by Pat Mills
"You see?" grumbled Tricorn. "Now stop getting so agitated."
"I'm not getting agitated! You're the one who's getting agitated."
"Trinity, which one of us is getting agitated?"
Trinity turned tenderly to her male and female partners. "Let us wrap. Let us reject all negative tendencies. Seek harmony and poise, internal and external, and call for infinite love, wisdom and peace." The Martians embraced. Trinity in the middle, Tricorn and Trigon on either side. They held each closely and recited, "Three in one, one in three."
Suddenly all the anger, all the tension, all the fear, all the anxiety, just faded away from them.
The Biohazard Troops had been forced into a retreat by the ABC Warriors' overwhelming firepower. They had been driven out of the ghetto, back to the perimeter of the crater that comprised Bowel Town. Beyond it was the desert.
They were now attracting the attention of the Crazies and the cyboons, neither of whom were friends of the troopers. They were watching the conflict between the humans, trimorphs and these strange robots with great interest. If they thought for one moment the troopers' situation was desperate, then they would undoubtedly join in the attack on them. The flat screeners might be suffering from serious infolation, but they still knew how to pull a trigger.
All of this the major considered, along with one card he had left up his sleeve. At the first sign that the Warriors were serious bad news, he'd mind-commed HQ and arranged for something rather special to be sent down to Bowel Town. It should be here pretty soon. From behind a hastily arranged, three-deep barricade of his tanks, he called to the Warriors, "What about a truce, robots? Prior to your honourable retreat."
The Warriors ceased firing.
"The ABC Warriors don't retreat, major," said Hammerstein coldly. "But we would be happy to negotiate your withdrawal."
"ABC Warriors, huh?" said the major. "Of course. I should have known. Yeah, I recognise you from vids. I seen that old bunk from time. The operative word is old! You robots got cobwebs coming out of your circuitry, boy!"
"You're asking for a session on my torture table, floppy," said Blackblood. "A very long session."
The major received a signal that the something special had just turned up. He relaxed. Now the boot was going to be on the opposite foot.
"Now I'm gonna teach you peeps the alphabet!" he called. "I'm gonna show you the X-Y-Z of the A-B-C and doh, reh, me your full metal asses! T-Ten, haul your badass over here yesterday!"
As the major gave the order, a huge, sinister and sleeker style of futuristic tank rumbled down into the ghetto. It was shaped like a giant silver cannon with a three-headed barrel at the projectile end. It lay almost horizontally on a six-wheel drive chassis.
It was undoubtedly a badass.
The major continued with his general pitch. "Now you boys keep showboating that you're atomic, bacterial and chemical warfare-proof, right? You want to see something slick, something pristine and cool? T-Ten, blow 'em a kiss for me."
T-Ten blew them a kiss. Several kisses. Shells, machine gun fire and a high-pressure acid jet torrented towards the Warriors. "Scope out the next generation of atomising shells, metal-eating bacteria bullets and chemical liquefiers! It's deep surgery time!"
This new generation of ABC weaponry was more than the Warriors had ever dealt with. And suddenly they seemed like the older generation. Yesterday's robots. An atomising shell blew off Hammerstein's legs. He tried to scramble to an upright position but realised that he could not move because he'd lost his coordination as well. His locomotive circuitry was severely damaged.
Mongrol was hit by the same devastating blast. His head was almost wrenched off his shoulders by it, and now it hung from a few cables.
Joe's face was eaten away by metal-eating bacteria bullets. A fate that he found particularly horrifying for reasons he tried to keep very much to himself.
Blackblood's face melted from the chemical liquefier. The damage was irreversible. He knew how lethal such acids could be, as he had used them himself on quite a few robot and human victims.
Morrigun was particularly badly affected; her beautiful limbs were corroding beneath an umbrella mist of deadly chemicals rising from her body.
Even Deadlock had smoke belching forth from his internal circuitry as the acid ate into his systems.
Never before could the ABC Warriors recall facing weapons that could do such comprehensive damage to their armour and internal systems. They were systematically ripped apart by the atomic, biological and chemical onslaught.
"Well, kiss my chutteys!" said the major. "That sure hit the spot." A raging storm of firepower from the troopers now tore into the Warriors. And this time, it took its toll. The superior fire-power of the T-Ten continued to bombard them.
Hammerstein crawled about on his arm and hammer still firing back at the enemy, but his directional sensors were severely impaired and he was constantly shorting out. He realised his time was short too.
There were gaping cavities in Morrigun's armour and hanging circuitry from her head and body. Mongrol's head hung haphazardly across his shoulder as he desperately tried to reach her and protect her. Deadlock's internal circuitry was on fire from the molecular acid. Joe was facing his worst possible, but very private, nightmare; bacteria that ate his metallic flesh. Blackblood's pain sensors, an essential part of his consciousness, were beyond screaming point from the acid. Despite the agony, he was still able to make a mental note that this must be how some of his victims must have felt.
The major leaned against the T-Ten and looked with satisfaction at the Warriors. "You've just done your last tour of duty, robots!"
The smouldering shells of the Warriors sagged to the ground, their bodies shattered. The major and some of his soldiers looked down at their smashed and silent remains. "Alpha squad - check they're inoperative. The rest of you, let's go relocate the trimorphs."
He looked down at vanquished foes and smiled. "Hey, where's my poet laureate? History is being written here. Hell, I just trashed the ABC Warriors!"
He turned back to his soldiers, "Okay, round up the morphs. We'd better take some of them to the camps - to keep the politicians happy. And I wanna be home in time for the ball game."
As one squad of Biohazard Troopers warily circled the inert Warriors, the majority of the force went back into the ghetto to remove the trimorphs.
The cyboons and the Crazies had been watching from the sidelines, hoping there might be an opportunity to pay off old scores. Seeing the triumphant troopers, they turned away, looking very disappointed. The show was over.
The surviving trimorphs were led out, bound and chained, with guns pointed at their heads. Among them were Trigon, Tricorn and Trinity.
The major waved his captives forward, "Come on, you privileged folks. Into the trucks! You're safe with us. But just don't try winking at us with your third eye, is all I'm saying. Any of that hypno-biol and we'll go evil on your be-hinds."
It was a threat that could easily be carried out. The major's troopers were edgy and angry after the deaths of so many of their comrades.
Trigon, Tricorn and Trinity found themselves together and were grateful for that. But after what they had seen, after what the extra-martials had already done to their people, they knew the major's assurance that they would be safe was worthless. "How can we trust binary creatures that mate without a medium?" questioned Trigon. "They're emotionally polarized!"
Trinity cooed softly at Mit's husband as he felt the war lust rise in him again, "Be calm, Trigon. Stay in balance."
One of the soldiers marched close to the trio. He leered at Tricorn and grabbed her roughly. "Hey! Three eyes. Don't be shy. I'm a nice guy. A real special guy. Let me show you how special I am!" His buddies laughed and made vulgar suggestions as to what he should do to Tricorn.
Trigon lunged at the soldier, trying to come between the trooper and his wife, but a hard blow from the butt of a laser rifle sent him sprawling on the ground. Fear curdled in Tri
corn's three hearts. Would they be killed? Would these "two legs" strip them of their dignity with their profane actions? She did not know, could not know.
Only Trinity remained calm as always, serene with mitself. But the medium's serenity was not enough to calm Mit's partners on this occasion.
"Leave Tricorn alone!" cried Trigon.
The soldier snapped back, "Don't you be speeching us now!" He joked lasciviously, "What is it you freaks say, 'three in one, one in three?'" He grabbed Tricorn once more, "How about 'one to one,' eh... baby?"
"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed his buddies. "Go for it! Do it, man! Woof! Woof! Rule the school! Burn a large one!"
Tricorn's ordeal was continuing within sight of the inert Warriors. The Biohazard Troops had run life-counters over them which had flatlined, so they were waiting now for the high-techs to arrive to check them over properly. They didn't want to do any further damage to the robots themselves, just in case they were booby-trapped and set off any hidden bombs.
The Warriors lay there, apparently irreparably damaged and spent. But for a moment Blackblood's eyes flickered back into life. They seemed to glow greedily at the thought of what the soldier was about to do to the female Martian.
Joe Pineapples lay beside him, battered and smashed, his sleek body corroded by metal eating chemicals, his visor shattered and sputtering with electrical charges. He, too, saw what was about to happen.
He forced himself with painful difficulty to his feet. He raised his Magnum Macho 3000 to his shoulder. With one eyeball dangling down on his cheek, he painfully took aim at the vicious, laughing soldier. "Visual display inoperative... optic nerves burnt out..." he mumbled in an electronic delirium. "But I can home in on his laugh!"
The soldier who had been attempting to ravage Tricorn fell, with a bullet through his head. Joe's bullets also cut down the other soldiers around the Martians.
The major furiously issued orders. "I told you to check the bodies! Finish him off!"
The troopers fired at Pineapples as he stumbled off down a side alley. They ran purposefully after him. They passed close to the body of the seemingly dead Blackblood.
"Pineapples shouldn't have interfered," Blackblood said to the troopers, holding a weak hand up to gain their attention. "I was looking forward to what you'd do to that Martian." He made a long low hum, which was his equivalent of "heh, heh, heh."
The troopers paused and looked at each other. One of the soldiers stepped forward and spat down at Blackblood, "Kiss my chutteys!" He opened fire on the robot. His comrades joined in. They stopped when the mangled smoking mess on the ground looked even less like the robot it once was. Blackblood made a strange electronic, burbling groan and then his light sputtered out completely.
Then the troopers continued their pursuit of Joe.
Hammerstein lay apparently inoperative on the ground, but he was working on a way to make a comeback. Yes, his legs and a whole lot more were gone, but he had ample contingency plans. Working swiftly with circuitry inside his armour and diverting power, he was able to stabilise himself, and disengage his massive legs.
Meanwhile, the troopers were closing in on Joe. He had slumped down exhausted, under the terrible effect of the metal-eating bacteria that seethed through his body. The troopers pointed their guns at him and prepared to give him the coup de grâce.
Suddenly the legless torso of Hammerstein flew towards them, using jets built into his hips. "Biol! These guys don't die easy," cried one of the troopers opening fire on him.
"Eat lead, floppies!" Hammerstein replied as he tore down on them guns blazing, despite the pain from the tangle of fizzling circuitry hanging from his abdomen.
Having dispatched Joe's would-be executioners, he flew back in the direction of the trimorphs. Hammerstein hurtled down towards the soldiers guarding them. "The Warriors may be down," he snarled with bitter resolve, "but we're not out yet!"
He swung his hammer round and round and then auto-disconnected it, so it shot through the air and killed three Biohazard Troops outright, crushed by the impact of his mallet.
Hammerstein then banked his body in a half turn and flew at ramming speed directly into the remaining troops that guarded the morphs. They blazed their guns back at him before he ripped into them. The force of the impact alone killed them instantly. He hit the ground hard, skidded along on his head and crashed into a wall - a complete write-off. His last words before he flatlined again were something like, "He's late. Where the hell is he?"
Meanwhile, Deadlock too, reanimated. With his body on fire and horribly damaged, he cut down the remaining Biohazard Troops that were guarding the Warriors. He unleashed several lethal slashes of his Ace of Swords, then he called to the Martians, "Run. Run into the desert! It's your only chance..."
That was easier said than done, as the morphs were tied and chained, as the robot wizard suddenly realised. He paused for a moment, recited some spell of unbinding and the next moment their bonds fell from them.
"Now where was I?" said Deadlock, looking rather dazed and actually still rather near death. "Rewind. Rewind. Ah, yes. Run! Run into the desert! It's your only chance."
Trigon, Trinity, Tricorn and the other trimorphs needed no encouragement. Scurrying desperately on three legs, they fled in the direction of the crater edge and the red tundra beyond.
The nightmare knight of Khaos held back the pursuing Biohazard troopers with further deadly slashes of his sword. This gave the Martians a little time to race down a street, away from the murderous troopers.
But as they ran forward, the morphs didn't see the Biohazard tank coming out of a side street until it was almost too late. It was advancing on Trinity who was a little bit behind Tricorn and Trigon. They turned and saw the machine about to run down their beloved medium. From where they stood, they knew they would not be able to reach Mit in time. They looked on in frozen horror as the tank roared toward Mit.
"Flatten spider legs before it scurries off!" howled the bloodthirsty tank driver.
Trinity turned and calmly composed mitself for Mit's death.
Like an Olympic runner, Morrigun sprinted forward despite the holes in her armour and the damage to her limbs. She, too, had drawn on final reserves of energy and come back from the dead. She must save Trinity.
She was on fire, severely battle damaged and facing inevitable destruction. Her graceful limbs crackled with leaking energy as she yet outpaced the machine bearing down on Trinity. "Out of the way!" she called to the medium. "Out of the way!"
She dove at Trinity and shoved Mit out of the path of the tank. There was no time for her to save herself. As she looked up, horrified, it caught Morrigun's body beneath its enormous wheels, tearing her arms apart and bursting her torso and legs. She was crunched, crushed and pulverized beneath it. For a moment, there seemed to be a smile playing about her face, like she had expected this. Then her head cracked and shattered like glass as it was ground down by the teeth of the tracks.
"Morrigun!" came a guttural cry, pierced with pain beyond reason. It shook the ghetto as Mongrol felt the psychic shock of the impact and re-animated. Just as once before he had come to life on the Volgan torture table.
He had come back from the dead once again, seething with volcanic rage. His head still hanging down from his shoulder, he glared at the tank that had destroyed the ABC Warrior who was closest to him.
He charged towards it, bellowing insanely. Bullets and shells blasted into him from Biohazard Troops. Reaching the machine, he leapt aboard it and ripped the turret off in one savage, metal-screaming, wrenching motion. He smashed at the soldiers inside, pounding them with his huge fists. Those who cowered within and who could not be reached with his power paws - especially as he could not really see what he was doing - were delt with by means of his mouth gun; and extreme prejudice. His maw opened and the gun within ripped into them, scything them into pieces.
There was the whistle of an artillery shell and before he knew it, it had scored a direct hit on Mongrol. He exploded
. His limbs were hurled in every direction. That was it. As the smoke cleared, the familiar figure of the major could be seen through the swirling fog of battle. He was leaning against his T-Ten war machine that had delivered the shell.
T-Ten had given further similar treatment to Hammerstein, Deadlock, Joe Pineapples, Blackblood and Morrigun. Just to be absolutely certain this time.
The major chewed on his cigar and admonished the surviving troopers. "Can I not leave you guys to deal with a little local difficulty, huh?"
He shook his head and sighed with exasperation. "Oh, well, it's certainly over for the Warriors now."
TEN
Somewhere in the distance, the major could hear the sound of sporadic gunfire and screams. He had no idea what it was, but he wasn't concerned. Probably the Crazies in a turf war with the cyboons. He knew the trimorphs' ghetto had finally been secured. T-Ten was escorting the trimorphs they'd gathered together again, just to make there were no more screw-ups. He had lost a lot of good men this night, but in the end, they had represented to the max and he could ask for no more. He would cite some of them for presidential medals.
The terrified screams and the gunfire grew louder, and he wondered irritably what on Mars it was all about? The important thing was that the shattered, downed and extremely dead remains of the ABC Warriors were clearly there for all to see and that they were no longer a problem. Whatever the gunfire was about, it had nothing to do with him. He went back to thinking about how his own presidential medal would look on his mantelpiece and how many girls he was likely to pull with it. Especially if he was wearing his full dress uniform.
Next moment the screams and the gunfire became deafening. He turned and gazed in consternation at the mighty war machine, Mek-Quake. He was roaring into the ghetto in humungous-class tank mode. Chewed-up remains of humans were visible on his tracks.
"Big Jobs! Big Jobs!" Mek-Quake howled as his guns blazed at the troopers, scattering them in every direction. He crushed the soldiers under the treads as they attempted to return fire.