Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 57143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
In Woodward’s view, there were three types of constructs: mechanical, magical, and biological. Animals and people fit into that last category, and the only difference between them and his creations were the materials from which they were made. That last bit came from a rare speech he’d given at an animator conference a decade ago. Animators were an odd lot, but even Woodward’s words managed to disturb them enough to prevent any invitations since.
Augustine scrutinized the house one more time.
No guard house, no patrols, no floodlights. Nothing to indicate that a security force oversaw the mansion. Almost every House employed private protection. Hired guards were so common, their absence was both glaring and alarming.
That meant automated defenses. Woodward was likely to have turrets. Those two towers flanking the arched entrance were there for a reason, but Augustine wasn’t worried about the turrets. They would be the least of their problems.
“Ten o’clock.” Diana passed the rifle back to him.
Augustine looked through the scope, aiming in the direction she’d indicated.
There it was. A group of metal statues, arranged in a circle beneath the shadows of the trees, like some kind of art installation. Their odd contours threw him for a moment, until his brain made the connection.
Woodward’s mansion was guarded by a pack of dinosaur constructs.
The constructs waited, motionless, arranged in three concentric circles. The outer ring consisted of the smallest creatures, six of them, roughly chest-high and resembling velociraptors. Not the actual versions from fossil records, which weighed about forty pounds, but the oversized movie versions, designed to terrify.
The second ring featured three thicker, larger creatures, odd hybrids of a triceratops and a prehistoric rhino.
The central beast towered above the rest, vaguely reminiscent of a T-Rex, poised on massive hind legs. Leaner than most museum reconstructions, the giant construct had longer forelimbs armed with sickle-shaped claws and a vicious, dragon-like head. Fourteen feet high and forty or so long, most of that length due to a tail constructed from squarish segments of razor-sharp blades.
The pseudo-T-Rex would lock on to the greatest threat, the triceratops herd would disable any vehicles, and the raptors would run down the individual intruders and mop up. All angles covered.
There was a towering arrogance in grouping them like that. Either Woodward didn’t care, or he had liked the aesthetics of the arrangement. Like a small child, he’d set his toys up for display.
They truly looked like pieces of art, cohesive, elegant, slick, their lines efficient yet natural, as if they had evolved in some alternate reality and Woodward had reached into it and pulled them out.
“Just so we are on the same page,” he murmured. “These are advanced guard models. Most constructs require an animator to activate them. These don’t. Any movement will set them off. They are equipped with visual, auditory, and infrared sensors, and they process their sensory input.”
“Meaning?”
“I can fool their visual sensors, but my illusions have no substance. Unless the constructs register body heat and sound in addition to the visual feedback, they won’t fall for my subterfuge. As you have seen yourself, they’re difficult to destroy. They will reform, and magic will compensate for any damage, up to a point. However, they can be temporarily disabled with enough fire power. They will also re-form much more slowly than the constructs at Sturm’s compound. That’s the price of their autonomy.”
She nodded.
“The only way to the Vault is from inside the house,” he continued. “The walls are reinforced, and shooting blind at them is too risky.”
Anything strong enough to breach the walls would almost certainly endanger the creatures inside.
“I’m reasonably sure the constructs won’t enter the house,” he said. “We have to make it to the front door and get in.”
“What about the turrets?”
Ah. She spotted them as well. “I have a plan for the turrets. But I will require help with the constructs.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What kind of help?”
“How fast are the wolves?”
“You want to use them as bait?”
“A distraction. We need something with body heat and a heartbeat to anchor the illusion. If they can buy us thirty seconds, they can disengage. The constructs will not leave the grounds. Woodward wouldn’t want to open himself up to the liability of accidentally injuring civilians.”
He felt a small pang of guilt. Before leaving MII, he had picked up the backpack he usually carried on covert missions. It waited in the backseat now, and inside it were five bouncers, small robotic gadgets designed specifically to mislead targeting sensors. The first set was a gift from Linus Duncan, but now MII bought them on a regular basis. They could use the bouncers to misdirect the constructs, but he didn’t want to. He had a feeling they would need them, especially if things went to shit. And in his experience, things could always go to shit.
Diana frowned. “Sending the wolves against that many constructs means certain death.”