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

kill me – and it had very nearly succeeded. More than once. Now we were both victims in the same predicament. But that didn’t mean that our common enemy made us friends all of a sudden. I looked up at its eye screens and frowned.

“What sort of favour?”

“Will you cover for me?” It was an oddly human question. “I need to access the cockpit of this craft without being observed.”

“What’s the plan?” I asked.

“I will contact military command. I must send them the co-ordinates of this location and report the fate of the Celestia.”

I could have made another attempt to convince the robot that the war was over. But it needed evidence that I could not provide. Maybe if it received a reply to its coded message, it would realise that I had been telling the truth.

“I’ll cover for you,” I said. “How long do you need?”

“Ten minutes should be sufficient.”

I nodded and went back outside.

“Hey!” I attracted the attention of our guard. “It’s thirsty work. Can I have some water?”

Blondie looked at me suspiciously. “Where’s the robot?”

“He doesn’t need water,” I said.

“Where is he?”

“He’s restacking the crates – so we can fit more in. The fewer trips you have to make back here, the better – am I right?”

He didn’t return my friendly smile, but his frown wasn’t quite as deep. He went over to the solar-powered cooler box and pulled out a bottle. He tossed it to me. I deliberately missed the catch, letting the bottle fall to the ground. I had to use every ruse I could think of to prolong this. After I’d drained the water, I told him I needed a swazz. He rolled his eyes and shook his head. He kept an eye on me while I stood behind the bush but he didn’t try and sneak a peek. Maybe I wasn’t his type. As I was zipping up, I saw the robot leave the cargo lifter’s cockpit and go back into the hold.

The robot and I kept loading crates well into the afternoon. I wanted to ask him what he had learned, but a change of guard meant we never got much time to talk without being overheard. The twins were our new guardians. They were called Bella and Bolly – I kid you not. He stood just inside the hold and she took up a position near the crates that had come out of the Celestia. It was more than an hour before he became bored and went to join his sister-sweetheart.

“There is no military government anymore,” the robot said, as if it couldn’t quite believe this.

“Everything is run by civilians now,” I said.

“Is that better?”

“You’d hope so, wouldn’t you?”

“The Celestia no longer needs to be protected,” the robot said, looking up at the wreck of the battleship.

“But you must still make sure that the Navigator doesn’t fall into the wrong hands,” I said.

“Yes.”

“Did you call for reinforcements?” I asked.

“Why? Do you think we need help?” the robot asked. There was no expression on his face but if he’d been able to, I think he would have raised an eyebrow and smiled. I wasn’t sure what to make of this. I had a nagging feeling that I was missing something important. We carried on stacking crates.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The left arm that had been fitted to the robot was badly scratched and looked like it might have come from another robot. There was something stencilled on the upper arm but the only letters I could see clearly were L-J. Stacking boxes was mindless work, so I amused myself by trying to work out what the word or words might be. After an hour or so I hadn’t come up with anything close to a sensible answer. If it was a name I had Valjean, Pal Joey, Steel Jaw or Killjoy. If the metal had originally been the label on something I had metal jars, steel jugs, gerbil jello, snail juice, or weasel jizz. At which point I had become irritated by the whole thing. “What is that?” I asked, pointing.

“It is my arm.”

“No, the stencilling – what does it say?”

The robot looked at it. “Apple Juice,” it said.

The ‘e’ had obviously been worn away. “That’s just cheating.” I slammed down the crate I was holding and stalked out of the hold.

“Is something bothering you?” the robot asked, following me.

“Aside from being held prisoner and treated as a slave, you mean?”

“Yes, aside from that.”

I glared at it, trying to work out whether it was trying to be funny. But it was a robot. Robots don’t do funny.

“I’m hungry,” I said. “I get grouchy when I haven’t eaten.”

“Would you like to eat?” the robot asked. “The cargo lifter is quite well provisioned.”

“I can’t just walk in there and help myself to dinner.”

“Why not?”

Good question. “Well, because...” Because I was starting to think of myself as nothing but a labourer who must serve his pirate masters.

“Tell me what you require and I will fetch it,” the robot said.

“Surprise me.”

It disappeared back into the cargo lifter’s cabin and brought me back a beef stroganoff with rice in a silver self-heating pouch, two bright green apples, and two icy cold bottles of light beer. I activated the pouch and then dug in with my fingers – until I saw that the robot was watching me and shaking its head. It held out a spoon.

I drained the last of the beer and tucked the second apple in my pocket for later. “You were a firefighter originally?” I asked.

“This casing belonged to a fire control robot, yes.”

“Are the modifications your own?”

“I had to conduct my own maintenance. I also added armour as protection against attack from the Crichtorax.”

“You’ve fought dragons before?”

“I have been closer to them than one might wish to be.”

“You answer questions like a politician.”

“I did not lie.”

“But you also don’t tell the whole truth.”

“Perhaps we have more in common than you think.”

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“I do not have one.”

“I’ve got to call you something.”

“We are