NOVEL NEXT WORLD Chapter 11: Second Contact.
September 2184, Bunker 00. Underground.
Jason and the SEAF worked in grim silence, packing their gear, and preparing to follow the beacon they gave to the drones. The tension hung heavy in the air, their breaths sharp and deliberate, as if the mere act of leaving the bunker might awaken something terrible.
Uzi, N, and V had made it back to the place they called home, but "home" was a word that had long since lost its warmth. The atmosphere was cold, and thick with the weight of survival. They brought news, though it brought no comfort—only uncertainty. The Steel Terror, a nightmare that had haunted their lives for so long, was seemingly dead. But now, the humans had returned. And if the humans were back, it meant nothing good.
Once inside the blast door, the three split up like they always did. V, ever the soldier, went to report to her superior. Uzi and N disappeared into the corridors, each with their burdens to carry. Uzi, an outcast even among her own, never truly belonged in this place. Her solace came in designing weapons—tools of destruction that somehow felt less alien than the eyes of her fellow drones.
V's footsteps echoed down the dimly lit hallway, shadows playing on the walls like ghosts. She came to a heavy steel door and opened it. Inside, Martin, a combat drone, and her superior sat behind his desk, the soft glow of monitors casting eerie reflections off his metallic frame. He didn't look up, still scanning through reports, always preparing for the worst.
"You're back earlier than expected. Something happened?" His voice was as cold as the metal around them.
"Sir… the humans have returned. The Steel Terror is no longer a threat—they took care of it."
That made him pause. Martin slowly lifted his head, yellow optics narrowing. "Humans? They took down the Steel Terror? How?"
"Our mission, as always, was to scavenge. But when we reached one of the remaining cities, we were cornered. Just when we thought it was over… they appeared. They engaged the Terror—ripped it apart. They even had a ship hit it from orbit."
Martin absorbed the information with an unsettling stillness. He looked at V as if searching her face for signs of deception. "Did you make first contact?"
V nodded, her optics reflecting the dim glow of the room. "Yes, sir. They gave us this."
She placed the beacon on his desk. Martian picked it up carefully, turning it over in his hand. His servos whirred softly. "A tracking beacon… is it transmitting?"
"I assume so, sir."
Martin's grip tightened on the device. Memories of the humans he once served with flickered in his mind—fond memories, tainted by betrayal. They had killed this world, left them to rot, along with the few humans who had survived the initial catastrophe. Destroying the beacon was an option, keeping them hidden. But their problems—deep, festering problems—would require more than the machines could manage alone.
"When can we expect them?"
"I don't know, sir. Last I saw, they were heading back into the city, probably to the comm hub. They mentioned they had their own mission."
Martin placed the beacon back on the desk, his optics glowing brighter for a moment. His thoughts were cold, calculating, and strategic. "I want you at the front when they arrive. Bring their leader to me immediately. Make sure the combat drones are on high alert. I don't trust them. They may have saved you, but for all we know, the Steel Terror was just in their way, and they needed you alive for information."
V nodded. "I agree, sir. N is more trusting, but Uzi… well, you know how she is."
Martin snorted. "N is naive. Uzi's a wildcard. Keep her away from the humans. The last thing we need is her causing trouble before they even get through the door."
Before V could respond, a hologram flickered to life in the center of the desk. It was one of the sentry drones, its yellow optics gleaming with alertness. "Sir, we have movement. Headlights—something approaching. We haven't sent anyone out recently, and V's team has already returned."
Martin's optics darkened. "It's them. Monitor their approach, but don't engage unless provoked. Make sure the guards know the drill. They're not to fire unless attacked, but we are to treat them as a threat until proven otherwise."
The sentry drone nodded and vanished.
"V, get to the entrance. If they come, bring their leader here immediately."
V saluted and quickly exited the office, her thoughts racing as she made her way to the surface.
Surface, Two Miles from Bunker 9. APC.
The APC rumbled through the frozen wasteland, each turn of its wheels seeming to churn the darkness of the snow-covered world into something more ominous. Jason, standing behind the driver, stared at the map on his wrist display. The beacon's signal grew stronger, a pulsing reminder that they were heading straight into the unknown.
"Command's never flipped orders this fast," one of the SEAF soldiers muttered, breaking the heavy silence in the vehicle.
"Yeah, it's like they knew something we didn't."
Jason didn't respond. He was focused on the map, but in his gut, he shared their unease. The mission had changed too quickly, too decisively. They were no longer searching for facilities or weapons caches. Now it was all about the drones.
"I get the feeling this is bigger than just some salvage op," another soldier said, lowering his voice.
"Damn right it is. Jason mentions those robots, and suddenly we're rerouted to make contact with them. It doesn't sit right."
Jason's jaw tightened. He kept his eyes forward, though the air in the APC felt heavier with every passing mile. They were close now, less than a mile away. The snowstorm outside made visibility nearly impossible.
"Turn off the lights, and switch to thermals," Jason ordered.
The driver complied, flipping a switch. The APC's interior lights dimmed, and the windshield's display shifted to a ghostly hue, outlining heat signatures in the snowy abyss.
"I've got movement," the driver said, pointing. "Small thermal signatures… right there."
Jason leaned in. Through the blur of the storm, he could see them—faint outlines, but unmistakable. Machines. Drones.
"Slow down," Jason said. "Everyone stay calm. No one does anything unless they make a hostile move. These are not just mindless automata."
There were murmurs of agreement, though unease hung thick in the cabin. Too many had fought killer machines to trust any of them, no matter how human they might look.
"We're nearing a checkpoint," the driver warned. "Looks like a wall ahead."
As the APC rolled to a stop in front of the makeshift barricade, the headlights flickered back on, illuminating the crude defenses. Dozens of glowing eyes stared back at them from the shadows—drones, watching, waiting.
"That's just… wrong," one of the soldiers muttered. "Creepy as hell."
Jason disarmed himself, laying his weapons down before approaching the hatch. "Stay inside," he said to the crew. "No weapons. Let me handle this."
The hatch opened with a hiss, and Jason stepped out into the biting cold. The drones' eyes followed him, their glowing stares almost palpable in the freezing air. The blast door ahead began to grind open, and from the shadows, V emerged.
"So," she said, her yellow eyes fixed on him, "I knew you humans would show up sooner or later."
Jason nodded. "Orders are orders. I'm here to make contact, nothing more."
"Then follow me," V said, her voice mechanical but laced with something almost… curious. "My boss wants a word."
As Jason followed V through the snow, the drones' silent, unblinking gazes never left him. He could feel the weight of their collective eyes on him like a cold, invisible hand gripping his spine. Somewhere deep in his mind, the thought flickered: Did we really create them? And if we did… why did we stop?
Edited thanks to ELE73CH.Quote ReplyReport Edit