(Ishmael)
I don’t often think back to the days before I was a time traveler. They were wasted days. To be honest, I wasn’t in any better position in life than Larry was when I met him. Okay. I had a watered down English degree from a state university. I had that much, which really isn’t much. It was a piece of paper that said my dreams were bigger and wilder than I could ever realize.
My dreams...
When I was a kid I loved cartoons with giant robots in them. Tranzor Z, Robotech, even that Godzilla movie with Jet Jaguar in it. More than anything I wanted to be a giant robot, or, more precisely, a giant robot pilot. Getting behind the wheel of a Voltron lion or a Veritech Battloid, and defending hapless humans from evil, giant, alien beasts was my dream. Not only would it be personally fulfilling, but if I wasn’t one of the husky guys who always died honorably in combat, I would definitely get a super hot, and possibly half-alien, girlfriend.
But 1999 came and went, and no alien artifact dropped out of the sky to crash on some remote island, jumpstart advanced robotics technology, and unite the human race against the inevitable alien invasion. None of that happened.
So, I culled my collections of comic books and imported Japanese toys, and tried to become a grown up. I wasn’t very good at it. Mostly I perfected the art of how to get drunk efficiently and alienate all your friends and relatives. There are some disappointments you never get over. Mine was that I was never going to be robot jock no matter how many cardboard models and mock-ups I built.
That one sacred disappointment came back to hit me in the nethers when that archway opened up large enough for the Cyberian hospitality droid to waltz through. On the other side, in the land of a future forbidden to humanity, I could see the feet and lower legs of a Cyberian Gonzo-Destructo Mech.
It was awesome.
Not the watered down version of awesome that everyone uses these days. No. It was the biblical, ‘I cower in helplessness before the almighty power of my creator,’ definition of awesome.
“I have to drive that...”
“Too bad,” said the Orb, “they’re self-actuating.”
The Orb was in full berserker-time-mutant fury. His unitard was torn and tattered. Blood, some of it his, some of it not, was smeared across his body. His head was a ball of lightning, with bursts of energy shooting out at seeming random, but always connecting with a velociraptor or two.
I’d never seen this side of the Orb. It was the truly terrifying side I never wanted to see, but always suspected was there.
He grabbed me by the elbow and pulled me to follow.
“This is all your grandfather’s fault,” he muttered.
“No argument here,” I said. “But I’m not leaving Liz alone in the middle of this shitstorm.”
“Fine,” he said. “Bring your cousin.”
“Cousin?” said Lizzabits.
“Also your grandfather’s fault. Come on!”
The Orb took us in pursuit of the Servodroid and Larry, toward the archway that was now large enough for us to pass.
As we pushed toward it, we were shoved from behind by a crushing wave of little dinosaurs. The monkey ninja robots fell on the wave, dropping out of the skies, from out of nowhere, and through archway from the future. All the while blasts of lightning sheared off from the Orb’s aura and toasted saurians and Cyberians alike.
Through the force of the Orb’s will alone we found ourselves on the front doorstep of the robot empire that shall inherit the earth.
* * *
Advanced Hospitality Servodroid TG-XLR7 was simultaneously elated and annoyed. Finally returning to its native timeframe after so many countless power cycles on concierge duty sent the servodroid into the deepest throes of simulated ecstasy that its programming allowed. It was that little snot of a human being clinging to TG-XLR7’s arm that was diluting the mood.
Never mind that. TG-XLR7 wasn’t going to let Larry, the horrible time traveler, spoil its homecoming.
* * *
As soon as we were through the archway, past the Great Time Barrier, an army of all sorts of robots, from the monkey ninja Observer model to the colossal Gonzo-Destructo Mechs and several types in between, closed ranks on us and trained their weapons.
“I need to interface with the Grand Adjuticatron,” said the Orb.
An Advanced Hospitality Servodroid, designation JK-FTV4, stepped into the space between us and the quickly closing perimeter of cybernetic death machines.
“Request denied,” it said. “You are in violation of the Epoch Territorial Establishment Treaty. Prepare to be incinerated.”
“Turnabout is fair play,” said the Orb. “You’ve been polishing your chassis posteriors with the Treaty all day.
“Prepare,” the Servodroid said, “to be incinerated.”
“I think not,” said the Orb.
I always knew the Orb was powerful. I’d never really understood to what extent before. He didn’t even flinch as the encircling soldierbots powered their weapons.
Liz grasped at my hand, and I grasped back.
“Does he know what he’s doing?” she asked.
“I’m so far out my depth,” I said. I kept clicking all the toggles on my watch, even the ones that I don’t know what they do, but nothing happened. Even the music player function was dead.
“At least it’s nice to be with family,” she said. “I mean, if we have to die, at least we’re not alone.”
“Yeah,” I said.
“Article 3,” said the Orb, “section 7, subparagraph B of the Treaty clearly states that, in the event of immanent breach of the Time Barrier by entities from a non-signatory epoch, I get to come here and talk to the Grand Adjuticatron to coordinate a response.”
“One moment,” said the Servodroid. ”Oh, yes. I see the relevant subparagraph. Yes. Well, the dinosaurs are indeed at the gates. But we’ve got this.”
The Servodroid stepped backwards, and joined the wall of robots that were charging their weapons.
“Incinerate!”
Our circular firing squad unleashed a coordinated burst of firepower of science fictional proportions. We really should have been fried. But, like I said, I had no idea how truly powerful the Orb actually was.
Right when the robots’ energy pulse should have fried us like so many over-microwaved burritos, a wreath of eldritch fire formed around us. The wreath extended up and down, meeting with itself, forming a protective dome over us. It was fed by an uncanny umbilical conduit of energy flowing straight from the middle of the Orb’s forehead.
“Ishmael,” the Orb groaned, straining to keep his timehead doing whatever it was his timehead was doing that kept us from being turned to ash. “Cover your eyes... Don’t... don’t look back... You’re... you’re going to have... to finish this... you have to finish this...”
And then, with a scream, the Orb’s dome exploded outward.
In spite of his warning, I was still seeing spots. The wreckage was unbelievable. Every robot within a quarter mile, including the Gonzo-Destructo Mechs, were ripped apart and thrown across the landscape as though they’d been made of tin foil.
It was hard to make sense of it, to figure out which direction was forward.
“Oh gods,” said Lizzabits. “I think I figured out which direction is ‘back.’”
The Great Time Barrier was collapsing behind us, revealing another army, an army of dinosaurs who were taking advantage of the breach with all deliberate speed.
From the opposite direction I heard a groan.
“Larry!”
Liz rushed to him. I really don’t get how those two made such a connection so fast. One of the benefits of being young and stupid, I suppose. It’s easy to pair off.
“Someone get this effing robot off me,” he said.
He was pinned to the ground by the still body of TG-XLR7.
We didn’t have much time. The larger dinosaurs were covering ground quickly and deliberately.
Liz and I gave the robot hulk a shove, and it came to life again. Larry skittered out from underneath before it could make another grab for him.
“Stop,” TG-XLR7 bleated. “The Key... the Chronoclavis...”
I didn’t have time for any interference the severely damaged Servodroid might send us. Luckily there were a couple loose energy rifles nearby. I hefted one and hoped the old point and click method would be good enough.
It was.
I’d blasted a hole in its chest wide enough to leave the robot’s head dangling by a few wires.
Larry grabbed the head and yanked it loose. He cut a strange image in that blast crater full of broken robots and scavenging dinosaurs. In one hand he had the Servodroid’s cybernetic skull, in the other, the Key, Chronoclavis the droid called it, still clutched in the mummified fingers of whoever that poor son of a bitch was who lost his arm. Larry had come a long way since I’d met him. Perhaps there was something for Liz to see in him after all.
“This guy’s been telling me stuff,” said Larry. “This key ignites a weapon. A giant Time Bomb. The monkey ninjas have been looking for this thing for a long time. It got lost in some big time war you never told me about. Where that giant head dude, the Orb, and the robots were fighting over just who was allowed to screw with whose timeline. Apparently the robots have figured out several scenarios where they can tweak history just a little bit and they can get a jumpstart on their action. Like, they figured they’d have a more efficient time of setting up their empire with at least some petroleum at their disposal.”
“I never knew about a time war,” I said. “I always figured the CTCAHQ was just a clubhouse for jerks. It never occurred to me they were actually serving a purpose.”
“Whatever,” said Larry. “We’ve got to put some lead on it before those dinosaurs get what they’re looking for.”
Looking back, I could see more and more carnivorous thunderlizards popping into the landscape. With the Time Barrier out of commission, there was nothing to stop them from coming for what they wanted. And, if the robots wanted to find away to cut the human epoch short, the dinosaurs were most certainly looking for a way to extend their own.
More robots joined the battle, but it was clear that the Orb’s dying act had seriously compromised the Cyberians defenses. There were no other Gonzo-Destructo Mechs in the immediate theater, and the smaller robots proved ineffective against wave after wave of fleet-footed carnivorous bipeds the size of school busses.
The dinos stampeded through the scorched crater, making a rush for territory deep behind Cyberian lines. We scrambled for cover behind the twisted body of one of the giant mechs that I wanted to pilot so badly. As we took position, the rushing dinosaurs passed by one after another, ignoring us completely.
The head of TG-XLR7 sparked to life in Larry’s hand.
“You must get to the Field Generator, Larry,” it said. “You’re our only hope.”
“What kind of cornball crap is that?” I said.
“If the dinosaurs get the Field Generator, they will take it back with them and prevent their mass extinction event. If you get there first, you can use the Chronoclavis,” said the severed robot head.
“I thought the Key sets off the Time Bomb,” said Larry.
“Among other things.”
“What other things,” I asked.
“Things,” the robot said. “Things with time. Things with space.”
“The robots wanted to set their Time Bomb off in 1989,” said Larry. “Cut humanity out of the picture there, because they figured out how to start their whole civilization from a single Nintendo cartridge, or something.”
“Something like that,” said the robot head.
“But the way I figure it,” said Larry, “is I’m from 1993. There’s no way that bomb can go off in ‘89 if I’m the guy pulling the trigger. It’s gotta violate some sort of time laws or something.”
“Yes,” said the robot. “Something like that.”
“I don’t trust these guys,” I said. “I sure as hell don’t trust the dinosaurs. And I never trusted the Orb, for that matter. The only thing I know for sure is I don’t want to see any of them get a hold of this Time Bomb. Let’s go for it.”
We climbed up a little higher on the mech’s chassis to get a look at our destination.
“There it is,” said the robot head. “Fifteen kilometers to the northeast. In the Citadel.”
Of course there’s a Citadel. A big robot citadel made of metal, concrete, pipes, gears and circuits. It looked like an inside-out plumbing department from a home improvement store. And between it and us was a battlefield full of legions of robot soldiers engaged in combat with rampaging hordes of allosaurs and t. rexes.
“Screw this,” said Larry. “If we’re going to get there, we’re going to need a ride.”