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Chapter 17 First Conflict, Sighs and Gasps

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Crisis’ imprint over the city of Rioas has steadily grown over the weeks since General Raszer’s visit to the city. As more of the city is restored, some of the buildings are commandeered by Crisis and remodeled to look more streamline, futuristic, but overall the look of the city remains the same, just newer. The streets are clean, free of any kind of litter what so ever, the air and water are also fresh and crisp despite the factories no working full time helping to equip Crisis’ growing army. The original residents of the city will admit this is the best they’ve ever seen the city, ‘despite machines being here’.

The city’s internal economy has also improved thanks in part to Crisis’ ideas to let her robots establish themselves as normal citizens on their days off. Even with how little money they receive from General Raszer, the money has gone a far in helping the people get some form of ‘normalcy’ back into their lives but progress and integration is slow. Crisis’ robot wash idea was one of those that was hesitantly accepted and only a few of the citizens were willing to start up and work in these robot washes, the building of such Crisis helped design based on the designs she saw in the city of Veloci.

Crisis is currently situated in her war room, the same room where Joshua received her message, about her spy mission, weeks ago. She stands before the large screen which feeds her and the others working there vital military information, such as position of troops, their status as well as to the best of their knowledge that of the enemy. From here Crisis can see the section of the front that she is in charge off. Crisis looks around and sees that she is accompanied by three of her machines, none of which are her common regulars that she works with the exception of one, Unit # C-0012, the former general of the very base Crisis took over to at the very start of her existence.

“I really don’t like being here. I should be at the front with the rest of my forces,” grumbles Crisis.

“You know that’s not possible Crisis. The front is just too dangerous to risk you there especially in your very first military engagement. You’re lucky you roboticized two former medium ranking generals of the last empire to assist you in your duties. Seeing you have no strategic military experience their help will be vital,” explains Lieutenant Andres.

“I know that, still doesn’t mean I have to like it. And I’m not too comfortable with the fact there are only three of my people here, and the rest are yours.”

“What’s wrong with that? We’re on the same side, nothing to be worried about.”

“I know that, but do the others know it?”

“Don’t worry, they know if you act up, I won’t hesitate to blow that head right off your shoulders,” remarks Sasha as she runs a claw along her over sized sniper rifle, strapped to her back which looks even bigger considering how cramped and busy the room is.

“Do you really have to say that out loud?” asks Phillip

“What’s wrong sir? It’s not like it’s a secret, she knows it, I know it, might as well let everyone else know it. For their piece of mind of course, sir,” she remarks.

“This isn’t a time to worry about this, Croc’s attack shall begin at any moment, and Crisis’ forces are smack dab in the middle of his strongest spearhead. The first test of your forces is going to be a tough one,” comments Phillip.

“I know… I wish I was able to muster up more forces than just two divisions, which I still consider to be under equipped for the task set before them,” grumbles Crisis as she flicks her tail. “Regardless how they are equipped we will succeed. Croc has no idea of my forces, or the fact we know his plan. Will we not only blunt his spearheads but break them off. Swallowing his army and pushing the tide of battle in our favor. When we win this battle, and save our country from immanent destruction.”

“We have to win this battle,” states Phillip as he thinks, “If Croc pushes to and past the Dromus River, he’ll be able to push into and possibly break our last fortifications up in the mountains, past that is just desert and our last major factories. Not to mention on the other side of the river are countless refugees at the Karaki boarder, those felines would never be able to fight against Croc like we have. If he pushes past that river he’ll overrun countless innocent civilians adding them to his growing army. From there even if we hold in the mountains Croc could just push through the open plains and forests of the Karaki nation go around and overtake our factories there. If we lose here we’ll never have the forces to retake our country, our slow death will be assured.”

“Hmmph… you ready for this Crisis?” asks Sasha.

“Me? Of course, I was built ready,” she replies as she looks over at the battle screen, her forces ready for the coming battle which can begin at any moment.

Meanwhile back in the maintenance facility, Joshua, Arissa, Shasi, are sitting at computer screens, looking at various feeds of information as Maria looks at them curiously.

“What exactly are you doing here again?” she asks as she looks over Joshua’s shoulder.

“We’re monitoring Crisis’ systems. We placed several monitors on her today so we can study how Crisis’ new body is reacting, and how she is handling this command position with such high stakes. We are the ones that built her after all. We have to watch over our creation and see if there any updates needed to improve her,” explains Joshua with a smirk. “Despite what some others might think…” remarks Joshua as he looks over at the two machines.

“Hey, I’m all for helping Mistress become better at her duties,” exclaims Arissa.

“We wouldn’t have to if organics didn’t do the work,” sighs Shasi as she looks over at Joshua.”

“Hey you were organics too now,” responds Joshua with a sigh, “At least we aren’t in maid outfits while doing this.”

“Maid outfits?” asks Maria as she looks at Joshua with a hint of confusion in her eyes.

“Nothing, nothing. Though judging by these screens… is it just me or does Crisis appear to be nervous?”

“Nervous? How can a robot be nervous?” asks Maria.

“We didn’t program nervousness in, well not like this anyway. She’s designed to perceive situations and act accordingly, but looking at the data she’s acting well like any normal person would in her position.”

“That is strange. We were organics so we retained such emotions to some degree. It’s built into our programming, which can be nullified or deleted if need be, but Crisis was built, honestly we don’t have the technology to program such emotions into her, or is it possible that she was an organic before hand?” asks Arissa.

“What? You don’t know?” asks Maria.

“Well… no one was there to see Crisis activate, except for the ever elusive Karrie,” responds Arissa.

“You think she activated her? Odds are she ran when Croc’s forces attacked the base, she was always a skittish impulsive one. It was Crisis that saved us,” says Shasi.

“So Crisis was activated when Croc’s forces attacked the base where she was built?” asks Maria.

“Yeah, she fought them off and undid some of the damage to the scientists that were roboticized by his forces, examples you see are Shasi and Arissa here. I lucked out as the only scientist not roboticized before her rescue,” explains Joshua.

“Is that so?”

“It is, we were very lucky she was activated. I still suspect it was AI that turned her on.”

“AI?” asks Maria.

“Joshua is referring to me,” chimes in AI

“Wha, what… who was that?!” asks Maria as she jumps.

“Sorry to have startled you. I am AI, I am the advanced artificial intelligence from the facility where Crisis was made in. I’ve been connected to this base for some time.”

“So you’re some hyped up AI program? What’s your purpose?”

“To assist Mistress Crisis in her objectives, I can also verify that Crisis was activated after Croc’s Special Forces team attacked the base.”

“So… where are you? Or should I say do you have a body?”

“I have no physical form. I am speaking to you through speaker systems of this room.”

“So what, you’re some ambiguous voice that’s all over the place?”

“In a sense yes, I help maintain and keep track of equipment that pertains to Crisis’ well being.”

“This is getting rather weird… so can you see me?”

“I can through the video cameras. I am limited to the equipment of the facilities I reside in and limited physical control of systems.”

“That makes me feel… a bit better… I think,” comments Maria as she looks over at Joshua, “So when was I going to be told about this?”

“AI is a secret project. You shouldn’t know about her. And AI should have been quite about her existence around outsiders,” states Joshua as he looks up at a video camera.

“I do apologize,” says AI.

“Nothing we can do about it now. AI was our first attempt at building an artificial program capable of being Crisis and to defeat Croc. AI wasn’t enough at fulfill those needs, but she certainly helped speed up the process in Crisis’ creation.”

“She?”

“Well she sounds feminine doesn’t she? It sounds more comfortable than calling AI an it,” says Joshua.

“I suppose…”

“I do appreciate that, but I shall mention Crisis’ readings have just changed suddenly. You may want to look into it,” responds AI.

“Hmm? Oh thanks AI,” replies Joshua as he looks at the computer screen. “Judging from the read outs Crisis is working in overdrive now. I have a feeling the battle just started. Alright we need to focus on this, this won’t be Crisis’ last battle we need to monitor her to see how we can make improvements,” states Joshua.

“I know,” replies Arissa.

“Don’t have to tell me,” remarks Shasi.

“Sorry Maria we are going to be a bit busy for a while,” says Joshua.

“I understand,” replies Maria as she walks off into another room, inside is completely quiet and empty with idle computers and desks, the busy sound of Joshua and the others working completely muffled out by distance and the ambient background noise. “Hey, AI you still there?”

“I am always here,” she replies.

“Great… since you have some free time, mind telling me in greater detail about the day Crisis activated?”

“Sure, what would you like to know?”

“Everything,” says Maria. “There is something about her activation story that I just don’t buy,” she thinks.

As the hours pass after Croc’s initial attack, satellite feed shows images of Croc’s tanks, planes, mechanized and organic soldiers pushing through Raptras’ front lines. Crisis’ eyes glow a brighter blue as she focuses on the images that are feed through the screens. She watches the organic armies get pushed back mile after mile by Croc’s forces. Crisis’ claw tips tap on a nearby counter again and again as her tail sways behind her as the pace of battle quickens and grows more complex with each passing moment.

“Crisis, would you please stop tapping the counter top? It’s getting a bit irritating,” complains Phillip.

“This wait is bothersome. My forces are in front of Croc’s main spearhead and we have yet to spring the trap yet. I can’t help but worry when only one of my two divisions is actually fighting.”

“Give it time, you’re slowing them down more than we expected, you should be proud. Just wait till the time is right. We all must spring it together if not; this will all be for naught.”

“I know… I know,” sighs Crisis as her tail flicks behind her again.

The news of the renewed conflict across the borders of all the countries fighting Croc’s armies is being broadcasted around the globe albeit with some mixed results….

In the Anar kingdom, an island country far to the south of the Dromaeosa, the citizens composed primarily of anthropomorphic sharks. The news of Croc’s attack is broadcasted on the early morning news, but it’s only given a quick mention which only brings a few citizens to grumble and comment, “Why do we care what’s happening to those land scalies, they’ve only cost us money and hardships? I want to hear news of the real war.” The war they speak of isn’t between organics and machines, but rather between them against their neighboring island chain nation of Friss, the anthropomorphic people who live there are primarily composed of sea mammals, such as dolphins, whales, and orcas. But the Anar’s military high command watches this battle with extreme concern…

Nations that are closer to the actual battle, such as the feline nation of Karakas the news reports are considerably longer, with either live video feed or delayed and edited video feed of the battle, broadcasted exclusively by a small team of Karakas news reporters that volunteered to report on the war that rages on in two of the three of their neighboring countries.

An elderly feline sits in his rocking chair as he watches the news about the battle that is going on, his once golden fur is well faded, his body scared from events in his youth. He adjusts his classes as he watches over his grandchildren playing on the carpet before him, not even paying attention to the news that he’s watching. The report goes into detail about the continued casualties inflicted onto the Dromaeosa nation. As the report continues and tells about how the Dromaeosa armies are being pushed back towards the Dromus River the elderly feline can’t help but grin as he says with a chuckle “Serves those bastards right. I don’t see all that superiority talk helping you know! About time we see you hiding from something.”

“You aren’t the least bit worried about the war coming here, are you Father?” says a golden female feline as she comes out from the kitchen. “You know they’re almost to our country’s boarder.”

“Aye I know, and those whatever the fuck they are will see how powerful a true and righteous nation’s army can be.”

“Watch your tongue, I told you about using that kind of language around the children.”

“Sorry, you know how I can’t help that, but really you know these scalies deserve what’s coming to them. I wouldn’t be surprised if this robot uprising is their own doing. Something they created goes and attacks them instead, and they try to make another to fix the problem. Doesn’t take a genius to think that is what really is happening.”

“Yeah… Yeah, regardless watch your tongue around the children. Now turn that TV off and come on eat, lunch is ready. I made your favorite, Tuna casserole”

“You always knew how to treat this old man,” he says with a big grin on his face.

In the country of Dromaeosa things are far from tranquil. On the other side of the mountains, hot harsh desert climate with howling winds that seem to burn unprotected skin furred, feathered, scale or other. The factories belch out black smoke that darken the sky but provide no alleviation to the heat, but rather seem to make things worse. The makeshift dwellings around these mega factories at best could be called shanties with few having even the basic luxuries such as electricity or running water.

A group of raptors huddle around a small hand cranked battery powered radio. They constantly adjust and move the long metal antenna in an attempt to get some sort of news through the crackling static.

“Hold it right there, or we’ll lose it,” exclaims one raptor his scales dulled by the blistering heat and sandy winds.

“I’m trying,” growls the one holding the antenna as he attempts to hold it in an uncomfortable awkward position.

“Will you two be quiet I think I hear something,” growls a third.

“Croc’s as….. inues…. Quic… approaches… Dromu… iver. Dro…orc.…urrent….”

“Damn it! I want to hear what’s happening why don’t you move it back to where it was!” growls the first raptor.

“I’m working on it! I’m working on it!” growls the second as other raptors are focusing on the radios with equal if not more vigor and concern, meanwhile twenty-five miles south of the Dromus River there’s a mountain pass that is the border between Dromaeosa and Karakas. The path is no more than six car length’s wide, and the road is winding and dangerous. Cold winds blow from the pass making even the summer heat barely noticeable here.

The entrance way towards this nation is guarded by several armed feline military guards supported by a light tank and two Humvees, the group standing inches away from the Dromaeosa border. The humvees have their machine guns pointed towards the Dromaeosa’ boarder.

What the felines are aiming at is the massive refugee camp that has been set up at the boarder’s edge. Makeshift tents if anything at all is all the shelter the raptors have from the cold. The refugees are made up of predominantly women, children, and elderly that haven’t joined Crisis’ forces, with a few fathers sprinkled in taking care of their children. Each family has their own story to tell, own reasons why they rather be here than elsewhere within their country, but they all have one goal in common, to get out of the country before Croc’s forces arrive.

“You still going in there to help these lizards?” asks one of the guards to a young female feline dressed in a white uniform, with a red cross symbol on her sleeves along with one on her back which is blocked by her backpack that she is carrying that is full of food, water and medical supplies.

“I can’t sit around and do nothing while I watch others suffer,” she remarks.

“And if we were in their spot you’d think would they do the same? Of course not,” the guard snarls.

“You don’t know that.”

“I do, you know how they’re like. They care nothing but about themselves. I just would be careful, if I were you. They are quite restless today; we already had to repulse a few illegal crossing attempts into our country.”

“I will, don’t worry about me,” she replies with a smile as she walks into the camp, joining a small group of relief workers to provide what little aid they can to the countless raptors. As she starts her daily routine many of the raptors are busy huddled around their radios which have a clearer radio quality than their desert counterparts.

“Croc’s forces have broken the northern most flanks in the Talos region, and reports of a small attack force are now heading towards the Dromus River. The president’s spokesman has said not to fear about this minor breach in our defenses that the attack will soon be repulsed, and if by some chance any of Croc’s forces reach the Dromus River that our impenetrable defenses will not a single enemy solider to cross the river.”

“That’s a load of bull, I saw the river front two days ago to get some water, and there’s nothing there. Not a single fortified emplacement. I saw a few supply trucks for the front soldiers, and artillery guns, but no ‘impenetrable’ defense. If they reach the river there’s nothing between them and us,” growls a middle aged green scaled male raptor.

“The president’s spokes person? What about the president himself, I haven’t heard scale or tail of him in months if not longer,” growls a middle aged black scaled female.

“That coward has been hiding in some bunker for god knows how long. Glad I didn’t vote for that spineless twerp. I’m also not sure how accurate this news feed is, you know they are going to sugar coat the truth the entire time.”

“Of course, and what about that Crisis project? I haven’t heard much from it save from the need of our elderly to become a new army,” she remarks.

“Yeah what a load of bull that is,” growls the male raptor as he returns his attention to the news feed.

The hours pass as the news from the battlefront become harder and harder to sugar coat, as the reports coming in from several sources indicate that their ‘strategic relocation’ or ‘tactical withdrawal’ is really a full blown retreat. Soon enough there was no need for the radios to know how the battle was going for the battered nation. The rumbling of the battlefield in the distance was reaching the raptor’s ear holes as it was clear that the battlefront was approaching where they were.

“You hear that?” asks one of the elder raptors.

“Aye, I know those guns,” responds another elder raptor as he sits back on a makeshift seat made out of a rock. “You can hear those type of guns about twenty-five miles out, but these mountains amplify the noise so we can hear it better than normal. I’d say they are probably thirty, thirty-five miles tops,” he remarks..

“Thirty miles? How can you say that so calmly? At this rate they’d be here in a few hours! We have to get out of here!” exclaims one of the younger raptors as she stands up. “I not going to sit here and let those robotic monsters get us!” she yells as she along with hundred other refugees make their way towards the boarder. The feline guards watch the spectacle before them unfold and take aim their weapons towards the unarmed civilians.

“Halt you are forbidden to enter this country under the Karakas-Raptras treat of…”

“Are you mad! We have to get out of here and the only way out you are blocking. If we don’t run now you’ll be caught up too! Step aside and let us through!” she growls.

“Anyone who attempts to cross the boarder into Karakas illegally will be considered an invader of this country and be shot on the spot,” snarls the feline guard as they take defensive positions their weapons aimed at the battered refugees.

“Are you insane?!,” growls a golden yellow, black stripped scaled female raptor as she takes several steps towards the guards as she stands about two yards ahead of the rest of the crowd.

Suddenly a ring of three gunshots echoes through the mountain tops as birds who weren’t disturbed by the explosions heard in the distance did fly away at the noise of what happened. The crowd falls silent as they look ahead, others, young children trying to climb nearby trees to take a peek as to what happened, while concerned mothers attempt to bring their children back down from the trees.

The female raptor is motionless as she stands there, the three gun shots fired at the ground less than a foot ahead of her. The marks from the bullets clearly seen in the ground as her claws shake as she looks up at the felines.

“That was a warning shot. If you try to approach us we will open fire.”

“You really have gone mad,” she growls as she takes a deep breath and continues walking forward, moments later so does the rest of the crowd behind her. “We won’t just sit here and die because of some decades old peace treaty. Now let us pa—” the raptor’s words are cut short by the sound of a single rifle going off. The lead stumbles to the ground as she lets out a screech of pain, her hands putting pressure on her leg which bleeds profusely from the bullet wound.

“You’re crazy! Why did you fire upon them? They haven’t crossed the boarder you have no right!” yells the female feline from earlier as she rushes through the crowd towards the injured raptor. The feline places her heavy bag beside her with a thunk as she quickly rummages through it for some bandages to wrap around her leg.

“It’s okay, it’s only a scratch,” growls the raptor on the ground as the feline starts to apply first aid to her.

“It’s more than a scratch but you are lucky the bullet went right through and didn’t hit any bone,” she remarks.

“Why are you so worried about them? And don’t look at me like I’m the bad guy after all they’ve done. In reality I did her a favor if she crossed the border that shot would have been aimed much higher,” chuckles the guard as he points to his head.

“What happened in the past gives you no right to do this,” exclaims the feline.

“Ha, I have every right. Look at what they’ve done to us over countless generations? They felt they had every right to do what they did. Hell if you ask me I am being too kind to them with all these warning shots.”

“You call this a warning shot?!” growls the feline as she points to the bleeding raptor’s leg.

“Don’t worry, he just knows how tough we are, we can handle something as simple as a bullet wound,” growls the female raptor as she pushes herself back onto her feet, her leg still covered in blood as the bandage turns red from the wounds.

“I’m warning you, not another step forward,” yells the guard as he aims his gun at the lead raptor.

“Please wait, don’t do anything rash… either of you,” says the female feline as she gets between the two who are merely a few yards apart.

“I’m not going to do anything rash, I’m just going to take a nice stroll through the mountains,” chuckles the female raptor.

“I’m only doing what I must to protect the country I love from these scaled beasts,” snarls the guard.

The raptor takes a half step forward pushing the feline forward as she tries to keep the injured raptor back, “Don’t do this, we can work this out,” she pleads.

“Move out of the way, I don’t want to hit you too,” yells the guard to the female aid worker.

“Listen to him, move out of the way, I don’t want you hurt. You’ve worked hard helping us while we were trapped here, but we can’t be here any longer,” explains the female raptor.

“Wait! Wait! You young rascals, always rushing without thinking,” yells the elderly male raptor from before who gauged how far away the steadily growing louder artillery fire is. He smacks a few of the raptors in front of him with his cane as he makes his way towards the front. “Out of my way, don’t you know you ought to respect your elders!” growls the raptor as he carries a radio in his other hand.

“What is it?” asks the female raptor as she turns towards the elderly raptor.

“If you all weren’t here making such a ruckus you’d know by now,” he grumbles as he turns up the radio.

“I repeat the last spearhead of Croc’s forces being stopped eight miles from the Dromus River, counterattacks along the entire front have been successful as our newly formed robotic divisions under the command of General Raszer have cut off the most powerful spearheads and in the process of completely annihilating enemy forces. Holes are forming in Chaos Croc’s lines which our brave soldiers are quickly exploiting and retaking ground lost in the earlier hours of the day,” says the reporter as he seems to be getting choked up, “It might be much for me to say but this battle could be the turning point we’ve all hoped for. In all my years of reporting this war I never received reports of such destruction of the enemy ground forces.”

A silence falls upon the crowd as they listened to the news. The female lead raptor fell to her knees with a grunt. The news was so sudden so fast that you could hear the silence, the rustle of the trees as the wind blue slowly turned into cheers. Raptors across the nation began to cheer as the news spread like wildfire.

Crisis sighs in relief as she looks at the screens, seeing that their plan of assault is working so splendidly. Reports of captured hypnotized raptor soldiers that were thought lost rolling in, along with destruction or capture of countless tons of military equipment. Cheers rolled through the command room as Crisis like the robotic generals with her, remained still focus on their task. There was no time for celebration there was still much to do, but one thing that did cross Crisis mind as this all happened. “Finally.”

Croc on the other hand stood looking at his military screens, his hands held behind his back as he swayed on his feet back and forth, his tail swishing behind him as he sees the battle unfolding before him via countless video feeds from his soldiers, strategic command that shows the position of all his troops across the entire front of all the countries he’s invading. Surrounding him are dozens of drone workers busily helping Croc fulfill his commands and spread his dominance over the battlefield towards his ideal world.

“It seems that Crisis is going to be more troublesome than anticipated,” says the Empress as he stands by Croc on his left side, watching the battle unfold in her tight red outfit that’s unbefitting of anyone in the military yet alone in a major command hub.

Croc looks over the battle watching how quickly the Dromaeosa front is turning against him. Croc gives a sly smile as he replies, “It would seem so. I wonder how this Crisis got a hold of my battle plans.”

“Probably has something to do with your missing prototype body. I told you, you’re too open with these things,” remarks the Empress.

“I know, but things work out for me in the end, so I don’t see the problem with it,” he replies.

“No matter how much you’ve grown some things about you never change.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” replies Croc.

“Shall we divert forces from the other offensives to set up new defensive lines? At this rate a majority of your forces on that front will be destroyed.”

“If we must, pull troops from two of the bordering countries for that. We’ll secure what gains we’ve made there. Continue as planned for the others. We shouldn’t let this little nuisance hinder all my fun now,” remarks Croc with a smirk.

“Master Croc! Master Croc!” says Ko as she comes rushing in. Croc looks over his shoulder at her as she comes barging into the command room.

“What is it Ko?” asks Croc.

“Take a look at the Dromaeosa news reports, there’s something there you might find interesting.”

“Oh? I know they’d be reporting my defeat, what of interest is that to me?”

“No not that, something else,” she replies.

“Oh alright,” says Croc as he waves his hand as a video feed of one of the few remaining video news reporting by the nation is giving most urgent news.

“I repeat, the president has been assassinated. Information is limited at this time, but early reports have told of an elite enemy strike force that infiltrated the presidents secret bunker and after a quick and bloody battle the president was shot dead. It’s unsure of his cabinet which is in the same bunker has been killed in the fighting. Regardless, given the state of emergency this will make General Raszer current acting head of our government till elections can be established for a new president. General Raszer is unable to be reached due to the current battle raging against Croc’s forces, which thus far have been going in our glorious country’s favor. Even with this dark event shadowing our success we will continue to press on to victory and Chaos Croc will be punished for assassinating our glorious leader.”

“Oh this is interesting, very interesting indeed…” remarks Croc with a smirk, as he places his hands behind his back, returning to his proud stance as he watches the news report.