SIXTY-FIVE
LIFE AND DEATH IN THE DC-WASTELANDS
ACTION AND DECEPTION

A big old Captain Cosmos sign stood high on a crossroad competing with a McDonalds, NukaCola and other 3Dsigns. All were tilted and were stained in various ways. A half collapsed McDonalds was splattered with a destroyed battlebuggy where Lucky Eddie'Jo had killed so many raiders, had rescued Lilly.

Lieutenant James Patriot Jackson served the superclones of higher rank than his but he was not always pleased by their orders; like all of the JPJ-superclones, he assumed he was the best of them though he dared not think this to strongly let alone say it out aloud.

The power armoured figure stood over the writhing body of a captive Wastelander, a piece of scum cannibal hunter, cowardly bandit and odd jobs criminal. He was the sort of lowlife survivor who was only too common through out the Wastelands of the whole world and not just DC.

The dark voice spoke deep in his mind, the mind of his master still trapped in NeoWashington, at the core of it in a special super fortress that had become his prison. "You have the girl? No, you do not! This is most disappointing. My damned son has caused me more trouble."

A small girl named Lilly was one of the prime keys to the freeing of President James Patriot Jackson from the super virtual reality prison. Lilly had been held in secure captivity in a small bunker beneath the crossroads but, somehow, the raiders had gotten into bunker. The berserkers had battled and killed the elite security forces in the bunker. The battle had lasted for over a month and many berserkers had died but they won in the end, gaining much kudos and loot.

They took Lilly from her status-capsule, her virtual reality existence, and put her into a cage.

Lilly was coded, Lilly was a key, and she was to open up a great and powerful integrated real and virtual real gateway long ago locked unintentionally. The locking had taken place during the blast effect. Lilly was the daughter of President James Patriot Jackson and had been created as a back up in case something went wrong; something had gone wrong.

Lieutenant James Patriot Jackson killed the lowlife.

Eddie'Jo had taken Lilly and had vanished into the Wastelands with the experienced skill of a SEARST. Tracking the SEARF was never easy and the Wastelands favoured their skills. Patriot Guards stood back behind him, a mixture of types with two massive Mecha-Guards being even bigger than the Hulk-Guards. Most common were the grunts, the Infantry-Guards, but they were also elite.

There were ten big eight wheeled amphibious armoured monsters of Atomic Land Armoured Vehicles. One vehicle sported a trophy of a bloody Outcast power armour helmet on its forward hull plate. Four were troop carriers, two were armoured fighting vehicles with heavy 90mm multiple purpose autogun turrets that carried less troops, two were armoured logistics carriers bringing special hardware plus spare supplies, one was an armoured medical outpost and the last was a specialised support vehicle for the power armour of the soldiers.

At last the Patriot Guards were coming out of hiding and they had already skirmished with raiders and Brotherhood Outcasts, destroying both groups. It had felt good to get away from the Hexagon, as vast as the underground fortress was, away from full virtual reality training and wargames, away from the amazing big battle arenas, and into some real action. The Patriot Guards wanted to prove themselves to their leaders and to each other. Most of all they wanted to prove themselves to President James Patriot Jackson.

It amused them that the stupid DC-Wastelanders had no idea that a massive army of Patriot Guards and allies was about to spring upon them. They would crush the treacherous SEARF and JAGAF along with the former Patriot Guards who had become the Brotherhood of Steel in California. They would eliminate all unwanted mutants and enslave others as cyborg puppets. They would take on and destroy the Eagle-Enclave. They would smash the Union of Columbia and the DomniCommonwealth. When they were finished with the super-mutants, they would murder them all.

President James Patriot Jackson would return and would rule the world.

Like the Mad President himself, and his superclones, the Patriot Guards were insane, were sociopathic. Or at least most of them were.

Lieutenant James Patriot Jackson laughed out loud, turned and signalled three Scout-Guards to come to him. These were smaller, faster, more agile types. They moved with amazing quickness. These, unlike most Patriot Guard types, were female and thus considered more expendable.

He commanded briskly. "Check the area!"

The scouts knew better than to ask questions. They vanished quickly into the surroundings. They slipped quietly and quickly through the ruins. Then they were dropping down into a basemant. The two crouched and waited.

A JAGAF and a SEARF trooper flickered into view. They crouched to face the Scout-Guards. Visors opened. The JAGAF female spoke. "Report that you found the following: no super-soldiers except three SEARF scouts who fled upon sighting the mighty Patriot Scouts. Would they take such nonsense?"

One of the Scout-Guards sighed. "They would believe almost anything that feeds upon their egos but we will need to be careful how we put it. We serve the Seeker James Patriot Jackson, the more aware and more positive aspect of President James Patriot Jackson. He warns that with the Patriot Guards coming out into the open, with the things raining from low orbit and other signs, that the Mad President will act soon to escape his prison. Seeker James Patriot Jackson does not know all of the Mad President's plans but he does know that the Washington Monument in the Grand National Mall is very important. There is a whole super virtual reality world of realms at the core of which is NeoDC; at the core of NeoDC is NeoWashington and at the core of the city is trapped President James Patriot Jackson. Every realm reflects the DC-Wastelands to some degree. In every one of them the Washington Monument and various SubHubs are of vital importance but so are other aspects including certain individuals. We have to take control of as many of these aspects as we can and stop President James Patriot Jackson from doing so. In that way we will stop his insane plan of escape."

The SEARF sergeant spoke. "What is the actual danger?"

The Patriot Guard scout shook her helmeted head. "Seeker James Patriot Jackson just knows that it is linked with the true nature of President James Patriot Jackson, with his alien abduction, his strange powers and with a dark alien power that he is somehow deeply linked with. The JAGAF are also linked with this darkness, can sense it and, despite their own cold nature, are frightened of it."

The JAGAF super-soldier nodded his head. "It was that which finally decided us to betray President James Patriot Jackson and to join with the SEARF, our clone cousins. Thanks to the SEARF, to Lucky Eddie and Orbis, our nature is changing but still we can sense the emotionless ultimate alien nature of the 'thing' that lurks close to President James Patriot Jackson, that lurks in hiding behind him."

On that cheerful note they parted ways.

TO BE CONTINUED

SIXTY-SIX
TWINS IN LIFEVAULT-101
STRANGE DISCOVERIES
:tops: :vaultboy: :disguise: :cryvaultboy: :sadvaultboy:

In phantom form Aarie found the storage vault room where the broach and the brainchips had been found by the rebels. The room turned out to be quite big and quite heavily crammed with goodies. The mixture had no discernable pattern, as if anything with nowhere else to go was just dumped there.

The area was truly a maze of chambers, hallways and other spaces that did change but Aarie was sure that it was designed to do more than just confuse intruders. While much of it was quite bare, there were some valuable goodies and surprises like the chamber with the cloning machine that had once held a dead clone man; the body was now gone.

Aarie examined the storage chamber with its racks of rocket-rifles that fired both smaller numbers of 22mm rocket-shells and bigger numbers of 12mm rocket-bullets. They were powerful but suffered with accuracy unless they used special smart projectiles.

Then there was a brainbot, a clumsy tracked cyborg, but with out the brain in the dome.

Next to a row of dusty Ming vases, genuine antiques, was a space on the shelf where the brainchips, in their box, had been stored. Next to that had been placed the broach. The shapes could still be seen as outlined by surrounding dust.

There were stacks of Predoomsday books but they were mostly erotic romance novels for women of many tastes. Aarie touched them, absorbing the contents for later, private recall. Aaron would know the contents but would, of course, not intrude on her privacy.

But amongst the erotic romances, with their glossy coloured 3Dphoto fronts showing impossibly handsome dark strangers romantically confronting beautiful damsels, she found some more intellectual works on various schools of study be it physics, history and many others; best of all they came from the famously independent Underground University who had fought against the censorship and distorting propaganda of President James Patriot Jackson’s rule. She scanned, memorised them all.

She went deeper into the chamber and for a moment felt an odd moment of disorientation as the female teen approached the back wall. It was not there, not really, not to her vision, but was some kind of projected façade. On her side of the façade were more known kinds of items even if they were experimental prototypes. Yet on the other, she sensed, were items of a whole different class.

Slipping through what would have been a solid wall to most, to feel and look at, she found herself amongst a larger chamber of oddities. Perhaps the oddest was the big wooden wardrobe in corner, heavy and ornate, because it looked the most normal but somehow seemed odd.

There was a great big NukaCola machine that was deactivated, that looked different from normal NukaCola vending-machines. There was something subtly wrong with the machine, something that she sensed that made her glad that it was not functioning, that it was locked down.

There was a great big cylinder shaped table with a disk top and a sunken area in the centre. There was a dome covering it. Inside was a miniature landscape complete with tiny people, robots, cars, monotrains and much else. It was a perfect copy of Washington DC circa 2077 and it was real. It was no holographic projection or other type of illusion. Millions of tiny people living their lives and, apparently, not knowing of the reality of their situation, living their lives in what seemed, from her perspective, to be a very fast moving fashion. It was also deactivated and locked down.

There was a machine that was a set of four cabinet modules and other modular structures, consoles and monitors. It was a machine that was able to copy any person standing in cabinet A and make a special clone copy of them that would basically emerge in cabinet B1, cabinet B2 and Cabinet B3 or just in the first one or two of them, as desired. Copies could be genned and-or cyborged to various degrees but the more cyborging and-or genning, the longer the growth-fabrication process would take.

There was a pinball machine! At a glance it looked like a very fancy 2050s style pinball machine with three levels, two above having transparent floors, bumpers, laser-triggers, flippers, floppers, flickers, flooters, whirlers, jetters, pinball splitters and much else including small robots like interceptors, chasers, racers and runners. There were also elevators, rampways, teleporters, bouncers and pinball cloners. But to control it one had to use a special head-set. She examined it carefully and then knew that it was a psychic tester of some kind that too easily could send lesser psychic or more unstable psychic mentalities truly insane. She was glad it was deactivated, was locked down.

A black machine with a slanted coffin like capsule was a reanimator, a maker of neozombies from human and other corpses. It took such a body, cyborged it, implanted a AI﷓unit and did other things to create a mockery of life. It was also deactivated and locked down. The coffin shape was appropriate looking.

Then there was the last other item in that chamber, an lifer-bubble filled with translucent gas that glowed softly yellow white. It was active and a withered old man of a figure sat inside what looked like a very comfortable compuchair arrangement. Tubes, linked directly to his body, fed to him from the machinery, the modular boxes linked to the bubble, fed him air, water, food and took away his waste products. He was light brown of skin and grey of what little hair that remained and yet he had a set of nice white teeth. His eyes were closed. He was breathing smoothly and easily.

Then his eyes opened and he looked straight at Aarie. “Aaahhh, a beautiful naked young woman, how delightful. My name is James Patriot Jackson. I am the real James Patriot Jackson whose name and identity the Mad President stole from me when he was but Senator James Patriot Jackson. Damned lifer-bubble. I should have died a long time ago. Why, it must be at least the late Twenty-First Century by now.”

She sighed and made no move to cover herself for the old man really did not have any desire for her, she could sense it was so, and she did not feel very modest. Instead she wanted to know more.

Then she spoke. “It is surprising that you can see me.”

The old man grinned. “Yeh, well, what can I say. The real Patriot Jackson Dynasty has always been psychic. Okay, spit it out, how long has it been?”

She nodded. “We are now in the late Twenty-Third Century. You are in a hidden storage area in LifeVault-101 as designed and constructed by VaultTek of the TekCorps.”

He sighed. “So we survived the troubles of the early Twenty-First Century. What is a LifeVault? What is a TekCorp?”

So she told him, in brief, about Doomsday, President James Patriot Jackson, the TekCorps, the Second American Civil War and much else.

Then she changed subjects. “Who and what are you, really? President James Patriot Jackson did not steal his name, he made it up. There was no politician with that name.”

He laughed softly and then he explained. “James Patriot Jackson, myself, was no politico, no I was a circus daredevil, cat burglar, womaniser, idiot and a freelance actor who took any part he could get including advlt entertainment. My real name was Fred Jackson and my family were often highly psychic. My working name as a daredevil was James Patriot Jackson. I was famous in Texas mostly though some folk liked me in New Mexico. One day I was pretty broke and down on my luck in some hick town in Texas when this beautiful woman approaches me and tells me that somebody powerful and important wanted to have a private meeting with me. She played me like a fiddle, stroked my ego, gave me a thick wad of notes, made wondrous love to me and then took me to see the charming monster himself.”

He shrugged. “All I can remember is flashes after that. Meeting him, being with my mother as she died of old age plus cancer, watching in the distance as some big Texan city was destroyed as the big mushroom cloud rose high in the sky, surviving in a leaky bunker in some place by forging government ration-books and other emergency issue documentation, burying people in mass graves in New Mexico, standing in line at a soup kitchen in New York or what was left of it. I really did not know what he wanted from me but he took something special and gave me something bizarre in return. I could quite track what was going on. Time passed strangely for me. That beautiful woman staid with me much of the time, saved my life a few times but then vanished unexpectedly. I searched for her but found not even a trace. Then I was ambushed one day by fast moving super-soldiers of some kind in black; damned they were quick but they didn’t hurt me because I was smart enough not to fight them. Two guys with me pulled guns and died just like that. One super soldier came to me and showed me his young, handsome face. He said he was Bloody Eddie and I got scared cause he had a bad rep but he calmed me down, said he was sorry about the way I had been treated and that one day there would be justice, that the false James Patriot Jackson would be brought to justice. Damned strange that, damned strange, but somehow it felt good. He had the same kind of looks you have. Are you related to him?”

“Not that I know of but that means little as neither I or my twin brother have any real knowledge of such things.” She flickered a little. “My brother is warning me to return. I will return to talk to you as soon as I can, you sweet dirty old man, you.”

“Why thank you, dear.” He grinned. “You truly flatter me.” Then he closed his eyes and went to sleep.

She returned fully to the bedroom where Aaron waited for her and where their father soon arrived home from work. He spoke briefly with them before going to bed, his attitude being neutral friendly as usual.

TO BE CONTINUED

SIXTY-SEVEN
LIFE AND DEATH IN THE DC-WASTELANDS
STRANGE TROUBLES ON THE SUPERDUPERMART
:bolt:

The Union of Columbia was in the process of creating a new elite Union Guard regiment to be known as the Guards of Steel. They would be equipped much as the Brotherhood of Steel regiments were with some special units. They would not mimic the rank titles or other unique ways of the brotherhood but would be a straight forward military unit.

Two Brotherhood Knights were leading four newly trained Steel Guards, all of them being in standard power armour. They were making their way carefully over the rubble that in turn covered a big SuperDuperMart complex close to the Grand National Mall itself. It was supposed to be an easy mission. Just check out some crazy Wastelander stories and also the area, now they were there. Oddly enough they were close to the fighting but a barrier of two massive collapsed complexes had isolated that area off from the combat.

Or so far it had!

Military intelligence spoke of the Gangers called the Iron'Biters, a large and well organised gang, holding the SuperDuperMart as their home territory. The Iron'Biters wanted no part of the war and intended to keep low for the duration. Newer whispers had spoken of the Iron'Biters coming into ownership of a supply of fine tradegoods that they were using to trade with other gangers and the few traders who they would not rob or kill.

Check the area and find out where the Iron'Biters were getting their new tradegoods from.

They made their way around a huge hunk of rubble and then they stopped, fanned out and crouched. Something odd was happening ahead. There was a big exposed area of roof and it was being thudded against heavily from beneath. Again and again there was the pounding.

Suddenly a hole showed and out of it began to flow an amazing stream of insects, spiders and other, smaller lifeforms. They scattered outwards and flew, scuttled or otherwise fled. The hole grew bigger and the bigger it got, the bigger the lifeforms that came racing out of it were. Birds, bats who flew blindly into the daylight, rats, radroaches, radrats, molemice and much else. Then came the first OrbisOrb, a small one holding rescued plant life inside. Some plantimals slithered out and slithered off.

Zhouls began to pour out and they made strange noises of terror. They leapt and clambered, then ran as fast as they could in three different directions because they like to stay in groups.

More OrbisOrbs floated out and drifted off.

So far nothing had attacked anything else.

Then came Iron'Biters, desperate and fast moving, hauling what stuff they could take with them. They rushed past the power armoured fighters with only a glance as if much less concerned with them than what was behind them.

There was a growing feeling of something very disturbing, frightening and even 'draining' approaching.

An Iron'Biter stopped and scowled. "Something worse than anything I have even heard about is coming. We got to lay down lots of bombs and mines to slow it down, now. Drop everything we have down there when the last life is gone past. Those OrbisOrb things will ignite the explosions. Incendiaries are especially effective. Those are my ex-comrades coming and I want them dead."

The Knight Sergeant stepped forward and nodded. "Feels right! Soldiers, I want all of your plastic nasties, all of your grenades and your mines."

As the last OrbisOrb came out full of rescued life, as did the last animal, a bunch of gangers and the soldiers knew they had not much time left and they dropped down into the hole a whole bunch of munitions including some shells and grenade-shells. Somehow, as they fell, they went down into a pattern as guided by an OrbisOrb. They changed and they were put into a most effective formation. A couple of mininukes added a touch of spice to the mix.

Then everybody was running away as fast as they could. A single very small OrbisOrb remained behind and it not only detonated the munitions somehow, it somehow amplified their destructive effect. A blast of flame and smoke ripped upwards but most of the destructive force went against the unseen threat. An unholy scream ripped through the air of what seemed like both agony and rage. The whole great mound of rubble shuddered.

The surviving 24% of Iron'Biters ceased to be gangers. What they had experienced, changed them. People had started going crazy, had started to vanish mysteriously and then the glowing fog had come. Firstly there had only been small patches of it with small zombie creatures but too soon the survivors were fighting bigger patches of fog with not only radroaches, molerat and other such zombies but their own ex-comrades.

The Iron'Biters were to become a Union Guard unit of special forces scouts, tough and deadly, always seeking both normal and the abnormal threats. They were angry and they wanted revenge but they also wanted to help get rid of the sort of threats that made such as super-mutants, deathclaws and swarms of zhouls seem sweet in comparison.

Things were changing and not for the better.

TO BE CONTINUED

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!

SIXTY-SEVEN
GRAHAM MAHARG
SHOWING UP AT THE DC-CITADEL

Despite everything, life for most DC-Wastelanders was much as normal. True a fair few men and women had gone off as recruits to either help fight the super-mutants in the Grand National Mall or to defend other parts of the Union of Columbia but many remained to care for the surviving settlements. Trade and other travel continued between the settlements.

Even the shower of things falling from the sky had not made much of a difference with a landscape that already looked very damaged. Yet thankfully things, solid or energy, had stopped falling from the skies. Scavengers and others went out to find these things along with what they always sought.

Whispers spoke of fast moving super-soldiers, appearing out of nowhere to grab up antigrav fallen satellites or even orbital-platforms. There were other glimpses of these figures and stories of them rescuing slaves, abducting zhouls and doing other, sometimes seemingly crazy, things. Outcasts of Steel and official Orders of Steel were still out there, now looking for new prizes to be found.

The tall, slimly muscular young man walked slowly, almost lazily, along the river front towards the DC-Citadel. It was bright sunny and warm. He wore a collage uniform, private and posh, complete with cap, a pair of wrap-around dark glasses, a pair of nice polished shoes, a compact collage backpack and a pipboy on his left wrist plus a gunboy on his right wrist. Gunboys had never really taken off, were weapon devices with various forms of lethal and non-lethal armaments.

There was a black ring on the middle finger of each hand. On the left was a golden shield emblem and on the right, a golden sword emblem.

In his right hand he carried a metal lunchbox decorated with Captain Cosmos, Cosmic Girl and Jangles the Moon Monkey close to the Cosmic Rocketship on a moonscape. In his left hand he carried curious multicoloured, but dull coloured, briefcase that seemed somehow both metallic and leathery at the same time.

Following him was MondoKit, a great metallic storage canister, more wide than high, of polished ornate nature that seemed to be gliding along just above the ground but quietly as if almost like a balloon. Except it was doing so against the movement of the air. On the flat top was a thin mattress and stretched out on that, very comfortably, was a big old sleepy hound.

He paused on hard dirt ground next to where smart-concrete ground began that was the riverside structure including a walkway down below the wall and just above high tide of the river. There he knelt and put the suitcase, MondoCase, on the ground, opened the lunchbox like MondoBox and noted the items in it being neatly racked tubes full of various glowing, softly bubbling chemicals of various colours. Digging a small hole in the hard ground with surprising ease with his fingers, that somehow staid clean, he poured a few drops each of various chemicals into the hole.

Even as the chemicals in the hole broiled, glowed and swirled oddly, he closed MondoBox and opened it up again. This time, amazingly enough, it showed other things stored in it being a neatly arrayed set of exotic silvery metallic tools. From this he took a long silver tube and dipped it into the hole and the chemicals. The device made a soft humming noise and svcked the chemical mix up into itself. Amazingly enough, none of the chemical stuff remained and a fair amount of soil was also gone.

He inserted the other end of the tube into a box shaped device, pressed a small green button, and it hummed for a few seconds. Then he carefully examined some alien looking symbols flashing up on a small exotic crystal screen.

The big old hound yawned and then spoke with an oddly gruffy voice. "You got any direct traces yet?"

Graham Maharg shook his head. "No, but the natural reactives are noticeably stronger. We are getting much closer than we were back in New York. I do not like this situation at all. Orbis is not functioning as it should do. Can you smell anything, MondoHound?"

The big old dog lifted his tawny orange brown head and took a couple of long careful sniffs. "Just the very slightest trace of something that might be antinatural. This world is a difficult environment to find such things, what with the radiation levels, the toxins and such like. Ooommm! We need to get across the river."

This time Graham put MondoBox away into MondoCase. Then he took out a curious dull silvery umbrella, metallic and non reflective, opened it up and began to walk along towards the DC-Citadel again. As he did the top surface of the umbrella suddenly turned black as it began to absorb solar energies.

He had been sent to the world, a poisoned Alternative Earth, because the Centro had detected there traces of the Great Enemy of the Undeath. What had puzzled him was why the Centro had not had Orbis do this but now he was on the world he could sense that the Centro had good reason to be wary of Orbis.

Or was that all of Orbis?

In the distance he could see the edges of the DC-Citadel now with added weaponry, more sentries and robots. Most of the great hitech fortress was underground. The DC-Citadel was based on the expanded and upgraded Pentagon of President James Patriot Jackson. Outwardly it no longer appeared the same but that was only to be expected.

A Sisterhood of Steel vertijet glided into vertical landed, dropping down behind the walls of the fortress to vanish from sight. Two more followed.

A patrol of four Brothers of Steel, Knights in standard power armour, strode past him in their impressive manner and with their 20mm autoguns. Yet he sensed tiredness in them as the Orders of Steel had been pushed hard to deal with the super-mutant threat in the Grand National Mall. They had lost many good people and too many valuable resources but had failed to stop the super-mutants or find out what they were truly up to. They examined him but seemed used to seeing odd characters. This was despite assistance from other members of the Alliance.

They ignored him because, for the moment, that is how Graham Maharg wanted it.
But then he changed his mind and he stopped and spoke to them. "Brothers of Steel, I need to talk with you. I have something to offer the Brotherhood of Steel that you might need."

The armoured figures halted and the one in charge stepped forward. He spoke. "You are a fool to walk alone in the Wastelands even if you are in an area heavily patrolled by the brotherhood. We have no time for foolishness. Go on your way and from now on move in larger company."

Graham Maharg smiled. "I have a hydraulic action integrator in good condition, though slightly dented and stained on the hull. It is a rare RobCo Model 5555A1 built only in relatively small numbers for varied kinds of very large and sophisticated robots like the Mega-Constructors that helped change DC or that Liberty Prime super weapon the USA was going to use against the Soviets. I don't suppose you have any giant robots but still it could come in handy."

The Knight in charge responded cautiously. "We might be able to use such an item. Two of us will escort you to the 'citadel' while the others continue the patrol. Super-mutant strike-teams have been raiding around the DC-Citadel."

Going to the fortress meant being under the range of emplaced guns, robotic turrets, sentries and local patrols. Then he was entering through a secondary armoured door next to the big main gate, went along a big metallic hallway with now five guards and entered one of the big courtyards though not the huge main one. There were armoured vehicles lined up close to one wall. There were rows of field weapons. There were neat stacks of containers. There was a big neat stack of junk and semijunk for recycling. But the courtyard was fairly empty and a great deal equipment was much used and much repaired.

They came to a halt.

Graham Maharg sighed. "You could use some more help than one small specialised unit. I represent a variety of exotic mercantile interests who can both sell at a generous rate and give bonus credit. It's not charity! These particular interests have reasons for wanting the Free Alliance to win this war. The super-mutants are not the real enemy but are just puppets of one of them; there is worse to come. Of course you will want proof and this can be gained by the gifting of some free products of the kind that you can use immediately."

The Knight took off his helmet and revealed a frizzy haired yellow-brown oriental of hardened features and some small scars. He frowned hard. "I don't know what it is but something tell me that you are legit in your claims. Perhaps its that silvery box thing that floats after you with the big old friendly dog on it, the one that kept licking any of my soldiers who got in range. I suppose you and these 'mercantile interests' have access to Predoomsday technologies, to military equipment and supplies. You could sell to anybody for short term profit."

The strange young man smiled. "The mercantile interests are extraterrestrial and are linked to the new moon, which is not a moon at all of course otherwise it would have caused much destruction with its gravitational influences on both Terra and Luna. We are not linked to such as the zetans."

Graham Maharg lowered his umbrella and the black top turned dull metallic silver as it stopped absorbing solar power. Then it closed itself up. It changed, with a sparkling shimmer, and became a walking-stick.

MondoHound yawned, stretched and sat up on MondoKit. Then he spoke. "Lickity licking is what this dog does good. Just being friendly like. I can smell some lovely doggies. I wonder if they will want to play with me."

"I am Knight Lieutenant Filby. I don't know what the Paladins and the Elders are going to say about this but I do know we need help." He turned to MondoHound and did not seem surprised by a talking dog but then again, there were robotic dogs and mutant dogs in North America. "There are some pets but most dogs are hunting, guard and fighting dogs. Yes, also some sheepdogs with the sheep, of course."

"Cattledogs with the cattle, lieutenant!" Another soldier spoke. "Moleratdogs with the molerats."

Filby grinned. "Moleratdogs, I suppose it makes sense. Had refugees coming in lately from the fringes of DC and even from outside of DC. They brought their animals with them and Elder Lyons made them feel welcome."

A small hoversled came rushing towards them and then was dropping gently to the ground. Head Scribe Rothchild climbed off, all professional and somewhat arrogant, to come striding over. He seemed excited but was trying to hide it.

Then he was frowning at the strange young man. "You spoke of a RobCo Model 5555A1 hydraulic action integrator. This data was commed ahead of your group. I can not trust to have you come into the main laboratory workshops. I am Head Scribe Rothchild of the Brotherhood of Steel here in DC."

"I am Graham Maharg!" The strange young man nodded. Then he thrust the walking-stick into the ground, knelt and put the multicoloured suitcase on the ground, bottom down, opened it and pushed the lid all the way. Inside were neatly packed two RobCo Model 5555A1 hydraulic action integrators in the bottom of the suitcase and in the opened lid, a RobCo Model 5555A1 hydraulic action integrator hardback manual and a RobCo Model 5555A1 hydraulic action integrator specialised toolkit. Everything looked lightly used and one integrator was a little dented.

Rothchild looked stunned. He frowned at the newcomer. "What do you want for this?"

Graham Maharg nodded. "Just good will to start with. I have to leave now but I will return in a couple of days. When I return I will need a small courtyard to be cleared for my use and to meet with Elder Lyons and yourself at least." He slipped a thick crystal-plastic envelope out from his collage coat and passed it to Rothchild. "I suggest you study all the material inside that envelope. It will only open in both the presence of Elder Lyons and yourself."


Rothchild held the envelope gingerly for it was glowing softly and it had no noticeable way of being opened. "I am sorry but we will need you to stay until we can?"

But Graham Maharg only smiled, gripped the handle of his walking-stick and vanished with a sparkling shimmer along with MondoCase, MondoKit and MondoHound. They were disappeared with out a trace.

The scribe frowned. He took out a hand-com unit and contacted Elder Lyons. "He has showed up just as was foretold and he has brought items that will greatly improve PROJECT LIBERTY PRIME." Pause! "He has left. He teleported away. Yes, I will meet you very soon in the Special Chamber." Pause! "There is an envelope that will only open with the two of us near."

TO BE CONTINUED

SIXTY-EIGHT
LIFE AND DEATH IN THE DC-WASTELANDS
IN THE SPECIAL CHAMBER OF THE DC-CITADEL

Elder Lyons was already in the super secret Special Chamber and was looking at a 3Dwallscreen map of the DC-Wastelands and surrounding areas.

Next to the map, in an armaglass display case, was a Patriot Guard power armour suit. The Brothers of Steel hid from most the truth that they were once Patriot Guards serving the Mad President. That is where they got their rankings of Paladin, Knight and others from though not all Patriot Guard units had used such rankings. It was painful to think that the Patriot Guard were not only back in DC but that they were there in force. The Orders of Steel were having enough trouble dealing with current threats with out taking on new ones.

Then again, the Subwayers had emerged as a powerful force to join the Union of Columbia. Over a hundred thousand soldiers had already joined the ranks of the Alliance, most being albino clones fighting underground in the Subway, other artificial networks and cave systems. The Guards of Steel, in their power armour and smaller combat-mecha, had quadrupled in number.

He turned as Rothchild entered and stood at the big, softly glowing disk shaped central table. It was an artefact of power in its own right and President James Patriot Jackson had used it many times. It was also dangerous to use but right now it was only in semiactive status.

Rothchild was looking pleased but also deeply thoughtful. He spoke even as he took out the exotic, softly glowing envelope that Graham Maharg had given him. "The Liberty Prime today took a great leap forward. Now we can get Liberty Prime One fully functional at a basic degree and start pushing Liberty Prime Two to the same level."

Lyons nodded, smiled. "All three Liberty Prime robots need to be fully functional as soon as possible."

Only one Liberty Prime robot had actually been meant for combat. The other two were prototypes designed only to further the project and to show off early progress in the Liberty Prime Project. The more sophisticated of the prototypes had been used in public shows and parades as good propaganda. It had been called JPJ's Toy by many people but discretely. Many had doubts that Liberty Prime would be effective against the Soviets but dared not say so.

Word had come from the Grand National Mall that the Alliance had made a series of successful advances. These were partly due to the Subwayers new commitment to the war and the increasing activity of friendly super-soldiers. Yet odd reports were coming in of SEARF-JAGAF Pact units, or Pactsquads, capturing super-mutants and not killing them and, more strangely, a small minority of super-mutants surrendering willingly to them.

Rothchild put the envelope down on the disk shaped table that was a solid cylinder going down to and beneath the metallic floor of the big, oddly saucer shaped chamber. "Any more data on Orbis, the new moon like object?"

Lyons nodded. "Lucky Eddie has given some data on it. It's a great artificial world and also a spaceship of sorts. Its amazingly old and of amazingly advanced technological make-up. He was not telling all he knew and he was honest about that. He proposed an Alliance Taskforce be set up to investigate the impact of Orbis on the DC-Wastelands. He also spoke of the 2032 built Smithsonian Telescope that is inside Alliance controlled territory. Curious that he, who professes to have some kind of link with Orbis, needs the use of a powerful experimental multi-telescope to observe it. Something is up here and I do not like the feel of it. Now we have this Graham Maharg come out of nowhere."

The envelope began to glow more brightly. It pulsed steadily and then there was a short, sharp flash of light.

Graham Maharg stood on the exotic table device and smiled firstly at Lyons and then at Rothchild. Then he leapt lightly through the air, somersaulting once, and landed lightly to bow to both me.

He stood straight and spoke. "I did not want to be seen coming into this chamber and I did not think you would want me to though I have been here before a very long time ago. This part of the DC-Citadel, of the old Pentagon, is a flying-saucer, an alien spaceship but not of the zetans or any like them. Hence the odd shape of local chambers and hallways."

Elder Lyons frowned softly. "We know this already. It was made by aliens called the Ucorbi. We are not fools."

Graham Maharg sighed. "Ucorbi is a manufacturing world, a brand name, of the multinorp of the norp of the Centro of Outer Sabaline Nexus Reach. People who used the saucer were abunorps of the same nexus reach doing negative time-space research. That was back before the peaceful norp peoples started force bubbling, armouring and arming their starcraft. The saucership was captured by a zetan mothership but the abunorps escaped after destroying restricted technologies and databanks. How it got to be buried inside the Pentagon's mid-deep levels, I do not know as yet."

He stepped up to the central table device and lay both of his hands on it, palms down, fingers and thumbs splayed out. "Fascinating! Partly damaged in general but all specialist research and other network-systems have been destroyed. I see you did some experimenting with it and lost two people. I can, thankfully, get them back for you and, with some effort, return them to full functionality of sorts. This is the NexiHub of the saucership. It is linked with all network-systems of the saucership that are functioning fully or partially. I am now doing a gentle, cautious probing. Can I bring up a nice user friendly menu?"

There was a brightening of the table top and then a glowing pillar of light arose, a cylinder full of solid looking 3Ddatasymbols of a clearly alien form. Many looked like abstract animal or plant shapes. Some looked like rainbows made into clever patterns. It seemed to be made to be artistic as well as practical.

Rothchild did not look pleased at the appearance of the newcomer. He frowned. "What are you? Who are you? What do you know? What can you tell us?"

Elder Lyons gave the Head Scribe a hard look. "Enough, Reginald!" He turned back to Graham Maharg. "What do you see?"

Graham Maharg responded. "President James Patriot Jackson was definitely here. He spent a good deal of time manipulating this interface, studying resulting data or just standing here, meditating in some obscure fashion. He was quite insane by that time, destructively so, and killed some fifteen of his subordinates in this chamber for rather bizarre reasons. He came here on only three separate occasions but he learned something of great value that would assist him in creating his amazing super virtual reality realm of realms."

An image formed in mid air. It was of President James Patriot Jackson himself in a fine black business suit. The tall, muscular figure wore special armour shaped like a business suit. Down one arm was splashed bright red blood that most likely belonged to a dead subordinate.

Graham Maharg then nodded. "Now I have it. What he gained was a knowledge of how to set up patterns with certain kinds of very advanced technologies. The abunorp would have thought such knowledge too basic to conceal, especially from the zetans, but to Earth humans it would be a subtle breakthrough. You may know that, as young Donald Patriot, that James Patriot Jackson was kidnapped by aliens during World War Two as he fought fascists in South America. The brutal zonozi serve the Greynari just as the zozozi serve the Greytorv but the zetans serve both. Donald Patriot went through many indescribable horrors with the zonozi and more so with the Greynari. They sent him back, I suspect, in this broken abunorp saucerboat that glided into land somewhere in an isolated part of the USA in the early Twenty-First Century. But they sent something back with him, something inside him, that was both linked to but separate to the changes he had undergone."

The image of President James Patriot Jackson became replaced by a younger, slimmer but still handsome, charming version of himself. This one wore what looked like an adjusted to human fit zetan spacesuit.

Then the image adjusted and both next to him and blend into Donald Patriot was a twisted shadowy translucent version of himself. There was an air of dark subtle menace about it, a feeling of hatred, of loathing, of agony and of revenge.

A second adjustment saw a third figure, pale and white, shimmering softly, both in and out of, both of and not of, Donald Patriot. This seemed to be what ever good, aware and positive remained of him but also with some extra added as if something out there of positive force was trying to help him.

A third adjustment and yet another figure appeared but this was horrific in a whole new manner. At least the dark figure's hatred had been human but this was totally alien to human existence, to normal existence, an antithesis to life, antilife and undeath, drawing away at life as an addict desperate to gain a fix.

Graham Maharg spoke. "These are just recordings and yet you can still manage to feel subtle and strong sensations from them. Multinorp technologies are quite impressive even if they are only mid-lower in terms of Centro Technological Reach."

He turned to the others. "All I can tell you is that I serve the Centro as a kind of wandering trouble-shooter and that a long time ago I came to this world and made a mistake. I fell in love with some women and they became pregnant. I introduced alien genes into the human population that should not have been there. Except it was not a mistake for I was tricked in my arrogant confidence that I could not be tricked. I was betrayed by one like me, by one I trusted almost more than any other. The Centro tried to warn me but I, in my pride and friendship, ignored them. The one who tricked me paid a heavy price for his treachery and there he is, the grey figure, a vampire of the unlifen. He lost himself, his life, his real meaning and his soul is trapped in the Abyss of Lost Souls along with far too many others."

Rothchild frowned. "Are not vampires of the undead?"

Graham Maharg nodded. "Many are of the lesser undead but there are those of the unlifen who are of quite a different nature. The unlifen are opposite from undeath but linked to it as life is to death, the living to the dead. Everything that has happened to this world, that has shaped it, including the DC-Wastelands, is linked to this factor. For the mutagens and the variants of the FEV could not exist with out unlifen influences. The super-mutants and zhouls are partly unlifen though in their case it is just a tiny factor. Human cannibal-vampires are the same as are the true cannibals amongst the humans. It is the unlifen factor that is the difference between ghouls and zhouls, is why the former stay rational and the latter go mindlessly berserk."

Rothchild nodded. "Factor-X! The hidden factor that would help explain so much that has remained a puzzle, a mystery."

Graham Maharg nodded. "Factor-X, yes!"

There was a humming noise and a silvery door opened on a capsule-machine. Out stumbled two human beings, each in the outfit of a scribe. They looked dazed, exhausted but they looked upon Rothchild and Lyons as if they recognized them. Both the woman and man stumbled to their knees. The head scribe and elder hurried to help them up.

Graham Maharg had vanished!

But the woman scribe spoke then, with some difficulty. "Graham Maharg saved us, removed memories we could not tolerate of our weird experience, but also gave us a whole lot of knowledge. We have extensive plans going deep into the Pentagon levels including pass-codes, secret areas, kill-zones, storerooms full of useful resources, vaults full of secret research and development stuff, manufactories, workshops, armouries full of weapons, chambers full of robots and much else. The knowledge will come forth to us more clearly as it is needed. That is we need to go down into the levels with any search parties."

Rothchild frowned as he hugged first his son and then his niece. He had never been one for emotional demonstrations but this was a special occasion. He had hoped the strange man would bring him prizes such as scientific knowledge but instead he had brought something far more important. Now he could contact his ex-wife and his sister; maybe they would stop hating him now that their children were returned. He had risked them with a dangerous experiment, something he would never do again with anybody but himself.

The knowledge in his son and niece were the bonus.

TO BE CONTINUED

SIXTY-NINE
BIGGER AND BETTER THAN TRANQUILLITY LANE
ROSE'AMA HAS A VISITOR

Rose'Ama awoke and sat nakedly up on a hospital bed to see President James Patriot Jackson standing next to the bed. Except in seconds she knew it was not President James Patriot Jackson for this entity, though similar in appearance, radiated deep calm and though assertive, was not aggressive.

She made a soft groan and lay back down and covered up her briasts that had briefly been uncovered. She spoke. "I dreamed of you, Seeker James Patriot Jackson. You were asking me to go to the Washington Monument here in the realm of Grognak the Barbarian." Then she looked around at the modernity of the room. "That is if we are in that place."

Seeker James Patriot Jackson smiled, nodded. "You are. The secret of the Cliffhold of the Ki'Konda people is that it has a concealed bunker in it full of useful, usable technologies of the Ancients. It is one of the reason that Professor James Patriot Jackson took the place over. He infiltrated the Cliffhold through a teleportation device that the Ki'Konda did not understand. It looks like a British Victorian wardrobe, of all things, but it is a gateway between super virtual reality realms, amongst other things."

She gave up being modest with an entity that could see through clothes, slipped out of bed and into her gear that had been cleaned with some small repairs made. Then she stood facing the entity again. "What happened? I do not sense danger."

"The energy bolt you hurled was amazingly powerful. It wiped out about half of the enemy forces and struck their leader. Professor James Patriot Jackson, the superclone, is destroyed and it will take at least a month for another superclone to replace him." Seeker James Patriot Jackson spoke quietly, thoughtfully. "His followers dispersed, fleeing from the Cliffhold. They did not use the wardrobe device; I suspect that they could not do so. Only one large group got away, the others being destroyed; the large group went down into the Subways where the tribals will not follow them. The Ki'Konda once more have their home back but now they need to share the Ancients' treasures with the other tribes or otherwise face dishonour, which they would never do. Grognak wishes for the tribal people to learn about the Ways of the Ancients but to keep their way of life and not to offend Mother Nature or the Great Goddess."

She frowned. "I dreamed that there is one other to fear apart from President James Patriot Jackson himself."

The other nodded, frowning with apparent deep concern. "There is that one, the alien darkness, that the young man who became President James Patriot Jackson was linked with when he was abducted by aliens back in the Twentieth Century fighting fascists in South America during World War Two. It was this that, along with the young man's odd psychic abilities, that transformed him into the monster that he, we, would someday become. I was him. He was me. He was generally a good person but arrogant and convinced that he was due for greatness one day. He misused his psychic abilities even before he was abducted by aliens."

She sighed. "By zetans?"

Seeker James Patriot Jackson shook his head. "No, by other followers of the Greynari! It would have been much better if it had been the zetans. Greynari of the All'Moom'Laa, the dreaded ones of the undeathly curse. The ancestors of Greynari and Greytorv, both monstrous in their own ways, were once a fine people called the Silvernari and Silvertorv of the Laa'Moom'All. A fine people in many ways but scientifically arrogant and dismissive of spiritualism or anything at all that did not quite fit into their tight definitions of logic and rationalism. As a unified mentality they decided that they would disprove an ancient fear of the peoples of the Multiverse by going through the Forbidden Vortex, an almost impossible to describe zone of conflicting contradictory laws of nature, a place of absolute chaos. The ancient legend spoke of there being a mirror Multiverse where life was unlife and death was undeath. They sent through a great and powerful starship with a crew of over a million Laa'Moom'All. The Centro tried to stop the expedition but too late. The starship vanished. Centuries passed and it seemed that it was over."

Seeker James Patriot Jackson sighed. "The Laa'Moom'All began to go insane. Over just a century they went from being a logical, rational, fair minded people to being monstrous. They began to believe in a twisted logic and rationalised easily insane acts of violation, death and destruction. They took neighbouring civilizations by surprise and reeked much havoc upon them. The Silvernari became the undeathly Greynari. The Silvertorv became the unlifen Greytorv. The Laa'Moom'All became the All'Moom'Laa."

"That is except for a minority of Laa'Moom'All who escaped into a transdimensional bubble where they are still isolated today under Centro protection." Seeker James Patriot Jackson went on. "Local forces fought back against the All'Moom'Laa but found them to be very difficult to fight for the twisted people fought with insane savagery, indifference to their own fate and a whole lot of strange new technologies. Then the Centro struck hard and fast. Deathstars, battlestars and other mighty starships struck deep into All'Moom'Laa territories. Many All'Moom'Laa escaped in motherships but over two thirds were destroyed before they could do so. The hidden crimes of the All'Moom'Laa on their home world were exposed, horrifying much of the Multiverse. The victims were dealt with mercifully as possible and the home worlds of the All'Moom'Laa was destroyed."

Rose'Ama nodded. "One of those motherships abducted the young man who later became President James Patriot Jackson?"

"His real name was Donald Patriot. His father was an immigrant who changed his last name to be better accepted by the American people. Young Donald Patriot put much meaning into his last name that his father had not meant." Seeker James Patriot Jackson shook his head in evident wonder. "It was not a mothership but a dartship of zonoz hybrids that abducted Donald Patriot for the Greynari. Zetans and the zonozi are both hybrids serving the All'Moom'Laa but the zetans are harmless compared to the zonozi. The zetans are more independent, less like their masters and less keen to serve them; the zonozi are more like their masters, share more of their insanity and are fanatical followers of their masters. The same can be said of the zozozi service to the Greytorv as versus the zetan service to the Greytorv. I do not know what happened to Donald Patriot after he was abducted except some memory glimpses that show that things were done to him of incredible and bizarre nature. Then he was returned to the Earth with no explanation given and, strangely enough, in a captured saucership of another set of aliens, the abunorps. Ironically the abunorps are of the Centro, the great multitude of linked peoples who can be found through out the Multiverse."

She nodded. "Donald Patriot became Senator James Patriot Jackson and then President James Patriot Jackson. His power grew but so did his insanity."

"Actually he was becoming less human, more monstrous, was evolving into something new, powerful but increasingly distorted." Seeker James Patriot Jackson changed subjects as if he was uncomfortable about talking about the previous subject. "Go to the Washington Monument. It is a SubHub at the base but a Core SubHub as all the Washington Monuments are. If you work the Core SubHub here properly it will open up access to a series of interfaces with the super virtual reality network of network-systems that actually make the super virtual reality world of realms function. Perhaps you can hack into the greater network or at least a local network-system. I must go and assist the people trapped in NeoDC to survive the growing troubles there caused by the growing strength of the dark side of President James Patriot Jackson."

Then he was gone, with just a flicker, though in many ways he had never really been there at all.

TO BE CONTINUED

Closed by Request.