1899- Journey to Mars

Guthrie peered over the side of the bridge and studied it for several seconds, then turned when the horses came around the bend. Guthrie trotted toward them and saw the men draw their pistols. He noted their facial features were identical, not merely as a twin would be, but identical. He logged the information for future reference.

Guthrie made internal adjustments in his vocal box to the exact level of a screaming mountain lion and let out the noise at 130 decibels.

The horses neighed and bucked and sunfished, throwing the two riders in arm-flailing arcs over the horse’s heads. The men dropped their pistols and hit the road in rolling somersaults to come to their feet in fighting stances facing Guthrie. The horses trotted off thirty yards, shivering and snorting, ready to bolt away at the next sudden sound. Guthrie created an analogue of the men’s movements, and filed it in his internal memory, noting that they showed fine training, and that it would bode well to research who the trainer was.

Guthrie started toward the two men, but saw something in their eyes. He turned as the Westinghouse punched at his head. Guthrie slipped the punch and the Westinghouse immediately spun 360 degrees and slammed a spinning backfist into the smaller robot’s head.

Guthrie landed twelve feet away, then scrambled to stand as the larger robot charged. The violet-eyed men moved closer. The Westinghouse came at Guthrie with powerful punches and flashing kicks that had the smaller robot constantly backing and sliding left and right, but still taking damage, even from glancing blows.

One of the men yelled, “Kill it, Titan!”

Guthrie logged the name, Titan, just as the big robot feinted with a left and brought up a high, powerful kick that caught Guthrie on the left shoulder. The smaller robot flew backwards and rolled to the side as Titan stomped at him. Guthrie’s shoulder was marginal now, and he logged the damage to the cables and gears, surmising that 74 per cent of function was currently lost. His left visionary orb assembly was also damaged to 31 per cent effectiveness, with occasional bright flashes of red lines and spots that rendered the orb nonfunctional.

Guthrie’s calculations told him that another sixty-five seconds of this combat would leave him inert. And, he...felt...a funny thread of...something. He then understood that he did not want to be inert.

He backed to the edge of the dropoff to the river, and monitored every tiny movement of the Titan through his remaining eye as it charged. His memory banks searched through every corner and found what he needed: one of the fighting disciplines Ekka had secretly taught him. Guthrie applied the information in a nanosecond to the charging robot’s momentum, inertia, and previous fighting characteristics, then he waited.

The Titan came fast, leaning forward for maximum impact, cocked its right arm and shot a straight right for Guthrie’s head. Guthrie ducked just enough for the blow to pass above him, and at the same time drove his stiffened fingers into the armpit of the Titan with all the mechanical power he could generate with his arms, legs, and back.

The Titan’s interior shoulder joint gears and cables tore apart with a squeal of metal on metal. Guthrie continued his forward motion to circle behind the larger robot in a fluid, acrobatic move, leaping high above the Titan and catching it around the head with his legs in a sissor-lock. Guthrie twisted hard, spinning his body so he came down in front of the Titan’s body, using the torque and momentum of his smaller body to fling the larger robot in a somersault off the thirty-foot bluff.

The Titan crashed head first in an awkward fall, and sparks and a puff of white smoke lifted from its neck and head.

The violet-eyed ones were only two feet away as Guthrie continued his fluid attack and closed with them. Even damaged as he was, Guthrie’s surprising speed and new style of fighting surprised the orange-hairs before they could react. Two quick moves and both dropped over the bluff to crash onto the Titan. Guthrie stood at the bluff edge above them, holding the two radium pistols he snatched from their holsters as the men were dispatched. As he watched, all three figures moved slightly.

Guthrie staggered several steps, then readjusted his internal cognitative-relays and micro-gyros to counterbalance the internal damage until he could be recharged and repaired. Guthrie calculated he had to hurry, and sped across the bridge to rejoin Billy and the others, equating the variables to a qualitative sum that indicated he would have enough energy at this pace to last four-point-six miles before he would automatically shut down into sleep mode until recharging could be accomplished. If Billy and the others were four-point-seven miles away, Guthrie calculated the odds weighed heavily that he would never see them again.

Three-point-six miles down the road, Guthrie rounded a curve and saw the horseless carriage sitting motionless on the road. They had waited for him. From somewhere deep inside, Guthrie noted an odd surge of energy because of this. Dakota waved, and Guthrie waved back. He reached the vehicle a minute later and said, “The pursuers are temporarily incapacitated. I would suggest we proceed at the carriage’s maximum capacity.”

Pat said, “You didn’t kill them?”

“I terminate life only as the very last reasonable action.”

Billy pushed the lever all the way forward on the carriage and they accelerated along the road. “You pick up anything interesting about who they were?”

“I did not talk to them. They were not typical of this area, or of many humans I have encountered. Their skin was extremely pale, and their orange hair was long and straight. The eyes were violet, a rare color, but that was not all. Facial structure, hair, and other identifiers showed odd parameters within each of the humans. They were identical.”

“You mean twins.” Said Pat.

“No, Master Garrett. They were not twins. They were identical.”

“Well, hell, Guthrie, that’s what twins are.”

“I beg to correct you, sir, and I comprehend you are talking of monozygotic twins, but these two men were singletons, neither monozybotic or dizygotic twins.”

Pat looked at Ekka, who was grinning, and said, “Oh, you think its funny that you can see my brain pan crumbling while I listen to a talking tin can?”

Ekka laughed, “He does the same thing to us all the time. It’s nice not to be on the receiving end.”

Guthrie said, “Sir, I have no tin in my construction. I hope that clarifies my makeup to your satisfaction.”

“You bet. Clear as granite.” Guthrie’s head jiggled a little, but before he could speak, Pat continued, “Can you explain to me, in simpler terms, what you’re saying?”

Ekka said, “Guthrie, please talk like Pat is a five year old child.” Pat frowned at her.

“Certainly,” Guthrie said, “Twins are either monozygotic—which means they are the result of a single fertilized egg splitting into two and both growing to birth term; these are called identical twins—or they are dizygotic, which is the result of two eggs fertilized by two different sperm cells, with both occurring at the same time. These are called fraternal twins.”

“I understand that some twins look alike and others don’t. What’s this singleton you’re talking about?”