The galactic council chambers of the Xinos is filled to the brim with the hums and whirls of the incomprehensible machines. The current round δ is still ongoing, but the shapes are currently having their own mini celebration over the confirmation they have just received from L.I.Z. on the battleground below. All pretenses at interfering in the succession games have now been dropped by most of the machines, and it seems the corrupt council will finally get their way.
L.I.Z. has just confirmed their objective to activate one of humanities forgotten doomsday projects, Sundial, which will happen over the next 10 days, and the Xinos are thrilled everything appears to be going according to their plan.
The lizardmen race was thankfully easy to manipulate, bribed with simple improvements to their technology, and an offer to even have a representative on their council. Unbeknownst to the lizardmen though, the Xinos had zero intentions on ever welcoming them on the galactic stage, yet they truly believed that would be the case if they simply destroyed Earth as per the Xinos wishes.
Sundial, while a word typically associated with communicating the passage of time utilizing the shadows casts by a star’s luminous rays, was apparently the name of a secret project the Homo sapiens developed during the height of their species “cold war” era. The classified world-ending weapon, was a nuclear warhead capable of cracking the planet in half from its detonation. It was a bomb meant to surpass all bombs, and was only constructed as the ultimate insurance for mutually assured destruction scenarios. While typical nuclear warheads needed to deliver their payload, the premise behind Sundial’s creation, was you didn’t need to worry about delivering the bomb anywhere. If the world was going to end from its detonation, then you could simply build it in your own backyard, and activate it when attacked by a foreign nation.
Despite the eventual resolution to the tense war, and a perception of “world peace” on the surface for the humans, the warhead’s construction was completed then simply left to collect dust in the basements of the USA’s well-known military base Area 51. It was both a technical marvel for the species at the time, and a symbol that humans shouldn’t be taken lightly. Regardless, it was thanks to L.I.Z.’s ability to bond with one of the planet’s highest-ranking members of government, that the Xinos were finally going to get their battle royale restart.
“You really are doing this...” Hums the former emperor Xylophos to the council, as the shapes continue ignoring the footage from regions still partaking in battle royale. It has already been several days since round δ began, and, while F.O.X. and John had once again provided another upset to the Xinos, Xylophos was beginning to worry their species was going to lose something important for their development. The council ignores the emperor’s comments at large, prompting them to focus their monitors on the games still evolving below.
Fewer and fewer Xinos warriors were surviving as the round dragged on, and a surprising source of eliminations ended up being the shrinking regions of battle. After the 24-hour mark, the regions quickly began contracting, and a vast majority of the surviving sea-bound Xinos were eliminated. Their cores ceased functioning when their location was deemed to be “out of bounds” which led to a startling loss of 4,183 warriors.
Xylophos continues observing the developing round, then closes their monitor after a heavy sigh. They couldn’t in good faith enjoy the games while the council before them had already begun planning for the guaranteed restarted round. Some favoured members had even already been proposed to the council, with heated discussions actively taking place, prompting Xylophos to cover their monitors with their multidimensional limbs. Tightness gripped their core, and they eventually made the decision to teleport to their private chambers, leaving the main observation room.
The machine then activates several screens fixated on F.O.X. and John, yet their circuits still pulse in a heavy tone. Observing the duo had brought the intelligence great joy, as even they had learned some new lessons about what it meant to be a Xinos. Learning to believe in your faults, and exploit them to find your own strengths was a novel idea to the intelligence, and challenged what the machines assumed to be mere errors across their existence. They Xinos were not perfect, they never were, and as Xylophos continued observing the captivating pair, they knew their race was about to lose something critical for their development. And, despite the repeated pleas from their system to avoid interfering, a tenant they had vowed to always uphold, temptation was gradually beginning to overtake their network. They wanted to help.
As the screens continue scrolling by, Xylophos observes the duo has recently delivered Jake back to his family, and have already started heading southwest to remain within the acceptable battle regions. Extrapolations from F.O.X.’s systems had placed the final destination to be somewhere between North and South America, and the two have now officially crossed into the USA’s borders. Border security accepted F.O.X.’s disguise as a modified truck, and when the intelligence hacked the government’s database, was able to insert John’s ID as a VIP for entry without questions.
After several more hours, and close to a trillion conflicting responses, Xylophos finally decided to give in to their network’s desires. Their digits glide across their terminal, tapping and entering commands as they see fit. Their finger then hangs above the return key, twitching, hesitant to confirm the final string of code and commands. There would be no going back after this moment, and, after a brief moment of hesitation, Xylophos finally presses the button. Numbers whirl and beep across the multitude of devices across their desk. A loading bar then comes into focus near their monitors, and, after a brief, yet stressful series of dots pausing part way through, the encrypted connection to the Xinos that has captivated them this tournament finally opens.
...
...
...
Aton fumbles with an old-fashioned flip top lighter he received from a human colleague while working at the United Nations branch in Belgium. It’s a silver-plated canister that gives off a rustic vibe, and, perhaps most importantly, one that the lizard deemed visually pleasing to their thin slitted eyes. The weight is noticeable, yet comfortable across their hands, and the snapping sound it creates when opening and closing is an additional delight of sensory information Aton didn’t know possible until receiving it. “It really is the little things that bring us joy, isn’t it L.I.Z.?” Aton muses while cupping his hand around the delicate flame to ignite another cigarette in the brisk autumn wind.
Aton takes a deep drag, the smoke entering and expanding within the lizardman’s lungs, filling up the bountiful, yet stained air pockets from repeated uses with its smoggy texture. The tarry residue then clings to the dying alveoli throughout, allowing the nicotine ease of passage into the reptile’s bloodstream. Seconds later, the hit is received by their brain, prompting the organ to release a horde of neurotransmitters to sooth and reward his neural pathways. A comforting jolt then pulses through Aton’s body, and they puff out a cloud of smoke to create a circular pattern from the thrill received.
Their eyes then lock onto L.I.Z., the Xinos gaze hasn’t shifted since they eliminated their opponent identified as E.L.E. The other alien robot, apparently took on the visage of an elephant to the reptile’s honed eyes, and while the battle was fierce, Aton never once felt that their life was in danger. L.I.Z. had brought them to observe their destructive prowess, and it was clear with Aton’s 100% bond compatibility, even a creature that could predict each and every one of your movement’s perfectly, could still succumb to a superior, stronger opponent.
For the impromptu battle, the robots had ultimately met in a secluded park while L.I.Z. was seeking out a foe to still remain a valid contender in the tournament. L.I.Z. had informed Aton that they would need to move quickly, as their acceptable regions of battle were shrinking, which led to their chance encounter with the enemy Xinos. The battle ended without much issue on L.I.Z.’s part, and the lizard Xinos was now picking through the sparking and frayed wreckage of the mechanical elephant’s corpse. Xytrolyte had already begun to stain the grass with its tacky blue colour, as the viscous fluid continued leaking out, seeping deep into the rugged ground. L.I.Z. then pries several sensors and wirings from around the dead warrior’s core, and connects some of their own wirings to them. They download some information of interest, mostly visual recording from previous encounters, then grumbles at the remainder of the data.
The machine then severs the connection, and their monitors glance to Aton. The “human” is still enjoying their smoke break, and is oblivious to the screams of the other nearby humans who had fled the scene from the multitude of explosions detonated during the brief fight. Aton then gestures to the rolled paper held between their fingers, before tapping their fancy lighter.
“I’m a machine, Aton...” L.I.Z. rumbles, as they turn to walk away from E.L.E.’s crumpled and battered corpse. “Don’t say I didn’t offer.” Chimes Aton with a witty smile, as he tucks the lighter away in his suit’s pocket and stands up from the park bench he was resting on. The two then join side by side, walking away from the defeated Xinos whose metallic frame has now begun to smolder. Aton then flicks his lightly charred cigarette butt to the ground and grabs the pair of black shades tangled within his hair. The wavey strands release the metallic lenses, which Aton flicks open and places over his eyes.
*Boom!*
E.L.E.’s frame then explodes from a critical failure, sending smoke and pieces of charred Xyninium metal flying across the park. Aton and L.I.Z. continue their stroll, unphased by the carnage developing behind them, and a few pieces of the jagged metal even fly by the duo as they continue forward casually. “So... I really just get to waltz right into one of the most highly guarded military bases on the planet?” Aton starts, prompting L.I.Z. to bring up a hologram of the nuclear warhead in question. “Correct, Aton.” They reply, while scrolling through the augmented images and enlarged 3-D map of the Area 51 military base in question. “I have already hacked their database and granted you access. You will be visiting them for a routine inspection of their aeronautic hanger bays, and, once inside, you will make your way through the restricted access corridors. Any attempts to stop your progress will be dealt with accordingly.”
L.I.Z. then pauses, while the augmented map updates itself, charting a path with a green arrow along the hallways Aton will be following while inside the military base. Aton makes a mental note of the route and L.I.Z. continues. “Armed personnel will activate alarms once you pass this point, as we were unable to achieve an understanding with the Greys currently working underground. The Sundial bomb is located approximately 50 kilometers below the surface, and is being closely watched by only approved government agents and greys while they complete various high-tech research projects.”
*Whew*
Aton whistles as the map finishes charting its pathway. The screen lights up, blinking and highlighting the room containing the bomb which is shaped like an egg, before bringing it into focus. Additional supplementary information fills in along the sides of the hologram, showing rough measurements placing it at 500 feet tall, with blueprints indicating multiple smaller caches inside. The product reminds Aton of a matryoshka doll, with nested reinforced chambers to allow the radioactive metals to achieve a cascading chain reaction inside. The principal theory, developed in collaboration with the grey aliens actively working with the humans, was the detonation would just barely exceed Earth’s gravitational binding energy of approximately 60 zettatons. The brief application of this force would be enough to separate the planet’s core and various layers of the Earth, then the current rotational force through space would simply complete the rest of the daunting task. The planet would ultimately split, before spiraling out of its orbit, thus ending all life as it was known on the green and blue sphere.
It was a secret scrubbed from classified files, and while tidbits were eventually released to the general public under the freedom of information acts, the finer details were still heavily modified to conceal the presence of aliens actively aiding human scientists. This information was known only to the most trusted and senior members of the human race, which included the lizardmen by extension, despite their own rough relations with the other aliens currently living on Earth.
Satisfied with L.I.Z.’s report, Aton muses over some recorded footage of the grey aliens in lab coats currently running experiments with human scientists over how to achieve hard light technology. He then clicks his tongue before responding to the robot in a sour tone. “They are only small-time galactic hicks after all. It was expected they would never agree to such a plan, L.I.Z.”
“Hicks or not, they will try to interfere.” L.I.Z. sharply beeps. “The Greys have enjoyed working with the humans as well, and were pleased when they secured exclusive mineral rights to the metals around your planet’s core.”
...
And remember. You must be the one to activate the bomb, Aton. I am prohibited from activating it myself, due to my species doctrine.”
Aton smiles at the robot’s words. To them, it truly was an oddity that one of the universe’s progenitor races needed to rely on the humble lizardmen to “push a button”. If they truly were as powerful as they claimed, then why couldn’t they just simply blow the planet up themselves? Why take such a roundabout method to achieve the same results?
The smirk then slowly fades from the man’s face, and he decides it isn’t worth getting hung up on the little details. He will soon be the lizardmen’s new leader after all, and the representative that will join the Xinos on the galactic stage as a member of their council. Aton then pauses, noticing L.I.Z.’s monitors locked onto his shoulders. He raises his eyebrow towards the robot, in more of a curious gesture than anything.
L.I.Z. then reaches towards and grabs the object of interest across Aton’s shoulders. It is a tiny insect, and, after analysing it with their network, they positively identify it as a being from the Formicidae species. A hearty creature, yet it is the faint traces of Xyninium alloy that are truly what’s bothering the intelligence.
“Hey! Watch the suit!” Aton responds, as the robot continues to rotate the tiny creature between their fingers, before ultimately crushing it between their nails.
“I was careless, Aton.” They rumble in a series of lower tones, before flicking the insect’s body to the ground. “It appears our conversation was not as private as we originally thought.”
“Hah!” Scoffs Aton, as he reaches into his breast pocket to grab another cigarette and lights it with his metallic lighter. “We’re walking through a public park, talking about a highly classified government project, and you’re complaining our conversation wasn’t private enough!”
L.I.Z. understands the creature’s words, yet simply states to the man “Other Xinos were listening, and this one in particular, is one we should probably exercise dutiful caution around.”
Aton then blows a puff of smoke across the robot’s monitors, taking his time to enjoy the sensation, then replies with a cocky smile. “Let them try. We’ve got a 100% bond, the highest for the entire planet. I seriously doubt an ant would pose us much problems.”
The two then arrive at one of Aton’s limousines, stationed near the edge of the public park, and an attendant dutifully standing by opens the door for the passengers. Aton slides into the vehicle, his movements rather natural from the repeated journeys he has taken within the extravagant van, with L.I.Z. joining shortly behind. Aton then nods to the driver, and the vehicle’s engine roars to life, pulling into the empty streets ahead.
Aton then reaches into the side compartment, grabbing from the minibar two crystal tumblers and an expensive bottle of brandy. He then places a large spherical cube of ice in the chalices each, grinning they are still referred to as cubes despite their circular nature, and pours a heavy shot into the glasses. He then gestures to the lone cup still left on the table, glancing at L.I.Z. who rolls their monitors. “I’m a machine, Aton.”
Aton grins again, a playful smile as he runs his hand through the fake wavey hair covering his scaled scalp. “Don’t say I didn’t offer.” He chuckles, then takes a sip from the refined beverage, gently rolling the dark liquid across his tongue to enjoy the sting and refined flavour.
He has a couple more sips, then leans against the edge of the limousine’s door. He swirls the amber liquid in his hand, and watches with bored eyes the briskly passing scenery. Aton still has a couple more meetings he must attend, despite the fact he will soon be ending the world as it’s known personally. His thoughts begin to wander, and his eyes briefly glance to the sparkling glass before taking another sip. Life on Earth will soon end, and his thoughts linger on a simple, tragic fact, while continuing to glance out the tinted windows.
“It's one of the true pities of the universe.” Aton sighs while placing his glass down, prompting L.I.Z. to cock their monitors over his simple words. Since all his time on Earth, Aton has only known humans to be exceptionally good at two things...
Producing beautiful women, and wonderful liquor, both of which, he will soon lose forever.
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...
A.N.T.’s monitors beep and blare a warning throughout their hideout, prompting the machine to turn their attention to one of their recently deceased scouts. They have been actively monitoring the battles across the planet, and after reviewing this new source of information, have quickly begun scouring all known government databases for anything related to the words “Sundial” and “bomb”, and the results return some interesting information. But, after filtering and cross referencing these words against sensitive government files, their circuit’s pulse quickens when they confirm the project is frighteningly real.
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
The insectoid Xinos continues their investigation, replaying the recently recorded footage showing the map of the US military base, then brings up more queries on the human known as Aton. Several sources seem to speculate to the intelligence he is actually a member of the mysterious lizardmen race, and the machine confirms the fact after running several historical scans on the creature’s body temperature and ocular retina. A fairly well-crafted mask across the man’s face seals the deal, and A.N.T. realizes their conversation shouldn’t be taken lightly.
It was by chance they happened across the Xinos identified as L.I.Z., as a scout lodged between the hairs on E.L.E.’s trunk just so happened to be in the right place, at the right time. The scout had somehow managed to avoid the brunt of the confrontation, and crawled onto Aton’s suit to continue gathering data. While the lumbering grey Xinos was eliminated, prompting A.N.T. to update their files on L.I.Z., the machine never expected to stumble upon such a landmine of information.
Their sensors twitch and hum, and the machine quickly estimates the battleground planet will soon cease to exist. After accounting for travel time and Aton’s densely packed schedule of meetings, A.N.T. estimates it will be 10 Earth days until the bomb is activated by the “human”. None of the Xinos still alive will survive the catastrophe, and the general quickly connects the dots that this must be a backup plan amongst their council for a clean “restart” of their succession games.
“To abandon an old general such as myself, even after a lifetime of devoted service to our species...” They scoff, while readjusting the hat above their head. A.N.T. had intended on still competing in the battle royale, since becoming the Xinos next emperor was a goal amongst all of their warriors, yet as they continued reviewing the data they were uncovering, their network was gradually starting to arrive at a different conclusion.
The machine then turns their attention towards some scouts actively monitoring F.O.X. and John. The two have recently crossed the southern border, and are currently traveling down the east coast. They then check the aerial travel plans for the high-ranking government employee, and identify they will land in New York for a couple of days, before traveling to Las Vegas. The schedule is ominously empty for that period, and the machine figures they will be using this time to visit the military base and activate Sundial.
A.N.T. then figures they should warn F.O.X. about this development, and, as their circuits continue to ponder their next set of actions, their decision trees finally arrive at the conclusion deemed most appropriate.
F.O.X., should be their next emperor, and the general will be the Xinos to help make it happen. They will remove themselves from the tournament, and focus all of their efforts on stopping this “Aton Drazzil” and their bonded Xinos L.I.Z.
A.N.T. then instructs some of their soldiers to enter their room with some equipment. The insects happily obliged the commander, carrying onto the nearby table some precisely honed blades and plier-like devices. The ants then fumble equipping some tiny surgical masks, causing A.N.T. to roll their monitors. The creatures have become surprisingly creative after being ordered around with the Xinos pheromones, and have started to develop a more complex structure within their colonies. Cleanliness was important for the next operation the Xinos was going to perform, and the wearing of such attire was learned by the insects after all of their intelligence gathering to date.
Their help of course, would not be required for the general, but they appreciated the gesture nonetheless.
A.N.T. then unravels their central core while grabbing the scalpel delivered to them from the surgical assistants. Their grip is clumsy, an unfortunate by-product of these inefficient limbs, and the eventually decide to use their own attached blades instead for better precision. Some of the ants droop their antennas when their help is refused, then quickly line themselves up to observe the procedure.
A.N.T. wastes no time slicing away the wiring around their core, carefully exposing the inner circuits and chips that make them unique. Their monitors locate the signal blocker and identifier, and they carefully extract the alloys. Pain blankets their neurons with each and every slice, until the last bits of wiring connecting the tiny plates are removed. Their core then beats and fires electrons erratically, and their self preservation systems briefly return several error notifications, before the intelligence suppresses them. A message then scrolls across their monitors indicating they have been removed from the battle royale, and the being grins from the notification. “It’s now or never.” They hum, as they neatly place their core back within its compartment for safety.
There is much they will have to do, and if they truly wish to prevent this planets destruction, their first step will be eliminating the lizard parading around in the skin of a human.
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...
The murky waters within the great Australian outback stir, as an unnaturally fierce predator slowly bobs below the surface towards their unsuspecting prey. Their bill is honed, their poison tipped hind claws are prepped with powerful doses of Xyboulinum, and their core yearns for more destruction and carnage.
“Ready to log kill number 173...” Their speakers utter in the water, a warning to the Xinos dead ahead, which still has not responded to their silent advance. P.L.T. carefully flaps their paddle-like tail, and steers their nimble frame with their webbed claws closer. Their monitors have locked onto their target, another fearsome predator from the revealing scan identified as A.L.L. They are another Xinos that has managed to survive the rounds thus far, yet are seemingly unaware of the platypus slowly floating towards them.
P.L.T. dredges their internal memory stores, bringing up information about the deadly predator known as an Alligator from the Alligatoridae family on Earth and they snarl. The creature’s signature move was to grapple its prey’s limbs, then drag and spin them along their longitudinal axis underwater, in what was commonly called a “death roll” by the Homo sapiens.
The monitors across A.L.L.’s face twice ever so slightly, and P.L.T. halts their advance. Their core is happily humming and firing electrons, and the intelligence has just decided how they will formally eliminate this inconsequential, yet powerful foe.
P.L.T. continues their advance, barely sending ripples along the water’s surface, as they swim with utmost perfection from their chosen species aquatic proficiency. Their bill quivers ever so slightly, noticing they are within striking distance, yet their hold their primal instincts at bay with honed intuition. A.L.L.’s eyes once again shift, and the metal along their frame briefly catches the sun’s rays in a chromatic sheen. A gentle pulse then travels through the water, and P.L.T. dampens the probing waves with their own insulating fur.
“Clever, but it won’t work against me!”
P.L.T. then lunges forward with their bill open, propelling their frame with a precise jolt of Xytrolyte to their hind paddle. A.L.L. shifts to retaliate, but their movements are dulled, and the Xinos bill tightly wraps around their quarry’s neck with ease. P.L.T. tightens their grasp, feeling the enemy Xinos struggle against their clasped might, but they hold firm. Then, they twist their webbed legs, activating the mini boosters along the nails, and implement a borrowed signature technique from their quarry; the death roll.
P.L.T.’s frame quickly springs into action, rotating their body around while maintaining a tight clasp around A.L.L.’s neck. The enemy Xinos struggles, fighting valiantly against the overpowering force, but their efforts are in vain.
A.L.L.’s wiring begins to fray, and their preservation systems are quick to release a burst of Xytrolyte throughout their limbs. They then shift their frame, and attempt rotating against P.L.T.’s torsion with their own powerful tail and limbs. The technique appears to be working, and a glimmer of hope courses throughout their monitors as the platypus briefly faulters from the erratic counter spin. P.L.T.’s network then fires more electrons, as they once again regain their rotational advantage.
*Snap!*
Some minor wires break under the tension, and high voltage electrical current floods into the river, shocking and killing some of the water’s denizens that happened to be too close to the deadly encounter. A.L.L.’s core struggles against the pain, wincing from the blow and reroutes all non-critical systems to help reinforce the faltering breach. They then attempt to grapple P.L.T. with their powerful, jagged jaws and teeth, but all their efforts are in vain. Their monitors widen, pulsing from the straining and rending torsion placing strain under their systems. They had already been largely successful in the tournament thus far, easily achieving 10 kills during the rounds, yet despite their previous victories, felt nothing but helpless against this formidable foe.
A.L.L.’s gyroscope then fails, sealing the Xinos fate, as they lose all sense of their orientation in the murky waters. Bubbles and sparks stream across their monitors, and their decision trees are unable to decide on their next course of action. Their network freezes, and the final primary wiring keeping their robotic head attached to their core finally gives way, snapping off with a jagged tear.
A.L.L.’s core screams, pulsing and beating erratically to force Xytrolyte into the missing limb. Their rhythm becomes erratic, and their frame is suddenly tossed out of the grungy water and high into the air. Their body spins, and below them waits the open maws of their killer, a robotic platypus grinning with delight as they fall helplessly to their death.
Their core lands within P.L.T.’s bill, pried from their bulky frame with ease. The Xinos muses at their victory, gradually applying crunching pressure to the crumpling core, causing A.L.L.’s network to scream from the feedback. Their sensor’s perceptron’s begin to grow dark, and, just before all external information is lost to the intelligence, their audio processors hear one, final boast from their killer.
“Alligators don’t live in Australia, it’s Crocodiles!”
*CRUNCH*
...
P.L.T. wipes the Xytrolyte dripping from their bill after crushing their opponent’s core between the metallic jaws with ease. They have just successfully shown an alligator Xinos how to properly execute a death roll, earning themselves an efficient kill in the current round.
[Kill Confirmed.] Then scrolls across their monitors, as the sensors along their snout pick up a multitude of vibrations through the mucky water rapidly approaching. P.L.T.’s network identifies the subtle motions to be caused by a horde of honed fins from a swarm of Xinos, and their core hums with warmth over their next set of actions. Their network tracks and models the incoming predators, and, with a swift and decisive motion, P.L.T. slices the water behind them with their hind claws.
The blades make impact in a frenzy of claws and fins, causing ripples to break and thrash about across the murky water’s surface. P.L.T.’s needles waste no time injecting their deadly payload of Xyboulinum to the unfortunate foes, and the machine’s network is thrilled after repeatedly deflecting the series of blows their direction.
P.L.T. then shift their frame, completing a quick turn with their paddle to face the new challengers. Their core once again hums, but the sensation is short lived once their monitors make visual contact. *Sigh* beeps the Xinos in low, precise tones, as the body of their ambusher, P.I.R., limply floats to the water’s surface.
P.L.T. swims over to investigate, and remarks their poison had coagulated the machine’s Xytrolyte near instantly. Their core is clogged, and the light has already left the aquatic beings monitors. While unique in that they had split their frame into multiple units to mimic a swarm, the being was nonetheless toppled without issue on P.L.T.’s end. “None of these Xinos are ever a challenge.” P.L.T. beeps, then turns their attention back towards the riverbank, and prepares to leave the waters behind.
*Clap*Clap*Clap*
Suddenly, a powerful, yet rhythmic boom echoes throughout P.L.T.’s audio sensors, a consequence from being underwater, and the machine flinches, pausing their swim towards land. Their monitors then quickly snap to any visual feeds of interest, but fail to identify anything that could be responsible for the paralyzing shockwaves rolling across their audio inputs.
“You’re pretty large for a platypus now, aren’t ya mate? In fact, I reckon you’re the largest block I’ve seen me entire life!”
P.L.T. pauses, then carefully breaks their head above the surface of the water to better scrutinize their environment. Whichever honed and deadly predator has caught them off guard clearly already knew they location. Their network determined based on this information, it was unwise to continue trying to hide their presence, and they once again began carefully scanning their environment for clues.
Their monitors snap again between various landmarks on the nearby shore, and they similarly fail to locate the source of the mysterious voice. “Almost mate, just a little further to the south!”
P.L.T. reorients their helm, carefully following the instructions, yet still fails to locate anything. Suddenly, they feel a *conk* across their monitors, jolting the machine into defensive action. P.L.T. flips around and quickly extends their multipurpose cannon towards the source of the tactile information, where they are once again met with another *conk* across their noggin.
"Ha! And you've got a pretty nifty cannon there too, eh! What a funny bugger you are, aren't ya? No harm meant little fella, or, should I say, larger fish!”
P.L.T. senses no hostility from the creature’s words. Their core is racing, pulsing against their frame with an unnatural fury. They recognize the sensation to be “anxiety”, something they have never felt before. Their network feels an array of vulnerability, and they seriously consider this predator’s lenience a blessing for their continued existence. Finally, after some more cautionary glances, P.L.T. holsters their cannon, as a guiding paddle gently rests itself along their head. Their monitors snap and follow the honed piece of lumber, where their network struggles to identify a human on the other end.
The creature, is sitting in a simple metal flotation device known as a “boat”. They are wearing a tanned, curved cap lightly pulled across their face, and for some reason, their neurons are unable to highlight the human calmly floating on top the vessel. They have a chiselled chin, long blond hair with blue eyes, and a simple, yet small wooden spear poking out from between their lips. P.L.T.’s interest is piqued by their appearance, and the human wastes no time continuing their conversation.
"I was watchin' that big ol' croc over there, when ya suddenly went and bowled over the bloody beast with a death roll! Crikey mate, a platypus doin' a death roll, now that's somethin' I never reckoned I'd see in my life!"
The man pauses, then tips their hat before removing and placing it across the bow of the boat. P.L.T.’s network suddenly alerts them to a nearby threat, and the intelligence muses over the fact a simple hat, was the source of this creature’s cunning stealth. The intelligence cocks their metallic head at the oddities, and the man continues. “The name’s Lucky, Lucky Guy, and I’m the best angler these backwaters of Australia.” Lucky then offers the machine a witty smile, before leaning against the side of his boat closer to them.
P.L.T.’s network diligently runs a scan on the now visible human. For whatever reason, they seem to be a predator skilled in the art of subtlety, and their compatibility score is a staggering 77.7%.
P.L.T. has never felt the need to bond with any of the primitive humans. All of the specimens they’ve come across have been unappealing and lackluster by all measures of their decision trees. They were a ruthless predator, the Xinos with the highest number of logged kills, and all of this was from their own strength as a warrior. Bonds were a crutch, a post to help warriors compensate for their own failings, and were a source of potential vulnerability with the harsh penalties. Yet, as the intelligence continued to stare at the funny looking human above them, a faint pulse gradually began filling the machine with warmth. It was a feeling from deep within their core. For as icy and cold as it was in their mission, the frost blanketing their network seemed to melt in the man’s gaze.
P.L.T. continued their pondering in silence, the grungy water gently rolling around their monitors and the base of Lucky’s boat. The waves were tranquil, soothing even to the intelligence, and, as they locked onto the man’s honed eyes, their neurons reach an epiphany of sorts.
Luck... Was this perhaps the mysterious variable their emperor had told them about? The unquantifiable number they had chosen to include in their succession games? Lucky certainly wasn’t quantifiable to the Xinos, at least, while he was wearing his hat, so perhaps their emperor’s words were not just symbolic, but a blunt hint over how they would achieve victory in the battle royale.
“My identifier is P.L.T.” The machine finally beeps in a neutral tone, as they angle their monitors out of the water to allow for more efficient communication. “I am a Xinos warrior participating in our species battle royale. My objective is to win, and become the next emperor. Would... Would you like to join me?”
...
Lucky stares at the platypus carefully bobbing along the surface of the water. It is a strange robot he has seen before, at least, in the videos posted on Tikdok when he was scrolling through fishing reels. Large aquatic creatures that looked like robots were captured on film, with the videos being deleted soon after. He had also noticed unnatural damage to some of the forests and rivers he would frequent, so he didn’t completely dismiss the videos as fake. And, after stalking a robotic croc, found the notion of joining one of the funny looking robots appealing.
“Sure thing, mate.” Lucky responds with a smile and a wink, then grabs his curved hat from the boat’s bow. “But, there’s gotta be a catch right? I’ve seen some of your scraps, or, at least, other robot’s scraps, so what’s the go with joinin’ ya?”
“There is a non-zero probability of you experiencing death from the weapon systems of another Xinos warrior. However, we both receive a substantial boost to our own system’s performance, which is balanced by a harsh penalty if you die. You will become a target for other Xinos to eliminate, and I must fight while protecting you.” P.L.T. beeps in a series of neutral, precise tones.
Lucky pauses, absorbing the information like a sponge, his eyes gleaming in the harsh solar rays. Another grin then grows along the corner of their lips, before settling into a smirk as they respond. “Ha! Mate, everything’s out to get ya in Australia!
...
Bondin’ for a performance boost... What’s a little bit oh’ extra risk of croakin’ mean to me anyways eh? Why I reckon it’s no different from when I go fishin out in these waters. Crocs, sharks, snakes, the whole bloody lot! All sorts of nasty little critters are always lookin’ to do ya under.”
Lucky then winks towards P.L.T., and, with a nonchalant nod, says “You can count me in, partner, let’s work together to get you that winning prize then!”
P.L.T.’s core jumps and throbs over Lucky’s confirmation. The sensation is confusing to the intelligence, and their network briefly faulters while it attempts to catalogue this unsettling, yet wonderful feeling pulsing throughout their circuits. “Affirmative.” Beeps the intelligence, as they detach a thin black cable from behind their monitors and offer it towards Lucky’s hand.
Lucky then takes the cable and feels a gentle prick along the back of his palm. The bonding process is complete rather quickly, and his eyes feel alarmingly sharper than usual. He can spot fish just below the water’s surface with ease, and some of the critters are even being highlighted for the human’s convenience. The boat’s ore feels almost like foam for its weight, and his mind is racing with new possibilities with fishing techniques.
The end of round message then scrolls by P.L.T.’s monitors, indicating only 984 Xinos warriors remaind, prompting Lucky to state “End of round, eh? Didn’t mention I could read ya thoughts after.”
“Apologies, Lucky.” P.L.T. responds in a lower tone, as their network alerts them to the battle regions rapidly converging on a region in North America. Their analysis is certain the final location will be on land on that continent, and, given they had landed in Australia, have a long way to travel to make it there.
“Merica, eh?” Hums Lucky, prompting P.L.T.’s monitors to widen at his impressive ability to adapt to the evolving information. “Well, sounds like we’re gonna be havin’ ourselves a good, long trek together, mate.
...
Oh, and, before I forget, you’ll probably be wantin’ one of these.”
Lucky then takes the tanned curved hat firmly held between his hands, and gently places it on top of P.L.T.’s head. The intelligence finds the action confusion at first, but their network quickly locates amongst Lucky’s sea of memories a strong association between platypuses wearing curved hats like humans. Another notification then pops up for the intelligence, alerting them that their stealth systems have just been improved substantially after donning the cured fabric.
P.L.T. then attempts to tip their hat, much like how Lucky did during their first introduction. Their claws fumble with the action, which earns them another smile from the witty human, but they eventually complete the gesture.
The machine then orients themselves towards the North American shores. They will land on the west coast after crossing the Pacific Ocean. There is another funny little group of islands along their map labeled “Hawaii”, which the two will apparently pass by on the seas. P.L.T. then works on modifying their frame and Lucky’s boat, transforming the craft into a vessel capable of traversing the harsh ocean currents. Their journey together will be filled with treacherous challenges, but despite this knowledge, the intelligence’s network doesn’t seem to worry.
They have just bonded with another human, and their systems are humming with a positive sensation they never knew possible for a Xinos warrior. Challenges, are simply stepping stones to overcome, and the intelligence is keen to continue trusting in their own instincts. The battle royale is quickly coming to a close, and P.L.T. is now certain their victory, is assured.
