by Briana Ervin
--Rise of the Machines--
-Book 1: Once Awakened-
-Briana M. Ervin-
--First Edition--
Special thanks to those friends and family who proofread this book, and those who helped me publish it!
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-DISCLAIMER-
This book contains scenes with:
Fantasy Violence
Blood
Fantasy Graphic Language
Base Rating: PG-13
Genre: Science-Fiction/Fantasy
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Copyright 2019 Briana Ervin. All rights reserved.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. No parts of this ebook may be reproduced in any form or by any means without express written permission from the author, including being resold or given away to another person. Permission can be obtained at [email protected]. Samples, quotes, or other parts of this ebook that do not exceed 1% of its total content (rounded down) within one instance, taken for nonprofit and nonplaigaric purposes, are exempt from these rules. This means you are allowed to write a book review with quotations, but you are not allowed to share or reproduce more than 1,671 of this ebook's words.
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Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author!
-Plot Jumper-
This book doesn't have true chapters, but is separated out in sections that you can hop to for convenience.
Prologue
Section 1: Introductions
Section 2: The First Exercises
Section 3: Weapons Unlocked
Section 4: Overhauled
Section 5: After the First Battle
Section 6: Conflicting Claims
Section 7: Off the Ship
Section 8: A Strange Mission
Section 9: A Friend is Involved
Section 10: The Outpost
Section 11: Interrogated
Section 12: The Tribunal
Section 13: Factory Navigation
Section 14: Missing
Encounters
About the Author
-Prologue-
Faint yellow rays filtered through a pinhole in the grungy window blind, shedding just enough light in the dim, utilitarian room to wake her up. The reptilian wriggled, before muttering and rolling over. A wedge-shaped, lizard-like head poked out from a nest of assorted cloth and fabric before it disappeared again, replaced by a stumpy paw with two fingers and two thumbs. There was a bit of flailing before the paw struck a dome button on the wall beside it.
Shunk. The window blind pulled open, allowing the dim, yellow morning light to enter the room. The only two artificial lights in the room turned on, along with the water heater with a soft hum.
“Hello, Cyrii. How would you like your drink today?” a friendly robotic voice spoke from the ceiling. The reptilian groaned and rose up from her nest of bedding, shedding the fluffy cloth.
“I don't want a drink,” she grumbled.
“Jille' it is!” the voice interpreted. She huffed at the voice and stretched, revealing a striped, orange and scaly gopher-like form. A panel in the wall opened up, revealing a cup and an empty plate. A robotic nozzle slid out of the wall and began dispensing a purple liquid into the cup. Cyrii narrowed all three white eyes at it before submitting to the drink.
“How would you like your breakfast, Cyrii?” the voice asked.
“I don't want breakfast,” Cyrii replied, jumping down from her wall bunk. She snatched the cup and guzzled the jille', grimacing at the overwhelming sweetness. “Ugh, nasty amethyst...” She placed the cup back, and then tugged open a drawer under her bed, expecting her work uniform; instead she was met with empty space. She slammed it shut and opened the one next to it, grumbling to herself.
“How would you like your breakfast, Cyrii?” the robotic voice repeated, with the same aggravating cheerfulness.
“I don't want it!” Cyrii snapped, her stubby tail twitching as she ruffled through the drawer's contents. “The last thing I need is to be queasy when shoveling coal!”
“Charcoal it is!” the voice responded. Cyrii shot a look at the ceiling, the fringe of scales around her neck rising.
“Don't make me come up there!”
“I'm sorry?”
The voice now earned a sigh. “Never mind...” The shelter bots are never that smart, anyway, she added to herself. Most AI aren't as smart as Xinschi-uual.
The shelter bot had another nozzle come out of the wall where the jille' dispenser was, where it spat out a chunk of charcoal and happily said “Work starts in C 20 minutes!” Cyrii stifled a growl and closed the drawer, before begrudgingly taking the charcoal and nibbling on the corner, now searching the cabinets beside the dispenser for her uniform. Upon not finding it, she grumbled something incoherent and slammed their doors shut, before searching her bland, closet-sized apartment, throwing around the things that cluttered the floor.
“Where did it go?!” She shoved the rest of the charcoal in her mouth and shuffled in an open bag. “I don't even have that much stuff!”
“I'm sorry?”
“Not you!” she said; not that the shelter bot would understand anyway, considering her mouth was full. She crunched down on the charcoal – smudging her muzzle with soot – and began flinging her bedding everywhere. “Mmmgrphnurmern...”
“Work starts in C 15 minutes!”
Cyrii growled at the optimistic shelter bot. It would keep this up until she left. Swallowing the last of the charcoal, she flung herself into a pile of clothes, searching for a spare uniform; she didn't have the time to go hunting for the clean one. She was successful once she reached the bottom, and quickly threw on the tight, grey clothing – which, honestly, made it look like she was wearing a sock – and its matching overcoat, doing up the buttons. The shelter bot's sensors noticed this.
“Would you like to take anything with you today?” it asked. Cyrii scoffed at the naivety of the AI.
“I have nothing to bring! It's just another day.” Her annoyance gave way to exhaustion, and she let out a resigned sigh. “Just another day...” She pulled open another panel in the wall to expose a mirror, and checked her brown-striped scales for any signs of shedding; the last time she shed a scale in the factory she was fined for littering. She became disgruntled upon finding the smudges left by the charcoal, simply grabbing a rag from her dirty clothes and wiping them off.
Eh, good enough, she decided, slamming the panel shut. With her job she could deal with grimy scales. She carelessly dropped the rag back onto the ground, muttered a goodbye to the all-too-happy shelter bot, and exited the porthole to the hall.
Cramped. That was the best way to describe the hallway. All of the other Xinschi-uual had woken up, already in their uniforms and traveling down in a line: a sea of red, orange, grey, and yellow reptilians, each of their drab uniforms declaring the individuals' job assignments. They all funneled to the left to a hoverpad – a massive balcony hanging out into the city – where they took the leased hovercraft there and flew off to work. She fell in between three other Xinschi-uual heading to the pad, one of them a grey-uniformed coal worker like her. None of them acknowledged each other; socializing was considered counterproductive and was forbidden on workdays. So, like clockwork, she traveled down the line until it was her turn to exit out of the building and onto the hoverpad.
The scenery would have been stunning, had she not seen it a th
ousand times before. The invention of hovercraft had allowed a city once recognized as clusters of burrows to excel in the form of massive skyscrapers. The largest sun – Cryion – had just risen, drowning out its dimmer binary counterpart, Kyaxeng. The orange sky was quickly lightening into a bright, yellow-grey hue, turning the blue-tinted steel and windows purple. The hoverpad had rows of smaller platforms jutting from its sides, a floating disc occupying each platform. Cyrii approached one at random – they were all the same, anyway – and jumped on. She wasn't greeted by an AI, but her own body weight did activate the hovercraft's thrusters, floating her up just a bit. She placed her forepaws on the pedestal at the front, picking up the steel ball there and activating the craft further. Lazily rolling the ball forward caused the hovercraft to smoothly glide out from the platform, away from her tiny closet known as home.
Cyrii may have had the freedom to direct the craft, but she couldn't take it far, and definitely not very fast. Sensors were mounted anywhere with lots of airspace, and the rules in the skies abounded. You couldn't get too close to a structure or another craft without hitting a red zone, and some places were strictly off limits. She scowled at such a passage present at her first intersection, heading between skyscrapers and leading to a market district. She could see the brightly-lit glory of it at the end, past the traffic signs that stopped her and the other lanes, but a barrier of green light blocked the way. She tasted bitter resentment, and looked away; her code level was too low for her to pass through. Any place she wasn't supposed to be, and the craft would shut off like a light and she would have to deal with trespassing fines.
Whatever. The privileged kyl can have their stupid market, she tried to assure herself, I don't need it anyway. Yet, she cringed at the memories of when she could go back there. All those years ago...
She looked behind her. All five free lanes of the skyroad were packed with sullen and blank-faced Xinschi-uual, sitting on their craft and saying nothing. The sixth “express lane”, used by those blessed with a higher Code level, was empty. In a way, it was both relieving and disappointing.
The traffic sign changed, and the grey light-road she was on connected to the intersection and cut off the way to the right. Half the traffic remained at a standstill as the rest moved to the left, and luckily for her she was going left too. She remembered the day when collective groans and complaints would rise up about the lack of ability to go both directions; now she just heard an absent-minded grumble or two.
It made the orange Xinschi-uual want to scream. Did no one care anymore? Were they just going to let the Empire disintegrate like this? Gryn III is-!
No! Don't think rebellious thoughts! her mind sharply interrupted. She shook her head sternly at herself, dismissing her questioning of the Empire's sovereign leader. You've been in enough trouble already.
That just made her desire to scream louder. She tried to ignore it and focus on the road, although it didn't require much attention; the second intersection was notoriously narrow for the amount of traffic it had. So predictably, she ended up stopping behind at least twenty craft in a jam.
Cyrii stared ahead at the intersection in impatience, watching the complexity of the inevitable morning jam before turning to the building next to her. As a skyscraper bordering the market, its windows were plastered with all kinds of motivational posters and advertisements. She looked over them in boredom, chin in one paw and the other paw drumming on the floating control orb. “A Happy Worker is a Good Worker”, “Seek Counsel: You're Not Alone!”, and “Emerald Benefits Now Available for Raise-Code Trials!” were just a few of the posters she saw. She stared bitterly at the latter; emeralds had such a wonderful, warm taste. What irony it was for the Empire to put that big tease next to a Happy Worker poster.
The jam moved somewhat, causing all of the impatient, bored, and just plain apathetic Xinschi-uual to move just a few nicroT forward. She didn't even look up, swiping her paw on the orb to move it forward the equivalent amount. A Xinschi-uual nearby moved too far forward, bumping into another's hovercraft and starting up an indignant argument. She rolled her eyes at the bickering and turned a cheek to it.
“Ohh, look, it's a coal worker,” a sneer started up to her left. “Off to roll in some grime today, eh?”
Cyrii bristled, whipping around to find the speaker: a cream-colored Xinschi-uual in the express lane a craft over from her.
“Shut up,” she said bluntly, “I'm too tired to give a crap right now.”
“'Give a crap'?” he laughed, “Why not? Aren't you about to go get some? After all, that's what life is all about, riiiight?”
“Shut it!”
“Or what? You'll spew some 'crap' about me, in your wheedling, raspy smoker's voice and soiled clothes?”
“Stow it, gildfilth! I don't need any of your so-called 'humor'!” she spat fruitlessly, but he just laughed at his own bad joke, safely buffered by an unwilling worker between them. The said worker glanced at both of them before fidgeting and backing up his hovercraft a bit, at the risk of bumping into the guy behind him. Cyrii took the opportunity to glare daggers at the higher-Code Xinschi-uual. “Why don't you go prancing around on some other schmuck's crushed dreams, huh?” she taunted, trying not to wince at the reminder of her own life's failures.
“Oh puh-lease!” the teasing Xinschi-uual said, tightening up his decorative collar. “As if that's any fun! You're like a rodocron just waiting to get riled up!”
“So stop it!” Cyrii snapped, a note of pleading entering her voice, “Just leave me alone! You do this every damn day!”
He snorted at her. “Yeah, uh-huh,” he laughed, “it's just so insufferable, being reminded of your real worth. Look at how useful this little worker is!” he said as if talking to a hatchling, “Look at you! You might get Employee of the Month! Queen of the Pneumatic Chute!”
Cyrii's feelings burned, and she grimaced in defeat. He was right, and she knew he was right; she wasn't called a menace to society for nothing, neglected for nothing, her mere existence abused for nothing.
“Just shut up!” she countered pathetically, “Don't make me come over there!”
“Ah hah hah! You're funny!” He just laughed it off.
“I'm serious!” she threatened; at this point, the worker between them was leaning so far back, the guy behind him was edging away. Someone else in the traffic groaned aloud.
“Shut up!” she called.
“YOU shut up!” Cyrii shot back, not even caring that it didn't make sense.
“Hey hey, you know what's really funny though?” the bully continued, making her whip back around and wrinkle her snout at him. “I get to sit in a nice office overlooking the badlands, while you're stuck down in a stinky ol' factory, shoveling coal into Gryn-knows-what! That's funny!”
“Oh yeah?!” she began loudly, just to hesitate about her choice comeback. “Well! Whatever, you dumb clerk, at least I have the strength to wring that fat neck of yours! You couldn't even throw a guide ball!” she pointed at the floating orb that controlled her hovercraft.
“I don't need strength,” the high-ranking Xinschi-uual grinned. “I have Superiority clearance, because I'm not a menace to society! You know what that means? I could make your hovercraft – boop – drop like a stone!”
“To Alkinest with your clearance! You keep your filthy paws off my craft!” Cyrii hissed, despite not actually owning the vehicle. He just snorted and laughed, leaving her to fume at him. She hated it when Xinschi-uual who weren't police had moderation privileges! Stupid code system, and labeling her as dangerous, and stupid Empire for enforcing it! So she asked a lot of questions and took a few things once, so what?
There was a beep up ahead in the traffic as the jam finally cleared up, and suddenly everyone began moving again, directing Cyrii's attention to more important matters. She tore her eyes from the clerk's cream scales and grabbed her guide ball with a vengeance, forcing the craft forward.
“Hey Grungy!! There's a scale coming off your head and
you look stupid!” the Xinschi-uual continued, casually paralleling her.
“Shut up!” she spat back. Finally able to move again, the one worker between them rushed forward, not wanting to be caught in the middle of a fight.
“You better be careful! You might get fined, because you didn't pull off that teeny-weeny little scale!”
It suddenly dawned on Cyrii, and she whipped around to look at the brand on his uniform, scales flaring: the factory she worked at! “YOU'RE the one who FINED me!!”
“What are you going to do about it? Report me? Oh, but you gotta be Queen of the Crap Pile first! Whoopsie!” the Xinschi-uual said, before snorting some more laughter and plowing ahead through the crowd. Cyrii roared in frustration and pushed her craft forward, unlawfully passing through the lane lines and picking up speed, dinging up others' craft in the process. Unfortunately, the express lane was faster with significantly lower traffic; her chase quickly came to a full stop when she nearly flew into an airborne caravan and caused a ton of hovercraft in an intersection to suddenly halt, making her yelp in surprise and pull up into a dead zone to avoid a crash.
Vwwooouuuummmm... The craft's motor died as the zone killed its engine, and she lurched forward and wrapped her paws around the guide ball's stand for stability. She glared after the Xinschi-uual's craft as he disappeared around a corner; she let go just to ball her paws up into fists. Her passionate anger failed her again!
“AArrrRRrrggh!!” She slammed her fists on the guide ball, ignoring the indignant shouting about the new jam below. “I hate that guy! I hate him! Frickin'! Twenty months in a row! Aaaagh!” She squeezed her eyes shut and kept banging on the ball, before her tantrum quickly died into a defeated collapse “I'm still going to get flippin' fined...” she muttered. This was not her day, it seemed.
The snobby Xinschi-uual was just a tiny sliver that kept rubbing an old wound, and not as important as Cyrii let him be. Luckily for her, the police drones in the area were well acquainted with her tantrums. In a healthy five minutes a faceless, garish yellow-and-black pod flew up to her position, assessing her and the jam below while police officers sorted it out. A couple of snapped pictures, an automated tick on her file and a healthy sum drawn from her paycheck, and the pod remotely activated the hovercraft and sent her off to work as normal, if rather late now. Her digital record had been scratched so many times it would be black with ink, should it be physical; instead it was just another, painful reminder, just another little factor in Cyrii's life that added to the depression. Her best way to cope with it was to just try to ignore it; and so she did, driving the rest of the way to her workplace and parking her hovercraft at the pad. She dismounted and left it there, passing through the scanner that barred the yawning cave of an entrance, and waited for the doors to open with loud clunks and a hiss before entering.
