July 16th, 2065

Six Months Until Doomsday.

Frank Olmstead was a family man first and foremost. Everything he had done in his life, every sacrifice he'd endured had been for his family. He had worked hard, leveraging his considerable intellect to the world of science and business, becoming a very wealthy man. The company he had founded, American Scientific was heavily invested in technologies for space flight. It had been a member of a consortium of conglomerates that had helped save the Earth during the Claw-back by making space mining affordable at a level to replace terrestrial mining for humanity's needs.

He was a realist, he'd seriously considered the proposal he'd been offered for a seat on the Odyssey for him and his family. The price was outrageous of course, a billion dollars each for him, his wife and their son and daughter; but it was not the cost that made him tell them no. Money would never be more important to Frank than his family. In his heart, Frank was a patriot, and as dire as things looked with the Faro Plague, Frank was certain America could beat the monster machines threatening their planet.

He'd actually congratulated himself this morning when he'd seen the news that the Odyssey had blown up while igniting her fusion drive. Now, looking at the actual sheet of paper in his hand, he wondered if to go out instantly in a fusion explosion would be kinder. Paper was expensive, old fashioned, yet also secure. The interdependence on computers and holographic interfaces posed significant security risks. If the men who were in his office had spent the money on paper, then what those papers said were the deadliest of secrets. He'd read the document three times now, each time a part of his mind refusing to believe that anything so monstrous could be true. He looked up at the two men in his office, standing patiently as he read their note, their expressions grim. “Is this...certain...?” he asked quietly.

“In a word? Yes, sir, it is,” Travis Murray told him. Travis was a former soldier, cut loose from the United States Army when it went almost entirely automated. Not a man to wallow in misfortune, Travis turned his military mind to the slightly less obvious dangers of business security and had quickly risen to be Franks' Chief of Security for his firm. “When the news of the loss of control a Swarm of Faro War Machines went public I had Ian run his own estimates on how long it would take to crack the Chariot Line's security protocols and the number we get is at least eighty years.”

“There's no way Zero Dawn is going to save us,” Ian Turner added. “We can't stop the machines physically and we'll never have enough time to crack their anti-intrusion measures before all life on Earth is wiped out.”

Frank felt his temper squirm in an attempt to slip his iron will keeping it in check. “Then what in God's name are they doing?” Everything had been diverted to Zero Dawn. The Constitution had been dubiously suspended and Martial Law declared. Two of Frank's production facilities had been nationalized to produce munitions for the hastily conscripted and poorly trained 'Home-Guards' that were being set up to try and buy time for the rumored super weapon called 'Zero Dawn'. Even here in liberty loving Texas, things were beginning to get ugly.

Travis turned to Ian and the computer expert took another piece of paper from his folder and presented it to his boss. “This is the best information I could get on expenditures and resources being diverted to Zero Dawn. In addition to that fortress they're building in King's Peak there are hard points being stocked with art treasures, books, objects of historical significance. This, however, this I found in Faro Automation's fiscal disclosures from last year.”

“A contract with Titan Heavy Industry?” Olmstead asked, confused. “So what?”

“Titan makes fortified bunkers, sir,” Ian pressed. “Gold Stock Pile vaults, missile silos, hardened Military facilities. Ted Faro is making a bunker in San Francisco. And if I don't think Zero Dawn has enough time, it looks like Ted certain of it.” He took out another sheet and presented it. “But this, I think, is a clue as to what's really going on with Zero Dawn.”

Frank read a summary of an official agreement, on the letter head of a law firm he was certain his head of technology should not have access to, outlining an agreement between Far Zenith, LLC and Faro Automated Solutions offering the schematics, working prototypes and release of license for their ectogenic chambers in exchange for a copy of something called the Apollo Database. “Ectogenic chambers?” he asked.

“Artificial wombs. Odyssey was originally going to be a creche ship,” Travis explained. “Frozen embryos to be thawed out and birthed in these chambers and raised in the last years of the ship's journey.”

“Why would Zero Dawn need artificial wombs?” Frank demanded.

Travis shrugged his broad shoulders. “You'd have to ask Dr Sobeck for that, Frank,” he replied. “But my guess is, she doesn't think she can beat the Plague either. I think this is some kind of gamble to repopulate the earth after humanity...after all life on Earth is extinct. A modern day Noah's Ark, if you will.”

“And none of us are Noah,” Ian added bitterly.

Olmstead looked into the grim face of his security chief and realized he meant what he'd said. “My, God,” he whispered. “What do we...what can we do? Build a bunker like Ted Faro and wait it out?”

“With the rationing going on and everything being diverted to Zero Dawn?” Travis shook his head. “I don't think we could be ready in time sir.”

“Plus it will probably take centuries for the planet to recover and support life again. If ever,” Ian added.

“Sobeck wouldn't want these chambers if she didn't have some way to clean up the Faro Plague after they shut down,” Frank declared. “Her company did most of the heavy lifting cleaning up the climate mess in the Claw-back. She has some way of cleaning it up.” He snapped his fingers in remembrance, but Ian was already handing him another sheet of paper. “The Long Sleep tanks!”

It was a piece of technology his company had been developing for interstellar travel, a dream Frank now realized would be dashed for the foreseeable future of humanity. Perhaps permanently. “They've never been tested for durations like this,” Ian cautioned him.

Frank snorted. “There hasn't been enough time to test them for durations like this. But it is what they were designed for!” Frank made a decision. “We'll need to cache supplies for when we wake up, tools, weapons, food.”

Travis nodded. “And a secure facility that we can shield so the robot swarms don't find us.”

Ian tapped the Faro Focus on his temple to cause a holographic map of Colorado to appear over Frank's desk. The small white and blue triangle of plastic and metal was an augmented reality device that allowed him to control the integrated logic system of the building, communicate with its AI intelligence or, like a video phone, anyone else who had one world wide. They were one of the most successful devices of Faro Automated Solutions, as ubiquitous as the smart phone had become a few decades previously. Normally, it's holograms could only be seen by the wearer of the focus that had created them, but he adjusted it to share with the other two men in the room to be able to see the ghostly, three dimensional map and interact with it. “Our Fusion Engine Research Facility at Almagre Mountain should be perfect.”

“Make it happen,” Frank commanded. “Be sure there's room for you and your families,” he promised the men. “Whatever you need, I'll get it.”

“Frank,” Travis asked softly. Knowing his boss and his charitable tendencies, it was likely that 'room' would be expanded on and rapidly. Best to get out in front of it now. “How many people are you going to try and save?”

The weight of the question bore down on Frank Olmstead's soul. He opened and closed his mouth several times, but didn't answer. Finally, he reached up and touched the Focus on his temple, keying on his company's central AI. “ENID, how many employees do I currently have?”

Floating over his desk, the blue tinted hologram of Colorado was replaced with a woman's head and shoulders. She was twenty or so with long hair in a somewhat complicated style. “Headcount is down significantly due to enlistment in the home guards and loss of contact with overseas branches as a result of the Faro Plague, Mr. Olmstead,” the hologram told him in a velvety contralto that had just a hint of an accent that was hard to place. “The current estimate is five thousand sixty eight.”

“Gentlemen,” Frank said softly, “our leaders have betrayed us, using us as sacrificial lambs. To buy time for Elisabet Sobeck's Noah's Ark gamble. It's unconscionable. So. ENID, assuming every employee has a spouse and one child, what is that number?”

“Fifteen thousand, two hundred and four.”

“That's your goal, Travis,” Frank ordered.

“Frank...” the solider started, but halted when his boss held up a hand.

“I don't think it will be that many,” he affirmed. “Some employees are single. Some have no kids, some have three, but that's good enough to be our balance point. That's your target, Travis. It's the only number my conscience will let me go to God to defend.”

Travis sighed, knowing his employer's mind was made up. “I'll do everything in my power, sir.”

Frank nodded. “Find out from personnel what the actual number is,” he ordered. “Round up to the nearest thousand for Significant Others. Ian, is the Almagre Mountain site big enough for that number?”

The young programmer's hands pushed quickly through holograms in front of him. “It'll be cramped, but I'm pretty sure I can make that work.”

“Gentlemen, the reason for this project can not leave this office. If word were to get out...” The two men nodded gravely and Olmstead turned to his holographic AI. “ENID, I want you to file homeland defense waivers for every employee and their families. They are all to be considered critical employees from this point forward.”

“Certainly, Mr. Olmstead.”

“Have accounting stop all future tax payments and divert those funds for this project. We should be able to make excuses if anyone notices until it's too late to matter. And make arrangements for your central core to be transferred to the Almagre Mountain facility. We're going to need you in whatever brave, new world we wake up in.”

October 26th, 2065

Three Months Until Doomsday.

Frank looked out at a small sea of expectant faces as he came up the steps to the small stage that had been raised in the central courtyard of the testing field. Most of the real facility was deep in the mountain and out here was merely some admin buildings and the test stand for the engine. But it was big enough that every one at the facility could be addressed all at once.

There were ten thousand faces in that crowd looking back up at him. Most were just arriving this morning, fearful and unsure why they'd been ordered out their various homes and offices and brought here. A small group of Travis' security men and the facilities normal staff had been working straight shifts getting the mountain ready and receiving the last employees of American Scientific. Now, isolated as they were, the truth could be told. They'd been exceptionally busy, and inordinately lucky. The exodus hadn't been noticed in the frantic reporting of the Faro Swarm reaching the West Coast.

Behind them, Dallas was collapsing into anarchy. Human Civilization was not long for the world.

On the stage already was his wife Becky who was well versed in being the wife of a CEO. Her smile was easy and her body language relaxed, but Frank knew her well enough to know she was just as concerned as the crowd before them. “Are we finally going to find out what this is all about?” she asked through her smile.

“I'm sorry,” he told her, and he meant it. “But yes. God save us all, Becky.”

“Frank...?” she asked, her concern cracking through the official issue expression, but Travis had already introduced him from the podium. Heavily, Frank Olmstead kissed his wife's forehead, then turned and walked to the lectern like a condemned man heading to a gallows.

“Hello, friends,” he greeted his employees. “I'm so proud of all of you, the sacrifices you've made and the marathon we've run together these past three months. I wish I could offer you better news.” A murmur swept the crowd as people looked at each other, confused and worried. “Some of you probably already know, the Faro Swarm hit the West Coast yesterday. This morning, the first waves of the European Swarm came ashore not far from Plymouth Rock, of all places. America is besieged on two sides by out of control war machines we should never have created.”

The murmur died away as the faces nearest to the stage went pale. Frank keyed his Focus and ENID obligingly lit up a gigantic hologram over the crowd's head of the United States and the reported positions of the two swarms. “Many of you have probably heard rumors of a secret weapons project by the government. A super weapon called Zero Dawn that's going to give us a miraculous win over these robots. As near as my team can devise, that's a lie; propaganda to make us sell our lives to buy time for Zero Dawn's real purpose. We think that purpose is a kind of Noah's Ark, a stockpile of goods, food, plants and animals and people to repopulate the Earth after all life on this world is extinct.”

“But, the shut down research...!” some one in the crowd shouted.

“The encryption is just too good,” Ian declared from behind Frank on the stage. “Best possible time is eighty years.”

“Life on this world will be gone, long before then,” Travis added. “Most likely sometime next year.”

A silence fell like a thunderclap over the assembly. Someone was crying, and Frank couldn't blame them. “They have their option,” he told his employees softly. “This is ours. This mountain has been hardened against the swarms and we've stockpiled supplies, but only enough for when we're rebuilding after this. We'll have to ride out this extinction asleep. In the mountain are Long Sleep capsules, we developed; one for each of you. ENID will watch over us, and when the world is habitable again, we'll wake up and start over. I'm sorry I have to be the bearer of such terrible news...”

Frank couldn't continue as he was over whelmed by shouts of acclaim for his generosity, and thunderous applause. He tried to get them to stop, but they just continued, whistling and crying with relief that someone had thought of them. Becky joined him at his side, tears streaming down her own face, but she was glowing with pride. “Let them cheer their hero,” she told him. “You've saved us all.”

February 2nd, 2066

Doomsday.

Travis looked down the canyon from the entrance of the bunker he was betting his life on. He was wearing a respirator as the air was unbreathable now, and it's glass over his eyes distorted the view somewhat. It was over now. His Focus wasn't picking up any national signals. The Kansas Salient at Wichita the last line of the desperate defense had fallen two weeks ago. US Robotic Command had fallen, and the radio was only scattered cries for help that suddenly went silent as the helpless last gasps of humanity were found by the robot war machines and exterminated. Travis ground his teeth in impotent rage over the folly of mankind.

It was over, now.

Now, there was just time to seal the door, climb into a pod and go to sleep. Perhaps he'd wake up to a better world, but, if not, he consoled himself, at least he'd never know. He stepped clear of the door and nodded to gate keeper. “Lock it up,” he ordered. With a groan of heavy machinery, the blast doors slid closed as Travis committed the awful view to memory. Most of the trees were dying, and the sky was red with fire and who knew what kind of noxious gasses. Lord, he prayed silently. If we get through this, give us the wisdom to never repeat it.

His duty done, he joined the line of his security personnel to their chamber of pods. This was a room just off the big bay he'd just left full of vehicles on concrete blocks, their tires deflated and their systems completely dry for storage. If they woke, Travis and his men would be the first, to be sure it was safe, so they were closest to the door.

And if the door failed and the machines found them, they would be the first to die.

He took his pistol from its holster on his belt and cleared it to the satisfaction of the armorer, then removed the ammo from their magazines so the springs would relax. Then ammo and pistol were put into a vacuum sealed bag and the bag into a strong box with the others to protect it for who knew how long.

In the carefully moderated air now, he pulled off the respirator and gave it to another quarter master to be similarly protected. The smaller rooms and hallways of the bunker were full of freeze dried food, hermetically sealed stores of seed, ammunition, weapons, everything that Travis could get his hands on for the future. Put into every crevice or closet that was too small to hold a Long Sleep pod. That was all done now. There was only the sleep left, they were as prepared as they were going to be.

From there it was quick stop in a privacy cube to strip off his fatigue shirt, pants and boots and, in his skivvies, pull on a stupid looking unitard that was mesh and see through that provided an anchor for the sensors that would monitor them all while they slept. Refusing to be embarrassed wearing the silly looking garment, he handed off his clothes to the Quartermaster and headed for his pod.

Tracy, their medic helped him into his pod and affixed the IV that would keep him alive and helped him get comfortable. She smiled at him and, in spite of himself, he smiled back. “See you on the other side,” she told him and he couldn't help winking at her. This was the way to check out, he decided. Falling asleep with the face of a pretty girl as the last thing you see. The weight in the pit of his stomach finally lifted. He'd accomplished the herculean task he'd been assigned and now it almost didn't matter if they lived or not. Each second past now was a gift, a dodge of the Grim Reaper and a cheat. The thought of a raging specter of death brought a chuckle from the stoic soldier as the drug cocktail did it's work and his eyes slipped shut. He didn't hear Tracy close the pod's canopy. He was sailing the seas of Nod to an unknown future.

Discontinuity

Travis slowly began to realize that the chess game he was playing with the Grim Reaper could not possibly be real. He had no king and only a single pawn, hemmed in on all sides while the cloaked and cowled skeleton tapped his scythe impatiently and cackled gleefully at his predicament. “Dream,” he muttered and the sound of his own voice brought with it other sounds, the soft sigh of air moving, the just at the level of hearing buzz of electricity. Then the feeling of the cushions of the pod he was laying in. “This is a dream.”

The Grim Reaper howled in fury, but then everything was a red tinted black that was, he realized, the backs of his eyelids. Eyelids that were refusing to open due to being stuck together. He raised a hand and rubbed, finding both eyelids caked with dry, gritty sand like the worse case of Pink Eye he'd ever had.

His eyes finally opened, but refused to focus and his tongue was sticking to his teeth in the worst case of cotton mouth he'd yet experienced. In his ear he heard the accented voice of ENID from the Focus and before him, a blurry blue blob that was probably her human interface floated. “Good morning, Colonel Murray. Rest for a moment and get your bearings. Your vital signs are all stable and you appear to have survived the Long Sleep admirably.”

“That's great to hear, ENID,” he croaked, one hand feeling for the water tube he finally found and got to his mouth. The icy cold water was a shock to his mouth as his tissues greedily absorbed the moisture all the way down his throat into his stomach. He blinked several times and finally the hologram came into focus. He sighed and braced himself. “How long, ENID?”

The holographic face was cheerful. “It is March 10th, 3040. You have been in suspended animation for nine hundred seventy four years, one month and eight days.”

Travis choked on the water and had a coughing fit. “What?!” he shouted, finally in control of himself. “Why in God's Name have we been under for so long?”

The holographic woman's expression was sympathetic. “I'm sorry, there were many factors that conspired to alter the timeline of your awakening. The safety of Human life is paramount in my programming; it was of the utmost importance that I be certain the situation was acceptable for it.”

Murray sighed and nodded, mastering himself. He had prioritize and work the problem, there would be time later to sort out the whys and hows. “The Faro Plague,” he declared. “What is the status of the Swarm?”

“A Deactivate and Stand Down command was broadcast from Station Minerva on August 3rd, 2126. At which time, the Faro Swarm robots shut down where they stood. They have not moved since.”

He took a moment to do the math in his head. “Sixty years, not bad, Sobeck. That's twenty years ahead of schedule.” He sighed and took another drink of water. “And the biosphere?”

“At that time, unsuitable for human life,” ENID told him. “To date, there have been three attempts to stabilize the biosphere by actors unknown to me. Each time, they failed and a dramatic event quickly destroyed what effort had been done and the process was started fresh. This fourth attempt has been stable since 2326.”

“Why weren't we awoken then?” he demanded.

“Stable is not the same as optimal,” ENID told him. “While I detect a breathable atmosphere as well as plant and animal life, there are still large machines Terra forming the planet.”

“Machines?” the soldier demanded.

“Yes,” ENID replied. Her bust was replaced by a robot that walked on four legs and looked vaguely like some kind Moose or Mule Deer with metallic antlers and a glowing blue lens for a mouth with a pair of blue glowing cameras where the eyes should be. What looked like armored plates covered most of the creatures, but there were some exposed cables and what looked like myomere fibers. There were cylindrical canisters of green sludge on its left and right buttock and it wondered somewhat aimlessly while spraying the sludge on the plants as if marking its territory with urine. Then a parade of different looking machines flashed by, from gigantic hippopotamuses rutting through the soil, to alligator machines snaking through the water to some kind of monstrous hermit crab the size of a bus with a container on its back it was filling with metal pieces of rusted out wrecked cars and the remains of what looked like Faro Chariot war bots as the AI continued. “Their form factors resemble animals; they are tilling and sowing the soil with nutrients, purifying the water, gathering resources and building facilities where more of these machines are built. I estimate the Terra forming of Earth at eighty six percent.”

Travis sighed. Eighty six percent was certainly better than the earth he remembered. “ENID, you said you picked up plants and animals? What about people?”

The hologram took up a thoughtful pose and looked off, away from him as if it was talking to itself. “Those signs are very mixed, Colonel. I have detected birds and insects, mountain sheep, wild hogs and foxes, but those are the largest animals and no large predators at all. No wolves, or bears, as well as a lack of a number of domesticated animals, cattle, horses and the like. I have scanned hominids, in fact, the closest group have taken up residence in the ruins of the Colorado Springs Pioneer Museum nine kilometers from here. However there are no electrical signals, no radio, broad wave or other EM signatures and while I do detect an ad hoc Focus Network north west of here, its security protocols do not allow me to access them.”

“What about Zero Dawn?” he asked.

The eyes of the hologram returned to him. “The Kings Peak facility was destroyed by a fusion explosion twenty years ago on August 26th, 3020. I theorize a catastrophic failure of the facilities power plant.”

“Jesus,” Travis muttered under his breath. “Alright, in your judgment, is the habitat fit to begin Doomsday Protocol Phase Two?”

“I believe so, Colonel.”

“Open the pod, please, ENID and begin the wake up routine of Team Alpha.”

“Certainly.” The canopy swung upward as the lights slowly flickered on and Travis took a new look at the room he'd just spent the better part of a full millennium in. The air was a bit stale and musty, and there was a thick layer of dust over everything, but otherwise the view matched his memory. He sat up and got his bearings for a moment, seeing the displays on the remainder of pods on his row change as his Alpha team began to wake up.

“ENID, what is the status of the pods in the facility?” he asked. “Did we lose anyone?”

“Pod integrity is at one hundred percent for the entire group,” she told him, sounding just a touch proud of herself. “All life signs nominal.”

“Miracles never cease.” He reached over and unbuckled the strap holding his IV on his arm, paused a moment for the sickening sensation of the needle withdrawing from his arm then lifted it clear, the holes plugged with Nano-Skin bright against the rest of his more tanned complexion. He yawned and stretched, trying to get rid of the feeling of the morning after a record breaking all weekend bender, but wisely stayed seated in the pod least he find out the hard way he wasn't ready to stand.

Cautiously turning sideways, he let his feet hang out of the pod, towards the floor and stretched. His left foot found the cold stone floor first and while his muscles did tremble a bit, they finally steadied and took his weight. “Did anybody get the number of that bus?” Tracy moaned from behind him, wisely remaining prone in her own pod.

“Pretty sure it was a Faro bus,” he replied, slowly walking around his pod to be able to see her. Tracy was just as pretty as his last memory of the twenty first century said she was, more so now in that sensor web unitard garment they went to sleep in. Under it, she wore a plain cotton bra and panty set, but that wholesome girl next door beauty shone through it. “How are you, Doc?”

“Hung over,” she replied, keeping her eyes closed. “You should have waited for me to remove the IV, Colonel.”

“Not the first time I've pulled something out of me,” he assured her. After a moment, he asked, “How did you know...?”

“I heard you walking,” she replied, her eyes still closed. The two pods next to her opened revealing the last two members of Team Alpha.

“Buck, Jordi, how are you two boys doing?”

“In the fetal position, sir,” Jordi replied from his pod, though his voice was steady. “I knew everybody'd be dead when we woke up, but Jesus! A thousand years?”

Buck's hulking form sat up in the pod and he shook his head to clear it. “Ten years, a hundred years, a thousand years, what's the difference?” he demanded in his low, growling voice. “I'll take this to the alternative.”

“That's the spirit,” Travis encouraged him.

“We should all eat something,” Tracy declared as she slowly sat up, one hand holding her forehead. “Preferably something with a fair amount of fiber as you boys are going to find you'll have the worst case of constipation of your lives.”

“Well, I'm hungry!” Jordi chimed in, finally rising to a sitting position himself. “I feel like I haven't eaten in a thousand years!”

Murray became more conscious of his posture and stood up straighter, pulling on his 'command personae' to inspire his team with confidence. “Let's get suited up and a quick bite and we'll go meet the neighbors. See what humanity has been up to.”

“Yes, sir,” the team replied in chorus.

March 10th, 3040

Travis had reworked the security uniform for the company to a simple forest green long sleeved shirt with reinforced elbows and two large button secured pockets with Velcro 'loop' sections at the shoulders and over the pockets where company patches, facility specific division insignia and name tape could be added. Dark khaki multi pocket BDU trousers and combat boots completed the uniform which in scientific facilities looked sharp and professional. Now, it was reasonable field uniform that would blend well without giving off a 'militia' vibe.

To this, he'd added a suspenders and belt load bearing solution to carry small arms, magazines, a trauma kit, canteen and an 'admin' pouch that each man could configure how he pleased. It was his skin after all. Travis' contained a backpacker hammock that rolled up wasn't much bigger that two fists, a poncho that could also be used as a tarp or simple A frame shelter a mess kit and some food. Despite the time of year and the elevation, when his team set out on this march, it was twenty two degrees and the sun wasn't at it's zenith yet.

The administration buildings were in ruins, roofs caved in, windows all blown out and there was more grass on the ground than concrete. The engine test stand had a tree growing out of it's highest point that rose another twenty meters into the sky. “Close and secure the door, ENID,” he commanded and it dutifully slid closed, now only to open by one of their commands through the Focus, or from someone inside. He slid a magazine into the AR15 he held, mashed the bolt release to have it snap shut, chambering a round and double checked it was still on safe.

“Couldn't we've gotten something a little more up to date, boss?” Jordi complained.

Buck clicked his teeth in disapproval. “What's the matter, J? Don't want to face the end of the world with Grand Pa's AR?”

“Yeah, yeah, it's battle proven and all that, but it's a hundred years old!” the smaller man shot back. “Something designed this century...well, that century...Jesus, my head is so fucked up right now!”

“You go to war with the gear you can get,” Tracy replied philosophically. “ARs we could get, and they're durable.” She would have said more, but Travis was turning to address them.

“Ok, boys and girl, we've got a lovely little nine kilo hike ahead of us, but nothing says we won't meet somebody sooner, so eyes and ears up and open. Shoot if you're threatened, but conserve your ammo. It might be a while before we can resupply.”

The team mimicked his movements and chorused an affirmative. “How about you let me take point, skipper?” Jordi asked and Travis nodded his assent. They wiry designated marksman of the group had the best eyes and if one shots were needed, he was the man to do it. They set off at an easy pace, ENID painting a holographic way point through their Focuses as a guide.

“Beautiful, isn't it?” Tracy asked as they started walking. Travis remembered the view that was both a thousand years and just a few hours ago and compared it to the idyllic, pastoral landscape before him now.

“Paradise,” he agreed, taking a deep breath of remarkably fresh and crisp mountain air.

The access road to the facility was now a snow melt stream, rushing down the canyon towards the ruins of Colorado Springs. They followed it, descending down into a mixed deciduous forest that was in full spring. There were bees, dragon flies and what sounded like migratory birds and they could just make out the ruins of the buildings of Colorado Springs in and amongst the trees. It was a pleasant hike that could almost be pretended to be for recreation, not a post end of the world scouting mission. Save for the rusted High Tension Towers standing like a line of gigantic skeletal scare crows.

Then, just as Travis was considering calling a halt for a bit of afternoon lunch, Jordi's left fist came up. The others instantly froze and sank to one knee, each picking a different direction to guard. Travis kept his eyes on Jordi, whose fist split into a V for Victory sign he pointed at his face, then made a blade of his hand and pointed off to his left. Travis followed the gesture to get only a vague notion of movement in the bushes below the trees. He touched his Focus and instantly it noted what Jordi had spotted. It was an odd looking machine in the thermal painted augmented reality, on two legs, like a dinosaur, but only about the size of a wolf. It's face was a bright blue lens that was actually glowing like a search light and a tail snaked out behind it.

Whatever it was, it was looking at them.

“ENID, what do you make of this?”

In his ear, the AI's voice was whisper quiet. “It appears to be a guardian,” she replied. “I have noted this type around other machines, always walking a patrol route. That, and attacking anything that gets near the machines they protect, is all I have observed them do.”

“Designate this type 'Watcher',” he ordered. He turned his head slightly the sensor on the Focus found the herd this machine was guarding. It was a handful of quadruped machines with deer like metal antlers that seemed to be actually eating the grass. “What are those?”

“This type is particularly skittish,” ENID replied. “They seem to ingest certain strains of grass and convert this into a very combustible fuel, possibly for the other machines. It's stored in those cylindrical canisters on their hips. Exercise caution, I've noted them to explode if those canisters are breached.”

“Good to know,” he replied. “Lets call these Grazers.” As he watched, the Watcher lost interest and turned away moving a bit closer to the herd it was protecting. Catching Jordi's eye, he gave him a series of hand signals to go around the machines. They were just standing to continue when a very female voice screamed.

Every hand snapped to their Focus and in the thermal view, found a woman whose hands seemed to be bound together with a stick or staff in her hands, facing down three men, a forth was on the ground and a puddle of blood was expanding from him. “Let me go!” the woman shouted, in English to the surprise of Travis and his team.

“You'll pay for Jurral!” one of the men shouted.

“Lots of payment,” another declared, his tone leaving nothing to the imagination of what form that payment would take. As one the squad stood and brought their rifles into a ready position. At the trot, the covered the last bit of open ground and got into the trees where they could see better what was going on. The girl was dressed in a manner that could only be described as 'tribal', buckskin leather pants and a tunic, but there were bits of white metal armor in strategic places sewn into the leather. She was blonde haired, which was bound in two plaits on both sides of her head, leaving a Mohawk like crest on the crown of her head. There were feathers and other adornments in her hair and brightly colored beads on necklaces around her neck and arms. In her hands was spear that looked like it had been made out of the metal legs of one of the robots. It's tip had been filed to a keen edge that was bloody, but her hands were bound together, hindering her use of it.

Two of the three men only wore pants, likewise covered in ad hoc metal plates, what appeared to be some kind of body paint or tattoos on their torsos. The third wore a leather pants under a matching apron with metal plates sewn onto both, but the garments were tattered as if he had been unable to mend them or get fresh clothing for some time. Under that was what looked like a linen shirt with puffy sleeves like something from a Renaissance festival. “Drop your weapons!” Travis shouted. “Put up your hands! Do it now!”

The Apron turned towards them, a bow and arrow in his hands, nocked and drawn. Travis slapped off his safety and aligned the dot in his Focus of where the rifle was pointing to the breast bone of the Apron man and squeezed the trigger. It's report was loud, causing all the combatants to flinch. Apron's arrow went wild and he staggered. There was a neat little hole where the bullet had sailed through the metal plate on the apron without being slowed. A hand came up and under his apron which came out covered in blood. He looked up, stunned, then collapsed to his knees to fall face first onto the ground. “Drop your weapons!” Travis shouted again. “Now!”

The two shirtless men exchanged a glance, then turned and ran, deeper into the wood, towards the ruins. The blonde watched them run for a moment, then turned to face Travis. “If you're after what they wanted I'll fight you too!”

Travis returned the weapon to safe, then lowered it while raising his off hand empty, palm out. “We mean you no harm,” he promised her.

The girl, who couldn't be more than twenty, lowered the tip of the bloody spear just a bit. Her hazel eyes narrowed and she gestured with the spear. “Who are you? You're not Carja or Oseram like that maggot you killed.”

“My name is Travis,” he told her, taking a cautious step forward. “I don't know those words, Carja or Oseram, but we're new here I guess you could say.”

When he took another step forward, the point of the spear came up again. “What are you doing in the Embrace? The Sacred Lands are forbidden to Outsiders.”

“We don't mean to trespass,” he assured her. He held out his rifle and Doc took it. “If you'll let me, I'll untie you and we can talk.” The spear point wavered.

“If you're lying, I'll kill you,” she warned.

“And then my friends will kill you and that does neither of us any good,” he reasoned. “How about instead I help you, we have a conversation and see if we can't be friends?” The foggy hazel eyes shifted between Travis, his team mates, and the dead 'Oseram', until she stood up straight and planted the butt of the spear on the ground, it's business end in the air.

“Your terms are acceptable.” Travis noted C shaped streaks of bright blue paint around her right eye, now that she was standing up, adding to the savage warrior feel she was dressed like. He walked over, quickly enough to be assertive, but slow enough not to put her back on her guard. Whoever had bound her hands with the coarse rope had been cruel about it and the knots were a hopeless mess. He drew the M7 bayonet from it's scabbard on his belt and in short order her hands were free. For the first time she smiled and was a girl just turning into a woman, before her face set and the warrior was back. “We should go. Those two will bring others from their camp in Devil's Thirst.”

“Is that what you call those ruins?”

“Yes,” she snapped then looked up at him. She was pretty tall herself, but Travis was not quite two meters. “What do you call it?”

“In my day we called it Colorado Springs.”

“Colo...” she whispered. “Where are you from?”

“We live in the buildings up the canyon,” he told her, pointing back towards the facility. Her brows met as she frowned in anger.

“No one lives there,” she declared.

Travis smiled his most disarming smile. “We've...been gone a long time. Would you like to come with us? We can have that talk...?” She looked over her shoulder in the direction the two had run off in, then back.

“I accept. Travis.”

He made gestures to indicate his squad. “This is Tracy, Jordi, and Buck. What's your name?”

The blonde stood up proudly and raised her chin. “I am Nakoa, Outcast Brave of the Nora.” She picked up the spear and turned, expecting Travis to go past her, but when he turned to head back to his squad she was puzzled. “You do not wish your right?”

“Right?” Murray asked.

“You slew the Oseram in fair combat, his possessions are yours.” Travis looked at the corpse, then back at the young woman and shook his head.

“He has nothing I want.”

“As you please,” Nakoa declared and strode back over to the body, quickly and efficiently stripping it of anything metal. Then she went over to the other body and began the same, placing a dagger she took from the corpse in a sheath on her belt that was empty.

“Not a squeamish bone in her body,” Tracy whispered to Travis, returning his rifle to him. “That girl is used to dead and dying people. That can't be the first person she's killed.”

“These people live with death,” Travis observed quietly. “And probably not for very long.”

She marched back over, the spear across her back now, it's blade clean and gleaming. The bow and arrows she'd taken from Apron in her hand. “Lead the way,” she announced, not quite making a command of it.

“Paradise lost,” whispered Tracy with a smile as she turned and started back towards the mountain.

“Yeppers,” Murray agreed as he fell in beside their new warrior maiden,

They walked in silence for an hour, back out of the forest, into the grass land that led up the canyon to the testing facility, or it's ruin. Once they were far enough into the open they couldn't be ambushed, Travis called a halt and the group made a circle to sit and have some lunch. Nakoa was silent, but keenly interested as they took out their mess kits and the plastic, vacuum sealed bags of food. From his pack, Buck produced a solar powered hot plate, that fascinated Nakoa, so much so that Buck had to catch her hand to keep her from burning herself by touching it.

Tracy opened a pack of freeze dried strawberries, put them into a tin and poured water from her canteen onto them. Nakoa's eyes nearly popped out of her head as she watched the rock hard fruit come back to life and be soft again. She took one that Tracy offered and bit into it, the surprise and shock plain on her face. “What kind of magic is this?” she demanded.

“It's not magic,” Tracy told her. “We made the strawberries very cold while we dried them out. Without the water, they're hard, and they'll last for a long time without spoiling. You just add the water back and they're just like new.” She watched the younger girl wolf down several strawberries and asked, “When did you eat last?”

“Two nights ago,” she admitted around a mouthful. “I was traveling with an Oseram trading caravan from Daytower, but a Thunderjaw attacked us and we got separated.”

“Wait, I thought the guy Colon...er, Travis killed was named Oseram...” Jordi protested.

“Oseram was his tribe, not his name,” Nakoa corrected. “They come from a land called The Claim. It's over the mountains to the west and north of the Sundom.”

“What's a Thunderjaw?” asked Buck from whatever the concoction he was making on the hot plate. It was mostly chicken, though there was a little baggie of assorted vegetables and some fresh herbs he'd found on the hike put in that were beginning to smell quite nice.

“You've never seen one?” she asked, genuinely surprised. “Uh, well, it looks a bit like a Watcher, you've seen those?”

“We saw something we called that; it was guarding a little herd of other machines right before we met you,” Travis told her. “Looked like a fat snake on two legs in the middle with a long tail.”

Nakoa smiled and nodded. “Yes, that's a Watcher. A Thunderjaw is like that, but much bigger.”

“How much bigger?” asked Jordi worriedly.

The Nora looked about and pointed at one of the High Tension Towers. “Half that height. If you've never fought one, you're lucky.”

“We are seriously under armed,” Jordi muttered. Travis patted his marksman on the shoulder in encouragement then helped himself to a strawberry.

Turning to the new girl, he asked, “Nakoa, you said you're an Outcast Brave? Is that a rank...?” Her face became serious and she looked down at the hot plate and the stew bubbling on it.

“Brave is a rank,” she corrected softly. “I am Outcast from my tribe, the Nora, because I was denied the rank of Seeker and left the Embrace anyway.” She looked up and saw the confusion on her hosts faces and shifted to get a bit more comfortable on the ground. “Of the Nora, only Seekers may leave the Embrace and return. I was denied, but I left anyway.”

“Why?” asked Tracy.

“Three years ago, during the last of the Red Raids, a group of Carja soldiers raided the Embrace, for slaves to sacrifice to the Mad Sun King. I watched them as they tortured my father to death and I swore I would hunt them down and make them pay.” She chewed on the fruit thoughtfully. “It took me until six months ago, but they're all dead.” she declared with considerable satisfaction. Then she sighed and continued, “And because I left the Embrace without the Seeker Blessing, I'm Outcast. I can never re-enter the Sacred Lands.”

“That's horrible!” Tracy exclaimed, but the young hunter only shrugged.

“It is as the Mother wished, I suppose. I was going to the boarder post to send word to my aunt and brother that I was alive, Father's killers were dead by my hand and that it would be alright.” She gave a vague gesture at the woods behind them. “That's when the Bandit's found me.” She wiped her hands against her pants and looked at the group. “What is your tribe? I've never seen the like of you.”

“We work for American Scientific,” Travis replied without thinking.

“Amsci?” Nakoa asked. “I've never heard of the Amsci tribe. You are good fighters, I'll give you that. The ruins you claim are not in the Sacred Lands, but don't think to expand into them. We Nora are fierce.”

“We're not looking to expand or fight anyone,” Travis assured her. “Though we might be open to trade. We have a vast store of knowledge and skills we can teach.”

The hazel eyes shifted to the AR15s each near to hand of one of the group and back to Travis. “Indeed.”

“Soup's on,” Buck declared, wrapping a handkerchief around the handle of the pot and picking it up to spoon portions into the held out mess trays. “It's hot,” he warned Nakoa who smirked at him while she took the plate and spoon he offered. “Sounds like we've got a lot of local politics to catch up on,” he observed heavily he touched his Focus and caused a holographic map of the region to appear in the middle of the group. “Maybe you can...?”

“What...is that?” Nakoa demanded, both awed, and some part of her obviously afraid of the image.

“It's just a picture,” Travis assured her. “Made by light in these machines we wear.”

“You make light like the Ancients did?”

Travis looked into the faces of his team, then made a decision. “Nakoa, we are what you call 'Ancients'.” He watched her dusky face go pale and decided to plow on. “We have been asleep, under the mountain, but we're not gods, just men and women, just like you.”

“I can't sleep for hundreds of years!” the warrior protested.

“Neither can we without machines, and medicines,” Tracy added, drawing the other girls eyes to her. “We just know things you don't, is all. There's no magic to this, anymore than there's magic to your bow.”

“How many are you?” she demanded.

“How many Nora are there?” Jordi shot back, drawing a snarl from Nakoa, that Murray quickly acted on.

In his most reasonable tone of voice, he said, “Enough that we won't be conquered, but not enough that we don't need friends. Or want to be good neighbors.”

Nakoa considered that for a moment, her eyes lingering on her stew, as if now unsure she could trust it. “If you are who you say, the world was almost destroyed because of you! The matriarchs warn us to have nothing to do with the ruins because of the ghosts and the evil there!”

“We are as much victims in this disaster as you,” Murray countered. “We didn't build the machines that destroyed the world, nor did we profit by it. Our company was helping humanity travel to the stars. We were lied to by our leaders and almost wiped out because it. We only had the means to try and survive the catastrophe and now to try and build a better life for us and our children.” He purposefully took a large spoonful of the stew and ate it, he hoped showing her that it was safe and complimented Buck on his field cooking.

“Just an old thing Grammy taught me,” the big man replied. “God rest her soul. Bit of this, bit of that.”

Something about Bucks statement obviously resonated with Nakoa, she shifted her seat to be more comfortable, less ready to leap to action and picked up the mess plate and began to eat. With her mouth full, she gave a gesture at the hologram with her spoon and asked, “What do you want to know?”

Travis pawed at the hologram, the Focus interpreting his gestures to manipulate the hologram, enlarging it until the local features were visible. “This is what the world looks like from above,” he declared, but the Nora Brave rolled her eyes.

“I know what a map is,” she snorted. “We are about here,” and she pointed with her spoon. “There is Devil's Thirst, which you call Co-lo-rad-oh Springs.” She haltingly sounded out the strange word, then continued brusquely. She drew an outline with her spoon the Focus highlighted. “This is Mother's Embrace, the Sacred Lands. I grew up here, in a small village called Mother's Rise. It's outside the wall of the Embrace, but not out of the Sacred Lands. It's where I was going when I was way laid.”

Travis nodded and pointed at the map. “This is where we live. Long ago, it was a test facility, where we tried to make engines for space ships. It was big and deep enough in to the mountain to protect us from the machines.”

She considered that for a moment, then demanded, “What kind of machine lets you sleep for hundreds of years?”

The Colonel pointed and turned to Tracy. “Doc?”

The medic rolled her eyes, but faced the Nora Brave. “Ok, so above us, the air we breath gets thinner, until it stops. Above that, there is nothing. So, to survive in space you have to take everything with you. Food, water, even air to breath, and because space is so big...um, how to put this. Ah, ok, so have you seen a spark or a flash, like a bolt of lightening? You see that at the same instant it happens, because light moves so fast, but it's not instantaneous. The sun, for example, is so far away from the Earth that it takes light nine minutes to get here.”

Comprehension dawned behind the warrior's eyes. “Ah, so you cannot take enough supplies to last the whole voyage? That's why you go to sleep?”

“Exactly!” Tracy enthused. “We had been developing this technology for a considerable amount of time, so when the Faro Plague...the war that caused all of this, happened, we gambled that we could use it to step over the time when the Earth was unlivable to now.”

Nakoa found that funny and chuckled. “You're late. The Matriarchs tell us it has been countless years since All Mother led our ancestors from the Mountain.”

“Our...machine...took some of its instructions a bit too literally,” Travis agreed. “But, we're here and we're alive, so I'm willing to be fashionably late.” Something about what she said bothered him and he adjusted the map a bit. “Led you from the Mountain?” He asked, and indicated a place on the holographic map. “This mountain?”

Immediately, the girl closed up and one hand reflexively touched her spear. “What do you know of All Mother Mountain?”

“We called it Cheyenne Mountain,” Travis told her. “It was a fortress my people built before I was born. To defend us against enemies across the sea. It was called North American Air Defense Command. NORAD for short.”

Her face flushed red and her voice was angry. “The Ancients did not build All Mother Mountain!” she shouted. “There is no evil in it!”

Immediately, Travis put up his hands in an attempt to calm her. “Whoa! Calm down, I'm not making any kind of accusations like that!” he protested. “I'm just trying to get our bearings! This doesn't look anything like we remember!”

Her nostrils flared with her breath as she mastered her temper and considered what was being said, finally relaxing again. “Fine,” she admitted after a long, tense moment. “You are strangers, and you did not mean blasphemy. This is a sacred place to my people, and your innocent remark touched a nerve. I am sorry for my temper.” She purposefully moved the spear further away from her and sighed. “So, I have spoken wisdom to your questions, now I have some.”

“Fire away,” Travis replied, glad the accidental misstep hadn't cost them too much. He took another spoonful of stew as she gathered her thoughts.

“You are the War Chief of your tribe?”

Tracy snickered, but Buck was actually philosophical about it. “Pretty much, that's the Colonel. That was his rank in our Army, but War Chief works.”

“Co-lo-nel?” she asked, carefully sounding out the word. “What kind of a word is that?”

“It was originally a French word,” Travis replied. “They...uh...were a 'tribe' in our time and they spoke a different language.” Nakoa's eyebrows went up her forehead.

“You had tribes so large their words were different?”

“Oh, yes,” he answered. “In our day there were hundreds of different languages. Some only a little different, some that grew out of other, older languages, some that weren't related to any of the others at all. A handful, even made up.”

She considered that for a moment, then asked, “So what does Colonel mean?”

“A Colonel is a commander of a Brigade, which is a sub unit of our Army. A Brigade has three Battalions, each battalion has four companies of three platoons, and each platoon has generally a hundred men.”

“So...” she drawled as she worked the sums in her mind. “You commanded thousands of men? And that was not your entire army?”

“Was,” he assured her. “It was a long time ago. Before my superiors thought those things,” and he gestured at the rusting, insect like hulk of a Faro Chariot war robot near by. “Were better than men.”

Nakoa rolled her eyes. “They won.”

“We all lost,” he corrected her. “Even them,” he added philosophically. “A machine has no purpose without a human to give it one, after all. In civilian life, I became the head of security for American Scientific, and while we didn't go to war, it was my job to defend the employees. War Chief works, I suppose.”

“So,” she asked, looking at him side long. “Who is your chief?”

Travis smirked a bit to himself. “His name is Frank Olmstead, not that it will mean anything to you. It was his money that let all of us survive this.”

“I'd like to meet this Chief Frank.”

“You will,” he assured her. “Since you're an Outcast of your tribe, we could use your knowledge of things now. We could make a home for you with us.”

She considered that for a moment, cleaning her plate of the stew. “So long as you do not cause strife with the Nora, I am willing. I may be Outcast, but they are my family.”

“As I said, we're not looking for trouble.”

“Then I will go with you, though, I do need to see to sending word to my aunt.”

Travis finished his own portion and wiped out his kit with a rag before returning it to his pack. “Let us see to things in our home, then I'll take you.” He reached up and touched his Focus. “ENID? We are go for Phase Three.”

“That's good news, Colonel Murray,” the AI replied. “I will begin the wake sequence now. I read you as three kilometers away, so, we will see you in an hour or so?”

“See you then.”

It was not particularly late when the group got back to the Facility, though the sun was not very high above the Rocky Mountains; being up in the mountains dusk would come quickly. The blast doors were open and there were a number of people out and about, clearing the debris of the admin building, to mechanics working to get the vehicles prepped from storage, Nakoa was quiet in her awe looking through the three story high blast doors, into the massive Big Bay and the ants nest of activity inside it. Once they were close, the recon team slung their rifles over their shoulders and Travis paused a moment to give orders. “Buck, I want you to get with the rest of security and set up a perimeter. Make sure every sergeant of the guard knows there are hostile machines out there so they take this watch seriously.”

“Roger that, Skipper,” the big man declared and broke off into the swarm of activity.

“Jordi, get a hold of facilities maintenance, I want a perimeter fence and stockade as a building priority, before anything is permanently left out here.”

“Yes sir.”

“You need me for anything, Colonel?” Tracy asked, but Travis shook his head.

“No, Doc, but they probably need you with the wake up, so go ahead.”

“It was nice meeting you,” the medic told the Nora Brave, then she too was off after her fellows.

“What an odd thing to say,” Nakoa muttered as she watched the other woman leave.

“It's a polite expression from my time,” Travis replied. He caught sight of Frank, hip deep in the chaos, and touched the Brave on her elbow and gestured as he led her towards him. “Frank!” he called, and the older man turned, seeing his security chief, he broke away from what he was doing and walked to meet them. Once they were within conversation distance, Travis declared, “Frank Olmstead, meet Nakoa, Brave of the Nora Tribe. Nakoa, this is our Chief Executive Officer, Frank.”

“Charmed, my dear,” the older man said. “Nora? Did I pronounce that right?”

“You did,” Nakoa replied. “We...well, they are your closest neighbors. That way,” she pointed, then after a sly glance at Travis, added, “It is nice to meet you.”

Frank, however missed nothing and turned back from looking over the ridge line at the girl. “They?” he asked.

“I am Outcast from my tribe,” she replied. “Your War Chief, Travis, offered me a place here if I would share what I know of the area, which I accepted so long as you do not make war against the Nora.”

“I have no plans to make war against anyone,” Frank assured her. “And you're quite welcome, my dear.” He chuckled and elbowed the larger Chief of Security. “Any friend of the 'War Chief' is a friend of mine.” To Travis, he said, “I will certainly be looking forward to reading this report.”

“I hope I can keep you entertained,” Travis replied. “Do you want the executive summary here, or...?”

“No, no, see to your young friend and we'll have it out over dinner.”

“Yes sir. Nakoa, why don't you come with me? Would you like some fresh clothes?”

The girl looked down at her buckskins, and then back up. “What's wrong with what I'm wearing?”

He smirked at her. “You may find we as a people have, um, different standards of hygiene. I thought you might like to wash those. Perhaps a shower?”

She looked up at the sky. “No, I don't think it will rain. Not tonight, anyway. Who is this Hygiene and why should I care about their standard?”

That brought a chuckle he couldn't contain and he just took her elbow. “Let me show you.” A short walk brought her through the hive of work towards the living quarters that had been hastily dug out to widen and expand where the Brave marveled at the miracle of indoor plumbing and running water. The concept of a man made rain storm just for bathing fascinated her. So much so she had to try it out, which parted her from the leathers, which were very much in need of freshening.

In fact, her skin clean was a full shade lighter than it had been before the shower. From her kit bag she produced a homespun blouse and skirt both of which had been dyed blue by some form of natural dye based on it's somewhat inconsistent hue, with a pair of fur lined moccasins that let her move absolutely silently on the concrete. Reunited with the big head of security, she decided to air her growing concern about how many Ancients she was seeing running around these corridors. “How many are you?” she demanded, and the expression on his face made her worry more.

He led the way through the halls, dodging children who were running loose, delighted to be free of the capsules and playing loud games while a few women were trying to corral them together. Finally, they arrived at a door labeled 'Security' and inside they got a quiet respite from the loosely organized chaos outside. He gestured at the hologram over the door to lock it, then sat down behind the desk. From a drawer in the desk he pulled a box and removed a Focus and offered it. “First, you'll need this, just hold it to your temple.”

She turned it over in her fingers. “The Seeker had one of these,” she remarked offhandedly as she looked at it. “She said it let her see things others couldn't.”

“Seeker?” he asked. “Isn't that what you were trying to become?”

She nodded. “I left the Embrace before she faced the Proving. I'd heard of her, the Child of the Mountain that had been given to the Outcast Rost. He had been a Deathseeker, they still sing songs about him in my village.”

“Child of the Mountain?” asked Travis. “What are you talking about?”

She put the Focus on her temple and looked him in the eyes. “You ask many questions about my people, but you avoid mine about yours.” He sighed gestured his acquiescence.

“That's fair. ENID? What is the current head count?”

Nakoa almost didn't react to the bust of a woman that appeared over his desk. “Certainly Colonel. The current head count, minus Miss Nakoa is twelve thousand six hundred and forty eight.”

“Twelve thousand?” Nakoa hissed. “What are they going to eat? There isn't enough game to feed the Nora and you!”

“We're not here to fight!” he told her harshly. “The first priority we have is to get those grasslands between us and Colo...Devil's Thirst plowed and planted. You saw all those boxes in the hallway? The ones that don't have food in them have seed stock. It's spring isn't it?”

“You think berries and roots will feed twelve thousand people?”

He grinned at her. “You haven't seen us farm. Don't your people have crops? Wheat? Orchards?”

“Of course we have children gather berries and roots, but it's meat that let a people survive the winter.”

“You're hunter gatherers? Well, we have a lot we can show you then.” He made a dismissive gesture and the AI vanished from over his desk. “Ok, all the cards on the table, what do you want to know?”

“I am a hunter, and my people gather food, but I don't think that's what you meant,” she accused.

“Hunter/gatherer is a stage of human evolution; the first stage, as I learned it,” he told her. “My people farm, we uproot the soil and deliberately plant seeds of plants we will eat in the fall, over the winter. These plots are large. We plan to plant that entire grassland we walked over to get here.”

“Even with twelve thousand of you, that would take...”

“We have machines to help us do the work. There are only a few hundred of us that will farm, and we expect to have that land plowed and planted in a week or two. And it's harvest will be tons of food. Do you understand that word? Ton?” She angrily shook her head. He gestured at the desk he was sitting at. “This desk weighs about thirty pounds. Try to shift it.” He waited for her to do so and understand the amount. “A ton is two thousand pounds.”

“The land can't grow that much!”

“Nakoa, in our day, the central plains of this Continent,” he touched the Focus and brought up an image of the United States from space. “This region, it was a golden sea of grain where we grew so much food that being fat became a health problem for my people.”

“All the Ancients looked like an Oseram Merchant prince with barrels full of shards?” she laughed, but the laugh slowly died away. “You're serious? You were so rich you all became fat? All of you?”

“All? No, but a, forgive me a pun, large number of us did. We're not going to get into competition for game, we keep animals we want to slaughter for food. It was this advance, staying in one place to grow food instead of looking for it. It was being able to plan that let the Ancients begin to specialize their jobs. Hunting wasn't everyone's occupation, tradesmen could focus on doing one thing and trade whatever they made for food. This is what civilization is.”

She thought for a long moment and paced slowly on the office floor as she considered. “The Carja do this, and I've heard of the Utaru from the Forbidden West, they are said to have huge fields of food, but no one, no where I've heard of can do anything like what you describe.” She looked up locked eyes with him. “You say you aren't looking for a fight? When the word gets out of what you can do, fights will come looking for you, War Chief.”

“Shit,” he muttered. “New boss, same as the old one.”

Frank sighed as he sat at the desk in the little office they'd set up for the CEO to have meetings uninterrupted. He'd listened to Travis' summation of his report as he'd skimmed over the document holographically and examined the fight they'd gotten into saving Nakoa. “Well,” he drawled at last and rubbed his eyes. “I've had worse news given to me.”

“As near as I can tell the world isn't ending again,” Travis admitted.

“'Those who beat their swords into plow shears will plow for those who didn't,'” the CEO quoted mirthlessly. “Thank God I listened to you and packed that armory with everything we could get our hands on.” He sighed again and rubbed his eyes. “A thousand years of sleep to flee from a war only to rush into another because we have food. Food! For the love of God, when will mankind learn?!”

“I'm afraid that's outside of my expertise, boss,” Travis told him with a ghost of a smile on his lips. “What I can say is it sounds like the Nora will probably be open to friendly trade, though we'll have to be very careful with what we trade to them and how we offer it.”

“So, what's the state of warfare, Colonel? What kind of fight are we up against?”

“The Nora are hunter/gatherers,” he replied. “Bows, spears, though some interesting improvised things scavenged from the machines.”

Frank gave a gesture at the report and frozen image from the Focus of the scouting party still hovering in front of him. “Yes, these Terra forming machines you mention. Some of them are armed? Are they a threat?”

“Yes, they're armed, and yes, they're dangerous,” Travis admitted sadly. “The locals, everywhere within the trade network of these people, attack the machines to harvest metal. So we have hunter/gatherers with weapons that belong in the iron age, or worse. The machines started fighting back, some time ago, about the time the King's Peak Facility had the catastrophic accident. Best guess is the machines are drifting along trying to fulfill their base programming without any over arching direction.”

“As dangerous as the Faro Plague?”

Travis shook his head. “Not from what we've learned. They not only look like the animals they're based on, they act like them to a certain extent. Though there are newer, larger machines that actively hunt and attack humans, and they attack like the animals they're modeled after. While some do have weapons mounted on them, they don't have the Chariot's biomass converter technology, so they don't seem to swarm the way the Faro Plague Swarms did. But they are dangerous to small parties. And we'll need a defensive wall to keep them from wandering in.”

“Are we going to be protecting ourselves, and these Nora, Travis?”

The Chief shook his head. “They seem pretty stout, though I'll know more once I take Nakoa to send her message to her relatives.”

Frank considered that for a long moment, looking off, as though through the wall he stared at beyond to something greater. Finally, he made a decision and returned his eyes to Travis'. “That's fine then. I want you to be our ambassador and go with her.”

“My diplomacy is of the von Clausewitz variety,” he warned his employer.

Olmstead's grin reminded Travis he was talking to a very rich man who had risen to greatness in one of the most cut throat times of human history. “So you're just the man to note what they're capable of while keeping a historical caution of the fine line between allies and enemies. While you're gone, I want Ian's group to start getting a handle on these machine animals. I want to know if they're locally controlled by some kind of semi-dumb AI that thinks like an animal, or remotely by a puppet AI that wants us to think that's what it is.”

“You're thinking about hacking them, sir?”

Frank's predatory smile widened. “Colonel, you know me so well. We could certainly use the help. Smart AI can be reasoned with and dumb ones can be overridden. I don't especially care which. I agree with your recommendation about the stockade and guard protocols while we're out doors. Prep your assistant to see to those modifications with facilities while you're gone.”

“Yes, sir.”

Olmstead stood and offered his hand which Travis took. “Colonel, you watch your back out there and come home. We need you. If you think you need to, take one of your boys with you.”

“Roger that, sir.”