“Human?” repeated Scrap. He kept his eyes firmly on the tooth.
“Human,” June confirmed, rolling the tooth between her fingers. “Now my brother here is no brain ’bot, but even he can tell you that if the humans left Five One Three ten years ago, and this here tooth is five years old, then…”
Scrap glanced at Terry. He scratched his chin thoughtfully, metal scraping on metal. “Then … then … wait, I’ll get there…”
June sighed.
“Then somethin’ doesn’t -zk- add up,” said Scrap, still staring down at the tooth.
“You’re not as rusty-headed as you look, Scrap.” June laughed. “A human, on a planet where humans are outlawed? I reckon something very much doesn’t add up.”
“I reckon if we find the owner of this tooth we could tick off another species from our still-to-be-hunted list,” Terry declared. “And carry out a little pest control at the same time…”
“Then do it,” Scrap snapped. “Instead of standin’ on my pile, talkin’ my ear off, takin’ up my -zk- day.”
Terry moved closer. Scrap could feel the heat from his case.
“Of course you must have a lot on your plate, what with your worthless, hollow, junk case existence, so we’ll get to the point,” said Terry. “See, every living thing on this planet has its own observable biological residue, what my sister so eloquently refers to as the stink.”
“Humans have a special stink, probably on account of all their tentacles and slime,” added June. “Makes ’em easier to track. All you got to do is tune in. Show him, Terry.”
An image flashed across Terry’s featureless, spherical head – a point of amber light, pulsing in the centre of a planetary map.
“What do you know,” said June slowly, tapping the map on her brother’s face. “Human stink.”
“Imagine our excitement,” added Terry. “Can you imagine it?”
“I -zk- s’pose…” replied Scrap.
“I’m not sure you’re really trying,” Terry huffed, his face-map vanishing with a finger tap on the side of his head. “Anyway, do you know where the stink led us?”
“Where?” Scrap grunted, already knowing the answer.
“Here,” June replied.
“We’ve been tracking the stink for three days,” said Terry. “And it’s led us right to your door.”
“Trackin’?” Scrap nervously repeated.
“Oh, did I say tracking?” said Terry. “I meant hunting.”
A sudden CLUNK came from behind the junk pile. Terry spun towards it, his hand-cannon-hand reforming at the end of his arm.
“Who’s that?” said June. “Come out of there, or my brother gets shooty…”
“It’s my favourite thing,” Terry confirmed. “On the count of three…”
However resourceful the humans might be, Scrap was fairly sure they wouldn’t survive being shot. He acted instinctively, reaching his fist behind him and swinging it as hard as he could at Terry’s torso.
TINK!
Terry didn’t flinch. He barely even noticed. Scrap looked down at his dented knuckles and saw one of his fingers had come loose.
“What was that supposed to be? Trying to keep us from something?” Terry aimed his hand-gun-hand between Scrap’s eyes. “What are you hiding back there?”
“No one,” Scrap protested. “I mean, nothin’!”
“You think my brother will lose any sleep junking a junk case, junk case?” June bellowed. “Shoot first, ask questions never, that’s Terry’s motto.”
“Also, you can’t have the rainbow without the rain,” added Terry, his hand-gun-hand pulsing with energy. “So whoever’s back there, come out, or we do this junk case a profound personal favour and blow him to bits. Now, where was I? Oh yeah. Three…”
“Now wait a minute…” Scrap protested.
“Two…” hollered June, grabbing one of the grenades from her belt.
“Don’t -zk- shoot!” Scrap yelped.
“One…” said Terry.
“Stop!” came a cry. An unbearable moment later, Scrap watched Gnat step slowly out from behind the pile.
His eyes widened with disbelief. Gnat was wearing a robot’s head over hers, like a mask.
“What are you supposed to be?” asked Terry as he and his sister peered at the girl.
“I’m a robot,” Gnat replied with a shrug. “Beep-boop, don’t shoot.”