Plink, Plink, goes the submarine under the water.
“Sir we are on approach to where we believe the robot base to be.”
“Very well.” Says the captain.
“Sir, we have reached maximum depth, we can not dive any lower.”
“How much farther down is their base?”
“2.4 kilometers, Sir!.”
“I see. Will our torpedos reach that far down?”
“We don’t know, they may implode.”
“Why don’t they just hide in the Mariana Trench is they like it so deep? Those
“Sir, the sonar shows something on approach. It may be a large squid.”
“A squid, at these depths? Let me see.” The captain strides over and they watch
a small dot grow closer to them. “Are we just moving towards it, or is it also
moving towards us?”
“I’m not sure sir, but it seems to be coming in a couple knots faster than the
Tink, Tink, a metal contact sounds in the hull, it repeats a few more timis.
“Who was that? Why aren’t they reporting in. Don’t they know we are on high
Bur-gi-ni-brup, bur-gu-nu-brip, the sound continues.
“Uh, Sir, I think we’ve made contact.”
“The’re on the hull.”
Bjjj, bjip, bjjjj, bjip, plip the hull continues to vibrate.
The radio crackles, a robotic voice sounds. “Your ship is ours now, turn around,
or your life will become more difficult.”
“Who was that? We’re too deep for radio contact.”
“They must have latched within range of the antenna.”
On the surface of the hull a robot of the Hmik clan hangs on with two circular
magnets. One a speaker, one a microphone. Tink, Tink, another groupie arrives,
Tink, Tink, another, Tink, Tink, and another. The submarine is surrounded,
all sounds can be quadrangulated.
“Bur-gi-ni-brup, bur-gu-nu-brip”, they map the contents of the submarine. Each
unit now has an up to date map of the interior and all the people in it.
“Bjjj, bjip, bjjjj, bjip, plip”, familiar with the model of torpedos, they find
the fuse resonance and force it till it cracks. Torpedos disabled.
Top rider comms the humans aboard, to give them the choice to go home, without
The submarine continues going forward.
“Please, we’re not scared of a few burps. Fire the torpedos! That’ll keep them
busy.” The captain raps his fingers on a nearby rail. He waits. “Well, what’s
the matter? Fire them already.”
“Uh, sir, it seems the torpedos are all duds. They all failed to deploy.”
“The torpedos are broken.”
“What else do we have?”
“We can get a better reading of where the robot base for future expeditions,
or we might be able to paint them for an air strike.”
“Okay, go ahead”
Bjiu, bjiu, bjiu, bjiu, bjiu, the sound grows deafening, several men faint.
“Sir! We’re under attack!”
“I can see that!”
Crackle, static, crackle, static “that was a small taste yes. Would you like
more, or did you want to turn back?”
“Sir, I intend to turn us around.”
“No, keep on, we have to do something. How are those sonar reports coming, do we
The man that was at the sonar had fainted, “Sir, I intend to help move the
bodies to sick bay.” someone stands pickup up the sonar man and starts to move
“Sir, I intend to take over the sonar.”
“Very well.” the captain answers.
BJJJJJJJJUUUUUUP, splat. The skull of the man that was about to go for the sonar
and his brains paint the walls, the crew and the captain.
“Turn back at once!” The captain proclaims.
crackle, crackle, “Wise choice, Captian. You were next, wink.”
Outside the bottom robot snickers, popcorn people, he thinks. The robots stay
latached until the submarine leaves their territory, then they silently detach
and drift back to their patrols.
This book was partially inspired by the book “Turn the ship around” by David
Marquet, and partially by the ancient sound technology involved in the building
of the pyramids. Something that certainly submarine robot cities would be able
to employ in order to protect themselves.
This story is CC-BY-SA, so feel free to share and expand upon it, or to reuse