Silent Book: Art of the Thirteen Striking Cobras

The small, war ravaged outpost world called Celine 3 had been utterly
destroyed by the sudden attack. Amazingly the small human population
had held out for 19 days before the final pockets of resistance had
finally crumbled. The only city, Clovisa, held on mostly thanks to the
fighting ability of its android police-security team comprising no more
than 900 units.

They performed expertly. Highly skilled and not at the mercy of fear,
the androids primarily bore the brunt of the brutal battle. Surrender
had not been an option, the Xobanard Empire was a ruthless and totally
merciless one. At best any prisoners would have been executed imme-
diately. At worst, survivors would have been used as subjects for
ghastly experiments...experiments involving a fiendish quest to find
new and improved ways to make humans suffer.

Android no. 627-A9081 had not been destroyed. It took him three days
of digging before he finally freed himself from the building that
had taken a direct hit and collapsed upon him. When he did emerge
it was all over. The Xobanard were gone, leaving behind smoldering
ruins and festering corpses. A simple visual scan told 627-A9081 that
all had been lost and he had failed to protect the human city. A
computerized entity such as himself should not have felt guilt but
he did. After all, 627-A9081 was not exactly a normal security robot
provided by the Elessonorians. He had been constructed by one genius
working alone, testing and perfecting what many would have considered
mad ideas. 627-A9081 was not entirely wires, metal, plastics, nano
circuitry, and micro chips. Incredibly, over 75 percent of his
makeup was plant. He was part machine, part living organism; not
human but alive in a very real sense...a hybrid, something that no
one in the known universe had even dreamt off save Father, the master
scientist that had created this specific, remarkable machine.

The android walked the streets aimlessly. His programming was not
designed to handle this type of situation. Suddenly he ripped the
fifty caliber handgun from his belt and spun around. However, there
was no enemy...only a dog? Yes, it was a dog and the poor animal had
obviously taken a beating. Half its fur was badly singed and he limped
noticeably. 627-A9081 wondered how long it had been since the dog had
eaten. The android's intel com quickly reminded him that there was
plenty of meat lying around...most of it cooked too. The animal
recognized the android as being somewhat similar to its human master.
Of course the dog wasn't to keen on the robot's smell. Dogs were quite
intelligent. The droid did not need his programming to explain that
particular point...it was obvious.

627-A9081 called the dog, trying to act like a friendly human. This
type of interaction between man and beast the droid has observed many
times while making his security rounds on Clovisa. The activity had
made him curious. His programming naturally informed 627-A9081 that
the peculiar rituals, such as patting the animal on the head, served
to establish affection which was important where relationships were
concerned. The droid patted the dog's head and observed the expected
reaction as the beast wagged its tail. "Good boy," the droid said.
"I suppose you and I are the only survivors. The efficency of the
Xobanard is remarkable yet we were not destroyed. Of course, I suppose
that technically you are the only survivor...my self-preservation does
not matter except for the fact that I must persevere in order to com-
bat the enemy. However, it seems the enemy is gone so my present
function is uncertain...awaiting further data." A program uploaded
and questioned why the android was speaking with a canine? 627-A9081
ceased the verbal interaction. Naturally, there was no real verbal
interaction because the dog only continued to wag its tale...not speak.

The dog looked at the droid with a puzzled expression. 627-A9081 pet-
ted the animal again. "I suppose we should be friends...it might be
a very long time before anyone stops by here to check on survivors.
Indeed, if the Xobanard expand their power significantly, no one will
dare to return here." The droid decided that was enough pretending to
be human for one day. He continued his exploration...fulling expecting
the worse. The devastation was complete he soon discovered. Virtually
every building of any size had been reduced to rubble and the streets
were littered with the remains of humans and their protector androids.
The Xobanard had taken their dead with them. 627-A9081 was certain
that there had been many. The security droids were constructed of the
usual material, unlike him, but their defensive capabilities were more
than impressive. 627-A9081 had terminated dozens of Xobanard himself
before he'd become trabbed beneath mountain of debris; all in vain
unfortunately.

He searched until he found the ruins of a grocery store. The droid
didn't need food but the dog did. He ripped open a partially scorched
bag and poured the chow into a dish. With nothing better to do the
droid sat and merely watched the animal ravenously devour the treat.
The Xobanard had likely established an outpost somewhere nearby. They
wouldn't place it very close to the city because they considered any-
human to be tainted. However, that wouldn't stop them from perhaps
patroling the area occasionally. There was nothing they'd like better
than spotting a ragged survivor and using him or her for sniper prac-
tice. The dog finished its meal and the pair moved on. The animal had
lived, there was a chance some lucky human might have also...at least
temporarily. It was 627-A9081's duty to do his best to make a complete
search if nothing else.

They passed a school. The playground was littered with the stinking,
blistered corpses of dozens of children along with their teachers.
The school had been one of the first buildings hit...the usual Xobanard
tactic for demoralizing their opposition. The droid took his olfactory
sensors off line temporarily. Perhaps it was the part of him that was
a living plant organism that preferred not to endure the stench. To
a normal machine it would have made no difference. 627-A9081 found
himself calculating the numerical odds on whether his mechanized com-
ponents, particularly his human implemented programming, had someone
meshed with his organic system components to render his overall status
to a near human level. He was disappointed to find that he was in-
capable of running such an equation. "An irrelevant request," his
intel com had informed him. "Really," the droid replied, a hint of
regret in his voice. He had refocused on something new...the dog was
sniffing suspiciously around a pile of rubbish that had probably been
an out building of some kind. "Come away from there boy before some-
thing falls on you. There's nothing there, perhaps a body that hasn't
been dead as long as some of the others...that's why the smell is
probably not quite the same as the rest."

The dog ignored the droid and commenced scratching at the rubble and
whining noticeably. 627-A9081 was alerted by his programming that a
closer inspection might be warranted...after all, dogs were intelligent
creatures to a point. Immediately, after drawing nearer, the droid
considered himself correct concerning his assumption that likely another
body was all that lay beneath the ruins. Beside the area where the
dog clawed frantically the droid spotted a foot. The droid was just
about to pull the dog away from its pathetic search when something
moved ever so slightly...the foot? It seemed very unlikely but the
droid quickly replayed his visual sensor readings. The foot had moved!

627-A9081 wasted no time hurling away boards, sections of plastic
siding, chunks of enduracrete, and whatever other objects lay between
him and the owner of the foot in question. He worked efficently and
rapidly; within seconds a human figure was revealed...a female. She
was covered with debris and filth and one leg was twisted at an unusual
angle, revealing it was certainly badly broken. The android immediately
checked her pulse and found it surprisingly strong. He inspected her
for other injuries but found none that he was sure of. There was a
sizeable amount of dried blood on her forehead and along the hairline.
The woman, or rather girl, appeared to be very young...likely still in
her teens. He lifted her head as gently as he could to inspect the
extent of the head wound then her eyes suddenly fluttered open.

"Wh...who...are you, where am I?" the girl asked, or rather groaned.

I am unit 627-A9081, a security android. You have been injured; I will
try to render as much assistance to you as possible. Do not be afraid,
I am fully programmed with extensive medical knowledge that I assure
you will aid in your full recovery from these injuries.

"What injuries...how long have I been lying here? All I recall was
running from the Xobanard and hiding in a maintenance shed near the
bombed out school."

"They must have spotted you and struck your hiding spot with an rpg.
You are extremely lucky to be alive. Normally they would have made
certain you were dead. However, I suppose something else must have dis-
tracted them. But nevermind that now, I have to get you somewhere safe
and treat your wounds. Your leg is broken and you have suffered a
concussion, but judging by your vital signs, I calculate that any
internal injuries are very minimal at best. Still, you will need rest
and care." He did not mention that she was on the verge of going into
severe shock and that their were also indications of extreme de-
hydration. It wouldn't have mattered though, the girl had passed out
once again.

The android did a quick survey of the area and selected the remnants of
a factory to establish a makeshift base. The building was badly dam-
aged but a substantial area remained standing. However, it was hardly
in the kind of shape that might attract the attention of any Xobanard
patrols that were bored and desired a little target practice. What
was left of the structure was well built, the enduracrete and nu-steel
would provide a defensible shield in case of attack. 627-A9081 carried
the female inside and made preparations to treat her injuries. "Stay
outside and keep watch," he told the dog. The animal wagged his tail,
whimpering amiably as if he understood. The droid nodded, it was good
that he hadn't been stuck with a stupid canine.


Two weeks later the girl was on the mend. 627-A9081 had created a good
subsitute for a cast with steel rods and duct tape. "As long as you're
still, you'll heal," the droid had said...surprising himself by the
cleverness of the little rhyme. "Pointless," his internal programming
complained. The droid shut the program down, the endless banter had
become annoying. No machine liked being annoyed...ever.

The girl's name was Kitty...short for Kitarra. She was nineteen and
had only arrived in Clovisa a few days before the attack. "I was told
that I could get accelerated nursing training here...the hospitals were
real hard up for help. I guess all those sick people aren't hurting
now."

"There might be survivors somewhere in the outlands. I should be look-
ing for them," the droid commented.

"No, there is nowhere for them to hide out there and nothing to eat if
they did find shelter. This planet has nothing but flatlands and tiny
little plants that grow no higher than your ankles. Anybody that did
try their luck...out there, made easy picking for the Xobanard attack
ships."

The droid admired Kitty's analysis of the situation. It was logical
and precise, nearly machine like. He appreciated that in a human fe-
male.

"C'mere Spot," Kitty said. The dog came to her and she scratched its
head. "I believe its just the three of us. One human, one dog, and
one...functional machine."

"Spot?" the android asked?

"Yep, I named him...and I'm gonna name you too. 62 whatever sucks as
a name. At least you can carry on something like a conversation so I'm
gonna give you a proper moniker."

The android shrugged, "as you wish. As the only human, you are in
command for now." He watched her as she seemed to be giving a very
significant amount of thought to the problem of naming her robot friend.
It was illogical, but he felt...curious? Impossible.

Kitty's pale gray eyes stared off in the distance and she scratched
first her chin, then Spot's ear. The android decided that the fading
light from Celine 3's descending sun mixed well with the blond strands
of dusty straight hair falling across the girl's forehead. He was start-
ing to find her...interesting.

"Ah ha...I've got it, I'm going to name you Silent Book. Its a bit odd
I know but much, much better than a stupid number...even a machine
deserves something better than that. How do you like it?"

"Silent Book? Might I ask what inspired you to give me that particular
name?"

"Well, you're definitely the strong, silent type. And when you do say
something...well, its almost like you were reading from a book."

"Completely illogical," the droid commented.

"Well, like you said, I'm technically in charge here and I command you
to accept your new name and be dang proud of it."

"As you wish," in fact he liked the name. It was better than a number
although he wasn't precisely certain why.

"I am now Silent Book," he said dryly.

"Yes, you are," the girl replied.

The girl seemed much more conversational than usual. 627-A9081, rather
Silent Book, saw this as a sign she was feeling much better and that
her leg was giving her no pain. In addition, she hadn't requested any
more of the pain medication that he'd salvaged from the remnants of
what had been the local drug store. Just the same, Book had retained
a significant amount of various medications that might possibly come
in handy later. He wouldn't need them but Kitty might. He felt that
he was still fulfilling his programming directive of watching over
a human...if not humans. Although it was completely pointless and
counter to his construction, he "felt" vaguely good about his new found
purpose. Every android should be useful...that was plain and simple
logic. He felt good about that too, although it was illogical that
he should "feel" anything. Perhaps he needed maintainence...a rather
large structure had fallen on his head afterall. He ran his fingers
along the slope of his artificial skull. It certainly felt like it
was in good shape. Kitty re-inforced this assessment when she said,
"You know Silent, its to bad you're not a real guy cause you would be
sorta like hot...definitely."

"Hot?" my cooling systems are working fine. My internal nano have
been reduced but are, as yet, holding up well.

Kitty rolled her eyes. Book took that gesture correctly, as being
indicative that he had somehow misinterpreted her meaning. For some
reason he made a decision to inform her about his construction.

"I'm actually not a machine entirely...I'm quite different from those
other protector androids. 77.71 percent of my body consists of a real,
living organism."

"Are you telling me you're a cyborg...I prefer that you weren't a
borg...they weird me out. Sorry Book."

"No, I am not partially flesh and blood. I am mostly plant, very sim-
ilar to a very pliant tree as a matter of fact."

Kitty's jaw dropped. "No shit...that is like incredibly far out dude."

"Thank you, I think."

Spot seemed impressed also. He crept over to Book and licked his hand.

"Thank you as well...Spot."

"Actually Silent, I think he wants you to feed him again."


A few days later and Kitty was able to walk with the aide of a good
metal crutch that Book had made for her. She seemed anxious to get
about on her own. The three companions did some exploration. Kitty
found a comb...better than the one the android had previously picked
up for her. She sat down and combed out a tangle while the droid and
Spot checked out a pile of rubble. Book found an object that he lifted
gently and gazed out with obvious interest.

"Who is it?" Kitty asked. "Or should I say who was it?"

Book held the head with hand while he patted dust away from the object
with his other hand. "This is 1290-M99, he was my commander. He was
the best of all my android comrades. His tactical programming and
adaptive capabilites were quite remarkable, an exceptional achievement
in engineering in his own right. Not as unique as myself, but I found
him to be remarkable just the same."

"Why don't you bring Mr M99 over here and let me take a look at him...
he doesn't appear to be extensively damaged, at least not what's left
of him."

"I don't understand your interest in this relic?" Book replied.

"Well, I guess we all have our secrets now. For your information I
am half Elessonorian, and all my life I have been around people who
know literally all there is to know about building androids. I might
be able to repair him for you."

"Repair him, there is nothing else left...only the head," Book had
begun to calculate the odds that lack of proper human contact might
have led to mental confusion for the female.

"Well silly, the head is the most important part you see. Don't get
the wrong idea now...he'll never be of any use in a game of soccer or
basketball but I might be able to fix him so as you two guys could talk
to each other. You know, put your heads together or whatever."

Kitty smiled at her little joke but Book made no indication that he'd
"gotten" it. He brought M99's head to the girl and dumped it into her
lap. "Hmmm," she aid, examining the object as a doctor might examine
a sick patient. "I do believe there is a possiblity here. Ok, now we
go look for tools."

And off they went, the head was rather heavy so Kitty gave Book the
honor of lugging it about while they searched for the means to raise
the dead, or at least raise the dead head.