Ballerina Justice and the Bro-bots of Peace
Chapter 7: The Adventure

Our short interlude over, we now return to the mining colony, where our hero is about to embark on his adventure. Baker and Jerry are once again engaging in techno-babble, this time regarding the imminent escape and the tools they need to achieve it. Mostly they talk about a special wave something thingy that counteracts the radiation fence thing meant to keep the miners in their village. Technically, the human miners on this planet are free, but there is a sort of “for your own protection” quality to the planetary laws, which mainly serves to make sure the mines have an adequate workforce.

Jerry and Baker walk back to Baker’s hovel to get the wave thingy, and they are brainstorming about how to get off the planet, when Baker reveals his bad news.

“What do you mean, you’re not coming? What could possibly keep you here?”

“Jerry, I am too old for this. I would only hold you back. Besides, I am just not cut out for this sort of thing. I assure you I would give up at the first sign of trouble. You are far better off without me.

“I’m not leaving you alone in this hell hole.”

“That is exactly what you are going to do, old friend. You have a job to do, and I would only get in the way. I think you know that. Besides, you are going to need someone to stay behind and cover for you until you can disappear.”

“But Cal...”

“Forget it, Jerry. There is only one way this is going to work, and even that has a piss poor chance of succeeding. Trust me.”

Jerry stared back at Baker, heartbroken. He knew Baker was right, but was not sure he could face the challenge alone. And Baker. Alone on this rock. Maybe a fate worse than death. Not that it changed anything. Baker was right, and Jerry would have to trust him as always. He had never let him down before.

“If you follow your shadow for about three days, you should be able to sight the space port. Stay away from the roads at all costs, and do not talk to anyone. I can hold off the Tru-Bots for two to three days, but after that, you will be on your own.”

It turns out that a Tru-Bot is a sort of robot policeman thing that makes sure the miners show up to work on time, again “for their own protection”. The name is shorthand and transparent, like all good robot names, in this case describing robots who work for the various consortia, and track down their truant workers. These Truancy Enforcement Robots are armed, sure of purpose, and without emotion, if a little dim. They have one goal, and that is to get you to work at all costs, living if convenient, dead if more so. They are easily deceived, but never deterred. At least not for long. Once they have a target, they will continue to hunt it until they succeed, or are deactivated.

They are used here as metaphor for the blind obedience to authority we are expected to despise, and we talk at length about following orders, and the results of a world where no one thinks for himself. The lack of respect for all of what we might call “Authority’s Soldiers” makes these robots almost comical in their behavior, although ultimately dangerous, perhaps for the same reason.

“But how can you can hold off the Tru-bots?”

“I have been saving a mixture in my freezer that can make me appear dangerously sick and contagious. It will look something like Van Dreel’s disease, but a little more exotic. I have no doubt I can convince them that if they come into contact with me, they will become carriers. To protect the rest of the crew, they will have to quarantine me, and once I convince them that you are infected too, they will quarantine you without even stepping through your door. That should be good for about two days. After that, there will be mandatory vid-checks, and I am not sure how to get around that. But who knows, maybe with two days at home I can come up with something.”

“If anyone can, Baker, it’s you.”

Although Jerry was the more intelligent of the two, Baker had a way with invention that Jerry could not touch. In their twelve years working for the mine consortium, he had consistently improved their lives in hundreds of little ways, and he never seemed short of ideas for more. And it was not just the little things like the temperature regulators and the gravity dampeners. He also worked on the big ideas, like the weather grid he had nearly perfected, and the transporter which was promising, if not a little immature. The fact that the Old Man ever let him leave RTI showed just how much he wanted to hurt Jerry, and the sacrifices he was willing to make to do so.

They arrived at Baker’s hovel where Baker dug up the Wave Field Fluctuator he had been working on and gave it to Jerry. “You had better get going. You have less than an hour before work call, and will want to be through the fence by then.”

Jerry knew he was right. When the village emptied out after morning work call, the local rodents tended to gather near the fence, trying to get in. They looked like Texas armadillos, but about twice the size and with spiked heads. The miners knew them as sand rats, their native name being practically unpronounceable. As a rule, they stayed away from humans, but they had a tendency to creep up on you if you were sleeping or unconscious, and bite at your ankles. The robots worked hard to keep them from entering the villages because they carried a plethora of local diseases, all of which were detrimental to keeping the mines running on schedule. The radiation fence, however, was a double edged sword, and while it kept the rodents out, it also caused them to mutate, which only made them bigger and more ferocious. As an added level of protection, the radiation levels were always ramped up while the village was empty, so getting through before the morning work call not only meant an easier job cutting through the fence’s radiation field, but also fewer sand rats to wade through.

“I’m gonna miss you, friend,” Jerry said, and they hugged as only old friends could. Then, after a look around, added, “but I’d be lying if I said I’ll miss this rock.”

Baker laughed, and held back a sigh. Life out here in the outskirts was just not going to be same without Jerry. Although it would be a little quieter. “Safe travels old friend. Give my love to Ball.”

With that, Jerry ran out the door to pack up whatever he could carry on his back. Ten minutes later, he was on his way, with the sun at his back.

TRAVEL LOG. DAY 1.

It’s been a day. I woke up half drunk in the middle of the night and feel like I’ve been on the run ever since. I was packed and out the door a good 40 minutes before work call, but it took me nearly an hour to get to the fence, mostly from paranoia that the Tru-Bots would spot me before Baker had finished his preparations. I’ve got to hand it to him, though. Even at peak radiation levels, the Wave Field Fluctuator worked perfectly, and I got through the fence completely unburned. Between my laser and a little good old fashioned screaming I was able to scare the sand rats away, though I fear a couple may have gotten through before the fence closed back up…

The log has long been a staple in the space story. There is something about sea adventures that lies at the heart of them, and the log helps to tie them together. Often it is used to give useful background, perhaps a little wedged in exposition. In this case, it is an opportunity to keep the voice of our hero present in the long droughts between human companionships, as he crosses the desert alone.

Of course, as with every other device, we are bound to overdo it, making us wish we had never started with the log to begin with. Nevertheless, we won’t let that keep us from enjoying a few quiet moments with Jerry as he crosses the planet in search of his escape. When this new device becomes exhausted, we will, like Jerry and his desert, leave it behind for more fertile ground.

I am only just now realizing that in the 12 years I’ve been on this rock, I had never once seen what laid beyond the village. Getting a wider view now, for the first time, I’m disappointed to learn I wasn’t actually missing anything. This place is even more desolate than I imagined. I haven’t seen so much as an insect out here on the sands since I left the rats behind, though they must be out here. I can’t believe this scrub would not attract at least some animal life.

The heat today was nearly unbearable, and I had to stop three times to rest in the shade of a mesa. If it hadn’t been for these occasional respites, I don’t think I would have gotten this far. I’ve already been through four of my 16 hydration pills, and I’m thirsty all the time. This desert heat just takes it out of me in a way I never dreamed possible. Back in Chicago, I used to think the summers were unbearable, where the heat stuck to you like a wool sweater full of static, and a few mere steps outside were enough to drench you in sweat. But even those miserable summer heat waves were nothing like this. I feel like I’ve been walking through an oven, slow roasting as I approach the ideal golden brown color at which time I will be fully cooked, if a little dry.

If Baker was right, and I can do this leg in three days, I should have enough hydration pills to make it through. If not…well, tomorrow, I’ll see if I can make do with less.

No sign of any ’bots or vehicles. I’m far from the road, but still feel like I’m in plain sight most of the time. I’ve been trying to make extra distance, but after a full “day” of travel, I’ve stopped to sleep in the shade.

Unlike the hydration pills, these food tablets are amazing. I’ve only had one in the last 24 hours and, although I’m definitely tired, I’m not the least bit hungry.

I think I may be a little off course, but I’ve corrected as best I can. It’s funny, I thought following my shadow would be the easiest thing in the world, but I replace myself distracted, and the next thing I know, I’m off course. I can’t imagine how you would do this on a planet without such incredibly long solar days. On the other hand, at least you would have the nights to cool yourself down.

Still no sign of the city, though I wouldn’t expect to see it for at least another day.

TRAVEL LOG. DAY 2.

Dreamed of Ball and haven’t been able to get her off my mind all day. I thought I had blocked out that terrible fight, the night I made her walk out for good, but I replace that it’s etched in my memory, and though I’ve done a pretty good job obscuring it from view, beneath it all, it is as clear and permanent as ever. I saw her face fresh in my mind, heard her voice screaming, felt the wet shards of pottery on my head…

And here we go again, moving into flashback, only to return to this log following the diversion. The transition is rough, because we flow into the flashback without pausing, and it takes some time for us to get our bearings. One moment Jerry is trudging across the desert, running short of water, possibly lost, truancy robot policeman things soon to be on his trail, and the next he is far away, back on Earth, back on the day we keep returning to – the day our hero’s life changed forever.

Jerry walked into his two-bedroom apartment, and threw his bag on the floor. The place was what Jerry and Ball lovingly referred to as an organized mess. There were piles of papers everywhere, the bookshelves were overloaded with actual books laying sideways on top of others filling every available space. It was not filthy with food and grime, but it was definitely messy with strewn about work. Ball was at the dinner table drinking coffee and playing cards with three other women. Jerry fumed.

He was wet from the rain, his hair coming down over his eyes with bags underneath. Shoulders hunched over, dripping wet, he looked haggard and worn, perhaps a bit angry. Not someone to be trifled with. In his mind, he was fighting with Ball before he even walked in the door, and now that he saw her friends, he began in earnest.

“Entertaining, are we?” Jerry opened.

“Ah, hell, Jerry. Is it going to be one of those?” Ball returned.

“I’ve had a day at work. A day. I’m dead tired, and I’m pissed off, and here you are, where you’ve been sitting around all day gossiping no doubt with those…”

“Those what, Jerry? Tinkers? Is that what you were going to say? Or perhaps you were going to say something a little less flattering?”

“Lay off, Ball. I said it’s been a day.”

“What have you got against my friends, Jerry? I’m not ashamed of the Time People. I’m not. I’m proud of who am.”

“Sure, Ball, of course you are.”

“One day, Jerry, I swear to God, one day I’m…”

“What, Ball? Go back to the Academy and teach? Well go then. And good riddance. And...

Jerry actually considered whether he could say it. This was his moment, the moment he had been thinking about since the Old Man fired him earlier that day. He had wandered around downtown for hours from bar to bar considering his options, and the one thing he kept coming back to was that he couldn’t let Ball suffer for his own mistake. He had to shield her from what was coming, and driving her away was the only option. His gut wrenched with the thought of how it would feel, how she would feel, but he also knew he had no choice. The whiskey made it easier, but not easy. Following through, he held his proverbial breath and took the plunge.

“And... take your freak friends with you.”

“Freaks?!” Ball screamed. “Freaks?!” Without hesitating, she picked up a vase full of flowers from the table and threw it at Jerry. It barely missed him, crashing against the door and breaking into a dozen pieces. Jerry felt a rose and a few shards of pottery on his head, and let the water drip down his face without wiping it away.

Her three friends watched in amazement as their party came to an abrupt end, and stood up to leave. “We’d better go,” said the one covered in bracelets. “If he gets violent, just buzz me,” she continued, as she squeezed past Jerry in the doorway. Then, looking straight at him continued, “and I’ll send over the ’bots.”

“Thanks, Manny, but I think I can take care of myself. I’ll call you soon.” And with that, the rest of Ball’s friends picked up their things and squeezed past Jerry, still standing in the doorway, remnants of the broken vase still on his head.

Ball waited for the door to close behind them, and then started in. “This is it, Jerry, this is really it. We were celebrating today because…” She tried to force a smile, but it faded before it ever had a chance. “It doesn’t matter. I’m leaving, Jerry. For good.”

Jerry had predicted this, but it shook him much harder than he expected. He stood, frozen in the doorway, looking at her. He knew he could talk her down. It wouldn’t take much. She wanted to forgive him. It wouldn’t take more than a few soft words. A touch. And he wanted to. He wanted to keep things the way they were. Forever. But it was too late. Nothing could be the same now, and he would have to let her go if he really cared for her.

When Jerry didn’t say anything, Ball turned toward the bedroom. She intended to head back and pack up her things, once and for all. But she was interrupted by a sudden buzz at the door. Jerry was tempted to ignore it, assuming it was one of her friends back for a forgotten scarf or something, but when the buzzing continued, he knew it wouldn’t go away until he answered it and, still in the hallway, he turned around and opened it to replace three messenger-bots standing in front of him in single file. The first had “Officer of the Court” on his chest. “Gerald Strohman?”

“Yes?,” Jerry replied.

“You are hereby notified that as a result of unpaid debt, you are commanded to report to the 659th District Court Section 457 at 10:00am for deportation.” The robot then handed an official summons to Jerry. The summons accepted, it exited, leaving only two.

Jerry leaned past the robot still in front of him to speak to the one walking away. “Go to hell.” Then, turning his attention to the next, said, “Yes?”

This one had “Cary Motors” upon his chest. He spoke in the same monotone voice as the first. “Gerald Strohman?”

“Go ahead,” Jerry replied, again.

“You are hereby notified that your payments for one Cary Mach 2 Series Hover Sedan are overdue, and that repossession is currently in progress.” He handed Jerry a paper, not entirely dissimilar from the summons, and also exited. Once again, Jerry called after him. “Thank you. Really. Come back and visit anytime you walking piece of...”

The last robot had “Wilson Arms” upon his chest. “Gerald Strohman?”

“Yes, godammit, I’m Gerald Strohman. Now what the hell do you want?”

“You are hereby notified that payments for your lodging are no longer being accepted. You have 30 days to exit the premises before eviction proceedings begin.”

“Oh for chrissake, what is it with you ’bots? Can’t you give a guy a break? Do you really need to come all at once?” Jerry asked. But the robot had already turned his back and was halfway down the hall. He closed the door and turned back to the apartment, where he saw the look of incredulousness on Ball’s face.

“Like I said, it’s been a day.”

Ball’s anger appeared to grow. With a wild look in her eye, she said, “He fired you?”

Jerry walked past her to the kitchen to make a drink. Facing away from her, he said, “You get an ‘A’.”

Her mind made up, she at last went to the bedroom and started packing. From the distance she shouted, “Jerry, we’ve been married for three years, and in all that time you have done nothing. You fiddle with your equations and expect me to pay for everything with my father’s money. I finally convince him to give you a job and what do you do? You look for any way you can to sabotage it, to force him to let you go. Did you even try to keep it? Did you even try to apologize? I know how you hate to be obsequious, Jerry, but he needs that. It’s his fatal flaw. Can’t you even pretend?

“For God’s sake, Jerry, Have you ever really worked at anything in your life?” she went on. “Ever sacrificed your pride for anyone? It’s clear you won’t do it for me. Three years and we’re right back where we started. I thought today…that maybe…when I found out…but it’s too late.”

“Found out what?”

“It’s too late, Jerry. I’ve always had a place in my heart for you, but you have no respect for me or for yourself. I could have forgiven you for getting fired, God knows I’ve had my own fights with the man, but it’s clear to me now that you never really cared about me at all, and that’s something I just can’t live with. You knew who I was when we first met, but until tonight, I guess I just wouldn’t admit to myself how you really felt. I guess I’ve never been anything but a...freak to you” She walked back into the living room where Jerry was now sprawled on the couch. “While you’re on your way to the colonies, I’ll be on my way home, back to my people, where I won’t be treated like a...god I can’t even say it.”

“Found out what?”

“It’s too late, Jerry.”

And Jerry finally made his way to the couch, whiskey in hand, life ruined, marriage in shreds, and just a little pleased with himself.

And without so much as a “meanwhile, back in the desert”, we replace ourselves back in the desert, in the seemingly unbroken monologue that is Jerry’s log.

I know I didn’t have a choice. I know that if I had told her the truth, she would have insisted on coming with me, and followed me to the colonies. And it would have killed her. I know I did the right thing. I know it in my head. The problem is I don’t feel it in my heart. I think it’s only now, as I head back to her after 12 years of wasting my life, that I realize just how much I hurt her. I’m sure she’s never forgiven me. How could she, without ever really knowing what I gave up for her? And yet, I can’t get her off of my mind. Her face haunts me with every step. In a strange way, I feel that it’s she that is giving me the courage to go on.

Went through another four water pills today. Half gone. This terrain was far more taxing and I in far worse shape than I imagined. 12 years in the mine hasn’t exactly kept me in peak condition. But there was a glimmer of hope today. As the sun burned through my back, I thought I saw a reflection of light in the distance. I don’t think it’s the port, but with luck I may replace some real shelter by tomorrow.

Heard noises during my sleep. I woke up and looked without moving, but saw nothing. It sounded like human voices, but I think it may only have been my dreams. Before the voices woke me I had been dreaming of the Old Man. He was at his desk literally taking himself apart. He was telling me he could only be free when he shed all of his mechanical parts, even if it killed him. As the last part came off, he began to rot in front of me and turned to ash. I awoke with an image of Ball in mourning etched in my brain.

TRAVEL LOG. DAY 4.

I must be lost. I’ve been traveling for four days, and still no sign of civilization. My food supply is waning, and I’m almost out of hydro pills. Woke up to a sand rat biting my leg. I scared it away, but it had drawn blood, and the wound has started to fester. The pain is manageable but growing.

Not sure if I can take this heat much longer. I’m holding off on my last two hydro pills as long as possible. Feel like a fool for taking so much on the first two days.

I think I’m hallucinating. I saw the glimmer again today and heard voices in my sleep again. Could it be Tru-bots? How long can a man survive out here without going mad?

TRAVEL LOG. DAY 6.

I feel I’m at death’s door. Already spent a full day in this oven without water and not sure how much longer I can last. Haven’t seen a mesa in almost two days. I’m sitting in the shade of a rock and exhausted, but the unbearable pain in my leg is keeping me awake. Why was I such a fool as to think I could do this?

TRAVEL LOG. DAY 6. CONTINUED

Hope, at last. I’ve stumbled across the source of the reflection. It was a short dome off my path in the distance. I cased it out carefully, and found it to be empty, so I broke in with what strength I had left and made myself at home. The kitchen was not working, but there were some expired hydros of which I ate two. I also found a stash of Coreyweed, which I rubbed on my leg, and chewed a little of for good measure. It seems to be helping.

TRAVEL LOG. DAY 7.

And my adventures begin. I woke up tied to the bed with a gag in my mouth, a man and woman standing over me. He was as tall as they come, and wide as an ape. She was not what you would call pretty, definitely a bit rough around the edges, but there was an honest quality about her that gave her a beauty that seemed to shine from the inside out.

Once they were sure I wouldn’t scream, they took the gag off and questioned me for about an hour. They have been holed up in this desert for years – escaped from lives they won’t talk about. Apparently they are of a revolutionary bent, and sympathetic to guys on the run like me. After the questioning, they offered to help me with my escape.

The revolutionary couple are literally dressed up like Castro style revolutionaries, with olive drab uniforms and loaded with space weapon things and futuristic tools that look surprisingly like something out of the present day. Other than the weapons, though, the place is another one of these tributes to a 20th century sort of pre-robot society. In other words, they make their coffee by hand, and don’t have any vid-things or electric kitchen thingies. Like the best friend back at the time school, they are proud of their backward ways and preach about them, a subject from which we seem unable to escape.

Let us now put the log down for awhile, and get to know our new friends. We begin with a short jump backward to watch their meeting unfold.

The man was just over two meters high and built like a house. He carried the kind of mass that could easily have been uncomfortably intimidating, if not for an oversized mop of curly blonde hair that gave him a sort of permanent boyish look. He was reminiscent of an overgrown G.I. Harpo, in his army greens and combat boots, but looks can be deceiving, and this man demanded to be taken seriously. He stood over Jerry and threw a bucket of cold water on his face. Wake up!” he bellowed.

Jerry woke up, tied to the bed and gagged. He tried to scream.

“Who are you?” the man shouted.

Jerry tried to answer, but found the gag in his mouth prohibitive, and finally gave up. He was disoriented and groggy, not to mention completely baffled to replace himself in this situation. The man looking down at him was attempting to look threatening, and Jerry racked his brain to figure out what was going on. The man looked human, so it couldn’t be tied to his escape from the village. And he was all dressed up in fatigues. Was there a war going on here that he didn’t know about? The obvious danger notwithstanding, however, he was comforted by the cold water that now covered his face and chest. Over the last few days, as his supply of water tablets grew low alongside his tolerance for the heat, he had fantasized of a moment like this, albeit without the gag and the ropes.

“I’m going to take this gag out of your mouth so we can ask you a few questions. If you scream, it’s going right back in. Got it?” To which Jerry nodded as best he could.

The man’s partner took off the gag. She was nearly half his size, maybe one five at best. Her short black hair and tight eyes gave her a fierce look that almost complimented him, in his freakishly giant boyishness. It was clear to Jerry the moment he saw her, however, that she was the real one to fear.

The tall one continued. “Who are you?”

Jerry coughed a few times and replied, “I might well ask you the same thing.”

“I’m asking the questions here. Bite, water.” And the fierce one threw another gallon of cold water on Jerry. “Now let’s try this again. Who are you?”

“Jerry Strohman. Miner 3rd class.”

“Why have you left your village?”

“I was looking for a hamburger stand.”

She threw another gallon on him and went to refill the bucket.

“No let’s try it again. Why have you left your village?”

“I was tired of the scenery.”

“Bite, put the gag back on. We’re not getting anywhere today.”

Jerry was not sure if it was ok to give in or not. Who were these people? Were they good guys or bad guys? Criminals? Usually, humans stuck together. But he had been out of it for a long time, and things were different out here in the outskirts. Anything could have happened in the last 12 years, especially on some remote planet on the edge of the colonies. They seemed dangerous, but what he could not figure out was if they were actually dangerous to him.

“Wait,” he yelled. He looked back and forth at the two of them, and decided to take a chance. His problem was, unfortunately, he did not know how to say it. What he really wanted to know was whether they were the good guys or the bad guys, but he could not just come out and ask that. Or could he?

“Are...you the good guys or...the bad guys?”

Jerry’s captors looked at each other. The fierce one shrugged. The tall one laughed a little and said, “that depends whose side you’re on.”

Jerry, his toes wet, decided to jump all the way in. “I guess I’m on the side that lets humans like me walk free instead of caging them up in labor camps for their own protection.” He looked hopefully at his captors. “And you?”

“We…” he looked at the short one. “We…are the good guys.” And the fierce one untied Jerry’s knots. “I’m Tilly. This here is Bite. If you’re telling us the truth, then we’re friends. Comrades. But I need to know what you’re doing in my house.”

Jerry heaved a sigh of relief. “I meant no disrespect. I’m on the run from Village-K, and trying to get back to Earth”

“Why?”

Jerry stopped himself. What was he supposed to say? Why was he going back to Earth? To stop the Old Man? To win back his wife? To seek his vengeance? Would any of this make any sense to them? He looked back at his captors, saw that they were both dangerous and honest, and played what he thought was his best card.

“To save the universe.”

Tilly and Bite gave each other inquisitive looks. Tilly, as usual, was the first to speak. “Alright, alright. You’ve come a long way across some very tough terrain, and to be honest, you look a little dehydrated. Bite noticed it right away, but we thought we’d hold off on fixing you up until we knew where you came from. It’s probably going to take you awhile to get your head back on straight. Bite, why don’t you get him some water. In a glass.”

“No, it’s not that. I know it sounds crazy, but it’s only because there more to explain than I can say in one sentence.” Jerry took a deep breath. “It’s like this. I’m a scientist serving out a term for debt. Something’s come up that seems more important than serving out my term, so I’m on the run, trying to get off the planet. But crossing the desert was more than I bargained for, and I thought I was going to die out there. If I hadn’t found this place, I’m sure I would have. You scared the hell out of me just know, but you saved my life, and as long as I live I’ll be grateful to you.”

“Why don’t you start at the beginning?”

The next bit is basically a rehash of the story so far, a chance for the stoners to get caught up and for the rest of us to skim through a few pages of exposition we are already familiar with. In the process of telling his story, our hero also learns something about his captors. They have a pretty big backstory of their own, but the short version is that the man is an ex-ship’s captain who saved the woman from a life of forced prostitution in a mining colony. They struck out on their own to live off the land, such as it is out in this planetary desert.

We never learn exactly how they live off the land in such a desolate location, but we do get a bit about their tactics as revolutionaries and their plans to overthrow first the planetary government, and ultimately the entire robot culture. At one point, they invite our hero to join them in their quest to take back the galaxy, but Jerry declines, telling them that he must first save the universe from imminent destruction, and that any distractions would be disastrous.

Naturally, his new friends have the improbable level of medical expertise to save his leg, which as it turns out is infected with a parasite on its way to devouring his entire body. The parasite destroyed, the body fed and recovered, and a new friendship forged, our hero is now ready to resume his mission. The revolutionaries offer help.

“The thing is, comrade, there are only three kinds of ships that ever leave this rock: Immigration Ships, Mineral Cargo Ships, and the Scowls, and they’re all run by the ’bots.” Tilly had been kind of a downer ever since Jerry declined to join them in their fight. Bite had been dogging him for weeks to blaze into the local government headquarters with all of their weapons and, as Bite put it, “take our chances.” Tilly was a little more cautious, and had hoped Jerry would be a good influence on his comrade. Once he learned Jerry would be leaving at all costs, Tilly lost interest in honestly helping.

Bite, on the other hand, saw her chance come at last. “Our weapons are just rotting here, Tilly, and our new comrade needs help.”

“So what do you suggest, Bite?”

“I suggest we take the tunnel to the port and hijack a ship. You could pilot it to a safe haven and we could raise an army to come back and take the planet.” At this point, Bite had worked herself into a fervor and was on the verge of packing up her weapons into the massive backpacks she had built herself and always kept at the ready.

“Ok, Bite. Good plan. But let’s take a moment to consider the details,” Tilly said, calmly, if not a little bit condescendingly. He knew Bite would hate this, but hate it or not, it always worked, so he played his cards methodically and resolutely.

Bite, on the other hand was having none of it. He always spoiled her plans with his prudence, and never seemed willing to take the risk that something might work, if there was even the smallest chance it would not. He would never even begin to consider a plan without three backups. He was patient and methodical. She was neither.

“Forget the details,” Bite screamed. “We have to do something. He’s already told us that the Tru-Bots will be on his tail any minute. Are we just gonna wait for them to come to us? I’m not going back there, Tilly. Not ever. If those ’bots come for our comrade and we’re still here, I’m going down fighting. And no detail is going to talk me out of that.”

“I said, ok, Bite.” He gave her a hard stare. “But before we head into a port filled with Law-bots, I think we should develop a plan, and no plan can succeed without the details.”

Bite fell onto the armchair, and folded her hands over her chest, as if to say, “fine, but after you’re done talking, I’m going, no matter what”.

Tilly turned to Jerry. “It’s true that we have access to an underground passageway to the space port. It’s also true that we can most likely get to almost any bay without being spotted. The trouble, as I see it, is the time of year. We haven’t seen an immy in months.”

“Sorry. Immy?”

“Immigration ship. In fact, Comrade Bite and I were just recently discussing the possibility that the mining consortium has decided this planet has maximized its potential. If that’s the case, we may not see an immy for years. The cargo ships come in the fall and leave in the spring. We could stow you away in one, but I don’t think you’d see the light of day for close to four and a half months. That just leaves the scowls.” Tilly paused to feel the sudden tension in the room.

“Garbage ships?” Jerry asked.

“Yes. And completely manned by ’bots. Even if we could hijack such a ship, we could never control it. They’re just not built to be flown by humans anymore.”

“You said something before about stowing away,” Jerry tried.

“Sure. On a cargo ship, nothing easier. They have both humans and ’bots on the crew, so your radiation signature wouldn’t set off any alarms. And because it has humans on board, there would be food and water to pinch along the way. On a scowl, we would have to replace a hold where no one would look for you, and line it with puldonium to mask your radiation. If you ever left the hold, your signature would instantly set off the security alarms, and you’d be dead on the spot. If you didn’t, you would surely die of dehydration within two weeks, let alone the five it would take you to get to another port.”

“Five weeks! I had no idea,” replied Jerry.

Tilly, Bite, and Jerry, all slumped in their chairs, defeated. Suddenly Bite got up and started packing her weapons.

“What are you doing, Bite?” Tilly challenged.

“I’m not going to sit around here doing nothing when a comrade is in trouble. And I’m certainly not going to wait around for the Tru-Bots to take us back to that hell hole. If I’m going to go, it’s going to be in a blaze of glory.”

“Bite!” and Tilly went off after her, trying to calm her down.

Jerry was left alone in the main room and racked his brain. He thought back to his days at RTI and tried to remember why the scowls took so long in space. Five weeks. He had vague memories of them taking days, not weeks. But maybe that was before they stopped using any humans on the crews. A lot can happen in 12 years.

“Comrade Tilly,” he shouted, “why do the scowls spend so long in space?”

Tilly returned lifting his hands over his head. “I give up. When she gets like this, there’s really no stopping her. She just has to get it out of her system. Maybe by the time she gets packed up, I’ll be able to calm her down.”

Jerry studied him, and realized he hadn’t heard his question. “Tilly, why do the scowls spend so long in space?”

“Huh?” Tilly said distractedly. “Oh. This planet is the last real stop on the pickup schedule, and none of the other stops are really worth calling ports. By the time they’ve finished with the route, make their dump, and check in for maintenance, it will be at least five weeks, maybe more.”

“And that’s true for every garbage run?”

“What do you mean?”, Tilly asked cautiously.

“Well…I mean that if I haven’t lost track of time on that hellish trip through the desert, I think tomorrow is garbage day. They must take on an abnormally large load on the annual garbage haul, and I was wondering, well, if that annual run is somehow different?”

Tilly was silent. Down in the storage room, Bite had stopped crashing around, and was coming up the stairs. Tilly looked sheepish as Bite appeared at the top of the stairs. She was furious. Her look alone would have been enough to kill an army had there been one standing between them.

“You knew. I know you knew. You’re afraid. You coward.”

Jerry looked from one to the other, sure he was in the middle of a ten year squabble he didn’t want anything to do with. There was an awkward silence during which Tilly was undoubtedly trying to come up with something to calm her down, and Jerry suspected whatever it was would be a lie. If he could just diffuse the situation enough to allow Tilly to save face, maybe he could still get somewhere. Desperately, he said, “I’m sure he just forgot. I mean, look at this place. You guys haven’t had a garbage pick up since you built it. You put it all into those funny little cans and crush and bury the stuff yourselves. It’s no wonder you’re out of touch.”

Tilly looked relieved. Bite did not.

“Just tell me,” Jerry continued, “if you have any idea how long the annual pickup scowls spend in space before they reach a modern space port.”

“Oh he knows,” Bite chimed in. “Of course he knows. He was the last human to captain that line before they abandoned him down here.”

Jerry began to get the picture. Tilly was afraid. Much more so than he let on. And he wasn’t about to walk back into the lion’s den.

Tilly got up, ostensibly to get a drink, but just put his hands on the counter and stared down at them, shaking his head.

“Alright, alright,” Tilly said at long last. “She’s right. If anyone would know, it’s me. I spent nearly ten years on those ships.” He looked at Bite for support, but she was still stern. “The trip from here on the annual dump takes about three days, total. I suppose we can get you enough food and drink to survive the trip, but….”

“But what?” Jerry asked.

“But he can’t go with you. Isn’t that right comrade?”

Tilly put his head back down. Bite continued, “They really treated him like hell before they finally dumped him here. I thought I had it bad, but the ’bots are so much worse than humans. They know just when to stop to avoid killing you, but they leave you with nothing but an empty shell. At least humans get tired after awhile.” She looked at him with affection. “He doesn’t think he could face them again and I believe him.” She looked again at Tilly, this time with purpose. “But he’s the only one that can guide us in, and the only one that can get me back out again. He knows those old ships like the back of his hand.”

Tilly returned her glance.

“Tilly, I know you think I’m rash. That I never think before I act. I know you don’t really take me or the revolution seriously. But this man needs our help, and if you love me, you’ll put aside your fear and jump into the cauldron with me one more time.”

Tilly took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then, with resolve, he walked over to Bite and put out his hand.

“Ok. I’m in.”

TRAVEL LOG. DAY 8.

It’s garbage day. I spent the morning with my new friends packing up a bag for my travels. I’ve got enough food and water to last five days if I stretch it, and food and hydro pills to last five years if they’re any good. Except for weapons, these guys have a downright aversion to anything that smells remotely modern, especially if it was invented by the ’bots. So the pills are relics that have long since expired, and none of us are sure if they have any value left at all. Let’s hope I don’t need them.

We took a full 14 hours to hike the underground passageway to the space port. It ends in a kind of hub between bays, which was filled with traffic, mostly natives, but with enough ’bots that Tilly thought we would should wait a few hours for a window quiet enough for us to sneak out of the passageway, and over to the scowl. In the meantime, I’m taking a few moments for the log.

The log gets boring and technical here, as we get the details of Tilly’s plan to get Jerry off the planet. To no one’s surprise, it’s supported by one miraculous bit of luck after another, such as the existence of the underground tunnel or the innate medical skills of the revolutionaries that cured our hero’s leg, followed by elaborate justifications of why we have been so lucky. There is of course a formula which states that the degree of pure fortune within the plot must be exponentially proportional to the length of the supporting explanations. How unfortunate for us.

So each part of the escape plan, the long hike through the dark tunnel, the hide and seek they play with the robots, their encounter with local fauna, is sheared of any vitality by the mass of justifications the author subjects us to along the way.

Suffice to say that Jerry and his new friends spend a day walking along a dark corridor, fight off a few animals, nearly get spotted by robots while sneaking into a garbage ship, and finally get him stored and supplied in an unused cargo hold. He has air, food, water, and yes, even a view of the goings on inside the ship. With one near miss, he makes it safe and sound and is ready for the lonesome journey across the stars.

TRAVEL LOG. DAY 9.

I have to give it to Tilly, he really knows his stuff. I’m completely outfitted in my new little home, and even somewhat comfortable. The Trash-bots have been busy all day, making calculations for the journey and loading up the holds. I can’t see much, but I do just barely have a view of a vid-screen that’s loaded with technical information. My view is through a sort of slit in the wall panels, and though it’s not much, it will give me something to look at over the next few days.

I’m trying not to think about her and what she’s going to say when I show up on her doorstep, but with three days of no one but me and my thoughts, I fear I won’t be able to hold out. She haunted my dreams again last night. This time, she was a sort of robot like monster. She was still Ball, though, and I wasn’t afraid. I remember going up to hold her, but she grabbed my arms and threw me in a cage. The last I remember of the dream, I was sitting in my cage, looking through the bars at her, and she was looking back with the eyes of a curious animal, not sure what to make of me. Her head was cocked to one side as if to ask, “Is this really my enemy?”

What am I thinking? By the time I get to her, the Tru-bots will have closed in and staked out her place. The Academy must be about the most obvious place I could go and yet…even if I didn’t need her to stop the Old Man…I think I would still go back to her. She’s pulling me in, and if it turns out to be a trap, I’m not sure that I care.

Well it’s nice to see Jerry open up a bit, anyway. But this isn’t a story about characters and their feelings. We have to save the universe, and to do that, we need plot. Romantic feelings and soul searching are not to be the engines by which this ship is driven. We are not to be so fortunate. Rather, with our appetites whetted with this romantic bait the size of a mall food-court sample of the General’s Chicken, we fly back to the Old Man’s office, and back into the story.