Akiko in the Castle of Alia Rellapor (2 page)

 Chapter 2 

Spuckler was the
first to get to the top of the ridge. He rested his hands on his hips and shook his head slowly back and forth.

“Hot dang!” he cried, following it up with a prolonged high-pitched whistle. “That is one heckuva
place
she’s got there!”

I took the last few steps up to stand beside him and stood there gaping at the sight. Rising majestically from the side of an enormous snow-capped mountain, the castle was the size of an entire city. It was a mass of towers and walls, covered with alien decorations and ornate, soaring windows like the ones in a Gothic cathedral. It was scary and inviting and ugly and beautiful all at the same time. I’d never seen anything like it before, and I’m sure I never will again.

I glanced over at Poog, who was gazing at the castle with a strange, distant look in his eyes. It was almost as if he’d been there before and was familiar with every nook and cranny of the place. He wasn’t smiling, but he wasn’t exactly frowning, either. He was just really . . . I don’t know,
serious
.

“Astonishing!” Mr. Beeba wheezed, bent over with his hands on his knees. “I don’t believe I’ve
ever
seen such a hideous mishmash of architectural styles!”

“It’s . . . ,” I began, struggling to come up with a decent adjective. I gave up after a minute, sighed, then just said, “. . . amazing.”

“All right, folks, we didn’t come all this way just to enjoy the view,” Spuckler said. “Let’s march on down there and find a way inside.”

“
YOU MAKE IT SOUND SO EASY, SIR
,” Gax squeaked, rattling a bit in the frigid wind.

“Yes, Spuckler,” Mr. Beeba agreed. “It won’t be a simple matter of strolling up to the front door and ringing the bell. There’s no telling what sort of sentinels Alia has dispatched to guard this fortress. We’ll be putting our lives in peril merely attempting to go anywhere
near
the place.”

“Yeah, well, we’ve managed to get
this
far,” Spuckler retorted with a grin. “No sense gettin’ cold feet now.”

I swallowed hard and followed Spuckler as he strutted down the road leading to the castle. Mr. Beeba, Poog, and Gax joined us, looking no more eager to get inside that castle than I was.

The mountains with their snowy peaks rose menacingly all around us as we moved farther and farther down toward the castle. I stumbled once or twice on the stony path and found myself thinking of something my dad once told me about mountain climbing. He was born and raised in a small mountain village in Japan, and he always claims he had to climb a mountain every day just to get to school. I find that a little hard to believe (especially because my mom gives me a wink every time he says it), but he swears it’s true. I don’t know, maybe it was just a
small
mountain.

Anyway, he told me that climbing
down
a mountain is just as hard as climbing
up
one, and that sometimes it can be even more dangerous. People going down a mountain can start to move too fast if they’re not careful. Then if they take just one bad step—

“Spuckler!” Mr. Beeba called out, interrupting my thoughts. “Look down there to the right. Those are Torg patrols, aren’t they?”

“Good eyes, Beebs,” Spuckler answered, stopping in his tracks.

I tried to get a look at what Mr. Beeba was talking about, but all I could see were these little gray dots in the distance.

“Torg patrols?” I asked.

“The word
Torg
is an acronym, Akiko,” Mr. Beeba explained. “It stands for
Turbo Obtuvian Retramodular Gigatron
.”

There was a very long pause.

“Torg patrols?” I asked again.

“They’re general-use robots,” Spuckler said, as if he were translating for Mr. Beeba. “They can be programmed to do almost anything. Why, this whole castle was prob’ly
built
by Torgs.”

GA-GUNCH! GA-GUNCH!

Suddenly we heard a loud mechanical sound coming from somewhere below us, the sound of a gigantic piece of machinery. From behind a large boulder to our left, an enormous gray robot lurched out into the middle of the road only fifty or sixty feet ahead of us.

GA-GUNCH! GA-GUNCH!

“Heavens!” Mr. Beeba squealed.
“A T-t-torg!”

 Chapter 3 

Spuckler hurried us
all off the road to a spot behind an enormous slab of stone. We crouched down and huddled together, hoping we weren’t visible from the road. The noise kept getting louder.

GA-GUNCH! GA-GUNCH!

Spuckler had his head poked out so he could keep an eye on the thing.

“It’s gettin’ closer,” he whispered back to us.

“Get back here and keep quiet!” Mr. Beeba whispered. “Maybe it didn’t see us.”

“I never been much for hidin’,” Spuckler whispered back through gritted teeth. “Makes me feel like a sissy.”

“Come on, Spuckler,” I said, reaching out to grab him by the arm. “Stay here and hide with us, just this once.”

GA-GUNCH! GA-GUNCH!

“Sorry, ’Kiko,” Spuckler said as he pulled himself free. “Gotta take her on face t’ face. It’s the only way I know.”

Mr. Beeba groaned as we watched Spuckler swagger out into the middle of the road. I couldn’t see the robot yet, but I could tell it was pretty close. Spuckler folded his arms and stood in the middle of the path like a

statue. Gax shuddered and wheezed a little. I wondered if he’d ever had to deal with a Torg before.

FZAMM!

Just then a bolt of yellow light shot past Spuckler and struck a boulder a few feet behind him. My jaw dropped as I stared at the enormous hole it left in the rock. Spuckler wasn’t fazed a bit.

By now the Torg had come into full view. It was about thirty feet tall, with two enormous legs and six spindly mechanical arms hanging off its body. The entire surface of the robot was pale gray, with spots of white frost. It leaned forward and raised an arm, a

double-jointed one with a smoking laser gun at the end. There was a rapid clicking sound as it prepared to shoot again.

Spuckler leaned over and picked up a small stone. He snapped his hand back and chucked the stone up at the robot’s body.

TWING!

There was a tinny whistling sound like a ricocheting bullet in a Western movie. Spuckler grimaced and leaped to one side as a second bolt of yellow light shot past him, this time missing by just a few inches.

“Heavens,” Mr. Beeba whispered to me. “One more shot and he’ll be vaporized for sure!”

“V-vaporized?”
I gasped.

“It’s actually not such a bad way to go, Akiko,” he whispered. “Virtually painless, in theory . . .”

FLAM!

Spuckler flipped backward, just barely dodging a third laser bolt. He reached down and picked up another rock. This time he paused, like a pitcher trying to throw his best fastball. He let the rock fly.

TWACK!

Suddenly there was a horrible groaning sound, followed by a series of loud pops. Little orange sparks shot out from the spot where the stone had hit, dropping to the snow like brightly colored confetti. The giant robot heaved and shuddered, rocking violently from side to side. Then, all at once, it simply screeched to a halt. A second or two later its six arms twitched briefly, then just hung there, squeaking quietly in the chilly breeze.

“Nice
shot,
Spuckler!” Mr. Beeba said, rising to his feet.

“You did it!” I cried, running out to give Spuckler a big hug. Poog smiled, and Gax buzzed happily. He seemed very proud of his master.

“Tell me, Spuckler,” Mr. Beeba continued. “How did you know where his weak spot was?”

“Well, I used to work in a Torg repair shop when I was younger,” Spuckler answered, brushing snow off his arms and legs. “They ain’t nearly so scary when ya know how lousy the engineerin’ is.”

We all stepped out into the middle of the path to get a better look at the giant, motionless Torg.

“Hang on now, everybody,” Spuckler said as he fumbled around in Gax’s little junk container. “I gotta make sure he’s permanently deactivated before we move on. Don’t want him springin’ back to life later on an’ alertin’ the other Torgs . . .”

He pulled out a pair of wire cutters and squeezed the handles. They made a rusty scraping sound.

“Yeah, these’ll do the trick,” Spuckler said. He tucked them behind his belt and began shinnying up one of the Torg’s legs.

“
SIR, IF I MIGHT MAKE A SUGGESTION
,” Gax said as politely as he could.

“Gax, I know it ain’t easy to see a fellow machine bite the dust like this,” Spuckler said as he hoisted himself on top of the robot’s body, “but I gotta do what I gotta do.”

“
BUT SIR, IT SEEMS TO ME THAT—”
Gax began in

a slightly louder voice.

“It’ll all be over in

a second, Gax,” Spuckler interrupted as he pulled a bunch of wires out of the base of the robot’s head and prepared to sever them

all with a single snip.

“
WILL YOU JUST
LISTEN
TO ME FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE?
” Gax screeched as loudly as his mechanical voice could manage (which was actually quite loudly).

Spuckler froze, an expression of shock and dismay on his face. Mr. Beeba and I exchanged astonished glances. None of us had ever heard Gax raise his voice to Spuckler before. Even Poog looked surprised.

The wind whistled past as we watched to see what would happen next. Spuckler’s shock slowly gave way to an expression of barely contained fury.

“All right, Gax,” he said between clenched teeth. “I’m listenin’.”

Gax rattled and shuddered a bit. The wind died down. It became very, very quiet.

“I’m listenin’
real
good,” Spuckler continued. “Now, supposin’ you tell me what’s goin’ through that rusty

little head of yours?”

 Chapter 4 

“
WELL, SIR
,” Gax
began, sounding much less sure of himself than he had only seconds before, “
YOU MAY BE AWARE THAT I AM CONVERSANT IN THE TORG PROGRAMMING DIALECT. .
 
.
 
.”

“I am
now,
” Spuckler growled.

“
SO
,” Gax continued, cocking his head slightly to one side, “
I BELIEVE THAT I COULD USE MY KNOWLEDGE OF THE TORG’S LANGUAGE TO REPROGRAM ITS NAVIGATIONAL CONSOLE, INSTRUCTING IT TO TAKE US INTO ALIA RELLAPOR’S CASTLE.
”

“Oh, that’s a real humdinger of a plan, Gax,” Spuckler sneered. “And what are we supposed to do? Walk behind it and wave to all the other robots we pass along the way?”

“
NO, SIR
,” Gax answered, sounding slightly more confident. “
WE’D ALL BE
INSIDE
THE TORG.
”

“Inside?” Spuckler asked, scratching his head.

“
INSIDE THE STORAGE COMPARTMENT, SIR
,” Gax replied matter-of-factly. “
BEHIND HIS HEAD. THERE SHOULD BE ENOUGH SPACE TO HOLD ALL OF US.
”

“But—” Spuckler began.

“That’s a good idea, Gax,” I interrupted, looking up to see that Poog was also smiling his approval.

“It’s an
excellent
idea, Gax!” Mr. Beeba cried, clapping his big hands together. “It’s an inspired strategic move of the highest order. Why, you should tell Spuckler to shut up more often, I say!”

Spuckler glared at Mr. Beeba, growling like an angry dog. He lowered the wire cutters, though, and turned to Gax with a humble expression on his face.

“All right, Gax. We’ll give it a try.”

Spuckler and Gax spent the next half hour or so reprogramming the Torg. The two of them mumbled about this circuit and that memory bank, occasionally arguing but always sounding like old friends. I may have been imagining things, but I’d swear Spuckler sounded more respectful now when he spoke to Gax.

Mr. Beeba, Poog, and I kept a lookout from behind a boulder at the edge of the path. Luckily all the rest of the Torgs were down near the base of the castle, marching back and forth like little windup soldiers. I kept looking at Alia’s castle with all its towers and turrets and Gothic arches. I wondered what it would be like to actually get inside that place. Where was Prince Froptoppit being held? I pictured him in a dark cell, with nothing but bread and water to eat all day.

“Don’t worry, Prince Froptoppit,” I said to myself. “We’re almost there.”

“All right, gang!” Spuckler called out from his perch on top of the Torg. “We’re ready to roll!”

“This is going to be cool,” I said as I climbed up one of the Torg’s legs. “I’ve never been inside a robot before!”

“What’s
happened
to you, Akiko?” Mr. Beeba asked disapprovingly. “You used to be such a
sensible
girl!”

Spuckler opened the large storage compartment on top of the Torg’s body and we all climbed in. I immediately noticed a strong unpleasant smell, like burned rubber or diesel fuel. There were strange pieces of equipment crowded inside, but we managed to find enough space for all of us. Gax was near the front. Spuckler had connected a thick cable from Gax’s body to the back of the Torg’s head. I figured they’d rigged it so that Gax could program thoughts right into the Torg’s robotic brain. Mr. Beeba, Poog, and I huddled near the back of the compartment, sandwiched between two large metal crates. When we had gotten as comfortable as possible, Spuckler pulled the hatch down so that just a tiny sliver of light remained in the front.

“All right, Gax,” Spuckler said. “Do your stuff!”

Gax clicked and whirred a bit and suddenly the Torg’s engine roared to life. We heard a deep buzzing-humming noise, and the sound of gears turning just beyond the walls of our compartment.

GREEEEEEEEEE!

There was a high-pitched screech and the Torg lurched forward, then immediately came to an abrupt halt. We were all flung from the back of the compartment to the front, and I felt my face pressing into Spuckler’s leathery coat.

“
SORRY, EVERYONE,”
Gax squeaked.
“MAKING THIS TORG WALK IS GOING TO REQUIRE A BIT OF PRACTICE.”

“Take your time, Gax,” I said, trying to sound as encouraging as I could. “I know you’ll get the hang of it soon.”

We all held our breath as Gax prepared to make the Torg move a second step.

GREEEEEEEEEE!

The Torg lurched forward again, this time taking three quick steps like a tiptoeing ballerina. We all bounced up and down, banging our heads on the underside of the hatch and bruising our bottoms on the cold metal floor.

“Come on, Gax,” Spuckler said, moving his mouth right up next to Gax’s head like a boxing coach in the ring. “Think
Torg
.”

“
I’M
TRYING
,
SIR
,” Gax replied.
“I’M JUST NOT USED TO THIS CONCEPT OF HAVING
LEGS
.”