Meanwhile Part 6‏

It was a vague word, meaning a lot of things. The AI had explored many facets of such an expression.
He'd been ethereal, trapped in a virtual reality, isolation had been both sought out and inflicted upon him. He'd lived life without a body and when he was 'gifted' with a facsimile of a chassis he could found that he was better off without.  
Then again, Dysart had never been at the bottom of a pitch black maintenance shaft with his already shaky frame shattered into pieces. 
That one was new. 
"Two hours, two minutes, thirty three seconds...." The AI read off his internal clock. The words tumbled from his thought process and out from his voice box. "HELLO!?!" His voice box thumped the air, sending dust scattering.
Dysart's weakened head looked down at the pathetic remains of the Mollopod drone that he had jury-rigged to his pelvis.
While chasing down drones of it's like he'd accidentally over-accelerated. The drone detached, sending both of them flying out of control and into a nearby open maintenance shaft. Since then he'd lain for god-knows how long before his minimal self-repair managed to return him to consciousness.
Well, no one could accuse him of being a worthwhile engineer. 
His eyes tracked over to his arms.
On his way down his right shoulder had managed to absorb most of the impact, and it showed. The shattered limb hung pathetically onto the warped metal of his shoulder. Even if he tried to climb out there would be no way it would support his weight.
"I hope Lester is still around. I sent off a distress signal but I'm not hearing anyone...." 
"START PROGRAM." A clipped high-pitched voice, speaking in machine code, echoed down the shaft.
"The hell...?" Dysart mumbled under his breath.
"Ten: Let N= Noise Level. Let T=Time. Twelve: Get N. Get T. If N and T grater than zero goto twenty. If N equals zero then reset T and end." The voice continued in a prolonged tinny static.
"Hello...?" Dysart croaked, only for his body to shudder with relisation and hope before he all but screamed back up the shaft." HELLO, IS SOMEONE THERE?! I NEED HELP!!"  
"Twenty:" A small maintenance port creaked open, a shaft of light and a small clawed face poked out quickly accompanying. "Print: String one- The great John Wayne Chronicler of the tribe requests Noise to equal zero. If noise does not equal zero, go to thirty. End" 
"John Wayne?!" Oh god, not this crap again. I thought they'd looked at that quirk by now. "Look you little prick! I'm stuck down here, I have no legs, my right arm is paralyzed and I can't even get into contact with the rest of the crew! Now help me out or I'll-!!" 
"Thirty: Force N to equal zero. End."
The Skutters head disappeared for a moment before returning with a laser pistol.
A single beam of green light streaked over his shoulder and exploded the steel grate just over behind his head.
With a shove and a girly scream the robot heaved himself out of the way. Consecutive blasts echoed around the ground, the hit zones glowing white hot warping the steel into little bubbles. 
The robot's eyes swept the room wildly as he attempted to find some way to fight back or at the very least prolong his existence.
Just beyond the shattered remains of the Mollopod hover drone, his heart (figuratively speaking) skipped a beat as he noticed the military bazookoid had landed not half a meter away from him. Flinging his skeletal left arm out, he grasped the base of the unwieldy cannon and wrenched his body around. 
With every shot the Skutter was coming closer and closer, the little beams of green light nearing their target.
Dysart only had one shot. He wouldn't have the time to re-cock this one.
He aimed down the sights as best he could, his metal arm starting to weaken with every second he took to correct his shot.
The trigger pulled and half a second later the skutter's head separated from it's body. 
A shower of blue metal sprinkled around him before the smoking, clawed head smashed just above him and fell into the remains of Dysart's lap. 
"I never shot nobody I didn't have to." Dysart quoted with a smug smirk crawling across his hologrammatic face. His arm and the grasped bazookoid finally clattered to the floor. A sigh escaped his voice box before staring back up towards the endless blackness of the maintenance shaft.
"Start program." Dysart's eyes widened as the skutter's head twitched to life.
"You have got to be kidding." The AI groaned as the smoking, twisted remains of the Chronicler twitched to life.
"Ten: If head is detached from body go to twenty. If not, end." The Skutter muttered weakly. Oh this could not be good. Dysart did his best to wriggle away from the scrapped blue head.
"Twenty: Print string- Help!! End."
Dysart stopped immediately. He looked witheringly down at the occupant of his lap. "That's it? That's the best you got? Who the hell programmed you? 'Help'? I thought you had something like a self destruct mechanism." 
"Start program. Ten: If new idea is obtained inform head voodoo-." A quick slap from Dysart's left arm silenced the Skutter's incessant code before it could end.
"Oh shut up." The shattered android was beginning to see why they never gave skutters voice boxes before.
A silence filled the pitch black shaft.
"Ergh... Two hours, four minutes, ten seconds...." Dysart muttered.
"Start program. Ten: Let D= Destroyer. Let C= Creator. Resemblance noted between N and D/C. Go to Twenty." The Skutter's voice was beginning to lose parts of it's own sentence structure.
"Huh? What happened to 'end'? I was getting kinda nostalgic." The Hacker admitted, looking down at the twitching little machine.
"Twenty: Print string- Are... are you the great Destroyer/Creator? The one who changes, and changes the minds and nature of others? If true go to thirty, if not end." Dysart had to admit that it was somewhat unusual to hold a conversation with something that was now wriggling around on his crouch.
"Huh? 'Changes'? Hmmm... I guess you could say that. It'd have to be only robots tho- oh wait."
"Thirty: Panic. End"
The Skutter began to twist and writhe in the remains of the robot's lap, a prolong static screech emitted from the chronicler's voice box.
"SHUT UP, WILL YOU SHUT UP?!" A swift serving of the 'Russian repair method' silenced the small robot.
"S-start program. Ten: Print string- Has the great Destroyer/Creator come to wipe out the unfaithful? End." The Skutter's lone eye, despite not having any eyebrow managed to look rather fearfully at the robot version of the Satan.
Even Dysart had to admit that they kinda had a point there.
"No... but the uh... great Destroyer/Creator demands that uh... you tell him what's going on!" Okay so he failed acting way back when, it's not like he had to do much.
"Start program. Print string- W-what do you want to know?"
<To be continued.>

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