The V.I.C.I. Diaries: Valley of the Damned (Part 4)

[DukeNukem 2417]

“So, Mister Aaberg, do you still believe we are...as your associate in the parking garage so eloquently put it, 'trying to screw you over'?”

Björn Aaberg found that he couldn't answer the question posed to him by Anders Stahl, partially because he was having a bit of trouble adjusting to the sight before him: ninety-five capsules, each one holding a female figure clad only in skintight black shorts, black sports bra and what appeared to be knee-high boots. “I...I do not think that in the slightest,” he finally stammered, after a few seconds of trying to find the words. “This....all of this....what is this?!”

“This,” Michael Grade replied, “is the means by which you are going to make Victoria Ann-Smith Lawson and all of her pathetic little knee-jerking friends pay for what they did to you in Dawley. I'll spare you the technical description and just call these beauties what they are: fembots. Humanoid robots capable of tearing San Jose to shreds if they so desired---or, more accurately, if we so desire---with the most aesthetically-pleasing appearances one could ever hope to ask for. These, Mr. Aaberg, are going to make you forget all abouit Dawley---possibly even redefine your career.” He grinned, clapping the arms-dealer on the shoulder; “This is going to be a day you'll remember forever,” he beamed.

Anders rolled his eyes. “It will be a day we will remember as well,” he muttered, “provided we can actually get something done, as far as deploying the fembots is concerned.”

“Shut up,” Grade hissed. “Hannsen had the codes, he should've---”

Four tannoy speakers in the corners of the room blared to life, a rattling cough sounding from each. “Funny how spending a night or two in Casualty can redefine the scope of one's life,” the voice of Matthew Emmerich Hannsen coughed. “You lot....didn't even trust me to leave the codes where you could find them?” A weak chuckle punctuated the half-joking accusation. “Always looking for the Maestro to write the last note...”

“You do have the codes,” Stahl intoned, “and you will give them---”

“What I will do,” Hannsen interjected, “and what---” Wet, thick coughs, liquidy even through the tannoy, cut off his words. “Sorry to burst your bubble, Andy, but I'm a little busy trying not to die at the moment....”

Stahl turned away, just as Grade was about to launch into a more-than-likely profanity-laced rant---but it was Aaberg who turned the discussion back to its original point. “The Lawson girl...she has shamed both of us,” he whispered. “I am still here, still able to avenge myself---”

“Oh, good for you,” Hannsen spat. “Just rub it in, ya git.”

“That is not what I meant....I can avenge both of us, Hannsen. Give me the codes...I will send this army of robot women....these fembots...to destroy the Lawson girl, and to make her friends suffer as well!”

Silence.

“Hannsen.....please....”

After another volley of coughs from the speakers, the Maestro made up his mind: “There should be a terminal about five feet away from where you're standing---and yes, the room is wired with cameras. Now, then...enter the code I'm about to give you, exactly as I give it to you---one wrong digit, and you'll break the system.”

For the next three minutes, Aaberg typed in the full sixty-four character code, with each tap of the keyboard adding another letter or number and allowing him to make sure he hadn't misheard Hannsen on any count. He allowed himself a grin as the monitor blinked a few obscure stats; “It seems your code has worked,” he beamed.

“If you like that,” Hannsen bragged, “you'll love this next bit....”

One by one, the capsules began to hum as the figures inside went through their start-up procedures---at a far more accelerated pace than usual. The stimulii they had endured, in addition to forcing them into red-ring parameters, had overridden their BIOS, start-up instructions and even the rudimentary factory-default persona files on their processors. Seconds after the code had been accepted, ninety-five pairs of eyes opened. “Your fembot army,” Hannsen proudly declared, only for the sentence to end with another coughing fit. “DAMN it...why the HELL....oh, sod it. Just give them a destination, and they'll tear it to shreds.”

Stahl nodded. “I believe the center of San Jose State University campus would be---”

“Hang on a minute,” Grade cut in. “Didn't someone at the meeting suggest sending them right into the ALPA headquarters?” Before Stahl could even think to reprimand Grade for his suggestion, Aaberg grabbed him by the shoulders; “I must send these...fembots...against the ALPA,” he hissed. “The Lawson girl...she works for these people, and destroying them would put me one step closer to destroying her!” His grip on Grade tightened. “Give me the coordinates...NOW!”

“This is a mistake,” Stahl muttered. “If we do not follow the predetermined plan---” The click of a Ruger's safety being thumbed off filled the banker's ears. “As valuable as your patronage of my trade is,” Björn warned, “I must insist that you do not attempt to lecture me at this moment, Mister Stahl.”

For a few brief moments, nobody moved.....until Stahl backed away, retrieving a piece of paper from his pocket. “You are making a mistake, Björn.”

“Then let it be my mistake, not your failure to stop me, that earns the wrath of your employer when you return,” Aaberg sneered. “Better to be admonished for my failings than to admit your own...he might even forgive you for failing to...quell my exuberance.” He chuckled as he punched in the coordinates. “Soon, this will all be a distant memory,” he beamed. “The ALPA will be crushed, the Lawson girl will die....and I shall be avenged!”

Grade glanced at Stahl, both of them all too aware that Aaberg was more than likely going to get them both killed....if the Baron didn't see to that first.
------------------------------
“...and you're sure the team from Stepford are still on their way?”

Cedric Harcourt nodded, handing DuBraul a vial containing the remainder of his medication for the day. “They hit a bit of a snag forty minutes ago, but they should be inbound within thirty minutes---and I'm not exactly worried about them, sir. I'm more worried about you.”

DuBraul smiled. “I never get tired of that,” he muttered. “Am I the only person here not worried about myself?”

“You should be,” Harcourt admonished. “The Doctor told you that the pills would only do so much to keep you from succumbing to your condition before the year ends...and unless you find a viable alternative, that surprise party for your retirement may very well end up being a wake.” He held up a blazer, allowing DuBraul to slip his arms into the sleeves without overexerting himself. “As difficult as this situation is now, it'll be even worse if we lose you---”

“You're not going to lose me, Cedric,” DuBraul laughed. “Even if my lungs are going, I intend to stay in the ALPA until my last breath---and I mean that in the most literal sense possible.” He turned to face the Vice President of the ALPA, smiling broadly; “I still think you and I could've been brothers once,” he mused.

Harcourt cracked a smile of his own. “I'd say cousins once removed, at the very least.” Even he was willing to admit that he had more in common with the ALPA President than many would've thought---they had a strikingly similar taste in music, both of them had the same views on everything the ALPA stood for, and they even cheered for the same football teams despite having been born in different parts of the country. “You never told me how far back your family tree actually goes,” he added, falling into step behind DuBraul.

“Far enough for me to know exactly where the roots are,” DuBrual replied. “Meeting Room 3 is free, isn't it?”

Exactly how DuBraul had picked Harcourt as the VP of the ALPA was a story that had been relegated to near legendary status within the ranks of the organization, one shrouded in secrecy and strange coincidences (if one were inclined to view them as such). Regardless, the DuBraul/Harcourt team had carried the ALPA through its most tumultuous times in the 90s, on the heels of Celeste's torrid relationship with Oberon...and now, the pair was pinning its hopes on one particular Field Agent.

A few minutes later, in Meeting Room 3, the discussion turned to that exact individual.

“I never thought I'd see her like this,” Harcourt admitted. “Her kind isn't exactly common these days.”

“Her kind?” DuBraul echoed.

“Rising star Field Agents. The ones who gained their status from almost nothing. Maybe Reaver counts as one, and even the Major...but Vicki Lawson is something else entirely. Everyone we're fighting for---those who know what they are, at least---they look up to her. They respect her...they see her as one of us now.”

DuBraul chuckled. “So they see her as a politician?”

“They see her as someone willing to fight for what she believes in,” Harcourt clarified. “I mean, when you first told me that you wanted her to be....well, the poster girl for the entire ALPA....I had my doubts---I thought they'd eat her alive after her first mistake!” He chuckled. “This, though...she's what we need. She's a beacon.”

“And now you know why I didn't want word of her actions in Dawley to leak to the general public.”

Harcourt nodded. “Something like that would set us back years---decades, even.” He sighed, staring out the window at the airfield where the plane from Stepford would soon be landing; “She doesn't even know, either,” he muttered. “She just does her job, because it's the right thing to do...never once even thinking that we're pinning our hopes, our dreams....our lives...on her, and praying that she doesn't fall.” He signed again as he turned his attention back to Clive. “Doing the right thing has never made me feel like such a bastard before.”

“We'd be bastards if we were leaving her to her own devices,” DuBraul corrected. “If we let word of what she did in Dawley get out, and just threw her to the wolves with no hope of being able to defend herself...that would make us both as bad as Hannsen---”

A knock at the door interrupted the conversation before it could go any further. “Yes?”

“Mr. DuBraul,” a breathless voice called from outside, “you're going to want to see this...”

DuBraul and Harcourt exchanged confused glances. “See what, exactly?”

“In the monitoring room at the end of the hall....they're activating.”

Confusion turned to grim understanding in seconds. “Lead on.” DuBraul rose from his chair even as Crystal opened the door from outside the room, following her (with Harcourt following him in turn) to the monitoring room. “How many?”

“About 25 or so making their way here,” the gynoid replied. “The rest are headed towards SJSU.”

DuBraul didn't slow down, even as he heard Harcourt wince. “Has anyone told Vicki yet?”

“I was on my way to give her the bad news myself,” Crystal admitted.

“Might as well tell her now. And get every active Field Agent we have in the field back here on the double.”

“Yes sir.”
------------------------------
Vicki stared at the monitor before her, too stunned to even think of something to say.

“They started activating about ten minutes ago,” Anton Malvineous informed her. “At first, they were all moving in a group formation towards one target---namely, this building...but then a massive group of them broke away from the pack and headed for SJSU. The rest are still on course for ALPA headquarters...meaning we have about thirty or so minutes to lockdown the entire facility and---”

“They're in class right now.”

Anton almost didn't catch what the brunette gynoid had said, but Mr. Tell stepped forward. “We're sending out a team to make sure everyone stays inside,” he assured Vicki. “They're not going to---”

“Everyone I know,” Vicki continued, as if Tell hadn't even spoken, “my friends---even the people who sort of annoy me---they're all in class right now, and they're all in danger...” There was something unnerving about the forced emotionless tone of her voice, as if she was making herself not want to care. “I won't be able to save them all unless I do something that reveals what I am...” Even as she spoke the words, Vicki realized how selfish (and possibly pathetic) she sounded; I've never been freaked out about stuff like this before, so why is it bugging me now?!

Almost as if he'd read her thoughts (or is it that my body language just screams “I'm freaking out over here, someone please throw me a lifeline”?), Anton spoke up again. “Our surveilance team on the ground at SJSU has already taken care of the 'get everyone to stay inside' portion of our containment plan,” he assured her, “so you won't have to worry about any of your friends, foes, or anyone in between catching a glimpse of you if you get damaged. There's also a no-firearms rule in place---and here's the man who implemented it,” he finished, grinning as Oberon entered the room, “just in time to explain it himself.” He clapped the ALPA Chairman on the shoulder; “I was just telling Vicki---”

“I know. Hit the lights, if you don't mind, Anton---this is no time for faffing around.”

The roboticist's smile faded as he turned on the lights, allowing all present to see that Oberon was once again clad in his full battle armor. Might as well call it what it is, Vicki mused, 'cause I'm pretty sure that's nowhere near “corporate casual”...

Oberon gestured to a cart next to him; “Swords,” he declared. “Axes, polearms, scythes, quarterstaves, halbreds, clubs. Can anyone here tell me what they all have in common---” Shouts rang out from every Field Agent in the room---other than Vicki, who knew better than to take an obvious question at face value. “The answer I'm LOOKING FOR,” the Chairman continued, “is 'they are all immune to the most common faults of firearms': they don't run out of ammo, and a stray shot won't fly fifty feet and kill some poor sod whose only wrongdoing is being in EXACTLY the wrong place at EXACTLY the wrong time. These particular weapons, of course, are a bit more advantageous than those of medieval times---modern technology has allowed our own swordsmiths to create blades with Teflon and diamond-dust coatings, using titanium alloys and carbon-fibre hilts, thus allowing for weapons that are both lightweight and absolutely brutal against an android or gynoid.” He glanced at Vicki, arching an eyebrow; “You seem...concerned,” he frowned.

“I am,” the brunette gynoid admitted, “since it sounds like you've gone through a lot of trouble to prepare for something like this....I thought the ALPA---”

“Even an eternal optimist like myself has to prepare for the worst-case scenario,” Oberon admitted. “I've been on drills for full red-ring events before, and I can tell you right now that as soon as I returned to San Jose, I had to lock myself in a hotel room for a full week, just to let the naescent paranoia and memories of what I endured filter through my mind until they weren't giving me nightmares. It pays to be prepared for the worst, Vicki...trust me on that.” He turned his attention to the other Field Agents, though Vicki noticed an ever so subtle change in his body language....

….he still remembers, she realized. He's still scared of facing a full-on red ring event....

“Those of you staying behind to deal with the oncoming incursion into this building will be allowed to use firearms,” he informed the group. “Those accompanying me to San Jose State University, on the other hand, will be getting one of these---” He snatched a sword up from the cart, giving a brief show of his skill by spinning the blade in one hand and moving into a few basic fencing positions before returning the blade to its spot in the cart. “---to avoid any collateral damage. Unless you stupidly choose to throw your weapon, the only ones I expect to see leaving SJSU in pieces are those fembots pushed to the brink of red-ring status.”

Agents filed past Vicki to grab their new weapons, occasionally pausing to try a few practice swings (and taking care to not hit anyone near them). There was something utterly primal about seeing her fellow Field Agents picking up swords, axes and even clubs, as if they were about to go to war with Viking hordes instead of an army of fembots---

“Something on your mind, Vicki?”

It wasn't the suddenness of Oberon's question that startled the brunette gynoid---it was the quiet, almost calm way he spoke, especially in light of what had happened between them earlier. “Yes,” she replied, “there is something on my mind---and it's something that, I might as well be honest, kind of scares me.”

“Go on.”

“I'm wondering if you've ever thought that the day might come when you have to send these people after me,” Vicki continued. “Will you be this cold then?”

If Oberon was offended by the question, he did a damn good job of not showing it. “Yes.”

So he wasn't kidding when he said he'd DeComm me if he had to... “I thought so.” Vicki turned her attention back to the other Agents---

“Wait.”

Now this should be intriguing.... “Wait for what?”

“Vicki...just because I would be this unfeeling and clinical if I ever had to send these men and women after you....that doesn't mean I look forward to it. I didn't tell you I'd DeComm you just to scare you, or to put the fear of God or anything else in you---I told you I'd DeComm you if the need arose because it's the absolute truth.” Oberon bowed his head; “You already know the ALPA hasn't exactly been on the side of the angels some times,” he muttered, “and...we've even done somethings that I, personally, wish I wipe from our history and never have to think about again...”

He looked up at her, his expression a mixture of guilt and calm. “...but I would never have you killed in cold blood. Not even if you had to be DeCommed. If I had to DeComm you myself, you'd know, beforehand.”

“And I'm supposed to take comfort in that?” Vicki retorted.

“You're supposed to accept it. What happened in Dawley....if other people found out about that---”

Someone cleared their throat in the doorway of the room, and Vicki turned to see DuBraul standing there, regarding the scene with an arched eyebrow. “Mind if I borrow her for a moment?” he asked Oberon with a smile. “I'd like to give her a bit of a pep talk before we start the whole 'batten down the hatches' routine...”

Seven seconds of silence passed before Oberon gave the ALPA President a wry smile. “By all means.”

DuBraul nodded. “Miss Lawson, if you would....” He gestured for Vicki to accompany him. Might as well see what this is about... Vicki followed DuBraul out into the corridor, sneaking one last look at Oberon before she turned the corner; he seemed more interested in the sword he'd just unsheathed than watching her leave.

“So,” DuBraul mused, jolting Vicki out of her reverie, “Oberon has told you exactly why he wouldn't have qualms about striking you down if he had to...”

“Yeah, he has,” Vicki conceded, “so let's not revisit that particular pathway of thought if we can help it. Don't get me wrong, I still trust him and all, but....he kind of gave me a major case of the heebies when he said that he doesn't look forward to it and stuff. I mean, I get why he said it, but...just knowing that if I ever completely lost control and snapped, he'd be the one to find me and, well....”

Again, DuBraul nodded. “Oberon has always believed in the 'needs of the many vs. needs of the few' logic,” he admitted. “I prefer the 'glass half full' approach. For instance, the Dawley incident---”

“Don't,” Vicki groaned. “Please don't drag that back up....”

“I was going to say that you handled the Dawley incident far better than most would lead you to believe. Yes, you did, in fact, go overboard in beating Hannsen to a pulp....but you also disrupted an arms deal that could have supplied far too many dangerous parties with equipment and weapons to further their own causes. And let's not forget those androids and gynoids you freed from the facility---you've got a commendation coming for that one.” He gave her a reassuring smile; “From where I'm standing,” he informed her, “you've done far more good than harm.”

“Even though I nearly killed a guy?”

“You wouldn't be the first Field Agent who nearly killed someone in the line of duty, Miss Lawson. I take it you already know of Reaver's past before he became an Agent?”

I was hoping to not have to mention that... “I do.”

“Then you understand why the ALPA tries to not let past transgressions cloud views of the future. Hindsight may be 20/20, but it can also be blinding.”

“That....actually makes a lot of sense,” Vicki admitted, just as DuBraul ushered her into a nondescript meeting room. “And I'm guessing Oberon decided to have me stay here and defend the building instead of going back to SJSU so that I wouldn't....freak out, or anything, and have a panic attack?” Even as she asked the question, she began to expand her connections to the internal ALPA infranet, hoping to---

“I wouldn't recommend that,” a voice from the far side of the room advised; Vicki glanced over her shoulder to see a somewhat portly blond man in glasses and a three-piece suit tapping at his iPhone. “It's not secure right now,” he continued, glancing up just long enough for Vicki to realize he was talking to her, then returning his full attention to the phone. “We're being bombarded with conflicting WiFi signals as it is, and the team from Stepford is still inboud---they should be landing soon, to help us figure out how to effectively contain this thing before it gets out of hand.”

“Okay....but---”

DuBraul chuckled, motioning for Vicki to sit down in one of the silk upholstered chairs. “Where are my manners? Miss Lawson, allow me to introduce you to the Vice President of the ALPA, Mr. Cedric Harcourt.”

iPhone Guy (as Vicki had mentally dubbed the VP) rose, smiling. “It's an honor to meet you, Miss Lawson.”

“Likewise. So, you're the second-in-command of the ALPA?”

“Well,” Cedric admitted, “it's a bit more...complicated than that. The ALPA doesn't follow any of the traditional government or corporate structures---”

DuBraul cleared his throat. “I believe we have more pressing matters to discuss at the moment...”

“Ah, yes, of course,” Cedric muttered. “Miss Lawson---”

Vicki grinned. “You can call me Vicki,” she informed the ALPA VP. “All my friends do.”

“I prefer to keep things official until this crisis has passed, Miss Lawson...though I'm flattered that you would consider me a friend.” Cedric returned the gynoid's grin with one of his own. “Now, then...the fact of the matter is, Miss Lawson, the ALPA Headquarters---as remarkable a building as this is---can only take so much abuse before its security begins to fail. As such, the decision to have you here helping in the defense of the building was less about your...ah, mental fortitude----”

The brunette gynoid rolled her eyes. “At least nobody's breaking out the jokes about crossed wires and loose screws.”

“Yes, well, the ALPA tends to take the mental states of android and gynoid Field Agents very seriously,” Cedric continued, “so jokes like those tend to be frowned upon. “Still, our decision for you to be stationed here was less about your mental condition and more about your skill in conducting field ops within...less-than-ideal conditions.” He retrieved a folder from under his chair; “Your handling of the Silicon Dynamics mission, in particular, was superb---”

“Oh, yes,” a familiar voice drawled, “let's all harp about that.” The figure of Faceless emerged from behind Cedric's chair---but the VP's lack of reaction to the sight was all the incentive Vicki needed to ignore it. Just more random code, she reminded herself. He's not really here...

“....and your work in Singapore was particularly effective,” Cedric beamed. “So---ah, is everything all right, Miss Lawson?”

Even as the phantom of Faceless mimed drawing his blade across the VP's throat, Vicki nodded. “Never felt better,” she grinned. “And yeah, Singapore was....interesting, especially given the conditions I had to deal with in that building---stairways going all blowy-uppy, and stuff....”

“You're forgetting one other tiny little detail,” Faceless hissed, two inches away from Vicki's ear. “A...good friend of yours, shot dead---”

DuBraul and Cedric both winced as Vicki's fist slammed into the armrest of her chair.

“Sorry,” she apologized, “thought there was a bug on the chair.”

“Wouldn't be the first time,” DuBraul replied. “I keep telling the cleaners to stop wearing that blasted perfume of theirs---something about that scent draws in the moths and silkworms something fierce.” He settled back in his own chair, steepling his fingers...though something in his expression told Vicki that he knew what she was dealing with. “Please, continue.”

Cedric adjusted his tie. “Well, the simple fact of the matter is this: your record on indoor field operations, Miss Lawson, is astounding, and we believe that your skills would be better suited here---”

“Oh, of course,” Faceless hissed. “Better to have you here, on the leash, than out there---”

“Mr. Harcourt,” Vicki nearly shouted, “those WiFi signals you mentioned earlier....can your phone detect them?”

The VP was more than a bit confused. “Well, it can, but I don't see---”

“Can you pick out any specific signal from the bunch, isolate it and sever its connection to this building?”

“I suppose I could, but---”

“More specifically, could you look for any signal that's targeting me, and disable it?”

At this, Cedric nearly dropped his phone. “You're....you want me to---”

“It shouldn't be that difficult,” DuBraul assured him. “Most of the signals hitting this building can't even get through this room, so isolating any that can would take....a few seconds, at most.”

The shock of Vicki's request quickly wore off. “I'll get on that now,” Cedric declared, muttering quietly as he tapped at the iPhone's screen. “This shouldn't be all that difficult, I think....”

Vicki grinned, ignoring the figure of Faceless glaring at her from across the room. “Don't think of this as a victory......'Miss Lawson'. You have not beaten me.” He turned his attention to Harcourt; “Even though my body is still...recovering,” he added, “my mind is stronger than ever before....and that, dear Vicki, is all I need...” He strode over to Harcourt's chair, pacing behind it. “Even if you no longer fear me, I'll still bring you to your knees...because I no longer need your fear. Something else is fueling this ghost now....”

“Miss Lawson,” DuBraul mused, “I think you may want to turn your attention to the television.”

“What? Why would I---”

“Just....trust me, Vicki.”

Well, I don't really see a reason not to.... With a sigh, Vicki glanced at the TV in the corner of the room---

---and nearly gasped as a figure seemed to emerge from the screen, aiming its firey broadsword at her---no, past her, directly at the spectre of Faceless in the corner.

Needless to say, the Butcher of Lake Gilmour was not happy.

“Not you,” he growled. “You won't beat me again---”

“I already have,” the figure intoned, just as Faceless faded into nothingness, his final scream fading out into dial-up tones. A white light flooded the room, and Vicki felt herself falling.....

“...make sure she's okay,” Cedric suggested, “help her up off the floor....” Slowly, the brunette gynoid realized she hadn't been falling---at least, not down a bottomless chasm. “Is he gone?” she murmured.

DuBraul grinned. “If by 'he', you're referring to whatever hallucinatory image you were forced to endure from that signal Mr. Harcourt just isolated and defeated,” he replied, “then yes. He is, in fact, gone.” He helped Vicki to her feet, dusting off her shoulders as she got her bearings. “Ash told us about what happened after the SAN-check,” he informed the gynoid Field Agent, “and I had our best signal analysis people get to work on tracing the signal that triggered it---and putting together countermeasures to fight all future occurances.”

“Thanks,” Vicki murmured. “I didn't want to start yelling that I was seeing Faceless in the room---”

“All the more reason to commend you for your incredible mental fortitude,” DuBraul beamed. “You've done us all proud, Miss Lawson.” He glanced at Cedric; “Remind me to thank Oberon for coming up with the idea of putting a countersignal in the TV,” he chuckled. “Brilliant bit of work there...” As if on cue, the TV blazed to life again---with Oberon's image filling the screen. “We have a problem.”

“Not to worry,” the ALPA President replied. “The signal was terminated---”

“That's not what I meant---they're breaching the building. Through the garage.”

Any trace of humor in DuBraul's face and voice vanished. “How many?”

“Twelve, thirteen...maybe fifteen, I can't tell exactly. A few of our people are still in there...”

“Then get them out, lock it down and turn on the shields. I'll take care of the rest.”

“Will do.” A pause.... “Vicki?”

Despite the fact that she felt like she'd rather be anywhere else in the world at that moment, Vicki stepped forward. “Yes?”

Even as the image on the television screen began to break up, she could tell that Oberon was smiling. “Damn good work isolating the second WiFi attack signal. Ted would be proud---actually, now that I mention it, he is still dancing on one of the tables in the War Room....” He turned to glance behind him; “GET DOWN FROM THERE BEFORE YOU FALL OFF AND BREAK YOUR NECK!” he bellowed. “When this is all over with, Vicki, I suggest you bring your father to get dancing lessons---or at least keep him from doing his best Michael Flatley impression on the furniture.”

With that, the TV winked out.

Vicki didn't bother wiping away the tears---she was too busy grinning. “That's my dad,” she beamed.

DuBraul nodded his agreement, smiling. “You are definitely Ted Lawson's daughter,” he informed Vicki, “and that's the highest compliment I can give you.” He sighed, allowing his smile to fade; “Sadly, the levity must end for now,” he continued. “Cedric---”

“Our people are out of the garage,” Harcourt called out. “Commencing lockdown---shields are on.”

“Good.” DuBraul glanced at Vicki, noticing her worried look. “You're not going to black out, if that's what you're wondering,” he informed her. “The shielding system will ensure that the localized EMP in the garage only affects the garage....unless those damned fembots are able to hack the system somehow, and if they are, then---”

“Ah, one of the shutters just cut a fembot in half,” Cedric interjected. “She's still crawling into the garage---”

“Trigger the EMP,” DuBraul ordered. “Miss Lawson, if you're still linked with the infranet---”

A shudder ran through Vicki's body.

“I'm not,” she replied quietly. “Not anymore.”

“Good. Cedric....activate the localized EMP.”

Cedric tapped a button on his iPhone, and Vicki could faintly pick up a brief thrumming noise from a distant area of the building....

...and then, just a few seconds later, it ceased.

“Scans aren't picking up any active fembots in the garage,” Cedric stated. “The EMP caught them all. The rest of the building is still functioning...no signs of disrupted network activity....” He nodded. “The garage is secure.”

“And our vehicles have just been rendered useless,” DuBraul muttered. “They wanted us to trigger it....”

“No,” Vicki corrected. “He wanted us to. Matthew Hannsen was the one who planned this---whatever those fembots are going to do from now on, he came up with it...” The brief memory of Hannsen screaming in pain filtered through her processors...and faded just as quickly.

“I think it's time we start playing to beat Hannsen at his own game,” V.I.C.I stated, heading for the door.
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[Uhoh]

The tension keeps building and my excitement keeps growing, keep it up . Can't wait for the next one!