It can't be easy to startle a Big Lug, but Gwen had found a way to do it. They all flinched and jumped or, more accurately, lumbered quickly to their feet.
Rusty edged out from behind the pile of tribute and sidled between a couple of the Lugs. No one noticed him: they were all staring in amazement at Gwen, who, making the best of things, rose to her feet and faced the King.
Rusty worked his way through the ranks until he reached the bottom of the stairs. He turned and took a quick look around the room.
"Greetings, Your Majesty," Gwen was saying, and she made what Rusty saw was a pretty gracious bow. He slipped up the stairs and ran for the top.
Rusty hadn't been built for running. His legs, for one, were just too short. But he made the best he could of what he had, and that turned out to be respectable. He paralleled the flattened path of the Lugs for exactly the right number of paces, and then peeled off sideways toward Gwen's Hepmobile. His knees were pounding like pistons as he raced through prairie grass that was nearly as tall as he was.
Rusty estimated his speed at twelve miles per hour; he measured the distance to Gwen's rocket; he calculated the optimum trajectory, leaped into the air, and landed in the driver's seat. A moment later he was corkscrewing through the sky toward Retropolis.
Rusty hadn't been built for flying, either, and he'd never tried it befor
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July 5th, 2011 at 12:31 pm
Oh, no, Rusty, don’t step on those…
…er, sorry, couldn’t help myself. My mom’s working on restoring native plants to a meadow area near where we live, so it’s kinda a knee-jerk reaction. 😉
July 5th, 2011 at 12:49 pm
I’m sure he’s being as careful as he can manage – I mean, that is the job he’s training for, after all – but we may be looking at a Greater Good sort of situation at the moment.
