SETTLING THE ISSUE was simple. She descended into the side-basement complex via elevator. Coming to a stop in one room from a back entrance, she addressed all of the Soldier enlisted and then addressed the engineer enlisted. Both speeches she gave were of similar length and content but with minor variables changed.

  "Enlisted!" her speech started. "I welcome you to the first day of your new life! We will now continue with orientation. Your first day is nearing its end. The tedious elements, I should say, is nearing its end. Continue onto your new barracks. The doors behind me will take you to our accommodations. Once you are settled, wait further instructions."

  The soldiers and engineers did as they were instructed. All of them looked happy to be finally doing something. Especially the recruits who had been tested earlier in the day, some seven hours ago. Every recruit ushered themselves through their respective doors; as they went, she kept track of them, but there was not any reason to since of the recruits here, none looked to harbor anything more than minor irritation at being forced to wait.

  The barracks quickly filled. With movement allowed once more and soldier and engineer greeting each other not as desperate, scared refugee, but as compatriots in the greater struggle, people not unlike Zan and his teammates, they were filled with purpose anew.

  At her charging table in the war room, which she decided would give privilege to only the highest ranked in the Order, which is to say, Zan and his teammates, and her, she addressed the assembled through the barracks via the intercom. "I have seen it. You are all ready," she spoke into the microphone which then carried her voice to every part of the center. "Soldiers. Report outside and man the defense turrets. Divide yourselves evenly among each emplacement by the perimeter. Engineers. Assemble outside the command center proper and await my orders."

  In her circuit's eye, she saw the dozens of men and women scatter to obey her. She wouldn't deny her impulses -- it felt good to see people once more in their numbers obey her words, her will.

  Outside once more, her gaze never far from her battery percentage marker, she spoke to the engineer corps. This speech was the one she hurried her processors over. Though as a Martial Order her focus would always be more on combat than non-combat, engineering, construction and the like, her specialty remained oriented toward the well-keeping of a fortress. Hence, the engineering corps would be her first attempt at re-establishing her life.

  In the hustle of repairing an old base and the hurry of war, she nearly forgot about herself. She had hopes and dreams as well as Zan and Jiehong and Whiskey. Her aspirations were not any less significant than the humans' desires and dreams.

  Addressing the crowd, she said, "Engineers. What does this mean to you? To some of you, it might mean something which terrifies you and fills you with a sense of inadequacy. For others, it could mean the opposite. Whatever your outlook, I want to say one thing to all of you: as you stand before me, you are each inadequate in your own way. Blessed be! The gods have granted you this chance. This chance with the Shiv Order to make yourselves better and dignified. Prove yourself worthy and you will prove yourselves more than dignified. You will prove yourselves as worthy of the education we are going to bestow upon you. This education is not free, though. You will earn it as you've earned your keep. Your first assignment begins now."

  Her words captivated the audience. If not for the exact words, then their implications. Their immediacy. Everyone knew this would be no cakewalk.

  Sigma-Prime directed everyone to their task -- picking up golems from the battlefield beyond the perimeter.

  "Ma'am?" one youth asked, the youth who appeared to be Zan's own peer of perhaps a slightly wiser age.

  "Yes? State your name, recruit!" she replied.

  "My name is Barrow, ma'am. I wanted to ask how we are to gather up all of the automotrons? Most of them are dissolved into chunks which further rotted on the ground. Our hands won't do much, methinks..." Barrow asked.

  If 'surprise' was an emotion she could feel, her face would be crimson red with ambaressement. How could she have forgotten such an important element? In truth, so fascinated she had been with estbalishing the Order guard and engineering corps, she had totally forgotten about the pragmatic element of her assignment.

  No matter. She would work it out now.

  "In the basement level next to the barracks there is a wing of the command center used for storage. Search in there for a wagon or sled," she told Barrow.

  While the lad ran off to search the center -- she knew he would be gone for a while -- she told the rest to begin work.

  Before they went off, another youth, albeit a female one, rose her hand. She asked, "Ma'am? Recruit Sarah speaking. Where are we to dump the bodies? Into a pile? I assume you wish for us to burn them?"

  Sigma noted the girl's name. She replied, "In light of having no wagon to transport large sums at once, yes. A pile will be fine. I want each of you to spread out and arrange the fallen golems into local piles. Once we have the wagon up and out, you will remove the pile onto the wagon. We will then transport each wagonful into the command center where the automotrons will be used as spiritual fuel for the command center's expansion."

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  Hearing the command center was to be expanded sent many a whisper through the engineers-to-be.

  While the group crossed the perimeter line now manned by guards, guards who were on the lookout for any automotron intruders, just in case now should be when the enemy renewed their attack, she used her circuitry to check on Barrow's progress. He was, finally, within the proper basement wing; he had spent a long few minutes frantically wandering the basement before the Screen Master set him right, but could not find a wagon. He could look there forever. Sigma already knew there was no such wagon in the command center's storage.

  Why there was no wagon or any other kind of reserve building material she did not know. By all accounts, there should have been something within storage. Typically, there were resources of a kind to use. The only explanation for why their storage units were empty was bad. Namely, whatever calamity which forced the Order into hibernation must've been on a scale of such danger to eradicate their surplus resources. The very thought put a chill to her data...

  Which begged the question -- what should they do?

  By the time Barrow returned to her, defeated, she knew.

  "Barrow. Stop your excuses. I have a new task for you," she said.

  Barrow stopped his jabbering excuses and looked to her. He saluted instead of speaking.

  "Can I entrust to you a special-Order task?" she asked.

  "Yes! I will carry out my duties with the utmost care -- ma'am!" he said, too serious, she thought, but that was hardly a problem.

  "Take a couple of your soldier brethren and enter the nearby town of Thundervale. Purchase for us a new wagon and bring the wagon back to the base. I will give you basic currency for the transaction," she explained.

  "Ma'am? If I can speak freely? Why not simply make our own wagon? We surely have the talent. We definitely have the resources," he said, glancing around to confirm the presence of many trees.

  "We do not have the time," she said. "Right now, our efforts are better spent in clearing the field and garnering what little spiritual essence there is to be had in doing so. This charge alone will take us a great while. We cannot spare the labor in building a wagon, which would take weeks."

  Barrow understood. He ran off to talk to some of the guards. He did not have trouble finding the help. So far, the guards had only been standing around, so they were extremely bored. Looking upon the horizon all day was not a fun nor engaging activity, especially for the younger among them.

  Herself returned to the command center and scrummaged around for a few of the basic currency papers. Among the donations the camp received, people had given reams of currency. Well, perhaps not literal 'reams,' but it was enough to get by... with so many people having left, however, those sorts of donations would no longer come. They would need to be extremely frugal with their remaining funds; Sigma-Prime knew she would be the only one capable of using such funds wisely.

  With funds in hand, or rather her storage compartment, she returned outside to find Barrow with a few of his soldier mates. With the exception of Dave Dix, the guard he chose were overwhelmingly his age. Hardly unexpected. In time, though, he would learn there is value in seeking the help of the older generation.

  "Here are the currency bonds. Use them well and do not be scammed. Do not purchase a wagon or cart which is impractical for the uses of camp. If you are spending Order money, then the item purchased should be for everyone's use, not simply for the use of a minority. Much less because you thought it looked cool or because you think you got a good deal on a newer model. Understood?" she told the youth, Barrow.

  "Understood!" he replied, finishing off his salute.

  With Barrow and a few of the guardsmen gone to town, she took the time to return into the command center.

  At her charging table, she could easily oversee the whole of the command center. She saw the chef finish his cookery and Zan as he left his chambers to enter the kitchen. Outside, the guards remained posted to their stations overlooking the perimeter. The engineers focused on their gathering. And the Dissenters? Not causing trouble, yet. Though she would keep her visor peeled. And finally, the townward-bound group. They had just left the perimeter and went along the road.

  With everyone occupied, she knew now was the time to take stock of the plan. The plan, being, the complete regeneration of the command center.

  For too long had they, and more importantly, Zan, struggled with the center's limited capabilities post-emergence. Coming on three months now they wrestled with inadequacy. With corrupted data and with doing the bare minimum to keep the base's essential services in function. They made good progress, of course. Yet what else would transpire from working themselves day and night? Modulating the center's worse damages by using magic from the Slipstream? Then there were the repairs on the important war tools which Zan desperately needed, such as the grenades and the headset, the recovered lessons from the databanks. With so many weak points and with expansion -- much needed expansion, at that -- on the horizon, Sigma-Prime needed to go for broke. She needed to refurbish this base from the ground-up. And she would do so with pure spiritual matter.

  'If only the Spirit Core had allowed us to work on it earlier,' she lamented. 'Then it might have been different. I could have gotten the tutorial lessons for Zan going much sooner. Possibly, I could have even finished creating the headset much sooner. Alas, what can one do when the spiritual essence of the base is traumatized? Nothing is what... but I knew that already.'

  Thinking back on the long road of command center repair, she remembered the additional rooms within the secondary basement level. The rooms, now locked, alongside the Backroads chamber and the Spirit Core Processer chamber. 'The wonders in those rooms will not be seen for a very long time...' She knew if the Order had any hope of rekindling those chambers, behind each of which stood waiting for them a weapon or tool of immense power or possibility, she would need to throw everything she had into whipping these whippersnappers into fighting and engineering shape!

  'Step one,' she knew 'is to fill this spirit core with as much energy as humanly possible. Then... I do not know. Beyond 'then' is too far away to take seriously. 'For now. I need to focus on renewing this center. I will do this, I swear. And by any means necessary.'