Friday, January 12th, 2035: 17:30 PST
Shockwave and her Burncycle Warriorslave crawled laboriously through the wreckage of the San Francisco County Superior Courthouse. The two of them had become separated from the first Master Force group that had entered the building a few minutes ago, by a partial collapse. This event had landed her and her mechanical companion on the second floor. Speaking with the others through a communicator, she'd ordered them to continue upward. Even in powered armor, they couldn't reach each other without taking too much time and risking a further cave-in. Shockwave pushed away the thought of how much concrete and steel would bury her if that happened.
She had told her second-in-command, Overpower, that she'd rendezvous with him and the rest of Alpha Team on the fifth floor, after she checked her current location for survivors. He hadn't tried to talk her out of it, instead just wishing her luck, and signed off. Normally, she was very much a by-the-book commander, but this was not a situation that the "book" covered very well. Going with the flow, she had decided to see if there were any survivors on this floor, though none were expected.
The incident gnawed at Shockwave in the back of her mind. This building had been teeming with over six-hundred wage-slaves who were anxious to race home to safety a half-hour ago. The explosion at five o' clock at shattered those hopes, along the people who'd harbored them. Now, the courthouse's exterior had an immense, gaping hole in its front, like the maw of some great mythical beast. Flames left over from the blast leapt out of its throat, and filled its guts, while they further digested the trapped employees who weren't killed in the initial explosion.
The fire had reportedly been too hot for emergency crews to enter the structure and look for survivors. Then, there was the ever-present fact that since the lower floors had been severely weakened by the bomb's jarring concussion, and could collapse at any second. Therefore, San Francisco city officials had gotten the go-ahead to use some of the world's only superhuman response team, the Special Mobile Force, nicknamed "Starfire Master Force", to help with the rescue operation.
At the moment, Shockwave wasn't feeling very superhuman. She wished there was some way to crawl back into the greater safety of her robotic bodyguard's powered exoskeleton. Her telekinetic force field and the black, skin-tight armor that covered every square centimeter of her certainly wouldn't be any protection if this cramped corridor decided to give way. The problem was, the Burncycle wouldn't do her much good either - even if her robotic comrade, who was dutifully crawling behind her, had enough space to shift into its exoskeleton mode, she doubted she could squeeze herself into it. Hell, she couldn't even turn around and crawl the other way.
This must be what ants feel like, she thought, except that they're used to this sort of thing. It's a good thing I'm not claustrophobic or afraid of the dark. Still, the musty smell of cracked sheet-rock, leaking insulation, and acrid smoke from the fire filled her nose though her helmet's filter. Luckily, the ample dust and ash were screened out. Definitely have to change it when I get back to the base, she noted, while forcing her sore muscles to continue crawling.
Before the bomb, the ceiling above her would have been half a meter higher than her head, if she'd been standing up straight. Now it was scarcely centimeters from the top of her helmet, and Shockwave was on her hands and knees. Her neck was stiff and sore from having to squeeze through the compressed hallway. The armored helmet that she wore, which resembled that of a fighter pilot, was no help - only added weight. There was no space on either side of her. Rubble was strewn all about the corridor, and any extra room was needed by the Burncycle and her to push debris aside. The walls had been compacted like an accordion by the crushed ceiling. And it felt like that ceiling was inching lower every second...
The Warriorslave, she quickly thought, check on its progress. "Hey, are you keeping up all right?" she whispered aloud behind her. "This crawl-space is kinda...tight". A bit more dust trickled from a crack as she brushed it. Yelling would have been a very bad idea for the continued stability of the structure all around her. Shockwave stopped crawling for a minute and froze, to make sure she didn't hear any further tell-tale settling of her surroundings.
<<I am performing at normal levels>>, came the reply, displayed on the inside of her helmet's visor. The Warriorslave could hear far better than she was able to, but it was not capable of audible speech, having no voice synthesizer. The space for that piece of equipment was just not available in its torso or head servos, instead being taken up by the Burncycle's automatic control system that served it as a brain, and by sensors that gave the robot its picture of the world. Besides, any remaining space was needed to shift and fold parts around when the Warriorslave converted between its various forms. At the moment, though, Shockwave was glad for its silent communication - the less noise, the better.
<<Are you functioning adequately to continue?>>, the robot inquired.
This surprised her a bit - she could swear she had gotten a hint of concern in the scrolling alphanumerics she read in her field of vision. That was ridiculous, though. The Warriorslave's automatic control system was not supposed to be sentient. It was carrying out its programming, just like any computer. She must have imagined any genuine emotion, or perhaps it was just loneliness and wishful thinking. Or something else she didn't want to admit.
"Yes, I think so. How much further does this passage continue? Like we could backtrack if we wanted to." There was virtually no light; she had been relying on the small flashlight on the wrists of her armor's gauntlets, and the mecha's sensor lights, which her body partially blocked. These weren't even reaching five meters in front of her. As a result, Shockwave could make out very little of the corridor ahead.
<<Fifteen meters>>, came the her mechanical companionís reply, relaying the data from its sensor suite. <<No outstanding obstacles or fires are detected in the hall ahead>>, it continued. <<The surrounding structures are currently stable, but haste is recommended>>.
Great, Shockwave thought. Damn robot is telling me to hurry up. Probably because I ought to, she chided herself, and started crawling again. As she moved, she heard the sound of the Warriorslave's metal servos scraping the floor and the lowered ceiling as it followed behind her. Strangely, the sound was comforting.
17:40 PST
Finally, the hallway came to an end, and the lower third of a door was barely visible through the smoke. Maybe the room behind that door hasn't completely collapsed, Shockwave hoped. She sped up, as quickly as her aching limbs would allow, then stopped just before the closed portal, and raised an arm.
<<WARNING>> her mecha informed her. The lettering flashed in red as it scrolled down her visor like a marquee. <<Flames detected in the room ahead. Proceed with extreme caution.>>
"My 'Suit should protect me, I think. I'm gonna try and blast it open".
<<DANGER - Blasting may collapse the surrounding structure.>>
Was that alarm? "Then how else are we supposed to get through? You can't shoot or move the door from behind me, and we can't go back! Are there any life-signs in the room behind it?"
The Burncycle responded with a simple <<Negative>>.
"Then there's really not much else I can do."
When the Warriorslave came up with no other alternatives, Shockwave called up her hyper-normal abilities. Modern bioengineering had given her the power to collect, store and release kinetic energy. The trouble was that like a rechargeable battery, she could only store so much, and the power bled off and dissipated if she didn't use it. Of course, she could always convert her own potential energy, but that was tiring and she needed her strength to complete this mission. Hoping that the excess she had left would be enough, she willed the remains of what she'd stored together, concentrating on her raised limb. Her other arm was starting to really ache, but she forced that sensation aside.
The upraised member began to glow with a whitish light as she pushed, and heaved the dregs of stored power together about it. Once Shockwave had gathered up and focused the last of the remaining power, she raised her forearm in front of her helmet, and lunged forward with all of the strength she could muster with three limbs. The door was flung from its hinges as the kinetic energy burst slammed into it. In its momentary flight from the force of the impact, it in turn slammed into something with a metallic Clang! that had been just behind the portal which was knocked out of the way. Shockwave scrambled forward, with her Warriorslave following close behind.
From the sound of its impact and the Burncycle's sensor readings, she was certain the door hadn't hit anyone - probably a piece of furniture.
This room's ceiling was crushed in at the door to the same height as the previous hall, but it inclined upward in jagged, irregular "steps" as one got deeper in, culminating in its normal height at the opposite wall. Two large shattered windows let in the night air to fuel the flames that covered the place like some kind of creeping ivy. This was some kind of reception area, Shockwave thought, as she scrambled inside. A desk near the door was crushed underneath the collapsed portion of ceiling. There were burning pieces of paper everywhere on the scorched carpet, and furniture all around that was now reduced to kindling.
She hurried toward the window and took a deep breath of the slightly damp breezes off of San Francisco Bay. Shockwave then turned around to survey the room, as her Burncycle freed itself from the confined space they'd just emerged from.
To her surprise, whatever she'd hit with the door was trying to get up! A mannequin-type cyberdroid rose and stood between her and the Warriorslave.
Unlike her Burncycle, which had motorcycle wheels sticking out of its back even as a robot, this robot was almost precisely the silhouette of a human being - it was the same overall shape as an average-sized man, but from looking at it in any light, one could tell it was a robot. It had blue, glowing eyes which illuminated an area wherever it looked, anthropoid facial features, light silvery "skin" with visible access panel seams, a painted -on security "uniform" and a holster at its side. However, this droid was blemished with blackened burn-marks all over its body. Shock was surprised that the thing was still functioning.
"INTRUDER ALERT! UNAUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ON LEVEL TWO, SECTION FOUR!", the droid barked. It was equipped with a voice synthesizer, to facilitate better relations with humans. This was not its goal at the moment, though, as it reached for its holstered pistol!
"No, wait! We're not intruders! We..." Shock never finished her sentence as the security droid drew and opened fire at inhuman speed.
She felt a sudden, searing pain in her shoulder as she moved to dodge out of the way. Shit! These droids were supposed to have rubber "stun" rounds, but those would have never penetrated her armor! Suppressing the sting, Shockwave instantly willed her force-field on as the droid continued to squeeze off shots from its pistol. The bullets dropped to the ground when they hit her psionic barrier, their energy of motion sapped. She managed to glance at her wound while concentrating - the breach in her armor was covered with blood.
Forcing back the pain, Shock turned back to the mannequin, in time to see it jolt suddenly as a flash flared behind it. The droid spun around on its heel, and was slammed again from another energy blast from her Warriorslave's laser-pistol. It was kneeling under the not-quite-caved-in section of the room, in front of the doorway they'd come in through with its weapon out in front. Then, without warning, Shockwave's Burncycle suddenly switched its form in a blur of whirling parts and reconfigured servos! In a split second, there was a racing motorcycle in front of the security droid, which proceeded to shoot forward, with no rider, through the flames like a two-wheeled bullet. It slammed hard into the remaining robot's legs and midsection, knocking it back out of the way.
The thing immediately tried to rise, but Shockwave was not about to let it. The pain in her shoulder converted itself into anger, and she drew together the energy of the bullets that had hit her shield, and concentrated it on her hand of her unwounded arm. She then stuck her fist out and pushed out at her assailant with all of her might. A blast of raw kinetic energy knocked the droid back to the floor and aggravated the damage that her mecha had already done to it.
As she sank back into a defensive stance, a message appeared on her visor: <<ATTENTION: PREPARE FOR DOCKING SEQUENCE.>>
Shock complied, position knowing exactly what her mechanical bodyguard had on its computerized mind and positioning herself in readiness for it.
The Burncycle continued toward the wall opposite the door, and made a ninety-degree rotation toward her as it approached. As the cycle finished its tight turn, knocking through burning furniture, small jets underneath it fired and lifted it into the air a quarter-meter. It proceeded to change its shape again, returning to its humanoid warrior mode momentarily. Then it was upon Shockwave, who felt the mecha enclosing her arms and legs inside of its limb servos. Her field of vision was momentarily black as the robot's torso engulfed her head and chest. Then, she again saw the burning, ruined reception room on her visor's heads-up display, through the Burncycle's optical sensors. That security droid was still trying to get up!
Shockwave was tired of this. Now in control of the robot's servos as if they were her own, she raised her uninjured right arm inside of the 'Cycle's corresponding limb, and the machine mirrored the move exactly, with no noticeable time delay. Its hand was holding its laser pistol, and since this was the most convenient weapon, she pointed it at the struggling droid, toggled the weapon's setting up a notch, and squeezed the trigger. The cyberdroid's head exploded and bits of its cheaply cloned human brain were sent splattering all over the room like a squashed melon.
Its cartridges of rubber bullets must have been replaced. Probably done by the same soulless prick who planted the bomb, Shockwave thought as she walked the armor over to the droid's unmoving body, and picked up its gun. She unloaded its ammo clip and examined it.
"These are armor-piercing rounds!" The perpetrator probably installed a virus into the droid's brain while it had been recharging, and then changed its ammo clip.
She stuffed the clip and the droid's gun into the Burncycle's saddlebags, which hung at its waist in its current Warriorslave form. The items could serve as evidence against the sadistic bastard who did this, she mused.
17:50, PST
Shock headed toward a side door and remembered to duck down as she passed through it, in order to keep from banging the exoskeleton's head/sensor turret on the frame. What she saw when she entered the room stopped her dead in her tracks, in utter horror and deepening futility. It was then that Shock realized where she was. This was the court's day-care center!
There were the bodies laying everywhere. Charred, blackened, and skeletal, they littered the room in various contorted positions of agony. There were several that looked like they belonged to adults, and though this was terrible, it was nothing compared the sight of so many smaller corpses strewn about.
Too late, Shockwave thought. There's nothing I could have done.
She gritted her teeth, and felt her eyes water. They dripped onto her visor display, blurring the screen. All the training and experience of six years in the Master Force was beginning to come unraveled. The fact that she had risen through the ranks faster than any other SMF agent or saved more civilians than anyone except the group's original leaders didn't matter at all. She sank to her knees, breathing heavily, tears pooling on her heads-up display, and clenched and unclenched her fists inside the exoskeleton's arm servos in frustration, and its fists opened and closed in reflexive response.
A small charred body lay not half a meter from the Burncycle's knee. When Shockwave happened to spot it out of her bleary vision, she flinched and pulled away. As she did so, she noticed a hole in the forehead of its blackened skull. The son-of-a-bitch had made the cyberdroid go on a rampage either just before the bomb exploded, or right after it went off.
Suddenly, she noticed what sounded like faint sobbing, interspersed with forced breathing, mirroring her own. It was coming from a corner of the room under a heap of rubble and what looked like burnt couch cushions.
Shockwave switched the viewing mode on the exoskeleton's optical sensors to infrared and gazed at the pile. There was, indeed, a small warm human-shaped silhouette of reds and oranges under the pile, and its chest was moving noticeably, gasping for the air that the fire continually stole.
She stood up immediately, turning the force of her emotions to the task of dismantling the pile of rubble. The robotic limbs worked furiously, such that Shockwave soon felt that they were carrying her along on their own. When she uncovered the girl, it was clear that her leg was bent at an unnatural angle. Broken, Shockwave's medical training told her. The injury must have been very recent. Otherwise, she was a cute little thing, with light brown locks cut to shoulder length, and small, compact features. Her overalls and the white shirt underneath were stained with grime and a little blood.
As Shockwave searched for something to splint her leg with, the girl stirred and began to cough. Damn, Shockwave thought, she can't be more than five. Don't know how she's lasted this long, but I've gotta get her outta here - if it weren't for her leg...
The girl turned her head weakly, took a look at her rescuer, and then screamed to holy hell. It was that high-pitched, jagged cry that parents dread hearing more than anything in the world.
"It's all right! I'm here to help you! Stop! Please! Quiet!" Shockwave tried to shout over the girl's horror, to no avail. Small chunks trickled from cracks in the unsteady walls around her as the building settled.
As the child tried to push herself further back into the corner, she cried out in agony. Her twisted leg was an anchor that prevented her from going anywhere.
"Let me help you." Shockwave moved back toward her, keeping her voice as quiet as she could while still being heard through the exoskeleton's PA speakers. "Don't move - your leg's broken - "
"NO! Don't touch me you bad old robot! Go away!" She filled her lungs to scream again -
"No! I won't hurt you! I'm not a robot! Let me help you!"
"You're a big bad old robot! Stay away from me - OOOWWW!!!" She was crying now, both out of pain and terror. There was again a slight crumbling noise as the building protested its weakness.
"You're only gonna make your leg worse if you keep moving! Please be quiet and hold still!"
"I want my mommy", she sobbed. The child was suddenly rocked with paroxysms of coughing.
"Nobody's gonna hurt you. But you've inhaled too much smoke - we've gotta get you out of here."
"Don't touch me!" the girl reiterated.
"I'm not a robot!" Shock protested. "I'm not gonna hurt you! You've got to trust me!"
More settling became audible.
"We trusted a robot to protect us...The teacher said it was good...but it...it..." She broke into further sobs.
Shockwave knew she had a problem. Shedding the Warriorslave was the best option, but the room was still on fire, and her arm was still wounded. There were the windows in the previous room, but Shock felt too weak to fly on her own, especially if she had to carry someone. She would have to use the exoskeleton's thrusters. But first, the girl had to trust her. If she struggled, she might aggravate her injury and breathe in more smoke.
"Motorcycle", Shockwave whispered into her helmet. Her exoskeleton seemed to fall right off of her, and in less than a second, she was a black figure in skintight armor dismounting a huge motorcycle - right in the burning playroom.
As she reached down to pick up the child, the girl turned away, grimacing in agony. "No!"
Her would-be rescuer was almost in tears again herself. "I'm not a robot! Please, you've got to come with me - " Shockwave suddenly coughed. Damn, filter's getting wearing out from all this smoke, she realized. We have to get out of here...
"Robots don't cough", she continued. "And they don't bleed". Normally, showing off such a messy injury to a child would have rubbed Shockwave the wrong way, but this was a desperate situation. She turned her grazed shoulder where the child could see it, and shined her wrist-light on the scarlet-drenched hole in her armor.
"Some robots bleed", the girl said matter-of-factly. "That security robot out there had a brain like a person - our teacher said so."
Smart kid, Shockwave mused.
"And some people get made into mostly robots when they get hurt. My daddy's a doctor, he replaces people's legs or arms with robot legs or arms sometimes..." The girl coughed again, this time, deeper and longer, then led out a pained moan.
"Yes", Shock echoed her hoarse cough. It sounded strangely in her black, mirror-visored helmet. "Those are called cyborgs. That droid out there was a cyberdroid - its brain was cloned and then a computer programmed instructions into it. But I'm not a cyborg! I'm a-" If the girl knew what a cyborg was, then she might know what a mutate was as well...and that might be bad. Plenty of adults were afraid of people with mutant powers like herself. They weren't really people - humans couldn't throw energy blasts, move things with their minds, or fly, after all. They were something more and less than human, just as if they did have cybernetic implants.
"Okay, what do I have to do - Cough! - to show you that I am really a person?" Shockwave was quite desperate now, so she didn't immediately think about the ramifications of her question.
"Take off your gloves and mask", the girl said simply.
"I...I...can't", Shock stammered. For the first time in her life, she had no idea what to do.
She'd never though of SMF in terms of the fictional superheroes that people old enough to be her parents had read about in comic books as kids. But they did have one thing in common - the main characters always kept their real identities a secret. The same was true of SMF -- if the world knew their true names, their families and loved ones would constantly be in danger, and they'd be followed everywhere by admirers and enemies alike.
I'm the leader of SMF, she thought, and I have to uphold the rules of the team. And General Order Number Two on the groupís charter stated that, "the secrecy of this organization, its members, its equipment and knowledge shall not be violated." There was also General Order Number One, the simplest, yet most important rule of all: "Protect the innocent".
What are they going to think, Shock mused, when they see me come out unmasked? But, what would they think if I came out with a dead body?
Quickly, she fumbled with her gauntlets. Pulling them off revealed her small hands. Then, she used her nails to force the clasps on either side of her helmet apart, and then pulled the whole piece off of her head. This was immediately followed by a coughing fit.
Shockwave knelt there in front of her with her face and hands bared to the world. Her auburn-dyed hair fell to her chin in small ringlets, contrasting with her fair skin. The petite features of her face were strained with worry and coughing fits, and her brown eyes showed stress and experience far beyond her thirty years. Those eyes had seen people die on a battle field, vaporized in blasts of power, or shot to bits by a rail-cannon.
"You're pretty." The child's voice was almost a whisper as she looked up. Her expression was calm, now. "What's your name?"
"My name? Um...Shockwave. It's my call-sign." She blushed a little at the girl's compliment.
"No! That's not a name! Don't you have a name like everybody else?"
Why did this have to be so difficult? Brutal interrogators and insidious drugs had never forced such sensitive information out of her, but a child...especially a child who was slipping into unconsciousness...
"My name's Jennifer."
The girl smiled. "Jennifer. That's my mom's name too. She worked on the first floor here..."
Quickly, Jennifer changed the subject, as she slipped a hand under the girl's leg to brace it. "What's your name? I gave you mine, so it's only fair."
"Megan. I'm Megan..." She was passing out!
"Megan - um...you said your daddy was a doctor...I'm a doctor too. Well, almost." There was still residency for her, something she'd been putting off for a while. But now was not the time.
Increasingly alarmed, she snapped her fingers at the motorcycle sitting behind her. "Warriorslave mode!" The girl seemed not to notice.
Turning back to her new confidante: "Megan! Don't fall asleep! I'm going to take you back to your daddy, and you'll be all right. I promise! Just don't pass out..." Damn, Jennifer thought, I'm getting pretty foggy too, but the girl was fading faster.
Jennifer "Shockwave" Sharpe, Special Mobile Force Commander quickly slipped her helmet over the girl's head, as she herself fought off hacking fits. The now humanoid-shaped Warriorslave knelt down next to her without a word and withdrew a first-aid kit from one of its saddlebags. It proceeded to brace Megan's leg and apply a splint to it, with surprising gentleness, despite its big, mechanical hands. Meanwhile, she softly pressed on the girl's chest to keep her breathing.
When the robot finished, Jen carefully picked the child up and rose. Hot air assaulted her unshielded lungs now, and she hacked as she spoke. "We've got to - Cough! - get out of her - Hack! - now!" She handed the girl to the Burncycle Warriorslave, carefully supporting her leg. She picked up her gauntlets and put them back on. "I don't - COUGH! - need a helmet for 'Slave mode - just hurry!"
She carefully ducked into the Warriorslave metallic embrace, so that it could still keep hold of the child. The panels closed around her, and then Jennifer realized she couldn't see anything but the inside of the Warriorslave's chest armor. Voice commands would have to do it. Holding the girl carefully so that her leg didn't move, she pushed past broken furniture and flames into the previous room, and then used the wheel/turbofans on the Burncycle's back to blow out the remaining shattered glass in the window. She then swung around and leapt into the cold night air, with the turbofans firing.
As the Warriorslave descended, Jen voice-commanded the exoskeleton's chest to open up. She'd have to close it before they landed, until she could get behind some cover and put her helmet back on. Now she just wanted a breath of air that wasn't laced with smoke, even if it was the slightly polluted air of the San Francisco Metroplex. Seeing the familiar skyline was almost as refreshing.
"The Human Factor"
A Short Story By Gary Townsend
Copyright 1999 Hero Games. All Rights Reserved.
No Part Of This Document May Be Duplicated, Altered Or Reposted Without Written Permission From The Author Or The Publisher.