The Doomsday Protocol

A Horizon Fan Fiction

by

E. E. Nalley

March 13^th , 3040

The party rode in silence until they emerged, once again into the bright sun shine. There were fortifications on this side of the tunnel as well, though not as impressive as those on the Great Plains side had been. Once more, the Carja stared, awestruck at humans riding machines, though they were allowed to pass without hindrance. They had crested the Rocky Mountains and were now making their way across the Colorado Plateau.

The road was as well maintained on this side as it had been on the far side of the tunnel, allowing the Striders to make excellent time down hill. By mid afternoon, they were overlooking the Colorado River and the final, skeletal remains of Grand Junction. The town was a collection of partial walls and empty windows with rusting re-bar and I beams poking out; nothing had a roof and few rose above a single story. There were many vacant lots where small, cheaply built buildings had collapsed and decayed into nothing and every where plants were taking the city back to the wilderness it had sprung out of.

Beyond, the plateau spread out into the mesas and canyons of what had been Utah. Travis paused to look out at the rusting hulks of the Farro Swarm, frozen in place and slowly being reclaimed by nature. There were large swaths where the machines were gone, doubtlessly cannibalized in the press of years since for their metal, but some of the scorpion like Chariots still reared like angry mechanical insects turned to stone by a wrathful God.

Beside him, Nakoa paused her own Strider and asked, “Did you know this ruin? Before?”

“Grand Junction,” he told her softly. “I went through, once, on my way to Fort Carson for a posting. Stopped for gas, had a really good steak at this hole in the wall place...” He trailed off and sighed. “A thousand years ago.”

“Steak?” she asked as the Striders began to walk again from Travis' wool gathering.

He chuckled and shook his head. “Beef, but that won't mean anything to you. Once there were sprawling ranches out this way, with herds of cattle in the tens of thousands. Cows, almost as big as these Striders, a quarter of a ton of meat just walking around, eating, getting fat for the slaughter house.”

“I didn't think animals could get so big,” Olara opined, which caused Doc to chuckle.

“These 'Striders' we're riding were designed after Horses, an animal I used to own. This same size and shape. They were the principal means of travel of humans for thousands of years.”

“And will be again once the breeders get busy,” Buck muttered as his Strider avoided something on the trail a bit unexpectedly for him. “Cows are about the same size as a horse, but they weigh more and the proportions are different. Tasty, though.”

Yan grunted as his Strider avoided the same something in the road Buck's had. “How can you keep that much meat from spoiling before it's eaten?”

“Refrigeration,” Doc replied. “We learned to control the temperature by artificial means. We could make it cold, or even below freezing. Kept cold, meat will be good for a week or two, but it can be frozen for months.”

“We keep meat that way over the winter,” Olara admitted. “But you could year round?” Doc nodded at her. “That must be handy.”

“We'll have it for a little while,” Travis assured her. That brought Nakoa's attention.

“Not forever?” she asked.

Travis shook his head. “Things wear out. We shut down everything we could, vacuum sealed, did our best to be sure everything we could pack would be preserved, but the cooling process depends on gasses we don't have the ability to refine. If we can get the infrastructure built up quickly enough, we might be able to start up industry of critical systems, but if we're constantly fighting wars...” He trailed off and sighed. “We didn't bring an army. We didn't expect to fight wars. Everyone we have has essential knowledge that's irreplaceable.”

“That's why we have to act quickly to keep things from getting out of hand,” Doc finished for him. “Before the cost in blood ruins us.”

* * *

The sun was low on Monroe Peak jutting up from the other side of the Sevier Plateau as the group finally reached the outskirts of the ruins of Grand Junction. Small groups of machines could be seen in the ruins and on the mountain slopes beyond by their lights, but nothing was near by when they stopped in a natural hollow of rock that offered protection from the elements and a place for a fire that could be concealed. The Striders were set to grazing to replenish their supply of Blaze while the humans made camp in the hallow.

Water from a fast moving stream was collected and set by the fire to boil, to the amusement of the Nora to whom contaminated water was a foreign concept. That led to a long lecture by Doc trying to explain bacteria and germ theory to hunter/gatherer humans. Finally she reduced the concept to small devils and evil spirits which the Nora could grasp, but seemed skeptical of. Not one of them could remember becoming sick just from drinking water. Travis put a note to himself in his Focus to have the water checked over by someone with a microscope once they returned to 'Fort Carson'.

The haunch of ham that had supplied lunch was now being warmed by the fire for supper as Travis got his boots off and massaged his toes. “We made great time today,” he announced to the group, drawing nods from his people and the Nora.

“The Striders constant motion greatly speeds travel,” Nakoa observed.

Olara nodded as she poked at the fire. “The Carja Road helps too.” She looked out over the plains in the direction they were traveling. “I never thought I'd ever see The Sundom.” Travis keyed on his Focus to produce a holographic map and highlighted their position.

“We're here,” he declared. “Any idea how much father Meridian is?”

Nakoa reached over and touched the hologram, causing a point to glow. “I saw a map in Daytower on my first visit. There are canyons and the city sits on top of them. The Carja built bridges over the canyons, or so I've heard. It is north of the Carja Road because the river in the canyons give water.”

“At the pace we're going, we should be near the city by nightfall tomorrow,” Buck rumbled from his preparation of a pouch of freeze dried macaroni and cheese. “If we can keep this pace.”

The new riders of the Nora squirmed in anticipation of the discomfort of tomorrow's trip. “That looks like Eagle Canyon,” Doc said with a hard look at the map. “The San Rafael River runs through there, or it did.”

“Probably still does,” Travis replied from rubbing his chin as he contemplated the map. “It doesn't look like the watersheds of the mountains changed much.”

“What is that?” demanded Yan, drawing all eyes to him. The group saw him looking behind them at the mountains they had descended from and was pointing. Travis touched his Focus as he turned and it marked a small rotor drone that was rapidly approaching them. He put up a calming hand.

“It's ok, it's one of ours,” he told the group as the drone settled down in an open spot of grass not far from the camp fire. It's hologram projector lit up and Ian appeared.

“Hey Colonel. I hope this finds you guys quickly and you're all ok. After my nap it came to me that there had to be something that was acting as repeaters for this Focus network that ENID found.” His face became sheepish as he shrugged. “I should have thought of it sooner. Sorry about that. So, based on the Watcher brain and the code I copied from the Striders, I found this.”

The hologram changed to an image of a machine that looked vaguely like a giraffe with a gigantic flat disc for a head. Antennas sprouted like feathers haphazardly up it's neck and it's gait was comically deliberate to keep it's balance. Then the figure zoomed out to show a human next to it to give a sense of scale causing the Ancients to jerk in surprise. The human didn't reach the machine's knee, which mean it was something on the order of twenty meters tall.

“Tallneck,” Lakoa declared.

“So this is a kind of walking signal repeater,” the recorded Ian continued. “And, from what the drones have discovered today, they walk a circuit in a fixed area to establish a broad network that seems to be quite large. Maybe even world wide, we're not sure here. Frank doesn't want to have multiple teams out, so I sent this to you in hopes you guys will pass by one. If you have your Focus scan two twenty one point nine Mega Hertz you'll pick up the closest one and give you a direction to find it. I've attached a secure transmission node to the drone and if you can attach it to the repeater, it should give us a secure way to piggyback on their network and give us real time coms. I hope we hear from you soon. Good luck, Colonel.” Travis examined the little drone finding a remote controller for the drone and the node securely tied to it.

“He's quite a wizard you have,” Olara declared.

“He is that,” Doc agreed, then turned to Travis. “I'm not up on my FCC codes, but that's in the Military Radio range isn't it?”

“NATO channel A,” Murray agreed.

“Nay toe?” asked Yan.

Buck chuckled darkly. “It's an acronym for North Atlantic Treaty Organization. An old alliance of nations...tribes, you'd say, who had a mutual self defense pact.”

“Were they friends of your tribe?” asked Olara.

“The United States was a member of NATO,” Doc told her. “Why would this 'Tallneck' use it?”

Travis shrugged his ignorance. “Zero Dawn was a military project at it's heart. That frequency was obsolete, but lots of old surplus gear would hear it. Maybe they hoped there would be other survivors once Gaia had finished re-terraforming the Earth.” Nakoa touched her Focus and slowly stood, pointing off to the south.

“I see it,” she declared. “Or, the signal rather. Like ripples from throwing a stone in a pond.”

Olara looked intently at the map. “This is the Great Run river,” she declared. “Unless I am mistaken, it goes right to the Tallneck.”

“It will add two days to Meridian,” Buck drawled from his spooning out mac and cheese to the plates he was making for dinner. “One down to it, and one back.”

“The Striders can gallop at thirty or forty miles an hour,” Doc replied. “We could be down and back in one day if we gallop the whole way. And machines can do that.”

“But, can the riders?” asked Travis thoughtfully. The Nora all winced, then became grim and nodded. “We can probably save some miles cutting across country as well. Alright, we'll start the side quest tomorrow.” He took the plate Buck handed him with a nod. “In the mean time, everybody eat up. Be long day tomorrow.”

* * *

Travis lay on his back in his bed roll looking up at the sky that even their fire couldn't dim. It was his first night sleeping out of doors in this new world and the amount of visible stars was overwhelming. Even in the wilder places of the United States in his day there was a certain level of light pollution, spoiling the night sky. Now, fire was the only light source of humanity and the sky was dazzling with stars and nebula visible to the naked eye. He was actually having trouble picking out the constellations because of the staggering increase in what he could see.

Nakoa laid out her own roll and lay down beside him, pressing herself against him in a way that was comforting and possessive all at once. “Heavy thoughts?” she whispered from getting her head comfortable on his arm and shoulder.

“Amazed at the view,” he whispered back. “In my day, you couldn't see a fifth of these stars, even out here in Big Sky country.”

Her face showed her curiosity as she looked up at him. “Why?”

“Light pollution,” he replied. You've seen the holographic lights through your Focus, but back then, even without a Focus, Grand Junction there would be so bright it would dim the sky. Many parts of the town would be as bright as full day.”

“Why would you do such a thing?” she wanted to know. He held up his wrist where she could see it. “We find those lots of places. The Carja love them and will pay silly amounts of Shards to...wait.” She raised up a bit to look closer. “The little sticks move?”

He chuckled and shook his head in amazement. “This is called a watch. It's a device to keep time. It's how we lived our lives.”

“Why?” she demanded again. “You can just look outside to see if it's day or night.”

He laid his arm down so she could see it more clearly. “I heard the Captain say they use hour glasses?” Her head nodded as she looked closer at the watch. “The symbols there are numbers and the space marked between them is an hour. Twenty four hours in a day, broken into twelve for each on the watch. In our time, I wouldn't say, 'I'll see you tomorrow,' I would say 'We'll meet at three thirty,' and we all knew exactly when that was.”

“Why would you need to be so exact?” she demanded.

“Lots of reasons,” he replied softly. “Our lives were very regulated, when to be at work, when to eat, when to sleep and for how long.”

She patted the watch on his wrist and looked up at him. “That didn't work out so well, did it?”

It was a question he had no answer for, but that didn't keep him thinking about it until he fell asleep.

* * *

March 14^th , 3040

As the sun was beginning to peek over the top of the Rockies, Travis went about perking up the fire to cook breakfast as Nakoa went from bundle to bundle, gently rousing sleepers. Being an early riser, he had always found it easier to take last watch and Nakoa had insisted on joining him. There was already water on the fire for making freeze dried coffee and to reconstitute the powdered eggs for breakfast. Olara had been walking with Buck pointing out various plants that were eatable, which did considerable help to their otherwise bland breakfast.

Within an hour the camp was broken, the mounts readied and the Nora eased back into the 'saddle' depression on the Strider. “Should it hurt this much?” demanded Olara, who had no pride to remain stoic and silent like Yan or Nakoa. Buck chuckled.

“It's called saddle sore,” he told her with a wink as he got astride his own. “It'll get better in a couple of days.”

“If anyone needs it,” Doc called from helping Travis secure the drone to the pack Strider. “Just call out and we'll have a halt. There's no one here to impress.”

Travis, satisfied of the drone, swung up into the saddle of Twenty One Twenty One and took up the built in reins for the machine. “We'll start out at a trot,” he ordered, purposefully not noticing the sighs of relief. “Once we have our 'horse legs' we'll see about faster.” He called up the interface on the Strider and set a way point for the location of the Tallneck and the machine set off.

For three hours the party trotted cross country, bending their way around concentrations of machines as they went about their work. Watchers kept a keen eye, but whatever their engagement distance, the party never crossed it. By mid morning, as Travis had hoped, they came across the remnants of Moab and the old US Highway One Ninety One. Like Grand Junction before it, most of Moab was long gone, only a few corners of walls still standing with rusting out light polls and unreadable signs to bear witness that humanity had ever lived here.

But it was not the grave of Moab that held the travelers eyes.

Just north of the ruins, some long ago disturbance of the land had made a landslide dam, choking the river. It backed up into a lake with a pair of islands in it with two channels around the islands until it over topped the natural dam and continued on its way to the Grand Canyon. In the lake, walking a stately circuit around the islands, was the Tallneck. It took no notice of the humans or the other machines around it, just walking a lonely vigil in the water and the ground vibrated slightly with each foot fall.

The highest point of the two islands came just below the back of the machine, three full stories above the water. But the neck of the machine continued up another three or even four stories above that.

“I will be dipped in shit,” muttered Buck.

Doc was also aghast. “Look at the size of it!”

Travis shook his head as he dug out a pair of binoculars from his belt pouch and held them up to his face. “It's got to be seven stories tall,” he said, keeping his worry out of his voice as much as he could. “I can see what looks like an Access Node on the head, right in the center of the disk, but be damned if I know how we'll get up there.”

“Can your flying machine not take it?” asked Yan.

“Sure,” Doc replied. “The drone can get our node up there, but somebody has to plug it into the machine.”

“I'm sure if we had good Coms Ian could make it stop and bend down, but we don't,” Murray reflected, mostly to himself. “And if we force the thing to stop, we'll probably destroy it.” He felt his heart sink just as he heard Nakoa speak.

“I could climb it.”

“No,” he snapped, in chorus with Doc's shout of, “Are you out of your mind?” Nakoa, however, was unphased.

“We had harder climbing challenges on the Proving Trail I took when I became a Brave,” she boasted. She pointed next to Travis. “See? I can leap on it's back from that island. Then I just climb up those metal feathers on it's neck.”

As Travis was scrambling for a reason why not to attempt such a thing, Buck rubbed his chin and said, “Those feathers look like they might be Class Seven omni directional receivers. IEEE standard for their mounting is the weight of the antenna plus two hundred pounds of wind load.” He brought his Strider up to the other side of Travis' from Nakoa. “I don't think your lady weighs one thirty in all that gear.”

“Buck...”

Nakoa reached out and touched his arm. “Don't worry. Of all the things since you entered my life, this I know I can do. You will have to instruct me how to install the thing through the Focus, but just fly it up to me when I'm there.”

“What about some kind of climbing harness or safety rope?” his pride demanded he ask, but she shook her head.

“You couldn't keep up with the Tallneck and tension a safety rope,” she told him. “I'll be fine. Fly the thing to me when I'm on the top.” With that, she kicked her Strider and trotted down towards the water.

“I'm going to regret this,” Travis muttered to himself, once again taking out his binoculars. “Buck, can you...?”

“I'll see to the Drone, boss.”

“Thank you.”

Through the glass, he watched her wade through the lake on the Strider, then trot up the high point. The Tallneck was on the furthest side of the lake, which made for a nerve wracking wait as it slowly and regally made it's way around the circuit, oblivious to it's new companions on the island. On the island, Nakoa had slid off the Strider and was stretching in preparation for the jump.

“You aren't worried?” Doc demanded of Yan behind him, but he was dismissive.

“Nakoa is a Nora Brave,” he boasted. “Probably the best climber of her Proving. No, I am not concerned.”

I am, Travis thought to himself as he watched. His gut clinched as she darted towards the edge with impressive speed and threw herself over the edge, right as the machine was opposite her. It blocked his view for a moment, but he didn't see her fall, then he saw her pulling herself up on the machine's back. It continued walking, ignoring her as she scrambled up it's neck for leverage, then leapt up onto the antenna.

For a split second that felt like an eternity, he thought the antenna would buckle, but she caught herself on it, and scrambled up to stand while it stayed straight. Then she jumped across the machine's back to the next higher, again pulling herself up to stand before leaping back across and higher up. In this zigzag path she made her way up the machine until she grabbed the assembly at the joint where the disk met the neck. He blinked and she was standing on the things massive head, waving at him.

With a buzzing hum, the drone took off and shot over to her as the Tallneck continued to walk it's lonely circle. He touched his Focus and her transparent face appeared next to him. “See?” she demanded with a grin. “Nothing to it.”

“How will you get down?” he asked, but she dismissed his concern with a wave as she walked over to the drone which was landing on the disk.

“Down is easy,” she assured him. She got the buckles open on the straps to the node and took it off the Drone. “This is hard. What do I do?”

“Take it over to that knob in the center of the Tallneck's head,” he told her. “Now do you see that opening the same shape as the node?”

“Yes.”

“Pry the cover off and look inside,” he continued. “You should see a socket that matches the one on the node.”

“Ah, simple,” she declared as her ghostly self got the cover open and slid the node inside. For the first time, the Tallneck reacted and with a bleat like the horn of a freight train, a flash of light spread out from it's head in all directions. “What was that?”

“I don't know, but let's not wait to see if it was a distress call,” he shot back. “Get down!” Then he linked his Focus to the node and saw it had up-linked with the machine. “ENID?” he asked, and to his relief, the avatar of the program appeared in the air.

“Good Morning, Colonel,” she greeted with a smile. “I see you were successful in up-linking the node. One moment. I have access to the global network, though it will take me some time to completely collate this much data. Shall I inform Mr Olmstead of your achievement?”

Travis saw Nakoa descend from the Tallneck's head on a line she must have carried up with her, then dropped free to scramble out of the machine's way. Realizing he was holding his breath, he starting breathing again. “It's not just my achievement, ENID,” he corrected her.

* * *

The arid climate of what had been Utah doubtlessly contributed to the state of US Highway One Ninety One, which was surprisingly good. Much of the original asphalt was still in place, though there was significant growth of some species of particularly hearty grass through the cracks. It allowed the Striders to keep a rapid pace that ate distance. For whatever reason, the other machines gave the road a wide berth which meant the party could travel a much more direct course than the cross country route they had been. It was only a bit past one that they arrived at the junction between the US Highway and Interstate Seventy.

The concrete over pass of the East Bound lanes had collapsed, filling the depression and embankment of the Interstate over pass, but the West Bound was actually still standing, a literal bridge from and to nowhere as the microscopic 'town' of Crescent Junction, only a rest area and a gas station in the days of the Ancients was decayed into only grass filled cracked pavement and blown drifts of sand. The Striders thundered up the old off ramp of the East Bound lane, then Travis led the group across the median to the West Bound lane from force of habit.

Every so often they passed the rusted out hulk of a car, only just clinging to it's shape to be identifiable as the metal was eaten away by entropy. The sun and the heat was oppressive, even this early in the year, but the breeze of the Striders running helped as did the lack of moisture in the air. An hour of running brought cooler air and welcome greenery as the group arrived at the muddy waters of the Green River.

The town that shared the River's name was gone, but the banks were lined with sage and Cotton Wood trees and, more important, the pair of bridges spanning the river were still intact. Also of note was the first settlement of humans they had encountered in the Sundom. Across both sides of the river was the cut stone and curved red tile roofs of the odd mishmash of Tudor and Adobe styles that Travis was beginning to associate with the Carja. The town occupied both sides of the river, and encircled itself along with the bridges of Interstate Seventy with a defensive wall and gates that stood open.

The group slowed their Striders to a walk to give them more time to approach as they took in the sizable community and its buildings. “This isn't Meridian, is it?” Travis asked Nakoa, and the Nora shook her head.

“No, this is Lone Light. From here, the way to Meridian leaves the Carja Road.” She pointed at a wide dirt track that left the city and headed towards the hills and mesas beyond. “That is the road to Meridian. Lone Light is a trade hub between boats from the north and south of the Carja eastern boarder and the Carja road.”

Doc pushed the bush hat on her head back and wiped her forehead. “I'd say let's stop for lunch, but we don't have anything to trade.”

Nakoa made a dismissive gesture. “I have plenty of Shards. Aloy split the spoil from the Slavers she freed me from with me. More than enough for a meal.”

“What about our machines?” asked Olara. “Somehow I doubt they'll be left alone if we go into a tavern.”

“We'll just eat al fresco,” Buck assured her and, at her confused look, added, “Out doors.”

“Won't that be fun,” Doc muttered to herself. The group closed the last half mile and realized the town had come to a complete halt. At the gate, a trio of soldiers wearing the great coat and red plumbed helmet of the Carja Army were bolstered with about a double dozen of the town's men, probably some kind of militia and at the head of them was a well dressed man somewhere in his late thirties wearing clothing of mostly red with white highlights. It wasn't a uniform exactly, but it was obviously meant to give that impression. Still, he cut a very fine figure of a man, who was well fit for his age with a powerful, dangerous build. He was clean shaven, as all the men were and bare headed with a full head of salt and pepper hair contained by a gold band or circlet he wore with a seven pointed sun emblem on his forehead.

As they reached conversational distance, he held up a broad hand. “Hold, and state your business. Who are you?”

“Give me your name, Carja, and I'll give you mine,” Yan snapped, but quieted at a soft gesture from Travis.

The Colonel slid off his Strider and made a show of hanging his rifle off the machine before stepping forward. The big Carja pulled his sword from it's sheath and handed to another man next to him before stepping out. “My name is Travis Murray,” he started once the to had converged to a sociable distance. “Who do I have the honor to address?”

The Carja proved to be of a similar size to Travis and his surprise at Travis' introduction was evident on his face. “I am Noonman Valorous Hadim, Magistrate of Lone Light.”

From her mount, Nakoa called, “The Noonman is a Carja Noble.”

Hadim's eyes darted to Nakoa and back to Travis. “You must be a mighty warrior to have Nora as your guide. And since you need a guide, I presume you are not of any tribe I know?”

Travis smiled and nodded. “You're correct, sir. With me are Nora Braves' Nakoa, Olara and Yan. Along with my countrymen, Buck Simpson and Tracy Williams.”

“And where is your country, Travis Murray?” Hadim asked evenly.

“We come from the coast of the sea over the mountains and to the South East; a land called Texas. We call our tribe AmSci. We've come in answer to your Sun King's call for aid against a Metal Devil.” The Magistrate's eyes flicked back to the machines.

“As you can master machines, I could wish there were more of you in that case.”

“We're not looking for any trouble,” Travis assured him. “We are just passing through on our way to Meridian. We thought to stop for lunch if that's possible, and then be on our way. I gave the Captain of Daytower my word of peaceful journey and he granted us safe passage.”

Hadim nodded gravely at the declaration. “And that shall be honored here,” he affirmed. “Do you vouch for the actions of your machines?”

“They will initiate nothing without our say so,” Travis assured him. “But if they are attacked, I cannot say they will not defend themselves.” Seeing the dawning skepticism on the Magistrate's face, Travis quickly added, “So, if possible, we intend to eat in sight of them so that there are no accidents.”

The Magistrate pulled at his chin for a long moment, then turned over his shoulder. “Tunoy, run to the tavern and have Ulder set out a table and chairs for the comfort of Travis Murray and his party. They eat as my guests, and I will settle their account.” A younger man, Tunoy it could be surmised, took off at a run towards the bridge and the far side of the town.

Travis held up a hand. “One moment, your honor, that's not necessary, we are happy to pay...”

“Allies of the Sun King who come to our aid?” Hadim asked somewhat archly. “A meal is the least gratitude I can offer. Come, I will show you the way myself and you can join me in a tank of ale.”

Murray gave a gesture of acquiescence. “We're grateful for your hospitality.” He gestured and Twenty One Twenty One ambled up, pausing to allow the Colonel to mount him. The Noonman's gaze was a bit lingering, but at last he turned, signaling for the militia to disperse back to their normal work.

“How far have you traveled?” Hadim asked casually as he walked next to the machine, putting up a brave front of being unconcerned by it. Travis allowed himself a chuckle, drawing the other man's eyes.

“Thisjourney,” he specified, “Only a few days. My people were driven out of Texas by...dangerous machines. We have settled next to the Nora in the unclaimed land between their Embrace and Devil's Grief. I suppose we shall have to have some formal treaty with your king to establish that border.”

“My sympathies to your troubles, they seem many.”

“Thank you,” Murray replied. “We've had some troubles, but things are looking up.”

Hadim accepted his sword from the soldier who had been holding it and returned it to it's scabbard as they passed through the gate. “The Sun shine on your good fortune, then. Let us hope that as your aid helps the Sun King, may it rise on welcome tidings of your own.”

“Thank you,” Travis told him as the party ambled over the bridge. Next to the road was one of the larger buildings with a court yard that ran down the slight embankment to docks on the bank of the river.

In the courtyard, several boys and young men were just setting up a table and chairs under the watchful eye of a rotund man in an apron. The fence gave the riders a place to 'tie' the Striders into a string, then followed the Noonman over to the table. Hadim indicated the apron wearer after they'd clasped hands in greeting. “Travis Murray, your host, Hospitable Ulder. Ulder, these are allies of our Sun King, so I require your best.”

The big Tavern keeper nodded and extended a meaty hand to be shook. “Beer or Wine, Travis Murray?”

“Beer,” Murray quickly replied.

“I have a roast peccary ready for carving, fresh bread my wife baked this morning and honey.”

“Sounds wonderful,” Travis assured him. He nodded and ambled back into the in, gesturing the boys in with him. The group settled at the table, the Nobleman taking the head of it at Travis' insistence after some polite and false declining. Two of the boys returned, carrying a pitcher and large bowl and towels along with two teenage girls who were obviously related to them, one carrying a keg on a small cart and the other a tray of wooden tankards.

The Noonman held his hands over the bowl, which the boy with the pitcher poured a slightly red tinted water with pedals in it over his hands, which he then dried on the towel. The ritual when down the table as the girls presented each with a tankard of warm beer from the cask after. It was a thick beverage with a strong hops bite and almost no head and considerably flatter than Travis would have liked, but was generous with his praise anyway. After the group raised their tankards to the Magistrate, his glaze lingered on the Striders by the fence. “I would say you will reach Meridian day after tomorrow with a good foot under you, but...” he paused and took another sip of his beer. “I've seen how fast Striders can run. If you can make them run the whole way you'll be there the first hour past night fall.”

“That's good news,” Travis replied. “Time seems to be of the essence.”

Hadim sighed gravely. “It was hoped we could get the secret of taming the machines from the Shadow Carja. But every one we've captured died under the question without revealing it.” He let a dramatic pause fall. “Though I see you have it out of them.”

“None of them we have fought would be taken alive,” Buck rumbled in a voice that was only just not a threat.

“Though you have the secret none the less,” he continued. “As a magistrate of your Ally, I can promise you considerable wealth for it to be...shared.”

Travis noted the hanging danger of the nobleman's tone and carefully kept his own light. “It is a shame we do not know it ourselves,” he declared blithely. “I have always wanted to be wealthy, but alas, no one of our people who know the secret can leave our fortress. These we have obey us, and us alone, but if they are destroyed I have no way to replace them. Thus was the will of my Chief.”

A sly smile fluttered across Hadim's face. “A wise leader.”

“The greatest among us,” Murray agreed. He leaned back so that a wooden plate with a generous pile of sliced meat, a thick slice of bread and a compote or chutney of fruits and what looked like barley in a thick, sweet smelling sauce of some kind could be set on the table before him. “We are grateful for your generosity and hospitality, Noonman, I will remember it to your King when I see him.”

Several expressions played across the nobleman's face until his smile became a bit more genuine and a fair bit less scheming. “I would be in your debt for the kindness.”

“Out of curiosity, Valorous Hadim,” Olara asked softly. “We follow another Nora Brave who made us aware of the Sun King's plight. The Seeker Aloy, have you news of her?”

The Noonman thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Seeker? Aloy? I'm afraid these words mean nothing to me. You are first Nora I've seen in some time.”

“She would stand out in your memory,” Yan assured him. “Flame red hair and she also rode a Strider.”

“That I have heard of,” Hadim admitted. “Though not with my own eyes. A pair of Oseram traders came down the Greatrun yesterday from their settlement Free Heap, with tales of a Nora Brave with red hair on a Strider. They saw her going north.” He spread his hands in a gesture of futility. “They were well into their tankards when I heard the tale and dismissed it.”

“Free Heap?” asked Travis.

Hadim nodded sagely. “It's a freehold of the Oseram north of here, technically on the Carja side of the border we share with The Claim, but the Sun King is content to indulge them after their help in over throwing his father.”

Travis swallowed his current mouthful of the surprisingly succulent roast and asked, “Noonman, if I showed you a map of the land, could you show me where this Free Heap is?” The Carja nobleman pondered for a moment, then shrugged.

“It would depend on the nature of the map,” he finally declared. “I've dealt with my share of bad ones, but show me yours and I'll see.”

Murray thought for a moment, giving a quick glance around the table, then reached up to his temple. “Magistrate, what I'm about to show you will likely be startling, but you have my word you are in no danger.” The other man frowned.

“What kind of map would make me fear for my life?”

Travis shrugged and touched his Focus. “This kind.” It projected a holographic terrain map of the area, hovering over the table and it's food with ghostly mountains and miniature rivers and valleys. Hadim started and actually leapt to his feet in shock.

“By the Sun!” he swore, his eyes wide as he looked from the Hologram to Travis and back. “What sorcery is this?”

“It's not magic,” Travis told him, making a point to move his hand through the light. “It's just an image...a...a drawing, projected with light. It cannot hurt you.”

Hadim leaned down to better see the image, amazement and curiosity over taking his start. “Like the lights of the Ancients,” he whispered, hesitantly reaching up and putting his own hand in the light and looking at it as if for some change. Looking back up at Travis, he asked, “How can you do this?”

Travis sighed and shook his head. “That isn't a question whose answer you would believe, nor can I, who can use the device, but not make it, explain it fully. Think of it as a drawing, in light but with depth as well as width and height.”

“As if seen from some height above,” Hadim finished, his mind moving quickly. “I recognize these symbols, they're the script of the Ancients. You can read these?” The Magistrate took in Travis' nod with a rub of his chin, then he turned to take a harder look at the image. “Here is the Carja Road, and the Greatrun river, but I don't see Lone Light, or Meridian.”

Travis nodded. “The information that drew this map is very old, made long before Lone Light or Meridian was built. But, here,” and he pointed at the spot where Interstate Seventy crossed the River. “Here is where Lone Light stands now. You said Free Heap was north, up the river?”

The Noonman reached out and pointed with his finger. “About here, I think. It's hard to judge the distance on this...image.”

“That's just south of Kings Peak,” Buck rumbled, and Doc nodded.

“Aloy is headed to Zero Dawn directly,” she added. Travis laid a pin on the image where the town was supposedly and dismissed the hologram.

“I apologize for startlingly you, Noonman Hadim,” Murray assured him.

“Who...who are you people?” the Nobleman asked. “Really?”

“Friends,” Doc assured him. “Friends of your King and your people.”

“Praise the Sun,” he whispered to himself.

* * *

With as little pomp and ceremony as the group could leave Lone Light they did so, trotting up the road that led to Meridian. This was a new road, only just wide enough for two Striders abreast and made of brick that made for a somewhat jolting journey. An hour's canter took Lone Light out of sight and Travis raised his hand to call a halt, then turned Twenty One Twenty One to face his team. “Alright, guys now we decide which way we're actually going. Do we continue up this road to Meridian?”

Olara laid her arms on the Striders neck and leaned on them. “If Aloy is going north, there must be a reason. We were going to Meridian to try and catch her, but she's not even going there.”

Yan, for once, nodded thoughtfully and his tone was polite. “We should probably go after Aloy. I have no great love of Carja, nor am I here for them.”

“The message Travis and I saw,” Nakoa told the other Braves, “told her to go North to seek something called the Master Over Ride. That that would lay the Metal Devil Hades low.”

Buck nodded at Olara and locked eyes with Travis. “I agree with the Nora, Boss. The best help we can give the Sun King is to help Aloy. Let's head North.”

Travis sighed again and sought Tracy's eyes. “Doc? You want to make it unanimous?”

“You're in charge, Colonel,” she replied quickly. “But if you want my opinion? Yes, I think we should go North.”

“North it is then,” Travis declared gravely. He got his Strider pointed in the right direction and brought it up to a canter. “Let's ride hard,” he shouted over his shoulder. “See if we can make up some distance, then we'll camp.” With that, Twenty One Twenty One tossed its head thundered down the valley into a full gallop.

* * *