Battleship Raider

by Paul Tomlinson

  I came up empty in the first few rooms, but finally found a couple of plastic trash barrels that I thought I could use. One was a little smaller than the other, which was ideal. I took them out into the corridor and turned them upside down. I also snapped the handles off a couple of brooms to be my drumsticks. I had seen street buskers hammering away on buckets before and I’ve always fancied having a go. I was never part of a band when I was a teenager – I was a loner and didn’t play well with others. And when it came to musical instruments, I didn’t play well at all.

  I set up my drumkit in the middle of a long corridor, thinking this would help the sound travel further in each direction. My first few strikes with the sticks were a bit tentative and unrhythmical. I started over. I could get a decent bass drum sound by hitting the middle of the big barrel and the rim of it could stand in for a snare. The smaller drum – rim or rim and centre together – was my hi-hat. I started off with a simple four-four beat, playing bass and snare on alternate beats – that was enough to get me into the swing of it. Bringing in the snare on eighth notes didn’t complicate things too much so I switched up to sixteenths – and after that I just made it up as I went along, imitating beats I’d heard in rock ‘n’ roll songs or played by the buskers.

  As I played, I kept glancing up and down the corridor. Another advantage of this mid-point was that I would see the robot coming whichever way he came. At least, that was my theory.

  A fist smashed through the wall panel behind me coming out close to my ear. That threw me off my beat – and almost caused me to squit my pants. I dropped the sticks and leapt up onto the ATV, pulling on my pilot’s helmet.

  The robot punched another hole in the wall and then tore out the whole panel. I spun the wheels of the ATV as I took off down the corridor. The robot kicked my trash barrel drums aside. Maybe it preferred a more laid back beat. Or something classical.

  I heard the boom! of the cannon and a section of roof rained down around me. Then came the steady thump-thump of the robot’s marching feet. It wasn’t a beat you could dance to.

  An automatic door slid open ahead of me. I was far enough ahead of the robot that I felt safe in stopping to lock the door behind me. It wasn’t one of the big blast doors so it wouldn’t slow the robot down for long. I set off again – and when I glanced back, I saw the robot crash through the door, barely slowing its pace.

  I took the next corner at speed, the ATV tilting and lifting its outside wheels. Under other circumstances this would have been fun. Right now it was the most dangerous game of tag I had ever played. If I was caught I was dead.

  A quick glance over my shoulder. No sign of the robot coming around the corner. I slowed. I wanted to stay out of reach, but I didn’t want the robot to lose me. I needed it to follow me to the hangar.

  Crash! The robot burst through a wall only ten feet away. It had taken a short cut and gained on me significantly. That was cheating. As I accelerated away, I heard the robot start to run behind me.

  I took a left and then another, finding myself in a long straight section of corridor that I didn’t recognise. I must have taken a wrong turn. For all I knew, I was now heading in the wrong direction – away from the hangar. Whether I was lost or not, I needed to put more distance between me and the robot. I stamped on the ‘go’ pedal and kept it pressed to the floor. The whine of the motor rose in pitch. Wheeeee!

  The gap between me and the robot widened. Should I stop and open fire on it? The big machine gun fixed to the ATV behind me fired armour-piercing rounds, but I didn’t know how much damage they would do to the robot. If they weren’t enough to stop it, I wanted to be somewhere where I had a Plan B. I had to get back to the hangar.

  Another cannon shot. It passed by on my right and I felt the heat and movement of air from its passing. A near-miss. The missile exploded just ahead of me, tearing up the floor. I braked and swerved, managing to skirt the edge of the hole that had opened up, but I had overdone it. The left side wheels lifted off the ground and I felt those on the right begin the slide. The ATV rolled onto its side and I threw myself clear so I didn’t get trapped under it.

  Through the smoke, I could see the robot stomping towards me. I struggled with the ATV, trying to set it back on its wheels. Without it, I didn’t think I could stay ahead of the robot for long enough to reach the hangar – assuming I ever found it again. The ATV bounced back onto its wheels and I jumped back into the seat. The wheels spun on the loose debris littering the corridor floor but eventually got enough grip to get me moving again. The robot was so close I could hear the whine of its cannon charging up to fire again.

  The junction in the corridor ahead looked familiar. At least, I thought it did. I felt certain that if I took a right, I’d be heading back towards the hangar. Well, fairly certain. A left would only have me heading back to where I had been twenty minutes earlier, so I took the right turn.

  Yes! There were the open doors to the hangar. I looked back. The robot was running again. Running towards its doom. Or so I hoped.

  I passed through the doorway into the hangar with that sense of relief you get when you finally arrive home after a long journey. I sped across the hangar towards the open maintenance pit. Everything looked exactly as I’d left it. I looked back over my shoulder.

  The robot entered the hangar and stood just inside the doorway. This was the second most dangerous part of the plan. I had to keep moving, weaving from side to side so as not to provide an easy target for the robot’s cannon. At the same time, I needed to draw Louis Lugnuts further into the hangar – and closer to the trap.

  The robot fired a shot. Anticipating it, I swerved around the big armoured truck, putting it between me and the robot. The missile skimmed along the surface of the deck and out through the double doors. It exploded out in the jungle somewhere, upsetting the monkeys who protested loudly.

  Lowering the cannon, the robot moved forward. Who knew how many shots it had left. Maybe three, maybe none. I wasn’t going to risk everything on a guess.

  I kept going across the hangar, turning the ATV in tight curves and an occasional figure eight, the tyres squealing on the deck.

  I waited until the robot was in line with the open pit – and was as close as I thought it was likely to get. I turned the ATV sharply, fighting to keep it from overturning. I was facing the robot now. It had its back to the open pit. This was high noon on main street. The big metal beastie slowly raised its cannon. This was the most dangerous part of the plan.

  I stamped down on the pedal and the ATV shot forwards. Straight towards Big Red. The back end wiggled a bit but I kept it on a straight course. The ATV was fast but so was the robot. The cannon was pointing directly at my head.

  My worst nightmare was that the ATV would strike the robot and just bounce off, leaving Big Red standing there, an immovable object. Maybe the recoil from the cannon helped. ATV meet robot. Its missile flew up into the ceiling, exploding above us. Almost in slow motion, the robot tilted backwards and fell into the pit.

  I jammed on the brakes at the moment before impact. I didn’t want to go flying into the pit with the robot. The last thing I wanted was to be engaged in close combat with the metal monster. The ATV’s front wheels came to a stop right on the edge of the pit. I looked down and could see the robot on its back, struggling, partially tangled in the metal net.

  I attached the loop on the end of the cable to the tow bar on the back of the ATV. As I drove forward, the cable pulled the net tight around the robot, trapping it – at least for now. I kept going, needing to pull the net up out of the pit. Individual wheels spun and locked as they tried to gain a grip on the deck. Gradually I moved forward, pulling the net up and over the edge. The going was easier as I dragged the fully-loaded net across the deck towards the open hangar doors. There was more friction on the launch deck outside but it didn’t slow the ATV’s progress too much. I headed for the trailer with the engine on it which was still perched on the edge of the launch deck.

  I u
nhitched the cable from the back of the ATV and attached it to the trailer. I released the brake so the trailer’s wheels could turn freely. Back on the ATV, I edged forward using its nose to nudge the trailer and push it over the edge. I scooted back quickly when it started to move and watched gravity do its thing.

  The trailer disappeared over the edge. There was a whistling sound as the slack disappeared out of the cable and a snap as it drew taught. The cable dragged the metal net and its big red fish towards the edge. I could see the robot struggling to break free, but the net was wrapped tightly around it preventing it from getting any sort of leverage. If it fired its cannon, it might be able to burst free – but at such close range, it would also risk damaging itself.

  The cable whipped backwards and forwards across the deck. If I’d been anywhere near it, it would have cut me off at the ankles. I waved goodbye as the bulging net approached the edge of the deck.

  As soon as the robot disappeared, I would set off in the ATV, travelling through the ship and out of a hatch on the other side. I knew there was every chance that the robot would survive its fall and that it would come after me. Its programming demanded it. But it would have to climb back up into the ship or take the long way around the wreck of the Celestia. Either way, I would have a decent head start. I was going to use the ATV to plough through the jungle as quickly as I could for as long as I could. Wearing my pilot’s helmet and screaming like a banshee.

  Just as the package got to the edge of the deck and the robot was about to go over, the net slowed. Had I miscalculated the length of the cable? Had the engine and trailer hit the ground before the robot had been pulled over? No. The distance to the jungle floor was more than double the length of the cable.

  The robot had worked its massive hand through a gap in the metal mesh and its fingers were digging into the deck, slowing the progress of the net to a crawl. Bringing it to a stop. It shouldn’t have been possible. The combined weight of the engine and trailer was three or four times that of the robot.

  The fingers began inching forward. Tiny movements, but pulling the robot back from the brink.

  “Give me a break!” I yelled across the launch deck.

  I dropped another grenade into the rocket launcher, knelt on the deck and took aim. The missile tore across the deck and exploded about a foot short of the net. The force of the blast ought to have been enough to knock the robot over the edge, but it wasn’t. After a moment’s pause, the fingers began to inch there way forward again, pulling the robot back over the edge. When its legs were back up on the deck there was every chance that it would be able to break free of the net.

  I had one rocket propelled grenade left and only a direct hit was going to do the job. I waited until the targeting scope lit up a steady green and squeezed the trigger gently. The missile zipped towards its target trailing smoke and heated air behind it. Through the haze, I saw it hit the bulging net and erupt into an orange ball of flame. The impact shook the deck and the boom echoed around the metal-walled hangar behind me.

  I peered into the smoke, waiting for it to clear. The bulge of the net lay where it had been before. Smoke and heat haze was rising from it. There was no movement. Had the explosion disabled the robot? The net pulsed, seemed to stretch. It split open like an insect’s cocoon. The only damage the explosion had caused was to the net. The metal strands split as the robot pulled itself free. It rose to its feet, smoke drifting around it, looking like a red metal demon.

  “Squit!”

  Let the record show that I made every attempt to avoid violence. I tried running away, I tried reason, and I tried sabotage. Violence was my last resort.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Time for the heavy artillery. I jumped onto the ATV and swung the machine gun around to target Big Red. Large calibre armour-piercing rounds ought to be enough to at least damage it and maybe even knock it backwards over the edge. Aim for the eyes and the hip joints, I told myself, thinking those must be its weakest points.

  The robot was pulling on the cable, lifting the engine back up. As it appeared over the edge, the robot batted away the remains of the trailer, sending it tumbling to the jungle below. Gripping the cable in its fist and using its whole body weight, it began to turn in circles, lifting the engine up and spinning it above its head on the end of the cable. It looked like some sort of robot Olympian. I knew where the engine was going to end up and I didn’t want to be there. I leapt off the ATV and ran.

  The engine whooshed through the air. When it came down, it crushed the ATV completely, making it look like it had been hit by a meteor. It destroyed both my means of escape and my only viable weapon. How quickly fate piles on the squit.

  I needed a new vehicle and a new weapon. A tank would have been ideal. There were no tanks in the hangar. But I had the next best thing – an armour-plated truck with a big motor. I didn’t know if it could withstand a blast from the robot’s cannon – but it offered more protection than my leather jacket. I ran back into the hangar.

  I pulled open the door and swung up into the truck’s cab. I hit the ‘start’ button. It was all electric but the engineers had given it a synthesised engine sound like one of those antique diesel rigs. There was even a little button on the steering wheel that could make it sound like you were revving the engine. And, of course, there was an airhorn.

  The robot marched towards me. I guess it figured it could do more damage at close range. I put the truck in drive and moved to meet it.

  In the massive empty space of the battleship’s hangar, we circled each other like fighters in the ring. Sitting high in the cab looking down at the robot, I felt for the first time like we were evenly matched. Man in machine versus man-made machine. I’d have been happier if the truck had a gun turret, but you can’t have everything.

  I gunned the fake engine and nudged the nose of the truck forward. The robot dodged easily, reaching out and tearing off the fender. First blood to Big Red. I could imagine a crowd up on the hangar walkways cheering or booing depending on their allegiance. My truck was damaged, but I’d learned something important from this first skirmish. When I was in really close, the robot didn’t have a clear shot up into the cab – it couldn’t even see me.

  The truck was built to withstand the rigours of working in the vacuum of space on the launch deck of a battleship. It had thick armour plating and the cab maintained its own atmosphere. There was also an ejection seat for the driver, identical to the one in a warbird. And this gave me an idea. The truck would be my weapon.

  I backed it away from the robot, reversing towards the doors that opened onto the launch deck. The robot stood watching me. It raised the cannon and pointed it directly at the cab. I had a moment of déjà vu. I didn’t know what the top speed of the truck was – but the tyres spun when I jammed my foot down on the pedal. Its motor was designed to haul warbirds around. Unladen, I thought all of that power might be used for speed instead – the way they use if for truck racing.

  The truck lurched forward, forcing me back into my seat. I was staring straight into the barrel of the robot’s cannon. It made no move to get out of the truck’s path.

  I reached for the lever that would launch the ejector seat. My eyes flicked upwards, trying to judge the height of the hangar. I hoped I wasn’t about to be splattered across it.

  Time seemed to slow. I saw a glimmer of light in the barrel of the robot’s cannon. I heard alarms sound as I pulled the ejection lever. I felt a blast of air as the roof was thrown up and away from the truck’s cab.

  And then there was just an incredible force and my vision darkened. Hello oblivion.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The crash sounded like an explosion in the confined space of the hangar. When the echoes had died, all I could hear was the settling of pieces of twisted metal. And then there was an eerie silence. The cloud of dust that had been thrown up slowly settled.

  I released the harness and climbed out of the seat. My ears were still ringing from the explosive fo
rce of the ejector mechanism. I walked toward the mangled wreckage cautiously. Watching and listening carefully. There was no sound except for a faint ticking – metal cooling and contracting or perhaps fluid leaking. I could not see the robot. The cab of the tractor was crushed against the wall and it looked as if the impact had driven the huge electric motor under the cab – probably a safety feature of its design. The back of the vehicle had gone up over the cab, hitting the wall and collapsing. The rear wheels were now in the middle of the pile of scrap.

  The debris on the side nearest to me shifted slightly, settling into a new position. It shifted upwards again – as if the wreckage was breathing. No, not breathing. About to give birth. A large fist punched upwards out of the heap of mangled metal.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me!” I backed away quickly, keeping my eyes on the fist.

  A shoulder, then the head. There was barely a scratch on the robot. How could that be? If I drive my Trekker to the market it gets scratched and dinged in the car park if anyone even looks at it. I’d just driven a twelve-ton truck at this robot and it came out looking like it has just been detailed. Maybe my Grandpa was right and they just made things better back then. The second arm appeared above the scrapheap – the one with the cannon.

  “Oh, squit!” I dived for cover behind the gutted warbird.

  But there was no explosion. Cautiously I peeked out, wondering if the robot was trying to trick me into revealing my location.

  The robot was completely free of the wreckage now. It was looking closely at the cannon, which had either malfunctioned or run out of ammo. What a shame. With its right hand, it gripped the left arm at the back of the cannon near the elbow joint. A twist and a click and the cannon was removed. The robot turned it and looked down the barrel. It would have been great if, at that exact moment, the gun had fired and blown the robot’s head off. But that only happens in cartoons. Whatever damage the cannon had suffered must have been serious, because the robot set the weapon on the ground at its feet. Reaching back over its shoulder, it retrieved a replacement weapon from the sheath on its back. A blade that looked like a giant cleaver. The robot slotted this into place in its left arm. It brandished the blade menacingly and then swung it. The blade sliced through a door panel of the damaged tractor, cutting through the metal cleanly.