Filston's Initiation (Part I) by Fabio Fontana
The
lights inside the MeRoCC were a dim cold blue, and conferred the innards of the vehicle
the aspect of a ghostly tomb deep in the domains of the afterlife. Rookie Robot Controller
Filston stared nervously through the virtual console of his robot control unit. He
felt alone even though in the few square metres of the MeRoCC four other
people accompanied him. The full helmet and control bed where he was strapped
into made him feel like a prisoner, able only to glimpse at freedom through the
eyes of his host, and the knowledge that they had been sent to secure an
area without any infantry support made him want to take off all the virtual
reality equipment and get out into the storm to hear, see and feel with his
own senses. But the cursed wind storm had turned into a sand-storm that could
seriously injure anyone who ventured inside it without adequate ptotection.
The
area was meant to be already secure. No enemy activity had been detected by
the preliminary satellite scans or the FRUs, but the chilling sensation down
his spine was still there. This feeling was not shared by the rest of the
crew, probably because they were all experienced personnel and not rookies on
their third mission. Filston tried to keep all of his sensations to himself.
He wanted a good mark on the record for this mission.
Alek
and Bianco were slouched in their controller seats fully immersed in the
virtual link with their hosts. With the helmets
and the fixed control arm units on, they appeared to be sleeping wired up
to an ancient virtual reality bed. They were experienced controllers, almost more alive
when connected to their units than when walking on their own.
Alek
and Bianco had both grown so attached to their robots that they considered
them extensions of their bodies, not just mere equipment. Two years back, when
after a battle Alek's Mauler had been so badly damaged that it had to be sent
to the scrap yard, she had fallen into a bad depression for six weeks. The
therapy and re-education had managed to bring her back to the battlefield. He
had personally seen Bianco stay up for two days without sleep to repair his
Pitbull without the help of the mechanics. More or less all robot controllers
that had been in service for more than five years showed similar attachments
to their hosts. Not only that, hosts which had been in service for more than
two years with the same controller were impossible to pilot precisely by another
controller without a complete reset of the battle-memories and controller
adaptation units. They weren't merely cold metal, they learned from and adapted
to their controllers. That's why the death of an experienced controller or the
destruction of a long serving host brain was considered a great loss.
The
crew of the MeRoCC was completed by Taggarth, the vehicle's pilot and Neden, the
captain. Taggarth was lying still in his seat, checking the
sensors and diagnostic panels of the MeRoCC sporadically, while captain Neden was looking
at the area scanners and regularly spliced into the robot controllers' view of
the surrounding area.
***
Weasel-1502
stepped forwards and planted its semi spherical composite foot into the red gravel of the
compound, arm mounted fast cannons pointing towards a cluttered mass
of pipes offering poor visibility and good cover for potential enemies. Its
rectangular head turned from side to side to scan the surrounding area, but the
sand lifted by the storm made it difficult to see the details. Weasel-1502
turned on the infrared scanner, infrared images were relayed on Filston's retinas.
In all probability, the chilling wind would cool down all residual heat traces
left by hostiles before any significant amount of time.
***
"How’s
the compound area?" asked Alek next to him.
"I
can't see anything in this storm, the infrared scan is negative. If there are
any hostiles I will have to find them by touch!" replied Filston
nervously.
"I
think depot four is clear. I am moving to the side of the compound,"
announced Bianco.
"Ok,
I will wait for you at the east side," acknowledged Filston.
"I'll
take point at the western gate of the compound." Said Alek.
***
Weasel-1502
turned its torso and the stepped to change facing. When it walked on its
bird's legs, it bobbed visibly up and down, it attained stability only
during a run.
The robot reached the abandoned depots on the east side of the compound
and took position at the corner of one of them, behind an abandoned
loader. Inside Filston's helmet the wind roared and produced metallic whistles
as it entered the crevices of Weasel-1502's joints. It surveyed the area: it
was not possible to see the limits of the compound in the wind, and the huge
shapes of the dark depots were nothing but spectres. This had once been an
important civilian docking base, housing thousands of tons of wares to be sent
all over the planet by an endless procession of transports, but since the
Martian Liberation Front had invaded the area no one had been left to operate
or guard it. Now nothing but the walls and the unsalvageable scrap was left to
testimony the vitality of the place.
As Weasel-1502 finished the scan of the surrounding area a weak infrared reading
blipped at the far side of the next depot.
***
"Bianco?
I think I see you. Do you read me?" Knowing that his Weasel was not
isolated anymore made Filston feel a little better.
"I
am in the compound, but I don't read you. Are you sure you are reading
me?" asked Bianco.
"I
am behind the loader in front of depot three. You are moving perpendicular to
me. Wait, I'll transmit the flash-code."
***
Weasel-1502
took a step away from the loader and activated the directional flash code emitter
hoping that it would reach the other robot unaltered despite the roaring sand.
Invisible coherent light shot towards the target with the coded signal. The
infrared signal stopped and remained still for a few seconds.
***
"Bianco?
Did you get that?"
***
The
infrared flash momentarily blinded the sensors and Weasel-1502 shook as an
explosion tore across its left side.
***
"Damn it!
I took a direct hit! My left hand side is gone! The servo actuators are
damaged! I am a limping target!" Filston's hands contracted and fired all
weapons systems towards the unidentified hostile. The right mounted fast
cannon sprayed the target area with armour piercing shells and tracers, painting the
scene with incandescent rain. Red icons in Filston's VR helmet identified the
damaged systems as he tried to make the Weasel limp back to the cover of
provided by the loader. Another flash, the loader burst like a balloon spraying metal
shards on the robot.
"I
am not hitting it!" gasped Filston while trying to adjust the aim without
the help of the disoriented targeting systems.
"Hold
on! I have seen that last shot. I think I can home in. Alek were are
you?" Bianco maintained the calm that always distinguished him.
"I
saw that one too, I am ready to fire!" said Alek.
"Bianco,
I can't trace your positions, you might be in the line of fire past the
hostile." It was Captain Neden from the console.
"I
am moving behind cover," replied Bianco.
***
Mauler-7562
walked forwards and poised its twin Gauss Destroyers towards the hostile.
Another infrared flash, a trail and a larger explosion. Weasel-1502's torso
was ripped open by the incoming shell leaving Filston in darkness, his
heart pounding in his ears loud as a drum.
Mauler-7562
switched off the infrared scanners to avoid any dazzle from his own shots and
opened fire. The area and ground around the target erupted in
flames as the shells found their home. The Mauler, stabilised by it's four
legs and advanced anti-baffling systems, gained ground even while firing.
Under
a hail of friendly fire, Pitbull-3030A saw the far side of the depot
swell and then blow up like water hit by
a handful of pebbles. Knowing itself out of the line of fire, it levelled its
cannons towards the target.
Mauler-7562
ceased firing. There was no return fire, the hostile was not there anymore.
***
"
I am getting no return fire. I am moving closer to check the nature of the
hostile, if it is still possible," announced Alek adding a note of
self-complacency to the last five words.
"I
am advancing by the side of the depots to see if was a pack," added
Bianco.
Filston's
heart was giving no hint of slowing down. He was out of the battle. No, he had
been taken out without even being given a chance to enter it. He felt the
frustration, he felt the pressure inside his chest rise as if it was about to explode.
He hadn't been given a chance. It wasn't fair. Maybe it was all his fault,
maybe had he been more experienced he wouldn't have let himself be caught with
his guard down. He wished he could turn the clock back one minute to be given a
second chance. But Weasel-1502 wasn't there anymore, it was scraps for the
salvage teams. He pulled his head free from the helmet and exhaled in
frustration, his combat record was going to start with a negative balance.
"This
is Mobile Robot Control Centre 453, 3rd Brigade, we encountered enemy activity
in sub-sector 70-72," reported captain Neden over the long range
comm-link. His voice brought Filston's back to the reality of the MeRoCC: he was in a
combat zone, a real one this time.
"Proceeding
to check nature and number of hostile forces. May require support and evac
soon," said the captain of the Merocc.
And
now he was powerless to do anything but, sit, wait, and hope he wouldn't die
in that steel can.
END OF PART I
Goto Part II
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