Siren Song

Chapter 4

The last droplets of petrol dripped from the edges of the pelvic intake, the pale yellow oil flowing briefly along the rim before falling in small batches into the fuel panel opposite its open doors.

Now frail in its exhaustion, the frame rolled off its topped up partner, sighing heavily. The door to its tanks shut with an air of finality, ending the procedure.

An arm reached out unhurried, fumbling visibly before forcefully shutting the other frame's intake with its digits.

The mech vented again, a smile creeping onto his lips.

It was done.

He was alright; that's all that mattered.

And now they could both rest. And now he could awake.

Peacefully. Alive.

Gunmax.

-

The visored mech awoke slowly and groggily — unsure, confused, questioning.

Something was off.

He ran a self-diagnostics check, scanning through his internal systems.

The reports came back green for every operation.

The reports came back green for fuel levels.

Something was off.

His memory cells struggled weakly to recall prior events, drawing blanks and coming up empty.

Who was he again?

Gunmax.

Ha. Of course. Who else?

Deckerd.

—Who was he?

Your.

Who was—

Everybody, everything, everytime. Your...

Who-

Your love.

Ha. Of course. Who else?

Nobody.

Only Deckerd.

Only us.

Only us, now.

His optics spiralled open without haste, lethargically allowing light to reach his photoreceptors. The scene came into focus around him, the blurred colours receding into a vignette, then finally away from his field of vision as clarity spread from the centrepoint in an expanding circle.

Why was it only them: where were they?

Where was Deckerd?

A groan sounded from his vocaliser as he pushed his chassis away from the sandy beach turned sandy berth, peering around in search of his-

Lover?

Were they?

No.

-In search of his love.

Deckerd's frame appeared in his peripheral vision, limp. Powerless. Unpowered.

"Dekkado?" A voice resonated through the peaceful atmosphere.

Waves lapped at his pedes, softly caressing the rocket boosters and metal framework. The sun shined bright and alone in a cloudless sky. Striking through the impeccable blue would fly the uncommon aircraft, leaving long, thin contrails in their wake. Birds squawked and flapped their wings, and a rustle of branches would give away a prey's position.

Sound pierced his audials from all directions, yet to him the silence was suffocating.

"Dekkado!" The voice spoke again, many decibels louder as it transitioned from a whisper to a shout midway through the nickname.

It was only in the hyper-aware haze his processor cast on the area that he realised the voice was his.

He scrambled upwards, kicking himself onto his pedes and running the short distance before collapsing again, his legs giving in near to the unfuelled frame and his arms taking the brunt of the fall. Stiff, Powerful. Powered.

Fuelled.

Fuelled, because-

The reports came back green for fuel levels.

Fuelled, because Deckerd wasn't.

Because Deckerd should've been, would've been, could've been, if he hadn't emptied it, emptied it into-

Into him.

Deckerd would forever matter. He would be remembered always, by everyone, by Gunmax. Even when the memory cells delete their contents, Deckerd will still be there. His friend, his partner, his...

His love.

Gunmax keeled over, hunching his backstrut as he lowered his faceplate to that of Deckerd's, shouting, rasping. Shouting at him to wake up, but still that damn smile played softly upon his lips.

His love, who he had just killed.