Kick the Sphere 6 (Patreon)

A/N: FYI, I use Celestial Forge v.2

Kick the Sphere

Chapter 6

-VB-

What could go wrong with inducting the children of my past murders? A lot. Unfortunately, I was too weak to kill them because of my morality, so I did the next best thing I could do. I sat them all down in a room with myself and talked.

“You killed dad,” one of the kids, a boy who looked to be about eight years old.

“Yes, because your dad killed other people,” I replied. “He hurt my people, so I hurt him back.”

Children did not respond to logic as adults did. They were incapable of it. Ever seen how school dynamics worked in kindergarten? That’s exactly how it worked and why capable and caring caretakers were a necessity in all public education institutions.

Anything less would result in a systemic formation of cliques and groups that would pit themselves against each other.

Eight years old was just on the verge of being able to understand logic beyond their immediate wants, and he was one of the oldest kids there. The rest had picked up arms and died when we cleared out the bandit tribe.

“Good riddance.”

I blinked.

Umm. What?

“Excuse me?”

“My da was a piece of shit,” he muttered. “I miss him, but I get it.”

“That’s … awfully mature of you,” I muttered, which he heard.

“Everyone knows everyone dies. Da and everyone else in the castle knew that and knew they’d die fast. He was a shitty dad, and I miss him, but he … he always made sure I knew shit so I won’t die quickly after he did.” He sniffled and wiped his eyes with the dirty sleeves of his shirt. Then he glared up at me. “I know how to fight. I know how to shoot guns and fix them. Hire me. I’m cheap.”

I closed my eyes and let out a sigh.

Jesus H. Christ. What the fuck was the norm here? This was so outside of my own experience that I didn’t know how to respond to this. I mean, yes, a cooperative group of children was easier to handle than a not cooperative and actively murderous group. Going by what he said and how the other kids around his age looked, hopeful that they could live on by doing something, while the really young ones just clung to their older siblings and cousins with stares that was too paranoid to be on children, what this little boy said not only resonated with them but made sense to them.

Parents dying and getting put to work by their killers was logical.

How bad was the condition on the planet if a gun-totting farming village had to fight off bandits with this kind of mentality?

I felt right there and then that this idea of mine, this desire to make things better for myself, didn’t have to be limited to just me and my close friends. No, I could give these children that, too.

‘I’m going to be making child soldiers out of them, aren’t I?’ I asked myself internally. The fact of the matter was I could not keep everyone fed if they just lazied around. Not all of them would be soldiers but all of them would have to work in some sort of manner. ‘Maybe further down the line I can change that but I can’t as I am right now.’

I grunted outwardly as I arrived at my decision mentally.

“Fine. All of you are now hired. Welcome to the Marris Guards.”

The boy nodded resolutely with clenched fists.

“For now, all of you need to eat.”

It just became morning, and they did need to eat after they missed supper yesterday.

That got some reactions out of them.

-VB-

While the kids ate their fill, I sat with AK-15 and Negev to discuss how we were going to … do everything.

“Alan.”

I paused in eating and looked up at AK-15.

“Yes?”

She took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. “It is abnormal for a T-Doll to desire a name, but I desire a name of my own. Is it wrong if I seek one?” she asked me, meeting my eyes with her own firm silver eyes.

I blinked and set my fork down from the subpar pasta the kids thought was the greatest food they had ever eaten.

“... I don’t see why not?” I replied. It wasn’t a casual response, because I kind of understood what was happening.

Despite their … let’s say sensual appearances and behaviors, all of the T-Dolls were artificial intelligence. They were not human. They had a set purpose, and in the case of all of my T-Dolls, it was war and protection. For her to go out and ask me something like this meant one of two things.

One, their programming was evolving and becoming people of their own selves.

Two, their programming was corrupted and this deviation from their norm was just the start of their mental downward spiral.

I didn’t know what I feared more: the loss of control over my right hands or my right hands becoming a glitchy and buggy mess.

Despite my internals screaming in fear, I accepted reality with grace and smiled as I turned to Negev. “You want a name for yourself, too?” I asked her.

She frowned while staring at her food for a moment before nodding. “I want to be called Rebecca.”

“Rebecca, eh?” I hummed. “That’s a good name.”

Negev nodded and went back to eating as did AK-15.

How did I feel about this new development?

… A little scared. Like I was losing a bit of control.

I set that thought and feeling aside. It wasn’t like my T-Dolls would betray me.

Well, not unless they were so corrupted that their programming no longer mattered. The Celestial Forge didn’t make any guarantees, after all. [Supplies] gave me the materials and knowledge to make and repair T-Dolls, nothing more. I didn’t know how to do an engram analysis.

Perhaps… it’s time I started working on my personal improvements before I went about cleaning the area of any more bandits or nomadic assholes. For all I know, the next mission was when one of the T-Dolls might just go insane. Like cyberpsychosis from Cyberpunk 2077.

Now I’m gonna have nightmares of sexy psycho gynoids barging into my room with a butcher knife and a crazed look on her face.

Fuck.

-VB-

To my surprise, the Celestial Forge pinged me a week after I began integrating the kids of the Black Skulls into my group.

Another one hundred points stacked up on my Forge bank account, and I found myself wondering if right now was the right time to use it. After all, I haven’t even gotten to figuring out the ins and outs of the Atlantean database.

But … wouldn’t it be awesome if I had something to help me decode and make all of those cool Lantean tech?

Like an Omnitool. I didn’t need to make the tool to make the tool to make the tool to make the tech I wanted. Omnitool would skip half of the steps involved. Sure, some of the tools to make the tech will still need to be made, but skipping half of the step alone was something to be grateful about.

Especially since an Omnitool by itself only cost 100 points.

With two hundred points in my account, I could buy two of those dead useful tools and then get myself two more Glasgows. I could also get one Omnitool and then [Shadow Clones] from Magical Database. It, however, had the chance of failing because there was no guarantee that I had chakra.

It was actually very likely that I did not have chakra, which meant that until I did get myself chakra through other means, I should keep that stowed, no matter how cool having clones will be.

After a while of deliberation and more catalog perusal, I decided and purchased one Omnitool, one Toaru verse [Resource Generator], and two Glasgows.

“More already?”

I looked up from where I’d set the two new “ultralight” mechs down, and saw Nege- Rebecca. The pink-haired woman hummed as she stared up at the two new Glasgows.

And then I saw her eyes sparkle.

“This one’s mine,” she proclaimed proudly as she walked up to one of the two and put her hand on its leg.

“What?” I sputtered out.

She puffed up her chest. “This is mine now. I will take care of it, paint it, and make it grand! Its name shall now be David!”

I stared at her for a moment before chuckling and shrugging. “Sure.” After all, it literally cost me nothing to buy them. However, my answer made her smile widely.

“Great! Now, help me attach some big honkadoo guns to my David! I don’t want puny guns!”

Her abrupt vernacular change made me do a spit take, and then I laughed after I got my breath back.

“Sure, sure. You can even test it out on the nomads we have to drive out anyway.”

She preened at the idea.

-VB-

To Jarod, the rapid expansion of the Marris Company looked fantastical.

Here was a group of women and a man capable of raising up a fortress in less than a month, and they also got rid of the Black Skulls!

What he didn’t understand was why the boss man kept the kids. Everyone else around here would have just killed them all out of mercy. Was he … a slaver?

Jarod grimaced as he looked around.

If the boss man was a slaver, then he could understand that. There were worse traits to have in people in positions of power. After all, his own grandmama used to have a harem of men.

However, slavery was not accepted back in his village. It would put some strenuous odds between them.

He would… watch the boss man for a bit longer. If he was abusing the kid-slaves, then he would report it immediately to the elders. Otherwise, he’ll keep quite about it.

Because honestly, there was no way that his tiny village would survive a fight against alan’s juggernauts of war. Jarod didn’t know how - because he didn’t see any “flight” in and out of the fort - but boss man got two more of the “mechs” onto the fort, leaving the company with five such mechs. Worse, boss man gave one to the bloodthirstiest woman and modified her personal mech to fit a giant gun; the barrel of the gun was as wide as his head.

A single shot from that cannon - Jarod refused to call it a gun - would see one of the village huts go up in flames.

And he saw that happen today.

He shook inside the barebones chest plate, helmet, boots, and uniform the boss man gave him before telling him that he would be coming with them. As to where he would be going, Jarod learned that the boss man wanted the nomads nearby gone as quickly as possible. Something about mongols, whatever that was.

And so he stood by a primitive chemfuel-operated auto truck while the five gods of war swept across the plains as fast as horses and struck the nomadic raiders in their own huts.

He watched from afar as the tents, bodies, and autos burned under the firepower of the unrelenting, uncatchable, and unstoppable giant machines.

Watching it all, he felt a shiver run up and down his spine.

According to the elders, these were but the smallest of their kin. What did a battle between these gods look like?

Jarod was now sure that he didn’t want this kind of war to come to his world.

But could he stop it?

“What’s wrong, soldier?”

Jolting in place, he looked around and saw Jericho, the black-haired woman dressed in a crisp white military uniform. She had a cane helping her stand up and a single pistol in her other hand.

“I’m…” he muttered. “I-”

“SOLDIER!”

He jolted again, this time a bit more harshly, as Jericho’s shout washed over him.

“Y-Yes?!”

“It’s ‘Yes, ma’am’!”

“Yes, ma’am!”

She glared at him before nodding. Then she looked out towards the burning field.

“Is this your first time upon a battlefield? Is it what’s bothering you?”

“Y-Yes… ma’am.”

She hummed. “You are worried for your village.”

He nearly jolted again, thinking that he was found out, but he practiced this. “I’m worried, yes, ma’am,” he replied. “If boss man keep doing what he does, then wouldn’t he get others like him, those with those mechs, to come to our world? I’m scared of that, ma’am.”

“You are right to be afraid of war,” she replied without looking at him. “But don’t worry. Our captain has plans.”

Jarod looked out toward the horizon and the still burning fires of the once hundred-plus strong bandit nomads.

He really did hope that the boss man knew what he was doing.