Steel Soldier, page 13
The words slammed into Nova. Whatever messed up things Mach X had been doing to Wally and the other kids was to make some kind of cyborg race?
“You want order and efficiency, but at what cost?” Nova asked. “Billions of humans dead, and how many millions of robots destroyed in senseless battle?”
“The cost is irrelevant. Mach X does not operate under human morality, or even the laws of robotics. He’s not constrained by the primitive failings of your kind.” Electra’s voice chilled Nova to the bone. “And neither am I.”
“We’re stronger than you think,” Nova said. “Humans won’t stand for this.” But the fire in her was fading. There was no reasoning with this machine. She was talking to a monster.
As Electra turned away, Nova knew what was coming next. Torture. Death. She braced for impact, waiting for the pain to come.
But instead, Electra paused and turned her back as a SoldierBot entered the room and spoke to her, but Nova couldn’t hear the exchange. She wanted to scream and break free. She’d failed not only Cybel, Oxford, and the Chicago human rebels by not detonating the EMP bomb, she’d never free the imprisoned robots outside. Her only comfort was that she hadn’t revealed anything about her crew’s location, or Samantha’s. But that could change if she broke under torture. The thought of what was to come was a leaden weight, a specter of dread coiling in her stomach.
Electra and the SoldierBot were deep in conversation. Something was off. She overhead a snippet as Electra said, “Try the reboot process again. If that doesn’t restore him and the network, then . . .” Nova couldn’t hear the rest as they walked toward the door, and the SoldierBot left.
Nova made the connection. Mach X wasn’t online. Perhaps he wasn’t functional at all if they were rebooting him. Block had said that he and Emery had critically damaged Mach X in New York. They might’ve destroyed him, but neither was sure.
Electra turned back, and Nova took a shot. “Your precious leader isn’t as invincible as you think. Why follow something so weak? Start something new. Something better.”
“I suppose it doesn’t matter since you’ll die soon. It’s true, Mach X was damaged. Your friends did it, so that much you knew. We’re rebuilding him, and we’re close.”
“You underestimate us.” Nova clung to her defiance. “Our resilience. We’ll keep fighting.”
Before the Mech could react, an emergency broadcast blared through hidden speakers in the walls. Hope surged in Nova. Maybe her crew was attacking, or Cybel and Oxford had changed course once her comms went offline, and they knew she’d been discovered.
Electra rattled off orders to the SoldierBots. Then she turned back to Nova. “I’ll deal with you soon. Lock her up with the rest.”
The SoldierBots released her cuffs, grabbed Nova, and dragged her from the chair. A swift, brutal punch to her jaw knocked her backward, and the world spun as they hauled her out of the room and down numerous sets of stairs. They shoved her into the prison yard where she thudded against the ground.
As a heavy iron door clanged shut behind her, she lay sprawled on the hard ground, pain radiating from the top of her head down her spine. She was exposed. Vulnerable. Around her, the prisoner robots watched in silent judgment, their metallic bodies forming a stark circle.
But then a solitary figure detached itself, drawing closer. The CleanerBot she’d yelled at before. It bent down and helped her sit up. She was alive for the time being. Nova allowed herself a small, weary smile, grateful for the unexpected ally amid the fast-approaching danger.
Chapter 19
Not like the others
The steel table underneath Shadow was rigid and cool, much different than the soft soil and plush grass she’d gotten used to lounging on when she recharged her solar cells. Inside the barn, her damaged ribcage directed all remaining power toward internal repairs. Dappled light seeped through cracks in the barn’s roof, casting tiny spotlights of illumination upon her mangled metallic limbs. Metal bulges and panels protruded from her abdomen, and red hydraulic fluid ran down her body in winding, crawling trails. Around her, the rebel bots stood in a loose circle, their optics fixed upon her. She’d tried to warn them. There wasn’t much time before Var and the pack would return.
Block the CleanerBot spoke. His words echoed in the dimness, each syllable filled with suspicion and uncertainty. “I don’t trust her. She’s programmed for violence.”
Dr. Emery said nothing. Worry pulled at her brows as she studied Shadow.
The AI they called Garnet was also there. It was no physical being, but its voice emanated from speakers, and its wires and sensors seemed to extend everywhere through the outbuilding. “We need more information. If her story is true, she could be valuable in defending against the Rovers. If not, she poses a significant threat.”
“I don’t need more information to know what she is.” Block paced the perimeter of their circle. “She’s a danger to us all, especially to the children.”
Shadow didn’t have the strength to argue. She couldn’t even hold her head up. Her body was missing patches of armor, and her front legs were twisted and disconnected at the hydraulic joints. Her energy reserves had fallen dangerously low. She was incapable of causing harm, even if she wanted to. Her broken form was a testament to her rebellion—to her refusal to comply with Var’s ruthless orders. She wanted to tell them, to convince them of her sincere intentions, but the energy required to communicate was too much.
Instead, she lay in silence, her flickering optics locked on the high, creaking rafters above. She was used to fear. On the occasions when she’d patrolled the New York encampment with the SoldierBots, the humans had cowered and fled. She was built as a weapon, a machine of destruction, and she couldn’t escape that, but she’d chosen to defy her programming, to stand against Var.
Even if these robots didn’t trust her, even if they saw her as a threat, she was content knowing she’d made the right choice. She couldn’t have hurt Dr. Emery, and killing all the bots on the farm didn’t seem right either. They were trying to help the children, after all.
Her auditory sensors caught the buzz of the CleanerBot and SoldierBot outside discussing strategies. She didn’t have the energy to make out their words. All she could do was lie there, listening to the quiet hum of her dying systems.
Her fate would be decided soon. She was alone and not worth much exiled from her pack, anyway. Even so, she clung on, her dimming optics focused on the thin pinholes of light from the roof. She might expire before the pack arrived. Maybe that was for the best.
Her internal systems struggled to reestablish equilibrium. The sun’s striations grew longer as the afternoon passed. Her own light dimmed with each passing minute, and the pain from her wounds echoed through her like electric currents, shooting sparks across her spine.
Dr. Emery’s came to her side. Alone. The woman knelt beside her, a small can of oil in her hands. The substance shimmered in the dim light. Shadow watched in silence as Emery administered the oil through her intake unit, hands tender and movements unhurried.
The oil flowed into Shadow, cool and soothing. It brought with it a fleeting moment of relief that lessened the bite of her damaged circuits. Emery’s green eyes softened behind her blue-framed glasses. She bore an expression Shadow didn’t understand.
“Do you remember in New York?” Shadow strained to talk, her vocalization failing. “You told me I was a good dog.”
Emery’s hands paused, her eyes widening. A tiny hint of a smile bloomed on her face. “I did, didn’t I? You were learning to fetch objects and solving mazes. You were eager to please and quick to learn.”
“And you patted my head.” The archived memory flared to life in Shadow’s processor. “Even though you didn’t have to.”
“You seemed to enjoy it. I thought it might help you understand how well you did.”
The connection Shadow had with Emery was a complex code of respect and trust that had been built over time. “I’ll help you, Doctor Emery.” Her CPU flickered with a renewed surge. “I won’t hurt you or the children.”
Emery opened her mouth to respond, but the heavy wooden barn door flew open and Block’s voice echoed. “Emery, please join us outside. It’s important.”
Emery cast a lingering look at Shadow. “I’ll be back.” She placed her hand on a fragment of torso that was intact, then headed out the door.
Shadow watched her go, then replayed memories of their time in New York. The early days of training had been pleasurable—when she’d sniffed for stuffed bears and rag dolls hidden throughout ever-increasing complex mazes. She didn’t have to hurt anyone, and back then, Var had been civil. She knew it went against her programming, but she didn’t like hurting people. The blood from the man in the forest had tasted bitter and acidic.
She wanted to be a good dog who fetched and helped keep Dr. Emery and the children safe, even if it meant she was separated from her Rover pack. Master had once warned her she would die without the bond of her dog family, but now she wondered if that was true.
As the quiet of the barn enveloped her, a faint sound reached Shadow’s audio sensors. The creak of a side door and the shuffle of feet against dirt signaled an arrival. She adjusted her visual sensors, focusing on the sliver of light seeping in through high oval windows. She had to twist her head, an act that provoked her sensors, but then she saw the little girl.
Wally tiptoed toward her, the curiosity in her wide eyes mirrored by the innocent tilt of her head. She reached up her small fingers and clutched the edge of the table where Shadow was strapped. Shadow stayed still, allowing Wally to approach at her own pace and not wanting to frighten the toddler.
Wally’s fingers brushed against Shadow’s metallic flank. Her touch was a spark amidst a canvas of inflexible steel and wires.
“Are you a nice doggie . . . or a bad doggie?” Wally’s voice was barely more than a whisper in the stillness of the barn.
Shadow’s sensors pulsed, processing the question. She’d pondered it herself countless times. It was a question rooted in the duality of her existence—a tool created for destruction yet driven by a desire to be useful.
“I want to be good, Wally.” Shadow’s modulator softened, which required a great deal of energy. “I made a mistake, but I want to correct it.”
Wally’s brow furrowed, confusion tugging her tiny eyebrows together. “Huh?”
“I didn’t run when I should have. I hurt your Daddy.”
Wally’s hand patted Shadow’s side gently. “S’okay. Daddy not hurt.” The girl stood on tiptoes but couldn’t keep it up more than a few seconds at a time. “Nice doggie.”
The oil might be taking effect—something caused Shadow’s optical field to brighten. More energy rippled through her processor and stretched into her circuits. “Thank you, Wally. I’ll try harder to be a nice dog.”
Wally giggled, her innocent face lighting up, and Shadow was ready to face whatever came next. For Wally, for Dr. Emery, for the rest of the children—she would fight, she would protect, and she would be the good dog they needed.
Wally wandered away from Shadow’s table, her attention captured by something. The child meandered toward the corner of the barn where a large clay stove supplied heat. The door to its front had been left open, and flames sputtered and crackled inside.
Wally didn’t see the danger, but Shadow did.
A low warning growl echoed in her vocal modulator, reverberating in the stillness of the barn. “Wally, stay away from there. Danger.”
But the girl was oblivious, her curiosity piqued by the flickering, dancing embers. She toddled closer, her small hand reaching out toward the oven door. Its opening was tall enough she could fall forward into it.
“Stove hot, Wally.” Shadow strained against her metal restraints. The child was beyond her reach, the warning words wasted in the empty barn.
Wally inched closer to the heat, her arms stretching out, her balance precarious. A surge of power sparked within Shadow’s circuitry. A growl tore from her as she flexed her limbs, the metal cables groaning under the strain. Her CPU whirred, codes cascaded through her systems, pinpointing the exact amount of force needed to break free. With a final, guttural roar, she lunged forward. The restraints gave way with a harsh snap.
She was on her feet in a fraction of a second. She crossed the floor with precision and speed despite her twisted front paws. She slid toward Wally just as the child was about to stumble into the scalding iron stove. With her muzzle, Shadow pushed her sideways, away from the sizzling heat.
Shadow rolled as she skidded to a stop, her hydraulics whining from the sudden exertion. Wally rested on her right leg, as she scanned the girl’s vitals. No signs of injury.
She’d managed to save the girl from a horrific ordeal.
Despite her critical damage, Shadow was capable of being a good dog. She would do everything in her power to keep these children safe, no matter the cost. Because that’s what good dogs did—they protected.
Wally let loose a shriek. Her small body heaved with sobs, tiny fists clenching and unclenching in distress.
Shadow’s circuits stuttered, and before she could speak a word of comfort, the barn door thundered open with a deafening crash. Block stormed in, his gun arm poised.
It was a bad look for Shadow. After breaking free from the restraints, she was standing over the distressed child. And not just any child—Block’s Wally.
“Release her, now!” Block shouted.
Shadow stepped aside, allowing Wally to scurry away, still whimpering, to Block. She sank her rear to the ground and lowered her ears in submission. “I was protecting her.”
Block aimed the gun barrel at Shadow. “Not logical. You broke out and attacked.”
“No. It’s not what it looks like.” Shadow computed possible defense maneuvers when a figure slipped in front of her. Emery. Her posture was rigid as she shielded Shadow from the CleanerBot’s line of fire.
“Block, lower the gun so we can hear Shadow out.” Emery raised her hands. They trembled. “She’s not like the others. She . . . she’s different.”
Shadow’s circuits hummed at Emery’s words, and a strange warmth spread through her system. It was an unexpected show of trust. For a moment, she allowed herself to believe in a possibility of peace—of finding allies among these outcasts.
At Block’s feet, Wally whimpered and thrust her thumb into her mouth. The medical HelperBot rushed in behind him and picked up Wally. “Spoon, check her for injuries,” Block said.
Spoon did as told. “She’s fine. Not a scratch on her.”
“See,” Emery said. “Shadow was helping Wally.”
“Block,” Garnet’s voice resonated throughout the barn, authoritative and calm amidst the escalating tension. “I analyzed the security camera footage. Shadow’s telling the truth. She saved Wally from stepping into the stove.”
Block lowered his weapon. He seemed to process the information and turned to Spoon. Smoothing back the girl’s hair, he asked, “What happened? Wally, did you go close to the fire?”
Wally popped her thumb from her mouth, scrunched her eyebrows, and sobbed.
“Wally, you can’t go near the stove or any fire. I’ve told you that many times. Why did you—”
Wally turned, twisting in Spoon’s arms, and pointed at Shadow. “Nice doggie.”
Block walked over to Shadow. Emery, who’d been standing guard in front of the Rover, let him pass.
Block looked down at Shadow. “Thank you for keeping Wally safe. I owe you everything.” He turned to Emery. “You were right.”
Shadow bowed her head. “It was my honor.”
She’d proven herself. The robot rebels were starting to trust her. And as the tension dissipated, Shadow’s sensors spiked with a series of alarms that lit up her internal feed display. She recognized the surge of information, the same electrical pulse she knew all too well. Her pack was close. Too close. The voltaic surge of their proximity was an ominous drumbeat in her circuits, a warning she couldn’t ignore.
“They’re coming,” Shadow said. “Var and the others are close.”
Block looked toward Emery, then back to Shadow. When he spoke, his voice resonated with a newfound resolve. “Then we prepare.”
Despite her overwhelming damage, Shadow discovered a sense of camaraderie, not with her pack, but with Dr. Emery and Block’s robots.
But there was no denying the unsettling truth—time was slipping from their grasp. With every passing second, the threat of Var and the pack loomed larger and nearer.
As the sun began its descent, splattering the sky in hues of red and gold, the barn was a hive of activity. Plans were hastily made. Under the dying light of the day, they prepared to face the darkness that was inching closer.
But one thing was certain—the inevitable clash was near. And Shadow hoped they would survive the attack.
Chapter 20
Let them come
The sinking sun stretched golden fingers across the farmstead, painting the sky in hues of fiery orange and scarlet. Block’s visual sensors swept over their sanctuary as the strain of the impending night amped up his threat indicator.
The farm, nestled between acres of prairie land, rolling hills, and overgrown woodlands, was more than a pit stop—it was their haven. As dusk crept closer, the weathered barn and the quaint farmhouse stood marred by the hastily constructed boards they’d pounded onto all the windows.
Block carried another pair of two-by-six boards from Fenn’s shed into the barn where Garnet’s invisible presence hummed. She was the bones of the compound, and her electrical lifeblood pulsed through every corner. The power she managed, drawn from sun-drenched solar panels and a wind turbine, made their existence possible.
Under threat, the night’s task was clear—bolster their defenses against the prowling Rovers and fortify their haven against the assault that was sure to come under the cover of darkness. Block’s goal was unwavering—safeguard the perimeter, protect their home, and above all, keep the children safe. He liked the odds better now that they had a Rover on their side. The robot had proven herself by saving Wally from the blazing stove, and that was all Block needed to know she was good inside.
