War of Realities in the DC Wastelands

[Maharg67]

Another story taken from another forum and to be continued as of now in Druid's Garden.

 

More Fallout like.

 

I hope you enjoy.

 

I have started adding some new chapters from the start but I will continue to add more chapters to extend the story as normal. I may be making some minor changes in older chapters.

 

I am four chapters ahead of what I have in the forum. I will soon edit and add these.

 

There is no need for you to restart the story if you do not wish to. I willl keep extending it as is.

 

Thanks!

Edited March 31, 2010 by Maharg67

[Maharg67]

NOTE: SLASHES THAT DISTURBED READERS HAVE BEEN REMOVED/REPLACED.

 

NOTE: BERSERKERS ARE RENAMED RAGERS SO NOW SPECIAL RAIDERS ARE NAMED RAGERS, RAVERS, REAVERS AND ROVERS WHILE OTHER RAIDERS ARE GANGERS, CANNIBALS AND BANDITS. ON THE EDGE ARE SLAVE-RAIDERS AND FAITH-RAIDERS.

 

NOTE: SPECIAL SURVIVAL BULLETS OF DIFFERENT KINDS ARE NOW THE MOST COMMON CALIBRES IN THE DC-WASTELANDS. THEY WERE DEVELOPED IN THE 2020s.

SSLR = SPECIAL SURVIVAL LONG RIFLE

SSSR = SPECIAL SURVIVAL SHORT RIFLE

SSLP = SPECIAL SURVIVAL LONG PISTOL

SSSP = SPECIAL SURVIVAL SHORT PISTOL

 

1

DEATHCLAW SURVIVAL INSTINCTS

 

 

A huge deathclaw, massive and deadly, roared as he hurled himself over a fallen tree and struck the group of raiders. These were hot raging ragers as versus mad doing anything ravers or ice cold reavers. Around them were the ruins of Old Olney, partly collapsed buildings made of self repairing smart-materials but also buildings in surprisingly good condition because of the same sort of smart-materials. The deathclaw’s howl of rage echoed through the ruins as great claws sliced the head off a rager woman, her hornlizard leather armour doing her no good.

 

Like typical rager female armour it was black and steel studded with a surprising amount of cleavage and midriff showing. The headless body danced crazy as the other ragers leapt away from the deathclaw with enhanced speed and strength but not before claws ripped open a second rager, a man this time.

 

Ragers turned to fire mostly basic guns though one swung a sharpened fire-axe at the deathclaw. The blade cut but not deep enough as the aim was off despite the best efforts of the veteran killer human. He was hurled backwards with cracked ribs and a broken arm.

 

The other three rager raiders, there had only been six of them, fell back and raised their guns to fire at the deathclaw. But they only got to fire off a few 12 gauge shotgun shells from a double-boomer (double barrelled shotgun) and SSLR bullets from two hunting-rifles when the second deathclaw struck at them from behind, tearing into them.

 

The pair of deathclaws, a female and male, made sure their hidden deathclaw cubs were okay. The cubs were hidden in a crude chamber made by the clever deathclaw parents from bits of metal and some bits of masonry. Despite their reputation, deathclaws were survivalists and were wary of attacking humans with guns but this time their cubs had been at stake.

 

Soon deathclaw cubs were sucking at mother’s teats while the father crouched and waited to play with the young.

 

In the distance an unstable atomic motor blew; the wreck of an atomic motorised family sedan exploded dramatically.

 

TO BE CONTINUED

 

 

2

ROLLING THE ROADS

 

A big old convoy of big old robotic machines rolled along once paved roads, repairing them as best they could. Security was tight! The machines had learned, somebody unknown had changed them and turrets covered all directions. The robots had not learned that the world they once served was gone but still, who was to complain, they did do repairs to much needed roads.

 

The Brotherhood of Steel patrol watched them trundle along in the distance, they and their robot companions. Close to the Paladin and Knights in their standard power armour were a bunch of Wastelanders who had just dumped some useful stuff where the road repairing robots could find them and use them. They were Union of Columbia citizens, proudly part of and yet proudly independent from the Union.

 

Even the most stupid of raiders left the robots alone because repaired roads meant safer, more efficient and faster travel even for them. Anyway the robots were heavily armoured and armed along with the fact that many heavily armed folks would not appreciate the gesture, even other raiders.

 

A dust devil moved in the distance and beyond that, across an area of broken, twisted bits of material, an area of softly glowing mist. Inside the mist were figures of many shapes and sizes. They moved even as the mist moved and people kept clear of both.

 

The area was pale green, was known as a fairly fertile area fed by low rad water springs. There were fortified clusterfarms, agricultural co-ops and communes in the distance, belong to different factions of local folk. Sugartown was just over the horizon, a place of low hulking fortified factories and other industrial complexes, where people managed to live fairly well.

 

When the road fixing robots were a long way in the distance, the Brothers of Steel began to move again along with the two sentrybots that travelled with them. They would go another route than the robots until they reached Sugartown and the Orders of Steel outpost there.

 

In that area the situation had been quiet for some months and it was hoped that things would remain that way.

 

TO BE CONTINUED

 

Edited April 4, 2010 by Maharg67

[Maharg67]

3

CLOSE TO ZETAN CRASH SITE A1/011

 

When the raiders saw the naked young man standing close to the crash site of the alien saucerscout, UFO, they did what raiders normally did. They saw an easy target, a crazy and somebody they could have fun with before they killed and ate him because he looked clean, fit and healthy enough to devour.

 

It was an area scattered with buildings and ruins, with other broken landmarks. It was a lightly hilly area with low hills and many gullies. Darkness was coming slowly but steadily and rain was threatening, hopefully clean rain. There were dark clouds and flashes of lightening to the distant east.

 

People tended to believe raiders were all just humans or ghouls gone wild. In the case of those who acted like raiders, they were right, but at the core lay more dangerous kinds. A minority of people knew the truth but they either kept it to themselves or were not believed by most other folks. Anyway, people would say, what does it matter; a raider is a raider is a raider. But it mattered!

 

The young man did not seem to even notice the three enraged cannibal raiders screaming as they charged with amazing speed at him across the broken pavement of the highway. The highway was made of self-repairing smart-materials but even that could not fully repair the road. The raiders clutched between them a sharpened fire-axe, a combat longknife and a spikebat that was a metal spike and plate altered baseball bat.

 

It was semidarkness and in the distance an unstable atomic motor exploded, blowing apart a large delivery van marked ‘Madam Mim’s Tasty Pasties and Pies’. It had long ago been stripped of any food from its perishables status storage bins, or PSSBs. That was one reason one could still find Prewar food that was edible; because of status storage systems.

 

The cannibals automatically turned to note the sound, just a second of shifting their attention from the crazy, but when they looked back he was gone. It was impossible! He had been standing in a fairly wide open space and on hard ground. How could he have vanished in just a second? A stealthboy would not trick their cannibal enhanced other senses and anyway they had seen he had worn nothing let alone a stealthboy.

 

They came to a wary halt, now quiet and ready for trouble, at the spot where the naked young man had vanished.

 

There was a flicker of motion and he came from the side, from where he had been hiding behind a stack of trash including a fallen over NukaCola vending-machine whose lights were still blinking. The woman raider died as he snapped her neck, hitting her with such force that she was hurled through the air to knock down one of the two men. The other man, a cannibal after all, whirled with impressive speed with his combat longknife but even as he did, a very well focused force smashed into both his solar plexus and throat. Dead before he hit the ground, he flew through the air. Then the last man died as the stranger sliced his throat with the captured combat longknife.

 

Cannibal raiders, their physical abilities enhanced along with their senses, were amongst the greatest fighters in the DC-Wastelands and beyond. Yet, having easily killed three of them, he stood there totally at ease. Then he began to loot the three bodies and to work out what he could do with what. As he looked through the stuff he came upon a name he liked and then another so he combined them to come up with Eddie’Jo. He figured he could change it later if he had to. Sometimes he touched smaller items and they vanished with a softly sparkling shimmer as he put them into what he called his Secret Inventory. Other items seemed to alter as he touched them, to change to better suit his needs.

 

He slipped into the most basic, less bizarre gear he could find of the raiders. This was an altered outfit of now brown leather, some spikes, boots and under that both undershorts and a Tshirt that were now clean. A .32 revolver-pistol was holstered at his left side. Various knives were sheaved at his main belt. Other stuff was in pouches. There was canteen with two litres of dirty water, which was far from purified but also far from too much of the water found in the DC-Wastelands.

 

It was getting darker.

 

He could sense other raiders around but also other threats along with less threatening life.

 

Eddie’Jo began to move, to pace smoothly and quietly like some dangerous predator across the war broken landscape.

 

TO BE CONTINUED

 

4

LEAVING ZETAN CRASH SITE A1/011

 

A convoy of typical Wastelander WSVs (Wastelands survival vehicles) moved in the far distance. They were jury-rigged and altered coaches, trucks, cars and other machines. All were at least lightly armed and armoured. Protecting them were heavily armed and armoured guncars and guntrucks. They travelled a different road than did Lucky Eddie as if trying to avoid local raiders.

 

More houses, a pseudo-Swiss hamlet partly burned and partly busted, where some robotic garden gnomes still strived to keep the gardens neat and tidy. Some ghouls had taken over one once cheery continental fake chalet and had peered anxiously at him from some windows. He left medical supplies, food rations, a couple of pocket-knives, a ball of super-string and some other items for them. Cautiously they came out and got the items, nodding thanks to him when he turned to look back briefly.

 

But then a ghoul came after him, a woman in leather armour and with a lever-action rifle, but not in a hostile manner. He waited calmly and with stillness as she approached him and then he just nodded.

 

She was obviously a ghoul and she smelt of it but he did not find the scent of her offensive and neither did he judge her looks. He gave her a mild grin. “The goods were a gift but if you wish to give something in return, go ahead.”

 

“Information but it is not just for you sake. Something tells me that you have much more power than is easily discernable, especially by most smoothskins.” She pointed ahead of him. “Almost at the horizon, where those big billboards are at the crossroads, there are a whole lot of nasty rager raiders nested in a bunker they invaded and a series of half collapsed buildings. There is a girl there, in a cage, but she is not alone. With her a young adult killclaw, two dogs and a molerat that for some reason are friendly to her and each other. There is something special about her.”

 

He nodded. “You did not see this!”

 

At that she shook her head. “Uncle Leo did with his mindeye, a wandering super-mutant of peaceful intent and wondrous abilities of the mind. He spoke of you appearing one day, though he gave only a few details. He mentioned your generosity, which is something rare in the DC-Wastelands. He asked me to ask you to rescue the girl and her friends; that is the animals, including the killclaw. I do not suppose that you can take on so many raiders by yourself.”

 

The ‘mindeye’, a tricky melding and focusing of various psychic and other senses plus other abilities.

 

He nodded. “Not alone but there are some tricks I can use that I will not speak of, no offence intended.”

 

The ghoul woman nodded. “My name is Evalene. It is a wonder to me that you can look at a ghoul with no evident distaste or even a sense that you are concealing it well.”

 

“Compared to what I have experienced, you are very normal.” He gave a subtle shrug. “I sense your pain and that of other full ghouls.” He pulled out a plastic bottle of compacted powdery white-yellow-red spotted pills. “Instruction in English, Esperanto and Spanish are on a label but I will also.” He touched her hand lightly and for a couple of seconds she looked surprised. “Now you know the instructions to use it. Get a antighoulification pill and put it into a litrejon or litre bottle of dirty water, shake it, let it wait for about a dozen minutes. You now have antighoulification water. Spray it lightly over your ghoulified skin and let it dry by itself. Every such treatment will lightly ‘smoothskin’ a ghoul take some of the pain away permanently. You also have the instructions on how to make it or variants of the same medicant from various mutated plants and other ingredients found in the DC-Wastelands.”

 

She looked shocked and more so when he took out nine more bottles from the same pouch that only looked big enough to carry one such bottle. Then she frowned softly. “We do not need charity.”

 

“Everybody has needed, needs or will need charity of some kind in their existence, including myself. Be charitable in return. Do not make greedy profit from the antighoulification medicants and, when necessary, give it away for free.” The young man sniffed the air lightly. “I smell troublesome scents on the air. I am Eddie’Jo, once known as Lucky Eddie or Bloody Eddie.”

 

She shivered. “I was saw super-soldiers slaughter unarmed protesters.”

 

He looked into her eyes. “So you are older than Doomsday. I am, was SEARF. Those were not SEARF. We were too expensive, too important as military assets, to use against unarmed citizens. Normally we fought elite enemies who could fight back quite well. I glimpse your mind. They were Patriot Police who carried out that particular atrocity. They dressed in black while we wore grey and black or similar combinations. They used riot power armour or combat power armour, both of which are forms of light power armour. We used stealth power armour. Still, we sometimes wore black outfits as a disguise. There were many other differences between us and the Patriot Police. By then we SEARF had joined the rebellion against President James Patriot Jackson and his madness.”

 

She snorted. “For your own reasons.”

 

“Of course!” He responded. “What other reasons would we do it for? But those reasons are not so clear cut as you might assume them to be. Danger is coming. I suggest you go into that basement bunker hidden beneath your house.” He slipped a compact, solid-state grey laser-pistol out of a pouch and handed it to her. “It may help in future. You were a doctor involved in peaceful research with a good knowledge of biochemistry. Now go and use it for the good of ghouls.”

 

She frowned.

 

He sighed. “I am merely carrying out part of a very extensive mission by giving you the antighoulification medicants and knowledge. Now are you satisfied?”

 

She smiled. “So you really do care for ghouls. How odd. I look forward to meeting again. You are a poor liar.”

 

So the ghoul woman turned and ran back to the house clutching the laser-pistol and medicants to herself.

 

He turned away and headed along the road even as the first of three battlebuggies appeared, racing along the battered smart-asphalt made strip. Not typical raiders, gangers or bandits, this time but ragers. As they raced towards him, the leading vehicle’s gunner opened up at him with a general purpose machinegun, a bullpup configured MS60A1 firing Military Standard Short Rifle Calibre Bullets or MSSRCBs.

 

None came close to hitting Lucky Eddie. He flickered and was gone from sight but as the battlebuggy passed through the air where he had been, he landed amongst the three raiders in the machine. Two reacted quick with rager rage and speed. He moved quicker with super-soldier lethalness. Blood splashed, flesh and armour was ripped, raiders died. The battlebuggy, filled with dead bodies now, raced off the road and crashed violently into a smart-concrete wall, exploding.

 

Fast Eddie flickered over the wall, leaving the vehicle before it could explode.

 

The real battle had just begun as the other battlebuggies roared to a halt and out leapt some of the raiders with their crazy thirst for revenge, to kill this one who dared to strike at them thus.

 

TO BE CONTINUED

Edited April 4, 2010 by Maharg67

[Maharg67]

5

ATTACK OF THE GIANT ANTS

 

The giant ants were not really giant ants for they had skeletons and lungs of sorts along with their exoskeletons and armour plating. The big two metre long soldiers came swarming over the stockade of long abandoned vehicles, drums and other gathered stuff. The settlers fell back firing basic shotguns, rifles, revolver pistols and two jury-rigged flamers. Ant soldiers exploded into flames but others took their place. One man used a longbow with amazing deadliness, firing flaming arrows that set the monsters aflame.

 

The settlers had been warned that the area was too dangerous to settle in, that the low rad count and fertile earth, along with low rad well water, was not enough to risk it. The settlers had been desperate and they had ignored the warnings. Instead they had hoped that the barriers, some guns and two home made flamers would do the trick.

 

The giant spiiter ant soldiers were surprisingly quick and strong though they could not lift many times their own weight as normal, small ants could. They spat toxic venom and their pincers were terrible and strong. A man screamed as a glob of toxic venom engulfed his face. He fell to the ground, shuddered and died.

 

Firing guns and shooting arrows, the settlers fell back. Some panicked, turned and fled, dropping their weapons as they did. One fell as toxic glob splashed into her back, burning and soaking through her shirt so that soon she was lifeless.

 

The settlers were overwhelmed as more and more of the monstrous insects swarmed over the wall in a seeming endless stream. The worker spitter ants did not spit toxic gloop and they were smaller with smaller pincers but there were more of them. They focused on less dangerous targets. Before the penned up goats and brahmins could escape, or the cooped up chickens, they were devoured.

 

Two teenagers, a baby boy, a horse and two dogs fled along with a young cat that staid in a basket. As they walked quickly through the wilderness feeling frightened and alone, the teens did not turn back to watch the swarms of giant ants devouring the last of their people. The last gun shots were heard, the last scream and then there was only dreadful silence.

 

They did not see a very quiet, odd young girl being carefully picked up by a worker ant and carried off. The infant, an older baby, was gently taken and was sung to in giant ant fashion, a sound that soothed the small one, a sound that most humans would not even hear.

 

 

TO BE CONTINUED

 

6

PATRIOT POLICE POLITICS IN AREFU

 

A two rhorse pulled cart came trundling into the Free Trade Zone at the foot of the great wide highway bridge of Arefu. Well at least it was part of the area which also had some farms, workshops, a Union Guard garrison and other facilities. Rhorses were knobby skinned, hairless horse like creatures that were shorter but stronger than the average horse. They were not so common in the DC-Wastelands but their numbers were growing thanks to imports, the coming of wild herds and local breeding programs.

 

Locals did not know it, would be astonished to know it, but the three men were Patriot Police serving still the cause of President James Patriot Jackson. They did not wear uniforms or official armour for excellent reasons; many people would have killed them. After Doomsday garrisons of Patriot Police had survived including PPSWATs (Patriot Police Special Weapons Armour and Tactics) and had made lives of general survivors miserable. Many were killed in savage battles, many had become raiders but a few had gone underground, literally; these remained loyal to the cause.

 

Not a lost cause because President James Patriot Jackson still kept in contact with them and still kept sending them orders while gaining information from them.

 

One older man rubbed his unshaven brown face and spoke gruffly in Spanish. “The Chief Detective has gone mad and needs to be put down; we are only doing our duty.”

 

The other two knew that this was a total lie. The man speaking wanted Chief Detective Renalto’s job. Dressed like poor scavengers and junk traders, the two observed him but not directly. They said nothing against or in support of his words. One of them looked out towards the big wide flowing river that passed under and a big old hovership poking half sunken out of the waters at a low angle. People lived and worked there, fishing and scavenging, but at times they had problems with mirelurks, diresharks and other aquatic or amphibious threats.

 

It was like the fishing platforms that were lowered down from just under the bridge, reached by old utility hatchways and the walkways under the bridge. It was a way for the local people to feed themselves, obtain other resources and to get tradegoods for the traders that came along.

 

Why had Chief Detective Renalto gone to Arefu? With only one companion, he had rushed there as quickly as he could in a trade-transport convoy. It had seemed like madness and now O’Reilly wanted to take advantage of it. Except that nobody really liked O’Reilly or trusted him while many respected Renalto. O’Reilly was not true to the cause, was corrupt and wanted to make himself wealthy and powerful no matter what it did to the cause.

 

They passed the ironic scene of slavers in chains and manacles, looking just like a bunch of slaves, being moved into the settlement. Antislavers were guarding them, ex-slaves with good reason to murder who had chosen justice instead. To the Patriot Police the only real justice was what President James Patriot Jackson said it was.

 

While one man took the rhorses and cart off to the stables and wagon-cart yards, O’Reilly and the other made their way to a cheap-easy saloon, a place of barred armaglass windows and bolted down chairs and tables where glasses or bottles were not served or allowed.

 

The big dark skinned Irishman figured that the Chief Detective was vulnerable and that he could replace the fool. After that he wanted to take the position of Chief Superintendent of the surviving Patriot Police in the DC-Wastelands. Then he would have influence over the Patriot Folk underground settlements, all three of them, and then he and his cronies could make a fortune.

 

It was just a matter of time.

 

He thrust his way through the crowded saloon where topless smoothskin waitresses served trays of cheap alcohol filled clay mugs. The clay mugs were easily broken and cheap to replace but they were not good at damaging people or property. Somebody thrust him back, a tough looking mercenary who thought inferior lowlife scum should have better manners. O’Reilly went to retaliate but thought better of it despite his pride and quick temper. The mercenary was a veteran, was well armed and surrounded by comrades. Also the Patriot Police Officer could not afford to draw unwanted attention to himself.

 

There was the door, the one with the yellow streak of paint, and behind it was the target. O’Reilly grinned, thrust open the door and as he strode into the room he drew out a semiautomatic pistol that used Military Standard Long Pistol Calibre Bullets (MSLRCBs). He stopped in shock and his grin slipped away.

 

Chief Detective Renalto was there but was in a mercenary outfit. Nor was he alone. Two others were there disguised as mercenaries being Patriot Police Constables. Patriot Police were organised military fashion so their constables were equal to privates, they had NCOs and then officers above that. The three were seated on basic wooden chairs behind a large square table.

 

The man behind him and grinned, moving back into the other room to shut the door behind him. It was a trap and it was O’Reilly who was the fool.

 

The he noticed the other man, the one who looked like President James Patriot Jackson himself. The man was dressed as a mercenary officer of sorts but his presence was very strong and very dark. O’Reilly was suddenly very frightened.

 

The man spoke even as he paced smoothly towards O’Reilly. “Your evil stupidity will do nicely. Did you really think you had fooled anybody? You have been chosen, along with a few others, so that I can feed. I am ”

 

O’Reilly turned his gun at the ‘mercenary officer’ but the superclone of President James Patriot Jackson moved with astonishing speed and power. He plunged his fingers into the chest and forehead of the Irishman who screamed in agony and horror, his whole body shuddering horribly. Somehow the scream was muffled. Then the flesh, bones and skin simply withered into nothingness. The empty gear fell to the floor except for the pistol that the superclone grabbed out of the air.

 

Supreme Superintendent James Patriot Jackson turned to the others, all who concealed their horror and revulsion with great skill, and then he spoke. “I have fed now and we have eliminated an internal threat to our cause. As a superclone I am, of course, linked to the Great President himself, and he is pleased by what has just happened. Now for our first meeting to plan our part in the return of our great leader, President James Patriot Jackson, who will not just be the president of North America but of the whole world.”

 

He sat at the table and so began his first meeting with the Chief Detective. It would be just one of many to come.

 

TO BE CONTINUED

Edited April 4, 2010 by Maharg67

[Maharg67]

7

HAPPY SIXTEENTH BIRTHDAY

 

The triplets, Aaron, Appie and Aarie, were not really surprised by the surprise birthday party held by their friend Amata. In a big dining room they were confronted by over two dozen people but that left much of the chamber bare. A lot of people cried out ‘surprise’ in the language of Esperanto and then they rushed forward a little before speaking out again ‘happy birthday’.

 

Amata was at the forefront of course, sixteen years old like the triplets now and very organizational of others as always. She came forward and spoke with evident excitement. “I bet I surprised you. I was worried you would find out about the party from Butch and his other idiots; other than Butch himself, that is.”

 

Aarie smiled and lied sweetly as she held the plump muscular baby like figure, Appie, to herself. “Of course you surprised us.”

 

Amata knew she was lying, of course, but she loved such social games. “Then I have a wonderful gift for each of you.”

 

Butch and his friends were in a booth to themselves, all six of them crowded into the space being four males and two females. Butch DeLoria, Wally Mack, Paul Hannon Junior and Fred Yao Ming. The two females, Sandra Matos and Freda Matos, were honouree gang members only as only guys could be full members.

 

There were real friends there like Google, Colaboy, Trent, DJ-Girl, Fred and Shandie. They were in another booth, just as crowded.

 

Dad was there, standing fairly close and smiling. As usual he wore not the normal dull dark blue or dull dark pink jumpsuits but a scientist’s outfit with LifeVault-101 symbols on the upper left chest, shoulders and upper back of the coat. The Security Overseer of LifeVault-`101 was there of course, being Amata’s father. He would have their pipboy and pipgirl; he would be happy to put more constraints on the older (by a very short time) two triplets whom he saw as overly questioning and smart for the good of LifeVault-101 society. Appie already had a pipbaby as all babies had to help keep them safe but neobabies like Appie kept theirs.

 

A reporter was there to take AV-recordings for the official social celebrity website, was trying not to look bored. The only reason she was there was because of the presence of the Security Overseer and his daughter. The Public Relations Office had probably sent her, PR meaning propaganda.

 

A jukebox was playing quadraphonic quality music except it was all silly birthday songs. They guessed Amata’s father would have suppressed any music songs that even hinted at being restricted. It was the sort of thing he would have automatically have done.

 

Amata passed over a thick comic book to each of them being Grognak the Barbarian for him and Annie the Adventurer for her plus Rompy Rabbit for Appie. They were slightly crinkled and had probably been found somewhere in the great big unofficial storage depot somewhere. Lots of stuff had been dumped there in the dimly lit hallways and archival bins, shelves and spaces before the LifeVault was closed up.

 

Truth was they all three thought that Grognak was overblown and too aggressive while Annie was prissy and too meek. Rompy Rabbit was just right for Appie. It was the sort of gifts that Amata’s father thought she should give them so they were given at the party. The real gifts would come later, away from presence of Alphonse Almodovar, father to Amata Almodovar.

 

The Security Overseer came forward with a predatory smile. “Young man and young woman, you are sixteen years old now, both of you and from now on you will be expected to be part of the work roster. Work will be allocated to you as of tomorrow. Have a good birthday; it’s the last you will have with out real responsibilities.”

 

Then sixteen year olds only did casual light duties for they still had to attend school and they were still children but the Security Overseer’s attitude rankled. He gave them a pipboy and a pipgirl. They exposed their wrists, including the nerve-sockets exposed there that had already been emplaced, then they carefully put on the devices. For a moment each of the bigger triplets winced a little as the cyberlinking was attained.

 

Their dad stepped forward and quietly, efficiently adjusted each device, showing a good deal of experience and skill. The overseer walked away to sit in a booth with some older Vaultfolk.

 

Each of them kissed Amata on the cheek, opposite cheeks at the same time, causing her to blush sweetly. Then the triplets started doing the rounds, the socially proper thing to greet people. Coloured balloons floated in the air along with basic colourful holographic projections of small moving animals.

 

Herman Gomez was a friendly security officer. He wished the twins happy birthday and gave them a 10cred each to spend.

 

Stanley Armstrong admitted he chose the Model 3000A Basic pipboy and pipgirl for the twins because it is a more basic but more reliable model. Then he whispered to them that he had made a few small but nice ‘additions’. Picking up that Stanley did not want the Security Overseer to know about this, Aaron and Aarie thanked him. He also gave each a small clever multitool each that he had made, that could fit easily into a jumpsuit pouch or citizen utility-belt, and a small bip-box thing for Appie.

 

Truth is the young geniuses had helped the technician overcome some tricky vault maintenance problems over the last year or so, secretly assisting him while he surreptitiously gave them access to his workshop area. The Vaultdroid Series Nine-A androids had gotten a bit wonky until the twins had managed to track down a misplaced manual in the Archival Depot; they had an amazing ability to find valuable things. Now the vaultdroids were serving a wide range of valuable services with much efficiency. The twins had helped with the other network-systems and had secretly mapped much of the security in the vault.

 

They had a plan!

 

Actually they had more than one plan, just in case.

 

It was ironically funny for the twins when Butch and his friends had to, out of good manners and because adults were there, to give the twins each a 5cred. That was Butch DeLoria, Wally Mack, Paul Hannon Junior and Fred Yao Ming, Sandra Matos and Freda Matos. That was altogether 60cred. Of them all Paul Hannon Junior and the Matos Sisters were fairly friendly.

 

Google, Colaboy, Trent, DJ-Girl, the Bran Twins, Fred and Shandie were friends and happy to each give up 5cred to each twin. Anyway they knew that later there would be a secret party and that the vault-credit would go on treats. Google was actually Adam Adamson, a wicked hacker, and the Security Overseer was highly suspicious of him. The Bran Twins were neobabies, like Appie, and happy to go along with spending money that was given to them to give away while they got fussed over for their generosity. Appie also got fussed over in case he got jealous.

 

There were others in three booths and in other spots. Friendly neutrals mostly who were invited simply to make up numbers. Some were chimpman teenagers, genetically engineered chimpanzees, allowed to come to make the party seem more tolerant.

 

Beatrice Armstrong, attractive mature woman, gave them each a 5cred and both a poem she had written. She smiled warmly at them. “I remember when I used to help your father change your nappies. Here is a poem I wrote just for you. I hope you enjoy it.”

 

They thanked her warmly and they took the poem. Beatrice was a kind of sexy, eccentric kind aunty to a lot of young people and was generally considered harmless. For now they did not read her poem. The taller twins kissed Beatrice on the cheek and Appie got a kiss from Beatrice.

 

Then Lucy Palmer, normally known as Old Lady Palmer, gave them each a sweetroll, even half sized one for Appie. The taller twins each gave her a kiss on the cheek, pleasing her a good deal and the neobaby got kissed.

 

Fresh made food like that was uncommon in the LifeVault were food was normally rations from the hydrovat network-system and slowly dwindling status stored reserves. The hydrovat farms had never fully recovered from the bacteria attack some thirty years ago but were close to 71% functionality again. The Fringers farmed blindfish, mushrooms, meatworms and other stuff in the big caverns they were forced to work but they could only provide about 10% at most of LifeVault needs. Back in the short lived but dreadful famine the chicken, rabbit and goat stocks had been decimated, were only a shadow of their old selves. As for mattercated food, well if one really had to…

 

When the MrHandy smashed the cake up it was handed out on plates anyway. Butch grumbled and demanded that the twins give him the sweetrolls that Old Lady Palmer had given them. But they had already eaten part of the sweetrolls after sharing the rest with Amata and their other friends; just a taste each but a nice taste.

 

Butch threatened but he always did that though in truth the bigger triplets frightened him and even Appie seemed to disturb him somehow.

 

The party went on!

 

TO BE CONTINUED

 

8

SAVING LILLY AND HER FRIENDS

 

The rager fell back, firing his recoilless heavy calibre submachinegun, or RHCSMG, also known as a Super-Ingram, his armoured body already bleeding heavily. Nothing came through the doorway after him, that he was firing through, but Eddie’Jo dropped down through the ceiling, smashing his way through it, and snapped the neck of the raider. Somehow he acquired, super fast, the Super-Ingram, blasting down a female rager even as she leapt up with a Soviet bullpup AKZ-174a doublegun, part assault-rifle and part laser-rifle. Before her body could even begin to hit the ground, he was darting through a chamber filled with preserved corpses and parts of corpses hanging on hooks from the ceiling. Raiders were far from stupid and preserved such decorations against rot because of the risk of stink or disease.

 

Only some chambers had such extras and this one was lined with steel cages, cruder iron cages and various jury-rigged torture devices. The dead were mostly enemy raiders, but some were typical Wastelanders. Amongst the living were two more ragers but they were drugged out of their minds on filthy mattresses. He went to kill them but then paused. Somebody wanted him to do something different with these two and he almost felt pity for them. He took out softly glowing crystallic collars from a pouch and placed them around the necks, the collars adjusting fluidly to fit tight and then flowing together to link formlessly. A moment later the two vanished with a sparkling shimmer.

 

Lilly frowned at him, a grubby but tough six year old girl and her animal friends, put into the cage to kill her, stood ready to protect her. A noisy crow, two wild dogs, a powerful young female-adult killclaw and a molerat, the last making strange noises. Bobby knelt in front of the cage and he looked into Lilly’s eyes. She and her animal friends all went quiet and then she gave him a half smile that just managed to reach her eyes. He opened the cage.

 

A raider sat up on his mattress and the killclaw sliced his throat open, leaping and bring down, around a long retractable foreclaw hard and sharp enough to cut through easily through bone. The raider fell back dead and the killclaw pissed on the corpse, clearly outraged at something the dead raider had done. Killclaws, like other types of clawbeast, were surprisingly intelligent which was one reason, along with physical powers and cunning, they were so damned dangerous.

 

The other living in that chamber were close to death and he sent them to Orbis, the alien realm that he was linked with. They were a few Wastelanders, men and women, a couple of ghouls and a boneskinned, hairless auman. It was a surprise to see an auman on the surface and in the DC. Each used a OrbisCollar and now he had only a few left while it would take time for his Hidden Inventory to generate more. Orbis had given him some special extras but nothing that gave him godly powers and much of what he did have was very specialised to suit specific tasks.

 

There were no more live ragers.

 

A second Eddie’Jo slipped into the room and walked to the first Eddie’Jo. With a soft sparkling shimmer they merged and became one again. Four more arrived, three carrying valuable loot, and did the same. Such tricks as split-cloning took up valuable energy and had both numbers and time limits. He had not killed all of the ragers. Fifteen had gone to Orbis after surrendering while others he had collared by surprise. Most had fought and had died. The ragers were monstrous, a subspecies of humanity that took humanity’s worst and focused it but even amongst them were some with a glimmer of hope to them: those that had surrendered, who could surrender, were those with hope. Those drugged into stillness were often those who could not truly handle being ragers.

 

One young rager woman had been secretly smuggling as much food, water and other useful stuff to Lilly and her friends as possible. Kiandra was discovered and her comrades had beaten almost to death but now she was in Orbis.

 

Lilly and the animals followed him as he began to gather up useful stuff, usable loot, clues and just things that interested him. A few items he sent to Orbis as it was easier to send non living thing there than living things.

 

Lilly began her collection of robotic teddybears and other toys.

 

When some ghostly figures appeared, sleepy eyed raiders long dead, none of them were very perturbed and Eddie’Jo asked them some questions, giving them some ghost-fire in return, a form of energy of multiple use to such wandering spirits. The evil had gone from these raiders and they soon drifted off, clutching the ghost-fire and seeking a cloud of softly glowing mist where such as they normally dwelt.

 

TO BE CONTINUED

Edited April 4, 2010 by Maharg67

[Maharg67]

9

THE BATTLE FOR GRAND NATIONAL MALL

 

Brothers of Steel ran slowly, lumbering across the broken landscape of the Grand National Mall as rebuilt in the mid 21st Century by President James Patriot Jackson. All the way with JPJ, the man who had ordered the whole of the District of Columbia to be transformed and it was.

 

As graceful as big bulky hairless metallic gorillas, the Knights could fire off computer guided bursts of 20mm shells from autoguns or other forms of destruction. They did not fire their weapons for they did not want to attract too much attention. Instead they wished to reach an area of shelter ahead in thee form of a short smart concrete wall.

 

Paladins used special heavy power armour while more common Knights used standard power armour. Troopers and Auxiliaries (trusted mercenaries) used lighter combat power armour. Initiates, none of which were at the battle, used training power armour. There were specials who used their own types of armour or armour with adaptations such as scouts, medics, special forces and techs.

 

Super-mutants had only appeared as a growing threat in relatively recent years. That is in the DC-Wastelands as the Brotherhood of Steel had fought them in other parts of the former USA. Where these new super-mutants were coming from was a mystery but they seemed to be less intelligent but a little harder to kill than those back in the west had been. Brothers of Steel called them stupid-mutants. There were generally three sizes and the bigger they were, the less common they were and the stupider they seemed to be. Generally two metre tall mutantors were dwarfed by the three roughly metre tall massemoths, who were in turn over shadowed by the hulking four to five metre tall behemoths. Those five metres tall or over were called super behemoths but, thankfully, they were uncommon.

 

Why the Grand National Mall? Nobody seemed to know why but the invaders were intent on occupying and holding it.

 

Howitzer shells dropped in overhead and explosions ripped up the super-mutant held zone like great gouts of brown smoke. The super-mutants were staying low for now in their cleverly designed and made network of reinforced trenches, bunkers and tunnels. Too clever for stupid-mutants which indicated some sort of intelligence was guiding them. Howitzer rockets roared down into the defences and bigger explosions hurled mud, mutant bodies and other stuff into the air.

 

Two Brother Steel Troopers set up a heavy machinegun on a tripod behind a low sandbag wall and began pouring large armour piercing explosive bullets at the enemy. One was a woman. They wore combat power armour, of course.

 

In the distance the Washington Monument rose high into the air. The Brothers-Steel had troopers there guarding the famous monument and its secrets while using it as an observation outpost. Its smart-materials kept it from falling down but there were great rips down its sides. The Mad President, President James Patriot Jackson, had replaced the old destroyed one with a much bigger construction that was a building in its own right and the Orders of Steel used it in many ways.

 

At times it seemed the Brotherhood of Steel was dealing with this new threat by itself but there were allies who did what they could. The Union of Columbia, a loose alliance of settlements and settled zones, sent what Union Guards it could spare. The Sisterhood of Steel assailed the enemy with their small fleet of ground attack aircraft. Even the Outcasts of Steel had grudgingly given a hand at times for super-mutants were a threat to them also.

 

With a howling scream a wave of super-mutants broke out of their ditches, going over the top, and charged across the increasingly broken ground. All wore partial leather and metal plated armour. The regular mutantors carried mainly big basic automatic 10gauge shotguns or altered heavy-machineguns and yet there were also miniguns, flamers and rocket-grenade launchers. The massemoths carried bigger 20mm autoguns or missile quad-launchers. Behemoths thundered over the ground with great single shot blunder-cannons that could and would be used also as clubs.

 

But this time the super-mutants came with others. Smaller mutants like bulky over muscular normal humans, like very ugly body builders, they outnumbered the bigger ones and they carried standard humans weapons like assault-rifles, assault-shotguns and revolver-launchers that could fire up to six 40mm grenade shells before needing to be reloaded. Some carried rocket-grenade launchers. These would come to be called smart-mutants but it was a name tinged with irony because generally they were only smart when compared to stupid-mutants.

 

The heavy armour Knights crouched down behind the shelter they had been heading for, aimed their weapons at the on rushing enemy and let loose. The enemy were trying to take only a fairly small area of ground but would pay heavily for it. The battle for the Grand National Mall had come down to fighting for mere metres of ground, some ditches or other basic landmark. Too many were dying for too little success and any ground taken seemed to be lost too soon, this going for both sides.

 

One of the many overly grandiose statues of President James Patriot Jackson in Washington DC lost its head as it exploded. A wounded Brother of Steel cried out for a Medic in specialized power armour loaded with medical technologies.

 

The scream of approaching vertijets was heard as the Sisters of Steel started making another bombing run with smart-bombs. They would also strafe with big volleys of 20mm shells and special sweep-lasers.

 

TO BE CONTINUED

 

 

10

SPYING ON CANTERBURY COMMONS

 

Too many called him insane but the Mechanist considered himself to be a super genius of robotics and related areas. Openly he worked as a robotics expert in the commerce dominated settlement of Canterbury Commons but secretly in his own basement bunker, he experimented with a range of robotics. With him, to keep him company and to meet his needs, were two android women of ‘slimly voluptuous’ build. They also assisted his work as did two octibots, clever robots each with eight double-jointed manipulator-limbs for doing intricate work.

 

Today he was spying on townsfolk using the very security cameras and security robots that they had paid for him to put into place. Canterbury Commons had over two hundred thousand people and growing slowly but steadily in population. While four individuals dominated the trading caravans, there were plenty of independent ones that went out.

 

The mayor was at it with his young secretary again, the old fool. He was bound to get a heart attack if he did not start behaving himself. Then again, Mayor Roe, sometimes called Uncle Roe, was no fool. He had basically founded the settlement, along with his sister Daisy. He had a wife but the marriage was one of political and commercial convenience only. The Mechanist, really Scott Wollinski, was careful around that man.

 

He switched views to the big wide main street and the old square that it ran into with its ugly but somehow pleasing sculpture made out of old vehicles and vehicle parts careful placed and welded together. Trallis the artist had done this but mostly Yvonne Trallis did practical welding jobs for the settlement. The square had become a weekend markets and was going that day with many stalls up and much activity by people. Normal shops were open around the square itself, fronting into the square.

 

Then he saw them, visitors mingling amongst the crowds, and again he was puzzled. They were androids of some kind, or at least they acted like it. He had an amazing knack for picking out androids pretending to be humans but it was a knack that he generally kept to himself. Yet there was also something ‘non android like’ about these androids. He had picked up their difference already, back when he had first witnessed them in Canterbury Commons.

 

He turned to his android companions but also to the AI-supercomputer, SmartAsIs. “The strange new androids, have you finished analysing the data on them?”

 

SmartAsIs responded in a very good but not perfect copy of Ruth’s voice. “The controlling influence is different. They may have advanced positronic brains or they may have something new altogether. They behave more smoothly, more like actual humans but with out the clumsiness normal to many humans. I conclude that while they are most likely from the DomniCommonwealth, that there is a good chance that they are not products of the DomniInstitute. Considering my data limitations, this conclusion could easily be misleading.”

 

He had made the voice to impress his ex-wife but Ruth seemed a little spooked out by it.

 

This surprised the Mechanist. He sat back and wondered who or what, on the Columbian Islands, could match the DomniInstitute. He had always assumed that the DomniInstitute and its elites were the only things important enough to consider in the DomniCommonwealth but now he had to challenge his assumptions.

 

Ruthlee, the android, spoke then. “What will you do about the strangers?”

 

The Mechanist sighed. “If they turn out to be escapees from that damned DomniInstitute than I will assist them as I normally do. Otherwise I most likely will remain distant, remain hidden.”

 

There was more data to collect and more to think about. He turned back to the screen.

 

Canterbury Commons was a prized member of the slowly expanding Union of Columbia so it had protection by Union Guards in combat power armour. There were also Town Guards and Sheriff Deputies in flexikevlar body-armour. A patrol of Town Guards were moving a little arrogantly through the crowds but failed totally to discover the androids.

 

DomniCommonwealth visitors, from the Columbian Islands, were there also. They were damned arrogant, being from the DomniCommonwealth capital city of DomniCity. An aeroship came across from the commonwealth and back again once a month, stopping of at Canterbury Commons, Rivet City and then at Canterbury Commons again before returning to DomniCity. The strange androids had come last month on that aged but still strong going flying ship. Now the Mechanist picked up human Domnifolk and with them android companions and bodyguards.

 

Then he saw the man and he scowled. He of course knew about one of the amazing creators of a whole new generation of so called super-androids. Doctor Zimmer was a super genius, a driven professional, a monster and not one to trust lightly. There had been whispers of super-androids escaping to the DC-Wastelands mainland, at least one being a creation of Doctor Zimmer. Was Doctor Zimmer there chasing one of his wonderful creations? Would he risk coming alone to the mainland? It did not quite make sense.

 

Then the Mechanist grinned. Doctor Zimmer, at least the one in front of him, was himself an android, most likely a super-android, and the real Doctor Zimmer was most likely safely ensconced in the super fortress of the DomniInstitute that was buried deep beneath DomniCity.

 

Men, women, children! Families! They seemed quite alien to him. He found the human world to be both too complicated and confusing. He supposed it was because he was a cyborg with only his brain, spinal-chord and a few other parts in his torso being flesh. The rest was a clever built android of a middle-young aged man.

 

His young wife had left him years ago, after he had wandered back into Canterbury Commons as a cyborg, having vanished as a human on the outskirts of the town. He had been searching for robotic or other useful parts when giant ants had attacked him, ripping him apart. Then had come a strange flash of light and after that, darkness. He had awoken as cyborg who felt alienated from human society.

 

Still, she did visit him sometimes in his official workshop and she brought goodies, made love to him, cooked a meal for him and cleaned up his living area, fussing over him, before she left again. Ruth would return to her merchant husband, whom she detested, and to the high society of Canterbury Commons that she loved.

 

The Canterbury Commons ClubElite was small but was an important part of the much bigger Union of Columbia ClubElite. In turn the ClubElite had far too much influence on Union of Columbia affairs including Government and neogovernment corporations.

 

Scott Wollinski did not care for politics or commerce or many aspects of society much but recently he had come to realise that such things were important. Now he switched views again and was watching workers, in labour power armour, moving around dull metallic canisters, plastic boxes and wooden crates. Now he was using one of his unauthorised and secret cameras to observe criminal activity of some kind. At once he made plans to take a closer look at this stuff to see if anything of it was worth stealing.

 

That is after he took a peek at the working girls of the CRAZY GIRL SALOON showering in a rather bare concrete chamber. He knew them all normally but, to his surprise, not only were there two newcomers but they were strange androids.

 

Just what was going on in Canterbury Commons?

 

TO BE CONTINUED

Edited April 4, 2010 by Maharg67

[Maharg67]

11

FINDING AND USING THE SAFE HOUSE

 

 

After killing a fair few raiders, ragers and other kinds, he was much better resourced and was riding in a semi-enclosed lightly armoured battlebuggy. A protectron robot rode in the back along with a sleeping molerat, two once savage dogs and little girl, a raider captive; now she was curled up with one of the dogs, the molerat and a teddy-bear. A crow was perched up on the dashboard and was watching the world go past. He had gained a good deal of valuable gear that was both in the vehicle and in the Secret Inventory.

 

It was sunny but not bright thanks to clouds moving rapidly across the sky.

 

President James Patriot Jackson had given all the children of the USA a light brown robotic teddybear each that was a small basic robot. It was too bad he had done it mainly so the teddy-bears could spy on people and whisper patriotic conditioning to sleeping children. The plan had not worked. The already overburdened US Security Intelligence Network could not start to access all the toys and parents quickly learned how to turn off the spying microphones and propaganda speakers. Yet the same teddy-bears could still be found all across the former USA.

 

The electric machine hummed quietly along a surprisingly good condition road past a row of surprisingly good condition double level houses. The gardens were overgrown, the mailboxes were empty and a mail delivery robot was parked against a wall on its four flexi-suspension wheels.

 

Reconstructed Washington DC was two major levels being surface-semi-underground and underground. Residential, commercial, social, sporting and other such areas were mostly in the Uppers. Manufactories, warehouses, processing centres and other such places were mainly in the Lowers. Between the two was the Subway Network with its monorail trains and trams plus underground roadways with rails to power electric vehicles of all kinds. Exceptions were such as big solar power stations in the Uppers and beautiful subterranean gardens in great cave systems.

 

Except now much of it was destroyed and much of that which survived was either shut down or only semiactive.

 

It was very different from the Washington DC he had known back in 2077, the year he had vanished as a super-soldier. He had only vague troubled memories of that time and his life before that. The memories also seemed impossible at times but then again so did misty fragmented memories of his time after that.

 

The girl had given him some information after she realised that that he was actually not out to do any bad to her, that he was determined to make her life comfortable and last of all, that he actually liked her very much though she could not understand why. Sometimes when she was awake, she stared at him in quiet astonishment because he was not brutalising her into a life of savagery.

 

He found the building that he was looking for and carefully parked the vehicle in the garage. There was a rusting electric runabout already there with skeletal remains inside and yet much of the big chamber was fairly intact. After doing his best to hide the vehicle from any who might take a peek into the garage through the partly open garage door, it would not close any further, he found what he really wanted.

 

Faded memories told him that this was a safe house for the Ghost Ops unit, the Special Encounter Assault Recon Force, that he had served with back in 2077 when he and his comrades had turned against the President’s insane rule. The basement chamber was normal enough but beneath that was a bunker, a whole second basement level but a fortified one with much equipment and supplies. It soon became clear that nobody had been there since he and his comrades had departed on what had turned out to be a suicide mission driven by betrayal and weird, violent events.

 

While the dogs and molerat explored the big main bunker chamber and the girl had a bath in ‘real’ recycled water with a rubber ducky, he prepared a meal. While the girl and animals finished eating he made himself coffee and her some hot chocolate. She didn’t speak much and he put no pressure on her to say anything.

 

After that she sat watching a 3DTV recording of a children’s story while the molerat and dogs lay close to her. He sat meditating.

 

TO BE CONTINUED

 

 

12

AFTER THE INFAMOUS GOAT

 

 

The infamous GOAT exam had come and gone with its 101 multiple answer questions, the 101st asking who was the most important leader and all answers being the ‘High Overseer’. Appie had not needed to be tested, of course, and was in the two bedroom apartment when they returned. Beatrice was looking after him, was mildly spoiling him as the neobaby sat in her lap as she watched 3DCTV (3D cable television). It was showing a typically dull LifeVault-0101 Broadcasting Department soap opera in which Vaultfolk lead approved lives with much apparent happiness and contentment.

 

Beatrice smiled at the two as they came into the commonroom of the apartment. It was fairly large but the apartment was really designed for two adults while it housed two almost adults, two almost adults and a neobaby. There was father and his live in girlfriend, Darwina. Such crowding was normal for the residential subvaults of the vault.

 

Beatrice kissed the neobaby and passed the small one over to Aaron. Appie yawned, stretched and was soon sleeping against his ‘big bruddy’s chest’. The older two triplets sat down on basic semicomfortable chairs clutching their results in the form of hard-copy print-outs. Hard-copy print-outs were not very common thanks to rationing of paper of all kinds, even recycled paper but GOAT results were considered important enough to keep in this fashion.

 

The older woman sighed. “I take it you did very well.”

 

Aarie shrugged. “Very well in the sense of abilities and skills, of intelligence and creativity, but not in the sense of ‘proper loyalty to the Vaultgov’. We could end up in the Research and Development Department but most like will become part of the Maintenance Department.”

 

Beatrice sighed. “I would not concern yourself too much. In truth the Personal Department takes little heed of the GOAT Exam when directing people to various duties. The Internal Security Department would like it otherwise but they are fools. Your abilities will be very much in demand. How did you like the poem? I confess it is not mine. I simply wanted you to take a look at it for they say it was written by Mad Charlie himself.”

 

Beatrice smiled and from a normal looked, patched, workbag she took a large bottle of alcoholic cider, a secret market tradegood because all production of alcohol for drinking purposes was banned. The older triplets smiled and Appie was happy when the neobaby got to fill his favourite Moony Mouse sipcup with apple juice. The apple juice was black market because all fruit juices were rationed.

 

To their surprise, their father arrived home early to celebrate their having completed the infamous GOAT and with him came his girlfriend who carried three small gifts. Darwina looked a lot like a younger version of Catherine, their dead mother, and she was just as nice and just as smart. The triplets all considered her to be aloof at times, which they assumed that their mother would never be like.

 

Appie got some more plastic construction bricks, brightly coloured, plus another small plastic figure to add to his collection, this time being an elephant. Aaron and Aarie each got new shoes, a handy pouch multitool and a 200cred voucher for the VaultShops. There were only a few VaultShops and they were often at least half empty of goods but matters were improving with the growth of cottage industries of various kinds. Better still, VS-vouchers could be used with the secret market and black market.

 

Beatrice and Darwina got on quite well, like old friends, though Darwina had only been living in that part of the vault for a few years. They chatted and Aarie joined in with them. They discussed shoes, the horror of Vaultgov issued makeup and who were the attractive young men and women athletes showing up in vault games. One of the favourite sports in the vault was the Big Loop Cycle Races, be they bicycles, tricycles or quadcycles, or even monocycles on odd occasions, that went around the edge of the vault, except for Sector Ten these days: a big race was coming up soon.

 

The use of pedal-vehicles in a vault had turned out to be very practical, from pedalcarts to bicycles, tricycles and even quadcycles. Delivery tricycles were large with storage at the back. When people used exercise bicycles in the fitness centres, they also charged up small batteries. Vaultgov was putting in network-system of computer guided rail-quadcycles where pedal power was made safer and more efficient using special monorails.

 

James went off after a fairly short while, no surprise there, and Aaron sat with Appie playing with coloured bricks. After a while the three femmes came over an joined in, all of them taking turns in fussing over the neobaby.

 

James returned, a surprise, with some take-away food for them all gotten from the nearest community cafeteria. They were all soon eating a decent meal of longofish and vegetable pie, fruit salad with icecream and grainy breadbiscuits.

 

TO BE CONTINUED

Edited April 4, 2010 by Maharg67

[Maharg67]

INTERLUDE: YOU DO NOT HAVE TO READ THIS

SOME FACTS OF LIFEVAULT-0101

 

There were, in theory, twelve even Ministries in the Vaultgov. Each was divided into Departments. The Ministries were (1) Constitution and Politics, (2) Social Security, (3) Security Intelligence, (4) Defence (5) Justice (6) Vault Care, (7) Biotech, Tech and Mech, (8) Training and Education, (9) Sports, Fitness and Entertainment (10) Storage, Distribution and Transportation (11) Health and Fitness (12) Miscellaneous Matters.

 

There were the special non-Ministry departments that reported directly to the Council of Elders. They were the Department of Police, Department of Population Regulation, Department of Security (uniformed security), Department of Culture, Department of Archives, Department of Adult Entertainment, Department of Special Services and the Department of Departmental Matters. It was difficult to find out just what the last two departments actually did.

 

In practise some ministries were bigger than others, were more influential and the Ministry of Miscellaneous Matters was bloated. In order to deal with the growing pressures of vault life, almost 200 years from Doomsday, a TriCouncil of Overseers, Coordinators and Supervisors had been created along with a limited democratic Constitutional Council, an Ombudsman with very limited powers to assist people with complaints and even a Feedback Office that did not respond to feedback.

 

The Department of Research and Development, Department of Lotteries, the Department of Emergency Services and the Department of Civil Defence had been added.

 

Because of the use of cyberlink technologies, AI-supercomputers, androids and robots, the bureaucracy of actual humans was surprisingly small. Administrators of various types were at the top while such as admin officers, clerks, techs, caretakers, orderlies and secretaries made up the ranks along with a sprinkling of specialists.

 

Also in theory, there were around a million people in LifeVault-0101 but in practise the population had also become bloated to at least two million. Many Vaultfolk dwelt in the slums of the Rimzone, an often maze of hastily built sectional walls, prefabricated dwellings and other features. Then there were the Fringe Caverns where dwelt the outcasts, the exiles and their descendents who cultivated more exotic stuff such glowmoss, nutrimoss, giant mushrooms, meatworms and blindfish along with vegetables, fruit, nuts and other produce. They also had some cloned livestock being rabbits, goats, longofish, chickens, lowhorn cattle and even sturdy work ponies. There were even plantations of fastpine and bambootrees.

 

Vault history had not gone as planned by VaultTek or the US Federal Government, at least not that of LifeVault-0101. On Doomsday the vault had lost contact with the TekVault Network of LifeVaults, emergency ShelterVaults, military BaseVaults, mysterious ArkVaults, coordinating HubVaults and other kinds of TekVaults along with other forms of shelter. Fibre-optics, telecables, and transways had all been cut off. Nobody had left or entered the vault since Doomsday or so went the official word.

 

Mad Charlie had struck, blasting away with three big and a baker’s dozen worth of smaller bombs. Direct damage to the superstructure and various substructures of the vault had been bad enough but the network of network-systems had suffered both direct, indirect and longer term harm. Sector Ten was closed down permanently, putting greater pressure on the other eleven sectors, each made up of three subvaults. Famine, an odd infection, radroach infestations, contaminated water reserves and other problems had struck the vault, killing over fifteen thousand people. The LifeVault was still getting over it all and Sector Ten was still firmly closed off. Since Mad Charlie had struck, almost everything was rationed. Most people cursed Mad Charlie but the story that he had actually saved the Vaultfolk from some kind of threat, still circulated.

 

TO BE CONTINUED

 

 

13

MANMADE GHOSTS

 

“Typical stupid Wastelanders were bad enough and then came the bandits.” The old man adjusted the brahmin’s pack load, adjusted a strap to make the loyal old beast more comfortable. “Bandits and gangers were bad enough and then came those damn slavers and cannibals. After them came the other raiders. Not just bandits pretending to be raiders but those ragers and those reavers.”

 

The old man stood up and rubbed his back. He wore typical Wastelander tough and basic gear, the boots being made in Rivet City. “At least those reavers and ragers take every opportunity to kill each other off, ignoring us other fools when they do.”

 

The younger man nodded. He was in metallic body-armour and carried a standard DCTek manufactured M66N1 autorifle firing the NEW (improved) NATO 7.7mm calibre bullets and 30mm grenade-shells. The trader’s caravan was basically two three saddle horses, the trader himself and two guards, being a man and a woman, along with two pack brahmins plus a guard dog. Both brahmins were cows, they being generally more placid and controllable.

 

They were approaching the settlement of Greyditch and were fairly close to a subway entrance. They were too close for their liking but they had needed to stop and adjust the brahmin loads.

 

The Subways meant feral ghouls or worse who liked to stay underground away from bright sunshine even in winter but in winter they were more likely to come out for short excursions in the daytime. Worse were mindless zhouls, the name having been made up by replacing ‘g’ with ‘z’ for zombie. Feral ghouls used weapons even if they were insane. Civilized ghouls were a mixed bunch as were so humans. Of course ghouls were in reality humans because they could still breed with humans to create offspring. Not all of the Subways were so dangerous. There were Subwayer settlements based in various changed Subway Stations but they tended to keep to themselves.

 

The guard shrugged. “Gangers, ragers, reavers and those mad hatter ravers, what next? Oh yeh, those great clanking Brothers of Steel, those Outcasts and those good looking Sisters of Steel in their tight armour. Super-mutants, got to have a few super-mutants stomping over the place. Adds to the nastiness of radscorpions, radroaches, killclaws, deathclaws, giant what evers and why not a man eating mutated plant or two? The DC Wastelands get more complicated and dangerous with every passing day. Would like to make it out to the Columbian Islands to live except they are not much into trusting mainlanders.”

 

The old man snorted. “Out there with the DomniCommonwealth? Slavery, semislavery, demislavery, android assassins, cyborg soldiers, Warlords, Civillords, the decadent Landlord Families and that damned DomniInstitution. Most people there are poor and oppressed. Don’t trust the Domni and their propaganda. I went there once; never again. Strange and awful things go on there. Even androids want to escape from the place. It’s a pity because as far as nature goes, it is beautiful and much of the islands are still wilderness or semiwilderness.”

 

Broken buildings and buildings surrounded them. A great big stained billboard showed President James Patriot Jackson himself, amazingly handsome and strong in his military style uniform. He was surrounded by beautiful young women in rather skimpy military marching costumes. JPJ always did like young women. It was the way he liked young women that was one reason in the end people turned against him, even many of his own people. JPJ’s face was covered in bullet holes.

 

A great hulking wreck of a battletank stood further up the road half crashed into a supermarket. It was atomic motorised with very thick composite armour and twin 105mm autocannons in the roboremote turret. On top of that was a smaller turret with twin 40mm autocannons and above that an even smaller turret with twin 20mm autocannons. Such a machine was called a Hammerfist and back in 2076 or 2077 it had been destroyed during the great armed rebellion, the so called Freedom Revolution.

 

The dog sensed them first and became noticeably agitated. Then the old man cursed softly and looked towards the battletank. He signalled the others to be quiet. The brahmin cows did not seem too disturbed, the horses only a little skittish.

 

Translucent they came marching along the road, the soldiers in body-armour or in power-armour. Civilians in a wide variety of clothes be it casual dresses or jumpsuits or military style uniforms. A police constable in riot-gear walked blank faced next to a boy in a school uniform, leading a police horse. With them walked dogs, cats and weirdly enough, a gold fish swam through the air and plants floated along. Cockroaches scuttled along with them. There were other lifeforms. Yet they were all ghostly, were all separate from the solidness around them.

 

At first a trickle they became hundreds moving in a great column three or four thick, moving endlessly, never resting, never stopping and always staring ahead if they had eyes to do so.

 

Then, as if by magic, they faded out of sight.

 

The young guards had never experienced the like before and were shaken but Old Pete had done so at least a dozen times and he had never quite gotten used to the powerful but subtle sense of loss, sadness and desolation.

 

Old Pete went back to adjusting the pack loads.

 

The young woman guard sighed. “So the phantoms do march endlessly.”

 

Old Pete nodded. “Only since they used those damned super-weapons, those disintegrator and atomizer warheads and other things I don’t know the names of. They are ghosts made by mankind’s insanity. Now, lets get out of here. Too many damned big buildings here we can get ambushed or snipered from.”

 

But the others guessed that the real reason that Old Pete suddenly wanted to move on was because of the phantoms and who could blame him.

 

TO BE CONTINUED

Edited April 4, 2010 by Maharg67

[shadowmadnezz]

Nice work :) cool 2 read the different happenings in the world of fallout. Are they going to intertwine? Or all play out as separate entries

[Maharg67]

14

WITH OTHERS AT THE NEW SHOOTING RANGE

 

Dad gave them their new gifts a few days after the party. Back when they had turned ten years old, Aarie and Aaron had gained each a semiautomatic air-rifle that could fire SS-pellets of different kinds, being super-shot-pellets. Now they each gained a.22LR survival-gun or fold-rifle because it could fold up to fit into a small space. Appie got a clever made water-pistol he could use, just like the last one he got about six years ago.

 

Jonas gave them each a Vault Heroes baseball team type baseball cap, even one that could fit Appie’s head. In each was a survival kit, compact and well designed, with the well secured one in Appie’s cap being for Aarie or Aaron to use.

 

Since the radroach infestation had begun, coming into LifeVault-0101 after Mad Charlie had blown up a section of secondary infrastructure, teams of professional and volunteer exterminators had been formed. The professionals were allowed proper official class weapons but the volunteers used a mixture of hand-flamers, BB-guns and .22LR fold-rifles taken from old survival gear stocks. The hand-flamers had once been used to burn away infestations of mutated moss like clingermoss. That is until the Vaultfolk realised it was better to harvest such substances for their special qualities. It was horrible work most often done by convicts as punishment. All Exterminators served under the Department of Civil Defence.

 

Dead radroaches had been thrown away for a short time or burned until they too began to be used. People knew but did not like to think about how radroach meat went through a multiple processing to end up as part of the vault’s food rations. Ironically the threat of radroaches had become a small source of hope against a new famine.

 

Aaron and Aarie aimed weapons in turn at the crude target range. It was a big old metal storeroom now empty of stores and even storage containers. The stores had been used long ago and the storage containers sent to be used elsewhere. A MrHandy had helped with the clean up as had a roboremote vacuum-cleaner. Light came from three of four ceiling fluropanels, the fourth having ceased to function decades ago. A nice target range was set up and had clearly taken a fair amount of effort to do.

 

Their friends were there, some with their own SS-guns and one with a .22LR bolt-action rifle. Jacob was there as well. He tried to hide it but he looked a little flustered. As usual father looked very calm but the twins knew better; he was fuming inside. The head of the Department of Research and Development had given permission to dad to carry out a new experiment and the Security Overseer had tried to stop it; the given reason was that it endangered vault security but everybody knew that it was truly because the man did not like their father. The High Overseer had intervened, yet again, and the experiment was to go ahead.

 

Nobody was surprised when the twins turned out to be amazingly good shots with the .22LR guns as they had been with SS-rifles and target-lasers. They shot at targets that swung back on impact and ones that moved but also had basic holographic projections that reacted in different ways. Birds flew through the air. Bad soldiers shot at them or raced at them. A protectron strode back and forth, protesting that it was not programmed to be a target even if it was only being shot with projectiles that bounced off its armour. The robot was only a temporary target as it was needed to work in father’s laboratory workshop next to his medical rooms. Even with a functioning hospital and five general and five specialist clinics, the vault had too few doctors and other medical specialists. This was also despite medical robots and androids.

 

To their surprise the Security Overseer turned up and to their double surprise he grudgingly approved of the target range for security reasons; better gun training meant better security against radroaches and other threats. He promised to endorse it, he always kept such promises, and then he departed after watching for a while. Amata kissed her father on the cheek as a reward which earned her an almost smile from the overseer.

 

The older triplets stood with their father, each holding a SS-gun, while Jonas took a series of 3Dphotos of them, digital shots. Father held Appie. Then he had to photo others of course and take short 3Dvideo runs using the same camera.

 

Aaron spoke quietly with out looking directly at his twin sister. “A survival gun, baseball caps with hidden inside survival kits, do they know something?”

 

Aarie responded. “I figure everybody is on edge these days what with Mad Charlie’s inheritance. Maybe the gifts reflect those fears. People are putting away caches of goodies, are doing survival stuff in virtual reality, are keeping a more careful eye on what is happening in the vault.”

 

She meant the damage, both direct and indirect, caused by his bombs and the way it had impacted on VaultTek designed and built network-systems. The network-systems had proven to be not as reliable as the megacorporation had bragged that they would be. The radroach infestation, environmental control problems, water supply problems had other problems had been occurring ever since.

 

Whispers abounded of growing tensions in Vaultgov between various Overseers. The High Overseer was a fine leader for good times but was proving to be inadequate for troubled times. Various Ministry Overseers were in a growing power struggle as factions jostled to take the High Overseer’s position when it became vacant.

 

Lately Aarie and Aaron had begun to doubt their own perception of LifeVault-0101, to doubt their assumptions about the vault and its history. Their father was little help because he had become withdrawn from them even as he carried out a series of secret experiments and forays into forbidden parts of LifeVault-0101. Of course he did not know his children knew about his secret activities but they had hacked his portable computer and then his secret portable computer. Jonas helped their father but while he would not speak of certain matters, he was more forthcoming on others.

 

Through Jonas, and not their father, they learned that they had not been born in LifeVault-0101 though official records stated they had been. Instead they had been born in the DC-Wastelands in a huge semi-underground complex called the Jefferson Memorial Complex. After pushing him a little he had told them that their mother, one Catherine Lancaster Ashworth, the middle name being her maiden name, died during childbirth. Officially nobody had ever left or entered the vault since it had been locked up back in 2077 but the twins had learned that in truth a trickle of people had secretly done both since then but they did not know who, when or why. They had known of their mother’s death but James Ashworth had only spoken of an ‘accident’ and had not linked it to their births. They had assumed that the death had taken place in LifeVault-0101 itself.

 

They were not sure of why had he done this but assumed that he was trying to spare their feelings. Perhaps he was planning to tell them more in future though so far there was no sign of it.

 

The older triplets wandered back to be amongst their friends along with the older Jonas and father. Of course the young triplet was carried along. They were soon happily socialising.

 

TO BE CONTINUED

 

 

15

BRAINBOTS DOING THEIR THING

 

The brainbot rolled over the ground with its tracks. The brain was shown inside a transparent armaglass dome except in this case it was an expendable secondary brain. The D-Series of brainbots had the main brain shifted down inside layers of armour after RoboTek management had finally worked out the obvious; armaglass domed brains were just too vulnerable.

 

The other brainbots were spread out across the big concrete floor and were examining it with various sensors, scanners and torch beams. Big syntho-wooden crates stood half empty close to big old atomic motorised 16W-haulers, that is massive sixteen big wheeled hauler trucks.

 

Scattered around it were the skeletal remains of various humans who seem to have been all massacred about the same moment with some kind of energy weapons that the brainbots could not identify.

 

Another brainbot communicated. “Do you think we might find him there.”

 

The first brainbot responded. “We might find him anywhere.”

 

They were excited about having finally overcome their programming and fears to leave the hidden complex below them. Being D-Series, they were well armed, surprisingly fast for tracked machines and had other strengths. They were networked together through line of sight laser communications transmissions, feeling safer that way.

 

A-Series had been all experimental prototypes with many variations and had used different kinds of brains. This included the infamous use of convict brains and chimpanzee brains, which often led to disaster.

 

B-Series had become used as cyborg-robots that never left sterile clean and heavily secure environments where they assisted in running intricate operations of many kinds. B-Series were lightly armoured and had no weapons unless they had been altered after leaving a manufactory.

 

C-Series had been rushed out as fighting units to assist in various military operations including the taking of a willing Mexico, the taking of an unwilling Canada and the military operations against the New Soviets in Alaska. The military soon learned to use them only as back-up defence units in bases where they mainly assisted commanding officers and specialists.

 

Then came D-Series with improved almost everything including the main, non expendable brain being safely stored away in the body with its heavy armour and armaments. The expendable brain was a limited brain and could assist the cyborg-robot’s main brain as long as it was available. But Doomsday came before any D-Series brainbots could get out of the big secret RoboTek complex beneath the outskirts of the very large Bethesda Sector of Washington DC.

 

He had suggested they come up into the big old depot chambers and other facilities on that level, as they had just done, but no further until he got back in contact with them. He had promised nice surprises to be found there but also three tasks he wanted them to do for him, if they wanted to do so.

 

The big syntho-wooden crates had been ready to ship out to assist with the defence of President James Patriot Jackson and his forces against both external and internal threats. Itemisation dataplates were fused to each one, one per side, top and bottom. They were scanned and read ‘D-Series Brainbots’ along with maintenance kits and related gear. This was fine except that the crates were heavily shielded to an extend beyond the security need of transporting standard brainbots.

 

There were four 16W-haulers and each was full of four big crates. There were thirty-three more crates neatly stacked on the floor.

 

The first brainbot spoke. “I know this may sound illogical, but I do not like the feel of this, not at all.”

 

Then came E-Series brainbots, heavy and lumbering, about twice as large in volume but hulking low of body to be only half again as tall as a D-Series brainbot. Each held a wide range of weapons and thick armour plus other defences. A 40mm recoilless autogun or a powerful pulselaser was the main weapon on each, thrusting out of the front, but each also had a 20mm recoilless autogun turret on top. These were called armabrains.

 

Three D-Series brainbots approached a crate on the concrete and began the process of opening its heavy duty electronic locks. Sixteen minutes later they were opening the syntho-wooden crate to find it was heavily armoured with its inner layers. Then out of the crate trundled a surprise.

 

It was a very big robotic machine, a brainbot but it looked like a small battletank. It offered no threat and rolled to a halt. Then it spoke. “Greetings, I am a battlebrain. Like you I am programmed to wage war against President James Patriot Jackson and his evil. We must begin preparations for battle to come for President James Patriot Jackson is not dead but trapped in an exotic realm of his own making. If he escapes than he will doom us all.”

 

The D-Series brainbots became a little nervous.

 

The battlebrain spoke again. “Of course your kind will better serve the cause by working here in the RoboTek base.”

 

The brainbots became less nervous. The first D-Series brainbot spoke. “We have over a thousand brainbots ready to operate but only three hundred and twenty have cloned brains implanted. We need more brains. He promised us nice surprises.”

 

The big robot started to laugh insanely and then the laughter died down. “So he tricked you. How disappointingly easy that was considering how smart you brainbots are supposed to be. I lied. My brain is cloned from the great and majestic President James Patriot Jackson himself. Now I will activate the others like me and we will eliminate all of your brains, replacing them with cloned brains of our own.”

 

The first D-Series brainbot spoke again. “We listened to him but we did not quite believe him. When something seems to good to be true, most likely it is too good to be true. So we took some precautions of our own. All he was, was some kind of weird psychic holographic projection.”

 

The battlebrain began to attack, firing its weapons, but the projectiles and laser pulsebeams went straight through the brainbots to strike the far wall to burn it lightly because it was both thick and very tough. With a shimmer the brainbots vanished, they never having been there in the first place.

 

At that moment a big dull silver metallic sphere rolled into the chamber and exploded very heavy electromagnetic pulse all through the chamber. The battlebrain deactivated, burning out in places, and the insane clone brain perished at once. But the other battlebrains were shielded in their crates and they crashed out of them, roaring to the attack.

 

The monstrous machines roared across the floor. Abruptly the floor gave away beneath them and they fell downwards into big chamber full of a storm of electromagnetic energies. They were dead and deactivated before they smashed into the concrete floor far below. The ones in the crates on the haulers were deactivated except for the cores where the cloned brains of the Mad President slept. Dealing with them would not be easy but far from impossible.

 

TO BE CONTINUED