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Authors: Ian Lewis
Tags: Science-Fiction
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wrapped up in all of that untidy business. I wasn’t there and so don’t have the correct frame of reference. As far as Worthington goes, I can honestly tell you I don’t know.”
I raise my voice in complaint. “You expect me to believe that?”
“You can believe in what you want. Like I said, you are working with a deficit of information.”
“Then why don’t you enlighten me,” I say through gritted teeth.
This remark is met with a condescending chuckle. “Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary. You’ve given me no reason to trust you, and you seem very hostile.”
“So what now, we just kill each other?”
More laughter. “No, let’s not have any of that. We just need to come to terms with the fact you’re in over your head. What’s afoot is bigger than you—you must at least understand that.”
By some instinct my hands return to the control arms. “I understand that your organization’s goals are not sound, nor are your methods.”
The pilot’s voice betrays a hint of annoyance. “Again, you make assumptions. What gives you the right to stand in the way of the future? Why do you feel so empowered? Is it some misguided belief system? Tell me.”
I slingshot my reply and advance two steps. “I don’t have to justify anything. This is about accountability—you will be held responsible for your actions just like everybody else.” The self-righteousness in my voice is foreign, but I go with it anyway.
The pilot speaks in an eerie calm. “Listen, friend. I’ve tried to give you a way out—honest and free. But you refuse to comply… You must know this doesn’t leave me with many options.”
“I’m not your friend, you prick.”
“Very well.” The pilot breathes his final words through a sigh before engaging his cloaking.
A hollow “dammit” rings through the empty pit of my gut. I re-engage my cloaking in a hasty response but am more or less frozen in uncertainty. Squinting as if it will help me see, I manhandle the control arms as a deafening blow crashes into the left side of the machine.
I manage to keep my balance, but am racked with another barrage before I can collect any sense of what to do next. Warning lights remind me of the potential damage I am taking. Will my armor hold?
The map still shows my location in relation to the other machine, but that’s the best I can do. There’s no way to know when to duck, move, or block. And for all I know, the pilot may give up on the beating and decide to use whatever other offensive tactics the robot has.
With impressive speed, the icon on the map moves behind me. Before I can turn around, another rattling blow rakes across the back of my armor. This sends me forward with only the built-in reflexes of the robot to catch itself from falling on its face.
The invisible behemoth strikes once more, sending a shock through my bones.
I can’t hold out forever. Think! Swiveling on my mechanical feet, I twist around to defend.
The pilot anticipates my move and rotates in the opposite direction, placing himself behind me once again.
The next attack brings my robot to its knees. It feels like pile drivers raining down on the shell of the cockpit. Each thud of metal on metal is like a nail further in the coffin. In the midst of this beat-down, Attack/Defense Sentinel 02 asks its next question. ADS02. Grant rights to engage Stage Beta. Y/N?
Aloud, I ask the inevitable. “What is Stage Beta?”
The onscreen answer comes quick. Stage Beta: Load all attack/defense systems and warfare logic.
“Yeah, sure, sounds good,” is my sarcastic reply. I slam my finger onto the “Y” key and hope to all that’s holy I haven’t made a mistake.
17
In addition to a warning that the cloaking is damaged, the anticipated title screen appears: Attack/Defense Sentinel 02. Loading Stage Beta…
The seat stiffens as if bolted down into an immobile position. Portions of the lumbar and shoulder regions press into my back with increased pressure. The
I raise my voice in complaint. “You expect me to believe that?”
“You can believe in what you want. Like I said, you are working with a deficit of information.”
“Then why don’t you enlighten me,” I say through gritted teeth.
This remark is met with a condescending chuckle. “Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary. You’ve given me no reason to trust you, and you seem very hostile.”
“So what now, we just kill each other?”
More laughter. “No, let’s not have any of that. We just need to come to terms with the fact you’re in over your head. What’s afoot is bigger than you—you must at least understand that.”
By some instinct my hands return to the control arms. “I understand that your organization’s goals are not sound, nor are your methods.”
The pilot’s voice betrays a hint of annoyance. “Again, you make assumptions. What gives you the right to stand in the way of the future? Why do you feel so empowered? Is it some misguided belief system? Tell me.”
I slingshot my reply and advance two steps. “I don’t have to justify anything. This is about accountability—you will be held responsible for your actions just like everybody else.” The self-righteousness in my voice is foreign, but I go with it anyway.
The pilot speaks in an eerie calm. “Listen, friend. I’ve tried to give you a way out—honest and free. But you refuse to comply… You must know this doesn’t leave me with many options.”
“I’m not your friend, you prick.”
“Very well.” The pilot breathes his final words through a sigh before engaging his cloaking.
A hollow “dammit” rings through the empty pit of my gut. I re-engage my cloaking in a hasty response but am more or less frozen in uncertainty. Squinting as if it will help me see, I manhandle the control arms as a deafening blow crashes into the left side of the machine.
I manage to keep my balance, but am racked with another barrage before I can collect any sense of what to do next. Warning lights remind me of the potential damage I am taking. Will my armor hold?
The map still shows my location in relation to the other machine, but that’s the best I can do. There’s no way to know when to duck, move, or block. And for all I know, the pilot may give up on the beating and decide to use whatever other offensive tactics the robot has.
With impressive speed, the icon on the map moves behind me. Before I can turn around, another rattling blow rakes across the back of my armor. This sends me forward with only the built-in reflexes of the robot to catch itself from falling on its face.
The invisible behemoth strikes once more, sending a shock through my bones.
I can’t hold out forever. Think! Swiveling on my mechanical feet, I twist around to defend.
The pilot anticipates my move and rotates in the opposite direction, placing himself behind me once again.
The next attack brings my robot to its knees. It feels like pile drivers raining down on the shell of the cockpit. Each thud of metal on metal is like a nail further in the coffin. In the midst of this beat-down, Attack/Defense Sentinel 02 asks its next question. ADS02. Grant rights to engage Stage Beta. Y/N?
Aloud, I ask the inevitable. “What is Stage Beta?”
The onscreen answer comes quick. Stage Beta: Load all attack/defense systems and warfare logic.
“Yeah, sure, sounds good,” is my sarcastic reply. I slam my finger onto the “Y” key and hope to all that’s holy I haven’t made a mistake.
17
In addition to a warning that the cloaking is damaged, the anticipated title screen appears: Attack/Defense Sentinel 02. Loading Stage Beta…
The seat stiffens as if bolted down into an immobile position. Portions of the lumbar and shoulder regions press into my back with increased pressure. The
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