Power Metal

Noise. Noise, noise mindless, meaningless noise! I’m berated from hypersleep by this impossible noise. Hammering, pounding, grinding, drilling. Nothing is worth this noise, it is it pointless, meaningless. I must end it, and all possibilities of it, at all costs. It breaks laws, not only of my own peace, but of physics, of plausibility. This noise is so intrusive, so bad, that it transverses the impossibility that is its own sonic travel, through the vacuum of space, of my craft, of my tranquility. I triangulate on its source, dead set on its end.

I arrive at the cacophonous planet, and scan for the hub of life, only to find none. At all. At this proximity, my craft is shaking, coming apart due to the force of this intense noise. I exit, and enter the atmosphere fully armored, but find I can go not lower than that, the sound waves pushing me away. I hover for a moment in thought.

[Override::]
[Divert Power from Weapons]
[Reroute::]
[Generate Counter Feedback Loop]

Immediately, as sound pours forth from my weapon systems and luminescent details, I begin to fall. Landing, I see nothing but mechanical parts moving. Turning, grinding; gears, sprockets; hammers, pounding; pistons, pumping; drilling. Machines simply being. Machines. There is no artificial intelligence, no grand schema, they simply are. Like clockwork in time with the metallic clanging, I see an army driving towards my location. The army of drones marches towards me, unthinking. All I can hear is their emotionless machinations at work; all I can see is their collars as a luminescent white light, pouring forth into the black air. They approach at an alarming rate, there’s nowhere for me to go; I cannot fly on this planet while being protected from the sound, but I leap backwards, and repeatedly fire weakened gravity spheres into the crowd. I am forced to continue leaping back and into the air, firing again and again. Soon, however, I cannot keep up, and am merely firing to create a place for me to leap into again without being run over. They are not attacking, not concerned with my presence at all, they simply move, are simply moving forward, endlessly.

Tired, I cannot move fast enough, and one eventually catches my leg, and sends me slamming into the ones behind it. Through quick thinking and acting, I am able to steady myself, and roll, clinging onto one of these automatons. They take me along their set path, deep into the recesses of this artificial planet; down to the near-core.

There is not one scrap of organic material, only machine created by machine. Detaching from the cavalcade, I begin to make my way towards the absolute centre, where the pressure and heat is greatest. I traverse through enormous gears grinding; ropes binding; coils winding; pistons panging; clamps clanging; springs spranging. I avoid being crushed into a pulp with every step. Never stop, every leap and bound counts.

Eventually, I arrive. There is only a core of liquid metal, pumping, beating into every pore and vessel of the planet. It’s quiet down here.

[Activate: Quantum Destroyer]

I blast directly through the core, and, utilizing its own heat, through that very core and through the entire planet itself. The alteration in pressure launches the molten steel out over the surface and into space. I hear one loud crunch; the planet is about to implode in on itself. I make my way out of the hole as fast as I can. Huge amounts of steel crashing down around behind me. As I reach the lip of the opening, I leap, and soar towards my summoned craft. I make it to a safe distance in the surrounding space.

I watch the planetoid collapse into a miniature mangled mass of metal. Silence.

I enter back into hypersleep, and continue my path.

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2 Responses to “Power Metal”

  1. The title is cool and the writing is definitely very cold/mechanic/machinistic. So mission accomplished!
    ..Though, I must admit, I miss your writing from last summer when each story was unique. I am thinking “Connection Lost”, The Firedrake Chronicles, “Steel and Style”, “Gore, l’Amour” to name a few favorites. Perhaps with the approach of warmer weather your style will once-again shift, who knows with you GuNNhead!

  2. Geez, the things a man has to do to get some peace and quiet while he sleeps!

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