“May I show you something, major?” he asked.
Major Danib didn’t reply.
King Hum pinched a bit of the linen between his thumb and forefinger and unwrapped it from his other arm. Once the servos, gears, plastic, and metal were revealed, Danib gasped. He looked over King Hum’s form, then back at the robotic arm.
“Your whole body is like this?” he asked. Then realization hit him. “You’re an installed intelligence.”
“Yes, and all because of a lie the Council dreamed up,” the king said. “They used my faith against me and denied me access to God. I’ll never be able to join the great spirit of the Earth, if our religion is true. They took more than life from me. They took eternity.”
Major Danib swallowed, but remained silent as he sized up the I.I. king.
“We need your help, major,” Hum said.
Slowly, Danib nodded. He was truly shaken by Hum’s account; his voice failed to come back with its usual strength.
“You shall have it,” the major said. He cleared his throat and steadied his inflection. “The Battalion is here to serve the people of our country.”
Warplan
In the end, all of King Hum’s envoys had been successful. Adviser Orram couldn’t help but thank the spirit of God as he escorted the delegates into the palace’s throne room, which had been converted into a war room. A representative from each nation arrived in Opes that day to discuss the attack on the Council.
Where there had been the king’s desk, there was now a large table with a map of Shell City and the surrounding ruins laid out upon it. Chairs were assembled around it, and the guests each took one without much of a greeting from King Hum himself. The young monarch stood at the head of the table, his robotic hands palm-down on the surface. He remained standing once everyone was seated and all eyes were on him.
“Thank you all for coming,” the king said, scanning the faces of the five delegates. “I’ll be honest and say I did not expect half of you to show up. That alone should be a testament of how important this issue is. We all have a common enemy, and beyond that, a common threat against our very survival. The Council won’t stop at controlling their own cities; those who live around them can see by the expansion into those areas. Something must be done.”
Nayla, the Ghost leader, raised a mechanical hand. “I don’t mean to interrupt, your grace, but I must ask if you’ve done a security sweep of the throne room. Before we continue, that is.”
“Of course,” King Hum replied. “We are clean of any dangers here, for the time being.”
Nayla seemed satisfied with the reply, as did Major Danib and President Euring. Truck and Farmer Ben didn’t seem to be concerned in the first place. No one said anything and the silence grew as Hum measured their reactions.
“The attack will begin in one week,” King Hum said. “It gives us enough time to prepare but without allowing them time to brace for us. Any longer and our attack will lose potency; we may well lose the war.”
Everyone around the table, Ethan and Tera included, shuffled uncomfortably when the word “war” was said. Each face was cold and solemn.
“What’s the plan, then?” Truck asked, locking eyes with the mechanical monarch.
Hum was silent for a moment as he sized up the room. He seemed to have some internal debate, at the conclusion of which he nodded. With a slow, deliberate motion, he pointed along the outer walls of Shell City.
“We’ll need to set up a siege outside the city here, to make sure no Council troops come in or out,” he started. “Major, that will be our job. One-third of my troops will join yours along the roads leading into Shell City. We can also establish centers there for any fleeing civilians, which I think the Republic of Orange would be best equipped to handle.”
President Euring nodded at her nation’s mention.
“Ben,” Hum continued, looking up at the Gearhead farmer, “you and your guild friends will lead a bombardment on the city walls. We’re not looking to cause a breach so much as to add to the ensuing chaos inside the city.”
“I can have artillery support help with that as well,” Major Danib commented.
“Perfect,” King Hum said. He moved his robotic finger up to the gate of the city walls. “Now Truck, I think your people would be best used in the siege as well. The presence of physical invaders might persuade them to spread out their defenses a bit when we come and hit them in the Pavilion.”
“Actually,” Truck said, trying not to tread on the I.I. king’s toes, “I think I could be of more use inside the walls. My raiders are no strangers to sneaking in and out of the cities; we can send them in to sow chaos on the streets and really diverge their response.”
King Hum considered Truck’s response and nodded in agreement. “That’s a better idea. Very well,” he said.
“My people can help on that end,” Nayla spoke up. “If you can show us what their police force looks like, what kind of bodyshells they wear, we could disguise ourselves and sneak in ahead of the attack. That way, we can be in just the right position to strike when the attack begins, maybe even sabotage their defense a bit.”
“I can’t say my plan is any better than that,” King Hum said, sharing a glance with Adviser Orram. “The more confusion we can create within the city walls, the better.”
“We can provide bodyshells,” President Euring said, looking over at Nayla’s hooded form. “As well as any other equipment that might be needed. Gunships, I imagine, will be in high demand for the attack on the Pavilion. Ammunition, armor, ordinance — these sort of things. There will be a bill, of course, but we are happy to meet your demands.”
“Speaking of gunships,”
