Attack of the Spider Bots Read Online Free PDF Page B

Australian accent.
    The message, with lots of static and dropouts, announced: “G’day, mates. You are approaching terminal 847B. All attendants prepare for landing.”
    â€œPlease stow your trays and return your seats to their up-right position,” Bruzelski said with a crooked smile as she held a mock microphone. “I guess it thinks we’re the morning flight out of Chattanooga.”
    A moment later, the ship’s engines shut off. “Uh . . . Captain — ” the commander said with a gulp.
    â€œMacIntyre,” shouted the captain. “Reverse thrusters!”
    The commander punched all the right dials and entered the proper commands, but —
    â€œNo response, Captain. They’ve got us in their tractor beam!” He gulped so hard he almost swallowed his Adam’s apple as the floating, ruined city grew larger in their view screen.
    â€œOfficer Bruzelski,” Captain Ives ordered. “Open all frequencies!”
    â€œAye, aye, Captain,” she said as she adjusted her controls.
    â€œAttention, space platform,” announced the captain as if he were a TV announcer. “We do not wish to land at this time. We are just passing through.” He paused and then added, “Nice to see you, though . . . uh, hope you are doing well. Feel free to drop by when you are in our . . . uh . . . sector of the galaxy.” He winced and gave the others a “whatever” shrug.
    The only answer was more static.
    The captain could see sets of trams and monorail trains skimming across the surface as they drew closer to the floating city . . . and robots — lots of robots. The problem was he couldn’t see any people.
    It reminded the Ghoulie within the captain of Solomon Parker’s train set, except that the space platform wasn’t a toy and looked a lot more dangerous. Unfortunately, there was not a tree branch to be seen. They were lost in space!
    Moments later — without so much as a bump — they were on the surface of the space platform. “Well, at least some things in this place work,” said Bruzelski.
    â€œWelcome to the International Peace Station,” announced the speaker. “Please exit in an orderly manner and enjoy your visit.”
    â€œSome peace,” said the captain. “Let’s just hope they can’t open the door remotely. I’d just as soon stay in an oxygen/nitrogen atmosphere.”
    Suddenly, machines near them on the platform started coming to life. Some ground immediately to a halt; others cast off showers of sparks; and still others took twisted courses toward their ship.
    â€œLet’s not panic now,” ordered the captain, “but I suggest we put weapons on standby.”
    â€œActually, I don’t think we’re under attack, sir,” said Bruzelski. See that? It looks like a fuel line. And those robots over there look like they’re holding wrenches.”
    â€œWell, they might not be intentionally hostile,” said the captain, “but they are not exactly in tip-top shape.” He definitely had that right.
    Robots approached the ship, some limping on broken limbs, others spinning in circles on tracks instead of wheels. There were even some that looked fairly functional but just marched back and forth like tin soldiers. Every once in awhile, one stopped, as if its battery had run down. Then the ones behind it crashed into it and fell.
    It would have been funny — like a tin-man version of the Keystone Cops — if the Star-Fighters had been watching it on TV instead of worrying that those walking cans might bang a hole in their ship.
    â€œDuck!!” Bruzelski suddenly yelled as she hit the deck. A flying-saucer-shaped machine about the size of a serving plate zipped by. It had little eyes that peered menacingly at them. Another one suddenly spun into a dive and skimmed across the hull of the tree ship in a shower of sparks.
    â€œJust what we need,