SF Drabble #417 "And His Wild Heart Slung Behind Him"

The gun beeped, and spoke in its tinny monotone: "Pick me up. Pick me up. Pick me up."


"Pick me up."

"Can't. Hurt." He injected himself with another medspike and then curled tighter into a ball, trying to ignore the cold and the rancid water soaking through his clothes. "Call a medic."

"No medic in range. Pick me up. Kill the enemy."

"I can't. I swear to god. Read my vitals."

"No medic in range. Pick me up. Pick me up. Pick me up."

"Fuck off."

A beep, a click, and a hum: the gun had activated its self-destruct.


  1. With weapons like that who needs enemies..?! Like the pace and repetition in this, adds to the tension.

  2. I like this - what an interesting possibility! Just wait until they go rogue. ;)

    1. I think they're too dumb to go rogue... but you never know. :-)