Vexx
The cell was barely outfitted and felt almost sterile; with a faint hum, the electric generator supplied the steel bars with an electric current, and the walls pulsated from the energy field that kept the building protected.
The two frequencies did not match, creating a suffocating situation: being confined and knowing the building was under attack drove him to the edge of his mental fortitude.
Garrett had been relentless in his interrogation, his questions digging into his mind like the claws of a scavenger, hunting for every scrap of information he had.
But Vexx had no offer to quell his hunger.
The battle raging outside had provided a brief respite, but now, in the silence of confinement, Vexx could feel the weight of his situation pressing down.
He paced the small space he was given, his tail flicking with agitation.
The Myar knight's incursion had thrown everything into chaos, and the thought of the ancient machine's reaction filled him with dread.
The sound of heavy footsteps echoing through the cell block snapped him from his thoughts, and he turned to face the source of the noise, fully expecting to see Garrett come in and ask the impossible: how to contact the ancient machine.
Instead, there he was: the Myar knight.
His helmet, crafted to resemble a human face, displayed a predatory smile that sent chills down Vexx's spine.
The exaggerated grin was designed to remind one of the human's predatory nature, and it was very effective in putting one in his rank upon the food chain.
Vexx’s breath caught in his throat. He had heard tales of the Myar knights, but seeing one in person twice was a different matter entirely.
Before he could react, another figure appeared, one that sent all his instincts into flight mode: it was the ancient machine of the old empire.
It was armed and moved with deliberate precision, a mechanical body, a testament to the horrors the ancient empire was capable of creating.
Even if Vexx couldn’t identify how the thing was seen, he felt mechanical eyes locked onto him.
-Vexx- it intoned, the voice but an illusion of something else, something more alive. -Get ready, time’s almost up.-
Vexx swallowed hard, trying to make sense of the machine’s words. Was this the end?
He could try to grovel, try to plead, but what else did he have to offer?
But before that, what was the fate of Xyra?
As he thought about her, a familiar figure emerged from the shadows, dashing in a straight line to his cell; it was Xyra.
It was the pattern of a predator that had found prey and was on the last chase before being sated by the victim's meat.
Vexx’s heart leaped at the sight of her, but the joy was quickly tempered by shock. She moved too fast and with uncanny ease as if she had already seen the room.
The realization pounced on his mind like a lurking predator: she had been altered, transformed into something more than a Krynnak; her form was now partly mechanical.
Her eyes still held the warmth and love Vexx knew, but her body bore the marks of the same technology that had moved the dead that worked in his shop.
With a strength that defied belief, she ripped the cell door apart, the electricity leaving her unfazed as she tossed the door like it was made of simple wood rather than steel, and stepped through.
-Hey! I could’ve opened that!- protested Garrett’s voice from the back, distorted by a metallic tinge that suggested he was in his suit.
Vexx’s mind struggled to process what he was seeing, and what was happening around him. Was this Xyra, the one whose heart he hunted and caught, or was she something else now, something terrifying?
She reached him in an instant, her four arms wrapping around his body in a tight embrace.
Vexx could feel the coolness of the metal against his skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of her normal touch.
He could tell she was checking her strength too; if she touched him with anything near the strength she used on the door, she would turn him inside out.
Her voice, when she spoke, was soft and reassuring, like he remembered it to be, and she spoke their native tongue.
-Vexx- she whispered, her snout brushing against his ear. -I've come for you.-
He clung to her, a whirlwind of emotions and sensations clouding his mind. Relief, fear, love, and confusion all battled for dominance within his mind.
She was different, yet she was still the same; she was still Xyra.
How was it possible, when the creations of the old machine were all silent horrors that only managed to look like the creatures they once were?
She caressed his tail with her own, her touch sending a shiver down his spine as a clear signal manifested, a signal only they shared.
“We need to talk" the touch said, urgent to the point of being rushed. "There's so much you need to know but we have little time."
She led him to a corner of the cell, her movements fluid and graceful, and Vexx couldn't help but marvel at the transformation she had undergone.
"How… why?" Vexx began, caressing her back, but she silenced him with a hiss and claw pushing gently on his snout, a surprisingly human gesture she had never performed before.
"Later" she said in their secret code. "Right now, we need to leave. We're not safe here."
Vexx glanced over her shoulder, his eyes meeting the ancient machine’s inexpressive faceplate.
It was watching, it was listening, its mechanical mind undoubtedly calculating every possible outcome; yet it wasn’t acting.
"Xyra, what has it done to you?"
She smiled, a sad, knowing smile across her long, beautiful face, a soothing answer to his trembling touch.
"Nothing. I chose to be made stronger, Vexx. Strong enough to protect you, to be able to hunt for freedom for you, for everybody. I have so much to tell you, but you are the prize of this hunt and we can't stay here. We need to get out."
Vexx could only nod since his mind was still reeling trying to come up with possible scenarios to give himself an explanation that wasn't coming anytime soon.
Xyra was right; they needed to find a way out. Vexx looked into her eyes and couldn't shake the feeling that they were only at the beginning of a much larger hunt, one that would test their limits.
Xyra pulled back slightly, her eyes searching for him. -Do you trust me?- she asked, her voice filled with an intensity that sent a shiver down his spine.
How was he supposed to answer? Was she a machine? A mechanical replica of his former lover? Was she still the same?
-With my life.- Vexx could only reply, trying his best to keep his voice steady despite the turmoil within.
She smiled a fierce, determined smile that reminded Vexx of why he had fallen in love with her. Xyra's expression then hardened as her tail caressed his, conveying another piece of information that sent Vexx’s mind into the “what the heck” zone.
"What you believe to be an ancient machine is Master Chief Ethan 'Beam Us Up' Scott of the US Navy SEALs. He is an envoy of the Great Huntress, sent to guide us in the hunt for freedom."
The Great Hunter’s creed taught the importance of strategy, of knowing when to hunt in silence and not reveal information.
For that reason and the fact that Xyra had used their secret code to deliver that piece of information, Vexx barely managed not to start a screaming concert of questions and accusations.
- Now that the presentations are made, can we leave?- asked Ethan. -Things outside are stirring.-
-Well, you really don’t want to stop for tea, do you, Master Chief Scott? Not even with an old retired general?- an old voice resounded from the speakers in the room.
Virgil
Virgil's processes occupied hundreds of points across town, creating a network of action and carefully distributed information within the hundreds of bodies that composed the collective.
No node was to be too stressed, nor overexerted; each had to act accordingly and in a carefully calculated manner.
Each perspective offered a different angle on the unfolding events, and the collective’s data painted an increasingly complex picture as events unfolded.
In the depths of the maintenance corridors and sewers beneath the city, there was relative peace and Virgil was creating heaps of dead pirate bodies, meticulously organized for future use.
There were already 100 bodies neatly stacked, and Virgil calculated it could gather 100 more in the best of scenarios.
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
These would form the basis for a new wave of drones, expanding the reach and functions within the collective.
The calculated losses within the enemy were twice that figure; most were fleeing and unwilling to continue fighting at present, while a restricted group was steadfastly loyal.
In the climate room, new drones were coming online, but despite being able to use machines as a base for future drones, Virgil remained alone, so to speak.
The new entity awakening in the collective, whatever name Ethan would give to it, would be useful to handle more task-driven duties.
The processing power of the new platform was a welcome addition, something Virgil could use to boost its capability to store data, calculate, and comprehend.
Data storage and comprehension were what Virgil sorely lacked, for human behavior, especially Ethan's command, defied all logical analysis Virgil was capable of.
First of all: why were they allowed access within the fortified position held by humans?
True, Ethan had chosen a small complement, but still, it was allowing unknown armed elements whose objectives were not clear into your most vulnerable positions.
Then, according to all available data and predictive models, Ethan should have opened fire on Arther on sight.
Virgil wasn’t able to establish a communication channel with Arther, despite being able to convey a message, and thus classified him as a threat.
Arther was an unstable individual whose speech pattern revealed a detachment from objective reality, and he was heavily armed.
Ethan, however, despite heaps of processes of doubt, chose to engage Arther without immediate hostility.
This act of trust, without actual trust nor a basis to have it, was beyond Virgil's programming to fully comprehend.
Before Ethan entered the building and confronted Garrett and Arther, another puzzling event unfolded.
Tessa Eligah, prompted by Garrett, liberated the drone M-9f.
Virgil had not anticipated this move; it was a clear, plain, and simple error. Tessa's actions were not driven by data or logic but by something Virgil found impossible to define or quantify.
The drone was armed, and the lack of a direct interrogator was proof of the caution that such a variable required, yet when it was confirmed that Ethan’s forces were fighting the pirates, the drone was freed.
Ethan's and Tessa’s similar approach to the respective situations confounded Virgil.
A decision to trust, while maintaining readiness to attack, was a contradiction; in the world of pure logic and absolute black and white where Virgil operated, this duality could not exist.
The only possible conclusion was that humans, and by extension biological beings, operated on such dualities.
"Ethan = illogical."
Virgil recalled from its internal logs, one of the definitions for a variable that became part of an array of its initial assessments about the human construct .
Virgil questioned Ethan's strategy, and when a direct answer didn’t come, Virgil simply asked the construct directly; the response it received was equally baffling.
Ethan's actions were rooted in a blend of intuition and experience, factors that Virgil could not analyze nor quantify with precision, and certainly not emulate.
Now Claye was expecting Ethan to stay and listen, but Ethan’s orders were absolute, and after all, the battle, for how much they wished, was going on outside and Ethan was well aware of that. One thing was clear: statistical models were proving inadequate. Virgil's approach was flawed; it relied too heavily on logic and probability.
While it functioned to predict a shot from a rifle there were too many things that didn’t
Recognizing this limitation, Virgil concluded that a new approach was necessary.
Virgil decided to incorporate more qualitative data, and start gathering historical behavior patterns of individuals; that was what was called experience, wasn’t it?
This shift would not be easy, or quick, but it was essential for the continued success of the collective. Maybe even finally figure out what the collective’s purpose was.
Ethan
-Well, you really don’t want to stop for a tea, do you, Master Chief Scott? Not even with an old retired general?-
I sighed internally. Of course, I’d like to sit and have a peaceful chat with a general. It was an occasion I seldom had in my previous life.
Now, the general’s daughter was even coming my way with the drone I had planned to use as a communication bridge.
Formal events were mostly the occasions where a meeting with a general and his daughter could happen, and even then, it was rare to have a personal conversation.
Not unless one begged for trouble. And I was neck-deep into trouble, wasn't I?
I looked inward, back into the virtual world built by Virgil. All the screens on my table depicted the view of the drones involved in the battle.
City 29’s structure stretched into the dark heavens, its peak obscured by what I believe to be low-hanging clouds.
Distant walls impeded a view up to the horizon, creating an artificial starfield far too regular to be anything but windows lit; a truly titanic edifice in all its aspects.
Its streets, in certain places, felt more like large plazas. The buildings within shot farther into the sky than anything I had ever experienced.
It felt more like being at the bottom of a large canyon or a small and steep ravine, depending on the width of the passage between buildings.
From the streets, the scale of the structure was impossible to fully comprehend, but I could feel City 29’s undeniably overwhelming presence.
This made the underground layer where I resided feel all the more cramped and suffocating by comparison.
Even in its current dilapidated and damaged state, even if someone had built upon buildings, it remained a testament to the advanced civilization that once thrived there.
A monument to both their achievements and their downfall.
I tentatively left the comfort of my given body and let my perceptions extend to one of the drones outside to get a better feel of the battle.
Is it my impression, or is the ground shaking?
I was feeling a mechanical rumble in the distance. I mentally ordered Virgil to get a picture of what was coming our way leaving the alien feelings of another body I couldn’t control.
What Virgil could gather was neatly arranged in a 3D holographic moving picture on my desk the instant I returned. It was a weird sight to behold; a vehicle of some sort.
I remembered being on the deck of Big E during the terminal phases of Operation Iraqi Freedom, and the vehicle had to be as massive as that carrier.
The hull was covered by layers upon layers of grime, scorch marks, and dents that were probably battle scars.
Atop the vehicle, an array of weaponry was mounted. I recognized from Virgil’s knowledge twin plasma cannons flanking the front, their barrels ending in cracked and blackened tips.
Along the sides, smaller turrets housing what appeared to be energy-based gatling guns rotated sluggishly as they shot haphazardly and intermittently, sending sparks all around as if they were still operational but barely.
I glimpsed features of what might be missile pods, their hatches slightly ajar and showing empty slots where munitions were once housed.
It had a sleek, aerodynamic design hinting at its capability for flight, even if it moved on legs ending in broad, claw-like pads.
Along the bottom, several plates flickered and sparked intermittently. Virgil’s scans indicated that this vehicle could hover and glide with eerie smoothness when fully functional. The weapons and the vehicle, though advanced, had seen better days.
I frowned. Who wouldn’t?
I was the one inflicting casualties upon the enemy, but the enemy decided to play the same game with that thing moving and firing without regard for the people below.
I expected air and/or ground support and hoped to be in and out before they came, but plans rarely survive contact with the enemy. Time to adapt.
-Virgil, pull all units back from the main street. Move into buildings and smaller alleys. Find high ground to target the legs. Mark entry and exit routes to stay out of its line of fire.-
I returned to my body, hoping I hadn’t talked out loud. The general’s daughter had arrived, looking at us as if she wanted to dissect us.
I could overlook that; I was happy that she looked exactly like I expected a human being to look, not encased in a strange metallic and bulky thing. This meant the air was breathable for a human.
-I suppose I could indulge in tea after all if it is served on the way below. I don’t feel like this building will survive contact with the walker that’s coming our way.-