With Oracle helping us, we easily organized the safe movement of our camp and entry of our mechs. Sir Conrad was a bit annoyed to have been left on guard so long as we had our adventure, but was overjoyed after he learned that the med bay and its autodoc were not only able to provide him with some well-needed proper treatment, but also some fast-healing solutions as well.
According to the monotone of the autodoc, he’d be back to normal in just a few days using a regenerative medication called Restorall, whose slogan noted that it was ‘Making Sick Days a Thing of the Past’.
Elli and I were initially wary at first as we waited in the Command Center, watching the first of the mechs come through. But the powerful devices really were as simple as an on or off switch. The knights parked them next to the training mech out by the ancient flagpole at the front gates.A place I got to be very familiar with as I worked with Oracle to add the mechs to the base network.
The knights helped out as well as they could, helping me to install new identification transponders to their mechs, devices akin to the one I’d used on the training mech.
We finished just in time, as the heavy, thunderous weather returned, complete with driving winds and heavy rain. It severed all TUNI communications between us and CD, and I could just imagine the grumpy demeanor he would have when we were able to contact him again.
Pivoting from the finished task and awful weather, we spent the rest of our time alternating between relaxation and scouring the base for spare components and useful gadgets that could be used to fulfill the requirements of our quest ticket.
Our search was an easy one; the place was a full-on treasure trove of old-tech equipment, and we were assisted in its finding and collection by Oracle itself. The hardest part was choosing what was best for our first haul. From intricate mechanical parts to advanced electronics, the storage rooms had so many things that Elli and I could use in our upcoming endeavor, and so I worked with the knights there too, asking them questions about upgrades and items they’d like to have made for their own mechs.
Meanwhile, after our first shared night in one of the converted residences of the facility, a time spend in the softest sheets and blankets either of us had ever experienced, Elli went off to the holographic training simulator and, with the help of Oracle, began rolling through a series of simulation modules designed to teach her about all of the system functions of the base. She’d stay there all day, coming back to our shared chamber to gush about the capabilities of the place as well as the encouragement offered by the droid over her success.
She was especially pleased on our last night, when Oracle bestowed upon her the title of Systems Administrator, and informed her that back in the time of the ancients, she would have gone by the vaunted title of IT Girl.
The food devices of the mess hall were a disappointment, all of them dominated by burnt out parts and clanky maintenance. But once the salvaging work was done, I took my inherent mechanical know-how and examined the systems, finding that I could sacrifice some by taking out their good parts and using them to replace their broken counterparts in others. Using this method, I was able to surprise everyone on the last night, finally generating some Patriot Pasta for everyone to enjoy.
It was a strange and messy meal, gloppy white sauce over sticky noodles with a miniature flag like the one we’d seen at the entrance plopped into the center of each plate. But its exoticism put us all in a cheery mood, and everyone was smiling when the meal was done.
On that final morning, as the storm finally abated outside, each of us went to the medical bay and gave the autodoc samples, a process that involved inserting a short hollow tube into our buttocks and stealing some flesh to test while we were away. It was a briefly painful procedure, but the promise of tremendously enhanced physical and mental abilities were well worth it.
With the sky overcast, but rainless, we moved everything outside and loaded up the mechs. I double-checked the transponders, making sure they were active before we left in order to stay safe from the barrage of the facility's turrets.
As we finished securing the mechs and preparing for our departure, a familiar buzz in my ear signaled the return of TUNI communication. CD's voice, sharp and slightly distorted, cut through the background noise of our activities.
“Alaric! Elli! Finally, you're back on the grid,” CD exclaimed, a mix of relief and irritation evident in his tone. “What happened? I've been trying to reach you for days. Do you have any idea how annoying it is to be left in the dark like that? Wait, were you two doing the dirty and just shut me out?”
I glanced at Elli, who rolled her eyes with a small smirk, before responding.
“I think the storm messed up TUNI somehow, CD. We were completely cut off. No need to panic.”
CD's voice bristled with agitation.
“Panic? Who said anything about panicking? It's just . . . inconvenient, that's all.” There was a brief pause, then he continued, his tone more serious. “I was worried that apes might go back to live in the jungle without my constant supervision. But that's not the main issue. You need to be aware of a developing situation.”
I straightened, one last pack in my hands awaiting transport into Alain’s Cataphract.
“What situation?”
“The creatures you've encountered—those creatures the dumb humans seemed to think were Torans—I spotted them gathering around the facility. Skulking in the ruins, watching your every move. Given their primitive, obviously non-Toran state, I expect they believe they have you under siege.”
Elli frowned, her brow furrowing.
“Are you saying that the Torans will attack us if we leave?”
“Not Torans, but, yes, that's exactly what I'm saying,” CD confirmed. “They are numerous and persistent. No doubt they see my facility as a treasure trove, and they might not understand—or care—that it's protected. To them, you're just intruders who have stumbled upon my territory.”
I shook my head.
“CD, I think they are Torans, and given what we’ve learned in the facility, I don’t think they are trying to take our facility. In fact,” I said, letting myself trail off. “Sir Alain!” I called up, prompting the knight to poke his head out from the cockpit.
“Yeah?”
“I caught sight of some of the Torans running into position just beyond turret range.”
“We shred them. Not a problem.”
I shook my head.
“Given what we know of them now, I think they might be here to talk. They didn’t attack us before when we went to get the training mech. In fact, I think it might well be in our favor to talk to them. They made a deal with the knight commander of this place before he died; I wouldn’t be surprised if they are still bound to follow those rules, or at least recognize them. One of the things they whispered before was ‘compact broken’. Let’s see if we can’t fix it.”
Sir Alain looked out into the distance.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
“I don’t see them.”
“Trust me, they’re there.”
“And willing to talk,” Elli said, her voice adding to a new idea.
“Not Torans. NOT TORANS!” CD suddenly blared in our ears. “These creatures are savages. My people would never allow themselves to fall to such lows!”
Sir Alain nodded even as CD bellowed furiously in our mindspace.
“We have the upper hand. They cannot hurt us. If they approach to speak, we can parlay. I’ll let you two do the talking while the rest of us watch for dangers and stay attuned to the mechs. Now hurry up. It's time for us to head back.”
Alain’s head popped back into the mech, and I took the opportunity to answer CD’s tirade.
“CD, listen. You know how the humans were noble and now we’re all a bunch of shit-eating apes? I think, maybe, there are still Torans on the planet, and the same thing happened to them.”
“Never. They’d die first,” CD grumped.
“Really?” Elli asked, but the TUNI remained silent.
We took up the last of our things and got into the Cataphract, ready to roll out.
Alain and the others started up the mechs, the familiar hum of power thrumming through the Cataphract. We led the way, guiding the troop of Toxotais with us towards the exit. The identification transponders we'd installed beeped softly, sending out the codes Oracle had provided. The defensive turrets, now attuned to our signal, swiveled but did not engage, their ominous presence passive and even slightly comforting.
Though rain had subsided, the ground was still slick. Enough so that Alain kept the Cataphract moving at half-speed and with some caution. The air in the cockpit was dense and heavy, and Elli and I waited for our moment entirely blind to our environs, the attunement of the mech at the moment well out of sync with our minds.
So we waited, and we listened.
“There,” Oswald’s voice came, crackling through the comms. “Yep, there’s a lot of them. Seem to be breaking cover now. But not charging.”
“Let them follow us,” Alain said. “We’ll try out this parlay at the gates.”
“I see them!” Elli exclaimed, and moments later, so did I.
The attunement was foggy, but we could see them all the same, visible through the remnants of old base structures and thick underbrush. The Torans were shadowing us in a wide circle. Hundreds of them, the scales of their reptilian forms actually blending eerily with the landscape, keeping them hard to notice on the move. They kept their distance, neither approaching nor retreating.
“They're keeping a perimeter,” Sir Oswald noted, his tone calm but serious. “Smart. They know not to get too close.”
As we neared the gates, the group following us began to thicken. The closer we got, the clearer it became that these weren't just scattered bands. They were organized. At the entrance, a larger contingent waited, distinct from the rest. These Torans stood in rows, and from the way they held themselves, there was a palpable air of authority about them.
They were distinctly different from their companions, their attire setting them apart. Unlike the others, who wore simple, ragged scraps, these individuals were dressed in faded and tattered uniforms that hinted at a once-regal appearance. The fabric, now worn and frayed, was a deep, almost militaristic green, with patches of dirt and age covering much of the surface. The uniforms were adorned with remnants of what might have once been medals or insignias, small metallic discs and bars clinging precariously to the fabric.
It all looked like something the nobles might wear. The cuts of their clothing suggested a structured design, with high collars and sharp, angular shoulders that spoke of an era of strict formality and discipline. The sleeves were long, extending to their wrists, with cuffs that had once been neatly buttoned, now frayed and torn.
A few of them even wore sashes across their chests. The sashes displayed a strange similarity to the colors of this ancestral America we had found, their makers having chosen striped patterns of red, white, and blue to display their ranks or noble titles. The colors had obviously dulled over time, but I was surprised that this clothing even existed at all, and wondered if their presence here didn’t represent a thousand generations of pain-staking repair.
“Look at those uniforms,” I murmured, leaning closer to Elli. “They look like something us humans would wear.”
“Yeah,” Elli agreed. “I wouldn’t mind having one of those sashes,” she added wistfully.
Sir Alain slowed the Cataphract, the mech's tubes groaning softly as it came to a halt. The other mechs followed suit, forming a protective semi-circle. We were outnumbered, but the nigh-invicibilty of the mechs against the mob outside was proven, giving me no sense of worry or fear.
“Alright, this is it,” Sir Alain said, his voice steady. “Alaric, Elli, you know what to do. Parlay, see what they want. We’ll stay attuned in case of trouble.”
We broke attunement and collectively took a deep breath before heading for the hatch. Together, we popped out as one, facing the nobly attired delegation before us.
“The Compaaact,” some of the gathered crowd hissed. “The Prophecccccy!” others moaned. We stood atop the Cataphract, feeling suddenly very embarrassed at our apparent deification.
“Prophecy?” Elli asked.
“Isss thisss not the retuuurn?” one of the sashed leaders stepped forward, evidently either their ambassador, or their monarch. He hesitated as if suddenly unsure of what to do, and bent knee before us. “Foorgiiiive. It wassss sssooo long. We diiid not know.”
Elli and I shared awkward glances.
“Um, should we lean into the godhood thing?”
“I don’t think so. CD didn’t, yet I bet he could have had us worshiping him within a week if he had played it that way,” I replied.
I cleared my throat, deciding that it might be best to try and project authority as I addressed the Toran leader.
“The Compact,” I began, “What was it exactly? And what prophecy are you talking about?”
The Toran leader, still kneeling, looked up with wide, reverent eyes. His voice was rough, carrying a hiss with each word.
“The Compact wasss a pact made with the 'Mericansss,” he explained, his tone filled with a mixture of awe and respect. “They were the sssaviiorss of our people during the Times of Great Evil and Reckoning. In return for their protection, they gave usss thisss facility, but warned usss that their time wasss at an end.”
Another Toran stepped forward, bowing deeply before adding, “They foretold of a day when a new people, a chosssen people, would come. The Facility would open itssss doors to them, guided by the death angels of its walls.” He gestured towards the base, his clawed hand trembling slightly. “The trialsss of entrance would be overcome, and the New 'Mericans would be granted their holy lands.”
Elli glanced at me, her brow furrowed in confusion and curiosity.
“Are we the 'New 'Mericans'?” she asked, her voice soft but steady.
“Yesss, lords,” the leader replied. “The death angels and The Facility make this clear. It isss a great honor for usss to ssserve the lords of The Facility. The 'Mericans saved us from the dark times and gave us thissss place as our duty and sssacred misssssion. We are here to honor their guidance and protect the holy grounds. Come and let us anoint you.”
CD's voice suddenly cut into our TUNI connection, his tone dripping with disdain. “Disgusting. A slave race of utterly pathetic non-Torans. But . . . having them as servants could be useful.”
He fell silent again but I could somehow feel the disappointment even across our distance.
The Torans continued to bow, their postures humble and submissive. Sir Alain called up from below.
“If it’s a trap, they might try to use you as hostages. And if that happens, you’ll both die,” he warned.
“I don’t think they are baiting us,” Elli replied, speaking more quietly so that the Torans couldn’t overhear our conversation. “I expect that if we respect their beliefs here, they’ll stay friendly.”
“Alright, Elli. I’m game if you are,” I whispered, and then spoke aloud, addressing the Toran leader. “Just wait there. We'll come down.”
The Torans rose to their feet, murmuring amongst themselves, the hisses growing in volume as they expressed their approval. Elli and I climbed down from the Cataphract, the whole situation feeling surreal as our feet touched the ground. The Torans approached, their movements cautious but reverent. Two of them carried sashes, ones that none of them wore, and we saw that those bore the exact same symbology of stars and stripes as the flag we’d seen earlier.
The leader, his scales glinting in the dim light, took a sash and approached me. With a gesture that was clearly ceremonial, he draped it over my shoulders.
“We proclaim you, Sssaurus, King of the New 'Merican Pantheon,” he declared, his voice ringing with reverence. Another Toran did the same with Elli, announcing her as “Saura, Queen of the New 'Merican Pantheon.”
“As king of the Gharuk-Tala, I welcome you and your people to your lands. We pledge allegiance, and grieve for the loss of our initial misunderstanding. We will not make such a mistake on your return, Saurus.”
The Torans stepped back, bowing deeply once more, their eyes wide with awe and respect.
Elli glanced at me, her eyes blinking rapidly.
“Thank you,” she said. “We . . . accept this honor.”
The Torans began to chant softly, a rhythmic sound that wasn’t unlike the songs of the wildmen. They raised their arms, claws clicking against one another as they swayed back and forth like serpents, before dropping to their knees once again.
For a moment, there was silence, broken only by the soft hum of the mechs and the distant rustle of the wind. It was certainly a strange scene—two humans standing amidst a circle of Torans, newly crowned by them as king and queen, and marked as allies.
The church would no doubt love to hear all about it, I thought, imagining the horrific inquisition such a thing would bring upon us.
As the ceremony concluded, the Toran leader stepped forward once more, his voice low and respectful.
“Ssafe travels to your people, Saurus and Saura. We will continue the renewed Compact, and protect the base from all who are not New ‘Mericans. Go and be well. We pray for your ssafe return.”
“Thank you,” I replied. “And stay well, people of the Gharuk-Tala. We appreciate the renewal, and look forward to a time of friendship.”