Whether under the sporadic light of artillery and missile fire or the artificial light of day provided by Jake's visor, Damshir was nothing but vertical desolation for as far as he could see. Evidence of weapons damage, an active fight against automated machinery, civilians and soldiers alike littered the narrow streets and tall alleyways. The criss-crossing walkways overhead couldn't be trusted, even the ground underfoot held surprises. Transit tubes for group and individual vehicle travel extended between, through and above the hollow buildings were everywhere. Uncountable vehicles left abandoned where traffic jams that extended for kilometres rendered the primary transportation method of the lower city utterly useless. I hate Omnitube transit. Just convenient and big enough to give everyone who can afford their own vehicle the feeling that they have the freedom to move about however they like whenever they like but all contained in transparesteel tubing so most crashes are contained and people actually have to pay parking and roaming tolls to move from the tube to the streets. Always reminded me of the gerbil gym tubes people buy for their pets.
Not many machines in this section of the city though, that's something. He couldn't help thinking as he ran from one darkened street to a narrow walkway, jumping over a fallen road repair bot. It's heating elements and rough paving tools were still half upraised, as though ready to re-activate and resume its rampage. The rear casing had been damaged, however, and he could see that the power cell had been destroyed, bludgeoned by someone barely armed but committed to the act of defending themselves and others. After taking a look around to ensure there was nothing watching he retracted his faceplate. His instinct was to inhale, to get a breath of non-recycled air and he nearly retched. There it was, the smell of burning corpses. Somewhere not far off androids and bots made for other tasks were clearing and destroying bodies.
Jake's appetite shrank away but he forced himself to eat a compressed ration bar. Vacsuit won't cloak, it's a second behind in countering impacts so I've either got to keep the armoured layer up or risk taking impact trauma and half the soldiers I've seen are wearing thermal suppressive armour. Their combat armour is better than I'm used to seeing. Someone's actually spending money on protecting their soldiers. I just hope they're not as experienced. He sighed as he chewed through his second bite, the bar was half gone. The shield I keep seeing around sections of that mountain is twenty kilometres away and most of the bots I've seen are headed that way, I don't think they'll be able to hold out for long. Question is, how do I contact someone behind the shield and join them if I manage to get there while they have containment? Every land line I try is blocked or dead.
He finished eating the bar and brought his faceplate back up. It's black non-reflective outer surface didn't betray what was happening underneath. His thermal sensors were picking up a short, well armed security bot. Inhuman and armoured, it moved along in near silence, its padded treads rolling over the most solid parts of the terrain just outside Jake's small safe haven.
Jake quietly drew his sidearm and used the link between himself and the weapon to set it to full intensity and its highest firing rate. The weapon was already warming up in his hand, threatening to break through the thermal shielding that coated the weapon and shielded the barrel end.
The machine detected him, or his weapon, which exactly didn't matter. Jake tapped the control panel to the door on his left and stepped inside. A pair of rounds struck just behind him and he peeked out just enough to brace himself as he let loose with a long burst from his heavy sidearm. The darkness of the alley was lit for two seconds as over thirty shots peppered the thick forward armour of the law enforcement bot. A sickening pop followed by an even brighter flash burst from the sides of his sidearm as he stepped back behind cover. Two more rifle shots rang out as though in punctuation of Jake's flurry of gunfire as he quickly examined his handgun. “God dammit!” he cursed as he saw that the chamber had burned completely through on the sides, just forward of the grip. It almost cost him his hand, but more importantly, he was without a firearm. “Come on, that thermite's gotta burn through!” he said to himself as two more rifle shots shattered the concrete just centimetres from his shoulder.
The bright light of the thermite rounds covering the bots armour, squealing, crackling and sparking as they burned through lit the alleyway. One rifle shot rung out instead of two. Jake smiled and nodded to himself. Looks like I hit something important, hopefully those thermite rounds find their way to something a little more delicate.
Clicking sounds filled the air as a mechanism began to fail and after a short siren blast that made Jake jump despite himself, the alleyway was silent. For the first time he took a good look at the room he was in. It was an antechamber with blood smeared across the wall facing the door and a few upturned chairs. “Begin constant forensic recording using all passive scanners,” Jake said more out of reflex than necessity. The results of the initial analysis told him that three people had been killed by some kind of cutting machine and that all of them were related. “I've got to stop looking. I can read the logs back later,” he muttered to himself as he walked deeper into the humble abode.
He shoved his ruined sidearm into its holster, angry at the poor luck he'd had with it as he ran up a set of stairs, looking for thermal signatures or any sign of an enemy nearby before opening the hallway door. It wasn't unusual for more than one family to live in a split storey apartment in Damshir from what he'd seen. The inner city at the foot of the large mountain that loomed over it was filled with workers and craftspeople. He had been through many similar homes, all cleared, not a single citizen to be found dead or alive. All the scans and visual evidence told him that bots and soldiers alike had done the dirty work, but the soldiers had moved on towards the front, near the shield and left their mechanized allies to do the grunt work and to guard the backtrail. This was just as much a massacre as it is a forced relocation. If I collect enough evidence and present it to people who aren't in Regent Galactic's pocket I might actually find a few allies. That is if I can find Oz and Jason then get back to the Triton.
He stopped to listen in the next main hallway. The chances of him finding the heavier variety of patrolling law enforcement bots were much lower as he made his way up from the streets to the high walkways and rooftops, but the going got much slower, the risks were much higher. There were soldiers up top with android reinforcements, but he could find his way easier, get a better picture of what was going on. Maybe I can get the drop on a few of them, re-arm and get some payback for the people who lived here at the same time. How the hell could anyone clear out entire families? What is Regent Galactic and the West Keepers after? He ran down a hallway and up another staircase then stopped to check his sound suppression system. It had been damaged during his escape from the Diplomat, sometime between him getting into the fighter and touching down on the ground. The display on his command and control unit said that it was fine, but he rechecked and found the problem. There was an almost broken seam on his leg and with some fine tuning he forced his vacsuit to strengthen that section of material. It's not a complete cloak, but it'll make a big difference.
“Do you think he saw us?” asked a child's voice from the hall he'd just run through.
He looked towards the hallway using all the sensors at his disposal but didn't see evidence of a child.
“I don't think he was paying attention Betsy,” replied an exaggerated child like voice.
“Okay, I'm going to go get help! There must be someone around who can kill the bad man!” exclaimed the upper half of a soft, discarded doll on the floor in the middle of the hallway.
Jake ran down the stairs and rushed to close the distance between himself and the toy. “He's coming Betsy!” shouted the discarded, round ball like head of her cohort.
He caught the doll, it's dress intact but legs missing and turned it over. Its dark blue eyes stared into his blacked out, expressionless faceplate as she screamed; “He's here! He's going to kill me! Help! Anyone help!” she wailed, trying to free herself with little mechanical hands, tiny synthetic tears streaming down its quivering panicked face.
“Don't hurt her!” shouted the blue head from where it lay on the floor. “Someone heeeeelp! Heeeeeelp!”
He put the heel of his boot down on the screeching fur ball and pulled the faceplate off the doll. “What are you doing? Only the manufacturer's supposed to touch me there! You're breaking my warran-” she yowled as he yanked the small power cell free of its housing.
He bent down and took the smaller battery from the pile of blue fuzz and crushed mechanics. All the screaming and screeching stopped and he pocketed the toy, running for the stairwell. “Why did we ever need dolls with artificial intelligences?” he said to himself as he took the stairs two at a time. “There's a level of hell that's just like this. I'd rather face soldiers.”
The stairs went by in a blur, one level after another. The doll, with her synthetic skin and innocent looking face still screamed in his mind. It was difficult to shake, the sounds of a child in panic. Though exaggerated, the expression she made was so real he was afraid he couldn't shake it. He climbed faster, pounding his feet on the steps, keeping his focus on whatever signs of life his sensors might pick up on the floors above.
Jake was just starting to go through his inventory to cleanse his memory of the doll; three energy cartridges for his broken sidearm, two explosive thermite clips for the same, two fragmentation grenades, one energy grenade, a nanoblade, he was about to start moving on to his survival supplies when his command and control console sent a signal straight to his brain. He stopped and looked at it; all the signal scrambling stopped. He uplinked to the main network, the instructions moved through his mind, into his suit and then his command unit. Within a second he was connected to the main micro wormhole transmitter and he spoke out of breath, hurriedly; “This is Captain Valance to Triton, I need a pickup in Damshir on Pandem. It's a war zone, there's a fleet in orbit, the Holocaust Virus has hit and Regent Galactic has taken control of all automated systems. I'm in the city below the mountain, there must be someone alive up there behind energy shielding-” the scrambling started again and he hoped enough of his transmission got through as he fought to catch his breath. He had climbed several floors and on the ninth, almost at the top of one of the shorter buildings.
“This is West Watch Command. Remain where you are and prepare to surrender. You will be placed under arrest then transported for processing if you cooperate. If you do not comply you will be killed,” an automated message interrupted the static momentarily before signing off, allowing the jamming to continue. It wasn't directed at him, but to that hemisphere of the planet in general.
He resumed his climb, emerging five floors later onto the roof. Jake crept out into the darkness of night and took cover beside an air processing unit before looking up at the stars. Instead of the bright star field and streaks of heavy weapons fire the sky was filled with the blue green engine fire of dropships. There were thousands of them and they were landing all around. Rain began to spatter the rooftop as he looked on from the shadows, ready and waiting for the nearest dropship to touch down. “Surrender my ass, it looks like the party's just getting started,” he growled through clenched teeth.