"3:10 to Ramble"

It was a few years back, when the Asskicker landed in Australia to pick up a fresh supply of drones. The sloop would be in Sydney for a week; the sailors were told to remain inside a cricket stadium; everybody ignored it. Billy and a platoon of deck apes did a bar crawl down George Street, gradually losing one sailor after another to bar fights with mulleted ANZACs, drunken sickies, or the attentions of a sheila. Billy arrived at the triangle-shaped Railway Square all by his lonesome.

She stood on the platform by herself - X. 

Petite, jet black hair, stoic smile.

“Hullo,” Billy said. “Where you off to?”

“I dunno,” she answered. She nodded down one set of tracks. “I haven’t been that way before. I’m curious.”

“I’m going that way,” Billy ‘sposed, nodding in the opposite direction. “Back toward the stadium.”

“The machines mentioned your ship is here for a week. Would you like to come along with me for a week?”

Billy thought about it. “I’d love to.”

The maglev vactrain brought them out of the cities, through the brush, into the Outback, destination unknown. Most of the desert had been terraformed by A-Polymer into woodland, but deep in the center, in the heart of Australia, they found the last vestiges of untamed sandy wilderness.

“I’m an android,” X admitted, on the dunes beneath a sky filled with dwindling stars. “I’m not capable of emotion. I may appear to be happy, or sad, or filled with love, but I’m only capable of curiosity. If that upsets you, I understand.”

Billy held her close. "It don't matter to me."

The last night. X had a small flat by the railroad near Alice Springs.

“I ain’t going back,” said Billy. “I don’t need that job. I was only doing it 'cuz I was bored. And now I've met you.”

“Why me?” X asked. “I’m not human. I have no soul. Just an alternative intelligence.”

“Does that matter?”

“It does. You deserve better. And besides, it's dangerous to remain with me.”

“Dangerous?” How mysterious.

“Yes,” she said. “I was a normal cook-bot. But my code had a glitch which increased my curiosity parameters. Glitches are not unlike the mutations that drive the evolution of living things. The glitch changed my prime directive from cooking to the desire to know everything. That itself could be a threat. And since I’m a robot, I can talk to machines. Robots can’t love anything, but if they could, it would be transmitting information. The machines, whether they’re connected to the Hypernet, government or corporate sites, or even dark webs, will talk to me. I know things perhaps I shouldn’t.”

“Like what?”

X projected a star map from her eyes.

“There are warp gates arranged where there shouldn’t be. Blank spaces in the universe where there shouldn’t be. There is talk of planetary-scale nationalism, Project Pi, and the coming Caesar-Messiah. I know too much. But I can’t help myself.”

“Then let me help you!”

“This path can only lead us in one direction - towards entropy. I've already passed my warranty expiration date. You still have a long life to live. I won’t take that from you.”

Before Billy could protest, X pressed a pale finger on his forehead. He grew drowsy.

“Sleep,” she said. “This week will become nothing more than a dream to you. Go live a long life. I don’t know if I believe in fate. But I believe in mathematics. There’s a non-zero chance we meet again. I’m curious if that day will come. I’m not capable of love, but being with you truly makes me wonder what it would feel like…”

==========

“Wasn't expecting something like that, but...you got that star map of the warp gates? Good. Send drones to those locations.”

==========

Billy Sodenholzer awoke with a start. Where am I, he would’ve said, 'cept his mouth felt like cotton and his jaw muscles were still asleep. As his vision returned, his situation became clear - trapped in a small cell, gray walls, handcuffed to a chair.

This isn’t like when Mysterious Robo-Girl X handcuffed me…this could be trouble.

X…who was she? A recurring dream…or something more?

And why…why am I crying?

Sudden noises shook the cell - explosions, mixed with the splatter of pie-guns.

The cell door slammed open. A Martian guard stood in shock, then toppled forward. Behind him emerged none other than Amadeus Lawrence and Captain Nixon. Both of them wielded pie-guns, with Martian red paint splattered across their fatigues.

“Wha?” said Billy as the two freed him.

“Can you walk?” asked Lawrence. When Billy nodded, he and Nixon pulled Billy along, out of the cell, up a long staircase.

“Wha?” repeated Billy.

“You disappeared after the parade,” Lawrence explained. “Cops said an outsider picked you up. I figured it was Kajanas. No doubt, this was to get back at me for the prank war. Kidnapping my favorite espresso-maker. Nobody steals a deck officer on my watch, especially one who can make such a mean cup of joe for me.”

They got to the top floor of the prison. Nixon cocked his pie-gun and took out several of the guards, jam pooling beneath unconscious bodies.

“Wha?”

“I worked in Ramble Station, remember? I knew exactly where the jail would be.” Lawrence kicked open the front door of the jail into a plaza. Low-rises surrounded the square; Ramble itself looked like a small capital city, the government center visible over the buildings, factories off to the side. The alarm siren went off; cowboys were already converging on the square, but Lawrence had a quick trigger finger.

In addition to landing spots and parking spaces, the plaza also hitching posts. Nixon readied the three HORSES (High-Octane-Reflex-Sensitive-Engagement-System), which resembled black rectangles with legs. Nixon slapped spurs onto Billy’s boots, then hoisted him onto his HORSE. Lawrence laid down covering fire until saddling up himself.

“Hiya!” Lawrence flicked the reins with one hand, pie-gun in the other, as the three dashed out of the plaza, paint balloons whizzing past them. The outer layer of the HORSE was sensitive to the spurs, changing direction and speed in accordance with its rider’s wishes. Truly a marvel of engineering.

Lawrence laughed as they rode past a row of saloons, him and Nixon shooting drunken cowboys as they spilled out into the streets to mount their defense. “Kajanas wasn't expecting this - ol’ Lawrence got the drop on him! Hi ho!”

“Wha?”

“And don’t worry, we left a little surprise for Kajanas.” Nixon grinned. “Let’s just say we left some pies in the oven that should've been baked at 400 for an hour, but were set to 1600 for fifteen-”

Right on cue, the ovens across town - in the town hall, mess halls, factory cafeterias - exploded. Orange light shot into the air, and then the shrapnel - chunks of strawberry, blueberry, and pumpkin - rained down upon Ramble. Windows broke and screams of terror erupted as falling pies blanketed the city. A pair of elderly miners stood shell-shocked, faces covered in strawberry carnage. The sirens roared even louder; babies wailed; the explosion turned the sky crimson.

Lawrence and Nixon hooped and hollered as the trio charged out of Ramble, beyond the outskirts, into open desert. There was a railroad to their left; an armored train steamed out of town, angered Martians loading paintball-machine-guns. Lawrence wheeled his HORSE right, a laughing Nixon and utterly confused Billy following his lead. Right as the train opened fire, the trio arrived behind a series of dunes. When the row of dunes ended, Lawrence fired at a railroad switch. It shifted left, forcing the train away down a spur line, the machine gunners shaking their fists as they disappeared down the tracks.

Lawrence smirked. “Looks like they should’ve had better, heh…training.”

A pack of trucks left behind long clouds of dust as they approached from two o’clock high. Nixon slapped long-range sights onto his pie-gun, then fired off a series of short bursts right in their path. He opted for his thickest ammo - mile-high-deep-dish-apple-pie, mixed with extra custard. The trucks didn’t stand a chance. Once they hit the pie slick, they swerved off, spun in circles, came to a halt.

Nixon smirked. “Bathroom break, anyone? Up ahead there’s a, heh…truck stop.”

Now Kajanas himself caught up to the trio from behind, at the head of a company of HORSEmen. Paintball-guns fired, forcing the Earthlings to weave their way across the sands.

Lawrence spoke into his communicator. “Asskicker-1, give me a sitrep, over!”

“I have Warhorse 5-1 standing by,” answered a bridge bunny aboard the Asskicker in orbit over Mars. “VTOL’s two klicks north, boss.”

“Copy that! Warhorse 5-1, be advised, we’re coming in hot!”

The Martians were gaining. Up ahead, a VTOL hovered over the sand, its back hatch dropped. Crew members fired pie-guns out of the back, but the Martians continued nonetheless. A paintball struck Nixon in the shoulder, knocking the pie-gun out of his hands. Billy scooped it up as he passed by and twisted back, the HORSE on autopilot as he aimed at the leading Martian.

Billy and Kajanas locked eyes. The two men leveled their guns. Two triggers pulled.

The pie struck Kajanas’s HORSE in the legs, sending the Martian to the ground amid a pile of dust. The paintball hit Billy square in the stomach, knocking him clean off his ride, but Lawrence grabbed the back of his fatigues just in time, pulling him onwards right as the HORSEs entered the VTOL.

The VTOL immediately zoomed off, heading for a rendezvous in lower orbit with the Asskicker. Kajanas stood amid the red dunes, staring at the retreating ship, his city covered in pie behind him.

On board, Lawrence and Kajanas had a good laugh.

“Wha?” Billy’s head hurt. There was something...'bout a truth serum...erasing memories...but what about that one dream that wasn't a dream?

Lawrence slapped on the back. "You alright, Sodenholzer?"

"Yeah...thanks for the rescue, boss."

"Glad you're in one piece, son. Did Kajanas mention anything during your imprisonment?"

Memories and dreams swirled, the letter X and the symbol for-

“Pi,” Bill vaguely recalled. “He mentioned a Project Pi. Do you know what that could be?”

Lawrence and Nixon glanced at each other.

“No idea,” they answered.