THE AMAZING, INCREDIBLE, MIND-BOGGLING ADVENTURES OF TABLE-HEADED SERVICE DRONE BOB!
Part Fifteen: Robots for hire
You never get used to having a weapon pointed at you. You can get used to waking up from being knocked unconscious, you can get used to constant beatings, but you CAN'T get used to the thought that your death is only a trigger-pull away. Such as it was with the older-model SIR unit currently charging up a host of weaponry in the direction of Bob, who was lying on the floor with a fixed expression of pure terror. The weapons seemed about to fire.
"TARGET LOCATED," announced the SIR unit, "MUST BE TAKEN ALIVE." The SIR unit's weapons banks powered down to be replaced with the sound of tentacled wiring strapping around Bob and attaching him to the SIR. The other SIRs inspected the surroundings, looking for something to shoot. Chak was hiding under a pile of rubble that fell when the ceiling collapsed, while Larb was hiding behind the desk. But Crag was cowering in full view of the SIR units.
"SCIENTIST LOCATED," droned another SIR unit, "RETRIEVE SCIENTIST FOR FURTHER EXAMINATION." Another SIR unit latched onto Crag and were about to leave when the door blew open, revealing a mass of security guards armed with laser rifles. All SIRS except the ones capturing Bob and Crag turned to face them.
"ALL OTHER TARGETS EXPENDABLE," droned another SIR unit, indicating a level of malice despite the cold, hard, emotionless state of the SIR. The SIRS opened fire on the gaurds, many of whom fell instantly as the laser bolts seared and burned through their flesh. Many died instantly, others could only scream in pain as limbs deattached and skin melted. But some of the guards managed to get their acts in gear and fired on the SIRs, sending many of them into a state of burned electronics and malfunctioning remnants.
While this commotion was going on the SIRS capturing Bob and Crag activated their boosters and escaped from the ceiling. As soon as it was perceived that their mission was done, the few remaining SIR units boosted away as well, a few lucky shots from the guards sending a couple of them crashing to the ground. Larb jolted up from behind the desk and inspected the damage.
"THEY'RE GETTING AWAY WITH THE SERVICE DRONE!" Larb yelled angrily, "GET AFTER THEM!" Larb's order was seemingly in ignorance of the pile of bodies in front of him. Many of the guards were still in shock, while some had started carting the bodies away.
"With what, commander?" asked a guard innocently. Larb, still seething with rage, tried to calm himself down. Then he heard a groan from a nearby pile of rubble. Larb went over to the pile and threw away the top violently to reveal Chak, covered in bruises and barely conscious.
"What happened?" asked Chak, seemingly forgetting the past few minutes.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE!?" Larb asked angrily. Chak managed to gain some perspective in response. She stood up uneasily, wiping some dust off her.
"Trying to escape," answered Chak, it was no use trying to deny it, "what were those things?" Larb looked up to the ruined ceiling, above it several floors with interconnecting conduits and corridors now had big gaping holes in them. There was only one person daring enough to directly attack an Irken military base.
"Tek," spat Larb.
Above the base, a group of SIR units was flying with boosters on. Bob had his eyes screwed shut in a natural fear of heights. The surface of Stark 1-27 was an irradiated wasteland, potmarked by green-tinted cliffs, chasms and canyons, perfect for hiding any kind of structure. Or a ship for that matter.
And there it was, in front of Bob there appeared a large ship, docked precariously inside a canyon away from the prying eyes of orbiting vessels. The ship itself seemed to have been constructed out of many and varied pilfered parts, but that didn't seem to detract from the vessel's integrity. Whoever built it knew what parts to pilfer. The SIRs flew into one of the open cargo bays, where a feast of weapons, narcotics and other such unpleasantries was being stored in large quantities.
Bob and Crag were dumped onto the floor of the cargo bay, and a group of henchmen took up the responsibility. The two of them were taken up a cargo lift, through a series of corridors to what seemed like the main bridge, organised almost like a throne room. On a chair, sitting on a central plinth, was an Irken figure.
"We have the service drone, Tek," announced the guard. The figure stood up from the chair and descended from the plinth. When the figure turned towards the two of them Bob could see that he was actually a she. Though any sign effeminity was hidden behind the cold, hard, blue stare emanating from the narrow slits which passed for her eyes. Her black, caped costume only increased her menace as she stepped towards Bob.
"You've been causing me a lot of trouble these past few days," declared Tek, devoid of warmth or humour. The biggest crimelord in the Empire was staring down it's smallest inhabitant...
TO BE CONTINUED...
Part Fifteen: Robots for hire
You never get used to having a weapon pointed at you. You can get used to waking up from being knocked unconscious, you can get used to constant beatings, but you CAN'T get used to the thought that your death is only a trigger-pull away. Such as it was with the older-model SIR unit currently charging up a host of weaponry in the direction of Bob, who was lying on the floor with a fixed expression of pure terror. The weapons seemed about to fire.
"TARGET LOCATED," announced the SIR unit, "MUST BE TAKEN ALIVE." The SIR unit's weapons banks powered down to be replaced with the sound of tentacled wiring strapping around Bob and attaching him to the SIR. The other SIRs inspected the surroundings, looking for something to shoot. Chak was hiding under a pile of rubble that fell when the ceiling collapsed, while Larb was hiding behind the desk. But Crag was cowering in full view of the SIR units.
"SCIENTIST LOCATED," droned another SIR unit, "RETRIEVE SCIENTIST FOR FURTHER EXAMINATION." Another SIR unit latched onto Crag and were about to leave when the door blew open, revealing a mass of security guards armed with laser rifles. All SIRS except the ones capturing Bob and Crag turned to face them.
"ALL OTHER TARGETS EXPENDABLE," droned another SIR unit, indicating a level of malice despite the cold, hard, emotionless state of the SIR. The SIRS opened fire on the gaurds, many of whom fell instantly as the laser bolts seared and burned through their flesh. Many died instantly, others could only scream in pain as limbs deattached and skin melted. But some of the guards managed to get their acts in gear and fired on the SIRs, sending many of them into a state of burned electronics and malfunctioning remnants.
While this commotion was going on the SIRS capturing Bob and Crag activated their boosters and escaped from the ceiling. As soon as it was perceived that their mission was done, the few remaining SIR units boosted away as well, a few lucky shots from the guards sending a couple of them crashing to the ground. Larb jolted up from behind the desk and inspected the damage.
"THEY'RE GETTING AWAY WITH THE SERVICE DRONE!" Larb yelled angrily, "GET AFTER THEM!" Larb's order was seemingly in ignorance of the pile of bodies in front of him. Many of the guards were still in shock, while some had started carting the bodies away.
"With what, commander?" asked a guard innocently. Larb, still seething with rage, tried to calm himself down. Then he heard a groan from a nearby pile of rubble. Larb went over to the pile and threw away the top violently to reveal Chak, covered in bruises and barely conscious.
"What happened?" asked Chak, seemingly forgetting the past few minutes.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE!?" Larb asked angrily. Chak managed to gain some perspective in response. She stood up uneasily, wiping some dust off her.
"Trying to escape," answered Chak, it was no use trying to deny it, "what were those things?" Larb looked up to the ruined ceiling, above it several floors with interconnecting conduits and corridors now had big gaping holes in them. There was only one person daring enough to directly attack an Irken military base.
"Tek," spat Larb.
Above the base, a group of SIR units was flying with boosters on. Bob had his eyes screwed shut in a natural fear of heights. The surface of Stark 1-27 was an irradiated wasteland, potmarked by green-tinted cliffs, chasms and canyons, perfect for hiding any kind of structure. Or a ship for that matter.
And there it was, in front of Bob there appeared a large ship, docked precariously inside a canyon away from the prying eyes of orbiting vessels. The ship itself seemed to have been constructed out of many and varied pilfered parts, but that didn't seem to detract from the vessel's integrity. Whoever built it knew what parts to pilfer. The SIRs flew into one of the open cargo bays, where a feast of weapons, narcotics and other such unpleasantries was being stored in large quantities.
Bob and Crag were dumped onto the floor of the cargo bay, and a group of henchmen took up the responsibility. The two of them were taken up a cargo lift, through a series of corridors to what seemed like the main bridge, organised almost like a throne room. On a chair, sitting on a central plinth, was an Irken figure.
"We have the service drone, Tek," announced the guard. The figure stood up from the chair and descended from the plinth. When the figure turned towards the two of them Bob could see that he was actually a she. Though any sign effeminity was hidden behind the cold, hard, blue stare emanating from the narrow slits which passed for her eyes. Her black, caped costume only increased her menace as she stepped towards Bob.
"You've been causing me a lot of trouble these past few days," declared Tek, devoid of warmth or humour. The biggest crimelord in the Empire was staring down it's smallest inhabitant...
TO BE CONTINUED...