A Fistful of Trouble (Outlaws of the Galaxy Book 2) by Paul Tomlinson (free ebook reader for iphone .TXT) 📕

as metal fists and feet assaulted it. Stones the size of a man’s head flew outwards and rained down. A big cloud of dust swelled outwards. Something moved inside the cloud – coming out of the hole in the jail wall.

The robot stood just outside the jail, fists clenched at its sides, body hunched like a fighter in the ring. The red eyes were a nice touch. Spotting the sheriff behind the Charger, the robot raised its fists high above its head and let out a deafening mechanical roar I’d never heard before. This really was a five-star performance. Though if it started pounding its chest, I’d have to knock off a point for over-acting.

“Shoot it, sheriff!” Jeb urged, but the sheriff needed no urging. He aimed the rifle and squeezed the trigger.

Lightning snaked from the zap gun towards the robot, striking it squarely in the chest. It was hard to miss a target that big. When it hit, the lightning spread, becoming a net of writhing, shimmering energy that covered the robot’s body.

“I’ll show you who’s boss, you big ugly scrack!” the sheriff yelled, fighting the bucking rifle like a fireman with a hose.

The robot let out an inhuman scream, though whether from anger or agony I couldn’t tell.

The crackling spark of energy that shot from zap gun to robot disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared, but it left an after-image on my retinas. The sheriff lowered the rifle, its charge spent.

“Is it dead?” Jeb whispered.

The robot stood motionless, frozen in its angry King Kong pose. Heat haze and smoke rose from its casing into the night sky. Then it moved. The robot tilted its head slightly to one side, staring straight towards the sheriff. It took a step towards the Charger.

“Scrack! All you did was swazz him off!” Jeb didn’t wait around to see what happened next, he turned and ran.

Sheriff Maddox stood transfixed, staring at the advancing metal monster.

The robot reached for the Charger and lifted the vehicle off the ground as if it was no more than an empty cardboard box. The sheriff’s car sailed through the air and crashed into the jail, demolishing what was left of the weakened structure. The Charger was written-off too – a smart move, as this would prevent the sheriff from leading a posse anytime soon.

The sheriff stood exposed, staring up at the angry blue robot. If I was him, I’d have swazzed my pants. He tossed the zap gun aside, turned and ran.

The robot made no move to follow him. Instead, it headed out of town, aiming for the hills where he and I had arranged to rendezvous.

I was still holding the remote control that had reactivated the robot. It showed a steady green light, so I guessed the charge from the zap gun hadn’t done any serious damage to the robot’s systems. Our plan had worked perfectly.

Chapter Two

I had named the big blue robot Floyd. This was back when  he was still big and red and just after he’d tried to kill me. He’d been defending his turf from invaders, so I understood his motives and had more or less forgiven him. We’d teamed-up in order to fight a gaggle of pirates and had been hanging out together ever since. Our short-term goal was to put together enough cash to get off the planet Saphira and head back to civilisation. I’m not sure either of us had a long-term goal.

Floyd had a fire going when I reached the spot where we’d arranged to meet. I pulled open a pouch of self-heating chicken curry and screwed the top off a can of instantaneous coffee. He didn’t mention the new scratches on his casing but I knew he wasn’t happy about them. He never was. We’d run the fake robot hunter scam about a dozen times so far in little towns all around the desert and each time he ended up looking a little worse for wear. On the up side, our stash of cash was looking pretty healthy.

We sent the drones up to keep watch. Gnat and Mozzie had been with me longer than Floyd and had saved my ass more than once. They would warn us if a posse from Vulture’s End rode out after us. I didn’t think they would. If they did, I’d give Floyd his big gun back and he’d scare them off. I had a rule about not killing folk and the big blue robot was reluctantly playing along. For now.

“When we get off this rock, we’ll get you a proper paint job,” I said. “Base coat, a layer of metallic flake, and a top coat of diamond glass to keep it shiny.” Floyd rarely says much and I just keep talking to fill the void. “You should think about what colour you want to be. Or maybe you want a custom design – something fancy, like flames, a snake wrapped around your arm, or maybe an eagle across your chest.”

“How soon will it be?” he asked.

“What?”

“How long until we get off this planet? We already have more than twenty thousand dollars. Isn’t that enough to buy two tickets?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?”

“We need to charter a ship with a captain that won’t ask awkward questions.”

“What sort of questions?”

“Like – Why are you trying to smuggle an illegal military robot off Saphira?”

Floyd went back to saying nothing. He didn’t have emotions, but sometimes it seemed like he did. He was certainly more than just a dumb robot. There was an artificial sentience hidden in his chest, salvaged from a battleship. That’s who I was talking to. The robot was just a vehicle – Floyd’s equivalent of my Trekker.

“We just need to hit a couple more towns,” I said. “Then we’ll have enough to buy-off a freighter captain and bribe any spaceport officials that come sniffing around.”

If truth be told, I was extremely nervous about heading for even the most out of the way spaceport on the planet. There was a price on