IMPERIAL CITADEL
TWO WEEKS AGO
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The nerve center of the Markabian Imperial Army was known as the Imperial Citadel. An armored metropolis composed of technological buildings and steel towers, some so high they touched the clouds; surveillance posts armed with laser cannons; elevated highways that meandered the city, and dozens of satellite dishes that looked up the sky, like gray sunflowers in search of the star. It had heliports and airports, plus an outer circuit of radio transmission and radar antennas, rows and rows of metal posts, larger than any other imperialist facility.
In the Imperial Citadel, there was no time of day when the movement wasn’t constant. Tanks roamed the streets carrying out their checkpoint rounds, military vehicles traveling over highway bridges, and squadrons of Grenadiers, clad in their armor suits, patrolling the area, flying with their Daedalus thrusters on their backs.
The headquarters, however, was not at the top of the tallest tower, but hidden a mile below the surface. As if they were the roots of a giant tree, the facility extended underground, spreading in endless hallways, which in turn interconnected with the underground tunnels of the other Citadel buildings. There was the command center of the Empire, the Assembly Hall, as they called it because its size and its staggered semicircular arrangement resembled those of a university auditorium.
That night, the tension in the Assembly Hall was almost palpable. Voices that overlapped each other, telephones, and alarms that kept ringing. Many long faces. Hundreds of operators worked in front of their respective consoles and monitors, reporting the chaos that the Bellatrix barracks were suffering, announcing medical reinforcements for those caring for the wounded, while high-ranking officers supervised them from the dais.
And at the front of the room, suspended in midair, holographic screens of all sizes were broadcasting the destruction caused by the old A60 android. There was no signal that was free from interference, though. The images ran with white noise, and the audio was so choppy that it was impossible to decipher what they were reporting. On some screens, one could see snippets of the Grenadier’s combat against the android in the large dome prior to the entrance of Level 5; on others, one could see the android entering a corridor; and in others, the image without audio of Commander Dubhe giving his report.
It had been a long time since the Imperialists had been the target of such a savage attack... And so humiliating. So much destruction at the hands of a single android. That was clear from seeing the faces of the three generals who were standing on the command balcony at the back of the Assembly Hall. The three of them were part of the Imperial Council, the Army’s high command, and the three of them were frozen, their arms behind them and their eyes fixed on the images of chaos.
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The First General, a thin man with a wrinkled face, approached the edge of the balcony and rested his gloved hands on the railing.
“Still can’t re-establish communication with Bellatrix?” he asked the officers operating their consoles on the lower level.
“Negative, sir. Their external antenna circuit continues to be jammed.”
“What about the Cyclops? His license plate code? Something?”
“A possible connection between the unidentified android and a case under investigation is suspected, but the transmission was cut off before Bellatrix could confirm it.”
“The Cyclops present here, in the Citadel?”
“They remain deactivated, sir. Do you want to—?”
“Let them continue like this until we know what caused the reaction of the unidentified android,” the General said and returned to take up his position with his other two comrades. “If the automatons here fell prey to a cyberattack and decided to attack us…”
“Do you think someone deliberately altered the Cyclops Directives?” asked the Second General.
The First General gave him a stern look. “It’s clear there’s more to the attack than just a glitch in its programming,” he said. “It’s no coincidence that an android would have such an arsenal built into it.”
“Who has enough technology to upgrade a Cyclops like that?”
The First General shook his head. “An enhanced Cyclops could defeat a battalion of soldiers, but enter a reinforced barracks, plus—” he said, shaking his head. “There must have been more than just a terrorist strategy here, and not by the Rowdy Ones. That Cyclops must have received some kind of extra help, something superhuman that allowed him to outwit the first line of defense.”
“Superhuman?” asked the Second General. “Are you suggesting that there may be Eddanians behind this attack?”
“Those are serious accusations,” The Third one entered the debate; his voice was convulsed, and his plump jowls quivered as he spoke. “Historically, the Eddanians have rejected our technology. And why would they use a Cyclops, of all things, for such a savage attack?”
“I don’t know, but we can’t wait for the report to find out if there was Tau radiation activity on Bellatrix. I want answers now.” The First General addressed the operators and ordered, “Analyze the electromagnetic spectra detected during the attack in the affected area and look for traces of quantum radiation.”
“Yes, sir.”
Turning to his two comrades, the First General sentenced, “In that place, there will be several nosebleeds that cannot be justified with a previous contusion. I assure you.”