The buzz of an electric crackle echoed through the still-dark morning hours as Nova, Cybel, and Oxford watched from hidden vantage points a street away. Their target: the massive warehouse at the corner of Ashland and Chicago Avenue that contained the tools and robo-assembly equipment they needed for the next phase of the plan to take back Chicago. Stationed both in and outside the boxy industrial structure were armed and lethal SoldierBots. Disabling them in such a way that would avoid bringing the wrath of the city’s full SoldierBot forces down on them was going to be a challenge. Once inside, they would have only two hours to work on Nova.
Cybel’s sensors whirred as she scanned the facility. “Eight SoldierBots at the perimeter and two inside. No immediate reinforcements. Now’s our chance.”
Nova was alone with the two robots. Bringing her crew or any of Samantha’s would only have complicated things. Humans were sloppy, and she was the only one who needed to be there. She crouched behind a wall next to Cybel as Oxford’s hulking form remained hidden around an alley corner. “You sure this is going to work?”
“If it doesn’t,” Cybel said, “you’d better run.”
“How many can Oxford take down at once?”
“Five.” Cybel paused a few beats, and Nova wondered if she and Oxford were chatting in private over their internal feeds. “Let’s go.”
Oxford rounded the corner, sprinting toward the building. The two closest SoldierBots reacted, lifting their rifles, but Oxford was faster. He extended his massive arms at them. His fingertips split open, revealing an array of small, precise tools. With a flick of his wrist, he hurled a series of tiny, high-frequency emitter devices. Like a swarm of digital bees, they buzzed toward their targets, adhering to five of the SoldierBots. The air pulsed with energy, a silent subsonic hum spreading out in an invisible net.
On impact, the SoldierBots seized up. They stood frozen, momentarily paralyzed by the barrage of confusing signals. Five more to take down.
As three more SoldierBots scrambled toward Oxford, firing their automatic rifles, Cybel lunged out of the dark alley and emitted a feedback pulse that scrambled the SoldierBots’ comm signals, preventing them from alerting the central command about the attack. Nova braced herself against the alley wall, holding her breath, waiting to see if Cybel’s technology would hold up.
Oxford had to load up five more of the high-frequency scrambler devices into his left wrist.
“Come on!” Cybel shouted at him while ducking behind a trash dumpster as the SoldierBots unleashed a barrage of bullets at her and Oxford.
Oxford darted left and right, his massive Mech form evading the attacks with surprising agility. He closed the gap between himself and the SoldierBots, his steel fingers flicking out one after another of the small devices. With a satisfying hum, the devices adhered to their targets. The SoldierBots shuddered, and then fell to the ground, disabled.
“Two more inside.” Cybel followed as Oxford peeled up the warehouse’s metal loading doors like he was opening a can of sardines.
Nova ran past the frozen SoldierBots, her heart juddering. Oxford used his last two devices to take out the SoldierBot guards inside. The hail of gunfire ceased and was replaced by the sound of assembly machines humming with the task of churning out more war machines.
Cybel reached the controls for the assembly line. The machines were intricate and complex, an array of interconnected systems feeding into a central AI console. “I’ll need a few minutes to secure the—”
“What are you doing?” The central AI’s shrill voice emanated from the walls.
Cybel ignored it, extending her wired hand to interface with the assembly line controls.
“This is a violation of—” The AI’s voice cut off, and all the mechanical churn halted. The assembly line went dead.
“What’s happening?” Nova was certain Cybel and Oxford were messaging privately and leaving her in the dark.
“I shut down the AI,” Cybel said. “That’s the good news.”
Nova gulped down the lump in her throat. “And?”
“The bad news is the AI managed to send a comm,” Cybel said. “We have less time than we thought. My guess is an hour before a whole mess of angry SoldierBots arrive. Maybe less.”
“We were supposed to have two hours.” Nova gritted her teeth. What they were about to do to her wasn’t something that should be rushed through.
Outside, Oxford maintained his watch, alert for any sign of incoming threats. His systems interfaced with the miniature devices, keeping the SoldierBots in a state of helpless paralysis and unable to send comm alerts.
At the factory console, Cybel worked with precision and speed, bypassing security protocols and reprogramming the assembly line. Her robotic fingers danced over the interface, each tap and swipe a calculated command.
As the minutes ticked by, each second wedged another knot in Nova’s shoulders. She paced, sweating though it was only sixty degrees Fahrenheit. I still have time to back out. But then the assembly machines sprang to life under Cybel’s command. The din of their operation filled the warehouse.
Cybel stepped away from the console, her red visor beam pulsing as she watched Nova. The warehouse was theirs, the first phase of the mission a success. Their plan had moved one significant step forward, giving them a fighting chance against Mach X.
Cybel activated a row of assembly machines. Complex layers of alloy and metallic fabrics, specially designed to mold the exterior of the SoldierBots, were being meticulously crafted. Nova watched in silent awe mixed with a wave of dread. She was about to submit her body to an untested plan that might well be a suicide mission.
Cybel was a veteran of many battles, a machine built to learn and adapt. Her function as a TrackerBot had demanded a deep understanding of the SoldierBots, studying their movement, their design, and even their communication to anticipate their actions.
Nova dug her nails into her palms, steeling herself for the next phase. Cybel came to her, holding a small device that looked like a microchip connected to a slender needle.
“The implant.” Cybel said. “It’s a body controller and communications device. It’ll allow you to mimic the SoldierBots’ movements and communicate with them and with us. Do you trust me?”
Nova’s throat was dry, the sweat on her brow cold. She had no other choice than to trust the bot that had hunted her across the country years ago. “I suppose.” Her voice was shaky yet steadier than her legs. She sat on a steel bench.
Cybel injected the implant in the base of her neck, inside her spinal cord. The sting of the needle was short-lived, followed by a strange sensation as the device began to integrate with Nova’s neural pathways. It was like a veil lifting from her mind, allowing her a newfound perception of her body’s control.
Oxford’s booming voice echoed through the warehouse, “Time’s running out. A SoldierBot squadron is en route. Twenty minutes.”
Tension coiled like a python in the pit of Nova’s stomach as Cybel’s movements hastened. The assembly machines molded and assembled the robotic exoskeleton. Piece by piece, it started to take shape—an unimposing and perfectly crafted SoldierBot mold.
Nova sat still as the control device tickled and tapped her neural impulses. Every muscle contraction, every joint articulation, was being mapped and coded.
“Lay on your front.” After Nova was flat on the bench, Cybel guided the half-constructed suit to latch onto Nova’s back. The cold, metallic form clung to her body. Pinches like bee stings as the needle-sharp nanobot connections that Cybel had designed weaved the SoldierBot armor into her skin. She could feel the connection with every limb, every digit, the robotic exterior bending to fit her.
“Halfway there,” Cybel said.
From Oxford: “Twelve minutes.”
As the minutes flitted by, Nova cried without making a sound, accepting the SoldierBot suit’s takeover of her body. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be the same again. If she survived the battle that was coming.
After the last pieces covering her scalp, cheeks, and neck were attached, Nova stood, her movements stiffer and mechanized. Through her enhanced SoldierBot optics, she looked at Cybel. Automatic readouts flashed—temperature regulation, stamina levels, weapon systems status—all at her disposal.
Cybel offered a nod that was more acknowledgement than any display of warmth. “You’ll have to convince the other SoldierBots you’re one of them.”
Nova’s arms twitched, and she barely held back a scream. The pain from the nanobot integration was intense, a chorus of needles prickling her skin.
“All right,” Cybel said. “Let’s test your movements.”
Nova gulped, then took a step forward. The SoldierBot exoskeleton moved with her, each step matching her stride.
“Good,” Cybel’s voice was neutral. “Follow me.”
Nova trailed behind as Cybel led her through the warehouse, the SoldierBot suit whirring and clicking with each step.
“Now run,” Cybel ordered.
Nova thrust her legs forward, but like the dreams where she’d been trying to run but got stuck wading in molasses, she moved in super slow motion.
“We’re out of time.” Oxford stood in the doorway. “Drones are here.”
“She’s malfunctioning,” Cybel said. “Take her.”
Nova was trapped in a nightmare, her limbs unresponsive. The incessant buzzing of the drones grew louder. Oxford lifted her up, slinging her over his shoulder.
Cybel led them in a mad dash out of the warehouse as drones targeted them and unleashed sprays of bullets. Nova felt like she was being jostled around in a tin can as Oxford ran, his movements jerky and uneven as he dodged gunfire.
She was drowning, her body a mere vessel for the suit’s complex mechanisms. She tried to speak, but her vocal cords refused to cooperate, leaving her trapped in silence. Then she blacked out.
She came to in an empty room with Cybel and Oxford looking down at her. The ceiling had white and black tiles and patches of sunlight shone in from somewhere, revealing thick, dusty air.
“She’s up,” Cybel said. “Nova, can you hear me? Move something, anything, if you can hear me.”
Nova’s head was spinning. She realized she had no way of talking from inside the suit. She struggled to remember the instructions Cybel had given her about the vocal output box, but her memories were hazy. She flexed her fingers, feeling the metallic joints move and glide with precision.
“Good.” Cybel stepped back and nodded at Oxford.
He lifted Nova by the shoulders and set her down in a dusty and faded green chair. The SoldierBot exterior molded perfectly around her frame, but the inside was a different story. She tried to lift an arm, watching as the metallic limb jerked awkwardly before falling back to her side. She tried to stand, only to wobble and crash back into the chair. Her coordination was severely impaired, and the artificial appendages felt alien and cumbersome.
“What’s happening to me?” Nova’s words came out garbled and in electronic beats instead of actual speech.
Cybel said, “I know it’s difficult, but you must master this.”
“I’m trying.” But Nova’s grumble was nothing but a raspy echo through the SoldierBot’s vocal device.
“The more you try, the quicker your brain will adapt to controlling it.” Cybel moved closer, adjusting a few settings on the tablet she held—the machine’s control device—to better suit Nova’s body. “Get her on her feet.”
Oxford pulled Nova up. She managed to stay on her feet, albeit wobbly. She took an unsteady step, then another, each movement mechanical and alien. It was a small victory, but a victory, nonetheless.
As she moved, the surroundings opened around her. They were in what looked like it had been a restaurant. Tattered red and white checkered plastic tablecloths covered a few of the tables. Old posters of Italy decorated the cracked walls.
With every step, Nova’s movements grew more confident. She stumbled less, and her steps became more deliberate. As she navigated around the old tables and chairs, her determination won out.
“See, you’ve got this,” Cybel encouraged.
But the worry didn’t leave Nova’s mind. Time was their enemy, and at this rate, Nova was going to take weeks to master her new functionality.
With her nerves taut like over-strung wire, Nova continued her training. With Cybel’s continued coaching and tweaks, the awkwardness of the SoldierBot body faded. Hours passed, and as the sun set over Chicago’s west side, her movements grew more fluid, less forced. The interface between her brain and the exoskeletal armor was syncing in a way she hadn’t thought possible. Cybel had even solved for her awkward bodily functions like urinating by installing a built-in system that could process waste.
“I’m ready.” Nova’s voice came through clear and convincing through the comms device Cybel had implanted.
“You’ve adapted faster than anticipated,” Oxford said.
She had no choice. “It’s time.”
“Let’s defer until tomorrow morning,” Cybel said, turning away.
“No.” Nova had sacrificed everything for the mission. “I want to go now.”
Cybel and Oxford looked at each other. Nova could ascertain a digital chatter passing between them, though she couldn’t make out what they said. Finally, Cybel nodded and brought her in on their internal feed. Okay, Nova.
We’ll be here when you need to talk, Oxford said through the feed.
After testing her voice output one last time, Oxford and Cybel escorted Nova to a location near the Chicago Loop. The EMP device, concealed in a pack, was attached to Nova’s back.
This is as far as we go, Oxford messaged.
I like the talking without opening my mouth. What a relief, Nova messaged.
From Cybel: Be safe.
Nova trekked through two blocks of scattered debris before nearing a bridge checkpoint manned by SoldierBots. Deep inside her suit, her heart flip-flopped in her chest. She braced herself, calculating each step as she approached one of the SoldierBots, its cold, mechanized gaze scanning her.
“Identify and state your assignment,” it demanded, its tone void of emotion.
“SB-79. Package delivery to the command center in the Willis Tower.” Nova hoped the language she chose mimicked the spare style of the SoldierBots. Cybel and Oxford had coached her.
The SoldierBot scanned her. “Contents of the pack?”
“Replacement circuits for the neural network,” she lied, her voice steady despite the twisting anxiety crippling her stomach.
“Where’s your rifle?” The SoldierBot asked.
“It jammed.” She followed the story that Cybel had explained. “Had to leave it.”
The SoldierBot hesitated but before it could probe further, a large truck rumbled down the street, drawing its attention. The back of the truck was crammed with robots of all shapes and sizes. Two SoldierBots with rifles stood at the rear.
“Change of assignment, SB-79,” the SoldierBot said, its visor trained on the truck. “Assist with moving the junk units to the scrap house, then be on your way. Grab a rifle from the depot on the way.”
Her plan was veering off track, but she had to maintain her cover. “Acknowledged.” She hoped she sounded robotic enough.
Nova walked toward the truck with its captured robots and grabbed a handlebar as the transport headed to its destination. The detour to the “scrap house” was an unexpected twist in her plans. Located two blocks from the Willis Tower, it was an open yard filled with mountains of discarded metal and robot parts, a graveyard of sorts.
Nova hopped off and helped the two SoldierBots in the rear herd the captive bots past a gate and into a fenced-in yard. Her breath caught at the sight. Piles of dismantled robots, their metallic limbs and bodies grotesquely twisted, filled the area. Giant clawed machine hands operated by SoldierBots dug into the pile, harvesting scrap. Sparks flew as metallic bodies were ripped into pieces and used for spare parts or thrown into a massive furnace to be melted down.
Despite the armor shielding her, a cold shudder rippled through Nova. These were innocent robots, forcibly detained, their parts used to build and repair the very machines that were causing their demise. She realized the horrifying reality—these robots were slaves and resources for Mach X’s army.
Amid the din of tearing metal and grinding gears, a sense of urgency took hold. She had to act fast. The senseless carnage around her was a stark reminder of what was at stake.
With the Willis Tower looming a couple of streets over, Nova was closer to her goal, yet the path was paved with sudden obstacles. Yet so far, her cover as a SoldierBot was holding up.
A CleanerBot, identical to Block, caught Nova’s attention as it limped across the yard with its head down. Its pale chrome exterior was scuffed and grimy—a situation it must’ve hated.
The CleanerBot walked right by her, and she couldn’t help but stare at it. The CleanerBot slowed and hunched its shoulders. “Where will they take me?” The CleanerBot’s voice was small, feminine, and almost inaudible amid the hammering of the scrap house. “I can clean for you.”
Nova was sorry for the thing. It reminded her so much of Block, it was heartbreaking. Her voice, mechanized and authoritative, came from the SoldierBot’s vocal output. “Keep your head down. Do what you’re told.”
The CleanerBot seemed to take some comfort from this. It trailed after Nova, becoming a five-foot-six metallic shadow.
This was no good. She couldn’t risk the attention.
“Please,” the CleanerBot said. “I can scrub floors, polish your home, and keep you sparkl—”
Nova had no choice but to harden her tone. She whirled on the Block lookalike. “Back off.” She pushed the CleanerBot, and it fell back on its rear. Her strength was hard to control in the suit. But the bot got the message. It retreated, its camera eyes dimming.
It was only a scared, innocent robot. It could’ve been Block. She wished she could save the thing, but her mission was to get the EMP pack into the tower. She slipped away, walked a side street toward the tower, and made it without being stopped. As she turned the corner that led onto Wacker Drive, her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach. A detachment of SoldierBots were stationed outside the tower’s entrance. Her cover would be blown if she got too close. She activated her internal comms device. Cybel, you there? SoldierBot guards are outside the entrance. How do I get in?
There was a slight pause before Cybel responded. There’s a service entrance on Jackson. Let it scan your optics. I hacked it.
Roger that.
Nova jogged over to the service entrance and let the scanner image her visor. The door clicked open, and she slipped inside. She was alone in a narrow service corridor, and a wave of relief flooded her. She’d made it inside the tower with the device.
All she had to do was make her way up to the command room on the top floor of the tower. She couldn’t risk the elevators. It was a long climb, but it was nothing compared to everything else she’d endured up to this point. The backpack was heavy on her back, a constant reminder of the stakes.
She flashed back to the CleanerBot. It was probably being melted down. She wished she could’ve helped it. Her SoldierBot steel boots clunked as she climbed. She stopped on the third-floor landing. A horrifying realization sent a shockwave through her.
Hey, Cybel. How far out did you say the device will disrupt all bots?
Ten blocks. About a mile, Cybel said in Nova’s feed. Oxford and I are three miles away to be sure we aren’t impacted.
Right. Nova sighed inside the suit. Cybel had made sure it was temperature-controlled so she wouldn’t get overheated, but a cold sweat broke out. We have a slight problem.
The EMP wouldn’t differentiate between the SoldierBots and the prisoner robots like the CleanerBot. The same device that was supposed to bring Nova’s side a decisive victory could also sacrifice dozens of innocent bots, and who knew how many were inside the Scrap House.
She’d been ready to sacrifice her own life, but was she ready to sacrifice the lives of a bunch of robots who hadn’t hurt anyone? Robots like Block. The choice she had to make was becoming less clear, and whatever decision she made, it needed to be fast.