Robot Warriors

by Zac Harrison

  “I think we’ll get a chance to fix them,” Kaal said, but he didn’t sound too sure. “So long as they aren’t too badly damaged, they should be fine.”

  John looked back at the stage, just in time to see the Examiner putting Super-Rover into a wire cradle on the third machine, the one with the long rail and the wall at the end. It stood back, and its light changed from red to green.

  Super-Rover whizzed down the rail in a blur of speed and slammed head-first into the wall.

  This time he did fall over, with a sound exactly like John’s father putting the cans out for recycling. Crash.

  Oh well, John thought miserably. I tried.

  But then, to John’s total surprise, Super-Rover struggled to his feet again. Bent and crippled, he started to waddle towards the front of the stage, little blue sparks pinging off him as he went.

  As the audience broke into spontaneous cheering, the Examiners rushed after him to fetch him back.

  “He made it!” Emmie said happily. “He survived!”

  “Looks like his steering controls broke, though,” Kaal said. “He was going the wrong way there. That test was rough.”

  But John was smiling. “They didn’t break,” he said. “I gave him a homing system! He knew he needed to be fixed, so he was trying to go home.”

  “Home?” Emmie asked, confused.

  “To the technology lab, where he was made. It’s the closest thing to a home he’s got.”

  John could relax a little now that Super-Rover had survived his ordeal. There was no way to know whether he’d made it to the next round, but at least he hadn’t been squashed flat or smashed to bits.

  John sat and watched the rest of the robots being crushed, dented, flattened, pummelled, and slammed about. Laserdon was the last to go, Kaal covering his face with his enormous hands throughout his robot’s entire ordeal, until at last Master Tronic took to the podium again. He had a ThinScreen in one metal hand, covered with information.

  A hush fell over the whole auditorium. Spellbound, the audience waited for the results. But Master Tronic said nothing. Suddenly, just as the students were beginning to murmur, all the lights went dim. Master Tronic turned his head to look up, his red eyes glowing into the blackness.

  There followed a sound of churning machinery. From the darkness high overhead, a great gleaming claw descended from a bundle of metal cables. It whirred back and forth above the students, as if a titanic robotic beast lurking above were searching for something.

  “It’s time to pick out the winners!” rumbled Master Tronic.

  Each student who passed the last round looked up, including John. He could see everyone’s hopeful faces, willing the crane to come down and grab them.

  This must be what the teddy bears in those claw games on the pier feel like, John thought. Waiting for the claw to move, hoping it’ll stop above you. I was always rubbish at those. Dad said they were a waste of money...

  The claw opened wide, swung – and dropped.

  It came back up holding Mordant Talliver.

  “Now there’s a surprise,” Kaal said bitterly.

  Mordant beamed triumphantly as the crane hoisted him above the seats. He swung back and forth in the claw, waving at the students beneath. There were more than a few groans, and someone sarcastically muttered, “Be a shame if it dropped him, wouldn’t it...?”

  The claw set Mordant down on the stage next to IFI. Mordant strutted back and forth, making let’s-hear-you gestures to the audience. No one clapped.

  Master Tronic coughed to get Mordant’s attention and shook one of his rubbery black tentacles. “Well done,” he said stiffly.

  The claw was on the move again. It scanned back and forth, froze, and fell – to close around the troll-like body of Quondass val Haq. Wheezing under the strain, it hauled him up and set him down beside Rocky, his track-mounted drill robot.

  “I knew he’d make it through,” whispered Kaal. “When Rocky went in, I thought the vice would be the one to break! Do you think he might be the Robot Warriors’ champion two years running?”

  John sat still, almost too excited to breathe, as the claw swung over his head. But then it moved on, plucking a different student out of the crowd. She had stark white skin and six dark eyes clustered on her face, and she squealed as it lifted her up.

  That’s Raytanna, John thought. Always studying, she is. No wonder she built something so complicated. Her robot, Charly, was like a shimmering jellyfish. It hovered in the air, metallic tentacles dangling below, a transparent casing above. You could see through to the robot’s electronic innards.

  Every student in the room was watching the crane. John couldn’t think of a more dramatic way of bringing the winners onto the stage. No matter the student’s size and shape, the robotic claw could adapt.

  The claw was over at the other side of the hall when it picked up winner number four, a tiny alien less than half John’s height, who Emmie said was called Gredilah. “She’s a third-year. I heard she was a semi-finalist last year, as well.”

  “She looks like a squirrel,” John said to himself. It was a wonder she could see out of all that spiky fur. But as she swung over his head on her way to the stage, John saw that her fur wasn’t fur at all; it was a coat of rubbery spikes.

  He quickly looked up at Gredilah’s robot, Fop. It looked suspiciously like a life-size toy robot from Earth – an old-fashioned one, with colander eyes and doors in its chest that opened to reveal transparent cannons. It made John wonder if Gredilah’s planet had been scanning Earth’s television signals.

  There was a clang above John. He looked up to see the claw, wide open.

  It fell – and the grabbers fastened around... Kaal!

  John and Emmie whooped and cheered as he went sailing across the room in the grip of the claw. Kaal looked embarrassed and a bit awkward, like a noble flying creature trapped in a cage. The crane set him down behind Laserdon.

  Just as John was beginning to worry about him, Kaal gave the audience a timid grin.

  “Doesn’t like the limelight, does he?” Emmie whispered, nudging John in the ribs.

  “Five places have been taken!” announced Master Tronic. “Only one remains!”

  John hardly dared to hope. It couldn’t be him, he knew it. Super-Rover looked lost up there on his own, between a frog-hopping droid and a rubber-bodied pyramid. Both those robots had done pretty well in the last round. If only he’d put a few more strengthening struts across Super-Rover’s body, but there just hadn’t been time.

  But the next thing John knew, the auditorium was swaying around him and his ears filled with the sound of cheering. The crane had snatched him up and was rushing him over to the stage to join the others!

  The swaying made him feel a bit sick, but he didn’t care. He stuck his arms out through the gaps and waved them madly. “I did it! I DID IT! Woooohoooo!”

  “Congratulations to all of you!” Master Tronic boomed above the wild applause and cheers. “Tomorrow morning, the six remaining robots will enter... the SEMI-FINAL!”

  Chapter 8

  By the time the next day rolled around, John still felt dizzy from his success. He had to admit, he was feeling like a king.

  But what he hadn’t banked on was what kings throughout the ages have had to put up with – a never-ending crowd of hangers-on, desperate for his attention, clamouring for his favour. His dorm was packed with them! This sudden shift from school outsider to overnight wonder boy was rather difficult to cope with.

  “What prize are you going to ask for?” a mushroom-covered Myconian asked eagerly, puffing smelly spores into John’s face.

  “Right now I’d settle for some breakfast,” John muttered.

  The Myconian held out a bag. “I’ve got plenty of spicy boreworm clusters! Help yourself!”

  “I... er... can’t eat those,” John said. “Allerg
ies. It’s an Earth thing. Sorry.”

  “Bottle of fizzy Snurtle sweat?” asked Kritta, the insect-like girl with huge multifaceted eyes.

  “Thanks, but no thanks. If I could just get through...”

  Any other day, John would have rolled out of bed and blearily groped his way to the dorm table. Today, he couldn’t even see the table. It was hidden behind a bright holographic placard, which was being waved by a small, furry pink student.

  The Holo-Placards had sprung up all over Hyperspace High; handheld, programmable electronic rods that projected 3-D signs into the air above.

  “Excuse me,” John said, squeezing past.

  The pink student squeaked excitedly like a rubber dog toy. “He touched me! He touched me!”

  The placard kept changing to a new display. Right now it read WE LOVE URTH. John thought about telling him (or her?) that it wasn’t spelled like that, but shook his head. The last thing he wanted to do was to upset them.

  But it wasn’t the only placard in the room. A forest of them was being brandished at his end of the dorm, with similar slogans: RILEY FOR EVER, SUPER-ROVER FOR THE WIN, and HUMANZ ROCK.

  Across the room, Kaal struggled through a crowd of supporters of his own. Their placards read: KAAL SOARS ABOVE YOU, DERRILIAN POWER, and LOOK INTO THE EYE OF LASERDON. At the sides of the table, the two groups of supporters glared at one another where they met.

  It’s worse than City versus United, John thought. Kaal’s my best friend. I hope this won’t come between us. What was it Emmie said yesterday? We can’t both win.

  “Kaaaaal!” yelled a burly, muscular student with a huge mouth above his single eye. He punched the air, and with his other hand waved a placard that read BIG GREEN WINNING MACHINE and had a mocked- up picture of Kaal looking mighty.

  Other students joined in. “Kaaaaaal!” they roared.

  Kaal cringed and curled his wings, using them to create a wall around himself. John tried to catch his eye, but Kaal was trying to hide from everyone – and that included John, it seemed.

  Kaal’s fans were holding out boxes of food and cups of gluey-looking drinks to him. John saw him glancing across to the shower cubicle, obviously wondering if he could get away with going for yet another shower.

  He’s had two already, John thought to himself. But it’s a good idea – it’s the only way to get any privacy!

  “Tea please, Zepp,” John said.

  Everyone craned in to see what John was having. There were some curious oohs and aaahs.

  John looked around, feeling overwhelmed. This was getting out of hand. Half his fans were shouting at Kaal’s. The other half were trying to fetch him things. No sooner had his cup of tea arrived than someone pressed a corkscrew-like alien utensil into his hands. Someone else tried to pass him a rubbery nose-hose. Then a fork the size of a gardening trowel. He had to go and fetch a spoon himself.

  But he couldn’t enjoy his tea with so many eyes watching him. And Kaal seemed really uncomfortable, too, barely touching his cup of galvanic sludge.

  “Ah, he’s up!” came a voice from behind John.

  John turned to see a shining blue blob, moving like animated molten metal, come slurping through the door into the dorm room. It held a ThinScreen in one wavering pseudopod.

  “Got plenty of rest, I hope?”

  John struggled to remember the student’s name. “Yes, thanks... er...”

  “Don’t crowd him, Xyglurz,” squeaked the little fuzzy alien. “We were here first.”

  “Yeah! Back off,” said Kritta. “Leave this to the real fans!”

  Xyglurz laughed. The sound was like a fingernail moving along a guitar string. “I was backing John before any of you!” He waved the ThinScreen. “How many of you lot have put together a profile on him, eh?”

  Now John remembered. While he’d been repairing Super-Rover last night, Xyglurz had been firing questions at him, pestering him for information about Earth, his family, what people ate, and even what they got up to in the bathroom. It was all a bit too personal.

  This must be what champion footballers on Earth feel like, when the newspaper reporters wait outside their houses to hammer them with questions...

  “So how are you feeling about the finals today?” Xyglurz asked, ThinScreen at the ready.

  John pushed away his untouched tea. “Well, it’s all been a bit sudden, to be honest... hasn’t really sunk in yet...”

  “Listen to that,” said the fuzzy pink creature. “He’s a true sportsman, isn’t he? So modest.”

  “Not as modest as KAAAAAAL!” boomed the one-eyed giant, and they all started yelling at one another again.

  Better get dressed while they’re all distracted, John thought.

  But it wasn’t that easy. His fans insisted on bringing him his clothes, and a few of them were even trying them on themselves. In the end, he had to pull them back out of their grasp, lock himself in the toilet, and get dressed there.

  Alone for a few precious moments, he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. This was not something he’d ever expected to have to deal with.

  “Fame at last,” he said to himself. “You did it, Riley. If your Earth friends could see you now!”

  There must be over a hundred people cheering me on, he thought as he dressed. They’ve never heard of Earth before, but they’ll remember it now! In your face, Mordant Talliver!

  When he came back out, his fans all had questions ready to fire at him.

  “What’s Earth like?” piped the fluffy pink creature.

  “Are you really descended from primates?” barked a walrus-like being.

  “What gave you the idea for such an unusual robot?” asked Xyglurz.

  John grinned. That was one question of the metallic alien’s that he didn’t mind answering. “It’s based on a dog,” he answered.

  The fans chattered excitedly. “What’s a dog?” several of them asked.

  “It’s a sort of pet animal,” John explained. “With four legs and a tail and teeth, and it goes woof. And it wags its tail when it’s happy.”

  “So it’s quite small, then?” asked the furry pink thing. John really wished he knew its name. He couldn’t just call it Furry Pink Thing all the time.

  “Oh no,” he said. “Dogs come in all shapes and sizes. Some are little, like Chihuahuas and Jack Russells. But some are huge, like Great Danes and mastiffs.”

  “We’ve got a pet skrellick at home,” said a bulbous-headed student whose body was luminous and transparent. John immediately thought he looked like a light bulb. “It’s always getting into the ventilation pipes.”

  “Skrellicks do that,” said Xyglurz knowingly. “They’re trouble. Always on the move. What you want is a good faithful loffleclod.”

  “Loffleclods!” scoffed the walrus creature. “They’re useless! They just sit there! Takes them half the day to crawl to the food dish, and the other half to crawl back!”

  “At least you can rely on them to be there for you,” said Xyglurz defensively.

  “Only because it would take them a year to run away,” scoffed the walrus.

  “We had a loffleclod once,” said the pink thing sadly. “It died. We didn’t notice for three weeks.”

  “Give me a Kvellian razorbeast any day,” put in the Myconian. “You get respect with one of those. They’ll fight anything! Just don’t ever let it see its own reflection...”

  John felt a sudden pang of nervousness as he realized how late it was getting and that he had to go to class. Then he remembered Emmie had told him there would be no lessons today. All the students had the day off to watch the semi-finals and final. “The Robot Warriors’ contest is a really, really big deal,” she’d said the night before. “I’m so proud of you! Of you both, that is. Kaal too. Not just you, of course.”

  The whole day off, just for a contest. This IS a b
ig deal.

  All at once, John felt as if the artificial gravity had been turned up to max. Suddenly he realized just how much pressure was on him. He felt wobbly and faint.

  More than a hundred pupils would be cheering him on today. That wasn’t just an ego boost. It was a burden of responsibility.

  What if he lost? What if he lost massively?

  What if he’d just been lucky so far, and his luck was about to run out – with the whole school watching?

  His mind raced. He wasn’t a genius. He wasn’t even above average. OK, so he’d always been good at maths, but apart from that... what right did he have to even hope to win this contest?

  What a weird feeling. He was looking forward to the contest and dreading it, all at the same time.

  He badly wanted to talk to Kaal. This wouldn’t be so stressful for either of them if they could go through it together. But Kaal was surrounded by fans, unable to reach him. As John watched, Kaal got up and dived into the shower yet again to escape them.

  That was the last straw. “OK, all of you − OUT!” He began to shoo the crowd of startled fans out of the room. “We’re glad you’re supporting us, but we need a bit of space!” Suddenly an idea flashed across his mind. “Tell you what – if you really want to help, why don’t you go and save us some seats in the Centre?”

  “Come on!” yelled Kritta. “We’ll grab the best seats!” She dashed out of the room.

  “The best seats are for the followers of KAAAAAL!” the one-eyed creature boomed, charging after her. Within moments, the room was empty.

  John heaved a relieved sigh and tapped on the shower door. “Kaal? It’s OK. You can come out now.”

  Kaal poked his head warily around the door. “Really?”

  “Yep,” John grinned. Finally, a chance to talk to Kaal in private.

  Just then, a light began to flash and a buzzer began to sound. The videophone!

  “Your parents are calling, John! Zepp told him. “Shall I send a busy signal?”

  “No!” John said with a sigh. Much as he wanted to speak to Kaal, John couldn’t risk his parents phoning Wortham Court if they were calling about something important. He grabbed the videophone camera and twisted it so that it faced into the corner of the room, then stood in front of it. He didn’t even want to think about what would happen if his parents caught sight of Kaal.