The former Chicago El underground tunnels were a vault of forgotten years, repurposed now as Samantha’s haven. Graffiti covered the peeling, cracked walls. “Kill All Bots” replaced the sign that had once let tired commuters know they were on the Division Blue line. It was a good hideout for Samantha’s westside crew, protected from arial drone eyes and attacks. In the tunnel where Nova, Cybel, and Oxford followed Samantha, Nova passed crumbling piles of battered concrete—the SoldierBots struck at all times of the day and night. She ground her teeth and prayed that the rats kept clear of her. The sound of their tiny bodies as they ran through puddles would haunt her dreams. Of that, she was sure. She was less sure about her SoldierBot attack strategy. In fact, she didn’t have one yet. There’d been no time to plan one, so she’d have to wing it. She’d gotten this far—she had a seat at Samantha’s table—but she needed to seal the deal with a solid plan, and they were running out of time.
A rumble sounded, and the ground trembled. “Another hit.” Samantha kept walking. “A half mile away. The bombings are getting more frequent.”
“We must attack ASAP,” Cybel said.
“Agreed.” Nova stepped over an old train rail that had warped and jutted up from the ground. “Careful, there,” she said to the two robots trailing her.
They entered what was once the subway waiting area. Two rows of columns lined the platform. Samantha’s people had set up tables and workspaces both on the platform and down below in the defunct tracks. Scattered blueprints and ragged Chicago Transit Authority maps mingled with mismatched salvaged technology and blinking monitors. Once a place of transitory masses, the station now sheltered determined rebels.
Oxford and Cybel’s metallic forms reflected off the dim kerosene lamps and solar LEDs along the ground. A dozen or so westsiders hushed their voices and rapid keystrokes upon their entry. Wide eyes narrowed and hands flew to sidearms at the sight of robots.
“Take it easy. They’re on our side.” Samantha climbed a rickety metal ladder onto the platform, followed by her crew of four. Nova ascended and peered down at Cybel and Oxford. For the Mech, it was a simple step up from tracks to platform. He made it and pulled Cybel up after him.
Samantha nodded at the wary westsiders and headed toward a small group crouched over a tangle of wires and circuitry. She addressed her crew, raising her voice. “I know it’s a hard pill to swallow considering what they did to us.” She paused and made eye contact with a young woman with a buzz cut. “But Nova here has sworn on her life that Shane will get the justice he deserves.”
The young woman snorted. “I’ll believe it when we see it.”
Nova’s chest tightened. She’d come here to join forces and to make up for Shane’s betrayal. But it was clear she still had a long way to go before she could gain the trust of the rebels.
Samantha turned to Nova with a frown. “So, what’s the plan? We’re running out of time.”
Nova took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. Here’s to winging it. “There’s a plan, of course, but I need your help to make it work.”
Samantha raised an eyebrow. “What kind of help?”
“We need a distraction. Something big enough to draw the SoldierBots away from the Willis Tower so we can attack. The SoldierBots’ command center room is located there. It’s their nerve center.”
“Precisely,” Oxford said. “Mach X controls all of the SoldierBots and their forces from a neural network that he feeds into.”
Samantha crossed her arms over her chest. “What kind of distraction?”
Nova hesitated. She knew what she was about to suggest would be controversial. “We need to set off a bomb. Big enough to create a diversion. Something that will take out a chunk of the city and draw attention away from the Willis Tower.”
“Go on.” Samantha regarded her with a trace of a smirk.
“Then Oxford and Cybel come in.” Nova’s gaze flickered toward the robots, who remained near the platform’s edge. Their angular, high-tech forms were an odd counterpoint in the urban decay around them. “They’ve fought the SoldierBots, survived against them. Oxford was one of them.” Her voice echoed, rebounding off the graffitied walls. “We’ll use that experience, use them to disrupt Mach X’s network, their communication signals, and create chaos enough for a strike team to infiltrate.”
Samantha held her gaze steady, unmoved. “Every SoldierBot in the city will try to take out the Mech. It won’t get us past their defenses. This isn’t a plan at all.”
Nova’s throat tightened, but she stood her ground. “They have inside knowledge. They—”
Samantha interrupted. “We have a way. A permanent solution to our problems. We’ve been building an EMP that can take out the central control room, shut down every SoldierBot in the tower, and fry everything electrical within ten blocks or so.”
Nova had underestimated the westsiders. They were way ahead of her without the help of Oxford and Cybel. “How? I thought all EMP tech was searched out and destroyed.”
Samantha turned to one of the rebels and nodded, and they pushed a cart forward piled with bulky equipment, a spider’s web of cables and circuits embedded in heavy plates of plastic and steel. “We’ve been scavenging for months, building something that can fry the circuits and render their tech useless. It’ll fit inside a suitcase.”
Nova examined the device on the cart, impressed despite herself.
Cybel walked over. “May I look?” she asked Samantha who hesitated but then waved a hand as if to say, “have at it.” Cybel’s metallic fingers glided over the cables and circuits. After a moment, she looked up at Nova. “This will work as the woman says.”
“Damn right,” a woman with a buzz cut said.
Samantha crossed her arms. “Looks like we didn’t need your help after all.”
“It’s impressive,” Nova said. “Cybel, can you get it inside the tower?”
“No.” Oxford’s metallic voice echoed through the subterranean shelter. “Cybel’s not going anywhere near that thing once it’s inside the tower. It’ll fry not only the SoldierBots, but it would terminate me and Cybel.”
Silence fell as the implication sunk in. Nova’s heart pounded. Losing Cybel and Oxford was not an option. Block would never forgive her. There had to be a way in, something obvious they weren’t thinking of.
“We have one chance at this.” Samantha leaned over the device. “It has to get near the tower—”
“Not near the tower,” Oxford said. “It must be placed inside the command center on the top floor. The walls and floor on that level are fortified with an EMP-protective barrier. If you detonate this outside that room, you’d take out a lot of SoldierBots, but they’d be replaced within an hour.”
Samantha cursed.
“I’ll do it.” Nova’s throat was raw, but she was determined. “I’ll get it in there.”
“That’s a death wish. You’d be walking into the heart of their stronghold,” Samantha said. “And no offense, but you don’t look like one of them.” She glared at the robots.
They pondered in silence until Cybel broke it. “Nova, it would be extremely dangerous for you, but I might know a way you could get in undetected.”
Nova glanced at the TrackerBot, acknowledging her concern but remaining resolute. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take. I’ll do it myself. If anything goes wrong, I don’t want anyone else to pay for it.”
“Well, I never thought I’d see the day. I actually respect a northsider.” Samantha’s harsh gaze softened. “Alright, Nova. You know the risks. Who am I to stop you? We’ll be monitoring you. And if anything happens—”
“I know,” Nova interrupted. “I’ll get out as soon as the device is in place. But the big question is how do I get inside?”
Cybel and Oxford exchanged a glance which meant they’d been discussing matters privately in their internal feeds.
“Is there still a robot assembly line at Ashland and Chicago Ave?” Cybel asked.
“As far as we know,” Samantha said. “But it’s guarded by a heap of SoldierBots.”
“We need to secure it.” Cybel turned to Nova. “Our key to get inside the tower is there.”
The room buzzed with a heightened sense of urgency as Cybel described the details. Doubts and fears were heard and discussed, then replaced with resolve and grim determination. As the meeting adjourned, Samantha’s rebels dispersed, each to their respective tasks.
Left alone with Cybel and Oxford, Nova braced herself. The enormity of the plan rested mainly on her shoulders.
“Are you sure about this?” Cybel asked. “Your chances of survival are slim. Oxford and I’ve run the numbers.”
“Nova,” Oxford said. “If you do make it out of there, you won’t be the same—”
“I know.” Nova nodded, acknowledging the weight of it all. “I want to do this.”
The mission was set. The risks were high. But for the first time ever, Nova had hope she was about to make a difference in their war against Mach X.