Rise of the Machines: Book 1: Once Awakened

by Briana Ervin

  “Typical combat model thinking,” he muttered, “'Let's break it. That fixes everything'.”

  “It would fix this,” I insisted. “Can I destroy them?”

  “We're only supposed to destroy Enemies, or effigies that look like Enemies,” Cyrii pointed out, “we could be fined for property damage.”

  With all of the things we're running from, you're worried about a fine? I asked her incredulously, but Garenede snapped me back to reality.

  “We're not destroying property,” he agreed with her, even though he didn't know she said anything. I stared sullenly at the crates.

  “But it's more efficient to destroy them,” I said in disappointment. Then, privately to Cyrii: If they were assembled like drones, would that count?

  “I... I don't know,” she stammered, as Garenede muttered something about minor efficiency differences.

  You've been very passive lately, I recalled her characteristic aggression and enthusiasm from our earliest days together.

  “Let's just say the governors aren't very nice...”

  I felt a weird emotion from within Cyrii through the DIAS. What could anyone do that could put her out so easily? She used to be ecstatic about even shooting things; now she was more submissive than ever, completely different than what she used to be. She even scolded me for playing with that machine! She has never seriously scolded me before, not after the BIOS update... before, plenty of times, but for completely different reasons. Only a major change could cause something like this.

  An overwhelming protectiveness surged through me at the thought of someone hurting Cyrii without my knowledge. I was going to make him pay if she was forced this way. No one touches Cyrii.

  “Are you going to help, or are you just going to stand there and watch?” Garenede pulled me out of my thoughts. He was already picking up crates and moving them aside. I studied him, a bit baffled about how he expected me to help when I had no hands, but I suppose using friction would help... Or I could stab the crates, but, property damage.

  I moved over to help. The crates were made of steel and less than half my size, so moving them was easy once I figured out how to pinch them between my turrets and lift using the pistons in my legs. It was just tedious, and significantly slower than melting them with a laser. Pick up the first crate. Put it aside. Pick up the second crate. Put it on top of the first one. Pick up the third crate. Put it next to the new stack. Pick up the next crate... glare at it..... move it aside. Pick up the crate after that...

  “Can I destroy this?”

  “For the last time, no.”

  Huff. Put it aside. Rinse and repeat. These crates were as annoying as Enemy drones, and by the time we were done I wanted to blow them to pieces like they were.

  Property damage.

  “Stop glaring daggers at the bloody crates, let's go!” Garenede said sharply. The door had already opened in his presence – turned out it was blocked – and opened into a lit area. Cyrii nudged my controls, prompting me to obey.

  Considering you already have a charge against you, I'm surprised you're not just condemning the whole thing, I commented, referring back to her submissiveness and following the frustrated Superiority model.

  “It can be a lot worse, believe me,” Cyrii said, “I'm one lucky kyl if I'm still even a Code Orange.”

  Probably not, I said quietly, thinking that the tribunal must have seen me move on my own without Cyrii inside. She didn't answer, anxious.

  This last room was actually an open docking area, facing an infinitely-tall wall with the rest of the factory out to either side. The wall was evidently a sectioned-off area of the factory, as printed in large letters on it was “Eng. Wing 2”. The room lacked a ceiling and had empty rails leading in and out of it, and a catwalk joined the open end to the wall, a door at its end.

  An engineering wing! I recognized, That didn't take long at all!

  “What? Already?” Cyrii murmured in disbelief. Garenede checked back on me, saying nothing; he must be expecting me to go up ahead so he could keep an eye on me. That was pretty typical for a Superiority model. I was too curious to care about his patterns though, gladly taking the lead and walking up to the door. With as long as Cyrii had been poking around in my database, Krysis should have picked out his new mech already. All we had to do now was find it and join up with the others!

  The catwalk was plenty wide at the door, so I stepped out of the way so Garenede could do whatever he needed to do to open it, instead observing a bright blue poster by the door advising “respiratory aid beyond this point”. He seemed to be keeping an ever-closer eye on me, probably because we were no longer confined to the space of the unused testing track, but it wasn't like I would suddenly sprout thrusters and fly away. It was beyond me as to why he was so worried.

  He transmitted a code to the door in a similar manner to the high-security doors of the upper floors, and there was a hiss before the multiple seals opened, revealing the wing. I was blown away by its interior: it was huge! It was equally as big as the factory itself, except it was all long and tall, so long that the myriad of lights merging together was surreal! The catwalk extended into an open, supported area beyond the door and dead-ended, a short rail of energy around its perimeter. I walked out into the space, spotting two computers set up on either side of the platform and a sort of wire-frame pod ahead. The pod's “bars” consisted of a kind of blue energy, not unlike what the outpost had as its perimeter.

  Garenede went over to the rightmost computer right away, already doing something with it. I didn't pause to see what it was, as I was too busy looking at the lights we were surrounded by. Every green light was an indicator for a slot, and each slot held a part: finished parts! Did mechs not come out pre-assembled? This looked like they were constructed on-demand!

  Is this the storage area you remember? I asked Cyrii.

  “No...” she faltered, taken aback by all of the parts. “This is definitely different. New. When I picked you out, you were in a hangar, like the barracks or something, and then painted with what I picked.”

  This is no barracks, I said in wonder. What could this place be then? Could we find out?

  Garenede was one step ahead of me, reporting the data from the computer. “Looks like this is a second wing built for test models. All of these guys are prototypes.” He sounded both intrigued and confused. “I didn't even know this place existed...”

  “That explains why we're looking at parts and not mechs,” Cyrii said through the comm. “Is it just for prototypes?”

  “Looks like,” he said, turning to leave. “We'll have to find another wing.”

  “Wait!” Krysis objected, making Cyrii jump.

  “Right in my ear...” she muttered, before pressing my comm button again. “Wait. We should see if there are any Sniper models here.”

  Garenede swiveled back, giving me a strange look. “You mean you want a prototype?”

  “Krysis does,” I answered for her.

  “You realize how dangerous that is?” he warned.

  “Just check!” Cyrii barked.

  He huffed. “Just because I've been following you doesn't mean you can fling my clearance around whenever.”

  “Why not just-” she began, but I saw his point and cut her off by diverting power from the comm button, resulting in a twitch. Garenede squinted in vexation when I suddenly stopped talking. “HEY! I know you did that!” Cyrii snapped.

  He has a point, I said, We shouldn't give Krysis a ticking time bomb.

  “If we can build 71 models here, I want one!” he insisted. Cyrii sighed, not interested in telling him again that the model was discontinued. I hummed in reluctance, but I could feel his intense energy vibrating in my head. He really wanted this thing... I knew there was no point in denying the Xinschi-uual his dream machine, since anything lesser wouldn't help him recover from the demise of his 19 model.

  “Krysis insists,” I spoke, “There's a prototype model he's interested in, and he would rather have
that than the 19,” I guessed. At least, if I'm remembering correctly, Krysis's old mech was a 19 Sniper.

  Garenede pawed at the ground with one foot, still uncertain. “It's my job to keep my Row safe and law-abiding,” he said indecisively.

  “I know.”

  “I can't willingly give our ground-based Sniper a machine that might literally explode on him.”

  “We'll say we forced you into it.”

  He shook his head. “That's not better!”

  Cyrii habitually pressed the comm button. “If it's older than...” She paused, and pressed the button repeatedly. “Dang it Fiddlesticks, restore power to this thing!”

  Hee hee hee hee, I laughed, but obeyed.

  “What did I tell you about laughing?!” she fumed, before smashing the button again. “If it's older than the 73rd of the Sixth Arc, it should be fine.”

  “Prototypes aren't that refined by then,” he argued.

  “Better than exploding.”

  “Better than being exposed,” Krysis added in my head. Garenede growled, searching me as if he could see Cyrii in there and he was trying to read her expression.

  “...Okay. Fine,” he complied, “But don't say I didn't warn you.”

  “Thank yooou~” I hummed before Cyrii could respond. He swiveled around and began typing at the computer again. I took the opportunity to look around at all of the mech parts around us, just as intrigued by them as I was by the skeleton models and occasionally taking pictures, my operator sitting back in her seat and waiting out the few minutes. The clacking of the Superiority model's claws on keys then paused for a few moments, before he spoke again:

  “I need you at the other console in order to do this.”

  I immediately hesitated. I was yelled at for touching a console, and literally half an hour afterward I was told to go poke at one?

  “Well?” he prompted. When I didn't move, he turned to look at me, curious. “...Open your retrieval panel.”

  I swiveled to look at him, then hesitantly obeyed, seeing no harm in it. He walked up to me and showed me his hands. The implication was clear, so I raised my arms as well.

  It was night and day. His hands had actual fingers, joints, and claws. I had clamps. Not the best for typing with. He looked a little annoyed.

  “Okay then. Have Cyrii do it.”

  “'All live subjects must have respiratory aid beyond this point',” I quoted the sign. He walked over to the console, indifferent.

  “Just block the way when the soldering begins. It's just a little smoke.”

  “How do you know?”

  “That's what the computer said,” he said confidently. I hesitated again.

  “Don't worry about it. I'll be fine,” Cyrii assured me.

  Last time you said that you were thrown off the top of a drone, I pointed out. She scoffed.

  “Hey, if there's a drone in here, feel free to blow it to pieces. Maybe it'll make Whitey-Tighties over there think twice about betraying us.”

  You think he will? I asked, looking at Garenede.

  “I'm not holding my breath about this 'alliance',” she said. “The more we can do to keep him friendly, the better.”

  Understandable... I agreed. I opened my entry panels, more willing now, so she could crawl up to my head. I carried her over to the second computer, curiosity piqued upon finally seeing the DIAS itself for the first time. I hadn't seen Cyrii's prototype invention before. It looked like helmet encasing the left of her face, all raw metal with red lights where her eyes were. Oddly enough, the lights looked like cameras from my own eye. Numerous thick cords sprouted from the back and swept behind me, probably connecting somewhere inside my head. That must look really odd... I wondered if she could still see my thoughts even though she wasn't in my head.

  She hopped down onto the computer's surface, sprawling awkwardly on the smooth plastic interface.

  How are you going to stand with all of those keys? I asked, lowering my voice out of habit as if Garenede could overhear us, even though I was using my internal speakers.

  “Mmm... Point taken, but I'll manage,” she said, strafing oddly to the left where there was more space. I felt Krysis's presence shift to the front, interested in seeing how we were going to make his new mech.

  “What am I doing, Whitey?” she asked Garenede. I heard him twitch at the nickname.

  “Don't call me that.”

  “Hey, you're white, aren't you?”

  He made a strange “tch!” sound, cutting off his own laugh. We all knew that Garenede the Xinschi-uual wasn't white. He didn't comment further though.

  “Just tell me when something comes up on the screen, and I'll tell you what to do,” he ordered.

  “He just wants to tell me to do stuff,” Cyrii muttered under her breath, now perched between two light indicators. She was on a bit of an awkward angle for viewing the monitor, but if she could read semi-upside-down I suppose it wasn't a problem.

  I bet that's how the Empire chooses Superiority models, I joked quietly, 'On a scale of one to ten, how bossy are you?'

  “Spinapls!” Cyrii said. We both snickered at the randomness.

  “You guys are weird...” Krysis muttered.

  “Stop conspiring over there,” Garenede scolded, “you're getting a confirmation prompt in a second.”

  “Sure, siiiir,” Cyrii said with a big grin. He sighed, but again, no comment. Even though I was enjoying myself I decided to back up so I wouldn't distract her, as far out as the DIAS's cords would allow. Annoying one's superior – and warming your pilot up to it – took baby steps.

  There was a clunk from somewhere out in the wing, and I looked over, watching the dots. One far toward the ground below us had turned yellow, but it was too dark down there to see what was happening or even what part it belonged to. There was clicking behind me as both Cyrii and Garenede began inputting commands, with him instructing her.

  “Do you see an input field?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” she said.

  “Type one-dash-zero-zero-five-three-underscore-fourteen.”

  “1-0053_14, all right.”

  “Submit.”

  “I figured.”

  “Confirm.”

  “Okay. Says to wait.”

  “Then wait.”

  Cyrii huffed. Another clunk sounded out in the wing, and the yellow pin light now turned red. There was a definite humming, making me believe that the part once in that spot was being brought over to us, but I couldn't see it. I could only judge from the sound that it was moving directly below us. The whirring stopped, then started again, growing steadily louder. The floor of the pod then opened up in sections to accommodate for the part's size, its bars resizing for the same reason. The part that was brought up through the floor wasn't too surprising: an expected bare-bones mech. I felt Krysis growing excited.

  “Okay, we have the parts to construct a verified mech model. There are templates, but I don't have access to all of them,” Garenede said. “We can try making something from scratch too, it just won't be easy.”

  “What templates do we have?” Krysis suddenly struck my comm button. I stiffened up, alarm bells screaming in my head. Cyrii's scales flared.

  “Uh, Krysis....” she started, but Garenede cut her off.

  “What are you looking for?”

  “The 71 model. I want a 71.”

  “Krysis don't touch the buttons!”

  “Why – AAAH!” he shouted as I jerked violently, trying to throw him off my keys! The jerk tugged on Cyrii's DIAS and almost dragged her off. She latched onto a button with a yelp as Krysis thudded against my inner hull.

  “Fiddlesticks!!” Cyrii shouted, but I kept jerking, a huge sense of violation sending my system on fire! I bucked like a mad animal, speaking foully in trinary and trying to get Krysis out of my head!!

  “The Alkinest?!” Garenede swiveled to glare. “767!”

  I shot his glare back at him and said... something also foul. He was right up to me in a heartbeat
and slashing his claws over my face. I retaliated, still shouting in trinary and sticking my bayonets into weak spots in his hull. He recoiled, but the bayonets twisted, stuck, so he grabbed the sides of my hull and dug the hooked claws in.

  Now we were both stuck!

  He glared into my eye as I pushed against him, but I didn't care, tearing up the floor beneath me with my claws. I was fuming! Krysis was STILL IN-! Oh, there he went.

  There was a thunk, coupled with a lot of scrambling, and I suddenly fell still. The alarm dissipated. The cords on the DIAS grew less taut, suggesting that Cyrii had hopped down to check on him. Garenede had recovered enough to continued glaring.

  “What in Alkinest was that all about?!” he roared. I took a moment to switch from angry trinary to angry speech.

  “NO ONE TOUCHES MY CONTROLS!” I shot back.

  “That's what you freaked out about?!”

  “Unqualified pilot!” I hissed.

  “Fiddlesticks, calm down! He's out now!” Cyrii tried to placate me. I was still seething, but tried shutting my blast shield. Glaring at Garenede wasn't helping.

  “Was this part of your 'blessed update'?” he asked her angrily, setting his claws in deeper. I twitched, twisting a bayonet more and making him hiss.

  “Um! Well! I mean, kind of...” she faltered. She put a paw to the DIAS, trying to calm her own nerves to influence me, before quietly asking Krysis: “You okay?”

  “Yeah, just bruised,” he gasped, “Your mech is crazy!”

  “No kidding,” Garenede muttered. I exchanged squints with him. I... didn't really mean to kick Krysis out...

  “Sorry,” she genuinely apologized.

  “No, I want that,” Krysis unexpectedly said.

  “...What?” Garenede and Cyrii said at the same time.

  “Can you make my mech do that?” Krysis asked.

  “Are you joking?” Garenede asked incredulously, ripping his claws out of my hull. I backed up grumpily, untwisting the bayonets but keeping them ready while also trying not to run over the two Xinschi-uual.

  “I'm not joking,” Krysis insisted.

  “Look, I can't,” Cyrii said, “I mean, that's what started this whole thing in the first place-!”