** : Good luck, my friend! I think you're gonna need it.

**Star** : Get over here!

**Brian** : Ahhhh!

Questions and Topics for Discussion

1) As artificial intelligence becomes increasingly sophisticated, is there a danger that it will evolve independently of human control?

2) What future do you envision for the robot / human relationship? Will it be one of cooperation, rivalry, or some combination of the two?

3) What functions of your life would you want a robotic assistant to handle for you? Shopping, driving, something else a bit more risqué? (be honest now!)

4) Is robotics the next revolutionary development – something at least as influential as the internet has proved to be?

5) What role, if any, should government play in regulating the robotics industry?

# Next Book in the Series

Here is an excerpt from Battle for Mech City, book 3 in the Robot Horizon series. I hope you enjoy it and obtain a copy of the full text.

Battle for Mech City

1) Bright New World

The truck jostled as it passed over the double speed bumps.

Home at last!

Star Power reached behind Winston's head and gently flicked his activation switch. "Awaken, my love," she crooned.

Winston emerged into active mode. Start-up routines flashed through his electronic mind; mobility returned to his limbs; his optical sensors popped open. The robot glanced about the heavily loaded van, baffled and disoriented.

"W-where am I?"

"You're with me," Star said. "Nothing else matters."

Winston smiled, and contentment flooded onto his face. "How long have I been out, Star?"

"Over two days. Dr. Rackenfauz said you needed to absorb all the new data you've received."

Winston stretched his limbs. "Yes, I do feel better organized now."

Star nestled closer to him. She was still not used to his radically changed appearance. His ultra-realistic 'Nordic Avenger' epidermis bore no resemblance to the somewhat mechanistic blue exterior he'd once presented.

She loved his new look! Between them, they represented three races of the mostly vanished humans.

"Do you remember what happened before you went under?" she asked.

Winston's smile broadened. The recollection of the fantastic coupling they'd experienced as they'd moved along the road from the West Coast must have been playing though his mind. The "heaven on earth" sexual fireworks Star had promised him.

"Of course," he said. "How could I forget?"

"Ooo! I love it when you talk like that, Winston."

She stood up and unbuttoned her blouse, reveling amid the hungry look in Winston's optical sensors.

"We've got time for a quickie before we get to the Robotics Development Institute."

Winston sat bolt upright. All trace of lust vanished from his optical sensors, replaced by an even more pressing eagerness. "We're in Mech City?"

"Yes, we just crossed the speed bumps on the western outskirts."

Winston leaped to his feet and groped for the intercom mounted on the wall. He jabbed the _Call_ button with a trembling finger.

"Dr. Rackenfauz?"

"Hello, young fellow!" Rackenfauz's voice crackled from the driver seat in the cab. "Welcome back to the world."

"Could we stop a minute? I'd like to get out."

"Certainly."

The truck braked to a halt. Winston flung the door open, admitting dull sunlight into the van. Star looked on, tight-lipped. She was naked to the waist, but Winston was oblivious to her charms.

"Isn't this marvelous, Star?"

"Yes... marvelous."

"I never expected to see Mech City again. I feel reborn! Or, at least, re-manufactured."

He jumped down onto the road surface. Star put her blouse back on.

"That's my guy," she muttered, "the original Romeo."

Winston moved past the truck's cabin, waving happily at Iridium and Dr. Rackenfauz within.

"He seems to be in top condition," Iridium observed.

"Yes," Rackenfauz said. "Jerry Che sure knows his stuff."

Winston trotted some distance ahead and stopped in the middle of the road. He spread his arms wide.

"Hail bright new world! I'm back!"

He rose on tiptoe, getting as near as possible toward the heavens. He closed his eyes and relished the dim sunlight warming his face. Never had the sweetness of existence been more intense. All his previous life had been mere prelude to this glorious moment.

Star exited the van and moved to the driver's side of the cab. Her blouse was not fully buttoned, and she was displaying quite a boob shot. Dr. Rackenfauz, being gay, was not interested.

"Looks like Winston is really feeling his oats," Rackenfauz said.

"Right," Star said.

Things remained in this state for a brief time before Iridium's superior optical sensors detected something in the sky.

"Looks like we've got company," he said.

A few more seconds passed before Star and Rackenfauz could make out the swarm of approaching mech birds.

"That must be the flock that came with us to Pickle Lake Castle," Star said. "I'm glad they made it back safely."

"Yes," Rackenfauz said with fatherly pride, "I built them strong, all right."

As the flock drew closer, Star's sense of well-being unraveled. Something was wrong – the birds were too frenetic, too angry. Rackenfauz noticed, too.

"My, they seem upset about something, don't they?" he said.

Terror bolted through Star. "Winston, get back here!"

Ahead on the road, in the midst of his reverie, Winston was dimly aware of a voice calling to him.

"Get back here, now!" Star was shouting.

Winston opened his eyes just as the attack squadron descended upon him. His scream was cut short in his vocal unit.

Ahh-gh!

He was hurtling upwards, struggling amid a cloud of screeching mech birds.

"Look at that, Papa!" Iridium said. "Winston is getting up in the world."

"Do something, Dr. Rackenfauz!" Star pleaded.

"Of course, young lady." Rackenfauz groped through the jumble of items piled behind the seats. "Now, where did I put that translator thingie?"

"Please hurry!"

The birds held Winston spread-eagled and dive bombed a building with him, pulling up moments before making contact with its clock tower. Back in human times, the building had housed an investment firm. It's marketing slogan was still displayed on the front:

Aim High!

Winston howled with terror above the bright new world: "Hoooooo Wahoooo!"

"He's having quite a time," Iridium said. "Is this the usual way those birds welcome you home?"

"Ah, here it is!"

Dr. Rackenfauz brandished a foot-long tube, narrow at one end and flared at the other. He exited the van amid the fluttering of his white lab coat, like half-baked angel wings. He brought the wide end of the communicator to his mouth, hesitated, then lowered it.

"Wait a second." He reached back inside the cab and pulled down the combat shotgun from its mounting. "Better keep this close, just in case."

He pointed the translator skyward and began shouting into it: "That's enough! Put him down!"

His words exited as avian chirps and twitters from the narrow end of the tube. The birds interrupted their Kamikaze dive and went into a holding pattern about the clock tower.

"I seem to have gotten their attention," Rackenfauz said.

He shouted into the translator device again: "Cut the fun and games already!"

In response, a cacophony of chirps blasted down from the bird flock.

"I can't understand you!" Rackenfauz shouted back. "Come down here and talk to me!"

The birds swooped towards him, Winston's terrified face leading the charge. Dr. Rackenfauz held his ground, shotgun at the ready.

"Don't shoot!" Winston and Star cried in unison.

At the last second before colliding with Rackenfauz, the birds altered course toward a dirt median. They dropped Winston a short distance above it. He hit the ground, stirring up a cloud of dust as he somersaulted to a stop.

"Oh Winston!" Star ran toward the stricken figure sprawled on the ground.

The birds landed beside the truck in a large, black heap. Then they began rising up like an erupting volcano, forming themselves into a single composite in the form of a human being. A terrible crunching sound accompanied the transformation.

"Holy Patoozas!" Iridium said. "I knew they could do that, but seeing is believing."

2) Old Acquaintance Brought to Mind

"Ohhh, Winston!" Star moaned. "Are you all right?"

"I think so. That was some welcoming committee." He grasped Star's hand. "I'm sorry. I should have stayed with you in the van."

"Let's go back before something else happens."

Star helped Winston to his feet.

"You go back inside," he said. "I'd better stay out here and see what's going on."

Star finished buttoning her blouse. "Fat chance of that, Winston. We're in this together, remember?"

"Yes, of course."

He took her hand; they returned to the truck where Dr. Rackenfauz was engaging the bird creature in heated discussion. Iridium stood nearby, using his large, wolfish frame as a buffer to shield Rackenfauz.

Although Star had seen the composite bird creature more than once before, it still gave her the creeps.

That thing is bad news! Like one of those horror movies Winston talks about.

"What are they... it saying?" she asked.

The professor lowered his communicator. "They're upset about Mayor Ajax. They found him deactivated at the REX Hotel."

"Is he badly damaged?" Winston asked with alarm. "I mean... he's not _permanently_ deactivated, is he?"

"I'd have to inspect him to determine that," Rackenfauz said. "They're demanding I do so immediately."

He fondled the shotgun, patted the reassuring bulge of hand grenades in his coat pocket. "These mech birds are getting very aggressive. Maybe it's time they got some buckshot therapy."

"Don't do that!" Winston said. "Please, go help Ajax."

Rackenfauz pondered for some moments, then came to a decision. "Very well, young fellow. I'll go to the REX."

A relieved smile came over Winston's face. "Thank you, Professor."

"But they insist in taking you along as a hostage," Rackenfauz said.

Winston gulped, electronically speaking. "Okay, I'll risk it."

"No!" Star protested.

"I have to," Winston said. "It's the only way."

"Ohhh..." A tear ran down Star's cheek in an almost human simulation.

Rackenfauz spoke into the translator. The bird creature stood quietly for a few moments contemplating, then it nodded its collective head.

Abruptly, it broke into its component parts and began fluttering around in a bird tornado. They seized Winston and bore him aloft toward the REX Hotel.

"What did you tell them, Papa?" Iridium asked.

"I said we'd revive Ajax. And if we can't, it's okay if they dump Winston into the bomb crater."

* * *

As he hung precariously outside the window, five stories above street level, Winston had a real 'bird's eye view' of events transpiring inside Ajax's hotel room. He glanced up at the phalanx of birds holding him aloft.

"You guys just remember we're friends, okay?" he said with a certain amount of insecurity.

The birds did not seem particularly moved.

Dr. Rackenfauz busied himself examining Ajax's motionless form slumped against the wall, paying particular attention to the neck area. Compared to the massive warrior robot, Rackenfauz appeared even scrawnier and less significant than usual.

"Most peculiar." Rackenfauz held up a broken metal coat hook. "It appears Ajax deactivated himself. He jammed his switch against this to accomplish the feat."

"Why would he do that?" Star asked.

"Maybe it was the closest thing to suicide he could get. His programming taboo would not allow him to jump off the roof."

A violent tremor ran through the birds supporting Winston at the mention of "suicide."

"H-hold on fellows, please!" Winston cried.

_Good grief!_ he thought frantically. _How much human language can these brutes understand?_

Star rushed to the window and cooed softly to the birds. They calmed somewhat.

"The switch is broken," Dr. Rackenfauz said. "It's jammed in the _Off_ position. There appears to be no further damage, however."

He brushed his hands together professionally and stepped away from the inert robot. "A simple matter. We can replace the switch and have him reactivated in no time."

Star clapped her hands. "Oh goody!"

"Nice work, Papa," Iridium said.

Rackenfauz took a modest bow. Winston, however, did not share the general enthusiasm.

"Uh... Professor." He cast a worried look on the avian mass suspending him by the fabric of his yellow jumpsuit. "I'm not sure that would be the best idea."

"Why not, young fellow?"

"If Ajax was in such despair as to attempt a form of... well, you know – then wouldn't jarring him back to active awareness be a traumatic, perhaps highly destructive, experience for him?"

"Hmmm," Rackenfauz said, "I see what you mean."

"It can be assumed that Ajax endured grave difficulties performing his duties as mayor," Winston said. "The political situation in Mech City must be pretty delicate."

Rackenfauz turned an amused, borderline malicious smile toward Winston. "Actually, young fellow, I'd say you're the one in a delicate situation."

As if in accord with this assessment, Winston's jumpsuit suddenly ripped away under the birds' talons.

"Winston!" Star cried as he dropped from view.

_This is it!_ Winston's frantic brain screamed. _I'm gonna meet the Great Technician in the Sky!_

The bricks of the hotel's wall blurred past his vision. He could almost feel the impact of unforgiving concrete . . .

The mech birds swooped down and halted his descent. Winston bobbed back up to window elevation.

"I-I'm all right," he said, "for now, anyway."

Star and Iridium sagged with relief. Rackenfauz did not look particularly concerned.

Even after a long association, Winston was still shocked by Rackenfauz's nihilistic attitudes and caustic remarks. The professor seemed almost disappointed that he'd survived the fall.

Winston gathered his remaining wits and resumed speaking. "Would it not be advisable to delay Ajax's reactivation until we've had time to assess the state of affairs in Mech City?"

"Good point, young fellow," Rackenfauz said, nodding thoughtfully.

"Once we know what the true circumstances are, then we can determine the best method for bringing Ajax back online."

Winston knew he was presenting the best approach to the problem, but a less worthy portion of his mind entertained different ideas. _If Ajax is kaput, that means_ _I'l_ _l be mayor again!_

Rackenfauz stroked his beard-stubbled chin. "You're probably right, young fellow. I'll communicate this to our avian friends."

He spoke through the translator device and was answered by a chorus of cheeps.

"What did they say?" Winston asked.

"They said they'll trust you for now, but if you don't bring Ajax around soon, you're one deep fried robot."

"Oh!" Star gasped.

"That's a very... forthright response," Winston said.

"In any case, this is the end of my involvement," Rackenfauz said. "From now on, you robots are on your own with your 'delicate politics.'"

3) Robotics Development Institute

They got out of the truck and approached the open doors of the Robotics Development Institute's main building.

Dr. Rackenfauz was festooned with his full armory. In addition to the little submachine gun he customarily wore under his lab coat and the pockets full of grenades, he also toted an assault rifle slung over his shoulder and the shotgun cradled in one arm.

"That's a lot of weight, Papa," Iridium said.

"I need to keep everything close until I know what's going on here," Rackenfauz replied.

"Perhaps we can carry some of it for you," Iridium said.

"That's not a good idea," Winston said. "Trust me on that, Iri."

Rackenfauz chuckled. "He's right, Iridium. All robots are hard-wired against having any contact with firearms. Not even the Che Syndrome has affected that."

"Right-o, Papa. I get the picture."

Knowledge of the Che Syndrome had been included with Iridium's memory dumps. The syndrome followed a predictable sequence for robotic life forms that had lost their purpose for existence:

1. Rapid psychological decay

2. Descent into a state of imbalance

3. Suicide / OR:

4. Banding together of affected robotic life forms

5. Attainment of a psychotic equilibrium

6. Destructive group behaviors

As soon as they entered the building lobby, a new plague of mech birds rushed toward them. Rackenfauz lifted the communicator in his free hand.

"Get the hell out of here!" he yelled into it. "Give me room to breathe!"

The birds hovered about in confusion. Then a contingent of the flock from the REX Hotel appeared and joined their compatriots in a swirling conference. Soon all the birds departed together out the front door.

"Good riddance!" Rackenfauz said.

"How many of those things are there, Papa?" Iridium asked.

"I made about 5,000 all together, back when I was half nuts."

_Only_ _half_ _nuts?_ Winston thought uncharitably, then he added aloud:

"Of that number, approximately one quarter were destroyed in the battle against Fascista Ultimo. Some of the rest are deactivated. These here must be of the one thousand who accompanied us on our trip to the West Coast, plus whatever others were on active duty during our absence."

"That's way too many, in my opinion," Iri said.

"They have their uses." Winston looked ruefully at the tears on his jumpsuit. "They can be hard on one's wardrobe, however."

As they proceeded toward the main workshop, a flood of memories rushed in on Winston. This corridor had witnessed so many key events in his existence: The stroll with the Master and Little Charles on the day of his initial activation; his stumbling return three years later in search of repairs; the surge of Roboto Fascists heading out to conquer the city...

Dr. Rackenfauz pushed against the double doors of the main workshop. Winston, Star, and Iridium kept a discreet distance down the hall, in consideration of the professor's bristling weaponry.

The doors were locked tight.

"What the hell?" Rackenfauz rapped his knuckles against the thick plasti-glass window. "Open up in there!"

A face appeared at the window – Quincy, the repair bot.

"Dr. Rackenfauz?" his muffled voice inquired.

"Yes, yes, it's me," Rackenfauz said. "Open up."

"Are they gone?" Quincy asked.

"Who?"

"The mech birds."

"Yes, of course they're gone." Rackenfauz brandished the shotgun. "Now open up, or do I have to blast my way in?"

Quincy's optical sensors widened. "Just a moment, please."

Sounds of heavy objects being dragged away could be heard; then the locking mechanism released. Quincy swung the doors open and bowed deferentially. Jack, the second repair bot, joined him.

"Welcome back, Dr. Rackenfauz," they said.

"Yes, quite." Rackenfauz eyed the tool boxes, analytical equipment and other weighty items which had been barricading the doors. "Not exactly the red carpet treatment, is it?"

"Please forgive the clutter." Quincy moved back. "Come in, Professor."

Dr. Rackenfauz stepped inside the workshop with his arsenal, and the doors swung shut behind him.

"Should we go in, too?" Star asked.

"In a bit," Winston said. "Let Dr. Rackenfauz establish dominance first."

"That's important to him, isn't it?"

"Yes. Besides, the repair bots won't recognize me or Iridium at first. Let them have one shock at a time."

* * *

A few minutes later, Star led the way into the workshop. Dr. Rackenfauz was standing in the middle of the vast room conferring with Jack and Quincy. Farther in, near the back wall, stood the construction bots Jimmy and Sam.

"Star!" the robots all cried in unison.

"Hello, Boys!" Star replied with a jaunty wave. "Good to see you all again."

Their pleased expressions vanished when they spotted Iridium.

"What's the matter?" Star asked.

"W-we don't exactly get along too well with mech wolves," Quincy said.

"It's only Iridium," Star said. "Say hello, Iri."

"Hi everybody," Iridium said. "Just thought I'd stop by."

Quincy and Jack approached cautiously.

"You sound like Iridium," Jack said, "but you sure don't look like him."

"I'm kind of a remake," Iridium said. "The new, unimproved version, you might say."

"It's a bit complicated," Star said. "Iri has a new brain and body; otherwise, he's just the same."

"Oh, I get it," Quincy said, "sort of."

"He has the same spirit, though," Star said. "Once he gets his new coat, you'll hardly know the difference."

Jimmy and Sam approached from the workshop's far regions. Winston noticed that Jimmy wore the mech wolf communicator strapped to his wrist. A thrill of excitement ran through his circuits at the sight.

"Good to see you again, Iridium," Jimmy said.

"You're... Jimmy, the construction foreman, right?" Iridium asked.

"That's correct. And this is Sam, my assistant foreman."

"Nice to see you, pal," Iridium said.

Jimmy turned questioning eyes toward Winston, then he addressed Star in a low voice: "Who's this newcomer?"

"Why, it's Winston," Star said. "He's also new and improved."

Confusion shot over Jimmy mechanistic face.

"Yes, it's me, Jimmy," Winston said. "I've had quite a remake, as you can see."

Joy burst over Jimmy's features. "Boss! I knew you'd come back."

He gripped Winston's hand, then wrapped an arm over his shoulders. Despite his newly enhanced physique, Winston was dwarfed by the big construction machine.

"Everything's all right now," Jimmy said. "The Boss is here."

"Welcome home!" the other robots cried.

Jimmy released Winston and took a step back. "Things really went down the tubes without you."

He pulled the mech wolf communicator off his wrist and offered it to Winston. "Here, I'm sick of toting this thing around."

Winston's optical sensors widened with avarice. He reached for the communicator. Star clutched his arm in a vise grip and whispered harshly in his ear.

"Don't you dare take that, Winston!"

With an agonizing effort of will, Winston forced his arms back to his sides. "Give it to Iridium," he rasped. "He's the security chief now."

"Sure thing Boss." Jimmy knelt and strapped the communicator to Iri's upper left foreleg. "There you go."

"Thanks, pal. That's very snug."

Dr. Rackenfauz's scratchy voice sounded from across the workshop: "Well, now that the happy reunion's over, let's discuss a few matters."

The robots moved off to confer with the professor. Winston put a restraining hand on Iri's chest. He leaned down to address the great canid.

"You hang onto that, communicator, Iri. Don't let me have it under _any_ circumstances, okay?"

"Got it, pal."

"I mean that, Iri. If you can't handle it for some reason, give it to Jimmy, or Star, or... anybody except me."

They joined the others in a semicircle around Dr. Rackenfauz. The group made an astonishing tableau: a middle-aged human male with a fringe of grizzled hair around his bald head surrounded by two movie star grade Humanite robots, a wolf type creature, two hulking construction robots, and a pair of rather delicate repair bots.

_We certainly possess a great deal of variety,_ Winston opined.

"I'll be moving into this building to continue my researches," Dr. Rackenfauz said. "Like I told you before, I don't want to be bothered with your political maneuverings."

"Got it, Papa," Iridium said.

"I'm too old to worry about such nonsense." Rackenfauz patted the shotgun affectionately. "And if some dispute comes my way, this will resolve matters in a hurry."

The robots exchanged concerned glances, except for Iridium who kept his optical sensors fixed worshipfully upon Dr. Rackenfauz.

"Jack and Quincy will handle any repair or maintenance issues you might have," Rackenfauz said. "I won't get involved unless it's something really complicated."

He gestured toward Iridium.

"Iri will be the go between. Should I want something, he'll let you know. You can contact me through him as well, but it better be about something _damned_ important."

Winston raised his hand. "Excuse me, Professor."

"Yes, young fellow?"

"How would you define 'damned important?'"

"Nothing short of the end of the world," Rackenfauz barked.

"Oh, I see."

"The mech birds will help me move in. The rest of you do whatever the hell you want. Just _don't_ bother me." Rackenfauz looked toward Iridium. "Come see me tomorrow, Iri. We'll get started on your new coat."

"Right-o Papa."

Without further ado, Dr. Rackenfauz stalked out of the workshop, bashing his way through the doors with his armory.

"My, Dr. Rackenfauz seems even testier than he was before," Quincy observed.

"I wonder what the problem is," Jack said.

"Oh, I know what his problem is, all right," Star said knowingly. "Finding a solution might not be so easy, though."

4) Political Machinations

Quincy regarded Iridium with a certain unease. "It's quite a surprise to see your... new iteration. Do you know who we are?"

"Sure. You're Quincy, the repair tech, and that's Jack."

"Then you must remember all the trouble we had repairing you after the battle with Fascista Ultimo."

"Sorry, I don't. That information was not included in my memory dumps."

"Perhaps you could do another memory dump to update Iri about old times," Star said.

"That might be a good idea," Quincy said. "Save us from having to explain a lot of things."

"Well, maybe," Iridium said, "or I could just take your word that it was a million laughs."

"We can handle a memory dump without Dr. Rackenfauz's aid," Jack said. "Think it over, Iri."

"I will, pal."

Winston glanced at the doors to make sure Rackenfauz was really gone. He spoke in an urgent voice: "We've got a serious problem, guys."

"About what?" Quincy asked.

"The Ajax situation. He deactivated himself apparently, broke his switch."

"Ah, now I understand why the mech birds are so ticked off," Jack said. "They've had us trapped in here for days."

"I'm not surprised Ajax sought a way out," Quincy said. "He came to be very unpopular. He meant well, but he just couldn't inspire anybody."

"He didn't have your knack for smooth talking, Boss," Jimmy said. "The boys got tired of listening to him."

"They got to calling for your return, Boss," Sam added. "They marched through the streets demanding that Ajax resign."

The old lust for power which had been slumbering in Winston's heart roared awake. He could be mayor again! All he had to do was kick Ajax to the curb and take over.

_You can't handle it, Winston!_ his wise inner voice cautioned. _You'll just blow it like you did the last time._

Yet he knew Mech City could not go on as it was. The town required firm, subtle leadership – a touch of deviousness. Ajax simply couldn't provide it. The warrior robot was too rigid and moralistic. Winston had always feared this would be the case, and now events had confirmed his suspicions.

"So... are you gonna be mayor again?" Jimmy asked.

Winston could feel Star's disapproving eyes boring into him like a laser drill. He shook his head. "Sorry, it didn't work out too well the last time. You all know that."

"That's because you had too much power," Jack said. "No disrespect, but you acted like a total jerk."

Winston nodded. "I can't disagree with you on that."

"We have to do something about Ajax," Star said. "If we don't reactivate him soon, the birds will go on the warpath again."

Jack shuddered at the dreadful prospect. "If it's just a matter of a broken switch, we can fix him up in a jiffy."

"Yeah, but then we'd be right back where we started," Jimmy said. "It wouldn't be long before the boys went out on strike again."

Winston spoke. "If Ajax is rejected a second time, I'm afraid the trauma will so severe it'll overcome his suicide taboo. He could take the long jump."

He almost added, _"I know how bad rejection feels,"_ but he kept the bitter comment to himself.

"What can we do, then?" Jimmy asked.

The workshop became silent as a spare parts bin for a while. Then Quincy spoke up.

"There might be an alternative." All optical sensors swiveled his direction. "I've been studying about government structures at the library. There's this 'city manager' type set up."

"How does that work?" Star asked.

"Well, there's still a mayor, and he's still the one in charge," Quincy said. "But the everyday work of running the town is done by the city manager."

"So?" Sam asked.

"So, we reactivate Ajax, and he's still mayor," Quincy said. "But we elect Winston as city manager. Simple."

"Boss!" Jimmy cried. "That just might work. Remember when we restored the REX Hotel?"

"Sure," Winston said.

"You were officially in charge, even though you didn't know the first thing about construction work," Jimmy said. "The boys all understood that, but they were okay because they knew that me and Sam were actually running things."

"Hmmm," Winston said. "Do you think the boys would go along with this?"

"They sure will. If I have to crack every one of their cranium units."

Winston look quizzically at Star. "What do you think?"

Star pondered. A deep crease appeared on her brow, momentarily disfiguring her beautiful face. "Iridium stays on as security chief, right?"

Winston nodded. "He'll be the only one who controls the mech wolves – not me, _ever_."

"Then let's do it," Star said.

"Right!" everyone agreed fervently.

5) Mayor Appreciation Day

It was a reasonably nice day out in Heroes' Square, though rather cloudy and drab. A light breeze graced the festivities, blowing the fetid odor of the bomb crater pond away from the participants.

Winston stood behind the speaker's podium atop the large wooden stage with Star Power at his side. The podium had been designed for the immensity of Fascista Ultimo, and Winston had to mount an old crate to gain the necessary clearance.

Before him, every resident of Mech City stood in tense silence waiting for the event to begin. They, too, must have been enjoying the pleasant atmosphere after spending days indoors cowering from the mech bird terror.

At the forefront stood a diminutive blue robot with a boom box perched on his shoulder. Albert was the last active member of the old Fascist Youth League. Actually, he'd only been a "metal man" lackey for the Humanite members who were now lying in deactivated storage – where Albert had helped put them.

Large banners festooned the square:

LONG LIVE AJAX!

HURRAH FOR MAYOR AJAX!

STRONGER THAN DIRT®

Ajax himself was at mid stage, held upright by Jimmy and Sam. He looked very impressive, even in deactivated mode. The golden mayor's medallion hanging from his neck glittered in the dull sunlight.

Hidden from the crowd by the warrior robot's massive bulk, Jack stood precariously on a stepstool, one hand poised by Ajax's new activation switch. The stepstool tottered on the uneven boards; Quincy reached to steady it.

"Why didn't we just use a pole to flick him on?" Jack complained.

"And bust the new switch, too?" Quincy said. "How would that be?"

"Easy for you to talk, you're not the one up here. I'm afraid of heights, you know."

"You're scarcely a meter off the platform. Now stop griping!"

A thousand mech birds whirled ominously overhead, ready to intervene should anything go amiss. Iridium stood at the edge of the plaza. The security chief had activated every available mech wolf and positioned them inside a nearby building ready to counter any mech bird attack.

Should things screw up, there'd be a horrific fight – a reprise of the liberation battle against Fascista Ultimo. Only this time, the mech wolves would be allies and the birds foes.

Winston covered the microphone with his hand and turned toward Star. "I sure hope this dodge works."

"Go for it, Winston."

He adjusted the microphone and spoke into it. His voice boomed over the PA system Jimmy had rigged up.

"As your new city manager, I'd like to welcome you all to this Mayor Appreciation Day observance."

A polite round of applause. Winston took a final glance around; everything was as ready as it could be.

Here goes nothing.

"Please join me in singing _Hail to the Mayor_."

He pointed a cueing finger toward Albert. The stately tune of the old Soviet Union national anthem blared from the boom box. Winston's amplified tenor led the way:

Hail to the Mayor!

Long shall he serve

into the future

with incredible nerve!

The lyrics were of Winston's own composition. He'd written them for himself when he'd been mayor. Now he was singing them for someone else. The irony was not lost on him.

From his position behind Ajax, Quincy spoke urgently. "Start of the second verse, Jack. Don't miss it."

"I know. You've told me a thousand times."

The chorus bellowed forth from the crowd. Then the second verse commenced:

Forward together

into the bright new day.

"Now!" Quincy said.

Jack flipped the switch.

Ajax's optical sensors flashed into awareness. Throughout his huge mechanism, all systems sprang into life.

Our glorious mayor is

leading the way!

The first thought emerged from Ajax's reactivated mind. _What the @#!% is going on?_

Why was he up here – who was that stranger at the podium with the bristling blond hair? The voice sounded like that of Winston Horvath, but the appearance was totally different.

Ajax flexed his massive torso. The motion knocked Jack off of his stepstool and into Quincy's arms.

"Good work, Jack!" Quincy said. "I couldn't have done better myself."

"That's reassuring."

A collective gasp shot through the crowd, and the singing halted. All attention riveted upon the newly animated Ajax. In the air above, mech birds hovered in tense wonder.

Winston gestured toward Jimmy, then broke out into the chorus. The crowd picked up the song again:

Our Mech City lives forever,

_gleaming beacon in the valley!_ _etc._

Still holding fast to Ajax's right arm, Jimmy began his prearranged tribute. "Welcome back, Mayor! It's an honor to stand in your august presence."

'August' was hardly a word Jimmy would have chosen on his own, but Winston thought it had the proper ring.

On Ajax's other side, Sam added his praise. "Oh, it's a bright new day now that you're among us, Excellency!"

Ajax swiveled his head between the two construction robots, then he noticed the mayor medallion gleaming on his chest. He still had no idea what was happening, but he liked the sensations buzzing through his circuits.

"Yes, quite," he said. "It is good to see you again, as well."

Bitter recollections tried to force their way up from Ajax's memory banks, but he shoved them aside and basked in the praise flooding upon him from all directions.

Winston finished the anthem with a dramatic crescendo. Then he bellowed into the microphone: "Hurrah for Mayor Ajax!"

"Hurrah for Mayor Ajax!" the crowd roared back. "Hurrah! Hurrah!"

Winston led a round of thunderous applause. Then he spoke into the microphone a final time. "Would our august leader care to favor us with a few words?"

Utter silence descended upon the square. Jimmy and Sam released Ajax's arms. The great warrior robot drew himself to his full height and thrust his chin out dramatically.

Winston pushed aside the orange crate he'd been standing on and moved away from the podium.

_Please, please, Ajax, don't screw things up now!_ he thought desperately.

Ajax strode across the stage to the podium. Star and Winston took positions on his flanks. He looked out over the multitude standing before him in respectful silence . . .

These were the same ones who had mocked him and demanded his ouster – now they were hailing his return! Ajax wanted to berate them for their treachery. He raised a finger and opened his mouth to utter harsh words.

"Let it go, Ajax," Star whispered up into his left auditory sensor. "Just enjoy."

Ajax's resentment wavered under Star's soft, but insistent voice.

"True nobility includes forbearance for the shortcomings of others," Winston said into the right auditory sensor.

Ajax lowered his finger. An unbearable pause ensued during which any number of scenarios could play out. No one made a sound. Were they biological life forms, nobody would be breathing.

Ajax thrust both fists into the air. "I love you all!"

The crowd roared approval; ecstatic chirping rained from above. A cloud of mech birds hurtled down. Winston and Star dodged out of the way as the birds swirled around Ajax in a joyous tornado. They hoisted him into the air.

"If you could drop me off at the mayor's office, I would be grateful," Ajax said.

The mech birds fluttered away toward the REX with their burden.

Winston sagged against Star. "Thank heaven that's over!"

Star kissed his cheek. "You did great, my hero."

6) Events Elsewhere – Avengers

The road to Mech City

Sister Reedy trudged along the stark, empty pavement. She boiled with rage, thirsted for revenge on the demon spawn woman – the Damned One – who had bewitched and destroyed the blessed Messiah.

Since she'd become certain of the Damned One's destination, Sister Reedy had been tempted to accelerate her own progress toward Mech City – try to activate a motor vehicle or ride a bicycle.

_It's better this way,_ she told herself as her feet trod, one step after the other, through the paved kilometers.

She was on a holy mission. The Heavenly Father himself had pointed out the way to her, and she needed to be purified by the rigors of the journey before she reached her destination.

As it did every hour of her life, Sister Reedy's mind pulled up the image of her precious son, Roddy Jr., offspring of the Messiah himself. She saw again the innocent 9-year-old boy sitting upon the edge of Pickle Lake gazing up at her with trusting eyes. She saw herself presenting him the Nectar of Truth, certain that he would pass the sacred test.

No! No! No!

Her tormented mind screamed denial as the boy crumpled in agony and became the first of many others who would die on the lakeshore that day. If only she'd partaken of that poisoned chalice herself!

She'd seized her own cup of Nectar from the Messiah's hands and gulped it down, praying fervently that she, too, would die . . . but she lived on in this constant anguish.

Sister Reedy knew her unworthiness was responsible for the death of her son. If she had only believed and trusted more; if she hadn't entertained such jealous thoughts toward the Messiah and his many paramours. If only...

She would not prove unworthy again. Her sacred mission would not fail! She'd destroy that demon spawn woman named Star – the _Death Star_ – who had flung the blessed Messiah out the tower window to the cruel flagstones below.

But deep within her heart, mingled with her mother's intuition, lurked a terrible doubt. The 'Nectar of Truth' had only been a fraud by which the Messiah had slain all but his most fanatic believers. He'd destroyed anyone he considered a threat to his power – even his own son.

Sister Reedy shook her head to clear the evil thought. Here in this unholy wilderness, far from the support of her Temple family, such fantastic notions had a chance to take hold and fester. She must resist them!

She paused to drink from her water bottle. Then she gripped her assault rifle with renewed determination and continued her pursuit.

Mine is not to reason why.

The road north

Brother George, lately a captain in the now defunct Apostolic Guards, made his way along another road from the demolished Pickle Lake Castle – once the _Holy Temple of the Transcendent Vision_.

It was a fairly nice day, as weather went in the post-apocalyptic era, but he paid scant attention to it. His mind was totally absorbed by his sacred mission.

He was a "messenger of vengeance" dispatched by Chief Acolyte himself to track down and destroy the demon spawn robots that had slain the holy Messiah. The assault rife he carried slung over his shoulder was a token of his fealty and dedication.

He could not understand how he was to accomplish this task, but it was not up to his limited perceptions to judge. Chief Acolyte had clearly been under divine inspiration when he'd sent the messengers of vengeance to the four compass points:

**North** – Brother George

**South** – Brother Ralph

**East** – Sister Reedy

**West** – Chief Acolyte

So, Brother George would continue on this path until he found the demon spawn robots or until the Heavenly Father guided his steps another direction.

"Not my will, but thine, Heavenly Father!" he intoned to the empty spaces around him.

Only the environs were not completely empty.

* * *

Ernestina Corozal, a surviving former member of the _Holy Temple_ , observed Brother George through the binoculars she'd obtained at a Cycho World sporting goods emporium. She also toted a backpack, camping gear, and freeze-dried food which she'd requisitioned at the same locale.

She had not been able to find a gun, however – something to blow out Brother George's brains, or whatever mush that might be inside his skull. Anyone who actually bought into all the religious crap at the "Temple" couldn't have too much on the ball.

One thing Ernestina did have was a sharp hunting knife. Her most cherished desire was to sneak up on Brother George while he slept and take revenge for Arleny and the others he'd slaughtered back at Pickle Lake.

This was no easy task, however. Ernestina had to bide her time and wait for the right chance, but vengeance would come, eventually, and it would be sweet.

7) Events Elsewhere – West Coast

Robotics Development Center

Dr. Jerry Che shuffled along the main corridor of his research building. His assault rifle was slung over his shoulder, barrel down. Grenades bulged in the pockets of his lab coat, along with extra ammo clips.

He'd not been out of his workshop in days, had scarcely eaten during that time. He was gaunt and yellowish; his unshaven face bristled, but his eyes burned with a fierce intensity.

The loss of Estrela had devastated him. He was struggling to come to terms with it but was failing badly. He exited the building into a gray, lifeless afternoon.

Hello world. Go screw yourself!

In the distance, toward the admin building, two armed men clad in military type uniforms walked about. So, Colonel Reyes had provided the promised "security detail" to protect the RDC from intruders.

_Question is,_ _am I being protected, or am I a prisoner?_

He walked past the patrolmen, acknowledging them with a curt wave, and headed for the main gate. There he found two more heavily armed members of Colonel Reye's force manning the guardhouse.

One of the men stepped forward and saluted. "Are you feeling all right, sir?"

"Not particularly," Che replied, "but I'm better than I was."

"May I ask where you're going, sir?"

"Just out for a little stroll."

"Do you require an escort?" the guard asked.

This is it. If they force an "escort" on me, then I'm their prisoner for certain.

He patted his assault rifle. "No thank you, soldier. I've already got one."

The trooper nodded and bit his lower lip, clearly displeased with the reply. Che half expected the other soldier to grab him from behind and disarm him. Instead, the first man spoke again.

"Very well, sir." He pulled a small 2-way radio off his belt and offered it to Che. "Should you encounter difficulties of any kind, contact us immediately."

"Thank you, I will."

Che took the radio and tucked it into an interior pocket of his lab coat. He wondered briefly if the radio contained a tracking device, then dismissed the idea. Colonel Reyes would know that he could easily detect any tracker. The colonel would not attempt such a trick, if for no other reason than to avoid looking foolish.

"Have a nice day, both of you," Che said.

"Yes, sir!"

Che moved off into the vacant cityscape. He was utterly alone – no guards trailing after him, no drones snooping from the sky, nothing. He made his way to a small park a few blocks from the RDC and sat down on a bench, placing the assault rifle across his lap.

"Well, it looks like Colonel Reyes is keeping his part of the bargain."

This was a key consideration. If Dr. Che was to go ahead with the plan he'd concocted over the past few days, he had to be able to trust the Colonel's word.

Jerry Che was a proud man. He'd been one of the stellar robotics authorities in the old days before the collapse of civilization, a science celebrity appearing often in the tele-casts. He'd led his own elite design team. He'd had a large staff of servants, human as well as robotic, and had resided in an exclusive neighborhood – until rioters burned it down.

He'd not had to take crap from anyone since his time as a poor graduate student in Seoul, Korea, back when he'd lost the original Estrela...

He lit a cigarette and enjoyed the company of its smoke plume. It seemed about the only friend he had. Dr. Rackenfauz, too of course, but he'd gone back to Mech City. Che smiled at the recollection of his curmudgeonly old friend. The two of them had sure jammed a wishbone down Colonel Reyes' throat!

His smile faded as toxic memories of the new Estrela began to simmer in his mind. She'd rejected him – like the earlier, human Estrela had done. Yet he'd performed the conversion work on her robotic paramour.

He crushed out the cigarette brutally as he recalled that final day and the desperate plans he'd contemplated. He would sabotage the Winston robot, he'd put a time constraint on the conversion so that it would stop functioning after a few weeks . . .

But in the end, Che performed the conversion to the best of his ability. His professional pride would not allow him to do otherwise, and, try as he might, he simply could not defy Estrela's wishes.

Under other circumstances, he would have been ecstatic. The first ever sexually capable male humanoid robotic life form had emerged from his own genius!

Actually, it hadn't been that extensive a leap. He'd already done the major design work for the Merman project and for the companion robot he'd been working on for Dr. Rackenfauz before the collapse of the RDC procurement network cut off the supply of vital components.

Besides, as Estrela had pointed out, the Winston robot's programming had already evolved much of the way on its own.

An open vehicle approached; it radiated a bad aura. Two scruffy, bearded armed men inside it glowered at him as they slowly drove past. They looked far from friendly.

These men were surely not part of Colonel Reye's command, but members of the criminal element that was taking over parts of the city. The colonel had not exaggerated the threat.

More plague survivors were coming into the city all the time. Some were a bad element, and others were falling under their influence. The 'legitimate government' Colonel Reyes was trying to establish lacked the manpower to control the situation.

Dr. Che kept a bland expression on his face, but his finger tightened on his assault rifle trigger, and his thumb switched off the safety. He kept sight of the two men from the corner of one eye.

_I've got plans for you gentlemen_.

The two thugs drove on. They'd apparently decided to leave Che alone, for now. A new sound intruded: the soft hum of a flying drone. It buzzed the area at low level. Dr. Che offered a polite wave.

So, I'm not as unfettered as I thought.

Clearly, Reyes was still keeping an eye on him, but that was fair enough. He'd said Che could have free movement within the city, and the drone spy didn't really impinge on that. Che was rather glad to see the thing; it's presence may have helped deter the thugs.

Leaving town would be another matter, though. Things would have to be handled carefully for that.

Jerry Che rose from his bench and headed back toward the RDC campus. His mind was clearer now. When he got back he'd shower, shave and rustle up a freeze-dried meal – after he performed an important task.

When he arrived at the gate, he offered the radio to the guard.

"Please keep it, sir," the guard said. "Contact us at any time if you need assistance."

"Thanks."

Back at the RDC admin building, Che fired up the old, stationary short-wave radio and put through a call to Colonel Reyes' HQ.

"Municipal Government," the operator replied.

"This is Dr. Jerry Che, I'd like to speak to the colonel."

"Colonel Reyes is out on an inspection tour," the operator said. "He should return in an hour or so."

"Have him contact me at 7:30," Che said. "He'll want to hear what I have to say."

Without waiting for a reply, Che shut off the radio and headed toward the shower room.

Government HQ

The scout vehicle made its way across the urban wilderness toward HQ. Colonel Bradley Reyes, commander of the West Coast Security Zone, turned irritably on the driver, Lieutenant Liggett.

"Are you _sure_ the new arrivals are Chinese?" he said.

"Yes, sir," Liggett replied. "I even recognized a few of them. They were our neighbors from the moon, all right."

Reyes smacked his riding crop against the vehicle's flank. He'd taken to carrying a riding crop lately, despite there being no horses available.

"Why the hell did they land at our pace port? Why didn't they go back to China?"

"I don't know, Commander. I only saw them through the drone camera images. I did not approach to speak with them personally."

"Yes, good thinking," Reyes said. "No sense tipping our hand just yet."

Sergeant Pantani spoke up from the back seat. "Maybe their space port in China got wrecked. Didn't you tell them they could use ours if they needed to, Colonel?"

Reyes turned angrily on him. "There's such a thing as diplomatic b. s.! I never dreamed they'd actually take me up on it."

"Yes, sir," Pantani said.

Reyes turned back around and smoothed out his uniform. He was being unjust and knew it, but he didn't care. Essential matters of state were at issue which left no room for niceties.

Then, to augment his irritation, a vehicle drove right through the intersection ahead of them. Liggett slammed on the brakes, flinging Reyes against his shoulder harness.

"Fuck you man!" somebody yelled from the vehicle.

A second man flipped an obscene gesture and pumped an assault rifle in the air.

"Damn!" Reyes said. "They're patrolling even this area now."

It was a terrible development. That "Fence" gangster was showing a lot of disrespect. This could only mean he was getting stronger and feeling confident enough to push the envelop.

"Maybe we should talk to the Chinese and see if they can help us secure the city," Liggett said.

Reyes spun on him. "We are not talking to the Chinese!"

"But I only thought – "

"They're foreigners. We can't give them equal status with us. It's a matter of national security."

"Yes, sir."

After several minutes of a silent and frosty ride, the car pulled up at Government HQ.

"Let me off at the front," Reyes said. "You two go back out there and see what else you can learn."

He bounded out of the car and entered the building in an outstandingly foul mood. With everything else going on – the constant arrival of unruly survivors, his acute manpower shortage – now he had to worry about a bunch of Chinese moon colonists popping up in his back yard!

The duty officer stood up at his desk and saluted. "A radio message from Dr. Che arrived, sir."

"Yeah?" Reyes snapped. "What the hell does he want?"

"He didn't say, sir. He requests that you radio him back at 7:30."

"7:30 huh? We'll see about that." Reyes strode down the hall. "The damn guy will talk to me whenever I choose to call him!"

But his attitude cooled by the time he reached the radio room door.

_Well... maybe I can wait another hour_.

His thoughts turned toward something more pleasant: _I wonder if Lisa is available for a quickie?_

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# Connect with the Author

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# Brian's Other Books

Here are brief descriptions of my other adult books. They are available at all major online retailers in e-book format. To find the relevant links, please visit my website at "The B2"

Return to Mech City

Book one of the _Robot Horizon_ series

The end of the world as you've never seen it before. Life goes on in Mech City, but it is no longer human.

As mankind succumbs to its follies and exits the stage, scholar model robot, Winston Horvath, makes a perilous journey to Mech City where he was manufactured. He meets Star Power, the world's only functional female robot.

Things unravel when a Roboto Fascist dictatorship seizes power. Its leader has designs on Star. Winston flees with her to gather forces for a counter-coup and, perhaps, get himself upgraded so as to bring Star true satisfaction.

Science Fiction / Humor / Dystopian

Battle for Mech City

Book three of the _Robot Horizon_ series

Winston Horvath regains control of Mech City, but his success is soon threatened. Violent religious fanatics are approaching with a robotic army. A disgruntled Dr. Che is also coming to kidnap Star. Meanwhile, Star's out of control sexuality is causing difficulties with various robotic and human partners. The fun continues!

Science Fiction / Humor / Dystopian

Great Republic on Rye

When dissolute card sharp and ladies man, Eugene Walton, unexpectedly inherits a plantation, his life assumes new purpose. After freeing the slaves and narrowly escaping a lynch mob, Eugene moves into the wider world bearing a message of liberation.

Accompanied by dedicated friends and a shadowy former bondsman, he plans to found a "Great Republic" based upon the highest ideals. But things are not so simple in an unready world. Let no good deed go unpunished!

Adventure / Social-Political Satire / Dark Humor

Raptor Aces

The terrifying Zone of Destruction – ZOD, the absence of God. It has taken over the Raptor Aces, an elite Youth League air squadron.

Its leader, Dytran, is the cream of his totalitarian country. His world unravels when a poor decision goes horribly wrong, resulting in death and destruction. He grabs at a chance to volunteer for support aviation duty in the war. At the front, he and his comrades are swept up in violence and revenge until escape seems beyond reach.

New Adult / Action-Adventure / War

Strange Tales for Cozy Nights – 1

Nine offbeat tales to disturb your cozy nights. From strange voyages and baffling powers to dystopian athletic competitions and the in-laws from Hell, these stories are for you if you enjoy burning the midnight oil with a good yarn.

Horror-ish / Mystery / Whatever

4th Musketelle

Trophy wife Laila Armstrong chafes under the domination of husband Frank. When she learns her adult "step children" are plotting to cut her out of their dad's lucrative business affairs, she must act fast to avoid being thrown back into the poverty she escaped years earlier. Murder seems to be a reasonable solution – much better than a messy divorce.

Laila plots to use Frank's infamous temper against him and make his death seem like an "accident." Things don't work out as planned, though, and it's not certain who will survive the final cut.

Dark Humor / Romantic Homicide

DAS ROAD

A road novel with fascinating turns through exotic Asia, workaday America, and Iran caught up in revolution. Travel realms where anything is possible, wonderful, or horrible. And always on the road ahead, the mythical figure of Jon Glass who haunts the entire journey. A story imbued with meaning just below the level of articulating. A siren call to your wanderlust.

Travel / Mystery

Career Moves for Burnt Out Personifications

Santa, the Grim Reaper, and others scramble to find new careers and identities. Outrageous political and social satire. "A smorgasbord of paranoid ramblings ideally suited to today's sensibilities."

Humor / Political Satire

