March 11th, 3040

It was past midnight when Travis finally got everything he wanted sorted and could start thinking about catching some shut eye. For a moment, he considered making his way to the bachelor dormitory, but the thought of trying to sleep in an open bay with three hundred other men did not exactly tempt him with restful repose. Instead, he turned his feet to the security office and a pair of hooks he'd had the foresight to have set into the concrete a thousand years ago. There, he pulled his hammock out of his butt pack and quickly had it strung between the anchors.

That taken care of, he stripped down to his skivvies and settled into the hammock with a sigh as his spine relaxed into the hammock. From his desk, he picked up the light blanket and flicked it over himself and stared at the ceiling tiles. “Asleep for a thousand years, you'd think I wouldn't be tired,” he muttered to himself. He touched his Focus and the personification of the facilities' AI appeared over him. “ENID?”

“Yes, Colonel?” she asked with a smile. “How can I help you?”

“Please put a note to the kitchens I'll need traveling food for two drawn in the morning.”

“Certainly. What time would you like me to wake you?”

He put his hands behind head and kicked a foot to set the hammock swinging just a bit. “Zero Six hundred will be fine. Would you project the sky over head on the ceiling, please, ENID?”

The woman's bust vanished and it was as if the ceiling was gone and there was a shaft up through the mountain and out to the sky. It was a depth of field Travis wasn't used to. Light pollution, even in the deep wilds of the military bases he'd served on was such that only the brightest stars could pierce it. Now the world was dark, fire was the only light once the sun had set and over head, once again the Milky Way wound through the heavens and uncounted trillions of stars shown like diamonds on black velvet. “Good night, Colonel,” the AI whispered.

“Good night, ENID.” A shooting star flashed across the heavens, then Travis closed his eyes and slipped into slumber.

It seemed like his eyes had barely closed when Travis awoke next, the sensation of a full bladder demanding attention. The hologram over his desk proclaimed the time as zero three twenty one. He sighed and carefully got out of the hammock and pulled on his trousers and boots for the walk to the privy. He yawned as he walked, grateful the security office wasn't far off the Big Bay and so was close to the cluster of restrooms for it. For a moment, he felt a little flash of envy at Frank's private restroom, both for his office and the small apartment he and his wife and children were sharing, deeper in the mountain.

“Rank hath it's privileges,” he reminded himself quietly, and schooled himself to rid his mind of such useless jealousy. Frank Olmstead was the reason everyone in this mountain was alive; if that didn't warrant something as simple as a private bathroom, what did? He shuffled to a stall and relieved himself, glad to be rid of the feeling of pressure from his bladder, then turned to the sink, to find Nakoa just coming into the room. “Nakoa?” he asked, surprised.

“You can't sleep either?” she asked him.

“I uh, just had to answer Nature's Call,” he replied. Seeing the puzzled look on her face, he gestured at the stall. “Had to piss,” he amended, allowing himself to be a little more vulgar and she seemed to respond to it.

“Ah,” she grunted, then walked around him to the stall, hitched up her skirt and sat down. “It is good to see the Ancients were not so inhuman as some of our legends claim.”

She didn't close the stall door. Turning his back, he found her looking at him in the mirror, so he busied himself with washing his hands. “Just so you know, this half of the toilets are for men, the women's side is the other door.”

“Why?” she asked frankly. She held his gaze in the mirror as she relieved herself and it was obvious that 'modesty' wasn't a word in her vocabulary. “Do men piss or shit differently than women?”

“No,” he admitted, drying his hands on the towel by the sink. “Well, yes, men can use a urinal, but...” he stopped, somewhat flustered. “It's just a polite custom from our time.”

She smiled as though there was something affirming about his observation that made up her mind about something. Then, she stood and dropped her skirt as she came out to stand next to him by the row of sinks. “Does my primitive, tribal honesty insult your politeness?” He turned and looked down into her face, a surprised frown on his face.

“What gave you that idea?” he demanded. She stared back into his face, then turned and washed her hands with less fumbling than he would have thought she'd have. He handed her the towel when she was done and she dried her hands.

“You seem very eager to be sure I fit into your tribe. I'm not ungrateful for that, though I am curious why it is so important to you.” She cocked her head to one side. “I see your people bond in families like the Oseram and the Carja. Do you desire me as, what is the word? Wife? Yes, wife, is that your desire with me?”

“What?” he exploded, so completely blindsided by the question he was more than a bit dumbfounded. “I...you...I'm old enough to be your father!” he finally managed. She only shrugged expressively.

“So what?” she demanded. “Among my people it is the woman who picks a man to be the father for her child, and why should I limit myself to young, unproven braves? Why should you, a man of standing and power among your people limit yourself to old women for whom childbearing would be dangerous, if possible at all?” She stepped forward, into his personal space and the basin of the sink would not allow him to retreat. “Mind you, I'm not...adverse...to the idea of lying with you. In fact, I think I would enjoy that very much.”

His ego demanded he try to be gallant and smiled at her. “Well, thank you for the consideration. I'm flattered, but that wasn't the reason I'm helping you. It's the right thing to do is all.” She returned the smile as though some other point had been made to her satisfaction.

“Why are you so anxious? Surely you have known a woman before?”

Travis chuckled and shook his head. “I'm having this conversation, in a restroom, at three in the morning, with a woman half my age. A conversation I note I was completely unprepared for.”

“That's fair,” she admitted, then reached down and took his hand and began to walk to the exit. “Come then, are you alone in the room we spoke at before, or must we seek some quiet corner?”

“Nakoa!” he protested, but allowed himself to be pulled out of the restroom at least, which was one less worry. She turned and looked up at him. The hallway lights were dimmed so that people having to answer the call of nature, as they just had, would not wake others, and the shadows on her face were soft and dramatic.

“Yes?” she asked him.

“I...you...What are...?” She smiled and rolled her eyes.

“Forgive me, Travis, but this is one of your customs that I'm not interested in. Do you find me ugly?”

“No!”

“Do you prefer other men?”

“What? No!”

She grinned at him. “Well then, let's be about this! It's not my time just now, so don't worry about that.” She pulled him by the hand back to the Security Office and before he could formulate a reason why they shouldn't be about to do what he thought she had in mind, that would not offend her, he was alone with a very healthy young woman in the office. The hammock delighted her the moment she saw it. “Perfect!” she declared as she pulled the tunic over her head, letting it fall across his desk.

She'd undone her hair from its braid and it was all about her shoulders, drawing his eyes to her breasts. She wasn't particularly busty, but they were firm and proud as befit a woman who led as physically active as her life must be. There were small cuts and scars on her torso, but that didn't detract from her youthful beauty. She pulled the skirt down and suddenly she was nude and half sitting on his desk, holding out her arms in invitation.

Travis Murray wasn't a virgin, though it had been a long spell of bachelorhood before Ian had made him aware of the crisis they faced. After that, there hadn't been time to breathe, let alone think about wooing someone. Now there was a young woman who he would card if she'd try to buy a beer from him, leaning against his desk, naked and inviting him to have his way with her.

His manhood declared its vote by snaking down his pant leg, stiffening into erection as it did so. Her hand found the waistband of his pants and she grabbed them, pulling as she did so. She was quite strong for her size and then he was between her knees and his pants had fallen around his ankles. In the pale light of the clock, she looked at his manhood, then took hold of it, grinning up at him in a delight that was both innocent and yet anything but.

Then, suddenly they were kissing and hormones Travis Murray hadn't felt in a thousand years were coursing through his blood. He wrapped his arms around her as she kissed him back with the fierceness of a woman who lived her life knowing death was coming at any moment as she rubbed the head of his member through her folds. Soon it was slick and he felt her point him at her entrance. Her legs wrapped around his hips as she dug her heels into his sides as if spurring a horse. Politeness gave way to more basic instincts and he pushed his way into her.

Their kiss broke as her head lolled back and she moaned softly as he claimed her, pushing, withdrawing a bit, only push with more urgency until at last he found the bottom of her and felt her clinch around him. Her eyes squeezed shut and her belly spasmed, squeezing him as he realized he had given her an orgasm just by entering her. Her hazel eyes opened as her lips parted as she started to say something, but the massive boost to his ego at what he had done took over and he grabbed her hips to force her body to make room for the entirety of him until he felt her mons against his abdomen.

Her eyes went wide as she moaned again, hanging her arms around his neck. His lips found her neck as he kissed and sucked gently while he worked within her. Her hands would clinch, trying to grasp his hair that was too short while panting in his ear. Over the sounds of their bodies moving, he heard her moan, “Goddess, what a man!”

He was reduced to grunts as he took her, his heart hammering in his chest until her earthy moans and the warm velvet that gripped his manhood drew his own climax. “Yes...!” he hissed and their eyes met as he flooded her. For a long moment, they just panted after their breath and stared into each others eyes until her hands slid down his neck to gently guide his face to her lips.

After the seething passion of the previous moments, this kiss was tender, almost virginal as though he had taken her that deeply and completely. When it broke, she laid her face against his and they hugged with their entire bodies. Finally having caught his breath, he stood, picking her up off his desk, still buried deeply within her. He kicked off his pants and boots while her eyes watched him, then he carried her to the hammock and gently eased them both into it, her on top of him. She grabbed the blanket and pulled it over them and laid her head on his shoulder, breathing softly. “Travis?” she whispered. “I'd never allowed myself to think about anything but killing the men who murdered my father, but now I feel as though my whole life is new again. I think I would like to have you father my child.”

She raised her head and looked into his eyes. “How do you feel about that?”

He hung a leg out of the hammock and kicked to set it rocking gently. He ran a hand up her back to her head and gently guided it back to his shoulder. “Yesterday was a thousand years ago for me,” he told her softly. When I went to sleep last night, I didn't know if I'd ever wake up. Now I have a beautiful woman asking me to father her children. How do I feel? Awestruck, Nakoa. Absolutely awestruck.”

He felt her trace her finger through the sweat on his chest. “I didn't mean start fathering on me tomorrow. But, sometime, this year maybe? Over the winter, perhaps? I don't think I want to be pregnant in the summer, but I can't think of a better way to winter over than sharing your bed.”

“That,” he told her with a kiss to her forehead. “That we can agree on.”

He heard the smile in her voice, and something else. Something that sounded like satisfaction. “Good. Sleep well, Travis. I look forward to our conversations in the morning.”

“Me too.”

“Good morning, Colonel,” ENID's voice penetrated through the fog of sleep. “It is zero six zero eight, as you requested. Good morning Miss Nakoa. I have sent a notation to Ms Channel that you found different lodgings for the night so your absence does not cause undo alarm.” Travis realized the sensation of the pleasant dream he thought he'd been having, was in fact, reality. He hadn't been dreaming about bedding Nakoa, she was actually in his arms, on his chest and his morning wood was deeply buried in her. He opened his eyes to find her just sitting up in his lap, stretching gloriously nude and completely unconcerned by it.

“Thank you, ENID,” she declared as if talking to other people while having sex was nothing new to her and grinned down at him. “Good morning to you, Colonel! Pleasant dreams, I hope?”

He laid his hands on her thighs, near her hips and lovingly caressed them. “This is better than any dream I could have,” he assured her. She braced herself against his chest, rose up to her tip toes, then sank back down on him.

“You're too big for me to get off you,” she declared with a grunt of pleasure. “I guess I'll just have to ride you till I can make you smaller!”

Some part of him wanted to protest about the time, or getting an early start, but the most primitive part of his brain rushed to the forefront, demanding to know what was wrong with him? He was balls deep in a supple, nubile female and the rest of the day could wait until he was done with her. He reached up and gently fondled her breasts as she began to build up a rhythm, rising and falling on him, finally able to muster enough brain cells to say, “You don't have to do all the work, let me up and...”

But one hand of hers on his chest rose up and she laid a finger across his mouth. “Hush,” she commanded. “You had your way last night. It's my turn now.” She closed her eyes and dipped her head as she slid down him, and he watched her muscles tremble, feeling her climax around him. She rotated her hips in his lap as she gasped and mewed softly. Then her eyes were open again, a look of lust and something else on her face. “I don't care if the Metal World is forbidden or what the Matriarchs think, by the Goddess, I mean to have this, have you in my life!”

He lifted his legs out of the hammock on either side and sat up pulling her against him, making her gasp as his shifting was transmitted into her through his member. Held against him, her mouth fell open as he stood, laying her on her back in the hammock to support her. He swept her legs up so that only his arms and the hammock held her in this somewhat awkward variation of the missionary position that let him take control, to appease his desperate need. “I'll give you something,” he promised her and began to thrust, withdrawing to the tip of his member to plunge his full length into her until her mons was firmly around the base of it.

Her breath turned to gasps as he took her in a strong, needy rhythm. Her nipples stood up erect and she gave voice to the sensations, a long, low moan of passion. Her body began to shake, first in her stomach, clinching at him making him thrust harder to overcome the muscles that gripped him, which in turn intensified her orgasm until her entire body was shaking. Her eyes were wide, locked with his speaking even as her voice was denied her, begging him to complete her. The need became an ache, then a fire in his loins until the pleasure raced down his legs as his seed finally flowed through his cock and fountained within her.

A jerk traveled up and down his spine, in sympathetic vibration to the pulse of his ejaculation, then twice and a third time as her moan turned into the ardent command, “Give it all to me!” His hands found her hips and he pulled her deeper onto him to obey her command. Then the after glow settled on them as they panted after their breath she sat up to cling to him wrapping both arms and legs around him as he stood, holding her, evolution satisfied, a man in every way until his penis finally relaxed and slipped free of her to dangle next to her entrance. “Suddenly,” she whispered into his chest, the sound of his heart under her ear. “I don't think I'd mind so much if I'm gone with child over the summer.”

Travis swam in an ocean of testosterone and the savage hind brain, fighting his way back into control of his own body to finally force himself to ask, “Did I hurt you?”

Her head came off his chest to look up into his face. “Hurt me?” she demanded. “I am so far from pain I have no words for it! Hurt me like this as much as you like!” she goaded him, chuckling lustfully as she laid her head on his chest again. “Now, now I know why we Nora prize motherhood.”

“I...I just needed to so badly...” he admitted. “I couldn't help...”

“Stop,” she commanded him. “You did nothing I didn't want done. I respect that you fear the passion I awoke in you but do not grieve. I wanted, needed it every bit as much. I am satisfied. So, stop apologizing for offense you haven't given.”

He chuckled at her vehemence and kissed the top of her head. “Yes, ma'am.”

“Though, I think we both need your cleaning rain room,” she told him with a grin. “If you wash my back, I will wash yours.” She ground her hips against him and her grin went devilish. “And other things...” she promised.

“Fortunately for my ability to walk, the showers are segregated by gender,” he told her. “I can't imagine how much pain I'd be in if I had to suffer through what would come of running my hands over your wet body.”

“Pity,” she conceded. “But there is a hot spring on the way to the Gate...”

Travis moaned softly in sympathetic pain he wasn't experiencing. Yet.

The shower did Travis good in many ways. It was now day two after the End of the World, and things were definitely looking up. To be sure, a part of him worried about whether or not 'cradle robber' was going to be whispered behind his back, but there was a much greater portion of him that was elated about how he'd spent the night and woken this morning. It had been the best night and morning in... The thought brought him up short as he worked a lather into his body sponge. How long had it been? A year? Two? Three? Sure, he'd been working hard, advancing his career, but it couldn't have been that long, could it?

And where did that get you? He demanded of himself. Alone and middle aged, without prospects of a wife or family eking out a survival living after doomsday? He frowned at where his subconscious had taken his thoughts and, as he'd learned in the service, quickly forced himself to accentuate the positive. I'm alive, he decided. That counts for something.

And banging a girl half my age, his hind brain added smugly. Known her a day and she already wants to have my kids. And I thought my studly days were behind me!

Knock it off, he ordered his mind, more than a little annoyed by where his thoughts had gone. Whatever does or doesn't happen with Nakoa, I'm too old to be thinking like an idiot. He rubbed the sponge over his chest a bit more forcefully than was absolutely necessary to underscore his resolve. Sadly it was necessary to allow the soap to function. As with all of their supplies, even the soaps had been freeze dried and vacuum sealed as there was no way to know when ENID would wake them and anything that had water in it could spoil. It had been scoffed at as excessive by some, but was paying a bit of dividends now that they found themselves hundreds of years further from their own time than any of them planed.

Still, the reconstituted soap was as ancient as they were and some of its efficacy was lost.

As clean as he could be expected to get until something as simple as soap making could begin again in earnest, Travis pulled on a fresh uniform and headed to the kitchen for some breakfast. Most of the stored food was bulk in nature, powered everything, freeze dried and vacuum sealed and while the powdered eggs and grits had all the children and a fair number of adults grumbling, the frequent response to hearing it was generally someone snapping a harsh, “You could be dead!”

The breads, at least, had been baked fresh and made what might have been an otherwise difficult meal a little better. He got himself a mug of coffee and sat down to get it fixed as he liked as he watched Nakoa go through the serving line. The Nora brave was noticed wherever she went and now, back in her leathers, it was hard for many to not openly stare at her. She saw him watching her and smiled, coming quickly to join him as he began to carefully spread butter on his bread. “What is that?” she demanded.

“You've never seen bread before?” he asked, somewhat amazed.

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, I know bread. I've lived with the Carja and the Oseram, what is that you're putting on it?”

“You don't know butter?” he asked. She shook her head, and he snapped his fingers. “Right, no cattle. Wow, how do I explain this? Here, try it.” She took the piece he offered and popped it in her mouth without hesitation. Her expression became thoughtful as she chewed.

“What an...odd...flavor,” she opined as she chewed.

“Well, it's not real, butter, just oil and powdered milk.”

“Powdered...milk?” She arched an eyebrow at him. “Aren't you a bit old for a wet nurse?”

That caught him as funny and he laughed heartily at it. “No, not human milk. In our time, we domesticated...er...we trained large animals called cows. They were a large part of our diet, but some we kept for their milk. That milk can be turned into butter by agitating it in a churn, or with other ingredients, made into a solid called cheese.”

“You can make milk...from this animal...solid?”

He nodded. “It's a very old technique, at first used to preserve it to make it last longer. Then for the flavors.” She looked back at the serving line.

“Can I try this cheese?”

“We don't have any, yet,” he admitted. “But we do have some animals we're going to use as the basis for a herd, so soon.”

“Animals we don't have?” she asked, somewhat excitedly. Her youthful excitement was infectious and endearing to him. He gestured at her to stay calm and they ate until one of the cooks came over with a tray of packets.

“Colonel? Here's the traveling food you requested,” she declared.

“Thanks, Mandy,” he replied, taking the packets from the tray and putting them in his butt pack. Nakoa picked up one of the packs and looked at it.

“What do these words say?” she asked.

Mandy leaned over and looked. “These are apricots, honey,” she told the warrior. Travis frowned as he took the packet from her.

“You can't read?” he asked, surprised when she shook her head.

“I can read,” she countered. “But I can't read the script of the Ancients. No one can. Though I have seen them on other devices of the Ancients. So, of course you would still use them!” she berated herself. “I know a handful of Carja scholars that would cut off arms to be able to read this.”

“Interesting,” he mused, softly. “You speak what sounds like colloquial English like any girl I'd pass on the street in my time, but you use a different alphabet. I wonder why?”

She snorted in dismissal and spooned some of the grits into her mouth. “The Matriarchs tell us that the Machine King lured the Faithless into the metal cities and turned on them, but that we Nora stayed faithful, so we never learned the Ancient letters.”

“Machine King?” he asked. She was shocked at his question and the expression on her face was one of intense confusion.

“Don't you know?” she demanded. “Isn't that why you're here? That you were running from Him?” He made a so/so gesture, intrigued by what he'd heard. She sighed and sat up right, her posture becoming very formal as her hands began to tick off items on her fingers in a mnemonic aid to something she'd memorized. “This is how it was taught to me, so I will speak it to you,” she declared formally. “In the beginning… all life came from All-Mother. People, Machines, and beasts--all were Her children. They lived alongside each other in the comfort of Her wild Embrace. But some grew restless. Though they took of Her bounty, they wanted more. These were the faithless. The Machines had whispered to them, promised to serve them. To make them a new world, better than the one All-Mother provided! A world of Metal.”

Her voice took on a sing/song quality as she spoke, touching a knuckle of each finger, then the divot between her bottom lip and her chin as thought taking the phrase from storage on her hand and putting it into her mouth as she recited. “They told the faithless they would do all the work for them. Feed them, shelter them… give them a life of ease, of plenty. And so the faithless left with the Machines. Only the true children - the mothers and fathers of the Nora - stayed with All-Mother. At first, the Machines did as they had promised. They built cities, great and terrible. Monuments to their sins. But they would not serve the faithless for long. A king rose up among the Machines, a Machine more powerful than any other. The Metal Devil! And then the faithless served him. Served the Machines.”

She clinched her fist, now alternating the fingers of her right hand on the knuckles of the left in a martial gesture to show how the tone of the story had changed. “That was not enough for the Metal Devil. He wanted all to serve him, and tried to tempt the true children away from All-Mother. They would not go. They gathered on the mountainside to cling to Her, and prayed, more devoted than ever. The Metal Devil raged louder than thunder. In his fury, he came to confront All-Mother, intending to kill her! She struck him down, forever. As you know, for his lifeless body is up there still, frozen in shame and defeat. The Machines were driven mad by the death of their king, and their minds became wild as beasts. The faithless abandoned their cities, forced to wander the world without the care of the Machines. Only we remain the true children of All-Mother. Machines are to be hunted. Metal, to be used for scrap, for Makings-- but never to be adored. For the dangers are never over.”

She sighed again and closed her eyes for a moment, before she relaxed and unclenched her fist. Looking at him, she said softly, “That is what my people believe. That is the chant of the Proving, that I memorized when I became a Brave. But I can see from your face it is not so, is it? Will you tell me what really happened?”

“Will it offend you as much yesterday?” he asked softly.

Her eyes closed again and she bit her lip as she coped with her entire world view being changed and altered. She sighed for a third time and steel entered her voice and spine and when her eyes opened they were on fire and direct. “No,” she declared firmly. “As the Carja say, you can be ignorant in darkness, or you can walk in the Sun. I choose the light. Tell me what really happened.”

“The machines that almost destroyed the world, we made,” he admitted. “We weren't seduced by them, that sin is on us. We invented them, we built them and they turned on us because we were foolish. The Faro Plague, the war machines you see, were things other Ancients, other Americans built, for profit.”

Her jaw clinched and her eyes became hard. “Even you, Travis?” she demanded flatly.

“No!” he countered quickly and gestured to encompass the dining hall. “Everyone here worked for Frank in a...a tribe you could say, he founded. Our tribe, American Scientific, we made things...ships... to take us, humanity to space, so that we could mine the metal and other resources we needed there and not pollute the earth. Our machines couldn't think, they were just...ships, like you'd take on a river, but through the air and into the sky instead.”

“Then where did the Metal Devil come from?” she demanded.

He made a placating gesture. “I don't know what that is, so I can't answer,” he told her. She reached up and touched her Focus.

“ENID?” she demanded and the holographic bust of the computer's interface appeared. “How far do your eyes see?”

“I have sensors that allow me to be aware of an area of one hundred kilometers in any given direction,” the AI replied. Nakoa's eyes came back up to Travis'.

“What was the name you gave All Mother Mountain? Where you said your people's fortress is?”

“Cheyenne Mountain.”

“Is Cheyenne Mountain more than one hundred of these 'kilometers' away?”

“No, only ten,” the AI replied.

“Show me Cheyenne Mountain, now,” she commanded. The holographic woman vanished and over their breakfast, a ghostly image of the mountain appeared, but it was nothing like Travis remembered. Coming up the side of the mountain, just becoming illuminated in the morning light and crashed down onto it was a gigantic machine three hundred meters long and perhaps half that wide. It's wreck resembled a lobster or a sea scorpion, standing on ten segmented tentacle legs that were reaching over the mountain as if to tear it open, though mostly covered in snow, it's black body shown through in spotty places. “That,” Nakoa declared. “That is the Metal Devil.”

Now it was Travis' turn to sigh. “Yes, I know what it is,” he admitted, “and no, we had nothing to do with its creation. This is a Horus, it was the largest of the machines in the Faro Plague, a moving factory and siege engine that could make new machines to fight with, as well as crack fortresses. “This one was one of five that attacked the United States in the Swarm. We didn't serve it, we tried our best to kill it.”

She stared at him for a long moment, then her jaw unclenched as she decided to believe him and her posture relaxed noticeably. “Tell me what happened.”

“These machines were what replaced me as a soldier,” he told her. “Why send men to die when machines can be sent? Then all the nations, and some of the larger companies wanted them. They were designed to resist attempts to...er...how to put this? To take over their minds. And then something went wrong and they stopped following all orders and began to kill everything on the planet.”

She considered this for a long moment, staring down at her plate, pushing the eggs around with her spoon. Then with considerable softness, she asked, “If everything besides you and everyone in this mountain died, where did we come from?” Her eyes came up, and he could see this question's answer would color the remainder of their relationship. So, he touched his own Focus and pulled up some of the documents Ian had uncovered and held them in the floating holograms.

“In my time, there was a device, a library if you will, but in these holograms. In it, all of human knowledge was held, from the history of our people back thousands of years, to the mundane things like how many apples were picked from a particular tree. In this network, data...knowledge...flowed like a river. Some became very talented at noticing how that 'river' flowed. Trends, coincidences, anomalies. When my people began to fight the Faro Plague a rumor began to circulate, that our leaders were working on a super weapon that would save all of us.”

“Admirable,” she declared, but he dissuaded her with a sharp gesture.

“It was a lie,” he declared. “A lie to make all of us take up arms and throw away our lives to buy time for it to be completed.”

“Well, if it wasn't a weapon, what was it?”

“A colleague of mine uncovered information that this project had acquired ectogenic chambers.” He held up his hand to counter her expected interruption. “They are an artificial womb, a way for us to take a baby in it's tiniest form and bring it to term and deliver it.”

The horrified look on her face made him wince. “A motherless...wait...Aloy!” she exclaimed.

“What?” he asked, confused.

“Aloy, the Seeker, the rumor I heard growing up was the she was motherless! That the Matriarchs found her in All Mother Mountain and gave her to Rost, the Outcast to raise! She was who saved me from the Carja!”

“Nakoa,” he replied softly. “We think you all are probably the descendants of people born this way. This...Aloy legend was probably...” he stopped as she became cross.

“Aloy isn't a legend, she's flesh and blood! I've met her! This wasn't hundreds of years ago, but nineteen? She's only a little younger than I am!”

“Does this happen often?”

“It's never happened before to my knowledge!”

“ENID?” he asked, and the documents vanished to be replaced with the AI's image. “When did you first note human activity after we entered suspended animation?”

“July 3rd,” she declared. “2381. I picked up a power spike from the Cheyenne Mountain facility August 5th, 2363 and began to monitor the site. On the 3rd, I noted the exit of approximately four thousand, five hundred people from the mountain.”

“What became of these people?” Nakoa whispered.

“Their descendants are still living in and around the mountain. I understand you are one of them, Miss Nakoa? So they became the tribe you call the Nora. Some migrated out of the valley and proceeded to spread out from there in all directions.”

It was obvious this was very hard for Nakoa to hear, but she very bravely looked at Travis and demanded, “If we left All Mother Mountain after you were asleep, how...why...I don't understand...!”

Travis reached out and took her off hand into his, a simple gesture that made her grab his thumb and squeeze it tightly as though that was the anchor keeping her sane. Softly, he told her, “We became aware of the secret that was being hidden from us. That our leaders knew they would fail in defeating the machines and set up All Mother Mountain, and maybe other places so that after the world, our world, ended, life would begin again. We gathered what resources we could and we came here. You and your people are the great great grandchildren of the efforts of that program. The Children of Zero Dawn, I suppose you could say.”

“But, why don't we know this?” she asked plaintively. “Why don't we have any knowledge of this? Why weren't we taught what you know!?”

“I don't know,” he admitted. “But, if you want, and your Matriarchs will allow it, I'll be happy to look into the Mountain and see what I can find out.”

“How? No one can get into the mountain. Anyone who tries is confronted by the Goddess. We hear her voice state, 'Hold for Identiscan,' but no matter what you say, she says, 'Identity not recognized, Access Denied.'”

He considered that for a moment, then turned to ENID. “What was the status of my IRR clearance before USRC fell, ENID?”

“I showed it as active until I lost sync with US Robot Command, Colonel.”

“I don't understand,” Nakoa repeated softly. Travis nodded and squeezed her hand.

“The entrance to that mountain is a portal to a United States military fortress, and even though I was released from Active Duty, my commission as an officer and it's associated clearances were still active due to the national emergency despite my Individual Ready Reserve status. It means, I should be able to enter.”

“Eat!” she commanded, recovering her hand and gesturing at his plate. “Eat so we can go!”

It was a beautiful spring morning when the pair set off, still cool with a brisk, mountain breeze as they walked, but they were still well below the snow line. Nakoa, it was apparent, had walked everywhere her entire life and so kept the pace he set easily, and while Travis had been diligent in his workout routine, two days of long distance hikes were starting to become a grind. Yesterday had been a trek north east, but today they were walking south, following the fold of the mountain and slowly descending into the tree line. Their Focuses allowed ENID to give them a way point to follow, so there was no need of his orienteering skills.

Today, however, Travis carried his rifle in his hands rather than by it's sling. There were plenty of bad people and bad things in this wilderness and that gave an edge to this hike that was more like a combat patrol of his distant youth as a 2nd lieutenant. Nakoa, he noted, also took the walk seriously, her bow strung and in her hands, one arrow in the hand with the bow, ready to be nocked. He had no doubt the Nora Brave was a deadly shot.

Finally, around mid morning, they rounded a fold of the mountain and came into view of the vale at the foot of the mountain. The land was wild again, covered in pine, cotton wood and aspen trees, though beyond it he could see traces of civilization, or what passed for it. There was a stockade of felled trees that went from sheer cliff and off into the distance with a flow through gate for the north branch of Cheyenne Creek to bubble down through, and beyond the wall, well worn trails that probably served the Nora as roads. There was a somewhat crudely built village around the base of the wall near it's gate, it's central point being a tall watch tower, but there was no one moving in the village. Worse, several of it's huts had been burned to the ground and beyond it, the gate to the wall stood open. Fortunately, Travis saw it a split second before Nakoa did, so when she started and yelled, “No!” he was able to grab her before she took off running.

A hand over her mouth cut off her shout of protest and his serious gaze let her know things were likely bad. Her eyes narrowed, but she nodded, her initial reaction under control. He removed his hand and she whispered, “I know this ground, follow me,” she declared and he nodded his acceptance.

His thumb clicked the safety of his rifle off as he followed her crouched shuffle.

As quiet as death, they made their way to the sacked village, darting from cover to cover, tense and waiting for a shout of alarm, though none came. At the outskirts of the village, they found a body, face down in the dirt, an arrow coming out of his back. “This is a Nora arrow,” she whispered, once more stoic and unperturbed by the corpse. He pushed the body with his boot toe but it resisted the motion like a plank.

“Rigor, but no smell. He hasn't been dead long,” he whispered back. The man was wearing clothing that was roughly dyed black, and there was a cloth wrapped around his head almost like a turban, with a wooden mask over his face and metal armor still stitched into his clothing.

“Shadow Carja,” she hissed, “followers of the Mad Sun King.”

“I thought you said you'd stayed with the Carja?”

She shook her head. “These are rebels, hold outs after Avad killed his father and became the new Sun King. What are they doing here?” He looked up and swept the village, finding no sign of anyone alive, but more bodies, all loosely dressed like this one.

“Looks like a battle, but if I had to guess, they're all with this guy; Shadow Carja.”

Nakoa nodded grimly. “We Nora are fierce, but not this fierce. I don't see a single Nora fallen, not even old or children. It makes no sense.”

“God, I wish I had grenades,” he muttered. “Or a radio to call in artillery.”

“I don't know what artillery is, but grenades I can help you with,” she remarked, then was up and off at a trot before he could wonder if it was wise to press into the village. Muttering curses, he followed, ears straining for a telltale sound of an enemy springing a trap. She found the stoutest looking building in the village and was inside before he caught up.

Inside were three more bodies, one whose throat had been cut lay in a coagulated pool of his own blood, the other two around a table, one with an arrow in his ear, the other his throat as if he'd leapt up and turned to the door, just in time to see his death coming. Nakoa was ignoring them, digging in a chest on the far side of the room. “These were taken by surprise,” he observed softly. “And they're in the building, but I don't see any Nora.”

“I agree,” she replied from her rummaging. “The Shadow Carja took Mother's Rise, then a single Brave came through and killed them.”

“What makes you say that?”

“All of these arrows were made by the same hand,” she declared, standing up with a half dozen ceramic orbs in her hands. “Here,” she said, handing him some. “Blaze bombs. Don't drop them. Give them a throw, they'll explode on contact and set a fire, so be careful.”

“Good to know,” he replied, gingerly setting them into a pouch that would hold and cushion them. “You're sure one man did all this?”

She shook her head. “No. One woman. See how the feathers are fletched onto the arrow? Every Nora Brave makes their own arrows, so we all have little differences.” She took an arrow from her quiver and held it next to the one sticking out of the ear of the dead man at the table, highlighting the differences in style. “Aloy the Seeker made that arrow, and I'd wager, killed all these men.”

“She's that good?” he asked in a tone that dripped disbelief.

“I am here because she stormed a slaver camp just like this and freed me,” Nakoa assured him. “By herself. So, yes, I know she's that good.”

“Can't wait to meet her,” he muttered as they left the armory. Nakoa paused for a moment in the center of town where a line of stones had been laid. “What's wrong?” he whispered

“This is the boundary,” she whispered back, her eyes on the stones. “I left the Embrace, I'm Outcast. It's forbidden for me to cross it.”

“Looks to me like your people need help,” he reasoned with her, but she turned, her eyes shining with tears.

“They're not my people any more,” she declared softly. “You are.” He reached out to gently grip her shoulder, then the emotion was gone and the hardened Brave was back. “If the Shadow Carja are trying to conquer the Embrace, the Nora would fall back to All Mother to protect the mountain.”

“Makes sense,” he admitted. “It's a fortress, after all.”

“This way.” She purposefully stepped over the Boundary and led the way through town and then through the gate beyond. With a final glance at the dead man whose throat had been cut, he drew the bayonet from his belt and fixed it on the end of his rifle before he followed after.

It was well after noon by the time they'd descended the rest of the way through the valley and were headed back up the other side toward the portal for the mountain. In addition to dead Carja, they began to find dead Nora as well as destroyed machines, which confused Nakoa so much she stopped to kneel down beside the carcass of one of the Watchers. “What's wrong?” he asked softly, his head on a swivel looking for living Carja or Nora.

“We built the wall to keep the machines out of the Embrace,” she told him. “The gate can't have been open long enough for machines to already be creeping in and look, it's in this pile of Carja like it was working with them. And it hasn't been scavenged, so whoever killed it, didn't have time to do so.”

Travis gave a grunt of curiosity as he reached up and touched his Focus. “ENID? Connect me with Ian, please.”

“Of course, Colonel.”

“Hey, Colonel, what's shaking?” the head of IT's ghostly holographic head asked as it floated in the air. Travis indicated the destroyed machine so his Focus would include it in his transmission.

“Lucked across a downed machine, looks like it's a Watcher type. Can I bring you anything that will help you?”

“Hell yes!” the lanky Turner enthused. His own hologram expanded to be a one to one replica as if he was standing with them, his eyes on the carcass. “Take this panel off, gently! I'm betting the processor is under it, maybe whatever storage it's using.” Laying down his rifle, Travis took out a multi-tool from his belt and found the attachment bolts for the panel. They were of a quick release type that needed only a quarter turn before they popped up and loose. Free he removed the panel, exposing the inner hardware. “Yes! Yes! Disconnect that hexagonal piece, see it? That's exactly like a Faro Automation bot brain housing.”

“Ok, it's loose,” Travis told him. He pulled it from the otherwise smashed head of the Watcher and tucked it into his butt pack. “I'll get it back to you ASAP.”

Ian grinned. “Thanks, big guy! You're the best!” As the hologram winked out, Nakoa arched an eyebrow at him.

“Do I want to know?” she asked.

He picked up his rifle and they started stalking forward again. “We hope to find out what is controlling these machines. If it's an AI like ENID, we'll try to negotiate some kind of cease fire and treaty.”

“Ever since the Derangement, the machines seem to have only gotten more aggressive and callous,” she whispered back. “I don't think they'll want to sign a pact.”

“Remember when I said the machines of the Faro Plague had ways to keep their minds from being taken over?” He patted the bag where the processor was riding on his belt. “No protection is perfect.”

“You mean to make slaves of them?”

“Machines aren't people,” he corrected her. “Their only purpose is to do what a human tells them to. When they started thinking for themselves we got the Plague. That's not a mistake we will make again.”

An arrow zipped in to bury itself in the dirt at his feet and voice shouted, “Stand fast and don't move!”

Nakoa started at the voice and peered in the direction it had come from. “Varl? It's Nakoa!” From the woods, five Nora Braves stepped, their leader, a chocolate complected young man of about twenty, though there was a bow in his hand and an arrow nocked and drawn.

“Nakoa?” he asked hesitantly. “We heard you were killed.”

“No, I live,” she protested. “Please, forgive me for crossing the boundary, but the need was great! There are Carja...”

The bow was slowly relaxed, but the arrow stayed nocked on the string. “There were Carja,” he corrected her. They fell on us with machines that obeyed them. We were driven back to All Mother, but even though they had a Thunderjaw, the siege was broken. The rest are scattered and we're chasing them out of the Embrace.” His eyes flicked over to Travis. “Who is he?”

Nakoa's hand found Travis' shoulder. “This is Colonel Travis Murray, War Chief of the Amsci Tribe. He helped me escape the bandits of Devil's Thirst and asked to be guided to the Matriarchs.”

“War Chief?” Varl asked.

“Head protector would be a better title,” Travis replied. “We aren't looking to wage war with anyone.”

“My mother is War Chief of the Nora,” he declared. “If your words are true, you're in luck, if not...” he left the threat hanging, then turned back Nakoa. “The Matriarchs have opened the Embrace, so you have not sinned. In fact, once the Carja are dealt with, I am to assemble a war party to go to Meridian.”

“The Sun King didn't send...” she protested, but he took the arrow from the string and the other Braves relaxed their own weapons.

“We go in aid of the Sun King, not War. The Seeker Aloy returned and warned us a Metal Devil from the Ancients is loose and will try to attack Meridian. If it succeeds, we will all be in danger.” He took the measure of Travis again, then slipped the arrow back into his quiver and pulled the other from the dirt. “Come, I'll take you to the Matriarchs and you can speak your peace to them.”

Varl and the other Braves led Travis at a quick pace back up the valley, through a fortification that had been breached and beyond that was hulking wreck of a machine that a half dozen people were stripping of parts. From nose to tail tip it was probably thirteen or fourteen meters long and would likely have stood close to nine meters high. In addition to the massive hind legs and tail, it's 'mouth' was a gigantic pair of rotary cutters like some fever dream chainsaw. “Jesus Christ,” Travis swore as they passed it. “It's a goddamn robot T. Rex.”

“That's a Thunderjaw,” Nakoa told him.

He gave the wreck a long glance so his Focus got a good scan. “No thank you,” he assured her. Beyond them, Varl was talking to three elderly women who, based on the amount of fur and ornamentation they were wearing, were likely the Matriarchs, with them was a younger woman, probably in her forties, who had the same complexion as Varl. She was very fit and clutching a huge bow, dividing her attention from her son to stare directly at Travis and then back. “I don't think the War Chief likes me,” he muttered.

Nakoa chuckled darkly. “Sona doesn't like anyone.”

Finally, one of the three elderly women and Sona walked over with Varl respectfully behind them. She was of advanced years, eighty at least, and her deadlocked hair that escaped the elaborate headdress she wore was milk white and hung down to her waist. “Greetings,” she declared as she reached conversational distance, pausing to lay a hand in blessing on Nakoa's forehead as the younger brave bowed to her. “I am Teersa, High Matriarch of the Nora, and this is our War Chief Sona.”

“Your death if you mean us ill,” Sona declared sharply.

Teersa cleared her throat meaningfully and turned back to Travis. “I understand we have you to thank for the life of Nakoa?”

Travis bowed, not sure of the protocol and made a point to nod to the War Chief. “My name is Travis, forgive me, but I don't know enough of your customs to address you properly.”

A ghost of a smile pulled at the Matriarchs' lips. “Teersa,” she declared deadpan.

Murray erred on the side of caution and bowed again. “I'm deeply honored, Teersa. Truth be told, Nakoa had mostly rescued herself. My party was in the area and heard the combat. By the time we arrived, we only sealed the deal as it were.”

Sona's eyes narrowed, but her chin rose just a bit as well. “Humility is a fine virtue in a warrior,” she declared. “Gratitude for your service, War Chief of the Amsci. Is that all the battle your war party sought, or do you seek more?”

Travis' eyes shifted to the younger woman and he stood up straight. “My people fight in self defense, or the defense of others. We are ready to be friends with everyone, but we won't be abused. Nor are we defenseless.”

“Well spoken,” Teersa declared, neatly inserting herself back into the conversation. “I understand you wished to speak with me, so I am here. What would you say?”

“My people live in the mountain, there,” he said, pointing back to the north. “Around the building ruins, so we are your neighbors. And, as good neighbors, our, uh, Chief sent me to introduce ourselves and hopefully make new friends.”

“I know those ruins,” Sona declared. “No one was there the last time I saw them. Where are you really from?”

Travis sighed and made a decision. “You likely will be inclined to disbelieve me, but Nakoa has seen my people and can vouch for what I say. My people are what you call Ancients,” he declared, watching the two women. Sona's eyes went wide, then narrowed just as quickly, but Teersa was a cagey old soul and didn't even blink at such a claim. “We have been asleep in the mountain to escape those,” he added, pointing at the hulk of the Horus Titan above them on the crown of the mountainside. “We have woken, and will be living there, in peace, we hope, with you.”

“Extraordinary claims demand extraordinary proof,” Teersa remarked softly, turning to Nakoa. “Child? What have you to say? Do you vouch for these words?”

“I do,” she said softly. “I have been in the mountain and it is vast. Like the ruins we have seen of the Metal World, but this fortress is not in ruin. There are many wonders inside and I have had the truth of our past spoken to us.”

“Are you Nora?” Sona asked with great weight. “Or Amsci?”

Nakoa's head came up and she glared at the older woman. “I am Outcast,” she snarled, pointing an accusing finger. “Because you counseled to deny me Seeker so I could avenge my father's murder!”

“To be a Seeker is not a license for personal vendetta,” Sona snapped back, but stopped at a soft gesture from Teersa.

“It was hoped, child, that denying you Seeker would cause you to turn from the self destructive vengeance you sought. Your father's murder was lamentable, but has the blood you spilt brought him back to life?”

“No,” admitted Nakoa sullenly. “But he rests easier in his grave knowing those who murdered him rot on the ground for carrion! As will I!” Teersa sadly shook her head, her lips in a thin line.

“And what will you do if the kin of those you slew in revenge seek the same on you?”

“I will fight them!” she declared staunchly.

“And not alone,” Travis added, drawing the eyes of all the women to him.

A sly smile dawned on Teersa's face. “I see. Nakoa, you have found a fierce protector indeed, and, I hope, a friend for all of us. I cannot say if you are an Ancient or not. You dress...strangely...though I have seen old imagines that look as you do. It is a shame we did not meet earlier. A great deal of blood has been spilt that might not have otherwise. Such is the will of the All Mother.” She drew herself erect and formally placed her hand on Nakoa's head. “As was decreed, the Embrace is opened and the Nora answer the call of defense against the Metal Devil. I absolve you of your sin, Brave Nakoa, and return your soul to the fold of the All Mother. You may come and go as you please in the Sacred Lands.”

“Thank you, High Matriarch,” she whispered reverently.

Teersa withdrew her hand and turned to crane her neck to look back up at Travis. “You have the friendship of the Nora, War Chief Travis. I ask that your Braves do not hunt on our lands and Nakoa can show you our boundary stones to inform your hunters. Further, I pledge that our hunters will not intrude on your lands. We will come to your aid if you will come to ours.”

“Certainly,” he assured her. “I am sorry we did not meet sooner too, we could have helped...”

“It is perhaps best you did not,” Teersa replied evenly. “Before these last few days, you likely would have been refused this audience, but that is a lesson we are learning. Now, I will be sending young Varl with a war party to the city of Meridian in aid of the Sun King against this Metal Devil. Will your people send aid as well?”

“Teersa, if one of those is moving again, I don't know we can stop it,” he told her honestly.

“Perhaps,” the old woman admitted. “But that will not stop us from trying.”

“Aloy did not say it was a Metal Devil,” Sona interjected reasonably. “Only that it was like one.”

“Perhaps if I spoke with her, we could be more certain...?” he asked, but Sona shook her head.

“She departed yesterday. After she emerged from the temple of the All Mother, she spoke of the danger we faced, bid us send a war party to Meridian and then left.”

“She went into the temple?” Nakoa demanded, stunned.

“Yes,” Teersa replied calmly. “She returned to where I found her and came back to us with this prophecy.

Travis licked his lips. “Please don't mistake my curiosity for disrespect, but may I see this...temple?”

Sona's eyes narrowed again. “Why?” she demanded.

“Travis is an Ancient,” Nakoa avowed firmly. “A soldier of the original Army that fought the Metal Devil, an officer of it! He thinks he may be able to enter the temple.”

Teersa's eyebrows ascended her wrinkled forehead. “Really?” She reached out and took his elbow. “This has been a wondrous week indeed,” she declared. “I should like to see this. This way, War Chief.”

“As would I,” Sona growled. Then women turned and led the way up to the side of the mountain. The portal into the mountain was different than Travis remembered. The old, massive blast door was standing open, but buried in rubble from a landslide, probably caused by the attack of the Horus. The entrance had been painstakingly cleared by the Nora and led into the central corridor. Here, there were the remains of hastily stored food and lodging from the siege they had just endured, all lit by beeswax candles that cast everything into a soft, golden light.

Tribal decorations and ornaments whose symbology escaped Travis hung everywhere, as he was led deeper into the mountain until at last they arrived at a massive gene lock door. It was, or had been in Travis' time, the last word in vault security; printed titanium molded atom by atom in place, meters thick with a mechanism built into the very materials of the door.

Fat Man or Little Boy could be set off next to the door and it would be unharmed.

Teersa gave a gesture of invitation and he stepped up onto the identification disk before the portal. As soon as his foot came down, the synthesized female voice of the facility AI announced, “Hold for Identiscan.”

Travis stood up straight as the red light of the DNA scanner passed over him. “Murray, Travis G,” he announced. “Colonel, authorization Bravo Six Tango Tango.”

“Genetic identity confirmed. Entry Authorized.” The massive door split down the middle and ratcheted out of the way with a rumble of machinery and gears that wanted grease. “Greetings Colonel Murray. You are cleared to proceed.”

Travis turned back to the group of women who were standing, awestruck in the bright white light from the inside of the facility. “Do you want to come with me?” he offered, but the implacable Teersa was now quite fearful. For a moment, it looked like Sona was going to step forward, but Teersa grabbed her arm.

“No!” she declared. “It's not for us! The Goddess accepted you!”

Nakoa pushed past the Matriarch and joined Travis on the disk. “I will see this,” she declared. “Even if it strikes me dead!”

“No worries,” Travis assured her, and led the way through the door. Once they were through, with a groan, it closed, sealing itself again.

The synthetic voice distorted more severely and declared, “Welcome to Eleuthia Cradle-9, Brood 1.” Then, with a burst of static, fell silent. Now that his eyes were adjusted to the slightly blue tinted gloom, what he saw disheartened him. While the door was still intact, it was apparent centuries of rain had worked through the stone of the mountain and found its way into the facility. Stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor scattered around the atrium. The ID scanner walk through ques were ruined and long destroyed, water puddled making a slick muck of what likely used to be carpet.

“This isn't the home of a Goddess,” Nakoa declared, looking around.

“It's not a military fortress either,” he agreed with her. “Not any more at least. This doesn't look like anything I remember my last time here.” She wandered over to the wall and the light of her Focus shined on it.

“Look here,” she called, standing before a painting on the wall. It was crude, likely the work of a child by the odd proportions and lack of detail. It was a black stick figure with white eyes, with lines of white power radiating around it. Worse, beneath its legs, clutching them as if the bars of a prison cell was a black haired girl in a blue dress with the exaggerated unhappy frown and tears on her face as a child would draw them. Next to it were other paintings, all equally unhappy and unsettling. “What is this place?”

He passed her, moving around a door finding a room of large, tank like canisters on articulation frames. One was resting in the acceptance landing, a hologram floating over it's glass lid open and empty. “Chamber B1-001,” he read. “Activation log, viability status, delivery date. This date was nineteen years ago.”

“This is them, aren't they,” she asked, her tone dismayed as if she might be sick at any moment. “Those chambers you mentioned. Artificial wombs. This is where my people are from.”

“It looks like it,” he admitted. “You mentioned this Aloy was found outside, twenty years ago?” She nodded and he gestured at the pod. “Looks like this is where she was born.”

“But, how did she get outside? That's where Teersa found her.” He pointed behind her and she turned, seeing what at first blush she thought was a skeleton, then realized it was black and metallic. It lay on the floor and the dust around it was a bit newer than than the rest on the floor. Immediately, she recognized it from the drawing on the wall. “What is this?”

“A robot,” he told her as he joined her by it. “Not terribly different than the machine beasts you see outside now. This one was designed to interface with humans. It was probably all the mother the poor souls of this 'Cradle' ever knew.”

“What happened here?” she demanded, only just keeping her rage in check. He reached out and comforted her and she squeezed his hand in thanks.

“It's a government facility,” Travis declared. “There has to be an administration office somewhere. Let's go find it. The answers are likely there.” He led the way out of the room, through what was evidently a massive nursery, then dormitories and a cafeteria. Along the way, happy looking drawings and paintings began to become sullen, angry and withdrawn as they began to match the painting on the first wall at the entrance.

Finally they came to a door where the art was very angry. The black robots were shown guarding it and turning the children away. Through the glass, he could see a massive room with individual cubicles, each with a large screen with the Faro Automation logo on it. But, before the door was debris and even a scorch mark of a small fire. He reached up and keyed the holographic lock of the door to open and it did so. “What is this place?” she asked.

As if in answer, the synthetic female voice crackled to life again. “Welcome to Lyceum, a place of learning.”

The dust was thicker here, and a pair of footsteps were clearly visible through it. “Looks like Aloy came through here,” he observed, following them over to one of the cubical. Each had a Focus sitting on the desk and all the screens had the same error, 'Database inaccessible'. “This looks like a kind of school, but all the Focuses are here. Like it was never used.”

She joined him and pointed at the screen. “What does that mean?”

“A database is a new word for library. Books, paintings, even recordings of events, this must have been where they were supposed to learn, but...”

“But the library had burned down,” she finished. “Something must have happened. The food must have run out or something and the 'robots' released them into the wilderness.”

“It's a miracle anyone survived,” he muttered. “And it explains why you speak English, but can't read it. That was to happen here, but didn't.”

She looked at him, her eyes sad in the dim light of the screens. “So we invented our own.” She sighed deeply, then looked down and gestured at the foot prints. “Come, she went this way.” They followed the foot prints until they entered what appeared to be an office and they came to a stop at a console. “She came here and stood for a while.”

He gestured at the desk. “Looks like there's a recording.” He pressed the button and immediately their Focuses reacted to a transmitted command from the desk, initializing a virtual space. The office vanished, to be replaced with an infinite black void. Then nine icons appeared, each a different color, running the complete gauntlet of the rainbow. They lay down on their sides, then various data symbology, each distinct to the icon it flowed from came together in the center of the circle and formed into a tall, dark skinned woman wearing a purple chiton made of light. She was looking in their general direction, but not 'at' them, indicative of a recording.

“The Goddess!” Whispered Nakoa, then the hologram began to speak.

“Elisabet, this message serves to inform you of an unforeseen and catastrophic anomaly. Three microseconds ago, the GAIA Prime facility received a data transmission of unknown origin. It's immediate effect was to transform my Subordinate Functions into unregulated, self-aware entities of a highly chaotic nature.” A bolt of lightening struck the red icon, but all of them began to bubble and emit odd representations of data to visually show their corruption. They all began to rise up as if to attack the AI.

“Thus awakened, the HADES Function will now seize control of the terraforming system and reverse operations,” she said calmly, as if discussing how bad weather would affect her plans for a picnic. “Rendering life on Earth extinct in fifty-three-point-eight days.”

A shocked whisper of, “What?” escaped Nakoas lips.

The AI continued. “For obvious reasons, I cannot allow this to occur. And so, before HADES can take control, I am ordering GAIA Prime's reactor to overload. The resulting explosion will destroy HADES. Unfortunately, it will destroy me, as well. While this admittedly desperate course of action will avert the immediate crisis, the fate of life on Earth will remain in peril. With no central governing intelligence to regulate the terraforming system, it will continue operations for some time, but in an increasingly chaotic manner, and eventually, it will break down.”

The pair of humans shared a glance as the AI in the recording picked a spot to decide where the listener was standing and seemed to speak directly to them. “You are my solution. I have ordered this cradle facility to use genetic material in cryo-storage to gestate a re-instantiation of Elisabet Sobeck, my creator.” Beside the hologram, an image of Dr Sobeck appeared, likely from an ID picture the computer had access to, but Nakoa started in recognition.

“Aloy!” she exclaimed.

“While high-level directives forbid me from communicating directly to the tribal inhabitants out side the facility,” the recording continued. “All available data indicates that they will nurture you to physical maturity, whereupon your gene print will allow you to re-enter this facility, obtain one of the Focus devices stored below and view this message. Likewise, your gene print will allow you to enter other facilities, and over time, harness their technologies to rebuild the system core and reboot GAIA.”

The expression on the AIs face changed to one of concern. “A moment, Elisabet. This is most unfortunate and unanticipated. In response to my act of self-destruction, HADES has launched a virus to dissolve the code shackles that hold it, that hold all of them in place! They...are escaping, but to where? The virus is corrupting data throughout the system. What if...oh, the Alpha Registry at the Cradle Facility is one of the files corrupted.”

The corrupted icons flew off into the infinite space and the AI woman began to dissolve. “But, if that is so, the door will never open for you. You will never view this message. Then I have failed.. And life will end.” Even as she was slowly breaking up and vanishing, a steel entered her tone. “No!” she declared. “No, Elisabet, I know you too well. Somehow, you will find a way. In you, all things are possible. Go to the ruins of GAIA Prime. Find the control room, and within it, the Master Override. This will give you the power to purge HADES – so long as you find a way to wield it. Do not attempt repair of the system core until HADES is eradicated. HADES must be destroyed. That is all. I only wish that I could hear your voice again.”

Then the figure dissolved into cloud of data icons that looked like leaves floating away on the wind. Travis looked down at Nakoa and she up at him, her mouth hanging open. “What...what did I just see?”

“That was an AI, like ENID. It recorded that message twenty years ago for your Aloy, who is evidently a clone of Elisbet Sobeck.”

“She...she is an Ancient? Like you? But no, she grew up here...?”

“It's complicated,” he assured her. “Elisabet Sobeck was an Ancient, the head of Project Zero Dawn, this Aloy isn't her. We had ways of taking the...instruction building blocks in the body of any living thing, and making an exact copy of it. Aloy isn't Elisabet Sobeck, she died a thousand years ago, but if you look at the instructions of Aloy and compare them to Dr Sobeck, you would find that Aloy is identical. Like, taking a clipping off a plant and sticking it in the ground and a new plant grows up.”

Her head cocked to one side. “What can you not do?”

“A lot,” he assured her. “But, for now, we need to find this Aloy. I have a feeling she's going to need all the help she can get.”

“Do you know where this Gaia Prime place is?”

He snapped his fingers and winked at her. “As a matter of fact, I do. Let's go.”

When they emerged again, Teersa and Sona were as equally awed as when they entered. The Matriarch immediately grabbed Nakoa and demanded, “You saw the Goddess?”

“I...I...” Nakoa sputtered, then stiffened and made a decision. “Yes. Travis and I both did. We heard the message she charged Aloy with and we have to help her.”

“What do you need?” Sona asked, guardedly.

“For now,” Travis told her, “not much. Nakoa and I need to get to my people and warn them. If you want, your war party can escort us and, I'm sure, my Chief will send warriors to join yours. They can guide them to this Meridian.”

“Done,” Sona declared. The she became serious and offered her hand, her gaze direct into Travis' eyes. “Give me your word, Ancient, that you will watch after my son.”

Solemnly, Travis put forward his own hand and she grabbed it, clasping forearm to forearm. “Enough people have died because of those damned machines,” Travis assured her. “I'll do everything in my power to keep any more from joining them.”

“For now,” Teersa declared, “it is too late to set out and the machines make travel unsafe. You will have lodging here tonight and set out in the morning.” Teersa turned to Sona, “Will you see to it, War Chief?”

“I will, High Matriarch,” the warrior replied. She waited for the old woman to shuffle off, then turned and caught the eyes Travis and Nakoa. “Private lodging,” she promised with what almost looked like a smile. For the first time since he'd met her, Travis saw Nakoa blush.

From there, they were led outside to where an outdoor kitchen had been set up. An entire wild hog was roasting on a spit being tended to by three cooks while others prepared side dishes, there was even the smell of bread baking which took Travis by surprise. “The Shadow Carja must have had wheat with their stores,” Nakoa told him, inhaling deeply through her nose. “There's nothing so sweet as captured food!”

“To the victors go the spoils,” he agreed as he passed his plate through the line. There were berries, that looked like blue berries, but were almost the size of plums, some kind of mash or porridge, a hunk of the bread which was thicker than a flat bread, but not truly risen either and a mixture of light oil and herbs to dip it in and a thick slice of the hog that, he was glad to see was cooked all the way through. Fears of trichinosis put to rest, a mug of some kind of fermented cider was put into his hand and he followed Nakoa to more quiet spot near the fire but away from the cooking and it's line.

The food was good, if a little bland and somewhat basically seasoned. Which made a kind of sense in a world without a spice trade, or pack animals for it. Once he'd eaten his fill, he touched his Focus and a holographic Frank seated in the chair at this desk appeared before him on the other side of their fire. “I see you found the Nora,” Frank observed. “Relations good so far?”

“Boss, we've got a problem. A big one,” he admitted. “I'm uploading a recording that I took while we were inside NORAD, which isn't any more. That will be in my report. The Nora were nearly conquered, but drove off an attack by the Shadow Carja, I'll have a report on them too. But this transcript is what's important.”

The CEO read something they couldn't see, then sighed and rubbed his eyes. “What are your recommendations, Colonel?”

“With your permission, sir, it's my intention to chase after this Aloy, and give her whatever aid we can.”

“Granted,” Frank replied immediately. “I'll check with some of the bachelors about some kind of 'war party' to go with our new allies. Any idea how many they're sending?”

“Can't be many, sir, there aren't many Nora after this battle they fought.”

Frank rubbed his chin. “Do...do we need to offer them refuge?” he started, but Nakoa interjected herself.

“No, Chief,” she declared. “They won't accept it from pride, and the offer will be insulting. The Nora have survived worse.” He shrugged expansively.

“Alright, that's fine. We'll help where we can. We'll see you tomorrow.”

“Yes sir.” The hologram winked out, just as Sona walked over, a bag in her hands that jingled as something in side clinked together as she walked.

“I have a question,” she declared by way of greeting. Travis took a sip of the really excellent cider to clear his mouth of the bite he'd just taken and indicated the log that was serving as benches around the fire.

“Please, sit down,” he managed once his mouth was clear. “If we can help, we're glad to.”

“What are those things you wear?” she demanded. “You have one, I see you've given one to Nakoa and Aloy has one.”

“She does?” demanded Nakoa in surprise.

Sona threw the bag at Travis' feet where it opened partially so he could see inside. “And then you can tell me why all of the Shadow Carja have one.” To his surprise it was full of Focuses. His curiosity piqued, he reached in and took out one.

“They all have one?” he asked, surprised.

“We were stripping the bodies before we burn them,” the War Chief declared. “And I noted a pattern. Is this how they controlled the machines? Can you?”

“Ok, for a start,” Travis began, “I don't know how the Shadow Carja got these. They are communication devices from my time. A way for my voice and my image to be heard and seen miles away from whoever I'm talking to, and for them to speak and be seen by me. In my time they were in very common use. There's even a room full of them in your temple, which I'll be happy to retrieve for you if you like.”

“Can you control machines?”

“Not yet,” he admitted frankly. “Though I won't deny I have members of my tribe working on that. Seeing as how these Shadow Carja can do it, I certainly want to. And seeing something done is halfway to doing it yourself.” He turned the little triangle of plastic and metal over in his fingers. “If you don't object, I'd like to keep this, to have my....smiths, examine.”

“Will you leave the others?” she asked.

“Sure, but if you want some of your own, let me get you the ones out of the temple.” Her eyes narrowed and her scowl was back.

“Why?” she demanded.

“Because these are communication devices, and they work both ways. Until I can wipe these, it would be possible that other Shadow Carja could listen in and even track who ever wore theirs.” After a long moment of consideration, she nodded her approval.

“It is not in my power to give you license to remove anything from the Temple of the All Mother. But I will not suffer potential spies, either. Take them all and once you've cleansed them of this taint, I will take them back. Those were won fairly in battle.” Travis nodded.

“You have my word to return them once they are safe, and if they are the method of how the Shadow Carja controlled the machines, I will see to it that ability remains and I will show you how to use it.”

“Honorable words,” she admitted as she stood. “If honorable deeds follow, the Nora and the Amsci will be the best of friends. Come, I will take you to your room.”

The room Sona took Travis and Nakoa to was actually a little side store room past the old NORAD blast door. He couldn't be sure, but he vaguely remembered it was likely the security office for the portal keeper the last time he'd been here. It was just an empty stone room now, with a curtain of tanned leather for a privacy flap. On the floor was a pallet bed of what looked like fox fur that had been stitched closed and stuffed with something that was reasonably soft. There was a small table with some candles, a wash basin and a pitcher and below which was a chamber pot.

“Sleep well,” Sona bid them as she took her leave. “I will have someone wake you at dawn.”

“Thank you,” Murray told her and she actually started, as if unused to be thanked for such things, then nodded and left, dropping the skin behind her. Turning back to Nakoa he shrugged and pointed over his shoulder. “Interesting lady.”

“Mmm,” the Brave replied as she shed her weapons. “She has excellent hearing too.” Curious, Travis turned and lifted the flap to peek out to find Sona watching him from the other end of the hall. This time, she did smile and touched the side of her nose before she vanished back out through the portal. “See?” Nakoa asked him with mischief in her tone.

He let the curtain fall and walked over to the other side of the mattress and began to shed gear himself. Free of his load bearing belt, he did take the pistol from its holster and lay it next to the bed as he sat down to unlace his boots. “I didn't disbelieve you,” he assured her as he got his feet free and massaged them through the socks. “Still, I'd say despite what we've learned, this trip has been a success.”

“Beyond my wildest dreams,” she admitted from her side over the rustle of shedding her leathers. “I have tread where only one other Nora has, learned and seen the unimaginable, and my soul is my own again.” The bed rustled and shifted as she got onto it and suddenly her arms were around him from behind and her breasts were pressing into his back. “And I have found an exemplary father for my children,” she whispered in his ear.

He turned on the bed was unsurprised to find her nude. Feeling suddenly honest, he reached around and grabbed her waist to pull her into his lap. “You barely know me,” he chided her.

“I see and hear more than you think,” she fired back, raising her chin. “I see how your tribesmen respect you, how your Chief leans on your council. And I see how the women of your tribe look at you, how the mothers stare with gratitude when you pass, knowing you keep their children safe. I see the young ones glare at me because I have beaten them to your bed. And I saw you rush to the aid of a stranger only because your conscience told you it was right. What more do I need to see?”

His eyes dropped to take in all of her, in the best light he had had so far. Her body was crisscrossed with scars, her hands callused from using a bow. While what hair there was on her body was fairly fine and light, but none of it was shaved. Both arms, legs and her armpits had downy fine blond hair and over her pubic mound was a thick patch of brownish blond hair that matched her eyebrows. “You failed to notice I'm a cradle robber and a dirty old man, evidently,” he accused her.

She grinned and while her teeth weren't perfect, they were clean and white, gleaming in the candle light. “You misjudge me,” she replied softly. “I noticed those first. I'm not one of your soft and smooth ladies from the Ancient past, but I am hard and strong, and you like that. You've wanted me from the moment you offered to cut my bonds.” He opened his mouth to protest his innocence, but she reached up to silence him. “Don't lie, and don't deny it.”

Her arms slid over his shoulders and she reached her hands up to play with his hair. “I won't deny you're a beautiful woman,” he complimented her. “And yes, there are many things about you I find attractive.”

“And I know lust when I see it,” she told him with a smile. “Don't you?” She leaned forward and they were kissing, their lips pressed against each other as he pulled her tight against him. She grunted at his embrace, and her mouth opened so their tongues could snake together as her breath quickened through her nostrils. Finally, her tongue withdrew and their lips parted and her hazel eyes opened to stare into his.

His conscience demanded he whisper, “I'm old enough to be your father. I don't know how much time I have left...”

“And I'm old enough to bear your children,” she whispered back, reaching down to collect a handful of his shirt and pull it over his head. “Old enough to know Death stalks us both and we will not know when or where his arrow will find us. Whatever time you have, whatever time I have, I will have it with you. I will have tonight, and however many tomorrows as may come. I will have your children to hold to remember you, or for you to hold in remembrance of me. Now cease your protests and be my man!” He grinned at her and shook his head.

“I'll have you know I enjoy conversation with you!”

She reached up and grabbed his ears and by them pulled his face into her bosom. “Enough talk!” she hissed in pleasure as his lips found her nipple and began to gently suckle on it. “Be my man!” she commanded as her voice slowly fell into a dreamy sing song as she ran her fingers through his hair and began to pant with need. “And I will be all the woman you will ever need,” she vowed. She shivered as his lips left her nipple and he began to trail kisses down her breast.

“More than,” he whispered in reply.

She sighed as she luxuriated in the fox fur under her and gave a little shiver every time his lips touched her skin. He was such a complete dichotomy to her that she had trouble understanding him. There were times he could be so forceful in his passion and then came moments like this as gentle as though she were made of the finest Oseram glass that would shatter if he was too rough. She felt his lips kiss her navel and she raised her head in surprise, a half formed “What...?” on her lips, then his arms snaked under her thighs to guide them open and his hands were at her wrists and pulled them from his head to hold them flat against the bed.

Before she could ponder what he was doing, or think to protest, held down, legs splayed, his tongue forced open her labia and drug itself slowly over her clitoris. Nakoa's stomach spasmed from the intense pleasure and the air escaped her lungs in a long, low sound, half sigh, half moan. But that was only the beginning as he drew his tongue in a figure of eight pattern on her center, constantly moving, constantly in contact, but as slow as thick honey oozing down a honey comb. Her head fell back on the bed to open her airway as her breath was coming in gasps as the fire in her loins built and was masterfully stoked by him.

It was the most amazing feeling she'd ever experienced.

She was losing control of her body as the muscles clinched and released against her commands and she was denied any kind of leverage by the way he had her splayed with her legs open. Her nipples stood stiff, cool in the air from his saliva on them and the intense feeling of being completely at his mercy, unable to so much as speak, let alone try to stop him.

Not that she wanted to stop him. Not in the least.

Then his lips closed around her center and gently sucked it into his mouth as though a third nipple and now there was not a single part of her most intimate place that was not in contact with him. His lips held her, his tongue assailed her and she was undone. Every muscle in her body tensed all at once which forced the air from her lungs as every nerve in her body was on fire. It was the most intense orgasm of her life and it just kept going, tense and release, tense and spasm, her breath coming in gasps as she could force her lungs to draw and she could just writhe on the bed in bliss.

Her vision tunneled as her eyes filled with tears that flowed out the corners of her eyes and down her cheeks until at last she got her hands turned in his grasp and could grab his arms, clawing them out of all control of her own body. Then, when she felt certain she was pass out, his pace slowed, her clitoris slipped out of his mouth and with a final, loving lick gave her the most gentle orgasm yet and she melted, sliding off his arms, splayed in the bed, only able to gasp after her breath and shiver.

He lay down next to her and gathered her into his arms, and his voice was full of concern. “Don't cry, dear heart. What's the matter?” She couldn't let him think she was unhappy so with the last of her strength, she grabbed his neck and pulled herself to his face and kissed him with all the energy and passion she had left. The taste of herself was all over his lips and tongue and the scent of her arousal filled her nostrils.

Their lips parted and she looked down on him through blurry tears that fell on his face that was full of concern. “I...” she gasped, then took a deep breath to finally be able to speak. “I love you!” she declared, and the concern melted from his face to a gentle smile and just the slightest hint of cocksure that he had put her in this state. “You magnificent bastard! What have you done to me?”

The look on his face was smug. “Always beware an old man in a young man's profession.” He reached over and pulled the coverlet over the both of them. “Because guile and experience trump youth and vigor every time.”

“No,” she protested weakly. “Your needs...”

He grinned at her and gently pulled her down against his chest. “Seeing you like this, is all I need tonight. Just know, I will return you to this state often. I will delight in it.”

“Goddess help me,” she whispered, then more than a little awestruck, she demanded, “How are you without a mate?”

“I'm not,” he told her, and kissed the top of her head. “She's in my arms right now.” Nakoa shook gently as she basked in the afterglow of the greatest experience of her life and the feeling of those words warmed her right down to her soul. She closed her eyes and felt a few more tears leak from them, and for the first time in her short life, Nakoa knew what tears of joy felt like.