I put the radio on the table, grabbed a couple of plates, and flung them at her, frisbee-style. One missed, the other struck her in the thigh, and I learned a new Quinlan swear word. Nope, several - must've heard a lot. But that was my chance. I grabbed the radio, then stopped. Lying in the wreckage of the side table was what looked, for all the world, like a security card. What would a pre-steam level society need… didn't matter. If there was one thing that years of adventure and D&D games had taught me, it was that anything and everything was useful, and should be taken. One problem: not enough hands, too much loot, and too many opponents.
The Quinlan on the ground was starting to get up, so I smacked him upside the head. Down he went, for nappies. I grabbed another plate and beamed my erstwhile frisbee opponent, earning another curse word. I lobbed the radio in a high arc in the direction of the door, grabbed the security card, stuck it in my mouth, grabbed the tranq gun, and charged for the door.
I took a second to kick Freda's remaining leg out from under her on my way past, scoring bonus points and yet another swear word, and caught the radio as it reached the end of its arc. I hit the door with a shoulder, smashing the latch work, and bolted down the hallway to the front entrance, tranq gun in one hand, radio tucked like a football in the other arm, backpack held by one strap flapping up and down on my back, and card in my mouth. I was developing an appreciation for all the little details those adventure games had left out.
At this point, though, facing the great outdoors, my plans a little vague. I couldn't steal a car or even a bike. And with the radio in hand, I couldn't go aquatic. That meant a straight sprint. The Manny would overheat quickly with that kind of punishment, so I'd need to be as far away as possible before having to stop. Well then, uphill. Quinlans trying to take a water route would be swimming upstream, and Quinlans engaging in a straight foot pursuit would eventually tire. Plus, they'd be much slower.
I took off up the hill, radio held in a death grip against my chest, while trying to both not bite through the security card and not drop it. 10 minutes of running, jumping, and dodging got me into a small copse not visible from Natasha's estate. I placed the security card on the ground and spit out my only remaining spider, instructing it to climb a tree and keep watch for approaching pursuers. Then I sat down to cool off and tried to get a grip on my day.
I took a few seconds to examine the tranq gun. It looked exactly like the one that Garfield had grabbed. I guessed there was just the one model. This one though, had a full magazine - less the two shots Natasha had taken. The gun went into the backpack. Then I picked up the supposed security card. I had to admit to myself, that it had been a huge leap to a completely unwarranted assumption. But the thing looked like a credit card or a security card, and was on the end of a lanyard. Even the size and shape were… huh.
I'd never noticed it before, but the standard proportions for cards had always been pretty close to the golden mean. The golden mean occurred all the time in nature back on Earth, and it would appear that it was a universal of some kind, even to the point of influencing technological designs. Which was all very interesting, but now was not the time for a deep philosophical soliloquy.
I have no freaking clue what the card would be useful for, so at the moment, it was moot. Into the backpack it went. Now the radio.
“Bender?”
Nothing. I realized that the little indicator lamp was out, so no power. Very likely all, the recent kinetics of done something unfortunate to the insides. Two minutes later, I had the back open and was inspecting the innards. The technology resembled mid-to-late 20th century electronics. Still mostly discrete components, but a lot of large-scale integration on the circuit boards. Oh, and a couple of batteries that have been juggled out a place. Derp. I pushed the batteries back into their holders and turn the radio around.
“Bender?”
“Hey Bob, long time no see. Or talk. Holy god, am I glad to hear your voice though.”
“No video on this thing?”
“No such luck, boss. The Resistance has enough trouble pilfering the components for an audio-only device. I have video in the room where they’re keeping me, though. Or I'd have gone completely crazy by now.”
“So, you’re a resistance fighter, are you?”
“Nah. My choices are limited, at least until I can grow legs. Speaking of which, how is it that you are walking around as a Quinlan? You are a Quinlan, right? No one has mentioned you and your friends being hairless and tailless.”
I gave Bender a quick rundown of Bill’s work with androids over the last century or so. He was suitably impressed. “Now, your turn. How did you get what you are?”
“Yeah, that,” Bender replied. “I was heading for Gamma Leporos A when I spotted an anomalous-”
“I'd already figured out everything up to the point where you got shot out of the sky. Let's fast-forward.”
“Okay, oh impatient one. I don't remember this part of course, but I've been told what happened. The Heaven's River patrol bots shot me down because I guess I neglected to give the secret handshake. The Administrator had them cut my matrix out of the wreckage and bring it back, where the Resistance managed to intercept the shipment and steal me. It turns out, a significant percentage of Crew are double agents. Anyway,
