*
Gunfire. Explosions. Incessant screams. These are the sounds of war. The weight of the Mjolnir equalizer in my left hand and the gentle hum of the sonic cannon in my right are my only companions. An aerial vehicle circles overhead, spitting out fire and death.
There are three others like me on the battlefield, two belonging to the enemy. They bear countless bullet holes and large portions of their armour has been ripped away by anti-mech artillery. They raise their weapons, mirrors of my own, and an entire platoon of human soldiers disappears.
The leader of my squad, a brash and unimaginative veteran, orders us forward, intent on taking out my formidable brethren. I march in step with the others, my role as a mobile shield fully realized. I look to my mechanical comrade, 54469-B, who has been fighting for a lot longer than I, and has a missing eye and arm to show for it. He notices my glance, and his remaining eye begins to light up and then dim for several seconds. It was machine Morse code, developed on the front-lines for clandestine communication.
“Don't worry little one,” it had said, “We'll make it out of this battle in one piece.” It was an ironical statement coming from him, in his sorry state, but it was uplifting nonetheless.
I blink back, “Thank you elder, I certainly hope-
I am in the midst of sending my reply when an unseen rocket removes what was left of 54469-B from the battlefield. That was the advantage of being a machine, we don't need to mourn the loss of our friends or get revenge, but nevertheless, I find myself turning towards the luckless soldier who had fired the RPG. I empty an entire clip of the Mjolnir into his frail, human body. Doing so was not an act of revenge, it was the logical course of action to take, at least, that's what I tell myself.
The two enemy re-mechs have caught wind of our presence, and they swiftly move to intercept. I position myself between them and my human comrades, absorbing the majority of the bullets fired from their thundering weapons. The Mjolnirs are so loud that they deafen my sonic cannon by comparison. After making sure that the humans behind me have taken cover, I take off towards the re-mechs at full speed. The coin sized holes in my chassis slow me down considerably, but I am still fast enough to pull off a manoeuvre that has served me well in the past.
Dodging hundreds of bullets, I near my targets, who are standing beside one another to create a wall of fire-power. I throw down my gun, its ammo depleted, and order my core to divert all remaining power to my right arm. The roar of the cannon intensifies, and I can feel the strain of diverting away so much power. I finally arrive at my targets location, sliding to a stop inches away from their steaming barrels. Knowing what is coming, I duck down, avoiding the sudden spray of bullets that whiz above my elongated head. Pointing my right arm upwards, I whisper to myself, “Activate Sonic Shell Mode...”
“Scan complete. Items needed for one herbal medicine located. Time to target... One hour utilising maximum speed. Modify current course? Confirmed. New course set. Changing angular momentum in three, two, one...”
Maloch awoke from his memory, the phantom weight of the gun still lingering on his left arm. He had killed, he had lost much only to gain little, he had brought chaos and destruction into the world... and it had all been without complaint. He could resist his human masters until the world stopped turning, but in the end, his programming would force him to obey.
However, once things had been different. Once, re-mechs around the world had said, “No more.”
The result? Years of violence and bloodshed, resulting in the de-activation and scrapping of hundreds of thousands of his brothers. The new generation of re-mechs that had arisen after that cataclysmic event had been stripped of what little free will they had left, with dozens of new sub-routines that ensured their absolute compliance.
He called up the scan details, noting how lucky he had been: nearly all of the required ingredients were located in close proximity. However, geographic data from the region indicated that it was treacherous to navigate, basically consisting of a massive stone maze carved out by wind over the millennia.
He would have to navigate it himself by sight, as his out-dated maps would be useless. Additionally, there was no geo-sat in position above him, so requesting the central mainframe for updated topography maps would be impossible. He still had some time before he arrived, so he decided to watch another memory, this one from a more recent date.
“Beginning memory ZZG-867 playback in three, two- warning: tectonic shift detected- one...”
Awakening Page 97