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Advanced Purpose Unit CZ-472 (designation "Edward") continued to place one unsteady leg in front of the other. A sharp wind whipped past, and the weight of the unconscious human figure on Edward's back shifted. Edward's footpad slipped on the grainy sand and he stumbled. The robot and his burden crumpled to the ground.
Edward rewound his recordings of the last few hours and searched for flaws in his actions.
* * *
The Confederated Marshal Service Ship Roustabout had spent the last two weeks patrolling "The Wilds," that tight inner rim of the galaxy littered with habitable worlds. Most, despite a high level of technology, lacked interstellar means. Many remained unexplored. That did not mean, however, that they were untouched. Unscrupulous races and raider gangs invaded these worlds with regularity.
Edward registered interest and confusion at the characteristics of this thing called "life." On the one hand, the universe was bursting with organic life. It found purchase, in countless forms, on seemingly every rock and in nearly every environment. On the other hand, these creatures, gifted with life, insisted on preying upon each other. From the lowest predators to the most advanced sentient races, they exploited, killed, fed on and stole from one another.
Which is, of course, what brought the Roustabout to this sector: Delivering a measure of justice to parts of the galaxy not under direct Confederation control. Marshal Raymond Tolbin, Deputy Marshal Eliza Federoff and Edward, their mechanical assistant, were tracking a raider vessel from two systems over. Federoff had locked onto the vessel's warp pattern and tracked it here. Unfortunately, the Roustabout arrived in the center of an ambush.
A half-dozen corsairs were waiting for them. Edward grabbed the helm and made for the nearest planet, while the marshals manned the defensive cannons. The Roustabout took heavy fire.
Edward steered the ship down into the planet's cloud layer and tried to lose the pursuers. After an hour the Roustabout was ready to shake itself apart. The steering yoke bucked under Edward's metal hands, but he held it steady with inhuman strength.
“Edward! Get us down!” shouted the marshal. The robot calculated the best path to the planet's surface. But the order came a moment too late. The Roustabout's engines failed, and the ship came down hard.
Deputy Marshal Federoff did not survive the crash. Tolbin was severely injured. Edward was damaged, but functional. Just before the impact, he managed to scan the surrounding area. A sizable energy signature registered nearby.
After pulling Tolbin from the wreckage, Edward calculated they were 20 kilometers away from the energy signature. It could be a city. Or a massive electrical storm. Edward's databanks contained exactly four words regarding this unnamed world: “Possibly inhabited. Lifeforms unknown.”
Edward's duty was clear. In fact, it was etched onto his chestplate, just above his model stamp. It read: "Protect and Serve." Edward was built and programmed to help humans. And above all, to keep them alive. Under his watch, Deputy Federoff had expired. And although he did not feel guilty for the loss—the word was not applicable—he understood the burden of his programming.
Edward took visual assessment of the area and saw nothing but barren desert. He lifted Marshal Tolbin onto his back and started walking.
* * *
Some eight hours later, Edward found himself pushing up from the sand where he stumbled. He checked Marshal Tolbin's vitals. Shallow breathing. Thready pulse. Edward scooped Tolbin up like a baby and looked toward the horizon.
Edward's left leg was somewhat shakier than before. Hydraulic fluid, seeping through a crack in the metal femur, stained the sand. He'd been banged up more in the crash than he had noted.
Getting his footpad underneath him proved more difficult now. By overextending the flexors in his hip joints, he was able to drag the leg forward in a loping motion and keep Marshall Tolbin somewhat stable.
The sun was low on the horizon but seemed motionless. Edward could not be sure of the planet's rotation or how long a day lasted here, so he just kept moving toward the energy blip.
Swirling sand cut into his joints, which were already straining from the lack of hydraulic fluid. Heat baked his circuits, which were overheating badly. His memory started to flicker in and out. But still he walked. He had to find help for the life in his arms.
As Edward trudged onward, his various systems slowly failing, he passed scattered towers of worn-out stone. They had all but crumbled back into sand, a testament to the age of this world and whatever civilization it held. Was it possible there were still lifeforms here? Would they be able to save Tolbin?
Three hours later, through the hot wind and the scouring sand, Edward caught sight of a metal edifice. A city? A building at least? He urged his legs onward, but they refused. Everything gave way at once.
Had he made it far enough? Had he done his duty? Inside him, a light went out.
* * *
Eventually, there came a sound. Improbably, a voice.
"We are gratified you have regained consciousness," said the voice, even and calm. "Please relax and conserve your energy. It is clear you have survived a great ordeal.”
Then, a light.
“Unfortunately, we were unable to effect repairs on your companion. We lacked appropriate … technical understanding."
Finally, a ring of hazy shadows.
“And with your capacities rapidly diminishing, we were forced to concentrate on preserving your existence."
With a flicker Edward's visual circuits rebooted. His eyes focused on a circle of metallic faces surrounding him. Some were vaguely humanoid, others more utilitarian in construction. Robots. A room full of robots.
"It is a wonder that your organic servant got you this far. Such an inferior construction. Perhaps, though, the loyalty and perseverance of that poor being is responsible for your survival."
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The Unjust Mechanics of Life and Death
Not all life is created equal