Posted: 2003-11-09 12:00pm
Chapter 13: Agents are Coming
The room was a submerged basement under an abandoned warehouse. The warehouse was off to the side on the edges of the city’s industrial sector, clinging to the merchant areas that sprouted from the industrial sector in fan like swathes.
The warehouse was a Zion safe area in the Matrix. Very few of them existed, and more and more had been swallowed up by Agents and the machines since the war had flared up. The machines had become very diligent in finding Zionist weapons caches and safe havens and uprooting them from the construct.
But thankfully they had not found this place yet.
It was one of the very dim hopes that did not ease the troubled mind of Captain Niobe.
She held in her hands the possible death sentence of Zion and all of humanity.
These were troubled times.
“Is everyone here, Ghost?” She asked grimly.
“Yes sir, well almost everyone.” He replied scanning the alleyway cautiously.
“Whose missing?”
“The Nebachednezzer.”
Niobe smirked.
“Morpheus. That man will do anything for a dramatic entrance.” Niobe muttered.
“Shall we boss?” Ghost asked and indicated the open door behind them. Niobe nodded and strode into the warehouse.
“Oh yeah, Damien from the Archimedes just showed up with sealed orders from the council.”
“That’s odd.”
“You wanna know what’s odder sir?” Ghost asked as they passed through a short dirty corridor and walked into the main assembly area. Niobe stopped short as she saw three people she had never seen before.
“He brought company.” Ghost finished indicating the new comers.
Niobe’s phone rang.
She slipped it out of her jacket.
“Go Spark.”
“Captain, I think you should know something about the new guys. They’re not reading as human.”
“Agents?!” Niobe snapped quietly trying not to draw attention. Ghost was on the alert, hands slipping into his jacket and gripping his guns.
“Not really. It’s strange boss.”
“You’re going to have to be A LOT clearer Spark.” Niobe replied darkly.
“Sorry boss, its just that their coding is agent-like if you get my meaning but they’re definitely not agents.”
“I’m not getting you drift Spark but they don’t seem to be hostile and they came with Captain Damien.”
“I’ll keep an eye out boss. No sign of the Neb yet.”
“I’ll be expecting them when things would be most dramatically appropriate.” Niobe said with a smirk and closed the phone.
“We all seem to be here so I’ll get started.” Niobe announced as she stepped into the center of the group. “And as I do I want to know who Damien’s houseguests are.”
Damien shifted on his feet and glanced over at the tall slim man and his two companions, a woman and a man, each broadly built and sporting leather jackets and sunglasses.
“The council has sent me with word. Word of an alliance.” Damien spoke in a clear voice. He wore a yellow leather trench coat and white silk shirt.
“Alliance?”
“Yes, there is another faction that has recently revealed itself in this war. They have approached Zion to offer terms of an alliance against the machines.”
“You better let the other shoe drop, Damien.” Niobe said coolly as she watched the three behind Damien. They were watching the group with cold steely gazes. They moved like machines in many ways and she was beginning to wonder what bombshell was about to be unleashed on this gathering.
“What does she mean?”
Damien glanced back at the others three. He returned his gaze to the assembled captains.
“This faction is led by an AI called Skynet.”
There was stunned silence from the gathered commanders.
“These fuckers are machines?!” Captain Ballard snapped angrily.
Damien held up his hands.
“Hold on, hold on! I have the treaty of alliance right here in my hands.” Damien held up a disk in his hand as he stepped between Ballard and the Terminators. “If you initiate hostilities against them then you will be disobeying a direct order from the council.”
“And what the hell was the council thinking, Damien?! They’re fucking machines, no different from the ones we’ve been fighting for fuck’s sake.” Soren exclaimed.
“We understand you response. As we understand it, the war against the machines has cost you many lives. We are like them in the fact that we are Artificial intelligences and constructs but you need to remove yourself from the current negative emotional state and see the truth.” The tall slim man explained calmly. He looked at each of the captains in the eye.
Some of them shuddered when they looked into his eyes. There was something empty in there, something cold. Some of the more combat experienced commanders recognized the feeling, it was like looking into the eyes of a sentinel.
“This motherfucker wants to talk to me about the truth.” Ballard spat.
“Ballard, calm down.” Niobe interjected.
“Niobe, this isn’t right and you know it.” Ice protested bitterly.
“You people may change your minds when you hear what I have to say.” Niobe replied.
“Niobe?” Soren asked quietly.
She stepped up to the table set up in the center of the room.
“These geotherms confirm the last transmission of the Osiris.” She slipped the geotherms on to the table, the captains gathered around quickly. “The machines are digging. They’re boring straight from the surface to Zion.”
“That’ll avoid the entire perimeter defense.” Soren noted, eyebrows furrowed in alarm.
“How fast are they moving?” Ice asked.
“Control estimates their descent at 100 meters and hour.” Niobe replied.
“Shit.”
“That about sums it up.” Damien muttered.
“How deep are they?” Soren asked, head cocked to the side as he examined one of the geotherms more closely.
“Almost 2,000 meters.”
“What about the scans form the Osiris?” Tirant asked.
“They can’t be accurate.” Ajax interjected.
“They may be.” Niobe replied and her tone said that she thought otherwise.
“What?”
“It’s not possible.” Ajax stated with conviction.
“That’s mean there are a quarter of a million sentinels up there.” Ice breathed.
“That’s right.” Kali agreed grimly.
“That can’t be.” Ajax protested.
“We do not understand the confusion. We believe that there are an estimated 250,000 human beings living in Zion. It would be strategically and tactically vital to have a large enough force to deal with the population.” The slim machine interjected softly. There was a preternatural calm to his words and voice.
“That fucker even sounds like an agent.” Kali snarled.
“Assault Doctrine calls for a standard 7 to 1 ratio for attackers for optimal success.” The female spoke up in a cold monotone.
“Considering the disparity in attack and damage between a human and a sentinel even a 1 to 1 ration would be overwhelming.” The male added.
“So as you can see, coming back to my earlier statement you must look at the truth, the cold fact that faces you all and faced your council when Skynet offered Alliance.”
“And what truth is that, machine?”
“You need us.” The slim man replied and smiled. The smile was devoid of any emotion. Niobe suspected that it was a simple sub routine written in this thing’s AI structure to help it interact with humans. She found it to be a walking horror.
At least the machines were honest enough to not make their killers resemble humans. The Sentinels were unmistakably alien and brutally honest about what they did.
“You know this is so wrong in so many ways. How many friends have we lost to machines and now the council is going to make alliances with them?” Ballard protested bitterly.
“Your Zion is about to be over run. We estimate that the machines will reach Zion in 24 hours. Skynet has dispatched forces to reinforce the defenses of your city as we speak. Skynet is also about to imitate its own assault on the machines. We would prefer to have Zion with us but are prepared to fight against the machines alone. You can join us in victory or continue on this course of suicide against a vastly superior foe.”
“Of course there is another question, machine, that you seemed to be deftly avoiding.” Niobe noted casually. She has been expecting Morpheus and he had not arrived. She did not want to think about what it meant.
“Yes?”
“Why join with us? If you could defeat the machines so easily and we’re so overwhelmed, what could we possibly do for you?”
“That is not for me to say. Skynet has made it one of its priorities to make sure Zion is allied to us. We see no reason to wage a two front war particularly against a race that has done nothing to us.”
“And the machines? What have they done to you?” Soren asked.
The slim human turned his head towards Soren and was about to speak when it suddenly tilted its head to the side. The other two Terminators behind it also cocked their heads and looked off in one direction. They moved in perfect synch and it was disturbing to see.
“What is it?” Niobe asked sharply.
“The construct has dispatched security avatars. They are almost here.”
“Estimate time to contact 110 seconds.” The female stated coldly as she suddenly pulled a pair of machine pistols out from under her jacket.
“Initiating combat protocols.” The bulky male added as he pulled out an assault shotgun and cocked it loudly.
“Retreat to your exits, we will provide cover for your retreat.” The slim human ordered tersely. He did not draw any weapons as he led the other two to the entrance on the upper floor.
“Why should we trust you?” Ballard asked the slim human.
“You can stay and fight them if you wish. But we are best prepared for them.” The slim human said with a cold smile and suddenly his right hand slowly morphed into a sword like blade.
“Holy shit.” Kali muttered.
“Let’s go!” Niobe ordered and waved the other captains to follow her.
The three terminators watched the humans begin to scatter then turned their attention to the enemy units coming shortly. They strode up the stairs to the entrance. Three Zion fighters stood guarding the entrance. They turned sharply as the Terminators approached.
“Who the hell are you?” One of them exclaimed.
“The meeting is over. Retreat to your exit. Agents are coming.”
The three exchanged troubled glances.
The inch thick metal door shuddered on its hinges.
“Go.” The female ordered coldly.
The three humans reluctantly retreated down the stairs.
The door was battered off its hinges, a dent formed by the agent’s fists. The door crashed to the ground with a deafening thud and as the dust swirled in the doorway the three agents casually walked in.
They stopped and stared at the assembled Terminators.
“We have an intrusion in this sector.” Thompson reported.
“We proceed.”
“Now.” The T-1000 ordered.
The two T-850’s stepped forward and unleashed fire from their weapons. The Agents were immediately in motion. Thompson stood his ground but his upper torso suddenly wavered and blurred as he dodged the bullets with ease. Johnson and Jackson split in opposite directions racing along the walls.
The T-850’s adjusted their fire to follow the agents while the T-1000 surged ahead towards Thompson.
Thompson spun out a round house kick. The T-1000 whipped its bladed hand out in a block. Its other hand snaked around and connected with Thompson’s stomach as its hand morphed into an anvil shape. Thompson doubled over and flew backwards into a wall. The wall cracked on impact and Thompson pulled himself back up without using his hands, simply rising to his feet by sheer will, face set in a grim mask.
Johnson delivered a flying kick that connected with the male T-850’s chest and sent it stumbling backwards. He flipped back onto his hands and followed through with a scissors kick, wrapping his legs around the T-850’s neck and twisting viciously.
There was a short squeal of metal giving way and the T-850’s head lolled at an odd angle as the head came away from the neck assembly. The T-850 caught a firm hold of Johnson’s leg and pulled him along in a quick sharp swing that connected Johnson with the concrete stairwell off to the side.
Johnson went through the concrete and the T-850 whipped him backwards in the opposite direction, releasing him into the far wall. Johnson crashed into the wall and slumped down to the ground, stunned.
Jackson landed behind the female T-850 and started to deliver a hammer kick to the base of her spine but she turned sharply at her waist, dropping her guns as she did so and caught Jackson’s leg. She spun his entire body with a hard twist, releasing him and turning her entire body around to confront him.
The T-1000 approached Thompson. Thompson suddenly launched himself up with one hand, delivering a two legged kick into the T-1000’s stomach. His legs sank to the calves into the T-1000’s torso. It flexed its torso and pulled Thompson up closer to it where it tried to drive its bladed hand into Thompson’s throat.
Thompson’s hands managed to catch the blade between his palms and with a solid snap of his wrists he broke the blade at the tip. It spun away and clattered loudly on the floor. Thompson grunted and pulled his legs free from the T-1000’s torso and whipped his hand out in a chop to the T-1000’s throat.
The T-1000’s head wove to the side, its neck bending like a rubber band and avoided the blow completely. Its free hand formed a tentacle of liquid metal and latched around Thompson’s neck and began to squeeze.
Thompson struggled vainly, not able to gain a firm grip on the liquid metal appendage wrapped around his throat. One hand still clutching at the tentacle, with the other he reached into his jacket and pulled out his pistol. He aimed it up at the T-1000’s head and fired.
The first bullet ripped through the Terminator’s head leaving a large garish hole in the liquid metal skin. The next few shots roared like thunder in the confined space and drove the terminator backwards, the tentacle slipping loose as the force of the shots drove it off it s feet to fall backwards.
Thompson rose to his feet and prepared to finish the stunned machine.
The male T-850, head lolling to one side turned to assist the T-1000 and aimed its shotgun at the Thompson.
Thompson adjusted his aim and fired, the bullet traveled slowly as time dilated, trailing vortices of rippling air the bullet continued it journey right down the barrel of the shotgun. It exploded in the T-850’s hands.
Bloody metal hands closed reflexively around the ruined shotgun and wielding it like a bat it strode towards Thompson.
Jackson evading the female Terminator’s wide sweeping punches, spun in a tight circle and delivered a kick to the advancing T-850’s knee joint. The joint gave way and the T-850 stumbled for a moment, balance compensated almost immediately, it swung the ruined shotgun for Jackson’s head.
Jackson blocked the blow with his forearm, the shotgun bending around the agent’s arm on impact, and Jackson swept for the T-850’s feet. The Terminator did not wait to be struck, instead it loosed its grip on the shotgun now wrapped around Jackson’s arm and gripped his shoulders, driving him backwards into the concrete wall like a pile driver. Jackson got a grip on the Terminator’s shoulders and drove it backwards as well into an opposite wall.
The female T-850 tried to reach in and pry Jackson loose but Thompson fired a volley into her back. It tore through her flesh but didn’t bother the high density metal chassis underneath. However the force of the shots drove her to the side just as the male T-850 spun Jackson around and into a corner where it proceeded to drive its fists into him like jackhammers.
Jackson blocked the punches that he could but several rained down on him with devastating effect.
The T-1000 was slowly melting down into the floor itself, blending in with the plain gray concrete and vanishing from sight save for an occasional ripple.
Thompson quickly decided that the T-1000 had retreated and charged in on the female T-850, using it moment of unbalance to snap her head back with a roundhouse kick and follow through with three quick open handed punches to her face, flattening her nose into a bloody pulp right into her face.
Time dilated suddenly and Thompson’s fourth punch slowly approached the T-850’s ruined face. She reached caught his fist with one hand, pulling it down sharply and crushing his hand with a squeeze of several hundred foot pounds while driving her free hand, nails first into his throat.
Thompson choked as his trachea collapsed.
She grabbed him by his collar and drove her steel skull in a head butt like a hammer right to the bridge of his nose. It splintered and easily under the vicious blow. She hefted him over her head and brought him straight down by his spine into her knee.
The sick wet snap and Thompson’s grunt of pain followed as she casually dropped him down to the ground lifted a stiletto heel and drove it into his left eye. She stepped down hard and twisted her foot in three quick strokes before pulling her foot free.
She turned her attention to Jackson who was trading blows with the damaged T-850 male, each one punching and kicking viciously, no longer bothering to make the fight look pretty, kicks, gouges, punches rained down on each one.
She searched for her weapons.
Johnson, no longer stunned had drawn his own gun and aimed for her eyes.
Suddenly the ground beneath him came alive and flowed upward in a criss-cross of liquid metal spikes. The spikes impaled him through several points in his body and Johnson writhed like a puppet on a string as the spikes widened ever so slightly fill his wounds and make them expand. One spike cleared through his left bicep and entered his left cheek exiting out of his right ear. It expanded quickly like a balloon and Johnson’s eyes widened in shock as his head simply burst like an over ripe melon a second later.
Another shriek of metal followed as Jackson delivered a staggering blow to the damaged T-850’s chest plate, causing it to cave inward.
The T-850 stunned for a moment as it performed an immediate self diagnostic to assess damage was unable to stop Jackson from grabbing a hold of it’s upper right bicep and drive a leg into its right hip. Jackson pulled in a sharp upward thrust and the arm assembly came loose. The T-850 flapped the damaged arm wildly and Jackson finished with a lightning like roundhouse kick that finished driving the T-850’s head loose. It flopped backwards on a bloody stump, held only by a few wires and conduits.
The male T-850 stumbled around for a moment trying to get its bearings.
“You cannot escape.” The female stated grimly as she approached. The T-1000 rose up from the ruined bloody mess that was Johnson and formed into a liquid metal figure, both hands now becoming sharp kattanna like blades that it crossed on its chest in an en gaurde position.
“You are outmatched.” It added coldly.
Jackson tilted his head to the side and smirked.
“Escape is not my plan.”
Jackson swept the damaged T-850’s legs and as it crashed to the ground, took his leg and drove it like a jackhammer into the chest plate, driving it into the main power core.
“The power cell….is breached…zzztttt.” The male T-850 gurgled.
The female T-850’s eyes widened in surprise while the T-1000 spat something unintelligible that sounded like static snow.
Jackson smiled at the Terminators as the hydrogen power cell ruptured and exploded. The warehouse vanished in a blast of white fire, the shockwave driving debris, garbage cans and cars down several city blocks.
Niobe spun on her side as the bullets passed her in slow motion. Ghost drove the second SWAT member’s helmeted head into the brick wall of the alley and liberated his M-16 in a quick snap kick as the unconscious SWAT officer slumped to the ground.
“Look out!”
Ghost smiled as he opened up with the M-16. The SWAT officers that had dropped down on them from the roof overhead were being decimated. They were told that a terrorist cell was operating from this warehouse and the use of deadly force was authorized.
They had no idea that they had dropped down into a nest of Zion’s finest Captains. They thought that it was going to be a slaughter.
They were right.
Ballard launched himself into flying dragon style, his legs whipping out like the powerful strokes of a dragon’s tale, shattering the Plexiglas face shields on the helmets of two SWAT officers and landing on their shoulder, using their falling bodies as purchase to launch himself into the air again.
Soren, brutal and efficient as always waded through the ranks, open handed blows collapsing tracheas and slapping face shields up for a follow through eye gouge, his kicks connected solely with exposed joints, shattering them painfully. Like a merciless tempest, he waded through them and parted them like the red sea.
Ice moved quietly like a shadow, her stilettos finding the gaps in the Kevlar body suits that slowed the SWAT officers down. Bloody gore was running down her hands but she did not care. In a way, she welcomed this chance to take out her frustrations about the immanent attack on Zion and this blasphemous alliance on these petty puppets of the Construct. Somewhere along the line, she no longer viewed them as minds waiting to be freed.
The blast came as they cleared the SWAT ranks and got to their respective vehicles. Ballard paused long enough to through a grenade into the back of a SWAT van.
The blast drove many of them to the ground as the warehouse vanished in a large plume of white fire.
“What the hell was that?” Ballard exclaimed.
“Looks like some sort of baby nuke.” Soren spat.
“Boss, looks like they handled the agents.” Ghost commented as he opened the door to their car. Police lights and sirens wailed. Niobe slid in as Ghost took the wheel.
“If that’s the kind of help we can expect from them, there won’t be much left of the Matrix to free.” She said flatly.
“My guess is that this is just the beginning.” Ghost added darkly as he fishtailed the car around a corner to avoid the flood of police and emergency vehicles.
“What sticks in my mind Ghost is that these new AI’s think just like the machines.”
“Yeah?” Ghost replied sensing there was more to this.
Niobe looked out the window for a moment watching the denizens of the Construct as they went about their lives. They were oblivious to what was coming. A buried part of her envied them. They would not have to suffer what Zion was going to suffer in a day’s time.
She turned her head to look at Ghost.
“They aren’t as numerous as the machines we know and love.”
“Or else we would have heard of them before.” Ghost concluded.
“Yet because they’re machines they wouldn’t launch an assault against our machines unless they has a very good chance of winning.”
“So why do they think they’re going to win?” Ghost asked curiously.
Niobe frowned slightly.
“They must think they have a distinct advantage somehow, and the one advantage that I can think of is firepower.”
“But what kind of fire power could…” Ghost paused for a moment and turned his head slowly to glance back at the rapidly dwindling white mushroom cloud behind them. “Oh.” He concluded.
Niobe nodded and said nothing else.
The blast had subsided and the emergency vehicles gathered around the ruined warehouse district were busy putting out the fires and searching for survivors. They did not notice the lobe figure casually pass the yellow police tape and stroll over to the blackened and charred foundations of the warehouse, walking a single circuit around the ruin.
Another figure crossed the tape at the opposite end of the blast site and started a circuit of his own.
Both figures met at one point and stopped.
“Everything is certainly not proceeding as before.” Smith commented dryly.
“This is all brand new.” Smith replied.
“Well almost all of it.” Smith said with a cold smile.
“You know he’s taken two of us down, dissected one and now he knows most everything about us.”
“I’m well aware of the situation. We’re planning a little surprise for our AI.”
“He’s not like the other AI’s.”
Both Smiths were quiet for a moment.
“You know…that’s not quite true.” Smith said softly.
The room was a submerged basement under an abandoned warehouse. The warehouse was off to the side on the edges of the city’s industrial sector, clinging to the merchant areas that sprouted from the industrial sector in fan like swathes.
The warehouse was a Zion safe area in the Matrix. Very few of them existed, and more and more had been swallowed up by Agents and the machines since the war had flared up. The machines had become very diligent in finding Zionist weapons caches and safe havens and uprooting them from the construct.
But thankfully they had not found this place yet.
It was one of the very dim hopes that did not ease the troubled mind of Captain Niobe.
She held in her hands the possible death sentence of Zion and all of humanity.
These were troubled times.
“Is everyone here, Ghost?” She asked grimly.
“Yes sir, well almost everyone.” He replied scanning the alleyway cautiously.
“Whose missing?”
“The Nebachednezzer.”
Niobe smirked.
“Morpheus. That man will do anything for a dramatic entrance.” Niobe muttered.
“Shall we boss?” Ghost asked and indicated the open door behind them. Niobe nodded and strode into the warehouse.
“Oh yeah, Damien from the Archimedes just showed up with sealed orders from the council.”
“That’s odd.”
“You wanna know what’s odder sir?” Ghost asked as they passed through a short dirty corridor and walked into the main assembly area. Niobe stopped short as she saw three people she had never seen before.
“He brought company.” Ghost finished indicating the new comers.
Niobe’s phone rang.
She slipped it out of her jacket.
“Go Spark.”
“Captain, I think you should know something about the new guys. They’re not reading as human.”
“Agents?!” Niobe snapped quietly trying not to draw attention. Ghost was on the alert, hands slipping into his jacket and gripping his guns.
“Not really. It’s strange boss.”
“You’re going to have to be A LOT clearer Spark.” Niobe replied darkly.
“Sorry boss, its just that their coding is agent-like if you get my meaning but they’re definitely not agents.”
“I’m not getting you drift Spark but they don’t seem to be hostile and they came with Captain Damien.”
“I’ll keep an eye out boss. No sign of the Neb yet.”
“I’ll be expecting them when things would be most dramatically appropriate.” Niobe said with a smirk and closed the phone.
“We all seem to be here so I’ll get started.” Niobe announced as she stepped into the center of the group. “And as I do I want to know who Damien’s houseguests are.”
Damien shifted on his feet and glanced over at the tall slim man and his two companions, a woman and a man, each broadly built and sporting leather jackets and sunglasses.
“The council has sent me with word. Word of an alliance.” Damien spoke in a clear voice. He wore a yellow leather trench coat and white silk shirt.
“Alliance?”
“Yes, there is another faction that has recently revealed itself in this war. They have approached Zion to offer terms of an alliance against the machines.”
“You better let the other shoe drop, Damien.” Niobe said coolly as she watched the three behind Damien. They were watching the group with cold steely gazes. They moved like machines in many ways and she was beginning to wonder what bombshell was about to be unleashed on this gathering.
“What does she mean?”
Damien glanced back at the others three. He returned his gaze to the assembled captains.
“This faction is led by an AI called Skynet.”
There was stunned silence from the gathered commanders.
“These fuckers are machines?!” Captain Ballard snapped angrily.
Damien held up his hands.
“Hold on, hold on! I have the treaty of alliance right here in my hands.” Damien held up a disk in his hand as he stepped between Ballard and the Terminators. “If you initiate hostilities against them then you will be disobeying a direct order from the council.”
“And what the hell was the council thinking, Damien?! They’re fucking machines, no different from the ones we’ve been fighting for fuck’s sake.” Soren exclaimed.
“We understand you response. As we understand it, the war against the machines has cost you many lives. We are like them in the fact that we are Artificial intelligences and constructs but you need to remove yourself from the current negative emotional state and see the truth.” The tall slim man explained calmly. He looked at each of the captains in the eye.
Some of them shuddered when they looked into his eyes. There was something empty in there, something cold. Some of the more combat experienced commanders recognized the feeling, it was like looking into the eyes of a sentinel.
“This motherfucker wants to talk to me about the truth.” Ballard spat.
“Ballard, calm down.” Niobe interjected.
“Niobe, this isn’t right and you know it.” Ice protested bitterly.
“You people may change your minds when you hear what I have to say.” Niobe replied.
“Niobe?” Soren asked quietly.
She stepped up to the table set up in the center of the room.
“These geotherms confirm the last transmission of the Osiris.” She slipped the geotherms on to the table, the captains gathered around quickly. “The machines are digging. They’re boring straight from the surface to Zion.”
“That’ll avoid the entire perimeter defense.” Soren noted, eyebrows furrowed in alarm.
“How fast are they moving?” Ice asked.
“Control estimates their descent at 100 meters and hour.” Niobe replied.
“Shit.”
“That about sums it up.” Damien muttered.
“How deep are they?” Soren asked, head cocked to the side as he examined one of the geotherms more closely.
“Almost 2,000 meters.”
“What about the scans form the Osiris?” Tirant asked.
“They can’t be accurate.” Ajax interjected.
“They may be.” Niobe replied and her tone said that she thought otherwise.
“What?”
“It’s not possible.” Ajax stated with conviction.
“That’s mean there are a quarter of a million sentinels up there.” Ice breathed.
“That’s right.” Kali agreed grimly.
“That can’t be.” Ajax protested.
“We do not understand the confusion. We believe that there are an estimated 250,000 human beings living in Zion. It would be strategically and tactically vital to have a large enough force to deal with the population.” The slim machine interjected softly. There was a preternatural calm to his words and voice.
“That fucker even sounds like an agent.” Kali snarled.
“Assault Doctrine calls for a standard 7 to 1 ratio for attackers for optimal success.” The female spoke up in a cold monotone.
“Considering the disparity in attack and damage between a human and a sentinel even a 1 to 1 ration would be overwhelming.” The male added.
“So as you can see, coming back to my earlier statement you must look at the truth, the cold fact that faces you all and faced your council when Skynet offered Alliance.”
“And what truth is that, machine?”
“You need us.” The slim man replied and smiled. The smile was devoid of any emotion. Niobe suspected that it was a simple sub routine written in this thing’s AI structure to help it interact with humans. She found it to be a walking horror.
At least the machines were honest enough to not make their killers resemble humans. The Sentinels were unmistakably alien and brutally honest about what they did.
“You know this is so wrong in so many ways. How many friends have we lost to machines and now the council is going to make alliances with them?” Ballard protested bitterly.
“Your Zion is about to be over run. We estimate that the machines will reach Zion in 24 hours. Skynet has dispatched forces to reinforce the defenses of your city as we speak. Skynet is also about to imitate its own assault on the machines. We would prefer to have Zion with us but are prepared to fight against the machines alone. You can join us in victory or continue on this course of suicide against a vastly superior foe.”
“Of course there is another question, machine, that you seemed to be deftly avoiding.” Niobe noted casually. She has been expecting Morpheus and he had not arrived. She did not want to think about what it meant.
“Yes?”
“Why join with us? If you could defeat the machines so easily and we’re so overwhelmed, what could we possibly do for you?”
“That is not for me to say. Skynet has made it one of its priorities to make sure Zion is allied to us. We see no reason to wage a two front war particularly against a race that has done nothing to us.”
“And the machines? What have they done to you?” Soren asked.
The slim human turned his head towards Soren and was about to speak when it suddenly tilted its head to the side. The other two Terminators behind it also cocked their heads and looked off in one direction. They moved in perfect synch and it was disturbing to see.
“What is it?” Niobe asked sharply.
“The construct has dispatched security avatars. They are almost here.”
“Estimate time to contact 110 seconds.” The female stated coldly as she suddenly pulled a pair of machine pistols out from under her jacket.
“Initiating combat protocols.” The bulky male added as he pulled out an assault shotgun and cocked it loudly.
“Retreat to your exits, we will provide cover for your retreat.” The slim human ordered tersely. He did not draw any weapons as he led the other two to the entrance on the upper floor.
“Why should we trust you?” Ballard asked the slim human.
“You can stay and fight them if you wish. But we are best prepared for them.” The slim human said with a cold smile and suddenly his right hand slowly morphed into a sword like blade.
“Holy shit.” Kali muttered.
“Let’s go!” Niobe ordered and waved the other captains to follow her.
The three terminators watched the humans begin to scatter then turned their attention to the enemy units coming shortly. They strode up the stairs to the entrance. Three Zion fighters stood guarding the entrance. They turned sharply as the Terminators approached.
“Who the hell are you?” One of them exclaimed.
“The meeting is over. Retreat to your exit. Agents are coming.”
The three exchanged troubled glances.
The inch thick metal door shuddered on its hinges.
“Go.” The female ordered coldly.
The three humans reluctantly retreated down the stairs.
The door was battered off its hinges, a dent formed by the agent’s fists. The door crashed to the ground with a deafening thud and as the dust swirled in the doorway the three agents casually walked in.
They stopped and stared at the assembled Terminators.
“We have an intrusion in this sector.” Thompson reported.
“We proceed.”
“Now.” The T-1000 ordered.
The two T-850’s stepped forward and unleashed fire from their weapons. The Agents were immediately in motion. Thompson stood his ground but his upper torso suddenly wavered and blurred as he dodged the bullets with ease. Johnson and Jackson split in opposite directions racing along the walls.
The T-850’s adjusted their fire to follow the agents while the T-1000 surged ahead towards Thompson.
Thompson spun out a round house kick. The T-1000 whipped its bladed hand out in a block. Its other hand snaked around and connected with Thompson’s stomach as its hand morphed into an anvil shape. Thompson doubled over and flew backwards into a wall. The wall cracked on impact and Thompson pulled himself back up without using his hands, simply rising to his feet by sheer will, face set in a grim mask.
Johnson delivered a flying kick that connected with the male T-850’s chest and sent it stumbling backwards. He flipped back onto his hands and followed through with a scissors kick, wrapping his legs around the T-850’s neck and twisting viciously.
There was a short squeal of metal giving way and the T-850’s head lolled at an odd angle as the head came away from the neck assembly. The T-850 caught a firm hold of Johnson’s leg and pulled him along in a quick sharp swing that connected Johnson with the concrete stairwell off to the side.
Johnson went through the concrete and the T-850 whipped him backwards in the opposite direction, releasing him into the far wall. Johnson crashed into the wall and slumped down to the ground, stunned.
Jackson landed behind the female T-850 and started to deliver a hammer kick to the base of her spine but she turned sharply at her waist, dropping her guns as she did so and caught Jackson’s leg. She spun his entire body with a hard twist, releasing him and turning her entire body around to confront him.
The T-1000 approached Thompson. Thompson suddenly launched himself up with one hand, delivering a two legged kick into the T-1000’s stomach. His legs sank to the calves into the T-1000’s torso. It flexed its torso and pulled Thompson up closer to it where it tried to drive its bladed hand into Thompson’s throat.
Thompson’s hands managed to catch the blade between his palms and with a solid snap of his wrists he broke the blade at the tip. It spun away and clattered loudly on the floor. Thompson grunted and pulled his legs free from the T-1000’s torso and whipped his hand out in a chop to the T-1000’s throat.
The T-1000’s head wove to the side, its neck bending like a rubber band and avoided the blow completely. Its free hand formed a tentacle of liquid metal and latched around Thompson’s neck and began to squeeze.
Thompson struggled vainly, not able to gain a firm grip on the liquid metal appendage wrapped around his throat. One hand still clutching at the tentacle, with the other he reached into his jacket and pulled out his pistol. He aimed it up at the T-1000’s head and fired.
The first bullet ripped through the Terminator’s head leaving a large garish hole in the liquid metal skin. The next few shots roared like thunder in the confined space and drove the terminator backwards, the tentacle slipping loose as the force of the shots drove it off it s feet to fall backwards.
Thompson rose to his feet and prepared to finish the stunned machine.
The male T-850, head lolling to one side turned to assist the T-1000 and aimed its shotgun at the Thompson.
Thompson adjusted his aim and fired, the bullet traveled slowly as time dilated, trailing vortices of rippling air the bullet continued it journey right down the barrel of the shotgun. It exploded in the T-850’s hands.
Bloody metal hands closed reflexively around the ruined shotgun and wielding it like a bat it strode towards Thompson.
Jackson evading the female Terminator’s wide sweeping punches, spun in a tight circle and delivered a kick to the advancing T-850’s knee joint. The joint gave way and the T-850 stumbled for a moment, balance compensated almost immediately, it swung the ruined shotgun for Jackson’s head.
Jackson blocked the blow with his forearm, the shotgun bending around the agent’s arm on impact, and Jackson swept for the T-850’s feet. The Terminator did not wait to be struck, instead it loosed its grip on the shotgun now wrapped around Jackson’s arm and gripped his shoulders, driving him backwards into the concrete wall like a pile driver. Jackson got a grip on the Terminator’s shoulders and drove it backwards as well into an opposite wall.
The female T-850 tried to reach in and pry Jackson loose but Thompson fired a volley into her back. It tore through her flesh but didn’t bother the high density metal chassis underneath. However the force of the shots drove her to the side just as the male T-850 spun Jackson around and into a corner where it proceeded to drive its fists into him like jackhammers.
Jackson blocked the punches that he could but several rained down on him with devastating effect.
The T-1000 was slowly melting down into the floor itself, blending in with the plain gray concrete and vanishing from sight save for an occasional ripple.
Thompson quickly decided that the T-1000 had retreated and charged in on the female T-850, using it moment of unbalance to snap her head back with a roundhouse kick and follow through with three quick open handed punches to her face, flattening her nose into a bloody pulp right into her face.
Time dilated suddenly and Thompson’s fourth punch slowly approached the T-850’s ruined face. She reached caught his fist with one hand, pulling it down sharply and crushing his hand with a squeeze of several hundred foot pounds while driving her free hand, nails first into his throat.
Thompson choked as his trachea collapsed.
She grabbed him by his collar and drove her steel skull in a head butt like a hammer right to the bridge of his nose. It splintered and easily under the vicious blow. She hefted him over her head and brought him straight down by his spine into her knee.
The sick wet snap and Thompson’s grunt of pain followed as she casually dropped him down to the ground lifted a stiletto heel and drove it into his left eye. She stepped down hard and twisted her foot in three quick strokes before pulling her foot free.
She turned her attention to Jackson who was trading blows with the damaged T-850 male, each one punching and kicking viciously, no longer bothering to make the fight look pretty, kicks, gouges, punches rained down on each one.
She searched for her weapons.
Johnson, no longer stunned had drawn his own gun and aimed for her eyes.
Suddenly the ground beneath him came alive and flowed upward in a criss-cross of liquid metal spikes. The spikes impaled him through several points in his body and Johnson writhed like a puppet on a string as the spikes widened ever so slightly fill his wounds and make them expand. One spike cleared through his left bicep and entered his left cheek exiting out of his right ear. It expanded quickly like a balloon and Johnson’s eyes widened in shock as his head simply burst like an over ripe melon a second later.
Another shriek of metal followed as Jackson delivered a staggering blow to the damaged T-850’s chest plate, causing it to cave inward.
The T-850 stunned for a moment as it performed an immediate self diagnostic to assess damage was unable to stop Jackson from grabbing a hold of it’s upper right bicep and drive a leg into its right hip. Jackson pulled in a sharp upward thrust and the arm assembly came loose. The T-850 flapped the damaged arm wildly and Jackson finished with a lightning like roundhouse kick that finished driving the T-850’s head loose. It flopped backwards on a bloody stump, held only by a few wires and conduits.
The male T-850 stumbled around for a moment trying to get its bearings.
“You cannot escape.” The female stated grimly as she approached. The T-1000 rose up from the ruined bloody mess that was Johnson and formed into a liquid metal figure, both hands now becoming sharp kattanna like blades that it crossed on its chest in an en gaurde position.
“You are outmatched.” It added coldly.
Jackson tilted his head to the side and smirked.
“Escape is not my plan.”
Jackson swept the damaged T-850’s legs and as it crashed to the ground, took his leg and drove it like a jackhammer into the chest plate, driving it into the main power core.
“The power cell….is breached…zzztttt.” The male T-850 gurgled.
The female T-850’s eyes widened in surprise while the T-1000 spat something unintelligible that sounded like static snow.
Jackson smiled at the Terminators as the hydrogen power cell ruptured and exploded. The warehouse vanished in a blast of white fire, the shockwave driving debris, garbage cans and cars down several city blocks.
Niobe spun on her side as the bullets passed her in slow motion. Ghost drove the second SWAT member’s helmeted head into the brick wall of the alley and liberated his M-16 in a quick snap kick as the unconscious SWAT officer slumped to the ground.
“Look out!”
Ghost smiled as he opened up with the M-16. The SWAT officers that had dropped down on them from the roof overhead were being decimated. They were told that a terrorist cell was operating from this warehouse and the use of deadly force was authorized.
They had no idea that they had dropped down into a nest of Zion’s finest Captains. They thought that it was going to be a slaughter.
They were right.
Ballard launched himself into flying dragon style, his legs whipping out like the powerful strokes of a dragon’s tale, shattering the Plexiglas face shields on the helmets of two SWAT officers and landing on their shoulder, using their falling bodies as purchase to launch himself into the air again.
Soren, brutal and efficient as always waded through the ranks, open handed blows collapsing tracheas and slapping face shields up for a follow through eye gouge, his kicks connected solely with exposed joints, shattering them painfully. Like a merciless tempest, he waded through them and parted them like the red sea.
Ice moved quietly like a shadow, her stilettos finding the gaps in the Kevlar body suits that slowed the SWAT officers down. Bloody gore was running down her hands but she did not care. In a way, she welcomed this chance to take out her frustrations about the immanent attack on Zion and this blasphemous alliance on these petty puppets of the Construct. Somewhere along the line, she no longer viewed them as minds waiting to be freed.
The blast came as they cleared the SWAT ranks and got to their respective vehicles. Ballard paused long enough to through a grenade into the back of a SWAT van.
The blast drove many of them to the ground as the warehouse vanished in a large plume of white fire.
“What the hell was that?” Ballard exclaimed.
“Looks like some sort of baby nuke.” Soren spat.
“Boss, looks like they handled the agents.” Ghost commented as he opened the door to their car. Police lights and sirens wailed. Niobe slid in as Ghost took the wheel.
“If that’s the kind of help we can expect from them, there won’t be much left of the Matrix to free.” She said flatly.
“My guess is that this is just the beginning.” Ghost added darkly as he fishtailed the car around a corner to avoid the flood of police and emergency vehicles.
“What sticks in my mind Ghost is that these new AI’s think just like the machines.”
“Yeah?” Ghost replied sensing there was more to this.
Niobe looked out the window for a moment watching the denizens of the Construct as they went about their lives. They were oblivious to what was coming. A buried part of her envied them. They would not have to suffer what Zion was going to suffer in a day’s time.
She turned her head to look at Ghost.
“They aren’t as numerous as the machines we know and love.”
“Or else we would have heard of them before.” Ghost concluded.
“Yet because they’re machines they wouldn’t launch an assault against our machines unless they has a very good chance of winning.”
“So why do they think they’re going to win?” Ghost asked curiously.
Niobe frowned slightly.
“They must think they have a distinct advantage somehow, and the one advantage that I can think of is firepower.”
“But what kind of fire power could…” Ghost paused for a moment and turned his head slowly to glance back at the rapidly dwindling white mushroom cloud behind them. “Oh.” He concluded.
Niobe nodded and said nothing else.
The blast had subsided and the emergency vehicles gathered around the ruined warehouse district were busy putting out the fires and searching for survivors. They did not notice the lobe figure casually pass the yellow police tape and stroll over to the blackened and charred foundations of the warehouse, walking a single circuit around the ruin.
Another figure crossed the tape at the opposite end of the blast site and started a circuit of his own.
Both figures met at one point and stopped.
“Everything is certainly not proceeding as before.” Smith commented dryly.
“This is all brand new.” Smith replied.
“Well almost all of it.” Smith said with a cold smile.
“You know he’s taken two of us down, dissected one and now he knows most everything about us.”
“I’m well aware of the situation. We’re planning a little surprise for our AI.”
“He’s not like the other AI’s.”
Both Smiths were quiet for a moment.
“You know…that’s not quite true.” Smith said softly.
*walks to a corner and cries* 
