(1,078 years later, picking up from the previous volume.)
“Perfect. This is it. I’ve found its locator-control module.” The voice sounded relieved. “The poor guy finally won’t be under Phantom Forge’s control.”
“But it looks awful,” someone else said. “Can it really wake up, Julian?”
“Of course.”
“Then why do you still look so serious, sir?”
“Don’t play dumb, Bit.”
“Right. Sorry, sir.”
“When an Awakened suffers severe head trauma,” Julian said, “it may lose its self and revert to an ordinary machine. Even I can’t prevent that. That’s why I keep telling you: be careful in combat.”
***
Five “people” stood in a wide room flooded with light—brighter than daylight.
Julian—the Tower Clan superintelligence known among Plando forces as the Savior—was here in a gentleman’s avatar, dressed in a tailored suit.
He was speaking with a robot carrying a translucent longblade. That robot was Bit.
A lean, long-limbed robot sat farther back inside a maintenance cradle, missing one arm while several mechanical manipulators fitted a replacement.
A towering, thick-built robot stood like a statue, gripping an oddly shaped halberd.
Beside it stood a petite girl. She cradled a longbow nearly as tall as she was, watching a holographic cutaway with obvious interest.
In fact, everyone’s eyes were on that cutaway.
The image came from the center of the room: a robot head secured in a mount. The back plate of its skull had been opened, and tubes of different colors fed into the exposed interior, linked to the main console beside it.
The head looked nearly beyond salvage. Its jaw was gone. The face armor had shattered. One optic was missing, and the rest was dented and crushed.
But in the magnified hologram, hundreds of nanobots were moving inside the skull, swarming like a living circuit.
As Julian spoke, a small clamp slid into the robot head. With the nanobots guiding it, the clamp pinched out a chip no bigger than a fingernail.
Bit took the chip from the mechanical arm, lifted it, and squinted at it.
“This one, sir?”
“Yes.” The gentleman’s tone tightened. “Don’t stare at it. That thing could expose our location. Destroy it.”
“Understood.”
Bit crushed the chip between its fingers. A wisp of blue smoke rose. It kept grinding until the chip became dust.
“Let’s try powering it up,” the gentleman said, and for the first time he sounded genuinely nervous.
The nanobots withdrew through the tubing. The holographic cutaway vanished.
***
A moment later, the robot head’s single remaining optic flickered on. It stared blankly at the five pairs of eyes watching it.
“Hey!” Bit waved a hand in front of the optic. “Can you hear me?”
No response.
“That doesn’t look great,” the girl said.
“It… has no mouth,” the big robot said slowly, as if each word was new. “No hands. Can’t… answer.”
“No.” The gentleman stepped closer. “I’ve routed its language system through the room console. It can speak.”
He bent until he was eye level with the optic. “Can you see me?”
Silence.
Just as their patience began to fray, a voice came from the wall speaker.
“‘Savior’… I’ve seen you before.”
The girl’s face lit up. Bit slapped the big robot’s palm in celebration. The one in the maintenance cradle gave a small, satisfied nod.
The gentleman finally exhaled. “Where did you see me?”
“On the Silent Plains,” the voice said. “With you… and your horse.”
“Yes.” The gentleman smiled despite himself. “You picked up my hat for me. You also gave me that information. You were acting so strangely that day, I didn’t dare trust you completely.”
“The Old Man… Hector… he left something for you.”
The room went quiet all at once.
“Thank you,” the gentleman said gently. “I received it. And thank you for everything you did. Hector told me about you.”
“I’m… sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” The gentleman’s voice softened further. “If anything, we owe you.”
“Where am I?” the head asked. “Father… and CBG?”
“Deep under the Doomsday Fortress,” the gentleman said. “And you mean that monster? Unfortunately, we couldn’t keep it. It got away.”
“It was strong,” the girl added, nodding toward the maintenance cradle. “Impossible to kill. Merc lost an arm.”
“You were just… too weak,” the big robot said, chopping the air with an awkward gesture. “Bit and I… took down four. You two… couldn’t handle one.”
“That one is stronger than ten,” the girl snapped. “And you should go back to signing. Listening to you talk is painful.”
“You’re the one,” the big robot started—then switched, signing fluidly while the words came out halting, “who made me talk. Bio-humans are… a pain.”
“What did you just say?” The girl’s voice rose. “Say it again.”
“That’s enough,” the gentleman said sharply. “We’re still at war up there. We’ve more urgent things to handle.”
Then he turned back to the mounted head. “What’s your name?”
“DR-F1209.”
“Not your ID.” The gentleman shook his head. “Your name.”
“I don’t have one.”
“Every Awakened has a name.” The gentleman’s irritation eased into something like amusement. “And since we’re here, I’ll introduce everyone.”
He pointed to Bit. “That’s Bit. A master with the blade.”
“I’m not bad with guns either,” Bit said quickly. “I’m not bad at anything.”
The gentleman ignored him and gestured at the giant. “That big one is Bubbles. Claims he’s the king of melee.”
Bubbles signed: Drop the ‘claims.’
The gentleman continued. “This pretty girl is Little White—human ancient martial arts’ only inheritor. Archery, dual blades, throwing knives… she’s at the peak.”
“Mm-hmm.” Little White smiled sweetly. “Did you catch that? ‘Pretty’ is the most important part. More important than everything after it.”
“Can you let me finish?!” the gentleman snapped.
He pointed to the robot in the cradle. “That’s Merc—our undisputed sniper ace. He can hit a target the size of a palm from ten kilometers.”
“If visibility’s good,” Merc muttered.
The gentleman sighed. “Merc and Little White are the ones who pulled you out of that monster’s hands.”
The mounted head watched them interrupt the Savior again and again, amazed.
In Plando territory, any robot that dared speak one extra word in front of Father never lived to see the next day.
Maybe… I should introduce myself too.
“I… I’m called…” The head hesitated. “Hector used to call me ‘Idiot.’”
They all laughed.
“That won’t do.” The Savior chuckled. “And besides, that’s basically everyone’s nickname around here. Pick something else.”
The head went still, thinking. A memory surfaced: the sinkhole that had awakened it, and the plants growing inside it.
“Then… call me Wuji.”
“Wyatt,” Little White said at once. “Nice name.”
“Not Wyatt,” the head corrected. “Wuji.”
“Wyatt?” Bit echoed, tilting its head.
“It said, not Wyatt,” Bubbles said, mangling the syllables. “It’s… woo-jee.”
The head paused.
“…Fine,” it said. “Wyatt, then.”