“ARE YOU KIDD- I JUST-!”
The man snarled at the monitor, and pounded his fist onto the holographic keyboard with a heavy sigh. His eyes, red from staring at the blue lexicons that danced on screen. His fingers flew over the hard-light screen, his leg shaking up and down, with a mind of its own.
He sunk his teeth into the starfruit for a third bite, tearing off another piece, and spraying its juices on the floor; mindful not to get any on the projector, or the cybernetic skull he plugged into the computer.
An abandoned server room.
Apart from the spherical servers stacked on one another, the room was bare bones. The machines buzzing with life, beeping while different dim shades of green lit up the room, all thanks to him and his new friend, the skull on the desk. His small, robotic co-pilot whistled as it assisted him on the computer.
Where would he be if he didn’t have his personal cytomaton, L1-BAA?
Still, even after the feelings of hope shattering countless firewalls, they kept. On. Coming.
If hacking a secure network was all he had to do, his leg wouldn't have been approaching light-speed. He had mere minutes to crack the system before the real security arrived. Without B.A. or this backdoor into the Simulate database, this mission would’ve been as good as over.
Considering they were cybernetic beings, you’d assume they’d double down on their firewalls.
“The Contingency doesn’t pay me enough for this.” Movado said.
Getting on the planet was difficult enough. This mission had too many things: people, entire worlds, at stake.
“Sir. We’ve blown past the proxy, and dispatched the Servomen. Triangulation is 60 meters and closing, the animal behind this attack won’t be safe for much longer.”
The Simulate officer said, to his cybernetic superior.
“Excellent…we must counter this rising insurgency.”
Dropships undocked from their vertical resting place, hovering until their green engines rotated them into position. The craft darted like bullets past countless massive skyscrapers; their searchlights illuminating the environment, as they zoomed through stacks and stacks of windows. Movado saw the blinking dots on the sensor as they progressed towards him.
It’d be useless to try to hack them, there‘s not enough time.
The Simulate craft reached the abandoned region of the industrial district. It circled around for a landing zone, while the guards inside readied for deployment. Its bright headlights stuttered in movement, scanning the area. It hovered above the platform for a few moments, defying gravity, finally descending with a dull siren, over their target.
Movado heard the heavy clank of the craft touching ground.
Only a few more seconds to go.
The pyramid-shaped dropships unfolded, their sirens still blaring. The Simulates marched out in a uniform, single file. Their faceplates conveyed no sign of expression as the soldiers formed up ranks. A stark contrast to the citizens who were holding their ears to drown out the noise, driving most of them away from the scene.
The ones who stayed were eager to see who the Simulates were to choose for the next "public ceremony". Most of them wore long hoods, the cheapest the planet could offer.
The roar of the drone added to not only the sounds of Movado's pounding heart, as he hammered the hard-light screen, but also the public uproar outside.
The Servomen marched toward the door. From up above, they looked like a colony of ants, forming their columns to overwhelm, and utterly destroy any opposition.
It was now or never.
He clicked the key one last time with a resounding "Yes!!".
He stuffed his gear and stored the small, circular drive inside of his backpack. Movado snatched his copilot, L1-BAA, stuffing him inside as well, the little robot buzzing as it was crushed by the drive.
He winced and sucked his teeth at the notion of touching the skull again. Sure, it had let him bypass the first rounds of security, but it was oozing what Movado could only assume was the liquid the brain inside excreted. As the uproar outside calmed, he gripped the Simulate skull without any gloves as the ooze squirmed through his fingers, and pushed it back inside its case in the backpack.
Five rounds clicked as they were loaded into his weapon. The rest dropped to the floor with a dink, Movado’s hands drenched in sweat. A fiery red and orange glow began to saw at the door frame, and screeched as it sliced through the door, filling the room with sparks like a firecracker.
“That’s new.” Movado remarked, some of the sparks prickling his skin, tickling him.
He took a deep breath as he stared at his equipment, making sure everything was in the right place.
One mistake.
One fatal move.
Meant. Death.
The door plummeted to the ground. It scattered the pristine layer of dust and covered the old servers in even more. Its hinges; cinders. The shockwave, as it crashed onto the floor, sent shivers down his spine as dim light poured out through the frame.
“Freeze!”—They took aim at the back of his skull—“You have been identified by the Servomen as a terrorist! You are in violation of numerous la-”
Servomen this, Servomen that. The police always believe they’re better than everyone on this planet. It’s time for them to end, whether they like it or not.
Movado kicked his chair behind him, sending the guards to the ground with a metallic clunk. He flipped the table over for cover, grabbed his pack, and fired the explosive blue bolts at the guards. Their metallic bodies sparked after each blast, lighting up the room in bursts of yellow and green.
“Three, four”—Pschiew, Pschiew—“Five...”
He fired one last time, the gun still clicking in denial. Movado hoped for a magical sixth shot.
The realization of what he had to do hit him on the head, as he ducked for cover.
If he wouldn't do it now, his corpse wouldn’t have the chance to try it later.
The sergeant signaled to his drones, the robotic soldiers nodding in agreement. Their metal boots pounded the floor as they funneled in, trying to get as many guns on him as possible.
Movado clutched the grenade in his hand and gave it a kiss for good luck. He threw the grenade into the air, while he covered his eyes, bracing for impact.
The blast sent a navy blue shockwave that illuminated the dark room. The guards’ metal exoskeleton pulsated with blue electricity. They stumbled and fell over one another, stripped of their motor functions.
The pulsating green servers went dark once again, as the EMP’s bright flash dimmed down, until it was completely snuffed out.
"Damn. That was my only one..."
Movado’s black boots clanked on the metal floor as he darted to the window, jumping out, and landing on a balcony outside. He climbed the balcony fence, leaping to a nearby rooftop. His hands twitched and dripped with sweat, but he knew this enemy didn’t take breaks.
Now, instead of a claustrophobic room, he had the entire Simulate skyline to enjoy.
“HALT INTRUDER!” The Servomen commanded with a built-in megaphone.
Movado stopped right at the edge of the rooftop, he looked down for a split second, gazing at an abyss that went for miles.
He slowly turned around, and faced the police.
His ears picked up on the hum of speeders and the chatter of civilians all around. There were boxes and crates lying around, none were decent cover.
He peered behind him...
Slivers of blue sunlight shone through the cracks of the black-green skyscrapers. The baby-blue light shone on the windows, forging a gorgeous light show as it reflected back into Movado’s eyes. It reflected off of his sweaty temple and bronze eyes, leaving his mouth agape, and making him shed a tear. It reminded him of that fateful day, all that time ago...
As all the Servomen lowered their weapons, one took a defiant aim, squeezing the trigger with their metallic appendages.
The bolt made a crack like lightning as it pierced Movado’s shoulder. It launched his mind out of his trance and threw his body cascading down the rooftop.
Two more bolts broke the silence. The Simulate who shot Movado now whined with two scorched cavities. Left writhing on the floor.
“How dare you fire without my command?”
They wrinkled their artificial nose and narrowed their eyes.
“Malfunction is…inevitable.” Said the cybernetic sergeant.
As Movado cascaded down the rooftop, a final bolt fired by the sergeant silenced their inferior’s dreadful, deteriorating “Sirrr….”
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Wind rushed through Movado’s wavy, blonde hair, and glided down with him. He hoped the intel was right this time, and rummaged through his pockets to get the wire rider.
The burning wound was almost overwhelming.
He caught a thick, black powerline, stretching a hundred meters. Ahead, he spotted more megastructures than he’d ever seen. His body swung left and right, while he rode it all the way down, almost getting run over by a civilian speeder. The wire screeched as sparks rained down below. The classified info hung on his belt, swaying all the while.
If this thing fell, would anyone use it for the greater good?
The wire ended on a vertical wall up ahead. He swung his legs up and down, his long hair covering his face between swings.
One final time, he threw his body in an effort to gain more momentum, his feet, now at the same height as his head. He hit the wall feet first, and bent his knees.
But it wasn’t enough.
He landed on his shoulder, the spear of acute pain burrowed even deeper into his flesh.
He rested for a few moments, panting as he put his hands on his knees. Movado felt both B.A., and the classified intel, reminding him of why he was sent to complete this suicidal mission in the first place. He ran down the walkway, gripping his shoulder as he gritted his teeth. The surrounding people gave him weird looks, some of them even bringing their children closer, as he bolted past.
He bumped into a few people, each person drove the pain even deeper as he bumped into them. Reaching the rectangular landing pad, there were scattered crates and people huddling near fires. He saw someone messing with his ship, trying to pry open some paneling, but paid them no mind, as he only had one thought in his head.
He triggered the remote on his forearm, the ramp to his orange-colored ship began to lower. Once inside, he pounded the “raise” button. Throwing his pack onto the floor and going straight for the cockpit, strapping himself in with one arm. Movado winked at the iris scanner, trying to hold his eyes open long enough to ignite his ship. The engines of The Bruvah shined with a bright blue, as it roared to life.
“Iris accepted. Welcome, Movado,” said the onboard computer.
He slapped himself on the head, and unbuckled the seatbelt, running to where he threw his pack, and rummaged for his miniature co-pilot. Movado gave an exasperated smile to his companion as he went back to the cockpit, and placed B.A.’s tiny frame into his larger body, already sitting in the other seat. B.A. slid perfectly into its socket, as it took control of its bigger version, looking just like a spherical mech.
The underside engines blasted dust and wind all around as it hovered, half a meter off of the ground. The crowd on the landing pad dispersed at the sudden, blinding light, retreating into dark alleyways that were too many to count. The rear engines ignited, and soon he was finally flying again. His cytomaton co-pilot on the second chair twitched its spider-like appendages, before closing them, making his body perfectly spherical.
Movado poked B.A., trying to get him back online.
“Dammit! I need you now B.A.!” Movado said, as he traded glances with both the landscape outside the viewport, and his still glitching co-pilot.
It shuddered and whined, but to no avail.
Movado would have to pilot the ship himself.
He shot for the upper quadrants of the massive, black-green ecumenopolis. His piloting skills let him flee from thicker situations, but he doubted he could escape the intricate maze of the planet Duskrabar. Lest with one arm.
The Servomen dispatched a pair of fighters to incapacitate him. Their dark green engines fired, as they began the chase. Movado could see the two ships on his sensor readout.
Just what he needed.
He banked a hard right past a tall, trapezoid skyscraper.
Left, up, left, right.
He weaved through the enormous constructs and dodged hostile fire. The Simulates did not want to damage their perfect infrastructure, and fired their beams in scarce succession.
Movado used this to his advantage, and stuck close to the buildings. He grazed the walls and windows, some of them shattering from the sheer power of the engines. The baby-blue Sunlight enveloped his fighter as he flew higher and higher.
The fighters were still hot on his tail, firing their cannons every few moments.
He couldn’t let his guard down.
He approached the last levels of the emerald planet, all the while gritting his teeth, and crushing the steering wheel with his palms.
He kept glancing at B.A, who’s head only twitched, hoping for some miracle to happen.
“Sirr. The criminals' chances of escape are now…extreme,”—The Servomen spoke, in the same monotone modulator—“What are your orders?”
The superior first grimaced. Even the thought of inefficiency left a vile taste in their gustatory receptors. Bending slightly to look at the data readout on the monitor, they searched their data banks for the most viable answer in this time of crisis.
“Deploy the IT missiles. Shut the level doors, and continue to subdue. Do not allow him to escape!”
The police affirmed this course of action and fired their deadly seekers.
“Damn! Just like the chase back on Jiitro—all the valleys and mountains—ain’t it B.A.?”
The adrenaline made him smirk and sweat as he clutched the wheel with dear life. He was fast approaching the last levels of the planet.
The small, spherical cytomaton responded with stuttered beeps and low clicks. It seemed the EMP was finally wearing off.
His face soon turned from adrenaline-rushed, to utter disbelief when he faced the level bulkhead, shut tight by almost a meter of thick steel. Movado’s mind wandered for a few seconds, until a lightbulb shone on his head, as he smirked with a new, crazy plan in mind.
He made a sharp right away from the last bulkhead, and tried to lose now two squadrons of fighters.
He tried to shake the missiles off his tail by weaving through the jagged skyline, but they were stuck to him like Ymat flies to honey.
“Hey, finally!”—Movado saw B.A.’s optics light up, as it made high-pitched beeps—“Can you man the turret and blow those things out of the sky?”
B.A., with his high-pitched beeps, rolled off the second piloting seat. Rolling down the tiny corridor, he found the socket in the gunner chair and plugged in.
The turret whirred to life, aiming at the missiles right behind them.
“Wait!”—Movado yelled over the intercom—“Be careful with the civilian buildings!”
B.A. affirmed with a hostile whistle, while Movado banked the ship past a thick, triangular skyscraper, it looked like it had at least a hundred floors.
Before the spherical cytomaton could fire a single shot, Movado went on the intercom once more.
“But, y’know, be accurate. They’re missiles after all! I’d prefer some collateral damage over this information not making it to The Contingency.”
B.A. exploded with a flurry of beeps and whistles on the speaker, as steam rose out of the exhaust on his side.
The Bruvah could take its own share of hits, but not a barrage of concentrated fire. Enemy bolts hammered the ship, stripping the paneling off the left wing as Movado braced the controls for impact.
“Agh! You’re a smart robot, figure it out!” Said Movado, wincing as hard-turns and absolutely ballistic flying soon followed, knocking anything that wasn’t nailed down on the floor with a clank.
A Simulate ship crashed into a walkway, sending an explosion and shockwaves through the area while the bridge collapsed into the abyss down below.
“Was that you B.A.??”
The robotic co-pilot had enough on its plate and kept silent. Tracking the ships as The Bruvah dived and rose through the megastructures, beams of blue light shot from the turret.
Every miss was collateral.
A shattered window, a fallen bridge, an obliterated apartment.
Movado had to choose between the destruction of possible homes, and the destruction of possible worlds.
His co-pilot whistled a melodic tune. Firing a trio of bolts, two of which hit the missiles head-on, turning them into fireworks.
The third crashed into the side of a spire, raining debris and glass down below.
“WOO! Great shooting, I knew you had it in ya!” But in reality, Movado cringed, as he flew away from the damage, abandoning the problems they’re creating.
Staring at the data reports and sensor, the Simulate supervisor became infuriated with each passing second, finally pounding his fist onto the control monitor.
“THIS IS ENOUGH. Fire all the missiles- RAM IT IF YOU HAVE TO! I want that pilot DEAD!” The supervisor walked away from the devastated monitor, as well as the cowering engineer.
Both Simulate squadrons fired their seekers, leaving a thick, blue trail of exhaust behind them as they locked on to The Bruvah, Movado’s ship.
His eyes bulged as he glanced at the sensor readout, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Eight pulsating markers, slowly came into range.
“B.A., I’ve got a new job for you!”
With only a pair of flares, how could he evade eight missiles?
Movado clocked the ship into overdrive, he knew what he was doing. It was future-him’s problem to worry about the damaging effects of the overdrive on his ship.
What mattered was now.
The Bruvah zoomed past the missiles and the tailing hostiles, his eyes gazed at all of the shut bulkheads above him, each closing off his escape.
The missiles weren’t far behind. Movado had only seconds to think up a plan, foolishly wasting the only wildcard he had. Still overclocked, he tried grabbing the attention of the enemy once again, making a sharp left.
The Simulates saw him straight ahead and the chase began anew.
“Alright, Okay…”—Hyperventilating, one thing sprouted in his mind. And it could work—“I have an idea B.A., there’s no reward without risk, right?” He smirked for only a moment before reverting back to a stern, cold look.
His cytomaton co-pilot replied in another set of explosive beeps that seemed to suggest denial. B.A. shot another fighter down, sending it crashing into a greyish structure, and skidding into another skyscraper.
Realizing it could be his last words, Movado cracked his neck, and lifted his wounded shoulder into place, gritting his teeth all the while. The Bruvah took more fire, sending sparks flying after tearing off even more paneling.
Movado rose towards the nearest bulkhead; the 8 missiles, and two squadrons right behind him, B.A., practically yelling over the intercom.
“Well, here goes nothing!”
Meters from crashing into the bulkhead, he slammed the brakes and practically tore off the controls as he pulled the tightest roll he’s ever even attempted. His pack flew off the ground as it rolled around, it’s contents emptying all over the ship.
“Pop the smoke B.A.!”
A second after hitting the brakes, he pounded the shutoff switch, The Bruvah’s engines, which had been whistling with life moments earlier, had been completely silenced. Dense, grey smoke, filled the area around the ship, making it practically invisible.
In a mere instant, his cascade began, as he plunged straight down.
In his freefall, the missiles continued their course towards the bulkhead, unable to find the target. One by one, all 8 seekers hammered the bulkhead until it finally burst. A trio of fighters, blinded by the smoke, crashed into the jagged edge of the meter-thick, steel door.
The last two fighters veered off course at the sight of the rubble, but were ultimately crushed by raining debris, collapsing an entire small complex to the ground in the process.
“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon…”—He pressed every single button trying to reactivate his ship, as he plunged into the complexes below—“You haven’t failed me yet Bruvah!”
Freefalling into a narrow street, Movado pounded as many buttons as he could at once, finally powering it on. He rotated his ship to fit between the minuscule wedge of the buildings, almost crashing cockpit-first into several walkways. Resuming his rising course, B.A. made a long whistle that sounded like a “Whew...”
Flying through the now obliterated bulkhead, he burst into excitement while his fists flew into the air. He cracked the biggest smile since…well, forever.
“Hah! I told you I could do it Vroneca!”
He finally flew past the massive pylons that dotted the planet, leaving the green-black ecumenopolis behind him.
“We’re finally going h-hom…” He trailed off, witnessing a pair of enormous cruisers appearing out of thin air right on top of him.
Two massive Simulate vessels exited out of Hyper-Ception. Even though this high there was virtually no atmosphere, he could still feel the boom as they appeared out of thin air. Piece by piece, they were recreated almost instantaneously, as if on a construction time-lapse.
He grabbed the controls once more, now with the help of B.A., he flew up the stern of the enormous vessel, in hopes of outmaneuvering it.
It was now him who’d have to deal with the problem of a damaged engine, however.
It sputtered and fired it’s last thrusters, as those too, died out, leaving him helpless with no propulsion.
The Byboroc cruisers activated their triple-rayed tractor beams on The Bruvah. And brung the measly fighter to a screeching halt.
“No! Dammit!”—He pounded the dashboard—“Why do I always have to celebrate so early….”