Episode 19 - Freedom One

Freedom One, the Voice of the East Coast Resistance, calls the leaders of the five major Resistance groups together to unite them into a single army to fight Dread. However, what seems to be a dream come true turns into a nightmare when the groups are betrayed.

Disclaimer: The following is a work of fan fiction based on the television series,Captain Power and the Soldiers of the Future. It is not intended to infringe on the copyrights of Landmark Entertainment Corporation or anyone else who may have legal rights to the characters and settings. I don't own the characters. However, I am putting them into an adventure since the show was cancelled and the writers/producers/directors/actors can't put them into any new adventures.

One Week After Blastarr's Birth

Clearbarrow Settlement

Midnight

Debris was scattered over the battlefield. Broken chunks of metal, destroyed transports, burnt buildings, shattered biomechs, deceased Dread soldiers and civilians - so much of the remains were twisted, torn, and unidentifiable. The night winds blew the smoke from the fires that still burned throughout the settlement across the battlefield, casting an ominous fog over the area.

The scene laid out for the captured survivors was apparent even through the dense smoke. The buildings had been razed, leaving behind only a few charred skeletons of what had once been walls and support beams. The sparse crops were trampled and burned. Defense weapons were obliterated. Dead bodies and mangled biomechs lay on the ground, fallen together in clusters so it was difficult to discern what was metallic and what was organic.

It was annihilation at its most destructive.

The battle had been short, utterly devastating to both sides, but the Machine's forces were the victors.

Dread slowly walked through the decimated settlement, kicking the remains out of his path, not caring exactly what it was he kicked. He ordered his personal guards to stand back at the perimeter of the battlefield, next to where Blastarr and Soaron stood. They didn't seem quite as eager as Dread to investigate the battle site.

The mission had been a test of Blastarr's functions and abilities. Newly born a week earlier, a full test of his weaponry and programming had been necessary. Intel indicated that a settlement had new anti-Dread weaponry, thus making it the ideal location. Blastarr had followed Dread's orders perfectly, had performed his duties relentlessly and without hesitation. The carnage was proof of that.

If only one warlord could have been born because of Power's intervention, then his one warlord was a successful birth.

Blastarr was biometallic excellence.

He was also the next step in perfecting the process of placing human minds into more complex metalloid bodies. Many minds were now housed in Blastarr's hard drive, all powering his massive processors. The data collected from the daily diagnostics Dread ran on his warlord's internal systems would allow him to put the final touches on the transference process. Maybe, just maybe, he'd be transferred into his own biodread body within a year if all the tests were successful and analyses were positive, and he would no longer be trapped in his weaker, part-human body.

He glanced back at Soaron and Blastarr. They were standing apart, acting as if they were ignoring each other. He was sensing something rather odd between his two warlords. There seemed to be a type of sibling rivalry developing. Could Soaron be jealous of the new biodread? Could Blastarr not understand that both were equal within the Empire? The name-calling had started that morning, now they weren't talking to each other at all. Yet they were machines with no emotions, so neither should have emotions affecting them, should they? What was the explanation for the unexpected behavior?

Dread would analyze their diagnostics later and try to determine the cause.

An overunit marched forward and saluted. "Lord Dread, we've finished our sweep. We can find no more survivors, but there are some indications that some villagers escaped to the north and west."

No more prisoners. Not surprising. There had been fewer caught after the battles during the last few months. Something had changed in the resistance the Machine Empire was facing - the organics, despite their dwindling numbers, were fighting back more and more with a powerful will, some making a last stand as cover for others escaping. But it wasn't just the fact that they were resisting; it was the intensity of their resolve. After over fifteen years of fighting, they should have been subdued and submissive, but they weren't. Something, or more precisely, someone had lit a proverbial fire under the Wastelanders' determination, and they were fighting with a renewed sense of purpose. Dread studied interrogations and read through the research. Everything pointed to an expected conclusion - the Wastelanders were being increasingly inspired by Power's example. If a mere five-person team could cause Dread that much trouble, how much of a disaster could an entire village's resistance bring down on the Machine's forces? Clearbarrow was a clear indicator of the answer. More resistance meant more effort by the Machines... another reason for more warlords. More warlords meant more military might, and the organics would not be able to fight against such superior firepower and would desist in their resistance to the Machine.

Such behavior only delayed the inevitable. Soon enough, all of this would be over with. The world would be through the Transition and the New Order would rule.

"Was anything salvageable?" Dread asked.

"Some basic implements, farming equipment, some personal items as usual, a little intel, but my lord, we found a working radio. Several organics tried to destroy it but were shot down before they could." He motioned to a cadet to bring the radio over. "This is the first time we've been able to secure a fully functioning radio before an axe was taken to it."

Dread looked at the device. It reminded him of radios shown in World War II movies filmed in the 20th century. Bulky, an armful, technologically inferior to everything he knew. It was a piece of metal junk, archaic, anachronistic, barely important enough to put in a museum.

Yet the people in this settlement were willing to die to protect it? Why? It was just a radio. They weren't as important as they had been some years earlier. They didn't possess the same unifying capability they once did since Wastelanders no longer had the numbers or resources to be a united threat any longer. They were surviving in smaller and smaller settlements with fewer people to maintain an armed resistance. A radio only had short-range capabilities, perhaps just enough range to reach fifty miles at the most. Still, it was a means of communication that they kept secret. He'd seen that behavior for years. He smiled at the thought that organics would be willing to go to such lengths to protect a faded bit of technology while at the same time, they fought the Machine. Maybe they thought it a small victory that they had some small machine that was not under Overmind's control?

Yet there was something new in this behavioral equation that Dread found odd. Years earlier when he tortured prisoners to get radio locations, the prisoners gave up the information easy enough and with a minimal amount of effort from the interrogators. Now, the organics were willing to die to protect them?

What had changed?

There was something amiss.

"Place the radio on my transport," Dread commanded. "Have Blastarr and Soaron destroy what's left of this settlement. Wipe it from existence. Take the prisoners for interrogation and then have them digitized."

The overunit saluted. "Yes, my lord."

~O~O~O~O~

Dread examined the radio as his pilot flew him back to Volcania. It was a simplistic design - that was certain. Power button, frequency changer, a volume control, and an antenna. Nothing else. As he looked it over, a childhood memory resurfaced. When he was young, there was a resurgence of model building. Model cars, trucks, airplanes and ham radios were very popular items hobby-enthusiasts resurrected. Their attention to detail almost bordered on the obsessive, and the radio he held would have been a testament to that fact had it been built in those days. Some only wanted the outer look of the item to be authentic while most wanted to replicate every minute detail.

Dread examined the small plate on the bottom of the radio. It read 'Zenith.' That meant nothing to him, but he assumed it to be the name of a real manufacturer, perhaps back in the 20th century. The radio enthusiast built a replica of a real radio from the early days of audio technology. Impressive. So externally, the radio mimicked the antique - one with a limited transmitting/receiving range. Then Dread removed the outer casing and exposed the internal circuitry to examine it more closely - and realized that the external design was as far as the duplication went. Improvements and advancements had been made. Some were remarkably inventive and unexpected. "Hmmm, originally short range but altered to receive longer range... and with a rather simplistically constructed signal booster to increase frequency strength." He examined the circuit board. "The vicon circuits have been restructured to house solar batteries and enhanced frequency receptors," he muttered to himself. He'd never seen a design like it. "Interesting. It could perhaps have a range of hundreds of miles?" he pondered.

In his hands, he held a sign of a personal defeat. All his attempts to rid the Wastelanders of radios had proven futile. The radios were out there, and the organics destroyed them rather than let them fall into enemy hands.

Could the fact it had a signal booster and could pick up longer-range signals be the difference? Yes, the rudimentary technology was surprising, but it didn't seem so impressive an accomplishment that people would die to protect it.

Perhaps there was more to the equation than he first thought. He checked the database for the inventory of items found during other biomech sweeps in months past and focused on the few short-range radios that had been salvaged. They were listed as being in various states of destruction. One was determined to have had a patched-together internal circuitry that could increase its reception strength, but it would have not been a great range. It truly would have served no purpose other than being a frequency amplification device. There was no true technological advancement in that design.

After a close examination of another destroyed device, it was believed to have had a new type of vicon circuit. Again, nothing impressive on its own.

A third had a modified transmitter.

And they were all made years earlier. None of them were recent constructions.

But the one he was holding in his hands... it looked much newer... someone had advanced it... to long range... many, many miles...

All the raw materials necessary to build such a device wouldn't have been readily available. Did that mean some sort of trade route had developed without his knowledge? And if so, with whom?

Maybe there was more to the radio than just the hardware. Exactly what did he know about radios other than the obvious? He knew how they worked - he saw one used in a grammar school history class. They were something he saw in old movies or heard his grandfather talk about. All the different music channels and talk radio and... wait, just what were the organics listening to?

He connected the radio to the onboard computer and ran a simple reception test on it. Wait... this couldn't be right. "Computer, repeat diagnostic," he ordered. Within moments, the same information appeared on the computer screen before him. The receiver in conjunction with the signal booster and the newly designed vicon circuits had a range of thousands of miles? That was impossible, right? Even radios in the 20th century didn't have that kind of range.

Wait... a slight wisp of a memory from a history book... something about technology changing... it was satellites. Satellite radio came when? The early 21st century? Later than that? Radio frequencies eventually stopped using airwaves. They were being transmitted via satellite to in-dash computers that 'looked' like radios or at least acted like them.

Was it possible... no. A second look at the circuitry proved that the signal was sent through airwaves, not satellite. That was one theory that was disproven immediately.

But airwaves... radios... if the radios had been altered to receive long range signals, were there transmitters in existence as well? Transmitters whose designs were also altered to send signals out further? Was there an entire communications system out there he was unaware of? Where would it be?

And if it did exist...

That meant that the East Coast and the West Coast could communicate with each other.

They could communicate?

Restoration of continent-wide communication was not something he had taken into consideration before.

But could it go between continents? Could America communicate with England? Australia? Asia? Africa? Was this a worldwide system and not continental? And if it was intercontinental, was there an organized resistance forming from across the ocean?

He switched on the radio and heard nothing but static. Then, he turned the knob to change the frequency.

Slowly, the static cleared and he heard music. He didn't know the artist or genre. It reminded him slightly of the music from the Quartol folk era of the mid-to-late 21st century.

His pilot turned his head toward him. "My lord, what is that?"

"A distraction, pilot," Dread answered. And it was not a distraction he needed the pilot to hear. He immediately lowered the volume. He turned the frequency knob again and another channel became clear. He heard the words, "Return with us now to those thrilling days of yesteryear. The Lone Ranger rides again!"

The Lone Ranger? Who was that?

Again, he changed the channel. More music. It sounded synthetic, as if it were being played on computers and not actual musical instruments.

Again. A comedy sketch.

Again... "Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? The Shadow knows!"

He kept changing the frequency, listening to each clear one for a few moments before searching again.

Then, he heard a live voice.

"This is Will Patley at Rumor Control. Dread, Soaron, a new biodread, some soldiers and an army of biomechs have just destroyed the settlement of Clearbarrow."

News? A live news station? Current news over the radio? How could the Empire not have known about this? How could Overmind not know?

"There are few survivors who are relocating to safe zones. To any within the sound of my voice, do not go to Clearbarrow. There is nothing left. Dread's forces have leveled the town. Dread is reported to be returning to Volcania -"

Live news? Almost immediately after the event happened?

He changed the channel again. Another voice sounded over the speaker. "Reported deaths in Alexandria, Louisiana, by Dread's forces this week. Angelica Bremer, age 27. Thomas Kline, age 16. Judd Sawyer, age 91. Doris Caden, age 42. Davey Lewis, age 10. Vicki Monroe, age 19..."

The list seemed endless.

Dread changed channels again.

"Wood is a precious commodity in some areas, so a cooking fire must be fed by other materials. Pit cooking can be utilized using coal as a base along with hot rock cooking in areas where coal can still be obtained."

A field-cooking frequency?

Dread turned the knob again.

An older voice that reminded him of Stuart Power said clearly, "Biomechs have a weak spot at the base on the back of their neck. A metal rod slammed into that area will-"

Instructions on how to stop biomechs? He changed frequencies again.

"This is Hank, the high-flying aviator with your eye-in-the-sky-on-Dread report for this morning. For the first time in six weeks, there's not a single Dreadie ship flying between Dayton and Cincinnati. That's in Ohio for some of you who may not know those cities, and that's a little over fifty miles of biomech-free airspace, pilots. Good time to go joyriding."

There was some static that cut through and drowned out the voice, then when his voice came through again, it was mid-sentence. "... haven't seen it this congested since I was a kid, and I used to ride in my dad's rig when he was on a cross-country trucking haul, so steer clear of Kentucky airspace. I don't know what Dread wants down there, but I doubt it has anything to do with good ole' Kentucky bourbon."

"As for Tennessee... folks, traffic's running about half of normal. Those pilots who routinely fly that route know what that means. Activity on the East Coast is down a bit from last month -"

Dread switched off the radio.

Music, entertainment, news, battle tactics, survival instructions...

Now he understood. The radios weren't being used to unite the various resistance groups for military purposes. They were being used for everything.

Obviously, Overmind was unaware of the transmissions or else he would have tried to block them. How could it be possible that he didn't know?

Dread thought about that question, studied the radio, considered the various options... one idea seemed more logical than the others. It was the frequencies themselves that Overmind didn't know about. They were too primitive to be picked up by Overmind's sensors. That meant Resistance forces were united in the very way Dread had been trying to prevent in a way he hadn't considered. Nothing and no one had stopped them because they didn't know there was anything new to be stopped.

The Wastelanders were using secure communications.

Wait.

The Wastelanders believed their communications were secure...

That gave Dread an idea.

They believed their communications systems were secure!

And they didn't realize that Dread now had secret access to their 'secure' transmissions. That radio was, for all intents and purposes, his version of a 20th century enigma machine.

So if he could insert his own 'secure' transmission into the frequencies listened to by the radio-listening public...

An idea began to form.

If he couldn't beat them, he could join them.