Van Terra III: Blackout [PREVIEW ONLY, NOW PUBLISHED]

Chapter Two ~ Grim Outlook

The crumpled remains of Grim Machine's body had long stopped smoking under the jungle rain. Most of his lights had gone out. Most of his software had crashed. But a periodic chirp—accompanied by a pulsing blue glow—signaled that some part of his system was still running, still fighting, even so many pentasols after Van Terra's attack. Still, it was all the robot could do to perceive the darkening jungle around him. Movement was impossible, and so was sending a signal for help.

Tonight's rain shower faded not long after it had started. The only thing coming down from the sky after that was the glow of the full moon Radia. Countless stars dusted the black around it, illuminating countless unknown worlds that the robot would likely never see. But somewhere among those stars was the home of his creator.

Amidst the chorus of jungle animals, the chirping and croaking and buzzing, a mechanical sound arose. Clanking metal, beeping and clicking, robots muttering strange curses to each other as they traversed the dense landscape.

Blinking lights, this is a terrible place.

Zap this entire operation.

Grim needs us. But all my drives, why did it have to be a jungle?

A second, sharper beam of light dropped down from the sky, originating much closer to the planet's surface than the moon. It swept back and forth over the jungle, keeping pace just ahead of the robot search party.

Eventually, the searchlight landed on the pile of Grim Machine.

"There he is," a familiar voice boomed from within the light's source, a hovering silver-white crescent-shaped spacecraft. The craft was one of the fleet's smaller ships, with only the space of a small apartment on the inside. "Have a nice nap, Grim?"

The grimbots flew into a frenzy as soon as they were within reach of Grim Machine, tearing off their own components and swapping them in for Grim Machine's broken ones. Two bots kept themselves whole, stepping in to make repairs when the rest could no longer function using parts they could no longer move themselves.

Finally, Grim Machine could speak again. "Meg," he grunted.

Meg clicked her tongue over the speaker. "Poor thing, out here all alone. I hope you know we sent bots out to search for you as soon as we lost contact with you. I wasn't able to get a cruiser out here until a few days ago, though."

Grim Machine's primary processor didn't do much with that information. He was too focused on the bots still putting the final touches on his exterior. "Why are my grimbots doing this?" he demanded. There was more than simple curiosity in his tone. Maybe bits of his programming needed patches. "They're destroying themselves—"

"Doncha know? They were made and given to you for this very reason, though they made good henchbots, too. Too bad there weren't enough around to save you after your last fight. You never really needed them until then."

Additional internal processors whirred within Grim Machine's body, a few still coming online, his reaction time still picking up speed. He'd been programmed to protect the grimbots. His ever-evolving algorithm had led to him taking revenge on anyone who damaged or destroyed them.

But he was also programmed to listen to Meg. To take everything she said as gospel. As far as the robot was concerned, she was the highest power in the universe.

Grim Machine's visual field shifted down to examine the three remaining grimbots. Two in perfect condition, one missing an arm sacrificed to bring him back. The rest were hardly more than scraps, though they could probably be used as bases for new machines. Their memory was likely to need resetting, though. They wouldn't be as intelligent—as useful—as the bots whose algorithms had been trained over several starcycles in combat and chaos.

"Don't worry, Grim," Meg said, voice still chipper as ever. "We'll get ya some more. In the meantime, though, we need your help. The war is far from over."

Grim Machine's thinking algorithms finally handed him one of the most interesting pieces of information yet for him to examine. "You're—here," he said slowly. "In the Janus System." He focused his attention on the hovering cruiser. "Are you actually in there, Meg?"

"Not in this cruiser, no."

"But you're nearby?"

"You know I'm a high-profile target, dear. For my own safety, I can't tell you yet. But you'll get to see me in person soon. And I'm really looking forward to it."

It had been starcycles since Grim Machine had last seen her. Last seen anyone from her team, really. Every once in a while, an engineer was sent out to make repairs or upgrades—the most recent being the extensive process of giving him the ability to transform into a tank—but beyond that, Grim Machine was left to do his own thing in the Janus System. He occasionally received specific instructions and random tasks but generally operated under one ongoing order: create chaos.

The space cruiser's overwhelmingly bright searchlight dimmed, allowing Grim Machine's visual sensors to detect the hatch sliding open in its underside. A high-focused gravity beam locked onto Grim Machine and his surviving grimbots and pulled them up.

The receiving room of the cruiser was plain, sleek and the same silver-white as the exterior. A screen took up most of the space on one of the walls, but while it was on, it only showed an empty blue quartz desk in a bright, clean office.

A voice spoke from just off camera. "So, Grim, are you ready to help me bring order to the Janus System?"

"Order?" Grim Machine's mouth turned into a frown to express his confusion, the gaps in his understanding. "My commands for the past few starcycles have been to incite chaos." He wasn't sure he was equipped to do much else.

"And you've done it beautifully. Paving the way for us to step in." Meg chuckled. "And there is still plenty of chaos to come."

"What about Skybreaker? Will she be hosting more races for me to participate in?"

"The races are done. You'll be helping her in other ways, but you can worry about that later. I'm sure your tank form will still be useful, though."

Grim Machine couldn't disagree with that, even if Meg's plans for the future were vague. Her grand plan didn't matter to him, really. All he needed to know was his role. It was all he was programmed to need.

So, he asked, "What do you want me to do now?"