((Collaboration Post between The unknowable and Letter Bee))

[i][b]Flashback - Continued[/b][/i]

"Phew! That was a long ride. Anyway, do you guys need me, or can I take a break?" Par asked Greg, who was in the seat beside him, and the dozen mercs who were sharing space with walls and a ceiling of guns, as well as several crates of caps, dried mussels, purified water, and explosives.

The group were now at the Robo-Co Factory near Niagra Falls, where they planned to bag them some robots - and another vehicle, if possible. Either way, Par, who was used to taking several rests during one trip - made possible by the sentry guns and high explosives in the truck's security system - was now mentally exhausted, hence the question.

"No, this is good." said Greg.  "How's the truck's power cells?  Do I need to rig a fission battery or two up to recharge them?"  It was already after noon and he was unsure how long this man's homemade vehicle would last on only a few more hour's sunlight.  "It won't be a problem.  It'll take the Mercs an hour or so before they haul enough robots out here for me to get started fixing the holes they put in them and reprogramming them.  Besides, I've got to fix another truck up too if I can find one."

He gave the Mercs instructions on how he wanted the robots taken down and sent them inside.

"The truck's power cells can last for 24 Hours without sunlight," Par said, "this here is a remnant of the Old World, one of the largest things our old mine contained. Even so, I'd appreciate you at least checking the systems."

"No problem" said Greg, then walked over to the truck and lifted the hood.  Where a normal truck would have a nuclear engine, this one had rechargable power cells and various circuits.  He made sure everything was connected properly and checked the fuses.  Everything appeared to be in working condition, which was pretty rare when dealing with such old equipment.  "Everything looks fine." he said.  "I'll have to keep the nuclear engine in the other truck, though.  We don't have enough time to do this to it."

He checked the area for another truck and, when he found an old army truck, he started checking it out as well.  The army truck wasn't in near as good of a shape as Par's truck, but it could be made to work.

An hour and a half later Greg flipped the main power switch on the truck and the old gages lit up.  He had had to clean a lot of terminals, repalce several fuses, and even solder a few connections together where there was supposed to be a bolt-on connection, but at least it was working.  As a finishing touch he threw a peice of plywood where the driver would sit, to cover up the holes that had dry-rotted into the seat.  The gages indicated that they had a fuel reserve of 14% left, more than enough for them to drive the truck, so Greg drove it over next to the pile of robots that the Mercs had made.

He had to admit, they had done a reasonable job not completely ruining the robots, but he wished they had been better shots.  Several of the Protectrons had cracked brain cases, which made it impossible to get them functional again.  He pulled the best looking one off of the pile and cross-wired it so that the brain would come back online, but the body wouldn't.  "Good." he said after he had a look at its programming via one of the Rob-co computers they had moved outside.  "it shouldn't take too much work to make it loyal to us."

He spent the next fifteen minutes typing on the computer, then another five replacing damaged circuits.  When he was finished  he brought it online.  "Say hello to PR-1723, Prince." he said.

"Hello PR-1723, Prince." the Protectron said.

"Very good!" said Par, who had awoken from a nap. "Now, let's go back to New York, and Old Man's Corner."