One month later
"Overunit Larabee, my lord," Laccki announced as he led the confident woman into the throne room.
Dread took note of the overunit. It had taken him nearly a month to find someone he believed capable of the task he had in mind. True, she was the epitome of a Dread soldier. Impeccably dressed, rigid posture, her face an emotionless blank, she marched across the hall and stood at attention before Dread. Not a flinch, not a blink. She was incredibly disciplined, just as Dread wanted all his soldiers to be.
That would work well for his plans.
But it was also a certain quality to her personality that would prove even more useful.
Dread glanced at his other visitor before commanding, "Laccki, you may leave."
The little robot cocked his head in Dread's direction, then at Overunit Larrabee and then turned and rolled out of the throne room with a parting, "As you wish, my lord."
Once they were alone, Dread stood up, towering over the soldier. "Overunit Larabee, I understand you have refused a volunteer assignment to be transferred to a metalloid body."
The overunit took a breath before answering. "I do not believe I have proven myself worthy of such an honor, my lord."
"You don't?" Dread pressed a button on the console and Larabee's record appeared on the screen. "You excelled in your studies. Your successes have ranked in the top two percent of every assignment you've been given. You were one of the youngest to be promoted to youth leader and overunit. Your superiors have commended you on many occasions. In what way are you not worthy?"
Larabee waited a moment before answering. Perhaps formulating her answer? "My record, while exemplary, is not unique, my lord. Others have similar records. They have not been honored with the elevation to a metalloid body. I am no different from them given I have not distinguished myself in any particular manner in service to the Machine. I have not earned my reward."
"Ah," Dread almost smiled. Self-deprecating but truthful. An interesting combination. If she had been anything other than one of his soldiers, Dread would have thought her capable of being a con artist given that was one of their tactics. 'Conning' would be a necessary ability for his plan. "I see. Overunit, I have a mission that requires a long-term commitment. It will be dangerous in many ways. A soldier's belief system would be under constant attack, their sensibilities tested at every moment. Their personal safety would be at risk in ways they had never considered. If you volunteer, I believe you will distinguish yourself and prove yourself worthy. If you wish to volunteer, that is."
Without hesitation, Larabee asked, "How may I serve you, my lord?"
Dread walked over to a worktable and motioned for Larabee to follow. There was a bulky device sitting in a leather carryall pouch. Dread motioned toward it and waited as Larabee examined it. "Do you know what this is, Overunit?"
"A transmitter of some sort, I believe. It appears to be a device I remember reading about in my youth."
"Indeed," Dread agreed. "It is a small, effective piece of technology from the Old World that I built myself. What do you know of short-range and long-range radios?"
"They were a means of communication once. Sometimes, only one way," she explained.
"Correct." Dread placed his hand on the transmitter and turned his head toward Larabee. "This technology is primitive and therefore incompatible with our systems. The frequencies are unreadable by our sensors and are unable to be detected or recorded while being used by organics in the Wastelands."
Larabee frowned. "Unknown to the Machine, my lord?"
Good. She believed in the infallibility of the Machine. A true believer. "Some years ago, the Resistance attempted to unite their forces by making use of similar prehistoric devices. Their numbers were plentiful enough that uniting could have caused certain problems for the Empire, and this would have allowed them an advantage we could not afford. When I discovered this, I immediately sought out the locations by any means available and destroyed the radios and the towns utterly."
Larabee nodded her head. "I remember, my lord. I had the privilege of being at the cleansing of Port Charleston."
Port Charleston. Dread remembered that site well. A fledgling Resistance force had a base there and put up a fight. The other denizens of the area had established anti-biomech defenses, and the battle lasted three weeks before Dread could spare Soaron from other battles to finish the job. The death toll on both sides had been high.
"Did you find the results distasteful, Overunit?"
"Distasteful, my lord?"
"Did you object in any way to the manner in which the organics were dealt?"
Larabee shook her head slightly. "They were enemies of the Machine, my lord. Each deserved to die a traitor's death."
Her fervor was still strong, Dread noted. Her records showed that she had absolutely no reservations in dealing with organics, either interrogating them or destroying them. She had assisted in the interrogation of certain Resistance personnel without hesitation. Another reason Dread had chosen her for the mission.
Dread crossed his arms and leaned against the worktable. "According to your record, you were born on the East Coast and trained for the Dread Youth at the Hudson Bay training facility."
"Yes, my lord. My parents were both assigned to Hudson Bay."
Dread nodded. Larabee's file detailed how her parents were employees at one of his schools and later adopted his ideals. They were loyal and died protecting the school from Resistance forces. He double-checked Larabee's age. She was fifteen when she volunteered for the Youth Corps training school, merely three days after losing her parents. She believed, just as her parents had, and was proving to be steadfast in her certainty. "Your parents were killed during an attack by the Resistance?" he inquired, wanting to gauge her answer.
"They were, my lord. One of the early Resistance leaders, a man named Monroe, led the attack. He was killed by a counteroffensive by our forces two days later. As they all should be destroyed."
Perfect, Dread thought to himself. Not only a true believer, but someone who wished nothing more than to eliminate the organics that opposed the Machine. He had thought that she would have no compunction working against the Resistance, but now he was certain of it. "Overunit, you may not be aware of this, but in the Old World, when attackers took control of another area, one of the first thing they claimed was the communications network. It aided their purposes and prevented the enemy combatants from speaking to each other and planning a defense or counter-offensive."
"A wise tactical move, my lord," Larabee agreed.
"It was. However, in this case, I do not wish to capture a communications network. I intend to build one and use it for our own purposes. We will control, not capture. Does that sound like a worthy mission?"
Larabee nodded. "It does. What must I do?"
Dread almost smiled. "In time, you will start broadcasting over the radio as someone reporting news and intel to the Resistance and Wasteland populations. The East Coast has more active resistance cells, so I have concluded that we should start from that region to build your reputation slowly. Use words to unite the Resistance forces in that region. After a time, your voice will be trusted. Reports of your transmissions will be passed to others, and soon, even the West Coast will listen to you. At some point, you will meet members of the Resistance. Their belief that you are one of them will engage their curiosity. They will undoubtedly initiate the meetings themselves. You must persuade them that you are a Resistance fighter."
For the first time, Dread saw ambivalence in Larabee.
"My lord, how am I to accomplish this? How do I convince them that I am one of them? How do I speak to the enemy like the enemy?" she asked.
"You can't. Not yet. You will undergo an intensive training program to prepare you and teach you the ways of the Wastelanders. Then, you must live among them, adopt how they speak, acclimate yourself to their customs and their ways. You must convince everyone that you are a Wastelander, including other soldiers of our Empire. It will be dangerous because you cannot reveal your identity to anyone. You will be a target for our own forces. Afterwards, you will begin to talk to all those who can listen over a particular frequency I alone will control. I want you to give them information about certain movements within our Empire. I will work with you to set up attacks that the Resistance can thwart to help develop and sustain your credibility. You will keep a strict record of everyone you speak with or who contacts you, how they contact you and with what information. It may all prove useful in this endeavor. And when the time is right and you've gained their trust, we will spring a trap." He picked up the transmitter and handed it to her. "This will be your weapon, and in some ways, a device that transmits words is a more potent weapon than the most powerful gun ever built."
Larabee hoisted the transmitter over her shoulder. "My lord, may I ask a question?"
"Of course."
"Why offer this assignment to me?" she wanted to know. "I'm an overunit. This is a covert operation, and only commanders are assigned infiltrations of this level."
Yes, how to explain that he had an ulterior motive for choosing her... He thought for a moment, then answered, "Because you possess certain qualities necessary for other aspects of this mission," Dread sighed. He had to reveal a failure of the Machine Empire, something he didn't want to do but realized he had to in order to explain what Larabee's motivation for a part of the plan would be. "Overunit, have you ever heard of a member of the Dread Youth turning traitor and joining the Resistance?"
"Impossible, my lord," Larabee disagreed. "No member of the Corps would do that."
Dread stood straight, towering over her once again. "This is information that you will not repeat to anyone else. Is that understood?"
"Absolutely, my lord."
Dread considered his words carefully. "For years, there were rumors that one of my soldiers that turned traitor. A cadet would hear this, report it to their overunit. The cadet would be disciplined for making a report without proof, and the overunit would be removed or reassigned. At the time, I thought it was just a story. Gossip that needed to be destroyed. Yet, the rumors persisted. Over time, more of my soldiers have heard this tale, and some now believe it. For others, they have seen the proof with their own eyes, and once belief is a proven fact, dispelling it or hiding it is impossible. It must be stopped unequivocally."
"Have you seen the proof, my lord?" Larabee asked him.
"I have." Dread walked to a computer screen and pressed a button on the console. The picture of a youth leader appeared. "This is Youth Leader Jennifer Chase."
Larabee knew of Jennifer Chase. She had studied her career, considered her a type of secret mentor. "The youngest cadet to be promoted to youth leader, and she was to be promoted to overunit," Larabee said, her voice sounding with a bit of envy. "She was known to all of the Dread Youth as an exemplary soldier. She was once referred to as a pinnacle of leadership. She was top of each class, a pilot of remarkable skill. Her loyalty was complete. She was killed during a cleansing in Kansas. I was at the Reading of Remembrance when her name was called out as one martyred for the Machine."
Was that admiration Dread heard in her voice?
"I myself believed her a martyr and praised her sacrifice," Dread continued. "I had no doubt in her loyalty. She was promoted to overunit at the successful completion of the Sand Town cleansing. I chose her to be one of the first transferees into a metalloid body. How could she not be chosen? She was a masterpiece. Considered a perfect cadet by all. She was the youngest soldier to be promoted to overunit, top of all her classes, had proven herself in battle. She was to be given a great honor of eternal life, to serve in the Aerial Recon, but her so-called death prevented her from serving the Machine in that capacity."
"Excuse me, my lord, but so-called death?"
Dread knocked his knuckles against the monitor. "This, Overunit, is the face of the traitor. She was declared dead at the Dodge City cleansing years ago. We had ample proof of her demise. She was Remembered with honor, as a soldier who gave her life for the Machine. As you said, her name was read with other names of those who died in service to the Machine. It was some time later I learned that she was alive and a member of Power's team as their pilot, utilizing the skills she learned under my auspices."
Larabee stared at the face on the monitor, imprinting it on her own mind. She frowned slightly. "A traitor? And with the Power Team?" she whispered. "I had not thought such an occurrence was possible."
"Neither did I until the Power Team attacked one of my outlying bases when I was there. I saw her. My perfect cadet, loyal to the Machine, shooting down my biomechs and destroying my transports. One of my greatest successes had become my greatest failure. Her existence is no longer a secret, and that makes her a greater threat to the Empire."
Larabee stared at the monitor for a few moments longer, her shoulders slumping slightly at the idea that her 'her' was a traitor, then turned to Dread, "Do you wish me to locate and execute her?"
"Perhaps in time, the opportunity will present itself," Dread answered, "but there's another assignment that you must pursue first. Your scholastic and military history mirrors hers in many respects. However, something more subtle must be utilized for this mission." He looked her in the eye and said, "In some ways, your behavior, stance, stature, all would be seen as similar to Chase's demeanor when she first left. With some training, your voice can be modified to mimic Chase's style of speaking, her mannerisms can be duplicated. It is this similarity you will need to exploit to some extent."
"A similarity, my lord?"
Dread then pulled up a surveillance recording of Jonathan Power as he helped Masterson unload supplies from their jumpship. "Do you know these men?"
"Captain Power and Major Masterson," Larabee said confidently. "The leader and a member of the Power Team."
"Correct. You must make contact with Power after you've gained a trustworthy reputation through your broadcasts. You should act unbelieving at first, perhaps even coy until he proves he is Power. After that, maintain a distant but friendly association with him. It would work in your favor to befriend other members of other resistance teams before attempting to meet with Power. It will lend an air of preconceived legitimacy to your actions."
Again, Larabee studied the picture. "Of course, my lord. But this similarity to the traitor? How is it to be exploited? And for what purpose?"
Dread stared at the monitor. "Your similarity to the pilot should intrigue Power just enough for him to trust you implicitly during your first meeting but not realize that his trust is because of the similarity."
Larabee stared at Dread, uncomprehending. "My lord?"
"Sometimes, Overunit, confusing the enemy in ways he is not expecting is the key to success. It has come to my attention of late that Power has formed a type of attachment to the pilot. I am not aware of how strong the attachment is or if it is of a romantic or a friendly nature. It may be nothing more than that of a leader for one of their soldiers or a mentor for a student. Regardless, it is an attachment we should make use of in our tactics."
Larabee raised an eyebrow at that news. "You seem uncertain of the information, my lord?"
"Somewhat," Dread admitted. "I do not have definitive proof yet, but I have the rumors, confessions garnered through interrogations, and there was a recording made of Power and the pilot. From this, I have interpreted their behavior toward each other as an estimation of an attachment."
"May I ask about the recording, my lord?"
Dread almost smiled. The overunit was curious. Not a common trait at all. "Some time ago, we captured Power during a session of mass digitizations. His interrogation was recorded before he was retrieved by his team and some of the data survived the facility explosion. The pilot masqueraded as an overunit to rescue him. There was a moment I believe indicated certain feelings toward one another that they themselves were as yet unaware of. There is a friendship, that much is certain. However, given what I know of Jonathan Power, he would not take advantage of such a friendship or create a situation that would damage team cohesion. That is where his weakness can be found. Your similarity to the pilot should give Power the opportunity to switch his attraction from a teammate to one who only reminds him of his teammate, one he would not be reticent to pursue. One older, more mature. One more equal to him in various aspects. One he would not think he was taking advantage of because you would seem more worldly, and more to the point, not a member of his team where fraternization is frowned upon."
Larabee frowned. "I don't understand, my lord."
Dread chuckled. "By the time you meet Power, you will. As part of this assignment, you will have to live among the organics on the East Coast to establish yourself as a credible source of information and unification. It will necessitate complete immersion in their culture. Do you still wish to volunteer?"
Larabee stood at attention again. "I am here to do as the Machine wills, my lord."
"Good," Dread nodded his head. "You will spend the next month in an intensive training course teaching you how to live in the Wastelands, how to communicate, how to survive and how to use the radio effectively. As you have already observed, only commanders are used in infiltration assignments. Consider this mission as a chance to prove your abilities. Should it prove successful, your promotion to commander is assured. After that, you may feel that you have achieved a unique success and are worthy of a metalloid body?"
Larabee almost smiled. "I am grateful for the chance, Lord Dread. I will not disappoint you."
~0~0~0~0~0~
Power Base
Months later
Jennifer walked into the control room and heard a very excited voice yell over the radio speakers-
"The Giants win the Pennant!
The Giants win the Pennant!
The Giants win the Pennant!
The Giants win the Pennant!"
Then she saw her team smiling and cheering and clapping hands... ah, must be baseball. If there was one thing all her guys loved, it was baseball.
"The Giants?" she asked.
Scout looked up from his computer monitor, poked his thumb toward the radio, a wide grin on his face. "1951 National League Pennant, Brooklyn Dodgers versus the New York Giants."
Brooklyn Dodgers... New York Giants... Jennifer remembered some vague references Mentor had told her about... some highlights... ah, right. The Giants went on to compete in the World Series against the New York Yankees in 1951 but lost. Names of famous baseball players were connected to that particular series. Names like Joe DiMaggio and Mickey Mantle and Willie Mays. No... maybe that was the New York Yankees? Or was it San Francisco? She didn't know. She only knew a few names and didn't remember how they were all associated.
Jon walked over to her and whispered, "They found a channel that's airing every single sports event they can find. We sent in a request to listen to each baseball game in order they were played, but they don't have all the games."
She whispered back, "Why do I have a feeling you suggested that?"
Jon smiled and shrugged. "Just because I love baseball?"
She shook her head in amusement and smiled. Ever since someone, somewhere, had found recordings from the 20th and 21st centuries, the team had searched for frequencies airing recordings they'd enjoy. Former sports competitions were a favorite as were the frequencies Hawk called "news channels." Music? Definitely. Scout was able to increase his vast music knowledge with genres he had never heard before.
Still, listening to all the baseball games ever played? "Wait, I asked Mentor to tell me about baseball when I first heard of it. Wasn't the first game ever broadcast in 1921? And the last game in 2132?"
Jon nodded. "211 years of baseball games, 162 games per team per season, and there were 30 teams. Even if they don't have all the games, they're airing two a week-"
"Got it," she laughed. "We'll be listening to baseball for a long time."
"A very long time!" Scout laughed as he focused his attention back on his computer monitor. "Strange," he muttered.
"What's strange," Jennifer asked.
"Anomalous readings from some of our gate jumps. I first noticed them a few months ago, but they're sporadic. I'm thinking maybe a power surge or a power drain of some kind?"
Jennifer walked over and looked at the data. Some jumps read normal on the sensors, others read slightly different. "Any idea what it is?"
"Not yet. They're always different, and I can't find a pattern yet. What we need is a day off so you and I can focus on this. We shouldn't be getting these kinds of readings."
Their attention was suddenly drawn back to the radio. A song began to play. Something about a food called 'hot dogs' and what kinds of kids ate them. What was funnier was when Hawk and Tank began to sing the song as well.
Jennifer shook her head in amusement. Ever since a station that only aired commercials was found, it seemed everyone on the team was humming or singing the⦠what were they called? Jingles? The short songs seemed to grab people's attention and stay in their memories. Mentor told her that had been on of the goals with commercials, to be memorable.
Yet all that amusement or information paled in comparison to Freedom One's broadcasts. Yes, the variety of radio frequencies was growing at an exponential rate. Yes, the information was vital to many people for various reasons. Yes, more people were surviving because they learned more survival techniques. Yes, the Wastelanders were beginning to unite because they had established actual communications. However, there was something missing from the broadcasts, some small, difficult-to-describe aspect that was hard to explain. Then, they found the missing "it." They first heard her voice months earlier when Jon had been searching for new frequencies from across the country.
"This is Freedom One with an update of the battles for the East Coast Resistance. Mobley's soldiers in Charleston have won a great victory against Dread's forces. They forced three platoons of biomechs off a cliff and into the Atlantic Ocean after a battle. With their armor cracked from the ongoing battle, their internal systems were exposed to the salt water that short-circuited them. Cory's troops in Nashville destroyed one of Dread's parts manufacturing plants hidden in the mountains. They suffered no casualties. Bleakley's crew marched to New York, routed a biomech-guarded convoy of prisoners and freed them."
There was a pause, then, "We lost Underwood in Delaware after fighting Soaron and Blastarr. Dread sent both biodreads to destroy a settlement in a northern area. Underwood and his team tried to buy time for the people to escape, but they weren't successful. All were killed." Again, a pause. "We have suffered losses. We all know that emptiness inside, but we cannot let that deter us. We have also won victories. Our fight to survive is not a futile one. It is noble. It is human. It is our desire to live and our will to go on that makes us human, that makes us better than the Machine. We are all soldiers. There is no choice for us, and as soldiers, we all know that there will be, at times, the empty chair at the table. There will always be the glasses raised in tribute to a fallen comrade. We understand that some must be lost to save the whole, and as soldiers, we have accepted that fate. Yet we know that Dread's forces are not invincible. We have seen the biomechs destroyed. We have witnessed Blastarr and Soaron's defeats. We cannot give up. We must fight to survive, and we are all in this fight together."
Another pause. "I know there are times when you feel as if the fight is too big, as if there is no end in sight. There are times when I wonder if we will survive and stop the Machines. Then, I see the commitment of our soldiers, of us. I see the determination to not only survive but to live. Yesterday, I saw a mother and her child sitting by a stream, reading a book. It has been so long since I've seen something so... simple and elegant. This is what we are fighting for. Not just to remain alive but to live, and that is why we will continue to fight. We will find the strength and the will and the patience. This war may go on, but we will prevail if we keep our focus on our goal."
"I know that I am speaking mostly to the East Coast Resistance, but my voice can now reach beyond the narrow confines of our region. One day, all our Resistance forces will be united. Today, I learned of news from the West Coast. I learned that Cypher, the Angel City Resistance leader, successfully smuggled needed intelto the forces on the West Coast. Captain Power and his team destroyed a biomech manufacturing facility in Washington State. Boxley and his team rescued an entire town from biomechs in Montana. We are becoming a united country in deed if not in fact. Our words spoken over these frequencies are the pioneers of this endeavor. One day, all of our voices will again be heard from sea to sea. We will all be connected. Our collective will, a force to be reckoned with. Today, a united Resistance is but a dream, but tomorrow, it will be a reality. We will survive. We will win, and we will live."
Apparently, the newly designed radios, the signal boosters and the hidden transmitters that were being utilized were working better than anyone had realized. Freedom One was helping to connect a nation with her words.
That was what the other frequencies were missing. It was the reassurance that humans need that even in the most hopeless situations, hope did still exist.
At the same time every day, the Power Team would crowd around the console in the command center and would forego all other frequencies until they heard the reports from Freedom One who eventually became the Voice of the East Coast Resistance. She might have come out of nowhere to speak about the victories and failures on the East Coast, but she continually gave the audience hope and reminded them of the fact that the Dread forces weren't invincible, and they couldn't give up. They had to fight if they were to survive, that they were all in the fight together. She tugged on emotions many soldiers didn't know they had any longer, and her voice became a trusted voice of the Resistance.
Week after week passed, and the team listened to every broadcast from Freedom One. After listening to one particularly inspiring transmission, Scout said, "She really does put her life on the line with those broadcasts."
"Dread's been trying to shut her down for months," Hawk reminded him. "She barely got out of that trap that last time, and that's only because Sands was able to get her out of there."
Tank turned off the radio once a new broadcast about crop rotation began. "I heard rumors that she helped get some radios to some of the outlying settlements recently."
"Not her," Jon corrected. "Remember? She mentioned that new people were hearing her, and she wasn't aware that they were there at first. Whoever's getting radios to people in the Wastelands has been doing it for months. It's just now that it's really making a difference."
"And Dread's doing nothing about it," Jennifer pointed out.
Apparently, none of the others had considered that.
"What do you mean, kiddo?" Hawk asked her.
"Before, when radios were being distributed, Dread sent out troops to find them, destroy them and punish the towns. Like Sand Town. This time, he has to know about the radios but he's not doing anything about them. That's not like him to let us get an advantage."
No, none of the others had considered that fact.
"Maybe he doesn't know about the radios yet?" Scout shrugged. "Or maybe he knows that he can't stop them this time? We're better organized now than we were years ago when Sand Town happened. Heck, we're better now than we were a few months ago. Lines of communication are all over the place, we're getting valuable intel from all quarters these days in ways Dread wouldn't even think about. Maybe he's decided to cut his losses? It'd be a lost cause and a waste of resources to try to find them like he did before because he knows he wouldn't have a chance of finding them all?"
Hawk stood and stretched, easing muscles that had been sitting still too long. "I wish I could believe he doesn't know about the radios. They use frequencies the Empire doesn't. The signals are encrypted. But he has to know there are some radios out here. I mean, he has to, right? There are radios in a lot of towns they've been attacking. Maybe he just doesn't realize how many or what we're using them for?"
Jennifer gave him a disbelieving look.
"Maybe?" Hawk asked with a grin. "For whatever reason, maybe we've caught a break on that one?"
Maybe he was right. Maybe once, just once, time was on their side and they were being given a break, no matter how brief. But radios were being found all over the country, yet no one seemed to know where they came from... that was one gift horse whose mouth Jennifer couldn't not look at.
Still, to tell the truth, Jennifer knew what they were looking at; she just didn't know what it was they were looking for.
