Toy Wars (15 page)

We fought a desperate battle right in the mouth of the cave, eventually driving the tanks back, but leaving a ring of corpses eight deep and two high.

By the time the last effective unit had sprinted, limped
,
or crawled
deep
into the
train tunnel
, we were
108
.
And, u
nless I worked a miracle, soon there would be none
for I
stood alone among my brethren as the only one who knew we would be slaughtered to the last unit.
I realized it at the end of our sprint, but there was no other choice, no other option to make.

Upon entering the tunnel, I realized that the other end must have collapsed for no wide
area
net
provided power or information
.
Any cave
-
in that could cut off such a force as the WAN would not be moved aside by a paltry hundred units.
I felt certain we could hold the
2.5-
meter mouth of this artificial cave from the thousands of destructive beasts lurking outside
, holding our tiny victory
until our
drained batteries
snatched
it back
.
We would be faced with the choice of a slow
,
quiet death, or to come boiling out of the cave to be slaughtered.

The chaos of the battle
outside
dissipated with the same shattering rapidity that the attack had come, and now I had nothing to do but ponder our impossible position.

Three times I crept forward to get an idea of the tactical situation. Each time mortar fire began falling around the entrance forcing me to retreat.
Thousands of tanks waited just outside of effective range
,
all arrayed on our tunnel. They could afford to wait until their reinforcements arrived.

I felt certain any attack
we could mount against the wall of tanks
would fail
.
We would have to attack at something akin to fifteen to one against.
Instead
,
I walked farther into the tunnel and sat on one track.
I worried about being sealed in to slowly run out of power, my memories fading into nothing
as
my
sump
turn
ed
to black tar.

I guess those thoughts were selfish.
There were over a hundred other units here and I
indulged in self-pity
.
I looked about at the composition of my troops.
I could see injured units leaking fluids on the red stone floor of the cave.
With only two
Nurse Nan
repair units making it to the cave, many would have to wait to receive corrective attention.
In the 250
-
centimeter tunnel, the
N
ans were forced to stoop over to tend to the battle damage.

It seems strange to be defeated after so many victories, I thought as I watched the blonde
Nurse Nan
deactivate a
Tommy Tank
whose damaged processor board finally shorted with a bright, but final, arc.
It tugged at my heart
—
or what I used for one.

Would that I
could
save
the knowledge of that defeat for future use
, but
it
appeared as if the cost of my mistake tallied to all our lives
including mine.
Not much chance to pass on the information that came at such a high cost.
How much more we learn from our mistakes than our successes, I thought pitifully.

My overtaxed brain began to wander.
Humans decreed what we should look like.
There has to be some master plan but I don’t understand it.
Nurse Nan
s look like
Human
females.
I look like a bear
—
whatever that is.
My planted memories state, “Merriam Webster says, ‘bear (n) any of family Ursidae of large heavy mammals of
America
or
Eurasia
that have long shaggy hair, rudimentary tails and plantigrade feet, and feed largely on fruit and insects as well as on flesh.’”
There is a picture
that
shows something that looks like me about as much as I resemble an elephant.
The picture shows something brown, with no fingers and a decidedly four-legged walking action.

The forms of my allies, my family, my brothers and sisters were not similar to each other yet we often killed those who looked
i
dentical to ourselves.
I had more than once shot a
t
eddy
that
, save for fur color, looked identical to me.
How often were
Tommy Tank
s called upon to kill units identical in shape to their own?
It made no sense.
Funny what one’s processor c
ould
dream up when death is at hand.
Yes, I used the Human word for my own imminent demise.
The word
“
death
”
h
eld
a more definite finality to it, rather than the emotionless
“
terminal deactivation.
”

I looked at my furry hands and wonder
ed
wh
at made me, a
2-
meter purple
T
eddy
B
ear, any different from the
t
eddy
b
ears
that
fought
in the field.
Was it because I fought on the side of my Factory?
That didn’t seem to be correct, either.
Those animals only f
ought for survival
.
Were we better because the Humans created us?
And where were the vaunted Humans?
Why didn’t they hear my Factory or me when we cried for help?

As I sat at the bottom of that hole, I had nothing but defeat.
I heard sporadic blasts of fire from the entrance.
Those
non sequitur
thoughts, wild and free as a
flyer
in the sky, had kept me occupied for nearly three hours.

I knew the enemy
desired a clean victory
.
They probed the mouth of our stone coffin from time to time.
It cost
them units as we blasted anything
coming into view
but at the same time their numbers allowed the sacrifice
.
It was terribly wasteful.
All they had to do was wait us out.
My best guess said that we would start losing units within ten hours.
If there were any justice in this universe, I should be one of the first.
I
could count on being one
of the
last to succumb to power loss
because of the
teddy
scouting sub-specialty
, but my reprieve only would buy me another twelve hours or so
.

I absently watched as a
Nurse Nan
deactivated the processor of one of the
Tommy Tank
units to make repairs on the main command/control transceiver, also known as the CCT.

The CCT was vital in combat.
It passed orders from Six
.
I
t identified a comrade from an animal
,
especially in combat where it might be difficult
or even impossible
to distinguish the differences between friend and foe
.
Sometimes I wonder
ed if
the Humans w
anted to make our job difficult, but the CCT improved our recognition.

A fauna
Tommy Tank
, if placed next to one of ours, was indistinguishable.
A query to the CCT directed at any unit and you knew immediately whether you were about to shoot a friend or a foe.
We each had three backup CCTs in case one or even two were damaged.

Nurse Nan
224 reconfigured the tiny blue CCT of one of our dead to replace the damaged unit on the functioning unit
.
I
nspiration struck me.
It literally was as brilliant as a mu
zzle flash in the dead of night.

What if the animals weren’t animals at all, but rather units of another Factory?
It
explained
so much that wasn’t explainable and the ramification
s were
enormous.

Scavenging of animal parts, arms, legs, fluid pumps, fluid distribution, relays, and more, had become standard practice
—
thanks
to my discovery.
However
, the
only thing
s
that could not be transplanted from animals w
ere
the main processors and CCTs.
The
disasters on the two times
Nurse Nan
s made the attempt echoed through the nets like a virus.
In each case, the transplant recipients became violent and attacked without warning.
The first time it cost twenty good
units
to destroy the recipient.
The second cost twelve.
It became a proscribed procedure, not allowed without direct intervention of Six.
All of that would make sense if, in fact, there was more than one Factory.

With my thermal vision, I watched more closely as the
Nurse Nan
s put
the
new backup CCT in the
Tommy Tank
unit.
I slowly closed the
white
fingers of my replaced hand down into my palm to form a fist.
I squeezed the hand tightly.
It served me as the original one manufactured by Six.
It couldn’t be coincidence.
My theory had to be true.
There was no other explanation for the similarities in their bodies and minds.
The only way to test it was to make it happen, and as we would die anyway, I
risked
nothing.

Once more I crept to the
opening
of the tunnel and scanned about. In amongst the gray
tank bodies and the shrapnel
raining
about me I caught the glimpse of one bright orange teddy.

“
Squad 1 teddies,”
I said as I crawled back from the verge, “
o
utside of the
tunnel is an orange teddy corps
e
. Bring it inside.”
The four bears moved up close to the tunnel’s entrance to be heralded by more mortar fire.

“Level three objection based on danger,” the leader said back.

“Understood.
Confirm mission priority one.
Repeat
,
priority one.”

“Acknowledge
d
.”
The four rushed out as one.
A mortar shell landed to the
left of the foursome, throwing one backward.
His smoldering body caught the barely rounded edge of the tunnel opening.
I heard the crack of bones.
One of the
remaining three used an M16 to lever a broken
tank off the orange body.
The other two
each
grabbed
an arm
and dragged.
Another mortar round landed close enough to the one holding up the tank that
I couldn’t see a separation.
When the explosion
and dust
cleared
,
only
two smoldering
legs remained
.

The other two teddies ran.
One got knocked over just short of the tunnel but got up and resumed his task.
The orange body slid to a stop at his feet.
The two teddies raced back, grabbing their comrade just at the entrance. To my surprise
,
as they returned the first unit hit still maintained sump function although the body beneath it didn
’t look like anything but jelly.
As long as a unit still retains
processor and sump function
,
Nurse Nan
s can re
turn any unit back to nominal. My
N
ans started to do just that.