The Only One of his Kind

The door to the cargo bay screeched, opening slowly and reluctantly. Isabel was not as good with these machines as Richard had been so replicating his trick had taken time.

But still, she had gotten there in the end.

The darkness of the cargo bay flooded outwards. The transponder hooked to her leg was beeping softly. She looked beyond the door. Scraps of metal littered the cargo area. The walls had been dented. It smelled of steam and fire and burning.

A massive figure loomed out of the blackness.

“Mister Pump!”

“I am functional,” Pump growled before she could even ask the question.

‘’Functional’’ she considered, was indeed the correct word. He’d been torn to shreds. Dozens of holes punched in his sheath of artificial skin and blood. In the worst of them, his internal structure showed through. He was limping, one of his legs had ceased functioning and become stiff. A massive chunk of his chest was simply gone. Servos whirred with every movement and he was venting steam.

His left exterior eye had been crushed, and the silver light of his internal eye was shining clean through.

“They didn’t give you trouble?” It was a stupid question, but she had to ask.

“They were Conquerors. Of course they gave me trouble. We are fortunate that they were no longer military grade.”

“If they were, you would have lost?” There was an edge of desperation to her voice. Disbelief and horror. “You know you can never lose!”

“I would not have lost,” he said. “But my final status would have been even worse. As it is, I require extensive repairs. You can provide them?”

“I can repair the worst of it,” Isabel said. “I brought supplies. But you’ll need to get to a proper mechanist forge to deal with it all. Not to mention your artificial skin…”

“I require functionality,” Pump said. “Not looks. The skin can wait.”

She nodded.

“You’re the boss. What about Richard and Kara? They got away.”

“I am aware,” Pump rumbled. “But the game is not over yet.”

“You intend to pursue?”

“It is not what I intend. You would never allow it to end like this. You will chase them. You will chase Kara. Is that not correct?”

“It is…” Isabel admitted. “I would chase her to the ends of the earth.”

“Then the game is not over yet. Mister Gearheart and Kara have won a small victory, but the Nautiloid is a life raft. It is not meant for long-distance travel. There are only limited places within range. And of those places, there is only one where they can find help. Mister Gearheart suffers the weakness of compassion, you see. He will not abandon Kara and while she is chased, they will both be in danger. So he will seek protection.”

“And you know where that protection will be?”

“Of course. I know where they will go. Where they will stay. And now they think I am dead.”

Pump regarded her for a moment, the gleaming silver of his true eye swept across her body, making her shiver.

“First repairs,” the advanced automaton said. The first and only of his kind. “Then, once I am able to fulfil my purpose, we will return to the hunt. Mister Gearheart surprised me. Impressed me. But he will not have Conquerors to bail him out a second time. And I will not play with my food again.”