🚀 go-pugleaf

(continued from part two...)

                                   ***********

     The Superuser raged futilely against the net.  The rifle screamed to be
used, but he ignored it.  The law wouldn't allow him to pick it up.  But the
suit was still out of commission.  There were no stun bolts to fall back on.
The frustration he felt before returned with a maddening new intensity.  The
law hammered at him from both sides: it demanded that he act, and it forbade
him to use the gun.  The contradiction was stifling; against all logic, two
rights had been made into a terrible wrong.  The illusion of order that the
Superuser depended on for his sanity crumbled away and abandoned him to
madness.
     The rifle found its way into his hand and the trigger pressed invitingly
against his finger.  The hick was too busy enjoying himself to notice.
Whether the Indian saw him or not was impossible to tell.  The Revolutionary's
back fell cleanly into view beyond the sight.  The shot was impossible to
miss, even one-handed.
     The law tore the Superuser's mind apart.  It urged him to pull the trigger
and damned him for doing it at the same time.  He felt stupid: at one time
Radian was ready to kill billions, and here he was agonizing over a single
inbred redneck.  He could even get away with it.  The suit's log recorders
were off-line.  The Indian wouldn't tell.  Nobody would ever know.
     When the shot came, it took the hick totally by surprise.  A shiver rushed
through him and he jerked around, discovering the Superuser holding the rifle
with its smoking barrel pointed high in the air.  Before he could think to use
the 9mm, the rifle was aimed directly at his face.
     "Drop the pistol and back off," the Superuser spat, trying very hard to
conceal the fact that he was terrified.  "Do it now! Or the next one goes right
between your eyes."
     The hick looked back at the Indian for a moment and decided he wasn't
worth getting killed over.  The 9mm dropped to the ground and he stormed away,
giving the Indian one last hateful leer.  The rifle barrel followed him until
he was well out of range.  The battlesuit came back on-line almost immediately
thereafter and an oscillating magnetic field disintegrated the net.  Seconds
later, the Superuser and the Indian were in the air, bound for the nearest
Counter-Revolutionary healing station.
     "Thanks for the save," the Indian said.
     "Consider yourself lucky: I couldn't hit the broad side of a buffalo if I
were sitting on it."
     The Superuser silently handed his rifle back to him and started scanning
for other possible 'unorthodox attack units.'  After dropping the Indian off,
he roared back into the battle without looking back.
     The thing the Superuser hated most about crime fighting was the law.

                                   ***********

     Screaming low over the battlefield, Dr. Odd Science was astonished by the
measurements the sensor suite was returning on the explosive power of the
missiles he had just seen fired into the Awesome Force One. He didn't see how
it was possible to generate such a force without using nuclear weaponry.  For
that matter, it didn't seem possible for a mere airship to withstand such a
blast, let alone four.  But it was still there, and still firing at it's
hideously cheesy opponent.  But how much longer could even Awesome Force One
hold on?
     Dr. Science moved to the co-pilot's station, configured for weapons
control.  "I can't let those weapons be brought into play against Team
M.E.C.H.A. or its allies.  Computer, arm long, medium, and short-range air-to-
air missiles.  Engage manual targeting.  Fire on my mark."
     The starship was only a handful of miles away, hovering over the edge of
the battlefield.  Banking steeply, the M.E.C.H.A. jet needed only seconds to
reach firing range.  It filled half his forward viewscreen, streaming smoke
and belching fire, ignoring him utterly.
     There was no way he could possibly miss....
     "LAUNCH!!!"
     His hand slammed down on the firing key.  Missile tubes sprang up all over
the top and sides of the Robotech craft, spitting dozens of medium ranged, and
hundreds of short-ranged missiles into the air.  Boiling away from the plane
like angry hornets, they scattered far and wide, then tuned inwards and
converged upon the damaged battlecruiser....
     ...and were promptly destroyed by the Dalek point-defense lasers.  It
didn't take long for a man of Dr. Science's intelligence to realize his
mistake.  The Awesome Force One was using a unique weapon, one the Daleks had
not equipped their ships to defend against.  On the other hand, missiles were
common enough, and sure a ship this size was intended to survive a missile
attack from hundreds of fightercraft...
     As well as destroy them.  The M.E.C.H.A. jet shook as a particle-beam
turret scoured the aft fuselage.  Scores of lasers and other beams wove through
the air as if he were flying through a lethal loom.  Loud music blasted
through the cockpit as the impacts jolted the CD player into activation.  Dr.
Science instantly identified the song--Nine Inch Nails, "Wish," Broken.  He
didn't bother to turn it off--no attention to spare, and besides, it kind of
fit.
     The analytical part of his mind told Dr. Science that he was fortunate--
the cruiser still appeared to be directing most of its attention towards
Awesome Force One. The automated systems targeting his craft were using mostly
radar and other active sensors that could barely penetrate his cloaking
devices.  The other side of his mind only knew that he has to hit that ship,
and hit it *HARD*.
     "Activating mini-Reflex cannon," he growled through clenched teeth.  In
the nose of the sleek jet, a six-foot gun muzzle glowed slightly, gathering
energies.  "Targeting starship drive systems....FIRE!!"
     "You think you're having all the fun, you know me, I hate EVERYONE!" Nine
Inch Nails said, as a wide cone of orange energy belched from the cannon,
ripping the smoke-filled atmosphere apart before impacting squarely on some
sort of field-effect discharge coil on the stern of the spacecraft.  It
lurched, but did not fall.
     But at he had gotten it's attention, it seemed.  Three of the larger
bottom-mounted antiship guns has swiveled around to aim his his direction.  And
a series of little-used aft launchers had fired a swarm of missiles at him
nearly twice as dense as the one he had just fired.  "Microlaser point defense
system, engage!"  The M.E.C.H.A. jet's own antimissile systems cut in,
shattering the incoming projectiles by the score, but if one of those guns
were to hit him...
     "Target main gun and prepare to fire!"  As soon as it reached the end of
its recharge cycle...Twenty...nineteen...  "EEP!"  He jinked to the left to
evade a laser beam with a width that exceeded the jet's wingspan, a beam that
packed enough energy to vaporize the M.E.C.H.A. jet without even noticing.
And the Awesome Force One had been withstanding fire from and entire
*broadside* of these weapons?  How could that airship...wait, what was it
doing...?
     Dr. Odd Science gasped when he saw Awesome Force One suddenly spin around
and aim itself squarely at the center of the alien's hull.  What was Andy
Awesome thinking?  There was nothing he could do but watch as the mighty
airship sacrificed itself to ram...

                                   ***********

     The tree shook from the nearby explosion, but Mental kept his grip, as
did the three mages that were hiding--that is, strategically deployed--with
him.
     Mental reached out with his mind, grabbing another Revolutionary and
reminding him what it was like to believe in Santa. It was a desperate
gambit, but it worked on at least one of the people he'd tried it on--the
Revolutionary was on his knees, blubbering at the thought of what he'd been
willing to give up.
     He heard screams to his left, and turned to look. Joseph was pointing
toward the stand of trees opposite that which the Counter-Revolutionaries
controlled. The Daleks were coming, and they weren't letting anything stand
between them and total extermination of the CR's.
     Mental flexxed his mental muscles and concentrated on ordering one of
the Daleks to fire on one of the others. he chose one that was directly in
the center of the group.
     Nothing happened. He didn't feel anything, not so much as a sausage. He
tried again, with similar results.
     Mental shuddered, knowing that here was a foe he couldn't do anything
about.
     Then he grinned. There *was* something he could do, and it would
seriously help everyone out.
     "Attention Bruce, Bruce, Bruce, Sheila, and Bruce," he said into his
communicator. "The Dale-I mean, the Pooftas aren't alive. There's just so
much sheep dip in there! Repeat, The pooftas are full of sheep dip!"
     "Are you sure about that, Bruce? I thought Bruce was in charge of the
sheep dip?"
     "Then Bruce must be slipping on the job. Bruce out!" Mental put away
his communicator and watched as Joseph cast a spell of Turning Cheap BBC
Props Into Sheep Dip.

                                   ***********

     The Masked Bruce swept through the air, laying a strafing run of
Xolchapulses along the forces of the Revolution.  So far, the Revolutionaries
had a strong advantage -- they had several penetrations into the Counter-
Revolution's front, and a lot more tactical coordination.  If they kept up at
the rate they were going... well, the prophecies would be true.
     The Masked Bruce didn't believe in prophecy.  Free will had to exist.
     There was a sudden explosion, and the Masked Bruce found himself falling.
His head was ringing and his Xolchaholo Displays were flashing a dangerous red.
He had been hit by a powerful energy weapon of some sort.
     The ground hit the Masked Bruce hard, though his uniform protected him.
He rolled over and assessed his attackers.
     He was stunned.
     Dozens of mobile tank units, all with heavy cannons and a bad soundtrack
shouting "EXTERMINATE!!!"  They were bearing on him, and one fired a second
blast.  Cheap BBC special effects slammed into sophisticated Xolchipalian
Defensive systems.  The defensive power drained somewhat, but the Masked Bruce
was still all right.
     But anything that could hit his Defense Net that hard would cleave through
most of the Magi like a hatchet clove through old jell-o.  He had to occupy the
heavy armor.  The question was -- were they alive, the way Benedict was?
     There was only one way to find out.  The Masked Bruce hurled himself into
the air, sweeping along the Dalek ranks and scanning them with a bright red
Xolchipaliax Scanning Wave.
     Dalek systems were incredibly complex.  They were designed for defense and
assault, so that a Dalek unit could withstand most attacks and accomplish its
primary goal -- extermination of inferior species.  As part of this goal, Dalek
units were designed to resist any attempt to probe or scan them.  A lack of
information meant limited options in attack or defense, after all.
     The ease by which the Masked Bruce's Tihorn was able to probe the
innermost secrets of the Dalek technology would no doubt have been very
disturbing to the designers.  But then, if Xolchipalian technology weren't the
most advanced in the Altiverse, it was certainly within the top four.  He got
the answer he wanted -- no organic material, and not enough computing power to
be AI driven.  They weren't alive.
     "Bruce to the Bruces -- I just went up to Pommyland to check the Robot
Pooftahs, an' I found that there are no stuck up sticky beaks heah.  They're
robots, too true!"  He smiled then, feeling the thrill of his Pythonic Powers
as they translated the message to the Magi.
     "We read you, Bruce," a voice responded.  "Bruce over in the Psi
Department just figured the same thing out."
     Another shot blasted the Masked Bruce.  He withstood it, this time ready
for it and therefore not knocked from the sky.  Snapping the claw end of the
Tihorn around, he fired the bright red pencil-beam of his Xolchipaliax Laser,
sweeping the first RoboDalek with it.  The top third of the unit slowly slid
off of the bottom two thirds, with sparks flying.
     "Threat est-a-blished.  Ex-term-in-ate!"
     The RoboDalek patrol began to follow the Masked Bruce, as he lead them
from the battle.  He shattered a second RoboDalek with a Xolchipaliax
concussion burst.  He fired Xolchapulses into three others, but only succeeded
in rocking them a bit.  He needed the higher powered arsenal to take them on
directly.
     He bit his lip.  "Time to make the donuts, you bastards," he muttered, and
fired another Xolchipaliax Laser beam.

                                   ***********

     "Damage Control, Report!  Report!!!  REPORT!!!"  Benedict watched with
alarm as the ready supplies of fire-retardant chemicals were rapidly exhausted.
Had this been a normal Dalek invasion, he would have long since returned to
orbit and allowed the vacuum of space to extinguish the flames.  But this
battle was far from normal- there were no other ships to cover for the 2402
during it's absence, and he dared not allow the airship time to repair itself
and ready whatever other weapons it might have.
     "Fire has spread to main starboard corridor!" came the answer, "Damage
control units are ineffective!"
     "Re-assign secondary gun robot units to damage control!  Slave
secondary guns to main fire control computer!"  The measure would cost him
some combat effectiveness, but the ship had other needs at the moment.
*Hitting* Awesome Force One wasn't proving to be nearly as much of a problem
as *damaging* the airship through whatever Awesome defenses it had.  Benedict
found that he had badly overestimated the resourcefulness of the robotic
Dalek drones that he had programmed- while perfectly capable of slaughtering
an enemy, they were all but useless at fighting shipboard fires and
repairing damaged systems in combat.  A real Dalek crew guided by organic
minds would have put the fire out and repaired the starboard broadside long
ago.
     "Enemy missile launched!"
     Again the ship shook as an entire missile rack was torn loose.  It had
absorbed enough firepower to incinerate half a continent, but that Author-
damned airship was *still* kicking.
     "Target enemy weapons systems!  Exterminate the projector!!  Exterminate
the projector!!!  EXTERMINATE!!!"

                                   ***********

     Shadebeam cursed, loudly.  She had finally gotten a bead on the armored
figure who was battling Radian, when bright red laser blasts forced her to take
cover.  Wave after wave of Daleks were swarming the battle field, turning what
had been a very shaky stalemate for the counter-revolutionaries into a very
dire situation.  There was no way they could contend with this many of the
enemy.
     She saw the Masked Bruce laying into them, taking them apart violently
with powerful bolts coming from what appeared to be a tire iron.  The Dakek
suits were empty, it appeared - just drones.  Otherwise, she supposed, the
Masked Bruce wouldn't be using such deadly force against them.
     She saw Radian and the other fellow again, still going at it.  She
tried to get a clear shot, but Daleks continued to mob her view, and several
of them were headed straight for her.
     "EX-TER-MIN-ATE!" they shrieked.  "EX-TER-MIN-ATE!"
     "I'll give you something to exterminate, you tin-plated dickweeds,"
Shadebeam growled, as she began casting spells again.  This time she didn't
stop with one.  She cast it again...and again...and again...
     Satisfied that the Daleks in the immediate vicinity would have something
to chew on for a while, Shadebeam took to the air, listening to the shrieks
from below.
     "EX-TER-MIN-ATE!"
     "NO-I-DO-NOT-WISH-TO-READ-THE-WATCH-TOW-ER!  EX-TER-MIN-ATE!"
     "NO-I-DO-NOT-WISH-TO-READ-LYN-DON-LA-ROUCHE-CAM-PAIGN-LIT-ER-A-TURE!
EX-TER-MIN-ATE!  EX-TER-MIN-ATE!"

                                   ***********

     Deckmaster paused in his healing efforts for a moment. He couldn't swear
to it, but it almost looked like they were winning. Of course, most of the
people going down were robots on the Revolutionary side, while most of the
people going down on the Mages side were people. Fortunately, healing magic
was cheap and easy in the Gathering, as it was apparently with other mages,
and several of the people who had gone down had gotten back up.
     To help balance the roboticized Daleks, Deckmaster was casting creatures
left and right to keep them occupied when he wasn't healing someone. The
creatures weren't the large, expensive ones; Roger didn't want to run out of
mana before the battle was over, and he wasn't sure if there were any stores
in Bob that sold cards. Most of the creatures he was casting cost two mana
or less: Drudge Skeletons, Scryb Sprites, Shanodin Dryads and the like.  Some
Jehovah's Witnesses and LaRouchites were also appearing, but Deckmaster was
reasonably sure he hadn't brought them into being.  The cards didn't have
anything *that* sadistic.
     He wished that he had a few legend packs to throw in so that he could use
some Kobolds, and some Ornithoptors would be helpful as well; no offensive
powers by themselves, but they cost nothing to cast and spells could be cast
to increase their abilities. Besides, they would make good distractions.
     Deckmaster glanced around the field. He saw that Mirror Maid was doing the
best job against the robots; they hadn't quite figured out that their laser
blasts against her would take themselves out. Phobos was dodging around in
the air, blasting occasionally and providing cover in random spots by
absorbing the light temporarily (this had the additional benefit of keeping
his batteries charged).  He couldn't see Mighty Dog; he'd probably flown into
the ground and dug yet another hole halfway to China trying to plow into a
Dalek.  He also couldn't spot Mental or Daydream Believer, which wasn't
surprising; they generally hid while attacking, having little in the way of
defensive abilities (save for riding on Nightmare, of course).
     A small sound behind him brought Deckmaster's attention back to his
immediate surroundings. He turned and saw that one of the Dalek's had
somehow managed to climb the steps (probably been carried up by the two
Bubba's next to it) and was bringing it's turret to bear. "Freeze or I shall
exterminate. Exterminate. EXTERMINATE! You." came over it's speaker in that
irritating voice.
     Roger ignored the order and jumped to his left, narrowly avoiding the
first blast of cheesy special effects from the Dalek. The Bubbas had started
to  move toward him, but stopped short rather than be blasted themselves.
     Deckmaster activated the radio as he fumbled for a card. "Bruce, I seem
to have a bit of a situation, mate. Bunch of pooftas trying to take healing
station number two, it seems."
     "Oh, spit, Bruce, you always get in a spot, don't you? I'm on my way,
Bruce." came Phobos' voice in response.
     Roger's hand closed over something in his pocket and he pulled it out as
the Dalek's second shot scored and sent him completely to oblivion.

(continued in part four, following...)