He tilts his head at her, blue eyes dimming before returning to their normal glow. “I hadn’t considered that,” he says.
“You don’t say.” Her voice could chill the surface of the sun. “And you!” She jabs a finger at Pip, feeling better already. “Where have you been? I could have used your help, you stupid bird.”
“I thought I was helping.” He’s snippy, bless him. She needs the argument to continue and since the gunslinger doesn’t seem willing to fight with her, well Pip will do just nicely.
“Some helping.” She turns her back on him where he lands on some trash flung free by the gunslinger’s attack on the hive. “Could have come with me instead of abandoning me like that.”
“I abandoned you?” The corbie’s shriek brings her no end of satisfaction. “You stomped off like a spoiled git with a hangnail. You’re lucky I cared enough to fetch this one.” She turns back to see Pip spinning himself, beak pointing briefly at the gunslinger before his shining feathered back is to her. “And that I figured out how to make that tracking chip you hid inside me work the other way around.”
That’s how he found her. Didi’s anger fades, softens. She’s had her shout, expelled her energy. Now, knees wobbling from the aftereffects, she crosses to the crow and scoops him into her arms. He tries to peck her while she snuggles him and rocks him.
“Dumb critter,” she says.
Pip mutters at her.
“Thank you.” Didi kisses the top of his head.
“Welcome.” It’s a mumble.
She turns to face the gunslinger who stares at her in silence. “Well?”
He shifts in place. “I’m sorry for drawing attention.”
She laughs, can’t help herself. Pip rises to her shoulder while she approaches the cyborg and hugs him. It feels odd, the heat of his metal body, the lack of humanity in his form outside his shape. And even weirder for him, she assumes, though his arms slowly rise and gently embrace her a moment before he lets her go.
Didi steps back, wipes at her filthy face with the back on one hand. “I need you to help me find Dad.”
He nods. “I understand,” he says. “Perhaps a compromise?”
She’s not sure she’ll like what he has to say, but crosses her arms over her chest and waits.
“I will escort you on your mission,” the gunslinger says. “And, if the opportunity presents, I will speak on your behalf to the proper authorities.”
She was right. She doesn’t like it. “And if the proper authorities won’t help?” She’s no proof that’s the case. For all she knows the mechcops of the Galactic Collective will be more than happy to assist. Except the way everyone she’s ever met talks about the state of things in Trash City, she’s not holding her breath. Especially if an Underlord is in charge.
“If not,” he says, “I will do everything in my power to help you find and free your father.”
“Promise?” She holds out one hand, waits for him to shake.
“I promise.” He grips her fingers gently. “Might I suggest we begin immediately?”
He doesn’t have to tell her twice.
***
The gunslinger follows the girl Didi over the trash heap, hovering behind her. Perhaps he should offer to carry her. The trip back to the cargo bay would be much faster if so. But, he’s seen her pride, the humanity left in him recognizing her need to stand on her own two feet.
He should tell her about his timer. But perhaps he can take her safely to the city and deliver her into the hands of those in authority before they are at risk of his destruction.
Fourteen hours remain. Surely he has time.
With a growing feeling of protectiveness winding its way through his new heart and the laughing girl he used to know dominating his mind, the gunslinger follows the girl through the trash.
***
Chapter Seventeen
Didi isn’t stupid, though from the chittering and flapping Pip is doing, along with his mutterings about how foolish she is going on and on in her ear, he thinks otherwise. She’s not about to barrel her way back into the cargo bay where she found the gunslinger without checking it out first. Sure, she has a cyborg protector stomping along behind her now. But with Jackus and his two companions armed with gunslinger weapons, she has no idea if the resurrected peacekeeper can stand against them on his own.
Her goggles lowered, she scans the area as they draw close, surprised how quickly they make the return trip. The rats didn’t drag her far, though that does make sense the more she thinks about it. They cornered her in this area, so their lair had to have been nearby. She shivers at the thought of them still undertrash, possibly following her. She has to put that out of her mind if she’s going to concentrate on keeping them safe from Jackus.
The gunslinger stands over her as she continues her scan, his tall, shining body looming, dare she say sparkling, in the sun. A beacon of machinery perfection and an absolute eyesore. She glares up at him as she turns and catches a flash of his shininess in her goggles, making her wince.
“You stand out like a hammer struck thumb,” she grumbles.
His servos hum as he looks down at her. “I do appear to be rather obvious.” Is he joking? Was that humor in his voice? Surely not. She imagined it.
He’s a gunslinger, not a comedian.
“There is no need to be cautious.” He walks past her, heading for the ramp down to the cargo bay. “Were there concern, I would have alerted you long ago.”
Didi’s jaw jumps as she chases after him. Arrogant so and so, how dare he treat her like a little girl? She contemplates a hard kick to those sparkly, silver buttocks, wondering if her foot would hurt, as he strides with absolute confidence into the darkness undertrash.
She’s not used to having someone as competent as herself in her life. Sure, Dad is great and all, but he needs her, she’s been aware of that her entire existence, can recall bringing him dinner at a tiny, tender age. Even making sure he slept and curling up with him when she could barely walk. This new relationship, she decides as she clomps her irritation down into the cargo hold after the gunslinger, is most unsatisfying so far.
It’s time Didi set the ground rules.
She opens her mouth to tell him what for, even as he spins on her and speaks in his mild, calm voice.
“I’m assuming you have no means of transport to the city?” He sounds kind and all, but he has the body and demeanor of a soldier. She reacts to his confidence with a nod, kicking herself mentally he’s able to manipulate her like that.
“The plan,” she stresses the word so he’s clear it’s her plan and not his, “is to reach the mag train and ride it into Trash City.” Rather ingenious, she thinks. Though, she has no idea how difficult it might actually be to enact such a plan. She’s never been on the train or even near it, save for the occasional depot she and Dad passed on their way into the city years ago.
Can’t be that hard, can it? It’s just a train.
The gunslinger doesn’t comment. “And, when we reach our target location, what then?”
Pip thrashes on her shoulder, swallowing over and over again as his throat flutters. “You can’t go,” he says. “It’s too dangerous, Didi.” His beak swings around, red eye whirling. “We have him now. Send the robot and be done with it.”
The gunslinger’s head rotates slightly, blue eyes dimming. “I,” he says in a low, gentle voice, “am not a robot.”
Pip shifts uncomfortably in the silence that falls over them. Didi’s heart pounds despite herself as the quiet lengthens and focuses on the tall, deadly gunslinger who stares without motion at her trembling crow.
“Sorry,” Pip mumbles at last. “Gunslinger.”
The cyborg nods slowly. “Crow.”
Peace, how delightful. Didi shakes off the eeriness of the last moments, acutely aware of the tension remaining in the dim cargo space. Even as a cyborg, he’s sensitive, it seems.
“You seem to think we need to seek out the G.C. mechcops,” Didi says, co
ntinuing the former conversation.
The gunslinger returns his attention to her. “So I said.” He pauses, servos whirring as he shrugs. It’s an odd gesture from a cyborg, as flexible and realistic as he seems to be. She can almost imagine he’s a real person inside a suit of armor, like a knight from the ancient days of Earth or even a man in a suit. But, the reality of his existence, of his humanity, is a fraction of his original body, most of which comes down to the damaged brain housed in his helmet.
She can’t think about him like a person. Because he isn’t anymore.
“Then, why are you asking?” Didi turns her back on him and retrieves her bag. She has some food and water, a few tools. She checks the charge on her laser pen, disappointed to see it’s almost empty. She holds it up to the gunslinger. “Any chance you can fill this up again?”
His sigh is immensely human. “I’m a gunslinger, not a plug.”
And not much good to her with that attitude.
“I asked,” he says as she hefts her bag and goes looking for an outlet to charge her pen, “because you seem to think doing so won’t solve your present circumstance.” He pauses again and she wonders how much damage there really is to his human brain. It’s like he has to stop and think or reset or something. Didi suppresses her nervousness about his condition.
He’s all she’s got.
“Perhaps,” he says, “I am unaware of present politics.” Wait, is he agreeing with her? “We will investigate all means of restoring your father to you before making a final decision.”
That makes her feel better. “Thank you.” She didn’t mean to say that. In fact, she had a smart remark on the tip of her tongue. Somehow, her gratitude made it out first.
“You are very welcome, Didi,” he says, bowing his head to her. “Though, we shall see, before too long, if thanking me is the correct response. I have no idea what danger I am leading you, a civilian and a child, into.”
If he wanted to endear himself further to her, he’s failed miserably. Didi spins away from him and jabs the end of the pen into the socket next to the fallen body of the female gunslinger. It sizzles and pops, but seems to be charging, much like her temper.
“Don’t for a second underestimate me,” she snarls into the wall, shoulders shaking. “Not for a second. And if you think you’re going to leave me behind, you might as well shut yourself down right now, G.S.”
“I apologize.” She turns to see him watching her. His stillness gives her the creeps about as much as it makes her feel safe, oddly. What a mix of responses to the hulking, shining cyborg. “You are clearly a resourceful,” he pauses again, head tilting, “young woman.” Didi groans and turns away. “But, you must realize my programming includes protecting civilians from undue harm.”
She assumed that was the case and feels her anger fizzle out without fuel for it. Blikey. “Well, go ahead and reroute that particular piece of programming,” she says. “Because from this point on, I’m your boss.” She jerks the pen from the outlet and checks the charge. Three quarters. It’ll have to do. She doesn’t have the patience to wait much longer. She thinks briefly of her protections, sewn into her filthy clothing, but there’s no time for that, either.
The only weapons she has are her boots, the gunslinger… and her mind.
It’ll have to do.
The gunslinger doesn’t comment, but Pip finally speaks up.
“And I’m her second in command.” His chest puffs outward, feathers fluffing. “Got that, gunslinger?”
Didi’s chest tightens a moment as an odd noise escapes the cyborg peacekeeper. At first, she’s not sure what it is—some malfunction shredding an internal system? She can’t afford to have him break down now. Not when she’s on her way at last to finding Dad.
That sound, it’s deep and rumbling and so odd she takes a half step toward him before she stops and feels her jaw unhinge, eyes widening.
And grins suddenly as she understands, a giggle escaping into the still air of the cargo bay.
The gunslinger is laughing.
***
He watches her turn, still giggling, and head for the exit, his humor registering as an anomaly. He hasn’t laughed in a very long time. The crow’s arrogance triggered something in him, in the damaged part of his brain, and, though he knows it has to be a sign of his degradation, he embraces the humanity and simple joy of it.
If this is a signal of his eventual downfall, he will accept it. Because it feels good to laugh.
With the sweet face of the laughing girl growing more prominent in his scrambled memory, the gunslinger follows Didi with a light heart the likes of which none of his kind has ever known.
***
Chapter Eighteen
Pip launches into the air the moment Didi clears the exit.
“I’ll check ahead,” he says, so loudly Jackus could have heard him from about a two kilom radius. She just waves at the bird, grateful he’s willing enough to come along without further argument.
The gunslinger is a continual surprise, and she finds herself glancing back over her shoulder to check on him as she moves through the paths in the trash. She needs to resist thinking of him as a person, but it’s difficult when he acts so human.
There might come a time she has to sacrifice him for Dad. Personal feelings for him will not be permitted.
She stops at last and turns to him, waiting for him to catch up. It’s obvious he’s been keeping his distance, his long legs easily outdistancing her a pace as he strides past her before slowing again.
“You said you can tell if anyone is about?” If true, that’s helpful.Means she won’t have to worry so much about Jackus and his mates sneaking up on them.
“Indeed.” The gunslinger’s voice drops to the same volume as hers, hushed though she doesn’t know why she’s keeping it down. “My external scanners are fully functional.”
“Good to know.” She gives him that compliment grudgingly and trudges along beside him for a few minutes in silence, eyes scanning the darkening sky for Pip. Blikey crow, where did he wing off to this time? She can’t go running after him if he’s chasing his family’s murder again. He’ll be on his own.
“You do realize,” the gunslinger says in that same conversational and yet instructional tone that puts her complaining, cantankerous mind to rest, “hitching a ride on a mag train isn’t as simple as you might think?”
She hadn’t thought that far ahead. “You’re worried about the charge perimeter.” Every mag train ran on a powerful magnet system, electrified and powerful enough to drive hundreds of cars at a time down the span toward the city.
“I am,” he says. “The radius of the charge perimeter might prevent us from gaining access to the train itself.”
“Unless we get on at a depot.” There, she’s solved it. And there’s one just a few kilometers distant. “The train doesn’t charge until after it’s loaded.”
“The depot itself?” He’s thinking ahead, she should be grateful, but it feels like he’s arguing with her, trying to find holes in her plan. Well, he is, isn’t he? With good reason. Still, she’s embedded in cranky right now and just wants things to be easy.
Why can’t things be easy?
“I don’t know.” She knows she sounds petulant, as childlike as he called her earlier. He doesn’t respond, his patience with her almost as annoying as his challenges to her plan. “We’ll find out when we get there.”
The black speck in the distance wings toward her like an arrow, Pip’s inbound flight so rapid Didi holds up her hands in front of her face as he launches himself at her in a puff of feathers. The gunslinger’s silver hand lashes out and catches the desperate crow at the last second, gently buffering the impact with a backward sweep of his arm. Pip pants in the gunslinger’s grip before flapping awkwardly to Didi’s outstretched arm.
“Putter,” he gasps. “Something’s wrong at Putter’s.”
Didi can’t stop to worry about the old man or his creepy wife. She has her own father to rescu
e. But, though her mind tells her this in very stern terms, she’s already turning to the gunslinger.
“How fast can you run?”
He lifts her into his arms without her asking. “Just tell me where to go.”
She’s never flown before, not really. Riding inside a skimmer isn’t the same thing, though it feels amazing to slip over the surface of the trash on mags. This is entirely different as he lifts off, the thrusters in his boots carrying them up ten feet. Pip launches from her arm and flies off, the gunslinger following while Didi clings to his warm metal body and tries not to scream in terror.
The fear fades quickly, amazement and joy replacing it. She must be over tired, the desire to laugh out loud and spread her arms like a bird’s wings so overpowering she turns her head purposely and looks forward. And instantly sobers at the sight of the plume of black, thick smoke rising in the distance.
Easy to see from up here, despite the encroaching night, and in Putter’s territory. What else could it be but a tragedy?
The gunslinger has the smarts to stay low, at least. She doesn’t have to tell him to be careful, though by the time they touch down in the small, cleared space outside what used to be Putter’s, she’s forgotten about Jackus and the Underlord and, for a second, even about Dad.
He blends into the background, his crumpled body cast off to one side near the crater that was his home. Didi knows instantly who is to blame for the attack, and wonders with hurt in her chest, if she’s the reason the old man lies like a crumpled bag of trash near the ruin of his life.
She goes to him, kneels, expecting the worst. But, his chest rises once, a soft groan escaping. Shadow hovers over her, the gunslinger blocking the dimming sunlight. She hisses over her shoulder at him, enough of a command he steps out of the way and allows the brightness to return. Not a great choice, as it happens. It just makes the blood redder, the damage to Putter’s old body more obvious. Didi gently cradles his head in her lap as his bleary eyes open.
Didi and the Gunslinger Page 10