Vol. III Chapter 68 This Machine Kills Fascists (Part 1 of 2)

Chapter 67 This Machine Kills Fascists

John took point as they headed towards Shadowtown. Sara and her father followed. Charlie and Rosie bringing up the rear. He'd thought arriving on foot and out of uniform might mean they'd be less intimidating. Or at least not as heavily armed. He'd got that wrong on both counts.

As they drew nearer the Tower, John noticed a huge banner hanging on the north side. White fabric painted with black letters, spelling out a simple message. 'This machine kills fascists.' No one acknowledged the banner. Too focused on the Sentry bot and garrisoned gatehouse.

Inside the high walls, the night market had wound down. They took a lap, stopping at each gate in turn. The concrete expanse to the east. The wide open space to the south. And finally, the river and steep rocks to the west.

John watched as the sun came up and Shadowtown began to fill with sound and movement. Traders laying out their wares. People walking to their workplaces. Children going to school. A bastion of life and civilisation reclaimed from the horror of the wasteland. Now that horror threatened this place and everything in it.

They sat outside, drinking coffee and picking at food from the vendors. Even John had lost his appetite. "It's time." John stood, hoping the waiting would be the worst part of the day.

The construction lift seemed to take hours to reach the open eighty seventh floor. "We need a minute." Rosie pulled him aside, heading for one of the Shrikes. She walked towards one of the black clad snipers, lay prone, when another walked over. John felt himself being assessed by the faceless figure.

"Sister." The figure rasped, putting a hand on Rosie's shoulder.

"This is my husband John." Rosie introduced him like she knew the Shrike. "John, this is Frederick."

"Nice to meet you Frederick." John had no idea how Rosie could even tell them apart, never mind how she knew his name.

"Brother." The dark goggles and mesh head covering turned to him.

"One of you should be in this meeting." Rosie didn't hide the worry in her voice. The figure walked away and another appeared by the stairs.

"No one sees the Lady armed." The same man in overalls growled, laughably outgunned. John and the elder gave up their long guns and two pistols each. The three others failed to keep a straight face as each produced weapon after weapon.

John led them into the glass walled room. Lady Luck stood at the head of a long table, the warmest face in the room. "It's my honour to present Elder Clarke Maxwell of the Brotherhood of Steel and his second in command Paladin Sara Maxwell." John made the formal introduction, even though he felt only one of them deserved it.

"My Lady." The elder gave a nod of respect, taking the pack Sara passed him. "The holos are from our Archive." The elder put an ammo tin of holotapes on the table. "And the vinyl is from my personal collection." The elder shuffled the stack of old world records. On top sat a black and white picture of a man holding a guitar, the same message as the banner outside on it. "Do you like Woody Guthrie?" The elder established he had been better informed than expected, and wasn't rattled by the sign.

"Thank you, a precious gift gratefully received. This is Sheriff Bob and Councillor Moston. We're just waiting on one more representative. Please, sit, help yourself to food or drink." Lady Luck sat back down.

Before they could take a seat, Virgil staggered in drunk. Which for him meant a good degree of planning. "Sorry I'm late, General sir." He mock saluted and nearly fell over.

"This is Virgil Nash, representing the interests of his people." Lady Luck sounded annoyed. The elder made an effort.

"Elder," Virgil sniggered. "Clarke. Nice to meet you Mr Nash." The elder put out his hand. Virgil put the burning cigarette in his teeth, letting the smoke cloud his skull like head. He shook the elder's hand with a firm grip. John thought he might have to break up a fight, but the elder held his nerve. "Got a spare one of those?"

"You know these things'll kill you." Virgil quipped, offering the elder a smoke.

"Not today." He lit the cigarette with Virgil's prosthetic, getting very close.

"My old drinking buddy." He greeted Sara, the two of them the last ones standing after John's wedding. "How's life as a jackbooted stormtrooper?"

"Pretty good. How's life as a rotting degenerate?" Sara threw a barb right back.

"Also good." Virgil fell into his seat.

Sara took a sip of coffee and stayed standing. "As we speak, there is a force of mutants that want nothing more than to wipe out the Brotherhood. At a minimum, they are almost one thousand strong. We have about three hundred knights, and less than a third of that in support personnel. We're outnumbered three to one. They could roll over us like a flood, and could have done for weeks now. So why haven't they?" Sara paused letting the information sink in.

"Because we are not the target. You are." Sara continued. "Jones wants the town to grow his army with your people. The Brotherhood won't be able to ignore that. They'll send hundreds and hundreds of knights and face an entrenched enemy. It'll be a bloodbath, and all of your people will be dead. Or worse." Sara rolled out the map they'd brought, hand drawn with incredible detail.

Elder Maxwell stood, carrying on the meeting. "You have high walls. Hundreds of armed, trained deputies. And at least four Sentry bots. Still, they will not be enough. I propose garrisoning the town with my knights. When they come, and they will come, our only chance will be to fight together. Force them to the western gate. The river and the terrain form a chokepoint."

"In small numbers, greenskins will fight to the death. In large numbers, a herd mentality takes over. When we break them, and we will break them, we'll drive them west into the forest. At which point we will detonate a twenty kiloton atomic warhead." Elder Maxwell gave them a moment. "Questions?"

"Yeah I got a question." Virgil lit another cigarette, tossing the pack over to the elder. "Are you out of you're fucking mind? You're going to destroy the town to save it? Sounds real familiar to me. You'll be carving out a piece of the valley's lungs. The forest will burn. The rivers will run dry or be too toxic for drinking. The radiation and the smoke will spread. This place will be unavailable for the better part of five years.

John stood to put forward his idea. "The Vault." Rosie looked away. "it's empty and secure. We can evacuate the non combatants then, if it comes to it, ride it out in there. It'll be...an adjustment, but they'll be safe." Rosie still wouldn't look at him.

"Would it make a difference if we could move the bomb?" Rosie asked, catching the elder by surprise.

"So." The elder took a sip of whiskey. "It was a bluff." He looked proud that his late husband had fooled him.

"Of course. Only a madman would order a weapon of mass destruction to be armed and put in front of a..." Rosie couldn't say it, she seethed, but pushed past it. "I took out the plutonium core and buried it."

"Here." Virgil prodded the map with a bony finger. "That's bedrock with heavy iron and lead deposits. Might buy us a year."

"We'll get it done." Rosie gave Charlie a nod.

"Garrisoning the town makes us a target." The councillor piped up.

"We're already a target." Lady Luck shut him down. "I've been getting reports for weeks about the damage one or two of these things have done."

"They are a plague." Elder Maxwell snarled. "We've encountered some that are fifty, sixty years old. Capable of laying ambushes and even using firearms. That is not what we face here. What we face are cubs, whelps. A slave army of unseasoned brutes. They'll unleash havoc and fury, but when we return it ten fold they will blink. Without you, they will wipe us out. Without us, they will wipe you out. Together, and only together, we will wipe them out." The elder cut through everything else.

"Then it seems we have no choice." Lady Luck took a deep breath and flipped to a new page on her pad. "Where do we begin?"