3 of 5.
DK destroyed the last enemy tank, now a pile of
molten metal and burning flesh. The dark miasma had lift under the heat of the
main energy canon. The battle field was his, and DK stood there, calm like a
lion over the dead remains of his pray. Glorious. The men in the room were
dazzled and soon, when the fine and extremely expensive champagne started to be served, was clear that the United Nations Military Defense Force just become another
happy costumer of the Odin Arms Industry, the largest and now the most powerful
corporation on the face of the Earth. She watched the powerful men drinking the
champagne and laughing and she felt a dark cold rage inside her: Do they even
care about the fact that the people who bottled such fancy drinks in France
Back to memory lane, nine months after the
alien attack. Was strange, Alien attack
sounded too eerie, to absurd to be serious, but it was. She and Francine started
to work directly under the command of one of largest arms manufacturer of the
world, the Odin Arms Corporation.
-Dear, you have to look this new data from the
field… It’s WAY worst than we believed…
-Fran, don’t scare me. How bad can it be?
-The alien… organisms
simply grow up around and inside
machinery like tanks and war ships, but… Well, just take a look…
She grab the tablet, and browse over the raw
data.
-Fuck…? The damn tank becomes a living thing?!? Organic
metallic and ceramic armor? Organic engines?
Oh shit. No wonder they can take so much punishment, they can heal, HEAL damage!
-Oh yeah, at a stupidly dreadful rate: they
heal at least five to eight times faster than humans, without feeding or
refueling, as far as we know. Fuck physics, I guess. Fred said it will be on
the news tomorrow. Hasty decision if you ask me…
-Francine… Still having this…after work
relationship with Frederick
-Yes… But it’s just for fun. I don’t know why
you become so afraid of him in the last months, he is just the same corporation
hotshot as before.
She gulped, remembering not only the
satisfaction on Frederick
-It’s nothing…really. Look Fran, just… don’t
get too close. He isn’t a nice guy.
Fran raised a eyebrow, at first to mock, but
the stern look on Michele face, silent her.
-…You know what, mon cher? I can find better man! Now come here!
Francine hugged Michele tenderly. In the last
months, Michele lost everything that resembled a family in the endless wars
that erupted around the world. Fran was now her sister, mother, her best and
only friend, and Francine treasured it.
-Look mon
cher, let’s put a lid on it, d’accord?
-Right…! Look… tomorrow is…
-Your birthday! Yay! Excited?
-Not much…
-You better be! I arranged a party, lot’s of
those nerds from chaos mathematic analytic research, you know, the adorable
ones!
-You…
-Of course I will, silly. You think I would
miss my besty’s birthday party?!
The harshness of the memories forced Michele
back to the present. Francine never went to that party. She remember how people
told her that she probably lost the time or got caught on another appointment,
but she insisted that something was wrong. They won’t listen to her, even after
they found out that her cell-phone was off-line, and that no one saw her
leaving the laboratory that night. When two policemen entered and asked for her
attention, she already knew what happened.
She got up, brushed the hair and walked to a
large armored door, which opened to her without any need for commands or
passwords: BK, Bee Kay, DK older
“sister”, a AI, took care of that part of the complex, and BK like all
Michelle’s “babies” knew who her mommy was.
-Bee?
-Yes mom?
-Things went as expected, and considering that
money to buy guns was never an issue to those fine gentlemen, I think is safe
to say we will soon start the mass production of DK-129 sentient tanks. How we
are on that?
-Mom, twelve of our 45
large heavy assembly lines are already prepared. We have 80 units, the mass
production model, ready for deployment. We will have another 62 ready by the
end of the week. Once we start the production at full capacity, we will be able
to deliver 12 new units every two weeks. More, if another large assembly lines
are designated to this project. All material, ammo and other surplus are already
safeguarded.
-Bunch of idiots. If you were on the helm we
would deliver 12 new units per day…!
-Thank
you mother, but I must disagree. My analysis says that my top production would
be of only 9 units per week.
-Ah Bee, you are my very special girl… And the OS? Any problems?
-No, the latest
version you designed has the same performance than the last, plus more
stability when facing logic paradoxes.
-Good, that wraps everything with a big ribbon…
She walked away. Part of her felt guilt, but
then the rage, the cold discrete rage, came and murdered any possible regret
she could still have. OS.DKVs7… It
was her gift, to all of them, those bloody, murderous bastards.
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