More Than

Artwork by Matt Doughty, Onell Design

The dark figure is back. Hunched over a table, it is totally engrossed in its work. Buildman parts are scattered across the smooth surface. Blueprints, detailing what looks like an exploded view of a weaponized gendrone, lay close at hand. He can’t be sure, but MT-01 thinks that may be his own name scrawled across the top of the paper, along with another. What does that say? Volk...

The scene fades before he can finish and is replaced with another - the interior of a ship. Gobon gendrones in a multitude of configurations move freely about the sizable space. A silver Buildman walks beside a tall Gobon wearing a green cloak, the pair engaged in deep conversation. Argen? Again the image disappears before MT-01 can fully interpret it.

Absolute blackness returns, and with it a suffocating silence. MT-01 can do nothing but wait; time has no meaning in this place. Finally, a voice speaks to him from out of the gloom. “You are more than what you have become.” Simple words yet rife with meaning.

The MT Transport, rendered invisible by the cloaking device, continues its meandering course unobserved. MT-01 rests comatose inside, unaware of the events taking place across Glyos and within the rift called Zorennor: events that will forever alter his destiny.

Plan of Action

Artwork by Matt Doughty, Onell Design

After the MTs abrupt departure from Rilleco, Argen and the remaining four troopers resumed the task of bringing sentience to the gendrones wandering aimlessly about the Build Station. It was an arduous job, and Argen’s seemingly inexhaustible patience finally ran thin. He decided to take leave of the planet and head for Point Lannoc.

Now that Argen was gone, MT-09, MT-27, MT-48, and MT-106 wasted no time; they quickly made for the edge of the Black Ruins. Something had been weighing heavily on them, and the time to discuss it had come.

“This isn’t right,” MT-09 stated as soon as his squad had assembled. One of the first MTs to gain free thought, MT-09 was a natural leader and easily assumed the role. “We should have received word from MT-01 by now.”

“We all know what it’s like out there,” MT-48 replied. “Sometimes you barely have enough time to repair the damage you took during one battle before you’re moving out to fight the next one. They’re probably knee-deep in corpses right now and too busy to call.”

Grunted affirmations arose from the group, followed by an unsettled silence. Each trooper feared that the MTs had run into trouble and needed their help, but MT-01’s orders were clear: remain on Rilleco to support Argen. Should they stay and continue their duties until Argen’s return? Or disobey a direct order and leave to find their brothers?

“With a few modifications I should be able to boost the strength of our portable receiver,” MT-106 suggested. “The troops could be operating out of our range on the other side of Glyos. Give me some time to do the work, and if there is a signal out there from our unit, I’ll find it.”

Dead Time

Artwork by Matt Doughty, Onell Design

He was vaguely aware of the MT Transport’s reactivation, but not because he could see the instrument panel or hear the steady drone of the propulsion system. Paralyzed, MT-01 sat motionless in the cockpit, the internal protection mechanism he created keeping him in a kind of coma. If he still lived, then so did the MTs.

That was the idea behind the failsafe system; spare the leader in an apocalyptic situation so he can rebuild the unit, making the MTs virtually immortal. Easier said than done, especially considering his current state. MT-01 drifted in and out of consciousness, his fragmented thoughts mixing with cryptic images.

I can hardly remember what I was, and don’t want to think about who I’ve become. I just wanted to be free, someone instead of something owned by another, but I didn’t know the price would be so high. None of us did. Battle after battle, kill or be killed. Living like that takes its toll on a -

A dark figure materializes out of the haze of his stupor. It feels like a memory, except MT-01 does not recognize the mysterious being. Or does he? It points into the fog as if it has something to show him, but nothing is there.

Funny...I almost said Glyan. I guess that means something, but I don’t know what exactly. Is that what we were fighting for, to be like them? If it was I’m not sure it was worth it. Maybe we were better off as programmable pieces of metal. At least we were together, a unit.

Light reflects off a metallic surface, blinding him. As MT-01 lifts his arm to shade his image receptors, a silver gendrone takes shape, its blue visor looking at him, through him. Behind him stand four MTs.

This journey has taught me so much but left me with so little. I am alone now; the others have vanished, sucked into that unforgiving void. I used to command an army, strike fear into the hearts of my enemies. Now I sit here, helpless in this floating tomb. If only...

As MT-01 slipped back into oblivion, his ship initiated its cloaking sequence and homing beacon. The signal, weak at first, will slowly gain strength as the MT Transport’s power collectors gather the small pockets of energy found moving throughout Glyos. By his own design, MT-01 now existed in a self-perpetuating state of suspended animation.