by Pat Mills
"Sheen, wait-" He seized hold of her.
"Let me go!"
"Sheen, listen to me! I'm an ABC Warrior." The sign on his armour lit up.
"An ABC Warrior! What are you doing here?"
"I'm on a secret mission."
"So? Why should I care?"
"It will increase the peace."
"My life is pretty good right now, thank you very much."
"My mission could make it better."
"If I don't report you, I could be in trouble."
"Is that all that matters to you, Sheen?"
"As a matter of fact - yes."
"I'm trying to make Mars a better place, so that robots like you don't have to travel cargo class. So you have the same rights as floppies."
"I can always live in the Robot Free State."
"Sure. A dumping ground for machines in the middle of nowhere."
"So what do you want me to do?"
"Nothing. Forget you ever saw me."
"Very well." she smiled ruefully. "Although that takes a little getting used to. I'm a supermodel. I'm the one who usually does the dumping."
"Thanks."
Joe moved towards the exit - only to face the claws of Sheer Herren Sad.
Her fingers were transformed into sewing machine needles that sped up and down. She thrust them in Joe's face.
"Bootleg!" she screamed. "You bootleg!"
He managed to hold one lunging hand back before it crocheted his face. The other stabbed deep into his chest. Her anger seemed more to do with rejection and jealousy than the fact he might be a possible killer.
Sheer broke free and tried sewing up his optics with her claws.
Joe punched her in the face and she keeled over.
He sent a neurotransmitter signal to her brain that would deactivate her for an hour.
"I'm sorry," he said to Sheen. "I have to go."
"I know."
"I wish it was different. But-"
"Whoever she is, she must be quite a woman."
He didn't say anything for a moment. Then Joe responded, "You're quite impressive yourself, Sheen Zano by Ankha."
"If it doesn't work out, give me a call."
"Okay."
"Just don't leave it too long."
Then he was gone.
Juanita had come to Camp Diaz this weekend to decide what to do. She maintained her loving consort image for the senator, even though his touch disgusted her. It was her greatest role and, even though there was only an audience of one, she dared not, could not, fail. She faked it all superbly. To the senator's complete satisfaction, anyway.
Alone in her bedroom now, she thought about what she should do. Like millions of other colonists, she watched a movie as she thought. The TIA monitored everyone's thoughts and this was the best way to confuse the detectors.
She downloaded Casablanca from her DA. Its emotional content would help to camouflage her own emotions. The classic romance appeared. Rather than a screenless, she chose the hologramically re-mastered version. As the black and white lovers looked at each other across a crowded saloon, she considered her options.
The best, the only option seemed to be to contact her lion, her ABC Warrior. Only the Warriors were strong enough to defeat Seraph Rosesand. Only they could stop the Red Death spreading. But how could she reach him? Her robot "bodyguards" were with her at all times. Perhaps, there might be some public occasion, and she could-
Her thoughts broke off at that moment for there, incredibly, Joe stood, recognisable to her even with his disguised features.
He held her in his arms as the black and white lovers did the same behind them.
"Here's looking at you, kid."
TWENTY-THREE
Aware there was so little time, Juanita told Joe all she knew. About the Red Death and its source in Marineris City. The place where Rosesand was to release it. The things she suspected about Diaz. The things he had done to her. And why she had sent that mysterious thought-mail.
She felt his body tighten against his as he learnt of her nightmare experiences. He stroked her hair and looked passionately down at her, but there was no time for this.
"Don't you see, Joe? The Red Death will be blamed on Medusa!"
From down the corridor they heard the senator's voice. "Juanita? Juanita...? Where are you, my little love bomb?"
"I'm getting you out of here," said Joe.
"They're waiting for us downstairs to show us their fashion collection," the voice continued. "You don't want to be late now, do you...? Juanita?"
As the black and white lovers also reached a desperate moment of danger and passion, Juanita insisted to Joe, "No. I cannot go with you."
"Why not? You must. Your life is in danger if you stay here."
There was a rattle at the door. "Why is the bedroom door locked, my darling? Surely you have no secrets from me now. Juanita, open the door. Juanita!"
Juanita looked passionately up at Joe. "Because I would slow you down. You'd never get out of here alive."
"Let me be the judge of that," responded Joe grimly.
"Have you got someone in there? Open the door! I said open this door! Obey me, Juanita. Open this fragging door, you bitch, or it will be the worse for you!"
Joe calmly loaded his Magnum Macho 3000. A shot through the door should dispose of Diaz and he was surely overdue for execution. He could see Diaz's thermal heat image through the wood. He'd shoot him right through the heart. A quick death, which was far more than the senator deserved.
Joe prepared to squeeze the trigger, to rid the planet of a piece of vermin.
Juanita stopped him. "No! Don't you see? If you shoot him, it will be seen as the murder of the strongest opponent of bioterrorism! The leader of the fight against fear! Hoodwink will use it to his advantage. There will be such a backlash against Redpeace, the Warriors, Medusa, and anyone who really cares about peace!"
Joe reflected on this. No, he wasn't convinced. "Diaz must die." He raised his rifle. Again she stopped him.
"I agree. But at the right time. You must be patient. That is the way we women work. Just remember revenge is a dish best served cold." The look in her dark brown eyes and her poignant words struck a chill, even through Joe.
The next moment, two massive robot bodyguards had burst through the door. "Oh, not fragging Casablanca again!" commented one tastelessly.
"Kill him!" snarled the senator. "Kill this piece of biol!"
Joe punched the first bodyguard's head off. But the headless machine kept on coming and delivered a couple of savage punches that seriously dented Joe's bodywork. Then Joe brought his knee up hard and at the same time stabbed his beloved Bowie knife deep into a gap between the flexible metal plates that covered the bodyguard's stomach. He left it there to short out the machine's innards. Needs must. The guard went down and stayed down.
The second one came in close and grappled with Joe which was a mistake. His metal fingers formed drills and he stabbed them into the bodyguard's stomach. He grasped hold of the wires within and tore out his "intestines." It brought its fist slamming down on Joe's head. Joe's hydraulic spine barely absorbed the impact. He stood dazed for a second and the personal protection droid grabbed hold of him and tried to rip his arm off. Joe threw him right over his shoulder and into the wall. He slid down to the floor. Joe ran over to him and twisted his head, until he finally stopped moving.
Then he turned to Senator Diaz. He advanced menacingly on the aristocrat who, at the prospect of what was about to happen to him, had wet himself.
At least.
He was beyond begging; he just made strange whimpering sounds as the tears flooded down his face.
"No," insisted Juanita as the film reached an equally dramatic moment behind them. "You know why," she added.
Joe didn't have female logic patterns. He couldn't wait for years, just brooding and simmering and looking forward to some remote, obscure revenge. He relished the prospect of delivery, rather than the revenge.
Like most males, he liked to deal with the microchips on his shoulder straight away. Slow burns weren't for him. He was white hot.
He needed to give the senator something on account. A first instalment.
Right here.
Right now.
Standing close to the senator, he brought his knee up hard. Hard enough to raise questions about the senator being a future Foundation Father.
"Aaaaaaaaaaghhhh!" screamed Diaz.
Juanita had said not to kill him, but that still left a number of further options, which his brain computed next: distance down the stairs, the age of the senator, his health, and the likely time to be spent in intensive care.
Using one hand, he effortlessly picked the senator up by the throat and carried him over to the top of the stairs.
And dropped him off.
Although he was an Arch-Angel, he didn't have his wings with him on this occasion.
There was a dreadful scream and then a horrible crunching sound as Diaz hit the deck and his body was shattered and splattered across it.
The impact didn't break every bone in his body, but it was enough to be going on with.
Joe turned back to Juanita.
By now, all hell was breaking loose down below. Clone guards were rushing forward. Killcopters were flying overhead, their searchlights illuminating the grounds and the domes. There was yelling and shouting and cursing and the fashion crew were being led protestingly away. Model girls were screaming. Sheen Zano was helping her friend Sheer from the scene. She looked briefly back towards the dome and then turned away. Ambulance sirens were wailing, flashing lights illuminated the darkness, and then everything, everywhere went suspiciously silent. There was a sudden major hush as if the entire scene was blanketed in deep snow.
The Behemeks were on their way.
"You must go," insisted Juanita.
"Not without you."
"I would reduce your chances of making it."
"I'm a risk-taker."
"But you're risking the lives of every one on this planet if I go with you. It's not just the forces outside; you have to cross the sand seas beyond. Joe, you must do as I say."
Armed clone guards rushed up the stairs, guns blazing. Joe put his magnum macho on rapid fire and delivered a devastating burst of savage explosive bullets that tore several heads and limbs off, blasted the stairs to bits and even its supports, so the whole lot collapsed downwards with screaming Dead Eyes falling from it.
He went back to Juanita.
"But what about you?"
"Do you think the senator would kill his wife? That would be rather bad for his image, wouldn't it? I will survive."
Still he hesitated, as the movie, too, reached its powerful conclusion. And four lovers faced the painful prospect of losing one other.
Forever.
Two in black and white, three human and one robot.
"Mars must come first," Juanita insisted. "Do your duty, ABC Warrior. Your planet needs you." He held her close. She gently stroked his visor. "Remember. Don't cry for me."
Joe assembled his final weapon he'd need for the getaway: the balls bazooka.
"Come with me," he appealed one last time.
She shook her head and stepped away from him.
A Behemek burst into the domes, tearing down walls, trampling old master paintings, breaking up thousand year-old antique furniture, and only narrowly avoiding Senator Diaz who was being tended to by a desperate paramedic team. The Behemek blasted chandeliers, servants, sofas, family pets, statues, on a "Kill them all, let Gaia sort it out" basis. And all with no more noise than possibly a little tss!
She looked adoringly at him one last time. "My lion."
Her voice was fading away now as the Behemek's silencers sucked in all the sound in the ruins of the dome.
With a silent roar of rage and twin machine pistols pumping death, Joe smashed out through the dome.
As he landed on the ground outside, the clones, jeeps, killcopters and their searchlights, as well as the robot guards, closed in on him. Joe took careful aim at the epicentre with the bazooka. As before, the implosion shells sucked most of them into silently screaming balls of debris. He finished off the rest with a torrent of bullets that took a deadly toll. Then he escaped into the darkness.
And all that was left was the sound of silence.
"I'm a little disappointed in you, my dear," said the senator, immersed in the maze of wires that connected him up to the mobile life support machine. He looked up at his imperious wife who regarded his appalling plight without pity. "I think you need a little booster. So. Come along, my little love bomb. The cage is waiting."
Dead Eyes grasped hold of her, but she dismissed them haughtily away from her. "I am not afraid. I will go there myself. And with my head held high."
"Yes, that's a very interesting attitude," commented Diaz through his auto-voice as a clone wheeled him along beside his regal partner. "We'll see whether you still feel the same way after a couple of days in the cage."
They walked past the carnage of what was left of the dome after the Behemek had ripped itself out again. Juanita was not afraid. She would not give Diaz the satisfaction.
For what he didn't realise was that by opening doors to the mind that should remain closed to cruelty, victims can sometimes disassociate themselves from the tortures to come. They can step outside themselves.
And Juanita would be stepping out.
With Joe.
She would hold the name of her lover in her heart through whatever horrors she would experience. She would say his name over and over again to give her strength as Diaz did his worst.
They reached the cage. The Martian snakes and spiders were doing predictable things to some little furry animals that were keeping them company. A clone guard opened the door to the outer section.
Juanita looked down at Diaz.
She spat full in his face. "Do what you like."
"Well, yes, I intend to," he replied in his upper class accent, rendered even more arrogant by the auto-voice.
"Of course, I shall be busy for a few days having myself rebuilt. But, thanks to the wonders of modern science, I hope to be my old self again soon. And with the help of the cage, I hope you will be, too. And then..." he smiled.
Or something.
It was hard to be certain it was a smile, given the jigsaw-like state of his face. "You will be my happy, dutiful wife once again who the citizens, simple souls that they are, will adore."
With a haughty, defiant, final look, Juanita entered the cage.
TWENTY-FOUR
The Red Death was already having its terrible effect as the ABC Warriors' private jet landed at Marineris, where Joe was waiting anxiously for them. They exchanged thought updates and files as they sped through the city streets in the killdozer towards its source - the secret location Juanita had given Joe. Where Juanita was concerned, Joe kept his emotions to himself, preferring not to share them with his comrades. He kept those emotions from himself, as well. He couldn't bear to think of her and what might be happening to her right now. But he would worry about that later. For now, he must do his duty.
Fear was so commonplace in Marineris that Slimes had already killed thousands in the city. In each case, it was activated by severe heart palpitations and a massive outburst of adrenalin in its victims. In other words: fear. It caused rapid cellular deterioration and reduced people to rotting corpses. Only non-sentient robots were unaffected by the extremophile. They were busy piling the dead into skips and calling out, rather predictably, "Bring out your dead! Bring out your dead!"
The outbreak of Slimes had originated in several wealthy areas of Marineris, such as the Sinus Sabeus district, but the rich were relatively unaffected, thanks to neuropeptide-A. The poor were not so lucky.
"The floppies are dropping everywhere," said Blackblood appreciatively. "I've always been impressed by natural selection. If I wasn't a member of the Church of Judas, I'd seriously consider joining the Chu
rch of Darwin."
"It's a bad business," growled Mongrol. At the same time, he admired the neat and tidy lines of corpses waiting to be collected with an officer's eye.
"So many sent on the Great Journey," said Deadlock with a sinister air.
It reminded Hammerstein of Nikita's descriptions of the horrors of the siege of Volgograd. But he kept this thought, like his secret romance with NKVD, very much to himself. Restricted access, "For my mind only."
Although he noticed Blackblood had a sort of grin on his face when he had the thought. And this concerned Hammerstein somewhat.
"We have to find Rosesand," said Joe tersely.
Hammerstein knew from his waiter contact in the Red House that President Cobb wasn't involved in the conspiracy. It was one thing to kill Martian creatures, but to kill human citizens was too much. He had protested fiercely to both Diaz and Rosesand and had been overruled by them.
As they drove through the metropolis, there were tragic examples everywhere of the horrors of the cruel disease that Hoodwink had unleashed. In the Woodrow district, some sky rappers, their belly-blasters booming, were denseing high in the sky above a talk cone in a no-talking area. "Yeah, cool, man! Down, man! Blubber, man! Drench the sweat! Drench the sweat! Let it off! Let it off!"
The talk cone called robotically up to them, "No talking! No talking! No talking!"
The rappers' bellies quivered to the beat as they called down to the cone, "Do the blubber shudder! Do the blubber shudder! Do the blubber shudder!" They jeered and added inaccurate insults like "Wagger!" and "Flat screener!" They were young and didn't really know what a screen was; it was a little before their time, but they knew it was really insulting.
The talk cone answered, "No talking! No talking! No talking!"
The densers came back with the classic rappers anthem, that rappers everywhere on Mars used against the petty dictators, "Don't talk! Don't talk! Kiss the cone! Kiss the cone! Kiss the cone! We're into talkativity! Masculinity! Self esteem on the sunbeam! Don't deal with no silence violence!"
"No talking! No talking! No talking! This is your last warning! Repeat! Your last warning!"