The V.I.C.I. Diaries: Valley of the Damned (Part 6)

[DukeNukem 2417]

“If anyone says this place looks like a ghost town, I'm going to scream.”

Major Tom's statement did little to detract from the fact that San Jose State University did, in all manner of fact, look like a veritable ghost town. The order to stay indoors, issued earlier in the day, had been taken seriously by students and staff alike---memories of Faceless' last “visit” to the campus were still fresh in the minds of many, and the even more recent abduction of Sharon Wilson from her own dorm room had put all of SJSU on edge.

“No need for the warning, Major,” Oberon assured him. “I have a feeling the only ghosts we're going to find are those who were never alive to begin with.” He scowled, more at his own choice of words than at Tom's threat to “scream”. “Everyone, stay alert and don't dismount until I give the signal---otherwise, they'll rush you---”

“And then we're all screwed,” Johnny Dash muttered. “I think we get the point.”

Jen glared at him, but kept her voice calm. “No disrespect, Mr. Chairman, but I think we can handle this one ourselves. Even if we do dismount---or get knocked off our mounts---we can still---”

“Still fight?” Oberon cut in. “Even after they grab your weapon out of your hand and try to beat you to death with it? No, I think not---you'll try to fight, and maybe you'll actually get something done...” He shook his head and gave the reins of his steed a quick tug. “Best not to think about it right now.”

“So what should we be thinking about?” Reaver countered. “Running onto a college campus to slaughter a bunch of fembots?”

Oberon's cold stare instantly silenced the Field Agent's protests.

“We're not slaughtering anyone,” Major Tom informed him quietly. “According to every ALPA sentience scale, these fembots aren't even technically qualified as sentient anymore---they've been reduced to walking tools programmed to wipe out anything and anyone in their path....and who the hell invited them here?!”

Reaver and the rest of the Agents glanced in the direction of the Major's supremely-pissed off stare, noticing a few dozen or so bicycles skidding to a stop. “If this is another one of your 'surprises', Chairman,” Tom growled, “then I'm not laughing. The House has no business getting involved in this---”

“On the contrary,” one of the House gynoids---a slender, 20-something Asian with jet black hair, “we have as much right to be here as you do.” She gestured at one of the other gynoids, instantly recognizable as Julia Irvine---one of the Human Animal's victims from the mission in Detroit earlier in the year. “Miss Irvine and her colleagues intercepted communications from some...unsavory characters operating in this part of the country a few weeks ago, and we believe that the House is obligated to assist any interested parties in removing said characters.”

“Whoop-de-freaking do for you,” the Major muttered, “but this is ALPA business. OUR business.”

“It's ours too,” Julia countered. “You're out here playing Knights of the Round Table, and we've been---”

A loud throat-clearing noise cut off the argument before it could get too far out of hand. “As much as I would enjoy seeing this resolved in a non-violent fashion,” Oberon called out, “it appears this discussion will have to wait---namely, because a load of fembots are inbound.” He nodded to the far end of El Paseo de Cesar E. Chavez; “Arms at the ready, ladies and gentlemen,” he shouted. “ARMS AT THE READY, ALL OF YOU!”

Tom guided his horse over to where the House Agents were waiting, stopping a few feet in front of the Asian gynoid. “You're new at this, aren't you?” he asked quietly. “I don't think I remember seeing you at any of the past missions with House involvement---”

“I was just activated this past March,” the gynoid replied. “Fifth generation, created in-house.”

Any number of puns on the term “in-house” entered---and left---the Major's stream of thought. “So you missed the whole situation in Detroit, then?”

“I was briefed on it after activation....from what I can tell, the ALPA averted a major catastrophe in the Motor City with just a few people.” She grinned. “I hear one Agent Lawson, in particular, did her fair share of butt-kicking to remove the Human Animal's influence from the area.”

At the mention of Vicki, the Major managed a smile.. “She did.” He paused; “Look, if it's any consolation---”

“I know it's the ALPA's job to keep things from escalating out of control,” the gynoid interjected. “You don't have to apologize for it.” She grinned again; “I'm Kimiko, by the way,” she added, extending her hand. “Agent Kimiko Mori, G5-992-010096.”

The Major shook her hand. “Major Thomas Stephen Lane-Liddell, callsign Nova, formerly of NASA.”

“So you're actually a Major Tom?” Kimiko beamed.

“The Major Tom...well, not the one from the songs, but still the one and only Major Tom in the ALPA.”

“Nice...Julia told me you spearheaded some pretty important ops in Detroit---”

“ARMS AT THE READY!” Oberon shouted, guiding his horse in a semi-circle around the assembled ALPA Field Agents. “DO NOT DISMOUNT, DO NOT DROP YOUR WEAPONS, AND DO NOT SURRENDER!”

Kimiko glanced at the armored ALPA Chairman, arching an eyebrow. “So...the horses were his idea?”

“And the swords,” Major Tom replied, scowling, “and the armor, and several other things.”

“I think it's pretty cool, actually,” Kimiko admitted. “We just have pulsers---”

Julia groaned. “Kimmy, can we not disclose our equipment loadouts with unaffiliated parties?” she quietly asked. “Or at LEAST wait until this is over with...” She let the sentence hang with a sigh as Kimiko handed over her own pulser to the Major. “It's got a hydrogen battery in it, so it's not affected by the same stuff as the ES-99 series,” she explained. “Radial area of effect settings are here, strength adjustment here...”

“Nice.” The Major nodded his approval. “Wish we were packing some of these, instead of rolling out Tolkein-style.”

The two House gynoids exchanged an amused glance. “'Tolkein-style'?” Julia echoed.

“Swords, sticks and horses,” Tom clarified. “All this bullroar about not letting the enemy take any advantage, or some crap....and just because we set off an EMP in the garage, we can't even use our damn cars---or even a motorcycle!” Both Kimiko and Julia grimaced at the mention of the EMP; “We made sure our people were out before it was activated,” the Major assured them. “Oberon refused to even put his hand over the switch until he was positive everyone was out safely....he's not the type to take senseless risks.” He paused; “...other than this, I mean,” he added bitterly.

“Well, the 'Tolkein-style' look does have its merits,” Kimiko reminded him. “And it looks pretty cool!”

“Looking cool isn't going to help against a bunch of red-ring fembots,” Julia stated, before the Major could voice his own concerns on the matter. “We're here to keep San Jose State University from turning into a complete bloodbath, Agent Mori---'looking cool' isn't exactly part of the job description.” She gestured for Tom to hand Kimiko's pulser back to her.

“As much as it annoys me to admit it,” he muttered to the Asian gynoid, “she's got a point---”

“CLOSE RANKS! ALL AGENTS CLOSE RANKS AND PREPARE TO ENGAGE!” Oberon made one last sweep of the entire assembled mass of Field Agents, shouting orders for them to bring their weapons to bear. “Major, get back on your mount at once---the hostile combatants are approaching fast.”

The use of “hostile combatants” instead of “fembots” was enough of a sign that this was no longer just a simple “run in, clear out and ride off” situation---the kind the Major was accustomed to. Now, it had become a full-on battle, one that could easily turn bad if the conditions shifted at any moment. “Guess that's your exit cue, right?” Kimiko inquired, frowning slightly.

“We can resume our conversation when the fighting's over,” the Major assured her; for a brief moment, he even considered adding “Promise not to die on me” or some other cliché, but decided against it.

With a brief wave, the ex-NASA operative turned and headed for his horse, silently fuming all the while (I still think we could've found a better way to get here), yet keeping his composure. The time for whinging about the horses had already passed---with the fight inevitably drawing nearer, this was time for strategic planning and decisions that could ultimately lead to the battle being won or lost. Naturally, everyone was hoping for the former....but the possibility of the latter outcome was all too real.

Even more importantly, the possibility of casualties was all too real....and all too immediate.

“How far off are they?” Reaver called out.

“Fifty feet from our current position---and closing,” Oberon replied. One of the House Field Agents yelled something about “set pulser range to maximum”, and every gynoid in the group adjusted their weapons accordingly. “Well,” Major Tom muttered, “I think the shit is officially about to hit the fan....” He drew the sword from its saddle-mounted scabbard, examining it. “This is a damn good blade,” he muttered, slightly surprised that such an obsolete weapon looked this impressive. “And I don't mean that in the sense of 'this is a good costume accessory', or 'this looks good for LARPing'...I mean this is a pretty freaking impressive piece of steel.” He hefted the sword, swinging it experimentally to get a good feel for it. “If I didn't know any better---”

“These were forged at my request,” Oberon interjected from over the Major's right shoulder. “And they're not just steel, either.” He gave his usual mischevious smile; “For someone who was dead-set against 'playing Lord of the Rings out here',” he added, “you seem to find those swords rather fascinating.”

“As long as they'll help me cut the heads of of those 'hostile combatants,” the Major replied, “I'll use 'em.”

Oberon nodded. “You'll get your chance in a few minutes---TWENTY-FIVE FEET AND CLOSING!”

“I can't even see anything out there!” Johnny Dash complained. “Are you sure those fembots are even here, or is this some kind of stupid test, or what–--whoa!” He pulled back on the reins of his horse just in time to keep the beast from rearing back and throwing him off.

“They'll be here soon,” Oberon assured him. “Trust me.” Johnny very nearly spoke up against the request, but felt the protest die on his lips as he saw, through the corner of his eye, something edge its way down the wall of the Central Classroom Building. “This isn't happening,” he muttered, “please tell me this isn't happening....”

“Fifteen feet and closing,” Oberon intoned, as the rest of the Agents realized what was going on. “Prepare to engage hostiles from all sides!” Indeed, every direction the Field Agents looked, they saw the “combatants” emerging from sewer grates, jumping fences, climbing out of windows or just crawling down the sides of buildings like some sort of bizarre human-reptile hybrids. Eventually, though, the Field Agents and those Agents of the House who had shown up found themselves enclosed in a ring of black-clad, smiling fembots.

Oberon squeezed his eyes shut, one hand on his sword. “Agents.......”

The blade cleared its sheath just as Oberon's eyes snapped open. “GIVE 'EM HELL!”

Within seconds, the mayhem began.

The horses did marvelous work of charging forward and dodging the humanoid flotsam and jetsam that was the mob of fembots; in at least two cases, Agents were able to tackle their targets to the ground and proceed to bash their skulls in with melee weapons. The House agents were doing similarly well---at no point did any of the pulser-weilding gynoids have any more than two fembots approaching them from any side.

In short, it was all going well.

At first.

The turn of the tide didn't happen with a fembot suddenly knocking an ALPA Agent off of their mount, or the House agents' pulsers all of a sudden seizing up. It happened as the Agents from both organizations were doing their best to drive the horde of fembots as far back up the street as possible---a move that got Oberon thinking about the strategic disadvantages of fighting in an ubran area. As the fembots were swept past the Event Center, a thought occurred to him---when he'd visited the campus earlier that day, there were no students in the Center, and no events had been scheduled to take place that evening.

So why the bloody hell are all of the lights on in there---

The realization may as well have been a brick smashing into his head. “FALL BACK! ALL OF YOU, FALL BACK NOW!'

His words had just reached the ears of the Agents when the doors of the event center swung open---revealing even more fembots. Unlike the rest, these weren't even wearing sports pants and sports bras---they were clad in the flimsiest of eveningwear, material transluscent enough to show that they were wearing undergarments that were just as thin---as well as their flashing, exposed power cores.

Oberon nearly lost his voice screaming: “FALL BACK TO DEFENSIVE POSITION! DO NOT ATTACK ANY NEW HOSTILES! FALL BACK AND---”

One of the fembots broke from the pack exiting the event center, running towards a horse as if she wanted to hug the thing. Fortunately enough, the Agent atop the horse had enough sense to guide the animal away from the crazed, leaping fembot---seconds before she hit the ground and erupted into a fireball.

“DO NOT LET THEM GRAB YOU!” Oberon ordered. “Keep them at arm's length, but DO NOT---”

Something closed around his wrist with the strength of a vise---followed immediately after by a high-pitched feminine shriek that would've deafened a lesser man. Even with the fembot screaming in his ear, however, Oberon still had the presence of mind to grab his sword. “Get....off of me....”

Instead of getting shouted at again, the ALPA Chairman stared, horrified, as the fembot's eyes took on a blue glow, matched by the blinding light now emanating from her throat. Bastard's only gone and given them wonky Detaining Grip systems, he realized, one hand still clasped around his sword. Pity he robbed them of their common sense.... A sardonic smile played at his lips---under any other circumstances, he'd hate himself for what he was about to do, seeing as how striking down an afflicted fembot was the exact opposite of what the ALPA stood for...but not only were these fembots too far gone to save, they were a clear and present danger to any and every civilian in the area....

….which meant that wiping them out was pretty much a necessity...and a damn good stress reliever.

Half a second before the fembot's sparking hands could get any closer to Oberon's eyes, she froze in place, staring at her would-be victim with a manic smile still plastered across her face.

Oberon smirked as the fembot practically slid off of his blade. “Pathetic.”

Less than 20 feet away, Kimiko Mori regarded the scene with a somewhat frightened look---at least, until Julia (who was busy shooting a fembot full of pulser blasts) noticed. “He's only enjoying this because he knows they can't feel it,” she explained. “These things---” She whirled on one foot to put a shot right between the eyes of another fembot. “---these fembots no longer qualify as sentient, Kimmy....whatever was done to them has broken them completely. They don't feel, they don't think---they're basically kamikazes, programmed to destroy as much as possible, even if they get taken out---” She dodged a charging fembot, planting a pulser blast directly in its back. “--in the process.”

“You're sure they can't feel anything?” Kimiko quietly asked.

“Positive. Scan them yourself, if you want---GET OFF OF ME!” Julia grabbed yet another fembot, which was attempting to grope her, and jammed her pulser in its mouth, squeezing the trigger and frying every processor in the affected unit's head.

After putting a few pulser rounds of her own into a trio of oncoming fembots, Kimiko set her internal scanners from passive to active, glancing at every fembot in the vicinity....and other than the agents of the House and a few ALPA Field Agents, none of her scans came back positive in conjunction with any of the accepted sentience tests. Scans for emotion, morality and logic programs came back with similar results. “So they're all just shells,” she murmured. “Mindless, walking shells...”

“Wouldn't be the first time,” another House gynoid assured her. “Not every robot on the planet is sentient, y'know...not that they deserve to be treated like crap because of that---” Her sentence was drowned out by a volley of pulser shots, followed soon after by the ruined body of a fembot hitting the ground.

“Less talking,” Julia advised, “more shooting!”

Kimiko and the other House gynoid followed that kernel of wisdom with the typical level of precision expected of them---putting down fifteen more fembots in under as many seconds in the process.

Even with the oncoming waves of fembots refusing to back down, the ALPA and House Agents stood their ground as readily as any Spartan---an impression given an extra bit of credence by the weapons of the ALPA Agents. Swords cleaved through metallic skulls, clubs bashed in carbon-fiber ribcages, and axes sheared through servo-driven limbs---all with a ruthless efficiency that Leonidas himself would've been proud of.

And still, the fembots refused to yield.

“STAND AND FIGHT!” Oberon shouted, decapitating another fembot (just before her glowing hand could close around his throat) and bashing two more in the face with the hilt of his sword as the first fell. “DO NOT GIVE GROUND---ANYONE WHO RETREATS WILL ANSWER TO ME PERSONALLY!” As if to drive the point home, he cut the legs of the two fembots out from beneath them, before impaling them one at a time. “WE DO NOT LEAVE UNTIL EVERY SINGLE HOSTILE HAS BEEN NEUTRALIZED! DO YOU HEAR ME?!”

A resounding chorus of “YES, SIR”s rang out in response.

Despite the seething rage that still coursed through him (the same rage that drove him to utterly destroy every fembot in his path), Oberon managed a smile. “As I thought. Now, then---”

The searing grip of a fembot rather brutally cut him off, grabbing him by the right cheek and not letting go.

“OBERON!” Major Tom jerked the reins of his mount, nearly falling off as he leaned in to decapitate the fembot before she could do any permanent damage to the ALPA Chairman. He barely felt his sword clear the scabbard, though the impact of the blade against the fembot's neck was far more substantial. As soon as the fembot was reduced to a gibbering pile on the ground, the Major helped Oberon to his feet.

“You okay, man? She tagged you pretty---” He froze, staring in horror at the wound on Oberon's face.

“It doesn't hurt, if that's what you're wondering,” the ALPA President chuckled, wiping the blood from his cheek with the back of one hand. “Just throw some sticking plaster on it and I'll be fine...” He grimaced as his hand brushed against the burned skin; “On second thought,” he muttered, “I'm not staying like this all night...” He undid the clasps on the bracer that covered his left arm, removing something from a hidden pocket inside. “I was hoping the helmet would've held up against that sort of thing,” he mused, shaking off the ruined headgear and unfolding the object from his bracer–which turned out to be a mask of sorts that would easily cover the wound on his face. “I know the things were designed to my standards, so that's not---”

The Major shoved him out of the way just in time to avoid getting grabbed by another glowing blue hand, which landed with a thud on the ground thanks to a well-timed sword strike. Seconds later, the now one-handed fembot followed suit, vital fluids spilling out of the gaping hole in her chest left by Tom's sword.

“You're lucky that there was a fembot there,” Oberon joked, “otherwise I'd have kicked you in the head for that.”

“What,” Tom replied, “you want all the hair on the back of your head to get burnt off---”

A pained scream interrupted their banter. “Mission now,” Oberon chided, “jokes later.” Without waiting for Major Tom to acknowledge, he ran off towards the scream, sword in hand. “Glad to see getting wounded hasn't spooked him,” the ex-NASA operative muttered, giving a weary sigh. “WAIT UP, WILL YA?!”

Despite the seemingly unending onslaught of the fembots, the ALPA and House Agents refused to give ground at any point in the fight. Over the course of the entire skirmish, Oberon's wound was one of the few suffered by the ALPA and House Agents---and, undoubtedly, his was the most severe. The rest were mostly bruises, scrapes and the mild headache Johnny Dash sustained after falling off of his horse---other than that, the fembots were completely unable to do any real damage to the Field Agents.

In Oberon's view, though.....

“They weren't here to hurt us,” he intoned, just as the last of the fembots finally stopped twitching. “They were here to cause damage---to make a scene. If there had been anyone else other than us out on these streets, then they'd have been killing, maiming, crippling.....once we gave the order for everyone to stay indoors, the fembots lost all incentive to do anything other than cause damage.” He turned away from the cleanup crews working to remove all fembot remains from the street. “As much as you're going to hate me for saying it, Major....I think we've made a grave miscalculation.”

“Except we won,” the Major insisted. “We beat the stupid fembots, and---”

“This was never about 'winning' or 'losing',” Oberon hissed. “This was about misdirection, distraction...the art of making your enemy look like an absolute plonk when they're trying to play the hero. To put it quite simply, Major, we fucked up. We sent all of our best people out here when we should've stayed behind at HQ....”

Tom felt like throwing something. “You're telling me we wasted our time out here?!”

“Far from it---had we not shown up to deal with the fembots here, they would've started kicking in doors and looking for people to hurt. No, our time here was well-spent....it's just that my initial thoughts on why these fembots were here were completely and utterly wrong. Round up the horses...we need to get back to base---”

“I've got a better idea.”

Oberon and Major Tom turned to stare at the speaker of those words, only to find that individual sitting on the roof of what appeared to be a San Jose State University bus. “Horses are good, and all,” Alicia Lehane Mk VI mused, “but....why not just take the bus to get back to your HQ? I mean, it is faster....and busses don't shit all over the road.”

Even as Major Tom rolled his eyes, Oberon laughed. “To be honest,” he chuckled, “that's a damn good idea.”
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[RoxxyRobofox]

I'm sort of a late arrival to the series so not a lot of this makes sense, but from I do catch, Duke is an awesome writer and I really hope you keep up the good work.

[DollSpace]

Love your work! I've been reading this story with keen interest, and really like it. I can't wait for the amazing ending!

[Uhoh]

One battlefront down, one to go... or is there... , nice to see Alicia again too, great work!