The group made their way to the lake, each lost in their own thoughts, the only sound being the rhythmic crunch of their footsteps on the path. It took them around thirty minutes to reach the body of water. The walk was long, but Zed didn’t mind. He could have flown them all there in an instant, but for him, there was no rush. The journey gave him time to observe, and to understand the others'' pace and patience. Lane, was a bit more hurried. His steps were quicker than the others'', and he occasionally glanced back to make sure they were keeping up. The others, too, were following, though Mario’s slower steps suggested he wasn’t entirely comfortable with the growing tension in the air.
As the four neared the shore, the dense trees gradually gave way to a clearing. The air felt cooler, more open, and the sound of rustling leaves faded, replaced by the subtle hum of machinery. In the center of the clearing, the Grayman—Zed''s companion—was busy at work, crouched over a drone that Zed had recovered just a few hours ago. He was methodically repairing the damaged drones. The low whir of tools and the occasional spark that flew from the drones filled the otherwise peaceful silence of the clearing. It didn’t seem to notice their approach at first, completely absorbed in his task.
Once the Grayman sensed the approach of others, he paused his work, the low hum of machinery halting abruptly. He straightened and turned to face the visitors. “General Zed, you are back," the Grayman greeted, his voice carrying a sense of recognition. It directed its gaze solely at Zed first, then glanced at the others who had followed behind. “I assume they are our assets Sir?” it wasn’t phrased as a question, more of a statement of fact, as if it already knew the answer but was acknowledging them nonetheless.
Zed gave a small nod in acknowledgment, his expression neutral, before responding. "They are Lane, Mario, and Emilia," he said, gesturing to each of them in turn. “Everyone this is Technician Class Number 557.” The Grayman’s designation sounded impersonal, as though it was little more than a label. But Zed’s calm tone suggested familiarity with him.
"Technician Class Number 557," Zed continued, "is responsible for the maintenance and repair of various equipment." His words were matter-of-fact to make sure that the Grayman’s role was crucial to whatever plan Zed had in mind.
Mario, Emilia, and Lane stood there, still processing the strangeness of the moment. The Grayman’s presence, unsettling in its otherness, seemed to hold an air of quiet intensity. He was something else, something far more complex. Zed, though, acted as if this was entirely normal.
The first to break the silence was Emilia, her voice warm and friendly despite the bizarre nature of the situation. “How are you, Mr. Technician?” she asked, extending her hand with an open, welcoming gesture.
The Grayman, looked at her hand for a moment, seemingly uncertain. After a pause, it slowly extended its own hand. The motion was deliberate, though not without a strange hesitation, as if it too was testing the boundaries of human connection. When their hands met, the touch was soft, almost gentle—though the Grayman’s hand felt different, as if it were made of something more than flesh, yet still undeniably alive.
Emilia’s smile grew just a little wider, though she couldn’t quite mask the curiosity in her eyes. He was something else entirely, and it was more than a little unsettling to feel that warmth in his touch. Lane, Mario, and even Zed continued to watch in silence, each of them feeling a mixture of fascination and discomfort at the interaction unfolding before them.
After the awkward handshake between the two, Lane followed suit, extended his hand next. The Grayman looked at him with the same quiet intensity, but this time, his response was smoother, more practiced. It met Lane’s hand with a firm but controlled grip, their hands briefly locking in an exchange of unspoken understanding.
When it was Mario’s turn, he seemed less inclined to follow the formalities. With a casual shrug and a half-grin, he simply waved his hand in a more relaxed gesture. “Hello,” he said, his tone light, attempting to break the tension that had built up.
The Grayman regarded the wave for a brief moment before giving a slight nod, acknowledging the greeting, though it still didn''t seem fully attuned to Mario''s more informal approach. Zed, standing off to the side, observed the exchange with a quiet sense of satisfaction.
“Now that we’ve all been acquainted,” Zed began, “I want to present to you an opportunity to change your destiny,” he said, his voice steady and commanding. He turned his gaze toward the Grayman, the words laced with a sense of purpose. "Technician? I believe the Manufactory and the drones are good to go?"
The Grayman, who had been standing quietly, nodded in affirmation. “Yes, General Zed,” There was an undertone of readiness in the way he spoke. "The Manufactory is operational, and the drones have been repaired. They are ready for deployment.”
Zed activated his control module with a subtle motion, his expression focused as his fingers moved in the air, almost as if manipulating something invisible. A faint hum filled the air, and a slight pulse of energy rippled through the space.
His mind, now linked with the drone through the module, sent a signal. The drone—one of the three he had recovered earlier—came to life. Its egg-shaped body flickered momentarily, a dull sheen to its surface where time and the elements had taken their toll. The coating, though still functional, bore the marks of years spent submerged in the lake bed. Faint scuff marks, abrasions, and the occasional discoloration marred the once-smooth surface, giving the drone an almost ancient appearance.
With a low, mechanical whirr, it lifted from the ground, its movements slightly jerky at first, as if shaking off the weight of its long slumber. The drone hovered steadily, its form undisturbed but for the subtle creaks and shifts of its worn exterior. The energy flowing from Zed’s control module seemed to stabilize the drone’s movements, smoothing out the rough edges as its internal systems powered up.
It moved toward the group with precision, gliding silently across the clearing. The others watched in awe as the drone approached, its movements smooth and calculated, clearly under Zed’s command. The energy around the machine seemed to hum, almost as if it too was anticipating the moment.
“This is a drone, an unmanned flying vehicle capable of high-speed flight,” he began, his voice calm but carrying authority. “It can travel vast distances in a very short time, quickly covering large areas and reaching locations that would take humans far longer to access.”
The drone shot upward, soaring to a high altitude with ease. Zed''s voice continued, “Its design allows for rapid ascension, capable of reaching great heights to scout or move quickly across difficult terrain. And once it''s up there, it remains steady, no matter the wind or weather conditions. Nothing can stop it from getting where it needs to go.”
The drone moved effortlessly through the clearing, before descending again and hovering just above the ground. "This is just the beginning of its capabilities," Zed said, his tone unwavering. He gestured to the drone as it shifted, small panels along its surface retracting with a soft click. "This unit is equipped with a plasma cutter. It can easily dig through any rock, soil, or other materials. No matter how tough the ground is, this drone will slice through it with ease.”
The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
As if to demonstrate, the plasma cutter extended from one side of the drone. It activated with a brilliant flash of light, cutting through the earth below it as though it were nothing more than sand. "It’s ideal for mining, excavation, or just creating pathways through difficult environments. It also has the capability to conduct repairs—whether it''s patching up damaged structures, or fixing machinery.”
The plasma cutter retracted, and Zed smiled slightly. “But that’s not all.” He motioned to the underside of the drone, where several cameras flickered into view. “This drone is equipped with high-resolution cameras capable of scanning and observing vast areas. It can scout planets, record data, and send it back in real time. Whether it’s surveying the surface for resources or keeping an eye on a potential threat, the cameras will give us a clear, detailed picture from miles away.”
Zed’s eyes remained fixed on the drone, his expression calm but intent. “This is just one,” he said, his voice carrying a quiet authority. "It’s endured much, but still functions with remarkable precision. With the right resources, we can produce more—far more advanced, far more capable. The tools are adaptable, hidden within its shell until activated. They remain concealed, waiting for the right moment to emerge.”
The drone hovered just a few feet away, its presence undeniable, the implications of its functionality hanging heavily in the air. Zed turned to the others, his gaze steady. "The power to command machines like these can be the key to everything."
Zed’s gaze shifted from the hovering drone to the hulking mass of metal just beyond the clearing. The Manufactory. It sat partially obscured by the trees, its massive form looming, an impressive yet intimidating sight. It looked like a half-dismantled structure—a vast machine, almost organic in its complexity, waiting for activation.
“The Manufactory," he began, "is more than just a simple factory or workshop. It’s a fully automated, self-sustaining system capable of deploying and constructing whatever is required. It starts as a compact unit, somewhat dormant until activated, and then it unfurls. Large metal arms extend from its core, pushing through the earth to anchor itself. Its exterior panels open up, revealing a network of internal conduits, chambers, and reactors, each designed for a specific purpose.”
Zed’s gaze lingered on the Manufactory, his expression becoming more focused as he continued to explain. “The Manufactory is not fully operational yet," he said, his voice carrying a hint of frustration, but also determination. "It’s currently at only 50% of its full capacity due to some damage it sustained. The repairs are ongoing, and though it still functions, it''s limited in what it can produce right now.”
Zed’s expression shifted slightly as he spoke of the Manufactory’s reactor. “Fortunately,” he continued, “the core reactor remains intact. Despite the damage to the rest of the system, the reactor has been shielded well enough to remain operational. It’s a marvel of engineering, as it should be.” He glanced back toward the massive structure, a faint glimmer of approval in his eyes.
“The reactor is more than capable of powering the entire Manufactory and more,” Zed explained, his tone steady making sure to emphasize on the revelation. “In fact, it could easily provide enough energy to sustain a large city. It’s that powerful. The surplus energy can be directed to whatever we need—whether it''s expanding the Manufactory’s production capacity, powering systems like drones or vehicles, or even supplying the town of Lina with enough energy to support its growth.”
He looked back at the group, his voice lowering slightly as he emphasized the importance of the reactor. “The best part? The reactor’s power output is scalable. It can be adjusted, redistributed, and used as needed. If we get this repaired and operational at full capacity, the Manufactory could easily fuel an entire infrastructure. It’s not just about producing machines. It’s about providing energy for everything—creating a self-sustaining network.”
Zed allowed the magnitude of the information to sink in. The potential of the reactor alone was staggering. “If we connect Lina to the reactor, we could completely transform this town, increase its population, its resources, its capabilities. The energy we have access to here could change the game, turning a small town into something far more powerful.” He turned his gaze to the others, his voice now taking on a more resolute tone. “The reactor is our anchor. With it, we can make this work. But it all depends on what we do next.”
He paused, letting the group absorb the information before continuing. “What you see there—while impressive—is only part of its potential. The damage has affected several of the core systems, which is why we’ve had to hold back on its full deployment. Some of the main processors and production lines have been rendered less efficient, but nothing that can''t be fixed with the right resources and time."
Zed’s gaze hardened, the promise of what could be almost tangible in the air. "Once repaired, however, the Manufactory can be upgraded. It’s modular in design—meaning that as we expand, it can grow too. New parts can be installed, systems can be optimized, and entire sub-facilities can be activated. The more we fix, the more we unlock. And once it’s back to full capacity, we can begin creating at scale."
He looked over at the others, his eyes intense. “Imagine the possibilities: mass production of drones, vehicles, technology, even weapons if we need them. The Manufactory will allow us to build armies, fortresses, or infrastructure at a pace unimaginable to any conventional civilization. All it needs is the proper resources and the repairs to bring it to its full potential.” Zed’s tone softened just slightly. "But for now, we need to focus on those repairs—gather the necessary materials and manpower. We’re not starting from scratch, but we are at a critical point. I can’t do it alone."
His gaze met each of them, as though silently urging them to understand the importance of what lay ahead. The challenge was clear: unlocking the full potential of the Manufactory would require more than just machines—it would require trust, resources, and the will to push forward, no matter the cost.
“This is just too good to be true isn’t it?" Mario said, his voice laced with skepticism. He looked at Lane and Emilia, as if seeking some form of confirmation, Zed''s words still settling in his mind.
He shook his head slightly, as if trying to process the enormity of what Zed had just revealed. “A massive reactor, a factory that can build anything, and the power to fuel an entire city? It sounds like something out of a dream—or a nightmare.”
Lane remained silent for a moment, his brow furrowed as he considered the implications. Emilia, on the other hand, appeared more intrigued, her eyes never leaving the Manufactory as if she were trying to make sense of the vast possibility before them.
Mario’s doubt wasn’t unfounded, though. The scale of it all seemed overwhelming, and the idea of it working so flawlessly left a lingering question in the air. “What’s the catch, Mr. Zed?" Lane finally asked, his tone a mixture of wariness and curiosity. "I mean, if this thing is so powerful, why hasn’t it already been used? What’s stopping it from being, I don’t know, a disaster?”
Emilia turned to Lane, her expression a bit more open, though she couldn’t help but share a trace of his uncertainty. Zed’s gaze remained steady, his expression unreadable as he absorbed their reactions. The temptation of the Cillian Directive still at the back of his mind.
Finally, Zed spoke, acknowledging their doubts without showing his own. “I understand your hesitation,” he said, meeting their eyes one by one. “This... it’s not something to take lightly. And I’m not asking you to trust me blindly. But what I’m offering is a chance to shape your future, to build something that lasts. We’re all at a crossroads here. What happens next depends on what you choose to do.”
The air felt thick with expectation, the weight of his words hanging in the silence. It was clear—this was the moment where decisions would be made.
Lane met Zed’s gaze, his posture still tense but less doubtful. “Alright, we’ll work with you. But just know this: we’ll be keeping our eyes on you.”
Zed nodded. “Fair enough. The next move is yours. But I suggest dealing with your immediate problem just outside the town.” He glanced toward the horizon. “We need to get ahead of them. Time is running out.”
Lane met Zed’s gaze for a moment before turning to the others. His voice was firm. “We have work to do.”