He picked up a rock and took aim at a point many yards away. The former quarterback drew his arm back and threw his projectile with all the skill that made him a hometown hero. Though heavier and more awkward than a football, it still sailed in the arc he had predicted and smashed into the rubble in the distance.
The mechanical monstrosity turned and scanned that area with its peculiar golden light while Joaquin waited anxiously. Seconds ticked by. Then, to his immense relief, the creature floated over to investigate the noise, leaving its captive behind.
Joaquin snuck out and skulked over to where Thrace lay prone and helpless. The Elf looked immensely relieved to see him. He beamed up at Joaquin, apparently not caring that he was bound up while a murderous robot lurked just a few yards away.
“I thought you were dead.”
“I’m going to be if we don’t get you out of this thing.”
The webbing was made of some strange black material whose composition was a mystery to Joaquin. It was glossy and rubbery to the eye, but hard like steel cables to the touch. He wished he had brought his knife along.
“It shouldn’t be authorized to kill you, though,” Thrace murmured, looking perplexed.
“We can ask it about that after we get you loose.”
“Earth and its denizens are protected by general order—”
“Thrace! Stop screwing around!”
“I’m not,” Thrace told him in an injured tone.
“How do I get you out of this?”
“Huh? Oh! There should be a button on it—probably the back.”
Joaquin spared a nervous glance in the direction of the mechanical monster, which was blasting rubble to dust just to be sure it eliminated the spy. Grimacing, he rolled Thrace onto his belly. There, at the small of his back was a big red button. Joaquin tapped it and the webbing withdrew, slithering into the disk with the button on it.
“Much better,” Thrace approved and got up. “Now, please get under cover while I crush the automaton.”
Joaquin nodded and scrambled to get back behind the boulders. Thrace took to the air and soared up into the starry sky until Joaquin could not even make out his silhouette. Then, just as the mechanical creature—the automaton—started noticing its prisoner was missing, the heroic stranger rocketed out of the sky like a meteor.
The collision created an explosion so intense that Joaquin was blown backwards. When he scrambled back up to peer over the rubble, he saw the automaton laying in broken pieces all over the landscape. Some of the bits were twitching spasmodically. Others were sparking and popping in their death throes. Some even burst in smaller, successive explosions.
Thrace was lying amidst the wreckage, making pathetic groaning sounds. Joaquin rushed over to him convinced he must have seriously hurt himself at last. None of the Elf’s limbs were twisted at strange angles, however. It was hard to see much else, though, with all the dust and smoke in the air.
“Thrace?”
The Elf coughed and rolled onto his back. “Did it work?”
Joaquin nodded, his eyes wide with shock. “You nailed it this time.”
Thrace struggled to his feet. “There, see? No problem,” he said, grinning like a lunatic.
Joaquin gaped at him for a moment. And then, for no particular reason, he found himself laughing. The whole situation was, after all completely ridiculous. Even his dreams never got this strange.
His laughter ended abruptly when Thrace’s eyes rolled into the back of his head and he pitched forward. Joaquin caught him and nearly buckled under the Elf’s surprising weight. He grunted and supported the strange visitor under his arms.
“Thrace? Come on, wake up.”
Thrace only groaned in response. He apparently had limits and he had reached them. Joaquin was somewhat relieved by that because it humanized him a little bit. But at the moment, it wasn’t really convenient.
“Seriously, dude, you weigh a ton.”
Thrace made a valiant effort to right himself, but his trembling muscles couldn’t manage it. The Elf was barely conscious. Joaquin decided it was better to get him back to the mine before he completely turned into dead weight.
With Thrace’s arm over his shoulder, he half-supported, half-dragged the Elf back to the mine. By the time they got there, Thrace was barely moving. Joaquin struggled the last few steps until he was able to lay the Elf down next to his campsite. Not knowing what else to do, he retrieved his sleeping bag and rolled Thrace up in it.
Then he sat back and watched the alien visitor sleep. His mind was awash in confusion. What was he supposed to do now?
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