Putting thoughts of robotic homicide out of my mind, roboticide? Let's go with necessary creative dismantling. I headed up to check on casa de AL, and our hopefully conscious goblin.
Good news, she’s awake, bad news, she’s angry. At least I think she’s angry. What with all the grunts and chirps and whatever passes as goblinese. I stood there mouth agape, watching a three foot green skinned goblin having a shoving match with an over five foot Cassidy. It was kinda funny, so I may have chuckled, sue me. My faux pas did draw the ire of said arguing women. Again, death glare from tiny green woman, may have elicited another chuckle, but I will never ever admit to that.
“Good, your here, now take care of your little pet goblin, I’ve got better things to do.” demanded Cassidy. What am I supposed to do with a goblin, and what things to do? Her and Chip have just been wandering around, and eating my food discs. Honestly, how uppity can one women be. I’m no Rico Suave, but I’m pretty sure I’ve never done anything to purposefully piss her off. Making women angry at you is a very poor life choice.
Taking a deep breathe, before I lose my shit, trying to calm down this situation.
“Al, any chance you could decipher what she is saying, or teach me goblinese?” I asked.
“No” Al replied. I’m going to dismantle you and laugh like a mad scientist while I do it.
“Okay, then Al, can you explain to me why you can’t help towards a dialogue with our new guest?” I pleaded.
“It would take me months of effort and related information to understand and translate any language, let alone one as primitive and archaic as grunts and chirps. My program isn’t designed to just magically interpret other languages.” Al informed me.
Well damn, so much for all those stories about magically knowing other languages. It makes since, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck. “Okay, Al, do we have any other options here? Pictionary? Charades? Unless you’ve got some kick ass nanites with language in them, were kinda screwed here.” I ask, pulling ideas out of nowhere.
“Actually, we do have a nanite package that can be used to incorporate english into the current indigenous life forms.” Al informed me.
“Well, Shit on a cracker Al, why couldn’t you have just led with that? Nevermind, I don’t want to hear about how some robotics code or law, prevented you from telling me. Just load her up already, and let’s be done with it. Also, if we have more, load up a few spares into a syringe or applicator, or whatever you future a-holes used. It’s highly unlikely other races speak the same language.” I asked. Strangely, when ever a situation gets stressful, I feel a calming sensation spread through me. Might be something to that, I should probably check that out, but it’s probably not that important.
While I was busy with my self introspection, some sort of metallic tentacle came out of the wall and sprayed something in the face of our guest. Which promptly led to some sort of seizure.
“Dammit Al, I wanted her to be able to speak, not bite off her own tongue. Not much speaking without that, you overrated tin beer can.” I swear, Al is starting to make me irrationally angry, and it’s not because of my effeminate little knife. The knife from the fabricator, you dirty, dirty people.
I walked over and bent down to pick up our seizing guest, and placed her on the medical pod. Using what little medical first aid they teach in the military to keep her from biting off her tongue with those wicked incisors of hers. Finally strapping her down, for her own safety. I’m not into that BDSM stuff, that I’m sure Cassidy is probably judging me for at the moment.
Speaking of Cassidy, I should probably find a way to sort that whole mess out.
“Okay, Cassidy, why do you hate me?” I asked, as I tiredly sat down on the floor with a cold metal wall against my back. Staring her directly in the eyes.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“Who made you the boss, I should be in charge, at least I can organize something. Assuming we can figure out what it is were actually trying to do here. Besides waste power and supplies making ourselves look cool. Have you thought about defenses, weaponry, food, anything. Sure we have some shelter, and those god awful food discs, for now. But what about the future. Seeing that stupid look on your face, I bet you haven’t even thought about any of that have you?” Cassidy seethed in anger at me.
Shit, she does have a point. I haven’t thought about any of that. Which isn’t normal, I like to plan, then throw out the plan and wing it, cause plans never work. I didn’t even question the transition from some sort of earth sim to reality. Assuming this isn’t some messed up Jack and coke fueled dream. What’s my mission? I’m a Marine, I need a mission to be effective, otherwise I might as well just sit on my thumbs and spin.
Okay, let’s take stock first. I have some future bunker with probably some of the last unmutated humans around. An annoying AI, Cassidy and Chip, plus our new goblin guest. What help they’ll be I have no idea. And an amazing fabricator that badly needs power. If this was an RTS, I’d have been zerg rushed by now.
“Hey, Al, do we have any offensive tech around the base?” I ask, directing my question at Al Wall.
“We have environmental scanners and radar, and anti-nanite nets, you would refer to them as force fields. They are designed to keep any unauthorized nanites from entering the bunker. Otherwise, this bunker would have undergone the mutation that led to the current global condition.” Al droned on.
“So then, no prism towers, or alien ray guns? No wonder our corporate overlords who created this place died. They were penny pinching idiots.” I replied, rubbing my temples from a coming headache.
“Cassidy, since you want the job, you can have it. Your now boss of the bunker, I’ll look for a crown, or sash or something, really give you that ‘I’m in charge’ look.” I turned toward Cassidy, giving her a bow with my arm stretched out to my side. Just because I need to calm her down, doesn’t mean I’m not a snarky asshole. Following a huff and her trademark death glare, she sweeps past me into the hall. Probably off to dictate and what not.
Ignoring all that, which is my specialty, I turn back to our now awake goblin. At least she’s not as feral looking right now. Time to dust off my ‘Diplomacy for Idiots’ and figure out where we stand.
“Hello, do you understand me?” I asked, staring at my tied up goblin.
“W..wh..who ar...re you, Wh...where am I? The confused gobliness asks me.
“Good, you can speak, which I assume means you can understand me. My name is Darius, and your in my bunker. After the troll killed your friends, and I killed the troll, I brought you back here to heal you. I can’t let you return to your tribe or home or whatever you call it, unless I can figure out how to make you not remember where we are located. Which I’m assuming Al can do. In the meantime I’ll setup a room for you, and you will need permission to access any more of the base. Attempts to leave the base without permission will result in lethal force. Do you understand?” I ask, staring directly into her yellow eyes.
“You capture me, make me yours. Fight other female for place of first.” She replied with a nod. That crazy girl gleam in her eyes.
Oh shit, no. NO no no nonono. Nope, no crazy eyes for me, thank you very much. Sane goblin girl, might be fun. But crazy eyes is a good way to lose body parts in a hurry. I don’t need a shrine built to me, with a hair effigy. That’s how you get stabbed and lose very important body parts. *shiver*
I immediately called in Chip to lead our scariest new guest to an available room. As far away from me as possible. She went with surprisingly little fuss, thank god for small favors.
I spent the next several hours with Al, going over a build plan for the fabricator’s power generators. It reminded me of those tech trees. We needed a minimum of 1200 small generators to produce a medium, which would double our power supply. We could then salvage the small generators back to the fabricator to avoid wasting universal stock. With an hour per generator, it would take us just shy of two months to even reach the medium generators. According to Al, we could not produce anything beyond 2050 without an antimatter generator. Which was around tier 50. By his calculations it would take well over a year to reach that level, without outside power sources he was not aware of. Sadly, fully built mechs with weapons I’ve never heard of where in that category.
Standing up for a good stretch, I mosey my way towards an unoccupied room for a little shut eye. Stripping down and laying on my nice comfy pillow, I let out a long breath and snuggle in for a good night's sleep. No sooner then my eyes closed an annoying Klaxxon went off directly in my ear.
“Warning, sentient life forms detected heading towards our location.”
“Shut it up Al, I’ll deal with it.” I slip all my gear back on, that I literally just took off, and trudge my way towards the bunker entrance. Mumbling sleepily about how I’m going to murder something for interrupting my sleep.