Her life, like so many that have come and gone down through the history of man, touched many. As equally, her passing touched a few even more.
One of them is Jonathan Power, the so called Captain leading the Soldiers Of The Future. And, right now, he's got a little more on his mind. Namely, dodging between two clicker units, having leapt in between them, and plunging his Power Lance home through one of the unit's chest plates. One of the main weaknesses of a robot is that it cannot deal with the unexpected, the irrational, as well or as fast as a human being. This gave Power enough time to round his pistol on the remaining target. His aim was a bit off, though, as he only managed to blow off the mech's weapon's arm.
"Damn!" the young man swore as he tossed out some Power Stars to try and finish the job. Not even a robot can be of much use with its head gone, exploded, blown clear off of its shoulders. Shards of its once intact metal head slammed into the metal plated back of a walking tank.
In fact, that was his name. Tank. Michael Ellis, actually. Lieutenant. "Michael Ellis: Tank. Of lieutenant, rank," as his friend, Matt would sometimes say. Matt always somehow managed to get in the last quip. As equally adept with a comeback was the Power Team's resident comedian, Scout, Robert Baker. They were being herded into a group of their own, separated from their leader. Logic dictated that would be the best course of action for the Dread mechs.
Logic rarely worked with human beings.
Tank, in his favorite move that was more for his own personal enjoyment rather than brilliant tactics or conservation of ammunition, swung the barrel of his massive cannon, mounted directly into the hip of his armor, and batted off the head of an advancing mech. Scout, just as every bit inventive, decided to try out his latest little mechanical marvel. He faked out a unit by moving one way, but intending all along to sneak between its legs. Now behind it while the robot was processing just what exactly had happened, why, and what the next logical course of movement was, Scout waved his hand in front of the robot's vision. "Yoo, hoo! Lover can!"
He held up a small device that resembled an old fashioned aerosol spray can to the back of the robot's head with his free hand. The machine turned around, and a bright flash of light erupted from the top of Scout's device.
Shaking violently, the robot decided, or rather was persuaded, on a new method of action. Mindlessly obeying, like a good machine, it turned to face the nearest clicker and advanced, arms out stretched. The target stopped, processing unit 0110-1110's odd behavior. Scout looked on, beaming at the imminent success of his latest toy. So much so, he failed to notice the clicker coming from his right. And, to add insult injury, the now reprogrammed robot suddenly turned from the target and bolted straight into a brick wall that was only partly standing. It continued to try and walk through the wall, regardless of the futility of such action. "Hmmmmm. Didn't expect that. But, anything that takes one more fighter out can't be all th-"
"ROB! OVER THERE!" came Matt Masterson's voice, muffled by a flight oxygen mask. Scout looked over to see the major pointing to his right. He turned to face the direction that Hawk was gesticulating wildly at just in time to duck a length of pipe being swung at him by an Overunit.
"Death to the ways of all flesh!" he shouted, brandishing his weapon over his head, readying for another strike. Scout easily dodged and grabbed the man by the midsection. Through his gloves, he released a small electrical charge, enough to stun the human, but not harm him.
After all, the Power Team was sworn to protect all life... regardless of the choices those lives made.
Scout looked up, satisfied that the quarry was down, at least for the moment. He turned to Hawk and gave him a thumbs up for thanks. A quick gesture, granted, but necessary as one of the strengths of robots is their numbers, their physically superior strengths, and endurance. He rushed off to try and help the Captain.
Hawk turned to go over to Tank, divide the targets and make them more difficult to obtain, turning the enemy's strategy against them. He stopped short, and turned back as the repeated banging of the reprogrammed mech finally irritated him to the most he could take. He turned and gazed at the trooper's irrationally futile behavior. "So much for the superiority of artificial intelligence to the real deal, eh?" The robot continued banging itself uselessly into the wall, totally oblivious to anything but what it was told to do. Hawk readied a missile into his wrist launcher. He took careful, satisfying aim at the robot. "Go away, Tin Grin... you bother me..."
Power looked up in the direction of the explosion, which brought his attention to the approaching Scout. "We've got to get out here!" the sergeant said, as another robot tried to grapple him to the dirt.
"Don't you think I know that?!" Power snapped harshly at him, no longer even looking at his teammate, but concentrating on destroying the robot he held in his grip. Nothing else mattered anymore. Nothing. Merely the destruction of everything that was the antithesis of he. Everything... and everyone... that had taken... her... His fist came smashing into the side of the robot's head, his right hook denting the metal plating slightly. "But, we can't risk being spotted!" SLAM! "Not that Dread now knows our teleportation frequencies-" SLAM! "-and can monitor where ever-" SMASH! "-we go with it! So, we've got to get to the Passages the old fashioned way!" CRASH! "And, destroy all those units we come into contact with!" ZZZZZZT! "WE CAN'T RISK DREAD FINDING THE PASSAGES!"
Scout stared on, momentarily distracted by his leader's sudden change in disposition. He knew why. But, he hoped it was only temporary... for everyone's sake... Because, for a brief moment, he doubted the intent of Jon's words. Granted, logically, Jon's reasons were sound. Land and destroy any enemy units found who could report on their position. But, some of the outposts they'd attacked, manned with one, two humans and less than 5 mechs... was it becoming more and more of a rationalization for Jon to let out his frustration, his loss? And, if so, would it soon end... because... it had to. It simply had to.
There's an old saying about how in order to beat your enemy, you must become your enemy. But, if you do, do you then trade one monster in for another? "For, when you stare into the Abyss, the Abyss stares back into you." Those words rang through Scout's mind as a painful blow to the chin brought him around to the seriousness of the fighting.
To beat your enemy, you must become your enemy...
"47-12, mark 31," were the simple words the projection began. But, there was something different about them since the last address made to His people. The last time was a rallying cry, filled with emotion, talks of glory and honor, to cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war. Most of that was gone, now. Replaced by a mechanical rasp. Which is appropriate since the man once known as Lyman Taggart no longer has a real voice.
For the first time, Lord Dread met his fellow believers in his new body. Last they had seen him, he was a cyborg. Now, he was totally a machine. Well, almost. The cerebral transfer was a success. A human mind living on in a gleaming, undying metalloid body. The will of the machine now in metal appearing, so to speak.
As his name suggested, Dread instilled such in all who viewed him. Dread in the form of subservient loyalty to those within the eye of the machine. Dread of terror in those who opposed the will. But, for the first time, both emotions rang through the gathered human Overunits as their messiah spoke.
"The day the humans mark as the end of the old year, as a new one is set to dawn." He paused for emphasis. "'And the machine was given unto Man-'" he resumed, rattling off his own rhetoric of anti-life. "And, on 47-12, mark 25... the will in flesh appeared as flesh was finally carved away into steel!" He held out his arms, as if embracing all those who thought like him. "Oh, come, let us ADORE him!"
Deep within the center of Volcania, Lord Dread's fortress and soon to be capital city of the steel empire, the Overmind watched. It had monitored the cerebral transfer, but had no control over it. Dread was not always as careless as his emotions let him on to be. Dread himself had supervised the design and construction of the devices necessary, thanks to the insights given him by Overmind when Lyman Taggart merged with the machine. Dread took Overmind out of the loop. If the process failed, then Lord Dread would die as Lyman Taggart had done, symbolically, equally by his own hands. Though he was, as he was in his cyborg body, free from Overmind's control, he was not free from its gaze.
And, the Overmind, rather paradoxically, almost questioned to itself, "This is my beloved son in whom I am well pleased?" Overmind shook off such processes and scheduled another routine maintenance of its memory banks. Sometimes, somehow, the human emotions seemed to leak out of the digitized people that was stored within it. Because, the process is a two way street: merge with the machine, and the machine merges with you. Overmind knew this had to be the reason behind such emotional questioning... or rather, that's what it told itself...
Regardless, Overmind was still worried about Dread... as it had been for a long time now... if Dread went too far in his megalomania, could not control his emotions...
That would be dealt with in due time... when most... logical, of course.
"For 3 days I lay dormant, as my mind was transferred into my new body," Dread lied. The process was near instantaneous. But, being the type of man he was, thirsting for power and immortality along with perfecting a blemished world, he couldn't resist the ideological symbolism. And, he chose to remain "deactivated" 3 days before rising again.
"During that time," the Lazarus Man continued. "Much has happened to shape the destiny of the machine, and the final salvation of the flesh from itself." Along side Dread, horrific images of humans who resisted were being mangled, cities destroyed, people digitized, and, lastly, culminating the final images transmitted by Blastaar. Of a broken and bleeding Jennifer Chase pressing home the fateful button. Cutting to, an outside camera's view of the New Order's greatest victory to date: the destruction of the Power Base and the breaking of Jonathan Power that must logically soon follow.
"We labored long and hard, brothers and sisters. The main two phases of New Order, the ones that were to secure man's designed placed along side perfection, mechanization, were slaughtered by Captain Power." He stressed the name with disdain. "But, now... we've passed through the long, dark night." A file image of Youth Leader Chase appeared. "All traitors and those who resist the inevitable will CRUSHED!"
In the audience of enthronged believers, one lone young lady stood. Holding her banner high, but it was shaking slightly. Shaking in fear. She stared blankly into the eyes of the image of that woman she'd met so recently... who had caused her to wonder. But, even staring into them, she couldn't shake it of... she didn't want to die. She knew better. That all of this was somehow wrong, hypocritical, blasphemous, whatever you want to call it. But, the will to live, sometimes even regardless of the conditions or costs, is very strong in human beings. Very strong, indeed.
Another female stood staring into that image. She remembered it well, too. Of how much promise Youth Leader Chase had shown. Before Sand Town. For, it was Overunit Willson, with Pilot watching on, who gave the order of cleansing after the judgment was passed down from on high. She looked at that familiar face, and felt a mixture of... emotions. While they were a sin, she did feel them, still, and they ran through her. An unusual dichotomy of expressions. First, she felt as many did, glee. That Jennifer Chase got what she and her kind deserved for trying to thwart the will of their beloved god. That a lasting, crushing, iconoclastic symbol had been carved out for all the world to beware of. Yet, something else lingered... loss.
Not for Jennifer Chase.
But, only for Youth Leader Chase... who had shown such promise at one time... but, now, got exactly what she deserved. If only she hadn't faltered so...
A file image of Blastaar along side that of one of Laccki materialized in Pilot's place. "And, those who gave of the most, their all, shall be remembered with honor!" Dread smiled, if such a term could be applied to a machine, inwardly at that one final slap to Laccki's face. Gone now, but the lingering stings of being spied upon, though he dared never confront Overmind with it, were still up there in his memory banks. However, and he couldn't quite satisfactorily explain it, either for "himself" or rationality, he felt something for Blastaar. A sense of almost personal loss...
"The proof that the divine will of the machine cannot be denied stands before you!" Dread uncharacteristically shrieked, standing fully erect. His eyes, now both bright red, started to radiate. "It stands out there, where the greatest bastion against us once stood, and is now incinerated, a pocketed hole in the barren earth! It is in the skies, as Power tries to flee with his rebel band to some place of sanctuary! But, for his kind there shall be... NONE!"
"NONE!" the assembled Overunits echoed, saluting their figure head with the trademark L arm motion across the chest. All assembled, that is, save for one.
"NO!" Dread reiterated, taking control back from his crowd. "For now the night has passed, and in the light of gleaming metal, ALL THAT IS INFERIOR IS EXPOSED TO ITS PURGING RAYS! THE DAWN OF A NEW, LONG DAY!"
Again, Dread almost smiled inwardly to himself. His part was complete, the speech over. Now, to leave the throng with encouraging embellishment. Leave them placated. After all, he had work to do. He had to venture down into his secret laboratory, for want of a better term. The second Adam had already been created through him; now, it was time to see if the same process, but this time with a digitized mind, could be done... for Eve. The irony of the chosen subject... that it would be her of all people... if only Captain Power could have known...
In another uncharacteristic display of emotion, the middle of the fourth movement of Beethoven's 9th Symphony, the Ode To Joy, burst forth from the loud speakers that had been intoning Dread's words mere moments before.
On cue...
"PRAISE BE TO THE WILL OF THE MACHINE!"
All said it.
All but one.
"GLORY TO LORD DREAD!"
All said it.
All.
Even that small, quivering female voice. "Glory to Lord Dread," Erin finally managed to get out, covering her fear up quite well. "I don't want to die..." she added under her breath, ashamed to admit it...
"Tell that to Jason," went through Power's mind, but he remained grimly silent. All he did was snatch the man by the throat with his hands, as roughly as he could. The other 3 members of the Power Team stood by, wondering, watching, hoping that... Scout started to take a step forward, but Hawk stopped him with a silent gesture.
Hawk remembered. Remembered Jason. That impostor doing Dread's work in Jon's name. If Jonathan was going to do anything... it would have been then. And, not now. But, if he did...
Jonathan Power drew back his gloved fist and slammed it into the bridge of Commander Lorek's nose. With a loud crack and dripping blood, Lorek stumbled out of Power's slackened grip. He put his hands to his shattered nose. Many things went through his mind. "Animal. Savage. Barbarian!" But, primarily, was that familiar... "I don't want to die!" All of these thoughts were drowned out by another pain: the boot of Captain Power to his chin. Lorek fell onto his left elbow, cutting it open, through his tunic, on the stones and scrap metal there. We all do those things we wish we didn't have to do. He calmly accepted his fate, reaching for the activation switch...
We all do those things which we wish we didn't have to do. For Matt Masterson, this was one of them. Even in so short a span as 6 days, he'd seen the son of one of his closest friends, a friend unto himself, grow more and more morose. It was obvious over what. But, it couldn't be allowed to go on. Whereas he'd stopped Scout before, Hawk took the step forward, the protest that needed to be made.
Just as Power whipped out his blaster and leveled it at Commander Lorek's head!
"JON! MY GOD, NO!"
The blue streak shot through the air, striking the golden bar, disrupting Power's aim. The blue blast, fired a second later, passed through Lorek's right shoulder and into the ground behind him. The resulting scream brought up a combination of blood and a loosened tooth.
"What the Hell do you think you're doing?!" Scout joined in, stepping forward, seeing, unfortunately what Hawk had dreaded to come.
"You questioning my judgment, SERGEANT?!" Power almost sounded contemptible at stressing Scout's rank, to show the superiority of the leader. "And you, MAJOR?" He looked at the blue hand gripping his golden arm. Not quite so polished now... "I'M IN CHARGE HERE! I'M YOUR COMMANDER!"
"But, you're our FRIEND first and foremost!" Tank had his say now.
"That's right, Jon. And, you CAN'T do this!"
"And, who says I CAN'T, Matt?" He shook the arm gripping the blaster, still caught in Hawk's grasp. "I've got the gun. If our positions were reversed, he'd as surely kill me! OR YOU!"
"I know, Jon..." He turned and faced the commander. "More than you know..." He looked down. Even if he hadn't seen the face before Power got a hold of him, he could still make it out now... even now. How could he ever forget. Mitch...
Hawk pulled himself from his thoughts, suddenly energized by something. "Now, look here! Maybe you don't care about him, b-"
"HE DESERVES TO DIE!" the Captain shouted to the heavens, to his father, to... her. "ALL OF HIS KIND! FOR-"
"Can't bring yourself to say it, can you? You're worried just like the rest of us... that you're changing, Jon... that you're justifying all of this with her d-"
Jon refused to listen after that point. He brought his free hand into play to try and extricate the weapon. He'd hear no more of it. Even if, to stop the argument, he had to shoot...
His struggle lessened a little as some of what he was thinking... would have done... sank in.
Hawk looked squarely and closely into Power's face. "You may not care about us, even... but what about Stuart?"
"What about Dad?" Power asked, almost startled.
"What about the promise to protect all life?"
The words struck Power like a javelin through the chest. At the same time that Commander Lorek touched his own chest.
"GLORY TO LORD DREAD!"
The Power Team looked at Lorek, stunned by his sudden shout. Scout saw it first, where Lorek was touching. He remembered what... she had said. About standard Overunit training and procedures. "Aw, boy! Everybody back! And we mean PRONTO!" Leading the way, Scout rushed over an embankment, heading for some, any, kind of cover from the resulting explosion.
About a minute later, it was Scout, first to run, but the first to look as well. He peered over the embankment at where they had been standing just earlier... and where a human being had once been. Hiding his obvious shock and disgust at the sight, Scout scurried back to his fellow team members. "Well... it's less messy when the mechs do it... that's for sure..." Unexpectedly, Power suddenly shot a hand out at Hawk and grabbed him by the shoulder to face his gaze. "Problem solved... looks like." In the resulting silence that followed, he eventually turned in the direction of the Power Jet, cloaked to prevent detection, to resume the trek to the Passages.
The silence, though, said more than was necessary about the direction the war had been turning...