Chapter VII
"I HAD A REALLY, REALLY WONDERFUL TIME, MAC," ANGELA SMILED, SLIDING AN ARM through his and leaning her head on his shoulder. "Thank you."
iMac felt his face grow warm, and he hoped that in the pale steely glow of night that Angela wouldn't be able to see his cheeks turn red. It had taken him minutes just to get up the courage to stammer a few words to her, let alone ask her out. The last thing he needed now was for her to see him blush like an idiot.
Apparently, she didn't even notice. Her eyes were drifting out over the energy C, watching the dim starlight reflect on the waves, as they walked slowly along the docks. The corners of her perfect mouth formed a gentle, content smile.
"You're welcome," he said, trying to sound as confident and smooth as he possibly could. In spite of the brash pilot image, he was surprisingly shy around women. All the other guys he worked with seemed to have a new lady on their arms every minute---girls always seemed to melt for the reckless, cocky personality and slick tongue that Mac just didn't have.
He was reckless and cocky, all right. Perhaps not as much as his comrades, but he'd had more than a few brushes with deletion due to his own stupidity. His superiors frowned on his risky maneuvers while the other pilots cheered him on, and his battle-scarred T-wing fighter still bore the tally marks he'd made to represent each and every Web creature he'd deleted during that brief invasion last hour.
But he was a little more down-to-earth than the other pilots. He didn't have that certain confident, even downright arrogant attitude about him. His abilities far surpassed those of his wingmates, and he knew it, but while they spent all their time bragging, he simply got all the satisfaction he needed from knowing it himself. He knew he was good, but he wasn't flawless, and there was no sense in deluding himself about it.
Angela had never seemed to be impressed by the pilots. She'd moved around the Net with her military father, now a colonel and security advisor to Compaq's Command.com, and she had spent the better part of her life around pilots and soldiers. By the time she'd arrived in this system two hours ago, she'd known exactly what to expect. She allowed herself to enjoy the flattery, but returned nothing more than a few sharp jibes and her stunning smile.
From the very nano that he'd first seen her, Mac had known it was love. The hard part was getting the nerve to express it. But, so far, it seemed to be going all right. This was the third date. He still couldn't believe that he'd made it this far.
"Such a shame it has to end," Angela murmured. Her pale amethyst skin seemed to glow in the soft light, her blue eyes sparkling. Around her neck hung a silver chain with a single pearl dropped from it. He rested his chin on top of her head, catching a faint whiff of some light, floral fragrance that he definitely liked.
"Maybe�" He stopped in his tracks, the words and the guts he'd had to speak them seeming to drift away on the cool evening breeze.
She also stopped, turned and looked up at him. "Yes?" Her big blue eyes gazed into his, and she brushed aside a chunk of dark brown hair that had fallen in her face.
Everything about the moment seemed perfect. The pale light, the soft sounds of the waves and the wind gently dancing around them. Her sparkling eyes and shimmering hair, the way she smiled that lit up her whole face. Mac couldn't have dreamed it better.
Gently her took her hand in both of his, marveling at how small and delicate her fingers were. He let his eyes fall to his boots. "Maybe it doesn't have to end, just yet."
Nervously he glanced back up and leveled his eyes with hers. She was smiling. That was a good sign. Wasn't it?
"You're right," she said softly. "Maybe it doesn't."
On impulse he brought a hand to her face, placing the other around her waist, drawing her closer to him---gently, but quickly enough that he wouldn't lose his nerve. He felt her muscles ease under his fingers. Her lashes fell down over her eyes, and she leaned into him, her glistening lips nearly brushing his.
And that was when all chaotic hell broke loose.
"What in the Net---?" Angela's hair swished against Mac's shoulder as she whirled around, craning her neck to better see the source of the brilliant blue light that had washed over everything in sight.
"It's a portal�" Mac shielded his eyes with his hand, gazing at the blazing orb that seemed to have swallowed up the sky above Compaq. It was immense, positioned high above the city. He was no expert on portals, but this one wasn't the type used for transporting one or two sprites. Ones of this size were usually--- "Oh no!" he cried.
He saw them. Dozens at first, then soon well over a hundred. Military ships. Large, ominous dark shapes emerging from the portal and spreading into a perfectly calculated formation above the city. Each was dagger-shaped, armored in plates of black polished metal. Laser cannons protruded from the hull like spines, as dim yellow lights winked on and off across the hull. The small fleet was formed around a ship of identical shape and design, but it was at least five times larger than the others.
At his side, Mac's comlink beeped impatiently. He snatched it up and thumbed it on. "iMac here."
It was Captain Bryce's voice over the channel, sounding strained and, for possibly the first time ever, genuinely worried. "Mac, we need you back at the Principal Office. You probably already know why�" His voice paused for a moment, and then he asked, "How quickly can you get over here?"
"I'm already on my way. iMac out." Mac keyed the comlink off and replaced it at his belt, looking back into Angela's worried face. "Angela, I---I have to leave."
"I know." She took him by the arms and squeezed gently. The whine of the invading ships' engines nearly drowned out her voice. "Go, you'd better get moving. They need you. I've got to go find my mother and sister�"
Mac didn't move. For a heartbeat he just stared at her, his mind racing from the panic, filling with a thousand stray thoughts that didn't seem to come together. He had to leave, he knew that. But he had this awful sinking feeling in his stomach, that if he did�
She smiled at him hastily, with a confidence he knew neither of them really felt. "Go on. It's not like we're never going to see each other again." She gave him a light shove and tried to smile again.
Feeling another wave of impulse sweep over him amids all the fear and adrenaline, Mac grasped her by the arm, pulled her to him, and kissed her lips.
He broke off quickly, and turned to go, breaking into a run as he did. The sounds of sirens and cries pierced the air that had been so still and peaceful just a few milliseconds ago. "Everything will be fine," he shouted, turning back to her and waving a hand. "I'll be back. I promise."
Another faint smile, as Angela waved back. "I'll be waiting."
The Principal Office was a dark maze, illuminated by the gloomy red haze of the alert lights. Mac's boots clapped rhythmically against the metal floor, as he darted through the corridors, pushing past the maintenance drones and binome soldiers who blocked his path. "Captain!"
At the other end of the dark hallway was Bryce. The squadron leader, he wasn't much older than Mac or any of the others---he was barely twenty-four hours---but he had the weary eyes of a seasoned veteran twice his age. "Mac, where in the Code have you been?" Bryce demanded.
"If I had my way, I'd still be on my date," Mac grumbled, following his comrade down the corridor towards the P.O. war room, "but whoever these jerks are, well, they've apparently got other ideas."
"Tell me about it," Bryce snorted, pushing his way through the doors that just couldn't seem to open fast enough for him. Mac tagged after him, into the almost deafening roar of over a dozen different voices chattering loudly to each other.
The war room was crowded, jammed from one wall to the other with security officers, command, sensor operators, everyone. Open control windows were scattered around. Across the room, Mac spotted another pilot, a One binome named Kyle, waving and yelling at them over the chaotic noise.
"Hey Mac! You got here just in time for the party, I see," Kyle grumbled. He nodded towards Bryce. "Hey, Captain."
"Any idea who they are?" Mac asked.
"Not yet," Kyle said, "but from the looks of it we're about to find out." He nodded over his shoulder at the command pit, where most of the command crew was stationed. At the end of the holoboard stood the Command.com, Xara, a solemn middle-aged female sprite with fading red hair and olive skin that seemed dark and lined in the emergency lighting. To her left was Angela's father, Edgar, his arms folded across his chest and a thoughtful expression on his face as he studied the holoboard projection. His polished metal rank bars caught the light and shot it in all directions.
"Comm's just made contact with the invading ships. Supposedly they're opening a channel for discussion with their commander," Kyle continued, giving a frustrated snort. "I'm surprised they wanted to talk at all."
"Channel established, Commander," a One binome officer called from his station, holding one hand to his earpiece. The entire room seemed to fall under a hushed silence.
Xara cleared her throat, and raised her tired eyes to the immense vidwindow that had just opened in front of her. Spread across it was the grim, hardened face of a male sprite. He was obviously quite young but the darkness in his eyes seemed to add hours to his face. Mac peered closely at the image. At his temples pulsed an almost vein-like pattern of glowing green.
Mac squinted again at the hazy image. The sprite looked almost familiar. Almost like Compaq's old Guardian. Something of a rookie, he'd been in this system for less than an hour before he was called back to the Supercomputer for something or other. Some kind of upgrade. It had been the last anyone in Compaq had ever seen or heard of him.
"Whom do I have the honor of addressing?" the sprite said, his voice thick with sarcasm.
"I am the Command.com of this system," Xara said calmly, tilting her chin upward. "You will explain the reason behind this unprovoked attack."
"There has been no attack," the sprite replied politely. "Nor will there be, so long as you cooperate and our terms are met."
Edgar's mouth pressed into a tight line. "What terms? We will not negotiate anything under threat of force."
The sprite smiled wryly, a glint in his eyes that Mac definitely didn't like. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Guardian 941."
Mac sucked in a breath. That was their Guardian. Or at least, he had been.
"As of this moment, the Guardian Collective is placing this system under its direct military control. You are now under the New Order and its laws. None of you will be harmed in any way, as long as you comply with our Order."
"Outrageous," Xara said. "We've always been free to run this system by ourselves. We won't just blindly hand over control to you."
"On the other hand," the Guardian said, his smile fading as he leaned back in his chair, "failure to comply with the Order will result in deletion." He waved a hand, and once again that smug smile was back on his face. Mac felt a shiver go up his spine.
"But I am not at all unfair," the Guardian amended. "I will allow you two cycles to relinquish control of Compaq to us, before we begin to take this system by force. Guardian out." The image went black, and the vidwindow closed.
"This is random!" Kyle exploded, not a nano after the window had vanished.
Xara looked over at the young binome and smiled. "I agree heartily, Lieutenant." Her eyes drifted off, and seemed to fix on something in the distance. "Strange. They've been continuing this for hours now, the Guardians, conquering systems�spreading their control. And yet I never really thought they would ever come here."
She sighed, swallowing and forcing it all back. "We don't have much time, and I would appreciate any---any---suggestions."
A Zero binome in the long robes of office spoke up. "I say we let them have control. We can't possibly win a battle against them---we stand a better chance of survival if we go along with their rule."
"We can't do that!" Mac cried, shoving his way through the crowd. He brought his fists down on the holoboard.
Bryce's solid grip settled on his shoulder. "Mac---"
"And what would you suggest?" Edgar asked, folding his arms. "Many of the other systems have cooperated with the Guardians to protect their citizens. Would you have us all fight to deletion and allow this invasion force to slaughter us?"
Mac clenched his fists, feeling the nails bite into his palm. No, he didn't want that. Angela's smiling face flashed in front of his eyes. He glanced at the vidwindow display of the sparkling city and wondered where she was�
"But you're asking us to give up our freedom," he bit out through tightened teeth." I'd rather be deleted than to live under their control." He jabbed a finger angrily at the tactical windows, displaying images of the neatly formed invasion ships hovering over the city.
"Would you speak for everyone in the city?" Edgar asked calmly.
"Yes," someone else cried, "throw away your own life you want, but don't make decisions for others!"
Stepping up from behind Mac, Bryce put up a hand, to silence the room. "I, for one, agree with Mac�I'd give up my life before I'd hand control of it over to the Guardians. But just because we don't surrender doesn't mean we all have to be deleted."
Xara's arched eyebrows raised. "I'm listening."
Bryce pushed his way to the edge of the holoboard, resting his hands on it. "We've got a portal generator, right? I'm not exactly a hacker, but I know a few tricks to mask a portal's energy signals. There are plenty of systems out there that are still beyond the Guardians' control. We could try to assemble and evacuate as many civilians as possible, slip them in here through the utility tunnels and then slip them out of Compaq before the Guardians realize what's happened."
Judging from the commotion that followed, the idea didn't go over too well with the crowd. "But once the Guardians realize what we've done, they'll execute all of us," someone stammered.
Bryce shrugged. "Possibly. They'll probably single out a few who were mainly responsible, as examples." He leaned forward. "But weigh the lives of two or three guilty individuals against the lives of a whole city of innocents."
There was a long, tense silence that charged the air like static electricity. "No system we can evacuate to will be safe forever�not from the Guardians," the Zero spoke again, this time in a quiet voice.
"I never said it was a long-term solution," Bryce pointed out. He shifted his gaze over to Xara. "But like you said, we don't have much time."
Again, the room fell utterly silent, save for the low chime of the alerts, the hum of the P.O.'s systems, and the occasional insistent beep! from someone's control panel. Mac shifted, folded his arms, and looked anxiously between Bryce, Edgar, and Xara. The look on the Command.com's face was layered and unreadable, suggesting nothing other than that she was considering the situation very carefully.
"If we're going to do this," Bryce said, "we're going to have to do it now."
Xara heaved a heavy sigh. "Yes. Yes, you're right, Captain." She glanced up from the holoboard. "We must move quickly."
Guardian 941 glanced over at the chronometer on his command chair's control pad for the umpteenth time, and sighed. Barely half a cycle left, and still no response from the Command.com. Impatiently he leaned back into his chair, knitting his fingers together.
What could have been the delay?
"Status," he barked at one of the pilots, a small young female sprite in the standard gray flightsuit and helmet. The bulk of the army was made up of converted sprites like these, merely recruits, not full Guardians. Guardians were far too valuable to use as ordinary troops---they were almost always given positions of command, or formed into elite units for use only in the most important military strikes.
The pilot's gloved hands danced across her control panel. "Still no communication from the Principal Office to any of the outlying sectors," she reported, her voice icy and hollow sounding, like an echo. "The P.O. itself reads normal. All defenses deactivated."
941 held onto that last sentence. None of their defenses? That wouldn't have been odd, if they had seemed ready to surrender�but he had every reason to believe that they were not. He could be extremely perceptive when it came to guessing his opponent's mind, and the Command.com of this system seemed like one of those blasted stubborn, self-sacrificing types.
If they were planning to hand over the system to him, they wouldn't have waited until the last nano like this to do it. Not with this many warships hovering dangerously overhead, cannons charged and targeted, the gunners' fingers hanging over the triggers. 941 had never had to wait more than ten milliseconds for surrender. Never.
Chewing the inside of his lip, he suddenly bolted upright and jabbed a finger at the private sitting stationed at operations. "You," he snapped, "do you have the sensor logs from when we first arrived? Specifically the readings of the Principal Office, before we made any transmissions."
The private blinked in confusion, but nodded. "Yes, sir---"
"Call them up." 941 settled back into his chair and pressed a button on his control pad, opening up a vidwindow. "I think I'm familiar with the trick they may be playing on us." The readings flashed before him, and he leaned in closer to study them.
Pretty predictable. All of the P.O.'s systems running at normal power levels, shields lowered and all other defenses active, but on standby. A reading of nearly fifty sprites and twice that number of binomes, moving around within the complex. All CPUs and ships were completely inactive.
"Now, compare those to the readings we're getting now," 941 grinned, allowing himself to indulge just a little in his pride, as he glanced over the new information. All defenses---shields, cannons, fighters---were powered down, and the exact same number of people as before were moving around inside.
"I�I don't see it, sir."
"Look closely." 941 pushed aside his vidwindow. "At the levels of the P.O.'s defenses, specifically, and the energy signatures of the sprites inside."
"Their defenses are completely inactive," the private said slowly, not comprehending, "and the number of sprites and binomes remains at one hundred fifty-seven."
"Yes�while our motion sensors are picking up dozens of sprites constantly moving in and out of the Principal Office." 941 leaned forward. "But that detail aside, why do you suppose they would choose to power down all of their defense systems so abruptly---in the middle of an invasion?"
"Perhaps they know that they're no match for our forces." The private's answer was a predictably disappointing one, fed more by the Supercomputer's propaganda machine than any real sense of tactics. Not that the soldiers were given any kind of advanced training---they were just converted, flash-taught, and stuck into a unit. They didn't have to be brilliant; they only had to follow orders.
Orders that were issued by the Guardians, who fortunately knew what they were doing. "While I do have my doubts about their military strength as compared to ours, Private, I think the real reason is that their defenses are indeed activated, and the readings we are getting now are fake."
Waving a hand at the readouts that the private was gaping at in such stunned disbelief, 941 continued. "They're trying to keep us from reading something going on down there, within the Principal Office. In order to mask it, they're transmitting false power signals." He smiled and settled back into his command chair. "Don't look so surprised. I've seen this trick used before. Although these people are doing a particularly sloppy job of it."
"What---" the female pilot spoke up, but her voice failed her at first. "What is it they're trying to hide?"
941 shrugged. "It could be anything. They could be diverting power from the core to the gun emplacements, scrambling their troops and CPUs, transmitting a distress call to another system�" He waved it off. "It doesn't matter what they're doing, just that they're doing it, and in complete defiance of the Order." In the depths of his mind, the echo of Her voice grew just a little louder.
He jammed a thumb into one of the keys on his chair's control pad. In front of him, the image of his second-in-command, Guardian 247, appeared. "Yes sir?"
"We've received all the response we need from the Command.com," 941 said coldly. "You may fire when ready."
247 sharply saluted him, and turned to someone out of the vidwindow image's range of view, relaying the order. Calmly 941 gestured for his own gunners to do the same, and they nodded sharply to him in acknowledgement, turning back to the weapon controls, selecting random targets for the already-charged cannons.
Shaking his head, 941 turned his command chair around and touched his fingers together. It seemed like such a waste of time and energy, but still, those who would survive would never forget what it meant to defy the Guardians.
He listened, as the cannons exploded, and the silent city of Compaq erupted into a fiery blaze.