“No more wasting time,” Armory snarled, turning to give Liam, Medic, Stealth, and Optics a glare. Though his orange-tinted faceplate gave nothing away, the tone of his voice spoke volumes. “We’re ready.”
Liam didn’t feel ready at all. The plan was sketchy at best. Still, he had no choice but to comply. Either that or bow out altogether, and he doubted such cowardice would go down well with the jocks.
Armory stamped away, heading down the slope toward the town, in full sight of any grubs who happened to look his way. None of them did, though. They seemed unconcerned. Probably because they know how stupid it would be to attack them, Liam thought miserably.
When Armory had closed the distance by half, he raised an arm and pointed toward the crowded streets. With a sudden whoosh sound, a missile launched from a tube within his thick forearm and shot through the air, straight at the main building where the king rested.
The missile hit low on a corner, taking out a great chunk of the structure in a thudding boom and a cloud of dust and rubble. A number of grubs flew outward and landed roughly, where they wriggled weakly. Others jumped aside as debris rained down on them. The missile’s aim had been true, the intention to clear the building rather than demolish it.
As one, the teeming crowd went into panic mode, turning about and screeching, flickers of light filling the sky as the grubs instinctively lashed out with their tongues. Whether they connected with anything or not was unclear, but with each flash, a grub vanished and reappeared exactly where it had been standing moments before.
They streamed away from the corner of the building as more chunks of rubble fell. Though the building was in no danger of falling, the missing fifteen-foot section gave the impression the structure was severely weakened. Would it be enough to force the king’s evacuation from his third-floor resting place? Getting him outside would certainly be easier than trying to invade the building from below.
The grubs seemed undecided. “Hit it again,” Hammer suggested, this time speaking to Armory through the built-in intercom system and causing Liam to wince. He turned down the volume a little.
Armory shot off another missile, this one aimed higher, taking out a sizeable portion of the upper floor and roof to one side. More debris and shattered glass tumbled down, and grubs pushed and shoved to get clear of the danger. Smoke and dust rolled outward, smothering those nearest to the main entrance doors.
Some kind of decision was made within the ranks. Their panic transformed into a singular purpose, and about a quarter of them peeled away from the rest and began streaming up the slope toward Armory. There had to be two hundred or more.
“Is the king moving yet?” Hammer demanded.
Optics said, “According to my readings, he hasn’t budged one iota from the middle of the third floor. The grubs are pressing in around him more.”
“So he’s hunkering down,” Hammer said. “He’s gonna brave the missiles rather than evacuate. That shows forward thinking rather than some knee-jerk reaction to danger. Armory, hit ’em with the gas.”
The heavily armed robot stood perfectly still at the top of the rise while masses of black, multi-limbed grubs scrambled toward him. They’d be on him in a matter of seconds, yet he seemed unperturbed, either very brave or very stupid. Liam kept telling himself there was nothing the grubs could do to him, because one lash of their tongues would kill him instantly, and each team member was a certified survivor. Whatever happened would happen, but Armory would live—and he knew it.
The armed robot leaned forward slightly, and from his back a small canister blasted upward with a pop. Its range was deliberately short; it arced and fell to the ground right in front of the approaching grubs. Spinning rapidly, it spouted blue smoke in all directions, and the slope quickly became an impenetrable gloomy fog filled with screeches.
When the blue smoke cleared, every grub on the hillside was laid out flat, wriggling feebly, occasional flashes erupting over their heads as tongues flicked out. Yet more grubs were surging forward to take their place, an endless army of them, apparently unfazed by the obvious danger they ran toward.
“Is that gas deadly?” Liam whispered, trembling even within his robotic body.
“No, it just knocks them out,” Medic assured him. “They’ll be groggy for twenty minutes or more.”
Armory tilted forward again, and another canister shot into the sky, this one farther reaching. Fresh blue smoke filled the air and rolled over the new wave of grubs, and once more they went down in a cacophony of screeches.
“More coming,” Stealth said rather unnecessarily.
This time they fanned out in a huge semicircle, and for the first time Armory looked uncertain as he turned this way and that. “Only got one more gas bomb,” he said through the intercom. “I’m going to have to shoot ’em instead.”
“Don’t start killing,” Medic warned. “We’re here to execute the king, not commit genocide.”
“Well,” Armory said, backing away and spinning from side to side, “I’m open to suggestions.”
He fired off his final canister, this time to his left, and that entire side of the approaching army vanished from view. But the rest hurried forward, eager now, as if sensing their target had just used up his ammo.
Armory opened fire on them. He had gun barrels mounted on his shoulders, and they jerked back and forth amid flashes and puffs of smoke as bullets sprayed across the wall of grubs. Liam sucked in a breath as a dozen of the creatures pitched forward, causing those behind to falter and trip.
“Stop!” Medic yelled. “We agreed no killing!”
The gunfire paused, but Armory remained in position as if adjusting his aim.
“We don’t have a choice,” Hammer said sternly. “They didn’t evacuate, and they’re not scuttling away either. They’re retaliating in force. We have to defend ourselves.”
“Yeah, you just keep telling yourself that,” Medic scoffed. “Hope it makes you feel better.” More gunfire erupted. “Quit!” she screamed as more grubs fell.
Armory had backed up a few more paces, and the grubs had slowed their pace at the sight of their comrades dropping to the ground. Please stop, Liam thought, wishing they’d just surrender already.
Hammer pounded his fists together. “Okay, so Plan A’s a wash. The king’s not leaving the building, and his drones aren’t running like we thought they would. The building’s too well protected to gain access—unless we slaughter the lot of them, and the idea of that leaves a bad taste even in my mouth.”
He glanced toward Medic as he said this, and she tilted her head to the side. “Aw, so you have a soft side? Good to know.”
By now, Armory had backed farther up the slope to the line of trees as his slow-moving attackers sidled after him, knowing they were in grave danger of being mown down but evidently brave enough to defend their master whatever the odds. “Guys?” the armed robot murmured. “Now would be a good time. Seriously, I could just shoot my way through them. The Ark Lord expects me to. That’s why I’m here.”
“He also picked a medic for the team,” Liam pointed out. “She can’t be here for us robots, which must mean . . . well . . .”
Hammer burst out laughing. “Must mean what? You think Medic’s here to put band-aids on innocent grubs caught in the crossfire? You’re in a dream world, kid. That’s not why she’s here at all. Now come on, let’s regroup and come up with another plan.”
They retreated and waited for Armory to join them. The more he backed up, the less interested the grubs became, and eventually they turned and shuffled away, throwing glares in his direction as they headed back to the hotel.
Not long after, the gas victims stirred from unconsciousness. They, too, rejoined their ranks in town. “There goes our advantage,” Armory said in disgust.
“What advantage?” Stealth retorted. “We hardly made a dent. There’s no point knocking out a few on the fringes if the core is still strong. We need a distraction.”
They spent a while discu
ssing this, probably more than they needed to. The sheer number of grubs was disheartening. Attacking them directly seemed pointless, especially as nobody except Armory agreed with the idea of outright murder—which meant that, with his three gas bombs used up, the rest of his weapons now seemed useless.
“Did the Ark Lord just expect us to shoot our way through?” Medic asked, sounding indignant. “If so, he hired the wrong people.”
“He should have hired me alone,” Armory muttered. “I could have been inside the building by now, and there’d be nobody whining and nagging about ethics.”
“So maybe the Ark Lord wanted the rest of us to rein you in,” Medic said. “Maybe he expects a little more ingenuity than cold-blooded genocide.”
They argued some more, and time ticked by. Plan B developed into a use of lights to distract the grubs while one of the teammates snuck in. The idea seemed so lame that once more the Ark Lord’s wisdom was called into question. Why choose this particular set of robots? Presumably he had an arsenal at his disposal, so why not pick six useful types? To be fair, his Flyer and Digger had let him down early on, but why not replace them? Both would have been far more helpful in this situation. Maybe Medic was right in that the Ark Lord was keen to test their teamwork. He seemed to enjoy testing people. Last weekend’s wonderstorm, for instance . . .
Liam said very little the whole time, aware that it had to be Sunday afternoon by now. What were Ant and Madison doing?
“So we sneak in,” Hammer said. He poked Stealth on the shoulder. “Or to be more precise, you sneak in while we draw their attention.”
“Sneak in,” Stealth muttered, clearly awed at the vast number of eyes she’d have to slip past without being spotted. It seemed impossible. “While you flash lights around? It’s not dark enough. They won’t see the lights in broad daylight, and darkness would be better for sneaking about. We should wait until nightfall.”
“Nightfall is a long way off,” Armory said. “This planet has long days and short nights.”
“So we take a nap,” Optics said, already settling back. “Works for me.”
Hammer wasn’t happy about the delay. He moaned about missing out on his evening’s date, saying this was tantamount to standing her up, but nobody else cared about that. The delay was annoying for sure, but since Plan B revolved around a light-show distraction and a stealth attack, darkness made the most sense.
Chapter 5
Liam blinked awake, and a stream of random readouts filled his orange screen, one saying that hours had passed, another suggesting that the temperature had dropped by fifty degrees. “Wake up, girls and boys,” Hammer was saying. “All’s quiet, and it won’t get much darker than this.”
Since none of them had been willing—or allowed—to talk about their personal lives to pass the time, they’d all slipped into a form of electronic hibernation, a robot trance. Medic had shown Liam how to locate the “sleep” command, and he’d instantly found himself in a restful state with only his own databanks to keep him company. The moment he woke, he realized he should have used the time more productively. He could have tried to find out more about Medic and her home planet. He could have delved into his instruction manual to see what his capabilities were. He could have devised a way to defeat the Ark Lord and avoid cutting off a poor creature’s head.
Instead, he’d pretty much snoozed the day away.
“What time is it?” he muttered.
Nobody answered. He looked inward and found an array of ticking clocks for numerous locations. Only Earth’s was meaningful, and he had to assume it was set to his local timezone where the Ark Lord had kidnapped him. Was it really past four in the morning there? He blinked in amazement. Apparently robots knew how to take naps! If he were home, he’d be getting up for Monday school in just a few hours. But here he was on some distant planet where the long daytime had only just darkened to night.
“Now let’s get busy with Plan B,” Hammer commanded. “Time to distract some grubs. Ready, Stealth?”
They all stood and headed toward the town. The grubs were hard to see in the blackness of night, rather like a giant shadow pooled around the hotel. Apart from the stars, not a single light shone anywhere. Liam decided a light show might indeed work as a distraction while Stealth found a way into the building. She slunk away, out of sight within seconds.
Optics’ domed head opened up on top to reveal a pair of stubby barrels that rose and swiveled. They might have been the barrels of a powerful weapon, except this was Optics, not Armory, and their purpose was altogether different. When they lit up, Liam realized they were intensely bright searchlights.
Optics trained the beams on the shadowed center of town. In the stark circles of light, grubs flinched and put up several pairs of small hands to shield their eyes. He moved the beams about, separating them into distinct, independently operated searchlights so he could illuminate two different masses of grubs at once. If nothing else, the glare would mess up their night vision and might prevent them from spotting Stealth as she tried to find a way in.
Not that she could get close while the throng completely surrounded the building. Simply being distracted wasn’t enough. A sizeable portion needed to be drawn away.
Medic activated a blue, flashing bulb that rose from her back on a thin pole. She’s a walking ambulance, Liam thought as she dashed down the slope. Thanks to Optics’ searchlights, it was plain to see that many of the grubs found her fascinating. They turned away from the building and surged outward, shielding their eyes against the beams and tracking Medic as she darted about.
“It’s working,” Liam said, amazed.
“Not well enough,” Armory countered. “They’re coming from all directions at random, splitting off from the crowd—but there’s still too many left behind for Stealth to sneak past. She needs a gap.”
“We need more flashing lights,” Hammer agreed, driving his fists together as if the sparks they generated would help with the situation. “Think, Runner.”
“You think,” Liam retorted. “Can’t you do anything except look tough?”
Hammer turned to him with a snarl. “Watch and learn, kid.”
Abruptly, one of his fists exploded from his wrist and shot off over the heads of the grubs in a whooshing, fiery trail of fire. Grubs everywhere ducked, and the ripple of apprehension reached almost to the building, especially as the flying metal fist turned in a slow arc and began heading back toward Hammer.
“I hope you know how to catch that,” Liam said, reluctantly impressed.
“Piece of cake.”
The fist slowed as it approached, and it looked for a second as though it were going to fly on by—and it did, but Hammer swept around and rammed his forearm into the back of it. The rocket cut off, and he ended his three-sixty-degree swing in a plume of smoke.
He fired again without pause, this time sending both fists flying, angled outward so their trajectory would take them around either side of the building. Every grub in sight looked up to watch, some hurrying to follow.
“Come on, leave a gap somewhere,” Armory muttered.
With Optics continually flashing his searchlights in every direction, Medic running around with her emergency light rotating, and Hammer firing off his robot fists, Liam couldn’t help feeling a little useless. His teammates were doing something. What could he do except run really fast?
Wishing he’d used his nap time more effectively, he delved into the built-in computer inside his head, feeling his way around and trying to figure out what he was capable of. Running really fast: check. He had a top speed of thirty-five miles per hour, which wasn’t bad for a bipedal creature but not exactly cheetah-like. What was his actual purpose? Surely not just to run . . .
Oh. He was a courier. His type was normally found racing around the busy city streets carrying urgent parcels in and out of buildings. Well, that figured, though a robot with wings would have been more useful. Or rocket boosters in his boots. He had none of that because cities were a li
ttle too crowded for such dangerous forms of propulsion. Still, he did have a wormhole generator, which was allowed for intercity and highly expensive interplanetary courier services.
He sucked in a breath.
A wormhole generator?
Dancing up and down, he yelled, “I can create wormholes!”
“We know!” Medic yelled back. She didn’t need to shout with their intercom system, but she seemed a little panicked as grubs surged toward her on the hill, almost cutting off her exit route. She nipped away just in time, her blue light still flashing.
“But—but why didn’t anyone tell me?” Liam demanded. “I could have just created a wormhole to the third floor of that building and avoided all these grubs!”
“Go ahead and try,” Hammer scoffed. His fists returned at the same time, and he found he could only grab one while the other shot past and circled back around for another pass. A series of smoky contrails drifted across the streets.
Liam pulled up the instructions on the screen in front of his eyeballs. “Okay, enter the coordinates and activate. Sounds simple enough. How do I find the coordinates of the building?” He searched and searched, growing frustrated. There were plenty of coordinates in his databanks, all labeled, but none appeared to be for the nearby hotel. “Don’t just tell me to enter the coordinates!” he shouted at the stubborn computer in his head. “Show me how to figure them out!”
“Ah, now he’s getting it,” Hammer said with a shake of his head.
Medic came racing up, followed by a stream of waddling grubs. “The easiest way for most travelers is to lock onto something electronic—some working piece of tech like a passing spaceship or a robot in the middle of a desert.”
Liam absently clutched at his chest, remembering how the Ark Lord had locked onto his translator—highly advanced tech that must have stood out like a beacon at his home on Earth. Unfortunately, the grubs had no such electronics to lock onto.
Then again, the very first wormhole he’d ever seen had opened in a graveyard. No working tech there!
Nanobot Warriors Page 3
