Deltassius
A Quiet Patrol
Tia's grandfather was a thirty-two ton mech sporting two pairs of linked autocannons and what might be best described as a laser-guided lightning cannon. This was unusual- most ancestor machines, having died once already, elected support fire or logistical roles. Grandpa was a scrapper.
The miracle of the ancestor's creation was a closely guarded secret in the Techgnostic priesthood, but everyone among The People participated in the rituals that fueled it. Families would attend the temple and tell the developing neural network stories of their shared past, read to them from old journals, or even play recordings to ensure the spirit remembered who they were when the officiating thaumaturge fused them to the substrate.
Tia was overjoyed when her grandfather was reborn with his rich, melodic voice freed from the cancerous rasp that had ended his first life. After a year and a half of duty, she vaguely wished he was dead again.
"All I am saying, little one, is that your contract is almost complete. You should get out. Find a nice boy. Make me some great grandchildren."
Tia pretended to focus on scanning the horizon. The plateau offered a perfect view of the island, the sole obstructions being its twin peak to the North and a tenacious tree that was home to a cau-cawo bird.
"The airspace is clear for five miles beyond the horizon," Her grandfather said. "Speak with me, little Tia. This is important- the future is important."
Across the way, Tia's cousin Ekko made a show of inspecting his kit. His communication bead suddenly switched to a different channel. No help there.
"I told you, papa, we all have a duty to protect our lands; and besides, you have plenty of descendents already."
There was a crackle of dead air as her grandfather considered saying more. Instead, he rolled his turrets. A shrug, maybe. Probably a sigh.
Tia smirked behind her faceplate. "Besides," she continued, "I can always get a maternity discharge if I catch some good dick."
Her grandfather lurched as if stricken. The air filled with the hum of his gyro as it frantically struggled to keep him upright.
"Cau-cawo," the cau-cawo bird trilled with indignation at the commotion. It flapped its glossy black wings officiously before nestling back into the leaves.
"Papa! Get a grip! It's bad luck to bother a cau-cawo bird!"
Her grandfather became still, legs akimbo, and stared at her with every sensor array he possessed. Tia could feel the microwave energy warming her skin.
Then he laughed. Deep and booming and hearty. The moment moved on.
The sun was warm against the languid sea breeze as the trio lingered in silence. It was a good day.
-----
Built for the lego group, The Future is Bright.
(Ok maybe not really.)
A Quiet Patrol
Tia's grandfather was a thirty-two ton mech sporting two pairs of linked autocannons and what might be best described as a laser-guided lightning cannon. This was unusual- most ancestor machines, having died once already, elected support fire or logistical roles. Grandpa was a scrapper.
The miracle of the ancestor's creation was a closely guarded secret in the Techgnostic priesthood, but everyone among The People participated in the rituals that fueled it. Families would attend the temple and tell the developing neural network stories of their shared past, read to them from old journals, or even play recordings to ensure the spirit remembered who they were when the officiating thaumaturge fused them to the substrate.
Tia was overjoyed when her grandfather was reborn with his rich, melodic voice freed from the cancerous rasp that had ended his first life. After a year and a half of duty, she vaguely wished he was dead again.
"All I am saying, little one, is that your contract is almost complete. You should get out. Find a nice boy. Make me some great grandchildren."
Tia pretended to focus on scanning the horizon. The plateau offered a perfect view of the island, the sole obstructions being its twin peak to the North and a tenacious tree that was home to a cau-cawo bird.
"The airspace is clear for five miles beyond the horizon," Her grandfather said. "Speak with me, little Tia. This is important- the future is important."
Across the way, Tia's cousin Ekko made a show of inspecting his kit. His communication bead suddenly switched to a different channel. No help there.
"I told you, papa, we all have a duty to protect our lands; and besides, you have plenty of descendents already."
There was a crackle of dead air as her grandfather considered saying more. Instead, he rolled his turrets. A shrug, maybe. Probably a sigh.
Tia smirked behind her faceplate. "Besides," she continued, "I can always get a maternity discharge if I catch some good dick."
Her grandfather lurched as if stricken. The air filled with the hum of his gyro as it frantically struggled to keep him upright.
"Cau-cawo," the cau-cawo bird trilled with indignation at the commotion. It flapped its glossy black wings officiously before nestling back into the leaves.
"Papa! Get a grip! It's bad luck to bother a cau-cawo bird!"
Her grandfather became still, legs akimbo, and stared at her with every sensor array he possessed. Tia could feel the microwave energy warming her skin.
Then he laughed. Deep and booming and hearty. The moment moved on.
The sun was warm against the languid sea breeze as the trio lingered in silence. It was a good day.
-----
Built for the lego group, The Future is Bright.
(Ok maybe not really.)