BOLD FOR GROUNDER LANGUAGE
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The heavy silence that had descended upon the Commander's throne room was thick enough to choke on. The words "Cyber and Tech Command" hung in the air, alien and confusing. Lexa stared at Mike as if he had started speaking a different language. Raven shifted her weight from one foot to the other, looking at the floor, the ceiling, and anywhere but the piercing green eyes of the Commander.
Just as Lexa opened her mouth to demand an explanation, the doors groaned.
The sound shattered the tension instantly. The doors swung inward with a force that suggested the person on the other side was not in the mood for waiting.
Anya walked in.
She was dressed in her full leather armor, and her sword was sheathed at her hip. Her hair was braided back tightly, revealing the sharp, striking features that had commanded armies and terrified recruits for a decade.
"Mike!"
The harsh mask of the General dissolved. A bright, genuine smile transformed her face. She crossed the distance in three long strides.
Mike turned just in time to catch her. Anya didn't hug him delicately; she collided with him, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder.
"You're back," she breathed, her voice muffled against his armor. "I heard the cheers from the lower district, but I had to see for myself."
Mike laughed, the sound warm and resonant. He squeezed her tight, lifting her slightly off the ground. "I was just gone for a few days."
"You were gone too long," she muttered, pulling back to look at him. She inspected his face, checking for new scars, her hands resting on his chest. "You look... tired."
"It's been a busy couple of days," Mike said, his smile lingering.
Anya leaned in and kissed him, a brief but possessive press of lips that staked her claim just as firmly as Lexa had moments before. Then, she stepped back, keeping one hand on his arm, and finally looked around the room.
Her smile faltered.
She saw Lexa standing by the table, her arms crossed, her expression a mask of grim concern. She saw the maps scattered across the surface. And then, she saw the stranger — a girl she remembered seeing when Mike brought her.
"What happened?" Anya asked, her voice dropping to a low, commanding register. She looked from Mike to Lexa. "Why does the room feel like a funeral?"
Mike sighed, the playful husband disappearing, replaced by the strategist. He gestured to the heavy wooden chairs surrounding the map table.
"Grab a chair, Anya," Mike said seriously. "Sit down. We have a lot to cover, and none of it is good news."
Anya frowned but didn't argue. She pulled out a chair and sat next to Lexa.
"First," Mike said, gesturing to the young woman standing awkwardly to his left. "Introductions."
He placed a hand on Raven's shoulder. "Anya, this is Raven."
"Raven, this is Anya kom Trikru. My wife, and the leader of Trikru."
Raven gave a small, nervous wave. "Hi. Nice to meet you. You have... a very nice sword."
Anya narrowed her eyes, assessing the girl. She wasn't a warrior — her hands were calloused from work, not weapons, and her stance was all wrong. But there was a spark in her eyes, a restless intelligence that Anya recognized.
"And," Mike continued, his voice firm as he repeated the title that had confused Lexa earlier, "Raven is going to be the leader of our newly formed Cyber and Tech Command."
Anya blinked. "Cyber... what?"
"Is this a joke?" Lexa asked, her patience wearing thin. "Mike, we are Trikru. We fight with steel and spirit. What is this 'Tech Command'?"
"Let me finish," Mike interrupted, holding up a hand.
The room fell silent. Mike took a deep breath. He tapped the side of his head, activating the neural link.
MAI, he thought. Project the global status report. Start with the Ark.
[Affirmative, Commander.]
Suddenly, the gauntlet on Mike's left arm hummed. A beam of blue light shot out from the emitter, fanning upwards and coalescing into a three-dimensional hologram that hovered in the air above the table.
Lexa and Anya flinched, leaning back in their chairs. Anya's hand flew to her sword hilt. They had seen technology before — Mount Weather had screens — but this was different. This was magic made of light.
"What sorcery is this?" Anya whispered, staring at the floating image of the Earth.
"It's not sorcery," Mike said softly. "It's intel."
He pointed to the spinning globe. "This is what I went to the island to find. I found an AI — something like a self-thinking machine — named A.L.I.E. She has eyes everywhere. Satellites in the sky that can see every inch of this planet."
The hologram zoomed in on a cluster of metal objects orbiting the Earth.
"The Ark is about to descend. There are over two thousand of them living in space. And in three days, maybe four... they are coming down."
Lexa's eyes went wide. "An invasion?"
"A migration," Mike corrected. "Their ship is dying. They are desperate. They will land here, near Trikru territory. They have technology, they have doctors, and they have engineers like Raven. If we fight them, we lose people. If we integrate them... we gain their knowledge."
He let that sink in. The arrival of the Sky People alone would have been enough to shake the foundation of their society. But Mike wasn't done.
"But the Sky People are the least of our problems," Mike said, his voice darkening.
He waved his hand, and the hologram zoomed out, spinning the globe to show the other continents.
"We thought the world ended," Mike said, looking at his wives. "We thought we were the last survivors, fighting over scraps in the ashes. We were wrong."
The map lit up with pockets of civilization.
"Europe," Mike pointed to the coastal fortresses of the UK. "Asia," he pointed to the vertical cities of India and China. "South America," he pointed to the massive hydroelectric empires of Brazil.
"They didn't die," Mike said. "They rebuilt. They became empires. And unlike us, they didn't reject technology. They embraced it. They have industries. They have ships, all kinds of modernized weapons."
Lexa was pale. She stared at the glowing map, her entire worldview crumbling. "We are... small," she whispered. "We are just a speck."
Mike leaned over the table, his golden eyes burning with intensity. "Now for the bad news."
MAI, show them the Vanguard.
[Projecting tactical overlay. Sector 4, North American Continent.]
The hologram zoomed in aggressively, focusing on the southern border of what was once the United States. A massive red stain was spreading northward.
"This," Mike said, pointing to the red mass, "is the Neo-Aztec Empire. Or the Mexica."
The hologram resolved into high-resolution images taken from the satellite. It showed a column of soldiers so long that the end of it vanished into the horizon.
Lexa and Anya leaned in, their horror mounting.
They saw men in jaguar pelts and steel armor. They saw massive wagons pulled by beasts of burden, covered in iron plating. But what terrified them most were the weapons.
"What are those?" Anya asked, pointing to the long metal tubes the soldiers carried.
"Muskets," Mike said. "They fire lead balls that can punch through our armor at three hundred yards. And these..."
He pointed to the massive, brass cannons being towed by horses.
"...are cannons. They can knock down the walls of Polis from a mile away."
"How many?" Lexa asked, her voice barely a whisper. "How many warriors?"
"In this vanguard alone?" Mike said grimly. "Ten thousand. And there are more behind them."
The silence that followed was absolute. It was the silence of a death sentence.
Ten thousand. The entire Coalition — all twelve clans united — could barely muster fifteen thousand fighting men and women. And those men fought with swords and spears against an enemy with guns and cannons.
"We cannot win," Anya said, her voice shaking slightly. It wasn't cowardice; it was calculation. "If they march on us... we will be slaughtered."
"We will not be slaughtered," Mike said, his voice cutting through the fear like a blade. "Because we have something they don't."
He turned and pointed at Raven.
Lexa and Anya looked at the girl. Raven shrank slightly under their scrutiny, but she held her ground.
"We have the Eye of God," Mike said. "We have the satellites. We know where they are. We know when they sleep. We know their supply lines. And thanks to Raven..."
Mike smiled, a proud, dangerous smile. "We have the AI on a leash."
He explained quickly how Raven had reprogrammed the AI, how she had rewritten its code, stripped it of its madness, and turned it into a tool for their survival. He explained that M.A.I. was now their ultimate spy, their scout, and their tactician.
"She tamed the spirit of the machine?" Lexa asked, looking at Raven with new eyes.
"Umm... You could say that." Mike said awkwardly.
In Grounder culture, strength was revered, yes. But wisdom was something that was respected even more.
"Without her, I would have had to destroy the AI. With her, we have a fighting chance."
Anya stood up slowly. She walked around the table and stopped in front of Raven. She towered over the mechanic, her presence intimidating.
Raven gulped. "I... I just did what I had to do."
Anya stared at her for a long moment. Then, a slow smile spread across her face.
"Intelligence," Anya said, nodding respectfully. "In the clans, we value the arm that swings the sword. But we know that the mind that directs the sword is more dangerous."
She placed a hand on Raven's shoulder, a gesture of acceptance. "No wonder Mike recommended you to lead this 'Cyber Command.' If you can tame a god, you can certainly help us kill an army."
Lexa nodded from her seat, her eyes regaining their steel. "Agreed. Raven kom Skykru, you have the gratitude of the Commander. We will need your eyes and your mind in the days to come."
Raven let out a breath she felt she had been holding for an hour. She smiled, a genuine, relieved smile. "Thanks. I... I won't let you down."
Mike watched them, a sense of satisfaction swelling in his chest. "It's good you all are getting along," he said, stepping back to the table.
"Because the three of you are going to be working together a lot."
He deactivated the hologram, plunging the room back into the soft glow of candlelight.
"Now," Mike said, his voice hard. "We have no time to waste. The Aztecs are moving fast. The Ark is falling soon. We need to mobilize."
"We need the Coalition," Lexa said, standing up. "We need every spear, every sword, every warrior from the woods to the sea."
"Summon them," Mike ordered. "Send the riders. Light the fires. Call all twelve Clan Leaders to Polis immediately. Tell them the Commander demands their presence. Tell them... the world is ending, and we are the only ones who can stop it."
One Day Later
The Great Hall of the Tower was thick with tension. The Ambassadors and Chiefs of the Twelve Clans had gathered, summoned by the urgent riders sent out the previous night.
They stood in clusters, separated by tribal allegiances.
The broad-shouldered warriors of Azgeda stood near the back, their white face paint stark against the gloom, whispering in harsh tones. Their representative, a scarred man named Otan, looked ready to draw his blade at the slightest provocation.
The Floukru ambassadors looked uncomfortable being so far inland, shifting restlessly.
"Why are we here?" a chief from Podakru shouted over the din. "The harvest is approaching! My people need to prepare for winter, not stand in a stone room!"
"Is the treaty broken?" another shouted. "Did Azgeda attack a village?"
"Silence!" the Azgeda representative roared back. "We have kept the peace! It is Trikru who drags us here!"
The arguments were escalating. Hands were drifting toward sword hilts. The fragile peace Mike had built was straining under the weight of confusion.
Then, the heavy blast doors at the far end of the hall slammed open.
The sound echoed like a gunshot. The room fell instantly silent.
Three figures walked in.
In the center walked Strat Heda, Mike. He wore his full armor — the black and orange mesh weave of the Deathstroke suit, minus the helmet.
To his right walked Heda, Lexa. She wore her Commander's regalia, the red sash flowing from her shoulder, her war paint applied in thick, black strokes around her eyes.
To his left walked Raven. She had been given new clothes — a blend of Grounder leathers and practical gear, fitted to her frame. She looked nervous, but she held her head high, carrying a datapad in her hands.
Behind them, flanking the rear, was Anya, her hand resting casually on the pommel of her sword, watching the crowd for any sign of dissent.
The group marched to the raised dais at the front of the room. Mike stopped in the center, looking down at the gathered chiefs.
He didn't yell. He didn't need to. He waited until the silence was so absolute that the only sound was the wind howling outside the tower.
"Chiefs. Ambassadors. Warriors," Mike began, his voice projected clearly by the acoustics of the room.
He looked at Otan of Azgeda. He looked at Indra of Trikru. He looked at Luna's representative.
"You must be wondering why I called you here."
He took a step forward, the metal of his boots ringing on the stone.
"You think the war is over because the Mountain has fallen," Mike said. "You think the fight for survival is done."
He paused, letting his gaze bore into them.
"You are wrong."
Mike tapped his gauntlet. The holoprojector hummed to life, but he kept the image small for now, just a glow on his arm, a promise of power.
"I will get straight to the case," Mike said, his voice dropping an octave, heavy with the weight of the future.
"We are not alone in this world. And we are not safe."
He looked up, his eyes burning with a fire that terrified them all.
"My brothers and sisters, prepare your armies."
Mike's voice thundered through the hall.
"We are about to go to war."