When he was only a few metres away Stanton lifted his gun and fired his remaining shots. Crane leant into them. Each pulse of ionized aluminium just caused a momentary glow on his armoured chest, maybe a little pitting in the surface, but the glow quickly disappeared as the heat was dispersed through the s-con network imbedded in his armour. When the gun was empty, Stanton threw it at the android. A brass hand snatched the weapon, shattered it, and tossed the pieces aside. This was it. Crane stepped in and Stanton tried a stamp kick on his knee. He might more easily have tried to knock over an oak. Crane grabbed the front of his jacket, hoisted him into the air, and threw him. Stanton came down on his back in the shallow water with slimed rocks cracking against his spine. Crane came striding in again as he tried to stand. A backhand slap laid Stanton across the damp needles on the shore. What was the use? A boot like a ram flipped him over onto his back. Crane stooped over him, black eyes giving nothing. It might as well have been a slab of metal that was killing him. A huge brass hand closed around his throat and he was lifted once again.

Maybe the eyes. Maybe he could at least damage this toy of Pelter’s? Stanton flicked the Tenkian ring round with his thumb. He felt the tug at his trouser leg as the dagger came out through the rip it had made before. Forest light glittered off the yellow chainglass blade and the handle slapped into his hand. He swung at Crane’s eyes, and the android’s other hand snapped up and caught his wrist. The point of the blade was a hand’s breadth from those black eyes. Crane blinked and did nothing while Stanton choked. Abruptly, he released Stanton’s throat. Stanton yelled as all his weight came down on his right shoulder. Crane pulled the blade from Stanton’s hand and then, in a moment, just discarded him.

The lights in the Tenkian were flickering as it no doubt tried to give Mr. Crane a shock. Crane was oblivious to the electrical charge, but not oblivious to the pretty lights and the beauty of the weapon. He held it between his two forefingers and studied it for a long time. Stanton just lay there, recovering his breath. His right shoulder felt like it was dislocated, and he’d definitely cracked a few ribs. There was no point in running now. He just waited for the inevitable.

Crane finished his long study of the Tenkian dagger, then slipped it into the pocket of his coat. He glanced at Stanton, lifted a forefinger up to his metal mouth, held it there for a moment, before stepping over him and walking off into the forest.

* * *