Pulse

Chapter 12 - Floor 181

Prime Master Cascarina was drumming his fingers on the finely-crafted oak and maple table top in front of him. He was growing increasingly impatient with the unnecessary interruptions to the day's proceedings. How long did it take to bring one man before the high council, for God's sake?

He looked around to either side, inspecting the council members, all of them sitting in silence, the tension palpable. None could draw their eyes away from what was standing before them in the center circle: a lone service mech, female, no hair, feet slightly apart, hands clasped behind her back.

Conversely, the mech had not taken her blazing eyes off of Cascarina since the moment she had entered the room accompanied by agents Lo and Singh. She appeared to be doggedly determined about something, whatever it was.

An audience before the high council was not granted to any old adversary. However, considering the rather dire situation brewing inside the grounds of the Blade Complex, it was unilaterally decided by Prime Master Cascarina that the 'protocols be damned.' This was no time for adhering to rules and regulations.

This mech was obviously capable of things none of them had ever witnessed. To simply order her destruction would be counter productive, therefore, the council would hear what she had to say and negotiate accordingly. If all went well, maybe old enemies could come to some kind of agreement, find common ground. If all went well...

The council members would've felt even more on edge if it wasn't for the two rows of guards lining the sides of the high-ceilinged grand hall, hundreds of stubby pulse rifles trained on the seemingly unarmed service mech. As hard as they tried, none of them could conceal their instinctual desire to abandon ship; to run to the nearest Hopper and get as far away from the Blade as possible.

The tower was in trouble. The insurgents were at the doors on the ground floor. A falanx of elite, battle-tested Slaver guards awaited them. Every single council member sitting to either side of Prime Master Cascarina, as well as Cascarina himself, knew perfectly well that no amount of guards could hold the fort once the entrance had been breached. A sea of Freemechs would pour in from all sides overwhelming the guards, flooding the lower floors, then gradually rising through the tower, breaking down all security barriers, one by one, until they reached the top floors. Until they reached the council chamber itself.

And this sea of Freemechs would probably not be as intensely restrained as their supposed leader, the Grace Prime Unit that brazenly stood before them, defying their authority, staring them down with her fiery gaze, empowered by the delusional idea that her people had some kind of future. Obviously, they had none.

The Sentients had suffered yet another setback, but nothing, absolutely nothing could stop them from achieveing their goals at this late stage in the game. The other SCELEC towers were functional. All they had to do was relocate and merge with one of the other uplift operations. If possible, the Nova York ALMA unit would be salvaged, repurposed and 'reeducated.' If not, then she would be reduced for compost. She was nothing special. Just a biological machine. There would be others like her. Better then her. More units could be manufactured at any time using the same cell line.

"Ah, here he is! Finally! Now we can begin," said Silvio, visibly relieved. The two agents he'd sent to pick up the intruder were still breathing. Still alive. Not too disastrous, he thought. They had a gun pointed at their heads. He would deal with that in a moment. But where were the guards? Obviously, things hadn't gone quite as smoothly as he'd expected.

"Is that really necessary?" asked Silvio, gesturing towards Kalen and his overly zealous gun waving.

Kalen shoved the older agent forward with the butt of his rifle. He stepped through the oversized doorway and took in the splendor of the grand hall with its elaborate lighting, its golden banners inscribed with sigils hanging from ceiling to floor, the gently undulating holographic works of art, the fine pieces of furniture and other decorative elements crafted from noble materials. Exotic woods, polished marble, pristine crystal, brushed steel, and creative ceramics filled the chamber, but the thing that most stood out to him was the thickness of the air itself. Swirling around all the objects in the great hall, as if carressing them, possessing a life of its own, was the purple Dust that he'd heard so much about, but never seen with his own eyes.