Snippets and Oneshot fiction(mostly original fiction)

[TRN]

It's iron feet kicked up great clouds of dust. Sensors swept the vast wasteland, defensive lasers blowing warheads to clouds of shrapnel that rained down on the gray soil. It's main gun traversed from across the empty field, sweeping it for enemy armor. Around it thousands of it's comrades patrolled the endless wastes. The sun itself hid from the horrors of the battlefield, the skies dark with dust and smoke. It hadn't rained in a long time, river beds had blown away as hot winds swept across the land. Still they fought the same endless conflict.

Rain drops pinged off the armor, leaving dots on the dusty metal. It was only a few drops, not even a mouthful of water. But it was more than had fallen in years. The dull gray dust stuck in clumps where the water had fallen. Still, it's iron feet kicked up choking clouds of fine dust. Still it's sensors scanned the vast emptiness. It's lasers only activated occasionally, blowing the bouncing mines of the enemy to harmless debris. It's main gun still kept vigil over the battle-zone. Hundreds just like it patrolled just the same as they always had.

Rain came again, drops bouncing to the thirsty ground. Then the rain became a downpour, turning the fine dust into thick paste. It's iron feet churned the muck, it's massive frame sinking in the suddenly unstable ground. Torrents of water and mud swept across the field, cutting paths through forgotten trenches below. Sinkholes opened up, swallowing whole sentinels and wreckage alike. Yet still it guarded the field in silence. The rain boiled away from it's skin, vaporizing as it contacted the overheated metal.

The sun peaked from behind thinning clouds, light piercing the haze that covered the empty plain. It picked out sparkling grains of broken glass and shinning masses of ruined metal. Frozen statues of sentinels stood across the field, testament to the talent of their creators. And still it plodded across the field. Wind had scoured its lasers optics, stripped away every trace of paint. But it's main gun was ready, it's sensors still saw the entire battlefield. Dozens of its brothers patrolled their home, and the grave-site of thousands of their brothers, just as vigilant as when they had first stepped foot onto the battlefield.

It's feet crushed crisp vines, brittle with dryness. It paused at one of the statues, covered with twisting vines and lichen. It's optical communications systems flashed, blinking out the codes for a sit-rep as it had so many times before. It paused at every frozen statue, questing for a living brother. But even so, it patrolled the field as it had for so long. If anyone had seen it, it would have looked for all the world as though it was guarding a graveyard for fallen heroes. It's movements were still parade ground perfect, it's metal shone brightly in the noon day sun.

The giant worked it's way through the underbrush, feet crushing fallen logs and shrubs flat with every step. The frozen giants stood, though some were almost swallowed by trees, others covered almost completely with thick vines and moss. It stopped at every single one, it's laser burned away encroachments on the frozen one's sensors. It's optical coms flashed, as they had so many times before. The tempo was slow, almost like the beat of a dirge.

Explosion toppled trees, sending them crashing to the ground. Fires raged through the brush, clouds of birds erupted from every tree, deer crashed through bushes with wild abandon. The giant turned, snapping towards the source of the disturbance. It's massive feet lifted, powerful actuators returning to full power after centuries of power saving. It's feet fell, the sharp sounds of crushed logs machine-gun quick. It's main gun swept the horizon, and it's active sensor systems lashed out.

It's radio activated, sending an update back towards it's nonexistent command center. Lasers lanced out, cutting a path straight towards the invading forces. War had returned to it, and it was ready. It would not be found wanting, it was a Sentinel. It tracked the explosions back to their sources, finding it's targets with absolute precision. It's main gun opened fire, unleashing destruction not seen in centuries. The lance of white hot plasma cut through the enemy like a hot knife through butter. The enemy stopped, shocked by the abrupt disappearance of their command unit.

Then they hailed the sentinel "Hostile unit, identify yourself or be destroyed." "Sentinel 9701, mark 23-c. Experimental weapons command, Dino-chrome brigade. Withdraw immediately. This area is off limits to all personal." It replied, primitive speech synthesis codecs giving it's voice a metallic tang. It hadn't been designed under the idea that it would speak more than for parades, it's digital data collection system was far more efficient.

"Shit, it's an old guard unit. The damn things shouldn't still be functional, the glitch in their priority management system should have frozen it by now. Just detonate the escapees, no use trying to round them up at this point. Turn this thing around, we have seconds at best before it.."

A second shot from it's main gun annihilated the transmitting vehicle. The remaining enemy opened fire on it, warheads detonating futilely as the lasers reached out to meet them, bullets leaving nothing more than long smears against it's armor. It stood and fought, each shot of it's gun wiping another enemy from existence, while it's defenses ensured that the oncoming firestorm failed before it could damage the ancient war-machine. Then the whistle of artillery cut through the air, the huge swaths of the forest filled with it's comrades was cut down in an instant, the return of war destroying what centuries of peace had struggled to build.

The unit still fought, crashing through trees as if they were made of paper mache. It continued to fight, while filling a report to it's command center, then finally determining that it was isolated, it began the process of activating it's independent action routines. The routines were corrupt, unchecked in the hundreds of years it had been active. Redundancies activated, falling back on older programming, on hardwired directives. The Sentinel paused, new systems checks forcing it to a halt. Shells crashed around it, an endless rain of shrapnel scouring it's armor. It's armored shutters didn't respond, allowing it's sensors and lasers to be swept away like sugar sculptures in hot rain.

"Looks like the damn thing had one last fight left in it, stupid pile of scrap. We should haul it home and figure out how those bastards made them so fucking tough. Maybe reprogram it to work for us." The rain of fire stopped, burning wreckage littered the ground, the forest was burning. Hundreds of years of growth being wiped away by minutes worth of fighting. A little girl, dressed in little more than rags ran to the giant statue that had been their last chance at salvation, at escaping the hell that was their home.

"Thank you for trying mister, it's okay. No one's even tried to protect us before." She said, placing a flower she'd found and her treasure, a sheriffs badge her elder brother had found in the dirt years ago. "I think you were a police-man once, papa told me about them. And how there weren't any left. I think you were the last police-man, mister."

Inside the armored shell, a loop exited. The sentinel started from it's blank oblivion as an endless loop terminated, having received the impossible input that fulfilled it's conditions. It's systems reset, weapon ports snapping closed in a single instant. Ports for lights opened, bathing the ruddy battlefield in blue light as it broadcast a message in clear for the first time in its existence.

"Officer under attack, hostage situation. Calling all units. Calling all units. Backup required. Lethal force escalation has occurred. To protect and serve is our mission, peace our sacred duty." The unit moved, carefully scooping the girl into a sheltered location on its body, armor plates shifting to accommodate the passenger. Then it stepped forward with measured steps.

"Halt! In the name of the law, I command you to lay down your weapons and surrender. Cease all unlawful activities and you will not be harmed." It's voice boomed from speakers long unused. Then it's words were repeated from another location, and another. The words boomed from hundreds of locations, loud enough to drown out the sound of shattering wood, of trees collapsing as the army of metal giants moved as one. No longer did their priority management freeze them in place, their mission was clear.

The armored giants exploded from trees all around the invading enemy, lasers flashing as they disabled every weapon, every radio, and every vehicle. They rounded up the enemy, arresting them as they went. Then they found the refugees, and examined them. Their medical provisions had either been stripped, or were long spoiled. Old directives worked their way up the stack, until they called for an ambulance and prisoner transport vehicle over the air, unable to call on the automated units that should have responded to their instructions in moments.

"Officer 9701, requiring immediate medical assistance at this location. Repeat immediate medical assistance. Also require prisoner transport. Requesting a detective for further direction. Officer 9701, end transmission."

This caused rather a stir, as finding out that an ancient war-machine mighty enough to fight on even terms while heavily outnumbered is calling for an ambulance makes for an interesting day.

More so that it was identifying itself as a police officer. Who would build a police robot that could arm wrestle a crane or sumo with a main battle tank? And Why?

How bad had crime been for such a thing to even get to a formal drawing board, much less be produced in sufficient numbers to fight a war with?

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Spoiler: Authors Note

Right. This is an old story I wrote quite some years ago. Since people seem to actually like what I've written in For The Honor of The Imperium, and some people did request some of my oneshots other original fiction be posted, I did a minimal job of cleaning up the errors(I think I wrote this when I was about 14?), but it's far from fully polished. I do have more, so whenever I find them kicking around my harddrives, I guess I'll clean them up and post them. And eventually get around to writing more of them that are new.