Sage_of_Eyes
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Giant Robots? Say no more. I’m in. Chapter 3
🕑 Added 2024-07-24 04:14:37 +0000 UTCChapter 3
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Commissioned by Obelisk_Gaming
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I’ve been out of combat for a week, and I already want to go back.
“Arise, young sir, the day has begun.” I didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. C-140 took the sheets off my bed. Since I was going to be her Knight, my boss made sure I was properly housed. That meant a room big enough for two LA studios to fit inside was my bedroom and it had a commanding view of the arcology skyline through the three-story tall, bulletproof windows. The room had a separate bathroom, an automatic kitchen, and a medical station. The large room had four corners each sequestered of with movable panels that hid a dressing area, an office area, a dining area, and an entertainment space. Hones suite, and was thankfully right next to the dock where my mech was stationed. “It’s time for your physical upkeep regimen.”
“Hooray.” I got up onto plush carpet, off the bed that felt like drowning in clouds, and walked towards the medical room. Or, so I thought, until C-140 turned me towards another way. “Thanks.”
“It is ‘Thank you,’ young sir.”
“I’m not a sir, yet.” I idly corrected her while rubbing away the drowsiness and stretching. Walking and doing mundane things was hard, and getting roided up or genetic treatment or some medical support frame for my muscle atrophy would be seen as weakness. “What’s the mission today?”
“Cardiovascular including legs.” Over the course of the last week, I’m woken up the crack of dawn to head into the medical station, which came with a gym. C-140, halfway through my efforts to walk to the station, stopped me and handed me a protein slurry that vaguely tasted like vanilla and was probably packed with vitamins and protein. Gym bro dream life with the addition of blonde busty maid. Traditional French maid outfit, too. Not the skimpy fetish garbage. This is a uniform to be respected and admired. “Our mistress wants you able to walk and stand straight.”
“Boss lady gets what she wants, yep.”
“’My lady’s desires are my own.’” C-140 corrected me, while the doors to the physical therapy room/surgery room/gym opened. The surgery room was cordoned off and in a clean room with medical robots that looked more like floating spiders with scalpels. Didn’t want to go in there ever. Meanwhile, the physical therapy room was already being deconstructed to be replaced with a regular doctor’s office, since I was judged capable of training myself and not needing outright physical therapy. The gym, most likely, wasn’t going away anytime soon. “Please, follow along with me, through the stretching exercises.”
Most people would probably kill to follow stretching exercise with a buxom blonde maid with a ludicrous hourglass figure.
But I’m twelve, so it’s just annoying.
…
After getting bathed, it was time for breakfast at 0800. Slept at 2100, waken up at 0530, then physical therapy/exercise until 0700.
Why did the bath time take 60 minutes?
Because it was a full-on exfoliation treatment, cleansing wash, moisturizing, hair styling, and finally getting dressed in a three-piece uniform complete with tie, cuff links with my boss’s heraldry on it, and cologne.
Image is everything to the nobility.
I was just glad that I was allowed to listen to the news while I was being dolled up for the rest of the day.
Anyway, at 0800, it was time for table manners and etiquette training.
Since I wanted to, you know, eat… I picked up it quickly. Outermost utensils first, wait for a bowl of water to cleanse hands between courses, enjoy the tiny bite of sherbet as a palate cleanser between courses, and always be ready for a salad, an entrée, and a dessert at minimum. The food was good, real vegetables and meat and chocolate, but in all honesty having to sit straight and make identical cuts and pieces and pace myself perfectly to not look hungry?
All of that kinda took away from eating good, real food.
At 0900 it was off to my desk to get lectured and brought up to speed on what was considered elementary and middle-school topics, since I was getting into a high-school level knight academy.
They trained their kids early at fighting with giant war machines in this culture.
Honestly, it was one of the few good things they had going for them in my opinion.
Anyway, I was getting ready to spend five hours learning when there was a knock on my door and C-140 went to address it.
No, I can’t get the door myself and greet who’s coming into my room.
What am I? Poor?
These people are really insane when it comes to their optics.
“Declaring the entry of Lady Madelynn Hariss!” That was my cue to get up swiftly and meet with my boss at reasonable pace. I reached ten paces in front of her, made sure to turn around a perfect 90 degrees, and salute before falling to a knee. C-140 stood behind the boss, instead of beside me, since I was just her charge and not her owner. “The room is yours, my lady.”
I stayed knelt and waited instruction, doing my best to pay attention, while wishing to be elsewhere.
Namely, fighting something big, nasty, and with a cool move set and at least three different attack patterns.
And, who could dodge while leaving afterimages behind.
Always fun to finally nail those sorts of opponents to a wall.
Most of the time metaphorically, but best literally.
“OS-549, I have come here to address the formal requests you’ve sent my way.” Lady Hariss was wearing a coat over her shoulders, a real tight white button up, and high-rise waist pants that were close to being vacuum sealed. She had a cane and walked with it as a symbol of her status. With a fur trim and a big hat and some sick shades, she’d come off as a pimp, honestly. “Your request to spend your weekends: ‘killing big evil things with big guns in my giant mech’ has been approved.”
C-140’s hand collided with her face, and Lady Hariss sighed and shook her head before turning to her.
“You have been doing an admirable job, C-140. Your charge is simply better versed in conflict than etiquette. This is entirely due to him.” Most people would probably be shaking in their boots, but until the boss pulls out someone else who can pilot as well as I can and give her historical first achievements, I’m pretty much in the clear if I stay in my lane. “And, I suppose that he knows his limits, since he has kept such informal babbling entirely to our secure line.”
“I’ll be good and proper in the academy, boss. I promise. Don’t want anything that’ll interfere with me getting better things to use against the threats to humanity.” C-140 looked ready to have a stroke when I spoke, while Lady Hariss just raised an eyebrow. Should I kowtow and just follow tradition? Probably. However, at the very least, I wanted my boss to order me to do that before I committed to it. So far, I haven’t been told to stop. “So, I’ll leave the evening the last day before the break time and then return the night before classes restart?”
Ah, I’ll be able to do as I wish
“Given your learning rate, it’s needed. You are simply average for non-augmented humans. Your genetic predispositions towards piloting is truly active and strong, but beyond that nothing is else is noteworthy. Thus, you will be unable to keep up with your class, therefore you will need achievements. Many achievements.”
“Tell me what I need to do, and it’ll happen, boss.” I was still kneeling, but she gave me a nod, and I stood up and gave her a salute before standing stock straight. “And, I’ll try my best to keep up with all the gene-modded, perfect people that’ll be my classmates. Don’t worry, if they decide to bully me, I’ll call on C-140 right away!”
“Good. You understand why I purchased her. Her body is top-of-the-line as a hybrid service and combat model. She will be present to provide you care and aid with your body within the Academy, but she is also to be your bodyguard. Your peers will see you as a weakling or trash to be ignored in the beginning, but they will learn your achievements and talents in time… and you will make enemies of them all.”
“Wow, this school for knighthood is really competitive.”
I waited for my boss to agree, but was instead met with silence.
Something’s gone fucky wucky, hasn’t it?
…
Interlude: Ryleigh of House Remington, Aspirant Savior of Earth
…
“It’s an Operating System. House Hariss oversteps themselves.” Priscilla sneers and stands by my side without declaration. Her arms are crossed over her dull grey uniform, while her sharp gaze looks upon the transfer to our class. “They degrade us by calling that thing our peer.”
Priscilla is of House Minahil and a giant in the technology sector. Her family’s holdings include everything from simple fabricated defensive walls to low orbit battlestations. In terms of wealth and influence, her household commands a formidable five-percent stake in the entire arcology. My house only commands 4.5 percent, but our primary production is in staple goods and agriculture, along with the main armaments of gene-soldiers. Once conflict arises, when less can be spared for innovation, our share will double.
Priscilla knows this and thus aims to be my ally.
Practical.
However, she has the habit of missing the details when incensed. Attempting to calm her down and instruct her would only make her mood worse.
So, I chose to inform.
“That OS-549. The first and only war machine operator to capture a Queen alive, the only pilot to ever capture a Quantum Relay whole, and the pilot who captured the psychic beam weapon your household bought from House Harriss three years ago.” Priscilla went still at my words, but the drones accompanying her began to shake and quake. They were linked to her, to better respond to her commands. They were fearful of her rising anger, but they needn’t. Her frustrations were aimed at herself for her lack of information gathering. She will not make this mistake again. “He is twelve years old, lacks any genetic modification and amplification, and has averaged eighteen sorties a week for seven years as a lone pilot in numerous suicide missions.”
Priscilla processed the information, before coming to a realization.
“Then why are we here and not there!?” Priscilla discarded her prior misconceptions and operated off of new data from a trusted source. She saw the new transfer and arrival to our center of learning, our battlefield for the next five years, and moved to make him our ally after learning his true worth. “Why aren’t we moving!?”
I answered her simply.
“Because our primogenitor is there to receive him, and we cannot stand against her.” I stated simply, and Priscilla froze, before turning once more to the arrival of the newest student in our halls. There, walking to meet him, was the base template from which she, I, and many of the others here in the school were being developed to try and match. Codename: Empress, the perfected human being, already moved to subordinate the historical outlier that suddenly appeared in the Arcology a mere ten days ago. “He is not to be offered anything. He must be seized.”
All present in this Academy stem from her lineage, augmented by various houses with the genetic information and history of their own lines, to invite change and seek out stronger variation. In my family, besides increases to foundational strength, reflexes, and mental acuity, I was recorded to be far more adroit at our specialty of husbanding resources, increasing productivity, and gaining allies. Such was the case for all lineages derived from Empress’ stock. Improvements across all values, and the amplification of carefully modified genetic traits and mental aptitudes.
But could any of us compare to the prototype? The zeroth of our line?
No.
She stood alone, casting the deepest shadow, training us, and seeing who is worthy of her personal attention. Our cohort has been halved twice, over sixty possible iterations far above the norm of nobility, were excised. The second cohort already experienced a culling of over two thirds of its members. The latest over three-fourths. Our newer set of half-sisters and the newest set, were being judged unworthy more quickly and removed from the system, and some of us felt we were retained solely to avoid wasted resources.
Each of us are the pinnacle of our houses, yet only one was invited to the Empress’ school, where she sought out peers that would aid her in retaking the planet.
Him.
I watched and analyzed him, as he stopped before our primogenitor, and she regaled him with a smile and introduced herself as the headmistress of the Academy.
I read his lips, wondering what he would say to the silver-haired hero of the planet clad in black and with a lapel full of medals and accolades for hundreds of accomplishments and impossible victories.
His first words to her were:
“When can I fight the rest of the students in that arena?”
Priscilla’s teeth ground within her jaw, as she read his words, until she came to a sudden realization. His face lacked any arrogance or desire to hold himself over us. Amongst our number, such a declaration would be made to ascend above us, to declare oneself better. No, instead of the drive to dominate and to rule, there was only an eagerness to fight, to test, and to see the measure of those in the academy.
Or, so I thought, until he looked upon the woman who was the sole reason why humanity retained most of the planet.
“Can I fight you, if I beat everyone else?”
“Madness.” I spoke without realizing and Priscilla’s head snapped my direction, before I realized what I had done. A frown formed on my face, as I analyzed my reaction with care. Why had I deemed OS-549’s statement madness? His profile denoted his desire for battle. Naturally, he would wish to fight the finest humanity had to offer. Who else but her? It was a matter of course, yet I rejected the notion. I searched myself for an answer… and found it did not please me. “Priscilla, if you are available, I would like your assistance in training myself with war machines.”
“…You honor me by asking, but why? Did you not judge the matter a waste of resources, namely time?”
I gave her a grim smile in return.
“That is because I could not imagine ever being victorious against our primogenitor.”
Terror had overtaken my heart.
But no longer.
I will rise above my fear, and match the courage that I just witnessed from the base human that just challenged a goddess.
A goddess who probably smiled for the first time in years at hearing that mortal’s words.
Comments
N U
I mean... child soldiers hardly seem out of place in this setting. I imagine deployments also count as short skirmishes, defense sorties, or just shorter battles too. Still insane of course, but thaz why he's a legend.
白酒鬼
Wait. He's 12 and has been piloting roughly 18 times a week for 7 years... Leaving aside the implication that they put a 5 year old in a mech and all but told him to go wild, that's 7×52×18=6552 deployments. Well holy fuck. And again, he's been at it since he was *5*
LordMarksman
MC going to win himself breeding rights in the near future isn't he :)
