E-Day

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

  The MOTH slowed, and the pilots guided it into a hangar. Jason immediately took off his harness and went to the hatch. Four Hummer Droids waited inside the pressurized cargo hold.

  Apeiron moved with purpose across the open hangar, passing the droids and crates marked with the AAS lightning bolt and star logo. She led Jason and Darnel into a corridor connected to a deep chamber sealed off with a glass ceiling. The only lights at the bottom were two small blue plasma lamps.

  “I’m proud to present our first Canebrake prototype,” Apeiron said.

  The blue lights began to move. Jason saw they weren’t from plasma lamps after all. They were the eyes of a Canebrake.

  Jason saw all the parts of the droid that had been inspired by creatures Apeiron had studied on their journeys together. The skull was similar to that of a hammerhead shark. Instead of a flat crest, the head was curved, almost fan-shaped like an upside-down crescent moon with two sharp blades on the ends. Blue eyes shone over a bulbous snout.

  A wide, sharp jaw supported a mouth full of hundreds of jagged teeth.

  The neck was thick titanium encasing a system of wires that connected all of its parts, sitting atop a chest with an hourglass shape and a carapace shell with spikes influenced by the mata mata turtle.

  Four extendable segmented arms like those of a giant squid hung from the back and side of the shoulders. Each arm ended in energy blades, allowing the machine to engage hostiles in close combat. Mounted plasma weapons provided a secondary defense on the flanks of the neck.

  The original prototypes had two legs, but this one stood on four. Each was shaped like a curved blade and connected to metal hips.

  “Are you ready for the first live test?” Apeiron asked.

  “Yes,” Jason said.

  A rattle sounded from inside the Canebrake’s curved skull, which contained the state-of-the-art antennae that could tap into INN and receive transmissions from anywhere on the globe. It rotated its curved head, directing both sets of eyes at the doors on the south and north end of the chamber.

  Out of the darkness, came a group of six Coalition soldiers armed with energy blades.

  “What the hell?” Jason asked, stepping back.

  Darnel looked down. “What is this? Those are…”

  “Prisoners, and we are perfectly safe here, I assure you,” Apeiron said. “The ceiling of this chamber actually consists of an extraordinarily strong translucent polymer capable of withstanding a direct hit from a rocket. Energy blades can barely scratch it.”

  Jason moved back to the edge. The six warriors were dressed in light armor, without helmets, allowing him to see their scarred and weathered features. These weren’t like the average Coalition foot soldier. They were veteran fighters, hardened by years of war, and sent up the space elevator to serve the rest of their lives in prison.

  They surrounded the Canebrake. The droid remained standing on the crate, the fanned head moving slightly to allow both sets of eyes to follow them. The dual faces and freedom of movement from the torso allowed an unrestricted view of its enemies.

  The warriors spread out with their energy blades glowing.

  One of them, a man with long hair and a tattoo of a Raven on his forehead, was the first to strike. He slashed with his blade at one of the four legs of the machine. In a blink of an eye, the Canebrake fired a segmented arm around his neck and lifted him off the ground.

  It wrapped another arm around the man’s lower half, tugging on both ends of his body. The prisoner shrieked in agony.

  The other men all attacked simultaneously, their screams forming an enraged din. Using its other two telescoping arms, the Canebrake thrust its attached energy blades into two of the soldiers, impaling them in quick bursts.

  An animalistic screech echoed out of the chamber as the man wrapped up in the arms was ripped in half, both ends tossed to the deck with sickening thuds.

  Two arms shot at another soldier fleeing toward the closed doors. A heated blade punched through the back of his skull and out his mouth.

  The rest of the prisoners shared similar, gruesome fates.

  In seconds, all but one of the six veteran warriors was dead. He had abandoned his energy blade to climb up on a crate. He stood there clawing at the vertical wall, screaming for help.

  “Please! Let me out!” he shouted. “Please!”

  The machine skittered over, knocking the man to the deck and leaning over him with its fanned head. It looked up at Apeiron, waiting for orders.

  “Should we spare him?” she asked Jason. “This is Lieutenant Max, a man responsible for attacks on many AAS facilities. He has killed an estimated one-hundred-and-thirty-one Nova Alliance soldiers and citizens.”

  Jason listened to the man’s horrified screams and pleas. Somewhere deep in his soul he felt pity for the frightened, desperate man. But he knew if the situations were reversed, the lieutenant would not hesitate to kill him.

  In order to finish off the Coalition, they had to destroy men like this.

  “End it,” Jason said.

  The Canebrake opened its jaw.

  “NO!” Max yelled.

  A guttural cry followed as the machine snapped down with hundreds of metal teeth that tore into his neck, severing his head. Blood sprayed out of the shorn vessels, splashing the silo walls, but Jason remained at the edge.

  Watching the massacre had reminded Jason of his promise to Petra long ago to never use machines in war. She was a pacifist, always trying to find a way to avoid war and save human life. But the world had changed since Petra died, and Dr. Cross had to be stopped before he could destroy everything Jason and Petra had worked so hard to rebuild and restore.

  With the help of the Canebrakes, he could save their work.

  “I didn’t want it to come to this,” Jason said, “but recent events have reaffirmed the Coalition will not stop until our planet is destroyed.”

  “I agree,” Apeiron said. “Though I hoped that it was not true, I fear Captain Akira was right about peace being a myth.”

  Jason looked to Darnel, whose dark eyes gave away his trepidation. He had seen the horrors of war first-hand, and Jason wanted his opinion.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  “I think if you unleash these war machines, we best be damn sure they work flawlessly,” Darnel said. “I’ve never seen anything in my career as a soldier that’s as deadly as one of those machines, and we only saw a fraction of what they’re capable of.”

  “They will work flawlessly,” Apeiron said confidently.

  “They better.”

  Jason knew that if they unleashed the machines in the cities, millions of citizens could die at the hands of the Coalition. But billions would die if the Coalition continued its attacks on the restoration sites. Its brazen, coordinated attacks had already put him months behind, maybe even a year.

  “Darnel, request a meeting with the Nova Council and War Commander Contos,” Jason said. “Doctor Cross didn’t just break the truce, he declared war, and we will finish it with the Canebrakes.”

  — 13 —

  One hundred and twenty thousand fans packed the underground Phoenix Lizards Stadium. Ronin, his twin brother Elan, and their mother Lise stood among them, cheering on Zachary.

  It was the final game of the season, and with the Lizards’ star player Lenny out, this was the opportunity for Zachary to secure a contract with the team for the next season. Despite this life-changing opportunity, Ronin was having a hard time being excited for the second half of the simulated battle to kick-off.

  His mind was on the inevitable real battle with the Coalition.

  Attacks on the rainforest and terraforming projects across the world had shattered the truce. While the forests burned, Pistons were shipped off to fight. His father had taken off the day before, heading to Megacity Berlin to await further orders.

  Ronin knew what was coming, and he feared this time his father wouldn’t return.


  But like many wars, life went on back home.

  Shouting echoed through the arena as fans cheered on their teams. On the field below the tiered seating, three modified Hummer Droids of the opposing Boston Yankees prepared to stand off against the human players of the Phoenix Lizards.

  The three offensive players included Zachary, Starlight, a thin, agile female, and the stocky, muscular Clutch. Dressed in black fatigues and tactical armor, they stood side by side and waited for the simulated environment to activate.

  Across the arena, in a dugout with mirrored glass, the nine players of the Boston Yankees sat with HUDs and controls that virtually commanded nine Hummer Droids on the field.

  The rules were simple. Three human players, armed with energy swords, were always on the offensive against nine droids from the opposing team. Simulated settings—ancient battles with hostile landscapes, including deserts, forests, and urban areas—activated across each of the three sections of the field as the human players advanced.

  Defending those sectors were the Hummer Droids, encumbered by bulky plates that the team engineers had installed. War paint and logos marked the customized armor droids, built to reflect the armor of ancient warriors like samurai and Spartans. Some represented more modern warriors, like Marines from the old United States Marine Corps and even Pistons from the Nova Alliance.

  For every droid destroyed, the team was assigned a point. The team with the most points at the end was declared the winner.

  In the second half of the game, the Lizards were on offense. A holo-screen flashed the score under the dome: Yankees with eight points.

  That meant the Lizards had to destroy all nine Hummer Droids on the field to win.

  The three Phoenix Lizard players advanced as the holographic environment came online. A pine forest flickered across the first sector of the arena, snow covering the ground. The Lizards’ uniforms turned green camouflage like American GIs’ during World War II.

  “The Battle of the Bulge!” yelled the announcer from a platform that lowered from the ceiling.

  Below, a holographic simulation depicted a winter-white terrain with black craters. Corpses of Allied troops lay across the ground, their blood staining the white drifts of snow. Smoking M4 Sherman tanks sat idle on the field. Hiding in the dense simulated forest, were three defensive Hummer Droids.

  “This is it,” Lise said. “Go Zach!”

  “Come on, bro,” Ronin said quietly.

  The arena went quiet as spectators watched in anticipation. Creeping toward the forest was Clutch, followed by Zachary and Starlight.

  Ronin could see the hulking modified droids waiting for his brother and two teammates, but they didn’t seem to know exactly where they were at.

  Clutch slowed and held up a glove as they reached the clearing. Using hand signals, he gestured for his teammates to spread out. Starlight moved out of the forest as a Hummer Droid popped up behind a rock and struck her arm, rendering it useless. She swung her other arm and lopped off the head with a swift strike through the neck.

  The crowd went wild as the massive holo-screen showed a close-up of Starlight flashing a smile. As she advanced, a second Hummer Droid emerged, throwing a punch that hit her in the back.

  She flew forward, slamming into a real boulder with a crunch that echoed from the amplifiers. Cries of surprise filled the stadium.

  Starlight pushed herself up, but fell back down, clearly injured.

  Zachary blasted into the air with his jetpack and came down with his sword on the droid that had injured her. He cut off the droid’s arm and thrust his sword deep into its chest.

  The final droid backed away as Clutch approached, twirling his sword. He ran at the robot, leaping into the air and kicking it in the helmet with his power boots. Sparks flew out of the neck sockets and the droid stumbled from side to side.

  Zachary ran over to Starlight, who still hadn’t gotten up.

  Hushed voices rang out across the arena as a medical team came out to lift her onto a stretcher. She held up a hand as she was carried off, drawing applause and whistling.

  Elan nudged Ronin in the side.

  What’s wrong, Elan signed.

  Nothing, just tired, Ronin signed back.

  But his twin knew him better than that.

  I’m worried about Uncle Akira and Dad, Ronin admitted.

  Me too, Elan signed back.

  “Don’t worry,” Lise said. “Everything will be okay.”

  She signed the same thing to Elan, who nodded back.

  On the field, Zachary and Clutch moved to the second simulation, a lava field. Their fatigues changed to an iron gray and took the shape of armor inspired by what Pistons wore into battle.

  Zachary navigated the obsidian rocks and the charred carcasses of vehicles destroyed during the infamous battle in Hawaii, thirty years earlier. Clutch remained close, and together they charged the three Hummer Droids. Using their jetpacks, they blasted over the slow-moving droids and hacked an appendage off of each. The middle droid lashed out with a blade that hit Clutch in the shoulder, and a kick from another droid hit Zachary in the stomach. Shouts reverberated through the stadium as both players backed away.

  Ronin looked up at the scoreboard showing the damage. Clutch and his brother were down to fifty-percent life. Another major hit, or a few minor blows, and they would be out of the game. But if Ronin knew his brother, he wasn’t going to go down easily.

  Clutch and Zachary regrouped and charged. In a flurry of red glowing swipes of their swords, they hacked off more limbs and a head. After a few seconds of fighting in coordination, the three droids lay in smoldering ruins at the feet of the two young men.

  Six down, three to go.

  The spectators screamed their excitement.

  Ronin smiled and clapped.

  But the game wasn’t over.

  There were still three more droids in the final section of the field. The Lizards needed to destroy two for a tie, or all three to win the game.

  The simulation changed again, transforming into a desert. As the blue holographic light created the scene, the final three droids emerged.

  A chant reverberated through the arena.

  “Goliath! Goliath!”

  The Boston Yankee fan favorite strode up the side of a sand dune. The monster of a machine, painted with blue tribal streaks, held up two energy swords.

  Ronin tensed up as his brother approached it. Zachary and Clutch spread out, taking on the first two Hummer Droids.

  “Go Zach!” Elan shouted in his monotone voice, drawing a few stares.

  Ronin glared at a woman looking over her shoulder. Haven’t you ever heard a deaf person? he wanted to say. Probably not, if he was being honest. Fortunately, Zachary was about to get his first game paycheck, and they would finally be able to pay for the bone-conduction implant that would help Elan hear for the first time in his life.

  Clutch swung his sword at a Hummer Droid, opening a gash in the chest unit and forcing it back while Zachary spun around and took off its head for the seventh team point. By the time the robot dropped, he was already attacking the second droid.

  Goliath jumped down to the dirt, dust bursting up in a cloud.

  Clutch rushed the towering machine and thrust his energy blade into its chest, a hair away from the processing unit. The droid grabbed his hand, pulled it back, and tossed him like a ragdoll. The holo-screen overhead flashed as Clutch’s power level went to zero.

  In the moment of distraction, Zachary was grabbed by the droid he was fighting. He managed to bring his sword up, cutting off the robotic hand at the wrist. Gripping the sword in both hands, he jammed it into the droid’s facial screen, sparks flying outward.

  The game was tied. Eight to eight.

  Goliath rotated toward Zachary.

  This was it. If he could take down the beast of a machine the Lizards would win, and Zachary would definitely get a contract for the next season.

>   Goliath lowered a shoulder and ran toward Zachary like a charging bull. Using his jetpack, Zachary blasted off the ground, rising above Goliath.

  He dropped down and swung his sword as the droid whirled. The blade cut through the arm Goliath raised to protect the processing unit.

  Zachary hacked through the left arm and into the torso. Electrical cords spilled out like guts.

  Goliath raised a fist to bash Zachary, but Zachary pulled out the sword and swung up, taking off the right hand at the wrist.

  Every person in the stadium seemed to roar at the same time, but the noise faded as they witnessed something no one had seen before.

  Instead of a smile indicating surrender, the Hummer Droid crossed its chest with the two arm halves it had left—a signal of respect between machine and man.

  The player commanding the machine wasn’t responsible. This was the AI embedded in the machine, Ronin was sure.

  He stood and cheered for his brother, yelling at the top of his lungs. Zachary had just bested one of the most revered Hummer Droids during his first game.

  “He’s done it,” Lise said. She hugged Elan while looking at Ronin. “Your brother is finally going to be able to hear.”

  ***

  Jason waited with Apeiron for entry into the great hall of the Nova Alliance. The black plates of smooth armor encasing her body were almost as shiny as the one hundred Engines standing outside the thirty-foot golden gates. Murals carved into the domed roof told stories of Nova Alliance spanning the past fifty years.

  Statues represented Engines, Pistons, and Chief Councilor Leo Enrique who had helped build the Nova Alliance before his assassination a decade earlier. Jason still remembered the shock of learning that it was Dr. Cross who had killed Enrique, before fleeing to Coalition territory.

  The chamber was now the final resting place for Councilor Enrique, right outside the great hall where he had served. The golden sarcophagus sat across the chamber with the Silver Crane emblem engraved into the lid.