Battle Borgs of Dome


Battle Borg of Dome - Guy Erma and the Son of EmpireThe Battle Borgs of Dome were once men. They died in battle and were reincarnated as cyborgs to fight as the heroic vanguard of the Dome Elite.
With artificial limbs and robotic core, these warrior borgs are remotely controlled, but also guided by remnants of human sentiments.
Women and children are not safe when they are around. But the authorities will never accept any criticism of their elite warriors, the civilian population know to keep out of the way.





Video : Battle Borgs of Dome


Battle Borgs – extract from Guy Erma and the Son of Empire

“Help me. Is there anyone out there? Help me. I’m in this tube.” He beat and thumped the walls of the tube. Made of metal, it made a satisfying, vibrating echo. He heard footsteps, the heavy tread of a soldier. Teodor redoubled the amount of noise he was making, while craning his neck to put his eye up to the grill.

“My name is Prince Teodor, let me out of here!”

Surely, they would know he was missing by now. Surely they would be looking for him? A reward would have been offered, so if he could just make himself known.

All at once he heard metal on metal snap together. The top of the tube lifted up. Quickly Teodor followed it, standing up to his full height and looking up, he saw it was not a man, it was a Battle Borg. If this cyborg had once been a man, it was a long time ago. The man must have been dismembered in battle. It had robotic arms and hands. Its legs had been amputated at the hips and replaced with robotic legs and wheels. The eyes were mechanical; the neck reinforced; its only last remnants of humanity were its face, body skin and hair. Only his hair was balding, mottled black and grey, his skin cracked and cratered, a large scab having fallen away from his face to reveal its mechanical inners. This Battle Borg would be used in the vanguard, sent him forward to die a heroic death. He was perhaps the most frightening thing Teodor had ever seen, but at his core he was also a machine.

All Battle Borgs were programmed to follow orders, and at the top of the chain of command was the king. This machine man had to do what he said:
“Thank goodness. It’s you.”
Teodor pushed his weight upon his hands to rise out of the tube, and so he did not see the blow that struck him hard across the temples, and sent him tumbling back down.
“No, please, you must help me get out. My name is Prince Teodor. I am your commander in chief. You must obey me.”
The Battle Borg had pulled a cloth from a sachet, and now pressed it across Teodor’s face, pinching his ears hard when he saw Teodor was trying not to breathe.
“Sleep, Prince Teodor, sleep,” he hissed down at him. Teodor tried one last time to lash out, but his strength was too slight, his captor too strong, the drugs too potent. He felt his legs crumbling and slipped back down into the tube.
“No, please, no. I am your prince. Please, no. You have to help me.”
“Calm, Teodor, sleep now.”

The borg threw the cloth into the tube so Teodor could not escape its vapours and the lid closed on top of him again. Teodor heard the metal clicking into place. He clawed at the tube one last time, hoping to the very last to climb out, but the footsteps were fading away, and in the distance a light went out. Teodor valiantly held his breath, as he reached the lid, using his fingers to look for any weakness, punching it with his knuckles to push it upwards. His legs had turned to jelly, so he slipped as if broken to the floor of the tube. His eyes were still open, looking up at the grill, but all his movement had stopped. His hearing gone, as well as his sense of smell, but he still had time to think. Not long, he guessed, but a few instants.
Here he was alone and in the dark, captive somewhere. Was he still in the Dome? And he could not get out. Exactly as he had dreamt. Well, not exactly, but clearly his dream had been some dark premonition. He thought how he had woken in a cold sweat that morning, how scared he had been in his comfortable bed. That fear had passed in a couple of seconds. How afraid was he now? He felt so dozy, part of his brain was chronicling his sensations. He was wet and cold. His limbs were twisted and bruised. There were untended cuts and grazes. What worried him most was the lack of voluntary motion, the darkness. He knew he would soon lose the ability to blink.
Wearily, he closed his eyes. Now he was alone inside his head. Why had the borg not obeyed his command? Cyborgs could not be reprogrammed. Were Battle Borgs different? Teodor thought wearily, Battle Borgs of Empire.
“War is a terrible thing,” his father had once said. “When you are at war, you have to accept that dreadful things will happen, and in turn you have to fight with all your might to survive. The Battle Borgs are our greatest weapons.”
Teodor had been accompanying his father on yet another inspection of the military facilities within the Dome. Chart Segat had been there and had been demonstrating some huge weapons that could only be hoisted aloft by a small number of Battle Borgs with the right kind of reinforced mechanical arms.
“But are they still human?” Teodor had asked. His father had not replied as Chart Segat had spoken:
“We have over a dozen volunteers for this upgrade.”
“I don’t want men who have working arms to sacrifice their humanity simply to use these weapons,” Serge had replied curtly.
“No. I know that. But losing their arms does not reduce their capacity for humanity. If they have over sixty percent  brain function, they are human.”
“How can you be so sure?” Serge had responded quietly. “I don’t believe your humanity resides only in your brain.”
“How can a man be human if he has super human powers?” Segat had said with a smile. Teodor recognised a familiar debate.
“Are they human, Dad?” Teodor had repeated. Chart Segat had smiled down at him.
“The point is, we control them; human or not, in battle they are under our control.”

Under whose control? Teodor wondered. Who controlled these Battle Borgs?

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