Rage Against the Machines

by Mike Wild

  Instead there he was, slumped on the floor and bouncing his baseball again. On and off the wall. On and off the wall. He continued to do so, thinking vaguely for some reason of motorbikes and barbed wire.

  Mongrol's fellow solitary cellmate, Mek-Quake, had been awkward and remained in killdozer mode, and so had been too big to fit in a cell. This threw the Martians somewhat and in the end they had simply left him outside Mongrol's barred window with strict instructions not to talk to anyone.

  Ba-dum, ba-dum, went the baseball.

  "Gaia, this smell," Mongrol said. "I swear, Mek-Quake, if we don't get out of here soon I'm going to turn into a marshroom."

  "-"

  "Mek-Quake?"

  "-"

  "Oh biol! You can speak, you know!"

  "The Germans said..."

  "What are they going to do, Mek-Quake, gag you with a bed sheet? And they're not Germans, they're Martians."

  "Really?"

  "-"

  "Hur!" Mek-Quake laughed suddenly. "If Mek-Quake turn into marshroom at least Mek-Quake will be-"

  "Don't say it..." Mongrol cautioned.

  "What?"

  "You know..."

  "Mek-Quake not know."

  "You do."

  "Don't."

  "Do."

  "Mek-Quake not-"

  "Fungi, frag it. You were going to say 'a fungi to be with'."

  "Wasn't."

  "Were."

  "Was not!"

  "You had to be. It's the obvious joke, you bootleg! I'd have said it!"

  "Joke?"

  "Yeah, joke! You know - fungi? Fun guy?"

  "Mek-Quake not understand."

  "FUNGI! A FUNGI TO BE WITH! Biol, now I've said it."

  "What that have to do with marshrooms?"

  "FRAG! Okay, okay, what were you going to say?"

  "That Mek-Quake would have been BIGGEST marshroom in Coldmitz. Hur."

  "That's it?"

  "You not think funny?"

  "No. It's you that thinks funny, Mek-Quake. Sometimes I just don't know why I hang around with you."

  "Do."

  "Don't."

  "Do..."

  The ongoing exchange was interrupted by a deep rumbling sound coming from outside the solitary confinement block. Mek-Quake swore it wasn't him.

  The block began to shake.

  "COO-EEE! MEK-QUAKE!" boomed a voice from somewhere.

  Mongrol leapt up and looked out through the bars. The courtyard was in chaos, prisoners and guards running left, right and centre. A marshroom klaxon was sounding an alarm.

  "What's going on?"

  "Mek-Quake not know." There was another rumble and the courtyard shook again.

  "YOO-HOO! MEK-QUAKE!" the voice boomed again. It was coming from outside the castle gates.

  "But Mek-Quake think that maybe there is something at the castle gates."

  "The castle gates?" Mongrol said. "Who the frag would be way out here?"

  "MEK-QUAKE... ARE YOU IN THERE...?" the voice boomed sternly.

  "Mek-Quake not know. But maybe is something to do with Mek-Quake's transponder."

  "Your transponder?"

  "Mek-Quake would have said earlier but Mek-Quake not be let to speak. When we outside of castle, Mek-Quake dump his transponder. Mek-Quake hope someone answer it."

  "You left a rescue beacon?" Mongrol said in amazement.

  "Uh-huh."

  Mongrol stared at his friend. "Well, I'll be a mekkey's uncle."

  "MEK-QUAKE, MY SWEET! WHERE AAAARRRREEE YOU?"

  "Who the frag is that?" Mongrol asked.

  "Mek-Quake still not know. Sounds frightening."

  "Maybe you should answer it?" Mongrol suggested.

  "Mek-Quake not sure he want to."

  "Can't do any harm."

  "Frightening voice not asking for Mongrol," Mek-Quake said. But he answered anyway. "Duh. This Mek-Quake?"

  Beyond the castle walls there was a very deep intake of breath. "OHHHHHHH, MEK-QUAKE!" the voice boomed again. "DON'T GO AWAY, MY ANGEL. I'LL BE RIGHT THERE."

  The castle gate shuddered as something rammed itself up against hard it.

  "ANGEL?" Mek-Quake asked Mongrol, a little worried.

  "You're sure you've no idea who this is?" Mongrol said, a little perplexed.

  Mek-Quake shook his head. In the courtyard, the guards were continuing to panic. A number of them raced up onto the castle walls and began to fire their machine-guns at whatever it was that was out there. There was a loud hiss of shock.

  "HOW RUDE!" the voice boomed. "YOU ARE VERY NAUGHTY MARTIANS!"

  And the speaker began to return fire.

  Return fire, Mongrol thought. In a suppression field? He checked his weapons. They were back on line. The barrage from outside had obviously done more than disrupt the castle alone; it had disrupted the suppression fields as well.

  "This might be a good time to get me out of here, Mek-Quake," Mongrol instructed.

  "Mek-Quake thought Mongrol never ask," the killdozer said. He produced his demolition ball and casually swung it to smash in the door.

  Mongrol stepped out.

  "We escape now?" Mek-Quake asked impatiently.

  Mongrol looked at the chaos ensuing as a result of the arrival of Mek-Quake's unknown friend. Apart from anything else, the guards on the battlements were being blown to bits.

  It was up to them to take care of the rest.

  "We escape now," Mongrol said.

  NINETEEN

  Court was in session. Deadlock found himself standing in the dock, or rather one of two docks, because opposite him Senator Diaz occupied an almost identical wooden booth. the senator's booth was made with lower walls to facilitate him sitting in a mobile life-support unit.

  Deadlock couldn't help but chuckle. It was the first time that the ABC Warrior had laid eyes on the senator since Joe had made his first visit to Damnation Island some days before. Deadlock had known that Joe had "accidentally dropped" Diaz during that visit, but he'd had no idea that he had done it so well. Good one, Pineapples, he thought. I hope he soiled his pants.

  It was not a time for such indulgence, however. The ABC Warrior sensed that it was a time of reckoning.

  He looked about him and saw nothing but absolute impenetrable blackness. Apart from the two docks, which were illuminated by invisible spotlights above, he and Diaz appeared to be the only occupants of some featureless limbo. He saw that Diaz was peering over the edge of his dock, holding on tight, as if afraid that the dock itself would disappear, plunging him into the darkness forever.

  Deadlock, on the other hand, was more than comfortable with darkness. He wanted to know what lurked within it. He prepared to step from the dock to find out just where the frag they were. As he did so, other constructions appeared. A set of doors closed, apparently leading to nowhere. Two tiered rows of wooden seats lay out, as they would be for a jury. And finally, there was a raised wooden platform that could be nothing other than a judge's bench.

  A hammer sounded.

  Figures began to coalesce in the jury seats, indistinct at first but then gaining form. There were nine of them and Deadlock was somewhat disquieted to see that, apart from the foreman, each member of the jury was a Marzah - hardly a fair representation of the Martian community, he thought. But then, he supposed, most humans he had come across recently would have had difficulty attending on account of being dead.

  Deadlock studied the foreman. As were all the members of the jury, he was dressed in a dark cloak and cowl and sat motionless, staring ahead with no acknowledgement of himself or Diaz at all. Deadlock found this disquieting, too - for the foreman was the Arch-Marzah, the Martian whose life he had saved in Tripolis not so very long ago.

  The hammer sounded again and the doors into the court slammed open. Medusa strode in. Senator Diaz gasped, dribble running instantly down his chin. Deadlock could have sworn that he twitched with excitement.

  "Careful, Diaz," he chided. "We don't want you to have anoth
er 'accident'."

  Medusa was still in her Princess Dejah form, and this was the first time that the senator had seen it. She wore the braided white wig of a high court judge and the flowing black robe that traditionally accompanied it. Underneath, however, she still wore her golden bikini.

  With her judge's robe flapping open as it did, Deadlock had to admit that it was quite a sight.

  Medusa seated herself behind the judge's bench and arranged her robes to dramatic effect. As she did so a number of troughs that had been previously unseen around the edges of the courtroom suddenly erupted with red flame. From beneath Medusa's braided wig, a number of snake's heads peeped out.

  Typical, Deadlock thought. She does like things to be dramatic, this girl.

  Medusa picked up her hammer and brought it down. Diaz swallowed.

  "You have been summoned here," she said without any preamble, "because each of you offers your services as champion of Mars." Medusa looked around the room. "For the court record, Mars is, of course, me." She giggled.

  "The services that you offer do, in both cases, have merit to me. What I wish to hear now are arguments for and against on either side."

  The arguments raged:

  "Medusa, my lady, you have slept for a hundred million years and, by hands other than your own, have experienced a very rude awakening."

  The snakes sniggered. Medusa slapped them.

  "Oh, so what," Diaz challenged, "you're suggesting that she's just a little groggy? Nothing that a mug of biol and a couple of fags can't sort out? Maybe Wake Up With Wotan on the radio?" Diaz sneered and leaned forward. "Or perhaps she should brush her teeth and leap in the meteor shower?"

  Deadlock turned slowly. "I am surprised, Senator," he intoned deeply. "I had no idea you were in possession of such acerbic wit."

  "How long would you be hunting them, like rats? Weeks, months, years? Your forces may be considerable, my dear lady, but so is the size of your domain. I offer you a solution that will rid you of them all right now."

  Medusa's eyebrows rose and she leaned forward in the judge's chair, her arms resting almost conspiratorially on the bench. "Right now?"

  "Yes," Diaz said, slapping the front of the witness box. Deadlock stared at him. Was it possible that he meant what he said? He sensed that it was. "Right now. Right now."

  "Diaz, do not do this. It would be genocide."

  Diaz snapped his head toward Deadlock. "Do you think I care? Do you honestly think I care?" He gestured with his one functioning hand at his ruined body, slumped as it was in its life-support chair. "You can see what your friend Mister Pineapples did to me," he went on.

  "You do look a little like that bloke from Doctor Who... Dave Ross."

  "That's Davros, you metallic moron."

  "I know that," Deadlock responded truthfully. He shook an imaginary bag. "Jelly baby?"

  Diaz snorted and jabbed a finger at Deadlock. "I see what you're doing," he shouted. "Trying to distract her, is what." He turned to Medusa. "But surely my lady will not countenance such frivolity when I am attempting to save her world?"

  "Dave Ross..." Medusa said to herself. "Ha! That's quite good."

  "I have saved many and diverse worlds, my lady," the ABC Warrior interjected. "With permission, I can do the same with yours. But please, I need time. The ABC Warriors need time."

  "But please, the ABC Warriors need time!" Diaz mimicked in a childish voice.

  "I take back what I said earlier," Deadlock said to the senator. "You are not in possession of an acerbic wit. You are simply an acerbic git."

  Diaz harrumphed and stared straight at Deadlock. "You think me bitter? Then I return you to my previous point." Once again, he gestured at his ruined form, this time emphasising it for Medusa.

  "Do you know how I came to be this way, my lady?" He pointed at Deadlock, and his voice dripped venom. "One of his fellow machines did this to me. And do you know why? Because he was jealous of my marriage to a human female. A human female."

  Deadlock frowned, wondering where Diaz was going with this.

  "He wanted her for himself, my lady," Diaz continued. "He wanted to break apart the consensual bonding of two living, breathing beings. To ruin our happiness and force himself upon her in an unnatural union of metal and flesh."

  "That is not the way that it was, Diaz, and you know it," Deadlock corrected. "Medusa, Joe and Juanita-"

  "JUST AS THIS ROBOT," Diaz shouted suddenly, "WANTS TO FORCE HUMANKIND UPON YOURSELF! JUST AS THIS ROBOT WANTS TO TAINT YOUR WORLD WITH ALL THINGS TERRAN... TO CREATE THE MOST UNNATURAL UNION OF THEM ALL!"

  The jury stared silently at Deadlock.

  "What does the robot have to say to that?" Diaz asked with consummate timing.

  The ABC Warrior remained silent for a moment, weighing his response carefully. Diaz's outburst had been an obvious attempt to turn him into an enemy of the court. To negate the neutrality of his advocacy and to tip the scales of the argument heavily in Diaz's favour. Even Deadlock had to admit that he had done it well. Flawed as he was in so many ways, Diaz was evidently very, very good at throwing out blinders.

  "My Lady," Deadlock said at last. "What the senator proposes to you as a solution - the elimination of every extra-martial on your world - is no solution. It is the Machiavellian manipulation of a madman intent on gaining power regardless of the means by which he achieves it. Allow him this course of action and you will forge an enemy who I guarantee will one way or another poison your world."

  "It is already poisoned," Medusa said. The snakes on her head hissed along with her, writhing madly as if charged with an electric current. In their excitement, they accidentally dislodged her wig. They froze, looked at each other, and then began to writhe even more in panic. Irritably, Medusa grabbed one snake by its head and shouted: "Enough, for frag's sake." She bent down to retrieve her headpiece.

  "Yes," Deadlock said quickly, before she could become distracted again. "I agree. But the poison need not be allowed to be fatal."

  "...'eed 'ot be fata'...?" Medusa queried, scrambling about on the floor behind the bench. She popped back up with the wig perched askew on the snakes, which were hanging sheepishly down the side of her head.

  "No," Deadlock said shaking his head in emphasis. "No."

  He paused. "My lady, while you have been slumbering, the galaxy has become a rich and multi-cultured place, one that is teeming with life and civilisation of every possible kind and form. Infinite diversity in infinite combinations."

  "Oh, do me a favour," Diaz said scornfully.

  "It is a concept with which the senator is obviously patently unfamiliar," Deadlock went on, "but it is also nevertheless true." He cleared his throat. "I cite myself as one such example of that diversity and you Medusa as another. We have been known to get along, have we not? Is it not possible that other examples of that diversity - the humans - can also get along?"

  "Deadlock dares to compare himself - a robot - with the great Medusa?" Diaz interjected. "Perhaps I should petition her to find you in contempt of court. Wouldn't you agree, my lady?"

  "Surely Medusa is aware that it was Senator Diaz who despatched the behemeks to Tripolis to assassinate her Arch-Marzah? Is that the action of an ally?"

  Diaz sniffed. "The behemeks were despatched to form a bodyguard for the Arch-Marzah," he said coolly. "A body-guard needed because I had received intelligence that an ABC Warrior was on his way to assassinate him. This ABC Warrior, my lady," he qualified, pointing at Deadlock.

  "You are a liar, Diaz," Deadlock said. "And a stupid one at that." He pointed at the jury. "The Arch-Marzah himself can vouch for my good intent."

  "Oh, I doubt that," Medusa whispered.

  "Don't feel too bad about yourself, robot boy," Diaz said condescendingly. "This is politics."

  "And this," growled Deadlock, moving his arm to his side threateningly, "is a very big sword."

  "Enough!" Medusa shouted suddenly.

  "My apologies, Medusa," Deadlock said. "I should not hav
e-"

  "I mean enough talk," Medusa said. "I tire of it now."

  "Ma'am?" said Diaz.

  "Medusa?" said Deadlock.

  "I said enough," Medusa repeated. "It is time for the verdict."

  "The verdict?" Diaz said. "But Ma'am, I have barely had time to commence my opening arguments..."

  "Doesn't matter," Medusa said.

  Diaz gestured around the courtroom. "But then - why all this?"

  "Oh thiiss," Medusa responded, glancing where he had gestured. She had almost forgotten that the courtroom was there at all. She leaned forward conspiratorially and winked at Senator Diaz. "Tell you the truth, I just fancied dressing in the outfit."

  Deadlock smiled.

  Medusa turned to the jury of marzahs. "Ladies and gentlemen and mits of the jury," she said. "Have you reached a verdict?"

  "They haven't even been out to deliberate yet!" Diaz protested.

  "They don't need to deliberate," Medusa said. "They'll say what I want them to say."

  "Oh."

  "Quite. Now as I was saying - ladies and gentlemen and mits of the jury, have you reached my verdict?"

  One after the other, the marzahs nodded.

  "And on the question of who should be the new champion of Mars, how speak you?"

  "Deadlock," said the first.

  "Senator Diaz," said the second.

  There was a pause.

  Could have been worse, thought Deadlock.

  "Senator Diaz," said the third.

  Oh-oh.

  "Deadlock," said the fourth.

  Phew. Deadlock was actually quite surprised that this was coming out so balanced.

  "Senator Diaz," said the fifth.

  Quite balanced.

  "And Mister foremit of the jury," Medusa asked. "How speak you?"

  There was silence. Both Deadlock and Diaz stared at the Arch-Marzah, wrapped there in his obscuring dark robes. The verdict all hangs on him, Deadlock thought, and he was reasonably certain which way it would go. After all, the Arch-Marzah was the only one who knew the truth about what had really happened at Tripolis Cathedral.

  It seemed so clean-cut. Deadlock had saved him. Diaz had attacked him.

  "Mister foremit, we're waiting..." Medusa said.

  The Marzah in the seat next to the Arch-Marzah gave his leader a gentle nudge. The Arch-Marzah slid from his seat to the floor. As he did, his cowl fell away from his face and stared up at the courtroom ceiling with sightless eyes.