ALC-856 didn't need to glance at the incoming information been relayed on the nearby monitors to know that the current situation was dire. Her own system was synced with the Imperial Net anyway, so everything was already being transmitted on her databanks.
Every additional piece of collected data, each small field report sent her way helped create a somewhat accurate picture on the status of the few, precious assets at her disposal on the planet. It was a grim one.
Her eye-sensors went slant in a deep frown as she looked up. Five medium-sized monitors hovered before the Emperor's Assistant, arranged in a wide semi-circle around her desk. The bot glanced to each in turn, slowly and in silence, making sure that the displeasure on her face would be evident to each Imperial Commander present today.
"How?" ALC-856 said, her voice modulator emitting something akin to a whisper. "How is this- How is any of this possible?"
For a few moments, not a warbot made a single sound.
"You worthless tin-cans, answer me!" she snarled with white-hot fury, "You are Imperial Commanders; you own your position to the good-will of our beloved Emperor! Start explaining now, before I have you all melted down for raw materials!"
"My Lady," one of the Imperial Commanders, a Juggernaut, began with a slow, cavernous electronic screech. "We do apologize. It … it appears that we have greatly underestimated both the numbers and capacity of the Markazian resistance."
ALC-856 whirled around to face his screen. She took her barely an eyeblink to search his serial number from her databanks. "Have you now, HF-8147?"
"The number of warbots at our disposal are not sufficient to extend our control on the rest of the planet," another commander, NT-5569, chimed in. "Our defeat on Megapolis has depleted our ranks, together with the loss of many major manufacturing facilities during the last weeks. At the moment, we can do nothing but maintain our holding of the biggest cities and settlement, as well as the connection between them."
"That is not an explanation of your failure!" ALC-856 snapped. "I know of the monthly reports you had sent about resistance activities on Planet Markazia. I have personally delivered them to our Emperor and read them to Him countless times. You had assured Him that the local resistance was on the point on being eradicated!"
She floated over her desk and closer to the monitor with the help of her anti-gravity thrusters, and delivered him a withering glare. "Do they perchance look eradicated to you?!"
As if on cue, another monitor hovered behind her and into view. Various images and clips played in a loop on the screen, each showing a little glimpse of the situation unfolding across most of the planet. Ambushes and sniper attacks against lone Imperial patrols; entire settlements overrunning their garrisons and raising the old Markzian flags as gestures of defiance; constant assaults against supply convoys. The rebel cells had grown considerably bolder and, even worse, they were striking with increasing ferocity and coordination.
ALC-856 had to contain an electronic snarl as her sensors glanced at another image, depicting a group of grinning rebels posing in front of the still-smouldering husk of an Imperial Juggernaut.
"One month ago, none of those damn squishies would have even dared to peak their ugly mugs out of their hiding holes," ALC-856 stated to none in particular. "And look at them now! Look on how they defy His authority, His … His …" she paused, her voice broken by what felt almost as a physical twinge of pain.
"His memory," the bot finally said. The moment of weakness was temporary. She recollected herself and added, "Holding Markazia is paramount. We need its industry and resources if there's any hope to salvage the Empire from those ungrateful squishies that would tear it apart. So do your job, a crush this insurrection at once!"
In normal circumstances, all of them would have snapped to attention and immediately departed to carry out her orders. Had Emperor Nefarious himself been here and issued the same order, ALC-856 did not doubt for a moment that there wouldn't have been any hesitation amongst them.
Sadly, that was no longer the case. Instead, she was greeted by silence. ALC-856 could still detect packages of data moving in and out of their networks though, so she was aware that the five Imperial Commanders were confabulating amongst themselves.
That they wished to keep the content of the discussion hidden from her -while she was there already- was just another insult. Had she not needed all of them, she would have terminated them already.
Finally, another bot spoke from her left, identified as LT-4771. "Ma'am, I'm afraid we cannot carry out such an order at the moment."
ALC-856 slowly turned around towards his monitor, metallic hands clenched into tight fists. A Blitztrooper, his chassis and armour rather simple, at least compared to the one of his peers, stared right back at her, his eye-sensors barely flinching under her fiery gaze.
"And why is that?" she all but hissed.
Surprisingly, the commander didn't seem bothered by her display of barely-contained fury. "You have given us orders to maintain control on all important infrastructures and industrial assets. Now, you order us to destroy the resistance. We do not have enough warbots to do both."
"Use those mercenaries we've hired then!" she countered. "Given how much I pay them, that's the least they can do."
"Ma'am, most of them are unreliable and unfit for line-combat. They are struggling right now in dealing with local militias," the bot answered matter-of-factly. "According to my calculations, an immediate assault against the rebel would only work at their advantage. As we spread our legions thinner, they would take the chance to surge through the gaps and strike where we are weaker."
ALC-856 made to speak again but stopped just short. Her eye-sensors noticed the burn marks and dents on his chassis. She began to suspect that bot had direct experience of the subject.
And as much as it hurt admitting it, she was severely lacking on that department. ALC-856 had served faithfully Emperor Nefarious for decades, both as a personal secretary and assistant, and as the right-arm of His inflexible will through Polaris.
She had no experience on those matters though. She didn't know how to lead armies to victory. The Emperor had always done that, often in person, but now He had disappeared.
She shook her head.
'No matter. I have served the Emperor in the past and I will continue to do so now. It is only a matter of time. We just need to hold on a little more. Emperor Nefarious has never been defeated. He cannot be defeated, especially not by a bunch of squishies! The Empire will hold, no matter the cost, until He returns. Only then the Lombax will pay.'
The sound of buzzing circuits broke her away from her trail of thoughts, and ALC-856 turned her attention back to LT-4471. "What do you propose then?"
To his credit, the warbot wasted no time. "Our numbers are insufficient, but our defences are still formidable. I suggest we consolidate our forces and prepare for the inevitable attack. The rebels may have come out of hiding but, according to available data, they are fractured among themselves, their position still tenuous. They must now attempt and break our hold of the planet quickly if they hope to succeed."
"Preposterous!" one of the other commanders exclaimed indignantly. "You would have us hide in fear from some squishies? We should in-"
"Silence!" ALC-856 snapped with thinly-veiled contempt. She turned back to LT-4471. "Please continue, Commander."
The bot did so. "Once we have repulsed them, they will be exhausted and without resources. Then, winter will settle in. And unlike their frail organic bodies, our Legions can face the cold without problem. Under such conditions, they will be vulnerable."
ALC-856 paused for a moment, taking her time to float back behind her desk and sat down in her chair. Winter, uh? That would mean just two, maybe three months at most. She shot a curious glance at the screen of the Imperial Commander.
'The idea has some merit. Perhaps I should keep this one close. He will be useful for the time being, at least until the Emperor's return.'
White noise broke through the silence. The screen belonging to HF-8147 had just gone offline. Another followed suit, and then another. Each screen went blank in quick succession, the image replaced only by flickering static. Only LT-4471's remained active.
ALC-856 wanted to say something, but she didn't need to. The warbot too seemed to have caught the inkling that something was wrong. His tri-eyed sensors narrowed. "Apologies ma'am, but I'm receiving numerous reports on the Imperial Net. A large, unidentified vehicle is speeding towards my HQ's main gates. It appears that the Markazians have em-"
His transmission ended as well, leaving ALC-856 completely alone. Only the sound of crackling electronics and interference reverberated eerily throughout the room.
"LT-4771?" She tried to raise him on the comms, but to no avail. "LT-4771, answer me, right now!" There was no reply, only static.
ALC-856 suppressed the surge of unease as her systems switched to her personal comm channel. "Get me those damn mercs on the line! I need them here, and I need them now!"
Kit wasn't good at small talk.
Certainly not due to a lack of effort; if anything, the small yellow bot had tried and tried again, each time with a different approach, so to get something resembling a conversation going with Rivet.
Her was a cautious endeavour, and she employed the same level of prudence she would have used in stepping around in a minefield. A few times it had even seemed like she and Rivet had finally broken through the initial unease, only for it to come back at full force but a few moments later.
Kit had tried to avoid too personal questions, anything that might remind her of the accident. It had already happened a couple of times before; the conversation had promptly stopped right there.
At the same time though, the Lombax got tired of trivial questions fairly quickly, and would then turn her mind on something else entirely. Eventually, Rivet had fallen asleep on the couch, and Kit had stopped trying altogether.
The robot spent the last two hours pretty much alone with her thoughts, running the occasional background check on her operative system. Anything to distract herself from what waited for them ahead. The eerie silence was occasionally broken by a soft snort coming from her partner.
Probably for the hundredth time, she glanced up from her seat and around at her surroundings. Their resistance team had stopped in a small, abandoned supply station overlooking one of the major Markazian highways. The place was deserted, most of the shelves picked clean already, and there was little fuel available. Still, a few scans on Kit's part had revealed that the place had been abandoned only recently, a couple of weeks at most.
Why though? Kit couldn't say for sure. Still, it was strange. The side roads they'd been using up to that point were just as empty.
The ear-receptors caught the unmistakable sound of approaching footsteps. Rivet's friend and colleague, Clatchky, wandered into the room. He didn't seem to notice the two immediately; his single-eyed gaze solely focused on the oil stains on his hands and face, as he tried and scrub them off.
"You know, you'd think they would have left at least something in the garage for us to use," he began with some annoyance. "Like, food? I kinda get it. Wasn't counting on finding any. But spare parts? I mean, come on! I wasn't asking for much."
Clatchky sighed before sinking in the first available chair he could find and tossing the now dirty rag somewhere behind. The room looked like it had been the owner's office, at least judging by all the paperwork still laying around and the small console on the desk.
"Doesn't matter though," Clatchky said as he shot Kit a mouthy grin. "Luckily for you guys, I can do miracles with some tape. Our vehicle is back into shape. Well, as long as we stick to asphalt that is."
"So anyway. Everything's alright back here?"
As the only answer coming from Rivet was a soft snoring, Kit nodded in response. "It is. Thank you. Are you sure you don't need any help with the repairs? I have within my databases hundreds of vehicle schematics. Should you need them, of course." He shook his head.
"Nah, that's fine. I can still handle myself around some basic repair job. I haven't lost my touch."
Kit was about to add something else, before thinking better of it. She limited herself to a nod.
"Nervous?"
Kit blinked, her eye-lenses slowly focusing on him. The sudden question caught her off guard.
"A bit," Kit eventually admitted.
"You're gonna do fine. Don't worry too much about it," Clatchky said as he removed his leather cap. Then, he chuckled. "I remember my first operation. Wasn't anything big, really, just some smuggling and black-market stuff. We were lucky that the local Imperial garrison was too stupid to catch all the back-alley dealing that went on in that cesspool. Still, I remember being scared shitless most of the time."
Kit shot him a curious glance. She knew that Clatchky was aware of her past as a former warbot, yet the information did not seem to trouble him much. On the contrary, the two of them had even chatted a little on the way there.
"How did you deal with that fear?"
"Mostly with alcohol," he chuckled for the second time.
"Oh. Uh, I do not believe bot are capable of consuming most kinds of beverages."
"Good thing I can though." His eyes fell on a minifridge tucked in a far corner. "Did you gals check it out while you were here?"
Kit shook her head. "Yes, but there was only some dinner's leftover. Furthermore, it has been detached from the grid. I do not believe anything within would be safe for consumption."
"Ah, quite the shame, really. Markazians have some of the best liquor in the entirety of Polaris." He licked his lips, as if could almost taste it. "Burns right through your throat, but it's definitely worth it. Should have taken a bottle for myself last time I've been here."
That immediately got Kit's attention. "You have visited it before?"
"Yup. Quite a few times actually. Really nice place all in all. Not much has really changed." He thoughtfully stroked his chin. "Well, the Imperial legions imposing a planet wide lockdown is kinda new."
"But how? All travel between systems was heavily regulated by Imperial Decree," she pointed out.
"Yeah, well, the Emperor's ships couldn't patrol everywhere, and I still remembered a few tricks from my younger and not-so-selfless days." Another amused chuckle. "Besides, it's kinda hard to keep the whole planet in lockdown while demanding its entire industry to still work at full capacity. Somebody still has to carry all that crap around."
"Oh. I wasn't aware of that, but it does make sense," Kit said with a nod. "I guess my old programming didn't give me many possibilities to see how things were outside Corson V."
"Guess so." Clatchky reached up with a hand and activated the small holo-screen on his glove. He idly scrolled through the information being reported, without really paying attention.
"By the way, what was your previous programming?" he suddenly asked, his single eye never leaving the screen. He added, almost as an afterthought, "That's not because I don't trust you. If Rivet says you're good, I believe her. I'm just … you know, I'm just curious."
Kit didn't answer immediately; in fact, several seconds passed without her saying anything at all. She opened her mouth a couple of times before promptly shutting it. The robot glanced back nervously, almost fearful that Rivet had awoken just to hear that. The Lombax had not moved from the couch, the chest beneath her crossed arms rising and falling slowly. Kit's sensors identified the pattern and confirmed that she was still asleep.
Keeping herself from sighing in relief, which would have been impossible anyway, Kit forced an answer out.
"Well, uh … you see, I … I-I was a security bot." She nodded, almost to convince herself. "Yes, that's what I was. A security bot. In the Imperial Zone on Corson V."
"Cool," Clatchky simply said. Then he looked up, "Aren't you a bit short though? No offense."
Another glance behind, then she muttered, "I … I was a prototype. An experimental unit, you see."
"Ah, alright then." He gave her a wide grin. "Happy to have you with us."
"Likewise."
A new message popped up on the holo-screen, catching Clatchky's attention. His frown quickly shifted into a wide grin as his single eye absorbed the incoming information.
"About time!" he exclaimed to none in particular. "And here I thought they had forgotten about us."
"Good news?"
Clatchky nodded eagerly. "You can bet they are! Break's over, time to get back to work."
He rose from his seat and rushed to the door, only to stop just short. "By the way, can you wake Rivet up while you're at it? I'll help Phantom set up our portable antenna in the meantime. We've got a few things to plan once you two join the rest," Clatchky said before disappearing from view, though Kit could still hear quite easily his voice down the hallway.
"Phantom! Come here and make yourself useful for once! Where in hell did you put my tools?"
Kit would have probably continued to listen, but the soft snoring by her side reminded the small robot that she had still another task. She climbed down from her seat as quietly as she could and went over by Rivet's side.
"Rivet?" she tried, her vocal modulator purposedly turned to the lowest setting. "Rivet, wake up."
Her ears twitched momentarily, and a soft groan escaped from her lips. Her eyes remained shut, however.
"Rivet?" Kit tried again. She turned the volume up just a tiny bit. Still, the Lombax slept on.
Unsurprising, considering her incoherent sleeping schedule. Kit had tried to remind her multiple times that organics required six-to-eight hours of sleep to properly function. It had had the same efficacy of speaking to a brick wall.
Her sensors blinked in slight annoyance. The small robot rose on her tiptoes as she reached up with a metallic arm and tried to shake her awake. Delicately, of course.
Her hand stopped a few inches away from her shoulder, the fingertips barely brushing against her fur. In but a moment, Kit's sensors caught several things happening at the same time.
First, Rivet's white fur stood on end.
Then her eyes shot open.
And finally, something yellow blurred through the air.
Kit winced back, only to find that she couldn't. Her arm was pinned in place, Rivet's mechanical right arm clamped firmly on her wrist in an iron-solid grip. A pair of hard blue eyes stared at her, narrowed; her lips were peeled back to form the beginning of an angry snarl, pointed teeth peeking out. Her once slanted ears were now pressed back.
Some would say that robots could not feel fear; that it was a thing only organics could truly experience. Right in that moment though, Kit disagreed wholly with that statement; the sensation surging through her circuits could in fact only be described as fear. Rivet's cold and piercing eyes stared straight into hers.
Then, she blinked.
"Kit?"
The small robot tried a timid handwave. That seemed to have some effect. The Lombax's ears shot up in confusion, the earrings clinging as she did so. The ferocious scowl was gone now.
Rivet sighed. "Dammit, Kit. You scared me." Her eyes darted down to her own robotic arm, grimacing. She loosened the grip, and Kit dropped down on still shaking legs.
The robot briefly checked her own arm and was shocked to discover a small dent on her vambrace's plate. It was nothing serious, yet Kit was somewhat relieved that Rivet had recognized her in time. Those plates were meant to withstand a lot of pressure.
"My apologies, Rivet. Next time, I will try to be more careful when waking you up." Rivet shook her head at her though.
"It's not that. It's … well, I saw you there and I thought you were-" She seemed about to finish, only to sink her head in a cushion with a groan. "Never mind."
Kit blinked in curiosity. "You thought I was what?"
Again, Rivet shook her head, looking everywhere but at Kit. She rose from the sofa and proceeded to stretch her legs and back's muscles, shaking off the creeping soreness. A few vertebrae popped loudly.
"Just forget it, alright? No big deal. You surprised me, that's all. Oh, and sorry for, you know…" she gestured vaguely at her injury.
"Of course."
"You alright?"
"I've taken considerably worse in recent times," Kit said, trying to sound convincing. "The damage is superficial anyway, and immediate repairs can be postponed. I assure you that it will not impede me."
"Nothing seems to do that." Something resembling a grin began to take form on Rivet's lips, but it was gone just as quickly as it had appeared. The Lombax turned away to pick up her trusty OmniMallet. She twirled the weapon a couple of times in the air before letting it rest on her shoulder.
She shot a glace over at Kit, her brows furrowed. "Well, what are you waiting for? Come on, let's join the others."
Kit hesitated for a moment before nodding. She leaped on her back and let the magnetized frame secure her there. The two exited the small office and walked down a small service corridor before entering what looked like a main dining area. As the rest of the supply station, it was abandoned as well, chairs and dining tables laying scattered around. The tiled floor looked like it had not been swept in a long time.
A few resistance members waited there, running weapon's maintenance and readying supplies and equipment. Others kept guard near the entrance and by the large windows, weapons ready. Some looked up as she passed and occasionally gave her a nod or an handwave. Rivet returned the gesture.
Most however mumbled amongst themselves, probably thinking the two couldn't hear them. Kit's ear-receptors however were far superior to organic ones, so she could easily catch what they were saying. They were talking about them; to be more specific, about Rivet.
"Are they friends of yours?" Kit asked from her back, once she was sure they were both out of earshot.
"Uh? Oh, no, not really. Haven't actually met any of them."
"Then why were they-"
"Cause we've kicked Nefarious's metallic ass back on Megapolis, so now everybody knows about me of course." She shook her head. "I mean, it's not too bad, but a couple of them asked me for an autograph on the way here," Rivet scoffed. "Me. Signing autographs! Can you imagine it? I don't remember anyone asking me that kind of things one month ago."
Kit's eye lenses went slant in a frown. "Is that really that bad?"
"Well no, but … look, I'm not some kind of holo-star, alright? And I don't want people to start viewing me as one." Rivet sighed, deeply.
"That sounds cool though," a voice broke in from the side. As she looked up, Rivet was greeted by the sight of Phantom leaning back in a chair and with his boots on a dining table. His visor was up, and a wide grin stretched across his face. "Got to think on what to do now that Nefarious is gone, am I right?"
"If you say so," Rivet said. The two bumped fists. "I'm guessing you've done plenty of thinking about that yourself."
The Rilgarian rebel gave her a chuckle before nodding. "Sort of. I've got in contact with the other me while we were there. He agreed on teaching me a hoverboard trick or two. Really cool dude."
"Let's hope he's not as insufferable as you are," Clatchky stated as he joined the trio. He placed a portable console on the table and activated it. While he waited for it to power it up, he turned toward Rivet with a grin. "Slept well?"
"Sort of," Rivet shrugged. "Though I'd prefer get moving as soon as possible."
"Yeah, me too. Alright then, let's see what we can do," he said as he began typing on the console. "Once I manage to sneak my way into the planetary network, I should be able to put us into contact with the local cells. Hopefully they haven't changed their operational frequencies."
"Have you met them before then?" Rivet inquired. "What should we expect?"
Clatchky looked up briefly from the console. "Oh, the Markazians are quite something, let me tell you. Brave and dedicated, every single one of them." He shrugged then went back to work. "I guess you have to be, if you spend a decade fighting Nefarious."
"Seems like we have something in common then," Rivet said with a grin. She then jutted her thumb back towards the other resistance members present in the dining hall. "Should we tell them to come over?" Clatchky shook his head.
"Nah, don't worry about them. They're readying supplies for once we depart, and we've got a couple keeping watch on an Imperial stronghold some forty minutes away. We haven't seen much activity since we arrive, but you never know."
"Good thinking." Rivet shoot a momentary glance over her shoulder. "Where did you find these guys anyway?"
"A lot of places actually," Clatchky noted. "Hired guns, some last minutes volunteers, and experienced operatives. Since the Emperor bit the dust, we've been expanding our recruitment, though I prefer working with people with experience, at least for this one."
"Ahem, Clatchky?" Kit suddenly asked. "My apologies for the interruption, but I just wanted to make sure. Did you find the information I have procured you useful?"
"Uh? Oh, that! Yeah. Yeah, you can bet they were. I'll be honest girl, I wished you'd joined us years ago."
Puzzled, Rivet shot Kit a perplexed glance over the shoulder. "What are you two talking about?"
Clatchky looked up briefly. "Oh, didn't she tell you? Your tiny friend here has given me extensive access to Imperial databases and passwords. Instead of hacking the main servers like we used to do, now I can just access them directly."
"Well, that's … impressive. Good job, Kit."
"I am just making myself useful. Most Imperial nets are fairly standardized amongst themselves," Kit said with a small grin. "It was nothing big, really. It is the least I can do."
Rivet nodded, then turned her attention back on her colleague, frowning. "Can we find the Emperor's Assistant with that?"
"Probably," Clatchky mused. "Though she'll have to wait for now. We have someone else to meet right now."
Rivet blinked. "What? We can't just leave her doing… well, whatever she's doing right now! And what do you mean with someone else? I thought the mission was about catching the Assistant."
Clatchky's typing on the keyboard ceased, but for a few moments he refused to meet her gaze. Rivet shot Phantom a perplexed look as well, but the Rilgarian simply shrugged. "Don't look at me. I've got no idea what she's on about."
"Look," Clatchky finally said. "Let's put it this way. When the Emperor came after our collective heads, I needed to lay low for a while. So, I had a couple of my contacts arrange a fake shoot-out with an Imperial patrol on some back-water planet, ending with 'my' ship getting blown up to smithereens." He sighed. "It worked well, as you can see. Unfortunately, I had to ask a favour, so now that guy wants it repaid."
Arms crossed on her chest, Rivet narrowed her eyes on him. "Alright. So, what does this have to do with us? Just pay him back."
Clatchky scratched the back of his head, suddenly uncomfortable. "See, that's not how it works. He doesn't want money. He wants … well, he wants you."
"He wants what!?"
Clatchky raised instinctively his hands, as if he was expecting Rivet to jump on him any moment. "Jeez, I didn't mean that! Calm down, I'm not some kind of psychopath." He shook his head.
"Look, this guy is an Markazian academic or something. Don't know what he does, but he's really into all that very old stuff. I'd mentioned once I knew you, and a few days ago he contacted me to arrange an interview with you."
Rivet raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "An interview. Are you serious? Is this some kind of joke? Please tell me it is." As she gazed on Clatchky's silent and unwavering face though, the realization finally hit her. It was not a joke.
Rivet's expression twisted into an irritated grimace. "That's not why I came here. Clatch. Why didn't you tell me this sooner?"
He shrugged. "Well, I did try. You didn't let me finish." He tried to grin, but soon gave up as he noticed the scowl on Rivet's face. "Look, it's not gonna take too much. Half an hour at most, then we're back hunting for that bot."
"Give me a really good reason why I should even consider this."
"Cause he's got some sway with the local resistance and knows exactly where the Assistant is. Who do you think gave us the tip to begin with?"
Rivet had to bite her lips to keep herself from swearing right there. It seemed like she didn't really have a choice on the matter.
'Dammit! Why can things stay simple for once? Like, I don't know, sneak onto the planet, breach a heavily fortified Imperial stronghold, catch that damn bot, and then get out. It used to be so straightforward.'
"You sure we can trust this guy?"
"I wouldn't have agreed otherwise," Clatchky pointed out. "Come on, give me some credit, Riv. I'm not that careless."
Right beside him, Phantom broke into a purposedly loud fit of coughs. He stopped once Clatchky gave him an equally loud smack on the back of the head.
"Hey, uh, boss?" one of the resistance members, a fairly burly-looking humanoid, called out to Clatchky. "You … you might wanna see this one." He jutted out a thumb towards one of the windows behind.
No further explanation was necessary. The burning orange-hot glare near the horizon told them everything they needed to know.
"Ah shit," Clatchky muttered. "There goes the starport, I guess."
He had underestimated them. There was nothing else to say, no overcomplicated explanation that might make up for the disaster now unfolding before him.
The ear-splitting groans of steel against steel reverberated through the access corridor as the pair of Juggernauts laboured to pry the set of armoured doors open. There was no time to lose, and simply waiting for the technicians to repair the electrical grid was not an option, not if they wanted to avoid being entombed in their own HQ.
The Juggernauts pulled savagely, and the door creeped open by a few inches. Mostly made of hardened metal, they had been built to shield the entrance from heavy weapons, but LT-4771 was confident enough that the two warbots would open it in no time through brute strength.
As his eye-sensors swivelled around in his battle suit's orange pod, LT-4771 took stock of who else was with him. A motley collection of robotic base personnel, surrounded by a thin cordon of warbots in various conditions of abuse, waited silently.
Not that LT-4771 was in a better condition. His trio of 'eyes' glanced to the side, where his left arm-mounted quad-blaster used to be. All in all, he had been lucky. One of his bodyguards had been crushed outright when part of the roof had collapsed on them. The engineers had done the best they could with the few tools available to them, but internal fluids kept on dripping out of his damaged parts and onto the floor. The Imperial Commander tried to ignore that.
"What's the status of our comms?" LT-4771 asked one of his surviving lieutenants.
"Short range devices are shaky but still functional. Anything beyond that is offline. Initial scans reveal extensive damage on the base's comm array. We should dispatch a repair team and restore our communications as soon as possible."
LT-4771 tilted his head slightly to the side. "If there is indeed something left to repair," he said, but did not elaborate further, resolving himself to wait for the Juggernauts to complete their work. Though meeting some difficulty, they had managed to considerably widen the gap in the door.
The Imperial Commander tried once again to raise some of his forces on his personal communicator, but it was of little use. He could detect a few, even if weak, signals coming from somewhere outside, so that was promising. LT-4771 held no illusion however on how many they could be. A few hundred survivors at most.
'To think there had been two thousand of them just a few hours ago,' the thought made his way through his circuitry. 'An entire Imperial Legion almost brought to its knees in one single strike.'
The pounding at against the door continued. Just before signal with the Emperor's Assistant was lost, LT-4771 had detected the link with the other commanders being terminated as well. He had no doubt that the other legions as well had been hit. For all he knew, he was now the last Imperial Commander still functioning.
There was the hiss of ionized air as the mighty warbots finally blasted their way through the reinforced metal and to the other side. From that point on, the Juggernauts proceeded to widen the gap and in but a few moments the had rendered the entrance operable again. Sort of.
LT-4771 and his bodyguard detail were the first to come out from the underground section of the HQ. What greeted them outside was a hellish landscape.
Most structures within the perimeter walls had simply been flattened; the barracks, armouries, the fighter's hangars. They all had been torn asunder by the blast, reduced to smouldering piles of rubbles and melted steel. Smoke and ashes choked the air, forcing LT-4771 and his detachment to pay extra care, lest they seeped through the occasional crack in the armour and clogged their inner circuitry.
To the south-east, a considerable chunk of the fortified perimeter was simply gone, as if there never had been one in the first place. Beyond that and laying at the base of the hill, LT-4771 finally noticed the crater, a gaping hole in the ground where the explosion had first occurred. The earth around it glistened softly with the burning flames all around. The tremendous heat had glassed it.
And above, still faintly visible in the sky, an ominous-looking, fungus-shaped cloud hung over the crater.
Thought a warbot, LT-4771 checked his integrated geyser counter, out of curiosity mostly. It went ballistic the moment he switched it on.
Still, despite standing now in the ruins of his once mighty base, LT-4771 was not troubled by it. Bases could be rebuilt after all, just like warbots could. What truly troubled him, however, was the implication behind all of that. And as his processor elaborated what few data was available, the resulting picture was even grimmer.
A suicide attack. The Markazians had employed a suicide attack against his forces with a nuclear device. The thing had probably been a re-purposed fission reactor, so relatively low yield in comparison to proper military warheads, but the news was of little comfort given the result. If the rebels had been willing to resort to such tactics …
Looking southward, LT-4771 noticed the columns of pitch-black smoke rising far into the distance, where an Imperial supply depo was supposed to be. Thundering detonations echoed faintly his way together with the sound of gunfire.
LT-4771 had underestimated them. He had thought, after all the time spent on the planet, he now understood the rebels' modus operandi, how they thought, planned and fought. Clearly, he had been severely mistaken.
It was not going to be another guerrilla campaign, like all the others LT-4771 had fought against. Rather, that was the beginning of a new phase; a battle of annihilation fought to the last man and warbot.
"Lieutenant," LT-4771 broke the silence that had settled in. "Order every bot out of the bunker and back outside. Prepare scavenger teams and take everything that might be useful or is still intact, power cells above all else. You have two hours."
"Two hours?" The warbot scurried over to his side. "Commander, it will take more time to-"
"It's only a matter of time before the rebels decide to make sure that everyone of us is dead and descend on us. You have two hours, then we move out."
"Move out? Where?" the Imperial Trooper inquired.
"First of all, we must salvage what remains of the Legion from the outer outposts, if they had not been hit already. After that, we will pick up whatever allied force we can as we move toward the capital."
"Ah, the capital. The Emperor's Assistant had ordered us to boost the local defences then, sir?"
LT-4771 stopped dead in his tracks, then turned around to regard the Lieutenant with his eye-sensors. Protocol demanded that such a redeployment could only be authorized by the highest Imperial functionary in charge on the planet. Problem was, the Assistant had given no such authorization. There had simply not been enough time back then, and they had no way of communicating with her right now.
And being a warbot in the Imperial Army of the Great Emperor Nefarious, such kind of regulations had been implanted in his motherboard the moment he had exited the assembly line. He had never strayed from them in all those years.
Yet, something strange had happened since the Emperor's death. LT-4771 wasn't sure what it was, but he could recognize some discrepancies in his processor; data analyses branching off in different directions and parameters shifting in ways they weren't supposed to.
It was not a bug, nor a malfunction; his systems were in fact working very well all thing considered. Still, LT-4771 was perplexed.
Regulations imposed him to remain where he was and wait for instructions; his tactical analysis told him otherwise.
"Yes, lieutenant," LT-4771 lied. "The Emperor's Assistant had ordered us to redeploy. So be quick and carry out those orders."
The bot nodded. "Good to hear it, sir." He made to move away, then stopped. "What about the base personnel, sir? They're mostly civilian models."
"Have combat routines been downloaded in their systems and equip them with basic laser guns."
"Will they fight though, sir? They have nearly no training."
If LT-4771 could have shrugged, he would have done so. "They'll have no choice in the matter. Remind them that Markazians don't take prisoners."
That, on the contrary, was no lie.