Discovery Gaming Community

He entered the office briskly and stepped right in front of the desk, leaning forward on it with both hands.

"Please tell me..." he began.

"Not yet, Michael," Devon Miles said with a bemused smirk, "But perhaps soon enough."

"Great, what now?"

"Well," Devon began, placing his fingertips together, "Supposedly this Dane Summers is going to run a popular poll for the seat of administration..."

"But you don't buy it."

Devon raised an eyebrow.

"Why should I? After all, this man was hired by Dakun himself. There's little reason to believe his intentions, let alone their results, are genuine."

"So...?"

"Contingency plan."

Michael Knight smiled and hit the desk with a fist.

"Nice! Where do I start?"

"You're to start off by contacting Mister Austin Goodman. I believe you ran into him near the station. He seems to share our sentiment, and I believe you could use the support."

"Outside factors aren't always good," Michael started.

"... But not always bad, either. Michael, this situation is critical. We must act with speed and precision."

"Alright then, I agree, so where can I find the guy?"

"Near the Freeport. I'll have the precise coordinates in the ice field transmitted to Kitt. You can go from there."

Michael turned to leave but stopped short of the door. He glanced over his shoulder, a slightly guilty look on his face.

"By the way, sorry your negotiations didn't turn out alright."

Devon sighed and leaned back in his recliner, then gave Michael a quizzical look.

"Are you saying you don't like your job, Michael?"

"Never," he replied with a grin.

"Good evening, Michael."

"Evening, Devon," the young man replied with an amiable smile, "So what mess am I going to clean up this time?"

Devon Miles frowned and looked down at a datapad, rapping his knuckles next to it on the rosewood desk.

"I've been reviewing the logs that Kitt has been recording," he began, "And have had one of those curious instances of... How would you phrase it?"

"Gut feelings?" Michael filled in.

"Yes, quite. You ran across one of those OCULUS drones in orbit of Houston..."

"Find it odd?" Michael interrupted.

"Clearly you did too, judging by your conversational material," Devon continued, "But that drone is only one of many suspicious things that this company has been involved in. I did a little digging, and found such gems as a mysterious, unresolved death of a high-level programmer, not twenty-four standard hours after he voiced complaints about the company and lost his employment."

"Suicide?"

"With a family to provide for?" Devon countered, "Possible, but not very likely. They also had an open contract about constructing a new research facility, with a distinct emphasis on privacy and a large scale."

"Well privacy isn't anything new," Michael muttered, "After all, the Foundation doesn't like authorities poking into our business either."

"Yes, but then again the Foundation was created for a fundamentally beneficial purpose, whereas OCULUS is a profit-seeking corporation from top to bottom. Their vaunted technology division in conjunction with a large scale, private development area leaves far too many questions."

Michal Knight clicked his jaw and looked square in Devon's eyes.

"Shipyard?"

"It's possible," Miles replied, "Although, let's be honest, who knows what it means."

"Aren't those guys also a front-runner in Artificial Intelligence, social robots and the like?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact they are. Dare I say that their progress in that department rivals that of Knight Industries' old programs."

"You don't mean to tell me..."

"No," Devon said, "Kitt is not obsolete to our knowledge. Knight Industries and the Foundation kept their entire AI development project out of the public sphere, and so far there is no sign that industrial espionage has compromised Kitt's technology."

Michael leaned against the desk and stared at the pattern embroidered on the carpet.

"So what do you want me to do about it?"

"I want you to do what you always do. Sniff around, prod the people that others won't. I realize that OCULUS represents a powerful organization to trifle with, but we have the benefit of stealth and surprise."

"What about Kitt?"

Devon shook his head and sighed quietly.

"A risk we'll have to take. If push comes to shove, then you know what to do."

"Here's hoping I won't have to," Michael said as he kicked off the desk and left the office.

"Incredible," Devon Miles muttered, seething with anger, "Absolutely incredible."

Michael Knight stood with his hands shoved in his pockets, silent, like a schoolboy trying to avoid the wrath of a teacher. He'd never seen Devon so worked up before. Then again, Bretonia was now fighting a war on two fronts.

"Michael," Miles began, "I have no other option. You're going back to Freeport One."

"But to do what?" the young man protested, "They're not gonna listen to me, especially when they didn't listen to you."

"Obviously," Devon spat with derision, "But the time for diplomacy is long gone anyway. Now is a time for action. Michael, you and Kitt must investigate the causes of this conflict and, and the very least, provide us with enough information to split the Freeport from the situation."

Devon sat back and rubbed his face with one hand.

"I've already talked to the refugees," he said slowly, "A miserable bunch, to be sure..."

Michael put his hands up in mock surrender.

"Alright, alright," he replied, "But personally I think this is crazy. Warzones aren't my specialty."

Miles snorted and shook his head.

"I believe Kitt would agree..."

"Yeah," Michael retorted as he turned to leave, "Well at least he's got armor on him."