by Briana Ervin
The route went downward toward the lower end of the factory, and the bustle of working machinery died into silence behind us. It became dark and quiet. Whatever wing this was, it wasn't used often. The darker atmosphere and lack of activity only seemed to heighten my senses and make me more reasonable and cautious. It was too bright and too safe up there. I could focus when it was dark and something could jump out at any second. Since Garenede pushed me out in front of him before taking my place at the rear, I had the lead, which meant I had plenty to worry myself with. As the catwalk flattened out though and it remained dismal and dark, with only the light of my own eye to guide me, the path remained linear and uneventful.
Boring. Where were Sirun and Alesia? Didn't they come down this way? I wondered. Maybe they found just as much as we did and decided to regroup early.
Despite it being a possibility, the path hadn't stopped yet, so I pressed on and kept my concerns to myself, letting Cyrii think about them instead. As we walked we heard nothing but our own walking, and saw nothing besides the left wall rearing close to to catwalk. It was too dark to see what might be to the right of us, but I was certainly curious about it.
Eventually we rounded a corner constructed of pipes, and finally things took a promising turn: voices!
I slowed considerably, treading carefully so I wouldn't make much noise, and the others were forced to echo my pace. I couldn't discern what the conversation was about, but straight ahead the catwalk swerved between two close walls, going to the right into a lit area. Upon turning the corner I found that it entered a room up near its ceiling, with a wall to the right and opening up to the left. I couldn't see what was going on down in it, but I was dying with curiosity to know what the voices in there were discussing.
We slowed to a crawl, the whirs behind me sounding out Krysis's nervousness. Closer.... closer...
“...you should have known better,” one of the voices, authoritarian like Garenede's, became clearer.
“But we already told you-” a feminine voice began, but it was cut off.
“Did you not understand a thing I said?”
The three of us exchanged looks of concern. That was Alesia!
I inched out onto the catwalk, hugging the right wall. The room didn't look much different from the individual engineering room back at the testing track. Instead of holding prototype mechs though, there were two long tables like advanced, shortened assembly lines in the center, each one with prototype parts on it. The one furthest from me had been pushed toward the other, as if roughly shoved. The place looked like it was vacated in a hurry, with scuff marks on the concrete floor; it must have been in use.
Aside from the tables, parts, computers and boxes though, there was a much more important factor: Alesia and Sirun, both pinned by hefty Superiority models. One big model on Sirun – a 34 model, holding him only due to sheer size and all four arms – and two 36 models on Alesia. Both allies were held up against the back wall. The two models facing them were a 30 and another 34. Only the 30 had a relaxed stature; he was clearly the one in charge here.
I glanced at Garenede, immediately suspicious. The sight made Cyrii shift uncomfortably and mimic me. He didn't acknowledge us though, simply watching the scene with a blank expression as Krysis peeked out from between us.
“Alesia...” Cyrii whimpered, leaning on my control panel as if she could get a better look. I didn't want to keep watching, but did it anyway.
Alesia stared at the ground, acknowledging nothing. The 30 model studied her, then looked at Sirun, briefly reflecting fluorescent light into my eye.
Agh! Stinking Superiority models and their shiny hulls...!
“So. How about you cooperate this time?” he suggested, before pausing for emphasis. “Where. Are. They?”
He was answered by a defiant silence. Alesia didn't twitch. Sirun only glared.
The 30 model sighed. “It seems you haven't learned your lesson,” he said, almost casually disappointed. He waved an arm at the grey 34 model pinning Sirun, and the panels around its eye opened up, reminiscent of Garenede's trinary transmitters. The difference was that there were eight panels, and those were not transmitters. The small rod heads lit up with a blue glow, and a hum started up, a few sparks arcing between them.
I flinched. Electrocution...
“Don't hurt him!” Alesia begged, fighting with the 36 models, but her efforts were pathetic. The 30 model acknowledged her with a slight turn of his hull, inevitably blinding me again. I felt Garenede put a hand on my shoulder warningly, probably thinking I was squinting because I was mad.
“I made my demands pretty clear,” the 30 model said, “your defiance, no less clear.”
“I already told you, we don't know anything! They could be anywhere by now!”
Who are they looking for? I wondered, but Cyrii stayed silent. The 30 model didn't believe her, turning to the grey 34 expectantly.
TZAAAP! A bright flash only blinded me further, accompanied by a shriek. I winced and turned away. Sickening...
The 34 let Sirun drop to the floor; paralyzed, but alive. Alesia stared in horror.
“Last chance,” the 30 model threatened.
“Or what?! You'll shock me too?!” she screamed.
“No. That's easy and expected,” the 30 model said smoothly. The brown 34 model beside him stepped forward, as if on cue. “Obviously, I can't kill you. So what can I do...?”
Alesia squinted venomously. Krysis grumbled something, sounding to be on the verge of exploding. Garenede placed a hand on him too.
“There's nothing you can do to pry nonexistent information from me,” Alesia said confidently.
The 30 model gave the brown 34 a pointed look, and the model opened up his retrieval panel, bringing out two robotic arms. In both arms he held a Xinschi-uual by the scruff: one grey, and one red, both unconscious.
“Alesia-!” she gasped. I jerked forward on impulse, and Garenede dug his claws in.
Scree! Too loud!
Cyrii's breath caught in her throat as both the 30 and 34 looked up at the catwalk in shock, not realizing we were there. The former then narrowed his blast shield back down.
“Well well. Looks like we have company,” he said, giving Garenede a small nod.
He must think that Garenede is on his side!... I thought excitedly, although the excitement diminished when I realized that he might be. This wasn't the time to worry about loyalties though. I had to prepare for a fight.
Garenede seized the opportunity to drop the 30 model's guard. “I found these two sneaking around in the back of a test track, unused. Probably looking for a way out.” His voice was loud and clear, sinking his claws in further to add to the ruse; rightfully, both Krysis and I cringed. “I saw that a hunt was going on, and decided to do some searching myself.”
“Very good,” the 30 model praised, unimpressed. Garenede pushed us down the catwalk, which went to the back wall before descending to the floor. 562 watched us, hopeless and devastated. The 30 model had a sort of creepy, hungry look in his eye, veiled by the stolid gaze. He especially kept an eye on me, apparently not worried about Krysis's banned model at all. Idiot.
“Against the wall,” he ordered. One of the 36 models grabbed Krysis and slammed him next to Alesia so he was able to pin them both. Garenede mimicked him, shoving me next to Krysis. We both allowed our faces to be smashed into the wall, although I couldn't help but glare. He could have at least been a little more gentle...
“Alpha clearance. Unknown 36 model, report,” the 30 model demanded.
“Garenede, ID 78, Beta clearance, manager of Row 4 in the fourth barracks wing,” Garenede said, “I noticed that model IDs 767 and 332 were missing. I heard of the hunt, and went to investigate.”
“And what led you down to the factory?” the 30 model questioned.
“Clues. Reports of mechs matching their descriptions coming down here, a couple of skirmishes; mostly from the big one here.” He pulled his claws back to scratch my arm.
&
nbsp; Whatever. A couple of scratches were of no importance.
The 30 model seemed to buy it, although his gaze traveled from me to Krysis. “What model is this?”
“Don't know sir,” Garenede answered dutifully.
“What model was 332?”
“Model 19 Sniper, sir.”
The 30 model squinted. “Model 19, hm? Have you seen him?”
“No sir. I found 767 conspiring with this one though.” He gestured at Krysis.
Conspiring, I nearly laughed aloud at the choice word. The 30 model looked at me, grinning, pleased somehow.
“Conspiring, hm? A feisty 56 model? Been a while since I met one of those.”
“What is wrong with this guy?” Cyrii muttered, as I spoke for her in an appropriate manner:
“Go die in Alkinest.”
Garenede smashed my face into the wall harder, as simulated punishment. “Ow!” I yelped. We were making this look a little too real...
“You should know better than to speak to your superiors that way,” the 30 model tisked, “Could get you killed. Sent to that... awful, awful place... all by yourself.”
I leveled a fierce glare with him. Dying may be bad, but Alkinest was a prison of torment, infinitely worse than dying because dying was a liberty. I'd be damned if I let him drag me there.
“You don't intimidate me,” I answered, covering up my fear, “Send me wherever you like!”
“Hmph,” he huffed in amusement, turning a cold shoulder to me. “So. Maybe you can help us,” he addressed Gerenede, “Since clearly my prisoners cannot.” He looked briefly at 562. “Rusty with the interrogation skills, Garenede?”
“Yes sir,” he said a bit too hastily.
“Then get cracking,” the 30 model said. Garenede stood there in shock for a moment, clearly not expecting that answer.
“A-Are you sure, sir?”
“Did you not hear me? First things first: the quiet one,” he gestured to Krysis. The 36 model holding him threw him to the ground, before roughly grabbing my arm and bringing me closer so he could hold me and Garenede was free. I made a show of defiance, struggling with him and demanding all of his effort to keep me up against that wall.
“What are you doing?!” Cyrii yelped, gripping the controls at my wild thrashing.
Making them believe! I answered, Also I'm TICKED!
“I get it but I'm gonna upchuck-!”
I stopped thrashing at those words, because as a machine the filth of a biological organism is all that much filthier. The 36 model slammed me against the wall at the opportunity, keeping me from moving further.
Garenede backed up and continued to stare numbly at Krysis, who feigned mousiness and fear by staying put... or at least, I hoped he was just playing along.
“Well?” the 30 model pressed, “We have eight suspects, and we've caught only two of them. Possibly three. We don't have all day.”
“Sorry sir,” Garenede apologized, “but may you excuse me from this? Another model is surely more qualified for this than I am.”
“Why the hesitation, Garenede?” the 30 model wondered. “As a manager of Row 4 you must be used to tougher types, no?”
“That's not the issue sir.”
“Then what is it?”
“...The last time I interrogated someone, I killed her. Her and her mech,” he divulged carefully. I froze up in surprise.
He did? I thought dubiously.
“Reeeaaally?” The 30 model sounded intrigued.
“Really, sir.”
The model simply blinked at him. “So. Do it.”
“I'm not qualified-!” Garenede tried to argue, but he cut him off.
“If it was a problem your license would have been revoked and your mech redeemed,” he said firmly. “Clearly it was not a problem. So. Interrogate.”
Why does he want Garenede to do this so badly? I wondered, underneath my cautious disbelief that Garenede really did kill someone on accident before. That couldn't have happened, right? How does a Superiority model accidentally kill someone? A combat model could misfire a round, or cause collateral damage, or malfunction, but a Superiority model? That had to be an excuse he made up on the spot!
I looked at the brown 34 model, as best as I could with my face still up against the concrete and a 36's hand blocking most of my view. It still held the Xinschi-uual out, but neither one was moving. Unconscious, hopefully? There were no signs of damages or blood. 562 wasn't going berserk, but she could be naïve to whether or not they were dead.
My thoughts weren't helping Cyrii's stomach, and she groaned and turned away.
I'm sorry, I gravely apologized.
“No. No you're not.”
What do you mean?
“Because if you're anything like me, you're not,” she muttered. I digested those words. Anything like her...
“Garenede!” the 30 model barked. He jolted, still indecisive. “If you need help with starting, my friend here can give you a few pointers.”
Again, the brown 34 came up on cue, holding the Xinschi-uual out further.
“N-No sir, that's not necessary,” Garenede assured, worry breaking his ordinarily serious demeanor.
“Are you sure? You seem concerned,” the 30 model pressed. I studied the 34 model, thinking about what awful things he could possibly do with the Xinschi-uual as “pointers”.
“I'm fine sir! Just slow,” Garenede insisted.
“Do it,” his superior grew threatening, “do it now. Or I'll do it myself and revoke your license.”
A sharp intake of breath; but from who? Krysis?
There was the sound of something unsheathing; Garenede's bayonets. Another pause. Then in trinary: “I'm so sorry.”
“Don't be, Garenede. Don't be,” the 30 model assured smoothly, “it's in the name of the Empire.”
Empire SHMEMPIRE! I screeched. That attitude infuriated me! What was wrong with that guy's head?!
There was a scream from Krysis, but the 36 model pinning me forced my lens into the wall so I couldn't see what was happening. The sickening feeling from Cyrii grew overwhelming, giving me a weird, simulated feeling of nausea. This was just wrong. Wrong, I tell you!
“TELL ME WHERE THE OTHERS ARE!” Garenede's voice boomed out with an incredible intensity I didn't know he had. I shuddered. If this was a ruse this was going too far!
“I'm telling you nothing,” Krysis muttered, but he didn't look at Garenede, holding a gaze with the 30 model. The sound of metal scraping metal, and then a thunk. Another screech that made me jerk out against the 36 pinning me, forcing him to brace himself.
“TELL ME NOW!”
“I'm telling you nothing!”
“Strike the motor cortex,” the 30 model said calmly.
“Strike it and I'll rip you to pieces!” I roared out. He was telling Garenede to disable Krysis! In his new mech!! This was a lobotomy in the making!
“Ignore her. She's not important,” the model excused me.
“But sir-” Garenede tried to argue.
“The motor. Cortex. Garenede.” He leaned in closer. “Third time's the charm.”
Some shuffling. Hesitate, I begged him, don't do it! We didn't give Krysis a new mech for nothing!
“...No.”
Yes!
“What do you mean, 'no'?” the 30 model questioned, growing frustrated.
“I won't do it. I'll strike anywhere but the vital points,” Garenede said firmly. “Never the vitals!”
“Has your training failed you?” the 30 model said, like a father disappointed that his son won't go to college.
“I could ask the same about you!” Garenede dared to say.
Uh oh.
The 30 model's blast shield twitched, the mechs holding us up against the wall relaxing a bit to watch with keen interest.
“You dare question my tactics?” the superior's voice grew dangerous.
“I will not abide by them.”
“Alpha clearance. I overrule you. You will do as I say.”
“I don't have to do squat. The General of Row 4 is my superior.”
“Your 'general' is at the bottom of the hierarchical ladder!”
“Higher than you, you inbred ROTSCALE!”
WOW, that escalated quick!
The insults ended as the 30 model suddenly leaped at Garenede. There was a crash as the two hit the floor, skidding out of sight. I struggled in hopes of helping Krysis, but my captor re-exerted the force to pin me. Alesia met the same fate with the same effort. The brown 34 model brought the Xinschi-uual back up in his retrieval panel and began stomping over to the squabble, no doubt going to help the 30 model. The sound of metal slicing metal, and screeches of pain; I couldn't stand here and listen to that! Those were combat sounds! I had to react!
I struggled more, my captor growing frustrated with me.
“Stop moving!” he growled. I chose to writhe more.
“Having trouble, 429?” his companion holding Alesia taunted, “Need a few drinks?”
“Stay out of this!”
“You're always weak when you're sober.”
“STUFF IT!”
“He's right,” Cyrii said, enforcing my efforts by jerking on my controls, twisting me around to face him even as his claws ripped huge tears into my hull. “You're WEAK!”
I grabbed him and rammed a bayonet into his fuel tank. Yes, those blueprints paid off! He pushed me off in shock with a yell as I tore a gaping hole in it, the precious, clear liquid pouring out onto the floor.
“No!”
“Goodbye!” I raised a leg and gave him a kick for good measure; with the power-jumping pistons. He slammed into the wall, concrete shattering around him as he sunk into it. It would take some prying to get him back out of there!
“Great Gryn!” his companion swore.
“Get Krysis up!” Cyrii was already back to commanding my priorities. As much as I wanted to free Alesia first, I jumped into action and ran over to the grey mech, completely collapsed on the floor. I kicked him to roll him over onto his side, but something big crashed into me, latching on.