Keroro Gunso Fan Fiction ❯ Machine With a Purpose ❯ A meeting ( Chapter 1 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Machine with a purpose

I do not own Keroro Gunso or any other related characters than mine in here (like Meroro)

*Oh and epidermis means skin if you didn't know that, it is only called that when it is being referred to as an organ.

*In the anime and manga, Keroro is seven as is Dororo and Giroro, Kululu is younger and around six, Tamama is the youngest at two years of age.

*If some of you noticed, trillions.

*Topaz is a gemstone of many colors.

* about the T-M's speech pattern, in the anime Tamama says `desiu' at the end of each sentence, which translates as such, and Keroro says `de adimasu' witch translates as `that is how it is', so Tamama's desiu is a slang term derived from Keroro's de adimasu.

* Sergeant means two days before the end of winter and every change of the guard

I do not own the modified versions i.e. the clones of the Keroro platoon; they belong to the brilliant mind of the Tamama island owner: 3. wait Sergeant, Captain, General, Maim 1, support, Norm, and Getoto are all mine.

If you get confused in the 7th page, Keroro is thinking, and he says some of his thoughts out loud.

I love naming these thingies so humor me.

@@#############&&&*&&&#############@@- come worship the stars

//////////*********$$$\\\\\\\\\////////$$$*********\\\\\\\\\\- fly to your gods

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**-nearest home

“The newest prototype, also known as T-M clone series is coming to light now thanks to some of the brightest minds of keron.” Shouts and cheers erupted from the stands of the press conference.

The dark blue sky twinkled with the lights of ships all gathered, to see the conference.

“Yes yes we know that this is a hash change in battle tactics but it is necessary in lew of what happened with the dtroxinans”, the crowd hushed the mention of the invaders that liked to torture and mutilate, that ate and raped planets required some remembrance.

“The hostiles are planning an invasion of the Sol solar system and we will stop them conquer them, (the crowds roar nearly drowns out his voice now) and we, Keron will help them rebuild into the beautiful society that they once where!” The crowd yelled and screamed in excitement.

Keronians hugged, strangers laughed and kissed, children smiled and cheered, it was a victory day all right, and they would win.

Turning, the speaker walked off stage, his dark skin shining in the light eyes wide and sparkling, how very invigorating it was to be a speaker.

The lights slowly leaked back into the city as the tired and invigorated Keronian returned home from the prowar speech. One by one, children promised to a brighter and brighter future where laid into bed and tucked in. Some where hurt and some may be beaten, but even within the mightiest trees there lays a spot of rot.

Turing the speaker turned and looked at the kerons that where behind the curtain, cameras flickered and snapped and microphones where shoved into his face,

“Please tell us Mieru sir is this a government ploy?”

“Will we really use the T-M unit, I mean the G-9 units where enough on the last battlefront??”

“Sir SCTA would like to congratulate you on the invigorating speech.” Several shutters snapped and the flashes blinded him for a second.

Mieru was handed a bouquet of violet, black and neon pink flowers that gave off a faint green glow, “Space Violets, thank you, they're my favorites”, he gave a smile and a small nod to his agent who was standing next to the door.

Meroro stepped into his apartment, lights gleamed from the window that faced skyward he sighed, soon, no too soon he would be dropped off at the hostile planet himself.

~~~~Keron Military Forces Laboratory Head Quarters 45, 16 65 billion Kerons~~~~

In a dark room approximately .8995 billion G-9 clones had finished having proper standards and memory output to be ready , these where the open mobile infantry, now if you think of infantry as a jeep with a 75 caliber machine weapon attached you are sadly mistaken.

Each clone bobbed up and down slightly, their blank eyes unseeing and epidermis* was strong for an animal that has never been out of water.

One by one a machine picks up each tank filled with increasingly brighter florescent liquid, the pupils begin to form and the stem cells quickly gather to begin a new organ.

The G-9 units are designed with optimum strength in mind, these clones can carry all heavy weapons and have high secretion levels of adrenalin, the highest performance nano-machines available are pumped into the G-9's for anti torture and overall liveliness of the valuable solider who is often found in situations of high stress.

Being the most mass produced units, they are updated with frequency and are known to be the best for military occupation on alien planets.

The machine injects a small quantity of liquid into each tank, they twitch and their eyes roll, it (the machine) cuts each with a small scalpel attached inside each tank, and the new keron can breathe water now.

A keron walked around, his light skin colored green from the florescent tanks, he checked each one, marking down growth, weight, size, development. The machine hummed softly, “hmmmmmmvvvvvvvvvvvvv” as it rotated its appendage tipped with a small computer component.

He sighed, long hours and no play made a sad little keron, his tail drooped and he sighed, walking along the rows of tanks. Nearly all of them where not ready yet, but still the electric currents in each tank had to be adjusted and measured, in order to coax life and intelligence from the once florescent-jelly creatures.

`If only if only', his job was done now, and it was time to go home, his big fat paycheck would be delivered as soon as the government network was updated.

The machine let out a slow stream of mist into the room, and then shut the door, carefully, almost lovingly on the clones.

`Nice friend of mine' the keron thought, watching as the machine shut the door, “You do your job and I do mine,” he smiled and waited until it came to a stop next to him, expectantly, he took out his keycard and slid it through the receptor on the door.

Next came the machine, it let out a small army of tentacles from its single appendage; they flashed a barrage of colored lights simultaneously to the receptor.

The gates opened and they where allowed into a large hallway, the keron turned to the machine, “So, you going home too?”

It swiveled its “head” around to look at the ceiling, RED, TFM-6 it blinked out from around its body.

“Huh? Well me too,” the keron looked around; there was no one else in sight, “Wanna come with?” it looked down at him, the bulk of it being held on a skinny `whist'.

He held out his hand to the machine, it accepted and lightly touched his shoulder with two sets of tentacles.

The two began the long journey out of the small cloning specialist section of the underground base to the main section of the biological branch.

####################The Hotspot###################

50:45CM

Hostiles

Main Plot of Planet

90 degrees all around the planet

60 Degrees horizontal

Temperature, 110 degrees fainhight

The clone sniffed the dark air; the red soil of the planet varied in color, and could be mistaken for thinned blood. The sky was green, a clear sign of the planet's inhabitants.

One of the dark shapes out in the deep, deep green of the forests of the true planet's people moved, and came slowly out into the open. First milky-white skin presents itself. The terrestrial had dark hollow-looking eyes, a slim neck attached to a blob-like body, held in a cup-like abdomen with several thin, spindly legs, no joints at all, just tapering in to a fine, needle-thin point, covered the outer rim of the abdomen. The head, although certainly resembling a bird of some kind ended in an atrocious mouth, curling, each lip like a jaggedly spiked tentacle with pale-and-pink tissue holding in the sharp teeth.

Hostiles and the kerons alike where ready, far, far, back in the base camp a specialized solider began to let out a low-pitched scream.

The support solider is a Keronian modified to track and keep the less ranged of the species updated on faraway progress on the battlefront.

Support soldiers are gargantuan, they are usually fifty-five meters long, the one currently on the base was not finished transforming into its modified version.

They each turn into a giant, by shedding their skin and absorbing corpus amounts of ultraviolet radiation and do not feed at all during the process.

Basically each unit's turns into a producer, an animal that creates its own food; however the soldiers become less venomous and tend to have black claws from the deposits of carbon and such.

The support soldiers also grow tails, and their rank symbol is a skin marking on the forehead, such shortens the life for their colored skin (no matter what shade) begins to form a camouflaged color. It still must extract nutrients to survive though, and if you have a mouth and something resembling a stomach you can eat, it is a process very close to a fungal infection.

Sergeant Major, G-9 A-class was just receiving word at that moment of the T-M clone nearly being complete. He sighed; the frontline isn't moving at all, although, that was a part of the battle plan, there was no real way to insure the success of the plan.

You see, (if you have not guessed already) the plan is to keep the front line from moving, keeping a large number of hostiles concentrated around the base camp until the slaughter units arrive, then it gets simple, the G-9's send out the slaughter units and monitor their progress, they do this by throwing the T-M's outside and locking the doors behind them.

The thing with Keronians is that right after hatching from an egg tadpoles are virtually identical to earth tadpoles (except for their size). All tadpoles start out a dark, murky color (infants) stay that way for around six moths until they start to gain different pigment, then they change into juveniles until there around five or four years old, then they lose their tails and become adults. The white area around their face recedes with the increasing maturity of each keron. **

What does that have to do with the story you say…..

Sergeant Major wanted the new units to be ready A-S-A-P, and a nervous little secretary at the Station 1 that was providing planetary movement data and space-air support started to ramble on about how cute the new clones where.

`What is this lunatic going on about??' and of course the Major began to let his thoughts wander.

The line beeps and he is transferred on to the other line,

“Hello, is this G-967342309834502 Rank Sergeant Major?” the voice was polite, he recalled that the government decided that he choose this keron for tending the clones who where arriving.

************************KMFL***************************

They caught him just as he had walked into the main branch thoroughly embarrassing him. The machine swiveled its head and blinked out a melody of blue and yellow lights, the keron had shown far more interest in it than any other of his kind should have.

So now on the phone now with a general, or the like. Thinking quietly to itself, the machine became more and more sadden as the bleak opportunity of happiness slowly washed away as the conversation continued.

Turning, the keron faced him, as if sensing his friend's sadness he replied to him cheerfully, “Someone's got a bonus mission” and proceeded to do the keron welcoming dance, “And-you-can-come along.” He added in a sweet sing-songingly voice.

They looked up, three ready for battle and five still infants, they where all eyes, T-M clone number one was an corrupt version, unwilling to attack at all. He was not there in the group of nine.

The youngest ones smiled at him and asked his name, “Sukoko”, they all giggled in a sick way.

His friend the machine picked up two of them, and tagged, a deep chip placed in the lungs and brain there and then.

Wiping the tears from their little faces reminded him of the lab where he had spent most his life.

“Come on now we have to be going,” he grabbed a hold of one of the small hands and began to lead them to the receiving room.

Hostile planet

Night

98 degrees fainhight

Weather:

Perfect

A light drizzle shrouded the entire camp, the G-9's began to awaken and ready for the new troops.

Little did they know that the Sergeant right then and there is talking to the new troops and their tag-along caretakers. In the middle of the night they had come, a ship, a tiny little ship, small enough to be swallowed whole by a support solider.

The three T-M units had prepped and the G-9 unit where now aware of their presence. Only three where allowed since the remaining six where being studied at the moment thank-you-very-much. The outer area was beginning to flood with the hostiles in large numbers.

Units 2-4 where in a triangle formation for the first wave, the enemies are nearly obliterated with the first few attacks, but the remaining hostiles ran strait to base camp rather than the aerial assault.

The ground beneath the support solider churned, and a rather large hostile emerged, all legs missing, his large blood red eyes the size of grape fruit and body the size of a Jacuzzi.

His tentacles reached out and imbedded into the support solider, griping and grinding the flesh, sawing through muscle and bone with ivory teeth.

Word came in unit three in distress: the hostiles where underground and grabbing him, they wrapped and wrapped, a seething mess of blood and teeth is all that is seen.

Hostiles received the gift of his blood spurted out in a brilliant red blaze, but though their victory there was defeat, during violent moments T-M units' nanomachines begin to multiply into the 1018's* clogging arteries and raising the acidity to nearly -10 ph (enough to burn into flesh, steel, and soften carbon atoms to create radioactive isotopes).

Shinues of flesh burnt and the hostiles retreated to the surface, the blood of the dead keron warrior poisons the dirt, making it sting and kill the unwary.

News reached the support solider as he was killing the legless hostile, he turned and screamed the news, nearly paralyzed the hostiles. The thin legs of the enemy could be detached and shot, and they all did that the second the support screamed.

His vision went blank and the nanos began to heal, holes where covered blood transfused eyes mended and tissue pulled back into the body again the hulking keron stood up within seconds.

The time that his head was pierced, at .00214343240456432 seconds all data was copied and sent to the next (in numerical order) clone to prevent any loss of data.

Dear old clone didn't prepare for the shock of the data that smacked him. He still fought on, rounds and rounds of ammunition ripping and splattering through hostile flesh.

Wiping his face clean of the gore, he pressed on, the pressure in his internal ears building with nanos ready to spill out upon enemy contact. The ground looked like tissue ripped up from under someone's nail and poised under a microscope.

Clumped together the ground began to change to a light pink color, and certain parts of the ground turning white with calcium.

T-M three and two where angry, pupils dilated and claws sharp they both ran into the native forests, blasting and burning the hostile's nests and children, along with anything else foolish enough to walk into their path.

Poor, poor, Sergeant, he is in a very bad condition. Children lost, a cold small hand ghosts the floor as it's body is rolled away. Sergeant was in the war of the Freldin, witch involved a plague that swept the colonized planet, at the time nearly all clones had been forced into favorable conditions~.

The body came in, crying, he lifted the sheet, the red-teal color of blood and nanos dieing together, corroding seemed to be everywhere. The baby's sweet, small face was riveted like cloth, skin puckering and sliding off the rapidly decomposing flesh. His small torn stomach hung like a sad, shredded flag. Sergeant just sat there for a while, and cried for himself, his child, his troop, and the dead baby.

The clones all returned to be counted, and our Giroro is not there. Why? He's in the forests helping gather the T-M in the area.

The green trunks of the native flora are nearly seven feet high, and are splattered with black rings, dark beetles resting in the center of everyone, each around the size of a watermelon (a Japanese one!). The floor was soupy, and huge puddles topaz* in color and teemed with invisible species.

Close to a large tree, a huge chunk of the earth is missing. Knowing that the T-M is close our Giroro sniffs the air, the distinct odor of keron blood was in the area.

Several beetles shifted in their spots, they could smell the blood too, Giroro turns and scans the area for enemies.

He begins to follow the smell of blood; close by a T-M clone has stopped.

`Thup, Tha-thump' he can hear the gargle of blood rushing to his head, the air is dry, like a leaf, his hands are sore from slashing , and the dark purple poison that coats his palms runs onto the floor. Stepping lightly, the clone walks to our Giroro clone, he hesitates pausing, he looks to the elder keron with dark irises.

T-M clone #2 has armor on, poisonous hands, dark eyes, a paddle-like tail, and now he smiles at the G-9 clone happily.

Pointing into the deeper part of the forest, “The babies are all dead they are**” he faces a tree, “I cut down all the funny looking trees I did, they had beetles and no rings, the babies eat that trees, and they screamed. They did.”

Giroro mentally chuckled to himself, it was clear who had been trained by Keroro, “It's almost winter on this planet now, are you going to stay.”

Choosing a spot to sit on T-M#2 looks up at Giroro, “I miss my mommie, and I want to stay anyways, I do.”

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Around this time, a small tadpole swims happily in circles to his mother's joy, far away on a planet whose continents look like stars, unknowing of the devastation his clones cause. A yellow clone is destroying an orange keron's desktop wirelessly, in morning of his long-dead original.

Somewhere a group of blue clones ruthlessly tear into the body of their precursor, for the sake of strength, but they all fail and are left to rot.

On a fuel efficient ship of exquisite design that no one is riding, while the owner walks the railing on a warship, wearing uniform, worrying for a mere clone that shares a friend's mind.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Keroro smiles wishie washiely, the funeral service for `Mr. Kululu the Keron' is to be quite the public affair, and the rumors of the famed `Mieru Mieru' coming to the ceremony are correct, “Kero” sigh, `it hurts to talk in my “headddddddd”'.

The workers at the ship where convinced that the great Keroro was going senile, he constantly has a wicked, amused smile on. His skin glows with the humidity of the ship, and they weren't sure if that was the problem either.

Starting to walk away, Keroro sighs, he thinks of a beautiful ocean, tinged green, sparkling shores, moss shining and twinkling like gemstones. The starlight bright, an everlasting summer on a planet of two suns, likewise to either side, this is his planet.

He dreams of keron.

//////////*********$$$\\\\\\\\\////////$$$*********\\\\\\\\\\

On Earth, a five year old Fuyuki and a seven year old Natsumi fight over a small national flag. Fuyuki loses, and he sits crying.

Mama**sighs and Dad says something to Fuyuki, he sits up happily, and steals Natsumi's Cherry from her drink.

Now Natsumi is the one crying, and for a moment Fuyuki instinctively looks up to the ceiling, then to the window, and then the wide open sky.

He does not know this, but just now, as he looked to the sky, far, far away Keroro's ship took off, and Keroro had just finished looking to a small twinkling star in the same galaxy as his.

@@#############&&&*&&&#############@@

Tamama swims happily in his water tank, small slippery body strong from the oxygen in the water.

Already a favorite in the nursery, the tadpole is scheduled to stay for around seventeen months.

His mother disapproves, and is deadly with her poison tongue and pretty face; she wants him home, not on some government clone farm.

Our Giroro walks steadily to the camp, making good time, and is greeted by an enthusiastic clone.

His friend overenthusiastically throws his arms around Giroro and hugs him, for now (thank goodness) his friend is mute.

Sergeant stands in the gaggle of clones, no less distinct than any of them, yet the crowed parted to let him join Giroro. In one hand Sergeant held T-M#3's hand, and in the other, a mangled looking clone.

The clone has several major differences from the rest, a tri eye symbol rather than the regular , rounded merely two eyed regular, and the shape , is unusually sharp. His jaw is developed like that of an earth snake, double hinged at the ears, and able to snap in half at the midsection. Sharp teeth, needle sharp and hooked, no canine or incisors present. Out of its back, a malay of long antennas and wires connecting it to base camp. A huge armored plate prevents them from falling off, permanently implanting it on to the unfortunate clone's back.

“ Now you two need to stick together” sergeant told T-M#3, “M you need to stick next to general when he arrives too.” Sergeant stopped for a second and took in a shuddering breath.

Everyone knew that he had been crying, and not that it didn't matter, but Sergeant gets very emotional when it comes to children.

Glancing up the two T-M clones locked eyes with each other. Giroro understood the feeling, being young, they weren't yet used to the clones of themselves.

The winter was coming to this planet, it would be 45 days of pure hell, just trekking through the masses to find the enemy lava which flourished during this time.

Sukoko hurriedly rushed towards `his' machine, blushing like there was no tomorrow.

His friend looked down on him, green light, red-light, a faint humm filled the air that no one could hear, purple and gold light…

Translation: are you alright? What have you seen that you should not this time?

Exhaustedly Sukoko replied to the well-known machine, “Oh~huff~I~huff~uggghhh!~cough” heaving and slowly catching his breath, Sukoko barley heaved out his words, “I~suuuh~walkedin~on~two… uh… G's? Ummmm…”

Machine just stood, silently understanding, yet unable to physically express his knowledge of what Sukoko had just seen, he wished for another colored light and continued to listen to his friend's babble.

Sergeant looked to Giroro, “ Here take care of these two okay”

Giroro Stood at attention “Yes Sir.” And he took the third T-M clone and Maim-1 specialty clone from his commander.

Sergeant Barked out “ Dismissed, report in at second day to the season*”

The winter enveloped its native world.

A/N: I'm giving you a second chapter, alright? This is starting to hurt my head with all the pages. The Isolated incident is next up.