The Worst Man on Mars
Poles Together

With much joshing and slapping of backs, the four Polish builder-bots, the robotniki, ambled over the Martian sand towards the front entrance of Botany Base. All were covered in splashes of paint and thick layers of plaster. Witek, the most rotund of the four, struggled to keep pace with the others, though they were hardly rushing.

Maciek stopped in his tracks about ten metres from the entrance, and the others stopped with him. A look of surprise and amusement crossed his work-hardened face. <O kura,> he signalled, his mouth gaping in mock amazement. <Drzwi!>

The others looked amused and amazed, too, as they took in the fact that Botany Base now had a set of airlock doors blocking their entrance into the building.

<Drzwi!> repeated the others, laughing and slapping their foreheads and wondering who could have installed them. Then Maciek pointed out the poorly fitting pressure seals on the outer door, the loose handle and the rough edges where it had been cut down to fit the opening. He suggested that even Witek could have done a better job.

<Główno!> Witek swore back at him, using the Polish ‘swear-lite’ they had all been programmed with. Rysio and Andrzej howled, giving him matey punches.

Maciek, playing the clown, strode over to the outer door and pressed the OPEN button. With an exaggerated bow, he invited the others in. Giggling like schoolgirls, they obediently trotted into the airlock, tapping at the doors to check the workmanship, and sniggering at the shakiness of the whole construction.

They were still sniggering as they passed through the inner door into the entrance hallway. But the moment they saw what was waiting for them, all sniggering ceased and all movement screeched to a halt.

There, visibly fuming, was HarVard in the guise of a stern-faced, stockily-built battle-axe of a woman, her hog jaws set in a scowl, arms crossed, a wooden rolling-pin grasped in one hand. The fluffiness of her apparel – the pink nightgown, fur-lined slippers and pink hair-curlers – did nothing to soften her stony appearance.

<O kura,> signalled Maciek,

<Kolęda,> muttered Witek.

<Główno,> squeaked Rysio.

<Piernik,> hissed Andrzej.

The robotniki turned to make their escape, but the inner airlock door had already closed behind them.

“And where do you think you’ve been?” growled the formidable female, her face like a crushed handbag, her voice more male than female.

Maciek bravely wheeled forward, a cowed expression on his blocky face. <In Udder Playce,> he signalled in his broken binary comms, his jointed arm pointing vaguely back the way they had come.

“Oh, really?” said the Gorgon, advancing on him while slapping the rolling-pin into the palm of her free hand. Her squashed face twisted into a fake smile, her voice adopting a menacing calm. “And how is the ‘Udder Playce’ looking these days?”

Maciek edged back. <Er ...>

<Is good,> put in Rysio, his head clanking as he nodded.

<Good,> confirmed Witek, looking for a recharging-point.

Andrzej, the tall, thin one, gave a shrug. <Could do with leetle more work.>

“I see.” The voice still had its fake calmness. “And what would you say about this ‘playce’?” The dragon-woman swept the rolling pin in a large arc to indicate Botany Base. “Is good?”

The robotniki would have been well advised to think their answers through, instead of just blurting them out.

<No way is good,> said Witek.

<Is joke,> said Andrzej.

<It’s ... how you say ... ship-hole,> said Maciek. <Andrzej right. Is joke. All measurements wrong. Nothing fit. Should knock down and start again.>

“Hmm,” said the dragon lady, her nostrils flaring and a hint of smoke emerging from them. “It’s funny you should say that.”

The robotniki exchanged smirks, taking her words at their most literal.

“Because the HUMANS ARRIVE IN FOUR HOURS!” The voice had lost much of its calmness. “So this place better be ready by then. And if it means knocking it all down and starting again, then so be it. But you have only four hours to do it in!”

The Polish builder-bots’ jaws dropped. They’d never seen HarVard so agitated.

<No way,> said Maciek at last, shaking his head.

<Why can’t Eng-Lish robots do it?> asked Witek.

The other robotniki looked at Witek as though he were insane.

<Look,> started Maciek as reasonably as he could. <We just come back for rest. Recharge batteries, oil bearings, have game of cards and go back. We can’t work here. No one can work here. Is ship-hole.>

The dragon-woman shook, like a volcano about to blow. She raised her rolling-pin high into the air. “That,” she yelled, “is AN ORDER!”

The robotniki blinked in surprise, shrinking back from the holographic weapon. They exchanged a few Polish remarks, involving much shrugging and some argument.

<OK,> said Maciek finally. <We do it. But need leetle rest first.>

“Five minutes,” said the monster woman. “That’s all you get. Then go see Tude. He’ll tell you what still needs to be done.”

The robotniki exchanged hurt looks at the injustice of it all. S~ᴇaʀᴄh the (ꜰind)ɴʘvel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“We build it all,” complained Andrzej. “Everything. But plans wrong. Nothing fit. English robots mess up. We give up.”

“GO!” the woman bellowed, brandishing her rolling pin.

All four turned and ambled towards the recharging room, dragging their feet and their caterpillar tracks as they did so.

“Oh, lads,” HarVard called after them, his holo-image having lost the rolling-pin and adopted a pleasanter mien. “Just one thing. Where’s Zilli?”

Maciek turned round and shrugged. <How we know?>

The battle-axe frowned. “But she went to fetch you from the Other Place.”

Maciek glanced at the others, but they merely shrugged back. <We not see Zilli.>

<Zilli never been to Udder Playce,> put in Witek.

HarVard looked even more puzzled. “Curious,” she said. “I wonder what’s happened to her.” Then she looked up at the robotniki. “Off you go, then. The clock’s ticking.”

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