by Mike Wild
Before the war between Medusa and the humans had broken out, Medusa had given the humans one last chance to broker peace and that chance had been to negotiate with the Arch-Marzah, the most senior of the Martian holy men and her representative on Mars. President Cobb, in his infinite wisdom, had decided to ignore her offer and, in consequence, had lost Viking City to her wrath.
Viking City was just the beginning, of course.
Deadlock, however, truly believed that there was still merit in the idea, that something could yet be salvaged from this most unholy mess. If he could only open a channel of communication with the Arch-Marzah then it was a start.
Deadlock had told the ABC Warriors that they had a far better chance of victory if they applied their individual talents, and this he believed to be his. Of all of them, he had always considered himself to be the most in tune with the more theological aspects of their crusade.
In other words, Deadlock thought himself the only robot good enough for the job, especially because of the fact that when Deadlock had requested an audience with the Arch-Marzah, he had heard that the Arch-Marzah had also requested an audience with him.
Deadlock chided himself. The Arch-Marzah had requested a meeting with him. The ABC Warrior did not want to take on such delusions of grandeur just yet.
Deadlock swept up the steps, nodding grandly to Martian worshippers as he went. The interior of the cathedral was exactly what Deadlock had expected, as grand and as glorious as its exterior - a vast and cavernous affair made up of marble seating and luminous domes, sweeping arches and architraves, wide and lengthy aisles. An organ played in the far distance.
A choir of mits sang. Their song was a gentle and sad hymn for Medusa.
Across the bridge, there's no more sorrow...
Deadlock began to walk down the aisle. As he walked, he noticed that one set of features jarred with the rest of the cathedral, though more by their content than their actual presence. Three enormous stained glass windows dominated the east wall, and in each of them was portrayed an image of Medusa in one of her deistical forms. Deadlock suspected that Medusa herself had chosen the imagery - perhaps as a flash of inspiration in the mind of the unsuspecting artist - because they were not what one would expect. In the left, Medusa frolicked on a beach in a bikini. In the right, she was dancing at a disco, holding a cocktail to the "camera". Only the centre window was relatively sober, just a close-up of Medusa's face - at its most flattering, of course. But even this was spoiled by the fact that Medusa winked benignly.
Deadlock looked away. Quite unexpectedly, embedded in the floor, he came across The Tomb Of The Unknown ABC Warrior. Now that, Deadlock made a mental note to himself, he would definitely have to ask the Arch-Marzah about. And there he was. Unlike the interior of the cathedral, the Arch-Marzah was not quite what Deadlock expected. Slender and elfin beneath his robes, exuding a perpetual aura of peace, the Arch-Marzah was a mit.
Deadlock was quite reassured by this realisation. The whole point of his visit here was to reopen negotiation, and by their very nature mits were the best negotiators in the galaxy.
Deadlock bowed reverentially.
"Sorry about the windows," the Arch-Marzah pre-empted. "A recent addition."
"Think nothing of it, Your Excellence."
"Why have you requested an audience with me?" the Arch-Marzah said softly.
Deadlock began to explain his intention to seek peace once again with Medusa, in order that her planet would suffer no more damage from the war. He explained the means by which he had decided to try to achieve his aim, and the tactics he would use. The Arch-Marzah listened to his arguments patiently, but, after a while, Deadlock saw that his focus was elsewhere.
"Arch-Marzah?"
The holy man sighed. "I would be willing to offer my help gladly," the Arch-Marzah said. "But I fear that my help will be of little use."
"I don't understand," Deadlock said.
The Arch-Marzah looked at him for some time. At last, he appeared to make a decision. "Please join me," he said.
Deadlock followed the trimorph priest to the front of the cathedral where they paused before a door. The priest produced a large key and inserted it into the lock. He motioned Deadlock inside. The way he did it was almost furtive. It was as if he were afraid that someone was watching - someone who would not be pleased.
Deadlock found himself in the Penetralia, the innermost chamber of the cathedral. He was surprised because this chamber was normally accessible to the Arch-Marzah alone. It was a place for the most senior holy man to reflect. But here also were kept the most sacred artefacts of the Medusan religion, gathered by holy men down the ages from sites where Medusa had, according to legend, manifested herself to those suffering a crisis of faith. They were, in essence, the remnants of her miracles: some water turned into cherry flavour Wooze; a sliced white loaf and a pot of fish paste; a statue of Medusa that wet itself.
Deadlock shook his head. As unstable as she was, it appeared that Medusa had always been a little weird. It was perhaps understandable why no one other than the Arch-Marzah was allowed to set eyes on the artefacts. It could be embarrassing.
The heavy door to the Penetralia closed behind them. The Arch-Marzah must have wanted to share something of great importance to have brought him in there. That, or be about to impart something that he thought to be greatly controversial.
Deadlock adopted a suitably sombre tone. "What is it that you wish of me, Your Eminence?"
The Arch-Marzah hesitated. "I wish for you to determine the state of mind of my god," he said heavily.
"WHAT?" Deadlock exclaimed.
"For I fear that Medusa is going mad," the Arch-Marzah continued. "That she is about to harm her own people."
Deadlock paused. Medusa going mad was not exactly what he would describe as breaking news, but to have the head man of her church admit to the same was. He chose his next words carefully.
"Arch-Marzah, as mad as Medusa has become, I cannot conceive that she would harm her own."
The Arch-Marzah sighed deeply. "I am afraid that she may already be doing so. Those of us in this city who have been helping the refugee humans have had certain... visitations. It seems that Medusa in her infinite wisdom has decided to chastise these Martians, bestowing upon them a series of triblical plagues."
"Plagues?" Deadlock asked. "You mean like locusts?"
"Yes. But in Medusa's case, they were marshfleas. You know, marshfleas can be really quite itchy."
Deadlock smiled. "Anything else? Boiling blood?"
"She boiled an egg."
"Ah. Famine?"
"A power cut at the Trinese takeaway."
"I see," Deadlock deadpanned.
"I can see that you are amused, my friend," the Arch-Marzah said. "And I realise that these things might seem trivial to you..."
Deadlock composed himself. "My apologies, Your Grace."
The Arch-Marzah waved a hand dismissively. "The point is that Medusa has never done this before. I am afraid that concerns me greatly. How long will it be, I wonder, before these minor chastisements become something else entirely, something less minor? Yes, they are simply mischief at this time, but isn't that the way things began with the humans? Just how long will it be before Medusa begins to vent her planetary anger on her own people?"
Deadlock hesitated, suddenly serious. "I can't answer that."
"No," the Arch-Marzah agreed. "These are indeed dark times, times utterly without enlightenment." He walked over to a small pedestal on which was mounted an ancient-looking copy of The Trible, the Martian holy book and the basis of the Medusan religion. He opened its cover. "I have searched this tome for answers even though I already know every word of its teachings," the old mit went on. "The Books of Ben and Sis, Exo-Dust, Revolutions, all of these I have returned to again and again."
The Arch-Marzah slammed the book shut. "It says nought of this in the prophecies! The Trible offers me nothing!"
"No. I find that's the trouble
with Tribles."
The Arch-Marzah exuded a calming balm. His aura was so powerful that even Deadlock felt quite chilled out.
It was just as well because what the Arch-Marzah asked next surprised the biol out of him.
"What do your cards tell us of our future? What is the KHAOS theory?"
"You? You of all people ask the assistance of KHAOS?"
"I have no choice, robot!" the Arch-Marzah cried out. "My religion is dying."
Deadlock took a second to absorb this. "Are you saying that you believe that Medusa is going completely insane? That she will never recover?"
The Arch-Marzah struggled visibly within himself. It took quite some time for him to give his answer. "I am saying that perhaps even gods become tired when they do not sleep."
"Help me then," Deadlock said simply. "Join me and perhaps we can pull her back from the brink together."
The Arch-Marzah nodded slowly and wearily. "I will do everything that is in my power," he said.
Bullets slammed into his chest.
For a moment, Deadlock was stunned. He watched as the Arch-Marzah took hit after hit, thumping the body of the trimorph back across the room in spasms and pushing him over the pedestal that held the Trible, dislodging the ancient book. He watched the Arch-Marzah tumble to the floor, his mouth agape with shock, and his three eyes wide and bemused. He watched as the Trible bounced off his chest, its pages bloodying, to land tattered and ruined in the rear of the room.
What the frag, Deadlock thought? He had heard nothing coming.
Only one type of machine was capable of such a silent approach; a machine that could suck in all the sound around it. There was a behemek there.
Deadlock checked the body of the Arch-Marzah - by some miracle still alive, but only just - and eased through the disintegrated doorway of the Penetralia. Outside the door, the cathedral lay in utter ruin, the worshippers, the marzahs and the choir of the cathedral were all dead.
Not one but three behemeks faced Deadlock. Each was strung with the flag of the Martian Republic: a crossed chainsaw and a toothed excavator digger, symbolising the terraforming of Mars. It was Senator Diaz's flag.
The flickering face of Senator Diaz stared down from a flatscreen mounted on the middle behemek's snout.
"A warning to the curious," he said. His words were considerately subtitled in case the behemeks' damping fields were still active. "The curious, of course, being the mad old hag who believes herself to be currently in charge of this planet.
"I, Senator Diaz, will not stand for it, do you hear? This is a colonised world, a human world, a world for-"
Oh, you stupid bastard, Deadlock thought.
Diaz continued to rant. He was prattling on about how for every human life lost, he would take the life of a trimorph, but Deadlock was no longer listening. This, he knew, had to be nipped in the bud right now.
Hell of a day, first the tripods then behemeks. But there was one difference: tripods presented him with a problem. Three behemeks he could cope with.
Deadlock began to race along the centre aisle of the cathedral, flicking as he went a mental trigger that summoned his motorcycle from outside. The bike roared in and Deadlock jumped into the saddle. He revved the engine and with a screech of tyres span to face toward the nearest behemek. He accelerated, racing beneath it, firing weapons as he went. The bullets cut into the behemek's underside and it began to trail smoke. Despite their awesome appearance, behemeks had their weaknesses.
They would not let this assault go unchallenged, though, and as Deadlock manoeuvred for a return underpass, they let loose with all they had.
Deadlock roared for cover. Forget the bullets, then, he thought. Time for a bit of the old Deadlock magic. He raced through the spells available to him in an attempt to find the one most appropriate for the current environment. The last thing he wanted to do was damage the cathedral.
He thought back to the previous dawn at Sojourner airport, to his musings on the tripods' defences. Perfect.
Deadlock wove a spell that would if not replicate then at least mimic the actions of Einstein-Rosen deflection. As the spitting bullets of the behemeks neared the Grand Wizard of the Knights Martial, miniscule space-time-bridges appeared in the air before them, and before the bullets could hit him they were transported to a distant part of the universe, where they could do no harm.
Or at least Deadlock hoped they would do no harm. He could not deflect all of the bullets, of course, and Deadlock took some serious damage to his side. What riled him more, though, was that they shot his cloak full of holes.
Incensed, Deadlock returned the behemeks' fire with a variation of the Einstein-Rosen spell. The tiny wormholes were this time fired at the hulking machines, and Deadlock watched with satisfaction as the front behemek's legs buckled, weakened now that strategic parts of its molecular structure had simply gone away. With a groan of metal, the machine collapsed slowly to the ground, its cannons crushed beneath its own bulk. One down.
Deadlock would have loved to take the other behemeks out the same way, but the Einstein-Rosen spell was simply too powerful, too tiring, to be kept up for long, and he was forced to resort to more traditional methods.
He gunned his motorcycle forward and drove it straight up one of the sloping architraves of the cathedral, launching it into the air at a second behemek. Airborne, he deployed the bike's wheel blades, checking that they span viciously. The motorcycle landed on the back of the behemek and Deadlock skidded deliberately, screeching the bike across the monster's back and slicing the blades deep into its armoured spine. A red gash appeared, the machine's circuitry sparking as severed coolant lines spat their lifeblood into the electrics. Just before the bike plummeted off the behemek's back, Deadlock rolled from it, immediately drawing his sword and plunging it deep into the wound. The behemek roared with mechanical pain.
Deadlock twisted the sword hard and rammed it deeper. Something cracked. The behemek roared no longer.
Two down.
Bullets slammed into Deadlock's chest, hammering him back off the collapsing behemek. He thudded to the ground - that had hurt.
He stood up. Deadlock and the third behemek faced each other along the aisle of the cathedral, like gunfighters. It was the behemek with the flatscreen and Diaz leered down. Raising his sword, Deadlock began to sprint towards his enemy.
The behemek began to fire.
Suddenly, the combatants stopped and turned. The middle and the largest of the stained-glass windows on the east wall of the cathedral was moving. It was the one with the face of Medusa.
"WHAT IS THIS SACRILEGE?" she boomed threateningly.
"Calm down, dear," said Diaz on the flatscreen. "It's a commercial."
"YOU DARE!"
"A warning to the curious..." Diaz began again.
"GO AWAY!" Medusa boomed, "LITTLE MAN!" Suddenly, twin jets of roaring fire shot from her eyes and engulfed the behemek. The machine attempted to manoeuvre to escape the inferno, but there was no getting away from the eyes.
The behemek detonated in a ball of flame and a rain of metal. Well, that's a new one, Deadlock thought. The roaring fire withdrew. The eyes of Medusa looked out over the devastation.
"My cathedral," she sniffed. "My beautiful cathedral."
"Your Arch-Marzah," Deadlock said. "He needs help."
Medusa blinked and two trimorphs appeared from the end of the cathedral, no doubt being summoned to aid the injured man.
"You again," Medusa said to Deadlock. "You helped here... Why would you help?"
"Because I am not your enemy," Deadlock said. "Please believe that."
"Why should I believe that?" Medusa questioned. She stared at him challengingly.
Deadlock stared back, gathering his thoughts. He had wanted to reopen negotiations and it appeared that he had. But he had to tread carefully.
"Because I would be willing to prove it to you," the ABC Warrior said. "Be your voice, your champion..."
"My champion?" Medusa sai
d, intrigued.
"Yes. I believe that we can restore peace by-"
"My champion it is, then!" Medusa interrupted.
TWELVE
BA-DOOM!
The last of the Pyromaniacs' motorcycles detonated and was blasted into the air above the Trans-Martian Highway, blowing its skeletal rider to bits. Its skull bounced along behind the Sunset Streaker for a hundred yards or so, clattering and grinning, before rolling to a stop and being left far behind in the dust.
"Oh yes!" Maggie Sidewinder cried. "Way to go, Sarge!"
Hammerstein was too exhausted to acknowledge her. The Pyromaniacs had been dogging their tracks since they had first appeared out of the desert. Just how long ago was that? Both he and Maggie would have been dead had the ABC Warrior not finally managed to establish a weak neural link with one of his weapons on the passenger seat of the car. He had told Maggie to clamp it magnetically to the side of the vehicle and with a supreme effort of will had accessed its arming switch. Luckily, the weapon still worked. The Sunset Streaker had gained an extra that was never thought of during its original design.
It had a photon bazooka.
"I said way to go, Sar-" Maggie repeated, and paused. Hammerstein's head looked lifeless. "Hammerstein... Hammerstein, are you okay?"
Hammerstein was far from okay. The energy it had taken to access the photon bazooka and keep it operational had been costly - draining his reserves almost to the last. If the ABC Warrior did not get help soon, he was going to die.
Fortunately, they had almost reached their destination.
Ahead of them loomed the ugly monstrosity that was Marineris City - regularly given the Ugliest City In The Galaxy Award. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Senator Diaz controlled this place.