by Briana Ervin
I tried to move, but I was completely immobile in this foreign space. I tried looking around, and found that couldn't be done either. So I decided to ask a question:
Cyrii, where are we?
…...Cyrii? Cyrii?!
No response. I felt weirdly empty. Immediately my alarm spiked. Is she there? Is she okay?! Oh no... I tried a more violent jerk, to at least break me free if nothing else, but nothing happened. Dang it. You had ONE JOB, 767, ONE JOB! I continued fighting the pull, but I was more stuck in this niche than when I first met my pilot!
Okay, okay! I gave in, falling limp. Don't berate yourself. Think! What can I do... I can't move... shouting? Something is bound to happen eventually, right?
I decided to give it a shot, switching to my external speaker.
“HEEEEEEELP! OVER HERE! I'M STUCK!” I called. I paused to wait for a response; a falling rock, a call back, anything! “HELLOOOOOO? I'M BURIED! I CAN'T MOVE!
“...ANYONE?!”
Dead silence. Hearing my own voice only reminded me of how Cyrii was missing, even though it was more distorted than her voice. My engine pined with worry, confusion, and regret.
“HEEEEEEY!” I squirmed and fought with the confines of the space, but the results haven't changed. Curses! Okay, what now...... distress beacon! I retreated into my mind to pull up a radio signal, not caring if I alerted a drone or spacecraft by accident. We were forbidden to use any remote signals because the Enemy had taken over our radiospace and jammed everything they could, but I considered this an emergency enough to use it.
There was only one problem: when I tried to activate the beacon, an unusual warm spot appeared in my hull and the program returned an error. I was more alarmed by the warmth than the error: hardware failure!
“Kyl's rear!” I swore quietly. “Now what...?”
I couldn't think of anything better than trying to force my way out of this blue encasement, which I had already tried three times now, so with no better options, I resorted to simply waiting. Our hangars refueled us every night, so I was good for eight days. Hopefully it wouldn't take that long for something to happen...
I waited...
...contemplated....
...tried to swallow my paranoia down...
Eventually – much sooner than I expected – two things moved in front of me. I perked up, trying focus on their blurry forms. With the way they casually slid into view from the side, I knew straight away that this was not an ordinary rubble burial, but they were alive! Definitely alive, but... what were they? The right figure was completely foreign to me: thin, shorter than the other, and mostly black with a blob of blue on top. I couldn't tell if it was fully alive, or if it was something on some kind of vehicle; the black part seemed to morph depending on which direction the blue part was facing. Contrarily, the other looked a little bit like a mech... larger, burnished in color, and with a more defined body, arms, and legs. The duo was moving as if communicating, but I couldn't hear anything. This hazy blue surface covering me must be soundproof. I wanted to question these figures, but instead I was stuck with simply observing them, impatient to know what was going on.
The gesturing between the figures grew more animated, occasionally pointing at me or referencing something to the side of my pod. They seemed to be arguing, but eventually the rightmost figure proved whatever point it had to make. The leftmost figure crossed its arms and took several steps back, while the former did something with whatever it was that was to the side of me before also taking its distance.
There was a hissing sound. The blurriness began to dissipate along with the cold, and uniform creases showed up in the covering in front of me. The creases parted just a bit, forming gaps, before the individual pieces retracted and my vision cleared. I was still frozen, but I could see now!
We were in a long, octagonal room made of multi-coated metal, which was lined with pods, each with a rounded covering like what had been over me. It was just barely big enough for my height, so it clearly wasn't built for mechs. All of the pods in front of me were empty, excluding three: a left one with something mechanical in it, the one next to it a twitching, curled-up lithe creature, and one to the right which held a familiar figure.
Alesia?!
I realized it with a start, recognizing some of the limbs and the color of her hull. Our Support model! She's in a pod! I impulsively tried to move, but I was still stuck!
“Ziski?” an androgynous voice asked. I turned my shock away from Alesia, realizing that one of the figures was speaking: the blue and black one. Now that my pod was open, I could see it was a thin, blue-skinned creature, with a bizarre cloak that hid everything except its elongated head, which had large, dark, inexpressive eyes. It, combined with the alien architecture of the place and Alesia's incapacitation, told me one thing: I was in Enemy territory!
If only I was a Superiority model, then I could release her and myself from these pods! This wasn't good at all...
The alien was looking at its companion, who looked a darker orange before, but was actually a bold gold color with a green eye. A mech eye.
He's a mech?! The recognition took me completely off guard! The machine looked like he belonged to the Empire, but at the same time I neither recognized his model nor saw a number or insignia printed on him!
An alien.... but a mech too...?! I wasn't still simulating things, was I?
“Ziski tu semina klui oul,” the alien said to the mech, looking impatient and making a strange gesture. The mech looked bored, not bothering to scan me, just staring down at me. A traitor? I wondered, What is a mech doing in Enemy territory? Is this even Enemy territory??
“Giyo tsip,” the mech said, his voice matching his demeanor.
“Akyah deleam!” The living creature clicked its tongue and made a strange growling noise. “Oikul!” It was sounding more annoyed now.
There was a moment of hesitance, before the mech switched languages. He let out a series of beeps in a simple string of trinary. I was immediately offended: he was ordering me around!
“Hello,” he said flatly.
I tried to narrow my blast shield, but it was stiff enough to only twitch. He tried again, this time with no trinary:
“Alpha clearance. Respond. Hello.”
“Do you expect me to say hello back?” I growled at him. He wasn't fazed by my tone, but was now intrigued. The alien looked between us, as if it was surprised I could speak.
“State your model number and ID,” the mech deadpanned. I wanted to laugh; this machine expected me to be obedient when I was clearly being held hostage?!
“Do you have an ID?” I shot back at him.
“Alpha clearance. Respond. State your model number and ID.”
I was extremely annoyed, and chose to stay silent. The mech asked me again; the living creature evidently didn't know what was going on, but could tell that communication wasn't going well.
“Joosteh tsip?” it asked. The mech gave it a tired, sidelong glance. Being both immobile and deliberately difficult to talk to, I took a moment to check up on my mobility functions. It seemed I was held in place by some other mechanism, but I was slowly thawing out as well! I monitored my mobility levels very closely.
“Respond. State your model number and ID,” the golden mech pressed. I remained stoic.
“Respond.”
Nothing.
“You will respond!” The mech grew hostile, and even though he had no weapons showing I could tell he was growing impatient. He took a step forward, and I jumped into action, tearing my arms free of the ice, narrowing my blast shield and locking my turrets point-blank on his face. The living creature jumped with a yelp and quickly took shelter behind the mech.
“Don't come any closer,” I warned calmly, ignoring the clatter of ice crystals on the ground. The mech stood his ground, glowering at me.
“You don't intimidate me. Respond,” he deadpanned.
I flushed hot air out of my system, the irritation mounting. I was about ready to bl
ow this guy to heck and back!
“Desten kli ju tsipti gu lan! Gavvy ru!” The living creature tugged on the mech's arm. He ignored it. I suspected that the creature wanted no fights to break out. It gave me a wild look, all three white iris rings in each eye widened considerably.
“Alpha clearance,” the mech tried.
“I don't care about your clearance,” I stated flatly.
“You don't care if Gryn fries you up for disobeying your superiors?” the mech taunted. “My, what a shame. I was so relieved to turn off the incinerator for once. Or perhaps you would like to be... redeemed?”
Now that his personality was coming through, I really didn't want to stand down, but I also didn't respond. The thought of being incinerated so soon...
“The redemption chamber is still working. I can escort you there myself. Personally.”
“If anyone here is going to be redeemed, its you for being a visual hazard.” I flashed my scanner over his gaudy coat of paint. Now his ego began to show.
“I earned this shiny gold paint, if you don't mind. Unlike your beaten, mucky exterior. Filthy.”
Do I look like I care? I wanted to ask, but said nothing again. The living creature, sensing tension, tried to hide behind the mech. Even with the thin being behind him though, the mech still looked bizarre: an unfamiliar, fragile model. Not a weapon in sight. No tools or gizmos attached. Just a ball on top of box, with arms and legs and a giant, sarcastic eye in the middle staring down at me; which was amusing, considering he was a q shorter than I was.
He must have interpreted my examination of him as cautious hesitance. “Well?” he asked, “Would you like to give me your model number now?”
“Model...” I was so tempted to mess with him; he couldn't see my actual ID printed on my shoulder, since most of me was still stuck in the pod. “Model 75.”
“75?”
Bingo. Confusion begun.
It was almost as if he didn't have a scanner, something even the rudimentary mechs sported; he simply looked me up and down. “Model 75, ID...?”
Heh heh heh heh. He fell for it. “ID 42,” I responded.
“Model 75, ID 42,” he repeated dully. “So you're a prototype, is what you're saying?”
“Alpha clearance,” I said in a tone that suggested cooperation, although some of my mockery slipped through. I lowered my weapons and raised the blast shield to add to the effect. Deception felt like a new practice to me; it was fun!
When things started to look promising, the living creature inched out of hiding. It kept looking up at the mech, as if expecting assurance that the hostility was gone.
“All right,” the mech resigned, “state your pilot's name.”
I stiffened up. Giving away your consciousness's name was a good way to put him in danger! It was against protoc... programming. It was against my programming!
“I repeat, state your pilot's name.”
I was at an impasse. Should I lie again? Tell the truth? Pretend I didn't have a pilot? What's the best option here? Where was Cyrii, anyway?
“Shall I remind you of the redemption chamber?”
One of the threads in my head had its parent terminated, leaving it to spin ceaselessly in in the void. I winced, unsure why it did that.
“Hm.”
The mech gave me a weird look when I hummed, breaking his demeanor of apathy. The living creature suddenly began shaking his arm despite having weak strength.
“Guzoo! Guzoo! Tsipteh!!”
“Gu tsipteh,” the mech said dismissively, pulling away from the being and shooting it a harsh look. It simply grew more excited, practically bouncing in place.
“Zetta! Zetta gu tsipteh ji ru tsipteh! Giyo suun!” It behaved as if imploring me to do something, nodding and ushering with both hands. Apparently my hum really intrigued it.
So I hummed again, mimicking a song I've heard Cyrii listen to when she was shirking her exercises. Considering she often didn't have the tempo or accuracy to hit all of the right pitches, my humming was eerily close to the song itself; not hard, I guess, since it was techno. The creature just grew more excited.
“Tsipteh! Guzoo tsipteh, ih?” It looked between the other mech and I several times before it procured an orb from the cloak and began tracing patterns on it in a strange manner, grinning. Whatever “guzoo tsipteh” meant, it must have been something the duo was looking for. The mech rolled his eye.
I stopped humming for a moment. “What is going on?”
His bored demeanor returned, and he folded his arms. “Classified.”
I was back to wanting to fill him with holes. I suppressed the urge with another eye twitch.
The orb must have been some kind of computer, as it eventually opened up a hologram UI that the creature interacted with. The mech simply held a blank stare with me; I utilized the moment to look at the other pods that I could see. The one with the lithe creature hadn't changed, nor the pod next to it. Alesia's pod had fogged up, leaving her as a large dark blur inside. An inner part of me wanted to lunge out of this pod, break whatever was holding me in, and free Alesia at the cost of harming – or perhaps even killing – these two strangers that were so focused on me. No line of code told me to stand around and talk to strangers; I had plenty that spoke of keeping comrades alive in any situation.
The golden mech noticed me looking over his shoulder, and moved a bit to block my view of Alesia. I glared at him, but said nothing. I didn't need constant visuals to confirm her existence.
The living creature eventually finished whatever cryptic thing it was doing, and went back to what I now knew as a control panel to the right of me. It punched in a code, glanced up at me occasionally, and I felt the cold subside even further.
Then something released.
...Freedom?
There was an awkward stalemate as I simply stood there, my processes now fully kicking at their proper speed to keep me aware of everything in the room. The other two beings stood still for a moment, wanting to see how I reacted first.
“Congratulations, you aren't going to the redemption chamber,” the golden mech began drearily, “now, if you'll come with us-”
“Why should I?” I challenged immediately.
“You will come,” he threatened. “No negotiations.”
“To where?”
“Classified.”
“For what purpose?”
“Classified.”
I grew hostile. “I have no reason to follow you.”
He returned the hostility. “Alpha clearance. You WILL come.”
“I don't care about your clearance.”
“Why is that?”
“Classified!” I retorted.
I guess he had it with me.
The mech suddenly lunged with unexpected agility! The living being let out a yelp and bolted. Us two machines crashed into the pod. In a way, I was glad to have a fight. So thrilling!
I jammed a bayonet under his main hull and twisted it. He squirmed and slapped a hand to my head. I expected nothing impressive from that, until suddenly my processes began to fizzle out.
WHAT?! What was going on?!
One by one, threads began to be terminated into nothing; not full thread trees either! Just threads! Hundreds of child threads, being left to run around ceaselessly as random processes shut down. My bullet production shut down. Then parts of my database access. Then one power piston in one leg.
“AAA!” I cried. No wonder the bloody sack of metal was so frail!! Superiority model!
I thrust the bayonet deeper, and he buckled; I wasn't sure if it was from pain, or because I cut something important. He seethed at me, but clung on like a parasite, throwing my thoughts into disarray. I rushed forward out of the pod, slamming him into the wall.
“You cannot take me down! You're doing no damage!” I began rambling like a maniac, thrashing to get him off. “You've done nothing! Look! I still stand! Hahahahahahaha!”
Apparently he was used to the craziness, simply glaring at
me the whole time and letting himself be dragged around, not even annoyed enough to growl. I finally pulled my bayonet out and pushed him off; clinging on was too risky! There was a brief moment where that nasty three-clawed hand of his was off, and I could think... semi-clearly. Yet as soon as I had taken a step back, he lunged and latched on again. I caught a glimpse of a blue opening in his hands right where the palms would be: data transmitters! I would tear him to pieces if my brain sorta isn't was order but it nwkno that it ntjihntlkn......
Too many processes disappeared on me at once, resulting in some sort of horrible, robotic version of a stroke. Half of me slumped, the other half clawed wildly with compromise. My bayonets kept missing! So... frustrating...!
He just watched. He watched me fall, completely bored. Bored. At least have the dignity to have emotion!
AaaaAA98%$$%*()t leeeaaast....
In a last-ditch effort, I opened up a missile launcher: the only weapon that was still functioning for the past few seconds. I locked on right away, sealed up my blast shield completely, and fired. The only data I remember after that was him looking... surprised.
Good for him.
----------
I woke up. Again. Sparks flew around in my head, but physically, I was fine. I could see, but everything was interpreted.... weirdly. My processes had slowed down again too. Ugh, my brain has been muddled with too much lately! First Cyrii, and then that guy...
A friendly, pale blue face popped up in front of me; it looked like the first blue alien I encountered? He was wary, but still excited at the same time.
“You function well, yes?”
I started for a moment. Was I... translating his words?
The alien didn't expect a response, instead disappearing again. I felt something prodding under my head.
“LEAVE,” I threatened.
“No worry, I fix you up!” There was the comforting feeling of a soldering laser before my motherboard was sealed back up and protected. “You take damage good, but you good too. This better! You see, yes?” He showed up again, looking a bit smudged.