Origins (Book 4 of Alfireán age)

Factory Control

"Get some rest," Drake urged the princess, stepping back and surveying the blocked hallway. "And once Alf gets the shaft open, ask Yarrow for a thorough medical exam—just to be safe."

Valarinnia pressed her thumb against her forehead. "I guess you're right; I'll do that."

"Before we try to get out, you might want to see this," Zaphaniea chimed in, tapping on the screen with a triumphant grin. "I found out why the robots attacked those five clones."

The princess opened her eyes and gazed at the champion expectantly.

The screen flickered, and a video sprang to life, showing a man sprinting down the hallway, his arms glowing with dozens of magical tattoos. Author Denwake ran as fast as he could while lightning struck him from all directions. His tattoos flared brightly as he burst into the room and shouted, "Deactivate security protocol Bad Host!"

The screens in the room flickered, and the Ganglion said, "I apologize, Sir, but the host-switching protocol is active. You must complete the 'confirm host' process before I can follow your command."

Author Denwake glared at the screen while lightning poured into him and shouted, "There's no time! The machines are killing everybody!"

The AI remained silent.

Suddenly, one of the ka'akahs on Author Denwake's arm exploded, knocking him to the ground, and he screamed as the lightning tore into him. In desperation, he shouted, "Initiate confirm host protocol!"

A wall shot out from the floor and surrounded him.

Zaphaniea double-tapped the screen, fast-forwarding to a later point in time. The walls disappeared and the man fell to the floor as the lightning bolts resumed tearing into him with ferocious precision.

"My apologies, Author Denwake," the AI said casually, as if it didn't care that someone was being murdered right in front of it. "But you have been locked out of the system by five other members of Origin."

Author grabbed one of the tattoos on his arm, and it flared even brighter while he stared up at the screen. Pure hate and anger flooded his face as he vehemently spat, "Those traitors! They've betrayed and killed us all! Well, I'll burn in hell before I let them succeed," he screamed.

The magic tattoo into which he channeled energy popped with an audible bang, and Author Denwake snarled as all the other ka'akahs lit up brighter to bear the load.

The man stood up and declared, "Initiate emergency protocol override A17 and activate Bad Host protocol for Peter Jensen, John Baltic, Henry Wendland, George Sorin, and Alaric Winhelm."

"Override accepted," the female AI confirmed. "Executing."

One by one, Author Denwake's ka'akahs exploded, knocking him back to the ground. With the last of his ka'akahs gone, the lightning continued to tear into him until he breathed his last.

Zaphaniea touched the screen, turning off the image.

"Well, I guess we should all be happy that happened," Rex muttered. "Even if it was gruesome."

"Indeed," Drake concurred, envisioning a legion of war machines sweeping across the land under the command of deranged clones. "If Origin's clones had launched such an assault six hundred years ago, our history would be vastly different from what it is today."

"Really?" Alf asked, furrowing his brow. "Wouldn't your grandfather and the other nations have crushed them?"

Drake shook his head. "Unlikely. Politicians rarely reach a consensus until it's too late. Back then, Madagascar was merely a collection of fragmented city-states. It would have been easy prey for Origin."