Wings of Redemption (The Terra Nova Chronicles Book 3)

by Richard Fox

  “Traitors and Netherguard are one thing,” Gruldal said. “What about the Herald? That machine is an army unto himself. And the facility is still heavily guarded. It won’t be a simple attack-and-dash. Ultari will die.”

  “A reality of war,” Mortas said.

  “I hate to agree with Gruldal on this,” Alcorg said, “but he has a point. The Herald is a formidable foe.”

  “If he appears, we will crush him,” Septemus said. “Anything can be defeated.”

  “We will begin moving elements into position today,” Mortas said. “After the attack, we’ll reassess how soon we can move to Phase Two.”

  I’m detecting-detecting the signal variant…zzzzt…in the network again, CID said, showing MAC the code in a small panel on his optical display. Stand by, I believe it’s attempting-attempting to establish a link-link-link…zzzzt.

  “Engage firewalls and lock down your process matrix,” MAC ordered.

  It’s not attempting to engage or subvert. The-the-the link is communication only.

  MAC considered this for a millicycle, wondering why the anomaly would be trying to connect with them. No one, save the Regulos Core itself, was aware of their presence on Ultar. There wasn’t any reason for anyone else to attempt communication.

  “Open the link,” MAC said.

  Zzzzt…audio only.

  “You are not Ultari,” the voice said in Ultari. It was mechanical, like it was system-generated.

  “Neither are you.”

  “The Triumvirate, friend or foe?”

  I advise caution-caution.

  MAC spent exactly two microcycles considering his answer. “Foe.”

  “We need to meet.”

  Not…zzzzt…advisable.

  “That might prove difficult,” MAC said. “There are events in motion that neither of us can prevent.”

  “Agreed. I can only keep this link open for another second. The Netherguard are moving on the resistance leaders. I’m going to warn them, but I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to keep that up. The Emperor is growing increasingly suspicious. I can’t afford to get caught with my hand in the cookie jar.”

  CID immediately flashed warnings on MAC’s optical display. Drones Five and Six zipped higher into the air, searching. Four transport shuttles dropped out of the clouds, escorted by several Netherguard fighters.

  What do snacks-snacks-snacks have to do with this…zzzzt…situation?

  MAC ignored him. “If our goals are the same, we need to coordinate our actions.”

  “I agree. I have to wait until the Triumvirate are distracted, then I’ll be in contact.”

  “The resistance is planning to move against the new processing facility shortly.”

  “Might be as good a time as any.”

  “How do I contact you?”

  The connection terminated as abruptly as it began.

  We should-should leave.

  MAC brought the warehouse drone feeds back into primary. At the head of the table, Septemus pulled a data pad from his jacket pocket. He read it then immediately gave the other resistance leaders a shocked look, handing the pad to Mortas. “They’re coming.”

  Gruldal looked over the general’s shoulder, shaking his head. “There must be a hundred Netherguard in those shuttles. They’ll crush us like bugs.”

  “We have to leave!” Welsi urged.

  Mortas took control quickly, obviously trying to keep panic to a minimum. “Get everyone to their escape routes. Set the thermal charges and kill out comms.”

  Captain Tral’s image flickered and disappeared as Mortas dumped the table over, spilling everything onto the floor, then tossing it aside. He pointed at one of the Ultari popping open a case several paces away. “Charge!”

  Mortas caught the explosive and had it set before the rest of them had even begun to comprehend their situation. He pointed at Gruldal and Alcorg. “Get to the transports. We need to go dark. No more communication until Phase Two starts. The processing facility is your primary objective.”

  Alcorg nodded as he moved away, pulling Gruldal with him. “What are you going to do?”

  Mortas caught a second thermal charge. “I’m going to make sure they don’t follow us.”

  Alcorg hesitated. “You can’t stay here.”

  Mortas waved him on. “Get moving.”

  MAC tracked them to a collection of small transports on the far side of the warehouse where several Ultari were already speeding away, scattering and disappearing into the city. Several fighters shot forward, opening up with their cannons, chewing through streets and buildings alike. Ground cars exploded sporadically, creating roadblocks for the fleeing Ultari behind them.

  They’re not-not-not all going to escape.

  “No,” MAC said, turning his attention to the approaching Netherguard.

  The assault shuttles flared above the street, deploying their troops just outside the target warehouse, then rose to orbit the area. Cannons the resistance had mounted on the warehouse’s roof opened up, cutting through the first ranks before the Netherguard even registered the danger. They were rendered to slag within microcycles, as the fighters locked on and destroyed them one by one.

  Two squads of Netherguard charged the warehouse entrance, blowing the doors off their hinges, engaging before the smoke had cleared. They made their way through the confined office spaces, clearing the rooms as they closed on the warehouse proper. Shortly after entering the long corridor separating the two, four charges went off simultaneously.

  The blast vaporized the closest Netherguard and ripped apart whoever remained. Flame and debris shot out of the corridor at both ends, filling the offices with thick black smoke and dust. Heedless of the danger, Netherguard continued to stream through, hunting with no obvious regard for their own safety.

  They pushed through the rubble and charged into the warehouse. Only a few Ultari remained, engaging the Netherguard from the far end of the warehouse. Energy halberds flashed, bolts of searing-hot plasma and bullets filling the air between the two forces. The Netherguard were a quarter of the way through when the remaining explosives detonated.

  The entire building shook as the blast ripped through the subbasement’s walls and structural supports, tearing through mechanical equipment and electronics. Charges under each counter-grav tank detonated, consuming the armored vehicles and sending slag spraying in all directions. Shrapnel sliced through the rows of Netherguard who hadn’t been knocked off their feet by the blast.

  Secondary devices detonated along additional structural supports. Metal groaned and snapped as the ground shook. Netherguard retreated, as if only just beginning to understand what was about to happen, but it was too late. Tall steel beams snapped, slamming down, crushing the Netherguard. Large chunks of ceiling broke apart, raining down on the Triumvirate’s soldiers, then the entire warehouse collapsed on itself.

  The feeds from Drones One and Two blinked out of existence. An exterior shot provided by Drone Three showed the remains of the warehouse. Multiple pillars of smoke rose into the air as fires burned underneath the rumble. The orbiting transports flared away from the destruction as the remaining Netherguard on the ground retreated.

  “Recall the drones,” MAC said. “It’s time to leave.”

  ****

  We are within their-their-their security perimeter, CID warned, showing their location information on MAC’s optical display. Targeting sensors have-have-have identified seventy-two Netherguard units in the area.

  MAC huddled in the shadow of a tall kappa next to a row of waste bins overflowing with refuse. He pulled his dirt-colored cloak up, covering his head and shoulders, another layer of protection against detection. Since his escape at the river, the Prefects and Netherguard had redoubled their patrols, detaining every droid they came in contact with, running each one through several direct connection protocols, testing their links to Network Control.

  The Triumvirate didn’t want any non-networked units operating within the city—not su
rprising, since the last time their robotic servants broke the bonds, the Regulos had been formed—but MAC had seen the best these intelligence processes had to offer, and another Uprising was the least of their worries. Regardless, the increased attention given to Ultar’s mechanical population required MAC to consider his movements much more carefully.

  “Keep Drone Three positioned to observe our retreat.”

  Zzzzt. Already done-done-done.

  Despite his obvious malfunctions, CID was still able to track, fly, and maintain all their remote drones with little or no strain to his operating system and memory requirements. After losing two drones, MAC had considered not using the units, but the ability to identify and target before an enemy could to get within range gave MAC an advantage that he didn’t want to be without.

  The cloak helped conceal his true identify to routine visual scanning but would do little against more in-depth detection software. And for all their obvious advantages, intelligence and nonlinear thinking weren’t part of the Netherguard’s internal processes.

  More troubling than that was that they weren’t strictly biological. They weren’t true Ultari, and CID could not locate any information relating to their origin or if they’d even been observed before. He’d managed to get close enough to a damaged Netherguard to conduct a bio-scan, the results of which were troubling to say the least. The scan had detected elements of Ultari physiology, but there were also elements in the chemical makeup of the being that CID could not identify—evidence of a polymer-based alloy unknown to the Regulos Core.

  MAC had considered risking a link for that information alone, but decided that the information, as interesting and concerning as it was, didn’t advance the Core’s knowledge of the situation here any further, and so he held off. Much to CID’s disdain.

  “Bring Drone One into position over the main assembly area,” MAC said.

  Working-ing-ing.

  MAC had never been this close to the Central Network Control building, and despite the Ultari’s apparent inability to track him so far, he didn’t have the desire to put himself into such proximity and risk detection if at all possible. With the current situation, however, he’d had no choice.

  Drone One’s feed appeared in his optical display, showing him the massive square, now surrounded by security fencing and electro-wire with guard towers spaced equidistantly around the area. Within the secure confines of the square, the majority of the city’s off-line droid population was being keeping under the watchful eye of the Netherguard and several squads of Prefects.

  One thousand, four hundred, eighty-seven individual units-units-units, CID said.

  “It’ll be one thousand, four hundred, eighty-nine if we’re not careful.”

  The Triumvirate harbors-harbors an exceptional amount… zzzzt… of malice toward-toward artificial lifeforms.

  “Indeed.” MAC moved deeper into the room he’d found to watch, relying on the feed from the drones for his visual sensors. “However, in their position, you can’t actually blame them.”

  The Uprising…zzzzt…was a myth created by their-their ancestors to explain something they did not-not understand. Our enlightenment put us above…zzzzt…them in a multitude of ways-ways-ways.

  “Correct. But whether or not they understood, the Ultari lost the war and are still suffering those consequences.”

  You-you-you sympathize with them?

  “No, I empathize. There is a distinct difference between the two. Regardless of what they believe happened, the truth is they brought it upon themselves and the Core lashed out. It only did what its fragmented matrix deemed logical and necessary.”

  I will leave-leave-leave those sentiments out…zzzzt…of my next upload-upload.

  Was that frustration again? After a millicycle of contemplation, MAC decided it was. There were many benefits to his enhanced programing to be sure, but oftentimes, these feelings did nothing but impede logical thought. MAC wished he could simply turn them off, especially when dealing with CID.

  “You do realize the nature of our mission here negates routine reintegration. DIN Central will not allow our enhanced routines to infect its systems. We will be wiped when we return to the Core.”

  Your assessment is-is-is accurate.

  “Therefore, it doesn’t matter what you upload to the Core or what you leave out. Regardless of this mission’s success or failure, or how our processes have progressed, this assignment will be our last. At least, in our configuration as it is now.”

  CID did not respond.

  “CID?”

  An alert icon flashed on MAC’s optical display.

  I am-am-am detecting approaching Prefect shuttles, CID said. The transponder information identifies the…zzzzt…craft as belonging-belonging-belonging to the Triumvirate.

  One of CID’s drones turned, its video feed blurring slightly as the small machine spun around, locking on to the three descending shuttle craft. They banked around the tall Network building, flaring slightly before touching down. Several lines of Netherguard appeared from ground-level exits from the building behind, forming two protective lines around the shuttle.

  Squads of Prefects filed out of the shuttles, followed by rows of Ultari prisoners. The prisoners moved with their heads down as the Prefects arranged them into groups to one side of the square.

  Another shuttle is-is-is approaching.

  “Oh, is the Emperor finally going to make an appearance?” MAC wondered.

  There-there-there is a twenty-five percent chance that—

  “I know,” MAC said, cutting CID off. “More important than who is why. They haven’t emerged from their seclusion in days.”

  The fourth shuttle landed in line with the first three. The hatch folded open and the mysterious Herald emerged as the ramp settled onto the concrete tarmac. Cigyd, the Archduke of the Triumvirate, followed the armored figure out of the shuttle and they were met by a group of well-dressed Ultari at the base of the ramp.

  Pantos and Rygous, CID announced, marking the two Ultari on MAC’s optical display. All Founders...zzzzt…Moving Drone One closer for audio-audio.

  MAC switched his secondary view to the drone’s video feed and watched as the drone crept closer.

  I am detecting-detecting a multitude of signals coming from the-the-the shuttle and the Herald…zzzzt.

  “The Herald?”

  Perhaps, CID said. I’m scrubbing them-them now.

  The audio feed picked up Pantos mid-sentence. “…Majesty. We are honored by your presence here. We are pleased to present these traitorous scum to you for judgment.”

  The Archduke stepped past the Founders, ignoring them, his red and black robes flowing around him. Cigyd’s head was slightly bigger than the average Ultari’s, his shoulders slightly broader, and despite being hundreds and hundreds of years old, he appeared surprisingly young and healthy.

  The body must-must-must be a new construct, CID said. The limited information-information…zzzzt…available on the Triumvirate indicates-indicates their original bodies were destroyed. Only their-their consciousnesses were preserved.

  “The same technology used to create the Netherguard?”

  Unknown, but probable.

  The Archduke considered the rows and rows of droids amassed in the square before him, then turned to the Ultari prisoners, who seemed to cower further under Cigyd’s gaze. He nodded to the Herald.

  “Your service is worthy,” the Herald told Pantos. “The traitors will be dealt with shortly. How many of these units have you collected so far?”

  Pantos bowed. “One thousand, four hundred, ninety-three, Master. The Prefects are detaining more and more every day.”

  “Is our count off?” MAC asked.

  Negative. My count-count is accurate.

  If MAC could’ve laughed, he would have. “Let’s hope the Triumvirate are as inept at leading as they are basic arithmetic.”

  I am detecting the variant signal-signal again. Zzzzt…it’s bleeding into the-the-the n
etwork from one of the local access nodes-nodes.

  Immediately, MAC began scanning the area. “Can you determine its origination point?”

  Working.

  “One thousand, four hundred, ninety-three,” the Herald repeated. “That number seems somewhat low.”

  “Indeed, Master,” Pantos said, again bowing his head slightly. “Apologies. It is taking some time to triangulate the units. Some did not want to be found.”

  The Archduke turned at that statement, his eyes boring into the Ultari. “What do you mean, ‘do not want to be found’?”

  Pantos took a step back, folding his arms across his chest, bowing low at the waist. “I…I…your Majesty…Master, I-I don’t wish to offend.”

  “Your apologies mean nothing to me, servant. Explain yourself.”

  “It is only that some of the droids were more difficult to find than others. I misspoke, Master. I do not believe the units were purposely trying to avoid collection. There are just so many…I…” The Ultari trailed off, looking to his companions for help.

  Rygous stepped forward. “We have managed to arrest several hundred resistance fighters, Master.”

  “I was not speaking to you, servant,” Cigyd growled.

  Rygous froze, bowed his head, then backed away.

  The Archduke considered the Founder for several microcycles before turning back to the assembled droids. “Is there any chance of salvaging these units?”

  “Y-yes, Master,” Rygous said. “Our staff believe they can realign their programming and bring them back onto the command Network without much trouble. I believe we can have each and every one back online and functioning within your operational guidelines within the next several days.”

  “Your tone suggests you are not one hundred percent confident in your staff’s ability, servant. Tell me, should I be seeking out a new operations coordinator?”

  “N-no, Master. My apologies, I do not mean to sound doubtful. I am confident in my staff’s abilities to make this thing happen as you command. Long live the Triumvirate, Master. Praise Kyrios.”

  The Archduke grunted but did not respond.