Battleship Raider by Paul Tomlinson (book recommendations website .txt) 📗

hot metal, and spent gunpowder. The combination reminded me of a family barbecue. The robot and I were completely buried in fallen jungle.

The robot raised its left arm and fired the machine gun towards the young pirate. Whether he was targeting Blondie directly I didn’t know, but at that point I wouldn’t have complained if he was.

“I need more ammunition,” the robot said. I rummaged in the duffel bag. As the empty clip dropped, I jabbed a new one into place. The stream of bullets he fired towards the Celestia had hardly been interrupted.

The pirate’s gun fell silent. I raised my head.

“Stay down,” the robot said, “we’re out of time.” He was looking towards the cargo lifter.

A flash of orange lit up the cockpit of the cargo lifter. The front of the ship swelled like a balloon and then split with enormous tearing and booming sounds. Released from containment, the ball of flame expanded outwards, filling the air with the smells of hot metal and burning plastics. A blast of burning air washed over us. The robot’s body lying beside me protected me from the worst of it but I felt hairs on my head curling as they were singed.

The front of the cargo lifter had been completely destroyed. It continued to burn fiercely, sending a thick plume of smoke up into the air. Around the ship, small bushes and pieces of dead wood burned or smouldered. It was like a scene from a war zone.

“What happened?” I asked, thinking a stray bullet must have triggered the explosion somehow.

“I blew up the cargo lifter,” the robot said.

He’d set the explosives on a timer – that’s why he kept saying we were running out of time.

The explosion had knocked Blondie onto his butt. He looked as stunned as I did. Shaking his head to clear it, he turned his attention back to his gun. It looked like he was trying to unjam it.

As the ringing in my ears faded, I became aware of the sounds around me. Voices crying out.

“I have prickles in my butt!”

“I can’t get down! And there’s a monkey humping my leg!”

“Where’s my nose? I can’t find my nose!”

I got to my feet, brushing away the bits of twig and leaf. Beside me, the robot did the same. We were both speckled with sticky tree sap.

“Why did you do that?” I asked, gesturing towards the burning cockpit.

“I did not want them to use the craft to pursue us.”

“If we’d flown away in it, that wouldn’t have been a problem.”

“Next time, you should let me know your preference sooner.”

“You think there’s going to be a next time?” I asked.

“We have to survive this time first,” he said.

Old Jack Sterling appeared at the top of the Celestia’s ramp. He had some sort of cannon on his shoulder. A rocket launcher. He surveyed the almost comical carnage in the clearing.

“What the scrack is going on here?”

He turned then and saw us. The robot and I stood exposed. The jungle that had previously hidden us had been completely obliterated. Old Jack pointed the rocket launcher towards us. The hole in the end of the barrel looked big enough to drive my Trekker into.

“You blew up my ship!” Jack bellowed, spittle flying from his lips. He was probably angry at himself for not taking out the optional damage waiver when he rented it.

The robot stepped forward, addressing Old Jack directly. “We should all seek cover,” the robot said. He turned his head towards the burning ship. “The second explosion will be bigger.”

“Second explosion?” I asked.

“Yes,” said the robot. “You remember all of the weapons we loaded into the hold?”

I nodded.

“Boom!” the robot said, miming an explosion with his hand.

“He’s bluffing,” Old Jack said, keeping the rocket launcher pointed at us.

“Do you think you can shoot down the barrel of that thing?” I whispered.

“Yes,” said the robot, equally quietly, “but my gun is empty.”

My pistol still had four bullets in the cylinder. I could have passed it to the robot – but he wouldn’t get his huge finger inside the trigger guard to fire it. It was up to me to make the shot. I raised my gun slowly, not wanting to draw Old Jack’s attention too soon.

“The chances of successfully making this shot are...”

I cut him off. “Never tell me the odds.”

I whipped up the gun and fired.

Old Jack became aware of what was happening as the bullet tore towards him. He was tossing the rocket launcher away as I heard my bullet enter its barrel. The rocket launcher exploded and Old Jack was thrown sideways by the force of the blast.

“Nice shot,” the robot said.

“Nice bluff,” I said, nodding towards the cargo lifter’s hold.

“It was not a bluff,” he said.

“How long have we got?” I asked.

“5–4–3–”

The robot positioned itself in front of me to protect me from the blast.

The force of the explosion blew me off my feet. I landed on my face in the dirt. I spat out bits of twig and dead leaf. “My preference is for a longer countdown,” I said. “For future reference.”

There was no response from the robot. It lay on its back, not moving. Had it been damaged by the blast? I crawled over and looked down into its eyes. They were dark and in one of them I could see what looked like a flashing cursor. I hoped this meant it was rebooting. How long did it take a forty-year-old robot to reboot? I didn’t know.

I looked over to where the cargo lifter had stood. There was blackened earth, a handful of small fires, and a few bits of twisted metal. Parts of it must have been lifted into the air and scattered because I could see several fires burning in the jungle around us.

I looked around the clearing. There was no sign of Old Jack. Perhaps he had gone back inside the Celestia. If he’d gone to call for a breakdown crew, his ship was beyond that now. The rocket launcher lay on the