System log: The Bunker, Site 3
Solar Calendar: Year 2249(?)
Current status: Active repairs, D.M.H.E.L.L. protocol active
Log 11
The start of the third day since events Gamma’s awakening found Hank floating in his tube, being watched on in silence by his boss, who in turn was being watched by Gamma. The saying ‘the mantis stalks its prey, unaware of the oriole behind’ came to mind were anyone else observing, though the lack of hostility from all parties did render part of the saying mote.
The captain boss, Donaldson, didn’t say or do anything in the medical center; he merely watched impassively like a stone statue. Gamma felt a small level of interest in the human’s behavior, more in the level of control the man exhibited over his body than anything else. The boss barely swayed in place, and even with his attention on his floating companion, the program could tell the man was fully aware of his surroundings.
It was an impressive display of physical ability, but Gamma did not understand the reasons for the behavior. Staring blankly at Hank neither caused time to pass faster, nor would it invoke some miraculous increase in nanite recovery efficiency. The blank face did not communicate the boss’ mood or thoughts to the cameras, leaving the man’s reasons for being here a low priority and low interest mystery to the program. Of course, this didn’t matter so much to the program as what weird behavior did to impact its plans. Time was up for this ‘human moment’ anyway, as Gamma observed the next set of events play out.
“Boss!” came the distant shoot of Dina from down the hall. “Boss! Sloan needs you to see something!”
The boss Donaldson finally stirred, closed his eyes, and sighed. “I’ll be back later Hank,” he promised before turning around and leaving the medical center. “What is it?” he asked gruffly upon making back to the temporary camp in the mall fa?ade lobby.
“See for yourself,” Sloan gestured. The boss followed the younger man’s gaze to the elevator, which supposedly hadn’t been fixed at this point, only for the up-arrow light to be turned on. The faint sound of something moving could also be heard.
The human’s boss frowned. “I’m guessing you haven’t had a chance to fix the elevator Sloan?”
“No sir,” Sloan shook his head. “I hadn’t even run a diagnostic check on the system yet. If I were to guess, I think restoring the power yesterday may have solved the issue for us.” The younger man paused and muttered, “More importantly sir, no one called for the elevator, and it’s been a couple of minutes.”
“Think we’re about to face something dangerous boss?” Ryan asked, the larger man fidgeting nervously, a comical contrast.
“Doubt it,” Donaldson clicked his tongue, though Gamma noted the man’s body had already started to tense. “If we’d tripped a security system, the speakers would have let us know. Or that drone.” He indicated the old logistic drone up on the ceiling still posing as a security drone. “But it wouldn’t hurt to be prepared for something. Runners, let’s take positions.”
The humans quickly moved into defensive positions facing the elevator door. The lack of weaponry made their efforts awkward, Gamma noticed, forcing them closer to the door than their expressions indicated they’d prefer. Interestingly, it seemed like their captain, every runner could equip ‘brass knuckles’ to their exo-suit hands, but only the captain appeared comfortable with the improvised weapon.
A minute later, and the elevator let out a ding while the humans watched. The runners tensed up as the door opened, revealing. . .
“What the hell are those?” Ryan blurted out.
From the elevator, ten construction drones rolled out one after the other. The humans, clearly taken aback, watched on in confusion as the drones rolled across the lobby floor towards the exit.
“Anyone else just think of a sombrero on wheels?” Dina asked after a moment. “I’m fairly certain my abuelo would try to wear one of those after enough tequila.”
“Sloan?” the boss asked.
“A drone, I guess,” the younger man shrugged. “Not like I can scan them boss, and I doubt they’ll pause long enough for me to plug into. Maybe one of the real techies could tell-”
“Sloan,” the boss raised a finger in annoyance. “What did I say?”
“Right, I’m the techie here,” the younger man corrected. “Um, those were, are, drones. I think.”
“Good enough,” the captain sighed.
“Guys,” Ryan cleared his throat, “I think, they’re going outside?”
The humans blinked as the hallway door opened for the drones, who rolled through without pausing.
“Alright, let’s follow them,” the boss Donaldson said decisively.
“We’re not going to try the elevator?” Dina asked curiously.
“I’m more interested in where those drones are going, and if they accidently stir the pot outside,” the boss said flatly. “We can check on the elevator after those things are back safely inside and we know nothing else is going to try and break in.”
Gamma watched the humans hurry after the drones. The plan was now set in motion, and it was reaching the point of the plan the program disliked. With the danger of active signals attracting I.M. (invader machine) attention, the program had been forced to load the plan and priorities into the construction drone’s hub server to allow autonomous action. Their orders were to proceed to the probable location of the fallen ‘matriarch class’ tremor worm, upon finding it attempt to dismantle it, /and locate raw material repository. /If repository found, begin extraction, /or continue outer dismantle. /Else, take scans and return to base for further instructions.
The program had calculated that the humans would follow out of curiosity and, if the raw material repository was found, would help in transporting the good back to the fabrication room. Gamma would have ‘instructed’ the runners to do this if: 1. The program was sure the humans were aware of the worm’s purpose and value, 2. The program hadn’t calculated the wasted time arguing over the instructions, and 3. The human group had better dismantling tools. Their remaining low-level equipment didn’t provide the program many options.
If the humans were shown the value of the matriarch tremor worm’s contents, the program calculated a higher willingness to work than if it told them the value. Another excellent example of H.I.P. protocol interaction, with a small smattering of D.M.H.E.L.L., courtesy of the late, self-proclaimed great, Dr. Plummer.
The largest drawback was that Gamma couldn’t see what was going on at optimal sight sensor range. All it could do was zoom in as best it could with the outside security cameras, which wasn’t enough to make out fine details at the necessary range, and was completely cut off from hearing anything being said by the humans. It would have to wait on the recorded drone audio logs once they reconnected to their hub, or. . .
Gamma watched the drones proceed across the sandy grass, the humans hurrying to follow at a safe distance. The program predicted the group of runners had already determined the destination of the drones given the exaggerated hand waving and apparent arguing, which the boss once again stopped with a quick hand motion. He probably said something to the point like, “it’s dead and not a danger” and “we should make sure we see what they intend to do”. Gamma’s profile on the captain Donaldson wasn’t quite complete enough to recreate his words and actions, but close enough to make reasonable theories.
Still, Gamma wasn’t going to allow events to unfold without knowing precisely what would occur so close to the facility. Once the humans were a set distance away from the entrance, a single drone that, at first glance resembled a maintenance drone, soundlessly hovered out of the entrance and into the air. Unlike its tool-wielding brethren, this one was quite different in that it appeared to have no tool hard ports. The program had secretly modified one the maintenance drones overnight in preparation for missions and tasks taking place outside the facility limits of Site 3. This drone was the first of the scout line, and Gamma had decided to call it a scout drone 1.
Of course, Gamma would still have to go over the recorded events later once the drone returned and compare the logs of both types for any inconsistencies. The risk of wireless download was too high until Site 3’s security reached a higher level of competency and capability. The program focused its full attention back onto the facility repairs in the meantime as it waited from the drones and/or the humans to return.
As expected, the completion of another full day of work had brought up the foundational support project from 47% to 69%, an over twenty percent jump in completion rate. It was nice progress, but not the 25% Gamma had originally predicted. The program went through the works logs to find the source of the 3% discrepancy in calculations.
The reason turned out to be simple, yet complicated. As it turned out, the near total collapse of most of the halls and tunnels that connected the facility modules together had resulted in a great deal of complex weight distribution points all around the lower sub-levels. If the rubble was removed prematurely, the entire facility would sink and potentially crush everything below it, with probable loss or damage to the remaining thermal connections required for the restoration of thermal power. The drones had been forced to take the task one section at a time: securing the area, removing some rumble, then securing more, then removing more, and so on. This wasn’t as much an issue with the first two sub-levels so far, but the third and fourth would likely compound the issue even further. The new results Gamma now calculated determined that its original 100% completion rating in foundational support in three days, was impossible.
The continual work of the drones, however, was not a waste of time. They would still be finished securing the first two sublevels by the end of the third day, allowing access to be unlocked once the path was clear. They’d also have ensured enough bedrock supports to ensure further facility sinkage would not occur so long as careful planning and clearing on the last two sub-levels were undertaken. As very little of sub-levels 3 and 4 could currently be accessed, there was not enough data to be sure when full foundational support would be complete, and full access to every part of Site 3 would be restored.
Gamma counted 100% of 50% completed as successful, as it ensured there would be access to the Factory and Hydroponics modules. R&D and Test Lab on sub-level 2 would be a bonus objective once secured, while Residential and Unknown did not currently factor in the program’s immediate plans. The plans were unchanged at this time.
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At this point, the program was leaving most of its possible plans in ‘reactive mode’ due to the imminent possibility of further human contact from the rescue team. Once the third day was complete, it would only be a matter of time before other humans appeared, and their actions Gamma could only loosely predict. It would take a precautious stance until every important variable was understood. Until then, it would wait patiently and adjust accordingly.
***
It took a couple of hours for the drones to return to the facility, a good sign. The group of humans carrying bags under their arms, a further good sign, even if their expressions were a mix of greed, resignation, tired happiness, and fatigue. They were all silent as they followed the drones up to the fabrication room, the humans taking the stairs as the elevator had a weight limit. With a weary wave, the boss ordered everyone to start dumping their bags down the open chute alongside the drones.
Gamma didn’t pay them too much attention at this point, as the silent scout drone had also returned and was now uploading everything it recorded to the hub alongside the more limited logs from the construction drones as they switched shifts with the next group. The program immersed part of itself in the memory, and watched.
***
“This is a bad idea boss,” Ryan warned as they jogged after the drones. “Boss-”
“Heard you the first time,” Captain Donaldson said gruffly. “Nothing’s changed. We keep following and see what these machines are up to, worm or not. Not like that thing’s going anywhere; remember we left Hank in the camp next to it when we first entered the ruin.”
“But-”
“I know what you’re thinking,” the boss interrupted the much larger man again. “Knowing there were a bunch of stalkers patrolling the area could mean other bugs are still roaming around. First sign of trouble, we double back to the ruin and slam the door shut.”
Ryan seemed to give in and said nothing more.
“These drones, anyone ever see anything like them before?” the boss then asked. Everyone shook their heads.
“Only the militias and caravans use droned from what I’ve seen,” Dina spoke up. “But those are always combat drones, and are only used when there’s no longer a reason to hide wireless signals. These ones, well,” she took a moment to consider her next words, “they don’t look like they could put much of a fight.”
“They seem capable of limited flight,” Sloan noted as he caught himself from stumbling over drop in the sand. “We can see little bursts of, something, whenever they jump. I imagine they roll to conserve fuel or power. It’s more interesting I think, that they have those tool arms. Some kind of labor drone I would be willing to guess.”
“They aren’t putting out a signal, but they clearly have a destination in mind,” their boss mused. “Which means they have a good enough CPU to follow orders and remember them, or have higher level priorities. What’s their interest in the worm though?”
“Raw materials?” Dina guessed. “Though I’m not sure the fabrication room is big enough to take the worm as is. The outer hull armor plates are good for reinforcing settlement walls, but not much else since they can’t be melted.”
“Looks like they’ve reached it,” Ryan noted, finally rejoining the conversation.
In the distance, the group of ten drones had reached the fallen maw of the matriarch tremor worm. The massive opening towered over the near human-sized machines, who didn’t slow down or hesitate as they got to work. The runner watched as the drones began examining, cutting, and prodding every part of the metal worm. Whether it was cutting a ‘tooth’, scanning the maw, attacking the armor; the drones seemed to be interested in everything they could get their metallic limbs on.
“It’s like watching scavengers falling on a dead animal,” Dina observed.
“They don’t appear to be very efficient in scavenging,” Sloan pointed out. “Each one has one or two unique tools with the rest overlapping. They don’t know the best way to break down the worm.”
“Technically, neither do we,” the boss said dryly. “Our policy is to rip out the important electronics and ditch the rest, after all. We don’t exactly bang on machines with a hammer, but I wouldn’t say we’re much better.”
The twins suddenly reacted, grabbing everyone’s attention. The female twin held up nine fingers, while the male twin held up one and shrugged.
“Hm?” the boss’ eye twitched. “Yeah, you two are right. I only count nine robots. Where did the tenth one go?”
They looked around as they drew closer, but no one saw the last drone.
“Maybe it’s under the building?” Dina guess. “Taking a look at the damaged parts?”
“The tracks do go that way,” Sloan agreed a moment later, pointing out the single track in the sandy grass that went further back. The group jumped at the sudden sound of something breaking, just before one of the large grinding ‘teeth’ tumbled to the ground from where it had been cut. This was one of the front drill teeth, and it was as large as a human adult. The drones struggled to move it for only a few seconds before giving up and working on other parts. The original cutter jumped further into the mouth, where the humans all knew the small drill molars would be found near the back.
Two of the drones had successfully managed to cut a hole through part of the mouth to begin cutting away a piece of armored hull, which soon slid down into the sand and was beset upon by another two that cut into it with torches and odd-looking vibrating blades. Three of the drones were probing every part they could, seemingly trying to scan things. The last two drones still visible were. . .
“Are they entering it?” Ryan asked, mouth wide open. “Damn, they really don’t have a sense of self-preservation, do they?” For once, everyone nodded in agreement with him, and then scrambled out of the way of something they all knew was coming.
As the drone duo reached the furthest part of the matriarch tremor worm’s mouth, they came across a large shut hatch. Not pausing, they attempted to pierce through the metal with their torches until their senses picked up on a warning cracking sound. The two drones both barely managed to jump out of the way as a forceful stream of steaming liquid burst through the weakened point in the hatch, the unknown liquid causing the metal it touched to sizzle.
Instantly, the other drones were alerted to the threat and escaped. The culprit drones, seeing they couldn’t escape the mouth in the available time, activated their flight systems as they jumped up to reach the top of the mouth, grabbing on to hatch handles. Outside, another two drones flew up to the worm to assist the inner two in cutting through the worm’s hull.
As the two teams hurriedly worked together, the stream of hissing liquid continued to shoot out at high pressure, while the hole was gradually forced outwards and grew in size. An escape hole was cut above just in time for the two drones to escape, when the hull door failed and a torrent of green solution burst out in the mouth of the dead metal worm. The wave of liquid, while only causing the metal of the worm to sizzle, was disastrous to the grassy sand outside. Grass visibly wilted even before the wave touched it, upon which it and every other plant dissolved into black dust within the wave.
The humans, at a far and safe distance, all frowned at the site of the liquid.
“Damn piranha juice,” Captain Donaldson spat into the ground. “The ultimate weapon against organic life.”
“I’ve never seen so much before, but I guess that makes sense given that thing’s size,” Dina shook her head. “Bad enough those little ones spit it out at us, to say nothing of how much farmland we’ve lost from one of these dying and spewing this stuff everywhere.”
The group watched on in silence as the liquid slowly ceased escape, the ground all around the front of the tremor worm hissing and steaming up into the air. Only blackened sand remained where the piranha juice had been.
“We won’t be able to approach for weeks,” their boss said grimly. “So much for seeing what these bots were up to up close.”
“It’s odd the drones retreated,” Sloan observed. “Piranha juice only dissolves organic compounds into carbon, not metal.”
“I’m sure their programming has them treat unknown liquids with extreme caution,” the boss shrugged. “Simple enough to warrant caution in every situation. Look, those ones there are storing samples.”
Two of the drones, hovering off the ground with their limited boosters, were cautiously dipping small glass containers into the remaining liquid and sealing them up. The others were continuing their work clear of the solution, though with less efficiency due to the armor plates in the way.
“Hey, there’s the tenth drone,” Dina suddenly pointed out. From the shadow of the structure that had fallen on the matriarch tremor worm, a lone drone rolled out carrying a sack. At sensing their fellow, the other drones moved over to communicate, somehow, with their brethren. The nine drones then suddenly moved back where the tenth had come from, while the tenth turned and moved toward a spot close to the humans. It unceremoniously dropped the bag before turning around and going back the way it had come from.
The runners all stared in shock, at the small, gleaming and tarnished pile of gold ore.
“That’s, gold,” Ryan stammered. “Enough gold, to buy a house, inside the wall.” The large man seemed to instinctually reach toward it, only for the boss to grab his arm firmly.
“Hold up there Ryan,” the older man cautioned. “We don’t want to irritate the drones. No stealing. Let’s just wait and see. . .”
Soon enough, the drones began returning in intervals, each with their own collection of raw materials. Gold, cobalt, tin, aluminum, silver, copper; both pure and impure forms of raw metallic and mineral resources were deposited. There was even a pile of components, sensors, and wiring forming alongside them.
“Are they getting all of this from the tremor worm’s corpse?” Dina wondered.
“I don’t see any other possibility,” the boss said flatly. “But I don’t recall ever hearing of a worm being so full of raw stock such as this. It’s not unheard of in small quantities, but-”
Captain Donaldson suddenly fell silent as a new load was dropped into the pile of components and parts. Familiar black frame parts, acidically cleaned to shining, mirrored the exo-suits worn on every Roadrunner. There was no sign of anyone having been in contact with these parts, but it was impossible to ignore what they were looking at.
“Sir?” Sloan asked softly.
Their boss let out a long sigh. “We can’t return scrap to their families,” he finally said, seemingly feeling as old as he looked. “But if they’re going to be recycled, I’m not letting the bots do it. Let’s carry the remains of our fallen runners.”
The drones didn’t stop the humans from gathering each piece of broken and destroyed exo-suit frame. When the drones left, each with a pile of raw material to recycle, the humans followed after them. Only the sandy breeze broke the silence after that.
***
The recording over, Gamma observed the humans returning to eat their midday meal, while the drones left to retrieve another patch of raw materials and components. The runners were silent as they ate, but the program did not detect any dangerous levels of negativity in their expressions or actions. Only a solemnness seemed to pervade their collective consciousness, to which Gamma was fine leaving to them. It was far more interested in the data gathered about the new I.M. and the new supply of metal. It added the tremor worm to its data banks.
It would take some time before the facility was able to effectively combat even a small tremor worm, but Gamma judged that even in its broken state, the protective shell around the facility would be able to repel an I.M. worm, though the damage would likely still be substantial. Hopefully, with the death of the local matriarch, there wouldn’t be enough supplies to construct more tremor worms in the crater, wherever that base was located. If another matriarch showed up however, Gamma would have to instigate all emergency measures still assessable, even the ones requiring it to sacrifice itself. There would be very few options left at that point.
Even worse, the scans and analyzing of the piranha solution confirmed Gamma’s suspicion and the human’s words. Any exposure of the liquid to organic molecules would result in complete carbonization; the deadliest liquid known to organic life. Even machines with carbon-based technology could suffer damage from exposure. The program would have to include the possibility of enemy usage of this liquid attack in all future plans. It was a worrisome discovery.
Regardless, the fabricator room would soon have enough resources to begin construction of the first human-usage project Gamma had ever designed. The dawn of the fourth day, it would have quite the surprise for the currently down humans. The final latch in securing the human group’s loyalty and help, and the first official step in retaking the planet, would be finished soon.
