Prussia flew alone through space in the shadow of Uranus. His CPU switched most of his systems to autopilot, meaning he could subconsciously pilot the spacecraft Red Castle had given him. As he banked to the left, preparing to planet hop using Uranus's gravity, the almost vertical ring system grew visible in the light of the sun. From his distance the rings looked smooth and monolithic. Not even his aptly engineered eyes, augmented by the helmet mounted display, could pick out the individual tiny chunks of ice and rock. Uranus's surface looked smooth like the ring system, unlike the rocky planets and moons that were lined with ridges, mountains and craters. It was an ocean of gas with a turquoise gleam.
He wondered what Germany thought when passing by Uranus. Was Germany travelling alone? Was he Germany frightened of nations' inevitable entropy?
When Germany was still a young nation, Prussia, wise and tipsy on beer, told him, "you know, being a nation is amazing. All the humans who love us are completely irreplaceable. Each of them are the result of a million memories, and we are just like them; one of a kind." Prussia's flashback ended abruptly. The location where Prussia said those words to Germany was obscured by time; just a bar destroyed by allied air raids in the 1940s. The faces of patrons were blurred in Prussia's mind but he remembered his words clearly: we are just like them; one of a kind.
"You are not one of a kind, are you." Whispered Gilbird insidiously into Prussia's ear.
"I am not one of a kind," Prussia repeated. He then said bravely, "that doesn't make me any less awesome."
"Keep believing that if you must," said Gilbird flatly.
Red Castle Superdynamics had thousands of warehouse installations across the solar system, with mass-produced copies of Prussia. He was the prototype. Back when Prussia's limbs were still in the process of being replaced by prosthetics, he knew that he had already surrendered to his new benefactors, and now the consequences were coming to fruition.
"I-I had no choice," Prussia mumbled. He then spoke with his usual confident facade, "so what if Red Castle used me? He's a corporation, so what would you expect?" Prussia tried to look down at his hands, but all he saw was information of his speed, heading and fuel supply. Distant stars, static and white, lined the background like pinpricks on paper while his vision was tinged with the gas giant's turquoise glow.
"Yet he was kind enough to give me this craft to get to the Kuiper Belt," added Prussia thoughtfully.
"That's because he wants you to accept your fate and die," said Gilbird.
No more words were spoken as Uranus loomed closer. The radio emissions from within Uranus were blocked by his receiver. When almost half of the planet's surface was visible, an automated friendly androgynous voice chimed into the microphones on his head, "this is tanker RC5239-17A Heavy. Please select RC5239-17A Heavy on your autopilot master display," the helmet mounted display switched to show Prussia set of options and a box for him to select RC5239-17A Heavy in the call sign display by simply thinking about it, "ETA 5 Millikajobians. Stand by. Squawk code... accepted."
The craft started banking, working autonomously from Prussia on a low level of sentience. The tanker was a grey speck on the edge of an inner ring grew as Prussia drew close. Like the mechs on Enceladus, it bore Red Castle's logo across the top of its fuselage. The tanker was delta-shaped, lugging the cylindrical tank and bulky engines underneath. Its refuelling drogue was stood ready to deploy.
CAUTION! CAUTION! CAUTION! A red flashing warning grabbed Prussia's attention. MISSILES DETECTED. EVASIVE MANEUVERS ADVISED. USE AUTO EVADE? Y/N.
Prussia trusted only himself with evasive manoeuvres. He glanced at the pulse doppler radar's display to gauge their closing distance, speed and heading. Ten missiles were approaching from six o'clock. They were most likely radar guided because any missile with a shorter range guidance system would cause the launch platform to also be detected on his radar. He entered a downward aileron roll, despite the fact that he had no ailerons and in space there was no down or up. But his thrust vectoring nozzles rolled the craft with all the speed and precision he needed. Two of the missiles collided, he looked back to see the rest emerge unscathed from the debris. While in a quick high-G turn he frantically searched through options until finding the option to release chaff. Any human pilot would have succumbed to G-LOC and be killed in the G-forces the craft was being subjected to in the turn.
His six o'clock was clouded by strips of shimmering aluminium which caught three more missiles and caused them each to explode. Just then, the radar began tracking a larger object behind him. It was a smaller bogey than the tanker in front, but the object at his six o'clock emitted the same squawk code as old United Nations aircraft. Prussia had no time to process why as three more missiles sped away from it. Gilbird hissed, "the launch platform!"
Prussia knew the three new missiles were probably infrared guided because they were launched at a shorter range. Prussia went into a short slick loop an another evasive manoeuvre. Onboard computers on missiles had rendered flares an obsolete countermeasure.
As the remaining missiles sped closer, lasers on the craft tracked and began to fry them. Two flamed out and fell away into Uranus's orbit while Prussia watched a whole salvo of explosions while banking around. Just one missile escaped destruction. As soon as Prussia noticed it heading towards him his eyes widened while turning towards it.
The missile's proximity fuse detonated, showering the top of the craft in fragments. A damage analysis showed Prussia he was leaking fuel while the controls response time was compromised, causing the craft to loose agility. A laser tore into his right wing. It was in the infrared spectrum, making it invisible to a human eye, but fortunately for Prussia, he was not human. He saw the laser and descended away, keeping watch on the tanker. He was close enough to fully see how formidably large it was.
"Why are you trying to kill me?" Screamed Prussia into his transmitter.
"I gave humanity to the corporations. You're what stands in their way," said the same raspy voice Prussia heard in the warehouse from whoever was trying to kill him, "there is something in the Kuiper Belt that you do no want to see." The tracking system re-acquired him and the laser shot out again. To evade, Prussia slowed down quickly by reversing thrust until he was almost flying alongside of the attacking craft. He identified it immediately as the same one that tried to shoot him over Mars.
"Have you ever considered the energy that sustains a nation's personification?" The raspy voice crackled again.
"I didn't until a corporation called Tainan mentiond it to me," said Prussia angrily, "now she's weak, and I'm still strong as ever!" Prussia swooped up above the laser turret's reach. The attacking craft banked to the right to target him, but Prussia descended and rammed it with his left wing. "You can't kill me," said Prussia as though it were utterly obvious. Just then the laser cut violently into his engines. They coughed like his old Junkers biplane, loosing power. The other craft was still close, right above him with the laser turret ready to shoot again. "You underestimate me," said Prussia, smirking behind the helmet, "I'm a machine, which means I can do what a human can't."
Prussia swung the cockpit canopy open. He disconnected the helmet, wires tangled and flailing in the vacuum. Prussia sprung upwards and dug his fingers into the nose of the familiar delta-winged single engined craft. He could see his own emotionless face in the reflection of the cockpit canopy and began to punch the canopy repeatedly. Cracks appeared with each punch until they finally met. "You're violent, just like Red Castle programmed you to be. This isn't you Prussia, it's your programming. Let me help by dismantling you in the quickest, most humane way possible," said the pilot, surprisingly softly.
"I am my programming," shouted Prussia as he punched through the canopy, only to be met by the grip of whoever sat behind it. They were strong, grabbing Prussia's fist and crushing it. With his hand still being held tightly, Prussia swung himself around and shattered the canopy by kicking it three times with both feet. The pilot was indeed the same figure he had previously encountered. "You!" Prussia shouted furiously, "you've been following me."
"I've always been following you," the figure said calmly, "that's why on Earth you were always drifting from place to place. Your programming never let you get close to me." Warnings in Prussia's head were going berserk, identifying the figure as a threat of the highest severity. With his remaining operable hand Prussia grabbed the figure's helmet, but his hand was stopped when his wrist was grabbed by the figure's strong grip. Frustrated, Prussia kicked the figure back into the pilot's seat and tore off the helmet in a jiffy.
Sitting before him he saw the scared, suffocating face of an old man he recognised. The man was bald with electrodes attached to his scalp that used to connect to the helmet. A tube connected both nostrils to his mouth and slithered downwards into the armoured suit he wore. His skin was as grey as his clouded impaired eyes. "Y-you're the United Nations," Prussia gasped. The old man said nothing in reply and instead looked up at Prussia sadly with utter defeat in his eyes. Prussia no longer identified the United Nations as a threat; the warnings were gone, and with them Prussia's fury. "I'm sorry," Prussia said with calm sincerity as his craft remained alongside. The United Nations said nothing in response.
Prussia jumped away and landed in his cockpit. The canopy closed as he put the helmet back on. The United Nations's craft spun out of control before ramming into the tanker. At first it caused a mere dent, but a fire quickly erupted into a mighty multi-coloured explosion as the flammable fuel burned from the sparks caused by the collision's rupture. The explosion was powerful enough for shockwaves to appear as ripples on the Uranus's rings. The rest of the tanker buckled and broke up. The fragments fell towards Uranus until they burned up in the planet's atmosphere and sunk into the ocean of gas.
Prussia's sensors shifted their sensitivity back to a more relaxing level. He was no longer alert and poised for battle. The helmet mounted display was functioning perfectly and the radar showed no anomalies. Then Prussia noticed how quickly he was leaking fuel. Even before the battle, he was running low, and soon the engines would be running on fumes (so to speak). He began looking around frantically and tried to disengage the autopilot. It didn't respond. The autopilot master light remained on. He was stuck in Uranus's gravity that would swing him out on course. "Damnit, I need to change course! I need more fuel! Fuck!" Gilbird cursed to him. Prussia wondered if the vectoring thrust nozzles were damaged.
Prussia scrolled through the helmet mounted display to the RNAV screen and tried selecting a new waypoint. Each waypoint had facilities listed beside it; little icons that showed fuel, landing pads and runways, maintenance and food for humans. The closest waypoint with fuel was 'OSTBERG STATION 10'. Prussia had no idea where that station was, and whether or not it was hostile. Nevertheless he selected it as a waypoint to deviate from his pre-assigned course to the Kuiper Belt. Prussia almost shouted, "Yes!" In joy when the thrust nozzles activated to the switch in course, altering the craft's bank angle a few degrees to the left. Prussia relaxed and let the autopilot take the strain.
The craft hopped away from Uranus's gravity after circumnavigating the planet. The damaged engines rumbled and hummed while gaining speed. With Uranus behind him, Prussia could only look at the stars. He felt oddly safe.