Steven Campbell - Hard Luck Hank - Screw the Galaxy

At that, ZR3 definitely swiveled and started to run straight at me.

“Oh, right, so NOW you can understand Colmarian?” I asked it.

Delovoa began spewing nonsense to the Dredel Led at break-tongue speeds. It was moments from impact with me. I had instructed everyone to give Delovoa as much time as possible before fighting back, as he theorized that once it was engaged in combat, talking to it might be impossible.

The robot clanged up, its metal feet screeching on the sidewalk. It stopped in front of me, took that huge handless arm, and swung it for a mortal blow to my chest.

I saw it coming in slow-motion.

Closer. Closer.

And it passed right over me.

Because I ducked.

I was ducking! I was crouched on my knees, my head down. I couldn’t believe it. I was both surprised and ecstatic. This was easy.

But the Dredel Led’s torso could spin. So it just whipped around and its other arm hit me in my now-lowered position.

I went rolling like a ball and crashed into a car, practically splitting it in half.

My sight dimmed briefly. But I knew I had ducked. It couldn’t take that away from me.

I heard what sounded like twenty rockets exploding nearby, because twenty rockets exploded nearby.

I looked up in time to see ZR3 walk over and stand on my leg. There was a terrible cracking noise followed by me shrieking in pain.

It raised its arm and I knew I had a few moments to live.

I lay in front of this stark white robot, its crude, hole of an eye staring at me. I wanted to think a profound thought before I died, but all I could think of was, “Ow.”

There was a blinding flash and for a split-second I thought I might be in some kind of afterlife, but I was in way too much pain for that.

The light grew so bright I couldn’t keep my eyes open.

It was Jyen. She was throwing about a hundred thunderstorms at this thing and I was right next to it. I had to cover my face and ears.

My body shifted and the lightning was over. The Dredel Led had moved.

No, it had been moved.

As my hearing returned and I could almost see again, I looked up and saw Wallow. And heard him. He roared as he picked the robot up.

He cupped it in his hands, but it was obviously incredibly heavy. His knees buckled as he hoisted with his back. Then he pushed it over his head, triumphant.

There was no corner of the city that did not hear Wallow screaming. His face was the living embodiment of violence. It was so ferocious I nearly forgot the only thing keeping my leg from separating from my body was my mangled armor and skin.

Wallow stood fully erect, his arms stretched high above. You got the idea he could hold the Dredel Led there forever, like some benevolent god sacrificing his life for all of ours.

But that was not how Wallow worked.

He brought his arms down and slammed the Dredel Led into the city floor.

I flew four feet into the air and felt like I broke another few bones from the shockwave. The Dredel Led was literally wedged into the superstructure of the space station, only half of it visible.

Nothing. Nothing could survive that.

Except ZR3.

I sat there in disbelief, and considerable agony, as I saw it trying to extricate itself. It was beyond comprehension. What use were rockets, or even lightning, against such a construct? It had just been forced four feet into solid metal and was still going.

It whirled spastically until centrifugal force popped it out.

I looked over and saw Jyen slumped against the building. I didn’t see any injuries though.

ZR3 showed the first real signs of intelligence I’d seen when it turned to face Wallow. All the rest of us it could kill at leisure.

Wallow wasn’t going to go easily. He lifted his massive foot and stepped on the robot, knocking it down. I think.

It was hard to tell because he kept stomping and stomping and yelling and I was getting bounced around and my leg hurt and I wanted to be in my apartment or even the hospital. Anyplace but here.

Then Wallow yelped in pain.

I looked up to see him falling.

“Come on,” I managed to grunt, right before he fell on top of me.

I definitely passed out. For how long I didn’t know. When I came to I wondered if we were winning yet.

With difficulty, I managed to twist myself to a nearly upright position and saw a big pile of Wallow on the ground, no longer on top of me, but oddly splayed across the street. The robot was chasing soldiers.

The cars were in shreds and burning.

Jyen was gone.

But I heard Delovoa still talking his crazy lingo as he darted around the street in a panic.

I was running out of options.

I struggled to rise and the searing pain made me think hard about playing dead. I mean, it’s a robot, right? It’s not going to check my pulse. It doesn’t even have hands.

But I saw ZR3 literally run over a soldier, breaking him to pieces, and I knew I had to do something.

“Hank, I can’t see it,” came the voice of Jyonal, whose pleasantly high manner was obscenely out of place in this carnage.

Holding on to the wreckage of the vehicle behind me, I pulled myself up to one leg. My other leg was twisted at a weird angle and it sickened me to look at it.

Unless I was going to rust it up with my blood, I really only had one outside hope.

I took my plasma pistol out of my jacket and powered it on, which is more than I thought it would do after having been sat on by a giant.

ZR3 seemed to sense its new priority, or realized the Oberhoffman wasn’t quite dead yet, and it turned to me.

To keep my balance on my one good leg, I clung to the car as the robot ran towards me.

“Eat thuck! Ow!” I grabbed my mouth, realizing my jaw must be broken.

I could tell right away my Ontakian pistol didn’t fire normally.

Mostly because it exploded.

The vehicle kept me upright, but I smelled my burnt flesh. The Dredel Led was a step away. I thrust myself at it with my last bit of energy and grabbed hold with both arms.

“Gona. I ’ave it! Can you gee me?”

I heard some talking, as if from far away. Heard the word “inject” and then I woke up with a start. A group of medical technicians stood by my bed. But instead of fumbling with my intestines, they appeared to have matters under control. It was then I knew I wasn’t on Belvaille.

“Good evening, sir,” one of them said.

I looked around at the fantastic array of medical gear that was deployed. They were almost comical in their sophistication. Like a computer systems salesmen had taken out every model he had in hopes that at least one would be of interest. Their bleeping lights and sounds were like a little symphony.

“What ship am I on?” I asked.

“Medical Sloop J-B,” another answered.

I tried to look at my leg, but I couldn’t rise. I felt it there, but I knew that didn’t mean anything.

“How many pieces am I in?” I asked.

“You appear to be in perfect health, sir, though your physiology limits our ability to ascertain your precise disposition. However, your leg has reset itself somewhat irregularly at the knee.”

“What’s that mean?” I asked.

“You may have some discomfort or off-gait in your left leg.”

“A limp? How long?”

“It would be permanent,” the technician said solemnly.

“So I’m going to be even slower?”

“There is a possibility that we could re-break your leg and see if it heals properly this time. We would need to construct some machines for the task.”

What an option.

“There’s one more thing,” one of the technicians said. “We weren’t able to correct this.”

And he handed me a mirror.

“Really?” I asked, not looking at it. “Do you really think you should say that and give a patient a mirror?”