By David C. Daoust
Vincent awoke in a rather precarious, prone, position with a blond haired woman standing over him, her hands a little closer to his face than he would like.
“Ah-HAH,” the woman said with a smile as she had just witnessed the bot spring back to life, “That was pretty tricky! ‘Looks like I figured out where it goes though!”
Vincent had no idea what the woman was talking about, he was in no mood for a discussion. Things around him did not really add up, he found it confusing.
What was meant to be a massive swing of his gigantic metal arm to push the woman away from him as he sat up… was a tiny sweep of his little girl arm, a sweep that completely missed the woman, ultimately only brushing her hair back momentarily.
“What are you doing, Margo?” the woman asked as she laughed at the bot’s rather odd gesture. “It’s me, Dakota!”
Vincent caught on quick that he was not in his Mining-bot form. The sizes of the people around him suddenly started to make sense. He was actually used to being in different forms, as much of his time aboard the family sand crawler was spent in a tiny hover bot. This particular body though, was unlike anything he had experience. The amount of gizmos in the face alone threw him; he quickly found a reflective surface and began making strange faces.
Vincent immediately recognized the girl’s face in the mirror. The small bot must have managed to pull his data sphere in their tussle.
Mining-bots weren’t exactly built for combat, as one may expect a bot built for such action as combat, may be a touch tougher to switch off.
This was not the case for a mining-bot.
In fact, they were made to be easily swapped from one body to another, as their work amongst the fiery planets tended to burn the bodys out. ‘Course Vincent had not had a body swap, of that kind, since he’d left the Crucible behind those many years before. He’d been bouncing between the same stolen mining-bot and the tiny hover-bot, for years.
What happened to his body? Where was the girl-bot’s data sphere?
This body was a lot different than a mining-bot, more so when compared to a hover-bot. The constant influx of fuzz going on within the interface was astounding! It was not until he managed to concentrate for a moment, that he realized he was not the only bot in the room! Two or three other bots stood about the room, dressed as medics. Vincent had no idea what was going on, though he knew they were bots because of the feedback.
The bots he had worked with aboard the Crucible were all familiar to him, the fuzz had dissipated within the first weeks of their life there. This though made him grimace. Vincent had been amongst humans for too long! The bots very presence irritated him.
“About time!” Dakota suddenly announced as the ship rumbled a bit as it lifted from the ground. “I didn’t think we were ever going to get off this moon.”
“We’re leaving the moon?” the rough gravelly voice suddenly asked from out of the small girl’s mouth.
“Oh!” Dakota reacted, “You’re not Margo at all!”
“Nope,” he said indifferent to the whole ‘wrong body’ situation. “Why are we leaving Twin Crown?”
“We’re just going into orbit,” Dakota said studying Vincent.
Vincent spotted Mari unconscious on the examination table, and went to her side.
“What’s Mari doing here?” Vincent asked sternly. “What happened to her? Was she hurt?”
“Just banged up a bit in the Drone attack,” Dakota answered simply, “I healed her bruises and removed the black lung infection… she should be fine with rest.”
Vincent knew Mari had flown off ahead of him in the land speeder before he had reached Grady, it had not registered in his mind that she may be injured in the attack, until this very moment.
“Where are we?” Vincent asked, though was suddenly interrupted by a series of gun shots.
Dakota’s face lost all color.
The other medics in the room looked surprised as well, including the ones Vincent recognized as bots. One of the medics began striking buttons on the computer terminal on the far wall. He called an image of the red armored soldiers systematically securing the lower levels of the barracks ship.
“Who are these guys?” Dakota suddenly asked.
“No idea,” the Red Faction medic, whom only Vincent could tell was a bot, informed as he punched more buttons, the image switched to two of the soldiers gunning down other red armored soldiers, “they’re not ours, though…”
