Battleship Raider, Paul Tomlinson [inspirational books for women .TXT] 📗

unhitched the cable from the back of the ATV and attached it to the trailer. I released the brake so the trailer’s wheels could turn freely. Back on the ATV, I edged forward using its nose to nudge the trailer and push it over the edge. I scooted back quickly when it started to move and watched gravity do its thing.

The trailer disappeared over the edge. There was a whistling sound as the slack disappeared out of the cable and a snap as it drew taught. The cable dragged the metal net and its big red fish towards the edge. I could see the robot struggling to break free, but the net was wrapped tightly around it preventing it from getting any sort of leverage. If it fired its cannon, it might be able to burst free – but at such close range, it would also risk damaging itself.

The cable whipped backwards and forwards across the deck. If I’d been anywhere near it, it would have cut me off at the ankles. I waved goodbye as the bulging net approached the edge of the deck.

As soon as the robot disappeared, I would set off in the ATV, travelling through the ship and out of a hatch on the other side. I knew there was every chance that the robot would survive its fall and that it would come after me. Its programming demanded it. But it would have to climb back up into the ship or take the long way around the wreck of the Celestia. Either way, I would have a decent head start. I was going to use the ATV to plough through the jungle as quickly as I could for as long as I could. Wearing my pilot’s helmet and screaming like a banshee.

Just as the package got to the edge of the deck and the robot was about to go over, the net slowed. Had I miscalculated the length of the cable? Had the engine and trailer hit the ground before the robot had been pulled over? No. The distance to the jungle floor was more than double the length of the cable.

The robot had worked its massive hand through a gap in the metal mesh and its fingers were digging into the deck, slowing the progress of the net to a crawl. Bringing it to a stop. It shouldn’t have been possible. The combined weight of the engine and trailer was three or four times that of the robot.

The fingers began inching forward. Tiny movements, but pulling the robot back from the brink.

“Give me a break!” I yelled across the launch deck.

I dropped another grenade into the rocket launcher, knelt on the deck and took aim. The missile tore across the deck and exploded about a foot short of the net. The force of the blast ought to have been enough to knock the robot over the edge, but it wasn’t. After a moment’s pause, the fingers began to inch there way forward again, pulling the robot back over the edge. When its legs were back up on the deck there was every chance that it would be able to break free of the net.

I had one rocket propelled grenade left and only a direct hit was going to do the job. I waited until the targeting scope lit up a steady green and squeezed the trigger gently. The missile zipped towards its target trailing smoke and heated air behind it. Through the haze, I saw it hit the bulging net and erupt into an orange ball of flame. The impact shook the deck and the boom echoed around the metal-walled hangar behind me.

I peered into the smoke, waiting for it to clear. The bulge of the net lay where it had been before. Smoke and heat haze was rising from it. There was no movement. Had the explosion disabled the robot? The net pulsed, seemed to stretch. It split open like an insect’s cocoon. The only damage the explosion had caused was to the net. The metal strands split as the robot pulled itself free. It rose to its feet, smoke drifting around it, looking like a red metal demon.

“Squit!”

Let the record show that I made every attempt to avoid violence. I tried running away, I tried reason, and I tried sabotage. Violence was my last resort.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Time for the heavy artillery. I jumped onto the ATV and swung the machine gun around to target Big Red. Large calibre armour-piercing rounds ought to be enough to at least damage it and maybe even knock it backwards over the edge. Aim for the eyes and the hip joints, I told myself, thinking those must be its weakest points.

The robot was pulling on the cable, lifting the engine back up. As it appeared over the edge, the robot batted away the remains of the trailer, sending it tumbling to the jungle below. Gripping the cable in its fist and using its whole body weight, it began to turn in circles, lifting the engine up and spinning it above its head on the end of the cable. It looked like some sort of robot Olympian. I knew where the engine was going to end up and I didn’t want to be there. I leapt off the ATV and ran.

The engine whooshed through the air. When it came down, it crushed the ATV completely, making it look like it had been hit by a meteor. It destroyed both my means of escape and my only viable weapon. How quickly fate piles on the squit.

I needed a new vehicle and a new weapon. A tank would have been ideal. There were no tanks in the hangar. But I had the next best thing – an armour-plated truck with a big motor. I didn’t know if it could withstand a blast from the robot’s cannon – but it offered more protection than my leather jacket. I ran back into the hangar.

I pulled open the door and swung up into