Chapter 3

Out Of The Fires

Disclaimer: Yeah, Landmark owns it all. This is the same disclaimer you read all over the internet and web. Let's be truthful, though – this could have been a great show that Landmark and Mattel let slide into oblivion. Shame on them for being before their time in the entertainment business.

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Volcania loomed like monster, rising dark and vast from the remains of Detroit. Home to the machines that had spelled doom for hundreds of millions of human beings worldwide, it pulsed with artificial life created by its master, Lord Dread.

Dread stayed within its walls, loathing the thought of contact with any remaining organics that had managed to survive. Soon, he would have no need for concern. Overmind's work was completed. Once Dread's consciousness was transferred into the mechanical body of the machine's design, his transformation would be complete. He would be able to think commands instead of verbalizing, which was a terrible waste of time when there was so much work to be done. When he finally merged with the new machine, a new era would begin. Humanity would be vanquished forever.

There remained one point of unfinished business. Jonathan Power, son of Stuart Gordon Power, should have died sixteen years earlier. As it was, Stuart sacrificed himself to save his son, whom the then Lyman Taggart had taken hostage. An explosion killed the scientist. In the process, the former Taggart, Stuart's research partner, was badly injured. When he awoke, he found much of his human physiology replaced by machine, a gift from Overmind and the machines they had been developing to put an end to the mech wars.

It was the new beginning, the new insight Taggart had thirsted for during all those years of research. The government was ignorant, not willing to move as fast as Lyman knew his research demanded. Overmind required engrams, patterns of human thought and memory, to build its core. The world was there for the taking to feed Overmind. The machines created to bring about an end to the wars of the world stood ready to take what was needed to bring about a new age, a new world.

Soaron, the superior machine built to lead the mechanized ground troops, was a faithful servant to Dread. In contrast to Blastarr, who was built for strength over intelligence, Soaron's programming was a case of lightning in a bottle. It was the first machine Lyman and Stuart created. The intention was to give it superior knowledge and thinking skills over the drones used as foot soldiers. Soaron viewed the result of the battle between the two scientists as more an equation of who was victor and who had lost. Its programming told it to follow the superior of the two.

As much as Dread hated to admit it, he relied on Soaron's abilities to do what he could not. It had become Dread's eyes and ears in the face of battle. Now, with Blastarr's fate uncertain, Soaron might very well be the only large machine left in the new army.

The cryo chamber was quiet except for this distant roar of the power generators. Dread preferred it that way. Interruptions served only to distract him from his train of thought. He relished the thought that interruptions would soon not be an issue. Until Overmind was ready, though, Dread was a prisoner of the human world.

"Soaron," Dread called, "report."

A screen winked on in the wall next to the cryogenic freezer where Dread would spend the next thirty-six hours. A sleek, birdlike machine appeared, its ruby red eyes glowing. Soaron was in flight, the setting sun in the background contrasting with the smoke emanating from the remains of Power's base.

"My lord, the Powerbase has been destroyed," Soaron informed.

"Completely?"

"Completely, my lord."

Dread mulled the possibilities. Even if the charges for the self-destruct had been extremely effective, there might well be something of use in the rubble. One item, in particular, piqued his interest. Blastarr's last report showed that one of Power's team was inside the base. The acquisition of a Powersuit would be the greatest prize Dread could have hoped for.

"Search the remains of the base. Recover Blastarr, and bring me Youth Leader Chase's Powersuit."

Soaron gave a slight nod of its head. "As you wish, my lord."

The screen went dark. Dread leaned back in his throne, relishing the possibilities, the way the world was changing in his favor.

Soon. It would all happen so soon.

"Dread," Overmind called, its orb glowing in the corner of the chamber.

"What is it, Overmind?" Dread answered distractedly.

"Preparations for the cerebral transfer are on schedule. The transfer will take approximately thirty-six hours. During that time, you will not be conscious."

Dread had known it to be a factor, but it had not been of concern until the Prometheus incident. "Yes, I know."

Overmind's mechanical flange undulated slightly faster, almost in agitation. "Volcania is vulnerable to attack with the damage from the Icarus impact. There is no guarantee of protection against a raid from Power's team or other resistance forces."

Dread mulled the fact for a moment. It was a thought he had considered before, but there were no alternatives. Time was of the essence. His trust in Overmind was waning of late. Dread had Laccki dispatched because it was reporting to Overmind. That much he knew for certain. Certain safeguards, ones unknown to Overmind, had been installed in Dread's favor. All that was required now was the unit's cooperation to achieve total transfer.

"I have considered that possibility," Dread said, elaborating. "Volcania will be fortified with troops against attack. During my transfer, there will be no offensive actions taken. All available units will return to base and defend against any enemy incursions. Shields will be at maximum around the transfer area."

Dread fought to control his anger, a dangerous human emotion that sometime caused mistakes. He reminded himself that Overmind was nothing more than a program of his own design, one that was the imprint of his very being. In a sense, Dread was arguing with himself, albeit a mutated version. He smiled in spite of himself at the contradiction.

"This strategy failed with Prometheus," Overmind pointed out, its orb flashing in muted colors.

"Then it will be up to you to see that it does not this time," Dread said plainly. "The survival of the New Order depends upon it. What is the status of Blastarr?"

"Communications have not been reestablished, but there is a signal."

"Time to regeneration?"

"Unknown."

Dread considered the loss of Blastarr in the arsenal. While Blastarr lacked the air superiority that the Soaron unit gave, it was more than adequate in ground protection. If Blastarr could not be located and repaired, provisions would have to be made to replace it in the mechanical forces. Once the cerebral transfer was complete, Dread was confident he would be able to build a unit that was stronger and more intelligent than Blastarr and Soaron combined.

"Keep me apprised of Blastarr's status."

"As you wish, Dread."

Yes, thought Dread, it is as I wish. He wished the cerebral transfer to be already complete, that the furnaces had already consumed his human form. He knew, however, that all things came in time. Patience was essential if domination were to come about in the world.

Soon. It would all happen so very soon.