By David C. Daoust
Vincent had to come to grips with his latest limitations. He no longer had the strength of a two ton Mining bot, nor did he tower over all those around him. He was now trapped within the petite form of a tiny little girl named Margo.
His days on the other side of the shining white light were different than all the rest. He’d been taken by the Wraiths when they raided that Consortium ship. He tried to hide. More than that, he tried to hide Major, who was knocked unconscious before the rest had fallen victim to the all engulfing light. In fact, it was this attempt to hide the mistreated soldier that got him captured to begin with. The soldier, too, was dragged off the ship with the rest.
The Wraiths didn’t hold Vincent long. He’d slipped free before they knew it, but not until he’d been brought to the Red Faction’s Ship.
That was all so long ago now, before their leader emerged from the darkness. Before she broke the siege and forced the Wraiths back- before she gained a toehold on the darkened city-station.
They rallied around her- she organized and united them– Gave them purpose.
A small army marched from the Red Faction’s hold. Taking much of the city, barricading out all those that would oppose them. They quickly found the Wraiths were weaker here than they originally thought. The Wraiths no longer held the ability to phase through walls, as had been reported in the past, nor could they teleport from one spot to another. Why? They did not know. They did not know enough about the tech, their environment, nor how they did it to begin with.
All they knew was the information their new leader provided. The more of the city they took, the more locations they found that held those they lost.
One by one, they collected humans, freed them from their pods, and brought them back to their base within the city. Every day their army grew. Human and Bot -soldiers of the Consortium and the Red Faction- allied under one banner.
The Red Faction seemed to have an advantage, not only in that they were bots— but, and this still confused Vincent, their tech all ran on a ‘foreign’ programming language. This language was actually designed to hide the Reds doings, to free them from unwanted prying eyes of the Onion, but was now holding many of the Red Faction leaders, trapped in their Monoliths; Trapped by their own machinations.
They finally found a way to free them.
Ivan was one of the last to be found, it turned out they knew each other. It took a while for Vincent to remember the bot. Ivan was much darker than he’d remembered, though many of those freed, were distant and quiet. These bots gathered together, and set to work ensuring they never returned to that prison.
Vincent stood upon a great platform, it raised them from the rest of the city, gave them a view of all that splayed out before them. He was outside of their current HQ, surrounded by soldiers, waiting.
The ground began to shake.
Before Vincent’s eyes, the massive metal monster rose up from the lower corridors. Corridors made up of sewers and pipes. One leg, then the next, then all the others, so many legs working in unison, all to pull its haul from the darkest depths, Vincent watched as it teetered from the column its lower half currently gripped, before the front section of its form twisted and landed on the higher platform with a thud. The rest of its legs scurried as it dragged itself fully onto the platform- like a giant centipede.
Vincent nodded to the massive head, and its statuesque face, as the many metal tentacles writhed into view, a form was pressed forward, cradled within.
The soldier to Vincent’s right signaled to one of the guards posted behind them, though as the man turned to send word of ‘its’ return, their leader marched from the barracks ship.
Flowing dark hair trailed behind her, her chest armor and cloak was blue, yet red armor bound her arms. Their leader’s sudden appearance snapped all but Vincent to attention. The strong imperious presence suddenly folded as the woman caught sight of the form.
She rushed forward, just as the knot of tentacles, lowered the small form of Dakota Sun into Suzanne Otomo’s outstretched arms.
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