Sprout 3.1 Part 1
- Location
- The Lair
Well. Here we are. Finally. I apologize for the time that it has taken, between work, and other things, it just turned into a long-ass delay. So my apologies on that. I'm not sure on the update schedule going forward, especially as my work is starting to enter into the compression period of the year. That means more hours and more work. And on the home front trying to batten down the hatches and prepare for the Winter has put a crimp on where I'm trying to balance destressing and writing, and not having a good amount of success for it.
Next chapter is already at 1000 words, but I'm projecting it to be at least 10-15K monstrosity, spread over two to three perspectives. So...maybe American Thanksgiving? I'm hoping that I get three days off in a row coming up. Also, filling out paperwork for going to Japan and ensuring that I have enough money for it is gonna be fun. But that is neither here or there.
I will make a note, that I am making some changes to the Endbringers as a whole. They are not story-shattering, but I feel that in this story, it's better to change a few aspects here or there, and reinforce others for the narrative and story. I'll be posting patch notes at a later date. That is, once I've locked down all of the changes. But there is something here, so I figured forewarned is forearmed.
Sprout 3.1 Part 1
Danny Hebert
"We are once again urging-"
"Turn it off," the terse words escaped his lips before he could stop himself. Kent, their driver, didn't even spare him a look before he turned the dial off on the radio, leaving them in the silence only punctuated by the roar of the diesel engine propelling their semi towards Boston.
It had been seven hours since the Endbringer sirens had gone off, and when they had first sounded, he had been terrified that Brockton Bay was the target. That terror had quickly found itself supplanted by sickening realization as the phone alert system linked to Endbringers announced that Leviathan's target was Boston.
He knew as soon as Leviathan's target had been announced that Taylor would not be able to resist the clarion call to action. Nor was there any way he would be able to talk her out of doing so. They had cleared the air over that weeks ago, even if he still had misgivings about it. But he knew that this was the path his daughter wanted to take in life, and he had promised that he would support her, regardless of his feelings.
So he had steeled his heart and began doing what he did best: organizing the mobilization. It had been determined last week that they would need a minimum of nine semi trailers, with one being a flatbed in order to transport the Titan, as it was too large for an enclosed trailer. Three more trailers would carry the other machines in their enclosed shipping containers with additional fuel cells. After that, two more trailers would contain spare parts for the machines and store the chemicals that were used to convert biomatter into blaze.
And while the first six trailers revolved around the logistics necessary to support the machines' operation for two weeks, the last three trailers carried supplies that would be worth their weight in gold after an Endbringer battle: food, water, clothing, toiletries, sanitation products, and tools to help with the cleanup. It could not possibly match what Taylor was about to do, but to those who were just likely robbed of the essentials of modern civilization it would be a balm for the soul.
Speaking of which, he turned his head back to where Taylor was sitting in the back of the cab, sitting beside Quentin Tate, both of them poring over a laptop. They were talking with one another in hushed whispers as Taylor motioned towards something and Quentin nodded along with her.
He was worried about her. She had only gotten to sleep three hours before the Endbringer sirens had gone off, having just fixed the bug in the Titan's communication protocols. He knew that she was exhausted, and he had tried to get her to rest, but she had been adamant to monitor everything as the machines had loaded up. Her solution to her exhaustion had been to have one of her employees raid a nearby convenience store for energy drinks and stock her up. Even as she talked to Quentin, she took a sip from one of them.
Taking a deep breath, he turned his head back to the front, looking at the bumper-to-bumper traffic in the other lane, moving away from Boston. He had heard enough from the radio to know that the situation in Boston was bad. Usually, according to Taylor, attacks by Leviathan were provided with a small warning, usually no more than thirty minutes to an hour, just enough time for the Protectorate to begin to mobilize capes to attempt to repel the Endbringer. Only it seemed that Leviathan had provided less than fifteen minutes warning this time, leaving the defense of Boston woefully unprepared.
It was only because of Taylor's ability to glean information, and the few reports that were being shared via the radio going in, that they were able to peace together a glimpse of what had happened in Boston after that. But it took nearly an hour and a half of fighting before the Endbringer was finally driven off. But details were sparse, because there were issues getting any communications out of Boston whatsoever. Taylor was unsure of why, but only that it seemed to affect the Greater Boston area.
But these details were all beside the point, at least to Taylor. What mattered to her was that Boston had been devastated and there were likely thousands trapped in debris within the city. This was the very reason she had pushed so hard for the production of her machines to make a difference now instead of later.
He could only watch as his daughter suddenly reached up and tapped her ear.
"Jean, It's Taylor. Any news on Alain?"
The resultant frown told him just what the answer was.
"Okay, I'll look into it. I need you to do some things for me. I need you to reach out to the PRT, FEMA, FAA and the National Guard──No, I haven't had any luck contacting anyone, I'm hoping you can use Far Zenith's connections to get ahold of someone who can make decisions. Let them know what's on its way, and also find out if they need mobile network support, the Titan can link in quite a lot more if need be. Finally, see if you can find out if any drones are being deployed to Boston──Yeah, we're on the same page. If they have datalinks we can route them through the Titan and improve SAR efficiency. After that, see if you can get ahold of anyone with the Guild.──Yeah, Dragon. I tried reaching out to her but I'm only getting silence."
She stopped to listen to Jean, taking another sip from her energy drink. The fact that his daughter had apparently added a satellite uplink to her Focus was not even a surprise to him anymore. He had become inured at the various 'miracles' his daughter had become capable of.
"No, that's fine. I'll see what I can do on my end once we get to Boston. Look, I know you don't want to hear this, but we need to start diverting everything we can towards Hathor-model Focus production. The situation in Boston is a lot worse than I expected."
She paused, and tapped her Focus, and Jean's voice came through the satellite phone's speaker, allowing everyone to hear it in the cab.
"-Taylor, we've already had this discussion before you left. We're already stretched thinly as is, both in materials and manpower. If we divert production towards the Focus, we're going to have to reduce production on spare machine parts. We just don't have enough people to go around, and overtime as it is, is already going to be ruinous. And even if we start looking towards Focus production, the best we can manage is maybe one hundred units every three to four days..."
His daughter didn't say anything for a moment, instead closing her eyes, and he wondered exactly what she was going to say to that. He was firmly aware of the financial situation of the company, Jean constantly harped at him about it, because Taylor refused to listen to her.
"I know the timetables we are looking at to change production back to Foci, Jean. It can't be helped, but we only have five hundred of these as is, and it is not going to be enough, especially if my suspicions on why Boston's communications are down are right," she paused, chewing her lip, "Medhall isn't going to be any help, they are still a few months out on their first production run, and that's for the Horus model. What about the additions to the production team we had on standby, can we tap into them?"
"Taylor, we don't have the money for that. And even if you add them, that's maybe going to bump production up maybe another fifty to a hundred units in the same timeframe. Taylor, I think we need to settle on what we have."
"Can you reach out to Gene for me?"
There was a long pause from the other end, Jean, like himself, trying to figure out what Taylor was working towards.
"I can. May I ask why?"
Taylor was silent, turning her head and looking out the window, her expression inscrutable.
"Ask him," she hesitated, her head turning upwards to the roof of the semi, as if she were seeking divine providence, "ask him what it would take for him to provide an additional two million dollars."
Jean's silence on the other end was telling. Two million dollars was still quite a lot of money, even in the shadow of the money provided to start up Zero Dawn.
"Taylor, the company is already collateral for the startup loans. There is nothing we have on hand that we can offer that could back a request for that sum of money. Not to mention how it would make us look unreliable with our money. That is not the optics that you want or need as a new corporation. And even if you could get the money, it won't make a difference for those currently buried. They will be long dead before we can field any more units, Foci or otherwise, even if we could ramp up production now. You'd be better off seeing if he'd donate money for additional supplies for survivors."
To his surprise, Taylor didn't immediately answer, even though her expression suggested she was about to start arguing with Jean. Instead, she was silent, and he watched as she chewed the inside of her cheek, indicating both she was thinking about it, but also not liking what she was thinking.
"Taylor," Quentin spoke, but she shook her head towards him and he quieted.
"Okay, Jean. You're right," she reached up and massaged her face, exhaustion creeping through in her expression and body language, "why couldn't Leviathan give us another two or three weeks? I could have gotten us more money for additional Hathors and finished development of the Ptah. Reach out to Gene, see what you can get from him, you know him better than I do, if it's aid we can get, do it. I know we can get grants, and we will need machines going forward, especially if we want to help with Boston, but you are right, we need to focus on the most immediate impact we can provide right now."
Again, silence met them, before finally Jean answered, "I'm sorry, Taylor. I know you didn't want to hear that from me, but it needed to be said. I'll ask. I think Gene will be open to at least helping with the aid. But any more than that is going to be a tall order, I can at least get them to focus on maybe a few more spare parts, but anything larger is going to require another cash infusion we can't really afford to take loans on."
"And I appreciate it. We're all trying our best here. Just talk to him, see what he says. If he wants some sort of guarantee, I'll find a way, Jean," Taylor said after a pause, "just start shaking the trees for me. If it comes down to it, I'll do what I have to."
"I'll see what I can do, Taylor. I better get to work. Good luck."
"Same to you, Jean."
She then tapped her focus, and placed the sat phone down, taking a deep breath and then releasing it. She glanced up at him, and he wondered what was going through her mind right now. His daughter's single-minded drive for this moment, while admirable, was still a major risk. They hadn't the opportunity to truly test any of this, only Taylor's constant assurance that it would work driving this. If something went wrong, or worse, it failed completely, it would be devastating.
"Taylor-"
"I know," she cut him off, rubbing her tired eyes, "but we're looking at thousands, possibly tens of thousands, trapped. It will take days to get specialized SAR assets into the area thanks to the damage done to Logan. They'll probably shift a carrier battle group and the Comfort to assist, along with whatever heavy-lift rotor-wing aircraft they can scrape up. Anything that gives us an edge and saves even another life is not off the table. But for at least the next twenty-four hours we are on our own!"
"What about the Protectorate?"
She laughed bitterly, "Endbringer truces only last seventy-two to ninety-six hours from the first alert, depending upon the Endbringer and the target. Just enough time for the capes to fight, lick their wounds, collect their dead, and go back home for business as usual. There isn't even a dedicated unit to help with disaster relief, and because of politics, FEMA can't poach or even request capes who would be useful in disaster assistance. It's largely left to independent volunteers and capes that live in the affected area to pick up the pieces."
"Oh," and that's really all he could say on the matter. He was still learning as he went, this was still far outside his wheelhouse. The fact that Taylor was this well informed only lent credence that she had a far better understanding of the situation and that was why she was so adamant in producing more machines.
But it could be handled better, he felt. Jean had just as salient of a point in the fact that Zero Dawn was stretched thin financially, even with the sales beginning to come in from the materials sales, it was still not enough for the type of large expenditure Taylor was lobbying for. Yet at the same time, Taylor knew more of what was needed than he did.
It did help, however, that at least they were now communicating. Previously, he would have been unprepared for Taylor's request, but they had talked over the last week about what could take place and what contingencies she was planning for.
Honestly, it was amazing that she was planning so far in depth for what may or may not happen.
But even this was bordering on cataclysmic. Taylor's models had been good, but they didn't hold a candle to the reports that had been able to come out of Boston. The lack of sufficient warning had left many unable to reach the safety of shelter before Leviathan struck, stranding far too many to the mercies of the waves that were a staple of the Endbringer's attacks.
Taylor, however, had not been interested in that, as callous as that sounded. She was more interested in the status of Logan International Airport. The entire time they had been gathering together, she had been adamant to know exactly what its status was.
It had only been as they were getting into the semis, that they received the news that Logan International was, for all intents and purposes, completely gone. It had been the direct path of Leviathan, and the Endbringer had not excluded the airport from its wrath in its course for the center of Boston..
The way Taylor's face had closed off said enough.
Before he could say anything more, they were interrupted by Kent.
"Hey boss, state patrol up ahead, they're blocking the road."
He turned away from his daughter to look out the windshield, and sure enough, on the straight-away that would pass by the Randolph exits, was a single state patrol car sitting in the middle of the road, its lights flashing illuminating its surroundings in the fading light, with a wooden barricade set up to further block the road and force them on a path to take the exit to the right.
Taylor had moved up into the cabin and looked out, even as the semi slowed down.
"Pull up to them," Danny finally said, already drawing a picture that he was not necessarily liking. The only reason they would be shutting Route 24 down was either damage down the line, which was unlikely with the oncoming traffic in the other lane of the expressway, or they were trying to control what was coming into Boston.
Coming to a stop in the left lane of the expressway, Danny proceeded to get out of the truck, Taylorhot on his heels as he walked towards the trooper. By the reaction of the trooper, that was probably not the best way considering how he tensed, his expression wary.
"Officer," he called out.
"Sir, I need you to get back in the semi and turn off into Randolph," a young state trooper approached, his hand resting upon his sidearm, but not drawing it yet, but the threat was evident, "no unauthorized vehicles are allowed beyond this point."
"Officer, we're here to help. I'm Danny Hebert of Zero Dawn Technologies out of Brockton Bay. I have behind me nine semi-trailers with rescue equipment and humanitarian aid for Boston. We set out to help as soon as we got the word."
"I'm sorry sir, but my orders are clear. I cannot allow you to pass."
"Can you at least-"
"I'm sorry sir, but again I can't allow you any further."
"May I speak with your supervisor? I'm sure that we can work something out to get these supplies to Boston."
There was a pause from the trooper, as he seemed to be looking for something. Whatever it was that he was looking for he found as his shoulders slumped slightly, his hand moving away from the sidearm.
"There is no supervisor, sir," he admitted, exhaustion and resignation lacing his tone, "Leviathan knocked out communications from Boston, what we are getting is spotty at best, and my orders are to shut down Route 24 to all non-essential vehicles. I have my orders sir. I'm sorry."
I can't violate those orders, sir. I'm sorry."
It was beginning to look much worse than any of Taylor's models, he realized with horror, the implications readily obvious. Without consistent communications, whatever response and coordination coming from Boston was going to be a mess at best. It meant that currently every single command was doing their own things according to their own operating procedure, and many of them likely had procedures that interfered with others.
Which meant that a lot of people were going to die.
"What's your name, son," he asked sincerely. He couldn't even fathom what must be going through the trooper's head right now. An Endbringer attack in Boston, and he was forced to shut down a road outside of the city, without any real idea of what was going on, the only thing he was left with were his orders and his own thoughts. He didn't envy the trooper.
"Waldren, sir," the trooper replied stiffly.
"I understand you have your orders, but this is aid to an Endbringer disaster area. Is there any way I can convince you to let us through, Trooper Waldren?"
The man hesitated for a moment. It was obvious to anyone he was caught between doing the right thing and following the orders he had been given. And for a moment, he thought he had gotten through to the trooper, before the man finally shook his head.
"Sorry, sir. I can't. I'm going to once again ask you to turn your convoy into Randolph. If you are offering aid to Boston, then talk with the authorities there. They can likely coordinate something with you. But I have to keep this route closed to all non-essential vehicles."
"Okay, son," he replied, holding back a sigh of resignation at the failure to reach the man. He hated it, but he could also understand the trooper's plight and couldn't hold it against him in this situation. So he turned around, and he found Taylor was already walking back towards the semi with fast, purposeful strides.
He then turned, and found Taylor was already walking towards the semi with fast, purposeful strides.
Ah shit, he thought, even as he started jogging after her. He had just caught up with her as she opened the door to the semi.
"Kent, signal the rest of the trucks, unload now. Quentin, get out here, we're going to have to improvise."
She then started towards the back of the semi, even as a "Fuck," escaped from the cab courtesy of Quentin. Kent himself began talking into his radio, obviously passing Taylor's orders.
"Taylor," he started, barely keeping up with her stride as she moved, "what are you doing?"
"What does it look like," she shot back, "if they won't let us through, I'll just go around."
"Go around," he repeated, and everything clicked into place, and he fought the urge to panic, "Taylor it's nearly twenty miles to Boston."
"Which I can cover in an hour with the LRL," she returned, coming to a stop at the back of the tarp, reaching up with her hands. Her fingers began moving as if she were typing, occasionally stopping to swipe her hand in the air. He didn't know exactly what she was doing, but with her Focus she had what she referred to as an augmented reality system that allowed her to interact with devices freely without needing a computer.
"Taylor, that isn't what we planned for. You told me that you needed a forward base so you could resupply and maintain the units. If you do this, you won't have any of that logistical support for god knows how long."
She paused, her hands hanging in the air.
"I know," she finally breathed, "but I'm not going to be deterred, Dad. If I can save even one life, then the cost is worth it. I couldn't live with myself otherwise."
He wanted to yell at her. He wanted to scream at her. To tell her that this was a mistake, that her life was worth more than anyone that she could save. But instead, he kept it back, because he knew it would be pointless. This was his daughter in a nutshell, she didn't care about the personal cost to her, all that mattered to her was that she was able to save lives.
Instead, he sighed, placing a hand on her shoulder, "Okay," he finally said, "What do we need to do?"
"The energy demands for this run are going to push the envelope on projections, we're going to have to lash as many extra fuel cells as we can to the Titan. It's a stopgap measure, but until we can get more support, it's the best option available. When I get to the disaster area, I should be able to get someone to actually let you guys through. Just wait for me."
He frowned, not liking what his daughter was saying. He intellectually understood what she was working towards, but the father in him did not like hearing it.
"Taylor, let me go with you," he pleaded, knowing that ordering her would achieve nothing. The idea that his daughter was planning to go alone into a disaster area was nearly too much. Why couldn't she just do the safe thing and wait?
Before she could answer, Quentin came up to them, the laptop in hand, "What do you need of me, Taylor?"
"I need you to do one more review of the stowed Focuses on the Titan. I have some suspicions as to why the trooper is only getting sporadic communications from Boston, and if it's true we'll need every single one of them ready to go."
"Roger that," the man nodded, turning back towards the cab, even as he began getting back to work on the laptop. As he did that, several men that had ridden along on the semis were congregating around them.
"Okay," Taylor called out, her voice carrying in air that might as well be still, "we're debarking the machines. We'll start with the Titan first, then the Watchers and Scrappers, and finally the Charger. I need you guys to ensure that they get off safely. We won't be able to unload any of the supplies or replacement parts for more than likely twenty-four hours, so make sure they don't get dinged. Ramirez, Brown, Eaton, and Yaxley, I need you to lash as many Fuel Cells to the Titan as you can as soon as we get it off the semi. We're going to have to do all of this on the fly, so let's do it right the first time, okay?"
The corresponding calls of acknowledgement caused him to swell with pride. Even at fifteen years old, she seemed to have taken the best of him, and combined it with the force of will of Annette, and shaping it into something uniquely her own. When she was like this, she had the presence that could make men and women triple her age snap to attention and follow her command without a question.
Satisfied her orders were out and getting done, she turned to him, providing him an answer to his question, "I need you here, Dad. On the sat phone with Jean and letting her know what's going on. I need you ready to move all of this on a moment's notice, these men and women respect you and will move through hell for you."
"They'll do the same for you, Taylor."
"But I need to be out there, guiding the machines, Dad. Even with all of the effort I have put into making them capable of independent action, it has to be a human hand that gives them their orders. I can't do that if I know I won't have reinforcements when we finally get the green light to move in the supplies."
"Don't move!"
Both of their head snapped towards the highway patrolman, who had moved up on them, but he had his gun in hand, drawn and leveled upon them, even as his eyes darted towards the Titan as the canvas had been removed from the storage container, and it was bared for all to see.
"What the fuck is this," the trooper demanded.
"Rescue equipment," Taylor turned towards him, "I'm Taylor Hebert, CEO of Zero Dawn Technologies. I am also Alloy, an independent cape. These machines are meant to assist in search and rescue. And under the Endbringer Truce, you are illegally obstructing a cape attempting to render aid to a disaster area."
"And what's-"
"Sir, I did not spend spend the last month and almost ten million dollars putting this together in some sort of convoluted attempt at suicide. I'm here to save lives," she then paused as a Burrower skulked up beside her, the machine being disturbingly quiet in its approach, "and you're in my way."
For a moment, he worried that Taylor had pushed too hard as the trooper's expression hardened for a moment. But then his features softened as he slowly lowered his weapon, his shoulders sagging slightly in what could only be described as relief.
.
"You're actually going to help," he asked.
"I am."
A few more moments of silence met them, before he nodded, "Alright. I'll let you through."
The trooper then turned and headed back to the roadblock, leaving them alone. But before he could say anything to Taylor, she moved towards the back of the second rig and he found himself following her.
"Ethan, you have it?"
"Yes, Taylor," came the response of Ethan, who handed her a thick jacket, one that not only provided warmth, but by its weave, it was also meant to provide protection. Taylor slipped off the slight jacket she was wearing and handed it to him, before putting the new one on.
"Taylor, what are you doing," he asked.
"I'm going on ahead," she stated as she zipped up the jacket, "Keep unloading, Ethan."
"Right, ma'am."
Instead of being angry as Ethan moved to rejoin the others, he sighed, knowing that the decision was already made, but even if that was true, it was his job as a father to try and convince her otherwise. Even if he didn't even think it was the wrong decision.
"Taylor, if you stay with us, we can reach the staging point that they are likely putting together and set up. That way you won't have to worry about supplies, and we can start coordinating with local law enforcement and anyone else."
The shake of her head told him all that he needed to know, as she reached into the bag and pulled out an odd device. It was a breathing mask of some kind, but one that he didn't recognize. She unclasped the strap, reaching up and securing it behind her head, leaving the mask to rest around her neck.
"If they are shutting Route 24 off at Randolph, that means that they are likely using I-93 as a main supply route. By breaking off, I can reach whatever command center they have set up long before the convoy could get there and arrange things. That way we can get set up before nightfall and get our orders on what to do. But I have to go now, especially if they are trying to control traffic into 93, with my machines, I can follow the interstate without getting caught in any of the traffic."
She then paused, looking towards him, "I just want to save lives, Dad. And every minute saved could be the difference for a lot of trapped people."
His heart leapt in pride, even as it was tempered by fear. His daughter's singular focus on saving lives had driven them to this point, and it appeared that it would keep driving them damn the consequences. He honestly could not be more proud of her if he could.
"You'll be alone out there, Taylor. We won't be able to back you up if something goes wrong."
Taylor's silence was telling, because it told him that she was at least listening. Even if he knew, deep down, that it was an exercise in futility.
"Being smart will count for nothing if you don't make the world better. You have to use your smarts to count for something, to serve life, not death."
"What?"
She shook her head, "I'm sorry. It's something that I keep thinking about in all of this. I have all this knowledge Dad, but if I don't use it, then what is the point? I'm the only person who can do this, right here, right now. Not a week from now, when it may be too late for dozens and maybe hundreds."
She zipped up the jacket, her expression resolute.
"I couldn't live with myself if I didn't do this."
He didn't say anything, because honestly, what was there to say? Instead, he pulled his daughter into a bone-crushing hug, trying to ignore the tears starting to trek down his face.
"Okay, Little Owl," he said softly, trying not to choke on his words, "I'm not going to stop. Just be careful and keep in contact."
"I can do you one better," she responded, leaving him confused, before opening a case she extracted from the duffel bag, opening it up to him.
"Taylor, I-," he lost his words looking at the Focus currently resting in the case before him.
"It's not as powerful or as customized as mine, but it will run circles around all of the ones on the Titan. I've disabled most of the user-side inputs, so everything needs to be accessed through manipulating the augmented reality interface. I don't recommend moving while doing that until you are comfortable doing so."
"Taylor. Why are you doing this? You know I'm pants with this technology."
"That's why the controls are simplified," was her response, still holding it out to him even in spite of his protests, "I have it paired to my device, so you can access what I am seeing on choice. That way you know what I am doing and how I am doing."
He stared at the device again, before looking back to his daughter. Unlike before, he took the time to truly take her in, knowing the efforts that must have gone into this. In recent weeks, he had begun to really learn just how to read his daughter, despite her own efforts to hide it. And right now, in spite of her attempts to appear calm, she was an open and ready book despite his inability to see her eyes.
There was hope there, even in spite of the fact that he had already given her his blessing, that he would readily embrace what she was doing. Not out of grudging admittance that he had no choice, that she would bull through him regardless, but ready acceptance.
In spite of the tough front she put up, deep down, she was still that fifteen year old teenager looking for acceptance from her sole remaining parental figure.
It was too much, as he surged forward and wrapped her into a hug. Sure, it was maybe a bit too much, hugging his daughter out in public like this, but he couldn't help himself at the pride he felt in her. It had been a worry not three weeks ago that her would lose her, that to see her now, going to such extents to include him.
"I'm proud of you," he said, and his daughter stiffened in his hug, before relaxing slightly. He then released her after a few moments, stepping back slightly.
"Okay, show me how to use this."
I would like to note, for those of you who missed the update, that this story now has a Discord. So feel free to come on down and join in.
discord.gg
Next chapter is already at 1000 words, but I'm projecting it to be at least 10-15K monstrosity, spread over two to three perspectives. So...maybe American Thanksgiving? I'm hoping that I get three days off in a row coming up. Also, filling out paperwork for going to Japan and ensuring that I have enough money for it is gonna be fun. But that is neither here or there.
I will make a note, that I am making some changes to the Endbringers as a whole. They are not story-shattering, but I feel that in this story, it's better to change a few aspects here or there, and reinforce others for the narrative and story. I'll be posting patch notes at a later date. That is, once I've locked down all of the changes. But there is something here, so I figured forewarned is forearmed.
Sprout 3.1 Part 1
Danny Hebert
"We are once again urging-"
"Turn it off," the terse words escaped his lips before he could stop himself. Kent, their driver, didn't even spare him a look before he turned the dial off on the radio, leaving them in the silence only punctuated by the roar of the diesel engine propelling their semi towards Boston.
It had been seven hours since the Endbringer sirens had gone off, and when they had first sounded, he had been terrified that Brockton Bay was the target. That terror had quickly found itself supplanted by sickening realization as the phone alert system linked to Endbringers announced that Leviathan's target was Boston.
He knew as soon as Leviathan's target had been announced that Taylor would not be able to resist the clarion call to action. Nor was there any way he would be able to talk her out of doing so. They had cleared the air over that weeks ago, even if he still had misgivings about it. But he knew that this was the path his daughter wanted to take in life, and he had promised that he would support her, regardless of his feelings.
So he had steeled his heart and began doing what he did best: organizing the mobilization. It had been determined last week that they would need a minimum of nine semi trailers, with one being a flatbed in order to transport the Titan, as it was too large for an enclosed trailer. Three more trailers would carry the other machines in their enclosed shipping containers with additional fuel cells. After that, two more trailers would contain spare parts for the machines and store the chemicals that were used to convert biomatter into blaze.
And while the first six trailers revolved around the logistics necessary to support the machines' operation for two weeks, the last three trailers carried supplies that would be worth their weight in gold after an Endbringer battle: food, water, clothing, toiletries, sanitation products, and tools to help with the cleanup. It could not possibly match what Taylor was about to do, but to those who were just likely robbed of the essentials of modern civilization it would be a balm for the soul.
Speaking of which, he turned his head back to where Taylor was sitting in the back of the cab, sitting beside Quentin Tate, both of them poring over a laptop. They were talking with one another in hushed whispers as Taylor motioned towards something and Quentin nodded along with her.
He was worried about her. She had only gotten to sleep three hours before the Endbringer sirens had gone off, having just fixed the bug in the Titan's communication protocols. He knew that she was exhausted, and he had tried to get her to rest, but she had been adamant to monitor everything as the machines had loaded up. Her solution to her exhaustion had been to have one of her employees raid a nearby convenience store for energy drinks and stock her up. Even as she talked to Quentin, she took a sip from one of them.
Taking a deep breath, he turned his head back to the front, looking at the bumper-to-bumper traffic in the other lane, moving away from Boston. He had heard enough from the radio to know that the situation in Boston was bad. Usually, according to Taylor, attacks by Leviathan were provided with a small warning, usually no more than thirty minutes to an hour, just enough time for the Protectorate to begin to mobilize capes to attempt to repel the Endbringer. Only it seemed that Leviathan had provided less than fifteen minutes warning this time, leaving the defense of Boston woefully unprepared.
It was only because of Taylor's ability to glean information, and the few reports that were being shared via the radio going in, that they were able to peace together a glimpse of what had happened in Boston after that. But it took nearly an hour and a half of fighting before the Endbringer was finally driven off. But details were sparse, because there were issues getting any communications out of Boston whatsoever. Taylor was unsure of why, but only that it seemed to affect the Greater Boston area.
But these details were all beside the point, at least to Taylor. What mattered to her was that Boston had been devastated and there were likely thousands trapped in debris within the city. This was the very reason she had pushed so hard for the production of her machines to make a difference now instead of later.
He could only watch as his daughter suddenly reached up and tapped her ear.
"Jean, It's Taylor. Any news on Alain?"
The resultant frown told him just what the answer was.
"Okay, I'll look into it. I need you to do some things for me. I need you to reach out to the PRT, FEMA, FAA and the National Guard──No, I haven't had any luck contacting anyone, I'm hoping you can use Far Zenith's connections to get ahold of someone who can make decisions. Let them know what's on its way, and also find out if they need mobile network support, the Titan can link in quite a lot more if need be. Finally, see if you can find out if any drones are being deployed to Boston──Yeah, we're on the same page. If they have datalinks we can route them through the Titan and improve SAR efficiency. After that, see if you can get ahold of anyone with the Guild.──Yeah, Dragon. I tried reaching out to her but I'm only getting silence."
She stopped to listen to Jean, taking another sip from her energy drink. The fact that his daughter had apparently added a satellite uplink to her Focus was not even a surprise to him anymore. He had become inured at the various 'miracles' his daughter had become capable of.
"No, that's fine. I'll see what I can do on my end once we get to Boston. Look, I know you don't want to hear this, but we need to start diverting everything we can towards Hathor-model Focus production. The situation in Boston is a lot worse than I expected."
She paused, and tapped her Focus, and Jean's voice came through the satellite phone's speaker, allowing everyone to hear it in the cab.
"-Taylor, we've already had this discussion before you left. We're already stretched thinly as is, both in materials and manpower. If we divert production towards the Focus, we're going to have to reduce production on spare machine parts. We just don't have enough people to go around, and overtime as it is, is already going to be ruinous. And even if we start looking towards Focus production, the best we can manage is maybe one hundred units every three to four days..."
His daughter didn't say anything for a moment, instead closing her eyes, and he wondered exactly what she was going to say to that. He was firmly aware of the financial situation of the company, Jean constantly harped at him about it, because Taylor refused to listen to her.
"I know the timetables we are looking at to change production back to Foci, Jean. It can't be helped, but we only have five hundred of these as is, and it is not going to be enough, especially if my suspicions on why Boston's communications are down are right," she paused, chewing her lip, "Medhall isn't going to be any help, they are still a few months out on their first production run, and that's for the Horus model. What about the additions to the production team we had on standby, can we tap into them?"
"Taylor, we don't have the money for that. And even if you add them, that's maybe going to bump production up maybe another fifty to a hundred units in the same timeframe. Taylor, I think we need to settle on what we have."
"Can you reach out to Gene for me?"
There was a long pause from the other end, Jean, like himself, trying to figure out what Taylor was working towards.
"I can. May I ask why?"
Taylor was silent, turning her head and looking out the window, her expression inscrutable.
"Ask him," she hesitated, her head turning upwards to the roof of the semi, as if she were seeking divine providence, "ask him what it would take for him to provide an additional two million dollars."
Jean's silence on the other end was telling. Two million dollars was still quite a lot of money, even in the shadow of the money provided to start up Zero Dawn.
"Taylor, the company is already collateral for the startup loans. There is nothing we have on hand that we can offer that could back a request for that sum of money. Not to mention how it would make us look unreliable with our money. That is not the optics that you want or need as a new corporation. And even if you could get the money, it won't make a difference for those currently buried. They will be long dead before we can field any more units, Foci or otherwise, even if we could ramp up production now. You'd be better off seeing if he'd donate money for additional supplies for survivors."
To his surprise, Taylor didn't immediately answer, even though her expression suggested she was about to start arguing with Jean. Instead, she was silent, and he watched as she chewed the inside of her cheek, indicating both she was thinking about it, but also not liking what she was thinking.
"Taylor," Quentin spoke, but she shook her head towards him and he quieted.
"Okay, Jean. You're right," she reached up and massaged her face, exhaustion creeping through in her expression and body language, "why couldn't Leviathan give us another two or three weeks? I could have gotten us more money for additional Hathors and finished development of the Ptah. Reach out to Gene, see what you can get from him, you know him better than I do, if it's aid we can get, do it. I know we can get grants, and we will need machines going forward, especially if we want to help with Boston, but you are right, we need to focus on the most immediate impact we can provide right now."
Again, silence met them, before finally Jean answered, "I'm sorry, Taylor. I know you didn't want to hear that from me, but it needed to be said. I'll ask. I think Gene will be open to at least helping with the aid. But any more than that is going to be a tall order, I can at least get them to focus on maybe a few more spare parts, but anything larger is going to require another cash infusion we can't really afford to take loans on."
"And I appreciate it. We're all trying our best here. Just talk to him, see what he says. If he wants some sort of guarantee, I'll find a way, Jean," Taylor said after a pause, "just start shaking the trees for me. If it comes down to it, I'll do what I have to."
"I'll see what I can do, Taylor. I better get to work. Good luck."
"Same to you, Jean."
She then tapped her focus, and placed the sat phone down, taking a deep breath and then releasing it. She glanced up at him, and he wondered what was going through her mind right now. His daughter's single-minded drive for this moment, while admirable, was still a major risk. They hadn't the opportunity to truly test any of this, only Taylor's constant assurance that it would work driving this. If something went wrong, or worse, it failed completely, it would be devastating.
"Taylor-"
"I know," she cut him off, rubbing her tired eyes, "but we're looking at thousands, possibly tens of thousands, trapped. It will take days to get specialized SAR assets into the area thanks to the damage done to Logan. They'll probably shift a carrier battle group and the Comfort to assist, along with whatever heavy-lift rotor-wing aircraft they can scrape up. Anything that gives us an edge and saves even another life is not off the table. But for at least the next twenty-four hours we are on our own!"
"What about the Protectorate?"
She laughed bitterly, "Endbringer truces only last seventy-two to ninety-six hours from the first alert, depending upon the Endbringer and the target. Just enough time for the capes to fight, lick their wounds, collect their dead, and go back home for business as usual. There isn't even a dedicated unit to help with disaster relief, and because of politics, FEMA can't poach or even request capes who would be useful in disaster assistance. It's largely left to independent volunteers and capes that live in the affected area to pick up the pieces."
"Oh," and that's really all he could say on the matter. He was still learning as he went, this was still far outside his wheelhouse. The fact that Taylor was this well informed only lent credence that she had a far better understanding of the situation and that was why she was so adamant in producing more machines.
But it could be handled better, he felt. Jean had just as salient of a point in the fact that Zero Dawn was stretched thin financially, even with the sales beginning to come in from the materials sales, it was still not enough for the type of large expenditure Taylor was lobbying for. Yet at the same time, Taylor knew more of what was needed than he did.
It did help, however, that at least they were now communicating. Previously, he would have been unprepared for Taylor's request, but they had talked over the last week about what could take place and what contingencies she was planning for.
Honestly, it was amazing that she was planning so far in depth for what may or may not happen.
But even this was bordering on cataclysmic. Taylor's models had been good, but they didn't hold a candle to the reports that had been able to come out of Boston. The lack of sufficient warning had left many unable to reach the safety of shelter before Leviathan struck, stranding far too many to the mercies of the waves that were a staple of the Endbringer's attacks.
Taylor, however, had not been interested in that, as callous as that sounded. She was more interested in the status of Logan International Airport. The entire time they had been gathering together, she had been adamant to know exactly what its status was.
It had only been as they were getting into the semis, that they received the news that Logan International was, for all intents and purposes, completely gone. It had been the direct path of Leviathan, and the Endbringer had not excluded the airport from its wrath in its course for the center of Boston..
The way Taylor's face had closed off said enough.
Before he could say anything more, they were interrupted by Kent.
"Hey boss, state patrol up ahead, they're blocking the road."
He turned away from his daughter to look out the windshield, and sure enough, on the straight-away that would pass by the Randolph exits, was a single state patrol car sitting in the middle of the road, its lights flashing illuminating its surroundings in the fading light, with a wooden barricade set up to further block the road and force them on a path to take the exit to the right.
Taylor had moved up into the cabin and looked out, even as the semi slowed down.
"Pull up to them," Danny finally said, already drawing a picture that he was not necessarily liking. The only reason they would be shutting Route 24 down was either damage down the line, which was unlikely with the oncoming traffic in the other lane of the expressway, or they were trying to control what was coming into Boston.
Coming to a stop in the left lane of the expressway, Danny proceeded to get out of the truck, Taylorhot on his heels as he walked towards the trooper. By the reaction of the trooper, that was probably not the best way considering how he tensed, his expression wary.
"Officer," he called out.
"Sir, I need you to get back in the semi and turn off into Randolph," a young state trooper approached, his hand resting upon his sidearm, but not drawing it yet, but the threat was evident, "no unauthorized vehicles are allowed beyond this point."
"Officer, we're here to help. I'm Danny Hebert of Zero Dawn Technologies out of Brockton Bay. I have behind me nine semi-trailers with rescue equipment and humanitarian aid for Boston. We set out to help as soon as we got the word."
"I'm sorry sir, but my orders are clear. I cannot allow you to pass."
"Can you at least-"
"I'm sorry sir, but again I can't allow you any further."
"May I speak with your supervisor? I'm sure that we can work something out to get these supplies to Boston."
There was a pause from the trooper, as he seemed to be looking for something. Whatever it was that he was looking for he found as his shoulders slumped slightly, his hand moving away from the sidearm.
"There is no supervisor, sir," he admitted, exhaustion and resignation lacing his tone, "Leviathan knocked out communications from Boston, what we are getting is spotty at best, and my orders are to shut down Route 24 to all non-essential vehicles. I have my orders sir. I'm sorry."
I can't violate those orders, sir. I'm sorry."
It was beginning to look much worse than any of Taylor's models, he realized with horror, the implications readily obvious. Without consistent communications, whatever response and coordination coming from Boston was going to be a mess at best. It meant that currently every single command was doing their own things according to their own operating procedure, and many of them likely had procedures that interfered with others.
Which meant that a lot of people were going to die.
"What's your name, son," he asked sincerely. He couldn't even fathom what must be going through the trooper's head right now. An Endbringer attack in Boston, and he was forced to shut down a road outside of the city, without any real idea of what was going on, the only thing he was left with were his orders and his own thoughts. He didn't envy the trooper.
"Waldren, sir," the trooper replied stiffly.
"I understand you have your orders, but this is aid to an Endbringer disaster area. Is there any way I can convince you to let us through, Trooper Waldren?"
The man hesitated for a moment. It was obvious to anyone he was caught between doing the right thing and following the orders he had been given. And for a moment, he thought he had gotten through to the trooper, before the man finally shook his head.
"Sorry, sir. I can't. I'm going to once again ask you to turn your convoy into Randolph. If you are offering aid to Boston, then talk with the authorities there. They can likely coordinate something with you. But I have to keep this route closed to all non-essential vehicles."
"Okay, son," he replied, holding back a sigh of resignation at the failure to reach the man. He hated it, but he could also understand the trooper's plight and couldn't hold it against him in this situation. So he turned around, and he found Taylor was already walking back towards the semi with fast, purposeful strides.
He then turned, and found Taylor was already walking towards the semi with fast, purposeful strides.
Ah shit, he thought, even as he started jogging after her. He had just caught up with her as she opened the door to the semi.
"Kent, signal the rest of the trucks, unload now. Quentin, get out here, we're going to have to improvise."
She then started towards the back of the semi, even as a "Fuck," escaped from the cab courtesy of Quentin. Kent himself began talking into his radio, obviously passing Taylor's orders.
"Taylor," he started, barely keeping up with her stride as she moved, "what are you doing?"
"What does it look like," she shot back, "if they won't let us through, I'll just go around."
"Go around," he repeated, and everything clicked into place, and he fought the urge to panic, "Taylor it's nearly twenty miles to Boston."
"Which I can cover in an hour with the LRL," she returned, coming to a stop at the back of the tarp, reaching up with her hands. Her fingers began moving as if she were typing, occasionally stopping to swipe her hand in the air. He didn't know exactly what she was doing, but with her Focus she had what she referred to as an augmented reality system that allowed her to interact with devices freely without needing a computer.
"Taylor, that isn't what we planned for. You told me that you needed a forward base so you could resupply and maintain the units. If you do this, you won't have any of that logistical support for god knows how long."
She paused, her hands hanging in the air.
"I know," she finally breathed, "but I'm not going to be deterred, Dad. If I can save even one life, then the cost is worth it. I couldn't live with myself otherwise."
He wanted to yell at her. He wanted to scream at her. To tell her that this was a mistake, that her life was worth more than anyone that she could save. But instead, he kept it back, because he knew it would be pointless. This was his daughter in a nutshell, she didn't care about the personal cost to her, all that mattered to her was that she was able to save lives.
Instead, he sighed, placing a hand on her shoulder, "Okay," he finally said, "What do we need to do?"
"The energy demands for this run are going to push the envelope on projections, we're going to have to lash as many extra fuel cells as we can to the Titan. It's a stopgap measure, but until we can get more support, it's the best option available. When I get to the disaster area, I should be able to get someone to actually let you guys through. Just wait for me."
He frowned, not liking what his daughter was saying. He intellectually understood what she was working towards, but the father in him did not like hearing it.
"Taylor, let me go with you," he pleaded, knowing that ordering her would achieve nothing. The idea that his daughter was planning to go alone into a disaster area was nearly too much. Why couldn't she just do the safe thing and wait?
Before she could answer, Quentin came up to them, the laptop in hand, "What do you need of me, Taylor?"
"I need you to do one more review of the stowed Focuses on the Titan. I have some suspicions as to why the trooper is only getting sporadic communications from Boston, and if it's true we'll need every single one of them ready to go."
"Roger that," the man nodded, turning back towards the cab, even as he began getting back to work on the laptop. As he did that, several men that had ridden along on the semis were congregating around them.
"Okay," Taylor called out, her voice carrying in air that might as well be still, "we're debarking the machines. We'll start with the Titan first, then the Watchers and Scrappers, and finally the Charger. I need you guys to ensure that they get off safely. We won't be able to unload any of the supplies or replacement parts for more than likely twenty-four hours, so make sure they don't get dinged. Ramirez, Brown, Eaton, and Yaxley, I need you to lash as many Fuel Cells to the Titan as you can as soon as we get it off the semi. We're going to have to do all of this on the fly, so let's do it right the first time, okay?"
The corresponding calls of acknowledgement caused him to swell with pride. Even at fifteen years old, she seemed to have taken the best of him, and combined it with the force of will of Annette, and shaping it into something uniquely her own. When she was like this, she had the presence that could make men and women triple her age snap to attention and follow her command without a question.
Satisfied her orders were out and getting done, she turned to him, providing him an answer to his question, "I need you here, Dad. On the sat phone with Jean and letting her know what's going on. I need you ready to move all of this on a moment's notice, these men and women respect you and will move through hell for you."
"They'll do the same for you, Taylor."
"But I need to be out there, guiding the machines, Dad. Even with all of the effort I have put into making them capable of independent action, it has to be a human hand that gives them their orders. I can't do that if I know I won't have reinforcements when we finally get the green light to move in the supplies."
"Don't move!"
Both of their head snapped towards the highway patrolman, who had moved up on them, but he had his gun in hand, drawn and leveled upon them, even as his eyes darted towards the Titan as the canvas had been removed from the storage container, and it was bared for all to see.
"What the fuck is this," the trooper demanded.
"Rescue equipment," Taylor turned towards him, "I'm Taylor Hebert, CEO of Zero Dawn Technologies. I am also Alloy, an independent cape. These machines are meant to assist in search and rescue. And under the Endbringer Truce, you are illegally obstructing a cape attempting to render aid to a disaster area."
"And what's-"
"Sir, I did not spend spend the last month and almost ten million dollars putting this together in some sort of convoluted attempt at suicide. I'm here to save lives," she then paused as a Burrower skulked up beside her, the machine being disturbingly quiet in its approach, "and you're in my way."
For a moment, he worried that Taylor had pushed too hard as the trooper's expression hardened for a moment. But then his features softened as he slowly lowered his weapon, his shoulders sagging slightly in what could only be described as relief.
.
"You're actually going to help," he asked.
"I am."
A few more moments of silence met them, before he nodded, "Alright. I'll let you through."
The trooper then turned and headed back to the roadblock, leaving them alone. But before he could say anything to Taylor, she moved towards the back of the second rig and he found himself following her.
"Ethan, you have it?"
"Yes, Taylor," came the response of Ethan, who handed her a thick jacket, one that not only provided warmth, but by its weave, it was also meant to provide protection. Taylor slipped off the slight jacket she was wearing and handed it to him, before putting the new one on.
"Taylor, what are you doing," he asked.
"I'm going on ahead," she stated as she zipped up the jacket, "Keep unloading, Ethan."
"Right, ma'am."
Instead of being angry as Ethan moved to rejoin the others, he sighed, knowing that the decision was already made, but even if that was true, it was his job as a father to try and convince her otherwise. Even if he didn't even think it was the wrong decision.
"Taylor, if you stay with us, we can reach the staging point that they are likely putting together and set up. That way you won't have to worry about supplies, and we can start coordinating with local law enforcement and anyone else."
The shake of her head told him all that he needed to know, as she reached into the bag and pulled out an odd device. It was a breathing mask of some kind, but one that he didn't recognize. She unclasped the strap, reaching up and securing it behind her head, leaving the mask to rest around her neck.
"If they are shutting Route 24 off at Randolph, that means that they are likely using I-93 as a main supply route. By breaking off, I can reach whatever command center they have set up long before the convoy could get there and arrange things. That way we can get set up before nightfall and get our orders on what to do. But I have to go now, especially if they are trying to control traffic into 93, with my machines, I can follow the interstate without getting caught in any of the traffic."
She then paused, looking towards him, "I just want to save lives, Dad. And every minute saved could be the difference for a lot of trapped people."
His heart leapt in pride, even as it was tempered by fear. His daughter's singular focus on saving lives had driven them to this point, and it appeared that it would keep driving them damn the consequences. He honestly could not be more proud of her if he could.
"You'll be alone out there, Taylor. We won't be able to back you up if something goes wrong."
Taylor's silence was telling, because it told him that she was at least listening. Even if he knew, deep down, that it was an exercise in futility.
"Being smart will count for nothing if you don't make the world better. You have to use your smarts to count for something, to serve life, not death."
"What?"
She shook her head, "I'm sorry. It's something that I keep thinking about in all of this. I have all this knowledge Dad, but if I don't use it, then what is the point? I'm the only person who can do this, right here, right now. Not a week from now, when it may be too late for dozens and maybe hundreds."
She zipped up the jacket, her expression resolute.
"I couldn't live with myself if I didn't do this."
He didn't say anything, because honestly, what was there to say? Instead, he pulled his daughter into a bone-crushing hug, trying to ignore the tears starting to trek down his face.
"Okay, Little Owl," he said softly, trying not to choke on his words, "I'm not going to stop. Just be careful and keep in contact."
"I can do you one better," she responded, leaving him confused, before opening a case she extracted from the duffel bag, opening it up to him.
"Taylor, I-," he lost his words looking at the Focus currently resting in the case before him.
"It's not as powerful or as customized as mine, but it will run circles around all of the ones on the Titan. I've disabled most of the user-side inputs, so everything needs to be accessed through manipulating the augmented reality interface. I don't recommend moving while doing that until you are comfortable doing so."
"Taylor. Why are you doing this? You know I'm pants with this technology."
"That's why the controls are simplified," was her response, still holding it out to him even in spite of his protests, "I have it paired to my device, so you can access what I am seeing on choice. That way you know what I am doing and how I am doing."
He stared at the device again, before looking back to his daughter. Unlike before, he took the time to truly take her in, knowing the efforts that must have gone into this. In recent weeks, he had begun to really learn just how to read his daughter, despite her own efforts to hide it. And right now, in spite of her attempts to appear calm, she was an open and ready book despite his inability to see her eyes.
There was hope there, even in spite of the fact that he had already given her his blessing, that he would readily embrace what she was doing. Not out of grudging admittance that he had no choice, that she would bull through him regardless, but ready acceptance.
In spite of the tough front she put up, deep down, she was still that fifteen year old teenager looking for acceptance from her sole remaining parental figure.
It was too much, as he surged forward and wrapped her into a hug. Sure, it was maybe a bit too much, hugging his daughter out in public like this, but he couldn't help himself at the pride he felt in her. It had been a worry not three weeks ago that her would lose her, that to see her now, going to such extents to include him.
"I'm proud of you," he said, and his daughter stiffened in his hug, before relaxing slightly. He then released her after a few moments, stepping back slightly.
"Okay, show me how to use this."
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