The sun dropped below the treeline. Her hands reached below the waistline. Shadows at the edge of the meadow made a dark line. Her robot eyes swept along a straight line. His fingers crossed the legal line.

"Stop," she said. "You can't do that."

"Who will know?" he asked.

"Everyone. That strange cyborg is probably in the desert reporting to the League ( Read more... )

Year 34 Fifth Wave, day 998

The issue before the board was the Silverpet robot line, kin to the Companion strain, closer in attributes to the kinesthesia type which had been bred from a silverchip seed.

"Everyone knows that 188 silverchips survived the nukes and were sent to the Jonesonian Museum of Science. We leased five chips from the Jonesonian. ( Read more... )

Year 34 Fifth Wave, day 995.

Studio. A cutout of Mr. Silver. Focus shifted to the metal arm. A real blaster was held near the two dimensional arm. A resonant voice asked, "Is he back, fighting for robot freedom?"

The attractive host, showed herself, holding the gun. "Or was he killed with the other plotters during the Acacua Incident"--she shot ( Read more... )

The trees were made of frosting. The hills were made of cake. She had made ice cream. He had made a joke that made her cry. He was made of silver. She was made of tin. He had a taste for toybots who had no skin.

"You've programmed her to be nuttier than you," said Top. Silence. "I'll give you two some time." She left the picnic, two legs short. ( Read more... )

Five fireflies reported in late. They would have to be  crushed, then replaced. "Shit. Maintain the security bots, girl," said the King, keeping the can open until all the insectoids had entered. He pressed the read button.

The Princess paced a few feet back, listening.

"Mothers slowed a caravan. One case of jam missing," muttered the King. "That's ( Read more... )

Hike. Five miles from lair, out of fuel, the rotor craft was ditched. Metaloiders: five. Robots: zero.

"Is Chief at the lair?" asked Silver. Top slapped him. Bottom kissed him. Bruci had jogged ahead. "Who's that guy?" Silver, with an inclined head, indicated the odd cyborg who trailed.

"Thought you knew," said Top.

"Don't answer," said Bottom.

"Bruci ( Read more... )

The lair was guarded by Shade. He was soft and pudgy, and dumb as an ox. The stove was guarded by Toybot who had no name. She was cooking Silver's favorite recipe.

"How can he fuck this thing?" asked Shade, tapping the girlbot on its ass with the butt of the astrorifle that he had kept from the Third Robot War. "All metal and hard edges, built for ( Read more... )

The mattress float was bleeding air. Hiss. He took a swig from the beer bottle in his right hand. He opened his eyes when he felt himself being pulled to the edge of the pool. "Shit, again. What is it? I left you in charge," said the King.

"This memo, what does it mean?" The Princess held out a video tablet.

"Fuck the memo. I'm retired. Well, almost ( Read more... )

"Shit, lost one." He had opened the crate to remove the one jar out of twenty-four that held no jam. "Only 999," he said, shaking the jar in his silver hand.

"You had a thousand chips in that jar?" asked Bruci, who had let Top pilot in his stead so that he could go back to the hold. Bruci handed a bag to Silver. "As ordered by the Chief."

Silver sat ( Read more... )

Up in the chopper. "You didn't bring the bread, did ya?" He pulled off his pack. "What about the peanut butter?" Silence. "Damn it! At least we've got jam." He jumped out of the hold, diving, and rolling. His silver arm grasped one of the ropes to slow his fall. He slid down, his metal fingers heating from friction. He put on his eyepiece as he ( Read more... )