Volcania
"Overmind, what is Soaron's status?" Dread asked.
Within moments, Overmind's voice answered, "Regeneration time has been extended due to the harsh climate. Blastarr will rendezvous with Soaron within the hour."
They were losing time. That was unacceptable.
"We must increase our patrols in the area," Dread concluded. "We should maintain a presence there."
"Agreed. However, the organic population is sparse. We need only a few patrols. The Recon Unit would suffice. We should not diminish the number of ground troops in more populated areas."
"Perhaps." Dread didn't like the idea that there were no biomechs in the area to give any assistance to one of his warlords.
A thought crossed Dread's mind… Overunit Grieg's information held that the organic Circuit came from the northwest while Dread's sources indicate that he was from the southwest. There were few of Dread's forces in that area… that would be an ideal location for spies and hackers to hide. Maybe part of the reason Dread couldn't track the source of the information leak was because there was no one looking in certain areas such as the southwest?
He would have to investigate that thought further.
Crash Site
It had been hours. Jon had kept a tight watch on his chrono the entire time. He was worried about Jennifer. Was she still walking? Had she found Oasis? Had she found water? Was she safe? He'd sent her off in a general direction to a town he had never been to and had no idea of its exact location. A direction wasn't a location. Just heading northeast didn't mean anything in the desert.
There was no choice. The information was too important.
Right, keep telling yourself that, Jon. Maybe it'll make you feel better.
He wiped the sweat off his forehead. The desert was hot during the day, even in the early part of wintertime. If it had been a month later, the winter storms would have started and cooled everything down. His meager shade didn't keep the heat away, and Jennifer was out in the open, walking in a direction that just might take her deeper into the desert…
He glanced again in the direction she had gone. Directly before him in the distance was a mountain with a brilliant snowcap. He could imagine it being rather cold on that mountaintop… strange, but the sight looked familiar to him. Had he seen that mountain before? Or did one mountain look like any other? He didn't recall being this far to the southwest recently. Maybe years ago? That was entirely possible. They used to perform recons out this far once, but the lack of humans establishing numerous settlements along with the lack of resources made recons in the area less effective. Their time and resources could be better served in areas that could sustain a population.
Then again, since the area wasn't populated, Dread didn't keep many troops there. That meant Jennifer could move around more safely than in other places. Jon glanced down at the blaster. The power reading was less than it had been. He picked up the weapon and inspected the power cell. "Great," he muttered to himself. "The hairline crack's expanded." The cell was losing its charge faster due to casing damage. The blaster wouldn't have done Jennifer any good had she taken it with her and she ran into trouble.
It also meant they were both weaponless in the desert with who-knows-what out there.
The heat was becoming overbearing. "Not the greatest rest stop I've been to," he muttered. He had to remember to start packing games on the bikes when they went out from now on. Even a book would be a good way to pass the time.
Speaking of books, the ones he and Mentor were making for Jennifer were getting closer to being finished. She'd be surprised; at least, he hoped she would be. He hoped they'd be alive so he could give her the books. It'd been difficult keeping the books a secret from the others as well. Jon wanted to be the one to give them to her as a present, but more than that, he wanted them to be a personal gift. There was one story in particular he thought she might like that he was trying to find the text for – A Little Princess. It had been one of his mother's favorites, but he'd never read it himself. His mom would say that she had to pull the book out every few years and re-read it. Maybe Jennifer would feel the same way? He hoped so.
He looked at his chrono again. Another ten minutes had passed. There was no sound, no shriek from Soaron screaming from the sky, no sound of anything but the desert wind and his own breathing.
He was getting so thirsty. There was a cactus on the ridge with him, but it was the only one. If he cut into it too soon, he could use up all the water before any help came. But it was the desert… he knew he'd waited as long as he could. He was wounded, he was hot, he needed water. He inched his way over to the cactus, pulled out his knife and cut off the top. "Sorry, but I need a drink," he said to the cactus, needing to hear the sound of his own voice again. He pulled out some of the pulp, squeezed the liquid into his mouth, and let it dribble on his forehead.
It helped, but the one thought that kept going through his mind was whether or not Jennifer had found water or cactus on the way to the water station.
He wondered if she had reached the water station and was safe.
She had to be.
Soaron's Crash Site
Power Systems: Online
Systems Check: In Process
Regeneration Time: 6.2 hours initial regeneration, 2.3 hours additional due to climate
Communications: Offline
Soaron checked his systems again. The regeneration was taking too long. He had knocked Power and his teammate out of the sky; he had to go find them before any desert creatures carried off the bodies. He had no way to contact his lord. He couldn't report in that Power was down.
All he could do was wait and regenerate.
Proximity Alert. Blastarr approaching, his sensors reported.
Soaron looked over, saw the bothersome land-locked warlord coming toward him, and groaned. He hated that inferior robot. Blastarr had human minds in his processing core. Blastarr was a being that was considered to be far less than the perfect Machine by Overmind. In fact, every pure machine entity may have considered him a lesser mechanical being. He was like some of those biomechs with human minds – weaker, less mechanical, inferior. Soaron was a perfect example of the Machine. He was elegance in flight, faultless in logic, a being untarnished by the lesser creatures. Lord Dread considered Blastarr the next step in merging the human and the mechanical? Overmind was correct – the sooner the world was rid of such inferiority, the sooner the world of the Machine could exist.
Until that glorious day happened, Soaron would follow Overmind's orders to work with Blastarr and obey Lord Dread's orders without question. It was his programming; he would not disobey.
"So the mighty air lord is struck once more," Blastarr taunted him as he came closer.
Soaron may have to work with Blastarr, but he didn't have to put up with his insolence. "Beware your tongue, ground crawler, or when my regeneration is complete –"
Blastarr reached down, grabbed Soaron's leg and ripped it off. He casually tossed it over his shoulder amidst Soaron's screams of pain.
"Where is the organic Power?" Blastarr demanded.
If there was one thing Soaron could do, it was best Blastarr in a battle of one-ups-manship. "You are too late!" he taunted him. "I already destroyed him plus his companion."
"Unconfirmed!" Blastarr argued. He grabbed Soaron by the throat and yanked him up off the ground.
Soaron tried to grab Blastarr's hand, but his power was not up to 100%. He didn't have the strength to fight back or pull away.
"State their last known position!" Blastarr demanded.
The slow-witted ground crawler wanted the credit of destroying Power for himself? "Never!"
"Never?" Blastarr shook Soaron violently, knocking his regeneration systems into stand-by. "Never? State Power's last know position!"
Soaron refused to answer. Blastarr tightened his grip around the warlord's throat.
Soaron stubbornly remained silent, then an audio file implanted in his system by Overmind played in his processor. "Work with Blastarr even if it means demeaning yourself for now. Soon, anything remotely associated with the organics including Blastarr and the biomechs with human minds will no longer trouble us."
"Speak!" Blastarr ordered.
Obeying Overmind's standing orders, Soaron mumbled, "Coordinates nine-two-seven."
Blastarr ceased shaking him and dropped him back onto the desert floor. "A wise decision, scrapheap," he said as he sped off in the general direction of the crash.
Power Systems: Online
Systems Check: In Process
Regeneration Time: 6.2 hours initial regeneration, 2.3 hours additional due to system going off-line, .2 hours additional time possible due to damage caused by biodread
Communications: Online
Communications were online? He beamed a secure beam toward Volcania, on a secure frequency only he and Overmind shared.
"Speak, Unit Soaron," Overmind's voice sounded in his internal communications system.
"Blastarr arrived at my location, and I gave him the location of the crash site where Power went down as per standing orders. He is moving towards that site now."
There was a pause, then, "Well done, Soaron. Follow your primary programming when dealing with Blastarr. Allow him his victories for now. When your regeneration mode is complete, follow Blastarr, determine Power's condition, and regain the data tape. Digitization is not an option if Power's armored suit is intact. If Power is alive, leave him for Blastarr to destroy. If he fails, then his failure will work against him and not us. If he succeeds, then Power's destruction will aid all efforts."
"What of Power's companion?" Soaron asked.
Another pause. "The companion is of no concern. It is merely another organic of no influence. Power is a danger to the Machine Empire and his destruction must take precedence over any of his team. Are you in any danger at your location?"
"No, my lord. All is silent."
"Follow Blastarr as quickly as you can. I will tell Dread that your communication abilities are still regenerating."
"As you will, my lord," Soaron answered. He glanced over at his ripped off leg. With an angry sigh, he started dragging himself toward the limb so he could reattach it and let the wound regenerate.
Oasis
How long had it been? Jennifer checked her chrono. Ten minutes maybe? Fifteen since the crawler headed out for Jon's location? Was he still all right? Had he found shade against the heat? Did he find access to water? Had Soaron regenerated and found him?
She shook her head slightly and forced her attention on what was happening. She was being put on trial for what she did years ago at Sand Town, and she agreed to comply with their judgment if they went after Jon. She did it willingly and would do it again not only if it meant Jon would be reached in time, but also because she had been there that day. She would never deny her part in what happened. The survivors had every right to demand satisfaction.
She was scared.
People died at Sand Town, and she had given the order. She had to pay.
~J~U~D~G~M~E~N~T~
Arvin hammered the gavel on the table. "Silence, everyone," he said. He glanced at the woman sitting at the end of the table. She hadn't given them any trouble. She went where they led her, sat where they told her and even thanked them when they gave her water before going into the main hall. She'd walked a long way. Maybe Captain Power was five miles away as the crow flies, but she had walked further since she had to walk around ravines, boulders and other natural impediments that obstructed her path. Arvin mentally kicked himself for not immediately offering her water. What kind of a person was he to not getting water to her when he saw she was hurt?
In all his years working with the government before the wars began and in all the years he'd lived in the wastelands afterwards, he'd never seen a Dread Youth willingly risk their life for another person, not even for another one of Dread's soldiers. Yes, she was a Dread Youth – she had all the telltale physical markers he had studied - but how could anyone believe that this person who willingly put herself in their hands could possibly have ordered the deaths of dozens? Hundreds?
He knew from the moment he saw her and looked into her eyes that she was not any ordinary fighter. When he learned she was not only with the UTO but also a resistance fighter on Captain Power's team, he knew she was something much more than a mere soldier. He'd heard rumors and been told story after story of Power's team from visiting resistance fighters and passing nomadic groups. Some of them seemed far-fetched given what Arvin knew of human psychology, but now, to see her there at Oasis, he was beginning to doubt his previous assessment of the rumors. If a few particular stories circulating in certain circles about the members of the team were true …No, she was no typical Dread Youth if indeed she had been. She wore the Power Team armor and fought other Dread soldiers and biomechs. Those stories circulating about who made up the Power Team, what they did, what they risked – maybe there was hope for humanity after all.
No, he would not mention the stories. The tales had been told to him in confidence; he would not repeat them at the tribunal under any circumstances. Not everyone had his security clearance with the resistance groups.
But – rumors weren't facts, but if the rumors were true, how could he convince the rest of the townsfolk that there was more going on with this young woman than what they may be thinking?
He would let time and circumstances dictate his actions. It was all he could do.
Randall sat in a chair before the long table, some of the other Sand Town survivors gathered in the gallery. All had a vested interest, but Arvin could tell that there were others who would have gladly shot the woman down without a second thought.
This could get very bad, very fast.
"Miss," Arvin turned his attention back to her, "would you please state your name for the court?"
"Corporal Jennifer Chase. I'm the pilot for the Power Team," she said.
"She's lying!" Randall yelled, a murmur of agreement sounding behind him.
Arvin hit the gavel on the table again. "One more outburst, anything that disrupts these proceedings, and I will clear this room except for the person testifying." He looked sternly at everyone in the building. Even Randall looked away from him. "She is Corporal Jennifer Chase, the pilot for the Power Team, a resistance group who has successfully fought Dread for some years. That is how it will be recorded in the transcript. All right, Randall," Arvin tried again. "Tell us your story. Exactly as you remember it."
Randall cleared his throat, and said in a rather tremulous voice, "Um, it was summer. I remember because it was hot, and we worked in the fields at night. Uncle Gaelen had gone out the week before with a group of hunters to find game but had been captured by Dread's robots. The others barely escaped with their lives to come back and tell us what happened. Otherwise, he'd have been in the fields with us, working that night. I was putting in a row of corn and suddenly there was Uncle Gaelen walking out of the dark. I was surprised to see him because they said he had been taken away to a slave mine and no one escapes those. Uncle Gaelen said he had to see my father right away to warn him."
"Warn him?" Arvin asked. "About what?"
"He didn't tell me. So we started back to Sand Town. When we got to my house, Dread's soldiers were there. We ran into another building to hide from them. Then she," he pointed at Jennifer, "marched up to the overunit, pointed to my house and said something to the overunit. They were smiling. Smiling as if it was some kind of joke! And then…"
Arvin waited, but Randall didn't continue. "Did you hear what they said?" he asked the boy.
Randall thought for a moment, then looked at Jennifer. "She said that they had located the radio and were proceeding as planned."
"A radio?" Arvin asked. "Dread's troops were looking for a radio?"
Randall nodded. "My father was the one who hid the radio. It's how he talked to other settlements."
Arvin was beginning to get a better picture of what happened in Sand Town. "Who knew the radio was there?"
Randall thought for a moment. "A lot of people, I think. I did. Uncle Gaelen did. I don't know who else."
Gaelen, Randall and Randall's father… only those three knew the radio was there? Was that possible? Could others have known? He addressed the others in the gallery. "Was it common knowledge at the time that a radio was hidden in Sand Town?"
Spectators shook their heads. It was as Arvin thought. Only three people in Sand Town knew that a radio was there.
"Dread knew," Randall protested.
Yes, Dread knew there was a radio, but he didn't know where it was hidden. Arvin dreaded where his thoughts were going. "Do you know what the radio was used for?"
Randall frowned. "To talk to other settlements all over the region. Listen for news. My father talked to some lady who wanted to set up a radio network so people could communicate with each other and share news and hear about the war against Dread."
"A lady?" Arvin mused. "Hmmm, there's one lady prevalent on the radio frequencies these days… short range though," he mumbled. Arvin had to tread carefully. "Randall, do you know why they were specifically looking for the radio? Do you know what a radio represented to Dread?"
Randall shook his head. "It's a machine that he doesn't control?"
There was a murmur and a slight laughter at his comment. Arvin looked at his gavel, then at Chase, and then at Randall. "No. Radios were and still are the main source of communications that allow a concentrated, coordinated resistance against Dread. In the past, when someone orchestrated a coup, one of the first things they did was capture all communications capabilities so no resistance group could talk to another, know what's happening or allow them to make plans to fight back. Some years ago, there was an effort to get radios to as many settlements as possible to try to create a more organized resistance. Dread started to go after them with a powerful will. No matter what your father's purpose was for having a radio, it must have meant only one thing to Dread." Arvin let that information sink into Randall's perception. "Did your father tell anyone he spoke with on the radio that he was from Sand Town?"
Randall shook his head, almost violently. "He was scared to. He didn't know if someone else was listening. He said he didn't want to lead any of Dread's troops back to Sand Town. Doesn't matter, though. They came anyway and found the radio." His voice took on a rather annoyed edge.
Arvin altered his line of questioning. "How long did your father have the radio?"
"A couple of years, I think. I'm not sure. Doesn't matter. The Dreadheads found it."
"And then they proceeded as planned," Arvin muttered. "Randall, do you know what the Dread Youth code of punishment is for finding a radio in a settlement where people are believed to be in opposition to Dread?"
Randall shook his head. "No," he answered impatiently.
"Just before the Sand Town massacre, there was a procedure that the Dread Youth followed precisely. The radio was confiscated and the building was burned to the ground as a punishment to anyone that hides one. Some were taken prisoner. That is what overunits typically order in such situations."
Randall looked confused. "And?"
Arvin cleared his throat. "Then, that year, things changed. Dread changed his tactics when attacking towns. He destroyed many settlements during that time. Sand Town would have been no different, but that year, the fact that a radio was there would have made it a primary target in Dread's mind." A radio. That would have explained the thoroughness of the overunit when destroying the town. "When you heard the words 'proceeding as planned,' what was happening at your house?"
"It was being burned!" Randall almost shouted.
"And that was where the radio was hidden, so they were following the older procedure," Arvin said lowly, mostly to himself but he knew everyone heard. "Where was your father?" Arvin asked.
"Hiding in the underground room under our house," he muttered.
Arvin looked over at Jennifer and saw her close her eyes sympathetically, a frown furrowing her brow. He saw a tear form in her eyes. He'd been right about her. There was more to her than anyone knew.
"How well hidden was this underground room?"
"Very well hidden," Randall said. "It had to be. It's where we would hide whenever biomechs came around so they couldn't find us. It had always been safe before."
A thought crossed Arvin's mind. "Why wasn't the radio hidden in the underground room?"
"There was no reception down there, but it doesn't matter! They burned my family! She burned them!"
Arvin hit the gavel on the table again. Maybe if Arvin kept too much emotion from being shown or the truth wouldn't come out. He'd had a sneaking suspicion of what brought the Sand Town population to his small settlement years ago, but now to have them confirmed… "That's all, Randall."
~J~U~D~G~M~E~N~T~
The boy's father had been under the house, and Jennifer had ordered it burned as per procedure. She followed procedure as she'd been ordered to do, as it was dictated she do. She found the radio, and gave the order to have the house burned. She had condemned a man to a horrific death, and she didn't know. She wouldn't have fired the house if she had known that he'd been in there! Everything she saw in the house made her think that no one had been there for hours!
The thought kept running through her head. She had, by her own order, killed a man even though she didn't know he had been in the house. She could never make up for that.
Back at Jon's site
Jon could have sworn that his chrono hadn't changed.
Maybe because less than two minutes had passed since the last time he looked at it?
Had Jennifer reached Oasis? Was she safe? Was she all right? Was she hurt, lying in the middle of the desert knowing no help was coming…
His thoughts were interrupted by a mechanical sound. It wasn't Soaron. A tram of some kind perhaps? He dragged himself over to the edge of the ridge and kept his head down, out of sight. He waited, the sound came closer, then, a crawler came into view. A crawler! That meant Jennifer had reached the water station! She was all right! She had to be. Oh, that crawler brought back some memories… His dad had taught Jon to drive in a crawler. They weren't quick, but they were sturdy and handled all sorts of terrain. Given the world they lived in, that was more important than learning how to joyride in an automobile. Although all those pictures he saw of Ferraris and Lamborghinis and a particular DeLorean -
"Surrender!"
Jon's head jerked toward the noise. Blastarr! What was he doing there?
The biodread didn't wait. He fired into the crawler, knocking the occupants to the ground. He couldn't help! He was too far away. The blaster's power had drained. There was nothing he could do to stop the biodread. The crawler kept rolling until it slammed into another rocky cliff wall. One of the men jumped back into the driver's seat and grabbed the gun, trying to aim at Blastarr.
"This is Jack! Come in! Come in, this is Jack! Machines are here! There are Machines coming your way! This is –"
Blastarr fired again, shooting the man out of the cab and onto the ground. Neither man moved.
From a distance, Jon could hear a voice over the radio. "Can you read me, Jack? Jack, come in. Over. Oasis to Jack. Come in. Can you hear me?"
Jon craned his neck to get a better look at Blastarr. The biodread barely acknowledged the two men he'd gunned down. "Blastarr to Lord Dread. Two organics terminated. Transmission detected. Source vector eight-zero-six. Power's original location was nine-two-seven."
Jon could just make out Dread's response. "It has been hours since Soaron shot down Power. He may have moved. Lock on and track source of newest transmission. It could be Power. I will send backup."
Blastarr was being ordered to go to Jennifer's position!
"No need," Blastarr said arrogantly as he sped away.
Jon waited mere moments before Blastarr was out of sight. He dragged himself upright. He had to get down to that crawler and head back the way the crawler came. Blastarr would undoubtedly make a beeline for his target, but he'd have to traverse untraveled ground and avoid all sorts of pitfalls. It would slow him down. If Jon could follow the crawler's path back before any winds blew away the tram tracks, he might be able to beat Blastarr there or at the very least, get there right after him.
He dragged himself away from the outcropping and carefully began to slide down the side of the rise. He kept himself from free-falling by using his hands to crawl down certain areas. Once he reached the bottom, he forced himself to stand. His leg was hurting badly. He practically hopped over to the crawler and hauled himself into the driver's seat.
Jon cursed under his breath. With his right leg in a splint, he couldn't use it to control the foot controls of the crawler. This particular vehicle had dual foot controls for each process, and he couldn't use both feet. Driving one-footed wasn't going to work. He looked inside the back of the crawler and found a metal rod – that would work! He sat down as best he could, pressed his left foot on the clutch and with his right hand, pressed the metal rod on the accelerator. He would be lucky if this contraption could run twenty miles per hour, maybe thirty, but there was no way he was going to let Jennifer face off with Blastarr alone, not with only reserve power in her suit.
He took a last glance at the bodies of the men who had driven out there. He'd tell the people at the water station – Oasis - where to find them, but he didn't have the time or the strength to try to manhandle them into the crawler. Blastarr was on the prowl, and he had to get to Oasis as fast as he could.