Rise of the Machines: Book 1: Once Awakened

by Briana Ervin

  “Huh. They're legitimately serious about this,” she commented, once the briefing had finished and orders were being barked out.

  It seems so, I said darkly, judging the tactic. It didn't make much sense to me... but the veteran General had more experience than I did, so what did I know?

  With the orders issued, we all sorted ourselves out respectively and began the long march into the badlands. Most other pilots could just lean forward on the control panel, forcing the mech to walk indefinitely; for once, having a will was problematic, as I had to pay attention and make myself walk. We couldn't run, because we all had different speeds and could trample each other, but I wanted to just run! Run there! Get there faster! Start fighting!

  Nope. Now Cyrii had the luxury, able to just sit back and do whatever while she let me trot on forward, having me subconsciously play music in the background; I wasn't supposed to have the music but she gave it to me anyway. Not even the music distracted me enough though. Saying an AI is similar to a living mind was right: living minds become bored with the same, reoccurring thing, and I was bored. All I had to stare at was the back of the Tank model in front of me, listening to the same noises, moving forward at the same pace, running around in circles in my head and yet feeling I was standing still. Stagnant progress; couldn't this march go any faster?

  “Find something you like,” Cyrii piped up after several hours. She must have grown bored with whatever she was doing as well.

  Like what? I muttered.

  “Well, you seemed to like simulating things. I'll split processes with you,” she suggested, fiddling with the DIAS.

  What do you mean?

  “Simulate something. I'll go in it.”

  Like... a game?

  “Just do it.”

  I thought for a moment, wondering if it would be detrimental for my focus, but decided to try it out anyway. I procured a mental image of a building supported by tons of pillars, so many they almost formed walls. I calculated some environmental factors, including gravity and kinetic motion, and stuck a metal ball in the middle of the pillars. Cyrii leaned back and studied the simulation. “Ballistics?” she guessed. I paused, thinking about the rest of my plans for the simulation and going back on them; flesh dummies weren't necessary right now. “What did you just terminate?”

  Oh, don't worry about it, I said. So, I'm wondering, is it possible to exert force on the ball in such a way that it breaks all of the pillars?

  “Well, I can already think of one way to do that, but it misses both ends...” Cyrii mused, “what if you made a triangular path that rotates?”

  I've tried that, but it would only work in a square building. This one is rectangular.

  “Maybe if we used a tetrahedron instead?”

  Three-dimensional might work.

  I tried the simulation, and when it failed we thought up another solution, and another, and another. I enjoyed this bonding moment with Cyrii, trying to solve puzzles while we went on, and it took my mind off the odd mission for the next three hours. The simulation was informative for both of us, though I found it the most intriguing the way we launched the ball's trajectory: with the dummies, all of them would have been taken out! Twice! What an interesting way to improvise tactics.

  Suddenly there was a report in trinary up ahead, amplified for all thirty-six of us to hear. I parsed it right away.

  “We're close,” Cyrii grew grim.

  Finally! I said in relief, I wanted to fight hours ago!

  Cyrii hummed in discontent. “I'm not so sure about this...” she began unexpectedly, “I mean, I knew I was interested before, but... this is a full-blown battle, and we're walking right into it.”

  I paused in confusion. Before the ship there was a full-blown battle, I said, not fully understanding.

  “I know, but...” She shook her head. “We don't have the entire complex behind us, for one thing; you said that yourself. And... well, I don't know, something about this bothers me.”

  Yet again, I tried to look into her thoughts. I was semi-successful; she was very anxious. I saw anxiety linked to Alesia, but there was something else I couldn't quite pinpoint... it must be one of those subtle feelings part of instinct. She had similar anxiety when we swept the lab, but that was more of scrutiny than fear. Odd... I guess I didn't know Cyrii as well as I thought I did.

  It's my job to keep you alive, I reminded her.

  “Yeah, I know...” she faltered. I grew stern.

  My JOB. I can't let anything bad happen.

  She didn't answer, but I wanted to make sure I drove the point home. Just because I could think like a Xinschi-uual didn't mean I could disobey my programming! Disobeying orders was one thing; programming was what made me me.

  Our battalion began to split into its respective parties: the infiltration, the backup, and the median. I kept my pace with the front line of Tank models, as I was part of the smaller infiltration group, which meant we were going to be running into the thick of it. It was definitely scary, how much our group shrank as so many other mechs pulled back; there were less than a dozen of us, all heavy models making a beeline for that...

  pile of smoldering rubble over there. Oh no.

  “The... the outpost!” Cyrii gaped. I almost stopped from the shock, but forced myself to press forward, descending into the bowl valley where the outpost was located. This wasn't a battle, or the panic before one; this was the aftermath. Three Enemy ships hung around the devastated buildings up in the sky, the highest remaining wall no greater than three stories, and much of the perimeter's energy walls had been destroyed, the lone towers blinking as they tried to reconnect with the rubble. Despite being mostly metal and brick the place was on fire, half of it actively crumbling to the ground. There was fighting around the base of the building, but it looked hopeless, especially with Enemy reinforcements idling about in the air, flying around like swarms of insects; our own troops were pulling back before our very eyes and disappearing into the haze of destruction. The Enemy wanted to make sure they had that outpost for good.

  I quickly pulled up the mission details, now hoping for something more complicated, but it simply stated to march in and start shooting things, picking up mechs as we went along. That wasn't very positive... we haven't even broken into a charge yet... and weren't the other groups supposed to be right behind us?

  I glanced over my shoulder, breaking line just a bit to see past the mech behind me, although he pushed me back into our monotonous march. I saw all I needed: Our backup was nowhere to be seen. Where did they go?

  Cyrii looked just as perplexed as I was, and as we descended down into the haze of destruction the tension and doubt reached a breaking point.

  “Whoa whoa whoa, wait a second!” Cyrii suddenly jerked back on my control panel, making me stop mid-step, but the Pusher model behind me struck me in the back so I kept marching forward.

  Sorry, I apologized to Cyrii.

  “This is a bad idea!” she said. “ Think about it; that's suicide! They outnumber us thousands to one!”

  I know, but we can't do anything about it! I argued.

  “Would you stop for a second?” She pulled on the controls again, but I forced myself to keep walking, ignoring her commands.

  I can't help it Cyrii! This is what we were meant to do! I pointed out. We're soldiers!

  “But we aren't expendable!”

  Isn't that our definition? Besides, we have orders to... orders to... I tried to hold onto the thought, but it kept slipping away. Why was it doing that?

  “See, you're not liking it either!”

  I... can't think. I figuratively shook my head. No, that's not what I meant!

  “I know what you mean,” Cyrii said, “I know what you mean because I'm letting you think for yourself. Now stop and think!”

  I tried to. I was just shoved in the back again and met with an angry warble; that Pusher model wasn't liking my hesitance.

  I have to keep moving, I resigned, marching again.

&n
bsp; “No, don't just...!” Cyrii groaned and clutched her head. “For a flippin' overhaul... Okay, fine, but think anyway! Our superiors are held back right now, with everyone else. We're going in by ourselves. So we should be able to all stop, out of sight, and make a better plan.”

  A better plan?? I wondered, Like what?

  “Like not committing suicide because there are ten of us. Like...” Cyrii's thoughts grew frantic as we delved into hostile territory. “Like finding a pile of explosives we could use! Or taking out the head of the invasion! Something!”

  Wouldn't the Generals have already thought of that? I asked. Cyrii snorted.

  “Are you ready to believe them? You're marching into a mine field! Literally!”

  Another stream of trinary came from the head of the party, warning us of acrid smoke up ahead. There was a series of clunks around as we shut off our air intake grills, and I closed mine as well. I looked around the base of the outpost, but many of the Enemies had retreated inside where they had an advantage, even if it was a crumbling, burning, brick-strewn advantage. Our own soldiers had completely vanished from sight, assuming there were any left. The potential of mines planted in the sand was very real.

  I began discrediting even the experienced certainty of the Generals who made this strategy. It didn't really make sense... shouldn't the Scout models run up ahead to check for traps such as minefields? Shouldn't the Support models be practically glued to our sides at all times? What were they doing in the median party that was holding back?

  I felt deceived, and it made me angry.

  What do you suggest? I prompted Cyrii.

  “I don't have any other ideas. You?” she asked. I thought for a moment, but my initial worry on our numbers were true: there shouldn't be thirty-six of us total, there should be thirty-six of each model! None of my ideas were looking bright. At the same time, I couldn't really focus on simulating possible plans when I had no data on the outpost and had to additionally focus on my surroundings.

  You come up with something. I will keep you alive, I said, switching focus.

  “You know, you say that...”

  Considering my previous impression of Cyrii, I was surprised about her new uncertainty. Evidently it didn't matter how real a training exercise was; it could never prepare you for this. Although it made me wonder what happened during the battle both before and on the ship... The battle before was less anticipated and more adrenaline-driven. On the ship... I wasn't sure what happened. Cyrii and I grew hostile at the same time, with the same intentions. Was that indicative of anything? Did any of this matter? What made this situation so frightening to her, as opposed to the other ones?

  There was some sort of hidden complexity there... even as an advanced AI, it was vexing, trying to understand what it was. I understood things in terms of threads, and threads only split when necessary; more often than not, reactions to situations would blend together. Which meant there was a unique qualifier somewhere that Cyrii didn't like, and it was the same qualifier that made her nervous in the lab...

  We descended into a caustic fog, the chemicals burnt up and mass-released by the fires. We were now very close to the ruins, but the fog was thick enough that I couldn't see the base of them, only the topmost standing walls. We were literally on the edge of a hostile zone. Another command in trinary came up front from a Tank model in the lead. The warble made me stop in my tracks, letting our four Tank models proceed up ahead. Cyrii looked up.

  “Uh... what's happening?” she asked.

  All Pushers were ordered to stop, I said.

  “What?” she said incredulously. “There are six of us! Only four Tanks! We're tank support, we're supposed to be in there with them.”

  The order was-

  “I know what the order was!” Cyrii barked, agitated.

  I don't like it either, I grumbled. She glanced at my console and sighed.

  “I don't like this,” she chanted under her breath, drumming her claws on the control panel, “I don't like this, I don't like this...”

  I stood there anxiously, looking around in the beige haze, but the execution of this whole thing was awkward and, quite honestly, stupid. We were six Pusher models, just standing around in a nice little bundle, not even taking shelter behind rubble or helping our comrades that had gone in. It felt like a setup for failure. Weren't we retrieving the fallen? I wanted to trust that our Generals knew what they were doing, but if they did, wouldn't that make us bait?

  I knew I had argued about expenditure before, but it wasn't making me any more comfortable about this.

  I twitched, knowing I couldn't do a thing about it. Cyrii fidgeted as the minutes passed by, her anxious gaze darting over my screens. The constant whir of Enemy drones patrolling above us was punctuated only by the occasional shifting of a Pusher model; the haze must be cloaking us from the Enemys' eyes.

  Abruptly, one of my comrades – the only other 56 model in the group – dared to break the silence: “Does anyone else think this is stupid?”

  I felt a shocking amount of force on my comm button and I winced. “YES!” Cyrii burst out through my speaker. Surprisingly, it was matched by a series of other grumbling “yes”s!

  “Oh, you gotta be kidding me...” one of the models sighed in exasperation.

  “The Alkinest are we doing out here? We're supposed to be in there with the Tanks!” the smallest one challenged in a feminine voice. “This is ridiculous!”

  “I'm not leaving Ryte in there by himself,” the biggest model agreed.

  “But we were ordered to stand back,” another model behind me pointed out.

  “We're in plain sight!” the smallest objected.

  “We could be killed,” he agreed, “but we have to obey orders.”

  “Screw orders! This is ludicrous!” Cyrii snapped. “We should do something about it!”

  “Like what?” the other 56 model said. “Those gildfilth babysitters can see us from here. One wrong move, and we're dead.”

  I was still shocked over the fact that Cyrii and I weren't the only ones thinking this was suicide, but we still didn't have a plan either.

  “Well...” Cyrii faltered.

  “Exactly,” he sighed, “no one has any idea on how to get out of here or help anyone.”

  “If this is military service then I'm a kyl in water...” the female model grumbled, shaking her rust-brown hull. I stared stonily into the haze, expecting someone to come back, but not even the ambiance of the burning building changed. I couldn't even tell if there were still mechs out there, or if they had alerted the Enemy, or what had happened; only that the fires were dying down into embers, and no drone has come to attack us despite the constant thrum of their presence.

  “...You guys hear anything?” the larger model asked. There was some mumbling, but clearly the answer was “no”. The blue-grey 66 model behind me kicked a warped metal beam, and we all stiffened up at the resounding clang.

  “Cith, you stinkin' retard!...” the female model hissed.

  “Hey, if we alert someone, that's better than nothing,” he said. We all waited nervously...

  ...nothing.

  There was a bewildered silence.

  “Is this a simulation, or is this for real?” Cith asked.

  “Aw, no, no no no no no!” The female model crouched down in shame, holding her shaking head.

  “Aw, it is, isn't it? Isn't it??” the fifth model said.

  “I think it is,” Cyrii grumbled through my speaker.

  We all groaned aloud.

  “Freakin'... That's the FIFTH TIME I've been fooled this week!” the female model ranted. “FIFTH! They think this is some sort of game?!”

  “Ryte must have set it up, huh...”

  “For crying out loud...!”

  Cyrii didn't say anything. Her face was buried in her paws, but I could feel the frustration coming off of her in waves. I didn't anticipate this being an advanced simulation; it looked pretty real to me! Plus it covered such a large surfac
e area, and the orders were pretty convincing... Why would the Generals do this to us?

  “So... should we complete the simulation?” I asked cautiously.

  “You kiddin'? I'd rather tear me apart some Superiority models!” the smallest mech snapped. The guy behind me though had a valid answer:

  “Complete it? By standing here?”

  Stand here and complete the simulation. Wow, I thought, that IS stupid.

  “This whole thing is stupid...” Cyrii muttered, uncovering her face the glare at my screens. “I thought they had finally taken the training wheels off us because that that attack...” She didn't finish her sentence, ending it on a note of disgust.

  “What else could we possibly do, simulation or not?” the 56 model asked.

  “We could cry,” the female model said bitterly.

  “We could start shooting things and see if one of those bits-n-bytes drones finds us,” Cith suggested dryly.

  “Pff!” she scoffed at the idea.

  “And if they are real, we'll be blown to pieces,” the 56 model said, turning to give him a pointed look, “and if we live, we'll be punished.”

  “So what do we do? Just run inside?” he argued back.

  “We can't just do that.”

  “I don't give a crap what some dumb clearance guy has to say about it!” The female model jumped back up. “We can't just stand here!”

  “I'd rather not be taxed into oblivion,” the fifth model interjected. She whipped around and began giving him an earful about how “we're already being taxed into oblivion”, but I tuned it out, suddenly having an idea.