Epilogue One: Endgame

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“...anyone out there reading this?”

The radio responded with silence.

“I repeat,” Lucas was saying, “is there any allied forces on this channel?”

More silence, marked only by the occasion burst of static. Lucas grunted his disapproval, shutting the comm off with a click.

The dropship hummed quietly, gliding across the dark sky. In the distance, the last rays of sunset could be seen through the smoke rising from the Carrier's crash sight. I watched as Nova Scotia faded into the horizon as we flew away. Who knew when we would be back.

Lucas tapped a button on the console and took his hands off the controls, turning his chair around with a sigh.

“Coordinates input,” he said. “The autopilot will control most of the flight across Canada and the Pacific.”

“Nothing on the radio?” Karen asked. She sat in the corner, knees propped against the wall. This was the first thing she had said in over an hour.

“Nothing traceable,” Lucas responded.
“Either our communications are still blocked or the remaining dropships are damaged. Either way we know they were headed to Shenzhen. All that's left is to get there ourselves.”

Dan stood, leaning on his crutch.
“I'm going to go examine those new robots, see how much it will take to repair them.”

He marched out of the room with as much resolve as he could muster, the door to the hallway hissing shut behind him. Draco Fisk sat silently, staring at the floor. His mind seemed to be busy working on something I couldn't identify.

“Draco,” I said, gently.

His eyes snapped upward, staring into mine.

“Who sent those Hovers?” I asked.
“We need to know.”

It would likely take a lot to get proper information out of Fisk. As rattled as he was, there was no method of convincing him that could-

“The only person with clearance above mine is my boss,” Draco responded.

“I was never given his name. He's one of the original founding members of the TMC, and he always communicates anonymously. He hired me to manage the Iron War as his General. I know him only as The Founder.”

I blinked. I hadn't expected such a detailed response. What Draco had told us was undoubtedly treasonous to the TMC.

“You're willing to reveal all of this to us?” Karen said. She sat up, leaning forward.

Draco nodded, eyes filled with cold resolve.
“The Founder takes the robots and resources I helped to acquire, the plans I never wanted to see enacted, and does what he wishes. I see now that I'm only one of his pawns.”

He turned to me.

“I don't deny that the things I've done are inhumane, but this attack goes far beyond my moral standards. If my soldiers are willing to commit such underhanded acts at the drop of a hat, there is no logic in remaining a part of the TMC.”

I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

“The Founder has ruined my company, my army and my image,” Draco said. His gaze was unwavering. “In light of this betrayal, I now have nothing left to lose and only one endgame.”

Fisk strained against his zip-cuffs, leaning as far forward as he was able. We were face to face now, inches apart.

“From this moment forward,” he said, “I renounce the Transatlantic Military Corporation and all of it's values. I wish to help you, Jackson. Will you allow me to do so?”

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