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  Robot Wars: Thrown into the Fray

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, places, and events portrayed in the novel are products of the author’s imagination (or madness) or are used fictitiously.

  Robot Wars: Thrown into the Fray

  Copyright © 2014 by Nicholas Haring

  All rights reserved.

  Edited by Nicholas Haring

  Nicholas Haring

  2179 County Road 2570

  West Plains, Missouri 65775

  [email protected]

  ISBN: 978-1-329-28952-9

  First Edition: January 2014

  Printed in the United States of America

  Special Thanks to: Autumn, Ben, Dan, John, Jonathan, Lis, Meagan, Michelle, Nate, Sasha, Tori, William, and Mom & Dad.

  Thank you for all of your support and/or patience as you listened to me ramble on (sometimes incoherently) about this book and the rest of the Robot Wars series.

  “A noble spirit embiggens the smallest man.” – Jebidiah Springfield

  Robot Wars:

  Thrown into the Fray

  By:

  Nicholas Haring

  ©2014

  Preface

  Hello and thank you for your interest in “Robot Wars: Thrown into the Fray.” I started writing this book back in November of 2012 for National Novel Writing Month, but if truth be told, the book began long before that.

  The genesis of what was to become this book, and the eventual Robot Wars series itself, began back in April of 2008. I was taking a break for a semester from college. Unhappy with my Computer Science major, I felt I needed a change. Eventually, I decided on majoring in Mass Communications, because I enjoyed filming and editing video. During an evening hanging out at my friend William’s house with him and a couple of good friends, we began to walk around his backyard.

  His house was out in the woods, and there was a sharp divide between the trees beyond his property and a chain link fence that surrounded his backyard. The trees, being mostly small oaks, were still barren at that time. I thought about how interesting it would be if the only thing keeping them at bay was the fence and one lonely person who had to guard it.

  A little later, we thought it would be neat if the trees were actually robots and the person, a soldier in the far distant future; sent out to a lonely outpost only to watch the fence and the robots behind it. The robots could never get through the fence, and the soldier, with a ready supply of alcohol, would slowly slip into an unstable, alcoholic depression.

  We headed back inside and my friend Nate showed me a foil mask and a vest of leather armor he had made and was planning to wear at an upcoming local Renaissance Fair. I put on the mask and leather armor and we thought it would make a great uniform for the soldier, whom we nicknamed: “Futuristic Drunken Soldier.”

  We took some pictures and made up a story along with them about the soldier’s troubles out on the line, and then posted them to Facebook. Nate even made a mock comic book cover for him that I used as my profile picture for awhile.

  In July of that year I was working with my grandpa, building grain bins in eastern North Dakota and western Minnesota. The job was terribly dull, so I and the other guys I worked with really had to use our imaginations to keep our sanity. This brought the idea of the Futuristic Drunken Soldier back to the forefront of my mind. When I got back from work one day I called up my friend Nate and we shot some ideas back and forth about the FDS Project as we called it.

  Through several nights we hashed out the core of the story for the Futuristic Drunken Soldier, he had transformed from a lonely, depressed grunt to an alcohol powered super soldier. We decided that when I got back to Missouri we would make a movie based on the idea.

  After getting back we brainstormed some more ideas, creating characters, back story, and how we would film the whole movie. During that fall, work on the FDS Project slowed, but then picked back up the following March.

  We then decided to construct a robot suit made of cardboard that I had gotten from the place I worked at the time. The suit was a mock-up of what would be the basis for the Mark Two robot. It had a shoulder-mounted, wire-guided rocket launcher -- which was really just a cardboard paper towel tube, a string of high-strength fishing line, and a bottle rocket with a straw taped to it to keep it on the wire.

  We then painted the whole thing metallic-grey and let it sit to dry for a few days. We did some test firings of the robot’s rocket launcher, but the results were never satisfying. The bottle rockets weren’t very predictable or reliable.

  I wrote up a script for the movie, but the project never seemed to progress any further than that, and I soon lost interest after the Mark Two suit succumbed to the effects of a bonfire.

  Three years later I decided that I was going to try my hand at completing the National Novel Writing Month challenge, but I was uncertain on what I would exactly write about. I had a few ideas, but nothing I felt too strongly about at the time. As I dug through my computer, looking for ideas, I found the original script for the Robot Wars movie; I had mostly forgotten about it until then. I read through it and knew I had to adapt it to a book, but I had to make some major changes to the story first, moving away from the campiness of the movie.

  Those changes became “Thrown into the Fray.” I plowed through the first few chapters quickly, but I never could finish the book during the month of November, and so I shelved the story idea once again.

  At the beginning of January the following year I was suffering through a severe bout of depression and knew I needed to do something to take my mind off certain things. I restarted writing on my book and found that it helped me immensely in coping with what I was feeling.

  I then became hooked and wrote on the book every night. Before I knew it I had 20,000 words; I was determined to finish the whole thing from then on out. On May 15, 2013 I celebrated, I had finished the first draft, and I was ecstatic. Though it wasn’t polished yet, and still filled with plenty of errors, I wanted to share my story with anyone who was interested in it.

  “Robot Wars: Thrown into the Fray” is the first book in a three-part series. It encapsulates a lot of what I had experienced in the three years since I started writing the Futuristic Drunken Soldier script. During those three years I lost close family members, I lost my home and almost my life due to the EF5 Joplin Tornado, and then I struggled to deal with the worst heartbreak I had ever felt. But while writing, there was also the sense of discovering who I was and the joy that comes with writing something that you always wanted to read, and in the end that’s all that matters.

  I really hope you enjoy reading this book; I had a blast writing it. Thank you again for your interest.

  Now, into the fray!

  Prologue

  “Do you see anything, ma’am?” Corporal Steven Barnes asked Lieutenant Snow as she peered through her binoculars.

  “Nothing but smoke from the city and refugees incoming on the highway; probably two clicks away,” Snow said, pulling the binoculars away from her eyes.

  First Lieutenant Olivia Snow and her small recon team were just five kilometers from the Iraqi city of Basra, on Highway 8, near the town of Zubayr. They were ordered toward the city earlier that morning after reports of heavy attacks from unknown forces started coming in overnight.

  “So, Scott, do you think it’s the Iranians?” Barnes asked the young Private manning the fifty-caliber machinegun on top of the Humvee.

  “I don’t know,” Private Kevin Scott responded, shrugging his shoulders.

  “It’s not the Iranians,” Sergeant Zach Mallory said firmly.

  “How do you know?” Barnes asked.

  “If it is t
heir attack, it doesn’t make any sense,” Snow said.

  “Yeah, the Lieutenant is right. Think about it, Barnes, no indication on the border, no build up, a massive attack with no air support or provocation on a city that’s heavily defended. The Iranians would be idiots to try it with our bases nearby,” Mallory explained.

  Yeah, not to mention the Olympics are going on and it’s the middle of fucking summer,” Specialist Danny Evans said as he put on his communications headset.

  “Hey, speaking of which,” Scott said. “Did anyone watch the opening ceremony last night? I tell you, the Japanese know how to put on a show; way better than the Rio one.”

  “Scott, cut the chatter and keep an eye out to the north,” Snow said. She looked back at him to make sure he turned around, and then went back to scanning the horizon to the east with her binoculars.

  She had originally thought the refugees were heading their way, but the majority of them seemed to be hanging around at the bridge off in the distance; it was hard to tell because of the intense heat waves coming from the ground. They would have to launch the UAV to know for sure, but it only had enough fuel for a few hours of flight and she knew she was going to have to save it for when they got closer to Basra.

  There wasn’t something right about their whole situation. They and Romeo 2-6 were sent out into Iraq with little to no intelligence about what they might encounter. According to the Captain, there was nothing available and they would be updated en route, but that hadn’t happen yet. You would think they would have all manner of drones and satellites gathering intel right now -- instead of just two recon teams in Humvees, Snow thought.

  It really didn’t make much sense to her, but orders were orders. The main force was still mobilizing back at base; it’d probably be another couple of hours before they would be fully ready to move out. In the meantime the two recon teams would have to get closer to Basra in hopes of making contact with any local forces in or around the area, and then ascertain what the hell was going on.

  “Fucking shit is it hot out here! What I wouldn’t give to be in one of those Olympic-sized pools right about now,” Barnes said with an exacerbated moan at the end.

  “Barnes, shut up and keep an eye out to the south,” Snow ordered, though a similar thought had crossed her mind as well.

  “Why? There’s nothing out there, ‘cept fucking sand for miles and …”

  “Barnes, that’s one. You get to two, and I’ll kick your ass so hard, it won’t be the heat you complain about anymore,” Snow said turning around to stare Barnes down.

  “Yes, ma’am. I-I’m just anxious that’s all,” Barnes said, squinting his eyes as he went back to looking at the flat stretch of desert to the south.

  “I don’t care, Corporal. Let’s just do our fucking job, got it?” Snow said, and then walked back over to the Humvee just as Evans was finishing up talking on the radio.

  “Roger copy, Papa Bear; Romeo 2-5 en route; over and out,” Evans said, and then took off his headset and looked up at Snow. “Hey, Lieutenant, they’re ordering us to move out to the next waypoint and await further orders. You want me to launch the UAV now?”

  “Not yet. Wait till we get to the next waypoint. Did they send us any intel about what is going on up ahead of us?” Snow asked.

  “No. Not a thing. I told them about the refugees possibly blocking our way, but they ordered us forward regardless. Command also said it would be another two hours before the main body arrives at our next waypoint,” Evans said as he climbed back into the Humvee.

  Shit… “All right, let’s saddle up,” Snow said, jumping into the front passenger seat of the Humvee. “Watch out for the civilians, Barnes, you don’t get any bonus points for running them over.”

  “Aw… man,” Barnes said sarcastically as he put the Humvee in drive.

  Snow and her team continued down Highway 8 towards Basra. They were a little surprised but relieved to suddenly see several flights of Kiowa reconnaissance helicopters buzzing in from the southwest. A couple flew over the highway, low enough to kick up a mini dust storm in front of the Humvee.

  “Shit! Fucking chopper jockeys… ” Barnes mumbled angrily as he watched them fly by.

  “Just slow down; I don’t need you running over anyone accidentally; that’s the last thing we need right now,” Snow said as they drove through the cloud of dust.

  Busting through to the other side of the dust cloud, Snow got a better look at the Zubayr Bridge and the large crowd of refugees that were on and around it. It looked to her like it could be half the city.

  “Evans?” Snow asked as she turned around to look at him.

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Contact Romeo 2-6; let them know we’re coming up on the Zubayr Bridge.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Also, find out where in the hell they are, they should’ve checked in by now.”

  “Romeo 2-6, Romeo 2-6; this is Romeo 2-5; do you copy, over?” Evans asked over the radio, but judging by his facial expressions he wasn’t getting any responses as he repeated himself.

  Snow knew that Romeo 2-6 was scouting further north along Highway 31, but she hadn’t heard from them in a couple of hours; there was no telling where they were now.

  “Umm… I can’t seem to raise them, ma’am,” Evans said as they arrived at the bridge.

  The bridge was filled with people streaming from Basra. The city was billowing smoke, like a series of volcanoes were erupting from within. A few people came up to the Humvee, crying and pleading for help. Barnes kept the vehicle moving forward however, slowly driving past them.

  “Evans, help me dig out some of the extra water bottles and we’ll hand them out,” Mallory said as he started to dig through the back.

  “Yeah, sure thing,” Evans said as he took his headset off and grabbed the bottles that Mallory was handing him.

  “Do you want me to stop, ma’am?” Barnes asked.

  “No, just slow down, Mallory and Evans will hand them out through the windows,” Snow said. She then looked up at Scott. “Scott, how are you doing up there?”

  “It’s fucking hot up here, ma’am,” Scott replied frankly.

  “Evans, hand Scott some water,” Snow said, as Scott stuck his right hand down for Evans to put a bottle in.

  “Here you go, Scott. Don’t drink it until we’ve gotten past the refugees.” Evans said, handing Scott his water.

  Evans and Mallory rolled down their windows and started to hand out the water. The refugees were panic stricken; some desperately trying to open the Humvee doors as it drove past.

  “Hey, stop!” Evans yelled out, as a man grabbed his right arm and tried to pull him out through the window. Barnes sped up and the man lost his grip and fell to the pavement. “Jesus fucking Christ!”

  An elderly woman dove halfway through Mallory’s window, grabbed the collar of his uniform, and screamed hysterically. Mallory quickly pushed her back out of the Humvee and rolled up his window.

  “Son of a bitch! Roll up your window, Evans,” Mallory shouted; he looked visibly shaken.

  “Yeah, you don’t have to tell me twice,” Evans said as he threw out his last water bottle and rolled up his window; the crowd banging on the window as he rolled it up.

  “Keep going, Barnes; we’re almost out of this,” Snow said.

  “Yeah, luckily they ain’t following us, ma’am,” Barnes said as he looked in the rear-view mirror.

  Snow and the others cleared the last of the refugees, a few of them tossing rocks at the Humvee as it passed.

  “Oww! Mother fuckers!” Scott yelled out in pain.

  “You okay, Scott, what happened?” Snow asked.

  “I got hit by a fucking rock!” Scott spun the machinegun around in his turret.

  “Don’t shoot!” Snow yelled.

  “Nah… just scaring ‘em, that’s all, ma’am,” Scott replied as he spun it back around.

  The Humvee continued down the highway toward the next waypoint. All along the
side of the road were bodies from those whom had passed out and died from exhaustion. Abandoned vehicles with hastily packed up belongings were partially blocking the road in many places.

  “What does Dup Tahdah mean?” Mallory asked.

  “I don’t know, why?” Snow asked as she turned around.

  “It’s what that crazy lady was screaming at me,” Mallory said.

  “I think it means ‘keep away’ or ‘stay away’,” Evans said.

  “You sure?” Mallory asked; he seemed to be getting a little unnerved.

  “Yeah, I’m pretty sure,” Evans said.

  “Heh… yeah, Mallory, Evans would know. He hears that a lot from the ladies around here,” Barnes said with big, dumb grin on his face.

  “Hey, fuck you, man!” Evans yelled back.

  “Ha-ha! I’m disappointed, Evans. I thought you could come up with something better than that,” Barnes said with a smirk.

  “Barnes, that’s two! When we get out I’m going to kick you in the ass. Now, keep quiet and keep driving,” Snow said.

  “Your ass kicks keep me going, ma’am,” Barnes responded sarcastically.

  The number of abandoned and wrecked vehicles was making driving on the highway almost impossible. Barnes pulled the vehicle over to the shoulder and then began to drive just off the road while trying his best not to run over the scattered dead bodies on the ground. They continued off-road, right into the suburbs of the city.

  “Okay, this is the last waypoint. Barnes, pull up next to that gas station on the right over there,” Snow said.

  Barnes nodded and drove as close as he could to the gas station; the clutter of abandoned vehicles was preventing him from getting too close. Everyone but Scott and Barnes exited the Humvee.

  The Kiowas were still flying on-station overhead. A couple here and there looked to be returning back to base and in a hurry. They were now about two-and-a-half kilometers west from the heart of the city. Snow could hear the occasional sounds of rifle and machinegun fire from that direction, with an accompanying explosion every now and then. Also, in the distance, a strange electric hum. It sounded like a series of broken transformers to her.