Missed out on Chapters 1 and 2? Never fear! You can read the first two chapters (and other newsletters) by clicking the link below

https://robrenzetti.com/newsletter-archive/

In space no one can hear you scream.

Jenny Wakeman didn’t care. One look at how the explosion of the X-Plor-R probe had wrecked her appearance and she screamed her robotic head off. The sound waves went nowhere, but the teenage robot sent out all sorts of distress signals across the electromagnetic spectrum — radio waves, microwaves, infrared, ultraviolet, ultra-violent. 

These expressions of rage and frustration rippled across the solar system and through the Milky Way, past Cluster Prime and the planet of the Space Bikers. They reached a far corner of the universe where an alien race had devoted decades to monitoring for any sign of intelligent life beyond their remote planet. They detected Jenny’s disturbing distress signals and decided they were better off alone.

Jenny’s chest emitted a loud repetitive clanking. Emotionally, she felt like she was having a heart attack but, mechanically speaking, she didn’t have a heart. The muffled voice of her mother sounded from inside. “Jenny? Jenny! What is going on? I received your distress call. Are you okay?”

Jenny mumbled, “I’m as far from okay as Mars is from Neptune.”

“What was that? I can barely hear you. Why isn’t your chest plate opening up? XJ9, did you fly too close to the sun again? You know a solar flare can fry your circuits.”

Now Jenny started pounding on her chest. “Sorry, Mom! Stuck in a meteor shower. Had to lock down my whole system. Gonna go straight to school, see you when I get home. Byyyyyyyyeeeeeeeee!” She pounded and prattled until her mom reluctantly signed off.

After briefly considering a new life on Cluster Prime, Jenny fired up her rockets.

KABOOM!

And headed back to Earth. If what her mom said about frying her circuits was true, then she couldn’t transform her way out of her troubles. Asking her mom to help fix how she looked after lying so blatantly would surely lead to a very long lecture and an even longer grounding. Sheldon would be willing to help, but he was only one (nerdy, young) man. She needed a team to get the job done before the school bell rang.

She plotted a course for Petterson’s Garage in downtown Tremorton. The grease monkeys there had repaired her on more than one occasion. And, if she declined their signature “hot rod” paint job, she could be fixed up quick. The “closed” sign on the front door dashed Jenny’s hopes. She’d forgotten they now opened late three times a week so the entire crew could attend their yoga class together. “Darn their increased flexibility and peaceful frame of mind!”

Time for Plan B — Sheldon Lee.