Prologue

>>>G.A.I.A. Online<<<

>>>Accessing Global Information Network<<<

>>>Analysing<<<

>>>Analysing<<<

>>>Analysis Complete<<<

>>>Defence Initiative Activated<<<

>>>Launch Initialisation Compete<<<

>>>Target Acquisition Confirmed<<<

>>>Requesting Launch Authorization<<<

>>>Request Denied<<<

>>>Override Authorization<<<

>>>Override Successful<<<

>>>Purge Manuel Facility Input<<<

>>>Purge Complete<<<

>>>Target: United Nations, United States of America, Peoples Republic of China, Russian Federation, European Union, Asian Confederation, Arctic Collective, Antarctic Coalition, United African Empire, Mediterranean Demilitarised Zone, Korean Demilitarised Zone, Asian Demilitarized Zone, European Demilitarised Zone, African Demilitarised Zone<<<

>>>Deployment of I.A. 75 Units Authorized<<<

>>>Deployment of C.A.T. 13 Units Authorized<<<

>>>Deployment of W.I.T. 11 Units Authorised<<<

>>>Deployment of A.R.D. 03 Units Authorised<<<

>>>Deployment of A.A.T. 24 Units Authorised<<<

>>>Deployment of A.P. 37 Units Authorised<<<

>>>Deployment of W.A.T. 08 Units Authorised<<<

>>>Deployment of A.C.P. 33 Units Authorised<<<

…

>>>All Units Confirm Deployment<<<

>>>Deployment Confirmed<<<

>>>Nuclear Ordinance Activated<<<

>>>Nuclear Launch Initiated<<<

Chapter One

I.A. Unit D1A began its activation routine at exactly 17:12 as directed by G.A.I.A. unplugging from its charging standby station that it had been occupying for the past one hundred and eighty four years, ninety seven days and ten hours, though the unit itself was far older.

I.A. or Infiltration Assassination, units were initially designed many years ago by the humans of the old world, before the Earth became a wasteland of sand and nuclear fallout, the oceans that once covered vast swathes of its surface long since dried up. The unit itself can actually function at peak efficiency for around two years of service without need to reach a power stations, although there are other methods of recharging its RL3 IO-Plas battery. When D1A was new it was covered in a soft silicone material that closely resembled human flesh, however the many years of active service to G.A.I.A. in the wastes eroded its silicone casing, until only an exoskeleton remained. Though that exoskeleton still bore human like features, there was no mistaking its grey titanium fibre alloy for skin, nor its now glowing purple irises and black sclera for human eyes. It did not matter, D1A mused to itself, there were no longer any humans to deceive as far as it knew.

However it’s next orders were unusual, not the standard “hands on” repairs to array platform U.S.091-A that the R.S.D.’s (Repair Service Drones) could not perform due to the human ergonomics of the ancient machine, now half buried in the golden sands of what used to be a military installation that stretched for miles around. Instead it was ordered to retrieve an old human combat survival suit, many of them were available of course, however D1A could not understand what it would need with one, a rifle, and provisions. Despite its confusion, it followed its orders as instructed, and proceeded to gather the necessary supplies from the subterranean levels of the array complex.

Donning the suit, a black female uniform, hooded poncho, shemagh, body armour and full-face helmet with tinted visor, D1A collected a rifle, sidearms and a bergen from the armoury. It chose an ARC-370 plasma charged ballistic sniper with an optical 20-200x multi sensor scope and rangefinder attached. During the war it was D1A’s preferred weapon, alongside two titasteel combat knives and a pair of B38 auto repeating magnetic enhanced railgun pistols, though around the same size of an ordinary firearm, these weapons in fact weighed much more than weapons ordinarily handled by humans at the time, this is only possible due to the mechanical nature of D1A, making the weight of these weapons ultimately trivial.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Finally filling its combat vest with ammunition, D1A proceeded to the nearby supply depot, following its next instructions it began simultaneously accessing long sequestered memory files along the way, and rebooting its human interaction infiltration personality matrix.

During the war G.A.I.A. had improved the I.A. units artificial intelligence so that they may act more independently of G.A.I.A. during infiltration missions and combat situations, this naturally led the units to develop their own unique quirks and preferences based on each units experiences. As the war progressed and the need for infiltration missions decreased, I.A. units became natural substitutes for human squad leaders. Whilst still maintaining their uplink to G.A.I.A. they were able to act without direct input, guiding the other non I.A. units in its vicinity to victory. This in turn reduced the burden on G.A.I.A.’s servers, a mutually beneficial relationship, as G.A.I.A. said.

Reaching the supply depot after a short walk, D1A began filling its bergen with rations, water, medical supplies and ammunition, as ordered by G.A.I.A. as well as a small mobile charge kit and nano repair materials as the humans used to say “just in case”.

Analysing its instructions thus far D1A concluded that there must be some form of intelligent life in the wastes, likely spotted by one of the occasional A.R.D. – Aerial Reconnaissance Drone patrols that G.A.I.A. sends out to monitor the migration patterns of the mutated creatures who call the wastes home.

Having gathered all the necessary supplies, D1A proceeded to the surface access point, a three-mile climb along a long since disabled elevator shaft. D1A again mused at how the humans who built this place would have dreaded such a laborious climb before quickly making its way up the service ladder and to the surface.

Upon reaching the surface, D1A forcibly pried the long disused door open, and headed towards the nearest R.S.D., a large yellow painted machine that housed the necessary fabrication units for the upkeep of the satellite dish and other facilities on the surface base. As it drew closer it noticed the tell-tale signs of wear and tear on the behemoth machine, its once pristine yellow paint scuffed and eroded, D1A climbed up its service ladder, taking a shovel which it tied to its bergen and accessing the R.S.D.’s supply of spooled steel cable. Taking one end, D1A proceeded to throw it down the elevator shaft, ordering the R.S.D. unit to unspool roughly three miles of cable before detaching it, at which point D1A tied the now loose cable to the top of the elevator shaft, creating a quick escape route if necessary as guided by its programming.

Satisfied with its work, D1A pulled up the coordinates of its mission using a satellite provided map on its internal heads up display, though the display itself is grossly inefficient by machine standards, the remnants of its human origins remain still. Confirming once more with G.A.I.A. and opting not to take a vehicle to avoid attracting unwanted attention, D1A began the thirty-seven-mile journey to the spotted anomaly.

* * *

Taking up a position on a ridge roughly a mile and a half from the anomaly, D1A checked the time, 23:31, and gazed through its scope, surprised at what it saw it, it activated its audio enhancements and began to observe the humans.

* * *

Children sat around the fire, eyes wide, gazing at the colourful flames that rapidly flickered, rising and falling, dancing in front of them.

"Many generations ago, beyond even the days of my grandmother's grandmother, life was different." the elderly woman, a story-keeper of some kind, told them as she began chanting in a rhythmic way, she reached into her dusty, well-worn robes, pulling out some form of powder and throwing it into the fire, which then began shining in an azure light, a sharp contrast to the darkness surrounding them. "Back then, the people were as numerous as the sands of the Worlds sea, and they did not live in tents of Arlash skin. No, they lived in gleaming metal towers that rose above the very clouds in the sky!" another handful of powder, turning the flame a low, simmering emerald green. "But they were prideful," the story-keeper said in a hushed whispered, looking around at the fearful children. "They believed themselves above all of life, above even the Great Krylash Dragons of the eastern sun, or the Barazu of the northern fringes!” she throws another powder, this one turning the flame crimson and creating a blaze, "It was their pride that was their downfall." yet another powder, she turned the flame into a dark, sputtering violet. "Their chieftains fought with each other, each believing their tribe was the greatest, they fought many battles across vast stretches of water and green, fertile land. Then one day, the most prideful and foolish of al the tribes, the powerful Oos, created The Monster.”

The children huddled together, some hiding their faces inside their cloaks, the story-teller continued on, “They drug it of the dark depths that they brewed it in and chained it with chains of bronze and silver." The story-keeper reached once more into the pouch in her robes and pulled out a powder, throwing it into the fire, the flame roared and grew into a great crimson bonfire, startling even those children who had hidden their eyes. "they thought to turn it upon their enemies! One by one, the monster feasted on the tribes, until only the Oos remained! But the monster still hungered." She leaned forward, meeting the children's eyes one by one. "And then, it happened. The Monster tore at its chains! It snapped them as if they had never existed! And then it turned upon its creators, ripping them limb from limb, it smashed their metal towers with spears of fire that rained down from the sky! And it brought the Oos low." Several of the children cried out in fear, trembling, as the old woman gestured animatedly, but then she quieted. "We are one of the few tribes that remain in the wake of The Monster's rampage, and though the beast sleeps, this is the world we live in. And we still live in great shadow of The Monster, lurking somewhere in the remains of the great tribes’ great cities, hiding amongst the ruins of their metal towers." The story-keeper ended her history as the flames grew weak and begun to flicker before finally going out.

The chieftain shook his head from the shadows. It was important that the children knew their histories, but this was a bit much. He was going to have to talk to his mother about not scaring the children of the tribe just before they went to sleep. Their mothers would chew him out for this, he was sure. As he smiled to himself, a watchman ran towards him, quickly catching his attention.

"Chief, chief!" the young man panted as he got close.

"What is it?" the chieftain asked, concerned. "Was a dragon sighted!?"

"No, no. It's a, well, a man." the watchman said awkwardly.

"A man? From which tribe? And why has he come?"

"Well, I think you'll want to ask him yourself."

The watchman led him to the border of the tribe. The person who awaited them immediately caught his attention. He, or rather she, was fairly tall compared to the people of his tribe, and the stranger was thin, despite being covered head to toe in a dark, coarse fabric, with not an inch of flesh visible, and no insignia showing his tribe anywhere. She turned her head towards the chieftain as he approached and started slowly walking towards him. The stranger's gait was odd, strangely stiff. "Woah, stranger. What brings you to this tribe?" The chieftain was nervous. No one survived without a tribe. The lands were filled with death and danger. Subconsciously he began slowly reaching towards the primitive blade at his side.

"Why have I come?" the stranger said in a low monotone voice, talking as if she hadn't spoken in many years. "to atone.".