SCRAP, page 12
While they were trapped in this room, at least the humans had the means to sustain themselves, Scrap thought.
But they were still trapped.
Fifteen more minutes passed in Morten Prometheus’s excellent room of things. Scrap spent the time pacing up and down and glowering at Morten Prometheus out of anger, jealousy or a combination of them both.
With their bellies full of food, however, Paige and Gnat were briefly giddy; Gnat ran around frantically, identifying as many objects in the room as possible, before discovering a small, green-furred teddy bear, which she declared to be her second-best friend after her sister. She lay on the sofa on top of Morten’s cosmic-themed cape, and began to tell the bear the story of her adventures in the world beyond the Foxhole. Paige soon felt overwhelmed with tiredness but dared not sleep. She picked up a book called It’s Not You, It’s Me – Why the Human Race Broke Up with Planet Earth and started to read. After a while she looked over to the still-pacing Scrap and said: “I’m sorry you lost your case.”
Scrap tried not to appear taken aback at the human’s unprompted compassion.
“Thanks,” he replied. “I’m sorry you lost your -zk- world.”
“Yeah…” said Paige, looking back at her book. A long sigh shuddered out of her mouth.
There was another pause, before Scrap broke the silence again.
“What you said before, outside the Strongbox. Do you really think you can shift my core?”
Paige didn’t look up.
“Will you help us if I do?”
Scrap shook his head.
“It’s not my help you need, it’s his,” he said, pointing to the slumbering Morten Prometheus. “You heard him, he’s unbeatable. With that case, he might as well be ‘King of the Robots’. I still think trying to find the Pink-Footed Goose is -zk- madness, but if anyone can get you back to your mum, it’s whoever’s wearing that case.”
Paige put her book down and looked at Scrap at last.
“Listen,” she began, “I need to tell you something—”
The sudden screech of the hunter’s flight-cycle was unmistakable. Neither Scrap nor Paige paused, racing towards Gnat at once and leaping on to the sofa. Paige clamped her hand over her sister’s mouth as Scrap pulled Morten’s starry cape over them, leaving himself just enough of a gap to look out of the window.
There was Terry. His flight-cycle moved slowly past the glass. The hunter craned to looked inside, his long cloak billowing behind him, an amber light pulsing in the middle of his spheroid head.
“Do you think he knows we’re here?” Paige whispered, under the cover of the cape.
“Oh, Scra-ap!” howled Terry from outside. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”
Scrap sighed.
“Yeah, I think he knows we’re -zk- here.”
Paige sniffed Gnat’s armpit.
“Do you think he followed our scent again?” she whispered.
“He’s here, isn’t he?” Scrap whispered in return. “Maybe try not to stink so much…”
“Me? You smell like motor oil and dustbins!” Paige hissed.
“Maybe I do, but the killer robot isn’t sniffin’ for dustbin stink, is he?”
“Well, if he was, he’d smell you from a mile—”
“Time’s up!” Terry exclaimed. Scrap saw the flight-cycle pivot in the air to face the window, and then two Gatling guns fold out from its sides.
“Oh, for cog’s— Move!” cried Scrap.
And with that, the hunter opened fire.
The windows shattered in an instant.
As a barrage of blasts peppered the room, Scrap flung Morten’s cape into the air. He and Paige rolled off the sofa, dragging Gnat with them. The hunter spotted the cape before his targets – he banked his flight-cycle, blasting a hole through the starry fabric as Scrap and the humans raced across the room.
“Get behind him!” cried Scrap, jabbing a finger in the direction of Morten Prometheus. “Go, go -zk- go!”
“Ruuuuuun!” Gnat added unnecessarily. The trio frantically zigzagged as the hunter’s continuous volley blasted everything in sight. By the time they threw themselves behind the slumbering Morten, almost everything in the room had been smashed, seared or blown to pieces.
“Don’t move!” insisted Scrap as he, Paige and Gnat huddled behind his former case. Shots were already ricocheting off Morten’s case, leaving dark scorch marks.
“Morten!” he yelled, banging on the robot’s back. “Wake up and fight, for cog’s sake!”
Morten did not stir. Scrap checked the display on Morten’s power battery.
“That’s plenty of -zk- power, you lazy gub! Wake up!” Scrap screamed as Morten’s case took more fire.
Finally, the bombardment stopped. Thick smoke and the smell of whatever little remained of Morten Prometheus’s precious things filled the air. The sound of the blasting echoed and faded, leaving only the grating hum of the hunter’s flight-cycle, still hovering outside the shattered window.
“Paige, he shot the Food-O-Copier™,” Gnat whispered, pointing to a mangled mess of metal surrounded by crushed cupcakes. Paige slapped her hand over her sister’s mouth.
“Shhhh…” she mouthed silently. “Don’t. Make. A. Sound.”
“Scra-ap… Oh, Scraa-aaap! You and the slimers still alive in there?” said Terry, his voice unnervingly sing-song as he peered through the smoke. “Tell you what, send the humans out and I’ll consider abandoning my plans for your slow and agonizing death…”
The rumble of engines grew suddenly louder. Scrap peeked out from behind Morten’s leg – through the haze of smoke he saw Terry pilot the flight-cycle through the shattered window and into Morten’s flat. It moved slowly through the room, a metre above the floor.
As K1-NG, Scrap thought, he would have faced his enemy regardless of numbers, strength or firepower, rolling his great shoulders with a smirk, ready for whatever they threw at him. Now the very best he could hope to do was buy a little time. He scanned the battery’s readout.
“Think,” Scrap muttered to himself.
“Grenade’s in my bag,” whispered Paige, pointing across the room to the smoking remains of Morten’s mountain of books. “If you can reach it—”
“I’m not runnin’ out there just to get -zk- shot! And even if by some slim chance I don’t get shot, I’m not about to blow us all … to … kingdom…” Scrap trailed off as he stared at the ruined Food-O-Copier™, then across the floor, strewn with cupcakes and peppered with blast marks. “Wait,” he whispered to himself. “Wait a -zk- minute…”
“I can heeear yooou,” cried Terry over the hum of the flight-cycle’s engines. He edged ever closer to Morten’s case, cannons aimed and ready to fire. “Come out, Scrap! Come out, come out, wherever you—”
“Don’t -zk- shoot!” Scrap cried, limping uneasily out from behind Morten Prometheus. His right arm was held aloft.
“What happened to you, junk case? Just when I didn’t think you could look any more past your upgrade date…” Terry sneered, his flight-cycle pivoting in the air. “Now be a good barely ’bot and send out the humans, or I’ll do us both a favour and junk that case of yours for good.”
“I have a -zk- better idea,” said Scrap defiantly, and raised his hand higher. “Turn tail and run … or I’ll send us all to ’bot heaven.”
The hunter squinted in the fog of smoke. The little robot held something in his hand. Terry bristled.
“What do you have there, junk case…?” he asked.
“A little somethin’ I -zk- stole from your sister,” said Scrap. “May she rest in the Pile.”
“You shut up about my sister!” Terry roared, peering closer at Scrap’s hand. “A grenade?” he scoffed. “What, are you going to blow us up, junk case? And your stink human friends? I don’t think so. You’re bluffing, is what I think.”
“Maybe I am bluffin’,” said Scrap. “Or maybe I’ve been tryin’ to get rid of those humans since they found me. Maybe I’m the one ’bot on Somewhere Five One Three who has nothing to -zk- lose…”
The hunter paused, his flight-cycle hovering.
“…Robots don’t junk robots,” said Terry.
“That’s more of a -zk- suggestion,” Scrap replied. At last, Terry’s flight-cycle backed off, reversing towards the window.
“You – you’ve not seen the last of me, junk case,” the hunter insisted, his voice shaking a little. “I’ll be back to get my trophies, and send you back to your maker. And next time, you won’t even see me—”
Terry stopped in his tracks. Scrap followed his line of sight to the floor. The Food-O-Copier™ lay singed and blasted, and surrounded by charred confectionary.
Terry looked back at Scrap’s hand.
“Wait … is that … a cupcake…?” he hissed, his voice boiling with rage. “You sneaky little junk—”
The hunter did not even see Morten’s fist coming. The giant moved with such speed that he was all but a blur of silver and blue. Before Terry knew what was happening, he’d been struck so hard in the chest that he flew from his flight-cycle, across the room and out of the window. As the cycle crashed into a corner, a panicked cry echoed through the air, growing fainter until they heard a final, tinny clang of robot hitting pavement.
“You took your precious -zk- time,” tutted Scrap.
“Was Morten supposed to hit him?” Morten asked Scrap, nervously tapping his chin with his fingers. “It felt like the right thing to do since he was pointing a gun at you.”
“You did -zk- fine,” Scrap grunted. “But that doesn’t make up for you -zk- lockin’ us up in here! Stinkin’ gub, what’s the big idea, keepin’ us prisoner in your playroom?”
“Morten … wanted you to stay,” said Morten with an awkward shrug. “Sorry if you were—”
Morten interrupted himself with a scream so high and shrill that it shorted out one of Scrap’s ears, as he surveyed his devastated room in horror. “The things…” he burbled. “All of the wonderful, precious things…”
“That wasn’t actually our fault – a lot has happened since you took a nap,” said Gnat, stepping out from behind Morten’s leg with a slightly singed, green-furred teddy bear in her hand. “Can I keep this?”
Morten Prometheus turned and came face to face with his very first human.
Morten’s second scream of the day echoed across the city like a siren. Scrap glanced at Paige and Gnat and realized in horror that neither of them was wearing their disguise.
“H-h-humans!” Morten said, interrupting his own scream.
“OK, yeah. Yes, they’re -zk- humans,” admitted Scrap. “But they’re not goin’ to give you any -zk- trouble. I mean, they are trouble, but they’re not as -zk- bad as everybody makes out. I mean, they are kind of a pain, but—”
“Morten has waited a lifetime to meet you!” cried Morten, hopping from giant foot to foot in excitement. “That is, to see one of you … an actual, real human. A you.” Paige tensed up as he leaned closer, inspecting her with light-headed fascination. In a breathy gasp he added, “You are not nearly as slimy as Morten expected.”
“Uh, thanks?” Paige muttered, leaning away.
“They said you had to leave because you would not have shared the planet with us, because humans do not share,” Morten added, turning his gaze to Gnat. “Morten did not think this day could ever come because you escaped to the stars … but here you are.”
“We didn’t escape ’cause we were borned here,” Gnat explained. “We lived in the Foxhole like moles but now we’re going off-world.”
“The Foxholes? Morten helped to shovel them,” said Morten happily. “Morten is most proud of the Foxholes, and happy you made one of them your home.”
Morten extended a vast hand to Gnat, who tucked Morten’s toy bear under her arm and shook the robot’s hand (or rather one of his huge fingers).
“Pleased to meet you too, Morten Pro-pee-pee-ups,” Gnat replied. “I’m actually Gnat and that’s still Paige. Does my bear have a name? I think he’s called Mr Steven Kirby.”
“But that is one of the things,” said Morten. He glanced around the room again, and realized the bear was one of his few possessions to remain un-blasted. “That is Morten’s thing.”
“Swap you,” suggested Gnat.
“For what?” asked Morten.
“For another thing,” Gnat confirmed.
“Another thing…” Morten mused, deep in thought. “Morten likes this idea. What do you have?”
“Nothing,” Gnat replied plainly. “All my most best drawings are back in the Foxhole.”
“You drive a hard bargain,” Morten reflected, “but ‘nothing’ is not enough for one of the things. Morten will keep the bear, all the same.”
Gnat turned to Paige, her eyes pleading.
“Paige…?” she whispered.
“What?” Paige blurted. “You don’t need it.”
Gnat sighed, and nodded. After a long moment, she held out the bear to Morten in both hands. “Bye, Mr Steven Kirby,” she said with a sniff. “I will never forget you.”
Morten hesitated, before reaching out to take back his thing.
“…For goodness’ sake,” Paige tutted. She pulled off her armguard and held it out. “Here. Take it. It’s a core tracer.”
“What does it do?” asked Morten.
“It finds robots,” Paige said.
“But Morten can do that already,” said Morten. “Morten just has to look out of the window.”
Paige held his gaze.
“It found the King of the Robots.”
“Morten knows where he is too,” Morten noted, pointing at Scrap.
Paige huffed. “Actually, you know what? Forget it.”
“Wait, what?” Morten and Gnat said together.
“I’ve changed my mind,” Paige said. “It’s – this thing is actually too special a thing to swap. I want to keep it.”
“Wait – wait! Deal!” Morten said. “Morten wants the special human thing. Deal. Deal, please.”
Paige tried not to smile.
“…Fine,” she said, and offered up the core tracer. It was when Morten reached out to take it that he realized that his arm – in fact, his entire case – was covered in blast marks. Another scream resounded through the flat.
“Morten’s case!”
“Yeah, we had to use you as -zk- cover,” grunted Scrap matter-of-factly. “That hunter just won’t -zk- leave us alone.”
“Did you tread on him too?” Morten asked, inspecting his limbs in dismay.
“Scrap blew up his sister,” Gnat explained, hugging her bear. “But he did want to turn us into toffees.”
“Trophies,” Paige corrected her, and placed the core tracer on what was left of Morten’s coffee table.
“But you punched him right out of the window,” Gnat said, swinging her fist. “Blammo.”
Paige made her way to the window and peered cautiously out. “It’s too dark down there, I can’t see him. Do you think he’s junked?”
“Between the punch an’ the fall, I don’t think he’s gettin’ -zk- up,” said Scrap. “But all that blastin’ an’ then a ’bot fallin’ out of the sky – that’s goin’ to draw attention. We should get movin’ – Morten, is there a back -zk- way out of here?”
Morten shrugged. “Sometimes Morten wishes there was. Robots are always mobbing Morten and showering Morten with gifts and shouting ‘We love you, Morten Prometheus’. It is actually quite frustrating…”
“We don’t need another way out – we have that,” Paige said. She pointed her thumb back at the flight-cycle, which lay upturned in the corner of the room. “Next stop, the Elsewhere.”
“It looks broked,” noted Gnat.
“Then I’ll fix it,” said Paige, clambering over the debris towards the cycle.
“Wait, did you say the Elsewhere?” repeated Morten, following behind. “Why are you going there? No one goes there, and if they do, they do not come out alive.”
“We’re going to get the rocket ship,” said Gnat. “And then we’re going to get our mum and get off-world.”
Scrap rubbed his eyes, gritty with dust. There was no talking Paige and Gnat out of their mission, but even if they survived the dangers of the Elsewhere and found the ship, how could they get it space-worthy? Why had Dandelion sent them out into the big, wide Somewhere, knowing who he was – knowing he couldn’t protect them?
Scrap stared up at Morten Prometheus. He watched him pick up the flight-cycle in one hand and right it, placing it gently back on the floor.
“You,” he said. As Morten turned, he hobbled towards him, tripping over the remains of a sofa as he did so. “You could go with ’em. I’m no good to ’em like this. But you are, like that.”
“…Like what?” Morten asked.
“We don’t need any help – Gnat and I will be fine,” said Paige. She took an electric wrench out of her satchel and began prising an access panel off the side of the flight-cycle.
“But you’re coming with us, aren’t you, Scrap?” added Gnat. “Mum said you would.”
“Morten, whoever has that case is the greatest -zk- robot on Somewhere Five One Three,” Scrap said, doing his best to ignore Gnat. “If these two are goin’ to find that ship – if they’re going to make it back to their mother, the humans need someone with ’em who can give ’em a fightin’ chance.”
“But Morten does not fight,” Morten replied.
Scrap held out his arms with a shrug. “It’s literally all you do.”
“Morten told you, that is theatre – Morten honestly prefers to shovel,” Morten clarified. “The humans should not go to the Elsewhere. They should stay here. Morten has lots more things, and a few of them are not shot to bits and pieces. They should stay.”
