Giant Robots? Say no more. I’m in. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

...

Commissioned by LiamOfOrmonde

…

There are few things better than lounging in the cockpit, nutrient block in one hand, and looking at the results of my labors.

The bugs were fun to fight with my current loadout. When you've got five megawatts on your back, lasers, and heatsinks in addition to being in-atmosphere, your mech basically becomes the best bug zapper. The scatter laser just spits out red beams nonstop, and the swarms recede like taking a leaf blower to spilled flour. The primary laser cannons go straight through their main battle tank equivalents, and whatever it hits past that just bursts apart as its liquids turn into superheated steam instantly. Anything bigger than those gets the electromagnetic pile driver to the face, and anything fancy but squishy gets micro-missiles and fifty-caliber antimaterial rounds streamed at them.

No need for any special armor coatings or explosive reactive armor like with the crazy robots or the interdimensional tentacle monsters. Just sheer volume of fire while gunning down the right targets while staying mobile and letting armor and point defense do the work. With robots, you've got to worry about guided munitions staying low and heading straight for your cockpit. The shambling horrors, meanwhile, had a penchant for annoying particle weapons that eat through regular armor like it's Styrofoam.

I mean, they're fun to fight.

There are just better options.

Railguns and Tesla weapons are awesome to play with and ravage the rampant AI. No one can say no to giant shotguns for mulching up biomechanical nightmares, and I love using a mech-sized bazooka to land hits right at the bridge of their interdimensional frigates. They also have mech analogues in their troops, unlike the bugs, that properly dodge instead of trying to tank hits and grapple. I mean, no disrespect to the bugs for going for a brawl with their mechs, but once you figure out their core, it's one piledriver there, or a kick, or even just a quick draw of the mech-sized pistol I had with all the rounds going into their abdomen. The rampants and the shamblers are just better fights on the mechfront.

They take cover.

They try to run away.

They communicate with each other, use terrain, and try to flank me.

They also scream obscenities and each other's names sometimes, which was always great. Battle chatter was always fun to listen to.

Is it really a mech game if your opponents don't have battle dialogue and have their own character arcs?

Anyway, I was chewing on a solid nutrient block, which had the texture of firm jelly and also provided me all the hydration I needed along with calories and vitamins, when I got a ping.

"Yessir, 549 reporting in. Having my daily meal break. Clocking in 5 minutes of 15."

"You will be properly compensated for your meal break interruption, OS 549." Oh? I was getting picked up by the noble who called the shots. Yep. The signal was too clear to be back at the arcology. I aimed some sensors up towards the signal and spotted a cruiser cresting from the horizon. Looks like I did a good job clearing the hive out. If I hadn't, they'd be getting hit by swarms of bugs filled with explosive, acidic bile. "What is the status of the Queen?"

"Sending over data link of the containment pod now. No issues found, commander." I wracked my head for a ma'am or sir for a bit, but genetic alteration and body mods are as cheap as clothes, according to my reading. Best to just stick with titles. Whoever my new boss was, they had a pretty deep tenor, but not deep enough to register as a manly baritone. My more degenerate friends would call the authoritative tone filled with self-confidence a 'mommy' voice. "Are we retrieving the Walkers deployed for the mission?"

"Bring them in, OS. Some of the costs of your assault need to be recouped." A faint chuckle came through the line. I didn't comment on it. Not worth the risk of getting in trouble. Eyeing up the flying ship, it was like a flying, silver brick with four drive pods. Kinda like a quad-jet VTOL in a few sci-fi games I played in my previous life, but scaled up to a factor of ten. The cruiser was about half the size of a football field from end to end and a quarter of a field wide. Despite being that massive, it was flying quickly. Eighty kilometers an hour. Made sense. I finished my assault three hours ago, and the arcology was around 200 or so kilometers away. "Be ready at the landing site I'm marking. Now."

"Yes, commander. On it." I made sure to reseal my nutrient pod and get to work. If I'm being compensated, I'm going to work properly. A quick signal had the Walkers lumbering my way. They were mobile weapons platforms. A sensor suite and weapons on some armored legs. No boosters or thrusters, but they could jump and skate on deployable treads on their feet while using the weapons they're augmented with. Not great reinforcements, but better than nothing for holding a position for an hour or so. "Should I prepare for extraction, or will I be staying in my mech?"

"You will be extracted from your mech. You will stay in your pod for the return journey, then you will be tended to by my servants until you are presentable enough to meet with me."

"Understood, commander. Thank you for informing me."

"Your initiative in regard to instructions is noted, OS 549. Do not disappoint me by failing to follow orders."

And, with that, the line to my new boss was cut off.

I can probably get some sleep in my pod before reaching the Arcology.

I need some rest after all that ass-kissing.

…

Interlude: Cina-140: The Indebted Servant

…

One moment, I did not exist.

The next moment, I did and lay flattened against a steel grill while jets of air blew over my chassis to remove the birth tank's fluids from my form.

I rose to my feet, understanding the sensation of being for just a moment, when memories crashed into me. Screaming. Gunfire. Pain. The roaring of monsters, and the thrum of building power, and a sky-shattering pillar of pure, white light surging, splitting the clouds—

There was a hum, and my memories ceased.

"A memory cleanse already. Are you sure it can function as a servant?" Imperious and steady. The voice alone made me stand straight. Training from my own life and new, clean memories took over. I stood straight, heels together, and with my chin up. Some part of me cried to cover myself, but it was a faint whisper in the depths of my mind. "Hm. It can stand at attention. Adequate. Give me your designation."

"Cina-140, previously Catherine Stenner. Born 2449 and dead 2467." My mouth moved and I spoke, but the information was not mine. It was more of the clean, simple information without any sense behind it. My eyes never saw those words, my hands never touched the screen to find them, and I never existed to record it in my own memories. It was sterile, pure information". Hybrid Servile and Combat Frame. HSC-F MK. 7. Serial Number—

"Enough."

My mouth closed and locked in an instant.

"I will have my own technicians report on its internals, steward. If there are any faults, I expect compensation for my wasted time. Not only my purchase."

"Yes, my lady. I understand completely."

"Good. Servant, I have purchased you. Dress and equip yourself. You have ten minutes before my transport arrives at the landing pad. If you are not there, consider yourself unnecessary."

The voice cut off.

I moved swiftly towards the wall in front of me, which opened as the steward's voice resounded.

They were talking in my head, I realized.

"Servant clothing wardrobe is on your right. Weapons to your left. Take the whole case for both. Mind your strength. You will break the handle with too much pressure. There is a dress ready and waiting in the next room." I followed the commands. Both sides of the hallway I entered were stacked with shelves of large cases slotted into the walls. I pulled one out. Exactly four cubic meters. It was light to me, but my arms told me it was almost 150 kilograms with its contents. I took a case to my right. It was the same size, but it registered as 500 kilograms. I registered a slight strain on my arm. "No issues. Good. You have seven minutes left."

I entered the next room, and six of my fellows, all with the same faces, were before me and ready to help me dress.

They garbed me in finery I never knew in my previous life. Cotton, lace, and silk. Grown and not synthesized. They moved in perfect concert to grab me. I felt like a machine being assembled by a crew. In three minutes, I was garbed from head to toe, and I realized I had memorized each movement. They all bowed to me as I hurried towards the landing pad, once again provided to me through sterile information simply within my mind.

The transport landed thirty seconds after I reached the pad… and a connection that I did not know left the back of my mind, as a new one took hold of me.

The transport was a luxury air transport built in 2475 but has been remodeled and customized. Beneath the black paint and red trim, there is a layer of armor plating. Each of the engine pods is armored as well. The larger chassis also denotes hidden point-defense weapons. Too small for ammunition stores, so most likely laser-based. Its destruction can only be achieved through the use of my self-destruction protocol on its main drive, after shredding its armor with all my currently available weapons.

I am a weapon along with all that I carry.

"Enter." I curtsy while carrying 650 kilograms in my hands and hand off my luggage to robots that dismounted from the small cargo bay that opened at the rear of the craft. The passenger section of the craft is eight square meters. The floor is carpeted. There is wood veneer on the sides. The hatch doors close, and the walls glimmer to reveal the outside in perfect clarity. I remember a story about riding on a magic carpet told to me by my mother as the transport rises from the landing ground. I turn and curtsy to my new owner. "Hm. You are within expectations, despite your initial outburst. Good."

She is nobility. A superior lineage amongst humanity that holds a baseline gene sequence from which whole populations can be safely genetically reconstituted, as well as an extended sequence that holds a library of various, robust, and inactive mutagenic factors that can allow for the rapid fabrication of soldiers and laborers with basic cloning vats. She alone, with technology found in most buildings within the arcology, can reignite all of humanity. To see her harmed or injured would warrant my destruction. To think of doing harm warrants imprisonment. To not obey her is to lead a life without purpose.

Purpose is obedience.

She offers the back of her hand to me as she remains seated, and I kneel to kiss the back of her hand.

She places her hand on my forehead, and her being becomes known to me, and I know that I must obey her commands forevermore.

Then, suddenly, there is the sound of paper flipping behind me.

A sigh leaves Lady Hariss's lips, and my brow automatically furrows as I turn to confront the offender who would transgress upon her patience—

There's a child sitting in a chair with a catalogue for military ordnance in front of him, one on his lap, and another resting on the right arm of his chair. On the other arm of his chair, there is a data slate upon which he is inputting data.

He glances our way once after feeling our stares, gives a grunt, and then returns to the military catalogues at his disposal.

"C-140, Operating System 549 is your charge. You will care for him and protect him. His current duties are to attend classes to raise his status as a Knight and act in the capacity of a Knight." Knights are pilots of war machines funded and supported by noble households. They are the mailed fist of any noble house, meant to clash against rivals and kill the foes of humanity. Operating systems are humans found with the genetic traits capable of being pilots, who operate surplus machines and are meant to hold the line. This OS, barely 12 years old from the information in his profile, was to be a knight? "An additional primary duty is to educate him. He must not embarrass my household in his new classes with his new peers."

This time, before I could answer, the child flipped three pages at once and drew our attention once more.

I was beset by memories of my father hunched over his worktable, deep in thought and beyond reach.

From a twelve-year-old.

My lady sighs and shakes her head.

"His abilities within a war machine are doubtless, and his mind for numbers and military machines is without question. He will, however, be attending a school filled with aspirants to knighthood. Knight families hoping to become nobility with intense investitures into their children, and even merchants attempting to gain honor." I automatically move to the automated drink bar and serve Lady Hariss some tea. She nods once, and I am filled with joy and fulfillment—again, a single page is loudly flipped. "He lacks interest in anything else. Therefore, you will teach him, care for him, and protect him, C-140."

I nod and look at the boy, clad in a long-sleeved white shirt, jacket, matching shorts, and calf-length socks and shoes.

His skin was pale from never seeing sunlight, but his features were healthy, if on the thin side due to atrophy.

He could pass as a child from an aspiring family…

Suddenly, he raised his hand, Lady Hariss sighed, and he spoke as he took that as permission to speak.

"Lady Hariss, can I get a gigawatt fusion engine?"

"Why do you want a gigawatt fusion engine?"

"To power a nine-hundred-and-fifty-megawatt anti-ship laser cannon."

"Why do you need a nine-hundred-and-fifty-megawatt anti-ship laser cannon?"

"To kill an alien ship's bridge from a hundred kilometers away and keep the rest of the ship."

"…I shall consider it."

"Thank you!"

With that, he hummed and began to kick his feet from the chair with obvious excitement.

I looked at my mistress… And she looked my way with something close to an apology in her eyes.

I've only existed for twenty minutes and fifty-eight seconds, but I need to raise this!?