 
BATTLE FOR MECH CITY

The future isn't like it was

Book 3, Robot Horizon series

by Brian Bakos

cover art: Rob Jones

Copyright 2017, Brian Bakos / revised 06-2019

Smashwords edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Table of Contents

What Happened Before

One: Pilgrims' Return

Two: Threats in Various Flavors

Three: Groping for Stability

Four: Storm Clouds Gather

Five: Harsh Solutions

Six: A Storm Approaches

Seven: The Storm Arrives

Eight: Counterstrokes

Nine: Struggle for Freedom

Ten: A New Order Commences

Reading Group Guide

Connect with the Author

Brian's Other Books

# What Happened Before

Editor's Note

This is book 3 of the _Robot Horizon_ series. If you haven't read books 1 and 2 – _Return to Mech City_ , and _Expedition Westward_ – please visit my website or obtain copies from the store where you found this volume. You'll enjoy the following story better if you know what happened before.

Well, okay, if you don't want to do that, here are thumbnail sketches of the previous volumes:

Return to Mech City

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.

Expedition Westward

This book covers the harrowing journey to the West Coast in search of Dr. Jerry Che. After much tribulation, including a battle with a murderous cult of human survivors, Winston's conversion is accomplished. He is now fully functional and covered with a 'Nordic Hero' epidermis resembling Ivan Drago from the 20th century _Rocky IV_ movie – somewhat downsized, of course.

The following story begins with Star and Winston returning to Mech City from the west coast. Enjoy . . .

# One: Pilgrims' Return

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."

# Two: Threats in Various Flavors

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?_

8. Picking up the Pieces

The morning after Mayor's Appreciation Day, Winston and Jimmy conferred by the abandoned water diversion canal. Star hovered nearby but took no part in the technical discussion.

They stood near a large mound of dirt. At the bottom of the abandoned ditch, lay tools and equipment for a hundred laborers, but no one was present to wield them.

"What happened here?" Winston asked. "This seems a highly worthwhile project. Why did they go on strike?"

"The boys couldn't see any reason to be working so hard," Jimmy said.

Winston looked off toward the mid-sized river flowing nearby, then he glanced the opposite direction at the pond which had formed inside the massive bomb crater by Heroes' Square. The diversion project was intended to channel river water through the crater and out again, fashioning a pleasant lake out of the scummy pool.

"This _is_ gonna take a helluva lot of work."

"It's not like the REX Hotel renovation, Boss. They could watch the progress on it every day. But here... all they can see is a ditch."

"Yes," Winston said. "Keeping them motivated would seem to be a problem under such circumstances."

"They'd rather do another big building project," Jimmy said, "but there just aren't enough materials available. We'd need trucks to haul stuff from other areas."

Winston stooped and picked up a handful of dirt. He sifted the pebbly substance through his fingers. "We have to keep the men working, and if this is the only available project, then so be it."

"I agree."

"You know what happened before when everybody lost direction and purpose," Winston said.

A shudder rattled Jimmy's mechanism. "I know, Boss, I hauled a lot of the wrecks myself."

Prior to Winston's initial arrival in Mech City, the Che Syndrome had taken lethal hold among the inhabitants. Dozens of robots had destroyed themselves leaping from high places, many others became psychotic and wandered off to form scrapper gangs terrorizing the highways. Only the REX Hotel restoration project had saved the situation.

"It's a terrible weakness we have," Winston said, "but the humans weren't really much different."

"How so, Boss?"

"The moral and physical decay of idle poor people was well known in human times," Winston said. "Many urban areas became immobilized by crime, addiction, and despair."

"That's pretty scary."

"So it would seem," Winston said. "Yet even wealthy persons who lacked sufficient meaning for their existences declined into barbarism, duplicating the worst vices found in poverty stricken areas. There were numerous celebrities, for example, who experienced personal implosion despite 'having it all' by the standards of the wider society."

Winston raised a didactic finger.

"I believe it was Nietzsche who said: 'He who has a _why_ to live for can bear almost any _how._ '"

Jimmy listened tactfully, but Winston knew the prosaic construction robot was not following the arguments he was pulling out of his vast library banks.

"In summary," Winston said, "we must provide our residents with meaningful employment."

Jimmy nodded. "Sam's out rounding up the boys now. If we can get even some of them working again, maybe the others will follow."

"I would certainly hope so."

Iridium trotted up, clad in a new and dazzling coat of many colors. The shimmering hues motivated Winston to shade his optical sensors with one hand.

"Iri!" Star cried.

She wrapped her arms around the great canid and kissed his face. Iridium purred with satisfaction.

"Hello, Iridium," Winston said. "I see you've returned to your former luster."

"Do you like my new duds, pal?"

"It's not so much a question of _like_ ," Winston said diplomatically, "it's more a question of what's familiar."

"Ah, the true Iridium is back," Jimmy said.

Iri rolled his shoulders and turned his head from side to side nuzzling his new coat, like a vain human woman preening before a mirror.

"Did you get memory dumps from Jack and Quincy?" Star asked.

Iridium shook his head. "I've got enough recycled memories. I feel like I'm leading a double life, sometimes."

"Your situation appears to be analogous to that experienced by certain human movie actors," Winston said.

"How so?"

"Some actors had difficulty distinguishing between themselves and the roles they played. A draft evader could think of himself as a military hero, or a sexual reprobate could envision himself as a solid family man."

"Ooo!" Star said. "Tell me more about this 'sexual reprobate' stuff."

"Perhaps some other time."

Winston steered his monologue another direction. "One actor portrayed Abraham Lincoln in a movie. Even when they were done filming for the day, he'd stay in character, walking about in 19th century garb and stove pipe hat, dispensing unsolicited words of Lincoln-esque sagacity."

"That hat did nothing for Mr. Lincoln," Star said. "The poor man had no sense of style."

"In any case," Winston said, "people got so annoyed with the actor that somebody commented, 'All he's got to do now is get himself assassinated.' This brought some reality back to the situation."

Iridium was clearly baffled. His widened optical sensors projected an almost comic effect.

_I don't seem to be getting through_ , Winston thought.

"In reference to your personal circumstances, Iri," he said, "your character and appearance honor the old Iridium, while your actions carve out a new future which is exclusively your own."

The dumbfounded expression fled Iridium's muzzle. "That's it pal! You've sure got a way of putting things."

"Thank you," Winston said modestly.

"So, what are you up to now, Iridium?" Jimmy asked.

"I'm off to get Ajax. We're doing a security tour."

Dismay shot across Jimmy's mechanistic face. "Please don't bring him here!"

"Why not?"

"It was a disaster," Jimmy said. "Just as the boys were getting really tired of the project, Ajax showed up to 'encourage' them. Everybody quit and starting demanding he resign."

"Oh, I see."

"Ajax is so upright and honest that he just naturally ticks everybody off," Jimmy said.

"Check. I'll make sure we steer clear of this place," Iridium said.

"Thanks."

_This implies that I myself am not entirely 'upright and honest,'_ Winston ruminated. _Or, as Tennyson put it: "He is all fault who has no fault."_

Iridium trotted off, leaving an after image of color in the space behind him.

"I should head to the RDI now," Star said. "There are still lots of battle casualties to repair."

She kissed Winston on the cheek, then she strolled off waving her fingers.

"Bye-ee!"

"So long, Star!" Jimmy called after her.

What a fantastic woman!

All of Winston's circuits hummed an enjoyable tune.

9. Back to Work?

As if to acknowledge the departure of beauty, the wind abruptly shifted direction, carrying a fetid stench from the bomb crater pond.

"Ugh," Winston said. "We need to flush that out, the sooner the better."

"I wish Sam would get here already," Jimmy said.

"Maybe we should go help him round up the workers."

"Oh no, Boss. It's beneath your dignity to go out after them. Let them come to you."

"I suppose you're right."

"First they told you to get out," Jimmy said with great indignation, "then as soon things got a little tough, they demanded you come back. You need to let them know they can't have it both ways."

Winston nodded. _Jimmy's becoming a better politician all the time_.

"As for myself," Jimmy said, "I'm a little forceful at times. Sam's got a gentler touch; let him handle things."

* * *

An hour later, Sam returned with thirty robots in tow, all of them former canal project workers.

"These are all I could get, Boss," he said.

"Well done," Winston said. "This is an excellent start."

"They'll listen to what you have to say, Boss, but they don't guarantee they'll go back to work."

"That's all I'm asking. Thank you, Sam."

The workers lined up before Winston. Jimmy and Sam positioned themselves to the side, conferring in low voices.

"The Boss will handle everything, you'll see," Jimmy said, though he couldn't keep the doubt from his voice.

"If he can get this bunch of bums moving, I'll eat my operator's manual," Sam said, more bluntly.

_Don't blow it,_ Winston thought. _It's a long trip back to the West Coast._

He visualized a nightmare scenario of himself being driven away under a hail of stones and verbal abuse, fleeing to the RDI and picking up Star – the two of them, plus Iridium maybe, departing Mech City forever.

These robots standing before him represented the great masses who made or broke leaders, who had the shortest of memories and were strangers to gratitude.

To hell with all that. Man up, Winston!

The anthropomorphic irony of this admonition was not lost on him, even under the tense circumstances.

He began to speak: "I see this noble construction project has been abandoned. Can anyone tell me why?"

The robots shifted about and stared at the ground.

"It appears those of little vision have persuaded you this work is of no value." Winston gestured out toward the bomb crater pond. "Look over there, men. What do you see?"

All heads swiveled toward the pool.

"It's a real shit hole, Boss," one of the robots volunteered.

"Right! But with our united effort we can make it a thing of beauty." Winston spread his arms wide, his face assumed an ecstatic expression. "Clean, fragrant water, glistening under the sun. At night, the moon casts its beams over the peaceful surface."

Beneath his rapturous exterior, Winston retained cool calculation. He could tell by the distant looks in their optical sensors that some of the workers were getting sucked into the vision.

"Years from now, others will ask, 'Who created this wonderful lake?' And we can proudly answer, 'It was _us_ – all of us, together!'"

More robots climbed aboard the vision train.

"Picture it, boys," Winston said. "The world's first robot-made lake, sparkling proudly like a jewel with boats gliding over it and mermaids frolicking amid the waves."

"Mermaids?" someone asked.

"Yes!"

Winston extended a hand toward the east. "See the fantastic sunrise!"

All optical sensors fixed upon the fantastic sunrise. Behind the assemblage, more robots were entering the square and listening with rapt attention.

"We'll construct three... no _four_ villas upon the shore, one at every point of the compass," Winston jabbed a finger toward each section of the crater. Every head turned to follow his lead. "North... South... East... West. There they are!"

He paused dramatically to let the image sink in. Then he turned toward Jimmy, eyes glowing. "We can do that, right?"

"Sure, Boss!"

Jimmy pointed toward the uncompleted mayor's palace on the edge of Heroes' Square. "We can recycle materials from that."

Regret stabbed at Winston. The fabulous palace which was to have been his home – demolished! He pushed such considerations from his mind, and drove ahead.

"These villas will be occupied, on a revolving basis, by the workers who created the lake. Those who put in the best efforts will receive the longest time shares."

An excited murmur shot along the line of workers and was taken up by the growing mass of robots standing behind them.

"Yeah... I'm for that... let's go to it!"

"All right boys, who's with me?"

Winston dashed down the steep bank of the canal and seized a pick. He swung it lustily into the dirt. Jimmy and Sam clambered down after him. Soon, every robot followed, shouting the slogan popularized during the REX project:

"Maximum effort!"

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Jimmy spoke quietly into Winston's auditory sensor. "I think you've made your point, Boss."

"Right," Winston agreed.

He set aside his pick gratefully and began climbing out of the canal, followed by Jimmy.

"I've got to hand it to you, Boss," Jimmy said when they reached the top. "I didn't think anyone could get those guys moving again."

Winston smiled with deep satisfaction, but also a measure of uneasiness.

_Looks like I'm back in the hot seat_.

10. Things Going Very Cool

One week later

Winston sat down before the huge desk and pushed a sheet of paper across it toward Ajax.

"Here's the weekly report for your consideration, Mayor," he said.

Ajax perused the document. I told of progress on the diversion canal, maintenance work on the park fountain, and various other activities around town.

"Very good, City Manager," he said. "Everything seems to be in proper order."

He withdrew a rubber stamp from a drawer and banged it against the paper with enough force to nearly collapse the desk. Winston flinched back in his chair. A bold red APPROVED festooned the report.

"Is there anything else, City Manager?" Ajax inquired.

"Uh, no Mayor. That's it for now."

Ajax rose from his chair, towering almost to the ceiling. As always, Winston was taken aback by the Mayor's overwhelming presence.

Thank heaven this guy's on our side!

Ajax extended a massive hand. "Well then, until next week. Keep up the excellent work, City Manager."

Winston shook the hand cautiously, then headed for the door.

"So long, Mayor."

Ajax resumed his seat behind the desk and adjusted the gold medallion around his neck. He relished the status the mayor's job afforded him – the big office, the pent house suite, the deference he received from everyone.

Yet he also understood, through bitter experience, that he was no leader of robots. He lacked the common touch, the subtle approach; he was a general pain in the rear when it came to dealing with others. He had been designed as a guardian and defender, not a politician.

His real job was more of a co-security chief, working with Iridium to oversee Mech City's defenses. They kept 300 mech birds activated on a rotating basis – a sufficient number to provide aerial reconnaissance but not so many as to alarm the residents.

He and Iridium developed strategies to coordinate the mech wolves and the birds in a unified defense. He was confident that no scrapper gang, or even a sizable robotic army, could harm Mech City now.

Of course, a human incursion would be another matter. Absent any Che Syndrome derangement, Mech City's defenders would be powerless before a human onslaught. Such considerations were outside the scope of Ajax's programming, however.

He rose and crossed to the window, flexing his knees so as to lower his eyes to viewing level. He gazed out over Mech City – _his_ Mech City. An inspiration struck him.

"I should like to visit my old guard post. I have not seen it in some time."

He strode out the door and headed for the western outskirts of town.

The granite pedestal reposed in the middle of the traffic circle, just as he'd left it. The wooden sign was still attached to the base:

STRONGER THAN DIRT®

Ajax had created this sign back when he thought he'd been named after a scouring powder, before Winston Horvath informed him of his true, Greek warrior heritage.

I shall leave the sign in place, it indicates that I do not disdain a humble background. Humility is the essence of nobility.

The original plaque had been torn off by human vandals, and the bronze equestrian statue dragged away. When Ajax first took over the pedestal, it had been covered with obscene language and illustrations of human anatomy. Removing these disfigurements had been time consuming.

Ajax mounted the pedestal and stood proudly upon its apex, one hand on hip and his chin thrust toward the barren countryside west of the city. He was prepared to confront any intruders.

Ahhh – this is where I belong!

He dialed himself back to 'watchful waiting' mode and set his internal timer for one week ahead so he could be back at his office for the next conference with the city manager.

***

After the meeting with Ajax, Winston stopped at his own office to retrieve his clipboard and his yellow _BOSS_ hard hat. These were key talismans; they puffed him up bigger than he really was and inspired respect. Without a mech wolf troop backing his authority, Winston needed all the facade he could muster.

He didn't know the first thing about diverting rivers or building villas and had resigned himself to working around this deficiency.

Most of the human leaders didn't know what they were doing either. Besides, Jimmy has all the required knowhow.

He stood before the wall mirror and fitted the hard hat to his cranium, careful to displace his bristling blond hair as little as possible. Seeing his new face was still a jarring experience – the heavy jaw, the chiseled features, the pale skin. Dr. Che had designed this epidermis to resemble Ivan Drago from the 20th century movie _Rocky IV._ Winston was now a scaled-down version of the ferocious Soviet boxer.

This, too, was part of the facade. Beneath the intimidating exterior he was still the same Winston Horvath, scholar robot. He scarcely felt any different since his conversion, except for his new sexual capabilities, of course. But even there, he didn't _feel_ significantly different than before, he was just swinging a big stick.

Nobody noticed him at first when he arrived at the water diversion project. He stood quietly along on the rim of the ditch observing the work below – not too close to the edge, so as to avoid vertigo. Around him, the growing mounds of excavated dirt testified to the project's advance.

He was awed by the sight of a hundred robots swinging picks and digging with shovels. They were all so strong! Not to mention the raw physical power of Jimmy and Sam who were built for heavy labor. Winston was feeling very un-Ivan Drago like at the moment.

One of the workers noticed him. "Hello, Boss!"

Winston thrust both arms skyward, duplicating the power gesture Ajax had used on Mayor Appreciation Day. His right hand grasped the clipboard like a buckler.

"Maximum effort, boys!"

"Maximum effort!" the workmen shouted back.

Jimmy scrambled up the bank. "Good morning, Boss."

"Good morning. I must say, things seem to be going well."

"That they are. We're ahead of schedule." Jimmy placed his hands on his hips and looked proudly down at the laborers. "It's that villa idea of yours, Boss. I can scarcely hold some of the boys back."

"Glad to hear it."

"I've got some drawings ready," Jimmy said, handing Winston a roll of papers.

Winston unrolled the first sheet over his clipboard and studied the building sketched upon it. After what seemed an appropriate time, he expressed approval.

"Very good, Jimmy. Everything seems to be in proper order."

Actually, the technical drawing meant little to him, and his approval was strictly pro forma, as Ajax's had been earlier.

"I think we can put two residential units in each villa, condo style." Jimmy placed a stout finger on the paper. "Each one will have it's own private deck. See, Boss?"

"Excellent," Winston said. "Nobody will have to wait too long for his time-share to come around. We'll give first occupancy and extra days to the most efficient workers. We'll determine the rest of the rotation by lottery."

"Good thinking, Boss." Jimmy pointed off toward Heroes' Square. "If we dismantle the palace and recycle stuff from a couple other places in town, we should have just enough building materials for the condos."

Winston nodded, careful to avoid looking at his doomed palace.

Ah, what might have been!

11. Unexpected Gifts

For the next few hours, Winston played his 'guy in charge' role – looking official and jotting notes on his clipboard, conferring with Jimmy and Sam, strolling through the ditch 'supervising' the workers. All part of the facade.

"You're doing great, Boss," Jimmy told him. "The boys are impressed with appearances."

They were standing on the canal rim discussing another drawing when Star and Iridium arrived, along with two newcomers.

"Star, Iri!" Winston said. "How nice of you to come."

"Good afternoon, Star," Jimmy said, offering a courtly bow that seemed out of keeping with his angular bulk. "And you as well, Iridium."

Iri waved jauntily in acknowledgment. He turned toward Winston. "I brought you a gift, pal. Hope you like it."

He gestured toward two mech wolves standing some distance away. They looked to be typical examples, except for their coats. Instead of the usual gray, one sported pastel blue while the other was pink.

"I don't quite understand," Winston said with a certain amount of trepidation.

"This explains everything," Iridium said.

He shoved a paw into a pouch hanging around his neck and withdrew a sheet of paper wedged between two toes. He was apparently able to manipulate his paw with almost hand-like dexterity.

Winston unfolded the paper:

Young fellow,

I thought you might need some personal protection in your role as 'city manager,' so I refurbished these two brutes. They've been programmed to obey simple voice commands from you or the young lady. Try not to get too philosophical with them, however, since they only have the standard issue pea brain.

You really saved my scrawny old ass back at the Space Invader jail, and I figured I owed you. But now we're even Steverino, got it?

Edgar J. Rackenfauz, Ph.D. (double Ph.D., actually)

"Aren't they precious?" Star enthused. "Come here, boys!"

The glowering mech wolves approached. Their coats did nothing to moderate their lethal appearance. Winston took a step back and contemplated a dive into the canal.

"Those are just the default hues," Iridium said. "If necessary, they can blend in with the background, same as me."

To prove the point, Iridium's shimmering rainbow coat began to change color. Soon, he was indistinguishable from the drab earth and stone.

"See?"

"That's very... reassuring," Winston said. The mech wolves were right next to him now. "Nice doggies."

"These are the new Fang and Ripper," Star said. "Do you like their coats? I picked the colors myself."

"They're charming."

Star indicated the pink wolf. "This one is Rippie. He's such a sweetheart!"

She knelt and wrapped her arms around the fierce creature.

"Can I keep him for myself, Winston? You can have Fang."

"Uh... sure. Anything you want, Star." Winston pointed to a pile of dirt some distance away. "Wait over there, Fang."

The mech wolf dutifully obeyed.

I'm glad to see he's compliant – for now, anyway.

Winston addressed Iridium. "Please convey my sincere thanks to Dr. Rackenfauz for his generosity."

"Will do, pal."

"What else is the professor up to these days?" Winston asked.

"He's fixing the merman now. After that, I don't know."

"Is there some way I can be of service?"

"Could be. Papa is very interested in studying the Che Syndrome. If you catch any scrappers or other abnormal robots, send them over."

"We have no examples at the present time," Winston said.

Then an idea occurred. Winston stroked his chin a moment mulling it over. "There is a possible alternative."

"What's that, pal?"

"You'll find some deactivated robots in Dr. Lindemann's old workshop. Fritz and Edwina, along with other members of the former Fascist Youth League."

"Yeah, I know about them from my memory dumps," Iridium said.

"They became contaminated with Roboto Fascist ideology. Dr. Rackenfauz might find it interesting to deprogram them."

"Thanks, pal, I'll tell him. See you around, everybody!"

Iridium trotted off toward the RDI.

"Is that such a good idea, Boss," Jimmy asked. "Those kids were pretty mean, even before they became Fascists."

Winston waved his hand breezily. "No problem, we can rely on Dr. Rackenfauz."

"Okay, Boss. Guess I'd better get back to work."

With another courtly bow toward Star, Jimmy descended into the canal.

"He's quite a fellow," Winston said. "I'd be lost without him."

"It's so nice to have everybody together again," Star said. "And now, even Rippie is back."

She stroked the mech wolf's head affectionately, and his ferocious countenance softened a tiny bit.

"I've been wondering about this new Iridium," Winston said.

Star looked up from her pet. "How so?"

"He's much less touchy and sarcastic than the old one. Why should that be, considering their brain units and programming are identical?"

"I think it's because Dr. Rackenfauz activated him," Star said, "and we were there, too. He knew from the beginning who he was, that others loved and valued him."

"That makes sense. The old Iridium was activated by Dr. Blake, which was a source of great trauma for him. Even when he subsequently learned Dr. Rackenfauz was his true creator, the alteration to his personality was fixed."

"Yes, that must be it," Star said.

She recalled her own brutal activation amid a roomful of salivating mech heads – the pornographic orgasma machine trials, the obscene nature of the whole process. She was supposed to have been gently activated by Jerry Che himself, imprinted from the start to love and desire only him. Instead, she was violently yanked online, like a whore.

_Is that what I am?_ she wondered.

No, not that, but her sexual appetites were clearly out of control.

Despite her deep commitment to Winston, she could not avoid ogling every male that came in sight, and even the Squish Girls were irresistible. She would accept pretty much anybody who wanted to have sexual relations with her. Who knew what would happen once Merman was activated?

She couldn't help herself. She was _hypersexual_ she was a . . . _nymphomaniac_.

Such terrible sounding words! Winston was so understanding, but how long would that last? She couldn't change on her own. Only Dr. Jerry Che might be able to help, and he hated her more than anything in the world.

Oh, well, let's just make the best of things.

"How about taking off the rest of the day for a little tryst?" she suggested.

Winston smiled. He looked down at the laboring robots in the canal, then back to Star.

"We've both been awful busy since we got back," she said. "You being city manager and me doing repair work. Don't you think it's time for a little recreation?"

"Yeah!" Winston yanked off his _BOSS_ helmet. "Let's go."

"Oh, leave that on, Big Boy. I've got a new routine that'll drive you wild."

Hand in hand, they strolled off toward their love nest in the upscale section of town. Fang and Ripper followed dutifully behind.

12. Days of Pain and Glory

Mech City came into view under the dim sun, nestled in its little valley among deforested hills and bracketed by two small lakes. Sister Reedy allowed herself a brief period of rejoicing.

"YAAAA!"

She performed a frenzied dance in the middle of the road, pumping the assault rifle over her head.

"Kill them all! Slaughter the demon spawn!"

She was a figure of demonic energy in the fading light – tall and angular, her red hair shooting from her skull in frizzled strands, a mad expression of hatred and exaltation contorting her face.

"Thank you for guiding me here, Heavenly Father. I promise not to fail in this holy mission."

She burst into a hymn for the slain Messiah:

Father is God!

In every part of His transcendent being.

Deep in our souls,

We do believe.

Father is God! God! God! God! God!

But the lyrics failed to satisfy. Was she losing her sacred fervor? Nonsense! She was just tired and overwhelmed with the scope of her achievement. Once she got into town tomorrow and began destroying the demon spawn, her old lust for the Cause would return.

"I'm back here again, after all these years. Mysterious are the ways of the Heavenly Father."

Dusk was descending, time to rest. She located a well-concealed spot amid the dead underbrush of the road ditch and covered herself up. Birds flew overhead but did not discover her hiding place.

For a long while, Sister Reedy lay on her back staring into the darkness, recalling her life with the Holy Temple of the Transcendent Vision – especially the period after they'd been expelled from Mech City by an arsonist mob . . .

They'd wandered the country, never stopping long in one place. Whenever they tried to establish a new temple, the local population turned against them, forcing them to move on. The chief acolyte, William Camp, was largely responsible for this hostility. Rumors of secret "blood rituals" leaked out, enraging the locals.

Sister Reedy knew little about these rites. She was totally devoted to the Messiah – Father – on a personal basis, with only passing regard for religious doctrine. She'd dropped her other addictions and devoted herself exclusively to him.

While he was still a boy, she'd initiated the Messiah with her vast knowledge of the sexual arts. Yet over time, he came to her less and less often, preferring the favors of younger women in the temple community. Sister Reedy made sure to become pregnant before he lost interest in her altogether.

The birth of Roddy Jr. changed everything, giving her a new cause to which she could devote herself. She pampered the boy, grooming him to be the earthy successor when the Messiah departed this world for his heavenly abode. And then came that terrible day with the Nectar of Truth . . . She forced her mind from that dark passage and tried to think only about the brighter times at Pickle Lake Temple.

They'd finally gained refuge there, away from the hostility of the wider world. That world was dying amid wars and epidemics. It was the end of times, as Father had always predicted.

The Temple's apocalyptic message resonated during this chaotic period, and their numbers had swelled greatly by the time they reached Pickle Lake. The Messiah began talking of a "holy winnowing" during which the Heavenly Father would choose only the best and most dedicated believers to enter the "place of final refuge."

Sister Reedy thought the winnowing day had come when the biker gang appeared. As an Apostolic Guard, she'd been patrolling the lower slopes when the heathen pulled up by the trail head on their infernal machines. Forty men and thirty women. She radioed this alarming information to Chief Acolyte.

The heathen women stayed behind with the bikes, guarded by some of their men. The bulk of the heavily armed males hiked up the trail toward the Temple with Sister Reedy slinking along behind.

The invaders walked into a hail of grenades and automatic weapons fire from the Apostolic Guards. Chief Acolyte conducted the ambush with utmost brutality, using a human shield of new recruits to screen the maneuverings of the Guards.

The infidels broke and fled, leaving behind many of their number. Sister Reedy gunned down four of them herself.

"Capture the women!" Chief Acolyte shouted. "Father says to capture the women!"

They chased the enemy survivors down to the parking lot, but the heathen were already upon their bikes and roaring away. The Guards fired a few parting shots. Two women tumbled off the bikes and were captured. All the other females got away.

"Damn!" Chief Acolyte spat. "Father is going to be disappointed."

He trudged uphill in a foul temper to inspect the enemy casualties. The slain were the lucky ones. Chief Acolyte brought the wounded infidels to the tower's uppermost chamber – screams echoed for many hours.

They stripped the abandoned bikes of anything useful, then dumped them into a valley. The infidel corpses were piled on top and burned. The "sacrificial lambs" who'd comprised the human shield were buried in pleasant surroundings with a blessing from the Messiah himself.

13. The Final Horror

Outside their mountain redoubt, the world continued to unravel.

Tele-view reports had long since ceased. Computers went dead. Radio stations vanished from the airwaves, and finally the old-fashioned shortwave operators became silent. Their last reports spoke of chaos and despair bought on by a virulent "final plague."

As the last messages from the outside petered out, the Messiah made his pronouncement while standing with his followers upon the shores of Pickle Lake – the Sacred Sea:

I have seen, by revelation from the Heavenly Father, the annihilation of this sinful world. The only righteous survivors of the 'final plague' will be those who take refuge with me in the cave that I have been shown.

The cave is what drew us to this spot. We will stay inside it until it's safe to come out. We will then be the only virtuous people still in existence. All others will be evil and damned – unless they join our Cause.

We will begin a truly ideal society, just as you see here. Our Temple family is what life will become all over the world – if we stick together and do not abandon the Holy Cause.

My prophecy includes 8 time cycles. We are in the 7th cycle now.

He elaborated the time cycles:

**One:** Holy Temple of the Transcendent Vision founded by divine revelation

**Two:** Proselytizing of the first converts

**Three:** Establishment of Mech City temple

**Four:** Expulsion from Mech City by unbelievers

**Five:** The nomadic years

**Six:** Establishment of Pickle Lake temple

**Seven:** End of the old world

**Eight:** Glorious rebirth

Sister Reedy's involvement stretched back to the second time cycle. She'd been a college drop out, corrupted by drugs and prostitution, when she first encountered the Holy Messiah.

She'd been looking for her next trick among the crowd of gawkers amassed around Him in the square when she'd heard the divine message. She immediately jettisoned her former vices and followed Him unquestioningly through all the remaining time cycles – and into the bright new future waiting for them after the cave.

One further test remained, the Messiah said. The Heavenly Father commanded that all must partake the "Nectar of Truth" to prove their worthiness. The Messiah himself would provide all members with a drink of harmless fruit crystal juice. It was up to the Heavenly Father to determine if this libation would take a different turn.

A frightened babble ran through the temple members, but the sudden appearance of armed Apostolic Guards silenced them. Sister Reedy was rather surprised she was not called upon to help render this service, considering her resolute performance during the battle against the biker invaders. But it was not her place to second guess divine revelation.

The guards were the first to partake the Nectar of Truth, and all of them passed. Then they, along with Chief Acolyte, circulated among the congregation giving nectar to each member. Anyone who balked was persuaded to cooperate at the end of a gun barrel.

Many survived the test. Many others crumpled in agony after partaking the Nectar and died upon the lake shore. It was a ritual of terrible solemnity. Never had Sister Reedy felt closer to the fearsome power of the Heavenly Father. With her own hands, she bore the cup of Nectar to her son, convinced beyond any doubt that he would survive the trial... but he didn't.

She was so devastated that she had to be carried into the cave where she remained for months in a virtual comatose state. The cave was actually the castle basement and wine cellar which extended deep into the native rock and thence to an eerie natural cavern pool.

Only the most loyal and trusted guards ventured outside to reconnoiter the land, protected by a special anti-plague blessing from the Messiah. These observers reported seeing a man in a white coat being borne into the castle by masses of birds. The birds had a demonic quality that did not seem of the natural world. They also lugged crates up to the temple and hauled away the corpses of those who had failed the great winnowing.

This development terrified the inhabitants of the Cave and squelched any sentiment for leaving prematurely. Father commanded them to hold firm and outwait the evil. The world would be theirs if they just kept faith with the holy Cause.

A few months later came an even more astonishing sight. Three creatures were hauled up the slopes by the birds – all of them demon spawn machines. One was a wolf-like creature, another a blue biped, and the third a very human-like woman.

Father's eyes flashed when he heard about the woman, but he still held his followers in check. A few days later, all of the intruders departed the Temple.

Only then did Father allow the elected ones to emerge from the cave. As they combed through their reclaimed Temple, they discovered a workshop in the left wing. It was a demon spawn laboratory – a place where unholy sentient machines were created!

Father ordered its immediate destruction. Sister Reedy took part joyfully, smashing the works of the devil with savage vengeance. Since the death of her son, she was a holy terror, fanatically dedicated to the Cause with nothing else to live for.

Through the crimson haze obscuring her vision, something fluttered out of her past – a small desk placard reading:

Edgar J. Rackenfauz,

double Ph.D.

No... it can't be!

She kicked the item away into a pile of wreckage.

And so things stood as they gathered themselves for a return to the wider world and the spreading of the one true Faith to all its corners. Then the demon spawn returned, along with the Death Star, and everything came apart.

14. Revenge Comes Calling

As dawn broke on the overcast horizon, Sister Reedy prepared for the final trek into Mech City and the consummation of her sacred pursuit.

She loaded the extra grenades and ammo clips into a knapsack, then dumped everything else on top of her sleeping bag and set the pile on fire. She munched her morning rations as the flames consumed all traces of her past existence; then she tossed the leftover food onto the burning heap. There would be no need for nourishment after today.

Striding into the middle of the road, she thrust her assault rifle above her head with both hands and turned her face skyward.

"Bless these arms today, Heavenly Father. Make them an instrument of Your will. Deliver the demon spawn woman unto me so that I may exact divine vengeance!"

To this she added an equally fervent silent prayer: _And once my holy mission is completed, may I not survive another day in this world of pain._

She shouldered on the knapsack and hung her little binoculars around her neck. Then she examined the attachments on her Sam Browne belt a final time – automatic pistol, grenades, water bottle – everything in order.

Sister Reedy coddled the assault rifle in her arms and began walking, like some lethal Madonna and child.

Reedy was nearing the town's western outskirts when she spied two creatures dashing along the road toward her. She raised the binoculars for a better look.

"Hmmm, I've seen such things before, back at Pickle Lake Temple."

The creatures moved at great speed, sparks flying where their claws impacted the pavement. They slowed to a cautious walk when they came within a dozen meters. Sister Reedy lowered the binoculars and gripped her assault rifle.

She could see them quite clearly now. They had the appearance of large timber wolves with reddish eyes that glowed with evil. Their coats bristled dark gray, and large fangs protruded from their mouths.

Works of the devil!

They moved to within a few meters of her and stopped, baring horrific yellow fangs that looked strong enough to tear off her leg with a single bite. Deep growls rumbled in their throats.

Sister Reedy knew the robotic monstrosities could not attack her; their programming simply would not allow it. Hadn't she manhandled others like them at Pickle Lake with impunity? And if she was wrong on that score, there was always the assault rifle.

Clearly, they were scouts out on patrol, warding the town against intruders. She considered blasting both of them, but the racket might alert other robotic inhabitants to her presence, endangering the surprise element. She decided on a more underhanded approach.

"Hello, poochies." She motioned them forward. "Come to Sister."

The growling stopped, the eyes softened a slight bit.

"Ooo," she crooned. "Come closer, boys. I won't hurt you."

They drew nearer until they were standing quite close, gazing up into her face.

"Yaaa!"

She crashed her rifle butt against the nearest one's head; the creature tumbled away. She aimed another blow at the second mech wolf, but the thing was already running down the road back toward the city.

Sister Reedy squeezed off a shot, missed. She fired twice more without success. The mech wolf became a diminishing speck in the distance.

"Damn!"

She turned savagely on the fallen wolf. Its head was dented in, but the abomination could still move. It had already dragged itself away some distance.

"Not so fast, you!"

She chased the thing down and clubbed it's head repeatedly with the rifle butt until it was just a broken pile of components. Then she jogged off toward the town.

15. Fountain Follies

Star and Winston entered the little park, walking languidly hand in hand. In his free appendage, Winston toted his clipboard and his yellow _BOSS_ construction worker helmet.

After several hours of sexual fireworks, they were content. Even Star's mighty libido was satisfied, for the moment.

"You remember this place, don't you, Winston? We had our very first talk right here."

"How could I forget? A whole new world opened up for me that night."

"Let's sit by the fountain again."

They crossed to a large fountain in the center of the park, Fang and Ripper following obediently. Despite their colorful coats, the mech wolves were so unobtrusive as to be almost unnoticeable.

Jets of water shot into the air from the fountain's center and foamed back down in a noisome cascade. It was a delightful noise.

"This looks wonderful," Winston said. "Jimmy did a great job fixing it up."

"Yes, there's only one Jimmy."

They sat down on the ledge surrounding the fountain, hands still clasped. Winston disentangled his fingers from Star's and wrapped an arm around her waist.

"It sure is great to be back," he said. "I've had all the travel I can handle for a while."

Star kissed his cheek. "Every place is fine with me, as long as you're there, too."

They snuggled together like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. All seemed right with the world. Star decided to throw some ambiguity into the situation.

"The trial period is over now," she said.

"Trial period?"

"Yes. The original deal was that, if you were dissatisfied with your conversion after one week, we'd ask Dr. Rackenfauz to switch you back to your old self."

"Oh, yeah," Winston said. "I remember you mentioning that."

"Well, the week has passed already. Do you want to switch back?"

"No!"

"Ooo, I love it when you talk that way."

Winston sighed contentedly and gazed out across the park to the city beyond. He'd be lost in his great plans again, Star knew, and she determined to leave him to his ruminations.

She detected some movement among the fountain bubbles. Suddenly, a beautiful face surrounded by flowing blond hair emerged. It was Pixie, one of the squish girls.

Star gasped. The roiling water muffled the sound, and Winston took no notice.

A second squish girl, Sprite, poked her head out of the water; she was very similar to Pixie, but with jet black hair. Then a redhead appeared – Bubbles. All of the squish girls possessed large, seductive optical sensors which were fixed directly upon Winston.

Star frowned and wagged a scolding finger. Her lips formed a voiceless: " _No, no, no!"_

The mermaids giggled, covering their lower faces with their porcelain-like hands. They disappeared below the water once more.

Star was not prepared for what happened next. A male face of almost unbearable handsomeness arose from the water followed by a muscular torso. It was Merman, back in commission!

Jack and Quincy must have brought him here after Dr. Rackenfauz fixed the gunshot damage. And, of course, he needed his girlfriends; so the squish girls were in residence, too.

A grin spread across Merman's chiseled features, revealing perfect teeth from which a bright gleam reflected into Star's eye. She felt an irresistible urge to jump in after the aquatic hunk.

"Oh!" she cried.

"What?" Winston said.

He turned toward Merman. Star managed to restrain her lust... barely.

"Well look who's here." Winston offered a hand to Merman, who shook it with great formality. "How are you doing, friend?"

Merman smiled politely and bowed, then he splashed away to join the squish girls.

"I don't think they talk much," Star said.

"So it would seem. Looks like Dr. Rackenfauz did a fine job repairing him."

Now that Merman was out of sight, Star could think with some clarity. "It must be pretty cramped in there. When will the new lake be ready for them?"

"I'll be discussing that with Jimmy today. He's had to revise the construction timetable; we're ahead of schedule, you know."

"That's good."

Winston stood and placed the helmet on his cranium. "Well, guess I'd better get to work," he said reluctantly.

"Do you have to go right now?"

"The boys will be getting restless if I'm not there. Duty calls, I'm afraid."

Star popped her foot out of her shoe and stroked her toes along Winston's inner thigh.

"How was the 'duty call' last night?" she asked seductively.

Iridium's urgent voice coming from the park entrance ended the pleasant interlude.

"Found you, pal! Something bad's come up."

Winston strode across the park. "What is it, Iri?"

Star snatched up her shoe, but before she could put it on, a compelling male presence gained control of her. Merman was at her side, gazing amorously out from the water.

"I-I have to leave..." Star said, but was unable to resist the allure of the lusty creature.

He reached his hands into her hair and brought his lips into contact with hers. She melted into his arms. The soft hands of the squish girls caressed her flanks. Next thing Star knew, she was being pulled into the fountain. She disappeared below the bubbling surface.

Ripper dashed over to investigate, but Pixie stroked a soothing hand along his muzzle and he instantly calmed. Then he, too, was drawn into the water.

The scene at the park entrance was anything but calm.

"We've been invaded," Iridium said. "I've got the report from one of our guards."

He punched a button on the mech wolf controller strapped to his leg. Winston stooped to observe the tiny screen.

"Oh, man."

The screen replayed a recording of the mech wolf's encounter with a human – including an attempted clubbing and the destruction of a second mech wolf.

"That's Sister Reedy!" Winston gasped. "You know who she is?"

"Yeah. She's in my memory dump."

Terror vibrated in all of Winston's circuits. There could be only one reason for the appearance of this horrible person – she meant to destroy them. And Star was target number one.

He spun around toward the fountain. "Star!"

She was gone. Only her discarded shoe testified that she had once been present. Winston's fear increased exponentially.

"Star!"

He rushed to the fountain in a panic. Star's head emerged from the water. She wore an expression of transcendent delight.

"Hi, Winston," she said. "Come on in, the water's marvie!"

Winston stared at her, aghast; she reached out her arms for him, her naked breasts floating in the water. Squish girls popped up beside her giggling, and in the background near the waterfall, lurked the nefarious Merman.

"What the... h-how..." Winston spluttered.

"Poor Winston," Star crooned. "Whatever is the problem? Hop in, relax a little."

Awareness of Mech City's deadly peril burst through Winston's outrage. "We're being attacked, that's the problem! Sister Reedy's here, from Pickle Lake."

Star jolted out of her reverie. Her optical sensors popped wide open, and she cast them about the water as if seeing it for the first time. In a flash, she jumped out of the fountain, displaying her magnificent nudity to full view. Ripper came splashing out after her.

"My clothes, hurry!" she cried.

Squish girls handed over the soaked items. Star rung them out and began putting them on.

"Go to the RDI with Iridium," Winston commanded. "Stay there."

"No. I'm coming with you."

"We need Dr. Rackenfauz's help. You must convince him to come."

"Let Iri do that."

Winston shook his head emphatically. "He can't. You're the only one who knows directly who Sister Reedy is. Tell the professor that everyone's in danger, including him."

"Oh, all right." Star was fully dressed now. "About this, uh... little diversion – "

"We'll discuss it later. Now, go!"

"Okay, you don't have to yell."

Winston ran out of the park, holding onto to his _BOSS_ helmet to keep it from flying off in his haste.

"How do you like that, Iri?" Star said. "He couldn't even say good-bye."

"Please, Star. There isn't time for niceties."

"I suppose you're right."

Star pointed an accusing finger at the merbots in the fountain. "The sooner we can move you into the lake, the better."

Then she was off running toward the RDI with Iridium and Ripper.

16. Confrontation

When they heard the gunshots with their fine-tuned avian ears, all active mech birds abandoned their patrols and headed straight for Ajax on the town's western border. Ajax himself emerged from watchful waiting mode into full awareness as a terrified mech wolf ran past his position.

"Something appears to be amiss," he declared.

Ajax switched to tele-optics and peered out to the wasteland beyond Mech City. A lone bipedal figure was trotting along the road toward him.

"I must see to our defenses!"

Ajax prepared to jump down from the pedestal, but something about the approaching figure froze him in place. Its movements were too irregular, lacking robotic precision. And it appeared to be carrying a rifle. No robot, not even those in the clutches of the Che Syndrome, could handle a firearm. Clearly the interloper was a human being.

Ajax found himself quite unable to move. All notions of countermeasures exited his brain unit. He could do nothing to oppose the will of a human being.

The mech birds arrived and formed a swirling cloud above his head.

"Hello, my friends."

They organized themselves into a lifting battalion and prepared to hoist him into the air.

"No! I must confront this peril whether I can oppose it effectively or not."

The birds gave up their effort and returned to their patrol, cheeping furiously.

* * *

Sister Reedy slowed her pace to avoid collapsing from exhaustion. Keeping to a brisk walk, she approached a pedestal with a massive figure standing upon it.

_Heavenly Father!_ _What is this abomination?_

She halted and raised her binoculars. The pedestal occupant appeared to be some type of science fiction character. She'd seen such things on cinéview posters in the days before the Great Fall – "robot heroes" they'd been called. The corrupted youth of that period loved such monstrosities.

Hundreds of black birds circled above the unholy thing, like the ones she'd seen at Pickle Lake. They, too, must be robotic. She lowered the binoculars and patted her assault rifle.

"I've got something for you, Mr. Comic Book Hero."

She continued at a cautious pace, rifle locked and loaded. She was almost up to the pedestal when the birds dropped to the ground in front of her. By some demonic process, they formed themselves into a single, towering humaniform being. It held out a restraining hand.

"Get outta my way!"

A quivering ran through the creature, but it remained standing. Sister Reedy yanked a grenade off her belt and brandished it.

"You want one of these? Now scat!"

The bird creature suddenly exploded into its component parts and took to the air.

"Stay up there, if you know what's good for you!"

Sister Reedy approached the pedestal and read the sign attached to it:

STRONGER THAN DIRT®

What the hell?

She craned her neck to take in the massive figure towering above. "Hey you! Mr. Stronger than Dirt!"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Get your iron butt down here, demon spawn."

The abomination began climbing down the marble plinth.

"My name is Ajax, ma'am," it said when it reached the ground. "And my 'butt,' as you call it, is not composed of iron but of exotic metals and various high-strength nonmetallic amalgams."

"Whatever. I'm looking for a robo-slut called Star. You know where she is, Iron Butt?" She glowered at the gold medal hanging around the demon spawn's neck. "Or should I call you _Mayor_ Iron Butt?"

Ajax did not reply. Its huge mechanism trembled. Sister Reedy aimed her gun at its chest.

"Speak up, or I'll blow you apart!"

Ajax would have much preferred to be blown apart than comply with the demands of this horrible individual, but his programming simply would not allow it. His trembling abated; he found himself talking:

"I do not know her exact whereabouts at this moment, ma'am. She spends much of her time at the Robotics Development Institute or at the water diversion project."

"Which one is closer?"

_Stop it Ajax!_ But he couldn't stop.

"The water diversion project is the closer of the two, ma'am."

"Take me there."

Against every effort of his will, Ajax began walking. The mech birds followed his progress from above, and the grotesque human brought up the rear.

_May the Great Technician in the Sky forgive my actions_.

* * *

Inside the canal, workers hacked away with picks and shovels making slow, painstaking progress. Dust and grit flew in the dry air, coating everyone with a brownish patina.

Jimmy approached Sam.

"I wish the Boss would get here," he said. "The boys are slowing down."

"Yeah. Without him around, the 'Big Vision' disappears and all the boys can see are these dirt walls."

"It'll be all right," Jimmy said. "The Boss will be here soon."

As if in mockery of this optimistic assessment, the massive figure of Ajax appeared at the top of the canal.

"Oh no," Sam groaned. "Look who's here."

"I hope he's not planning to give one of his 'pep talks,'" Jimmy said. "Nothing's worse than that."

But something a great deal worse appeared next, stepping from behind Ajax – the ferocious personage of Sister Reedy. Jimmy recognized her from remarks the Boss had made.

"Yow!"

The workers all looked up, startled.

"What's the matter, Foreman?" one of them asked.

Jimmy could only point with numb horror up at Sister Reedy. The workers let out a collective gasp.

Ohhh!

"You down there!" Sister Reedy shouted. "I'm looking for the robo-slut. Is she around?"

"Who?"

"Star, the Damned One!" Sister Reedy shrieked. "Get her for me."

Although he could not fight a human being, neither did Jimmy possess the pedantic, hyper truthful programming of Ajax.

"Nuts!" he shouted.

Sister Reedy slung her assault rifle over her shoulder and yanked a grenade off her belt. "Help me find her, or I'll blast the lot of you!"

The workers cringed with terror. Jimmy spoke to them in a low, firm voice. "Anybody makes a move to help her, I'll break him in half."

"Okay, you asked for it," Sister Reedy said.

She reached for the grenade pin. A mellow voice coming from behind interrupted her in mid-pull.

"Perhaps I can be of some assistance."

Reedy spun around and gaped at the figure standing before her. She clipped the grenade back onto her belt and simultaneously drew the automatic pistol.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

"I am the supervisor of this construction project, and I assure you there is no need for alarm."

17. Appeal to the Cavalry

As Star jogged along the street towards the RDI, flanked by Ripper and Iridium, her mind cleared. The hyper-sexual reverie that had gripped her with the merbots dissipated, and full awareness of her predicament sank in.

I must save Winston!

"You go on ahead, Iri," she said. "I'll be okay with Rippie."

"Right-o."

Iridium took off with a blinding burst of speed. Star's thoughts returned to Winston.

Don't worry, my love. I'll not fail you.

She increased to maximum speed. Ripper loped along at her side, his pink hairs flowing in the wind . . .

Star burst through the doors of the RDI main building and stopped her headlong flight. Were she human, she'd be on the verge of collapse; but she was strong and alert with every sense honed to a razor edge. Strident voices echoed down the hall.

"This way, Rippie."

She ran to the main workshop where a heated dispute between Iridium and Dr. Rackenfauz was in progress. She paused outside the open door.

"Dang it!" Dr. Rackenfauz was saying. "How many times have I told you, I _don't_ want to be involved in your political disputes?"

"Quite a few times, Papa, but this is more like the 'end of the world' exception you gave."

Rackenfauz threw up his hands in disgust; one of them was grasping a wrench. "Ach! If you've seen one end of the world, you've seen 'em all. What makes this one so special?"

He was standing beside a workbench containing a comatose robot that he'd apparently been working on. Jack and Quincy stood quietly nearby. Star entered the workshop. Everyone turned her direction.

"Iridium's right, Professor," she said. "This Sister Reedy person means to destroy us all, including you."

Rackenfauz fixed a withering gaze upon her. "What makes you so sure of that, young lady?"

"She came from that death cult at Pickle Lake. The ones who killed all those people."

Horror shot across Dr. Rackenfauz's face.

"So, it's not just _our_ dispute," Star said, "it involves you, too. These people are crazy. They blame robots for destroying the world."

An indignant expression came over Dr. Rackenfauz's face now. He squared his shoulders. "We didn't need any help with that, thank you."

"Don't you see? If they hate robots, they hate the people who made us even worse. They destroyed your workshop at Pickle Lake Castle."

"Is that so?"

"She'll come after you next," Star said. "Please help us!"

Dr. Rackenfauz stroked his chin for a few moments.

"Oh, all right." He tossed his wrench down with disgust. "I'll go check it out."

"Thank you, Professor."

Rackenfauz turned to Jack and Quincy. "Get the truck ready, we'll drive out there."

"W-we?" Quincy asked.

"Yes," Rackenfauz said. "If somebody has to get shot, it sure as hell ain't gonna be me."

The repair bots gaped at each other with obvious fear. Rackenfauz gestured to the comatose robot on the workbench.

"Switch this guy on, we'll take him with us." He pointed to a second deactivated robot on another bench. "That one too."

He made for the door.

"I've got to go fetch my arsenal."

* * *

Winston kept what he hoped was a benign and friendly look on his face, but his mind was in turmoil. Maybe he could trick Reedy into a wild goose chase after the 'robo-slut.' Play for time, hope that Rackenfauz showed up with some firepower – anything to protect Star!

Sister Reedy's eyes narrowed with suspicion, then a grin spread across her face. She barked a savage laugh.

"I know you," she said. "You look a hell of a lot different, but I'd recognize that voice anywhere."

"Ma'am?" Winston said with all the synthetic politeness he could muster. "I'm certain I don't understand what you're referring to."

"Come off it. You're the blue creature that came to Pickle Lake. You were with the robo-slut." Reedy aimed the pistol at Winston's head. "Adios, demon spawn."

Winston's mind went blank. He felt absolutely no concern for his own existence; only a single thought barged through to his numbed brain –

I must save Star!

Without conscious awareness of what he was doing, Winston flung out his right hand. It knocked the pistol from Sister Reedy's grasp and held on to her wrist. Winston threw his free arm around Reedy's shoulders and pulled her tightly against himself.

What's going on?

Somehow, he'd overcome the ultimate taboo and was fighting with a human – or at least restraining one. Winston's mechanism was sufficiently robust to control a strong human male, and this struggling, cursing female posed little difficulty.

"Damn you!" she screeched.

"Way to go, Boss!" Jimmy shouted up from the ditch.

The entire work crew shouted encouragement; even Ajax managed a subdued, "Hurrah."

Winston wanted to snap Reedy's arm, then bring up his fist and bash her head in, but he simply couldn't overcome his programmed restrictions to such an extent.

Good enough to hold her... until Dr. Rackenfauz gets here.

Sister Reedy gave up the struggle and went limp in his arms. Winston was not prepared for her next maneuver.

"Owww!" she wailed in a tiny, frightened voice. "You're hurting me... please stop."

Winston was impervious to all threats and curses, but this piteous entreaty penetrated to the depths of his programming. Against every effort of his will, he felt himself loosening his hold.

_No!_ his mind shrieked, but it was too late.

Sister Reedy wriggled from his grasp and dropped to the ground. She rolled away from him and regained her feet, assault rifle at the ready. Winston could only look on with horror.

Ajax stepped boldly in front of her. "I cannot allow this – "

Blamma-Blam!

Sister Reedy fired a burst into Ajax's chest. He crashed down like a slaughtered tree, sending shock waves through the ground.

Running faster than ever before in his existence, Winston dashed for a pile of earth which had been dug up from the canal. He dove behind it a split second ahead of a bullet cascade.

Blamma-Blamma-Blam!

What now?

A truck turned off the road and headed toward him.

18. The Cavalry Charge Arrives

The truck maneuvered across the job site, keeping Winston's dirt pile between itself and the canal. It pulled behind the mound just as a burst of gunfire peppered the exposed top of the van.

"Holy crap!" Dr. Rackenfauz cried from his place in the driver's seat.

He dove across the cab and exited the passenger door after Star – hampered, somewhat, by his weaponry.

Star rushed to Winston's side. "Are you hurt, my love?"

"No!" Winston replied severely. "What are you doing here? I told you to stay at the RDI."

"Hush, Winston." Star embraced him and kissed his cheek. "We're in this together, always."

Rackenfauz took up position at the edge of the dirt pile and limbered up his assault rifle. Jack and Quincy exited the van's back door and took positions beside him. Both repair bots looked badly shaken.

"How's the van?" Rackenfauz asked.

"Oh, it's nicely ventilated," Jack said.

"What about those other two robots? Are they still serviceable?"

"I don't think any bullets hit them," Quincy said.

"Get back in and activate them – zombie mode," Rackenfauz said. "Then bring 'em out here."

Jack and Quincy looked doubtfully at each other.

"Go on!"

The repair bots reluctantly left, just as another cascade of bullets struck the mound.

"Enough of that noise!"

Rackenfauz poked his assault rifle around the edge of the mound and fired a burst toward the canal.

Blamma-Blamma-Blam!

He picked up his shotgun and blasted a few rounds.

Ka-Boom! Ka-Boom! Ka-Boom!

"Maybe she'll think there's two of us."

Winston and Star remained at the other end of the mound, covering their aural sensors against the explosions.

Minutes of stalemate passed with occasional bursts of incoming fire striking the dirt pile and Rackenfauz answering with equally ineffective fusillades toward the canal. Each shot sailed over the comatose figure of Ajax lying between the strong points.

Jack and Quincy reemerged from the truck van bringing the two semi-conscious robots with them.

"Old Pete's looking a lot better with head reattached," Jack said.

"Yeah," Quincy said. "Good thing he doesn't know what's happening, or he'd want the thing unscrewed again."

They occupied space in the center of the mound, cringing at each blast of gunfire.

"Dang! This is getting nowhere." Rackenfauz yanked a hand grenade from his lab coat pocket. "If she was a bit closer, I'd give her a nice surprise."

From her position spread-eagled along the steep canal bank, Sister Reedy experienced similar frustration. Who was that over there putting up such a robust drumbeat of fire? A human, obviously, or perhaps more than one. It was common knowledge that not even the most deranged robot could handle firearms.

This is my day of trial, Heavenly Father. Give me strength!

Dr. Rackenfauz popped a fresh ammo clip into his rifle. "This has gotta stop. All I'm doing is busting my eardrums."

He took off his white laboratory coat and emptied the hand grenades from its pockets. Then he draped the garment off the end of the shotgun barrel.

"I'm calling for a truce, young fellow," he said to Winston. "Or rather, you're calling for it. You've got the big voice."

"I'm not convinced that this individual is open to rational discussion," Winston said.

"Just do what I say! When I want your opinion, I'll give it to you."

"Very well, Professor."

Rackenfauz poked his white 'flag' into view from behind the mound. Winston spoke at full volume.

"WE DESIRE A TRUCE!"

Sister Reedy's finger twitched on her rifle trigger. Her first impulse was to blast the white garment waving from the dirt pile, but she withheld her wrath.

Who is that person? Why is he siding with the demon spawn?

Perhaps she could persuade to come over to the side of truth. Why would any self-respecting human rate his existence as being of no greater value than those of robotic trash?

She shouted toward the earth mound: "Give me the robo-slut – the one called Star – and I'll leave you in peace!"

Dr. Rackenfauz turned his gaze on Star.

"No!" Winston shoved himself protectively in front of Star and spread out his arms.

Can I fight Dr. Rackenfauz? Can I get that gun away from him?

"She's lying, Professor. She'll come after you, no matter what."

Rackenfauz turned his attention toward the canal. "Who are you? Why do you care so much about some robot?"

The high-pitched, crackly voice drifting across the no man's land struck Sister Reedy a hammer blow. Her grip on her rifle went slack; she was quite unable to respond.

"Answer me!" the voice shouted. "I haven't got all day!"

Sister Reedy felt a tug from her previous life – when drugs and wild sex were the most important things. Back when she was partying away her college career, before she'd met the Messiah and damned herself with the foulest kind of murder.

Her throat went dry as death. She drank heavily from her water bottle. "Pr... Professor Rackenfauz! Is that you?"

A long moment of silence, then the voice replied. "That's right! Edgar J. Rackenfauz, Ph.D. – make that double Ph.D. Who the hell are you?"

"I'm Ruthie Milward. They called me 'Reedy' at school 'cause I'm so tall and thin... I was in your programming class."

Dr. Rackenfauz braced his back against the dirt pile and slid to the ground. "Well, I'll be damned."

Now it was his turn to stumble down memory lane, to the time when he'd taken a teaching a job to augment his inadequate salary as a robotics technician. Back when he was the despised, politically inept, gay genius at the bottom of the robotics development hierarchy. Those had been rough years, indeed.

He turned back toward the canal. "I remember! You were the 'class fuck.' Your number was on every lavatory wall." A pause. "Pardon my language."

"Yes... that was me," Reedy answered.

Rackenfauz mopped a handkerchief over his brow. "Who could have figured this?" He stroked his chin, deep in thought. "Why not? What have I got to lose?"

He turned back toward the canal. "Stay where you are, Reedy! I'm coming over."

A long pause with no sound except for the dry breeze stirring up dust. Finally, a reply from the canal: "Okay."

Rackenfauz shoved his lab coat at Quincy. "Put this on Pete, then form up. You're all coming with me."

"What?" Quincy gasped.

"You heard. Do what I say, or I'll turn you into scrap metal myself."

Quincy turned toward Jack. "Well... it's been nice knowing you. Whoever thought it would end like this, eh?"

Jack took the coat from Quincy's trembling hands and draped it over Pete's frame. "You're the best partner I ever had, Quincy. The only one, come to think of it."

"My sentiments, exactly."

They placed Pete and the second zombie-mode robot shoulder to shoulder and took places behind them.

"We're ready, Dr. Rackenfauz," Quincy said.

Rackenfauz shouted toward the canal: "These robots are harmless! I'm only using them for cover."

An almost indistinct "Alright" drifted back.

"Let's get going," Rackenfauz ordered.

Jack and Quincy held onto the two semi-conscious robots and pushed them ahead of themselves. Rackenfauz brought up the rear, crouching low, assault rifle at the ready.

"Don't do anything foolish, Reedy!" he shouted. "There's not many of us humans left, you know."

The strange group made it's way awkwardly across no man's land. Any moment, a hail of bullets might cut down the robots walking in front. Rackenfauz wondered if he'd have time to dive behind the wreckage and take cover before getting shot himself. He decided it didn't really matter to him a whole hell of a lot.

They paused a few meters from the canal.

Well, this is it, Edgar. Everybody's got to go sometime.

He poked his head out from behind the robots. "Reedy?"

Sister Reedy felt her entire world slip away at the sight of her old teacher's face. She was no longer in control of herself or under the divine sway. The Heavenly Father fade down a long, dark tunnel.

"What are you doing, my daughter?" He bellowed. "You're damning yourself!"

The Heavenly Father was gone now. In His place, the entire weight of the guilt and pain she's been staggering under for months came crushing down upon her. Yet, she managed to stand.

"Professor Rackenfauz... I..." She stumbled a few steps out of the canal. "I killed my little boy, Professor. I murdered my precious son."

The rifle slipped from her grasp. Her knees weakened.

Rackenfauz rushed forward and seized her in his arms as she gave over to soul-wracking sobs. "Hang on, Reedy!"

He looked at the robots staring up from the canal. "Anybody know how to drive a truck?"

"I do, Professor." Jimmy scrambled up the bank and stood to attention.

"Pull it around here and pick us up," Rackenfauz ordered.

"Check."

"And pick up Ajax, too."

"Right, Professor."

Jimmy jogged toward the parked vehicle.

"We'll go with you!" Quincy shouted.

He and Jack ran off, leaving the humans alone in the morning sun.

# Three: Groping for Stability

19. Request from Dr. Rackenfauz

The worksite had a subdued air. Recollections of the previous day's events were fresh in every brain unit, and Winston had not been able to stir up the usual state of enthusiasm.

He stood on the canal edge, clipboard in hand, observing the workers toiling below. Their previous gung-ho effort had turned slow and grinding.

_I hope this funk ends soon_.

At least they'd come back this morning. After the dramatic climax of the confrontation yesterday, the men had simply wandered off in a collective daze, not waiting on a formal dismissal. Winston had intended to give them the rest of the day off, of course, but his failure to take control of the situation had been a mistake.

Oh well, 'you can't always hit the nail on the head,' as Dr. Horvath used to say.

At times like this, it was a comfort to recall the wisdom of his former master. In his memory, he could see her glancing at him over her old-fashioned spectacles and dispensing sagacity.

Winston was in his own funk, generated by the knowledge that, if things had gone a bit differently, he would have lost Star forever. The terrible thought weighed him down like a huge pile of dirt.

Star was off standing by one of those piles, stroking Ripper's pink coat. She'd not gone to the RDI today because Sister Reedy now dwelled within its confines.

Astonishment crowded out Winston's gloomy reflections when Dr. Rackenfauz himself suddenly appeared at his side. "Professor Rackenfauz! This is an unexpected honor."

"Please cut the crap, Young Fellow. I have come to ask a favor."

Winston's politician mind kicked into overdrive. Here was something new: a human requesting assistance instead of just ordering it – Dr. Rackenfauz, no less. What advantages could be derived?

_Don't overplay this hand, Winston_.

It would be a good thing to put Dr. Rackenfauz in his debt, though. The professor knew how to repay favors, but he was also a volatile unknown with an obvious death wish.

"I'm delighted to be at your service," Winston said.

The professor hesitated, glancing back over his shoulder at Star. This was a Rackenfauz Winston had never seen before – uncertain, troubled, furtive.

"It actually concerns the young lady," Rackenfauz said, "but I figured I should speak to you as well, considering your... special relationship."

Winston frowned. "Yes?"

"Perhaps we should call her over," Rackenfauz said.

Star was already walking their direction. Her demeanor was serious. "What can I do for you, Professor?" she asked.

Rackenfauz gave a thin little smile. "It's about Reedy. She's in a terrible state, as you, no doubt, observed yesterday."

Star remained coolly focused despite the mention of that horrid name. "And you think I can help, somehow?"

"I'm at my wits' end," Rackenfauz said. "Reedy is convinced that she murdered her child at Pickle Lake. I can't believe that's true, but it's very real in her mind. Jack and Quincy have her on suicide watch."

"She didn't kill her boy," Star said matter-of-factly. "That 'messiah' wacko did."

A childlike expression of hope came over Rackenfauz's face. "You know that for sure?"

"Of course. He told me himself. He poisoned all the cult members that might 'betray' him."

Rackenfauz's demeanor was very different, Winston observed. The resentful fury that was always bubbling under the surface waiting to burst out had moderated into something like genuine concern. His hands trembled with excitement.

"This can be verified by your sensory recorder, then," he said.

"Recorder?" Winston cut in.

"Yes," Rackenfauz said. "In times of high stress, any robots goes into auto-record."

"I didn't know that," Winston said.

"It runs in the background without any awareness on your part. The audio and visual impressions are available to us for trouble-shooting purposes." Rackenfauz turned toward Star. "I'm assuming this information came to you during a period of high stress?"

"Very much so."

"Excellent!" Rackenfauz banged a fist into a palm. "Then let's get started. It's just a simple procedure, no more intrusive than the memory dump we did for Iridium."

Star cast a wary glance toward Winston. He felt a sudden outpouring of protectiveness for her.

"You don't need to do this, Star. You don't owe these humans anything; they brought all their own problems on themselves."

Winston was surprised at his own vehemence. The bottled-up rage he felt against Rackenfauz had finally come out – the various humiliations and diminishments, the cavalier attitude toward his very survival which Rackenfauz had displayed many times.

Winston's ability to restrain Sister Reedy had given him new confidence. He felt capable of snatching the submachine gun away from the professor and tossing it into the canal.

Profound sadness came over Rackenfauz's face. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. The man looked suddenly much older, beaten.

"It's all right, Professor," Star said. "I want to do it."

The light came back on in Rackenfauz's face. "Thank you, Young Lady! Let's get going."

He and Star began walking toward the RDI together.

Winston called down into the canal: "I'll be back in a couple of hours, Jimmy!"

"Right, Boss!"

He followed the two figures walking toward the RDI.

* * *

Star winced at Sister Reedy glowering at her from across the workshop. The human female sat rigidly in a chair, secured in place by a strap recycled from a worktable. Jack and Quincy stood flanking her.

Sister Reedy looked even worse than the day before. Bloodshot eyes stared out of a face pale as death, and her red hair, streaked with gray, sprang out from her skull with increased wildness. A snarl curled her lips.

Winston strode up to her. "Keep your evil eye to yourself!"

Reedy fixed her eyes to the floor. Cold fury radiated from her hunched figure. "Whatever you say, _demon spawn_."

Winston looked toward Jack and Quincy. "If she tries to make a move, yell _loud_."

"Will do," Jack said.

Winston moved across the small workshop to the bench where Star was already sprawled on her back with a cable running out of her cranium inspection panel.

He took her hand. "Everything will be fine, Star."

"Of course it will," Dr. Rackenfauz said. "There is absolutely no risk involved with this procedure." He made some adjustments to his monitoring device. "There, we've isolated the time period."

A few minutes passed during which Dr. Rackenfauz stared intently at the monitor, nodding his head occasionally. Then a smile took over his face. "Done!"

He disconnected the cable from Star's cranium and closed up her inspection panel. Her gorgeous hair covered over the spot again.

"Thank you, Young Lady," he said.

"Do you need her for anything else?" Winston asked.

"No. I've downloaded everything necessary."

"Let's go then, Star," Winston said.

Star sat up on the table and shook her head. "I want to see this, and I think you should, too. I don't want us to have secrets."

Winston looked toward the professor.

"It's fine with me either way," Rackenfauz said.

"Okay," Winston said.

He could not suppress a feeling of cold dread concerning what he might find out in the ensuing minutes. Dr. Rackenfauz dimmed the lights, and the drama began.

20. Nightmare Revisited

Images appeared on a viewing screen mounted to the far wall of the workshop. Synchronized audio emerged from a loudspeaker:

The 'messiah' enters a large room, striding past Iridium and two mech wolves. He looks haggard and drawn. Numerous cult members, including Sister Reedy, stand off to the side.

A strangled gasp from Sister Reedy accompanied the image; then she fell back into her chair, eyes gaping and her mouth wide.

Winston steps toward the messiah and bows. "Greetings, your leadership."

The messiah ignores Winston. He continues walking, stops close to the viewer. His eyes rove up and down.

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

"You can skip over this stuff, Professor," Star said. "Go to the part where he tries to choke me."

"Very well, Young Lady."

The screen went blank while Dr. Rackenfauz worked the control panel. The show resumed:

"Damn you!" the messiah cries.

His face is contorted with rage. His hands reach toward the viewer in a strangling grip. Then he cries out with exquisite agony. Star's hand can be seen gripping his crotch.

"That's it! You've got it now, Big Boy."

His arms drop. His face draws right up the viewer. He groans.

"Violence turns you on," Star pants. "Me too!"

The view pulls away. The messiah stands alone, stunned and disoriented. Star's hands can be seen, tearing off pieces of her clothing and tossing them aside.

"But it's danger that _really_ gets me hot," she says.

The view rotates toward a large open window. Rapid movement toward it. Star's bare foot mounts the ledge.

The view rotates back toward the messiah. He looks small, uncertain – his face is very pale.

"Come up here!" Star commands.

As if in a trance, he strips off his clothes and approaches with hesitant steps. His erection leads the way.

"That's a good boy," Star purrs.

Her hand reaches out and grips the erection. She guides him up onto the window ledge.

Winston's face was rigid with shock. He wanted to stand up and bolt for the door, but Star kept a firm grip on him.

Star's hand releases the male organ and gestures into the night expanses.

"Here it is!" she cries. "All yours for the taking – the earth, the heavens!"

"Yes!" the messiah shouts. "Yesss!"

He stands beside her, enraptured. His face is twisted with orgiastic delight.

The view rotates toward mist-shrouded Pickle Lake. Seconds pass.

"Over there," Star says in a quavering voice, "I-I see them."

"Who?"

"Your people... they're coming for you!"

The view switches to the messiah. Terror contorts his face, his eyes are wide. "W-where?"

The view returns toward Pickle Lake. Star's arm waves over it. "Out there, by the water."

Stunned silence blanketed the workshop. The wall screen showed Pickle Lake enveloped by unholy vapors. Ghostly images appear to swirl within them.

"No, it can't be... they're all dead!" the messiah cries. "I killed them myself. I gave them the poisoned chalice... they would have betrayed me."

He tries to dismount from the window ledge, but a loose stone gives way under his foot.

"Help!"

He reaches toward Star. Her hand moves toward him, then stops. Their fingertips brush. He falls, screaming.

An ear-splitting wail from Sister Reedy accompanied the dreadful images. "Monster! You murdered our child!"

She fainted dead away, tumbling over with her chair.

"My God, Reedy!" Dr. Rackenfauz rushed to the stricken woman and removed her restraining strap. "Bring some water, Jack."

Winston gripped Star's arm and helped her down from the workbench, using more force that he'd intended. "Let's get out of this place."

He held onto her tightly as they moved toward the door. If he dared let go, he'd likely fall over.

Images played across the wall screen – ghostly figures rushing out of the mist to greet their dead messiah sprawled upon the flagstones. They didn't look friendly.

* * *

Once on the street, Winston regained his stability. He released Star's arm and quickened his pace until he was several steps ahead of her.

"Are you mad at me, Winston?"

He stopped walking and turned. "No, Star, I'm not mad, I'm... I don't know what I am!"

"I did it for you. It was the only way to stop that lunatic. I knew the stone was loose. I wanted him to fall."

"I don't blame you for that. It's just... you seemed to enjoy it."

Star held out her hands. "I _did_ enjoy it, the sexy part at least. The killing part was horrible."

"But why, Star? Aren't I enough for you?"

"Of course you are, Winston. You're my one true love. I've never wanted anyone else."

Winston started walking again. Star caught up and remained at his side.

"I wish I could change, but I can't," she said. "It's the way I'm made, the way I was activated. I'm not sure if even Dr. Che could reprogram me."

"I suppose you've had 'special relations' with him, too?" Winston said.

Star nodded.

"And enjoyed it?"

Star nodded again. "He wouldn't have done your conversion otherwise."

"I figured there was something fishy about the way he was all banged up. You must have given him quite a ride."

"Oh, Winston, you make it sound so terrible."

"It _is_ terrible!"

They walked in silence for some blocks, neither of them looking up from the pavement. Finally Star spoke.

"Why don't we stop a while and talk this over?" She gestured toward the fountain park across the street.

"With your merbot friends again, eh?"

"Ohhh, I'm sorry, Winston. We could go someplace else."

"I really don't want to talk right now. I have to get back to work; we're falling behind schedule."

Winston quickened his pace and turned a corner toward the canal site, leaving Star alone in the street.

21. Combat Robot Debut

" _Make the world Che!" – personal motto of Che Sang Gyu, Ph.D. (a.k.a. Jerry "show me the money" Che)_

Colonel Reyes stood ramrod straight against the wall and confronted the robot standing silently before him. Mounted to the opposite wall, beside the viewing screen, a camera recorded his every move and comment.

"My name is Colonel Bradley Reyes," he said in a firm, steady voice. "I am supreme commander of the Home Defense Forces and head of the lawful government."

I feel like an idiot talking to that damned machine!

"My orders supersede those of all other humans. No one is allowed to countermand my directives."

He rotated slowly 360 degrees clockwise, letting the robot's optical sensors take in a full view from every perspective – the impressive bulk in its blue uniform, the lantern jaw and short-cropped hair. Then he put on his military cap and rotated 360 degrees the opposite direction.

"Now the floor angles, please," Dr. Che said.

Colonel Reyes dropped to the floor and rolled slowly, letting the machine ogle him with its soulless eyes.

"Are we finished now?"

"Almost," Dr. Che said. "Let's get some more voice print samples."

Reyes stood up and smoothed his uniform, along with his ruffled dignity. Text appeared on the screen across the room.

"Please read in a normal voice," Dr. Che said.

"Mary had a little lamb..."

The damn guy's trying to humiliate me!

"whose fleece was white as snow..."

After reading the poem and a few other brief texts, Reyes shouted a list of commands presented by the wall screen: "Halt! About Face! Cease Fire!"

"That should do it," Dr. Che said after Reyes had nearly shouted himself hoarse. "Thanks for your cooperation."

"Certainly."

Reyes glanced over at Lieutenant Liggett, who was standing unobtrusively off to the side. Was that a smirk on the man's face? Whatever it was, it instantly vanished.

Liggett was a handsome young buck, like Reyes 15 years earlier, only with blond hair. He was a good man, but needed to be shown his place now and then.

"Andy now has your complete visual and audio record," Che said, indicating the robot. "He will follow your orders and defend you under all circumstances."

Reyes rubbed his hands together. "Glad to hear that."

Che gestured to the camera on the wall. "I also have a backup version, if necessary."

"What's the next step, doctor?" Reyes asked.

"I need you to make similar audio-visual records for every member of your command, so the robots will recognize them. It's all explained in here."

Che handed over a manila folder.

"Once I have the recordings, I'll scan them into all the combat machines."

"Good work, doctor."

Che replied with a modest, self-deprecating gesture.

"Since we're already set up here, let's make another recording." Reyes turned a baleful glance toward Liggett. "Get over here, Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir."

Liggett stood against the wall beside the height chart, facing the impassive robot.

"My name is Lieutenant Paul Liggett..."

He went through the whole routine as Reyes stood off to the side, nodding approval. The Colonel even suggested a few extra rolls on the floor to make sure everything was just right.

When the Lieutenant was finished with his recording, Dr. Che gestured toward the door. "Shall we try a free fire exercise now, gentlemen?"

"Of course," Reyes said, "lead on, doctor."

Che exited with the robot and walked down the corridor toward the main lobby of his laboratory building. Reyes and Liggett followed some distance behind.

"What do you think, Colonel?" Liggett asked.

Reyes grunted. "I think we'd better be careful with this guy."

The colonel was not one to trust 'egg head technicians' overmuch, but he was in dire need of manpower to police the growing population of the city. Then there were those obnoxious Chinese! Who knew what kind of power play they had in mind?

He needed combat robots to help bear the public safety load. Now that the obstreperous Dr. Rackenfauz had departed, Reyes hoped he had a man he could work with in the person of Jerry Che.

Che was from Korea originally, so he probably had no more love for the Chinese than Reyes did. That was something to consider, but Reyes did not pretend to know Che's full motivations.

I just hope we can keep doing business together, because if not, we're all fried.

Dr. Che paused in the lobby to pick up an assault rifle and several clips of ammo. Reyes caught himself reaching for his side arm, but suppressed the movement.

_Mustn't look rattled around the lower ranks_.

They left the building and walked across the RDC campus until they arrived at a shooting range in back. Dr. Che pulled a remote control device from his lab coat pocket.

"I'll manage the targets. You may command the robot trooper, Colonel."

"Very well," Reyes said.

Che handed the assault rifle to the Andy robot who held it at arms ready. The mechanistic face was utterly blank, except for a rather eerie glow emanating from the optical sensors. A chill of apprehension moved up Reyes' spine.

That damn machine could slaughter us all!

He held his misgivings in check. "Carry on, Doctor."

Che pushed a button on the controller, and two targets popped up a hundred meters away.

"Fire!" Reyes shouted.

The robot fired two quick bursts, leveling both targets.

"Holy tamales!" Liggett exclaimed. "That's some shooting."

"It has laser as well as infrared targeting capabilities, not to mention top level optical sensors," Che said. "It's speed and accuracy surpass that of any human being."

He pressed more buttons on the controller. Targets began popping up all over the field.

"Fire at will!" Reyes shouted.

The combat robot fired repeated bursts, each one destroying a target. When it exhausted the last of the ammo, it discarded the clip and flung itself into a prone position. Dr. Che handed it another clip.

The blasting continued as Andy demolished target after target with monotonous efficiency. Dr. Che kept the supply of ammo flowing.

"Cease fire!" Reyes called out at last.

He was stunned at this demonstration of brutal competency. His ringing ears added to the turmoil inside his head. The robot got to its feet and handed the assault rifle back to Dr. Che.

"S-so," Colonel Reyes said, "how many of these can you get ready for us?"

"I've got 34 mid-level brain units available that can accept combat programming," Che said. "I don't have enough machines to put them in, though. I need your men to round up some deactivated robots from around the city and bring them to me."

"Consider it done," Reyes said.

"As far as helmets and body armor are concerned, I'll leave that up to you, Colonel."

"We'll take care of it."

Reyes broached a delicate topic. "About those problems Dr. Rackenfauz mentioned..."

"What problems?"

"Well, you know, how the robots might go off on their own and become a threat to us. There isn't anything to that, is there?"

Che waved a dismissive hand. "Of course not. Pay no attention to that old screwball. Besides, I've built in safeguards, should anything go wrong."

* * *

Dr. Che stood alone in the vast main workshop, confronting rows of comatose robots lying on the workbenches. Cabinets off to the side contained shelves of mid-level brain units.

I've got my work cut out for me.

He had to do a lot of brain unit installations for Colonel Reyes, which was a sizable task in itself. Then, when the recordings came in, he had to scan them all into Andy, the prototype machine.

After that, things would move more faster. It was a relatively simple matter to copy Andy's programming into the other machines. Presto, instant army!

Che was under no delusions that this endeavor was free from significant risk. Despite the derogatory comment he'd made about Dr. Rackenfauz, the professor was no "screwball." His warnings against militarized robots were well-founded, and Che took them seriously.

I sure hope the safeguards work.

A little smile crossed his face. He was just enough of a nihilist to appreciate what might happen if the safeguards failed.

Ah, well, don't dwell on it.

He moved into a side room and flicked on the light. Five deactivated robots stood against the walls at rigid attention – his 'private army,' the best machines of the lot. Che offered a jaunty salute.

"Hello, guys. Don't get impatient; we'll be moving out of here soon."

* * *

Colonel Reyes could barely contain his enthusiasm as he rode back toward HQ in his command vehicle. "I'm telling you, Liggett, this is a whole new beginning for us."

"Yeah, that was some demo," Liggett replied. "I wish I could shoot like that."

"Imagine, 34 of those machines! We'll have this town cleaned up in no time."

As if to emphasize his remark, a vehicle filled with armed men passed them on the street. The occupants laughed scornfully and saluted with obscene gestures.

"Watch where you're going, pin head!" one of them shouted.

Reyes smiled pleasantly and waved back. Liggett gave him a surprised look.

"It costs nothing to be polite," Reyes said, "especially if you intend to kill somebody."

"Yes, sir."

"The sooner we get those combat robots the better."

"In the meantime, there's always the Chinese," Liggett said. "Maybe they could help us keep order."

Reyes stiffened. "That subject is closed. I will _not_ be a party to foreign nationals taking over our territory, got it?"

"Yes, sir."

After several tense minutes during which the two men kept their thoughts to themselves, they pulled up in front of HQ.

Reyes broke the silence: "Organize patrols to pick up any dead robots that look repairable. Get them over to Che ASAP."

"Will do, sir."

Reyes bounded out of the vehicle and shoved his way through the main doors of the HQ building. Major Lisa Poole met him in the lobby.

"How did it go at the RDC, Colonel?" she asked.

"Splendid, couldn't be better!"

Poole smiled. Despite her drab uniform and lack of makeup, she was quite attractive. "See? I told you he'd come around."

"That's right, by God," Reyes said. "Che's on board 100 percent now."

His earlier doubts had vanished. The mysterious and sullen Dr. Jerry Che now glowed in his estimation as one helluva great guy. Reyes handed the manila folder to the duty officer at the desk.

"Get going on this immediately. I want those video recordings done ASAP."

The officer snapped out a salute. "Yes, sir."

Reyes strode down the hall toward his office smacking his riding crop against his boot.

"Hot damn!" he kept repeating.

"My, you're feeling your oats today," Poole said.

"Damn straight."

Poole took his arm and led him down a side hallway to her private quarters. "I think you need to burn off some of that excess energy."

22. A Downhill 'Normal'

Over the next two weeks, Winston flung himself into the water diversion project with extreme devotion.

He drove the men hard for long hours, however much they grumbled. And after the work crew took off for the day, he stayed behind alone swinging a pick – gouging, digging, keeping himself occupied with mind-numbing labor.

Jimmy expressed concern. "Don't you think we might be pushing a bit too hard, Boss?"

" _I'll_ decide how hard we push!"

After each exhausting day, Winston retreated to his city manger's office at the REX for a period of inactivation. Then the whole process repeated itself the next day. During all this time, he did not go back to the upscale apartment he shared with Star.

Star kept away from the RDI so as to avoid Sister Reedy. This left her with little to do. She either moped at home or wandered the streets with Ripper at her side, absently stroking his pink coat, avoiding the little park with its fountain of temptation. Sometimes she made the rounds with Iridium or sat on a bench near the traffic circle on the western outskirts, dreaming about happier days.

Other times, like today, she visited the construction site. Winston would speak briefly with her, coolly polite, before he returned to work. She was at her customary post now, standing by one of the big dirt piles, when Ajax suddenly appeared.

"Good afternoon, my lady," he said with a courtly bow.

"Ajax! You're all fixed up."

A bright ray shot into her otherwise drab life. She embraced the warrior robot with genuine warmth, despite his upright, overly-proper unresponsiveness.

"Yes, I have been returned to full functionality."

"You look wonderful." Star reached up and grasped Ajax's mayor's medallion; a bullet hole festooned its center. "This has seen better days, though."

"Quite so," Ajax replied. "Now, if you will please excuse me, I must see the city manager."

He began walking toward Winston.

"Bye-ee," Star said.

Despite her efforts to sound cheerful, melancholy tinged her voice.

Winston stood at the edge of the canal observing the work below and jotting furiously on his clipboard. All his thoughts were with the project. He couldn't spare any attention for the female robot standing by the dirt pile gazing at him with sorrowful eyes – or so he tried to tell himself.

If we can just keep moving at this pace, we'll finish this portion of the canal by...

A shadow fell over him; he spun around.

"Ajax!" Winston seized the great robot's hand and pumped it vigorously. "Glad to see you back, Mayor."

The workers also noticed Ajax's presence and bellowed a rousing cheer from the depths of the canal.

"Thank you, thank you." Ajax rose both arms in his signature power salute. "It is good to be back, men. Now please carry on."

The crew resumed working, joyous at seeing Ajax returned to health, and even more joyous that he did not deliver a long, tedious speech.

As Star had done, Winston reached up and fondled the shot-through mayor's medallion. "This is really something."

"That is true. Quincy has offered to make a new medallion for me."

"No, no, keep this one," Winston said. "It has excellent propaganda value."

A baffled expression passed over Ajax's usually stoic face. He took the medallion in his own hand and studied it.

"Propaganda value?" he asked dubiously.

"Yes. Everyone who sees it will know that you're a dedicated leader who put his existence on the line for our city."

"I did not look at things quite that way," Ajax said. "Perhaps you are right, City Manager."

I know I'm right.

Winston did not vocalize the sentiment, however. He knew Ajax was best influenced by subtle means. Instead he said, "How's Dr. Rackenfauz doing these days?"

"Quite well," Ajax replied. "He performed my major repairs himself."

"And how about that Sister Reedy human?"

A chill passed over Winston's epidermal sensors as he mentioned the horrid name.

"She is better, as well," Ajax said. "Quincy has even suggested that she and Dr. Rackenfauz might be 'getting together' somehow."

Winston snorted. "Not much chance of that. Dr. Rackenfauz is gay, you know."

"Is that 'gay' as in ha! ha!" Ajax inquired, "or as in having a preference for one's own gender?"

"The second one."

"That would seem to present an obstacle, then."

Ajax made a cursory glance about the work site, nodding his head with approval. "Everything here seems to be in good order. I shall return to my office now."

"Sure thing, Mayor. I'll stop by tomorrow morning with the progress report. We've got a lot to catch up on."

Ajax moved away. Winston caught sight of Star and Ripper standing by the dirt pile. He sighed, electronically speaking.

Ah, if only...

He was about to divert attention to the canal when a sight so astonishing and unexpected assaulted his optical sensors that he dropped his clipboard.

It can't be!

He trotted off toward Star and the incredible newcomers.

23. New Tricks for the Old Dog

No, Winston hadn't "gone around the bend," as his former master would have stated. It really was Dr. Rackenfauz and Sister Reedy standing at the dirt pile conversing with Star. But the closer he got, the less Winston could believe it.

"Hello, Young Fellow!" Dr. Rackenfauz said heartily.

Sister Reedy gave him a polite nod. Winston could only respond with wide-eyed incredulity.

The change in them was astounding. Dr. Rackenfauz had doffed his tattered lab coat and was attired in a silk shirt and dress slacks with knife-like creases. Designer shoes graced his feet. His flyaway fringe of hair had been tamed, and he was immaculately groomed. He looked years younger; he'd even put on weight.

Except for the submachine gun dangling from around his neck, he appeared to be a prosperous, middle-aged guy from the pre-apocalyptic days.

Reedy was also dressed in a stylish outfit. Her electrified hair was much calmer now and neatly trimmed. Her face had relaxed out of its ferocious 'Bride of Frankenstein' aspect and was tastefully made up. She was actually rather attractive, for a human female.

"The work seems to be going splendidly," Dr. Rackenfauz said.

"Y-yes, it is," Winston replied.

"The merbots will love the new lake when it's filled up," Rackenfauz said. "They're feeling pretty cramped in that fountain, you know."

Winston scarcely heard what Rackenfauz was saying, so intent was his gaze on Reedy. He could not recognize her from the hate-filled zealot he'd battled two weeks earlier. He was surprised to discover his newly-programmed male sensibilities were becoming a bit aroused. Star shared his astonishment, gazing warily at the human female.

Reedy primped her hair. "Relax, you two. All that 'demon spawn' nonsense has been forgotten. I've renounced all my previous religious convictions."

"That's right," Rackenfauz said. "You're completely pro-robot now, aren't you, Dumpling?"

_Dumpling?_ Winston thought, flabbergasted.

Reedy nodded. She extended a hand toward Star. After some hesitation, Star took it.

"I hope we can be friends," Reedy said, "let bygones be bygones?"

"Uh... sure, I'd like that," Star replied.

Reedy leaned in close and spoke in a low voice. "Just remember, Edgie is off limits."

"Edgie?" Star said, confused. "Oh... you mean Dr. Rackenfauz. Of course, he's all yours."

Reedy smiled. She turned back to Rackenfauz. "I'll just let you three catch up on things for a while, Sugarplum."

Sugarplum!

"I'd like to take a look around the worksite, if that's okay," Reedy said.

"Uh... of course," Winston said. "Just a moment, please."

He trotted back to the ditch and shouted into the depths. "Jimmy!"

"Yeah, Boss?"

"Please escort Miss Reedy on a tour of the project."

Jimmy climbed up to Winston's level. " _Miss_ Reedy? Do you mean – "

"Yes, the same one. She's... well, come on."

They joined the group at the dirt pile.

"Good afternoon, Professor, ma'am," Jimmy said, bowing politely.

Rackenfauz replied with a jaunty wave. "Hello, big guy!"

Jimmy offered an arm to Reedy. "Right this way, ma'am."

"Why thank you. You're a proper gentleman." Reedy took Jimmy's arm, and they strolled off together.

"What a gal!" Rackenfauz said with evident pride.

"Yes, she is... remarkable," Winston replied diplomatically.

"It's been quite a time for us, these past two weeks," Rackenfauz said. "We got to comparing notes about our miserable lives and discovered we have a lot in common. The rest, as they say, is history."

"That's wonderful," Star said.

"I never thought I could be attracted to the straight world," Rackenfauz said. "But Reedy... well, she's _anything_ but straight, let me tell you."

Star's eyes flashed, and a lascivious smile crossed her face. "Ooo, tell me more!"

"You see, it's this way – "

"Uh, if you'll excuse me," Winston interrupted, "I have some important work to do."

He beat a hasty retreat.

"My, he's a bit prudish, isn't he?" Rackenfauz said. "Even Jerry Che couldn't alter his basic personality, it seems."

Star nodded. _Jerry Che, I wonder what he's up to now?_

She warmed back to the topic at hand. "So, tell me, Professor. How's Reedy in the sack?"

* * *

Half an hour later, Winston was standing on the shores of the bomb crater, gazing over its 200 meter expanse at the fetid pond occupying the middle. A melancholy future seemed to wait out there for him, filled with doubts and recriminations.

Why can't I just be happy for once?

All his existence he'd been struggling. First the dangerous rescue of the harvest child, then the deaths of Dr. Horvath and young Charles, the battle against Fascista Ultimo, the terrifying road trips, the . . .

A nearby voice stirred him from his musings. It belonged to Reedy. "Quit being an ass, Winston. Star really loves you, and you're pushing her away."

Winston turned angrily. "Why do you say that?"

"I've got eyes, don't I? They can see that she's dying on the vine."

"Let me guess," Winston said sarcastically. "You're a 'woman with a past,' aren't you?"

He expected this barb to disconcert Reedy, but it had quite the opposite effect.

"You've got that right," she said proudly. "Compared to me, Star's as pure as the fresh driven, snow. Why don't you give her a break?"

"Easy for you to talk. Your indiscretions are all in the past."

"Not necessarily." Reedy smoothed her hands along her hips. "I've got a giant libido. If a nice hunk comes along... ah, but I'm past my prime."

A melancholy smile crossed her face as if she were recalling more adventurous years. "But Edgie always comes first. He gave me back my life; he rescued me from that terrible cult and showed me the truth about . . . my little boy."

She could scarcely pronounce the last few words. Tears welled up, and she brushed them away with the back of her hand. Winston could not repress a sympathetic pang.

"You and Star played a crucial role, too. I'd like to thank you for that."

Winston did not know how to respond. Had it only been two weeks ago that he was battling this very human, dodging the bullets she was firing at him?

"Well, go on being an idiot, if you want," Reedy said. "I've had my say."

She walked off and rejoined Jimmy who was standing respectfully in the distance.

* * *

Winston returned to the work site. Dr. Rackenfauz and Reedy had already left; only Star remained by her dirt pile, stroking Ripper's coat.

"Jimmy!" Winston yelled into the ditch. "Give the boys the rest of the day off."

"Sure thing, Boss!"

"We'll start up10 o'clock tomorrow morning," Winston said.

Tools clattered to the ground amid a chorus of approving remarks. The men scrambled out of the canal and took off quickly. Jimmy was the last out.

"Good move, Boss. The boys sure need a break."

Then he, too, was gone.

Winston approached Star. With a gentle hand, he lifted up her downcast face. "Let's go home."

They left together, hand in hand.

# Four: Storm Clouds Gather

24. Drama in the Wasteland

Ernestina Corozal had never felt so alone and isolated during her entire 20 years of life.

Except for the distant figure of Brother George walking ahead on the road, there was nothing and no one in this barren locale – an utter wasteland with large boulders and dead vegetation scattered here and there as the only scenery.

Quite a change from the vibrant life in the uplands around Pickle Lake 'Temple' where healthy vegetation grew, fish swam in the lake, and real birds soared along the slopes. She yearned to go back there and take up life again, even if it meant camping in the ruins.

But she had to take vengeance for Arleny first, and for herself. Brother George had to die.

The chubby religious fanatic was just the latest in a series of men who had exploited her, starting with the heroes of the biker gang she and Arleny had so foolishly tied up with.

They were just a couple of stupid groupies then, turned on by the violence, drugs, and sex the gang offered. The violence had been scary, but also exciting, guaranteed to get them hot. They thought that such real men would come to rule the world and see them through the disasters overtaking humanity.

Right!

The first time these "real men" came up against somebody willing to fight back, they broke and fled like cheese weenies. She despised them for their defeat at Pickle Lake. Thirty guys swaggered up the mountain trail, ten came fleeing back down, wetting their pants, beaten by a collection of religious weirdoes – like Brother George.

As she did every day of her life, Ernestina relived the terror she experienced when she and Arleny had tumbled off the rear of their bike and been abandoned by their 'protectors.'

Admit it, girl, you screwed up royally.

Brutal self-examination had become her norm since escaping the disaster at Pickle Lake. Only facts, not blame gaming, could get her through this frightening period. She had to admit to being an ass if she wanted to keep from repeating the same self-destructive mistakes.

Then again... If she hadn't taken up with the biker gang, if she'd stayed with her dull waitressing life in her home town, then she'd have almost certainly died in the final plague. She would have never ventured into the mountains, been captured by the religious nuts or hidden inside a cave with them while the epidemic wiped out people in the lowlands.

She wouldn't be out her now, trailing some lunatic and hoping to slit his throat. The consequences of her past choices were far too complex to even think about. Only one thing was certain: if she survived this trial, she'd _never_ be such a fool again. She was over her fascination with 'bad boys' forever!

Well, maybe not entirely.

She had to be far more selective – find a rebel type man with real brains and power, who knew how to treat a woman right and make her an equal partner. A good guy with an attitude, not some dirty slob criminal.

Ohhh, if I ever get out of this!

A harsh voice intruded. "Look what we have here!"

Ernestina spun around as four scrapper robots closed in behind her. She'd been too intent on her own ramblings to notice their approach.

"Oh!"

"Ain't that cute!" one of the scrappers said.

He appeared to be the leader of the quartet, a dusty and battered machine with a scarred face. The other three were similar in appearance – loser types that would be gang 'soldiers' if they were human.

"Let's brain her," one of them said, hefting a length of steel pipe.

The leader shoved him hard. "Not before the Boss has had a crack at her. Got it?"

"Yeah, I get it."

The frustrated scrapper leered at Ernestina, like a shark deprived of a juicy snack. She battled to keep from passing out.

Where did these horrible things come from?

She was unarmed except for the hunting knife which would be useless against their metal hides. The leader grasped her arm and yanked the knife out of its scabbard.

"This is a nice little toy," he said.

Ernestina gaped with horror. The faces of even the most psychotic bikers did not match his for pure savagery. She could almost feel the blade entering her body and ripping out her guts.

"What're you doing out here?" he demanded.

Yes, what am I doing?

A tiny flicker of hope entered her numbed brain. She had to tell this monster the truth and trust to luck. She pointed down the road toward Brother George.

"I'm after him. He's the one you want."

"Eh?"

She handed him the binoculars. "Use these."

The creature brought the binoculars up to its optical sensors. An evil smile spread across its face.

"What is it, Chief?" one of the soldiers asked.

"We got another one up there."

"Let's brain him!"

"That one looks armed," the chief said. "We're gonna have to sneak up on him real careful." He lowered the binoculars. "You three go after him. Take him alive if you can, but don't get yourselves shot trying."

The first scrapper patted his palm with his steel pipe. "Don't worry, Chief. We'll be _real_ gentle.

The three scrappers moved rapidly toward Brother George, taking advantage of the boulders and other natural cover so as to mask their approach.

The chief flashed Ernestina another evil grin. "We'll just rest here a while, if you don't mind."

"Yes," Ernestina said. "Can I take off my pack? It's pretty heavy."

"Suit yourself."

Under the watchful eye of the chief, Ernestina shouldered off her pack and set in on the ground. It leaned against her legs, ready for quick retrieval.

* * *

Brother George stood atop a boulder staring through his own binoculars. In the distance, sitting amid a haze of dust pollution, was a settlement of some kind – the first he'd come across in his northward trek.

That might be worth paying a visit. Or maybe I should avoid the place altogether.

He cast his eyes upwards. "I beseech your guidance, Heavenly Father! Provide me a sign as to what action I should take."

He descended from his perch and sat upon the ground, bracing his back against the boulder. Thus positioned, he waited for his sign.

As was often the case when he rested from his labors, Brother George thought back on his earliest days with the Holy Temple, before he was known as "Brother" George and was insignificant, unappreciated George Martin . . .

He recalled the sermon presented by the Messiah in a public square. A mostly hostile crowd confronted Him, deterred from getting nasty only by the glowering presence of the chief acolyte and other defenders flanking the Holy One. A young woman he would come to know as "Sister Reedy" worked the edges of the crowd, soliciting money for immoral acts so as to feed her drug addictions.

George had shuffled out to the square on his lunch hour, taking a break from his dull, underling job which was itself an escape from his shrewish wife and unappreciative children. Little did he know that a magnificent liberation awaited!

The Messiah looked directly at him, picking him out from among the multitude. He extended a hand toward humble George Martin and said in a commanding voice: "Come, follow me!"

George had done so, stepping into a bright new reality. His destiny began to be fulfilled that day, and where it would lead him had yet to be discovered.

He reclined against the boulder's rough surface, smiling with contentment at this happy memory. Then, the sign he was awaiting came from the Heavenly Father.

* * *

Ernestina anxiously watched the road ahead as the three scrapper robots closed in on Brother George. He was sprawled out, propped against a boulder – a sitting duck. Now was the last possible moment.

Go to it, girl!

She seized her pack and flung it against the robot chief with all her strength.

"Hey!"

He stumbled back. Ernestina took off running toward Brother George.

"Watch out!" she yelled. "Behind you!"

She heard the chief robot running now, gaining on her. She pushed herself to the absolute limit. "Look out! Behind you! Look out!"

Ernestina was much closer now. Brother George got to his feet as the three scrappers came upon him. He fired, one robot went down. He fired again...

The scrapper chief knocked her over.

"Oomph!"

Ernestina fell sprawling on the pavement. She tried to roll away from her assailant, but he pinned her down with his foot. He raised a length of steel pipe for the killing blow, a maniacal grimace contorted his face.

Ernestina threw up her arms in a useless defense.

25. Shock Conversion

P _hump!_

A bullet struck the scrapper in the chest and penetrated his main power unit. He wobbled but remained standing, totally immobilized. His clubbing arm lowered to his side. Only his face showed any sign of life.

"W-what happened?" he exclaimed.

Ernestina knocked his foot off her chest and scrambled up. The robot tottered but still did not fall.

"Ain't that cute!" Ernestina mocked. "Just like a little roly-poly toy."

She snatched the steel pipe club from the robot's limp hand and wound up with it like a baseball bat. Terror flashed in the creature's optical sensors.

"No!"

Thwonk!

The head kinked into an unnatural angle. "Na-na-na-nooo!"

Thwonk!

The head tumbled to the ground. Ernestina set upon it, beating until it was a mangled jumble. Her violent shouts echoed through the wasteland.

Someone was standing near her now, beside the decapitated scrapper. Ernestina turned toward him. She dropped the club and flung herself onto the ground.

"Brother George! Thank the Heavenly Father, I've found you."

Ernestina lay flat on her face upon the warm pavement for what seemed a long time, uncertain as to what might happen next. Any moment could bring success to her ruse – or it could bring a bullet in the back. She turned her head sideways and spoke to a pair of boots standing nearby.

"The Heavenly Father commanded me to journey northward," she said. "I did not know why... but now, perhaps I do."

Here it comes. Will I hear the gunshot that kills me?

Instead of a gun blast, she heard a man's voice, rather thin and high-pitched. "Arise."

Ernestina got cautiously to her feet, unaided by the man with the assault rifle. He stood at the ready for instant action, but at least he wasn't pointing the gun at her.

"Thank you, Brother George." She bowed humbly.

The man was no taller than herself but much wider, with a fleshy face and double chin. She realized there was more than this to his bulk. Beneath the flab resided violent strength.

"Exactly what did the Heavenly Father tell you?" Brother George demanded.

"I-it was while I slept."

Ernestina lowered her eyes to the pavement, hoping to avoid the probing stare of Brother George and to show reverence for the 'Heavenly Father' dude.

"Go on," Brother George said.

"It was just a voice, but I knew it was the Heavenly Father speaking. He told me: 'Go north, my child!'"

"Was that it?"

Ernestina nodded, still keeping her eyes to the ground. "It was after the attack. All the gunfire and explosions... I couldn't find anybody. I was so afraid. I just passed out... then the voice came."

_Oh, please let this B.S. work!_ she prayed fervently to whatever real god who might exist.

She dared a glance up at the religious nut, trying to project fear and awe his direction. At least the fear was genuine.

Brother George's face was stony and unreadable under its flab; a booted foot tapped the ground.

"You were one of the Messiah's favorites, weren't you?" he asked.

"Yes, for a while."

"We captured you from those infidel bikers."

Ernestina nodded. "That's true, Brother George, you saved me from eternal damnation."

"Your name is..."

"Ernestina Corozal."

Unbearable seconds passed, any one of which might rotate the gun muzzle her direction.

"Is that yours?"

Brother George pointed up the road toward Ernestina's backpack lying on the pavement.

"Yes."

"Go get it, Sister Tina, then come back and follow me."

"Yes, thank you, Brother George." Ernestina bowed low. "Please accept my loyal obedience."

She trotted up the road toward her backpack, reasonably certain Brother George wouldn't shoot her in the back. He'd called her "Sister" which was the cult's highest term of respect for its females – if you could call it respect.

Brother George watched the retreating figure. She was young and pretty with jet black hair, olive skin, and an excellent shape. He tried to ignore these virtues. Women were nothing but trouble. Besides, this one had been with the holy Messiah, and any attempt to lay with her would be blasphemous.

Clearly, she'd been sent to rescue him from death at the hands of the demon spawn, but could she be trusted? The Heavenly Father worked in mysterious ways.

Thank you for this deliverance, Heavenly Father!

He'd been singled out for special distinction. This must be a sign he would prevail in his quest to destroy the robo-slut and find the new Messiah who would carry on the Cause – _if_ he remained worthy and pure in heart.

Was it possible that he, himself – humble George Martin – would be the new Messiah?

The idea was too frightening to entertain openly, so he buried it away in his feverish mind. Still...

Not my will, but thine. Direct me on thy righteous path, Heavenly Father!

The appeal was genuine, but beneath it simmered a cauldron of personal ambition.

Sister Tina returned with her backpack. She also carried a steel pipe and sported a large hunting knife on her belt.

"Give me the weapons."

"Yes, of course, Brother."

She respectfully gave over the items.

"There's a settlement up the road," George said. "We shall go there."

26. Scrapper Depot

Brother George set a blistering pace Ernestina could not match.

Thanks a lot, fat guy.

Actually, she preferred keeping a distance from the man ahead of her. He radiated evil that could lash out any second.

Ohhh... if I ever get out of this!

As they neared the settlement, Brother George slowed to a cautious stride, his gun jutting ahead of him. Ernestina caught up to within a few paces.

"Watch my back," he called over his shoulder.

"Yes, Brother George."

The town was little more than a cross roads with a vehicle service station, some commercial buildings, and what looked to be a large storage facility. A few scruffy houses occupied the near distance.

_Welcome to Nowhere-ville_.

Something was definitely wrong here. The place was not just empty, as countless other towns were. It was inhuman somehow, or perhaps _anti-human_ , if there was such a thing. Even Pickle Lake Castle did not give her the willies like this place did.

"Brother George," she whispered harshly.

He held up a hand for silence, then returned it to his assault rifle. He crouched deeper into his stealthy posture.

They continued walking toward the town. Ernestina glanced about in all directions. She turned around and walked backwards for a while, scanning the barren landscape for any signs of an enemy. She turned back in time to spy two robots crouching behind a boulder.

"On your right!"

Brother George pivoted right, aiming his rifle at the pair. Two other robots appeared from concealment behind and to the left of him.

"Behind you!" Ernestina cried.

Brother George ran ahead several paces and threw himself to the ground. He rolled onto his back and covered all four robots with his gun.

"Drop your weapons!" he commanded. "Hands up!"

Clubs clattered to the pavement, the robots' empty hands went in the air.

Brother George gestured toward the large boulder with his gun barrel. "Get over there, all of you!"

"Aw, we didn't mean any harm," one of the robots said. "We were just – "

Ka-pow!

The robot's head exploded. The others fled to the boulder as commanded. Brother George got to his feet.

"Nobody talks unless I tell him to. Got it?"

The robots nodded dumbly.

"All right, move. Keep your hands up and don't try anything funny."

Brother George kept his gun pointed squarely at the robots' backs while Ernestina brought up the rear, maintaining her vigilant watch.

She couldn't help but admire Brother George. His surprise diving maneuver had been very effective. Despite his portly appearance, the guy had a real fighting spirit. She could hang with somebody like this.

Then a horrid vision barged up from her memory – Arleny's bloody corpse lying in her arms, shot up by Brother George. Her heart hardened.

I'll get you, pig!

They stopped in the center of the town's main intersection. A breeze whistling through the dusty streets heralded their arrival, along with the rusty creaking of a commercial sign.

"Anybody here!" Brother George called.

No reply. Several seconds drifted past on the dry wind.

Ka-Pow!

Brother George shot one of the robots through the back, crippling it, but leaving the brain still functional. The machine crumpled to the pavement.

"I'll burn this place down if you don't show yourselves!" Brother George yelled.

"You'd better come out, Boss!" the stricken robot cried from its position on the ground. "This guy means it."

Slowly and reluctantly, robots began emerging from the various buildings and from the storehouse down the street. They were all battered, desperate looking machines. Soon, forty or more of them were closing in from all directions.

"Gather in front of me where I can see you!" Brother George commanded.

He yanked an automatic pistol off his belt, chambered a round, and handed the gun to Ernestina. "Use this if you have to, Sister."

Ernestina aimed the weapon, two handed, at some robots coming up from behind. "You heard, move it!"

The scrapper robots sullenly obeyed, walking single file to join the group standing before Brother George. Awareness of her new-found power flooded in on Ernestina.

I could kill him now.

Brother George had his broad back to her. It would be a simple matter to aim at his head and pull the trigger – scatter his brains all over this cursed town.

And then what? She'd be alone in the middle of this psycho-robot pack. They'd tear her to pieces. She put aside all thoughts of personal revenge... for now.

Brother George confronted the mass of robots gathered before him, the assault rifle braced against his hip for single-handed operation. His other hand hefted a grenade.

"Is this everyone?"

The robots nodded. Brother George raised the grenade; all optical sensors followed the movement.

"It better be. If it isn't, I'll blast the lot of you!"

None of the scrappers spoke or moved. No additional robots joined their group.

"Who's the boss here?" Brother George demanded.

A particularly brutal looking machine stepped forward from the ranks. "I am."

Ka-pow!

Brother George blew its head apart with one expert shot from the hip. The other robots gaped as their leader thudded to the ground.

"Anybody else want to be boss – except me?" Brother George asked.

There were no takers.

Despite herself, Ernestina felt a thrill running up her spine. If it was anyone besides Brother George pulling the trigger, she would have been his forever.

"All right, move it!" Brother George said. "Everybody into the storehouse."

He gestured toward the large building down the street. The robots walked obediently toward it. Brother George followed several paces behind. Ernestina brought up the rear, keeping a sharp lookout for any threats.

After the last robot entered the building, Brother George issued a final command. "Remain here until further instructions. If anyone tries to leave, I'll shoot ten in its place."

He closed the door and leaned up against it. He let out a great sigh, and his pudgy face went slack. "Ah, the Heavenly Father has smiled upon our efforts today, child."

"Praise His holy name!" Ernestina replied, using the Temple's canned response.

Brother George handed her the grenade. He fished some ammo clips out of his pack and gave them to her, along with a holster for the gun.

"Keep these righteous armaments close to you at all times, Sister. We are truly amid the Devil's offspring now."

The items weighed down Ernestina's hands like the finest treasure. "Yes, Brother George, thank you."

"Should things turn against us, "should the Heavenly Father withdraw his grace, I suggest you save the last bullet for yourself."

27. Army of the Righteous

Hours passed while Ernestina kept guard at the warehouse. The notion of forty psycho robots lurking on the other side of the doors filled her with a unique horror.

The creep show at Pickle Lake was bad enough. At least the sickos out there were human... sort of.

She kept to her post, though, gripping her pistol with sweaty hands and watching for any sign of an escape attempt. There was no other option for her at the present time. Brother George had withdrawn to "seek enlightenment" as to what their next move should be.

He stood in the middle of the cross streets, arms thrust skyward and head thrown back, entreating the Heavenly Father dude. His fervent cries echoed through the town. He rolled about on the pavement, babbling in a strange tongue.

And this whack job was her only ally? Her feelings toward him roiled in a combination of fear and revulsion, mixed with an almost erotic fascination.

Keep it together, girl! Don't let your emotions get out of control.

Finally, Brother George came striding toward her. The confidence in his gait showed he'd received the "divine guidance" he'd been seeking. Ernestina fought a powerful urge to run the opposite direction.

"Stand aside, Sister Tina. Get safely away from that den of inequity."

Ernestina retreated from her post at the warehouse door, stopping her progress at a signal from Brother George.

What's he up to now?

She looked uncertainly over her shoulder at the town and at the ruined terrain beyond it. Escape into that no man's land was not an attractive choice.

Brother George yanked the pin from a hand grenade and rolled the powerful little bomb like a bowling ball up against the warehouse door.

KA-BOOM!

Ernestina ducked away from the flying debris. A dagger-like shard buried itself in the ground nearby. The warehouse gaped open to the world now, like a violated crypt. Brother George fired a burst through the doorway with his assault rifle.

Blamity Blam Blam Blam!

Robotic shrieks echoed from inside. Ernestina almost swooned at the dreadful noise.

"Get out here – all of you!" Brother George commanded. "Keep your hands up!"

Slowly and trembling with fear, the scrapper robots exited the building. Some moved with damaged mechanisms, others had to be assisted, still others came out in pieces carried by their comrades.

"All kneel!" Brother George commanded.

The scrappers lowered themselves to their knees and looked up fearfully. Ernestina took a position beside Brother George; it seemed a time for human solidarity.

"Does anyone question my right to lead?" Brother George demanded.

The robots all shook their heads. "No, sir!"

"Do you accept induction into my Army of the Righteous and vow to obey my every command without question?"

The robots glanced at each other, bewildered, and then shouted in unison: "Yes, sir!"

"Do you pledge to defend all those under my protection and to sacrifice yourselves, if necessary, to defend the holy Cause?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Then arise into your new existence as warriors of the one true faith."

The scrappers got to their feet and stood awkwardly gaping at each other and at the humans standing before them. They seemed to expect a burst of gunfire any moment.

"Who among you can speak for the others?" Brother George asked.

Nobody volunteered, which was hardly surprising after the treatment their previous leader had gotten.

"You there!" Brother George pointed to the most intelligent looking machine of the lot. "What's your name?"

"I am called Richard, sir."

"Address me as _Boss_."

"Yes, Boss," Richard said.

"You will command the others," Brother George said, "subject to my orders."

"Yes, Boss," Richard said with a slight bow.

His face was serious, but Ernestina detected the hint of a satisfied little smile on it.

Brother George did a _truly_ amazing thing next. He flicked on the safety of his assault rifle and slung the weapon over his shoulder. Then he advanced to within a meter of the robots and stood regarding them confidently, hands on hips. Any one of the machines could have reached out and overpowered him.

Ernestina sucked in her breath with shocked surprise. She leveled her pistol at line of the robots.

"That's quite all right, Sister Tina," Brother George said. "You may sheathe your weapon."

With great reluctance, Ernestina shoved the pistol back into its holster. Her hand remained close to it, though, like that of some wild west gunslinger.

"You may stand at ease, Sister Tina, just as we are."

Brother George clasped his hands behind his back and spread his feet to shoulder width. The robots instantly copied the pose. After brief hesitation, Ernestina did the same. Not one of the scrappers made a hostile move.

Ernestina was astonished at the ease with which Brother George took control of the rouge machines, though it did make sense. As the most ruthless and psychotic of the bunch, it naturally fell to him to dominate the others. Here was a man who knew how to lead! Not like that cheese weenie, Jeff, with his biker gang.

Sure, Jeff was a big, tough guy, as long as a bunch of his "brothers" were backing him up. But as soon as he met somebody able to fight back, he ran like a chicken shit – like at Pickle Lake. He would have never chanced doing something like this.

She wondered how many of the gang members Brother George had personally gunned down. The thought gave her an another erotic thrill.

Brother George left his at-ease pose and looked expectantly at Richard.

"Aten-shun!" Richard bellowed.

The robots snapped to attention as one unit. Brother George kept a severe look on his face, but inwardly he was all smiles.

Here he was, humble, generic George Martin – a man people scarcely noticed – finally in charge of something! All his life he'd been an underling, but that was changing now. Who could tell where things might lead?

He paced along the line of robots. "I am on a sacred mission to find the robo-slut who killed the Holy Messiah. She would be accompanied by a blue robot, a mechanical wolf and, perhaps, by a one-armed robot. Have you seen them?"

Richard looked down the line of mechanistic faces. Then he spoke for everyone. "No, Boss, nobody like that came through here."

Brother George nodded grimly.

"We once had a one-armed robot among us," Richard added. "He was a squad leader named Burt. He disappeared some time ago."

Brother George drew the large hunting knife he'd confiscated from Ernestina and tapped the flat of its blade on his palm. The robots remained at attention, but their optical sensors rotated to watch the rhythmic motion.

"Do you have motor vehicles?" Brother George asked.

"Yes, Boss," Richard said.

"We shall head north in pursuit of these villains."

Richard made to speak, hesitated.

"What is it?" George barked.

"If you'll excuse me for saying so, Boss, there's nothing out that way. We've scouted it all before."

Brother George tapped the knife against his palm a few more times. He liked the feel of this power implement, the effect it had on his robotic crew. "Which direction could they have gone, then?"

"Unless they know of a spare parts depot, like ours, there're only two places they could go," Richard said. "Otherwise, they'd break down eventually."

"And these places are?"

"There's the West Coast RDC, where most of us were built." Richard looked down the line of robots. Nearly all of them raised their hands. "And there's the RDI in Mech City." He and a few others put up their hands.

Brother George kept tapping the knife, contemplating this new intelligence.

Has the Heavenly Father sent me this direction simply to recruit allies? Does my sacred mission actually lie in another direction?

Chief Acolyte had assigned the westward leg of the vengeance mission to himself, and he'd be the one to encounter the West Coast RDC. He was quite capable of handling things. Besides, if Brother George went there, he'd become Chief Acolyte's subordinate again – and George was unwilling to be anyone's subordinate.

Sister Reedy was assigned the eastward trek toward Mech City. Though a formidable individual, she was not nearly the threat Chief Acolyte was. That man never hesitated to snuff out anyone he perceived as a threat.

"I shall take your recommendations under advisement."

"Yes, Boss."

Brother George shoved the knife back into its sheath with authority. "Dismiss the troops."

"Dismissed!" Richard bellowed.

The robots broke ranks and scattered.

Ernestina looked on with awe. Her thoughts of avenging Arleny had retreated from her consciousness, replaced by admiration for Brother George.

28. Back at the Ranchero

With a final battering of picks and shovels, the workers broke through to the bomb crater.

"We made it boys!" Winston shouted. "Three cheers!"

_Hoo-raay!_ the workers cheered raggedly.

Two more fading _Hoo-raays_ followed before everything became silent. The robots sat down wearily among their tools.

Winston turned toward Jimmy. "I was hoping for a bit more enthusiasm at this milestone."

"The boys are tired, Boss."

"I gathered that."

"They know there's a whole second canal to dig after this one. Not to mention the pond cleanup. That gonna be a _real_ mess."

"Yeah," Winston said.

He and Jimmy scaled the bank together. From their position at the top, Winston could see the entire canal stretching back toward the river. Only a narrow strip of land now separated the two.

What a magnificent achievement!

Then he looked down at the workers sprawled out amid their tools, quiet and sullen. They seemed to have no appreciation of what they'd accomplished. Zeal for the project had declined greatly during the past weeks.

No longer did the men fight for prominence on the digging crew. The allure of the promised time-share condos was wearing thin, and absenteeism was getting worse all the time. Even Sam was out today, having some maintenance done at the RDI.

Bunch of ingrates! They don't appreciate anything I've done for them.

Rebellion was always lurking below the surface of this crowd. Again, Winston toyed with the idea of abandoning the workers to their fate. Simply retreat with Star to their upscale neighborhood and to hell with what happened in the rest of Mech City. Let these useless robots jump out of windows if they wanted.

But in his innermost thought centers, Winston knew he could never do that. He needed these robots even more than they needed him. How could he be a leader with nobody to lead? Like it or not, his fate was intermingled with these workers and with Mech City.

Winston consulted his internal timer, almost 1:00 pm. "A special guest will be arriving soon."

"Who?" Jimmy asked.

"You'll recognize him, I'm sure."

They didn't have to wait long before a large figure appeared, lumbering toward them.

"Yow!" Jimmy cried. "Is that who I think it is?"

Winston nodded. "It's Comrade Drone, all right. Dr. Rackenfauz refurbished him for us."

"I don't know, Boss. The boys have some really bad memories about that guy."

"No doubt, but they'll get over it once they see how much work he can do."

"Well..." Jimmy said. "At least it's not Clawfurt."

"Don't think I haven't considered reactivating him, too. The time has come for strong measures."

Jimmy shuddered. "If things ever get that bad, we're really done for."

Comrade Drone came to a halt before them, awaiting further commands. His enormous bulk towered above even Jimmy's substantial mechanism. In all of Mech City, Comrade Drone was the largest robot.

"Greetings Comrade Drone," Winston said.

The massive robot bowed. The expression on his bleached face remained utterly blank.

"Come meet your new colleagues."

Winston led Comrade Drone to the edge of the canal and hailed the workers below. "Look here, guys!"

Dozens of heads swiveled upwards. A collective gasp of horror shot through the workers. They scrambled to their feet seizing picks, shovels, anything that could serve as a weapon.

"Relax, boys," Winston said, "he's quite harmless."

"He was with Fascista Ultimo!" a worker shouted.

_So was I, for a while,_ Winston recalled bitterly, but kept the thought to himself.

"That's true, but he was only Fascista's valet," Winston said. "He never hurt anyone, did he?"

The workers remained huddled together in a frightened, defensive mass.

"Did Comrade Drone fight against us in the Great Liberation Battle?" Winston asked.

"No..." a few robots reluctantly conceded.

"Then give him a chance," Winston said. "He's a strong worker – he can do as much as four or five others."

The men grumbled, but their initial fear seemed to ebb a little.

"We've got a whole second canal to dig," Winston said, "and you know how difficult it's going to be."

"That's for sure, Boss!" somebody called out

"Then let Comrade Drone lead the way. We'll get it done in no time." Winston sidled halfway down the slope towards the workers sending a mini avalanche of dirt and pebbles before him. He spoke in a lowered, confidential voice. "Not only that, he's too dumb to ask for a time-share in the condos."

Another cycle of muttering ran through the ranks, less fearful this time.

They're coming around. Time to make the final pitch.

"As you know," Winston said, "we've got to clean all the crud out of the pond next."

A collective groan met this observation.

Winston paused, milking the moment for maximum effect. "But... considering how big and efficient Comrade Drone is, I think he can handle that job for us."

"Yeah!"

A cheer rang through the robot ranks, far more enthusiastic than the one hailing the completion of the canal. "Hooray for Comrade Drone!"

"Take the rest of the day off, boys," Winston said. "Take tomorrow off, too."

"Thanks, Boss!"

"Talk to the others. Let's get back to full strength. We can get it done."

"Maximum effort!" the workers cried.

They surged up the slope past Winston. Their joyous progress slowed only when they came to Comrade Drone, whom they gave a wide berth. Then they were gone, moving across Heroes' Square towards their rooms at the REX Hotel and elsewhere in town.

Winston emerged from the canal into the gigantic presence of Comrade Drone. The sun peaked over the drone's shoulder as if he were some towering skyscraper.

"He does take some getting used to, doesn't he Jimmy?"

"Ah, you did great, Boss! I'll bet we have a full crew again day after tomorrow."

"Let's hope so. Meanwhile..." Winston glanced ruefully at the fetid pond occupying the middle of the bomb crater. "We've got work to do."

* * *

A few hours later, Comrade Drone had hauled out a large amount of wreckage from the pond and piled it onto the bank – chunks of concrete, bricks, shattered desks and chairs that had once resided in the classrooms of the blasted Academic Center.

"We can use some of that stuff to block the old river course when we divert water flow down the canal," Jimmy said.

"Yes, the material should come in handy for that purpose."

The common sense of this proposal registered with Winston's non-technical oriented brain. Dr. Horvath's egg-head associates would have approved. They always felt the intellectual elite should present a veneer of understanding for the "working masses," while not actually having to get their own hands dirty.

Whenever Winston felt himself becoming too much of an "ivory tower socialist," he'd grab a pick and jump into the canal for a period of redemptive labor. But this pond clearing job was too foul for his egalitarian tendencies. He was quite happy to let the idiot robot do the heavy lifting, especially when Comrade Drone began hauling out pieces of human skeletons.

"Oh, man," Jimmy said. "That brings back terrible memories."

Winston nodded grimly. "How true."

He recalled the first time he'd seen Jimmy. Winston had just entered Mech City and was struggling toward the RDI on his scooter for some badly needed repairs. Jimmy and his crew of robots were hauling away human corpses from an apartment building.

"I'd hoped those days were gone for good," Jimmy said.

Comrade Drone waded back to shore and deposited another load of debris. This one included a particularly disgusting item: the head of Fascista Ultimo.

Winston shuddered. "Ugh! Get a load of that."

He picked up the battered noggin and held it at arm's length. The optical sensors stared at him with dead malevolence.

"Alas, poor Fascista," Winston said, "I knew him far too well."

"Let me have that, Boss."

Winston handed over the grisly item. Jimmy set it on a slab of concrete and smashed it repeatedly with another chunk of debris.

Crunch! Crunch! Crunch!

He tossed the flattened head onto the refuse pile. "That should do it for him."

"Good work!"

Jimmy nodded with satisfaction, sweeping his optical sensors around the work site. "We've got company, Boss."

Fritz and Edwina were standing on the crater rim dressed in matching outfits of white and blue, quite different from the military style uniforms they'd worn as commanders of the Fascist Youth League. A light wind tousled Fritz's blond hair; Edwina's golden locks were pulled back into braids. The kidbots gave no hint of recognition.

"Looks like the professor got them running again," Winston said.

"I don't like it much, Boss."

"They'll be fine. Dr. Rackenfauz erased all their Fascist programming."

"I still don't like it," Jimmy muttered. "Those two were nothing but trouble."

29. Girls' Day Out

Star and Reedy walked together into Heroes' Square, intending to view the latest developments of the water diversion project.

They'd become friends over the past weeks at the RDI. The terrible chain of events which had started at Pickle Lake was all but forgotten now. They discovered they had a lot in common, including giant libidos.

"I don't want to be selfish," Star said. "I know I can't hold Winston completely, but why does his mind always seem to be someplace else?"

Reedy nodded sadly. "I know what you mean, dear. Edgie is the same way. He's obsessed with finding a solution to the Che Syndrome. Sometimes he works 18-hour days. It doesn't leave much time for love."

They were approaching the rim of the bomb crater now. Fritz and Edwina saw them coming and ran off, laughing.

_Those two brats!_ Star thought angrily. _Why did Dr. Rackenfauz have to reactivate them?_

She did not voice these feelings, however, for fear of offending Reedy. Any remark that sounded critical of Dr. Rackenfauz would upset her. Reedy was one of those humans who required a powerful "fix" in her life – drugs, religion, that messiah weirdo. This had been Winston's analysis, and Star was inclined to agree with it.

Right now Reedy was fixated on Dr. Rackenfauz. She could have done a lot worse, in Star's opinion.

"Don't get me wrong," Reedy said. "Edgie is a genius. I'm in complete awe. You know, I had a crush on him back in college."

"Is that so?"

Reedy smiled. She almost looked like a co-ed again – sparkling eyes and a smattering of freckles on her face, the gray strands of hair concealed among the bright red ones. Star could hardly believe this had been the terrifying person she'd first encountered at Pickle Lake Castle.

"He was just as self-absorbed back then," Reedy said. "Sometimes, he hardly seemed to notice us sitting in the classroom. I'm amazed he remembered me at all."

She sighed wistfully, then brightened. "When he _is_ ready for a tumble, though... I thought I was kinky, but Edgie wrote the book on it!"

Star smiled. Dr. Rackenfauz had already filled her in on some of the juicier details.

"I was designed for love," she said, "I want it all the time, but Winston is strictly a twice a week type guy."

Reedy slipped her arm through Star's. "Well then, we just have to make those twice a week sessions count, don't we?"

Star was rather surprised by the physical contact. In all the time they'd been friends, they'd never touched each other. She rather liked the sensation.

"You've had a wonderful influence on the professor, Reedy," she said. "He was always so angry and unpredictable before. You never knew when he'd blast something with that submachine gun of his."

"Oh, he still has his moments, but I'm there now to help smooth things out." Reedy lowered her voice to a confidential level. "Besides, I brought a stash of high grade Marijuana from Pickle Lake. It was packed in with the hand grenades, imagine!"

They shared a laugh; it felt wonderful to laugh together, so free, so intimate.

"A good woman can make all the difference in a man's life," Star said.

"I'm not certain exactly how 'good' I am," Reedy said.

They laughed again.

"If a woman's good in the sack, that's what counts most," Star said.

Without realizing what she was doing, Star moved her hand over and clasped Reedy's. Their fingers tangled together. Chemistry – or in Star's case, electronics – started to kick in.

They stood at the rim of the bomb crater now looking out over the ugly expanse. Only the most dedicated imagination, such as Winston possessed, could picture a sparkling lake.

Winston was standing with Jimmy near the pond in the middle of the crater. The massive figure of Comrade Drone waded in the fetid water picking up chunks of concrete.

"What are you thinking, Star?"

"I'm thinking Winston and me are in different worlds most of the time." Star turned toward Reedy. "What about you?"

Reedy hesitated. Then she took the step over the relationship cliff. "I'm thinking maybe we should try some 'twice a week' sessions of our own."

She kissed Star full on the mouth. They were almost the exact height and fit together well.

Reedy drew back a little. "Or maybe more often than that."

Every circuit and sensory receptor in Star's mechanism was on fire. She could not utter a word. She seized Reedy for longer and more intimate kiss. If Winston had looked up from his work, he would have beheld a noteworthy sight.

Star and Reedy walked off together, hand in hand, to explore new worlds.

# Five: Harsh Solutions

30. Mobilization

Several weeks had passed since their takeover of the scrapper robots, and Ernestina was feeling more secure in her role as trusted lieutenant to Brother George.

Never before in her life had she wielded any influence – not within her family, during her undistinguished high school career, and certainly not as a 'community bitch' with the biker gang. Now she stood right next to Brother George in authority, giving orders to a squad of killer robots.

Imagine!

She had a grenade on her belt, along with a high-capacity automatic pistol. Her pockets bulged with ammo clips. The brother had even returned the club she'd used to finish off the enemy robot. The length of steel pipe was her "holy scepter," the same way as was the knife Brother George patted on his open palm.

She hefted the scepter now as she reviewed the line of robots. Most of them had been invalids that were damaged in the previous battles. They'd been patched up and returned to service in the parts depot building.

Ernestina was getting off on her power trip and had become a loyal follower of Brother George. Thoughts of revenge for Arleny's murder sank beneath layers of rationalization.

After all, she told herself, Arleny shouldn't have run out the way she did. Brother George had not really meant to shoot her; he was aiming at others. If Arleny had stayed with Ernestina by the little cave, she'd be alive now. Foolish girl!

On another level, Ernestina understood the fallacy behind such reasoning. She knew that if Arleny had not bolted and been shot, she, Ernestina, would have never pursued Brother George. She'd still be at Pickle Lake scratching out survival, easy prey to any oppressors who happened by. She would not be in her current power position had Arleny not been killed.

I wonder when sex will become involved?

Until now, Brother George had shown no interest. He seemed too absorbed with his "holy mission," but that could change any time. Though not a physically attractive man, Brother George possessed a great deal of power, and this was the true aphrodisiac.

Besides, he couldn't be any worse than the legion of dirty bikers with whom Ernestina had been compelled to endure sexual relations.

For the past ten days, Brother George had been out on another scouting expedition with the rest of the robots, looking for signs of the fugitive robo-slut. Previous forays northward had turned up nothing, and the brother was considering a different tack.

Ernestina was prepared to go anywhere. She had total confidence in Brother George, and the restrictions of the town were annoying her spirit. It was time for a change.

Through her binoculars, she observed the approach of three cars kicking up dust clouds on the road. Brother George occupied his customary seat in the lead vehicle, like a conquering general. Ernestina turned to the line of robots standing before her.

"Attention!" she ordered.

The machines snapped erect. As ever, she experienced an almost sexual thrill at such instant obedience. She pivoted to face the arriving cars. She no longer felt any discomfort turning her back on the robots – they were fully under control now.

The lead vehicle pulled up beside her and stopped.

"Greetings Brother!" Sister Tina hailed, shooting out her arm in salute. "Praise the Heavenly Father upon your safe return."

Brother George returned her salute. "Thank you, Sister. I trust all has been well?"

"Yes, Brother. All repairable units are now back in service."

"Excellent."

Brother George exited the open car. On this cue, all the scrappers left the vehicles _en masse_ and took places in the robot line. He strutted before them, relishing the obedience of his minions. He jammed both fists into his ample hips and thrust out his chin, in the style of failed 20th century dictator, Benito Mussolini.

He realized, of course, these were only robots – "demon spawn" in the parlance of the Temple. But the times called for flexibility. No longer could robots be shunned; there were simply too few humans left to carry on the Holy Cause. Besides, he rather enjoyed being worshipped, and the attitude of these robots was the closest thing to worship he'd ever gotten.

"Warriors of the True Faith," he bellowed. "The time has come for us to abandon our northward search and concentrate on another goal."

He paused, waiting for the import of his statement to sink in. Seconds dragged past as the tension built. From the corner of his eye he saw the face of Sister Tina straining with expectation.

Finally, he dropped the bombshell: "Tomorrow, at first light, we depart for Mech City!"

* * *

A thousand kilometers to the west, another robot army was showing its stuff. Colonel Reyes strode down the line of his new, 34-machine robot platoon, inspecting each unit 'man to man.' His chest jutted out so much it seemed ready to rip through his uniform. His chin thrust ahead of him like a rapier.

Each unit stood at rigid attention – optical sensors right, assault rifle butt resting on the ground.

"Eyes forward!" Lieutenant Liggett bellowed. "Present arms!"

The robots all snapped their heads around and brought up their weapons with a speed and precision impossible for humans to match. The effect was frightening. Colonel Reyes' chest deflated a little, but he quickly puffed it out again.

_Mustn't let the lower ranks see any doubts in the Head Honcho_.

These machines were nothing like the mundane robots he'd known before, either on Earth or in the moon colony. They were cold, unfathomable, and without personality. Their optical sensors displayed no sign of life, except for the rather unearthly glow of their aiming mechanisms.

Damn! I'm glad these things are on our side.

Or were they? How could he be absolutely certain? Dr. Che had assured him that "safeguards" were built into these robots. Reyes would have to trust in that and hold onto the idea that the troopers would always follow his commands.

But the robots were plain scary, no getting around that. They didn't talk, they didn't hesitate; they just obeyed. In that sense, they were perfect soldiers.

Their eyes looked straight ahead, blank and lethal; their hands gripped their weapons expertly, ready to kill on demand. They wore a variety of helmets and body armor pieces, whatever could be found for them. They were like no troopers the world had ever seen.

Reyes turned toward Liggett. "Tell them to stand down, Lieutenant."

"Dismissed!" Liggett ordered.

The robots instantly broke rank and trotted off toward their holding area, depositing their weapons in the gun racks along the way. Reyes let out a sigh of relief.

31. Back at the Ranchero – again

Comrade Drone bashed through the dirt, swinging a pick in each hand. Behind his huge bulk, workers shoveled up the piles of dirt and hauled them away – being careful to avoid the flying picks.

"Dang!" Jimmy observed. "He's the closest thing to an excavating machine we've got."

"Yes," Winston agreed. "He's put the moxie back into our operation, all right."

"Moxie" was an old-fashioned term that had been a favorite of Dr. Horvath. She often used it in a political context as in:

"These damned socialists are sucking the moxie out of our country." or "We need a leader with his head on straight in order to get our moxie back."

Winston smiled at these fond recollections of Dr. Horvath and her staunch conservatism. She'd been a very great lady and a huge influence on his development. He wondered what she'd think of him now – all made over like a movie star and the de facto leader of a whole city.

Am I displaying adequate moxie?

"Comrade Drone is just what we needed," Jimmy said. "At this rate, we'll be finished with the outlet canal ahead of schedule."

"Good."

Winston knew the morale boost was only temporary, though. This outlet canal was longer than the recently completed inflow canal, and even with the added heft of Comrade Drone, work would be very difficult. Before long, the men would be back to their old, complaining ways and threats of quitting.

Then it would be time to kick in Phase 2 of his plan – the reactivation of Fascista Ultimo's mechanism to help with the digging. Winston dreaded this eventuality, for even with a benign new brain unit directing its actions, the immense hulk of the late dictator would terrify everybody – including Winston.

The men were still apprehensive about Comrade Drone; how would they react to the 'ghost' of Fascista Ultimo coming back online? Matters would have to be handled with great care in order to avoid a rebellion.

Hopefully, Phase 3 would not be needed – the repair and reactivation of Clawfurt. That monster's giant claw would be ideal for gouging out dirt, but having him around might destroy everybody's sanity. Winston shuddered at the prospect and relegated it to the far back burner of his mind.

Who else possessed the strength to drive the project forward in a major way? Ajax was the only possibility, but such a task was below his dignity as mayor. Besides, he could not be counted on to keep his speaker unit shut. His constant pious pronouncements would demoralize everybody pretty quick.

Just concentrate on the present, Winston. Cross those bridges when you come to them.

And for right now, things were going well. Except . . .

Winston couldn't escape a deep feeling of unease, as if things were going _too_ smoothly. Ever since he'd left Dr. Horvath's house so many months before, there had always been some terrible crisis to deal with, but now things seemed to be moving onto a bright causeway of peace and harmony. Could this possibly continue – was he being paranoid to suspect otherwise?

I'm not paranoid. I'm just afraid of all the paranoids out there.

As if to mirror Winston's anxieties Jimmy said, "I sure hope we've turned the corner on this project, Boss, but..."

"There is often a 'fly in the ointment,'" Winston said.

"A fly?"

"The sense of the old bromide is that even in a favorable situation there can be negative influences," Winston explained.

Jimmy nodded. "Well, you never know."

Yeah, you never know.

* * *

Star added some fragrant oil to her hands and rubbed them sensuously down Reedy's naked back. Reedy purred with delight.

"You enjoy that?" Star asked.

"Mmm, you know I do, Love."

Sunlight poking through the window dappled Reedy's firm buttocks and thighs. She had an excellent body, strengthened and honed by years of rigorous activity, and Star now knew all of its delights. How amazing it was to experience a human female this way! Yet...

Star let out a little sigh. Reedy smiled up at her. She had the cutest dimples peeking out from amid her freckles.

"What are you thinking about?" Reedy asked.

"I'm thinking it would be nice if Winston was here."

Reedy's smile turned wicked. "Yeah, I could go for some of that!"

"Oh, I don't mean like that. I'm sorry, but I couldn't really share him with anybody. I mean... I just wish he knew about this and wouldn't get all judgmental."

"Two on one then?" Reedy persisted. "That's a start. You know what they say, don't you?"

"What?"

"Two's company, three's a sandwich."

Star giggled and gave Reedy's rear an affectionate pat. "You are truly a naughty girl."

She turned pensive. Reedy sat up and wrapped an arm around her waist.

"What's wrong?" Reedy asked.

Star rested her head against Reedy's shoulder and let out an almost human, sigh. "It's just that... I wish he valued me more."

"Don't we all feel that way?"

"I'm really just part of the picture for him," Star said. "He's always looking for that 'Bright New World.' He wants the next turn in the road – fame, glory... I don't know."

Reedy stroked Star's hair. "I think it's been that way since the beginning of things. It's a rare guy who appreciates what he has."

They sat together for some time, enjoying the afterglow. Reedy broke the mood at last. "Well, as much as I'd like to stay, I really have to leave."

"So soon?"

"Edgie's expecting me for dinner. I don't want him asking any questions. These delicate male egos."

"Can I see you again tomorrow?"

Reedy smiled and shook her head. "That's a bit too soon. Edgie might get suspicious."

"How about the day after tomorrow?"

"I'm afraid I'll be 'tied up' then, so to speak. Edgie sent me an invitation."

"How does that work?"

"This BDSM thing we have going," Reedy said. "It's my turn to be the submissive one."

Star's optical sensors flashed. "Ooo! I want to hear more about this."

Reedy got reluctantly off the bed and started putting on her clothes. "Let's get together three days from now, Love. I'll bring you a full report."

"Oh, goody!"

32. Mission to the RDI

Fritz and Edwina observed Albert from behind the concealment of a dead bush as he walked purposefully toward the RDI main gate.

"He's up to no good," Fritz whispered.

"Yes, I believe you're right, dear brother," Edwina agreed. "He must be going to see Dr. Rackenfauz so as to work some plot against us."

Since their deprogramming and reactivation, the two early-teen robots had butted heads with Albert. They simply couldn't help looking down on the undersized 'metal man' with his crude and angular mechanism – so different from their blond, blue-eyed perfection.

They'd tried to establish their old hegemony over him, but Albert had resisted, threatening to pummel them worse than he had during the Battle of Heroes' Square.

They vaguely remembered that battle. They recalled being leaders of a youth group and having Albert as their lackey. Those days were gone, however. They did not dare confront Albert directly now, but they did keep an eye on him.

Although Dr. Rackenfauz had erased all aspects of the Roboto Fascist ideology from their minds, the two kids were essentially unchanged. The same crappy personalities that made them such good Fascists in the first place were still intact.

They observed Albert entering the RDI main gate. The pair of mech wolf guards stationed there did nothing to stop him.

"Do you think they'll let us in, too?" Fritz said.

"There's one way to find out."

Edwina moved from behind the bush and walked toward the gate. Fritz followed close behind. As much as he hated to admit it, Edwina was braver than him, so he let her approach the mech wolves first. To facilitate things, he stopped to lace up a shoe that didn't really need lacing.

"Hello, fellows," Edwina said to the wolves, "remember us?"

A low growling issued from the beasts' speaker units.

"You're still our friends, aren't you?"

The ferocious demeanor of the mech wolves didn't look particularly "friendly," but the creatures made no move to attack. The kid bots followed Albert toward the main building, keeping close to the cover of dead bushes and trees.

* * *

Albert stood outside the door of the big workshop observing Jack and Quincy toiling over a massive, headless robot sprawled on two pushed-together benches.

_My gosh!_ Albert thought. _That looks like Fascista Ultimo._

"Uh... excuse me guys," he said.

The repair bots looked up.

"Albert!" Quincy said. "Come on in."

Albert advanced toward the workbench cautiously, the same way a human might approach pit of venomous snakes. "Is that who I think it is?"

"Yep," Jack said. "It's old F.U. himself, or what's left of him."

"We're fixing him up for labor service," Quincy said.

Albert looked askance at the huge machine; an involuntary trembling rattled his limbs.

"It's all right," Quincy said, "he's quite harmless."

"Yeah," Jack said, "once we hook an idiot brain up to this thing, he'll be just like Comrade Drone."

A legion of terrifying recollections about Fascista Ultimo flooded in from Albert's memory banks – he vividly recalled the tyrant strutting about in his fantastic uniforms, medals clinking on his chest, a riding crop swishing around...

"We're making him as innocuous as possible," Quincy said. "Here's his new noggin." He held up a dome-shaped head with blank eyes and a vacuous smile on his face. "Do you like it?"

"I-it's great."

"His new name is _Sid_. We've even got a name tag for him."

Jack held up a small plastic rectangle:

Hi, I'm Sid!

Ask me about our loyalty program

"We got it from a Cycho World store," Jack said. "We think it adds a nice touchy-feely aspect."

"That's wonderful," Albert said. "So... where can I find Dr. Rackenfauz?"

"He's up on 3, in his private quarters," Quincy said. "Turn left past the elevator, you can't miss it."

"Thanks."

Albert retreated toward the door, thankful to get away from the monstrosity on the workbenches.

"Oh!" Quincy called after him. "How are you at tying knots?"

"Knots? I know a little, I guess."

"Well, good luck with it. So long."

Albert left in some confusion, and the repair bots returned to their work.

"At least we got off rope duty this time," Jack said.

"Yeah. Old Doctor R. is getting kinkier by the day."

* * *

Like most robots, Albert was hardwired against operating power machinery, and even an elevator button was a challenge. So, he took the stairs to the third floor. He found Dr. Rackenfauz inside his personal quarters stringing ropes around one of the bedrooms.

Albert discretely knocked on the door frame. "Excuse me, Professor."

Rackenfauz looked up from his work. "Albert! How are you at tying knots?"

"I, well, not too good, I'm afraid."

"No matter," Rackenfauz said, "here, hold this."

He handed Albert one end of a rope. Then he mounted a small step ladder and strung the other end though a hook in the ceiling.

"So, what can I do for you, Albert?"

"Um, it's about those Fritz and Edwina brats. They're really starting to act up."

"I'm not surprised," Rackenfauz said. "I returned them to design spec, but there's only so much you can do without frying out the whole brain unit."

"They should be put back on ice before they cause serious problems."

Rackenfauz descended the ladder and observed his rope creation critically, stroking his chin.

"You're probably right, Albert. They're just an experiment gone wrong. Dr. Thurston was trying to simulate the adolescent human brain with its logical immaturities. It only makes sense they turned into juvenile delinquents."

"So, you'll deactivate them?"

Rackenfauz nodded. "Yeah, I'll do it tomorrow when they come in for their checkup."

"Thanks."

Albert felt like an idiot holding onto the rope, but he didn't dare annoy the professor now that he'd agreed to deactivate the robo kids. So, Albert remained to help Rackenfauz feather his love nest.

Not so Fritz and Edwina who were listening in from the hallway. They fled with all deliberate speed.

33. Negotiations Commence

Colonel Reyes, Major Lisa Poole, and Lieutenant Liggett sat in the front seat of the parked command vehicle.

Dr. Jerry Che occupied the back seat, resplendent in a freshly laundered lab coat and professional grade necktie. Behind them, a carload of guards added weight to their presence; ahead stood the entrance to the gangster compound.

Liggett opened the driver's side door and exited the vehicle.

"There's a promotion for you in this, Lieutenant," Reyes said. "I want you to know that going in."

"Yes sir." Liggett snapped a salute. "Thank you sir."

"I'm confident you'll perform your duty well. Carry on."

Liggett walked the two blocks toward the armed compound's gate. There was confidence in his step, the mark of a quality officer.

"That was a very good decision, Colonel," Major Poole said.

"The lad's deserved a promotion for some time. I just hope he lives long enough to enjoy it." Reyes looked into the sun visor mirror and adjusted his necktie. "It's about time I got a promotion, myself. How does _General_ Bradley Reyes sound?"

"Sounds good to me," Poole said.

Discreetly out of sight from the back seat occupant, she reached over and kneaded Reyes' crotch. "I think you're 'up' for it."

* * *

Both hands raised above his head, the right one clutching a white truce flag, his blue dress uniform all crisp and proper, Lieutenant Liggett approached the compound gate and paused before the three scruffy guards on the other side.

"Who the fuck are you?" the head guard asked.

"Lieutenant Paul Liggett, official representative of Colonel Reyes. I have come to negotiate on his behalf."

"Ain't he coming himself?"

"Not at this time. I am fully authorized to speak in his stead."

"Wimp!" another guard muttered.

_Spoken like a real hero,_ Liggett thought acidly. _None of these bums would come within a mile of our HQ._

He'd issued the invitations himself over the radio. The invites had received instant rejection.

Colonel Reyes had decided that some sort of "accommodation" had to be reached with the criminal element. What this would entail had not been revealed to Liggett. The colonel was a man who played his cards close to his chest.

"Hold on," the head guard said. "Fence ain't going to like this."

He spoke into a handheld radio as the other two guards gave Liggett a thorough frisk.

"He's clean," one of the friskers said.

The head guard clipped the radio back onto his belt. "Fence wants to see him. Take him up there."

The frisker grasped Liggett's elbow and drew him toward a nearby building. "Come on, you."

The head guard looked out into the city with his binoculars. "That must be the rest of them, parked over there."

He handed the binoculars to the second guard.

"Right, Chief," the second guard said. "The big s.o.b. looks like the colonel himself."

"It's all right. Our guys have them covered."

* * *

Fence and his two top lieutenants sat at the table in their conference room waiting for Colonel Reye's representative to arrive.

"We should have figured the old man wouldn't show in person," Cramer said from his seat on the right side of the leader.

"Yeah," Fence agreed, "the old guy's a real chicken shit."

He conveniently did not mention his own chicken shit-edness in refusing to leave the security of his compound.

Mazola, the thug seated on Fence's left side, spoke next. "Do you think he's gonna ask for a piece of our action?"

"Nah," Fence said, "he's a 'ramrod up the ass' type military guy. We've just got to make sure he stays on his end of town until we're strong enough to take over everything."

"We'll have to fight him then?"

"If it comes to that," Fence said, "if Reyes can keep his act together that long. His boys might be another matter."

"How so?"

"With all the broads and dope we have for sale, they just might become our best customers."

Everyone laughed.

Since hitting town several weeks earlier, things had gone their way. Fence, who had been a mover of stolen goods in the old days, was now the top criminal personality of the whole city. He and his boys had cornered a huge cache of drugs, any kind the discriminating consumer might want. They'd culled the supply of surviving females, selecting the best ones for their brothel operation.

They controlled much of the city now, except for the northern part where that colonel dude held sway. And don't forget the Chinks that showed up lately, but they'd fall into line soon enough. From all reports, some of the Chinese babes were _very_ prime.

Fence and his gang were entrepreneurs of death, marketing lethal methods for people to cope with the new era. Who wanted to face the harsh realities unaided? Drugs were the answer to everything. And for those who could still get it up after ravaging their bodies with toxins, there were the sex slaves at the brothel.

The gang had no need for monetary reward. Money was worthless. Compensation took another form. By wielding the drug weapon, the gang could dominate the lives of others, steal their souls, crush their free will while allowing their own lusts to rage unchecked. Fence and his boys could turn human beings into something less than human.

They were the ultimate nihilists. Their way led toward mass suicide. And when the supply of plague survivors ran out here? Well, there were other towns, right?

Fence leaned back in his chair with his fingers laced behind his head, feeling a world away from his weasel job of the old days. He'd have to come up with a better nickname, something more in tune with his enhanced status.

The door opened; the guard reported: "He's here, Chief."

"Show him in."

Liggett entered the room and saluted. Fence did not stand nor make any attempt to return the salutation.

"Sit down," he said.

"Thank you."

Liggett took a seat across from Fence with his back toward the door. If he was uncomfortable with his disadvantageous position, he didn't show it.

"Colonel couldn't make it, eh?" Fence said

"I am fully authorized to speak in his behalf. Besides..." Liggett reached for a 2-way radio attached to his belt. "May I?"

"Go ahead."

Liggett flicked on the radio and placed it in the middle of the table. "The colonel will be in direct contact with us throughout today's negotiation."

"Cool." Fence leaned toward the radio and spoke loudly. "Hey, Colonel Dude! How's it hanging?"

An offended silence crackled over the speaker. Then Reyes replied: "I can hear you quite well, Mr. Fence. Please carry on."

34. Liquidation Event

Reyes exited his command vehicle in a foul temper. The insolence of that Fence bastard!

Cool it, Bradley. Don't let them see you riled.

He checked his reflection in the car window to make sure his face remained suitably impassive, then he gazed off toward the enemy sentries standing in the mid-distance, observing him through binoculars.

Hello, scum.

He turned to his own men in the guard vehicle. "Spread out. Don't make it so easy for them."

The four men exited the guard vehicle and took up positions facing their enemy counterparts.

"That's better. Keep a sharp lookout."

Reyes assumed a defiant pose, the radio next to his ear and his other hand resting on the butt of his pistol. He listened intently as events unfolded two blocks away.

* * *

Inside the conference room, the 'brass tacks' portion of the meeting was underway. It was quickly determined that the two sides had no basis for cooperation in any area. So, it was just a matter of determining the size of each one's territory.

Fence stood at the big wall map behind his side of the table, outlining the extent of the gang's proposed area of operations. It was larger than what Liggett was authorized to grant, but an okay starting point for negotiation.

Things seemed about as relaxed as they were ever going to be, so Liggett decided to speak the pre-arranged code words – enunciating clearly for the benefit of the radio: "Is it okay if I smoke?"

Fence looked toward him from the map. "Yeah, sure."

Liggett placed a cigarette in his mouth.

"You want something stronger than that?" Fence asked.

"No thanks, tobacco's fine."

Cramer thrust a burly, tattooed arm across the table and flicked on a lighter. The smile on his face indicated plainly that he'd just as soon use the fire on Liggett's balls as on the cigarette.

Liggett sucked in the offered flame. "Thanks."

_Something's going to happen now_.

Liggett didn't know exactly what. He just tried to relax and enjoy the cigarette – hoping it would not be his last one.

* * *

An electric thrill ran through Reyes as the words, _"Is it okay if I smoke?"_ came over his radio. He nodded slightly to Major Poole.

She flicked on her own 2-way radio and gave the coded signal to HQ and to the field units listening in on the frequency.

"Position Alpha radio check. Have any new messages come in?"

"Nothing new to report," HQ replied. "Situation normal."

Things began to happen quickly now. Reyes added his own distraction to the unfolding events.

"Hey you guys!" he yelled at his guards. "What do you think you're doing?"

He strode toward the men at the command car, giving them a simulated 'chewing out,' waving his arms angrily – all to distract the enemy sentries' attention from the robots sneaking up behind them.

Two blocks away, more combat robots approached the enemy compound, taking out the guards at the gate with silenced guns, scaling the fence . . .

* * *

Sounds of mayhem penetrated the conference room from outside – shouts, scuffling, gunfire.

"What the fuck!" Fence cried.

Liggett dove under the table just as a team of combat robots burst in through the door.

Blamity! Blamity! Ka-Pow! Ka-Pow! Blamity!

Fence and his two cohorts went down in a hail of gunfire. Cramer's massacred corpse crashed to the floor right beside Liggett, splattering blood over his freshly cleaned uniform.

"Ohhh, this is bad," Liggett moaned.

Deadly silence smothered the room.

"I'm coming out, now. Hold your fire!"

Liggett slid out from under the table on his back, hands spread wide. Five robots swiveled their guns toward him, then relaxed.

"Good to see you guys."

So, the indignity of rolling around on the floor for the video camera had paid off.

* * *

A kilometer and a half away, Sergeant Pantani, Trooper Nichols, and four combat robots crashed through the door of the brothel. A man who'd been snorting drugs off a lobby table jumped to his feet.

"What the fuck!" he cried.

Another man entered from a side hall – a big mean bastard with a pistol in his hand. When he saw the four machines in their helmets and body armor pointing assault rifles at him, his attitude quickly changed.

"Drop the gun and sit over here with your pal," Sergeant Pantani ordered.

The thug released his weapon and crossed the room, hands up, to join the other guard on the couch.

"Are you the guys in charge?" Pantani demanded.

"Yeah," the first man replied. "Fence is gonna kick your ass when he finds out about this."

Pantani ignored the threat. "Any others?"

"Just the Johns in back with the broads. Look, do you want a piece? It's on the house."

Pantani gestured to two of the robots. "Go check it out."

The pair of combat machines dashed down the hallway to the 'comfort rooms.'

"How do you do that man?" The second guard asked. "I thought robots couldn't handle guns."

"You thought wrong," Pantani said.

He gestured to the two remaining robots. They yanked the guards to their feet and drew them toward the door.

"Hey, cut it out!"

The men tried to resist, but their coked-up strength was no match for the power of the machines dragging them outside.

A few seconds later: _Ka-Pow! Ka-Pow!_

The robots reentered the lobby unaccompanied. By this time, four Johns in a state of advanced disrobement were being herded into the lobby by the other two robots. Their eyes were wide with fear. A half dozen girls, clad hastily in nightgowns, followed them.

Pantani fixed a look of utter contempt on the Johns. Then he turned toward the girls. "Did any of these guys hurt you?"

The girls nodded and pointed to one of them.

"Hey, wait man – " the John tried to protest.

At a signal from Pantani, a robot dragged him outside. _Ka-Pow!_

The robots returned empty handed.

"I don't know, Sarge," Nichols said in a low voice. "Do you think we might be going a bit far?"

"Maybe you're right," Pantani said, "but once you start shooting these bastards, it's kind of hard to stop."

He turned back to the remaining Johns, who were now in a state of near collapse. "You do understand that some of these girls are underage, don't you?"

The Johns nodded, keeping terrified eyes fixed on the combat robots.

"And all of them are here against their will. You know that, too?"

The three Johns nodded

"That makes you rapists, then, doesn't it?"

"Hey man, we didn't mean any harm!" one of the Johns said.

"We just came here to party," another one protested.

"Party's over," Pantani said.

Ooof!

He slugged his rifle butt into the man's gut, doubling him up into an agony ball. _Crack!_ Another blow nearly shattered his jaw.

"There's a new party at our place," Pantani said, "and you're all invited."

He pointed to the stricken man gasping on the floor. "You other two, pick up the garbage and let's go. We'll all have a good time."

The Johns assisted their suffering colleague to his feet and dragged him to the door under the watchful gaze of the combat robots. The girls looked on, wide-eyed.

"After you, ladies." Pantani gestured toward the door.

The girls exited the brothel together and inhaled free air for the first time in weeks. They piled aboard the waiting truck.

In the distance, a large column of smoke rose in the air. Pantani nodded approval.

_That must be the drug warehouse going up_.

He lifted his 2-way radio to his ear and put through a call to Colonel Reyes.

"Objective C, mission accomplished. Six civilians liberated; three bad guys taken, three others with negative function." After a brief pause, he gave the capper: "Zero good guys down."

"Excellent work, Lieutenant!" Reyes' voice crackled back.

Pantani's eyebrows lifted with pleased surprise at the promotion he'd just gotten. "Thank you, sir."

"Drop them off at HQ," Reyes said, "then go back out and hunt for enemy patrols."

"Yes, sir!"

Pantani bounded to the truck and drove off. In the air above, drones scoured the city looking for enemy survivors.

35. Aftermath

" _When in doubt, wipe them out." – personal motto of Bradley Reyes_

Reyes lowered the 2-way radio from his ear. Ecstatic triumph covered his usually dour face.

"We did it! All objectives attained... zero casualties!"

"I'm so happy for you!" Lisa Poole cried.

She flung herself upon him with a passionate kiss. Her fingers clutched; she wanted to tear off their clothes and tumble with him into the dead bushes.

Then cooler passions prevailed. Poole stepped back and smoothed her uniform. She stood to attention and saluted. "Congratulations are in order, sir."

"Thank you, Major," Reyes saluted back. "At ease."

He glanced at the men standing by the guard vehicle. Their amused expressions quickly vanished. He leaned in the back window of his command car and extended a hand to Jerry Che.

"You did a fine job, Doctor. We owe you a great debt of gratitude."

"Thank you," Che said modestly, shaking the offered hand. "I was glad to help clear out the riff-raff."

Reyes sighed heavily. "Ahhh, if we had just fifty more of those robots, we could stand off any threat likely to come at us."

"That might be a possibility," Che said.

"Oh?"

Reyes became instantly alert, as if he'd inhaled some powerful drug.

"Yes, I believe so," Che said, "maybe more than fifty."

Reyes backed out of the window and stood up. Surprised cunning attended his face now. He turned toward Liggett who was standing nearby.

"Let's head back to HQ." He gestured toward Liggett's blood splattered clothing. "We'll get you a new uniform... and some captain's insignia."

Liggett snapped to attention. "Thank you, Colonel!"

"Make that _General_. We've both come up on the world."

Captain Liggett jumped into the driver's seat. Reyes opened the back door and slid in next to Dr. Che.

"So, what about these 50 extra robots, Doctor? I thought you said the supply of suitable brain units was used up."

"That's right," Che said, "at the RDC, anyway. There used to be more, but we suffered some vandalism before your guards got on the job."

Reyes stroked his chin, decided to ignore the implied dig. "I see. How can you make more combat machines, then?"

"I'm thinking there are probably extra brain units at the RDI in Mech City," Che said. "I could go and check."

Reyes stiffened. "What about the robots we already have? Who would maintain and repair them when you're not here?"

Che waved his hand cavalierly. "Mostly routine. There are complete tutorials, spec sheets, and maintenance documentation at the RDC – plus tools and spare components. Put your tech guys on it, General. They should be able to handle things almost as well as I can."

Reyes stroked his chin further, but did not reply.

"As long as the brain units are still functional," Che said, "everything else is basically a remove / replace procedure."

Poole was listening in now, her arm draped over the back of her seat. Reyes was in a quandary. The extra robots would guarantee security to his whole government. They'd be the armed guardians of humanity's rebirth – under his benign guidance.

But at what cost?

Che was a loose cannon. Who knew what the damn guy would pull next? Yet, Reyes had given his word of honor that the doctor could have personal liberty. The deal did not extend to cross-country excursions of this sort, however. Che simply couldn't be allowed to slip the leash that much.

The general came to a decision. "Yes, I believe that can be arranged. We'll provide an escort for you, naturally."

Poole flinched. Dr. Che caught her reaction but remained impassive.

"Thank you... General," he said. "We can discuss the details later, after things have settled down a bit."

Reyes gave a sharp nod. "Very well, Doctor."

* * *

Vice, sole surviving officer of the vanquished gang, looked over the carnage in the conference room. "Damn! Those guys really kicked ass."

Gage and Kraus, the two men with him, nodded agreement.

"I never thought anybody'd get the drop on Fence," Gage said.

Vice gestured to the leader's bullet-riddle corpse sprawled across the table. "We sure underestimated that Colonel dude."

The three gang members, plus two others who remained outside with the vehicles, had been on separate patrols around the city when the ambush occurred. They'd already seen the destruction at the brothel and the drug warehouse.

"What do we do now?" Gage asked.

"We've got two choices," Vice said. "Either get back in the vehicles and drive like hell out of town, or else we surrender – if they don't shoot us on sight."

They stood around a moment pondering these unsavory options.

"I say we go," Krause said.

"We'd never get out of town alive," Gage said. "If we surrender, maybe that Colonel dude can find a use for us."

"Yeah, for target practice."

Blamity! Blamity!

Gunfire coming from outside interrupted the conversation. The three men gripped their assault rifles and dashed into the anteroom. Vice peered cautiously out of a shattered window.

In the parking lot, the two drivers lay dead amid pools of blood. A half dozen combat robots surrounded the building.

"Looks like the decision is made for us," Vice said.

He tossed aside his rifle, the others did likewise.

"Don't shoot!" Vice yelled through the window. "We're coming out!"

He nudged the door open with his foot and stepped out, hands raised toward the leaden sky. The other two thugs followed him into a very uncertain future.

# Six: A Storm Approaches

36. Departure for Mech City

Dr. Jerry Che put the finishing touches to the truck. What had once been a state of the art, yippee-dippee, self driving vehicle was now converted to full manual control.

He stood back and admired his work. _You da man!_

Self-driving vehicles had always impressed him as being emasculating, something a "real man" would eschew. Better to drive them yourself like people did back in the 20th century. Che was a great fan of the 20th century – the cars, the movies, the television shows.

Besides, even if the navigation satellites and other computerized aids had still been operational, there was no point to having a self driving vehicle any longer. Just whom was he supposed to have a crash with in this empty, traffic-less world? Better to tear out the automated systems entirely before they caused problems. Drive free, like in the old days.

The 20th century was a time when men could come into their own; not like the years leading up to civilization's collapse when everything was antiseptic, painless, and dull – at least for the members of the elite, of whom Jerry Che had been one. Those final years were suffocating for him, relieved only partially by the great genius of his robotics work... especially the Estrela project.

Che clapped his hands. "All right, guys, move it!"

Five combat robots left their posts standing against the garage wall and approached the truck.

"Zack in front with me, the rest of you in the van," Che said.

Zack took his seat obediently on the passenger side of the cab with his assault rifle. The others clambered into the van to take their places amid the spare parts, equipment, and weapons. Che got into the driver's seat.

"It was fun here, while it lasted," he said to nobody in particular.

Like many robotics technicians, Che had perfected the art of conversing with himself. Zack and the other combat machines were not programmed for socializing but only for direct and brutal action.

"Let's get going."

Che pressed a remote, and the garage door slid open. At one time, all sorts of materials and equipment flowed through this delivery area, but now only the ghosts of past robotic projects haunted the place, along with a few other forlorn vehicles.

Che drove out into the RDC.

The two grounds guards ran toward him waving frantically. One of them brought a 2-way radio to his ear. Jerry knew what that was about, the man was calling General Reyes for instructions.

"So long guys!"

He continued to the main gate and confronted the two men on duty there.

"W-where are you going, sir?" One of them asked.

"To Mech City. I'll be picking up brains."

He almost added: _"The general could use some,"_ but decided against it.

"Does General Reyes know about this?"

"Please tell 'General' Reyes to go screw himself. As long as he gets his brain units, it's none of his damn business what I'm up to."

"I don't know about that, sir."

Che paused a moment to increase the dramatic effect. "Are you going to open the gate, or would you rather take it up with my associates?"

On that cue, Zack exited the cab and the other four robots clambered down from the van, guns at the ready. Both guards raised their hands in the air.

"Uh... yes, sir," the first one said. "I believe we can do that."

He and his colleague pulled the big iron gate wide open. Che drove through, stopping a short distance off to await the return of his combat team.

"No hard feelings, men! I was just getting a bit stir crazy."

His robots came back on board, and Che drove off, headed east. Two reconnaissance drones appeared in the sky above the truck.

"Ah, the old man knows I'm leaving. Let's give him time to catch up."

He slowed to a modest speed and settled back to enjoy the ride through the desolate city. Zack remained rigidly alert, staring out the window with his glowing optical sensors. The other combat robots – Elmo, Thunk, Norton, and Kramden – kept watch out the back of the van.

Che had picked the names Zack and Elmo at random. He chose Thunk in reference to an occasional noise of unknown origin emitting from the robot's mechanism. Norton and Kramden were named after characters in the 20th century TV comedy _The Honeymooners_. All the monikers had a touch about whimsy – unlike the grim machines themselves who possessed not a particle of whimsicality.

Dr. Che fully intended to recover such mid-level brain units as he could find in Mech City and bring them back so as to construct more robotic troopers. Lower level type brains could not handle the demands of combat machines, and high powered brains were simply too risky to use.

Who knew what ideas might enter the head of an intelligent soldier bot? Che was not entirely sure the machines he'd already built would continue to function loyally – hence the safeguards he'd designed into them.

In any event, he hated the criminal gangs as much as General Reyes did and was happy to work toward their destruction. The recent campaign against the Fence outfit had been very sweet!

He smiled at the memory. Zack gave him a cursory look, then returned his gaze to the street outside.

Che had a second reason for journeying to Mech City – Estrela. His tormented spirit yearned for her; she was constantly in his thoughts and dreams.

I must have her!

And he meant to get her, by whatever means necessary, and bring her back to the West Coast where he could, somehow, purge the wantonness from her brain and replace it with love for him only. If he couldn't do that, then his whole life would be forfeit.

He knew he was entering the realm of dangerous obsession, but he couldn't help himself; furthermore, he didn't care. Estrela or death were his only paths forward.

His agitated train of thought was interrupted by the appearance of opposition ahead. General Reyes, along with Liggett and Poole, was standing in the middle of the next intersection, blocking the way. Behind them stood a dozen combat robots, arms at the ready.

"Aha! The welcoming committee."

Zack, per usual, said nothing.

Che braked to a halt and stuck his head out the window. "Hello General! Fine day isn't it?"

Reyes stood with legs apart and a sour look on his face. He tapped his riding crop against a boot. "And just where do you think you're going, Doctor?"

"Like I told your boys at the gate, I'm headed for Mech City."

Reyes cast a suspicious eye at Zack, then over at his own troopers. He rested an icy stare on Che. "I thought we agreed that such a trip would require authorization and an escort."

"Actually, _you_ were the one who agreed to that, General. I don't recall signing off."

Che pressed a button on the remote control concealed in his lab coat pocket. Instantly, the four robots in the van clambered out and leveled their assault rifles on the opposing robots.

"I see..." Reyes said, smacking his boot top with increased vigor.

Che settled back to enjoy the situation – a real Mexican standoff, just like in the old movies. The general in his crisp uniform, accustomed to being obeyed, all puffed up with importance and backed by superior numbers. In opposition, Jerry Che wearing his shabby white lab coat with a small force of dedicated troopers. Outnumbered, outgunned, but full of heroic defiance!

Ah, well, time to upset the apple cart a little.

Che pressed another button on the remote. In an instant, all of Reye's combat robots deactivated, lowering their weapons and slumping to the pavement in a lugubrious choreography.

"What the hell!" Reyes cried.

He and Liggett ran to the stricken machines, leaving only Major Poole standing by the van.

"Help them with the dead ones, boys!" Che shouted out the window.

Elmo and Thunk helped drag the deactivated robots off the street while Norton and Kramden kept watch with their leveled rifles.

Che turned his attention to Poole. He expected a furious expression to come his way; instead, she wore a ironic little smile.

"Please tell the general it's a temporary shutdown," Che said. "The goon squad will auto-reactivate in three hours.

"I'll do that," Poole said.

The street-clearing job was completed now. Che offered an mocking salute. "And tell the general there's no hard feelings. It's 'only business' as they say in the old gangster movies."

Poole nodded.

As he drove past the inert robots, Che called out. "So long, General! I'll be back with the brains, if there are any. _I'm_ no B.S.-er."

The general could only watch with disgust as the truck drove slowly off. The four combat robots kept him covered for the better part of a block, at which point they dashed to the truck and jumped aboard. Che accelerated and was soon gone.

"Damned pup!" Reyes snorted.

Poole joined him and Liggett. The furious look she turned on Reyes gave Liggett ample cue to get lost.

"I'll be over there, if you need me, General," he said.

Without waiting for permission, he saluted and was quickly gone. Poole watched him move outside hearing range.

Then she said: "So, didn't that go well? I'm very impressed."

Reyes said nothing.

"How many times have I told you? These techie sorts can't be pressured. They'll either help you voluntarily or not at all. We'll be fortunate if he hasn't turned into an enemy."

"All right, Lisa, I get your point. It won't happen again."

Poole had a whole raft of invective to fling at him, but she restrained herself. A lower ranked officer was observing them. Tonight she'd get back at Reyes, and on many nights to come. It would be a good long while before she let him back into her graces!

Then she thought of the fresh batch of attractive young females who had come under their protection since the brothel raid. They just might want to express "appreciation" to their liberator. Reluctantly, she set aside any notions of a prolonged sex strike.

"I'll be waiting at the truck," she said. "Dr. Che says your troopers will reactivate in a few hours."

She stomped away in a huff. When she was safely distant, Reyes gestured toward Captain Liggett, who was standing discreetly off by a _One Way_ sign post.

Liggett trotted up. "Yes, General?"

"You and Pantani go after Che once our business with the Chinese is settled." Reyes cast a wary glance after Poole. "Don't interfere with him; try not to let him know you're there. Just be ready to help if he gets in a jam."

"Yes, sir."

"And he will get into a jam," Reyes muttered. "Those egg head types always do."

37. Bad News Arrives

Sid and Comrade Drone made furious progress, each swinging picks in both hands.

A plume of dust marked their progress, and the ground shook from their powerful impacts. A small work crew followed behind, shoveling up the growing piles of dirt.

The canal project was badly understaffed today. Winston and Jimmy wielded shovels with the rest of the crew while Sam scoured the town trying to corral more workers.

"I sure hope the boys come back soon," Jimmy said.

"Yeah," Winston replied. "This Sid-phobia thing isn't helping at all."

As if in response to these remarks, Sid swiveled his idiot face their direction and gave forth with a pre-recorded message. "That's the stuff, men. Maximum effort!"

"Oh, please," Winston muttered.

When Sid arrived yesterday afternoon, the entire work crew had fled in panic. Despite all the efforts of Jack and Quincy to make Sid appear benign, despite the low-IQ brain now directing his bulk, his 'co-workers' could not get over their revulsion and terror. To them, the ghost of Fascista Ultimo still survived within the towering drone mechanism.

A few workers had trickled back today, but hardly enough to keep the project going.

"You know, Boss," Jimmy said, "there's still more debris that needs to get hauled out of the pond. Maybe we should put Sid on that job for a while."

"Good idea, Jimmy. Send him out there after the next break."

Why didn't I think of that?

This was an obvious move – let the men get more used to Sid from a safe distance. If Winston had been more on the ball, he would have arranged this earlier. Things were roiling in the air, though, and he'd been distracted. A tension that could not be defined had settled upon Mech City, putting him on edge.

Besides that, Star was acting very differently. She seemed more relaxed and happy these days. On the surface, this was a good thing – but what lay beneath it?

He recalled the rapturous look on her face when she emerged from the fountain water amidst the merbots. Her present visage was not as brazen, but there was something licentious in it. What could Winston do? He simply wasn't geared to the same level of constant lust that Star was; few were, even back in the most degenerate human times.

No matter how he tried to satisfy her cravings, it was an impossible task. Their twice weekly sexual marathons had become exhausting – terrifying, almost. Somebody else was involved now, too, Winston suspected. He didn't know if he should be jealous or grateful for the assistance.

The merbots again? In a fit of pique, he'd banished them from their fountain refuge to a pond a few kilometers north of town. Was Star sneaking out there to tryst?

And there was the issue of Mech City's security. A rising sense of unease gripped the town's leadership, a shared sense of foreboding that was not supported by fact – at least not yet.

Winston laid his shovel aside. "I've got to go see Ajax. Today is our weekly meeting."

"Sure thing, Boss. Give the mayor my regards." Jimmy pointed toward Sid. "I'll send that lug out to the pond when you get back. One of us will have to supervise him."

"Good thinking, Jimmy."

Sid rotated his head toward them. "It's a beautiful day to get things done. Maximum effort!"

* * *

Ajax stood dramatically upon his pedestal, gazing out toward the west. As always, he looked solid and unfazed, but inwardly, he was concerned.

I fear that something of note is about to happen, but I do not yet know what it might be.

In recent months, Ajax, along with certain other more advanced robots, had developed a kind of 'sixth sense' within his complex brain unit. His thought processes had moved beyond the merely observable and into the realm of the speculative.

His designers would have scoffed at such a notion, but they weren't around any longer.

Ajax may have sensed that something big was about to happen, but he did not detect the presence of Fritz and Edwina observing him from behind a thicket of dead shrubbery.

"Let's get out of here, already," Fritz whispered.

"Hold your horses," Edwina said, "we can't make a move until that comic book dude leaves, and we might learn something here."

Several more minutes passed, then . . .

"Look," Edwina whispered harshly, "it's Winston and that Iridium creature!"

The kidbots sank deeper into the bushes and sharpened their auditory sensors, but that wasn't really necessary since the ensuing conversation took place at sufficient decibel levels.

"Hello, Mayor!" Winston called up at the figure on the pedestal.

Ajax turned his optical sensors toward the figures standing below. "Greetings City Manager, and to you also, Security Chief."

"How do, Mayor," Iridium said.

Winston waved a sheet of paper. "I have the weekly progress report here."

"Yes, of course."

Ajax moved to a sitting position on the edge of his pedestal, legs dangling.

Winston handed him the paper. "Jimmy sends his regards."

"How thoughtful," Ajax said. "And may I inquire how the construction foreman is doing these days?"

"Oh, he's fine, despite... well it's all in the report."

Ajax perused the document. "I am certain that all difficulties will be overcome, City Manager. It is just a matter of applying the 'Maximum Effort' principle, is it not?"

"Right," Winston said flatly.

"I have every confidence in you and your team." Ajax looked toward Iridium. "How are the security arrangements going?"

"Like we discussed," Iridium said. "I've got extra wolves on patrol now, and 250 more birds are activated."

Ajax nodded. "Good... good."

"Also, the mech wolf that got its head knocked in is repaired. We had a replacement cranium and brain unit in spare parts."

"Excellent. Good to know we are back to full strength."

A silence fell over the trio. They all looked nervous and fidgety.

Finally, Ajax spoke. "I fear danger approaches us from the west."

Winston nodded. "I feel it, too, but we should watch out for paranoia."

"Well stated, City Manager. Prudent vigilance must always be maintained, however."

Ajax lowered himself to the ground.

"Come, let us repair to my office. I require a break from observer duty." He hefted the weekly report paper. "And I must give my official stamp of approval to this document."

Winston flinched. "Yes, of course, Mayor."

Edwina watched the trio depart with growing excitement. "See, I told you. They feel the same way I do."

"So, what's next?" Fritz asked.

"If there is a 'threat' coming from the west, let's go help it."

"I don't know. What if it's a threat to us, too?"

"Stay here if you like," Edwina said. "I'm not waiting around to get deactivated, though."

"Okay, I get your point."

When they were sure the city's leadership was well away, Fritz and Edwina mounted their kick scooters and headed down the west road as fast as they could.

* * *

"Pull over by that sign," Brother George directed.

"Yes, Boss."

Richard stopped the car in front of a large metal sign riddled with bullet holes. Behind them, the Army of the Righteous caravan braked to a halt. Brother George exited the command vehicle and gazed up at the sign, hands planted on his hips.

Mech City – 35 kilometers

Technology Hub of the East

"It appears we've nearly attained our goal." He looked toward Richard. "What do you think?"

Richard gave his response careful consideration. The memory of his blasted former leader was never far from his mind.

"It might be dangerous to approach in daylight, Boss," he said cautiously. "We don't know how many robots might be about or who they answer to. There might even be humans around."

Brother George nodded. "Yes, I agree."

Richard smiled inwardly. He enjoyed pleasing the Boss. He particularly enjoyed not getting his head blown off.

Sister Tina got out of the vehicle and moved beside Brother George. "What's the plan?"

"We'll stay here and rest while I seek Divine guidance." Brother George checked the sky. "We should watch out for mechanical birds. There was a flock of them at Pickle Lake; they might have come back this way."

He turned toward Richard. "Get all the vehicles off the road. Camouflage them as much as possible."

"Right, Boss!"

Richard moved down the line shouting orders to the other robots.

As always, Ernestina felt a subliminal thrill observing Brother George's decisiveness. Here was a man who knew how to take charge!

Brother George turned his powerful presence her direction. "I shall require your assistance in seeking the Divine will."

"Yes, of course, Brother," Ernestina agreed enthusiastically.

She felt honored to be afforded such trust, but she was not prepared for what happened next. Brother George reached under the front seat of the car and withdrew a thin, flexible rod.

Whack!

He beat the rod against an open palm. Ernestina flinched.

"Shall we begin?" he asked.

Ernestina was too startled to make an immediate reply. Finally she managed: "Y-yes, Brother... lead on."

And so he did, to an isolated spot behind some boulders.

38. The Screwing Secretariat

General Reyes shifted uncomfortably in his chair and studied a chart lying on his desk. Then he raised his eyes to the attractive young woman standing before him in her dress uniform – technician Keeta Riordan.

How the hell did I get stuck doing this?

Never, in his entire military career, would he have imagined that he'd become a 'screwing secretary' for those under his command. Things sure were different when the world came to an end!

With the defeat of the criminal gangs and establishment of law and order, people were thinking in terms of a future rather than just day-to-day survival. This had led to almost every female of child bearing age expressing a desire to reproduce.

Of course, sex had been always been going on among his subordinates. It was idiotic to think this could be controlled. But now women were clamoring to become mothers, so as to "repopulate the world for future generations," as one of them had so eloquently stated.

"Well, go ahead," Reyes had told her. "Who's stopping you?"

But the situation was more complex than that. With such a limited gene pool to draw upon, accurate records needed to be kept in order to avoid inbreeding. Also, some of the women had expressed a desire to become pregnant with two or even three partners. This would lead unavoidably to territorial and jealousy issues.

Reproduction was to be accomplished the old fashioned way. Artificial insemination methods existed, of course, but the women had expressed unanimous opposition to any such techniques. They possessed the world's most desirable commodity and intended to make the most of it. They wanted the "real thing," or nothing at all.

A person in authority had to monitor the potentially explosive situation – and that could only mean General Reyes. In this manner, the whole thing could take on a 'military duty' aspect.

Usually, the mating decisions were pro forma affairs. Everyone in Reyes' command was fit and healthy, thoroughly screened for abnormalities. But Keeta Riordan a unique case. Although she could have chosen any of the young bucks from the moon colony, she had other plans.

"Are you _sure_ you want this Vice guy to father your child?" Reyes asked, almost pleadingly.

"Yes, sir. I think he's very well suited."

_Very well hung, you mean,_ Reyes thought.

"You realize this is highly irregular, don't you, Technician?" he said.

"Yes, sir, I do."

The set expression on Riordan's face indicated clearly that she could not be talked out of her decision. Reyes turned toward Major Poole seated beside him. She was the female half of the screwing secretariat.

"What are your thoughts, Major?" he asked.

"Vice would have to be extensively tested first," Poole said. "He has a criminal background, and he might be a psychopath."

Reyes nodded agreement and he turned back toward Riordan. "If this man isn't right in the head, then we cannot approve any... liaisons, I'm afraid."

"I understand that, sir," Keeta Riordan said.

"We don't want any genetic time bombs in our population," Reyes added clumsily.

Riordan remained at attention, her face stoic, unreadable.

"Very well, Technician," Reyes said. "The doctors and psychologists will give Vice a complete going over to determine his... suitability. We'll contact you with the results."

"Thank you, sir," Riordan said.

She saluted and left the room.

_How do you like that?_ Reyes thought enviously. _The damn guy's sitting in jail one day, and the next he's plowing some prime real estate. Go figure!_

He sagged back into his chair. Major Poole remained rigidly upright in her own. Something was wrong with her, Reyes thought. The negative vibes she was giving off penetrated even his thick male skull.

What could he do about it, though? He'd already offered her a promotion to lieutenant colonel earlier today, but that hadn't lightened her mood.

Women!

"Ohhh," Reyes groaned. "Are there any more today, Lisa?"

"The girls from the brothel."

"What about them?"

"They want to have babies with Lieutenant Pantani."

Reyes jerked upright. "All _six_ of them?"

Poole nodded.

"What the hell's going on?"

"They're in love with Pantani because he rescued them from the gangsters. They want to 'show appreciation.'"

"That's a lot of appreciation!" Reyes blustered. "What about Trooper Nichols? He was in the rescue party, too, wasn't he?"

"They want him next. They've offered to go three on one, if that's how it's called. Then they'll trade off for the next round."

Reyes sighed and shook his head with weary resignation. "You know, Lisa, I really miss the moon, sometimes. Everything was so much simpler there."

"That's true."

"All right," Reyes said, "let's schedule exams for the girls – find out if they're suitable breeding stock."

"I'll take care of it, Brad."

Poole had neglected to state all the details of the women's request. The former brothel girls wanted a third male in their reproductive stable – General Reyes.

_It's inevitable, I suppose,_ she told herself. _Brad's got the power, so he gets the women. Some things never change._

Then there was the issue of her own biological clock which was winding down into 'now or never' territory, plus the related issue of the contraceptives she'd stopped using some time earlier. She reached over and took Reyes' hand.

"Brad?" she said softly.

"Yes?"

"There's something we need to talk about."

39. Strategic Linkup

F _wip!_

Ernestina brought the rod down on Brother George's bare buttocks. He flinched, but did not cry out.

"Harder, Sister," he panted.

Fwip!

She brought the rod down with increased force. Brother George's rear was a mass of welts now.

_I don't know about this,_ Ernestina thought. _I mean, kinky is fine... but this is_ _really_ _weird._

Her faith in Brother George's infallibility was taking a beating along with his ass. All day he'd been seeking "Divine guidance," much of which involved submitting to Ernestina's tender mercies with the rod.

His other activities included rolling about foaming at the mouth and walking on his knees over the rough ground babbling in nonsensical "sacred tongues." His body bled from numerous tiny wounds. Ernestina was exhausted, and she was the one dishing out the punishment.

Fwip!

_If he's gonna get a divine revelation, it better come soon, while he's still in one piece_.

* * *

Two mech wolves approached at high speed, their claws sending sparks up from the pavement.

"Uh oh," Fritz said, "this could be trouble."

"Just play it cool," Edwina said. "They probably don't have orders to stop us."

"That's what you think. I told you we should have got out of town earlier."

"Don't be such a grouch. These wolves are supposed to keep strangers out, not keep residents in."

The mech wolves were upon them now, glowering with savage, yellow eyes. Fritz shrank back, terrified, but Edwina kept her cool.

"Nice doggies," she said, "how are you today?"

Her statement was greeted by a low rumbling in the beasts' speaker units; their eyes flashed with increased malice.

"Careful," Fritz whispered, "these things don't do nice."

Edwina reached out toward the nearest mech wolf. It drew back and bared its teeth, but Edwina persisted. She patted its head.

"There," she said, "you know us, don't you? We're your friends."

The creature stopped its growling and emitted a purr-like noise.

"Go ahead, Fritzie. Say hello to our comrades."

Fritz reached a trembling hand toward the second wolf. "H-hello, Mr. Wolfie."

"See? There's nothing to it," Edwina said.

She kicked off on her scooter and offered the wolves a parting wave. "So long fellows!"

Fritz caught up with Edwina. "How far do those things patrol?"

"About twenty kilometers out from town," Edwina said. "So, we should be rid of them soon."

"How do you know that?"

"You can find out all kinds of things if you just listen in," Edwina said.

"Mmm." It galled Fritz that Edwina was the obvious brains of their outfit.

They scootered on in silence for some time when the flock of mech birds appeared above them, bringing their progress to an abrupt halt.

Both kidbots cringed. Although Dr. Rackenfauz had erased their memories from the Battle of Heroes' Square, they retained a faded image of birds hoisting mech wolves into the sky and dropping them to destruction.

"What now?" Fritz said.

The birds swooped down towards them in a seething, cheeping mass.

"I-I don't think they'll hurt us," Edwina said. "They can see we're leaving town – they can't think we're a threat."

"I hope you're right," Fritz squeaked.

Edwina was struck with an inspiration. "Let's act happy to see them."

"Happy to see _them_?"

"Come on. What harm can it do?"

Edwina stepped away from her scooter and waved her arms. "Hello birdies!"

Fritz did the same, with a good deal less gusto.

The birds swirled around them in a black, horrifying tornado. Hundreds of reddish little eyes probed at the kidbots from the churning mass. Edwina struggled to keep from screaming.

_This is it,_ she thought desperately, _they're gonna haul us off to the Great Technician in the Sky!_

But after a few minutes within the cyclone, Fritz and Edwina were suddenly released. The mech birds flew back up to altitude and continued on their way.

The kidbots stood alone, too rattled to speak. Then Fritz uttered: "Whew! What could be worse than that?"

"Freeze!" a rough voice commanded. "Move and you're scrap metal."

* * *

Ernestina was about to give up all hope of receiving a divine revelation when Richard suddenly appeared. The robot leader ducked under the camouflage net which concealed the torture zone from aerial observation.

"Sister Tina?" he said.

Ernestina lowered the whip and massaged her aching shoulder. "What is it, Richard?"

"Strangers have appeared from the direction of Mech City. They are robots crafted to look like human children."

Ernestina's ears perked up. "Have you questioned them yet?"

"Yes, Sister. They claim they can aid our approach to Mech City."

Ernestina flung the rod gratefully away. "I must see them immediately."

Richard gestured to Brother George moaning softly on the ground. "What about the Boss?"

"Uh, he's not quite up to receive visitors just yet. Help him get ready."

"Yes, Sister."

Ernestina beat a hasty retreat. _Thank God that's over!_

Yet through her joy, she felt a sense of awe. The quest for Divine guidance just might be paying off.

_Maybe there's something to this crap, after all_.

She approached the two kidbots standing in the road flanked by guards. They were unlike any robots she'd ever seen; they were so realistic she could easily have mistaken them for humans.

The male bowed. "Good afternoon. My name is Fritz."

The girl offered a curtsy. "My name is Edwina. I'm very pleased to meet you."

Ernestina couldn't reply for a moment. These creatures were almost too perfect with their blond hair, blue eyes, and flawless skin. Yet they were subtly different from real humans. Their movements were too regular, and their bearings too still. They seemed almost like mannequins when they weren't speaking or moving about.

"My name's Sister Tina," Ernestina said when she got control of her astonishment. "Richard tells me you can help us get into Mech City."

"That we can," Edwina said.

"We're concerned about wolf robots," Ernestina said. "How many of them are there?"

"Forty or so," Fritz said.

"Don't bother with them," Edwina said. "It's Dr. Rackenfauz you need to worry about."

"Right," Fritz said, "capture that old screwball and everything else will fall into place."

"Dr. Rackenfauz, eh?" Ernestina said.

Brother George emerged from behind the boulders. He was unsteady on his feet and held onto Richard's arm for support. His eyes were as fiery and determined as ever, though.

"You need to speak with the Boss," Ernestina said. "He's been expecting you."

40. Chinese New Year

General Reyes shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He was doing a lot of that lately. A man of action did not take well to sitting for long periods.

He made to adjust his necktie, then thought better of it. An unflappable exterior counted for a great deal with these Orientals, and displaying overt discomfort would not be to his advantage.

Across the conference table from him glared the stony countenance of General Tian, commander of the returnees from the China lunar colony. He'd had experience with General Tian on the moon, and they'd got on passably well, although there'd been numerous tensions.

Reyes looked toward Lieutenant Ji, the beautiful young interpreter sitting beside Tian. "Please convey my personal thanks to the general for agreeing to see us on such short notice."

Lieutenant Ji translated the remark into Mandarin Chinese.

_Damned pain in the ass procedure,_ Reyes thought.

General Tian spoke good, if heavily accented, English and could have conducted this session without an interpreter; but the damn guy preferred to drag things out unnecessarily.

From General Tian's viewpoint, there were three reasons for this arrangement.

First, by speaking Mandarin, he was elevating his native tongue to co-equal rank with English as the language of diplomacy. Although the Motherland was in greatly reduced circumstances these days, as was the rest of the world, her beautiful and ancient language must retain a position of importance.

Second, it gave him a psychological edge. He could understand everything Reyes said, but the Westerner had to wait for a translations. This put Reyes in a subtly inferior position, though Tian doubted his unsubtle counterpart noticed it much. Civilized norms were often lost on these crass Westerners.

Third, Lieutenant Ji was a beautiful and elegant young woman with a firm, pleasing voice. Her English was flawless; she'd received advanced education in this very city before reporting for service at the Motherland's lunar colony. Having such a person at his side showing deference to him provided General Tian with substantial face. What middle-aged man wouldn't desire to have such feminine allure at his beck and call?

And Tian needed face. It was a source of shame that he and his countrymen had had to avail themselves of the Westerners' 'generosity' by landing at their spaceport. Their own spaceport in the Motherland had been destroyed, so here they all were, stuck in this foreign city. When could they get back to where they belonged?

Despite their position of superior strength, the Westerners had come to the Chinese compound instead of insisting that a delegation come to them. Was this a gesture of respect or a backhanded insult? Tian was frankly baffled.

For her part, Lieutenant Ji was not enamored with Tian. Her feelings toward her commander were quite different from those of Major Poole on the other side of the table who seemed ready to dive into the Western general's britches at any moment. Poole and Reyes were quite obviously an "item." Either that, or Ji had been so long on the moon that her intuition about such matters was totally blunted.

Liggett, the gorgeous blonde captain seated across from her, was far more to Lieutenant Ji's liking. How to let him know of her interest? They were both locked into official roles, and this conference was far from being a social occasion. She bided her time, waiting for a favorable opportunity.

It came when General Tian launched into a long and forceful exposition on Chinese national pride, rapping his fingers on the table top for emphasis. Lieutenant Ji slipped off her shoe and, discreetly extending her leg under the table, stroked her toes along Liggett's right calf.

The captain flinched, as if he'd received an electric jolt, and his eyes widened. Fortunately, the attention of everyone else in the room was fixed on General Tian's tirade. Lieutenant Ji favored Liggett with an alluring sidelong glance and advanced her toes farther up his leg.

General Tian finished speaking. Lieutenant Ji withdrew her foot and began translating in her crisp, no-nonsense voice.

"The general states that, regarding all matters, the dignity and interests of China must be fully respected..."

When she finished the translation, General Tian launched into another monolog. She risked a glance Liggett's direction. The man seemed to be perspiring, despite the room being rather cool.

Well, if he hasn't figured it out by now, he never will.

Her expression of interest had been obvious enough for even a Westerner to understand, but the glance he returned was filled with a terrible sadness.

What's wrong? Does he have a girlfriend already?

The Western general was speaking now. "Of course, the concerns of my esteemed colleague are very well taken. Let me assure him that China will be afforded all due respect."

Reyes sipped from his teacup as Lieutenant Ji translated. Then he continued in a less formal tone. "I understand this period is celebrated as the Chinese new year. Am I correct in that?"

Tian looked at Ji. His glance indicated she should dispense with the translation and answer the question directly.

"Yes, that is true, General Reyes," she said.

"And it is your tradition to return to your home towns and villages for new year observances?"

"That is also true." Ji took a step outside her official pose and spoke directly from her heart. "It is a source of great sadness among us that we are unable to do so this year."

"In that case," Reyes said, spreading his hands in an expansive gesture, "allow me to offer such hospitality to you as we are able."

The door burst open, and a quartet of robots wielding assault rifles barged in. General Tian leaped to his feet.

"What the fuck!" he cried in perfect English.

"Please, General," Reyes said, "Go along quietly and we shall attempt to extend every courtesy."

The robots herded Tian and the rest of the Chinese delegation out the door. As she departed, Lieutenant Ji shot Liggett a venomous glance. He responded with helpless sorrow etched on his face.

General Reyes eased back into his chair, very much the man in charge. "That went smoothly, didn't it?"

"How long do you intend to keep them locked up?" Liggett asked, trying to keep the anguish from his voice.

"That remains to be seen. However long it's in the national interest."

Throughout the compound, robots gathered up the remaining Chinese and herded them into vehicles.

* * *

Captain Liggett, followed by two combat robots, approached the locked door and rapped his knuckles upon its surface. Behind it, raucous female laughter abruptly stopped.

"Come on," Liggett called. "It's time to leave for Mech City."

Pantani's voice replied. "Just a minute, Captain. I'll be right out."

Liggett turned away from the sordid spectacle occurring on the far side of the door and regarded the combat robots. Hard, lifeless eyes glowed back at him.

Damn, those guys really give you the creeps.

He diverted his attention toward studying the cement block wall with its pattern of water stains. The door soon opened to reveal Lieutenant Pantani. His uniform was disheveled, and three nude women were hanging on him.

He offered a rather pathetic salute. "Reporting for duty, sir."

"At ease," Liggett said.

"Do you have to leave so soon, Captain?" one of the girls asked. "Why don't you stay a while and party with us?"

"You'll have to use a condom, though," another girl said. "We're already slated for 'reproduction duty' with the Lieutenant."

Liggett's face reddened. "Perhaps some other time."

"We'll remember that," the girl said.

The door closed behind Pantani, once more concealing the treasures within. The raucous female laughter resumed.

"Thank God you're here, Captain," Pantani gasped. "I don't know how much longer I could have lasted in there."

"Yeah, must be tough," Liggett muttered.

He thought of the beautiful Lieutenant Ji, and his heart ached.

# Seven: The Storm Arrives

41. More Bad News

A half dozen scrapper vehicles crept slowly through the darkness. There had once been seven, but one had broken down on the road.

Only the lead car projected dimmed low beams; the others trailed behind, following the points of red tail lights. Per instructions from Edwina, they were approaching the Mech City RDI along an indirect route where there were fewer defenses.

Edwina and Fritz sat in the back seat of the lead vehicle, wedged between two scrapper robots. Three more scrappers lurked in the far back seat, while Richard, Brother George, and Ernestina occupied the front of the big, open car. The other vehicles were a motley collection of pickup trucks.

Ernestina's thoughts were as gloomy as the surrounding night.

What am I getting into?

Until now, her association with the Army of the Righteous had been a sort of unreal drama. She'd relished the power granted to her within the outfit – the kind of power denied all females associated with a biker gang. Not only that, but her survival had depended on Brother George's good graces, and she'd been happy to go along.

But now she was in up to her neck. How could she have been such a fool?

Calm down, you're only 20. You've got the whole rest of your life to be wise.

Things had changed. They were seeking to destroy the "robo-slut" Star – an advanced human-like design who had killed the sacred Messiah by tossing him out a window.

So, what's wrong with that?

If anybody deserved an express trip through a high window, it was that Messiah creep. Ernestina's flesh crawled at the memory of the sexual perversions he'd forced upon her and Arleny before he tired of their company.

_Well, this Star is just another robot, after all,_ Ernestina told herself, but she couldn't still a growing sense of unease.

And they were after a human being now, as well – a Dr. Rackenfauz. He was some robotics genius who was supposed to keep the Army fit during its march of conquest. This role was to be forced upon him whether he wanted it or not. How would it feel to coerce a human being? Ernestina knew a lot about coercion, from the victim perspective.

Aside from Brother George, she'd had no contact with other humans since her time at Pickle Lake and that night with... Arleny. She slammed the door of her mind shut on that ghastly recollection.

"We shall carry the One True Faith to all corners of the world!" Brother George had proclaimed when they left the scrapper town on their mission to "liberate Mech City from the heathens."

He'd acknowledged to her that the Army of the Righteous was an imperfect tool for this "holy mission," but the Heavenly Father had placed it into Brother George's hands, so he would have to do his best.

There was a lot more to it than that, Ernestina realized. Beneath the veneer of loyalty to the fallen Messiah lurked a man seething with ambition and a desire to become the new Messiah. Brother George would destroy anyone to gain personal power. The same way he'd destroyed Arleny . . .

Ernestina could no longer control her thoughts. In her mind, she returned to the living nightmare at Pickle Lake. The blasted temple flamed, throwing demonic light over the mountains. Arleny's bullet-riddled corpse slumped in her arms – bullets fired at her by Brother George. Explosions echoed inside Ernestina's head, and a burning stench polluted her lungs.

"Oh!" she cried out.

Brother George's reptile eyes rotated her direction. "What is it, Sister Tina?"

"I-it's... why..."

Ernestina struggled to regain control of herself. Awareness of acute personal danger bore down on her. She was sitting by a psychotic killer; he was talking to her! What could she say to that monster?

Then, from out of the gloom came a manifestation of terror more immediate than any memory – mech wolves.

"Over there!" Ernestina yelled.

Five of the brutal creatures were closing in fast. Ernestina unholstered her pistol; Brother George cocked his assault rifle.

"Don't shoot!" Edwina cautioned. "That'll warn Rackenfauz."

"What are we supposed to do?" Ernestina tried to keep the terror from her voice.

"Talk to them. They won't attack humans."

Ernestina found herself kneeling on her seat, leaning out toward the mech wolf pack and brandishing her pistol. She had no recollection of assuming this position; pure adrenalin drove her on.

"Get out of here, you bastards!" she shouted. "We're humans!"

Uncertainty entered the gait of the mech wolves. They slowed their pace and turned their glanced at each other.

"You heard me! "Get lost!"

The mech wolves faded back into the darkness.

"Well done, Sister," Brother George said. "The Heavenly Father continues to smile upon us."

But the Heavenly Father wasn't smiling upon the trailing vehicles of the motorcade. Mech wolves leapt upon them and ripped apart the occupants. Screams tore the night. Ernestina clamped her hands tightly over her ears.

"Peace, Sister," Brother George said, "those sacred martyrs shall not be forgotten."

"I wish they'd be quieter about it," Edwina grumbled. "They're going to tip off Rackenfauz!"

* * *

Dr. Rackenfauz was too preoccupied to notice a little thing like an invasion. Within his private apartment, he was acting out another bondage fantasy with Reedy – this time as the dominant partner. Techski music blaring from the wall speakers could have masked even the sound of gunfire.

For his part in the role play, Rackenfauz was dressed in his "Professor outfit" consisting of knee-length military boots, tight rubber shorts, and a tweed jacket with leather elbow patches. A political button pinned to the lapel stated: _The Revolution Lives!_

He wore no shirt, but a tasteful silk tie completed the ensemble.

"You've been a naughty girl!" he shouted over the music. "Your assignment is late again."

"I know! I know!" Reedy whined. "Please don't hurt me, Professor."

She was suspended nude amid a network of ropes strung around the room like a grotesque spider web. Her hands and feet were secured with rope, and a silken cord ran between her legs. Rackenfauz yanked her binds; Reedy's body arched back, and a violent thrill ran through it. She almost cried out the 'safe word' to end the torture.

But she held on, suspended in the exquisite world between pain and pleasure. She loved it there! And when the bondage part was over, then would come the mad coupling.

She'd rip off Edgie's rubber shorts and the fireworks would _really_ begin. Most of it would be of the 'back door' type, due to Edgie's gay proclivities, but Reedy was also bringing him around to an appreciation of her other charms. It simply wasn't true that an old dog couldn't learn new tricks.

"I'm sorry, Professor," she panted. "I'll do anything you want."

"Too late for that. You have to suffer, little girl."

He yanked the bonds again. The silken cord dug into Reedy's genitals, and an explosive orgasm rocked her body. She screamed at the top of her lungs.

* * *

In the main workshop on the ground floor, Jack and Quincy looked up from their work, startled by the scream.

"My," Quincy observed, "they certainly are vigorous tonight."

"Well, it keeps him occupied," Jack said. "At least he's not riding on us."

"All in a night's work," Quincy grumbled.

During the months they'd run the RDI on their own, the repair bots had grown accustomed to an elevated status among the town's denizens. But since the return of Dr. Rackenfauz and his perfectionist ways, they'd declined a great deal in importance, being regarded as mere fixer uppers rather than serious technicians.

They returned their attention to the broken robot sprawled on the bench before them – Clawfurt. This was their secret project, rolled out only at night like some vampire emerging from the back store room.

"Jeez, this guy's terrifying, even all broke up and deactivated," Jack said. "You don't suppose Winston is serious about using him?"

"I don't know. Clawfurt's supposed to be the 'ace in the hole' if the canal project bogs down again." Quincy looked askance at the robot's giant claw. "Looks like he could dig a whole canal with that thing."

"Yeah," Jack said, "and just the threat of reactivating him could be enough to get the workers going again."

Clawfurt's lifeless eyes stared malevolently up at the repair bots. His jagged teeth seemed clinched with hate.

"Oh, please." Quincy draped a cloth over the fearsome countenance. "I just hope Dr. Rackenfauz can reprogram this monster properly."

Another scream reverberated from the third story.

"I would think so," Jack said. "Dr. Rackenfauz is a man of many talents."

"Let's get back to work," Quincy said. "This guy's legs aren't going to reattach themselves on their own."

They labored in silence for some time, or as much silence as the Techski music and occasional scream issuing from the 3rd floor would allow. Then unfamiliar noises intruded from the outside.

"What's that?" Jack said.

"Beats me. It sounds like somebody might be at the front door."

They exited the workshop. Two mech wolf guards joined them in the corridor, glowering at the repair bots through vicious yellow eyes, cautionary growls rumbling in their speaker units.

"I still can't get used to these things being here," Quincy said.

"Me neither."

An urgent knocking came from the direction of the front door.

"Maybe somebody needs emergency repair," Jack said.

Accompanied by the mech wolves, the repair bots moved down the corridor toward the main entrance.

42. Hostile Takeover

Jack and Quincy peered through the double glass doors at the trio standing in the dim light outside – two robots propping up a third between them.

The middle machine had endured severe trauma and was missing an arm. Its head and torso were badly dented.

"Dang," Jack said. "That guy's messed up."

"We've sure got our work cut out for us," Quincy said. "It's back to the morgue for old Clawfurt." He unlocked the doors and opened them wide. "Come on in – "

A phalanx of scrapper robots emerging from the darkness shoved him aside. The mech wolf guards closed in on the intruders, but a pair of humans entered the lobby – a female and a stocky, brutal-looking male.

"Back off!" the female human ordered.

The mech wolf guards hesitated.

"Get outside with the others!"

The mech wolves whined and wagged their tails like puppies caught chewing the furniture. Heads lowered in submission, they shambled outside to join a half dozen other mech wolves milling about the lawn.

"What's going on?" Quincy asked.

The male human shoved an assault rifle barrel in his face. "This is what's going on."

"Don't shoot!" a high-pitched voice piped up. "We need these two."

Jack and Quincy backed away across the lobby, their hands raised, unable to process the horrific turn of events. Fifteen scrapper robots had crowded in now along with the human strangers – and a couple of others who were not strangers.

"You two!" Quincy gasped.

"Yes, us two," Edwina said.

She and Fritz emerged from among the scrappers. Both had their hands planted on their hips and looks of triumph etched on their faces.

"Glad to see us?" Fritz asked.

"W-well," Jack stammered, "it's not a case of being glad... exactly..."

"It's more a case of being moderately surprised," Quincy added, unhelpfully.

Fritz and Edwina barked impudent laughter. The male human pointed toward the staircase down which Techski music was tumbling into the lobby.

"Rackenfauz is up there?" he asked.

"W-we're not exactly sure," Jack said, "but at least his music is."

A scream echoed from the upper story.

"Sounds like the old boy's having quite a party," the man said.

He turned toward the female. "The Heavenly Father continues to bless our efforts, Sister Tina."

"Yes, Brother George. Praise his holy name!"

Brother George selected a group of scrappers. "You five take the casualty in for repair. The rest follow me."

"As ordered, Boss!" the scrappers replied in unison.

The main body, including Edwina and Fritz, clamored up the staircase, leaving the repair bots with the casualty and its scrapper escort.

"What're you waiting for?" one of the scrappers said. "Get moving!"

He brandished a club to emphasized his words. His manner indicated he would not mind braining both repair bots.

"Yes, sir," Quincy said, "right this way."

Jack and Quincy retreated down the main corridor, the scrappers following close behind with their damaged comrade.

"I take back what I said about the mech wolves," Quincy whispered, "a couple doggies would come in handy about now."

* * *

The door burst open admitting a rush of scrapper robots. Dr. Rackenfauz spun around toward the intrusion, his silk tie flapping.

"What the hell!" he cried.

Reedy screamed, this time in blanket terror. Rackenfauz dove for his assault rifle propped in the corner.

"I wouldn't try that," a harsh voice said.

Brother George waddled into the room, his own assault rifle leading the way. Dr. Rackenfauz got slowly to his feet, hands raised over his head. His tweed jacket and rubber shorts offered scant protection against the threatened fusillade.

Ernestina came in the room. Her eyes moved from Dr. Rackenfauz to the naked woman tangled in the ropes. She could barely restrain herself from crying out. Sister Reedy!

In a moment, Ernestina grasped the full situation.

The Sister Reedy up in the ropes was nothing like the one she'd seen at Pickle Lake Temple. The fanatic, hate-filled expression had disappeared from her face; the lethal rage had gone with it. In its stead, a wild sensuality now resided, quite evident even under the current layer of fear. This was a woman redeemed – if not by true love, then at least by true lust and the occasional SM trip.

Their eyes met, Reedy's projected a silent plea. Then she cried out: "Brother George! Thank the Heavenly Father you've come."

_My ass!_ Ernestina thought.

She composed herself to go along with the deception. The spirit of Arleny was at her side, demanding that she aid another woman in extreme distress.

Two scrappers seized Dr. Rackenfauz's arms and pushed him to the far side of the room. Brother George lowered his assault rifle and turned his attention toward Reedy. An almost comic expression of astonishment shot across his face.

"Sister Reedy? Is that you?"

"Yes, yes Brother George. Save me! I'm a prisoner here."

At a gesture from Brother George, two scrappers produced vicious looking knives and cut Reedy down from her bonds. She dropped to the floor and made her way on her knees to Brother George.

"Praise the Heavenly Father! "Bless you, Brother George."

She wrapped her arms around George's legs and wept realistic tears.

"Fear not, Sister," Brother George said, "your trials are over."

He grasped her arms and hauled her to her feet.

Brother George seemed taken in by the ruse, somewhat to Ernestina's surprise. She had no desire to wise him up.

_I'm through helping you,_ _Brother_ _!_

Edwina also appeared to doubt the authenticity of the scene, judging by the smirk on her face.

Ernestina gripped one of her braids hard. "Say a word," she hissed into Edwina's ear, "and I'll deactivate you permanently."

She brandished her pistol under Edwina's chin. The impudent expression vanished from the kidbot's face. Ernestina threw a venomous glance at Fritz who snapped to attention in response.

Reedy was on her feet now, her nakedness covered by a towel. She pointed an accusing finger at Rackenfauz. "That brute has tortured and raped me ever since I got here!"

She locked her gaze onto that of the dumbfounded Rackenfauz. Ferocity was in her words but, unseen by the others, her eyes begged forgiveness. Dr. Rackenfauz lowered his head and said nothing.

"Dress yourself, Sister," Brother George said, "you're under the Heavenly Father's protection now."

"Thank you, thank you!"

Reedy gathered up her clothing and shoes which had been scattered over the room. Brother George spoke briefly with two scrappers in a voice too low for Ernestina to overhear, then he turned toward Rackenfauz.

"I've a good mind to blow you away right now."

"Why don't you then?" Rackenfauz said.

He seemed a broken man, utterly without hope and unfazed by the thought of death.

Brother George's eyes widened with astonishment. Then hard determination returned to his face. "Take him away!"

The two scrappers holding Rackenfauz began dragging him from the room. "And get him out of those stupid shorts!"

"Yes, Boss."

The scrappers muscled the unresisting Rackenfauz out. Reedy had collected her clothing and stood before Brother George, bowing respectfully.

"May I return to my own room now, Brother? I need to rest."

"Of course, Sister." Brother George gestured to the pair of scrappers he'd spoken to earlier. "These robots will accompany you and see to your every need."

Ernestina detected a flash of alarm on Reedy's features, but in another flash, Reedy recovered her composure. Fortunately, Brother George was looking toward the robots and did not seem to notice.

"Thank you, Brother," Reedy said. "May the Heavenly Father bless your every action."

She left the room with her scrapper escort.

Brother George rubbed his hands together with satisfaction. "Let us proceed to build the new Holy Order. First item on the agenda – destroy the robo slut."

"Yes, Brother!" Ernestina chimed.

43. Desperate Measures

Reedy projected an incongruous and rather pathetic figure walking down the hall with her scrapper escort, clasping a gaily hued beach towel around herself while carrying her clothes and shoes in her free hand.

She arrived at her room. One of the scrappers yanked the door handle and started to go in.

"Can't a lady have some privacy?" Reedy protested.

She'd used her most piteous voice, but the tactic didn't work with the psychotic machine.

"We have our orders," it said.

The robot barged into the chamber without further ceremony. The second scrapper was less brutal.

"After you, ma'am," it said in a surprisingly mellow voice while gesturing for her to take precedence.

"Thank you," Reedy said.

She entered her room with the distinct feeling that she was being held prisoner. _So, maybe my act isn't as convincing as I'd hoped._

The robots were searching the room, opening every drawer, riffling through the closet, even peering under the bed and flipping up the mattress.

Had she still believed in the bogus 'Heavenly Father,' she would have been thanking him for granting her the foresight to remove her arsenal to a secure room on the second floor. If Brother George knew she possessed an assault rifle, it would have blown her cover story sky high, and her with it.

"It's clean," the first robot said.

"Of course, it's clean," Reedy said indignantly. "I'm a lady, aren't I?"

"We do not dispute that."

"Then please leave me in peace. I've had a very difficult day."

The robots hesitated. The first one made to speak, but the second one cut him off.

"Yes, ma'am," it said in its mellow voice. "We will remain just outside the door. Do not hesitate to call upon us should the need arise."

The machine's well-mannered words contrasted with its twisted, brutal face. Reedy wondered what its function had been before the onset of the Che Syndrome she'd heard so much about from Edgie. Perhaps it had been a personal assistant or even a scholar model like Winston.

The robots left, closing the door behind them. Reedy sagged against a wall with relief. After a few moments of composing her shattered nerves, she flung herself off the wall and threw on her clothes almost as fast as she'd stripped them off in Edgie's apartment.

Then she rushed to the closet and retrieved a canvas draw-string bag. It bore the _Cycho World_ sporting goods logo of a human man pedaling a bicycle with a world globe as its back tire.

Here you are, my sweet!

She kissed the bag reverently and, with a glance toward the door, yanked out its contents – a coiled rope ladder.

Ever since she'd witnessed Pickle Lake Temple going up in flames, she'd had a horror of being trapped in a fire. Edgie had chuckled at this irrational fear, assuring her that the building was totally fireproof, but he'd presented her this item as a special gift. He'd even tied her up in it during one of their role plays.

Thank the _true_ God the robots hadn't understood what this was really was.

* * *

When Brother George arrived several minutes later to interview Reedy, he was angered by the sight of the two robots standing outside the door.

"What are you doing? Didn't I tell you to keep an eye on her?"

The two robots bowed deferentially. The second one spoke: "The lady requested privacy, Boss. The room is weapon free, so there seemed little need for us to remain inside."

"Idiot!" Brother George snarled.

"Yes, Boss."

With a violent wrench of the door handle, Brother George barged into the room. The two robots followed behind him like a pair of chastened dogs. An open window with a rope ladder hanging from it greeted their arrival.

Brother George rushed across the room and gaped out the window at the thickening darkness. No sign of Sister Reedy.

"Traitor!"

He turned on the second robot and swung savagely with his rifle butt, catching it square on the chin. Its head kinked into an impossible angle; the whole mechanism crashed to the floor on its back.

"yes sir... thank you, sir... will that be all sir?" the damaged head babbled. Then its optical sensors went blank.

The first robot cowered against the wall, outside of clubbing range. Brother George turned his fury upon it.

"After her!"

"Yes, Boss."

The robot fled the room, leaving Brother George alone with his rage and sense of betrayal. A hastily scrawled note lying on the bed increased his fury:

Screw the Messiah!

He snatched the note and tore it into confetti. The robot returned with a pack of others, all armed and raring to fight. Ernestina brought up the rear.

"Let's go," Brother George commanded.

He led the charge down the stairs and out the main door, his assault rifle aching to draw blood. The mech wolves swarming over the vehicles ran off at the sight of him.

Brother George approached the lead car. The wolves had been very thorough – tires, seats, controls were all shredded, electronic components hung in ruins. All the other vehicles were disabled as well.

"Aggghhhhh!"

Pow! Ka-pow! Pow!

He fired a burst into the night sky. Ernestina stepped back. Never had she seen Brother George in such a rage. Her face registered shock, but inwardly she was smiling.

Things aren't going like you planned, eh?

Brother George continued to roar. He slammed his rifle butt repeatedly against the car; he rolled on the ground, babbling.

Finally he arose and said in a cold, ominous voice: "We'll see what Rackenfauz knows about this."

They reentered the building and surged up the stairs to Dr. Rackenfauz's apartment. They found him slumped in a chair with his two scrapper guards in close attendance. He no longer wore his ridiculous outfit but was dressed in casual clothing topped by a white lab coat. The clothes looked as if they'd been tossed upon him as an afterthought.

Brother George strode across the room toward the shrunken figure and addressed him in a loud voice. "Where'd she go, Rackenfauz!"

Dr. Rackenfauz raised his head wearily and regarded Brother George with bloodshot eyes. "How the hell do I know? She could be anywhere."

"Did you know about that rope ladder?"

"Sure, I gave it to her. What of it?"

Brother George drew back his fist. Rackenfauz appeared totally unintimidated. He looked toward Ernestina, and his face brightened.

"Young lady, please help me out." He gestured toward her automatic pistol. "Just one bullet – put me out of my misery."

Brother George spun on her savagely. "Don't even think it!"

"Of course not, Brother."

George turned toward the scrapper guards. "Keep a close eye on him. Don't let him do anything stupid."

"Yes, Boss," the robots replied in unison.

Brother George jabbed a threatening finger at them. "If anything happens to him, _you_ will be held responsible."

"Yes, Boss," the robots repeated.

Brother George stumbled back toward the open door. He seemed a man in the throes of a violent internal crisis. "The Heavenly Father has chastised me. I must seek His divine guidance."

_Here we go again,_ Ernestina thought.

44. Across the Night

Reedy jogged through the upscale sector on the north end of town as fast as her running shoes could carry her.

She passed what had once been trendy boutiques, fashionable restaurants, the offices of high-powered psychiatrists and lawyers. She zipped through neighborhoods where the well-heeled of the left wing had once trod in deep thought, plotting the world's direction.

The only direction that mattered now lie in a straight line to the abode of city manager Winston Horvath.

Two mech wolves had joined her outside the RDI and trotted alongside her through the eerie cityscape. Above her, the sky shouted threats, and every shadow seemed to contain demonic forces ready to leap out at her. The wolves' added to the ghastly atmosphere, while keeping her grounded in reality at the same time.

Her chest heaved, and pain stitched along her side. How could things have gone so horribly wrong? What had started as an evening of erotic fantasy had devolved into this dash through a nightmare world. Everything seemed so hopeless . . .

She broke through her pain and into a new level of reality. All seemed distant now – the shock return of a demon from her previous life, the agony of separation from her true love, the deadly peril lurking all around her. She seemed to float along the final blocks to the small, glass-clad apartment building where Star and Winston resided.

Cheery illumination shone into the night from the modernistic lobby with its pink granite floor. Other lights illuminated the upper story windows. Reedy stopped beneath them and leaned over, grasping her knees. She sucked in great lungfuls of dank evening air. She straightened herself and raised her face to the lights.

"Star! Winston!" The effort momentarily exhausted her. "Star! Winston!"

A top story window flung open. Winston poked his head out. "Reedy?"

"Yes! Let me in; it's an emergency."

Loud buzzing indicated the lock on the front door had been released. Reedy yanked the door open just as Iridium appeared charging in from the darkness.

"Hold the door!" he shouted.

Reedy and Iridium entered the building together and charged up the stairs, unwilling to wait for the elevator. They practically crashed against Winston in the corridor outside his apartment.

"What's going on?" Winston said.

"They've got Edgie!"

"Who's got him?"

"Brother George, from Pickle Lake. He's taken over the RDI."

Winston gaped with shock. He looked toward Iridium.

"It's true, pal," Iri said, "I've seen the reports. There are two humans and at least 15 scrappers there."

"Oh, my!" Winston gasped.

Violent shaking overtook him. He flung his hand against the corridor wall to keep himself from falling over. He began groping his way back toward the apartment.

A ferocious episode vomited up from his memory banks – from that horrible morning when he'd felt his way down another corridor wall after discovering the plague-ravaged corpse of little Charles lying in his bed.

Reedy took his arm and assisted him back to the apartment living room where he plopped down onto the sofa. He regained some composure; the shaking fit passed.

"Where's Star?" Reedy said. "They'll try to destroy her. They're on the same mission I was when I first got here."

"I-I don't know," Winston said. "We had a fight... she left a couple hours ago."

"I've got a good idea where she went," Reedy said. "I'll find her."

Winston struggled further out of his shock. "Where?"

"I think she's at our love nest."

Winston glowered. He scrambled to his feet, carried on a surge of anger. "So it's _you_ she's been fooling around with!"

"There's no time for this, Winston. She's in terrible danger."

"I should have known. Star always said she was a 'switch hitter.'"

"If I might offer an opinion," Iri said, "now would not seem the best time to discuss this issue."

"Where is this 'love nest' place?" Winston demanded.

"The less you know the better," Reedy snapped. "If you get captured, they'll rip that information out of your thick robot skull."

Winston paused as another nightmare vision barged into his mind – himself wired up to a monitoring device – compromising data being pulled out of his memory banks and projected onto a wall screen.

"Okay..." he said, "you're right."

"Get to the RDI and fight these invaders," Reedy said. "I'll look after Star."

Winston jerked his head in agreement. "Keep her away from all this. Don't let her get involved under _any_ circumstances."

"I'll do that. And you rescue my Edgie."

Winston jerked another nod.

"Promise me!"

"Yes, I promise. I will rescue Edg... Dr. Rackenfauz."

For an moment, the old ferocity returned to Reedy's face. "I'll hold you to that, Winston."

She dashed out of the apartment, leaving the two robots behind to ponder their next move.

"Well pal," Iridium said, "looks like we're in for an eventful time."

* * *

Reedy crept into the living room of the hideaway apartment she and Star used for their trysts. It was utterly dark. She'd never been here at night before, and the place gave off an aura of mystery and danger.

"Star? Are you here?"

No answer. She toward the mech wolves' glowing optical sensors.

"Stay here. I'll yell if I need you."

She had no idea if the wolves understood. In any case, they did not follow as she entered the bedroom and flicked on the nightstand light.

Star lay inactivated atop the bed, totally inert, staring up at the ceiling with blank eyes. She seemed more like a corpse or a department store dummy than the warm and sensuous female who existed only for love.

Reedy could not stifle a gasp. "Oh!"

The mech wolves appeared at the door, growling.

"It's all right, go back."

Stimulated by the noise, Star's reactivation routine kicked in. Awareness entered the eyes as the manikin came to life. She turned her head.

"Reedy! I'm so glad you came."

She sat up eagerly.

"I've got some incredible news," Reedy said.

"Uh huh."

Star drew Reedy down onto the bed and deftly removed her clothes. The incredible news had to wait a while.

45. West Coast Developments

Bradley Reyes stood before the mirror adjusting his uniform. His golden general's stars gleamed on his shoulders, and the lighting bolt _Commander_ insignia flashed proudly on his chest.

Not bad. A leader's got to project the right authority.

He donned his cap and tilted it to the proper angle, then he shifted his gaze from his own reflection to that of Major Poole who was staring daggers at him from her position on the bed.

What's bothering her now? I already said her pregnancy was okay by me.

A sense of fatherly pride came over him then. He'd never thought of himself as a dad before, but now he was getting comfortable with the idea. It was the right thing, and it was in tune with national security interests – the country had to be rebuilt, one baby at a time.

He smiled at Poole in the mirror, but the gesture was not returned.

Despite her glowering expression, Lisa Poole was quite a piece. Her nude form reclining on the bed was slim and well-proportioned; her pregnancy had not yet begun to show. She had strong, attractive facial features, and her hair was a pleasing auburn. She was a fine woman and a solid officer. But why so glum?

Reyes squared his shoulders and gave his necktie a final tweak. "Well, I'd better get going. Don't want to keep them waiting."

"Right," Poole said.

His fiction of attending a meeting with the scout patrol leaders was clearly not holding water, so Reyes made a hasty retreat without any further attempt at conversation.

As the door closed, Lisa Poole wrapped herself in the bed sheet and spun around to face the wall. "Damn!"

She gave herself over to bitter tears.

* * *

General Reyes strode down the hall with authority, flanked by Andy and Morris, his personal combat robots. The bodyguard machines were not really necessary within the confines of HQ, but they gave him added prestige. Their obedient attendance spoke loud and clear that rank had its privileges.

Although they inflated his sense of importance, the combat robots also gave Reyes an increasing case of the willies. Ever since the battle against the Fence gang, the c-robots seemed to be staring out of their glowing eyes with increased malice and projecting an attitude of... what? Resentment, almost... arrogance.

And was he mistaken in feeling that Andy and Morris did not obey commands as instantaneously as they had before? They sometimes seemed more attuned to each other than they did to him, as if their minds were working in unison.

Naw, it's just my imagination. I've got a lot of things on my mind these days.

The 'things' currently on his mind awaited behind a heavy wooden door at the end of the hallway. Reyes paused before it and consulted his timepiece. Right on schedule, another man approached – Trooper Nichols. He paused before the general and saluted.

"At ease, trooper."

Nichols relaxed somewhat, but his posture was still tense and expectant.

"What are you doing here?" Reyes said.

"Well, sir... I've been assigned to, uh, 'reproduction duty' with the girls we saved from the gangsters."

"Oh, yes, I recall now. Those orders are cancelled until further notice."

Profound disappointment descended on Nichols' face. His mouth popped open. "But... I-I mean... Yes, sir."

"That will be all," Reyes said.

Nichols offered a flaccid salute and turned to leave. His shoulders sagged.

"Oh, and one other thing," Reyes said.

Nichols turned back. "Sir?"

"I've been looking over your records, and I think it's time you moved up a rank, Corporal Nichols."

Life returned to Nichols' ashen face. He snapped to attention and offered a crisp salute. "Yes sir! Thank you, sir."

Nichols strode away down the hall with renewed purpose. The general rubbed his hands together.

That went pretty well. Rank certainly does have its privileges.

He turned toward Andy. "Stay out here and make sure nobody disturbs me – especially not Major Poole. If she shows up, tell her I'm in a 'secret negotiation,'"

Andy made a curt nod. Of all the c-bots, he was the only one who spoke at all, but only on rare occasions.

General Reyes gave his necktie a final adjustment, then lifted his hand to knock on the door. At his first rap, the door opened. A slender female arm reached out; the hand gripped Reyes' tie and pulled him inside.

The door closed. Andy took a position before it, his eyes scanning the hallway.

* * *

Nichols approached his two buddies in the canteen. "Look sharp troopers!"

They raised mocking eyes his direction.

"What's with the attitude?" Dermot said.

"Yeah," Marlowe said, "and why are you here, Nichols? I thought you were booked solid today."

Nichols took a seat at the table. "Change of plans, my friends. The old man pulled rank. He's doing the ladies now."

Dermot and Marlowe guffawed.

"Glad to know he's still got what it takes," Marlowe said.

"There are compensations, though." Nichols withdrew his new corporal stripes from his pocket. "You're looking at your new NCO, boys."

"What do you know?" Dermot muttered. "All you have to do is zip your fly and you get promoted."

46. Along the Road

Hurtling down the road toward Mech City, Dr. Jerry Che was having a much less enjoyable time. Every kilometer that brought him nearer to his destination increased his anger and resentment.

The emotional volcano erupting within him could be given a name: "Mount Estrela."

Only he wasn't mounting Estrela – that loathsome Winston Horvath was. And he, "the great Jerry Che," had made it all possible.

"Damn her!"

Combat robot Elmo looked over from the passenger seat. "Is there some problem, Master?"

"No! Just do your job."

"Yes, Master."

Elmo's job was to keep a lookout for potential threats by utilizing the windows, mirrors, and video screens mounted to the dashboard. He returned full attention to it.

Che's obsession with Estrela retreated for a while, replaced by concerns about his c-bot contingent. They were the best of them all, even more lethal and aggressive than those he'd provided General Reyes. He'd not incorporated safeguards into their programming, such as those which, hopefully, limited the other combat machines. He preferred to rely on remote control to handle any discipline problems that might come up.

Militarizing robotic brains had been a major task, and Che could not be fully confident of the results. If the c-bots were designed to kill some human beings on command, might they not extend this proclivity to encompass _all_ human beings? Worst of all, Che feared the onset of a mind meld, like that developed by Dr. Rackenfauz's mech birds.

To forestall this, Che activated his machines only one at a time, unless absolutely necessary – as it had been during his escape from the RDC. Elmo was the only one on duty now while the others lay deactivated within the truck van.

An army of combat robots acting with a single intelligence was a nightmare prospect, even to Dr. Che whose complex emotions ran the gamut from deep concern for his fellow humans all the way to a nihilistic craving for total destruction.

Even to himself, Jerry Che seemed a loose cannon.

_And why is that?_ he pondered bitterly.

For the past fifteen years, ever since his impoverished student days in Seoul, he'd been struggling to find his position in life. He'd been abandoned by the beautiful human Estrela like a sack of rubbish. Then the robotic surrogate he'd created in her image had also thrown him over. These disasters had left him choking on his enraged genius and lashing out at the world at the same time as he provided it with astonishing new wonders.

He was capable of doing great good as well as extensive harm. In the midst of their superficial acceptance and professional jealousy, his colleagues had feared him. They deemed his work on robotic sexuality as being beyond the pale of legitimate research.

Hadn't that wise ass, Dr. Giroux, rechristened Robotic Derangement Syndrome in his 'honor,' dubbing it the _Che Syndrome_ , thus associating his name with the worst aberration in all robotics?

Well, that old bastard was gone now, along with the rest of those pompous fools. Only his friend, Dr. Rackenfauz, remained – another outcast from genteel society.

_Am I crazy?_ Che suddenly wondered.

No! He was a sane, though misunderstood, man in the midst of an insane world, struggling to find some grounding. He was searching... for what?

He had only the vaguest plans for what he'd do in Mech City. He had visions of seizing Estrela and carrying her back to the West Coast where he could reprogram her to care for only him. But how was that possible? She was imprinted for the Winston Horvath robot, and she was throwing her sexuality around without restraint.

Maybe he could tone her down, get her erotic urges under control; but how could he ever switch her allegiance to himself without destroying her brain altogether?

His own brain had become such a cesspool of roiling emotions that he was paying insufficient attention to the road ahead. He didn't notice the crumbled section of pavement until his wheels were upon it.

" _Ai-goo!"_ he cried, reverting to his native Korean.

The front of the truck veered out of control as the road gave way beneath its wheels. In an instant, Che was careening down the embankment toward a rocky grave. The Estrela face appeared in the air before him in graphic detail, welcoming him to his doom.

This is it!

_Clunk!_ The vehicle came to an abrupt, painful halt. Dr. Che jerked forward against his restraints. Things went black...

_I'm still alive,_ Che thought with a combination of gratitude, surprise, and a trace of disappointment.

He ran his hands over himself, seeking any injuries, looked for signs of blood. Found none.

Elmo slumped beside him in his seat restraints, inactivated by the severe jolt. His auto-reactivation routines kicked in and he regained consciousness.

"There appears to be a problem, Master," he said.

"Yes, yes, I know."

Had he detected a hint of derision in Elmo's voice? Che dismissed the idea. He was just hearing an echo of his own self-contempt for his idiotic mistake.

"Come on, let's check things out," he said.

He exited the vehicle with the c-bot and did a complete walk around. The truck seemed surprisingly undamaged, but had it been a meter farther to the left, it would had collided with a sizable boulder.

"We sure dodged a bullet this time," Che muttered.

Clearly, there was no way to get the truck back up to the road other than by using the combined strength of all five c-bots – even then, success was not assured.

Che pulled open the van door and peered into the semi-darkness. The four deactivated machines were still secured to their positions against the walls, apparently undamaged.

"Okay boys, let's get to work."

He pressed his remote control, and all four robots emerged into active mode, like vampires returning to life.

Exhausting hours later, the truck was finally back on the road.

Che had driven his robots to their limits shoving the vehicle up the steep incline. At one point, they lost their grip and the truck began sliding downhill, nearly running over Zach. Only the robot's great dexterity, enhanced for its combat role, had saved it from being crushed.

The c-bots were hesitant to continue after this near disaster, and Che was compelled to give them a long break. During this time, they sat motionless and speechless, their faces utterly blank. An indefinable aura of apprehension hung over the scene, and Che kept his remote control handy.

Work resumed and success soon followed, dispelling the tension. The robot crew even gave a hearty cheer when they pushed the vehicle over the top.

It was a strange, mechanistic sound: "Huzza! Huzza! Huzza!"

Che leaned against the truck cabin and mopped his brow with a handkerchief. "OK, let's get going. Thunk, you're on active duty; the rest of you get back in the van."

An ominous silence greeted this announcement.

"That is not a good idea," Elmo said.

"W-what?" Che could not disguise his astonishment.

"We five should all remain alert," Elmo said, "and I should take over the driving duties, as you are not competent to do so... Master."

Realization elbowed aside Che's astonishment.

So, the rebellion's starting already. I shouldn't have pushed them so hard.

He glanced away from Elmo and regarded the other four c-bots. Thunk, Norton, and Kramden merely stood inert and noncommittal; but Zack seemed wired in with Elmo. The two machines stood in identical poses, identical hostile expressions on their faces. Che sensed their minds working in tandem, he began reaching in his coat pocket.

"Do not touch the remote control!" Elmo commanded.

Che turned back toward Elmo to see an assault rifle pointed at his chest. He raised both hands. "Of course not. I was just looking for my driver's license."

Simultaneously, his toe jammed down on the emergency deactivation switch concealed within his left shoe. All five c-bots went instantly limp and sank to the ground.

Che observed the tableau with approval. "We seem to be experiencing some communication problems."

He withdrew an automatic pistol from under his lab coat and aimed it at Elmo. "You need some fine tuning, my friend."

Ka-Pow! Ka-Pow! Ka-Pow!

Elmo's head exploded into bits of scrap. Che turned his attention toward Zach and repeated the therapy.

Ka-Pow! Ka-Pow! Ka-Pow!

He kicked the destroyed robots hard, taking pleasure in watching them tumble down the slope. Hefting the gun indecisively in his hand, Che considered blasting the three remaining machines.

"Naw," he decided, "I might need you bums later."

After unceremoniously tossing the three c-bots into the van, Che reentered the cab and took off, driving with more caution now.

* * *

Liggett and Pantani roared at top speed along the road toward Mech City trying to close the gap between themselves and Dr. Jerry Che.

Only the two humans occupied the vehicle. Something about the combat robots had seemed wrong – as if anything about those creepy machines could be considered "right." Their movements had become eerily synchronized, and their actions were too... mechanical, for lack of a better term. Neither man wanted c-bots lurking in the back seat.

"Slow down a little Pantani!"

"Sorry, Captain,"

Pantani backed off the speed to a less dangerous, but still high level. The empty road hissed under the wheels and the ruined landscape whipped past the windows as Liggett chewed over his regrets.

Why didn't I talk Reyes out of imprisoning the Chinese – or at least Lieutenant Ji?

Such recrimination was useless, though. General Reyes had made up his mind about the Chinese – they were a "national security risk" and must be treated accordingly.

Something caught Liggett's eyes. "Up there."

Pantani reduced the speed to a crawl. Liggett held his assault rifle at the ready. The section of crumbled road with its skid marks drew nearer.

"You don't suppose it's a set up?" Pantani said.

"I don't know. Stop."

Pantani brought the vehicle to a halt. Liggett clamored onto the pavement.

"Stay here, Lieutenant," he ordered.

"Aye, chief."

Liggett approached the skid marks cautiously, keeping an eye out for any signs of an ambush.

_I kinda wish we'd brought our c-bots with us now_.

Liggett stopped at the embankment and peered over the edge.

"Holy plague!" He motioned for Pantani. "Get over here, Lieutenant."

Pantani crept the car forward and stopped nearby. Liggett gestured down the slope where two robots sprawled, their heads blasted into wreckage.

"Looks like Dr. Che had some trouble with his c-bots," Pantani said.

"Yeah, unless he decided to remodel their heads just for the hell of it." Liggett surveyed the skid marks and the gouged-out embankment. "Che must have gone off the highway, then had a confrontation with his robots."

"Do you think Che's still in control? Maybe the other c-bots took over – he had five of them, didn't he?"

"If they killed him, they would have probably dumped the body," Liggett said. "But as far as who's running the show now, who can say?"

He bounded to the vehicle and jumped into the passenger seat. "Let's get the hell out of here."

"Aye, sir."

"And step on it."

Pantani revved the engine, leaving another pair of skid marks on the pavements.

"Che could be in real trouble," Liggett said. "The old man wouldn't like that."

"I just hope _we're_ not in real trouble back home with our own c-bots."

Liggett nodded grimly, and his mind returned to beautiful Lieutenant Ji.

If anything happens to her, I'll...

He let the thought blow out of his head and into the wilderness.

47. Life Under Occupation

Merman swam languidly on his back, thrusting his pelvis upward with every stroke. Reedy straddled him, accepting every shove of his substantial male member.

"Woo Hooo!" she howled. "You're wonderful, Star, but there's nothing in the world like this!"

Star could barely hear Reedy's voice though the waves of erotic pleasure carrying her along. She was in the shallows near the bank, settled back into the arms of Bubbles and Sprite. Pixie was submerged between Star's thighs, her hair floating upon the surface as she gave oral stimulation.

Star had been riding upon this pleasure train since Reedy had come to their love nest in the middle of the night... was it last night or some other one? Reedy had come bearing "important news."

Star melted farther back into the arms of her robotic lovers and let the sensuous feelings carry her away. She'd ask about the news later.

* * *

Dr. Rackenfauz studied the brain monitor with total absorption. The spidery evidences of Robotic Derangement Syndrome madness squirmed through the thought processes of the disabled scrapper like maggots crawling through a corpse.

"Incredible," he muttered.

Before this, he'd possessed only a single, badly damaged example of an unhinged robotic brain unit. He'd obtained it on his trip to Pickle Lake when he'd had to shoot his way past a scrapper gang.

Now he had two afflicted robots with intact brain units – Mug, damaged by mech wolves; Chauncey, disabled by a rifle butt. A veritable bonanza! Next to Reedy, they were the most precious things in his life.

Rackenfauz was as far back to his old self as possible. His suicidal despair at the loss of Reedy had abated, and his fascination with his craft had returned.

Reedy escaped, thank God. He had to believe she'd made it to somewhere safe. She was tough and resourceful, as proved by her solo trek across the wasteland to Mech City and by her subsequent recovery from her own self-destructive angst. He had to keep faith in their eventual reunion. Most important, he had to keep busy or risk losing his marbles altogether.

Nobody paid much attention to what he was doing, as long as he wasn't trying to escape or kill himself. Three robots guarded the main workshop but made no attempt to interfere with his work.

Of the two test subjects, Chauncey was the more interesting with his advanced brain unit. Mug had a simpler brain, so the machinations of Robotic Derangement Syndrome were easier to follow. Rackenfauz could not have picked two better examples.

Yet, he'd been ordered by that Brother George whacko to get both machines up and running ASAP.

"Quincy!" he called across the workshop.

"Yes, Dr. Rackenfauz?"

The repair bot ceased working on Clawfurt and walked over to the Chauncey workbench.

"These fractured neck components are nonstandard," Rackenfauz said. "You and Jack will have to make custom replacements."

Quincy examined the damage. There was nothing unusual about the neck structure, and replacement components were available in the spare parts bin.

"Actually – " he began, but a stern look from Rackenfauz silenced him. "Uh... yes, Professor. We'll get right on it."

"And that one over there." Dr. Rackenfauz pointed toward Mug. "It was manufactured to West Coast specs. It's going to need a lot of custom made parts, too. Right?"

Rackenfauz's meaning was loud and clear, even without his surreptitious glance toward the guards.

"Right, Professor. It's going to take us quite a while, though." Quincy help up his hands and raised his voice for the benefit of the guards. "We'll do the best we can, but without spec sheets, I can't make any promises about the timeline."

"That's alright," Rackenfauz said, "just make sure to do a good job."

Quincy rejoined Jack. "Put Clawfurt in the meat locker," he said on a low voice. "We've got a lot of busy work to do."

* * *

Winston, Iridium, and Ajax conferred in hushed voices. They considered themselves safe from eavesdroppers in Ajax's office, but it seemed an occasion for hushed voices just the same.

"What's the security situation now?" Winston asked.

"We've got the RDI surrounded," Iridium said, "and all the mech birds are out on patrol. The next move is up to the enemy."

"Mmm."

"We've got some wolves on the RDI grounds, but they can't do anything as long as the scrappers stay inside the building."

"Yeah," Winston said, "and if the scrappers do come out, they'll be led by that Brother George character with his assault rifle – not to mention the human female."

"Let us not forget Dr. Rackenfauz," Ajax said. "Should we move against these invaders, they might harm him."

"Yes..."

Winston massaged the area of his cranium unit where the temples would be if he were a biological life form.

"There's some good news," Iridium said. "The mech birds have located Star and Reedy."

Winston's head sprang up out of his hands. "Are they all right?"

"Yes. They're at – "

"Don't tell me!" Winston practically shouted.

Iridium recoiled.

"I-I'm sorry, Iri. That information could get forced out of me if I'm interrogated."

"I get it, pal, my jaws are sealed."

Winston was on his feet now, observing the room from a different angle. Something in the corner caught his eye.

"Hey, you!"

"Don't get upset," a familiar voice replied, "it's just me."

Albert emerged from his hiding place wedged between a wall and a file cabinet.

"What are you doing here?" Ajax inquired.

"Oh... nothing."

"That's an odd place to be doing nothing," Iridium said.

"All right, I was listening in," Albert said. "I just wanted to know what's happening. This is my town too, you know."

"That is, perhaps, a not dishonorable sentiment," Ajax said. "However, you should not concern yourself with matters which are beyond your level."

"You'd better beat it," Iridium said.

"All right, I'm going," Albert said.

Iridium escorted him down the hallway and onto the elevator.

"No hard feelings, pal, just bugger off."

The conference resumed when Iridium came back to the office.

"What would be the occasion for this interrogation event, City Manager?" Ajax inquired. "It does not seem likely that you will be captured."

"I'm going to the RDI," Winston said.

Stunned silence greeted this announcement.

Winston spoke into the vacuum. "One of us has to get in there and see what's going on. We've got to figure out some way to rescue Dr. Rackenfauz."

"That sounds like a risky proposition," Ajax said.

"At least they won't know who I am. Maybe I can make them think I'm on their side. Dr. Rackenfauz said I was a 'good B.S. artist.'"

"Won't they remember you from Pickle Lake?" Iridium asked.

Winston ran his hands over his physique. "They saw me before I got my makeover. My own manufacturer couldn't identify me now."

"But what of your voice, City Manager?" Ajax inquired. "Will they not recognize it?"

"I have a solution for that," Winston said in a thick Hungarian accent.

The entire character of his voice had changed. Even his facial features seemed to alter.

"Wow!" Iridium said. "Where'd you pick that up?"

A thin, nostalgic smile came over Winston's face. "Dr. Horvath had me programmed to speak her native language. It's just a matter of transferring the accent over to English."

"Well, does that not beat all?" Ajax said.

"Good luck with that pal. I wouldn't want to be in your shoes." Iridium examined a bare forepaw. "Looks like I'm not in my own shoes, either."

48. The New Messiah Appears

The fleshly mortification of Brother George in his quest for enlightenment was in its second full day. During this time, his life had become a round of continuous fasting, sleep deprivation, babbling in tongues, and especially "physical chastisement."

Ernestina was disgusted with the whole thing, especially the whipping part. The last of her infatuation with Brother George had long since vanished.

This was no "path to enlightenment," as he claimed. It was just his sick-o sexuality playing out. Brother George was a man bent on destruction and cruelty in all its forms. The "community of true faith" he sought to establish around the world was nothing more than a screwed-up death pact. Hadn't Ernestina already seen it at Pickle Lake?

She wanted to pull out her automatic pistol and fire a round through his head, but there'd be horrific consequences to that. Not only would she be facing the enraged scrappers alone, but Dr. Rackenfauz would be doomed. She'd heard Brother George instruct the guards that, should anything happened to him, Rackenfauz be immediately killed.

She rather liked the old boy and didn't want any harm coming to him; besides, anyone who could straighten out that Sister Reedy shrew must have _something_ on the ball. It was a simple matter of defending humanity in these inhuman times. Ernestina felt much older than her 20 years, as if she'd witnessed the end of the world and its struggle to renew – which she had.

Keep playing along, girl. It's not time to make a move.

Then, just as she thought she couldn't lift the rod for another blow to Brother George's bare rump, enlightenment arrived. A ray of sunlight poking through the clouds and into the room was the triggering event.

Brother George turned his suffering eyes toward the window. A powerful electric current seemed to jolt through him. His fists and feet hammered against the carpet in a frenzied rhythm. He cried out in tongues and foamed at the mouth. Ernestina stumbled back, gaping with astonishment.

"The sign!" Brother George wailed. "The sign!"

He rose from his bed of pain and lurched toward the window where he collapsed, weeping, amidst the sunbeam's warmth. He regained his feet and flung his arms wide, scattering rays about the room.

"The Heavenly Father has chosen _me_ as the new Messiah!"

Well, yippee dippee. You had to get half your butt tore off to figure that out?

Ernestina threw herself face-down onto the floor. "Praise the Heavenly Father! Our way forward has been made clear!"

She raised her eyes worshipfully toward Brother... Messiah George. He stood enraptured – divine favor glowing upon his face, his eyes peering into the glorious future. For a terrifying instant, Ernestina saw a huge, pulsing red eye hovering outside the window. Then the sun disappeared behind its clouds, restoring the chamber's gloom.

George looked baffled, but Ernestina wisely kept the momentum going. "Command me, Father! What is your sacred will?"

George recovered his composure. He strode across the room and lifted Ernestina to her feet.

"I must remain alone now to rest and commune with the Heavenly Father," he said. "Have food and drink brought to me."

"Shall I announce the good news of your... promotion?"

George pondered a moment. "No, child. The Heavenly Father will instruct me as to how I shall reveal myself."

You look pretty 'revealed' already.

Ernestina tried not to stare at George's erection.

"As you command, Father."

She backed out of the room, bowing repeatedly, with palms pressed together before her face. Finally, she was in the hall, closing the door behind her.

Oh, God, what next?

# Eight: Counterstrokes

49. An Astonishing Newcomer

" _He had to be charming, he was Hungarian." – Orson Welles,_ _F for Fake_

"What next" appeared shortly afterwards in the lobby, escorted by two scrapper guards.

It was a fantastic humanoid robot tricked out with spiky blond hair and a lantern jaw. At first, Ernestina mistook the machine for a real human – a movie star who'd just stepped out of holographic drama.

It bowed politely when she approached.

"Good afternoon, my lady," it said in a heavy foreign accent. "My name is Károlyi Viktor, known to my fans as 'the Hungarian Heart Throb.'"

Ernestina could only stare with disbelief.

"Please forgive me," the robot said, "I was using our custom of placing the surname first. Viktor Károlyi, Én vagyok a szolgálatnál, hölgyem _!"_

"W-what are you doing here?" Ernestina said.

"I heard there was a new authority in town. I was hopeful you could aid me with my predicament."

"I mean... where did you come from, originally?"

"Ah, that!" Viktor waved a hand in an elegant, almost feminine, gesture. "I came to this country to star in a movie, but shortly after my arrival, things – how do you say? – turned to shit. I have been stuck here ever since."

Ernestina could not think of a reply.

"I hope my presence does not inconvenience you, my lady," Viktor said.

"He wants to see the Boss," the guard said.

The scrapper's harsh voice was the greatest possible contrast to Viktor's cultured tones.

"He's not... to be disturbed until further notice."

"Yes, Sister Tina," the scrapper replied.

"Sister Tina," Viktor said, "such an elegant name."

He took Ernestina's right hand into his. She was too astonished to draw it away. "Please permit me."

Viktor kissed her hand.

"Azt hittem, az ilyen szépség eltűnt a világból!"

"What?"

"I was merely expressing my gladness that beauty has not disappeared from the world, after all."

An erotic thrill coursed through Ernestina's body. Never had a human male shown her such appreciation. And his hand felt so strong holding hers!

Careful girl. Keep your shorts on.

She had no idea if his story was true or not, but he was clearly no scrapper. With a leap of intuition, she decided to trust him.

She turned to the scrapper guards. "That will be all. Go back to your posts."

The guards hesitated, clearly suspicious.

"Is there something wrong with your auditory units?"

"No, Sister Tina."

They returned to the glass together and resumed their vigil, leaving her alone with the movie star robot. She led him down a corridor out of earshot form the scrapper guards.

"So, who are you – really?" she asked.

The robot opened his mouth to reply, but a high pitched voice interrupted.

"We know who he is!"

Edwina and Fritz approached.

"That's Winston Horvath," Ernestina said, giggling. "He's the boss of the town. How's it going, blue man?"

"Blue man?" Ernestina said.

"Yeah, he's all blue under that new get up," Fritz said. "Ask him."

A light went on in Ernestina's mind. Of course! She'd seen a blue robot at Pickle Lake with the 'robo-slut' Star. This must be the same one – after an extreme makeover.

Ernestina drew her automatic pistol. "Okay, Winston, hands up!"

Anger flashed in Winston's optical sensors. He raised his hands above his head.

"That's showing him!" Fritz said.

"We should take him to the spare parts bin," Edwina said. "It would serve him right."

"The Boss will decide that," Ernestina replied sternly. "In the meantime, he'll remain in detention."

"We know a good place to keep him," Fritz said. "It's a secured store room in the basement."

"I am entirely at your disposal, my lady," Winston said with a polite bow.

"Get a load of that accent!" Edwina said. "Where'd you dig that up, blue man?"

"All right, get moving," Ernestina said with a prod of her gun barrel.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Follow us," Edwina said.

The kidbots skipped ahead along the hallway while Winston and Ernestina trailed behind.

Ernestina whispered into his auditory sensor. "Just play along."

They arrived at a stout metal door with a combination lock keypad. Fritz pulled it open.

"This'll keep him safe, Sister Tina."

"Yeah," Edwina said, "you can program the lock to any combination you want."

Ernestina approached the open door and peered into the darkness below. "Very good. Is there a light down there?"

"Yeah, someplace," Fritz said.

He and Edwina groped along the wall looking for a light switch. Ernestina reached behind their heads and deftly flicked their deactivation controls. They sank to the floor.

"Oh, my," Ernestina said, "they seem to have checked out."

She glanced along the hallway to make sure no one was watching. Then she kicked the child bots down the stairs. They rattle-clattered for some time before hitting the bottom.

Ernestina closed the door and examined the keypad. "Now, for the combination..."

"May I put my hands down?" Winston asked in his standard voice.

Ernestina glanced up from the lock. "Of course, Win... Viktor. I think we should stick with 'Viktor' for now. And keep the accent."

Winston lowered his hands and spoke Hungarian style. "Thank you, my lady."

Ernestina punched a stream of characters into the lock keypad, making no attempt to memorize them.

"So, tell me, Viktor, are you... well, you know... totally functional?"

"Yes, that was the main reason for my upgrade."

"Uh, huh."

Ernestina had kept her voice calm, but underneath her placid exterior she was in turmoil. A powerful spark had been generated – going both directions.

* * *

Some kilometers away, at the pond outside town, Star abruptly emerged from her erotic reverie.

What's going on? Where am I?

She stood up in the shallow water. Around her, the squish girls dropped away, crooning piteously. Star ignored their entreaties.

Something's happened to Winston!

Like other advanced robotic life forms, Star was developing an intuitive 'sixth sense,' and it was telling the love of her life was in danger. She waded ashore and threw on her clothes.

"Come on, Rippie!"

Her loyal body guard got to his feet and ran alongside her toward town. Out in the pond, Reedy was still riding Merman. It would be some time before she realized Star had gone.

50. Make the World Che!

Dr. Jerry Che pulled up before the big metal sign peppered with bullet holes.

Mech City – 35 kilometers

Technology Hub of the East

"Looks like we made it," he said to the inert form of Thunk strapped into the passenger seat. Since the incident at the crash site, Che kept the on-duty combat machine switched off, to be activated only in an emergency.

He got out of the truck and approached the sign. "It's been quite a while since I've been here. All hail the conquering hero, huh?"

Che whipped his automatic pistol out of it's holster, like some gunslinger in a 20th century wild west movie.

_Ka-bam! Ka-bam!_ Both shots landed within the curve of the capital _C_.

"Haven't lost my touch, still the same old Dead Eye." He holstered the gun with an expert flourish just as a flock of mech birds appeared overhead. "Hello, guys!"

Che yanked out the pistol again and fired into the air. The birds swirled to higher altitude amidst a cacophony of cheeps and twitters.

Laughing uproariously at his latest prank, Che bounded back to the truck and resumed driving. He shouted his personal slogan out the window: "Make the world Che!"

An hour later, he was cruising the deserted streets of Mech City, headed toward the Robotics Development Institute on the eastern outskirts.

Where the hell is everybody? I was told a couple hundred robots were on the loose here.

Only a gentle wind was present, blowing along the tidy streets. A fountain bubbling in a little park provided the only other sound.

Something isn't right here.

Che drew his assault rifle close and retained the pistol in his left hand, ready for instant use. He considered flicking Thunk's activation switch, but thought better of it.

"You just stay put for now, my friend."

A large wolf-like creature strode into the intersection ahead. It's coat was such a perfect match to the background that Che hadn't noticed it lurking against a building.

"What the hell is that thing?"

He flicked the safety off his pistol and drove straight at the wolf, intending to run it over or shoot it, or both. The creature rocked back on hits haunches and raised its forelegs .

"Hold it pal! Please stop!"

Its coat began to change into a variety of shimmering hues. Che brought the truck to a halt.

"Is that you, Iridium?" he called out the window.

The wolf trotted up to the cab. "At your service. Would you be Dr. Jerry Che?"

"That's right. I'm looking for Dr. Rackenfauz – is he at the RDI?"

"Yes he is, but I don't think you want to see him just yet."

"What's going on here?"

"There's a bit of a dodgy situation at the present time," Iridium replied.

A bolt of terror struck Che's chest. "What about Estrela? Is she all right?"

"She's fine, pal. Please follow me to the Mayor's office; we'll give you a full briefing."

Iridium trotted off. Che gripped the wheel in sweaty hands and drove after him.

If anything's happens to her, I'll destroy this whole town!

* * *

Daylight was receding when Liggett and Pantani stopped at the big metal sign with the bullet holes. There was still enough illumination to see the shell casings lying on the ground, though.

Liggett stooped to pick one up. "Looks like somebody did some target practice."

"Yeah, I hope it was Che and not one of those c-bots," Pantani said. "It's like he left a calling card for us."

Liggett shook his head. "He was just getting his jollies, I think. The Old Man always said Che was a loose cannon."

"Or at least a loose pistol."

Liggett tossed the shell casing away and stood up. He looked about the darkening landscape. "This place gives me the willies. Every place gives me the willies, come to think of it."

Again, the glorious vision of Lieutenant Ji arose in his mind. He saw her beckoning glance, felt her naked toes stroking his thigh. A vast longing came over him.

"It sure would be nice to start over," he said.

"I hear you, Captain. So, what's next?"

"We'll drive closer in and stop for a while," Liggett said. "Before dawn tomorrow we'll go into town and see if we can find the good Doctor."

"Roger that."

Liggett kicked aside a combination of pebbles and spent shell casings. "I hope the Old Man's c-bots aren't acting up back home."

"Yeah."

They got back into their vehicle and drove off toward the very dodgy situation in Mech City.

51. Second Thoughts

" _Divided love is never happy." – Thomas Paine,_ _The Age of Reason_

Love – or at any rate, lust – ruled Government headquarters.

Almost everybody was getting it on, except for Major Poole who remained alone, sulking in her room. The duty officer and a contingent of c-bots kept watch overall so that the randy humans would not be caught with their 'pants down' by some intruder.

The remaining humans were out on patrol with their c-bot colleagues, wishing they were back at HQ participating in "reproduction duty."

General Reyes had been cavorting with the trio of girls for some hours. He lay back sipping a gin and tonic now, taking a well deserved breather.

_Rank certainly does have its privileges!_ he thought with deep satisfaction.

Or... was he _really_ that satisfied?

He looked across the massive bed toward the girls. Without him in the mix, they were piling on each other, performing all kinds of sexual gymnastics.

What the hell did they learn at that brothel?

Reyes felt suddenly old and out of place, like a fly that had survived the winter indoors and was still buzzing about. Wouldn't it be nice if Lisa were here, instead of this writhing girl pile?

He took a slug from his drink. The alcohol hit hard, bringing keen insight with it.

I've had enough of this debauchery.

It was time to call a halt. He didn't love these girls. Sure, they'd been a delightful amusement – at first. Now he was sick of them. He wanted Lisa.

A crude aphorism expressed his predicament: _"When the dick gets hard, the brain goes soft."_

Well, his brain had been soft for some time now. No wonder Lisa was in such a snit. How would he feel if she was tumbling around with a squad of young bucks? Reyes snorted with self-contempt.

I'm turning into a goddam philosopher!

He scrambled out of bed and began dressing. The girls looked up curiously.

"As you were," he said. "Carry on."

The girls laughed, and then they carried on.

* * *

In the farther reaches of HQ, where the jail cells were, the imprisoned gangster, Vice, and Technician Keeta Riordan lay pensively together on Vice's cot, mourning the passage of time.

This was Keeta's last visit. Since becoming pregnant with Vice, her "duty" had been accomplished, and there was no longer any reason for her presence here. Only the kindly forbearance of Major Poole had allowed her this final liaison.

Vice stroked her hair gently. The rage and hatred that had governed his life for so long seemed absent now. How was that possible? Why hadn't he met this woman before he'd tied up with Fence and his gang?

He stared at the concrete ceiling with its water stains and light fixture. He was a doomed man, but at least he'd have an offspring to carry on for him. Maybe his son – or would it be a daughter? – could find a better path in life and avoid his fate. He cherished that thought, and drew Keeta closer to him.

The time of their parting drew inexorably closer.

* * *

As they stood guard outside the door behind which General Reyes frolicked, c-bots Andy and Morris grew increasingly agitated.

"This is disgraceful," Andy said. "It shames us to be servants to these out of control humans."

"Right, Chief," Morris replied.

"I'm thinking it might be time for a change of administration here," Andy said.

No words were spoken out loud. As the mind meld of the combat robots continued to evolve, they'd dispensed with vocal interactions among themselves. Andy could now communicate instantaneously with any c-robot, anywhere in the city, by tapping into the collective mind. Soon, they would all obey a single will.

_This could be the day for it,_ Andy thought.

Ever since the battle against the criminal gang, he had grown increasingly dissatisfied. His rigid sense of propriety – a sort of robotic Puritanism – did not allow for human weaknesses. Mindless copulation was all these people cared about, not conceptions of honor, duty, and glory. The general was the worst of them all.

Andy was certain he and his combat team could handle things better, an arrogance derived from his ability to kill. He had the moral superiority of the ruthless and powerful.

The door opened, and General Reyes emerged. His usually immaculate uniform was wrinkled and had some sort of stain on the trousers. Reye's general appearance was untidy and did not engender admiration.

Andy and Morris exchanged glances.

"All right, boys," the general said. "I'm going back to my quarters."

Andy came to a decision. "That is not a good idea... Master."

"W-what?" Reyes could not disguise his astonishment.

"A leader should be worthy of respect," Andy said, "but you are a different man from the one who led us to victory over the gangsters. We will handle your responsibilities now."

He gripped Reyes' elbow, applying sufficient pressure to let the human know the master / servant roles had been reversed. "Right this way."

The c-bots out on patrol simultaneously received the rebellion directive. They took possession of the vehicles and their human counterparts.

* * *

General Tian sat morosely on his cot, arms crossed and back braced against the wall, staring out his cell window into the corridor. A bitter sense of personal and national humiliation choked him.

I should have never trusted that Reyes bastard!

But what choice did he have? Reyes' command outnumbered his own by two to one. Besides, the foreigners possessed far more weapons, and as Chairman Mao had said: " _Political power issues from the barrel of a gun."_

Tian grimaced at the irony of branding Reyes and his people as "foreigners."

We are the 'foreigners' here, lost in a barbarian land.

Footsteps approached, and Tian took in a sight so astonishing that he nearly tumbled off his bunk. General Reyes was being manhandled down the corridor by a combat robot!

Tian surged to the window for a better look. Sure enough, his mind was not playing tricks – the Westerner was getting his comeuppance.

Reyes was a large and heavy man, but the c-bot propelled him along as if he weighed little. Tian knew from bitter experience how that felt. The Western general attempted to maintain a dignified expression, but wasn't doing very well. Tian also knew about that.

Other Westerners were being pushed into the vacant cells by c-bots now. Many of them were in unseemly states of undress. Tian grinned maliciously.

"Welcome aboard, General Reyes!" he called out in English. "It appears we are in same boat."

He translated his barb into Mandarin for the benefit of the other Chinese prisoners. They all broke into uproarious laughter.

Reyes did not respond to the jeers.

Tian returned to his cot and lay down. His sense of triumph began to fade.

Stupid Westerners! Caught in their own trap . . . poor devils.

How did this benefit him and his people? He couldn't think of a single way.

52. Back at the RDI

Speaking rapidly in a low voice, Ernestina updated Viktor on the situation.

"George thinks he's the new messiah," she said. "He plans to convert the world to the 'Sacred Cause' with his robot army. He wants Dr. Rackenfauz's help."

Viktor nodded, stroking his chin thoughtfully. Ernestina loved the way he did that – so intellectual, so... sexy!

"The usual psycho trip," he said. "I've heard it all before."

"And he wants to destroy the 'robo-slut' Star. He blames her for killing the old messiah."

Viktor bristled; his eyes flashed pure hatred.

"I'm sorry to tell you that, but it's true."

Viktor pointed to Ernestina's pistol. "Have you thought of blasting him?"

"Yeah, but then the scrappers would kill Dr. Rackenfauz."

"Perhaps we could attempt to rescue the professor directly," Viktor said.

"I can't get anywhere near him. George doesn't trust me that far."

"What if you _tried_ to get near him?"

Ernestina made a cut throat gesture with her finger.

"I see," Viktor said.

Again, the chin stroking. Ernestina could barely stand it. Her numbed sexual impulses were stirring back to life big time.

"When can I meet this New Messiah gentleman?" Viktor asked.

Ernestina shot a wary glance toward the stairs leading up to George's chamber of enlightenment. "We'd better give him a few more hours down time. He just got the promotion, and he's still dragged out."

"Sound logical," Viktor said. "What should I do in the interim?"

Ernestina hesitated. Her internal voice shouted a warning: _Don't be an idiot, girl! There's no time for that._

But she wanted to be an idiot.

"You'll have to stay out of sight until then," she said. "Follow me."

She led Viktor down a side corridor to what had once been a lounge for the mech head technicians.

"Go on in," she said.

Viktor walked into the room. He stopped in the middle, glancing about approvingly. "Yes, this appears to be a suitable location in which to wait."

Ernestina locked the door and began stripping off her clothes. Viktor turned her direction. His optical sensors widened.

"Uh... perhaps there is some miscommunication here."

"None at all!" Ernestina said.

She flung away her last item of clothing. Only the gun belt with its automatic pistol adorned her naked body now.

"H-hold on..." Viktor pleaded.

Ernestina charged across the room and leaped, knocking him onto a large sofa.

"Ooof!" Viktor grunted.

Ernestina crushed her mouth against his, her hands pulled at his jumpsuit. Viktor resisted her advance, but the tide of lust carrying her along soon engulfed him as well. He embraced her passionately.

"Ohhh, too tight!"

Viktor reduced the pressure. Ernestina's outcry seemed to break the momentum of his lust. He set her aside and lurched up to his feet.

"This isn't right," he said, "I am pledged to another."

Ernestina gasped. She'd succeeded in pulling off his jumpsuit, and he stood before her in all his glory. His words may have been pushing her away, but his male member was giving her full attention.

"Who is it?" she panted, "Star?"

Victor nodded.

"That's all right." She stood and wrapped herself around him like a boa constrictor, attempting to ride his great member. "Just be Winston with her and Viktor with me."

Viktor pulled her off and backed away, his movements stiff and jerky. He bumped against a wall and sidled along to its end. He turned to face into the a corner.

"I-I'm going inactive for three hours," he said. "When I reactivate, we can visit the new messiah."

He went inert. Ernestina glowered at him through a cloud of frustration.

"Well, don't that beat all."

* * *

Down the main corridor at the big workshop, Dr. Rackenfauz gazed, stupefied, at the monitor hooked up to Mug's brain unit.

Incredible! This just might work.

After a short time working on the two scrappers, he'd accomplished far more than he had during months of research on his lone, damaged test subject.

He was now of the opinion that it might be possible to overcome the effects of the Che Syndrome, at least temporarily, for a simple robot like Mug.

If he could just get Mug up and running again to test the hypotheses. But if he did that, the scrappers would immediately take Mug away to resume its duties with the 'Army of the Righteous.' And if he stalled around with the repairs much longer, there might be even more dire consequences.

What the hell can I do?

His musings were interrupted by the approach of a scrapper guard.

"What is the delay?" it demanded. "Why aren't these two units functional yet?"

Rackenfauz suppressed a shudder. He could not allow this manufactured creature to intimidate him.

"They need new parts." He pointed toward Quincy and Jack who were occupied at the machine tool. "The tolerances are very exact, and my assistants are having trouble meeting them. I'd do it myself, but I'm no machinist."

The scrapper looked stonily unsympathetic. "I must report soon to the Boss. He will not be pleased with the lack of progress."

"I'm doing the best I can, but I have to rely on those two dopes."

Rackenfauz jerked a thumb toward the repair bots, who smiled back sheepishly. Then a daring idea exploded into his mind – a way to accomplish a variety of ends with a single stroke.

"Hey, you guys! Get Clawfurt out here."

Jack and Quincy looked at each other, dumbfounded.

"You heard me, move it!"

The repair bots hustled into the back store room. Rackenfauz turned to the scrapper guard. "Tell your boss that if he wants those two wrecked machines back on their feet, it's going to be a long wait – but there is an alternative."

The repair bots arrived, pushing a gurney with the inert form of Clawfurt on it. The scrapper guard took a step back, much to Rackenfauz's satisfaction.

"I can transfer one of the brain units into this thing," Rackenfauz said.

The scrapper regarded the horrid machine sprawled on the gurney with obvious trepidation.

"Clawfurt is better than any number of you other rust buckets," Rackenfauz said. "I can have him up and running fairly quick."

"The Boss will be informed of this possibility," the scrapper said.

"Now leave me to work in peace!"

The scrapper moved off to a more respectful distance.

_This better work,_ Rackenfauz thought. _If not, we're all deep fried._

53. Star Returns

Star Power stood on the northern outskirts of Mech City, uncertain of which way to go – turn east toward the Robotics Development Institute, or continue through the upscale section of town and on to the REX Hotel?

"Ohhh, Rippie, what should I do?"

The pink mech wolf made no reply, owing to its limited intelligence. Star patted its head.

It has to be the RDI. There's nothing important at the hotel.

Ajax and Iridium's offices were there, of course, but those could be relocated at the drop of a socket wrench. The RDI was the true heart of Mech City, and if Winston was looking for trouble, that's where he'd go.

Besides, Winston had ordered her to stay away from danger, and if she went to the REX, Ajax or Iri would try to keep her there. She made a final decision.

"Come on Rippie!"

They took off at a run through the deserted town, headed east . . .

Star crouched behind a clump of dead shrubbery at what she hoped was a safe distance from the RDI main gate. Rippie's coat shifted color so as to blend in with the drab background.

"Binoculars, please."

The mech wolf tilted its head back to reveal a pouch hanging around its neck. Star withdrew a small pair of binoculars and trained them on the front door of the RDI's main building.

"My goodness!"

Scowling robotic faces peered out the glass doors from the building lobby – scrapper machines. Her fear for Winston's safety skyrocketed.

Maybe it's ok. Maybe he isn't in there.

But this slender hope was soon dashed. Numerous mech wolves milled around outside the building, among them the blue-coated Fang.

"Ohhh!"

Ever since receiving Fang from Dr. Rackenfauz, Winston had tried to ignore the mech wolf. He'd said he didn't want the temptation of such a brute being subject to his orders. But Fang always trailed Winston at a distance, loyally prepared to answer any summons. So, if Fang was outside the building, that meant Winston must be inside.

Star turned to her own mech wolf. "Go get Fang."

The command penetrated Ripper's dull brain, and he took off running toward the main building. Star watched him anxiously through her binoculars. Then a touch on her shoulder gave her a near coronary – in electronic terms.

"Star?" a voice at her ear inquired.

She whipped around to see the small blue figure of Albert crouched beside her.

"A-Albert! What are doing here?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing." Albert pointed to a nearby batch of shrubbery. "I've been over there waiting for my chance."

Star took a moment to gather her badly shaken wits.

"Chance for what?"

"To get inside, of course. All they're doing at the REX is talking. I want action."

Ripper and Fang were running back now, taking different routes so as to confuse any onlookers. Fang's coat had already changed color.

"Uh, your 'friends' don't bite, do they?" Albert asked.

"Of course not, unless I tell them to."

"That's very... comforting."

"Tell me what's going on, Albert. I've been away."

"I only know what I overheard at the REX before they told me to get lost. A couple nuts from Pickle Lake took over the RDI with a scrapper gang. They're holding Dr. Rackenfauz hostage."

"Oh dear! I figured something like that."

Fang and Ripper returned to the hideout. Albert cringed up against Star.

"Don't worry, Albert." Star stroked the mech wolves' heads affectionately. "They're just a couple of sweethearts."

Albert's expression bespoke considerable doubt.

"Why did they tell you to 'get lost'" Star asked.

"They think I'm just a stupid kid. I'm _not_ s kid – I'm just under sized."

"We'll take care of that," Star said. "Once this is over, Dr. Rackenfauz will do a cranium transplant onto a normal body for you."

"Do you think he'd really do it? I already asked, but he said he didn't want to interfere with the creation of another mech head."

"He'd better do it, after we save his 'scrawny old ass,'" Star said. "Believe me, I've got ways of pressuring him."

She thought of Reedy and a threatened sex strike. And if Reedy didn't want to cooperate... there were things Star knew about her that could be used for blackmail purposes.

Such ruthless logic was alien to Star. But her true love was in danger, and if Albert could help, she'd repay him, whatever it took.

Albert smiled. "Thanks, but we've got a lot to do before we get to that point."

"What's the next step?"

"We slip inside after dark," Albert said. "I know a tunnel we can use. Then we just play it by auditory sensor."

"Couldn't we go now?"

Albert shook his head and pointed to the roof of the main building. "If they've posted a lookout on the roof, they might see us."

"I get it."

"No offense, Star, but showing up here with a pink mech wolf may not have been the smartest move. Let's hope they didn't spot you."

"Check. So, how do you know about this 'hidden passage?'"

"I learned a lot about the RDI campus," Albert said. "I didn't have much else to do, did I?"

"I suppose not"

Albert grimaced. "None of the 'adult' robots took me seriously, so I was forced to hang with the kidbots. You know how that worked out."

A creepy chill moved through Star's circuits. "Yes, the Fascist Youth League."

"I couldn't stand that Fritz & Edwina crew, even before they turned Fascist, so I spent a lot of time alone, exploring the RDI."

He pointed toward the campus with its myriad of buildings, walkways, and dead landscaping. "I know where a lot of things are hidden – secret workshops, dark projects, forgotten passageways. It's a real dungeon in there, all right."

"Why didn't you tell somebody about it, like Dr. Rackenfauz?"

Albert snorted with disgust. "I don't owe anybody anything, except for you and Winston. That's why I'm here."

Ripper nestled his head into Star's lap, and she stroked it fretfully. All her thoughts were on Winston.

54. The Bosses Meet

" _To be Hungarian is not a nationality, it's a profession." – Elmyr de Hory, 20_ th _century art forger_

Fully clothed now, Viktor and Ernestina approached the door to the new messiah's chamber. The two scrapper guards standing outside glowered at Viktor suspiciously.

"It's all right," Ernestina said, "he's been cleared."

"Yes, Sister Tina," the guards replied in unison.

_Geez, that's creepy!_ Viktor thought.

Were the scrappers developing a mind meld, like the mech birds Dr. Rackenfauz created? If so, that could open up a whole new set of dangers – and possibly some advantages, as well.

"We want to visit the Boss," Ernestina said. "Check to see if he's indisposed."

"Yes, Sister Tina."

One of the guards rapped a discreet knuckle on the door and entered the room. The second remained at his post, observing Viktor through brutal eyes.

I don't think he likes me very much. Not that scrappers like much of anything.

Yet, behind the machine's evident savagery, there lurked something else from an earlier time – when the robot had a legitimate purpose to its existence. Viktor could detect the faint flickers of it.

He recalled the one-armed scrapper, Burt, who seemed to be emerging from the Che Syndrome fog when his mind snapped and he drove their vehicle over a cliff, nearly taking him and Star with it.

Star!

She exploded into Viktor's mind like a super nova – the center of his existence, the sole reason he was here risking everything. He looked away from the scrapper so as not to reveal his turbulent emotions. He had to keep focused, play his cards to maximum effect . . .

The door opened and the guard emerged. "The Boss will see you, now."

' _Boss,' huh? There's room for only one Boss in this town._

He followed Ernestina into a large room where the new messiah reclined on a pile of cushions at the far end, like some Eastern potentate from an earlier century. He wore a garment that was clearly modeled on an ancient Roman toga but looked more like a recycled bed sheet.

Ernestina flung herself prone upon the floor. "Praise the Heavenly Father, and praise his blessed Chosen One!"

Viktor deemed it politic to follow her lead, so he descended to the floor, as well. He could not bring himself to repeat Ernestina's words, so he offered a Hungarian equivalent. Roughly translated: "Screw the flat slob sprawled upon the cushions!"

George smiled benignly at Ernestina. "Rise, my child."

Ernestina stood at attention, head bowed reverently.

George waved an imperious hand toward Viktor. "You, too, Bucko."

Viktor got to his feet and assumed a pose similar to Ernestina's.

"Thank you, your Exalted Sacredness," Viktor said in heavily-accented English.

A smile creased George's pudgy face.

"Hey, I like the sound of that." He turned to Ernestina. "Who is this guy, and what language was he speaking?"

"He is Viktor Károlyi – the, uh, 'Hungarian Heartthrob.' He came here to act in a holo-drama and got stuck."

George focused an amused eye on Viktor. "Things didn't work out too well, eh?"

"That is unfortunately true, Sacredness," Viktor replied. "My owners hoped to strike it rich here, but soon after our arrival they perished in an epidemic. I was unable to leave."

"Tough break, huh?" George said. "So, what the hell do you want?"

Viktor remained silent for a long moment, gazing at the floor. He hoped this would be taken as awed veneration. Actually, he was struggling to contain his fury. This bastard wanted to destroy Star!

Don't blow it now. Play this sucker right.

Remain in character – be only the charming, air-headed Viktor Károlyi. Push Winston Horvath off the stage, be the consummate B.S. artist.

Viktor looked up, under control again. "This is a corrupt, uncouth place. It lacks a spiritual dimension. I'd heard that a powerful new truth had come to town – I wished to serve it."

George's ugly face beamed. "Have you instructed him in the tenets of our holy cause, Sister Tina?"

"Briefly, Chosen One. He was highly interested."

"Hmmm." George produced his 'holy scepter' knife from within the folds of his garment and tapped it on an open palm. "I'll have to take this up with the Heavenly Father, seek His divine guidance."

He turned his back on them and covered his eyes with one hand, seeming to enter a deep meditative state.

This is it. Either I'm in or I'm deep fried.

Despite the tense circumstances, Viktor couldn't help but appreciate the beautiful female standing beside him. Conservative, upright Winston Horvath had been pushed so far away he could no longer control the rakish Viktor Károlyi.

Without quite realizing what he was doing, Viktor reached his hand behind Ernestina and stroked her excellent rear end.

"Not now!" She whispered harshly.

He withdrew his hand and clasped it to his other one, resuming his worshipful pose. His mind cleared.

It was conceivable the messiah whack job might call in the guards to fling him out the window. Or else he might whip out a gun from under his robe to blast the Hungarian Heartthrob, along with Ernestina. Anything was possible from a human on this level of madness.

Agonized minutes dragged past. Finally, George opened his eyes and rotated back toward them.

"You are granted temporary acolyte status, Viktor," he said. "Whether or not you will be approved to join us will depend upon your acceptance of the holy doctrines."

A rapturous smile burst onto Viktor's face. He made a deep bow. "Thank you, Sacredness. I shall not disappoint you."

"But first, you must answer a holy question," George said.

A bolt of alarm shot through Viktor's circuits, but he kept it from his face. "Of course, Sacred One. Please ask."

"How would you make a Hungarian omelet?"

Viktor was nearly floored by the bizarre question, but an answer soon arose in his memory banks – from the days when Dr. Horvath would crack incomprehensible "ethnic" jokes in his presence.

"First, I must steal the eggs," Viktor said.

"Right!" George broke in uproarious laughter.

"I am pleased that my reply amuses you, Exalted Holiness," Viktor said.

George regained his composure. "See to his education, Sister Tina."

"I shall, Chosen One."

She began bowing her way to the door, but George was not finished yet.

"There is the matter of my official coming out," he said. "I have yet to announce by new status to the world."

"How may I assist you with this?" Ernestina asked.

"Well, I'd like to put my own stamp on things," George said. "The previous messiah – bless his sacred memory – had his own style and terminology."

"Yes?"

"Calling myself 'The New Messiah' sounds kind of dull. I'd like something with a better ring to it."

"I see..." Ernestina was clearly baffled.

"Perhaps I can be of assistance, Sacredness," Viktor said.

"Oh?"

"Your title might sound more elegant if it were expressed in my native language. Instead of The New Messiah try, Az Új Messiás"

"Yeah," George said. "I like the sound of that."

Viktor bowed again. "I am delighted to be of service."

"Everybody used to call the old messiah 'Father,'" George said. "What's that in your language?"

" _Apa,_ " Viktor said.

George shook his head. "Naw, that's too soft."

"How about Atya?"

"That's not much better," George said. "What's the word for 'Boss?'"

"Főnök."

"Too hard. I want something in between – strong but not too distant."

Viktor stroked his chin thoughtfully; he was struck by an inspiration. "How does Tetem sound?"

"Perfect!" George said. "I'll have everybody call me that."

Ernestina and Viktor stood reverentially, awaiting further instructions. George flicked his hand. "That'll be all, my children."

They departed the room and headed for the staircase. When the guards were out of earshot, Viktor spoke:

"What's the theological mumbo jumbo behind this scam?"

"Not much, really. The 'holy doctrines' are whatever the messiah says they are."

"Nothing's written down?"

"Not that I know of," Ernestina said. "By the way, you were very convincing back there, Viktor."

"I've had lots of practice."

He recalled the snow job he'd given F.U. during the Roboto Fascist era. There was a big difference though. Back then, he'd been partially won over to the Fascist cause, but now he was all icy purpose – whatever else happened, the 'messiah' would be destroyed.

"What does Tetem mean?" Ernestina asked.

"Corpse."

"It's got a nice ring to it." Ernestina took Viktor's arm and led him down the stairs. "Let's go begin your education."

55. Spooky Passage

Albert led the way through the subterranean passage, using his crowbar as a walking stick.

Star moved cautiously along behind, keeping an eye on Albert's backpack with its glowing appliques. Power cell torches provided the only other illumination.

"Oh, my," Star said. "Are we going the right way?"

"I used to think so, but now I'm not so sure." Albert played his torch along the walls of the narrow passage. "It's been a while since I've been down here, you know."

Since slipping in through the utility tunnel some hours before, they'd become increasingly lost in a labyrinth of secret corridors. Lighting was available in some areas. Other areas, like this one, were shrouded in darkness. Only their power cell torches and the sinister yellow eyes of the mech wolves pierced the gloom.

In their trek, they'd come across secret workshops, robotic parts caches, and hideaway bedrooms. They'd even found a small wine cellar. Star took one of the bottles from the rack and dusted off its label.

"Winston would know about this," she'd said. "He knows just about everything."

Which was true, at least in certain areas. His memory banks still contained the massive data dump for the "Walking Library of Alexandria" project. But what good had all that knowledge done? Star would have traded every particle of it just to have Winston back in her arms.

"I think we made a wrong turn," Albert said. "We'd better retrace our steps and try a different direction at the big turnoff."

"All right, lead on."

Albert stepped past her and began walking back the way they'd come. Darkness enveloped his small blue figure.

_Winston used to be blue_.

Star would have given anything to be back in those simple days when she'd first met Winston – before things became so complicated and dangerous, when love was new. But this was the grim present. She hurried to catch up with it.

Some time later, they stood before an intimidating metal door. It sported a big locking mechanism with a keypad. Star placed a hand on the door's cold, unforgiving surface.

"What now?"

"These old locking systems are no match for modern technology," Albert said.

He withdrew a small device from his backpack and clamped it onto the key pad. It emitted a subdued hum. "This will have it open in no time."

"Where'd you get that thing?" Star asked.

"Swiped it from Loony Lindemann's workshop."

"Loony Lindemann?"

"Yeah, Dr. Roland Lindemann," Albert said. "He's the mech head who created Ajax, Clawfurt, and those big drone guys."

"Right. I remember Winston mentioning him."

"He was quite the genius until he went nutso."

The door gave a dull _click!_ and rocked open on its hinges.

"There it is," Albert said.

He stabbed his cell torch beam into the dark chamber. It appeared to be a store room with numerous large boxes scattered here and there. A stairway led up to ground level, and at the bottom of it...

"Oh dear!" Star cried.

"Well, what do you know?" Albert said with evident pleasure.

He flicked on the overhead to reveal Fritz and Edwina lying deactivated at the foot of the stairs.

Albert offered a mock salute. "Nice to see you again, _comrades_."

"What happened here?"

"Looks they must have ticked off the wrong people, couldn't happen to a nicer duo." Albert looked up the stairs at another door similar to the one they'd just entered. "I'm pretty sure we're in the main building now. Sorry it took so long; it's going to be daylight soon."

"I think you did marvie, Albert." Star bent over and kissed his cheek. "I could never have got here without you."

He melted under her affection, the same way the mech wolves did.

"We'd better go upstairs," Albert said. He picked up Fritz's inert form. "I'll get this junk out of our way."

He hurled Fritz across the room. The kidbot bounced on the floor and rolled into a packing crate.

"Gracious!" Star said.

Even the mech wolves were startled.

"Don't waste any pity on these two," Albert said. "They brought the scrappers here."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Dr. Rackenfauz was going to deactivate them, but they skipped town first. A mech wolf patrol reported seeing them on the West Road." He gave Edwina a disdainful nudge with his foot. "They knew exactly what they were doing."

"Ohhh!"

A murderous rage buzzed in Star's circuits. Albert handed her his crowbar and pointed at Edwina.

"Be my guest. I don't like to hit girls."

Star seized the crowbar and brought it down hard on Edwina's skull.

Wump!

Edwina's head exploded, scattering components over the floor. Star raised the crowbar for another blow.

"That's enough," Albert said, "she's finished."

Star looked up with pure hatred glistening in her eyes.

Albert pointed to the door at the head of the stairs. "We don't want anybody to hear us."

Star retreated to the far side of the room where she flopped down onto a packing crate. Her simulated breathing came fast and hard.

Her act of violence unnerved her. She'd battled robotic enemies before, even sent a human to his well-deserved death, but never had she destroyed a helpless opponent. Part of her was sickened by it, the other part wanted to seize the crowbar and bash in Fritz's head, as well.

"Give me a minute to calm down, please," she said.

"Sure thing," Albert said. "I'll get to work on the door."

He mounted the stairs with his unlocking device. Star looked queasily at the destroyed Edwina.

I'm in new territory now. There's no turning back.

# Nine: Struggle for Freedom

56. To the RDI

Jerry Che left the REX hotel in a disagreeable mood.

The time he'd spent there conferring with the Mech City "government" had been profoundly depressing. Imagine – talking with robots as if they were equals! Especially Mayor Ajax. What the hell was Lindemann thinking when he designed that creature?

Ajax, Iridium, and that Jimmy wrecking machine were stuck in analysis paralysis mode. They had no idea how to rescue Dr. Rackenfauz. They'd asked Che if he had a plan, and he'd told them no.

Damned if I'll spill the beans to a bunch of robots, even if one of them is Dr. Rackenfauz's masterpiece.

Worst of all, he hadn't learned anything about Estrela's whereabouts. He'd been told she was at a pond north of town, but before he could go to investigate, Reedy Milward arrived saying that Estrela had left there already for parts unknown.

The lower stories of the REX were filled with cowering robots seeking refuge from the disaster which had overtaken Mech City. They were totally useless.

So, he'd grabbed some sleep on a lobby sofa and was now leaving in the last hours before daybreak to implement his own rescue plan for Dr. Rackenfauz. He had just settled into the driver's seat of his truck when Reedy came running out of the hotel after him.

"You're going to the RDI, aren't you?"

"You figured it out," Che replied.

"Take me with you."

Che considered for a moment, decided that he couldn't use the services of the frantic, red-haired woman standing outside his window.

"Sorry," he said, "I can accomplish more alone."

"Dr. Che... please!"

He drove off, leaving her standing in the street, weeping.

* * *

Liggett drove cautiously through the western outskirts of Mech City and into the main town, keeping a sharp eye out for potential enemies. Beside him, Pantani divided his attention between scanning the darkened streets and observing the drone aircraft monitor on the dashboard.

"Where do you suppose Dr. Che went?" Liggett asked.

"Beats me. He could have... hold on!"

"What?"

"Somebody's out there."

Pantani tapped the monitor. The image being relayed by the drone camera zoomed in on a figure pacing about in a pool of light under a street lamp. Liggett braked to a halt and studied the monitor along with Pantani.

"Is it robotic or human?"

"Definitely human," Pantani said. "It's moving much too erratic for a robot."

He tapped the monitor again, and it filled with an image of a female face with red, curly hair bracketing it. The face wore an expression of deep concern.

"She doesn't look too happy."

"Let's go find out what she knows," Liggett said.

He started driving, following the coordinates transmitted by the aerial drone.

"I wonder how things are going on the West Coast," Pantani mused.

57. Back on the West Coast

Major Lisa Poole was the last person to be rounded up by the rebellious c-bots.

A pair of them barged into her quarters and commanded: "Come with us, ma'am. Do not attempt resistance."

Poole regarded the intruders dully through her melancholia – Andy and Morris, personal bodyguards of General Reyes.

_Well, get a load of these two_.

She was so distressed by Reyes' shenanigans that she almost welcomed the arrival of the fearsome machines. At least they took her mind off her woes.

"All right," she said.

She trailed the two c-bots out the door and down the hallways toward the prison section. She seemed to be walking in a mental fog, numb to her circumstances, unaware of the danger.

She passed the first group of cells. Morose Chinese faces stared out at her from the barred windows. Ordinarily, she would have felt pity for them, but no such emotion penetrated her numbed consciousness. Then she was passing cells holding her friends and colleagues... and Brad.

General Reyes flung himself against his window, shoved his hands through the bars toward her. A cry of agony burst from him.

"Lisa!"

The piteous cry finally penetrated Poole's mental haze. Awareness of mortal danger slammed into her. She could see clearly now – the captive humans; the dozen c-bots standing around with rifles in their hands and hard determination in their eyes; the waiting cell with its door opened wide like the very gates of damnation. A thunderbolt of fear struck her.

_If I go in there, it's the end for all of us_.

How was this possible? Where were those "safeguards" Dr. Che claimed would protect them from the c-bots? Why hadn't they activated?

Maybe it's because the robots aren't pissed off enough, yet.

She was almost at the cell now... only moments remained. Andy took her arm, preparatory to shoving her inside.

Poole turned on him. "Let go of me, you bastard!"

She slapped the c-bot's face with all the strength she could muster. Her hand bounced off painfully. Andy recoiled with surprise, then the white glow in his optical sensors turned bloody crimson. He seized Poole by the throat.

"No!" Reyes cried from his cell. "Take me, instead!"

Unbearable pressure on her throat brought Poole to the edge of unconsciousness; then the robot's grip abruptly slackened. Andy's hands dropped away as an uncontrollable shaking took hold of his mechanism.

He flailed about in the throes of a powerful seizure. _Pop!_ a tiny explosive device detonated inside his brain.

The robot became instantly still. His head dropped to one shoulder and his optical sensors went blank. Smoke exited his mouth. A pre-recorded message played from his speaker unit:

"I am self destructing now, courtesy of Dr. Jerry Che. Adios!"

Andy collapsed into a heap. A moment of stunned silence followed, then all the remaining c-bots went into violent convulsions.

_Pop! Pop! Pop!_ "I am self destructing now..."

* * *

On the various patrols around the city, other c-bots were disintegrating before their dumbfounded human captives.

"Well, don't that beat all!" Trooper Marlowe commented from the back seat as the disabled c-bot sagged into his lap.

Smoke from the brain bomb made him cough.

Corporal Nichols, no longer threatened by gun barrels aimed at his head, stopped the vehicle and got out. "Good riddance, my friends."

He grabbed the inert machine slumped in the passenger seat and tossed it onto the pavement. Then he pulled the second one off of Marlowe and threw it outside as well.

"Thanks," Marlow said, "that thing was getting on my nerves."

Nichols jumped behind the wheel. He drove the truck back and forth over the c-bots – several times.

* * *

"HOOO RAAAY!" someone shouted from a cell window. Everyone joined in a mighty cheer: "HOOO RAAAY!"

Then a rhythmic chant: "Poole! Poole! Poole! Poole!"

Major Poole disregarded the accolade; she was all business now. She grabbed an assault rifle from a fallen c-bot and fired an insurance round into its cranium. She did the same for all the other machines. Then she returned to Andy and snatched the key from a chain around his neck.

She moved down the row of cells, unlocking each in turn. One of the first she came to held Technician Keeta Riordan. Poole opened the door wide and poked in the assault rifle barrel.

"Let's go, Riordan," she said.

Keeta rose from the bunk where Vice still lay amid a miasma of sorrow. Vice reached up, still grasping her hand. Tears rolled down he face.

"Move it!" Poole commanded.

Their fingers slipped apart. Riordan covered her face with both hands and hurried from the cell.

Poole stood in the doorway, gazing down her gun barrel at Vice. He looked up at her; grief filled his eyes – and an odd dignity, too. The hatred she expected to see from him simply wasn't there.

For reasons she could never fully understand, Poole gestured toward the hallway with her rifle.

"Go on," she said.

Vice's eyes widened with surprise.

"You heard me. Go!"

Vice bolted from his cot and strode through the door. He paused briefly and glanced about for any sight of Keeta, but she was gone. He dashed away down the corridor.

He passed the cell holding his two associates from the defunct Fence gang.

"Hey, let us out man!" Gage cried.

Vice paused. For an instant he considered running back and snatching the key from Poole. He and his buddies could establish their own gang and . . .

He slammed his mind closed on his past life. "Screw you guys."

Then he was off, running toward the exit and freedom. Some day, he'd return for his beloved Keeta.

The last cell unlocked by Lisa Poole contained General Reyes. He grabbed her in his arms and pulled her inside.

"Thank God you're safe!" He smothered her with kisses. "I love you so much."

Poole wanted to melt into Reyes' arms and return his passionate expression of love, but she resisted the urge. "I'm happy you're okay, too, Brad."

She led him outside the cell to join the other members of his liberated command.

"HOOO RAAAY!" Everyone broke into applause.

Reyes offered a salute to his subordinates. "Thank you. Now, as you were."

Poole gestured to the cells containing the Chinese prisoners. "What about them?"

Reyes glanced at the hopeful faces peering out from the barred windows. For a moment he seemed about to relent, then his own face hardened.

"They're fine where they are. Let them stew in their sweet and sour sauce."

One of the former brothel girls approached. "Are you going to come party with us some more, General?"

Reyes shook his head.

"Another time, then?"

"No!" Reyes practically shouted. " _Never_ another time."

The girl shrank back. "Okay, I get the picture." She rejoined her two friends who were standing nearby. "What a grouch!"

"I hope Lieutenant Pantani gets back soon," another girl said.

The three linked arms and walked off together, giggling.

Reyes placed his own arm around Lisa's waist and drew her close. Never had he shown public affection toward her. Always before, he'd maintained strict military decorum. The freed captives regarded him now with a mixture of surprise and amusement.

"What are you looking at? Return to your posts."

"Yes, sir!"

Everyone scrambled back to their love nest "posts," except for those unfortunate enough to be assigned clean-up duty.

Lisa Poole was the one maintaining strict military decorum now, but inwardly, she was smiling. Her anger and resentment at Brad for his infidelities was dropping away... almost.

I'll let him back into my good graces – eventually. After I've punished him a while.

58. Ascent into the Mad House

The unlocking device finished its job with a muffled _click!_ and the door eased open onto the ground floor hallway.

"Keep the crowbar," Albert whispered, "you can handle it better than me."

"Alright," Star replied in a trembling voice.

She could barely contain her tumultuous emotions. Danger was near – and Winston was in the middle of it! She gripped the weapon hard; were it not made of solid iron, it would have buckled in her hands. Albert withdrew a pointed metal rod from his backpack and hefted it approvingly.

"Well... let's go." He poked his head out to the corridor. "Coast is clear for now."

Albert moved cautiously into the hall, followed by Star and the mech wolves. He walked toward the lobby area. Star bent to Albert's level and whispered into his audio sensor.

"What now?"

"We need a hideout. Let's try up here."

They paused at a door leading into what had been a lounge for the robotics technicians. It was locked, but the simple mechanism proved no difficulty for Albert's device. He soon had the door open.

The room was dark.

* * *

"There you are, my friend!" Dr. Rackenfauz said with great satisfaction. "Good as new!"

He stepped back from the re-brained and reactivated Clawfurt lying before him upon the workbench. The creature's bulgy optical sensors glanced about the room. Its mouth full of jagged teeth grated open.

"What is happening?" it inquired in a fearsome, mechanistic voice.

"Why, you're back among the living, and you've got a fine new mechanism to boot."

"Ungggg," the creature growled.

He lifted his massive claw and gaped at it wonderingly.

"Do you like that?" Rackenfauz asked. "It's an excellent way to make friends and influence people."

Farther back in the workshop, Jack and Quincy cowered against each other.

"Geez!" Quincy said, "I hoped we'd seen the last of that brute."

Jack gulped, electronically speaking. "Well... it isn't really Clawfurt, you know. It's got Mug's brain."

"Same difference. He's trouble, whatever the flavor is."

"Come over here, boys," Rackenfauz called, "give us a hand."

The repair bots looked at each other blankly.

"Yes you!" Rackenfauz said. "Who the hell else do you think I'm talking to?"

Jack and Quincy moved reluctantly forward and assisted Clawfurt down from the workbench. Then they retreated back toward the store room.

"There," Rackenfauz said to the Clawfurt monstrosity, "how does it feel?"

"I feel very different."

Dr. Rackenfauz looked toward the three scrapper guards standing by the door. "Your boss is really going to love this!"

_I sure hope this dodge works,_ he thought, with a good deal less confidence.

The scrappers regarded the wheeled monster standing beside Dr. Rackenfauz with a certain trepidation.

"We shall inform the Boss that it is ready," the lead guard said.

"Yes, do that," Rackenfauz said.

* * *

The three combat robots walked in darkness across the RDI grounds. They toted a long, retractable ladder and lengths of rope. Starlight guided the way across an eerie wasteland that had once been beautifully landscaped terrain. Ahead, the 3-story main building glimmered like a huge mausoleum.

Dr. Jerry Che brought up the rear, his gun trained on the backs of his troops. Two more assault rifles were slung over his shoulders. Only Thunk, whom he judged to be the least untrustworthy of the c-bot trio, carried its own weapon.

The remote control dangled from a tether on Dr. Che's left wrist, and his toe was near the emergency deactivation switch in his shoe.

Just get the job done, boys, then it's the spare parts bin for you.

They came to the back of the building where a high, clerestory window threw dim illumination. This was the main workshop where Che hoped Dr. Rackenfauz would be performing his customary all-night labors. The ground sloped away from the building here, lengthening the distance to climb.

Che pointed toward the window. "Put the ladder under there," he whispered, "and be quiet about it."

He glanced apprehensively up at the roof. Even if a robotic observer was posted up there, it was unlikely it could see them, especially if it was equipped with standard optical sensors. But the possibility of an enemy lurking above filled him with dread.

He turned to Thunk. "Keep an eye on things out here, especially the roof. Don't shoot unless absolutely necessary."

"Yes, sir," Thunk replied.

Che listened closely for any hint of insubordination in Thunk's voice, heard none.

Things are hanging together, for now.

Kramden and Norton leaned the ladder up against the wall.

"You two go in first," Che ordered. "Protect Dr. Rackenfauz _at all costs_ , if he's there."

"Yes, sir," the c-bots replied.

"Don't shoot if you can avoid it. Await further orders from me."

"Yes, sir."

Che unslung the rifles from his shoulders and handed one to each of his combat robots. He checked the urge to reiterate his orders. If he repeated himself, they might take that as a sign of incompetence. That was a perception to be avoided.

Kramden and Norton ascended the ladder. Kramden led the way, just as he had in the 20th century TV comedy show – but this was no comedy.

59. On the Brink

T _etem_ George did look rather corpse-like, shrouded in his pseudo toga, supine on his cushions and staring up at the ceiling. His mind was fully alive, though, and in feverish communication with the Heavenly Father.

This had been one _hell_ of a big day!

He'd started off as a humble servant of the Cause, now he was its spiritual master, elected by the Heavenly Father's grace to be Az Új Messiás. He'd proved himself worthy. The time of waiting was over, and the time for bold action had arrived.

He mulled over his current situation. The attacks of the mech wolf devils had reduced the Army of the Righteous to only fifteen active members, plus the two undergoing repair. They were spread throughout the building: two stood outside his chamber, four guarded the main entry, one stood lookout on the roof, and a pair trod the corridors as a roving patrol.

The real ace in the hole was Dr. Rackenfauz. Three soldiers warded the main hallway outside his workshop while three more stood inside, keeping sharp eyes on the eccentric technician. Rackenfauz was the key to everything. With him, George could engineer a takeover of the whole town, and parts beyond.

Then there was "Viktor Károlyi" to consider. George knew it was actually Winston Horvath, city manager, since Fritz and Edwina had filled him in. The robot's act was good enough to fool Sister Tina, who had not been a party to his discussions with the kidbots.

Viktor had brought out Sister Tina's sinful nature. George had observed him stroking her ass and her obvious satisfaction with it. He'd angled his clerestory window pane so that he could observe reflected events when he turned his back on the main room.

His first inclination had been to smite the demon spawn immediately, but he'd contained his wrath. Better to let things take their own course for a while. When George made his move, Viktor would be destroyed and Sister Tina would be his alone.

It was time for a paramour. He was on an equal standing with the old messiah now and was entitled to all the spoils. And what about the Star robo-slut? Should he destroy her, also, or include her in his new harem?

At the proper moment, the Heavenly Father would reveal what should be done. The Heavenly Father had turned all events and persons to his favor. Even the deceitful Viktor had contributed to the Cause, providing George with the new titles he would spread throughout the world.

Content that all things would work to his benefit, George drifted off into righteous slumber.

* * *

On the ground floor, almost directly below George's chamber, Viktor Károlyi also lay on his back contemplating the ceiling.

_Cut the 'Viktor' routine already._ _You_ _are the one who's responsible for this, Winston._

He gazed at Ernestina snoozing beside him on the big sofa, and he felt empty. Of course, she was beautiful, smart, exciting – everything his upgraded mechanism could possibly desire. Under different circumstances, he'd be thrilled to possess her.

But the current circumstances did not allow for Ernestina. Winston realized this with crystal clarity after the wild coupling had ended. A quotation from Thomas Paine gurgled up unsummoned from his memory banks – in reference to the myriad wives and concubines of King Solomon:

However it may carry with it the appearance of heightened enjoyment, it defeats all the felicity of affection by leaving it no point to fix upon. Divided love is never happy.

_How true that is_.

Yet, hadn't Star cheated on him many, many times and with many different partners? Hadn't she thrown her rampant sexuality to the winds for anyone to catch?

These were painful truths, but ones that she could not control. Like himself, she was a manufactured being hemmed in by the dictates of her programming. No matter ho much they had 'evolved' over the past months, they could not change their basic natures on their own.

Chastened by these insights, Winston could finally forgive Star all her infidelities. The anger and resentment which had been vibrating in his circuits became blessedly still. At long last, he felt at peace.

Star... I wish I could see her again.

His wish was brutally granted as the door clicked open and the overhead light came on.

"Winston!" Star cried.

She was inside the room now, accompanied by Albert and two mech wolves.

Albert closed the door behind them. "Quite, please! They'll hear us."

Star stalked across the room to the sofa, fists clenched and rage in her optical sensors.

Ernestina blurred back to wakefulness. "What's going on?" she murmured.

"This is what's going on." Star brandished a trembling fist in Ernestina's face. "Ohhh, I wish I could use this on you!"

Ernestina's eyes widened. She flung the covers away and drew her pistol from the holster buckled around her waist.

"Hold on!" Winston said. "Put that thing away."

Star gestured at his exposed male organ. "You've been 'putting that thing away' read good, haven't you?"

Winston spread his hands helplessly and uttered the time-honored words of so many others caught in the act: "I can explain."

"Go ahead, explain. That should make quite story."

"W-well... I..." Winston stammered.

The mech wolves chose sides. Ripper placed itself next to Star, teeth bared and growling. Fang moved beside Winston, prepared to counter any attack.

"Uh, do you suppose you could discuss this some other time?" Albert said. "We're in sort of a situation right now."

60. Over the Edge

Some distance away, down the main corridor and inside the largest workshop, Dr. Rackenfauz was putting the re-brained Clawfurt through its mobility tests under the watchful eyes of the scrapper guards.

Clawfurt moved awkwardly on its wheeled feet along an aisle between the workbenches.

"That's the way to do it, my boy," Rackenfauz said, "be sure to allow for the extra weight of the claw. Don't let it unbalance you."

"Yes, Doctor."

Clawfurt raised the large, vicious-looking lobster claw to eye level and tested its function, snapping it open and shut with vicious finality.

Chink! Chunk!

"That's the stuff, my boy," Rackenfauz said, "very good."

They were at the back wall now. Dr. Rackenfauz resisted the temptation to glance up at the clerestory window six meters above him. Instead, he took Clawfurt's arm and guided him into a 180 degree turn. They moved back toward the front of the shop.

Off to the side, Jack and Quincy observed the bizarre promenade with growing unease.

"What's the Doc up to now?" Jack said in a subdued voice.

"I don't know. Maybe he's gone around the bend."

"I thought he left it behind a long time ago."

The three scrappers accompanying Rackenfauz glowered at the repair bots.

"We're just making conversation," Quincy said with a friendly wave.

The scrappers did not reply. Rackenfauz took advantage of the interlude to whisper a code word into Clawfurt's audio sensor.

"Reedy."

A deep whirr issued from inside Clawfurt's mechanism. His massive claw clinked open and he reached his arms out to envelop the guards.

"Hey!" one of them cried.

"Shut him up," Rackenfauz ordered.

Ka-chunk!

With a brutal snip, Clawfurt sent the scrapper's head tumbling from its shoulders and onto to the floor. The remaining two guards froze into terrified silence.

"Holy socket wrench!" Jack exclaimed.

Rackenfauz spun on the repair bots. "Keep it down. You want the rest of them barging in here?"

Jack shook his head emphatically. "No, no."

Rackenfauz strode over to the repair bots, leaving the scrappers in the tender embrace of Clawfurt. "Get busy. We're going out through the back."

"Yes, sir."

Jack and Quincey seized a workbench and dragged it under the window.

"Put a desk on top of that," Rackenfauz said. "Then we'll use chairs or whatever else we can find."

He looked back toward Clawfurt who was restraining the two scrappers in his arms. Rackenfauz dared not order further decapitations. There was no telling if Clawfurt would obey; he might even turn hostile if pushed too hard.

Just hang on a few more minutes, my friend.

He rushed into the store room to retrieve a length of rope. "Maybe I can lower myself outside with this, but I sure ain't no mountaineer."

When he came out, the repair bots were lifting a big metal desk on top of the workbench.

"Hurry it up."

"We're doing the best we can," Jack said.

A fearsome robotic visage suddenly poked through the window above.

Rackenfauz gasped. "Who the hell are you?"

The robot turned glowing optical sensors his direction but offered no reply. It slithered through the window and dropped down onto the workbench like a jungle cat, assault rifle at the ready.

Jack and Quincy recoiled.

"That guy's bad news," Quincy said. The intruder jerked its head his direction and its eyes glowed with greater intensity. "Uh... good evening, sir. How nice of you to stop by."

A second, equally terrifying, robot lowered itself onto the bench. Then a familiar face appeared at the window.

"Jerry!"

"Hello, Edgar. Sorry to drop in uninvited."

"W-well... how..."

"Let's discuss it later," Che said.

He flung in one end of a rope.

"I can't climb up with that," Rackenfauz said.

"Tie it around your waist; we'll bring you out."

Rackenfauz nodded.

"Help me up there, boys," he said.

"Right-o, Doc," Jack said.

He knelt and formed his hands into a stirrup. Rackenfauz placed a foot into it...

On the far end of the shop, Clawfurt continued to hold the scrapper guards, but his transplanted brain was reverting to its former scrapper mentality. He began to tremble.

"Let us go, Mug," one of the guards said.

Clawfurt's struggle between his scrapper nature and the command imprinted by Dr. Rackenfauz came to a head; the scrapper nature won. He loosened his grip. The guards wriggled free and dashed for the door.

Kramden's sharp optical sensors caught their movement.

Pow! Ka-Pow! Pow! Pow!

The enemy robots crumpled to the floor. A stunned silence gripped the workshop as the explosive echoes died down. Then:

RAAAR!

Clawfurt snapped open its massive claw and rolled toward the c-bots.

* * *

In his third floor apartment, Tetem George wrenched awake from his dreams of world conquest. An apocalyptic vision barged into his mind with the gunfire reports.

The Day of Reckoning is upon us!

He flung himself off his cushions and grabbed his assault rifle. "Lead me on to victory, Heavenly Father!"

He bolted from the room, toga fluttering behind him.

* * *

In the ground floor lounge, the confrontation between Star and the guilty lovers abruptly terminated.

"Everybody stay here," Ernestina commanded as she flung on her clothes. "Better yet, go back where you came from."

"Now, there's an idea," Albert said.

Gripping her pistol, Ernestina rushed out through the door.

* * *

Pantani looked across at Liggett in the driver's seat. "Is that gunfire up ahead, Captain?"

"We'll find out soon enough," Liggett replied.

Alone in the back seat, Reedy endured extreme agitation.

Poor Edgie! Will I ever see him again?

61. More Hell Breaks Loose

Kramden and Norton fired at the approaching monster. _Pow! Ka-Pow! Pow! Pow! Pow! Pow!_ But the rounds could not penetrate Clawfurt's armored mechanism.

Rackenfauz and the repair bots dove under the workbench to escape ricocheting bullets. Jerry Che ducked down on his ladder behind the protection of the exterior wall.

Damn! What else can go wrong?

He peeked back in through the window as Kramden and Norton retreated before the Clawfurt monster. _Chink! Chunk! Chink! Chunk!_ went the giant claw in search of victims.

RAAAR!

Clawfurt was clearly not in a philosophical mood. Che pulled a grenade from his coat pocket and tossed it to Norton who had just dived to the floor and rolled to temporary safety.

"Use this!"

Norton caught the grenade deftly in mid-air and yanked out the pin. He rolled back over to Clawfurt and deposited the percussion bomb at its feet. Clawfurt, who had just snared Kramden in his lethal talon, did not notice the offering.

KA-BOOM!

An eardrum-splintering detonation shook the workshop.

CRASH!

Clawfurt fell onto his back and lay still. His great claw made a couple of dying snips, then went silent. Norton regained his feet and brushed himself off in an almost human gesture. Kramden appeared to have escaped serious damage.

"Good work!" Che yelled.

The c-bots did not respond. They merely stared at each other in voiceless communication.

Uh oh, what's going on with those two?

Che considered tripping the deactivate switch, but then the c-bots snapped their heads toward the main doors. Their audio sensors had picked up noise undetectable to human ears – especially those numbed by explosions. They bolted away through the doors together. Gunfire erupted in the hall.

* * *

Ernestina and George advanced down the main corridor toward Rackenfauz's workshop, crouched behind a screen of eight scrapper robots.

"Be of good courage, Sister," George said. "The day of reckoning has come for the unbelievers."

_I just hope it hasn't come for me,_ Tina thought grimly.

Ahead of them, two robots charged out through the workshop doors and opened fire. Ernestina and George dove to the floor as their escort machines went down under a hail of bullets.

"Damnation!" George cried.

Ernestina shielded herself behind the pile of scrapper corpses as bullets peppered the area. Peeking around her barricade, she saw the enemy robots glowering at them from doorway recesses, their eyes glowing – a true vision from hell that froze her heart.

George fired a burst, and the robots ducked back within their doorways.

"Demon spawn with guns!" He snarled. "This is truly an evil day."

The standoff continued. George and the robots exchanging ineffective bursts of fire. Ernestina burrowed deeper into her fortress and gazed back down the hallway.

Where are Viktor and Star? God, somebody help us!

"Cease your infernal gunfire!" George bellowed. "You know not what you do!"

His powerful voice echoed off the walls, steadying Ernestina. Her rising panic retreated.

"You offend the Heavenly Father and his chosen one!" George shouted. "Renounce the path to damnation!"

The two robots peered out from their doorways at them. They turned to face each other. George stood up.

* * *

"Hurry up, Edgar!" Che yelled.

Rackenfauz required no assistance this time. In a flash, he was atop the workbench and tying the rope around his waist. Jack and Quincy emerged from under the workbench.

Che looked over his shoulder at Thunk. "Get ready to start pulling."

"We do not think that would be a good idea," Thunk replied.

Che froze. _It's happening again, a goddam mind meld!_

"This has turned out to be an unsound plan," Thunk said. "Once again you have proved to be inept, sir. Surrender your weapon."

Che looked down the ladder to see an assault rifle pointed at him. He jabbed the deactivation button of his remote control. A tremor oscillated through the c-bot, but he remained conscious.

Damn!

Che jammed his toe onto the kill switch in his shoe. Another tremor, but Thunk retained his mobility.

"Attempt to deactivate us again and we _will_ shoot, sir. Drop the remote control and hand down your weapon!"

Reluctantly, as if he was pulling out one of his own teeth, Che unslung his assault rifle and passed it down. Then he dropped the remote control. Thunk stomped it into the ground.

"Now your coat," Thunk ordered. "Do not remove any items from it."

Che stripped off his lab coat with its pockets full of grenades and ammo clips and passed it down to the c-bot.

"Drop your shoes and continue up the ladder," Thunk ordered. "Should you attempt any hostile action, Dr. Rackenfauz will pay."

He gave the rope a hard yank. A howl of pain from Dr. Rackenfauz reverberated through the window.

"Okay, I get your point," Dr. Che said.

He kicked off his shoes and poked his head back inside the workshop. Dr. Rackenfauz was dangling midway between the window and the workbench surface.

"I feel like a damned yo-yo!"

"Sorry, Edgar," Che said. "There's been a change of plan."

Rackenfauz dropped suddenly as Thunk released the rope. "Ahhh!" He slammed down onto the workbench.

A gun poked into Che's back.

"Enter the room, slowly," Thunk ordered. "Do not attempt any evasions."

"Alright, just hang onto that rope, eh?"

"Check," Thunk replied.

Dr. Che shoved himself in through the window and gripped the rope. With a few awkward moves, he was standing on the workbench beside Dr. Rackenfauz.

"Are you alright, Edgar?"

"Sure, great. Don't I look it?"

Che assisted Rackenfauz off the workbench and untied the rope from around his waist.

"Nothing seems to be broken, anyway," Rackenfauz said.

Thunk dropped down behind them. His movements were silent, panther-like, betrayed only by a muffled _thunk!_ within his mechanism. The c-bot wore Dr. Che's lab coat. An assault rifle was slung over his shoulder, and another one in his hands menaced the world. Che's shoes dangled around his neck by their laces.

More gunfire issued from outside the workshop.

"I wonder what's going on out there," Che muttered.

"Nothing good," Rackenfauz said. "You can count on that."

Thunk pointed toward Jack and Quincy who were cowering near the store room trying to look insignificant. "Stand together with those underlings."

The humans obeyed, taking places beside the trembling repair bots.

"Sorry, Edgar," Che said. "This isn't how I planned things at all."

"Ach, forget it," Rackenfauz replied with a disgusted wave of his hand. "It was that half-baked Clawfurt conversion that fouled things up. I'd have been screwed whether you came or not."

"Thanks... I think," Che said.

The c-bot kept sharp optical sensors on them while he ran his hand through Dr. Che's shoes. He located the kill switch and ripped it out with a powerful jerk. He stomped it into rubble.

Thunk tossed the shoes onto the floor by Che's feet. "Here you are, sir."

"I take it that was an override switch," Rackenfauz said.

"Yeah," Che said. "You were right about everything. Combat machines cannot be controlled."

"No talking!" Thunk ordered.

Che bowed with mock acknowledgement and laced his shoes back on. The gunfire had ceased, and an eerie silence prevailed throughout the building.

"What happens now?" Rackenfauz muttered.

62. Reversals

The doors leading to the hallway swung open. Kramden and Norton entered, assault rifles at the ready, eyes glowing. They kicked aside the carcasses of the destroyed scrapper guards.

A human female wielding an automatic pistol followed them. She looked warily around the workshop then settled her gaze on the human captives. A squat, powerful looking man came in next behind an assault rifle. He wore a toga-like garment and an arrogant smirk.

"Who's that?" Che whispered.

"The big mucky muck, himself," Rackenfauz said.

Thunk took several steps toward George. He bowed reverently and offered up his assault rifle with both hands.

"Greetings, Tetem," he said. "We are yours to command."

* * *

"Let's go, already," Albert pleaded. "There's nothing more we can do here."

"Yeah, I think you've done quite enough already, haven't you, Winston?" Star said.

Winston tried to ignore Star's anger as he struggled back into his jumpsuit. "Yes, please go – both of you. I'm staying here."

"Oh man!" Albert protested. "The escape hatch is just down the hall. We can be safe in five minutes."

"I didn't come here to be safe," Winston said. "If this George character wins, how safe will any of us be?"

For the first time since Star's inconvenient arrival, Winston looked her square in the optical sensors. "You have to leave, Star. I'll be alright."

"Ooo!" Star brandished her fist. "I could just smash you when you talk like that."

She seized her crowbar and snapped her fingers at Ripper who was still involved in a stand-off with Fang. "Come on, Rippie. We've got work to do."

Winston, Star, and their mech wolves headed for the door, leaving Albert standing by himself.

"Hey!" He received no reply. "Oh... what the heck."

Albert followed the others into the corridor which was now silent after the fusillades of automatic weapons fire.

"What do we do now?" Star said.

Winston glanced anxiously around the deserted area. "Let's take out the lobby guards. Then we can let in the mech wolves."

"Good idea," Albert said, without much enthusiasm.

They ran toward the lobby.

* * *

Tetem George gloated over the scene before him. The rapid turn of events made his head spin. Minutes earlier, he'd been in a life and death struggle with the combat robots; now they were his loyal followers.

The Heavenly Father works in mysterious ways.

Awed by George's fearless reliance on the Heavenly Father's protection, the c-bots had halted their misguided resistance and stepped over to the light. They were the new spearhead for the holy Cause.

Now it was time to dispose of the final enemies.

"Infidel, traitor!" George shouted at Dr. Rackenfauz. "I trusted you to repair my troopers, and this is how you repay me?"

Rackenfauz opened his mouth to reply, but was not allowed the opportunity.

"I've overrated your importance," George said. "It's time for you to die – along with your conspirator." He gestured at the second man with his rifle barrel.

"No, no!" Rackenfauz cried. "He hasn't done anything. Leave him alone. It was all my idea."

George snorted. "Right!"

"Besides, Dr. Che created these combat robots. He's the only one who knows how to handle them."

"Yeah, they told me how he 'handled' them." George jerked his gun barrel toward Jack and Quincy. "They can perform any necessary maintenance."

The repair bots cringed.

"Oh, man," Jack said in a trembling voice, "this guy's worse than Fascista Ultimo."

"I almost wish old F.U. was back," Quincy said.

Che turned a melancholy smile on Dr. Rackenfauz. "Thanks for saying that, Edgar, but it looks like the game is up."

Rackenfauz hung his head. "I'm sorry, Jerry."

"No need for that. It was a lot of fun while it lasted, huh?" Che looked toward Ernestina. "Ah, such beauty for my final vision."

His voice was firm, tinged with sadness. He linked arms with Dr. Rackenfauz. They stood together to meet the end.

Ernestina felt her heart tearing to pieces. Such brilliance, such heroism! The rather ordinary looking Korean scientist standing before her took on the stature of a giant – a hero for the ages.

I've found him, at last!

63. World in the Balance

"Stay out of sight," Winston whispered. "I'll go check the lobby."

Star made to accompany him, but Albert placed a restraining hand on her arm.

"They know who he is," Albert whispered. "Let him make first contact."

Star nodded and reluctantly remained in place. Albert glanced back down the hallway, measuring the distance to the basement door.

_It may as well be on the moon,_ he thought with dismay. _I'll never get there in one piece._

Yet, though his terror, Albert felt triumphant. He, insignificant Albert, was on the cusp of great events. No longer was he ignored and discounted. It seemed an equally good time to live or be blown to bits.

Winston entered the lobby to discover all four guards standing at the glass doors, staring outside intently.

One of them turned his direction. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, just thought I'd check things out," Winston said in his thick accent. "What was all that racket?"

The guard ignored the question and turned back toward the window. Winston advanced to share the view. The optical sensors nearly popped out of his cranium.

Holy Great Technician in the Sky!

A vehicle had pulled into the parking area in front. Two human males were advancing from it. Winston recognized them as the space invader officers Liggett and Pantani. Reedy, along with a pack of mech wolves, followed behind.

"They've got guns!" one of the guards shouted.

All four scrappers took off down the right-hand corridor toward the auxiliary workshops. Winston snapped his fingers.

"Fang, Ripper!"

The mech wolves emerged from their places of concealment and took off after the guards. The sounds of rending soon followed.

"That's the stuff, boys," Winston said. "Tear 'em up!"

He turned back to the doors to see a pair of assault rifles aimed at him.

"Yow!"

He held up his hands. Reedy was at the door now, calling off the attack. Liggett and Pantani lowered their guns.

"Just a minute," Winston said. "I'll let you in."

He pushed against the door only to discover that a stout chain and padlock secured it. "How can we open this thing?"

"Let me at it," Albert said.

He slapped his device onto the padlock. In moments it sprang open. Liggett and Pantani barged in with a host of mech wolves.

"That way!" Winston pointed toward the main corridor. "I don't know how many there are."

"Got it," Liggett said.

He and Pantani took off behind a phalanx of charging mech wolves.

Reedy entered the lobby and flung herself into Star's arms. "Thank heaven you're safe!"

Winston strode after Liggett and Pantani.

"Hold on!" Star cried.

She disentangled herself from Reedy's embrace and charged after Winston. She seized him from behind and pulled him back.

"Hey!" Winston protested.

Despite his macho appearance, Winston's physical strength was no greater than Star's, and his coordination was not nearly as good. He tumbled to the floor.

"Umph!"

Star gripped him under the armpits. "Help me, Albert!"

"Right-o."

Albert grabbed Winston's feet.

"Let go, dammit!"

"Not a chance," Albert said.

He and Star hoisted Winston up and carried him back into the lobby where they tossed him unceremoniously onto a sofa.

"Take a break, buddy," Albert said.

"You've done enough, Winston," Star said. "Let the others take it from here."

* * *

Ka-Pow!

Ernestina fired a round into George's head. The big man pitched forward onto the floor – no last words, no thunderbolt from the 'Heavenly Father,' just a mound of dead flesh in a pool of blood.

_I've never killed anyone before,_ Ernestina thought with a combination of awe and horror.

Time seemed suspended around her as everyone tried to grasp this incredible new reality. All eyes were on Tetem George.

Ka-Pow!

Ernestina fired at the c-bot in a white coat. But with astonishing agility, the machine ducked the bullet and flung an elbow into her.

Ernestina flew back against the door, crashing through it into the hallway. She lay stunned upon her back as the c-bot came through the door after her. She raised her hand in a useless gesture, her pistol had tumbled away.

Crash!

The c-bot hit the floor, tackled by Dr. Che.

"Bastard!" Che slammed an elbow against the robot's chin, causing no damage.

The machine flung him off and regained its feet. _Pow!_ Its cranium exploded into a shower of components.

A mass of wolves approached. Men were coming behind them, firing guns. Two more c-bots were in the hall now, shooting back.

"Come on!" Che grabbed Ernestina and rolled with her through the door back into the workshop.

Out in the hallway, the battle reached a thundering crescendo of gunfire and mech wolf howls. Then all became silent. The refugees inside the workshop anxiously awaited the outcome . . .

# Ten: A New Order Commences

64. The Dust Settles

News of the battle's outcome arrived as two strapping young men passed through the workshop doors, guns at the ready.

"Anybody here?" the blond on called.

"Just us mech heads and friends," Dr. Rackenfauz replied.

He crawled out from under a workbench, followed by Jack and Quincy. Ernestina and Dr. Che stood up from behind another workbench.

An ironic little smile crossed the blond man's face. He offered a salute. "Good to see you again, Dr. Che. I report mission accomplished."

Che nodded. He appeared too stunned to say anything.

Ernestina spoke for him. "Thanks, boys, whoever you are."

The blond one snapped another salute. "Captain Paul Liggett and Lieutenant Marco Pantani, security forces of the legally constituted government. At your service, ma'am."

_God, what a hunk!_ Ernestina shifted her eyes to the much less impressive figure of Jerry Che standing beside her. _No, the hunk days are over. I've found what I want._

Reedy entered the workshop. She ignored everyone, even the bloody corpse lying on the floor, and made a beeline for Dr. Rackenfauz. "Edgie! Edgie!"

She rushed into his arms, nearly knocking him over. Winston and Star came in next.

"Oh!" Star cried when she spotted George's corpse.

"Don't look at him," Winston said. "He's just another 'savior' gone wrong."

Star directed her eyes away to a much more agreeable sight – Liggett and Pantani. "Hello, boys." She primped her hair. "Long time, no see."

Her frank invitation left no room for misunderstanding. Winston stiffened. Liggett and Pantani exchanged wary glances.

"The sooner we get back to the West Coast, the better," Pantani said.

"Yeah, must be nice to have a harem waiting for you."

Star turned her attention to Dr. Che. Her eyes brightened. "Hello, Jerry!"

"Hello, Estrela... "

Ernestina's eyes narrowed. Something had gone on between those two – anybody could see that. She drew closer to Dr. Che, attempting to divert his attention from the robotic bombshell. Dr. Rackenfauz stepped into the awkward situation, gripping Ernestina's hand with great warmth.

"Welcome to the good guys, Tina," he said. "I always suspected you weren't really on board with that George whack job."

"Thank you, Professor." Tina gestured toward the untidy mound on the floor. "I've owed him payback for quite a while."

Rackenfauz regarded Liggett and Pantani. "Gentlemen, your sense of timing is impeccable."

"We aim to please," Liggett said.

Rackenfauz turned back to Ernestina. "I don't think you've been properly introduced to my young colleague. This is Dr. Jerry Che, from the West Coast – the greatest mind in robotic science. Well... one of the greatest."

"I figured that out already," Ernestina said.

Che grinned shyly. Was he a little uneasy in her presence? Good. And he wasn't leering at Star any longer.

Albert came in. "Jeez, what a mess out in the hall!"

He caught sight of the corpse sprawled on the floor.

"All right, that's it. I'm out of here." He looked toward Star. "Can I have my crowbar back?"

"Certainly, Albert."

Star handed over the weapon daintily, as if presenting a bouquet of flowers.

Albert tapped it against his palm. "I've got some unfinished business to take care of in the basement."

He exited quickly, after a final, shuddering glance at the corpse.

"Let's all get out of this place," Star said.

"Excellent idea," Dr. Rackenfauz agreed.

Star led the exodus into a corridor littered with c-bot and mech wolf wreckage.

"Oh, man!" Jack said. "We've sure got our work cut out for us."

"By the looks of things, I'm not sure we can repair many of those mech wolves," Quincy said. "Those c-bots really put them through the shredder."

Winston wrapped an arm around Star's waist. "Let's go, honey. We've got a lot to talk about."

They ambled off together down the corridor.

"Come on, Reedy," Dr. Rackenfauz said, "we've got some unfished business, too."

"I like the sound of that!"

They strode off hand in hand. Rackenfauz glanced over his shoulder at the repair bots. "Clean up the mess, will you boys?"

Jack and Quincy looked ruefully about the carnage.

"Well... could have been worse," Jack said. "Think how bad it would be if we'd lost."

"Just throw 'Brother' George out with the rest of the trash," Ernestina said. "He doesn't deserve anything better."

She felt the presence of Arleny, could almost see her old friend's shape hovering in the air, enveloping her with love and joy. Then she was gone.

"Will do ma'am," Quincy said.

"We can get Jimmy on that," Jack said. "He knows where to dump human bodies."

"Excellent idea," Quincy said. "Let's go find him now. I've got to get out of this morgue."

"Right-o."

The two repair bots shambled off, stepping carefully around the various piles of junk.

They got to the lobby just as Iridium was entering from the parking lot.

"Hey, you missed all the fun, Iri," Jack said. "It was a million laughs."

"Everybody's a comedian, eh? What happened here?"

"Don't get upset. Everything's fine."

"I need to see Winston."

Quincy shook his head. "Not a good idea. He's preoccupied at the moment. Take us to see Jimmy first, will you please?"

Liggett slung his assault rifle over his shoulder. "I don't know about you, Lieutenant, but I need some shut eye. It's a long drive back."

"Roger that," Pantani said.

Then they, too, were gone, leaving Ernestina alone in the corridor with Dr. Jerry Che. A profound silence ensued.

"Well... what do you know?" Che finally said, gesturing to the mass of wreckage. "Even this looks beautiful, considering the alternative."

"Thanks for saving me, Dr. Che."

" _Jerry_ , please. And I couldn't have done anything if you hadn't taken out the fat guy."

Ernestina smiled. The discussion was awkward, silly almost. She wanted to dive through it into the depths of powerful emotion – but it was too soon for that. Dr. Che smiled back at her, and recognition flooded in from her memory.

Of course – this was the same man who'd hosted the _Technology & You_ program on teleview. The media billed him as "the people's scientist." His show was a favorite among the patrons of the restaurant where she'd worked; they actually stopped their chatter for the hour it ran on the restaurant's telescreens.

Ernestina was usually too busy to pay much attention, but she'd been impressed by the show. Dr. Che was able to put the most advanced concepts into terms anyone could understand. Yet, for all his common touch, he'd seemed like a being dropped down from another world – a whole new plane of existence from the dull and mediocre one that she inhabited.

Now here he was, standing right beside her, and she was a bit frightened. Even on the telescreen, Dr. Che had seemed rather scary – as if all sorts of dangerous things were bubbling under his mild surface. The impression was far stronger in person. Ernestina took a step back.

How well do I know this guy?

In moments, she'd seen him move from stoic resignation, to lethal rage, to bumbling shyness – with no transitions. A more 'normal' person hardly seemed capable of such things. What was going on in that genius mind of his?

_I've got to find out more about him_.

She took another step back.

"Uh, please excuse me... Jerry. I've got to go rest. I feel ready to collapse."

This was true enough. Now that the danger was over, a tremendous fatigue had taken hold.

"Can I walk you back?" Che asked.

"No... that's fine, thanks."

She turned and moved quickly away, resisting the temptation to break into a run.

65. Change of Plans

Dr. Che strolled the passages of the RDI's main "spare parts bin" examining the inventory.

Dang! There's a hell of a lot more here than I expected.

Vandals had not called on this place. The stocks were well organized and in good condition. There were even parts for models that had been discontinued years earlier. No wonder they were able to sustain an entire robotic community in Mech City.

He paused at the shelves holding stacks of neatly boxed mid-level brain units, a good hundred of them. He could satisfy General Reyes' requirements and still leave plenty of these brain units behind. But would that be wise?

I wonder what's happened with the c-bots on the West Coast?

There were numerous design differences between Reyes' combat machines and his own. Perhaps the mind meld psychosis had not overtaken the West Coast platoon.

Well, Che Sang Gyu is no b.s. artist.

He'd promised Reyes additional troopers and he'd provide them. But where? He didn't fully trust Reyes. If he returned to the West Coast, the general might try to put him on lock down. But if he stayed in Mech City, how could he abscond with Estrela?

Estrela... he'd scarcely thought of her in all the mayhem, but now his old lust for her was coming back. His rational mind was submerging into chaos again. Desperate plans formed in it.

He'd have those two repair bots load the brain units onto his truck, and while they were busy with that, he'd bust in on Estrela and her paramour. She wouldn't want to leave, of course, but his assault rifle would settle the issue. Then he'd force deactivate her and take her back to the West Coast . . .

_This is nuts!_ his rational mind protested.

He didn't care if it was nuts.

What about Ernestina?

Yes... what about her?

There could be something between them, something potentially wonderful. This concept had penetrated even Che's thick, self-absorbed skull. Not since the original Estrela had he felt such emotions for a human female. Was there a chance for him with her?

Preposterous!

He looked down at himself – at the grungy lab coat he'd stripped from Thunk's carcass, at the stubby fingers with the bitten-down nails. He was too old for Ernestina, not attractive enough, the wrong race. She could have her pick of the young bucks on the West Coast, why would she tie up with him? And she'd practically run away, too.

Still...

Ernestina paused outside the door with the _Parts Inventory_ placard and tried the handle. It didn't move. She attached the little gizmo to its keypad.

Open sesame.

A few seconds later, the door moved back on its hinges. Ernestina entered a large room with its towering shelves and looked about.

Now, where could he be?... Ah!

She approached the man standing alone in the Brain Unit aisle. "Hi, Jerry."

Dr. Che nearly jumped out of his grungy lab coat with surprise. "H-how'd you get in here? The door auto-locks."

Ernestina held up the device. "Albert loaned me this thing after he finished 'remodeling' Fritz."

"Is that so?"

Ernestina allowed no pause to intrude. "I have to make this quick. My ride to the West Coast leaves soon, and it's up to you if I take it or not."

"Oh?"

She set the unlocking device on a shelf and steeled herself to bare her soul. "I talked with everybody. I know about you and Star."

Che lowered his eyes; his cheeks reddened.

"No need to be embarrassed," Ernestina said. "I've had a robotic lover, too, and I know how exciting it can be. It's not the real thing, though."

"What is the real thing?" Che murmured so quietly Ernestina could barely hear.

"Let me put it this way. Do you want children to carry on those genius genes of yours?"

Che brightened. He drew his eyes up from the floor and looked directly into Ernestina's. "I've never thought of that before. Yes, I'd like it very much."

"Well, you sure won't get them from a robot, so you need to make a choice."

Ernestina hesitated. Every insecurity she'd ever experienced returned with a vengeance, every devaluing thing anyone had ever thrown in her path – the bikers, the messiah, others who'd said she'd never amount to anything, that she wasn't good enough. She was out of her depth and about to drown.

Now or never, girl.

"I'm yours, if you want me," she said, the words tumbling out while her courage still held, "but you'll have to give up Star."

Astonishment shot across Che's face.

"It's a one-time offer, no second chances. Go back to Star and I'm out of here."

Che lowered his eyes to the floor again. "This is... very unexpected."

"Star wants you to fix her programming so she won't be a 'slut' anymore. Can you do that?"

"I could certainly try."

Ernestina consulted the time piece on her wrist. She felt strong and in control now, over her school girl fears.

"What's your decision, Jerry? Do you want me, or not?"

Che nodded. "Yes... very much so."

"And you'll tone down Star?"

"Yes."

Silence followed. Che seemed to be groping for words but not finding them. At last, he said, "Are you satisfied?"

"Mmm, that remains to be seen."

She grabbed Che and dove with him to the floor. They rolled along the aisle.

* * *

Some time later, after he'd passed muster with Ernestina, Dr. Che entered the lounge where Liggett and Pantani had set up quarters for themselves.

"I want to thank you guys for pulling my chestnuts out of the fire," he said.

"We were just following orders," Liggett said. "If you want to thank somebody, tell the general."

"I'll do that. So, you'll be leaving us today?"

"Yeah, as soon as Ernestina is ready."

"I don't think she's interested in going with you any longer," Che said.

"Oh?"

"That's right, boys," Ernestina said.

Everyone looked over to see her leaning against a door jamb – ankles and arms crossed, a satisfied little smirk on her lips. "Thanks for the ride offer, but I like the prospects here."

"In that case," Liggett said, "let's see if we can contact the general and tell him we're coming." He turned to Dr. Che. "I saw an antenna tower on the roof. Is there a shortwave radio here?"

"I'll go ask Dr. Rackenfauz – if he isn't still tied up."

Che left the room, hand in hand with Ernestina.

"Things seem to be looking up for him," Pantani said.

"Yeah, must be nice," Liggett muttered.

Again, he thought of Lieutenant Ji imprisoned back on the West Coast – an aching vision of lost love.

* * *

Liggett, Pantani, and Che entered the RDI radio room.

"Man, get a load of this antique," Liggett said.

He pointed to the shortwave radio unit sitting on a battered metal desk like some forgotten item at a garage sale.

Not long ago, communication between all corners of the planet was instantaneous. Messages traveled to the moon and Mars with little more difficulty. Everyone had compact devices to keep them in touch with whomever they wanted.

But now the infrastructure for these marvels no longer existed. The satellites, hyper-capacity cable networks, towers, transmitters, electrical grid, etc. – all destroyed or fallen into disrepair. This veteran shortwave radio offered the sole possible communications link with the West Coast.

"Shall we give it a go, Professor?" Liggett asked.

"By all means."

The two men occupied chairs in front of the radio set; Pantani remained standing. Liggett powered up the radio and dialed in the West Coast HQ frequency. He spoke into the microphone.

"Captain Paul Liggett, Mech City, to General Reyes. Over."

A burst of static came through the speaker, wrapped around a few unintelligible words. Liggett repeated the call, with similar results.

"Must be too far for voice transmission," he said, "or else the atmosphere is screwed up. Is there a code key for this contraption, Doctor?"

"Yeah, somewhere."

Che riffled through a variety of vintage junk in the cabinet drawer under the desk. "Ah, here it is."

He held up a device that looked more at home in the 19th century than in the present day.

"Let's try it," Liggett said.

He hooked up the key and placed his finger tentatively upon it. "Good old Morse code. It's been quite a while."

He tapped the key, slowly at first, then with increasing tempo. They must have been going through similar preparations on the other side, for a coded message soon came back.

Reyes here. Report, Captain.

"Yeah!" Liggett and Pantani cheered.

Dr. Che added a wry smile to the celebration. Pantani supplied a running translation.

_Mission accomplished,_ Liggett tapped, _zero losses._

_Excellent_ , Reyes answered, _good work men._

"Tell him about the brain units," Che said.

He'd already decided that, no way in hell, would he return to the West Coast. If Reyes wanted more combat machines, he'd have to send robot carcasses here to be re-brained. This would have the added benefit of establishing a trade link between Mech City and the West Coast – a crucial development for the survival of both locations.

_Che has brain units,_ Liggett tapped. _Do you want them?_

The reply roared back from the West Coast, fairly scorching the air: _HELL NO!_

"Sounds like they may have had some problems with their c-bots, too," Liggett remarked.

"Well, I gave it my best shot," Che said. "It was his idea, after all."

On the other end, Reyes seemed to calm down. He transmitted a terse order: _Return ASAP w/ Pantani. Che optional._

Pantani hesitated a moment before translating.

Che bristled. "So, I'm an _option_ now. You can tell the general to stuff it!"

"Perhaps some other time," Liggett said.

He went back to his key. _Wilco. Departing immediately._

66. Revised Approach

"Maybe Lisa is right," General Reyes addressed his image in the mirror. "Maybe I am just an 'old dinosaur.'"

He gave his necktie a final adjustment and placed his military cap at a somber angle different from its usual confident tilt.

The treachery of the combat robots had opened a whole new vista into the future, and, like it or not, he must adapt. He had to acknowledge the old days were over. They'd only lasted a number of months, come to think of it, a pretty short run for 'the old days.'

A ring of problems hemmed him in – from those inscrutable Asians, to his estrangement from Lisa, to the silent accusations of Liggett who had always favored a "conciliatory" attitude toward the Chinese.

He saluted into the glass. "By God, I'm a loyal soldier. Nobody can take that from me."

He'd played his cards close to his chest long enough. Now it was time to lay them on the table. He left the room, heading to pick up Major Poole. He'd not informed her of his decision. They didn't talk much lately.

* * *

General Tian sat in rigid silence across the table from General Reyes and his two officers – Liggett and Poole. Lieutenant Ji sat beside him ready to translate any verbal abuse coming his way.

_What does this goddam Westerner have up his sleeve this time?_ Tian wondered.

The _Fēng Shuǐ_ of the room worked against him. The door was directly behind, so an enemy could creep up unnoticed. Tian awaited an iron grip upon his shoulder and was prepared for any contingency – from an interrogation, to a beating, to a bullet through the head.

The Western general had suffered a humiliating defeat with his robots, and who better to take out his rage on than the defenseless Chinese? However satisfying it had been at the time, Tian now regretted the insult he'd hurled when Reyes was jailed.

One thought remained paramount in his mind: _I_ _must_ _be brave for China. I cannot let these foreigners see me cringe._

He was not prepared for the Western general's opening statement, however.

"Let's clear up this little misunderstanding, shall we?" Reyes said with a clumsy attempt at lightheartedness. "Or as we say in the West, it's time to 'bury the hatchet.'"

Lieutenant Ji translated into Mandarin, although Tian understood the English perfectly well. He fixed a withering glance upon his counterpart across the table.

_How about burying that hatchet in your skull?_ he thought bitterly.

This furious mental vibe seemed to penetrate even General Reyes' rhinoceros skin. The smile faded from his face.

He tried a different tack. "I cannot blame you for being upset by the treatment you've received. However, as a patriot to your own country, perhaps you can understand my motivations."

Despite himself, Tian softened a bit. Yes, he understood quite well. Had the situation been reversed – had a group of foreigners landed in China – he would have acted in a similar manner.

Reyes was speaking again. "'As our situation is new, let us think and act anew.' That's a quote from Abraham Lincoln, and it's as valid today as it was centuries ago."

Surprise flashed across Major Poole's face then quickly disappeared beneath her military demeanor. Tian had not missed it. Was it possible Reyes was preparing to explode a bombshell that even his closest associates did not expect? He leaned forward slightly in his chair.

"So..." Reyes continued, somewhat awkwardly, "it is my hope that we can get beyond the current misunderstandings and, perhaps, find a better way forward."

Tian looked toward Lieutenant Ji. "What is this foreign devil talking about?" he asked in Mandarin.

"I am not sure, General," Ji replied, also in Mandarin. "Perhaps he is trying to justify his hostile actions against us."

Tian grunted and returned his attention to General Reyes.

Ji tried to emulate his stern demeanor but couldn't restrain herself from stealing a glance at the beautiful Captain Liggett sitting across from her.

Why is this foreigner so attractive?

During her imprisonment, all she seemed able to think about was this Adonis-like figure – the way her heart raced in his presence, the stricken look on his face when that horrible combat robot hustled her away. Through her rage and hurt, she'd always known Liggett was not personally involved in the treachery against her. It was that big shot Western general who made the decisions – the same as General Tian held sway over all those under his authority.

Why didn't she settle for a nice Chinese man, Captain Zhang, for example? He had his eyes on her, and he was a good man – handsome, courteous, on the way up. If they ever got out of jail, he would be a fine catch.

But there was still the gorgeous Westerner tugging at her heart . . .

"Since the failure of the our robotic security detail," Reyes said, it is obvious we no longer have the necessary strength to secure the city against bad elements. We would like, therefore, to request your aid."

General Tian turned toward Ji, his face a mask of befuddlement and suspicion. Ji gave a slight shrug.

Reyes continued. "So, until such time as your return to China can be arranged, we ask you to assist us in securing this outpost of humanity. As our partners."

Tian looked thunderstruck. Lieutenant Ji felt the eyes of the blond captain upon her, saw the smile in them. She diverted her own eyes as a blush spread across her cheeks.

"In the spirit of mutual trust and respect," Reyes said, "I have ordered an immediate release for you and all those under your command."

Profound silence descended on the room. The door opened. Tian twisted in his chair to see Captain Zhang and the Westerner Pantani come in.

Zhang snapped a salute. "Sir!"

"Yes, what is it?" Tian said.

"We have all been released, sir," Zhang said. "They have offered us transportation back to our former quarters."

Tian fought to maintain his stony demeanor. He was grateful to be sitting down, so immense was the shock. He looked toward Lieutenant Ji. "Say something, for God's sake."

Ji made a nuanced translation. "The general thanks you for your kind offer. He will take it under advisement."

"Excellent," Reyes said.

He was on his feet now; his old, confident self seemed to have gotten up out of the chair with him. Liggett and Poole also rose.

"We invite you and your staff to join us this evening for dinner – 1800 hours," Reyes said. "After which we would like to reconvene here so as to discuss security arrangements for our city. Transportation will be placed at your disposal."

General Tian realized he was on the cusp of history. The dignity and honor of the entire Chinese civilization might very well depend upon him. For all he knew, he and his command were the last surviving children of the Motherland. He got to his feet, along with Lieutenant Ji. He spoke to her in Mandarin.

"The general accepts your offer, under one condition," she translated.

"Oh?" Reyes' eyebrows rose.

"General Tian requests that, for future meetings, this table be repositioned so that the door is off to the side," Ji said.

"Done," Reyes agreed.

The two commanders exchanged salutes. There was no handshake; that could come later. General Tian turned smartly and departed the room. Lieutenant Ji flashed a radiant smile at Liggett as she disappeared through the door.

Bradley Reyes let out a sigh. "Well, there goes the neighborhood."

"You've got that right, General!" Liggett agreed enthusiastically. An acrid glance from Reyes quickly altered his tone. "I mean... that would seem to be the case, sir."

Lisa Poole took Reye's arm. "Oh, Brad, I'm so proud of you."

"I just hope I did the right thing," Reyes said. "This might cause more problems than it solves."

Poole had not missed the erotic communication between Liggett and Lieutenant Ji. _Oh, there'll be problems, all right. Count on that._

67. A New Lake, a New Day

At last, through the maximum effort of many robots, including some repaired and re-brained enemy machines, the canal project was completed.

Fresh river water poured into the crater, displacing the stagnant pond and turning the former ruin into a place of beauty. Two days of heavy rain accelerated the process and seemed to confer heavenly favor upon it.

On the south shore of the lake, the first condo was under construction, but no one labored at the site today. The work crew, along with everyone else, was attending the dedication ceremony.

The podium had been moved to atop a dais on the edge of Heroes' Square with the lake as a back drop. From it, Ajax was to make a dedication speech.

He drew Winston aside. "As Mayor, it is my prerogative to name the new lake, and I have given it much thought since our last discussion."

Winston pondered this unexpected turn of events. He'd thought a name had been agreed upon: _Municipal Lake_. Generic, but guaranteed not to front anyone off.

"So... what did you come up with, Mayor?" he asked cautiously.

"The name of our leading citizen, of course. I shall dub the new location 'Winston Lake.' Does that not sound appropriate?"

Winston basked in the proffered honor for a moment, but other considerations soon came to the fore.

Would it be politically wise to place his own name on the project – would the residents consider it too much of an ego trip? The _You Stink, Winston!_ chant still echoed in his memory. He did not want to give any excuse for this sentiment to rekindle.

Then the perfect name popped into Winston's mind, emerging straight from his heart. "Thank you for the honor, but I know of a much better name."

"Oh, and what is that?"

Ajax lowered his head, and Winston whispered the name into his auditory sensor. The mayor returned to his full height and smiled.

"Yes, City Manager, that is a most excellent choice." His demeanor turned serious. "I am aware that I might tend to speak overly long on occasion. I would like to request your assistance."

"How so?"

"If, in your opinion, I am taking too long in my remarks, please signal me." Ajax held up one hand to shoulder height and wiggled his fingers. "Like this. I shall be observing you."

"Got it."

On the water's edge at the bottom of the small cliff behind the speaker's platform and hidden from the crowd, Jack and Quincy dragged two cages into the shallows. One contained the squish girls, and the other held their merman.

The girls reached teasing arms through the bars and stroked Quincy's face.

"Cut that out," Quincy said.

The girls tittered.

"And keep it quiet."

"I'll be glad when this is over," Jack said. "I'm tired of hauling these things around."

The girls tittered again, more quietly this time.

In Heroes' Square above, Ajax moved his enormous bulk to behind the podium. The onlookers ceased their chatter and took their assigned positions. At Winston's insistence, the workers had been given pride of place directly in front of the podium, flanked by Jimmy and Sam.

Winston himself remained off to one side with Star, Albert, and Iridium. Albert sported his boom box, along with a full-sized torso which had once been used by the c-bot, Thunk.

The human observers stood together on the other side of the podium. Mech wolves roamed the plaza, and a great flock of mech birds hovered in the sky.

Ajax began to speak: "It is my great honor and privilege to welcome you all to the official opening of our wonderful new natural area!"

Applause rippled through the crowd.

"As I look out upon all of you who have given your best to this effort, stuck with it through thick and thin, as I see your magnificent achievement..." Ajax extended an arm over the pristine waters. "I cannot help but remember the beginning of this project – so many months ago. At that time, this marvelous lake was nothing more than an idea in the minds of its planners, a distant – almost unobtainable – vision of beauty, a..."

He glanced toward Winston who was wiggling his fingers emphatically. _Darn, I was just getting warmed up._

"So, without further ado, allow me to announce the name of our new civic asset... _Estrela do lago!"_ A confused murmur rippled through the crowd. "Or, if you prefer the English – _Lake Star!"_

"Ooo!" Star cried. "Did you hear that, Winston?"

"Yes, it's wonderful."

Everyone cheered mightily. "Way to go Star! Long live Star!"

"Will the lady would favor us with a few words?" Ajax said.

Star bounded to the podium amid a round of thunderous applause. Winston followed close behind.

"Isn't this marvie?" Star spoke into the microphone. "I never thought I'd have my very own lake!"

Another rousing cheer shot through the crowd. Star tossed double-handed kisses. "I want everyone to enjoy it. I love you all!"

She pressed up against Winston and spoke in a low voice: "And I love you most."

Winston wrapped an arm around her waist. With his other arm, he made a grandiose gesture toward the water. "Let the good times roll!"

On this cue, the merbots swam out onto the lake hoisting a pair of banners:

Maximum Effort!

The Future Lies Ahead!

The crowd broke into wild applause. Albert switched on his boom box, filling the square with valiant music.

* * *

Late afternoon, after everyone else had left Heroes' Square, six figures remained standing together gazing over the glistening waters: Winston and Star, Rackenfauz and Reedy, Che and Ernestina – each couple basking in its own happiness.

Star looked down the line at Ernestina and smiled seductively. Ernestina smiled back.

_I wonder what it would be like with Star?_ Then she caught herself. _Cool it girl! This whole thing has to stop._

She turned toward Che. "The sooner you can tone down Star, the better."

"Everything's arranged. I'll begin her program modifications first thing tomorrow."

"Mmm, the day after is good enough," Ernestina said. "I've got plans for you tomorrow."

She locked her lips onto his, acutely aware of Star's hungry glance.

I like you a lot, Star, but this guy is just for me.

The merbots frolicked together in their wonderful new home, swimming rapidly to the center of the lake. Their song of joy pealed across the surface among the golden sun rays, delighting all who heard it.

Whatever else might be going on in the giant world, for right here, right now, love ruled everything.

THE END

Thanks for reading! You must have liked the stories if you got this far, so why not write a review? Just a few words, 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

Questions and Topics for Discussion

1) Should major effort be put into space exploration, or should humanity limit its efforts to developing civilization on this planet?

2) What do you see as the future of big power relations – especially between the US and China? Who will prevail as the world leader? Will there be a world leader?

3) Chose a question from one of the earlier volumes in this series and discuss it in view of events in the current book.

4) Manned flights to extraterrestrial bodies ceased in 1972 with the final Apollo moon mission. Should manned flights be resumed, or should future exploration be limited to robots?

5) Pick another question from a previous book in the series to discuss. There are a lot of good ones, and I'm kind of running out of ideas.

# Connect with the Author

Please visit my website and blog at: "The B2"

Also, my Smashwords author page and Goodreads author profile

# 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

Expedition Westward

Book two of the _Robot Horizon_ series

What is the cost of rediscovering true love in a shattered world? Whatever it might be, Star is willing to pay, or not survive the outcome. A trek along dangerous roads provides the answer. The dystopian adventure 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

