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Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Part 9
Part 10
Dan was present. This time with a handler of some kind. Middle aged woman wearing a photo ID badge and a walkie talkie on her belt, standing watch by the door. He locked eyes with me, looking smug. I figured as he’d gotten away with a slap on the wrist I could expect him to keep testing his limits until he encountered real pushback from the principal. Or maybe he simply didn’t care what happened to him. They’d just shuttle him to a different school.
Today’s science class was something out of the ordinary. We were each supplied a cardboard box full of assorted electronics and a thick new textbook on robotics. Our school was participating in some sort of nationwide youth robotics competition sponsored by a computer company.
I was delighted. Having devoted myself to learning how various machines work for the sake of helping the little ones improve their settlement, it seemed as though I’d have a leg up on everyone else right out of the gate. And I did.
Jennifer was right there with me. We’d been told to form groups of three. Trevor was the third but showed neither interest nor aptitude and so sat on his own, carving a skull into his desk as Jenny and I worked on our robot scarab.
It had to be able to complete a series of challenges we’d studied before designing it. All of which it could perform provided legs and grappling pincers on the front. We’d also both vigorously agreed that “Scarab” is a wicked cool name for a robot, easily the most important design consideration.
Each of us was sent home with our respective box of parts, to work on our robot after school. The prize was a college scholarship and a huge pile of robotics kits. I knew just what I’d like to do with those. Plus it gave Jennifer an excuse to come over every day that our parents would be receptive to.
It didn’t take me long to think of handing it all over to the little ones. I kept the Scarab in case this experiment proved to be a bust, but given their rapid progress as of late and the information I’d loaded onto their little computer, I itched to see what they might come up with. A week passed before I returned to check on them.
To my surprise, when I next visited their settlement there stood near the outer edge a confoundingly sophisticated metal figure, shaped identically to a Tyrant but about half again as tall as the largest one I’ve ever seen. It reached nearly up to my hip, and when I followed the trail of smoke rising from it to the source, I found they’d built the steam engine right into the heart of it.
A support structure around it made from lashed together twigs, resembling the tower which steadies and services rockets on the launchpad was bustling with little fellows on every floor, rushing to and fro checking various parts of the mechanical monstrosity they’d built.
I don’t know what I expected, but this blew me away. The support structure swung away. The little representative shouted high pitched squeaks, motioned to the machine’s pilot, and it began to walk. Not the clumsy toddling I expected, given the results I’d achieved with the Scarab. Every part of it was articulated, it adapted effortlessly to uneven terrain with each step. Far and away the swiftest and most natural gait that I’d ever seen in a robot.
As it should be. If this was meant as a fighting machine it’d need to match the speed and agility of the Tyrants or they’d simply topple it, pry open the cockpit and eat the pilot. The metal Tyrant approached, turned around, halted, then the back opened up. Inside were yet more little ones. It was not a one man vehicle after all.
Two more worked frantically to stoke the fire and keep the steam engine supplied with twigs. There was an empty reservoir I guessed was for oil, but no sense in wasting the finite supply of fuel until there is real need for it. A little fan circulated fresh air through the interior, even so the two steam engine tenders looked sweaty and exhausted.
The steam engine was the primary dynamo, but there were a pair of the rechargeable batteries used as a buffer for the output. I worried this meant the train was without backup, but if they saw fit to split their odds between fight and flight, I could see no reason to argue. I also realized it was necessary to ensure the current reaching the motors at each joint didn’t fluctuate. Peering in through the reinforced cupola which served as the ‘face’, I grinned at the little fellow piloting it.
He was strapped in tightly and well cushioned. I imagine otherwise he’d rattle around in there as the machine, much larger than he, moved about. The cockpit was a dense cluster of microswitches, LEDs indicating everything from battery charge to steam engine output, and a rear hatch which understandably locked from the inside.
I threw up my hands and lavished them with praise. Incredible! All of this, simply by giving them information and components? On the spur of the moment I convinced them to take the metal Tyrant out for an extended maiden voyage about the forest.
It was fascinating watching all the little spinning gears, motorized joints and so on moving in concert as the gleaming metallic figure ambled over roots, pebbles and other small obstacles. All the while trailing a wispy black plume from its smokestack. I only figured out where they were heading when we arrived.
The wreckage of one of their old towns. The metal Tyrant stomped through the ruins, the torso occasionally pivoting left or right to pick the roof off a house looking for anything inside it could salvage. Something wasn’t right. I struggled to put my finger on it as the metal Tyrant approached the center of town.
“Stop!” I cried out, diving for the metal Tyrant and pulling it back just as the trap sprang shut. For its size it was surprisingly light. I suppose out of necessity, if they’d designed it for speed and agility. I kicked myself for not recognizing this as a decoy town sooner. Also for grabbing the metal Tyrant so roughly. The two inside who tended to the steam engine were bruised up pretty badly from being thrown about.
I apologized profusely until they seemed satisfied, then followed the metal Tyrant back to the settlement. The electric fence had been modified with a large door for it to pass through, and triangular supports to prevent toppling the pylons based on ideas I’d had during geometry class.
Something was also different about the farming tower. I’d been so dazzled by the metal Tyrant earlier I hadn’t noticed. The top few floors were now cages with birds inside. This was somewhat troubling. Were they eating the eggs?
In answer, a sparrow descended from behind me and alighted on the top floor of the tower. All became clear. It wore an ornate harness, and riding on a saddle affixed between its wings was an armored little one. For the second time that visit, I was blown away. Did I give them materials on how to tame birds? I couldn’t remember.
Aside from air support, surveillance and so on, the birds permitted passage to outposts up among the trees that I hadn’t spotted before. Only when following the flight of one of their harnessed birds did I first see one. It appeared what they’d done was to string fishing line from tree to tree, then halfway between, suspend a modest building made from balsa wood, twigs and plastic.
The lowest floor was set up with perches and a feeding station for the birds. I couldn’t see the floors above that, so it couldn’t be terribly tall, maybe three or four levels in total. I guessed that the logic behind suspending them in the open space between trees rather than affixed to the trees themselves was to protect against Tyrants, who I knew to be skilled climbers.
As I left the woods, keeping my eyes peeled, I spotted many more of them. It did a great deal to comfort me. With eyes in the sky they would be much harder for Tyrants to take by surprise. Day by day, our prospects improved. I knew it wouldn’t stop the storm, but my hopes that we’d weather it intact grew ever stronger.
Stay Tuned for Part 12!