us. Our ammunition dwindled as their numbers increased.
"My last grenade," Angelina said as she blasted a hovertank.
"My last shot," I said, taking out a robocycle. "It has been nice knowing
you."
"Nonsense, Jim. You are not giving up, you never do, never will."
"You know that-but they don't." I stepped out into the clearing and waved my
handkerchief, raised my palms in the air as I faced the circle of robot
police. "Peace, pax, surrender. OK?"
"No OK," an armored robot said. It had sergeant's stripes welded to its arm,
and a sneering tone to its metallic voice.
It raised a glowing muzzled flamethrower.
I blew it away with a shot from my crotch cannon.
Was this the end? Were we to be ground into the soil of this sordid planet
at the galaxy's edge?
The tanks and robots and all the other military gear surrounded us, rumbled
forward, weapons quivering with metallic malice. Angelina had her
hand in mine. I contemplated one last attack, throwing myself onto our
attackers in the vain hope that she might escape. Then, even as I tensed my
muscles for a suicidal attack, a voice sounded out from among the trees.
"You really are very good," the dapper man said condescendingly as he
stepped into the glade. Full evening dress, black cloak held by a diamond
brooch, diamondcapped cane. This was too much. I heard a primitive,
unsummoned growl grumble from the back of my throat as I fired what really
was the very last shot from my crotch cannon.
It exploded with a glare of flame, a blast of noise.
Just in front of him. Spending all of its energy harmlessly against the
force screen emanating from his walking stick.
"Temper, temper," he breathed, covering a yawn with the back of his hand. He
waved the ebony cane in a slight arc and all of the weaponry grumbled back
into the forest and vanished from sight.
"You are not the police," Angelina said.
"Anything but, Mrs. diGriz. Those were my minions who took you on. My
employees, so to speak. Their ranks are now well decimated I must add."
