Reloaded

by Isaac Hooke

  “Not literally,” Marlborough said.

  “You robots, and your strange names,” the warlord said.

  “We’re not just robots,” Marlborough said. “We’re Mind Refurbs.”

  Al-Khayr shrugged. “As you say. You are an American robot, yes?”

  Eric could almost imagine Marlborough mentally gritting his teeth.

  “We are mostly American, yes,” Marlborough said. “With one British.”

  “I can detect the accent,” the warlord said. “Your Arabic is… Anglicized. Your built in translators can never get it right.”

  Marlborough remained silent.

  “So…” Al-Khayr continued. “Aliens have invaded.”

  “They have,” Marlborough said.

  “I assume you have come here to escape them, just as we have,” Al-Khayr said.

  “That would be a correct assumption,” Marlborough said.

  “So even with all of your advanced technology, you ran,” the warlord said. “Your technology couldn’t save you.”

  Marlborough didn’t answer.

  “Can you update us on the situation, and the world outside?” Al-Khayr asked. “I told you everything I know, learned firsthand from the attacks against us. Now I would like to hear what you know.”

  “Well, apparently this entire hemisphere was hit by a space borne gamma ray attack,” Marlborough said. “You survived, because you were in these caves when the rays struck. Your cattle, and the villages, weren’t so lucky.”

  Marlborough then described the different trials the team had faced against the bioweapons, and the swarm, ever since the original gamma ray attack. He also imparted what the English battalion leader had shared with the Bolt Eaters: the ICBM attack against the alien mothership that had caused it to flee behind the moon, the storm of micro machines and bioweapons that swept across their irradiated nation at that very moment, and the failed nuke attempts staged against that storm. As well as the emissions produced by those bioweapons that seemed intended to terraform the planet.

  “So it truly is the end of the world,” Al-Khayr said. “What are a few humans, and a handful of robots, supposed to do against such an assault as this?”

  “Not very much,” Marlborough admitted. “Other than try to survive. And trust me when I say this, we’ll do everything in our power to ensure you live. Every human life is precious at this point. If we’re able to repel this invasion, we’ll need all the people we can get to help repopulate the planet.”

  Slate sent out a sync request, and all the Mind Refurbs increased their time sense to max.

  “Why don’t we just load them all into Mind Refurbs?” Slate said. “And forget about repopulating the planet.”

  “It’s probably a good thing they can’t hear you right now,” Hank said. “I don’t think that would go over well with the warlord and his advisors.”

  “Why not?” Slate said. “We’d be making them way more powerful than they are now. And essentially granting them immortality.”

  Immortality.

  Eric hadn’t considered that, until now. If he didn’t die fighting these aliens, then he’d live forever. He wasn’t sure he would be able to stand it. One millennium would pass. Then another. And another. The world would change until it was completely unrecognizable, and yet he would be the same. He would carry his sorrows with him for all eternity.

  And yet, he would also carry all his joys.

  Yes, he had mixed feelings about immortality.

  “Beside, there are far too few of them,” Slate said. “You need at least a hundred and sixty genetically distinct individuals to properly repopulate a species.”

  “You need to include reproductive tech in your calculation,” Eagleeye said. “Even if these were the only survivors, with reproductive tech in hand, humanity could easily start anew.”

  “Yeah, but from such a limited DNA base,” Slate said. “Yikes.”

  “You forget that there are others still alive on the far hemisphere of the planet,” Dickson said.

  “But not for long,” Slate said.

  Marlborough ended the sync request, and Eric’s time sense returned to normal.

  Al-Khayr was only answering Marlborough’s statement now. “I thank you for your concern. But perhaps we shouldn’t get ahead of ourselves. We still need to actually survive, first. If these aliens are changing our atmosphere, then we won’t last very long, unless we intend to become cave dwellers forever. We need to come up with some sort of plan. There has to be a way to hamper that devil storm.”

  “I agree,” Marlborough said. “But we don’t have any idea how that might be possible, not yet. We haven’t even been able to capture any of the micro machines yet.”

  “You haven’t?” Al-Khayr said. He seemed shocked. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Your technology didn’t help you all that much in the different attacks you faced. You barely escaped with your lives.” Al-Khayr stood. “Come with me.”

  Marlborough stood the Savage to its feet, and followed Al-Khayr.

  “Where are we going?” Marlborough asked as the pair winded between the different families.

  “You Americans, you like surprises, yes?” the warlord asked.

  “Not particularly,” Marlborough said.

  Al-Khayr reached a curtained off area of the cave, where two rifle-totting guards had been posted. The guards stood aside, allowing the robot and the warlord to enter.

  Within, two more armed guards stood watch above a humming machine. It was composed of two vertical plates. A cord led away from those plates, passing underneath the curtains, no doubt connecting to the central battery array that powered the cavern.

  In the middle of the plates, a small object was suspended.

  The Savage zoomed in. The object in question had insect-like legs, a proboscis between two mandibles, and tiny wings.

  Eric would have gasped if he were human.

  Suspended between the two plates was an alien termite.

  5

  “Where the hell did you get this?” Marlborough asked.

  “The devil machine?” Al-Khayr replied.

  “That, and the containment field itself,” Marlborough said.

  “You Americans gave it to us,” the warlord said. “Now you understand why I was so surprised.

  “In addition to most of our weapons. The containment field is a trap, meant to capture insurgent spy drones. It worked very well on the devil machine.”

  “We can finally conduct experiments on them,” Marlborough said. “This could mean a breakthrough!”

  “Perhaps,” Al-Khayr said.

  “We need your permission to study this specimen,” Marlborough said.

  Al-Khayr pursed his lips. “We have done some experimenting ourselves... introducing metal into the containment field, for example. It produces more of itself.”

  “What happened to the copies?” Marlborough asked.

  “We incinerated them with concentrated laser beams,” Al-Khayr said. “You must understand, I have had difficulty justifying even keeping one of these machines alive. The advisers constantly urge me to destroy it. They are afraid it will break free, despite all the backups we’ve applied to the power supply.”

  “Well, considering what these things are capable of, that doesn’t surprise me,” Slate said to the team. “I’d probably be arguing to do the same.”

  “This is why we keep curtains around the area,” Al-Khayr said. “So as not to alert the common people. If they knew what we harbored, they would likely destroy it themselves.”

  “How many units will you let me bring in here to study it?” Marlborough asked.

  Once more Al-Khayr seemed hesitant to commit. “If I allow this, you need to promise me you will employ every measure possible to ensure the devil machine does not break free.”

  “As I told you, your lives are our top priority,” Marlborough said. “We’ll do nothing to endanger your tribe. We’ll have troops targeting the micro machine with their laser rifles
at all times, ready to fire should even the smallest thing go wrong.”

  The warlord studied the robot. “It’s too bad this model does not have facial features. I can trust a robot more, when it has them.”

  “I can come in there personally if you wish,” Marlborough said. “My Cicada unit is equipped with a full array of facial LEDs.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Al-Khayr said. “You may send five units. Finding a way to defeat the invaders is in our best interests.”

  “And so it is,” Marlborough said. He disconnected from the Savage. Eric knew, because the name in the lower right of the video feed became “Bambi” once more. “Hicks, Tread, Slate, Eagleeye, Frogger. I want you in there. You’re my best programmers and engineers.”

  Eric felt a bit disappointed at being excluded, but realized there was no way he could go in there anyway, given his mech couldn’t fit the tight gap at the top of the collapse, at least until they were given permission to clean that gap out. Which didn’t seem likely.

  “Ha!” Slate shouted over his shoulder as he climbed the collapsed rock. “Hurry up and wait, bitches! Bend over and take it up the ass as the army Brass commands you!”

  “Slate, you’ll be staying behind, because of that remark,” Marlborough said. “Hank, please join the other four.”

  “Sorry, Sarge,” Slate said, letting go of the debris. “Sometimes I can’t control my robot side.”

  “That’s right, blame your robot side for the problem,” Eagleeye said.

  “Hold your tongue, Eagleeye,” Marlborough said. “Or I just might make you stay here, too.”

  Eric watched the five units crawl up the cave-in and into the gap, before they vanished. He could still see their indicators on the overhead map.

  There was nothing for the rest of the platoon to do but wait.

  Eric wanted to have Brontosaurus continue experimenting with the cannon, but there was no way to do so in the confined space, especially considering the shock wave the energy weapon produced upon impact. There just wasn’t enough room.

  Eric decided to work on a way to electrify his hull plating instead. He brainstormed different potential solutions with Brontosaurus, but none of them were doable, at least not with the equipment they had available. Eventually Eric had to admit to himself that it just wasn’t possible.

  He’d simply have to ensure that none of those termites ever touched him.

  A difficult proposition, at best. But then again, given the way the electrolasers on the Jupiters could arc between the micro machines, if any swarms arrived, those tanks would make short work of them. That, and the energy weapon Eric now wielded.

  It was the sneaky individual termites that showed up without a swarm that he was worried about.

  Eric looked at the Cicadas, arrayed in a group past the tanks, and noticed Mickey wasn’t among them. Instead, the comm operator was loitering on one of the tanks, plugged in to recharge. Eric glanced at his own charge, and decided to join him.

  He plugged into the unit using one of the mech-sized chargers, and then stood beside the tank, because his Ravager wouldn’t fit on top like Mickey.

  “Hey Scorp,” Mickey said.

  Eric nodded. “Mick.”

  The two were quiet for a few minutes.

  “Do you miss him?” Eric asked.

  “Who? Donald?” Mickey replied.

  Eric nodded.

  “Of course I do,” Mickey said. “We comm officers stick together. On base, we did everything together. We hung out in the same VR environments. We even shared bunks in the same virtual bedroom. We were as close as brothers. Closer.”

  Eric closed his simulated eyes, which caused his cameras to momentarily shut off. When he opened them again, he looked at his brother. “He was my brother, too. They all were. And my sister. Morpheus... I can’t believe she’s gone.”

  “I slept with her, you know,” Mickey said.

  “You did?” Eric turned toward the comm officer in shock. “Oh.”

  “We all have,” Mickey said. “Sometimes just her, sometimes with Bambi at the same time.”

  “And here I thought I was special,” Eric said.

  “It’s part of their psychological hazing method,” Mickey said. “The girls want to make sure we’ll protect them when the shit hits the fan out in the field. So they make us sleep with them, and hope we form an emotional bond. It was kind of hard to do that before, what with our emotions suppressed. I’m guessing if we slept with them in VR now, we’d be a lot more vulnerable.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” Eric said. “Still, I’m not so sure that was their motivation. They’re more than capable of protecting themselves out in the field. I think they really just wanted human company. And if that company meant sleeping through the lot of us, then so be it. I can’t say I didn’t enjoy it. If this team was mostly women, I’d want to sleep with all of them, too. Just because I could.”

  “Maybe,” Mickey said. “Shit. I miss the hell out of her, regardless of her motivations. Ah Morpheus. She reminded me a little of my wife. She was from the Philippines. Such a cutey. So short. The best ones in bed are short. So much energy.” He sighed. “Why did I have to die? Tell me that. Dying ruined everything.”

  “I don’t know,” Eric said. “We all die. But in a way, it’s good that we died, I think.”

  “How so?” Mickey said.

  “Because we wouldn’t have the chance that we do now,” Eric said.

  “What chance?” Mickey asked.

  “To save the world,” Eric replied.

  Mickey’s LEDs spread in a wide smile. “You really think we’re going to save the world? How?”

  “I don’t know,” Eric said. “But we’ll find a way. We have to.”

  “There are thousands of scientists in the Western world who are still alive, and likely working frantically on a solution,” Mickey said. “Some of the best minds in science and engineering. What makes you think we’ll be able to come up with a solution if they can’t?”

  “Because we have firsthand knowledge of these aliens and their tech, from being in the field,” Eric said. “And more importantly, because we’re machines.”

  Mickey seemed to purse his LED lips, then he nodded. He looked away, staring off in the distance.

  The two of them charged their batteries in silence.

  Dunnigan clanked over, and set himself down on the tank beside Mickey. He plugged in to recharge.

  “How you blokes holding up?” Dunnigan asked.

  “We’re holding,” Mickey said. “Barely. You?”

  Dunnigan was quiet a moment. “About the same. These emotions. I…” He shook his head. “I’m not sure how much longer I can take them. It’s fine when we’re in combat, and have something to occupy our minds, but as soon as the battle is over, and we’re left to rot inside of our own heads, that’s when the difficulties begin.”

  “We’re all struggling,” Mickey said. “To the last man. Or I guess, robot. Though none of us really think of ourselves as robots anymore, do we?”

  “No,” Dunnigan said. He lay down on the tank, and stared at the ceiling of the cave. “If I ever asked one of you to unleash your laser rifle into my AI core, would you do it?”

  “Well, no,” Mickey said. “Not unless you were mortally injured or something.”

  He glanced at Eric. “What about you?”

  “Like Mickey said,” Eric replied. “It would depend on the circumstances. I don’t think I’d do it if you just turned to me out of nowhere and asked me to end your existence.”

  Dunnigan nodded slowly. “Too bad.”

  “The emotions are that bad for you?” Eric asked.

  “What do you think?” Dunnigan replied. “I lost my whole battalion. My whole fucking battalion. You can’t imagine what that’s like. Why was I the one who survived? Why me? I didn’t deserve it. Though they were robots, they were all so much better men than me. They—”

  “Stop right there,” Eric said. “They weren’t better men
than you. That’s impossible. Because we’re all the same now, us Mind Refurbs. We died a long time ago. We can’t be better than one another. We have no external family or friends. All we have is each other.”

  “Yes,” Dunnigan said. “That’s very true. Maybe you’re right, mate. Maybe none of them were better than me. But they were all I had. And they didn’t deserve such an ignoble end. It’s tearing me apart inside. I’m hoping we’ll find something to kill soon. More bioweapons. Or even the aliens themselves. That would be preferable. Because I can’t take this idling around and waiting. This stewing in my own juices. I want vengeance.”

  “You’ll get your wish,” Eric said. “We all want vengeance.”

  “But you didn’t lose your entire platoon,” Dunnigan said.

  “No,” Eric said. “But we lost enough. And we also lost half our planet. That’s grounds enough for vengeance right there. And we will have it, mark my words. And along the way, we’ll save the rest of humanity.”

  “I hope so,” Dunnigan said. His LED eyes closed, and the blue dots he had for eyes turned off.

  Eric glanced at Mickey.

  “He’s certainly troubled,” Mickey said over a private line excluding Dunnigan. “Maybe more than the rest of us.”

  “I would be, too, if I were him,” Eric said. “Losing a whole battalion is going to be stressful on you, no matter if you’re man or machine.”

  “True, that,” Mickey said. “What are we going to do for him?”

  “The only thing we can do,” Eric said. “We accept him, treat him like one of our own. And make sure we never let him sink too far in the doldrums.”

  “Even if we are sinking ourselves?” Mickey said.

  “More-so, then,” Eric said. “Because by lifting them, we lift ourselves.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Mickey said.

  “All we have are each other,” Eric said.

  Mickey nodded. “Thank you. You’re good at that.”

  “Good at what?” Eric said.

  “The lifting up part,” Mickey said. “And you say you were a programmer before you died? You’re sure you weren’t a psychologist?”

  “Well let’s just say, I worked with a lot of different development teams,” Eric said. “A lot of shared cubicles and shared spaces. I met a lot of different people, introverts mostly, and I learned to understand them. Because when you’re waiting for your code to integrate with the latest build, or your product to boot up, you have a lot of spare time on your hands to chat.”