ERN13, or “Ernie” as most people called him, racked the slide on his massive .50 calibre handgun, then placed it on the magnetic holster on his hip. The humm of the transport shuttle reverberated through his legs like a rock concert. Just then Clint stepped out of the lavatory, and moved to take his seat next to his creation.
“What do you think of the Bot from New Rome?” Clint asked, as he leaned closer to Ernie’s audio sensors.
Ernie turned and looked at his human maker, “Good overall armor, but his range of motion’s going to be limited by that huge sensor pack. I can’t see any external weapons, so I couldn’t tell you anything about firepower for sure, but the New Roman Empire tends to favor incendiary, and high-explosive type weapons,” he paused, “I’d probably guess handheld chain gun, or grenade launcher.”
“If I were you, I’d make friends with him from the get-go. That sensor suite can probably detect Bots out to, oh at least twelve miles.” Clint advised, with a nod. “Also, I’d keep an eye on the Bot from the Commonwealth of New London. Those people are notorious for fighting dirty.”
Ernie scanned the compartment observing each of the other thirteen Bots, making mental notes of their outward design flaws, as well as strengths.
Suddenly a voice came over the shuttle’s intercom, “Competitors, welcome to Machines Of War I’m your host, Saxon Atol,” the voice said, “You will be arriving at M.O.W. HQ in a few moments. Get to your rooms, and get some rest. Your first live fire mission is tomorrow at eighteen hundred hours. The winner of the mission will be allowed to chose one opposing competitor to ‘Dust Out’ of the competition. Good luck.” the intercom clicked off.
Ernie pondered the last statement. He thought, Choosing which opponent has to leave is a tactical advantage in and to itself!
Five minutes later, the shuttle lurched to a halt on M.O.W. HQ’s landing pad.
Once they reached their quarters, Clint fell into his bunk. Ernie went over to his power slot, and placed his weapons in their respective slots, then pulled out the manual each competitor had been given, and set it down on on the table, along with the small bulletproof case he had carried with him since Rosemary died.
He lifted the lid and removed a single red rose with no small amount of care, and held it gingerly in his large mechanical hands.
“She would have been proud of us.” Clint sighed, “I don’t think she ever expected us to make it farther than wiping up the local insurrectionist cells.”
Ernie turned to face Clint. “We both owe a lot to her don’t we?”
“We both owe her our lives.”
“For Rosemary.”
“For Rosemary.”
The next day, Ernie powered up at sixteen hundred hours, and went through his pre-mission routine, checking his weapons, running a final diagnostics check on all of his systems, and reviewing maps of the Area of Operations. The mission today was to assault a compound that was similar in it’s layout to the many bases of the insurgent group who called themselves the ‘Imperium of Constellations’. The Imperium had largely been destroyed, but pockets of resistance still remained. Clint and Rosemary had built Ernie in direct response to these terrorists. His sleek black armor designed to deflect hits from the insurgents assault rifles.
There’s a catch, Ernie thought, that base is in the middle of a civilian area. I’ll have to be careful of over penetration. Then looking at the collection of weapons in front of him, he thought, So the rail gun, and sniper rifle are out of the question. He grabbed the sub-machinegun, and his handgun and did one last systems check as Clint began to awake.
“Good morning sunshine.” Ernie said absently.
“What time is it?” croaked Clint.
“Seventeen thirty. You better hustle.”
They joined the other teams with their Bots at the landing pad just as the last of the fifteen AH-113 Chimera transport helicopters touched down on the tarmac. They were greeted by an older man with graying hair, who Ernie assumed was Saxon Atol.
“Good morning challengers!” Saxon bellowed, “Your mission today is to assault an Imperium fortress. Your Bots will insert at the edge of the town and advance into the city, and dispatch any resistance. The human members will remain in the helicopters as support. The first Bot to successfully enter, clear, and secure the base will win a tactical advantage of an emergency resupply during the next challenge. Good luck.”
As Ernie and Clint boarded one of the helicopters, the former Force Recon Marine said “Remember Ern, keep low, and keep your head on a swivel. The time you don’t see your surroundings is the time you’ll get jumped by a sniper.”
“Roger that. Thanks.”
The helicopters reached their drop zones almost simultaneously, and all of the Bots rappelled down their ropes into a blaze of enemy fire. Four Bots were destroyed before they even reached the ground.
Ok Ernie, you can do this, he thought to himself, grasping the handle of his SMG,,just keep moving.
Immediately upon hitting the ground Ernie dashed to a low concrete wall and dropped to one knee, scanning with his entire spectrum of sensors, when over the radio he heard Clint’s voice say “Ern! I’ve mapped out the fastest route to the base! Go Chameleon!”
Ernies map highlighted a route in red. Then he ‘went Chameleon’ by activating his Toren-Tek DigiCamX9 stealth system. He became, for all intents and purposes, invisible to the naked eye. His heat sensor pinged a positive ID on a machine gun in the window of a large building complex. It opened fire, chattering away like a killer woodpecker, and sprayed rounds indiscriminately.
Ernie dropped to his belly and crawled to the end of the wall. As he looked down the sights of the SMG, he thumbed the safety off and flicked the fire selector to semi-automatic.
The dust from the loitering helicopter made it impossible for Ernie to see the target. On instinct, he switched to his thermal optics, and the airborne debris became a non-factor.
“Confirmed enemy contact,” Ernie reported with all the emotion of a gravestone, “engaging now.”
