“I weary with how often people disappoint me.” Basileus gestured to one of the mercs.
“Your plan,” Nick reminded him.
Gus nodded, waiting for just the right time.
“I am done playing games. I will gather everyone and remove you from the manor by force.” Basileus touched his ear and said something without amplifying it, then folded his arms in front of him with confidence. In less than a minute, Gus saw a large craft appear in the distance, moving to rendezvous with Basileus.
And that is my cue to get the hell out of here. Gus ran back to the manor and Basileus just laughed maniacally at his retreating back.
“Scurry away, little roach! Go get him!” he roared at the other supers and they took off after him. Gus activated Gemini and ordered his double to flee in an erratic pattern. Meanwhile, Gus ducked and dodged the shots and beams upturning the ground around him as he activated Hyper, doubling his Agility as he fled to the manor. A blast hit him in the back but his new armor absorbed the shot without even heating up. More supers broke after his double, assuming that he was the fake, not having been damaged by the hit.
Thank you, hybrid-Nth! At last he was at the entrance, and he slid inside. He signaled for Nick to drop the security slab into place, and launch his countermeasures. Gus could hear grinding gears and scraping of metal as panels shifted over vulnerable accessways, changing the exterior look of the manor before the other supers could reach it.
“Entryways protected,” Nick reported.
Gus saw red stars swarm over the manor, searching for weaknesses. It was only a matter of time before they found a way in. Gus headed for the control center. The atrium was dark with the windows covered, and he had to change filters to find his way.
He rushed to the control center to watch the results of his efforts. Sliding into a seat, he rubbed his hands, ready for the show.
Chapter Thirty-Five
The Future Soon
All of the mercs spilled off the dais and more joined from the support craft, racing toward the manor. One super remained on the dais, watching it all impassively, previously unnoticed by the others and unmoved at the opportunity to fight.
He was neither on one side or the other, and since he hadn’t been provoked, he did not rush to retaliate. The super named Voltekka watched as the others chased after the retreating man on the beach.
His employer grew restless and urged his pilot to land the dais near the structure. Hopping off and following the other supers onto the beach, he paused to look up at the large mecha before following the others.
“What are you waiting for? Let’s go!” Basileus yelled, eyes wide with excitement.
“I will join you shortly,” Voltekka responded, his voice a perfect imitation of Optimus Prime. It was totally unnecessary; he could have synthesized his actual voice, the one he used when he was merely Merlin Vandezon. However, people almost expected the voice with his appearance as a real life mecha. In truth, he did it just to toy with them. He had lost some things as he mechanized himself, removing all physical weakness through engineering, but his personality was intact.
Voltekka hovered over, adjusting the thrusters on his mechanized suit. No. Suit wasn’t accurate. The transition had happened over time, but the line between technology that he wore and technology that he was had blurred long ago. He cast his mind back to when he had crossed over. Was it on the station? Or after? No matter.
One of the advantages of the transition was his perspective. He had obtained a level of patience he had never possessed when he was merely human. With plans as ambitious as his, he had much to do to accomplish them. Many, many preparations.
He could sense what he came for nearby and the man would provide the most efficient way of locating what he sought. It would be no big loss if he died, Voltekka would get what he came for either way.
He looked up to the heavens and his display rendered the orbital ring that would span the planet. The exquisite isolation, away from the frenetic distractions down here. He longed to be up there again, building and making his vision a reality. Were it not for the specialized resources here, he wouldn’t be wasting his time. He had tracked a large shipment of Endurium to Manticorps decades ago, when it had inexplicably disappeared. Years of searching had turned up nothing.
When the virus Voltekka had planted in the Manticorps network began pinging keywords, he tore himself away from his work. The components that should be here were too valuable to be used for any purpose but his own. At last, he would eliminate this bottleneck to his plan’s progression.
He prepared a quick communique to his followers, delineating his plans and intentions, then sent the burst data packet to the converted remnants of the Von Neumann Space Station. This completed, he surveyed the manor and floated past it, traveling over the jungle.
If the man was caught, he would know about it in party comms. He adjusted the filters to reduce the near-constant updates and chatter. The invasive nature of comms forced him to slow down his processing to manage the maddeningly slow nature of spoken conversation. So inefficient. It was good he was almost done with this objective.
Pulsing out a deep scan, Voltekka zeroed in on the strongest signal. He increased his speed, realizing that it was unpurposed. Arriving at the location, he noted a primitive camp. Landing deftly, his metallic feet crushed coconut shells that had been strewn about. Muffled pops sounded as he walked forward and fished a small triangular piece of metal out of the sand. He held the tiny piece in front of him, turning it about in wonder.
“Interesting,” his
