By David C. Daoust
The Battle Drone did not stop there– after dropping the assassin, Tobias Two-guns, the Dragon’s vile minion continued its mission to find ever more lives to remove from the Dirty Damsel:
Taylor Gale survived the Factions War, though just barely. She was a pilot of the Royal Vanguard. One of the ‘Bad guys’– or so they say nowadays. All the ‘Vanguard’ royals were paying reparations for their actions against the Final Will of the Assembly. While all their supporters, once considered sycophants or zealots, had found their way to the other side… left the actual soldiers to find their own way.
Vanguard Veterans did not have many choices. Taylor had taken to mercenary work soon after the end of the war. She was not alone. She had a few of her starfighter squadron, known as a Wing, that followed her into the trade. The Organization paid very well for their skills, especially if they were good at what they did. Taylor Gale and her Wing were very good.
Taylor was running through the vast cargo hold of the Dirty Damsel, cutting through to reach her destination. She was on the wrong side of the Dirty Damsel, geared up in her flight suit, yet she was in the wrong hold. The starfighters were in the forward ‘arms’ of the massive ship. Story of her life–seemed like she was always on the wrong side of something.
The Vanguard Veteran spotted a grim-faced Ryland Mulch as he marched from the lower decks, some distance away. If she were to guess, something was wrong. It was as though Ryland was not aware of his surroundings or he did not care. That is, if she were to guess. She noted he was headed in the same direction as her– to the starfighter bays in the forward hold.
Taylor and Ryland were clearly not alone in their decision to reach the starfighters; Taylor witnessed on the other side of the hold, two of her Wing, Aubert and Millicent Thorne, they were also geared for a starfighter, helmets tucked under their arms, and were clearly headed for the forward bays.
Back in the war, Aubert was nearly captured by the enemy. It took a daring maneuver on Taylor’s part to save him. She had gone above and beyond to win his freedom. All in the end, so that he could be reunited with Millicent. Through Taylor’s actions the couple had gained happiness—got married, even named a child after her. They thanked Taylor often for all that they now had.
The battle drone tore up out of the nearby corridors, Taylor could feel her heart in her throat as the happy couple were closest to the wild barrage of cluster-bombs that suddenly shot forth, bursting into clusters that filled the area. Each cluster in turn suddenly exploded into smaller shot with a blinding flash.
Taylor ran forward as soon as her vision was clear. Not truly knowing what she was going to do, though had that sudden need to save them. When the smoke cleared, she found the couple huddled in the blast area. By sheer luck, both had survived the wild assault.
Ryland, still some distance away, marched past the incident, unphased.
The couple, miraculously unscathed, both turned to her in unison–shock on their faces as their gaze was cast just behind her.
Taylor barely had the chance to register any of this before she felt a body tackle her from behind.
A barrage of bullets, starting some distance behind them, had chased her, and whoever was on top of her, to the ground. She could feel the sickening thuds as the human shield, behind her, caught said bullets.
Taylor flipped up and around as soon the drone’s strafing run was well past them both. Taylor found an old man, one she recognized, though never actually spoke to. The barrage of bullets had plunged through his body, shielding her own.
Blood erupted from his mouth as the previous drone, that had fired the cluster bomb, was suddenly blown to bits by an intervening battle drone. While the drone that strafed over them, suddenly latched onto the back of the intervening drone…
—
Paul Ester was an old programmer. He spent most of his young life frustrated by the fact that he could not build an AI of his own. Wasted most of it pining for the freedom. In the long run– he built an AI anyway.
Pauly was an actual Outlaw of the Ark Law, something most others fell short of; one of very few in the Onion. To actually achieve this fact, he had to build a programing language from scratch; it was no small feat. From there, he built his artificial mind… a very simple mind. Of course, all of this had to be completed in complete separation from all existing technology. This, also, was no small feat. He’d actually faced sanctions for his first attempts—meaning, he was cut off from all terminal access for about three years. Twice.
The Organization made it all so much easier. An organization he met up with in the Stockades–for his third attempt.
Once he had their help, he sailed freely… to new limitations. For the most part his expertise was only in programming, he could not fabricate what he needed to build a body for his AI, which was the next logical step in his plan. It cost money for designers, for engineers… not to mention materials. All of which meant loans he could not possibly cover.
This led to ‘Professor Polyester and his Amazing No-Bots’! This was a robot wrestling team. One that put on shows for the underworld. The start-up– from crimes no one could ever pin him to. The finished result, started out as a pair of custom robots, that regularly beat the hell out of each other. Both, secretly controlled by the same Illegal AI.
After quite a bit of success, he acquired a ship all his own, an arena ship, notably shaped like a saucer, one that he was able to sneak through the Onion just like any other smuggler of the Organization. Flyers that read ‘No-bots Allowed’ were all the advertising needed to lead anyone to said shows. The programmer turned flashy carnival-barker, known as ‘Professor Polyester’, sold tickets at the gate. Only those that made it onboard knew what the actual show within was.
Over the years, Pauly made a lot of coin, more than enough to realize all his lifelong dreams… And many, many updated models of No-bots. All built to crush each other, mostly for show; all for profit. He became well known among the Organization… and wealthy enough for a dock aboard the Dirty Damsel, in between gigs.
Paul Ester was an outlaw with a head in a box. A mechanical head with a virtual mind. It was the culmination of all his work. Ultimately, it was primitive by Ark standards. But Pauly had never actually met an Ark, nor even got a look at its systems. The Head was the central command node of all his No-bots. It could be talked to- or given commands to, anyway. Something that became harder and harder to accomplish as the inquisitive AI became more complex…
“Did you get the ship prepped?” Pauly asked the partially opened box under his arm as the elevator slowly descended to where they needed to be.
“It-was-started,” it spoke haltingly, in a strange ‘robotic voice.’ A voice that was anything but human sounding, “It-definitely-started.”
The past tense ‘was’ told Pauly something was up, “What do you mean was? I told you to prep the ship for takeoff.”
‘You-said-I-could-not-fly,’ the head’s strange voice vocalized the common language through a series tones.
“Because you can’t,” Pauly confirmed, brow furrowed as he puzzled where it was going with this reasoning.
“But-I-said-I-could-fly,” it stated.
“But you can’t,” argued Pauly.
“But-I-did,” the head argued from the opening in the box.
“You left? ” Pauly was suddenly surprised. “You were supposed to wait for me to get there!”
“You-said-I-could-not-fly,” it stated again.
“Because you can’t fly,” Pauly, exasperated—it was never programed for such actions. He knew, because he programmed it—from scratch.
“But-I-did,” it stated.
“Where is the ship?” Pauly asked—possibly trying to stay positive despite the sinking feeling that told him he was headed to bad news.
“In-the-desert,” the fluttering tones that made up its voice answered easily enough.
“You left without me!” Pauly suddenly accused.
“You-said-I-could-not-fly,” it informed simply. “I-did-fly.”
“Can you bring the ship back?” Pauly asked with his face in his palm.
“No,” it answered. “I-crashed.”
After a beat it added, “Then-it-exploded.”
Pauly was still grimacing as the doors to the elevator parted, revealing the chaos within the hold– and the lack of his Saucer. That ship was everything to him, all his hard work, all that he had earned, everything.
As soon as the assault started, the old programmer/carnival barker had made his way up to his chambers to retrieve the head in a box. It seemed like a good idea, at the time, to command the head to fire the ship up for takeoff… Apparently, he had inadvertently pointed out that it could not fly. He did this despite knowing that it did not like being told what it could or could not do.
Now he was stuck trying to navigate a battle zone, with nothing but that box, and no clear plan of where to go.
All Pauly ever cared about was the stupid box under his arm, his arena ship, and the many, many No-bots stored within. Thus, he was more surprised than anyone when he heroically lunged his entire body in front of the sudden barrage of bullet fire to shield Taylor Gale from the nearest battle drone’s impromptu strafing run.
Moments later Pauly found himself cradled in her arms as blood erupted from his mouth. He knew he drew his lasts breaths. Painful breaths. He could see by the look in her eyes, that she knew it as well. He pulled the box up onto his belly —opened it fully, that crazy mechanical head looked back at him. “Got to go on without me…” Pauly said to the head, stifling the searing pain that coursed his body through. “Steer clear of them other guys…” it would know what he meant. “And… don’t… just don’t ever do nothing no one ever tells you to…” With that last command, Pauly pushed the box at Taylor Gale, and with one painful wheeze later– Professor Polyester died.
Taylor– while sad at his passing, and thankful for her life, cast the weird box aside as she left Pauly’s corpse where it fell… all in the hopes of reaching a starfighter before she met the same fate.
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