Robot

Everyone seemed... unsettled following the incident with the minigun.

Eve was almost inconsolable for a while and even after Jay had passed around that hip flask of his, nobody felt much like talking, so with few other options open to us, we continued our journey in silence.

I don’t think anyone felt good about what had just happened.

Yeah, sure, I’ve killed people before – You pull the trigger and watch them crumple; it’s not nice, but more often than not, it’s necessary.

The minigun though... That was different – that was wholesale slaughter.

Scores had died in seconds; their shredded bodies torn apart in an orgy of bloody violence, while the panicking survivors had been devoured, for fucks sake, by Eve’s land sharks.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much blood.

Is this what we’ve become?

It just seemed...

I don’t know.

We had a way out that didn’t involve punching football-sized holes through people, so why did we have to resort to that level of violence?

Urgh, I should know better.

This is hardly the time to start developing a conscience when it’s not like we’re going to do anything different at the Alamo.

Kill or be killed – That’s our credo, and the sooner I get used to it, the better. There are bigger things at stake than the revulsion and horror I feel at what happened.


It was the smoke rising from the Alamo in the distance that finally jarred me from my introspection; a great billowing plume that towered up into the crisp, blue sky ahead of us, filling us all with a sense of foreboding and disquiet.

Spurring our horses, we quickened our pace, each of us feeling tense and uneasy as we hurried along, not daring to give voice to the concern that we were already too late and that the Alamo might have fallen.

We needn’t have worried.

Nearing the mission, we found that the smoke was rising from inside the compound, to the accompaniment of the sounds of industry, emanating from within.

Artemis, it seemed, had been busy.

At once, both relieved that we weren’t too late and yet disappointed that I was about to be involved in another massacre, I shot Jay a sideways glance as we surveyed the scene before us “You always take me to the nicest places” I joked – A little levity to try and downplay my concerns that we might not survive this.


The disdainful little prick that greeted us from the walls as we approached could only have been Artemis, although I admit that I was surprised to find that he had deigned to lower himself to adopting a human holographic form for the sake of the primitives he was working with – The old fool must be going soft in his dotage!

"We're already at work building my weapons, but I need help refining the engineering aspects on some of the larger gear. Additionally, we're short on some supplies and basic firearms, if anyone knows where we could get some before Santa Anna shows up" he called down to us as we trooped into the dusty compound, where several makeshift forges were busy belching smoke into the air.

"We'll divvie up and take care of it, are you sure your stuff will work Artemis?" Jay asked.

Struggling to stifle my snort of amusement at this inadvertently off-handed insult, I kept my head down as Artemis replied; hoping that the wide brim of my hat would conceal my barely suppressed smile.

"We've built prototypes and conducted tests, so long as they're all built to my exact specifications they'll work fine!"

I'm not certain, but I think he might have been a little peeved.

In any case, I resolved to have a look at whatever plans or schematics he had for his proposed instruments of destruction, figuring that while it might wind him up even more, a fresh set of eyes on a project can sometimes work wonders.

"Alright people, let's get to work, Brittany is already onto us and it's only a matter of time before Santa Anna shows up for the battle!" Jay said.

"Oh, the meta-being queen is onto us already? Fantastic! What a battle this shall be!" Artemis retorted.

While Jay and Colonel Neill busied themselves, organising everyone, I inexpertly slid down from my horse, and hobbled, stiff from a day in the saddle, across the compound towards the nearest of the forges.

The smithy, a powerfully built, bearded man paused in his work, assembling what looked like a bulky suit of armour, as I approached.

“Howdy” he smiled.

Nodding curtly in response, I pulled my duster close around me, uncomfortably aware of his eyes. Much as I hate to admit it, Jay was right about the nanosuit attracting too much attention, but I’ll be buggered if I’m conceding the point.

“Are these the plans?” I asked, leafing through a sheaf of papers, scattered across the top of a barrel, being used as a makeshift table nearby.

“That they are, ma’am” he drawled back in his quaint American accent.

The crunch of gravel made me turn to regard Artemis as he approached “So what do you think to my battle suit?” he beamed “The body count will be extreme”

Shrugging, I glanced back down at the papers “Steam power is weird, but I reckon it should work for a good half hour or so before it needs refuelling”

“There’s only so much we can achieve with this sort of primitive technology” Artemis retorted “I’d liked to have engineered a more efficient heat exchanger, but we don’t have the tools”

“What are these? – You’re using analogue versions of the old Bernholz dampers in the main actuators?”

“Of course” Artemis looked misty eyed for a moment “Heinrich was a great man – What he didn’t know about robotics wasn’t worth knowing”

“He was a fucking amateur”

Sometimes I hate this combative relationship Artemis and I seem to have – it’s draining. I think he feels threatened by me, whereas I feel like I’ve got something to prove.

“What!?” he bristled.

“It’s all force-feedback loops and safety mechanisms” I jabbed a finger down onto the plans “Here, through here, here and here... You’re wasting power”

“Well, we wouldn’t want the pilot’s limbs tearing off, would we?”

“Yeah, but your kinematic schema’s inefficient – Reroute power via these condensers, the latent heat gets recycled back into the system and you can do away with most of the dampers”

“We’ll lose power”

“You’re looking at perhaps a thirteen percent dip across the top end – The suit will still be able to punch through walls, but you’ll extend its operational capacity by about twenty five percent.”

For a moment, I thought that Artemis was going to retaliate with more of his usual petty bullshit about having a shit load of PhD’s in home economics or whatever the fuck he chose to waste his youth on, but to my surprise, he nodded.

“That could work” he mused “Twenty five percent is a lot”

The old fucker’s definitely going soft - Maybe having kids has mellowed him?

Pulling a pencil out of a pocket, Artemis began making alterations to the plans “If we vent back into the heat exchanger...”

“Is it able to withstand the additional pressure?”

“It had damn well better be”

“Maybe the smith should be the test pilot?” I glanced pointedly towards the big man, watching the exchange with interest nearby.

Shifting his stance, the smithy met my gaze with a wary surliness.

“Yes...” Artemis frantically scribbled across the plans “I can see it all now
“You!” he pointed at the blacksmith “Change of plan!”

That was as far as he got before Jay suddenly bellowed “Incoming!” across the courtyard and the air was rent with the scream of a heavy, rapidly falling something.

Even boosted by my nanosuit, I barely had time to react as a black, spherical object roared overhead and slammed into the convent wall, partially demolishing it in a cloud of dust and rubble.

“What the fuck was that!?” Artemis screeched.

“Like I’d fucking know” I snapped, unslinging my rifle.

“Well it’s quite obviously not Mexican”

“Well, duh!”

“It’s the Mexicans” Colonel Neill yelled, drawing his pistol as he advanced towards the impact zone “To me men! To me!”

“Oh, for fucks sake” Artemis sounded every bit as stunned as I was at the abject stupidity of the man.

“Get away!” my shout of warning came simultaneously with Jay’s from the other side of the courtyard, as the shadowy shape of a war droid rose from the ruins of the wall.

Neill barely had time to look surprised before the machine opened fire and he exploded, showering the men with him in a welter of hot blood and guts.

I and several other Dwarfers tried a few shots with our rifles, but the pulse charges merely dissipated against the robot’s force shields in a colourful display of light and energy “Fuck!”

Seemingly unperturbed by our attacks, the machine advanced a little further out into the courtyard where it stopped and began projecting a holographic recording of De Santa Anna.

“How does this work?” he asked someone out of camera shot, in heavily accented English.

Shrugging at the unheard response he turned back to the camera.

“I am General Antonio López de Santa Anna” he said pompously “and this is your one and only chance
“We have new and powerful allies, as I’m sure” he gestured “this amazing machine will demonstrate”

De Santa Anna paused to look squarely into the camera “Give up, Texans. Give up and run. Run as fast and far as you can, or else the Alamo will be grave”

Turning, he looked out of camera shot “Will that suffice Señor Chrysler?”

“Yeah, whatever” said another voice and the recording ended.

With the end of the transmission, the robot rose into the air with a whine and opened fire on the blood spattered men who had heeded Neill’s rallying call, killing several of them in seconds.

“Holy shit” yelled one of the survivors as he turned tail with the others and started sprinting towards the exit “We’ve got to get the hell out of here!”



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Apologies for my recent absence – life’s been mental this last month and I’ve been left feeling too burned out to write. Normal service has hopefully been resumed.

Anyway, only tagged those mentioned, but there you have it – De Santa Anna’s army have launched their attack with a STCP war-bot provided by some dodgy geezer called Chrysler (I’m sure it’s just a coincidence); the thing’s heavily armed and shielded, so how do we kill it?
Bonus points for anyone who manages to just disable it and salvage the fusion reactor to power whatever the DeLorean’s going to do when it’s fired up (or for whatever else you can think of).

We also need to stop the Texans from routing – their leader and several of their compatriots have just been killed in an extremely messy fashion, so they’re not feeling up for the fight at the moment. How do we stop them running away and improve their morale?

This has dragged on a bit, so we’re looking for a quick resolution and we’ll be onto something new very soon.

Over to you...
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