SCRAP, page 17
“We couldn’t find her,” Paige interrupted. “I don’t know if she’s gone, but there wasn’t much left of the train. To be honest, there wasn’t much left of you either.”
“You were in a sorry state when they brought you in, that’s for sure,” the doctor confirmed. “That splendid core of yours saved you again.”
“Less than dead…” Scrap said, and silently thanked his maker.
“And then me and Paige bringed you here,” added Gnat proudly. “So you could get back on your feet.”
“Thanks,” said Scrap. “I owe you—”
“No…” Gnat tutted, gesturing pointedly at Scrap’s legs. “So you could get back on your feet.”
“My -zk- feet?” Scrap repeated, and looked down. Sure enough, he had a pair of new spindly copper legs and, for the first time in ten years, two feet. In delight, he reached for them and realized he also had not one but two arms – one blue and slightly skeletal, with a small but useful-looking hand, while the other was tubular and yellow, and ended in a two-fingered pincer. The dents in his torso had been hammered out from inside, with a rust-red plate to seal the blast hole that Highshine had left.
“I said we should just use one of the old cases from the train wreck,” said Paige as Scrap climbed down from the gurney. “But Gnat said we had to fix you.”
“Because those cases aren’t Scrap – that is,” Gnat said, pointing to Scrap as if it was the hundredth time she’d had to explain it. “He’s bits and pieces, like he should be. I think he looks cool as cooclumbers.”
“Yeah … so do -zk- I,” Scrap said, and let out a wheezy laugh as he stepped gingerly down from the gurney. He, Paige and Gnat were almost out of the room when the doctor spoke up.
“I have to ask…” the doctor said in a whisper. “Are you really him? Are you K1-NG?”
Scrap didn’t answer. He just walked on two feet out of the surgery, and made his way into the street.
The evening was gloomy and cool, and a thick, blueish-green fog lay heavy on the ground.
Scrap found it harder than he thought, getting used to having two feet again. As he left Bad Knees Outpost behind him, Paige and Gnat followed close behind as he tottered uneasily.
“Feet, plural,” Scrap said, gazing down at his new appendages. “I could get -zk- used to – wait. How did I get all these parts? Who paid for ’em?”
“She did,” replied Gnat, and raised her arm high.
From out of the fog stepped an imposing royal-blue robot, with a gleaming metallic finish, long, flowing tendrils cascading down her neck, and two hovering dust-drones keeping her well-buffed.
“Gunner?” Scrap gasped.
“You don’t have to say it, rusty – I know I’ve seen batter days,” she sighed. “That mad hunter junked my new case back at the emporium once and floor all – I had to be put back into my old case until poor Mr Coil is fit to upgrade again. The humiliation…!”
“Yeah, you -zk- look terrible,” Scrap replied sarcastically. “And thanks for the -zk- parts.”
“Don’t mention it, it’s the least I was legally obligated to do,” said Gunner with a tut. “If a ’bot happens to be damaged, dented, scratched, smashed or otherwise injured while on my hovertrain, it’s my responsibility to patch ’em up … even a second-time stowaway like yourself.” She shook her head and glowered at him. “Although trouble seems to find you, doesn’t it, rusty? I’d hazard a guest that you had something to do with sending my glorious silver stallion off its tracks – care to shed some life on the mystery?”
Scrap thought about telling Gunner the truth. He thought about telling her that he had been found on a Pile by the last humans on Somewhere 513, and that they had been pursued by hunters and Harmony Highshine alike. He thought about exposing Mayor Highshine’s secret desire to become human in a world where humanity was outlawed. He even thought about telling her that his core-code was K1-NG.
Then he remembered that Gunner had sworn an oath to kill the King of the Robots, and decided he’d made enough enemies for one day.
“Brain-frame’s -zk- fuzzy … crash must’ve shaken a cog or -zk- two loose…” he replied, tapping the side of his head. “I was just heading back to my Pile and the next thing I know, I woke up here.”
Gunner put her tendrils on her hips. “A lightly story,” she said. “And I suppose your memory’s equally hazy when it comes to that hunter! Back in the emporium, I’m sure he said he was looking for humans. Do you know what he was on about?”
Scrap, Paige and Gnat looked at each other. In unison, they shrugged.
“No one here but us robots,” replied Scrap.
Gunner narrowed her eyes. “You know, I’d be well within my rights to make a citizen’s unrest until I get to the bottom of all this,” she began. “Still, since Mayor Highshine hasn’t bothered to check whether I’m alive or dead, I feel inclined to have nothing more to do with you.”
“Probably for the -zk- best,” agreed Scrap.
“But if I ever see you around my hovertrain again,” Gunner added, leaning closer, “there’ll be hell to pray.”
“Don’t -zk- worry, you’re never goin’ to see me again,” Scrap said.
“Promises, promises,” chuckled Gunner. “So what’s next for rusty and his friends?”
Scrap did not pause.
“We’ve got a mission,” he replied. “We’re goin’ west, to the Elsewhere.”
“Did you hear that? Scrap said ‘we’,” Gnat whispered, giving Paige a prod. “Scrap, you said ‘we’.”
“Yeah,” Scrap replied with a smile. “Wherever you go, I’m goin’ with you.”
Paige nodded and smiled, but Gnat wasted no time in rushing into Scrap’s new arms and giving him a hug.
“You’re my third-best friend, Scrap,” she said with a happy sniff. “After Paige and Mr Steven Kirby.”
“Need I remind you, you’ll be taking your life into your own sands if you venture out into the Elsewhere,” Gunner added with genuine concern. “The Badlands are fraught with dangers unfold – if you go, you might never come back.”
“We don’t plan on comin’ back,” said Scrap. Gunner nodded. Then as she turned to go, Scrap called after her: “I know I’m probably not your favourite ’bot right now, but can I ask you a -zk- favour?”
Gunner turned back and sighed. “You’re pushing your luck, rusty … but try me.”
“There’s a robot out on Pile -zk- Twenty-One, needs bringing home,” Scrap explained. “His name’s -zk- Morten. If he hasn’t run out of charge, you’ll probably find him -zk- shovellin’.”
Scrap, Paige and Gnat watched Gunner stride off into the fog. Paige winced, and checked no one was around before carefully pulling off her helmet. Scrap saw she’d wrapped a makeshift bandage around her head, covering her eye.
“How -zk- is it?” Scrap asked.
“I’ll be fine,” she said.
“You should get an eyepatch,” suggested Gnat, pulling her own helmet up till it sat on top of her head. “Pirates are cool as cooclumbers.”
It was the first time Scrap had heard Paige laugh.
“Maybe I should,” she said.
They stood in the fog, enjoying this small moment of calm and quiet, trying not to dwell on the past, trying not to worry about the future.
But none of them could forget about the mission.
“It’s not goin’ to be -zk- easy,” Scrap said. “The Pink-Footed Goose is in the middle of the Elsewhere. What we’ve been through is probably goin’ to feel like a -zk- picnic compared to what’s comin’ next.”
“There’s no going back now. This Somewhere isn’t our home any more,” said Paige. She looked up into the sky and put her arm around Gnat. “If we’re going to find one, it’s going to be up there.”
“Off-world,” Gnat agreed.
“All right then,” Scrap said with a nod. “West it is.”
“Thanks, Scra—” Paige stopped herself. “Sorry. Shouldn’t we call you ‘King’?” she asked. “Like Mum did?”
The little robot smiled.
“Thanks,” he said. “But I think I’d rather be ‘Scrap’.”
And that was how it started.
It was the year Something Something, and me and my sister Paige were about to head off into the Elsewhere with the robot our mum had named K1-NG.
She’d told us stories about him – the King of the Robots, who’d fought to protect the humans and who never gave up.
But this – well, I suppose this is the end of the story of the King of the Robots, and the beginning of another story, the story of my big sister Paige and the robot who would turn out to be her best friend in all the world – Somewhere, Elsewhere and beyond.
She called him Scrap.
They say no robot is an island. This revolution would not have been possible if not for the titanic toil and sterling support of a number of excellent humans. If you enjoyed this book, it’s largely thanks to them. If you didn’t, it’s all their fault.
The road is long, with many a robot revolution, and my brilliant agent, Stephanie Thwaites, has been there for the last thirteen years, fighting my corner in the Strongbox, making sure my core is charged and keeping my brain-frame sparking.
Thanks to Alessia Trunfio, who brought so much depth to the book through her incredible illustrations, breathing life into humans and robots alike, and adding visual magic to the world of Somewhere 513.
Thanks to everyone at Little Tiger, for continuing to give me the chance to write the sort of books I wanted to read as a child. I couldn’t ask for a nicer publishing family.
A massive tip of the hat to designer extraordinaire Pip Johnson, with her keen eye for big pictures and finer details. Thanks for making this book as shiny and well-buffed as it could possibly be.
Gratitude galore to Jane Harris, whose skill as an editor kept the cogs of this book turning, even when I was ready to send it back to the Piles. Jane left no motivation unexamined, no question unasked, no loose end untidied and no cog unturned as she diligently directed me towards an infinitely better story than it would have been without her.
And thanks to my mate, Lauren Ace, ’cause she’s a legend.
To my family. Thanks to Mum and Dad, who have supported me in unnumbered ways and with countless kindnesses. Whether the chips have been down or the one-and-a-half suns rising, I’ve always relied on them and they’ve always been there for me.
My big brother Ian squandered his childhood with me, creating hundreds of characters and scenarios and stories. Turns out, it was the best preparation for this job I could have asked for. Whether forty seconds or several light years away, Ian is ever ready to listen to my daft ideas and read even the most unreadable drafts of my books, and I couldn’t be more grateful. And thanks again for the hummingbirds and giants.
Finally, to my wife, Ruth, to whom this book is dedicated (pretty sure this puts her into double figures) and who I’m still as desperate to impress as I was on the first day we met. Her wisdom, kindness, patience and poise continue to floor me, and her love of adventures real and imagined is as infectious as ever. I couldn’t have done it without you, Ruby. And anyway, what would have been the point? But no more emporiums, I promise.
And, if you’re still reading this, here s to you, the mighty reader – for sticking around to the very end, for picking up this book in the first place, and for choosing to join me on this distant Somewhere.
Guy Bass is an award-winning children’s author, whose books include the best-selling Stitch Head series, Skeleton Keys, Spynosaur and lots of books that don’t begin with S. Even though this one does.
SCRAP is Guy’s fortieth book, and his first robot revolution.
Guy lives in London with his wife and no dog, yet.
Find out more at guybass.com
Alessia is a children’s book illustrator. After graduating in Animation from the International School of Comics in 2013 in Rome, she worked as a Background Artist for some animation studios. After a few years she decided to start a career as an llustrator.
She is represented by the New York illustration agency Astound and has worked for many international publishers.
Pursued across the wild Elsewhere by a relentless new breed of upgraded hunter, Scrap, Paige and Gnat stumble across a town populated by ragtag robots.
The town’s charismatic sheriff offers them safe haven, and Scrap becomes convinced that staying might be the only way to keep the humans out of harm’s way. But when Paige is haunted by visions of a past she has never known, she discovers that the town harbours a dangerous secret. Before long, friends become enemies and enemies become friends, as Scrap, Paige and Gnat fight to save both themselves and their world…
LITTLE TIGER
An imprint of Little Tiger Press Limited
1 Coda Studios, 189 Munster Road,
London SW6 6AW
www.littletiger.co.uk
First published in Great Britain in 2023
Text copyright © Guy Bass, 2023
Illustrations copyright © Alessia Trunfio, 2023
eISBN: 978-1-78895-699-4
The right of Guy Bass and Alessia Trunfio to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work respectively has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition, being imposed upon the subsequent purchaser.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Guy Bass, SCRAP
