Faces shifted to each other, some sheepish, others frightened. There was a bit of murmuring surrounding the table before Ethan cleared his throat.
“I’ll do it,” he said. “I’ll mark the facility.”
Silence fell over the meeting and somber expressions filled the faces. The mood had downshifted, as if someone just broke a bit of terrible news to the room. Ethan looked around with a furrowed brow and confused eyes.
“Well don’t look like that,” he said. “I’m not even dead yet!”
His joke fell flat and no one made a sound. He looked down at his lap and pretended he had said nothing.
The silence went on for a full minute before King Hum made a noise like a small cough.
“Then it is agreed,” he said. “Alongside Ethan, the bulk of the Opesian army will be dropping in on gunships to engage the Council soldiers on the Pavilion. Hopefully, we can draw enough fire that Ethan slips in unnoticed. Once the beacon is placed, we can focus all artillery on the signal and reduce the Council’s storage facility to rubble. Then — ”
“Then we hope they surrender,” Gauge cut in. “Because we can’t maintain the attack for long. A few hours at most.”
The delegates from the other nations seemed to be in deep thought as they looked over the map of Shell City. Ethan shared their melancholic contemplation as he imagined running past the frontlines of the battle into the Council’s formations. Tera looked between the attendants.
“It’s the best plan we have,” Major Danib commented. “I’m in.”
“As am I,” Nayla replied.
Farmer Ben and President Euring gave quick nods while meeting the mechanical king’s eyes.
Truck smiled a little. “Let’s smash some heads.”
A Short Refrain
Adviser Orram tried to make as little noise as possible as he entered the throne room. The young king stood with his back to the door, peering out the far window. The sky was turning orange as the sun sank below the desert horizon. The colorful light reflected off the metal of Hum’s bodyshell. He didn’t have his wrappings on.
“Did you ever think we’d be marching into war alongside metal men and women?” King Hum asked. He continued gazing out at the growing night, his hands folded behind his back.
Orram joined the I.I. by the window.
“I never thought we’d be marching to war at all, your grace,” the old man said. “Or, at least, I never hoped.”
“Nor I,” Hum replied. “However, the alternative is unimaginable. War is the only right thing to do in this situation. Yet, I can’t help but feel such an aversion to the concept. The idea of killing and dying being necessary is repugnant to me.”
Orram smiled. “One of the many qualities of an excellent king,” he said.
“Still, the possible rewards are staggering,” Hum continued, turning to face his adviser. “The liberation of an entire continent is at stake. Not only will we be free of the insidious Council, but we will be able to rebuild. Unify the people, perhaps.”
“To be the pioneers of such a change, as well,” Orram commented with a twinkle in his eye, “If Opes hasn’t secured its place in history yet, it surely will when we win.”
A solemn look washed over King Hum’s artificial features. “Will we win, Orram?”
Deep consideration filled the old man’s face. He locked eyes with his king and nodded. “Yes, your grace,” he answered. “I know we will.”
“How?”
“I have faith.”
Tera knocked at the door frame that led into Ethan’s room, clutching onto a bottle of tequila. She heard some stirring from inside, along with a few groans. For a moment, she was worried she woke the human up, but he arrived at the door fully dressed.
“Hey,” he said. His eyebrow was cocked in confusion.
“Hey,” Tera said back. She lifted the bottle so Ethan could see it. “Want some?”
The teenager frowned at it. “Why do you have that?” he asked. “I thought you couldn’t drink.”
“I can’t — at least, not much,” she replied. “I thought you might want some, though. Considering we might all die tomorrow and all.”
Ethan swallowed and nodded, then stepped aside so Tera could enter the room. She walked past him, carrying the bottle like it was a spent uranium rod. Ethan followed behind her and took a seat on the bed. She uncorked the bottle and leaned against the wall across from Ethan. With a dismal expression, like he was being coerced to, Ethan gestured for the bottle.
Tera watched him as he took a long pull, then chuckled when he sputtered and coughed. He almost dropped the bottle, but she rushed in and rescued it.
“You look like you’re at a funeral,” Tera commented once Ethan regained his composure. “You know, it’s not hopeless. We wouldn’t have been able to find so much help if it was.”
“It’s not that,” the young man replied.
The bodyshell cocked her head and waited for him to continue.
“I don’t know what’s real anymore, Tera,” he said. His eyes welled up with a thin layer of tears, though from the tequila or emotion, Tera was unsure. “They took my sense of reality from me. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to shrug off this feeling that I’m just in another simulation. Every time I close my eyes, for a moment, I expect to wake up. For real. And every time it doesn’t happen, I lose a little more of my mind.”
Tera was silent for a moment. She didn’t know what to say. What words could possibly comfort him? The Council screwed her over as well, but at least she was certain
