The Lost Sword by Huw Powell

Author:Huw Powell
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781619638372
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing
Published: 2015-03-04T09:33:26+00:00

Chapter 13

Vigor-8

The robot sprang to life and stamped toward them, its joints creaking and pistons hissing. Jake could hear its metal toes digging into the concrete floor like a row of masonry chisels. The robot was at least eight feet tall and had a faded black shell and a white skull painted on its visor. It stopped inches from them and stooped down. A single camera lens darted back and forth as it studied their faces.

“Hello,” said Jake nervously.

The robot’s head snapped around and its lens focused on him. A metal plate covered the hole where another camera might once have been. The rest of its metal face was scratched and dented.

“My name is Jake Cutler. Who are you?”

The robot straightened to full height. It was impossible to tell what it was thinking. The others stepped back out of its reach.

“You wish to know my name?” said the robot, its electronic voice deep and coarse.

“Yes, please.”

Jake had often played with the monastery robots on Remota in the absence of other children, but none of them had been as tall or as intimidating as this droid.

“Please?” mimicked the robot. “Do you not fear me, child?”

If Jake was honest, he was terrified, but he didn’t want to admit it. He noticed the name Vigor-8 painted in faded letters across the robot’s chipped chest plate.

“We don’t want any trouble,” said Jake. “We’re prisoners like you. Why were you arrested?”

Vigor-8’s camera lens examined Jake from head to toe. “A man called me bucket head, so I blew up his ship. The other spacejackers refuse to accept me as their equal, but I am a free robot, and I will not be insulted.”

“You’re a space pirate?” said Farid.

“That is correct. I am the captain of the ship Rusty’s Revenge.” Vigor-8 tapped a space pirate symbol on its arm, which had crossed spanners under a robot skull. “It is crewed entirely by free robots.”

“I’ve heard of you,” said Jake. “You’re the Hacker Jackers.”

Vigor-8 nodded and twitched.

“Are you okay?” asked Jake.

“No.” Vigor-8 slammed the sides of its head with powerful metal hands. “I have a faulty chip and loose wiring. It makes me . . . unpredictable.”

“Do you want me to take a look?”

Vigor-8 stopped banging its head. “You will help me?”

“Yes,” said Jake. “I’ve never worked on a battle droid, but I’ve studied house robots on Remota. My friend is better with technology. He’s fixed loads of things on our ship—”

Jake stopped talking. He could hear footsteps approaching in the corridor.

“It’s about time,” muttered Granny Leatherhead.

The footsteps drew nearer and stopped outside the door.

“Stand clear!” shouted a guard through the window.

The door opened and seven more prisoners were herded into the cell, their clothes ripped and their faces bruised. It was Kella, Nanoo, and the rest of the crew.

“What are you doing here?” asked Jake in surprise. “What happened?”

“We were raided,” said Kella. “Security guards and spacejackers stormed the ship.”

“Spacejackers?” exclaimed Granny Leatherhead.

“Yes,” said Nanoo. “Not nice pirates. In red combat suits and black skull helmets.”

“The Crimson Hulls.

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