Expedition Westward

By Brian Bakos

Book 2, Robot Horizon series

What is the cost of true love in a shattered world? Star is willing to pay it, or not survive the outcome. A trek along dangerous roads provides answers. After Winston's dismal failure as Mech City mayor, Star convinces him to journey with her to the West Coast where Dr. Jerry Che, her creator, might still survive. She wants Winston upgraded to full functionality so that he can satisfy her robust appetites. Numerous foes, human and robotic, stand in the way. The dystopian adventure continues. There's fun at the end of the road!

Science Fiction / Humor / Dystopian

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brian Bakos
• Release date: Nov 17, 2013
• ISBN: 9781310768743

Brian Bakos

I like to write and travel. I'm from the Detroit area originally and try to see other places as often as possible. My most recent travels have been to China, Ecuador, and Belize. Am thinking of my next destination. It's wonderful how travel inspires the writing process. Attended Michigan State University and Alma College.Not much more than that. Anything else I have to say comes out in my books. If you really want to know more, please contact me through my website, https://www.theb2.net/. May life bring you many blessings!

Book preview

What Happened Before

Editor’s note

This is book 2 of the Robot Horizon series. If you haven’t read book1, Return to Mech City, please see Other Books in the Series. You’ll enjoy the following story better if you know what happened before.

Now, please read further…

One: The New Order Wilts

1. The Winston Horvath Regime

"Power is my mistress." – Napoléon Bonaparte

Dawn threw grim light onto a pair of robots walking toward the REX Hotel, the seat of government for Mech City.

We’d better get a move on, Reynold said. We’ll be late for work.

Screw it, Pete replied disdainfully. I think it’s time to quit that stupid job.

The Boss wouldn’t like anybody quitting, Reynold cautioned.

Screw that dictator. Don’t you want to get out, too?

Well… yeah.

Reynold glanced uneasily about the deserted street with its boarded shop fronts and brick walls newly scrubbed of human graffiti. Despite the general cleanliness, the area had the aspect of a slum—except for the REX shining in renovated glory. An acrid, chemical smell affronted their olfactory sensors, as it did everywhere in the city.

Reynold and Pete were angular metal man robots—human in configuration though lacking the physical refinements of the so-called Humanite designs. They looked identical, except for Reynold’s orange exterior and Pete’s dull purple one.

Yow! they cried in unison.

A canid robot the size of a large timber wolf emerged from the alley in front of them. The creature bared vicious fangs, and a staticky growl rumbled in its speaker unit. Yellow optical sensors flashed; the gray coat bristled.

Reynold shrank back. We got company.

N-nice doggie, Pete said. We’re on our way to work. Sorry if we’re a bit late.

They quickened their pace. The creature followed close behind, urging them on with snarls and nudges from its long snout. Soon they were running along the sidewalk.

Still want to quit? Reynold asked.

Not today, thanks.

They zipped past the REX and hurried toward the construction site across town.

From his office window several stories up, Boss Winston Horvath watched the scene unfold on the street.

Ah, how nice that my workers are showing initiative. He grinned. Of course, sometimes they require a little encouragement.

Seven weeks had passed since he’d engineered the overthrow of Fascista Ultimo, and Winston ruled Mech City with an iron hand. Actually, it consisted of titanium alloy and plastic composites, but the metaphor still applied. His tenure as interim mayor had been one of increasing authoritarianism.

How this state of affairs evolved was a mystery to him. One day he was the darling of the revolution, loved by everyone. Then he’d morphed into a despot, using the mech wolf robots as storm troops to stifle all opposition.

Stern measures are needed to whip things into shape, he rationalized. In any case, this is only a temporary situation.

Winston remained at the window, gazing over the city—his city. One hand rested on a hip; his face assumed a stern and dramatic expression. He was a proud Humanite model with advanced intelligence and a physique resembling the vanished masters, though his blue exterior lessened the effect.

A large gold medallion emblazoned with the title Mayor hung around his neck. His battle scars had been filled in and concealed beneath a fresh paint job. Red highlights ran along the outsides of his legs in the style of a field marshal’s trouser stripes. He placed both hands on the window sill.

The humans had their Winston—Churchill. Why shouldn’t we have ours?

He’d brought order and discipline. Everyone had work now; work made them free. Under Winston’s guidance, the dreaded Che syndrome remained at bay. Everyone had a purpose for their existence, and nobody committed suicide. Marauding gangs of scrapper robots took one look at the snarling mech wolf patrols and kept their distance.

He’d ordered a facelift for Mech City, starting with the new mayor’s palace. This structure would cast in stone the unbreakable bond between the citizens and their great leader—hero of the battle against Fascist tyranny—Winston Horvath! He’d visit the construction site today after studying the report submitted by Jimmy, the head foreman.

Winston turned toward his massive desk with its Excellency the Mayor placard standing sentry on its leading edge. His movements were smooth and decisive as he crossed from the window to his seat of power. He settled into the big leather-clad chair and flipped open the folder containing the report.

Jimmy’s a damn good fellow, but he lacks ideological flair. All he talks about are technical matters. Winston sighed, electronically speaking. Ah well, another day of toil on behalf of my people.

* * *

Across town at the Robotics Development Institute (RDI), another day of repair work continued in the main workshop. Every table held a casualty from the battle that had wrenched Mech City away from the Fascista Ultimo dictatorship. Some of these robots had their torsos crushed in; others were missing limbs. They all had functioning brain units, though. Other casualties had not been so fortunate, and their recyclable components stocked the spare parts bin.

Repair technician bots, Quincy and Jack, worked on the prime casualty—Iridium, a large canid similar to the mech wolves but with advanced intelligence and a lustrous coat that constantly shifted color under the workshop lights. So vivid were these flowing colors that the repair bots had to wear sunglasses.

They were both metal man designs who’d been exploited by the Roboto Fascist regime. Winston Horvath had changed all that, sort of, when he’d overthrown the dictatorship.

"Are things really better now?" Jack inquired in a barely audible voice.

Quincy shrugged. Beats me. I only work here.

Not a topic for discussion, eh?

Right. Quincy turned off the analyzer device he’d been studying and raised his sunglasses. I think we’re about finished with you, Iridium.

We’ll do your final mobility tests this afternoon, Jack added, make sure everything’s synced.

Something like a grin spread across Iridium’s muzzle. Thanks. You guys are the greatest.

Jack and Quincy exchanged nervous glances and looked toward the two mech wolves observing them balefully from a nearby corner. The ferocious creatures, knock-offs of the Iridium design, had been posted here by Mayor Winston to assist.

The mayor hadn’t explained what kind of assistance to expect. Every casualty sprawled on a workbench, except for Iridium, had been put there by these mech wolves and their comrades during the Battle of Heroes’ Square. The Clawfurt monstrosity, whose deactivated carcass now lurked in the RDI basement, had wrecked Iridium.

Don’t let Winston hear you talk like that, Iri, Jack said in a hushed voice. He’s got the corner on being ‘the greatest.’

Star Power glanced over from a table across the vast room where she worked on another damaged robot. A warm beam followed her gaze, and it accompanied her as she walked toward Iridium and the repair bots. The head of every sentient casualty on the tables turned to follow her, drawn by her incredible loveliness—so apparent, even to the asexual metal men.

Star’s medium brown skin, almond eyes, and long, dark hair referenced universal concepts of beauty. Her voluptuous figure moved seductively as she walked. She was the most human-like of all the robots.

She arrived at Iridium’s table and stroked the great canid’s head. How do you feel, Iri?

In the pink. Considering I’m made up largely of recycled components from mech wolf wrecks.

Star laughed. The melodious sound complemented her low, seductive speaking voice.

It would have been better to transfer Iridium’s brain unit into a spare mech wolf body, Quincy said. That type of surgery is beyond our skill set, though.

If we disconnected his brain, there’d be no telling if we could hook it up again, Jack said. We didn’t have proper schematics to work from.

I think you boys did fine, Star said.

She kissed Iridium’s head. He melted at the contact and emitted a resonant purr, like a gigantic kitten. Jack and Quincy took a step back.

That noise gives me the shudders, Jack whispered. It sounds like he’s getting ready to have us for dinner.

Don’t worry, Quincy said, he doesn’t have a digestive system.

That’s reassuring.

You hang in there, Iri, okay? Star said.

Right-o. Iridium stopped his infernal purring.

Maybe you should take things easy for a while, Jack said.

Yeah, enjoy life after everything you’ve been through, Quincy said. Hang out, smell the flowers, if you can find any.

Iridium shook his head. I’m going out of my brain unit with boredom. After my tests, I’ll see the mayor about my security chief job.

Again, Jack and Quincy exchanged glances, including Star in their unease this time.

"Are you sure you want to do that? Quincy asked. Things have changed since you got wrecked."

A suspicious frown creased Iridium’s face. Winston promised me the position as soon as I could handle it. Didn’t you say I’m fully recovered?

Well, yeah. Something might turn up in the final tests, of course.

Not likely. My internal diagnostics would tell me if I wasn’t fit.

An awkward silence followed. Jack and Quincy diverted their optical sensors toward the floor.

Why don’t you let me speak to Winston first? Star said.

Iridium studied the worried faces of the two-legged robots hovering over him. Okay, Star. Give it a shot.

2. Unexpected Visitors

Star poked her head into the mayor’s office to observe Winston poring over some papers at his desk. He rubbed his chin with that scholarly gesture so characteristic of him, and feelings she’d almost forgotten surged anew.

An avalanche of memories transported her to a simpler time when Winston had been her hero. When he’d protected her against Fascista Ultimo and been her great comrade in arms. All others had despaired, yet Winston fought on until the Roboto Fascist dictatorship came crashing down.

A sad, nostalgic smile moved across her face. Pangs of love assailed her heart. Winston straightened his shoulders in that new, arrogant manner, and the moment passed. A bitter expression twisted Star’s mouth. She rapped her knuckles on the door frame, and Winston looked up from his desk.

Hail, Exalted Mayor, she said with a slight bow.

Ah, Star, so good to see you! Winston rose and crossed the room.

Might I request an audience, Exalted Mayor?

Forget the ceremonial gab. I’m plain old Winston, remember?

Really?

He took both her hands into his. The communicator that controlled the mech wolf guards dangled from his left wrist. Of course I am.

I wish you’d show me more of that old Winston. I really miss him.

Ah, forgive me. Winston flashed his most engaging smile. So many responsibilities these days. I scarcely recognize myself sometimes.

He waved a hand over the imposing environs—the huge desk, plush carpeting, full-length mirrors, and towering bookcases.

All this is only temporary until Ajax is back in shape. You know that, Star.

She nodded, unconvinced.

Winston grasped her hands again. It’s been ages. What can I do for you?

Well, it’s about Iri.

Winston withdrew his hands. His optics narrowed. What about Iridium?

I spoke to him at the RDI today. He’s doing much better.

So glad to hear that, Winston said without enthusiasm.

Yes… of course. The abrupt coldness unsettled her. Anyhow, Iridium told me he feels ready to take over the security chief job, as you promised him.

I see. What did Jack and Quincy think?

Well, they thought –

Iridium strolled into the office with his customary swaggering confidence as if he owned everything he surveyed. Winston stiffened.

Here he is now, Star said. Iri can explain things better than I can.

Iridium! Winston was all smiles again. So glad to see you’re up and around.

Hi, pal. Good to see you, too, Iridium replied, poker-faced.

Winston maintained his smile. I’ve been meaning to visit, but city business sucks up all my time.

Yeah, a lot of things suck these days.

Star stroked the great canid’s head. How did the tests go, dearie?

Great. I’m feeling factory fresh.

Winston’s smile faded somewhat. Quincy and Jack are getting better at their repair work, aren’t they?

Right, but speedy they ain’t, Iridium said.

Winston returned to his desk and sat down. What can I do for you?

I’m reporting for duty as security chief, Iridium said. As per our agreement.

Yes, well… The leather-upholstered chair creaked as Winston shifted his weight. I’m afraid there’s a problem there, old chap.

Problem?

Yes, quite. Winston fiddled with the communication device strapped to his wrist.

Four mech wolves crept in from the adjacent room and closed in on Iridium, teeth bared and metallic growls rumbling in their throats. The hairs of their gray coats stood on end.

Oh! Star cried.

No need to be alarmed, Winston said. Please remain calm.

What’s going on? Iridium demanded.

Winston shrugged apologetically. You see, the mech wolf guards have become used to my way of doing things. A change right now would upset them.

Iridium surveyed the wall of razor teeth and vicious yellow optical sensors confronting him. Okay, pal. I get the picture.

I’m certain things will be different once Ajax becomes mayor, Winston said. This is only a temporary situation. You do understand?

Yeah, right.

Iridium backed away from the mech wolves and retreated toward the door. As he passed Star, he commented in a low, angry voice: That guy’s another Fascista Ultimo.

Star looked daggers at the Exalted Mayor. Ohhh, it’s times like this I really hate you.

Winston raised his open hands. I have important work to do. Sometimes, I have to disappoint others.

You’ve certainly disappointed me!

She turned to go.

Star, wait.

She stomped out the door, leaving Winston at his desk, baffled. He rose and took his solitary post at the window.

Nobody understands me. He thrust out his chin. This must be the price of greatness.

3. Ajax Debuts

Late afternoon sunshine glared through Winston’s open door, thrusting dramatic rays across his desk as he studied Jimmy’s construction update report.

The sky shone uncharacteristically bright, but the report did not. Jimmy expressed again his deep misgivings about the government quarter building project, especially the new mayor’s palace.

Hmm. Winston stroked his chin. I’ve heard all this before. What’s that old expression? ‘A broken record.’

His construction foreman’s report overflowed with dreary specifics. It spoke of inadequate materials and transport, problems with drainage, labor shortages, insufficient foundational strength, etc. All the things that got in the way of grand endeavors. The report even suggested the entire project should be canceled.

Outrageous! Winston shoved the papers aside with disgust.

A shadow spread across the desk. He jerked his head up to see Ajax towering outside the doorway. Winston stood and tried to conceal his unpleasant surprise.

Ajax! How good to see you.

Greetings, Interim Mayor. Ajax ducked his head through the doorway. May I enter?

Yes, please do.

Ajax covered the distance to Winston’s desk with a few long paces. The bronze-toned robot dominated the office with his powerful 2.2 meters of height. His noble Greek warrior head rotated to scan the environs; its optical sensors flashed. The effect was highly unsettling despite the great rectitude shining from those eyes.

Winston suppressed a panicky urge to flee. I liked him better without his head.

So, how are you feeling? Winston asked.

Quite well, thank you, Interim Mayor, Ajax replied with a slight bow.

"You can drop the formality. My friends call me W.H."

Certainly… uh, W.H.

What can I do for you?

Ajax stood at attention. My internal diagnostics indicate I have attained 98.7% of designed capacity.

Is that so?

Yes. I feel capable of assuming my duties as mayor.

Winston’s hand reflexively grasped the medallion hanging from his neck. What about the mech birds?

They remain deactivated per your instructions.

Winston dampened a smile of relief. The mech birds were dangerous Ajax loyalists and skilled fighters. Who knew what mischief they might cook up if they became active again?

Glad to hear that, Winston said. We’ll have to find some worthwhile activity for them down the road.

Ajax nodded. His posture conveyed expectant tension; Winston pretended not to notice. Awkward moments passed.

I believe you are occupying my desk, W.H. Ajax extended a massive palm. And please hand over that medallion.

Winston recoiled. Certainly, all in due time.

Due time? I am prepared now.

Yes, of course. Uh, please excuse me a moment.

Winston turned away from his gigantic visitor and mumbled into his wrist radio.

Moments later, four mech wolves appeared at the door along with Comrade Drone, the idiot valet robot nearly as huge as Ajax. His blank face conveyed dumb obedience. Ajax did not notice the new arrivals, and Winston drew confidence from their presence.

He turned squarely toward Ajax. I’m concerned that you’re not quite 100% yet. Does your head still try to act independently?

I have things well under control.

Uh-huh.

Comrade Drone closed in. Despite his enormous bulk, he moved silently on shock-absorbed legs. The mech wolves followed close.

Why don’t you rest a while longer, Ajax? Winston said. "Until you’re really in the pink."

Ajax bristled. I am ‘in the pink’ now, whatever that is supposed to mean.

Comrade Drone and the mech wolves crept up beside Ajax. He finally noticed their presence.

What the hell!

Oh, come now, Ajax, Winston said. Hell is a human concept, hardly applicable here.

This is an outrage!

Please don’t feel that way. I’m only acting in the best interests of all concerned, including you.

Comrade Drone grasped Ajax’s elbow. The mech wolves surrounded him. Despite his great power and bulk, Ajax could not resist the forces arrayed against him. He shot Winston a rancorous scowl.

Shall we go, Ajay? Winston asked.

Ajax drew himself up to his full, offended stature. "As the interim mayor wishes."

They exited the office suite and climbed the main staircase. Two mech wolves and Comrade Drone led the honor guard. Winston and the other two wolves brought up the rear. Ajax walked with stately grace, hanging on to as much nobility as possible.

What a deuce of a fine fellow! Winston thought. Too bad I can’t use him.

On the penthouse level, the group halted before a solid steel door with a barred window.

Your old cell… I mean, apartment is still available, Winston said.

Comrade Drone swung the door open to reveal a large room with a heavily barred window. The décor was neat and Spartan, as befitted a robot modeled on a Greek warrior hero.

See? I’ve had it redecorated, Winston said.

The new bars are charming, Ajax replied acidly.

He entered the cell, projecting as much dignity as possible under the humiliating circumstances. Comrade Drone closed the door and locked it.

Winston peered in through the tiny window. Ajax shot a wrathful glower his direction. Winston suspected that, were it not for the guards, Ajax would have reduced him to a pile of scrap already.

Why is he so upset? I’m only thinking about his best interests.

Let us know if you need anything, Ajay. Winston gave a cheerful wave. Bye for now.

Winston and his crew departed, leaving Ajax alone and infuriated in his cell.

I hate being called ‘Ajay!’

4. Mr. Popularity

The next morning, Comrade Drone arrived at the mayor’s office and stood quietly waiting outside the open door. Winston looked up from his desk, startled.

What is it? he snapped.

The robot entered, moving with uncanny silence like a huge, mechanical phantom. Its vacuous eyes stared ahead from a pale and rigid face.

Ugh! Winston recoiled. I’d deactivate that thing if it weren’t so damn useful.

Comrade Drone stood before the desk—an ebony Humanite-style machine with a corpse-like face hovering near the ceiling. Its speaker unit played a recorded message:

"Winston, I’d like to see you. I’m at Fountain Park."

Star! Winston broke into a grin at the sound of her low and sensuous voice, even though it came from this gigantic wrecking machine.

Record reply. Winston paused, allowing Comrade Drone’s pea brain time to process the command. Yes, Star, I’d be happy to meet you. I will be along presently. He paused again. End message.

Comrade Drone stood at rigid attention—deathly still, even for a robot.

Go Fountain Park, Winston enunciated. Play message.

With surprising alacrity for such a big robot, Comrade Drone spun on his heel and left the room, ducking to get through the door. The tension crackling in Winston’s circuits abated. He leaned back in the chair, hands behind his head.

I knew she’d come around.

After a final, annoyed glance at Jimmy’s report, Winston summoned four mech wolf bodyguards via the communicator. They crowded into the office, awaiting orders.

Let’s go.

Winston rose from his imperial desk and headed into the corridor. He descended the stairs with his guards and left the building.

"Women can be so emotional at