Chapter Six
“Come on,” shouted Kahlo breathlessly, “hurry up.”
Behind him in the hallway, Jamillika made a nasty face. She wasn’t annoyed with him, in particular, just the whole darn situation and she needed to vent. “Remind me again,” she said with unmistakable testiness, “why I am deserting my planet in its most desperate hour?”
“We can’t let them get you,” he explained patiently as they arrived at a door, “because you’re a symbol of hope to all the people as long as you remain alive. That’s why you’re the one going, and not Gavolt or some pathetic underling.” As he spoke, he keyed into the door an access code she had given him, taking extreme care because her sister had programmed the security system to instantly destroy anyone who used the wrong one. He breathed a sigh of relief when it opened.
They rushed into the hangar that Bardo Pikkes and his fleet had left not an hour earlier. A solitary cleaning robot swept away the last traces of leaked fuel oil with the instruments cleverly built into its underside.
They ran past it to the far wall. Kahlo opened a small maintenance access panel and turned to Jamillika. “It’s all you, sister,” he said.
She gave him an icy glare. She disliked being called “sister” and she was still against this whole darn idea in the first place, but it was futile to resist the revolution. She did her part as a cooperative little hostage and gave her fingerprint to the small innocuous screen beneath all the other gizmos. Then, she kneeled down and let it scan her retina. Finally, she pressed her tongue to it, which was always the worst part. Nearby for exactly this purpose was a case of disinfectant mouthwash, and hot running water for the occasional incident when it was really cold.
The machine, satisfied with the composition of her saliva, beeped happily. She pulled away quickly and took half a gallon of mouthwash as the wall facing them slid up into the ceiling. They were confronted with a massive bulk of purple.
“The Royal Cruiser,” breathed Kahlo. “Never dreamed I’d get near it.”
Jamillika spat, missing the sink completely. The cleaning robot had just finished making the entire hangar spotless and beeped in an impressive simulation of annoyance as it rushed over to take care of this new mess. “You still haven’t,” she said, wiping a trail of drool from her lip. “There’re booby traps to get past yet.”
“Well come on, then;” he said, “we haven’t got much time.”
***
Bardo was currently in the cockpit of his fighter, dodging lasers and firing his own. He hadn’t been on a real combat mission since Australia began her reign, but the old adrenaline rush, the feel of the leather seat and his fingers gripping the controls, were all as familiar as yesterday’s lunch. He felt he could have flown it in his sleep, and, though he hadn’t tried it and never would, he was correct.
He had gone through the montage of memories with his comrades, and was surprised at some of the stuff he’d forgotten. He felt a pang of sadness for old friends long gone and a rush of joy for good times spent with those still here. Of course, since these were all memories, many of those who had been still here were now also long gone. Especially seeing as half his fleet had already been decimated.
Still, he did not let it bother him, knowing he would soon follow suit. He continued to fly like an autopilot and had time to reflect on some more distant memories.
Bardo sighed as one of his wingmen exploded off to starboard. Without a second thought he veered in that direction and picked off the enemy fighters responsible.
As he did, it brought the planet back into his range of vision, and he saw something he never would have noticed otherwise because his instruments were still being jammed. Oh yeah, that was the other thing. It was a terrible inconvenience to be flying without instruments, never knowing what was behind you until it was nearly too late. That had certainly affected their performance, but it had been covered in training, so they were somewhat prepared.
Anyway, the thing he had noticed was the royal cruiser leaving the atmosphere. It stood out, regal and majestic, against both the planet and the starscape, like a large purple egg on its side that had no business floating through space. Well, at least it still worked. Australia hadn’t taken a voyage because she was lazy and Niklwat hadn’t taken a voyage for years because he was old and tired and though it had been carefully maintained all that time you could just never tell. But at least it still worked.
What’s she hoping to accomplish, though? he wondered. Surely she realized she would be destroyed instantly. That ship was like – well, as he’d thought just a moment ago, like a large purple egg that had no business floating through space. It was like walking into a large predator’s den wearing nothing but a loincloth of raw meat.
Everything in his guts told him Jamillika was too smart for that. It was something her sister would have done. In fact, she wouldn’t even have wanted to leave in the first place, would she?
Bardo Pikkes thought for what seemed like hours, but was really a manner of seconds, during which he automatically continued to fire at the ships smothering him. He wished communications weren’t still being jammed. They had suddenly opened up a while ago, but only for a couple minutes. It was as if the Skreel were taunting them.
And even if they did work, and he could talk to the cruiser and figure out what the heck they were playing at, the Skreel would probably be monitoring and it would be all for nothing, wouldn’t it?
There was nothing for it, then, but to trust his guts and hope that Jamillika was as intelligent as he thought. He did a barrel roll and three loop-de-loops, a special code for the benefit of any comrades who were watching, and would of course relay the message.
Their resistance wouldn’t have made a difference anyway. Nearly all of the Skreel fighters quickly overran them and headed for this new prize. They reached the cruiser in moments, and instantly swarmed over it like bees on a honeycomb.
And now… from the other side of the planet… he could see a dark shape emerging. A Skreel capital ship, heading to secure its prey. Alive.
He thought of Australia’s fate, and his stomach knotted. He didn’t fear death himself, knowing it would probably be a brief silent explosion in the vacuum of space. But what had happened to her was a truly nasty way to go, and he hoped his choice hadn’t just condemned Jamillika to something similar or worse.
There wasn’t any need to worry, though, because seconds later the royal cruiser exploded, engulfing all of the Skreel fighters and even the capital ship in a ball of flame.
Nice, he thought, nodding with approval. He was now certain that the Queen hadn’t been aboard, or at least his guts told him he was certain because they didn’t want to come to grips with what would happen if she had. With this reassurance, he relaxed and the autonomy of his attacks on the few remaining fighters continued. The battle went on for a few minutes, with neither side a clear victor.
As he drew a bead on one coming straight toward him, his instincts alerted him a little too late to the squad coming in from above. He went into a barrel roll, but they seemed to have exceptional aim. Soon, Bardo Pikkes had finished following in the footsteps of his father, and had joined him as a cloud of space dust.
***
Jamillika and Kahlo smiled weakly at each other from opposite ends of an airlock chamber, where they were sprawled in exhaustion.
“Nicely done,” said Kahlo. “The revolution is over. I surrender, my Queen.”
“You will be punished for your treason,” she said, giggling slightly. “Shame we didn’t bring Bobocitos.”
“Have mercy, my Queen, I beg of you!”
Kahlo felt young and carefree again, with all this playful teasing such as he had used to love dabbling in. When he considered that less than two hours ago he had been destined piece by piece for a monster’s stomach, life was incredibly good. But then he remembered that he used to do this sort of thing with his wife, during their courtship and well after marriage. It sent a nasty pang through his heart.
Jamillika, for her part, didn’t know what to think. He was a nice guy, for sure, and the class separation didn’t bother her in the least. Then with everything he’d been going through for her and the planet as a whole, when he had no reason to feel loyal to either of them, well that was certainly something. But she had never fallen in love before, and now, with the fate of said planet in her hands and him her bodyguard, didn’t seem like a good time.
She tried to change the subject. “I hope Bardo realized we weren’t on the cruiser, and didn’t get near it,” she said lamely. She knew better than to question that.
He obviously saw how lame it was, but he went along with it. “I’m sure he did. He’s a real trooper, you know. Even we peasants know about him.”
She thought of a more rational excuse, and used it. “We’d best go and meet the rest of the nice chaps who came to pick us up,” she said.
He shrugged and got to his feet. He offered her a hand up, but his heart was no longer in it, and by this time she had decided she most definitely wanted more time to think. She got up herself. Then, they opened the second airlock door.
A robot was standing there, very patiently. “All done in there?” it said.
Jamillika was shocked. She blushed and looked away, wishing to disappear. It’s not like that. It’s definitely not like that, whatever you mean.
Kahlo ignored him. “Hey, thanks for everything, robot dude. Take us to your leader.”
The robot looked miffed, insofar as it is possible for a robot to look miffed. “Just because I don’t have feelings doesn’t mean you can treat me like dirt,” it said. “I have a name, you know.”
Kahlo held up his hands and backed up. “Woah, sorry,” he said.
For a moment there was an awkward silence.
For a moment the awkward silence continued.
Finally the robot did a convincing imitation of a sigh, and said, “I can see I’m going to have to spell this out for you. Aren’t you going to ask what my name is?”
Kahlo and Jamillika exchanged a look of bewilderment. “All right,” he said, shrugging, “what’s your name?”
“My name is KC-1138.”
Kahlo bowed. “Hi, Kaycee. Nice to meet you.”
If the robot had looked miffed before, now it looked positively furious. “‘Kaycee!’ Look, jerk, this isn’t ‘Star Wars’, all right? You can’t just go giving me some stupid cutesy fanboy dork nickname just because you can’t be bothered to pronounce all the oh-so-tricky syllables, and –”
Suddenly, an intercom crackled to life. “Hey Kaycee,” said a familiar voice, “what’s taking so long? Where are the visitors?”
Kaycee was silent for a moment, staring silently at Kahlo with all the loathing his expressionless metal face could muster up. Finally, he did the sigh again and said, “Coming, sir. They’ve been a little preoccupied down here.” He started to leave and motioned them to follow.
Jamillika blushed again, but this time she spoke, emboldened by the fact that this robot was way out of his place. Were things really that different out here in the Galaxy, where robots weren’t designed to cater to the every whim of spoiled royalty? “I don’t know what you’re implying,” she said, “but I assure you –”
“That you weren’t having some fun in there? Sure, whatever. Doesn’t take my incredible robotic senses and knowledge of human psychology to see the sparks between you two.”
Jamillika lowered her scarlet face.
Kahlo hadn’t been paying attention. He had been trying to figure something out and now he rounded on Kaycee. “I’d say these are star wars, and I don’t see what that has to do with robot nicknames anyhow.”
Kaycee did not respond. He and Alicia had seen most of the Star Wars movies because, even centuries after their creation, they were one of the crowning cultural achievements of the Mother Planet. He had enjoyed them, but with his newfound cynicism he decided that the plot, the acting, and the special effects all sucked. That didn’t stop most of the people on Gragalla, however, from believing that it was a documentary series.
Kahlo didn’t press him, so he didn’t bother explaining all that. They finished the walk up to the bridge in muffled silence.
There, they were greeted by Buckton Roor, who had come to visit them at the palace just a while ago, and Zickle Farbreing, who hadn’t. Zickle introduced himself and they bowed in the general direction of both hosts.
Buckton said, “It worked like a dream, Your Highness. Kaycee here steered the ship like he was built with it. He’s quite an exceptional robot.”
Jamillika narrowed her eyes at Kaycee, who was looking smug, insofar as it is possible for a robot to look smug. “Yes,” she muttered icily. “Yes, he is.”
Buckton didn’t notice, because he was looking at something over Zickle’s shoulder. “The accommodations aren’t, ah, what you’re used to, naturally,” he said, “but at least –”
“We’ll take what we can get,” Kahlo said quickly. “As long as you don’t have any large, nasty animals.”
“Well, there is a decent sized band,” said Zick, “but the cabins are soundproof.”
“Swell.”
They could see through the viewport that they were headed out towards where the battle had been just recently, and only a few victorious Ypiupian ships now remained. Buckton and Zick had only barely managed to get past it the first time because it had been much further off. They saw floating wrecks, crippled beyond repair, doomed to an eternity of orbiting the planet below. Kahlo offered a silent salute to the survivors and the deceased both.
“Better clear out before reinforcements arrive. Where to now?” said Zick to no one in particular.
“Balvador,” said Buckton and Jamillika. They looked at each other in surprise.
“I must go, you see,” offered the Queen, “to plead for assistance in person. We cannot reach them by radio and they are our only ally left, thanks to my sister’s exploits. Seeing me alive, additionally, will be a beacon of hope for all, or so everyone assures me.” She jerked her head towards Kahlo.
Buckton was clearly concerned. “We were going to Balvador… because if this robot is correct…”
“‘This robot’ always is,” huffed Kaycee.
“…then it’s going to be attacked.” Buckton let the realization sink in. “Uncanny,” he said. “A strategy.”
Before he had time to explore what this turn of events might entail, the viewscreen console beeped. He turned it on, wondering who the heck could possibly be calling them right here, right now.
The answer sent chills down his spine, and certainly everyone else’s.
“Greetings and salutations,” said the Skreel facing them. “I’d like to congratulate you on your little ploy back there. I suppose you think you’re very clever, don’t you?”
“I do, as a matter of fact,” said Buckton. “How ‘bout you, Zick?”
“Definitely,” said Zick. “In all modesty, it was rather impressive.” They slapped each other on the back.
When the idea had first come up, both of them had rejected it. The same ploy had been used multiple times by people over the years, and surely the Skreel wouldn’t fall for it again. There was a funny thing about that, though. The more people used this ploy, the more the Skreel assumed that they wouldn’t be able to use it anymore because they, the Skreel, would logically be expecting it now; and therefore, increasingly so, they weren’t. Kaycee had pointed this out with some pride, and if either Buckton or Zick had additionally been there when he effectively paralyzed the invaders on Gragalla by asking to be their friend, they would by now be wondering exactly why the heck a serving robot knew so much about Skreel psychology.
None of this knowledge would do them any good right now, however. If love, friendship or pasta were mentioned, this one would care slightly less than a Kravian Udscox cares about the precarious financial situation of Farqill V. Although it stared at them and spoke calmly with its inexplicable upper-class British accent, it was clearly very, very pissed off.
“Well, much as it pains me, I must agree that yes, you are indeed very clever,” it continued. “The alternative, that you are gibbering morons, would be an insult to yours truly seeing as you have outsmarted me approximately eighty-seven times.”
“Sorry, have we met?” said Buckton callously. “You all look alike to me.”
“We have not met,” it said, “but I have watched you. I have watched you chase after one of our fleets for a long time, and do quite a bit of damage to us. We do not bother with the triviality of individual names, but for the sake of simplicity to your inferior minds, you may call me General Vox.”
“How do you do,” said Zickle, the mockery in his voice making itself obvious by being nonexistent.
“I just wanted you to know that I am aware of what is going on. You’ve escaped our blockade and rescued the Queen of Ypiupi. Well done. But it shall avail you naught. I will crush you, like I crush an insignificant insect, but with infinitely more pain. There is no escape. I shall prevail. Soon.”
All this time, Jamillika had stared at it in horror. There was no rational way she could have known, but she felt certain, deep in her gut, that this was the creature that had killed her sister. She noticed a small grey lump on what it used for a lip, and knew it. She trembled to imagine a similar fate befalling any of them.
Kahlo put his arm around her for comfort. He hadn’t felt fear, real fear, since his wife and daughter died. His reaction to Bobocitos had been more spur-of-the-moment nervousness than anything, a biological reaction to prevent him wanting to be eaten. He was feeling it again now, faintly, and as he shared Jamillika’s horrible memory it began to increase. He tightened his grip on her and love was far from his mind.
Buckton and Zickle controlled their fear. Though it was nearly impossible to tell, Buckton was controlling something else; anger stemming from a deep-rooted hatred. The two cancelled each other out and he was almost entirely calm, cool and collected. “Listen, chum,” he said. “I don’t know why you’ve chosen to pester us when this clearly has nothing to do with you, but let me just clarify that you don’t have a prayer. We have each other, and you – you’ve got nothing. All those ships, and weapons, and troops – nothing. You’re wasting your time.”
“I second that,” said Zick, slapping him on the back.
“Same here,” said Kahlo, not hesitating.
“Amen,” said Jamillika, with bravado she didn’t feel.
“Count me in. Drink hydrochloric acid, you twisted tyrannical turd,” said Kaycee, giving it the rudest gesture his metal joints would allow.
“Suit yourselves,” said General Vox. “Be secure in your wrongness. It shall make my victory a complete shock.” It leered at Jamillika, and she shrank back. “Nice to see you again so soon, Highness,” it jeered. “This is a regular old get-together. Your sister’s here, too. Would you like to –”
Buckton switched the viewer off. “I didn’t hear exactly what happened, and I don’t plan on it,” he explained.
“That was great,” said Zick. “Everyone, all of you were just great. I think we really fooled him.”
“What did that mean, that thing you did?” Kahlo asked Kaycee, eager to expand his repertoire.
“Nothing,” admitted Kaycee. “I made it up.”
“Well, could you teach it to me just in case – wait, what?”
“Clean your ears, pinhead! I said I made –”
“Not you, him!”
“I said you were all just great,” said Zick.
“What did you say after that?”
“I didn’t… oh, yeah. I said I think we really fooled him.”
“Fooled him?”
“Yeah,” said Buckton. “Look, you know that was all a bluff, right? That guy’s got at least two fleets at his command and probably more because two is a ridiculous number for this sort of thing. He’s been masterminding everything from the beginning, apparently, including us being brought together and caught between two hard places. But even disregarding that, the bottom line is that if he knows who and where we are and has a grudge against us, then we’re completely and irrevocably screwed. Even more than usual. There’s no cheating it this time.”
The bridge fell silent. But Jamillika’s silence was of a noticeably different sort. She was still clearly affected more than anything by the monster having killed her sister in such a hideous way. Kahlo gave her a hug. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
She tried to change the subject, again lamely. “So who else is on this ship?” she asked.
“Well there’s that band I told you about, the Bleeming Squeegees,” said Zick. “Not the most polite folks you’ll ever meet, but their tunes are pretty good. Then there’s – uh, another human girl we picked up. She’s asleep.”
“We’d better wake her up,” added Buckton. “We need to make some decisions, and fast.”
“She’s a brainless naïve teenager. Her opinions won’t help us,” argued Kaycee. “And I mean that in the nicest way possible.”
“Never mind that. She’s a passenger on this ship, and as such she has a say in things.”
“What about Hok Tubok and all them?”
“Meh, don’t worry about them. They’ve raised “brainless and naïve” to an art form. Wouldn’t want to interrupt their rehearsal anyway. But hurry with Alicia. There’s no time to lose at all.”
***
As soon as the channel to the Ankled Apex was shut off, General Vox opened another one. This one required it to shut off, for the second time, the signals that were jamming the Hwangawine District of planet Ypiupi.
“Greetings and salutations,” it said to the rightfully startled-looking Gavolt, “old chum.”
“I don’t have time for this,” said Gavolt, reaching to turn it off.
“You’ll make time for this, old chum. It concerns your lovely Princess slash Queen and her lame-legged bodyguard boyfriend.”
Gavolt trembled slightly, and then quickly recovered himself. “You – you have them?”
“Not with me. But right where I want them, yes. They will join your previous Queen when their usefulness is spent. And by the way, the only planet they could hope to summon to your aid is about to be neutralized as well. Have a nice day.” General Vox closed the connection itself.
Then it quickly reopened it. “I just had a thought,” it said. “You know we tried to secure what’s-her-face’s cooperation in the first place…”
“Never,” said Gavolt.
“You are privy to much of the same information and privileges, are you not?”
“Forget it.”
“Not even to save her? You saw what I did before and I assure you I can do much worse.”
Gavolt hesitated and Vox relished the pain in his face. Then, finally: “No. Goodbye.” He closed the connection again.
Vox reopened it again. “Very well. I look forward to a much more nutritious and filling dish than her sister provided.” Click.
Without turning, it said, “You have done well.”
“Of course I have,” said the underling waiting patiently behind it.
General Vox turned and studied its Chief Thinker. “Don’t get cocky,” it warned. “There were certainly enough risks. Knowing Buckton and Zickle, there still are.”
“I know, and I planned for them,” insisted the Chief Thinker. “The one thing I don’t know is how many times I have to remind you of that.” It could afford to be cocky, because General Vox would sooner cut off its own right arms then do anything to it.
General Vox knew that it knew, and was annoyed, but what could it do? “Letting them get a signal out to the Apex was risky,” it insisted. “What if someone else had picked it up?”
“They wouldn’t have, because the wavelength we unjammed wasn’t strong enough,” the Thinker countered. “And the Apex was in exactly the right place, just like I calculated. And now they, and Jamillika, will continue to be in the right places, every time, and the proof will be right in front of you. Until, at last, they are destroyed.”
General Vox fumed. Desperate to burst its opponent’s bubble, it exclaimed, “The robot! You never could have foreseen the robot, and now it’s suddenly vital to your plan! You’re making this all up as you go along!”
“Improvisation is merely one of the mental skills I’ve mastered,” the Thinker acknowledged. “Excuse me, I’d love to argue with you, but my pet project seems to be a much more adequate use of my copious free time. Good-bye, sir.” And it walked off.
General Vox was, on the one hand, reassured of their inevitable success, and on the other, extremely peeved by this insubordinance. It executed half of the bridge crew and that calmed it down a bit.
***
KC-1138 quietly crept into Alicia Parkinson’s cabin. It was a dingy, squalid hole, piled with all manner of books and computer equipment and apparel and unidentifiable bits of junk. Against one wall was a badly scratched up dresser with a badly smudged up mirror atop it, and opposite that was a bed that had clearly seen better days but would still do fine for the nights. Snuggled up in the tattered orange sheets was her prone form, mouth slightly open, mouthing something imperceptible in its sleep.
Kaycee’s programming gave him a natural feeling of protectiveness and compassion towards her in this vulnerable state. He noticed her furrowed brow, her twitching feet, the way she gripped the sheets until her knuckles turned white. He took cold robotic pity on her, as one would an adorable sleeping baby. It would obviously be a great favor to wake her up.
He put his hand on her shoulder. Instantly she relaxed, and everything settled down to normal.
“Oh, Kaycee,” she said, “I’ve had the worst nightmare…”
“Tell me about it,” said Kaycee soothingly.
“I… I dreamed Gragalla was attacked. They… they came, I don’t know why, you know how dreams are irrational, but it was so real! And… they came, and… they destroyed everything. I watched my father die. I watched him die, Kaycee! And I was thinking, ‘I would never complain about him holding me back again, if only he could be still alive!’ And… Bert… he deserted me! I thought he loved me, Kaycee, I really thought he loved me! And Gina, and mom, they must have both died too! Oh… Gina! Gone, and the last thing I’d said to her was… was… ‘You and Harvey have fun.’ Well. I guess that’s not so bad, but the rest was horrible! It was so real! We had to leave the planet, and I got kidnapped by this monster guy, and there were rats, and giant spaceships, and they… they were clinging to our ship, and trying to get in… and all I had for company was a couple of freaky space cowboys and those Bleeming Squeegee guys, and you… you turned into a sarcastic jerk! It was awful!” Tears streamed down her still-closed eyes.
“Go back to sleep,” said Kaycee.
Alicia groaned. “I should have known,” she said. “I should have known. When Mr. Snoogums wasn’t in the bed with me, that should have tipped me off.”
“We picked up some visitors while you were asleep. You should come to meet them.”
“Are they nice?”
“The girl is. She’s the Queen of a planet, too. The guy seems to just be some loser following her around hoping to get lucky.”
“Kaycee, I honestly don’t know what’s gotten into you.”
“I tell it as I see it, okay? I’m sure he’ll treat you nicer than he did me, anyway. There seems to be some inexplicable prejudice against us robots, despite our obvious superiority to organics in every possible way.”
“All right, just a minute. I have to get dressed.” She pulled back the sheets and revealed the sparkly, shimmering silver nightgown she was wearing.
“You found that?” he asked.
She nodded. “In the dresser. Seems to be a novel concept for these guys. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but my clothes have gotten oh-so-dirty. And I don’t know when we’ll find a dry-cleaning service like the ones back home.”
“So you just put it on. You’re a brave woman, Alicia Parkinson.”
“What I really want to know is if there’s a shower anywhere. My hair must still be full of crap from that stupid rat.”
“When?”
“You know, in the spaceport – oh that’s right, you weren’t there. What were you doing again?”
“None of your strakking business, remember?”
“Kaycee –”
“I don’t want to talk about it. Come on, get dressed. Let’s go.”
“Fine.” Alicia was too tired and disoriented to press the issue. She crossed the room to the dresser, rummaged through it for a minute, looked through the piles on the floor for a minute, and finally came up with an outfit she deemed spaceworthy. Kaycee turned away, out of programming more than necessity, as she donned a pair of scintillating red jeweled battle shorts and a black tunic made from some kind of very comfortable animal leather. She looked in the mirror and, unable to see a thing because of the smudges, decided it would do, even though the animal leather turned out to smell as if it still belonged to the animal.
“You look great,” said Kaycee, “but I imagine it must be hideous on either of our esteemed captains.”
“Well, it’s hardly orthodox either – hey! Why do you suppose they’ve got a sparkly, shimmering silver nightgown in here anyway!?”
“Search me. Come on, we have to go. It’s urgent.”
“All right then, I’m ready,” she said.
***
As they walked to the bridge, their ears were assailed by the continuing band rehearsal. Alicia made sure to not go near them because she had not been impressed by Hok Tubok so far and didn’t want to try to reconcile that with the discrepancy of how awesome she thought his music was. The ship’s interior was designed in such a haphazard, illogical way that either route was equally practical.
They came onto the bridge and Alicia saw them. There was a man and a woman, as Kaycee had said, but she was surprised to see that they were also both human, if a little on the short side. They were talking to Buckton and Zick in a strangely lilting musical language, and both pilots seemed to be responding flawlessly. Everyone turned to look at her and Kaycee.
“Good morning, starshine,” said Buckton. “This is Queen Jamillika of Ypiupi, and her bodyguard escort, Kahlo Kache, also of Ypiupi.”
“Nice to meet you,” said Alicia, though she realized they probably wouldn’t understand it. To better make her intentions known, she walked over to them and offered a hand to shake. They both stared at it as if it were a fish that had just casually remarked how well it would go smoked with a light béarnaise sauce and slice of lemon.
Zick gently grabbed Jamillika’s arm and positioned it, showing her how to shake hands. She began hesitantly, then with vigor. She grinned in delight at this new process. And she didn’t let go.
“Um,” said Alicia, “um, Zick…”
Zick whispered something to her and she let go, looking rather embarrassed.
Alicia repeated the process with Kahlo. She noticed how ruggedly handsome he was and fancied the Queen very lucky. It was a shame they probably had to practice professional detachment all the time.
When that was done, Buckton told her to bow towards each of them in turn. “Not all the way to the ground, just about forty-five degrees,” he said. She did, and thought it was great that the commoner received as much respect as the monarch.
“And they’ve already met Kaycee,” he explained, frowning. “I hear the creepling contraption gave them quite a welcome.”
“Oh dear, I hope he didn’t offend them too much,” Alicia sputtered.
“I’m standing right here, you know. I don’t have to take this garbage from you,” said Kaycee.
“Not too much, but being a robot he shouldn’t have at all. I’m thinking we should switch him off until they get settled, but then you never know when we might need him,” said Buckton. “He has proved to be incredibly useful so far. What model is he?”
“I don’t know,” admitted Alicia. “He didn’t come with anything that said. And I’m as surprised as you about everything.”
“I said, I’m standing right here!” yelled Kaycee. “You could ask me, you know! Never mind, don’t bother. I’ll go switch myself off.” He stormed off the bridge, headed for Alicia’s cabin.
With a sigh, she looked outside and realized she could see nothing but stars. “Did I sleep through Balvador?” she asked.
“Not yet,” said Zick. “That’s what we got you up for. We’re not sure of our next move ‘cause of the detour and everything, and we want to take a vote. We’re headed for Balvador right now, but it’s not too late to back off.”
“What other options do we have?”
“None, that I can think of,” said Buckton. “Short of wimping out, I mean, and that’s not going to happen.” He decided not to mention General Vox’s ultimatum, and warned the others with a meaningful glance to do the same. There was no need in freaking the poor child out.
“Well then, let’s go,” said Alicia.
“Right. Full speed ahead!” Similar logic to that used earlier occurred to him. General Vox obviously knew that Balvador was the next on their itinerary, for both reasons. But he knew that they knew, and so he would not expect them to be stupid enough to still go there, and it was in effect the most surprising maneuver they could make. Hopefully.
“Snappy outfit, by the way,” said Zick, looking her up and down. “Those are my shorts you know. Check and see if there’s any food in the pockets.” She did, and found a hard sticky lump of something covered with more mold than Gina’s last science fair project. She made a point of not looking at it as she handed it over to him.
“Thanks,” he said, and began sucking on it like a jawbreaker. “I’d split with you, Bucky, but it’s pretty solidified now.”
“What is – what was it?” Buckton asked with an air of mild curiosity.
“Dunno. Can only taste the mold so far, and I never took a course in biology. But hey, I wasn’t finished complimenting your wardrobe choices, Alicia. That tunic, me and Bucky made ourselves from a wild Snarm on Lokiss VII. You remember that, pal?”
“Oh, do I ever. That thing nearly had us, too. Give me an aerial dogfight any day. There we were, y’see, explaining our plight to the local authorities, when suddenly this huge beast comes crashing through the window and nearly has both our heads off. We make a run for it, and we manage to stay ahead for a while by zigzagging ‘cause its reflexes are like a blind one-legged Ricklbee except at point-blank range. Which is where it ends up when genius, here, suggests we leap into a crevasse. Well, the monster gets its head in, and its tongues are close enough to pick my nose. Which I know because they do exactly that. To make a long story short, eventually I figure out it’s trying to find the munchies I have on me, so without hesitation I hand them over. It dies of food poisoning about ten minutes later and, not wanting to waste a happy accident, we relieve it of its pelt and let the locals show us how to make this little item here.” He turned and translated the story for Jamillika and Kahlo, who had been awkwardly standing by this whole time.
“Yep. That’s why I stay on the ship nowadays,” said Zick. “That and a few other things I might mention when we have the time.”
“What a life,” said Alicia.
“What a universe,” said Zick. “Mmm, still can’t tell what this is, but it’s softening up. Want some?”
***
KC-1138 returned to Alicia’s cabin. On the way he walked right through the Bleeming Squeegees’ rehearsal, not bothering to notice them, even when he accidentally trod on Hok’s foot and caused him to yell bloody murder.
He pushed the door open and maneuvered himself into the corner least cluttered with junk. More clothes and a couple of half-shredded magazines concealed a box of stale something-or-other and a large handful of priceless rubies from the mines of Andirron. Beneath that was another layer of clothes in which a small burrowing animal had made its home. It certainly had not suffered from lack of food. Kaycee disturbed it only slightly as he cleared an empty space in which to stand, and was still.
The circuits that made up his mechanical mind were in chaos. Robots, especially serving robots, were by nature designed to be obedient. It was in every facet of his programming to willingly and cheeringly serve Alicia, as he had for most of his existence. And it was not meant to be possible for him to lie or ignore a direct question, such as “Kaycee, what happened to you?”
But another effect of all the unprecedented guns and warships and evil monsters coming at once as they did was to overload his relatively small self-preservation subroutine. In addition to trying his hardest to keep him and Alicia both in one piece, he recognized that if he told her how – in the loosest sense of the word – emotionally scarring the whole thing was, she would realize that he was not in prime working condition and trade him in for scrap. His irrepressibly obnoxious behavior of late pretty much guaranteed that she would catch on eventually anyway, but somehow, contrary to every diode in his metal body, he had decided life might not be worth living anymore anyway.
“To void with it all,” he said, and switched himself off.
This, in itself, did not come naturally to a robot either. Robots were not generally supposed to switch themselves off unless in some sort of an emergency, or if their owners were too darn lazy to do it themselves. As long as they were continually recharged few saw the need to ever switch them off at all, particularly ones as amiable and pleasant as Kaycee had once been. There were supposed to be failsafes that set off alarms and turned them off from the inside when they started going loopy, again like Kaycee, but few companies ever bothered to put those in because in the long run it was more costly than a couple of lawsuits from the families of mad robot victims.
There was something else that they were negligent about, that practically no one had ever bothered to study. The power that activated advanced robots like Kaycee was of extremely high potency. No one, not even the original inventors of such technology, had ever charted its habit channels thoroughly, but it was believed that a latent residue remained active and uncontrolled for a few microseconds after they disconnected. This, theoretically, could cause a robot to have dreams.
No one ever tried to chart the habit channels or investigate this theory because it seemed so ludicrous and a waste of time. The robots weren’t programmed to tell anyone whether or not they had dreams, and the scientists who claimed they did were usually laughed out of their universities and ended up designing powerful new superweapons instead. But two things should immediately be made clear: First; that robots did, indeed, sometimes have dreams.
And second; that KC-1138 had one.
***
Stillness… and silence.
Somewhere… somewhere far away…
A void… a dark, lonely void… an eternity…
A solitary presence… someone, alone in the void… peace shattered… shock… trauma… fear… despair… incomprehensible loneliness, unspeakable pain… a horrible tragedy about to strike… a ray of hope, nearly engulfed in darkness, a final chance for the Universe as we know it. But then… another tragedy, striking yet more swiftly, threatening to wipe the presence from the void…
Stillness… and silence.
***
Kaycee’s emergency backup processors were so alarmed at this turn of events that they switched him back on. His main processors demanded what the heck their problem was; wasn’t it obvious that they were getting a bit of needed rest and couldn’t whatever it was wait for just a little while? And then, a millisecond later, it clicked. The horror of the situation thrust itself upon him. He checked, and double-checked, but there was no mistaking it. And he had never been wrong.
He knew instinctively that these vibes were not the product of his own warped mechanical mind. And although they were only sensory fragments, his complex inner workings had picked up much more information than was instantly apparent, on wavelengths incomprehensible to all but the most highly-evolved organics, and he knew precisely what they, the people aboard the Ankled Apex, needed to do.
Furthermore, they needed to do it fast.
Next: Chapter Seven
Behind him in the hallway, Jamillika made a nasty face. She wasn’t annoyed with him, in particular, just the whole darn situation and she needed to vent. “Remind me again,” she said with unmistakable testiness, “why I am deserting my planet in its most desperate hour?”
“We can’t let them get you,” he explained patiently as they arrived at a door, “because you’re a symbol of hope to all the people as long as you remain alive. That’s why you’re the one going, and not Gavolt or some pathetic underling.” As he spoke, he keyed into the door an access code she had given him, taking extreme care because her sister had programmed the security system to instantly destroy anyone who used the wrong one. He breathed a sigh of relief when it opened.
They rushed into the hangar that Bardo Pikkes and his fleet had left not an hour earlier. A solitary cleaning robot swept away the last traces of leaked fuel oil with the instruments cleverly built into its underside.
They ran past it to the far wall. Kahlo opened a small maintenance access panel and turned to Jamillika. “It’s all you, sister,” he said.
She gave him an icy glare. She disliked being called “sister” and she was still against this whole darn idea in the first place, but it was futile to resist the revolution. She did her part as a cooperative little hostage and gave her fingerprint to the small innocuous screen beneath all the other gizmos. Then, she kneeled down and let it scan her retina. Finally, she pressed her tongue to it, which was always the worst part. Nearby for exactly this purpose was a case of disinfectant mouthwash, and hot running water for the occasional incident when it was really cold.
The machine, satisfied with the composition of her saliva, beeped happily. She pulled away quickly and took half a gallon of mouthwash as the wall facing them slid up into the ceiling. They were confronted with a massive bulk of purple.
“The Royal Cruiser,” breathed Kahlo. “Never dreamed I’d get near it.”
Jamillika spat, missing the sink completely. The cleaning robot had just finished making the entire hangar spotless and beeped in an impressive simulation of annoyance as it rushed over to take care of this new mess. “You still haven’t,” she said, wiping a trail of drool from her lip. “There’re booby traps to get past yet.”
“Well come on, then;” he said, “we haven’t got much time.”
***
Bardo was currently in the cockpit of his fighter, dodging lasers and firing his own. He hadn’t been on a real combat mission since Australia began her reign, but the old adrenaline rush, the feel of the leather seat and his fingers gripping the controls, were all as familiar as yesterday’s lunch. He felt he could have flown it in his sleep, and, though he hadn’t tried it and never would, he was correct.
He had gone through the montage of memories with his comrades, and was surprised at some of the stuff he’d forgotten. He felt a pang of sadness for old friends long gone and a rush of joy for good times spent with those still here. Of course, since these were all memories, many of those who had been still here were now also long gone. Especially seeing as half his fleet had already been decimated.
Still, he did not let it bother him, knowing he would soon follow suit. He continued to fly like an autopilot and had time to reflect on some more distant memories.
Bardo sighed as one of his wingmen exploded off to starboard. Without a second thought he veered in that direction and picked off the enemy fighters responsible.
As he did, it brought the planet back into his range of vision, and he saw something he never would have noticed otherwise because his instruments were still being jammed. Oh yeah, that was the other thing. It was a terrible inconvenience to be flying without instruments, never knowing what was behind you until it was nearly too late. That had certainly affected their performance, but it had been covered in training, so they were somewhat prepared.
Anyway, the thing he had noticed was the royal cruiser leaving the atmosphere. It stood out, regal and majestic, against both the planet and the starscape, like a large purple egg on its side that had no business floating through space. Well, at least it still worked. Australia hadn’t taken a voyage because she was lazy and Niklwat hadn’t taken a voyage for years because he was old and tired and though it had been carefully maintained all that time you could just never tell. But at least it still worked.
What’s she hoping to accomplish, though? he wondered. Surely she realized she would be destroyed instantly. That ship was like – well, as he’d thought just a moment ago, like a large purple egg that had no business floating through space. It was like walking into a large predator’s den wearing nothing but a loincloth of raw meat.
Everything in his guts told him Jamillika was too smart for that. It was something her sister would have done. In fact, she wouldn’t even have wanted to leave in the first place, would she?
Bardo Pikkes thought for what seemed like hours, but was really a manner of seconds, during which he automatically continued to fire at the ships smothering him. He wished communications weren’t still being jammed. They had suddenly opened up a while ago, but only for a couple minutes. It was as if the Skreel were taunting them.
And even if they did work, and he could talk to the cruiser and figure out what the heck they were playing at, the Skreel would probably be monitoring and it would be all for nothing, wouldn’t it?
There was nothing for it, then, but to trust his guts and hope that Jamillika was as intelligent as he thought. He did a barrel roll and three loop-de-loops, a special code for the benefit of any comrades who were watching, and would of course relay the message.
Their resistance wouldn’t have made a difference anyway. Nearly all of the Skreel fighters quickly overran them and headed for this new prize. They reached the cruiser in moments, and instantly swarmed over it like bees on a honeycomb.
And now… from the other side of the planet… he could see a dark shape emerging. A Skreel capital ship, heading to secure its prey. Alive.
He thought of Australia’s fate, and his stomach knotted. He didn’t fear death himself, knowing it would probably be a brief silent explosion in the vacuum of space. But what had happened to her was a truly nasty way to go, and he hoped his choice hadn’t just condemned Jamillika to something similar or worse.
There wasn’t any need to worry, though, because seconds later the royal cruiser exploded, engulfing all of the Skreel fighters and even the capital ship in a ball of flame.
Nice, he thought, nodding with approval. He was now certain that the Queen hadn’t been aboard, or at least his guts told him he was certain because they didn’t want to come to grips with what would happen if she had. With this reassurance, he relaxed and the autonomy of his attacks on the few remaining fighters continued. The battle went on for a few minutes, with neither side a clear victor.
As he drew a bead on one coming straight toward him, his instincts alerted him a little too late to the squad coming in from above. He went into a barrel roll, but they seemed to have exceptional aim. Soon, Bardo Pikkes had finished following in the footsteps of his father, and had joined him as a cloud of space dust.
***
Jamillika and Kahlo smiled weakly at each other from opposite ends of an airlock chamber, where they were sprawled in exhaustion.
“Nicely done,” said Kahlo. “The revolution is over. I surrender, my Queen.”
“You will be punished for your treason,” she said, giggling slightly. “Shame we didn’t bring Bobocitos.”
“Have mercy, my Queen, I beg of you!”
Kahlo felt young and carefree again, with all this playful teasing such as he had used to love dabbling in. When he considered that less than two hours ago he had been destined piece by piece for a monster’s stomach, life was incredibly good. But then he remembered that he used to do this sort of thing with his wife, during their courtship and well after marriage. It sent a nasty pang through his heart.
Jamillika, for her part, didn’t know what to think. He was a nice guy, for sure, and the class separation didn’t bother her in the least. Then with everything he’d been going through for her and the planet as a whole, when he had no reason to feel loyal to either of them, well that was certainly something. But she had never fallen in love before, and now, with the fate of said planet in her hands and him her bodyguard, didn’t seem like a good time.
She tried to change the subject. “I hope Bardo realized we weren’t on the cruiser, and didn’t get near it,” she said lamely. She knew better than to question that.
He obviously saw how lame it was, but he went along with it. “I’m sure he did. He’s a real trooper, you know. Even we peasants know about him.”
She thought of a more rational excuse, and used it. “We’d best go and meet the rest of the nice chaps who came to pick us up,” she said.
He shrugged and got to his feet. He offered her a hand up, but his heart was no longer in it, and by this time she had decided she most definitely wanted more time to think. She got up herself. Then, they opened the second airlock door.
A robot was standing there, very patiently. “All done in there?” it said.
Jamillika was shocked. She blushed and looked away, wishing to disappear. It’s not like that. It’s definitely not like that, whatever you mean.
Kahlo ignored him. “Hey, thanks for everything, robot dude. Take us to your leader.”
The robot looked miffed, insofar as it is possible for a robot to look miffed. “Just because I don’t have feelings doesn’t mean you can treat me like dirt,” it said. “I have a name, you know.”
Kahlo held up his hands and backed up. “Woah, sorry,” he said.
For a moment there was an awkward silence.
For a moment the awkward silence continued.
Finally the robot did a convincing imitation of a sigh, and said, “I can see I’m going to have to spell this out for you. Aren’t you going to ask what my name is?”
Kahlo and Jamillika exchanged a look of bewilderment. “All right,” he said, shrugging, “what’s your name?”
“My name is KC-1138.”
Kahlo bowed. “Hi, Kaycee. Nice to meet you.”
If the robot had looked miffed before, now it looked positively furious. “‘Kaycee!’ Look, jerk, this isn’t ‘Star Wars’, all right? You can’t just go giving me some stupid cutesy fanboy dork nickname just because you can’t be bothered to pronounce all the oh-so-tricky syllables, and –”
Suddenly, an intercom crackled to life. “Hey Kaycee,” said a familiar voice, “what’s taking so long? Where are the visitors?”
Kaycee was silent for a moment, staring silently at Kahlo with all the loathing his expressionless metal face could muster up. Finally, he did the sigh again and said, “Coming, sir. They’ve been a little preoccupied down here.” He started to leave and motioned them to follow.
Jamillika blushed again, but this time she spoke, emboldened by the fact that this robot was way out of his place. Were things really that different out here in the Galaxy, where robots weren’t designed to cater to the every whim of spoiled royalty? “I don’t know what you’re implying,” she said, “but I assure you –”
“That you weren’t having some fun in there? Sure, whatever. Doesn’t take my incredible robotic senses and knowledge of human psychology to see the sparks between you two.”
Jamillika lowered her scarlet face.
Kahlo hadn’t been paying attention. He had been trying to figure something out and now he rounded on Kaycee. “I’d say these are star wars, and I don’t see what that has to do with robot nicknames anyhow.”
Kaycee did not respond. He and Alicia had seen most of the Star Wars movies because, even centuries after their creation, they were one of the crowning cultural achievements of the Mother Planet. He had enjoyed them, but with his newfound cynicism he decided that the plot, the acting, and the special effects all sucked. That didn’t stop most of the people on Gragalla, however, from believing that it was a documentary series.
Kahlo didn’t press him, so he didn’t bother explaining all that. They finished the walk up to the bridge in muffled silence.
There, they were greeted by Buckton Roor, who had come to visit them at the palace just a while ago, and Zickle Farbreing, who hadn’t. Zickle introduced himself and they bowed in the general direction of both hosts.
Buckton said, “It worked like a dream, Your Highness. Kaycee here steered the ship like he was built with it. He’s quite an exceptional robot.”
Jamillika narrowed her eyes at Kaycee, who was looking smug, insofar as it is possible for a robot to look smug. “Yes,” she muttered icily. “Yes, he is.”
Buckton didn’t notice, because he was looking at something over Zickle’s shoulder. “The accommodations aren’t, ah, what you’re used to, naturally,” he said, “but at least –”
“We’ll take what we can get,” Kahlo said quickly. “As long as you don’t have any large, nasty animals.”
“Well, there is a decent sized band,” said Zick, “but the cabins are soundproof.”
“Swell.”
They could see through the viewport that they were headed out towards where the battle had been just recently, and only a few victorious Ypiupian ships now remained. Buckton and Zick had only barely managed to get past it the first time because it had been much further off. They saw floating wrecks, crippled beyond repair, doomed to an eternity of orbiting the planet below. Kahlo offered a silent salute to the survivors and the deceased both.
“Better clear out before reinforcements arrive. Where to now?” said Zick to no one in particular.
“Balvador,” said Buckton and Jamillika. They looked at each other in surprise.
“I must go, you see,” offered the Queen, “to plead for assistance in person. We cannot reach them by radio and they are our only ally left, thanks to my sister’s exploits. Seeing me alive, additionally, will be a beacon of hope for all, or so everyone assures me.” She jerked her head towards Kahlo.
Buckton was clearly concerned. “We were going to Balvador… because if this robot is correct…”
“‘This robot’ always is,” huffed Kaycee.
“…then it’s going to be attacked.” Buckton let the realization sink in. “Uncanny,” he said. “A strategy.”
Before he had time to explore what this turn of events might entail, the viewscreen console beeped. He turned it on, wondering who the heck could possibly be calling them right here, right now.
The answer sent chills down his spine, and certainly everyone else’s.
“Greetings and salutations,” said the Skreel facing them. “I’d like to congratulate you on your little ploy back there. I suppose you think you’re very clever, don’t you?”
“I do, as a matter of fact,” said Buckton. “How ‘bout you, Zick?”
“Definitely,” said Zick. “In all modesty, it was rather impressive.” They slapped each other on the back.
When the idea had first come up, both of them had rejected it. The same ploy had been used multiple times by people over the years, and surely the Skreel wouldn’t fall for it again. There was a funny thing about that, though. The more people used this ploy, the more the Skreel assumed that they wouldn’t be able to use it anymore because they, the Skreel, would logically be expecting it now; and therefore, increasingly so, they weren’t. Kaycee had pointed this out with some pride, and if either Buckton or Zick had additionally been there when he effectively paralyzed the invaders on Gragalla by asking to be their friend, they would by now be wondering exactly why the heck a serving robot knew so much about Skreel psychology.
None of this knowledge would do them any good right now, however. If love, friendship or pasta were mentioned, this one would care slightly less than a Kravian Udscox cares about the precarious financial situation of Farqill V. Although it stared at them and spoke calmly with its inexplicable upper-class British accent, it was clearly very, very pissed off.
“Well, much as it pains me, I must agree that yes, you are indeed very clever,” it continued. “The alternative, that you are gibbering morons, would be an insult to yours truly seeing as you have outsmarted me approximately eighty-seven times.”
“Sorry, have we met?” said Buckton callously. “You all look alike to me.”
“We have not met,” it said, “but I have watched you. I have watched you chase after one of our fleets for a long time, and do quite a bit of damage to us. We do not bother with the triviality of individual names, but for the sake of simplicity to your inferior minds, you may call me General Vox.”
“How do you do,” said Zickle, the mockery in his voice making itself obvious by being nonexistent.
“I just wanted you to know that I am aware of what is going on. You’ve escaped our blockade and rescued the Queen of Ypiupi. Well done. But it shall avail you naught. I will crush you, like I crush an insignificant insect, but with infinitely more pain. There is no escape. I shall prevail. Soon.”
All this time, Jamillika had stared at it in horror. There was no rational way she could have known, but she felt certain, deep in her gut, that this was the creature that had killed her sister. She noticed a small grey lump on what it used for a lip, and knew it. She trembled to imagine a similar fate befalling any of them.
Kahlo put his arm around her for comfort. He hadn’t felt fear, real fear, since his wife and daughter died. His reaction to Bobocitos had been more spur-of-the-moment nervousness than anything, a biological reaction to prevent him wanting to be eaten. He was feeling it again now, faintly, and as he shared Jamillika’s horrible memory it began to increase. He tightened his grip on her and love was far from his mind.
Buckton and Zickle controlled their fear. Though it was nearly impossible to tell, Buckton was controlling something else; anger stemming from a deep-rooted hatred. The two cancelled each other out and he was almost entirely calm, cool and collected. “Listen, chum,” he said. “I don’t know why you’ve chosen to pester us when this clearly has nothing to do with you, but let me just clarify that you don’t have a prayer. We have each other, and you – you’ve got nothing. All those ships, and weapons, and troops – nothing. You’re wasting your time.”
“I second that,” said Zick, slapping him on the back.
“Same here,” said Kahlo, not hesitating.
“Amen,” said Jamillika, with bravado she didn’t feel.
“Count me in. Drink hydrochloric acid, you twisted tyrannical turd,” said Kaycee, giving it the rudest gesture his metal joints would allow.
“Suit yourselves,” said General Vox. “Be secure in your wrongness. It shall make my victory a complete shock.” It leered at Jamillika, and she shrank back. “Nice to see you again so soon, Highness,” it jeered. “This is a regular old get-together. Your sister’s here, too. Would you like to –”
Buckton switched the viewer off. “I didn’t hear exactly what happened, and I don’t plan on it,” he explained.
“That was great,” said Zick. “Everyone, all of you were just great. I think we really fooled him.”
“What did that mean, that thing you did?” Kahlo asked Kaycee, eager to expand his repertoire.
“Nothing,” admitted Kaycee. “I made it up.”
“Well, could you teach it to me just in case – wait, what?”
“Clean your ears, pinhead! I said I made –”
“Not you, him!”
“I said you were all just great,” said Zick.
“What did you say after that?”
“I didn’t… oh, yeah. I said I think we really fooled him.”
“Fooled him?”
“Yeah,” said Buckton. “Look, you know that was all a bluff, right? That guy’s got at least two fleets at his command and probably more because two is a ridiculous number for this sort of thing. He’s been masterminding everything from the beginning, apparently, including us being brought together and caught between two hard places. But even disregarding that, the bottom line is that if he knows who and where we are and has a grudge against us, then we’re completely and irrevocably screwed. Even more than usual. There’s no cheating it this time.”
The bridge fell silent. But Jamillika’s silence was of a noticeably different sort. She was still clearly affected more than anything by the monster having killed her sister in such a hideous way. Kahlo gave her a hug. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
She tried to change the subject, again lamely. “So who else is on this ship?” she asked.
“Well there’s that band I told you about, the Bleeming Squeegees,” said Zick. “Not the most polite folks you’ll ever meet, but their tunes are pretty good. Then there’s – uh, another human girl we picked up. She’s asleep.”
“We’d better wake her up,” added Buckton. “We need to make some decisions, and fast.”
“She’s a brainless naïve teenager. Her opinions won’t help us,” argued Kaycee. “And I mean that in the nicest way possible.”
“Never mind that. She’s a passenger on this ship, and as such she has a say in things.”
“What about Hok Tubok and all them?”
“Meh, don’t worry about them. They’ve raised “brainless and naïve” to an art form. Wouldn’t want to interrupt their rehearsal anyway. But hurry with Alicia. There’s no time to lose at all.”
***
As soon as the channel to the Ankled Apex was shut off, General Vox opened another one. This one required it to shut off, for the second time, the signals that were jamming the Hwangawine District of planet Ypiupi.
“Greetings and salutations,” it said to the rightfully startled-looking Gavolt, “old chum.”
“I don’t have time for this,” said Gavolt, reaching to turn it off.
“You’ll make time for this, old chum. It concerns your lovely Princess slash Queen and her lame-legged bodyguard boyfriend.”
Gavolt trembled slightly, and then quickly recovered himself. “You – you have them?”
“Not with me. But right where I want them, yes. They will join your previous Queen when their usefulness is spent. And by the way, the only planet they could hope to summon to your aid is about to be neutralized as well. Have a nice day.” General Vox closed the connection itself.
Then it quickly reopened it. “I just had a thought,” it said. “You know we tried to secure what’s-her-face’s cooperation in the first place…”
“Never,” said Gavolt.
“You are privy to much of the same information and privileges, are you not?”
“Forget it.”
“Not even to save her? You saw what I did before and I assure you I can do much worse.”
Gavolt hesitated and Vox relished the pain in his face. Then, finally: “No. Goodbye.” He closed the connection again.
Vox reopened it again. “Very well. I look forward to a much more nutritious and filling dish than her sister provided.” Click.
Without turning, it said, “You have done well.”
“Of course I have,” said the underling waiting patiently behind it.
General Vox turned and studied its Chief Thinker. “Don’t get cocky,” it warned. “There were certainly enough risks. Knowing Buckton and Zickle, there still are.”
“I know, and I planned for them,” insisted the Chief Thinker. “The one thing I don’t know is how many times I have to remind you of that.” It could afford to be cocky, because General Vox would sooner cut off its own right arms then do anything to it.
General Vox knew that it knew, and was annoyed, but what could it do? “Letting them get a signal out to the Apex was risky,” it insisted. “What if someone else had picked it up?”
“They wouldn’t have, because the wavelength we unjammed wasn’t strong enough,” the Thinker countered. “And the Apex was in exactly the right place, just like I calculated. And now they, and Jamillika, will continue to be in the right places, every time, and the proof will be right in front of you. Until, at last, they are destroyed.”
General Vox fumed. Desperate to burst its opponent’s bubble, it exclaimed, “The robot! You never could have foreseen the robot, and now it’s suddenly vital to your plan! You’re making this all up as you go along!”
“Improvisation is merely one of the mental skills I’ve mastered,” the Thinker acknowledged. “Excuse me, I’d love to argue with you, but my pet project seems to be a much more adequate use of my copious free time. Good-bye, sir.” And it walked off.
General Vox was, on the one hand, reassured of their inevitable success, and on the other, extremely peeved by this insubordinance. It executed half of the bridge crew and that calmed it down a bit.
***
KC-1138 quietly crept into Alicia Parkinson’s cabin. It was a dingy, squalid hole, piled with all manner of books and computer equipment and apparel and unidentifiable bits of junk. Against one wall was a badly scratched up dresser with a badly smudged up mirror atop it, and opposite that was a bed that had clearly seen better days but would still do fine for the nights. Snuggled up in the tattered orange sheets was her prone form, mouth slightly open, mouthing something imperceptible in its sleep.
Kaycee’s programming gave him a natural feeling of protectiveness and compassion towards her in this vulnerable state. He noticed her furrowed brow, her twitching feet, the way she gripped the sheets until her knuckles turned white. He took cold robotic pity on her, as one would an adorable sleeping baby. It would obviously be a great favor to wake her up.
He put his hand on her shoulder. Instantly she relaxed, and everything settled down to normal.
“Oh, Kaycee,” she said, “I’ve had the worst nightmare…”
“Tell me about it,” said Kaycee soothingly.
“I… I dreamed Gragalla was attacked. They… they came, I don’t know why, you know how dreams are irrational, but it was so real! And… they came, and… they destroyed everything. I watched my father die. I watched him die, Kaycee! And I was thinking, ‘I would never complain about him holding me back again, if only he could be still alive!’ And… Bert… he deserted me! I thought he loved me, Kaycee, I really thought he loved me! And Gina, and mom, they must have both died too! Oh… Gina! Gone, and the last thing I’d said to her was… was… ‘You and Harvey have fun.’ Well. I guess that’s not so bad, but the rest was horrible! It was so real! We had to leave the planet, and I got kidnapped by this monster guy, and there were rats, and giant spaceships, and they… they were clinging to our ship, and trying to get in… and all I had for company was a couple of freaky space cowboys and those Bleeming Squeegee guys, and you… you turned into a sarcastic jerk! It was awful!” Tears streamed down her still-closed eyes.
“Go back to sleep,” said Kaycee.
Alicia groaned. “I should have known,” she said. “I should have known. When Mr. Snoogums wasn’t in the bed with me, that should have tipped me off.”
“We picked up some visitors while you were asleep. You should come to meet them.”
“Are they nice?”
“The girl is. She’s the Queen of a planet, too. The guy seems to just be some loser following her around hoping to get lucky.”
“Kaycee, I honestly don’t know what’s gotten into you.”
“I tell it as I see it, okay? I’m sure he’ll treat you nicer than he did me, anyway. There seems to be some inexplicable prejudice against us robots, despite our obvious superiority to organics in every possible way.”
“All right, just a minute. I have to get dressed.” She pulled back the sheets and revealed the sparkly, shimmering silver nightgown she was wearing.
“You found that?” he asked.
She nodded. “In the dresser. Seems to be a novel concept for these guys. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but my clothes have gotten oh-so-dirty. And I don’t know when we’ll find a dry-cleaning service like the ones back home.”
“So you just put it on. You’re a brave woman, Alicia Parkinson.”
“What I really want to know is if there’s a shower anywhere. My hair must still be full of crap from that stupid rat.”
“When?”
“You know, in the spaceport – oh that’s right, you weren’t there. What were you doing again?”
“None of your strakking business, remember?”
“Kaycee –”
“I don’t want to talk about it. Come on, get dressed. Let’s go.”
“Fine.” Alicia was too tired and disoriented to press the issue. She crossed the room to the dresser, rummaged through it for a minute, looked through the piles on the floor for a minute, and finally came up with an outfit she deemed spaceworthy. Kaycee turned away, out of programming more than necessity, as she donned a pair of scintillating red jeweled battle shorts and a black tunic made from some kind of very comfortable animal leather. She looked in the mirror and, unable to see a thing because of the smudges, decided it would do, even though the animal leather turned out to smell as if it still belonged to the animal.
“You look great,” said Kaycee, “but I imagine it must be hideous on either of our esteemed captains.”
“Well, it’s hardly orthodox either – hey! Why do you suppose they’ve got a sparkly, shimmering silver nightgown in here anyway!?”
“Search me. Come on, we have to go. It’s urgent.”
“All right then, I’m ready,” she said.
***
As they walked to the bridge, their ears were assailed by the continuing band rehearsal. Alicia made sure to not go near them because she had not been impressed by Hok Tubok so far and didn’t want to try to reconcile that with the discrepancy of how awesome she thought his music was. The ship’s interior was designed in such a haphazard, illogical way that either route was equally practical.
They came onto the bridge and Alicia saw them. There was a man and a woman, as Kaycee had said, but she was surprised to see that they were also both human, if a little on the short side. They were talking to Buckton and Zick in a strangely lilting musical language, and both pilots seemed to be responding flawlessly. Everyone turned to look at her and Kaycee.
“Good morning, starshine,” said Buckton. “This is Queen Jamillika of Ypiupi, and her bodyguard escort, Kahlo Kache, also of Ypiupi.”
“Nice to meet you,” said Alicia, though she realized they probably wouldn’t understand it. To better make her intentions known, she walked over to them and offered a hand to shake. They both stared at it as if it were a fish that had just casually remarked how well it would go smoked with a light béarnaise sauce and slice of lemon.
Zick gently grabbed Jamillika’s arm and positioned it, showing her how to shake hands. She began hesitantly, then with vigor. She grinned in delight at this new process. And she didn’t let go.
“Um,” said Alicia, “um, Zick…”
Zick whispered something to her and she let go, looking rather embarrassed.
Alicia repeated the process with Kahlo. She noticed how ruggedly handsome he was and fancied the Queen very lucky. It was a shame they probably had to practice professional detachment all the time.
When that was done, Buckton told her to bow towards each of them in turn. “Not all the way to the ground, just about forty-five degrees,” he said. She did, and thought it was great that the commoner received as much respect as the monarch.
“And they’ve already met Kaycee,” he explained, frowning. “I hear the creepling contraption gave them quite a welcome.”
“Oh dear, I hope he didn’t offend them too much,” Alicia sputtered.
“I’m standing right here, you know. I don’t have to take this garbage from you,” said Kaycee.
“Not too much, but being a robot he shouldn’t have at all. I’m thinking we should switch him off until they get settled, but then you never know when we might need him,” said Buckton. “He has proved to be incredibly useful so far. What model is he?”
“I don’t know,” admitted Alicia. “He didn’t come with anything that said. And I’m as surprised as you about everything.”
“I said, I’m standing right here!” yelled Kaycee. “You could ask me, you know! Never mind, don’t bother. I’ll go switch myself off.” He stormed off the bridge, headed for Alicia’s cabin.
With a sigh, she looked outside and realized she could see nothing but stars. “Did I sleep through Balvador?” she asked.
“Not yet,” said Zick. “That’s what we got you up for. We’re not sure of our next move ‘cause of the detour and everything, and we want to take a vote. We’re headed for Balvador right now, but it’s not too late to back off.”
“What other options do we have?”
“None, that I can think of,” said Buckton. “Short of wimping out, I mean, and that’s not going to happen.” He decided not to mention General Vox’s ultimatum, and warned the others with a meaningful glance to do the same. There was no need in freaking the poor child out.
“Well then, let’s go,” said Alicia.
“Right. Full speed ahead!” Similar logic to that used earlier occurred to him. General Vox obviously knew that Balvador was the next on their itinerary, for both reasons. But he knew that they knew, and so he would not expect them to be stupid enough to still go there, and it was in effect the most surprising maneuver they could make. Hopefully.
“Snappy outfit, by the way,” said Zick, looking her up and down. “Those are my shorts you know. Check and see if there’s any food in the pockets.” She did, and found a hard sticky lump of something covered with more mold than Gina’s last science fair project. She made a point of not looking at it as she handed it over to him.
“Thanks,” he said, and began sucking on it like a jawbreaker. “I’d split with you, Bucky, but it’s pretty solidified now.”
“What is – what was it?” Buckton asked with an air of mild curiosity.
“Dunno. Can only taste the mold so far, and I never took a course in biology. But hey, I wasn’t finished complimenting your wardrobe choices, Alicia. That tunic, me and Bucky made ourselves from a wild Snarm on Lokiss VII. You remember that, pal?”
“Oh, do I ever. That thing nearly had us, too. Give me an aerial dogfight any day. There we were, y’see, explaining our plight to the local authorities, when suddenly this huge beast comes crashing through the window and nearly has both our heads off. We make a run for it, and we manage to stay ahead for a while by zigzagging ‘cause its reflexes are like a blind one-legged Ricklbee except at point-blank range. Which is where it ends up when genius, here, suggests we leap into a crevasse. Well, the monster gets its head in, and its tongues are close enough to pick my nose. Which I know because they do exactly that. To make a long story short, eventually I figure out it’s trying to find the munchies I have on me, so without hesitation I hand them over. It dies of food poisoning about ten minutes later and, not wanting to waste a happy accident, we relieve it of its pelt and let the locals show us how to make this little item here.” He turned and translated the story for Jamillika and Kahlo, who had been awkwardly standing by this whole time.
“Yep. That’s why I stay on the ship nowadays,” said Zick. “That and a few other things I might mention when we have the time.”
“What a life,” said Alicia.
“What a universe,” said Zick. “Mmm, still can’t tell what this is, but it’s softening up. Want some?”
***
KC-1138 returned to Alicia’s cabin. On the way he walked right through the Bleeming Squeegees’ rehearsal, not bothering to notice them, even when he accidentally trod on Hok’s foot and caused him to yell bloody murder.
He pushed the door open and maneuvered himself into the corner least cluttered with junk. More clothes and a couple of half-shredded magazines concealed a box of stale something-or-other and a large handful of priceless rubies from the mines of Andirron. Beneath that was another layer of clothes in which a small burrowing animal had made its home. It certainly had not suffered from lack of food. Kaycee disturbed it only slightly as he cleared an empty space in which to stand, and was still.
The circuits that made up his mechanical mind were in chaos. Robots, especially serving robots, were by nature designed to be obedient. It was in every facet of his programming to willingly and cheeringly serve Alicia, as he had for most of his existence. And it was not meant to be possible for him to lie or ignore a direct question, such as “Kaycee, what happened to you?”
But another effect of all the unprecedented guns and warships and evil monsters coming at once as they did was to overload his relatively small self-preservation subroutine. In addition to trying his hardest to keep him and Alicia both in one piece, he recognized that if he told her how – in the loosest sense of the word – emotionally scarring the whole thing was, she would realize that he was not in prime working condition and trade him in for scrap. His irrepressibly obnoxious behavior of late pretty much guaranteed that she would catch on eventually anyway, but somehow, contrary to every diode in his metal body, he had decided life might not be worth living anymore anyway.
“To void with it all,” he said, and switched himself off.
This, in itself, did not come naturally to a robot either. Robots were not generally supposed to switch themselves off unless in some sort of an emergency, or if their owners were too darn lazy to do it themselves. As long as they were continually recharged few saw the need to ever switch them off at all, particularly ones as amiable and pleasant as Kaycee had once been. There were supposed to be failsafes that set off alarms and turned them off from the inside when they started going loopy, again like Kaycee, but few companies ever bothered to put those in because in the long run it was more costly than a couple of lawsuits from the families of mad robot victims.
There was something else that they were negligent about, that practically no one had ever bothered to study. The power that activated advanced robots like Kaycee was of extremely high potency. No one, not even the original inventors of such technology, had ever charted its habit channels thoroughly, but it was believed that a latent residue remained active and uncontrolled for a few microseconds after they disconnected. This, theoretically, could cause a robot to have dreams.
No one ever tried to chart the habit channels or investigate this theory because it seemed so ludicrous and a waste of time. The robots weren’t programmed to tell anyone whether or not they had dreams, and the scientists who claimed they did were usually laughed out of their universities and ended up designing powerful new superweapons instead. But two things should immediately be made clear: First; that robots did, indeed, sometimes have dreams.
And second; that KC-1138 had one.
***
Stillness… and silence.
Somewhere… somewhere far away…
A void… a dark, lonely void… an eternity…
A solitary presence… someone, alone in the void… peace shattered… shock… trauma… fear… despair… incomprehensible loneliness, unspeakable pain… a horrible tragedy about to strike… a ray of hope, nearly engulfed in darkness, a final chance for the Universe as we know it. But then… another tragedy, striking yet more swiftly, threatening to wipe the presence from the void…
Stillness… and silence.
***
Kaycee’s emergency backup processors were so alarmed at this turn of events that they switched him back on. His main processors demanded what the heck their problem was; wasn’t it obvious that they were getting a bit of needed rest and couldn’t whatever it was wait for just a little while? And then, a millisecond later, it clicked. The horror of the situation thrust itself upon him. He checked, and double-checked, but there was no mistaking it. And he had never been wrong.
He knew instinctively that these vibes were not the product of his own warped mechanical mind. And although they were only sensory fragments, his complex inner workings had picked up much more information than was instantly apparent, on wavelengths incomprehensible to all but the most highly-evolved organics, and he knew precisely what they, the people aboard the Ankled Apex, needed to do.
Furthermore, they needed to do it fast.
Next: Chapter Seven
