Return to Mech City

by Brian Bakos

  “Huh?” Fascista jerked his head skywards.

  Terror stamped its imprint on his wizened face. The plaza was darkening rapidly as thousands of mech birds swirled above it like a tornado from hell.

  Fascista and his minions spoke in a unified voice: “Ahhhh!”

  58: Mayhem

  “Get out of my way!” Fascista howled.

  He made a frantic rush for the platform and dove beneath it head first.

  Ripppp! His sash tore off on the paving stones.

  Fritz and Edwina followed their leader’s inglorious retreat.

  “Not so fast, punk!” Albert shouted.

  He flung his boom box at Fritz’s head. It missed by bare centimeters, hit the ground, and shattered.

  “Look what you made me do!” Albert said. “You’ll pay for that.”

  All the Youth League members scrambled under the platform like a batch of terrified cockroaches, jettisoning their banner and drums without ceremony.

  Out in the plaza, the mech wolves abandoned their prisoners and gathered themselves into a tight pack so as to confront the onslaught coming from the air. Winston grabbed up Fascista’s crimson sash and waved it like a military ensign.

  “Come on men!” he shouted over the confusion.

  Jimmy took up the battle cry. “Get the weapons, boys!”

  The metal men surged toward the pile of tools, knocking over Comrade Drone by sheer weight of numbers. Jimmy’s troops snatched up picks, shovels, sledge hammers. In moments, they’d transformed themselves from beaten slaves into an armed company lusting for revenge.

  Jimmy waved his sledgehammer at Comrade Drone. “Stay there, you pile of junk, or I’ll bash your stupid head in.”

  “Where are Jack and Quincy?” Winston said.

  “Over there, on the edge of the crowd.” Star said. “They don’t seem very eager to fight.”

  Winston dropped to one knee beside Iridium. “Hang in there, okay? We’ll get you repaired as soon as we can.”

  “Sure thing, pal.” Iri moved one foreleg a few millimeters, then gave up the effort. “I’ll just watch the fun from here.”

  Winston and Star retrieved their weapons and dashed across the plaza to the repair bots.

  “Here!” Winston thrust the tool bag into Quincy’s hands. “Go fix Ajax, his head’s coming air express.”

  “Right-O.” Quincy looked greatly relieved to be avoiding combat duty. “Come on, Jack, we have a job to do.”

  Jack threw down his shovel. “I’m your man!”

  The plaza was now twilight dim under the chickadee cloud. Everyone poised in battle position. Winston gripped his spear so tightly that it seemed ready to break in his hands. Star stood beside him, her beautiful face hardened with determination.

  Then the birds consolidated themselves into a towering column and dropped onto the mech wolves like a giant fist.

  Crunch!!

  “That’s it, tear ‘em up!” Winston cheered.

  The Squadristi kept their phalanx together, biting and clawing hundreds of their attackers out of the air. Unearthly howls shattered the day.

  It seemed as if the mech wolves’ defenses would hold – but then the birds managed to grab four of them by their long coats and haul them skyward. The remaining wolves started to break ranks.

  “Charge!” Jimmy yelled.

  Before the Squadristi could reorganize themselves, the freedom fighters attacked them in two companies – one led by Jimmy, the other by Sam. Picks and shovels flashed, fangs ripped, the plaza became a maelstrom of destruction.

  An irrational fury seized Winston, overriding all his survival programming. He rushed to join the assault, but Star held him back.

  “Stay close to me,” she said. “It’s their fight now.”

  High above the plaza, the birds released their captives. The four mech wolves hurtled downwards, legs flailing against thin air. Despite himself, Winston experienced a stab of empathy for the beasts, remembering his own narrow escape from a similar end.

  Smash!!

  The wolves struck the pavement, bounced grotesquely, then lay still in broken heaps. The birds dove back down toward the enemy. Jimmy’s troops had shattered the mech wolf phalanx, and a freewheeling battle now raged.

  Quincy and Jack crouched by the platform stairs watching the combat swirl around them.

  “And to think we used to complain about how dull things were,” Quincy said.

  “I’d take some of that boredom right now,” Jack said.

  Nearby, Albert reached under the platform and grabbed Fritz’s arm. “Get out here, you little creep!”

  “Nooo!” Fritz wailed.

  He yanked his arm back and retreated farther under the platform.

  “I’ll get you, punk!” Albert snarled.

  He snatched the fallen Youth League staff and tore the banner from it – the sword & hands ensign fluttered away into the maelstrom like a crippled bat. He thrust the flag pole’s dagger point at the cowering young Fascists.

  “I can’t stand this,” Jack said. “I’m a fixer, not a fighter.”

  “My sentiments exactly,” Quincy said.

  He looked skyward for any sign of Ajax’s head. There it was, descending amid a company of birds!

  “Come on, Jack, that’s our cue.”

  They charged up the stairs – right into the glowering presence of Clawfurt.

  “Uh ... excuse us,” Quincy said, “we seem to have made a wrong turn.”

  Clawfurt bared his teeth. A grinding, mechanical noise rumbled behind the terrible fangs. His great talon snapped open as he rolled toward the repair bots.

  Quincy and Jack retreated toward the stairs. But then a squadron of birds dived onto Clawfurt. The monster flailed and roared loud enough to drown out the battle noise from the plaza below.

  “Let’s go, Jack!” Quincy shouted.

  The repair bots made it to Ajax just as the birds were setting the head down on its velvet cushion.

  “What am I doing here?” the head demanded. “The fun’s all out there!”

  “Hang on, Ajax,” Quincy said. “We’ll put you back together.”

  “Bravo, worthy healers!” Ajax cried.

  Jack fished a cutter out of the tool bag and severed the ropes binding Ajax. The warrior robot stepped away from his death stake.

  “Ah, sweet freedom!” he cried.

  Out on the plaza, the battle reached a furious crescendo. None of the fighters retreated a single millimeter, but stayed locked in combat until he, or the enemy fell. Only Comrade Drone remained standing off to the side, too dumb to choose a course of action without direct orders.

  Clawfurt shook off his avian attackers and rolled across the platform to the repair bots.

  Rrrrrrr! The chainsaw added its voice to the chaos.

  “Duck!” Jack cried.

  Quincy dodged away an instant before the chainsaw could slice him in half.

  Clawfurt prepared another swing, but a dark mass of birds began pecking at his face. He thrashed at them with the chainsaw. Soon the planks were littered with Chickadee parts.

  Ajax slipped behind Clawfurt. “Here you go, comrade.”

  He threw every milligram of his strength into a mighty kick against Clawfurt’s backside.

  RAAAR!

  Clawfurt tottered on the edge of the platform, wheeling his arms. The chainsaw described a vicious arc.

  Ajax delivered another powerful kick. Clawfurt tumbled off the platform and crashed to the pavement beside Iridium with such thunderous impact that the battle momentarily paused. His massive body broke in two; his chainsaw gouged into the paving stones, then fell silent.

  Jack and Quincy peered down at the fallen monster.

  “Looks like he’s done for,” Jack said.

  “Adios, friend,” Quincy said with a jaunty wave. “Keep in touch!”

  Ajax picked up a stricken mech bird. The creature cheeped piteously in his massive hand.

  “Nobel chickadee!”
Ajax said. “Such a mighty heart in a tiny body. I believe that – ”

  “Yeah, right.” Quincy lifted the head off its cushion. “Sit down, Ajax, so we can get at you.”

  Cradling the injured bird in his hands, Ajax sat on the platform edge. His legs dangled above Clawfurt and Iridium. Clawfurt glowered up through his impotent rage while the great canine looked on with soaring hope. The repair bots started to work.

  Winston and Star stood together, ready for any onslaught. It came in the form of a crazed mech wolf, thrashing and howling amid an attack squadron of birds. The wolf broke from its tormentors and charged Winston.

  “Look out!” Star cried.

  Winston thrust with his spear, but the wolf batted it aside. Then it leaped at Winston and knocked him onto his back.

  “Ugh – help!” Winston cried.

  The weight and power of the creature was overwhelming. Winston pressed the spear shaft against its throat in a futile attempt to hold it back. Snapping fangs grazed his face.

  Whump!

  Star clubbed the wolf’s skull. It scarcely seemed to notice. She brought her club down again, two handed. The creature rolled away and retreated a few meters, shaking its head to clear its circuits. Winston scrambled back to his feet.

  “You okay, Winston?”

  “I think so.” He ran his hands over himself. “Man, I didn’t realize how strong those things are!”

  The mech wolf prepared to charge again, but a swarm of birds descended upon it. Soon the brute was airborne on a final thrill ride.

  “Good riddance!” Winston cried.

  He felt not a trace of empathy this time.

  Around them, similar scenes were occurring. For all their bravery, the two-legged robots made poor opponents for the mech wolves, and only the timely intervention of birds prevented the battle from turning into a rout.

  Star cut a vicious path through the air with her club.

  “Where’s Fascista, why doesn’t he come out here?” she said.

  “Because he’s a lousy coward,” Winston said.

  From his position sprawled under the platform, Fascista Ultimo watched the battle with growing alarm. Just when his Squadristi seemed about to prevail, the birds renewed their attacks and jeopardized the outcome once more.

  Those damned things must be Rackenfauz’s work! Who could have imagined that old gas bag inventing such lethal creatures? Of all the projects in the hidden workshops, Rackenfauz’s had seemed to be the most benign.

  “Get them!” Fascista screamed heroically into his transmitter. “Fight harder!”

  Elsewhere under the platform, Albert pressed his attack against Fritz with his spear. Edwina and the other Youth League members cowered nearby.

  “Help us, Great Leader!” the junior Fascists whimpered.

  Fascista ignored their entreaties. Chilling possibilities were slithering in his brain. What if his forces were defeated? What if that Winston traitor gained the day? Fascista glanced around desperately seeking an escape route. Where could he go – into the bomb crater?

  Then the floorboards above his head groaned under the weight of some mighty presence. Fascista rolled his optical sensors upwards and tried to peek through the gaps in the planks.

  Above him, Ajax stood confidently with his magnificent head restored. His already imposing bulk positively towered over events now. A coterie of mech birds fluttered about him in worshipful attendance. Quincy and Jack stood at his side, admiring their repair work.

  Ajax’s flashing red eyes looked out over the pandemonium. He extended his arms and boomed an irresistible command:

  “Halt!”

  59: Quit While You’re a Head

  The fighting instantly stopped. Every head swiveled toward the commanding figure on the platform, every auditory sensor rang with his voice of authority. Even wrecked Iridium summoned up the strength to look in Ajax’s direction. Fascista squirmed deeper into hiding beneath the platform.

  Absolute quiet descended on the square.

  Winston perused the battle damage. Fourteen mech wolves were out of commission, but the freedom fighters had suffered far worse casualties. More than thirty of them lay in various stages of disability. Mech bird corpses lay scattered everywhere.

  On the platform, Ajax curled his upraised hands into fists.

  “I, Ajax, warrior hero, hereby assume my rightful place as mayor of Mech City!”

  No one dared to disagree.

  “I order all wolves to stand down!” Ajax commanded. “All mech birds and two-legged robots cease fighting – immediately!”

  The freedom fighters lowered their weapons. The birds took to the sky en masse. The wolves glanced sheepishly at each other, unwilling to disobey Ajax’s command despite their previous orders from Fascista.

  Looking out from his place of concealment, Fascista Ultimo viewed their hesitation with alarm. He uttered a directive into his transmitter, and the mech wolves retreated to the periphery of the square.

  This was not the right moment for fighting, Fascista reasoned. Besides, he was not at all certain that his minions would obey him if he ordered a renewed attack.

  The birds descended to the platform beside Ajax and consolidated themselves into a humanoid figure. Their numbers had been much reduced, and the collective being they formed no longer towered as it once had.

  Time seemed to freeze for a glorious moment – Ajax in total control, Quincy and Jack standing beside him with the bird creature, basking in his magnificence. The metal men all stood at attention, confident in their victory. Then –

  “Zippity Doo Dah!” Ajax yelled.

  Everyone gaped; the bird figure trembled. Winston felt the world begin to crash about him. A second, much less powerful, voice sounded from Ajax’s torso.

  “What the @#!% is going on?” it cried.

  “He’s got a split personality!” Quincy said.

  “We’d better split, too,” Jack said.

  The repair bots crept inauspiciously from the platform.

  The auxiliary brain in Ajax’s torso attempted to reassert control: “As rightful leader of Mech City, I command ...”

  “Oh, shut up, you old poop!” Ajax’s head screamed.

  The bird figure disintegrated. Mech wolves howled with glee.

  “I-I seem to have some technical difficulties ...” Ajax’s torso said.

  Ajax’s head spun around 180 degrees, the eyes flashed bright red, then yellow, then red again.

  “Yippee!” it cried.

  Ajax leaped from the platform, dispatching a shock wave through the pavement. He gyrated in the grip of violent convulsions, as if he’d invented some bizarre new dance. Then he started running backwards down the square.

  “My, isn’t this amusing?” Fascista guffawed.

  Ajax’s torso strained to return to the podium, stretching its arms toward it desperately. But the head exerted its mad will, and led in the opposite direction.

  “Make me a sergeant, gimme the booze!” the head shouted. “Hey, there’s an elephant in my pajamas!”

  A panicked cloud of mech birds followed Ajax’s jerky progress out of the square.

  “I’ll be back ... as soon as I get my head on straight!” the torso cried.

  “Or maybe not!” the head yelled.

  Ajax vanished, along with all of the mech birds. The lunatic voice faded away. All of the freedom fighters stood frozen with shock. From the periphery, the mech wolves began to close in on them.

  60: Final Solution

  Fascista rediscovered his legendary heroism and slithered out from under the platform like a giant leech. Fritz and Edwina trailed after him while Albert withdrew to the background.

  The Great Leader stood up in his torn and wrinkled uniform, posturing dramatically as if his attire had been damaged in the thick of the fray. He placed his fists upon his hips, thrust out his chin, and triumphantly surveyed the carnage on the plaza.

  “Well, well,” he said. “Everything is going accordin
g to plan.”

  Fritz and Edwina exchanged astonished looks, but like good Fascists, they supported their leader’s absurd statement.

  “That’s right!” Fritz said. “The reactionary forces have done exactly what our Great Leader, has predicted they would.”

  “Your wisdom is beyond all reckoning!” Edwina cried.

  They both snapped out salutes. Fascista acknowledged them with an upraised hand and a superior little smile. The younger Youth League members crawled out from under the platform now, but they did not join in the accolades. They merely stood in the background looking like the frightened children they were.

  Fritz strode toward them. “Get back in ranks!”

  He tripped on a squashed drum and nearly fell over. A few of the braver rebels laughed.

  Albert smiled grimly from his hiding place. I’ll get you yet, punk!

  Fritz gathered himself up and returned to Fascista’s side. Mech wolves began herding the freedom fighters into a tight pack. Stripped of their bird allies, the rebels dared not resist. Winston pushed Star toward the center of the group.

  “Get back there,” he ordered.

  “No, I’m staying with you!”

  But for once, he ignored her objections. “Keep her covered, men.”

  Winston took a station on the perimeter and pointed his spear at the encircling enemy in meager defiance.

  Doesn’t this suck the big one? He thought. I’ve gone two thousand kilometers just to get here.

  Jimmy and Sam shouldered their way to the front and took positions on either side of Winston.

  “We’re with you, Boss,” Jimmy said, “come what may.”

  “It won’t be anything good, I’m afraid,” Winston said.

  “Ach!” Sam hefted his pick. “As long as we can stay with you, Boss, everything will be all right.”

  Such loyalty! Winston almost burst with pride at hearing these brave words – but they did not, in any way, alleviate the desperate situation.

  Fascista approached the rebels, swaggering boldly as if he’d commanded the battle from the front rank. He stopped before them – protected behind a row of mech wolves – and scrutinized the enemy with absolute contempt.

  Everyone expected him to order a renewed attack. Instead, the Great Leader proclaimed: “Now that this little escapade is over, it’s time for work!”

  The rebels lowered their weapons and dropped their gaze. Agitated comments circulated among them:

  “He’s not gonna dismember us? ... We’d better do what he says ... I never wanted to fight in the first place ...”