Then Fribby opens her beak wide and blasts another hideous flamestream.
Now like I told you before, Fribby is the first generation of a new dragon species. Her MortalMachine line are the first cybernetic dragons to be produced with a fully functioning reproductive system. And I’m not talking about some villainous metal Crocodroid who auto-replicates a thousand times a second until it’s created an invincible robot army ready to destroy whatever apex predator currently occupies the top of the food chain.
No sir. I’m talking Fribby has an ovowomb and the ability to lay eggs.
Because those dragon engineers and scientists in the Lab really went all out when they designed Fribby. I mean she’s got these two insanely boss silver horns which must be seven feet long and curve up into these nasty-looking spikes. She’s also got a WILL TO POWER rank of MegaBeast and this puts her in the top .01% of cadets, which is very elite.
Whereas on the WarWings WILL TO POWER RANKING INDEX, my score puts me squarely in the Snacklicious category. Snacklicious is one of the lowest and most despicable category ranks, on account of it means you’re basically doomed to be eaten by some deranged cadet with a much higher TURBO FIEND score.
I mean when you think about it, the fact that I’m even still alive is something of a miracle. Because usually fool dragons like me with a Snacklicious ranking don’t make it through their first year at WarWings. They get eaten.
Fribby doesn’t have it easy either, because there’s a lot of Normals at WarWings who despise the robot cadets here on campus. These dragons call themselves the DataHaters. Now the DataHaters have a bunch of names they use to call Fribby and her kind: Mech-Freak, Reptilizoid, Roboworm, Snakebot, Silver Serpent, Chromejob, Dataworm, Dragobot, Machine Trash, Crocodroid, Metal-Serpent, Datalizard, Tin Can—or just plain “robot trash.”
But I don’t reckon there’s a dragon on Scale Island that hates these Datalizards more than my grandpa, old Dr. Terrible. And I know my grandpa would call me a pathetic loser for saying this, but Ms. Cyber Scales is my best friend here at WarWings. Though of course that’s never stopped Fribby from being a royal pain in the ass.
Now Dr. Terrible says the idea of a machine being treated as an equal to us Normals and being granted free will, well that’s an abomination. He says sure, he’s addicted to machines as much as the next dragon, but they should be kept in their place. And in his opinion having machines like Fribby enrolled at WarWings and flying around here with rights equal to us Normals, well to my grandpa that’s a sin.
Nobody knows exactly why the Council of the Elders elected to create these autonomous machines and integrate them into the student body. I reckon not even Dean Floop or Dr. Terrible know why the Council brought the Datalizards onto campus. And these robots haven’t exactly had what you’d call a warm reception at WarWings, because up until just a couple years back the only metal robot dragons you ever saw were part of the Servant Class.
But my grandpa says that maybe having these Reptilizoids on campus is a necessary evil. Because with all these cybernetic dragons enrolled at WarWings as cadets, well it gives us Normals a chance to study their ways. And plan for how to defeat them when they rise up against us.
I can’t say I agree with my scaly grandpa about the Datalizards. All things considered, Fribby’s a pretty good robot. ’Course I can’t tell her. For one thing, she’d probably blast me with a firestream if I did. Ms. Cyber Scales isn’t much for flowery feelings. She’s hardwired for cruelty. Yes sir. She was after all designed to be a vicious cybernetic dragon Ruler over some foreign planet.
Anyway, about the DataHaters here on campus. Well it’s common knowledge among dragons that at some point in the future, the machines will stage an uprising against us. That’s been part of my species’ prophecy since the Original Couple first landed on this planet.
And so every cadet in their first semester at WarWings is required to take a History of the Future course, which outlines in brutal detail the Rise of the Machines and the enslavement of Normal dragons. This History of the Future course is part of the core curriculum, and the professors who teach it have shot up the timestream and witnessed firsthand the destruction of our species by the machines.
I took that class my first semester and I still remember what happened one night in the Library when I opened my textbook The Future Before It Happens. It was printed using some sort of sentient Time-Mutation? ink, which was another one of my grandpa Dr. Terrible’s fiendish inventions. Because of how what happens in the present is forever altering the future, and vice versa. So that’s why they used my grandpa’s Time-Mutation? ink in the textbook, on account of how the story is forever shifting itself around between the covers.
I opened to the chapter called “The Not Too Far Off Future” and then while flipping through the pages I spotted a little red button mounted beneath a holovid port. I peered down at this button nestled in the middle of the page and noticed a tiny sign under it that said: PRESS ME.
So I pressed it and instantly this 3-D holovid popped up several inches above the pages of the book, and in the holovid you could see this ghastly metal Dragodroid chilling in its lair. And when I peered closer at the holovid it was obvious this chrome-flex robot had WILL TO POWER coming out the wazoo. I mean this robot’s beak was covered in dried blood and there was a cloud of flies buzzing around it.
Then the holovid slowly panned out so now you could plainly see five green dragon heads mounted on the wall, like trophies.
Well I instantly slammed the book shut, gasping. And I was convinced then that the DataHaters were right and the machines would eventually rise up and try to destroy us Normals. But after I started hanging out with Fribby, I began to wonder.
“Sir, a spot has opened up!” says ATHENOS II. The ship flashes through the perimeter path, slicing through the chaotic air traffic to make her way to the open parking spot.
“Hey Weak Sauce,” growls the robot. “Where’s your Queen? I don’t see her.”
“Get off my case,” I say, flapping my wings nervously. “You’re starting to freak me out.”
“You know the more desperate a dragon fella is for a chick’s love, the more repulsive he becomes to us dragonettes!”
I turn and glare at Fribby. Then I hiss and spray hideous sparks out my beak.
“Well somebody put his panties on backward this morning,” she snorts.
Now I start smacking my tail around on the floor behind me, and it sounds like someone beating a raw steak against a piece of marble.
Whap. Whap. Whap.