The massive tail cast a shadow as it whipped my way. I saw it just in time to duck. The incredibly loud smack of rubber on rubber got my attention. I didn’t have much more time.
I climbed recklessly about on the broad, scaled back, first one side and then the other, trying to cover the greatest amount of area in the time I had available. The tail missed me twice more, but only by the width of one of my hairs on the last occasion. I was losing this battle, I thought, as I became even more careless in the speed I was trying to maintain.
Then, suddenly, it was over. The tail crashed against my right hand, crushing it beyond usefulness. Hydraulic fluid sprayed out the end of the effectively amputated limb. My internal systems started shutting down to prevent other damage. I had failed. This abomination would destroy Six and all my kin. Worse, I had failed for the Humans, too. I regret that I have but one life to give...
It had to be luck. My programming didn’t admit to luck, but I will accept it any way that it is dropped in my lap. The fluids from my arm seeped down and were minutely diverted by a regular shape on the skin at the base of the monster’s tail. The access hatch was almost invisible by sight, but my umber fluids showed me my target. I’d never have found it without my own vital liquids. But finding it was only half the problem—the easy half. With only one functioning hand I could think of only one way.
The voltage surge I’d come to associate with the emotion of fear ran through me. I knew if this didn’t work, I was quite dead. Hope is a strange thing. It can make us even more fearful. Our instinct for survival is too strong to quit when there is even the most minute flowering petal or green leaf of life within us.
I wrapped my legs on either side of T.rex’s dorsal fin, holding my legs together as tightly as possible as I reached for the panel. My hand opened it easily enough, but just then the beast took to jumping up and down to dislodge me. One of these jumps caused my legs to break free of their tenuous hold. Without any intent, I performed a perfect flip, landing with my crotch straddling the thrashing tail. Frantically, I grabbed the panel handle as the monster’s motions caused even harsher random accelerations.
For me to let go of the door handle now would almost certainly condemn me to fall and be smashed to the consistency of mercury against the floor of the valley by the beast’s feet, tail, or fists.
The rex and I were once again at an impasse. I could not use my good hand to disconnect its control circuits and it couldn’t stop hopping. I could see the circuitry arrayed out in front of me, begging for deadly attentions.
Worse, the fluid from my damaged right hand had begun to cause a pressure imbalance in the other areas. My good left arm and my legs would soon begin feeding hydraulic fluid past my burned out safeties to the damaged system to prevent total system failure, causing more of my circuits to shut down. This would result in me losing my grip, a positive feedback. I knew time was limited, so I used my head, literally.
Before me, in the rex’s control panel was a great number of fiber optic wires and control boards, glittering in an array of light and a spectacle of tracing banners. I opened my maw and reached in for a huge bite of wiring, ripping indiscriminately. The first lurch in response nearly dislodged me right then. The Tyrannosaurus began to stomp only with the left foot but that action seemed to be jerking me even more desperately than ever. I twisted my head and spat out my mouthful of T.rex’s innards before plunging my snout into the unit’s main processor board, snapping it in half, causing electric arcing everywhere, including across my face, singeing my fur in several locations.
The rex stopped abruptly, mid-jump. As it came down, it teetered backward. I jumped for my life. Having saved the day, being pulped beneath a multi-metric-ton monster wasn’t my idea of a reward. I fell heavily to the ground just in time to be bounced about by the second impact of the falling Tyrannosaurus.
Silence. It overwhelmed me for a moment.
I assessed my physical condition and decided I was at least nominal for movement, assuming I didn’t try anything fancy. My mind raced, however. I narrowly avoided terminal deactivation—so close to nonexistence. It called for a mental pause. My arms shook, probably from a lack of hydraulic fluids.
“All units recall,” I shouted over the SAN as soon as I got my mind back under control. “Emergency repair team to this location.” I crawled over and leaned up against the dead beast to keep me upright.
Fifteen minutes later a pair of Nurse Nans put an emergency cap on my right arm, turning it into a stump. They shoved a liter of fluid into my system. I needed more but other seriously damaged units needed the Nans’ backup supply. I released them to the other wounded even though tremors still seemed in control of my left hand.
“Defensive One,” I called out over the SAN. I needed to keep us safe just in case more surprises marched up on us. Worse, I no longer had flyer cover to tell me of approaching fauna.
In spite of the quick return of the Nans, it took another hour to round up all of the straggling units. I had lost over half our force, and half of that remainder only partially functioned. The massive corpse would allow some cover but we were obvious in our defensive locations.
“Canaries, I want any movement you see at all.”
“Canary Four reports Nurse Nan—”
“Counter order. Report any movement not directly responsible because of Six units.”
“Canary One reports tree branch movement at relative grid 0-1-4.”
“Canary Three reports smoke from damaged units at R-grid—”
“Counter order,” I growled. “Report any fauna or possible fauna movement.”
Several anxious hours crawled by with no sighting reports. We were fortunate that no third attack came. With our injuries, we would have been hard-pressed to derail a train.
Nurse Nan 8876 finally got back to me, six hours later.
“Casualty report: 414 units destroyed; 124 units incapacitated requiring remanufacture of critical components,” she said in her high-pitched voice.
“Ship out incapacitated units on first train.”
“Prognosis report: Teddy 1499.” She honestly shocked me.
She continued, “Replacement of right hand above the third wrist servo not possible. No replacement parts available.”
“Elaborate.”
“Six teddy units deactivated during action at relative grid 0-0-0 and environs. Five of these units have viable replacements. Eighteen teddy units require limb replacements either whole or partial. Based on current assignment, Teddy 1499 is last in the priority queue for replacement.” I mulled over the shortage. I could have ordered preferential treatment for myself. In the end I didn’t need my right hand for wielding a weapon. My real danger to the enemy lay within my head and the ideas that I turned to our benefit. I was the strategist, not the implementer.
“Continue,” I ordered the Nan.
The nurse replaced the emergency cap with a more permanent ceramic cap over the end of my arm. I could still use it for miscellaneous pushing and the like. I just could not grasp anything. It was, after all, a small limitation. What was a hand to me?
“Teddy 1499, reporting to Six.”
Nurse Nan 8876 sewed my fur to the plastic coating over the ceramic cap proclaiming over the parallel communication channel SAN that she completed her repair. I sent her along about her business.
“This is Six: report, Teddy 1499.”
“After a fierce battle, this sector is secure for the moment. Replacements needed immediately. Fighting strength down to 56 percent,” I offered as I examined the white stump of my right arm.
“Acknowledged. Replacements will be routed there as soon as completed.” I could tell by the tone that my report pleased Six. It was another victory, although another costly one—this time paid in my fluids as well as the deactivation of many of Six’s troopers…my troopers. “Six out.”
I needed to assess the state of our current defenses. Naturally I climbed, with some difficulty because of only one hand, up to the t
op of the tallest structure in the area, the carcass of the monster. Standing on the back of its ridged head afforded a view like no other. I felt like a flyer. My last time aboard the beast didn’t allow for any sightseeing. I quickly picked out my sentries. The defenses didn’t need any significant adjustment. I considered having the rex dragged from the field by the combined efforts of the dozers but there seemed to be no point and every reason to keep it in place.
“Canary Six, report for over-watch at my position.” Why waste a perfect spotter post? We already used it for cover.
I stomped my foot on the creature’s head. The bulk of the thing constantly reminded me of what had faced us. What could be done to stop it in the future? Honesty prohibited me from thinking my plan would have succeeded if the T.rex had remained out of our range and shelled us into oblivion. Its overconfidence caused it to give me the opportunity to destroy it. Know thy enemy would be a good first step.
With even more difficulty than climbing, I pulled my bayonet from my backpack and sawed at the thick rubber skin. While the blade met some resistance, it parted the skin fairly easily. Ballistics fabric lay impregnated at several depths within the skin and fake scales. This explained much.
“Teddy squads four and five, report.” One-handed I couldn’t skin this beast. “Using your knives, remove the skin of this fauna on the south side only.” Twenty teddies swarmed over the corpse’s right side, peeling back the protective rubber armor to reveal its inner workings.
The design spoke to me immediately. The creature was almost all ammunition storage for the two great weapons on its arms and the flame thrower it never used within its mouth. Every cubic centimeter not used for locomotion and processing held belts of ammunition.
The legs, while modified, looked remarkably similar to my own. The single hydraulic load cylinder in its thigh dwarfed mine. The raw power it produced I knew from experience was humbling. But here the similarities ended. The legs, in a need to support the immense weight, could produce a proportionally powerful downward force because of a huge lever arm; however, the space limitations meant that the lever arm, to produce lift, shrunk to the miniscule. Again, as I found out, that force could barely lift the leg itself.
This gave me a number of ideas, which all came down to nearly the same thing—pull or knock it over and stake it to the ground. We would be the Lilliputians to the monster’s Gulliver. Its skin, no longer a mystery, could be defeated with slow, edged weapons.
Any force that could topple the beast would lend itself most likely to the monster’s deactivation. Pits, huge trip wires, bombs landed near the feet rather than on its head were just a couple of techniques that came quickly to mind. If we ever saw another T.Rex, it would die quicker than had the first one, and without the huge danger factor. Oh, it would never be easy, but it could be beaten.
After reporting the facts to Six for dissemination to all units, I noted the pile of dead animals being stacked up next to the bulk of the behemoth for transportation back to Six to be used as raw materials. Hopping down 80 centimeters from the exposed tendon, I moved over next to a teddy version of fauna.
I stared at it for several minutes. It looked identical to our teddies and had an intact hand, even if its chest was nothing more than a still warm, blackened hole. The hand, in almost the purest of white almost taunted me. If the construction of the monster bore similarities, I couldn’t help but wonder how much the fauna teddies compared.
“Priority tasking,” I ordered. “Nurse Nans to my position. Query: wrist linkages of teddy units.”
“No teddy wrists or hands available—” claimed one of the two Nans that arrived.
“I know that! Information query regarding specifications and construction. Compare construction of similar animal linkages.”
“Processing.” Both Nurse Nans stood there in thrall for a minute. “No such data available. Search parameters not found in either local or master files.” I put the question on the WAN, for Six or any Nurse Nan to respond. The multiple echoes were identical to what these two units just shared with me. It all boiled down to what the Humans would say: “Are you kidding?” Null program.
I guessed it was time to blaze new trails. With my one good arm, I dragged the nearly intact teddy animal from the growing stack of bodies out into the clear.
“This is not an animal. It is a teddy. Repair it.” I made this a verbal order directed at the pair of Nurse Nans.
“Null program. No CCT functional feedback,” they responded in unison.
“Medical information query: CCT,” I probed. I directed only one to speak as the stereo responses were just a bit too much.
“Command/control transceiver: This device allows communication between individual units and the network. It also allows automatic IFF (identify friend and foe) for combat purposes. Triple backup in all units.” Looks like a little knowledge is a dangerous thing, I thought.
“All four CCTs damaged. Repair unit.” The two nurses took a moment to consult before they picked up the body and began field stripping it. They began with the chest, removing its hairy and armored outer shell with the blackened edges around the hole. Their examination revealed fluid pumps and micro-circuitry almost identical to my own. “Verbal dialogue,” I ordered.
“Abnormal fluid distribution. Main hydraulic pump destroyed by projectile. Main processor irreplaceable due to trauma. Unit is beyond current capability to revive. Begin scavenge procedure on potentially useful parts. Entire arm unit, right and left.”
“Teddy 1044 report for arm replacement,” I heard over the LAN.
“Countermand order. Teddy 1044 remain with current assignment.”
“Revise priority of Teddy 1499 hand replacement to critical.”
One of the nurses stood up from its labors and walked up to me. “We have a wrist hand unit for your use. Sit here. Deactivate power, fluid, and command distribution nodes thirteen through seventy.”
I wouldn’t let any of my other troops be a guinea pig. I’d put myself to the hazard first. The decision was clear, but being a lab rat to my own experiment left me a little uneasy. According to the actions of the Nurse Nan, it would work. They couldn’t have stripped a unit that they didn’t know. They also would not install a defective device so it must be within specifications.
I watched intently as the cap was removed from my wrist. No fluid leaked as I had cut hydraulics as ordered. I couldn’t move anything from my right shoulder down until reengaging that pump. The white wrist and hand lay ready beside me, the metallic connections gleaming in the red sun almost like new. It took thirty processor-grinding minutes and dozens of tests before my salvaged hand and wrist once again began to move at my mental command. I looked at the white palm, and while in my head the thought of it having been from an animal felt strange, I knew it was me now.
One by one I took the dead animals out of the pile and declared them Six’s units and ordered their repair. The limb and parts’ shortage evaporated.
At the end I looked down at the torn apart creatures that had just supplied me a new limb and realized I was now a ghoul and a Frankenstein monster, all rolled into one; it made me happy in a grim and ironic sort of way. Short of being about two liters low on fluid, I was now at a nominal 100 percent. Time for another mission.
Volunteer
For three weeks after the Battle of Gorgoroth, as I called my personal war against the T.rex, I ordered improvements on our position while getting used to my new wrist and hand. My new appendage had a small advantage in grip strength, but the overall length of my right arm was now less than my left. I guess what bothered me most was that it was white. White now adulterated my beautiful purple. I guess I should have been more specific about my selection among the dead animals. It didn’t matter, but it bothered me anyway.
On that twenty-first day two trains arrived at our end of the line. The first train to arrive brought a long list of fresh troops to replace much more than we had lost. I was ecstatic. The security of our position just ju
mped an order of magnitude. It now was truly more than secure. Security also seemed within Six’s thoughts as well. The same train also carried a squad of three net-building units, which looked remarkably like brown plastic scorpions about 6 meters long and 2 high (4 if you counted the tail). Each carried eighteen NCs for deployment. Six intended to expand our territories here where I held our line.
My memories reported this to be the first expansion for Six in nearly eleven years. I could almost see the dust puff off the scorpions’ shiny, but unused bodies as they climbed down. I could sense the eagerness to accomplish something after so long a hiatus.
Just as I was getting excited at the prospect of making headway myself, I received an order over the WAN.
I must digress here for a moment. My processor had been designed to implement directives from Six in any way desired. I self-directed, determining my own priorities. I was fully autonomous. So completely self-controlling was my processor that I was fully capable of disregarding orders given to me by Six as long as I preserved the overall good of Six. That is I could ignore all orders. Two exceptions remained to this control—an order to self-destruct and an order to recall.
The self-destruct order was one I feared. Losing activation because of the ultimate act of Six’s selfishness I didn’t relish. Even so my fear seemed to symbolize a lack of discipline within myself. I knew that order was hardwired into my processor. No amount of tampering with it on my part would do anything but cause premature detonation of the small explosive charge on my sump and processor board.
The recall order I didn’t fear but it still involved involuntary actions. I couldn’t even put it in the “wait for action” queue for more than ten thousand clock cycles. It was nothing less than an irresistible urge to return home.
Six cast the geas upon me. “Teddy 1499, recall.” Don’t get me wrong. I would have obeyed in any case, but not to have a choice bothered me beyond understanding. I complied, with a troubled thought process, as soon as I had given orders to load the larger train with the animal bodies.
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