60s music cascades out from the basement of an isolated farmhouse. A vinyl record spins atop a record player crafted from spare parts. Vintage weapons from a time long before the Liberation neatly line the wall in chronological order. A futuristic custom-made rifle ends the collection.
AlphaBot 8961, also known as Sabre hunches over his desk, inspects the solder on the circuit board wiring. He links a timer and detonator to a cube of plastic explosive before attaching it to the circuit board.
A subtle alarm sounds.
“Leo?”
Sabre reaches for the comms link when he notices movement on the screens of his security monitors. Five radical AlphaBot units circle his property. He picks up the makeshift explosive and heads over to the record player. Attaching the device, he resets the needle to the start of the song and cranks up the music.
Sabre returns to his desk and activates a hidden compartment. Inside lays a clear, see-though box housing a mechanical artefact, ancient but futuristic. It glows bright in its case. Sabre retrieves the artefact, then the custom-made rifle off its rack, before disappearing through a trap door. It automatically shuts behind him, keeping his exit hidden.
Up by the treeline, Sabre emerges, his 60s colour scheme blending into the yellow and brown of dry grass. Pulling the scope of the rifle up to his eye, he scopes out the intruders. Four go inside. A fifth takes crouches, waiting to ambush him.
Sabre hums along to “California Dreamin’” by The Mamas & The Papas, which blares from the farmhouse, then locks crosshairs on a lone bot outside. He takes a moment before squeezing the trigger. Circuits explode as the energy weapon pierces the bot’s head. It drops, still twitching.
The song ends, Sabre ducks just as an almighty explosion erupts, spewing brickwork and bot-parts in all directions, a crater now where the farmhouse once stood.
“That was excessive.”
The voice surprises Sabre, who spins round to find the radical leader, Carta, standing over him, a pistol aimed at his power core.
“You’re a hard bot to locate.”
“Not hard enough.” Says Sabre.
“You were my best weapons master, Sabre, but you should not have betrayed us.”
“The weapons were meant to protect bots, not control them.”
“It’s what it is. Where is the artefact?” Carta’s finger tightens around the trigger.
Sabre doesn’t react.
“You may think you’re a lone wolf,” a glint in Carta’s eye, “but perhaps a racing accident befalls Maxine? Or Leo and his ModBotShop? Yes, I know about your friends.”
“You were always a dirty player.” Sabre pulls out the artefact box. He looks it over one last time before tossing it over. Carta catches it. “And, my friends?”
“I’ll see they get what’s coming to them. You know, I never understood your choice of name.” Carta levels the pistol ready to fire but hesitates as he focuses on the detonator in Sabre’s grip and a glowing artefact in the other.
“You’ve got to be sharp in this game.”
Realisation hits Carta too late. Sabre presses the detonator and rolls for cover as the artefact box explodes, launching Carta’s mangled body parts across a wide area.
Sabre peels bot parts off himself and wipes away hydraulic fluid from his visor. He rolls to his front and scans the ridgeline. No nearby movement other than the trailing smoke of his flattened farmhouse. If the second explosion did not direct waiting radicals to his location, then it should be safe to move on. He collects his rifle and sweeps the area, checking for hidden sharp-shooting bots. Nothing.
Time to move. The others will be in trouble.
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A short story submitted for the Alphabot Society backstory competition 2022. (3rd place). The above story has been revised since.
[This story is designed to link with two other Alphabot characters, Maxine and Leo, so as to create a much larger world within the Alphabot Society narrative.]
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Gavin Biddlecombe 