Bubblegum Crisis Fan Fiction ❯ Black Knights, Steel Hearts ❯ Chapter 29

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

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Bubble Gum Crisis is copyrighted by Artmic Inc. and Youmex, Inc. I am just
borrowing the characters for a little while, and promise not to bend, fold,
or staple them - unless I can come up with a good reason to do so. I can be
contacted at the Email address above. C&C will be accepted, out and out
flames will result in a Boomer or two being sent after you.

Please, enjoy my take on the Bubble Gum Crisis universe.....

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Chapter 29

MALCORP Pharmaceuticals
District 5
Saturday, December 22, 2035
9:02pm

The pharmaceutical research and manufacturing center was located on the outskirts of the harbor, on a man-made peninsula that jutted out
into Tokyo Bay. Despite being a large compound, less then two hundred people worked there, mostly chemists and specialists in research. Most
of the grunt work, security, cleaning, and heavy moving was done by human-supervised, MALCORP-built robots. While not as sophisticated or
flexible as Boomers, they were reliable and immune from Boomer-like rampages.

Sentry Unit JF-563 was a typical MALCORP Security Robot. While it was as tall as a man, there was no chance of it being mistaken for a human. Its main body was shaped like a dodecahedron and sat on two tank-like treads which gave it some mobility. The closest thing it had to a face was a pair of cameras mounted one above the other in the upper hemisphere of the dodecahedron. A small radar antenna on top of the robot rotated slowly.

Normally, JF-563 was armed with a tear gas grenade launcher, a taser launcher, and a shotgun that fired high-velocity beanbags. However, with all MALCORP's holding in the city on a Level One Red alert, the maintenance people had upgraded all the security units to lethal
weaponry. The grenade launcher now carried flachette and HE rounds, the taser was replaced by a four-shot missile launcher, and instead of the
shotgun, JF-563 had a 20mm rotary cannon with an extra large magazine attached.

JF-563's patrol sector was perimeter six, a section of wall in the southeast corner of the complex. It was one of twenty security units
on-station, with another twenty on standby status. A three-man team ran the security for an armored room under the administration building.

JF-563 had just reported its sector all clear when an alert signal went out from security control. FJ-441 had detected something on its radar, coming in from due south low and over the water, bearing down on the complex. Immediately, Control alerted all the security units and ordered the five patrolling the southern edge of the complex, including JF-563, to move into defensive positions, then ordered five of the units
on standby to reinforce them. The security units flashed an acknowledgment and moved into position. In less then thirty seconds, ten security robots were in place.

**********

The team inside security control was staring hard at FJ-441's radar track. The room was the size of an average bedroom, only the average bedroom isn't wall-to-wall electronics with a dais overlooking two tech stations.

From his position on the dais, a square-jawed individual by the name of Starg frowned. "Any ideas, Rabbit?" he asked a young man with thick glasses and acne scars.

"Negative," replied "Rabbit" Rosokawski. "Base radar isn't picking up anything."

"Could be stealthed."

"Then why is FJ-441's radar picking it up? It doesn't have a tenth of the power of the main system."

Starg shook his head. "Higher frequency, maybe? How long do we have?"

"ETA is fifty-six seconds."

"Should we notify HQ?" asked the third person, a petite blonde with the unlikely name of Carlita Anderson Lopez-De la Vega.

Starg frowned for a second. "Do it," he said. "This stinks to high heaven. Rabbit, bring the Primary and Secondary defensive grids on-line
and do the same for all the security robots."

"OK, chief." After several seconds, Rabbit said, "Defensives grids are active. Main Radar is getting something, still can't tell what it is."

De la Vega turned to look at Starg. "We're being jammed on all channels," she said calmly.

"That answers our questions, doesn't it?" Starg leaned forward in his chair. "Sound the alert and release the weapons for fire. Carlita,
use the secondary communications networks to get through."

"Weapons are free," said Rabbit. "I just hope it's not some idiot out for a joyride."

"We'll find out soon enough. ETA?"

"Thirty-two seconds."

**********

The unknown object flying towards the MALCORP Pharmaceuticals center wasn't some idiot out for a joyride. In fact, it wasn't just one
object. It was a dozen Boomers, eight BU-55Cs and four BU-12Bs, in close formation. They flew just above the waves, staying below their target's main radar system. At twenty seconds to the target, the group splitting up, the 55Cs continuing toward the complex while the 12Bs veered east, towards the power plant two kilometers up the bay from the complex.

**********

"Oh, shit," breathed Rabbit as he stared at the radar screen. "I've got multiple bogies!"

"What?"

"I have at least ten bogies, make that twelve. Designated Group Alpha is composed of eight, heading right at us. Designated Group Beta
of four bogies, breaking off and moving east northeast." He looked up at Starg, his face harried. "The computer has them IDed as Boomers."

"ETA?"

"Fifteen seconds." The sound of explosions could be heard faintly. "Defenses are now engaging."

**********

There was a very good reason why rampaging boomers did not usually attack MALCORP complexes. Under the glass and steel, it was a fortress. A well-defended fortress.

Half-a-dozen compact turrets slid out of concealed emplacements and began tracking the incoming targets. The extra security robots moved into position. And still the invader closed.

The turrets opened up first, the sharp cracks of the forty millimeter cannons a sudden intrusion on the night sounds. The sky was lit up as tracers vied with lasers for the right to destroy the invading Cyberdroids.

The Boomers wheeled and dodged the hail of incoming fire with a quickness and ease that was uncommon. The few times one of the shells or lasers struck a boomer, something like a shimmering patch appeared and absorbed the laser or deflected the shell. The Boomers didn't bother shooting back, but continued to close in on the compound

**********

"Can you firm up that identification?" asked Starg.

"Negative, chief," replied the young man. "Best bet is they're Boomers, but I'm getting a strange distortion on the radar return. I can tell you there are eight of them, heading right for us."

"What about the other four?"

"I lost them in the sea clutter, but their last course had them headed towards the power plant."

Starg glanced over at De la Vega. "Alert the power plant."

"Right."

"Security robots are engaging the intruders!"

**********

The first of the 55Cs landed inside the fence. Before it could move, three of the security robots opened fire at it. Three streams of twenty
millimeter shells sparked across the Boomer's torso and arms, but the 55C was unaffected save for a slight staggering step back. The Boomer's
mouth opened, revealing the laser mounted there.

GH-856 was the first security robot to be destroyed by the Boomer's mouth laser. The beam burned a hole through the robot's armor and melted everything in its path. GH-856 exploded, scattering pieces of itself across the defending robots and attacking Boomers.

By now, several more Boomers had landed and were now moving forward to attack the robots. Several more Security robots exploded,
illuminating the battlefield with a ghastly light. All of the 55Cs had landed by now, and they continued to attack the security robots with the single mindedness that only a Boomer can match.

The security robots switched attack plans and opened fire with missiles and grenades as they slowly retreated. One of the lead Boomers
shuddered under the attack, then the forceshield collapsed under the strain. After that, the Boomer lasted less then thirty seconds as it died under the combined firepower of three MALCORP robots.

But it was too little, too late. The Boomer attackers surged forward, breaking the robotic defense perimeter. Once through, the Boomers scattered throughout the complex. Three of the rampaging Boomers ripped their way into labs and offices, destroying years of experiments and research in a matter of minutes. A couple of the Cyberdroids tried to force their way into the reinforced bunker where most of the night shift was hidden, but the walls were too thick even for Boomers to blast through. After one Boomer fell to a vicious crossfire that overwhelmed its shield, the other one retreated and joined the trio wreaking the labs. The last two swept through the complex, killing any of the luckless employees or security drones they came across. And the only thing the three security officers could do is direct the crumbling defenses and prey that someone would come to their help.

Just then, the power station erupted with several explosions, as the quartet of BU-12's reached, then rampaged through, the poorly defended complex. Transformers exploded as they were struck with 46mm anti armor shells. In a matter of minutes, several major trunk lines had been ripped apart, plunging large sections of districts Five and Seven into darkness.

Satisfied that their mission had been completed, the four 12's launched themselves towards the pharmaceutical research and manufacturing center. In a matter of minutes, they had joined up with the surviving 55Cs and expanded the devastation. An ADP response team was dispatched, only to run into a pair of 55C's near the front gate of the complex and savagely mauled.

It was a night for death and destruction.

**********

GENOM Tower
Saturday, December 22, 2035
9:32pm

Sylia watched as Greg and Quincy verbally jousted over an excellent meal. At least she thought it was excellent she hadn't bothered to
really taste the meal. Instead, she cautiously listened to the conversation, filing everything that was said away in her memory for later analysis. Across the table from her, she noticed that Marla was doing the same thing, leaving a sullen Tarson to his own thoughts. A quick glance over the very quiet Madigan told Sylia that lavender-haired exec was also carefully watching the two CEOs go at it.

Quincy had opened by asking about Greg's mother and her health. Greg's reply had been on the surface, polite and friendly, but Sylia read in Greg's tone of voice the message: I know about the fail-safe on the satellites and as long as my mother doesn't die in an 'accident', GENOM stays alive.

Quincy's response also had a subtle message in the polite words: I don't care about your mother, she is no threat to GENOM.

From there, the conversation moved into less threatening, but just as dangerous areas. Quincy offered Greg the chance to ally MALCORP with GENOM on several different projects. Greg turned down most of them right away, but took two under, what Greg called, "Serious consideration," and promised to get back to Quincy on them in a week or two.

The other members of the dinner party listen for the most part, adding their voice to the conversation only when one of the two main combatants addressed them directly. Sylia kept her answers short and to the point when the conversation turned her way. Both Madigan and Brooks-Fenton were even more terse with their responses. Tarson managed not to ramble on much, but he didn't say anything worth remembering.

"How long has it been since you were in MegaTokyo?" asked Quincy, finishing the last of his main course.

"About twelve or thirteen years," replied Greg carefully. "The changes the quake rendered have been startling."

"Very much so," agreed Quincy. "But in this case, the change has been good. In a short time, this city has become the most important city
on the planet. People from across the world come here because this city is an example of the future."

"On the contrary, I think people only come because GENOM is headquartered here."

Quincy raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Greg took a second to sip from his teacup. His eyes flickered to Sylia, then back onto the GENOM chairman. "Power is a funny thing," he said, his voice low and pleasant. "Some people shy away from it, while others embrace the feeling that it gives them. Still others crave it, like a drug they never have enough of it."

"And what does this have to do with GENOM?"

"Power has another funny effect: Wherever there's enough power, people gather around it, like moths to a fire. Some are happy with a small amount and go away, while others want more and more until they either have it all, or they are consumed by it."

Quincy looked amused. "Are you saying that GENOM hires power-hungry people?"

"There's nothing wrong with hiring such people as long as you know what you're getting: Someone who will work with you as long as their
goals are the same as yours. Once those goals become different, then you have a problem."

"A fair statement. I have known people such as you have described." The GENOM chairman leaned forward. "They do have their uses."

Greg took another sip. "True."

What are you playing at? thought Sylia. Why this dance about power?

Greg put his teacup down. "Sometimes, people allow power to cloud their judgement. They begin to feel they're above the law, and nothing applies to them but their own ego."

Sylia saw a flicker of puzzlement on Quincy's face, but it was gone quickly. "Would you care to give an example?"

"Carlton and Cora Bradley."

There was silence in the room for five seconds, then ten. Sylia glanced at Greg, who sat there, hands interlaced in front of him, looking impassive. A quick glance at the GENOM CEO told her Quincy was thinking over Greg's words. Finally he smiled slightly. "Would you care
to elaborate?"

"It's well know that they blame you for their father's death."

"GENOM had nothing to do with that assassination."

"I never said it did. But who the real culprits are doesn't matter to them. What matters is they blame GENOM, and you, for Carson Bradley's death. Do you think Janson Bradley sent them out here merely to get rid of them? He sent them here so they could carry out their revenge' without dragging the entire Gulf and Bradley corporation into it."

Quincy smiled slowly, like a tiger sighting prey. "They are nothing more then minor irritants, like most of the others that GENOM has to
deal with."

Greg shrugged. "True, but these 'minor irritants' have already cost MALCORP several million dollars so far, and I suspect they'll cost GENOM even more in the future."

"Would it have to do with the kidnaping of Janie VanDell?" asked Quincy in a smooth amused tone. "And the death of Doctor Nathan
VanDell?"

Sylia looked at Greg, searching for a sign of surprise or worry, but there was none. "My complements on your intelligence people," replied
Greg with a half smile. "Of course, GENOM wouldn't have stayed on top for as long as it has if it wasn't well informed."

"My sources say that the VanDell girl has plans in her head for a revolutionary new force shield generator."

There was silence in the room for several seconds. Sylia glanced around the table, gauging the others' response to the chairman's statement. Both Tarson and Madigan straighten in their chairs at the chairman's words, somewhat surprised at their leader's tactics. Marla frowned slightly, but it was quickly replaced by an imperturbable expression. Sylia herself choked down a feeling of panic, allowing her face to keep an expression of puzzlement.

Greg, however, kept a look of quiet composure. "Not exactly correct," he responded. "One of the MALCORP recovery teams discovered an undamaged computer core in the ruins of Doctor VanDell's lab. We think the Doctor kept his force shield notes separate from his other projects - notes that Janie never saw, and has no personal knowledge of. We think the twins were behind the kidnaping in order to secure the force shield plans so they could use it against GENOM."

Quincy steepled his fingers. "I see. What about your plans for the force-shield?"

"I have no idea at his time. Assuming the notes are on the computer core, and there's no guarantee of that, I have no idea how far along Doctor VanDell was when he died."

Sylia's mind raced frantically as she tried to understand Greg's tactic. Why don't you just give him the plans right now? None of this was making any sense. Greg had to be planning something, but what?

"So," said Quincy with a look of slight curiosity on his face, "if the VanDell girl doesn't have the plans in her memory, why try so hard to get her back?"

Sylia glanced at Greg, looking for any signs of anger or other hard emotion, but all she saw was a narrowing of his eyes. "The problem with
power is there is a responsibility that comes along with it. Janie is my goddaughter, and thus is family. There are a very few things I hold to be more important then my Corporation's bottom line, one of which is family itself. That I learned from my father."

"Of course," replied Quincy dryly. "The late Mr. Mason made your father's position clear on that matter after he returned from the United
States."

"It's also my intension to make sure that the Bradleys are held responsible for their actions." Greg's voice became hard. "One way or another."

"Emotion has no place in business," said the GENOM CEO, his voice firm and controlled.

A buzzing sound interrupted Quincy. Sylia glanced over to Marla, who had stood and opened her purse. She pulled out a cell phone, checked it then said to the others, "Excuse me, I must take this call." With that, she walked over and stood near the windows.

Greg glanced over, and Sylia could see that his expression has changed slightly. She allowed herself to observe the other's reactions around the dinner table. Quincy watched Greg's assistant as she spoke on the phone, his expression unreadable. Madigan was watching her bass, looking for a reaction. Tarson just stared down at his drink, ignoring everyone else.

Sylia's eyes went back to Marla, and saw that her expression was grim. She murmured something into the receiver then walked over to Greg. "There is trouble, Sir," she said in a tightly controlled voice. "I think you should take this call away from the table."

Greg frowned, but took the cell phone and stood. "If you will please excuse me," he said stiffly. Quincy nodded, and Greg stood up and walked away from the table. Marla handed him the cell phone.

"What do you think of our new Boomer line?" asked Quincy. Sylia turned her head slowly and saw the Chairman looking at her, a small smile playing around his lips. "I would be most interested in hearing your opinion," Quincy continued, leaning back in his chair.

Sylia reached out to pick up her cup of coffee. She took a sip, allowing the smooth flavor to run down her throat. "They are excellent, but aren't they a bit too menial?"

Quincy cocked his head. "Menial? It's because of Boomers that the city has risen from the ashes of the earthquake that devastated it."

"My father's original idea was to have boomers work at jobs that were too dangerous for humans to do, like firefighting, underwater mining, and deep space construction. They were supposed to extend mankind's reach, not supplant it. But Boomers are now a daily part of our lives, taking jobs that aren't dangerous. We're beginning to rely on them too much, and that could lead to a disaster."

"Are you one that believes that Boomers have souls?"

"I can't say." To you at any rate.

Just then, Greg approached the table. "Forgive this intrusion, Chairman," he said firmly. Sylia noticed that his jaw was tight and his eyes were narrow. Something's wrong.

Quincy picked up on the same signs. "Is something wrong?" he asked, his voice showing some concern.

"I'm afraid I must leave." Greg took a deep breath. "A band of rampaging Boomers has just attacked the MALCORP pharmaceutical research and manufacturing center. It still too early to tell, but it looks like there's severe structural damage and an unknown number of causalities."

"I see, and I understand," said Quincy, rising to his feet. " Miss Madigan will escort you to the door. I hope we will meet again."

"I believe we will. Until then."

Quincy nodded and left the room, trailed by Tarson and a pair of Boomer bodyguards. Sylia slipped out of her seat and went over to
Greg. "Are you all right?"

"Let's get out of here first," he said in a tight voice. There was fire in his eyes, a fire that hadn't been there before. "It looks like the twins have just upped the ante."


**********

MALCORP Pharmaceuticals
Saturday, December 22, 2035
10:22pm

Ko drove the police car past the barricades and up to the front gate of the MALCORP property. He pulled up next to a command trailer,
stopped, turned the engine off, and nudged the man in the passenger seat. "Daily, we're here."

Daley opened one eye, closed it, and mumbled, "Great, wake me up when you find something."

There was a tapping at Daily's side window. The ADP Inspector opened up an eye again, glared at Detachment Commander Julian Weiss, then sighed. "I suppose he'll stay there until I get out right?"

Ko glanced over at Weiss and replied, "I think so."

Daily unfastened his seatbelt and climbed out of the car. "What have you got?" he asked tiredly, patting through his pockets for a cigarette.

"I'd better show you first."

Weiss led Daily and Ko into the grounds of the Pharmaceutical complex. Around them, Firefighters and rescue squads were going through the damaged areas, looking for survivors, while ADP troopers moved through the wreckage looking for Boomer or boomer parts.

"Somewhere between eight and twelve Boomers came in from the south," said Weiss as they walked along. "They crashed through the security fence and went head-to-head with MALCORP's security robots."

"Robots?" asked Ko. "They use security Robots?"

Daily shrugged, finally finding the crushed cigarette box in an inside jacket pocket. "They're not as advanced as Boomers, but they are
reliable and they don't go on rampages. MALCORP's one of the biggest manufacturer in the world of robots."

They rounded a corner and found themselves on a battlefield. There were several wrecks that looked like miniature tanks scattered across
the sloping grass. One of them was still burning while several firemen sprayed a smothering foam over it. Bits and pieces of twisted metal were
scattered across the landscape.

"I'm glad we missed this," said Ko, looking around.

"We weren't that lucky," replied Weiss. "A TAC team from third Detachment responded and was mauled at the front gate."

"How bad?" asked Daily

"Four dead, seven injured. What's more, the survivors report the Boomers that attacked them had some sort of field that protected against
their fire."

Daily swore under his breath. "Do we recover any Boomer remains?"

"No. The MALCORP people claim that none of the Boomers were destroyed in the attack, and the TAC team didn't do much better."

"Who's running the Security operation here for MALCORP?"

"Right now, me," said a familiar voice from behind Daily.

Daily glanced over his shoulder. "Nice to see you, Jeena, though the situation sucks. How are you doing?"

"I had better days." Jeena walked over to stand near Ko. "Who's the new guy?" she asked with a tired smile.

Ko looked uncomfortable, but Daily ignored him. "Ko, this is Jeena Malso, who's running MALCORP's security in Japan these days. Jeena, this is Kosaku Sanemori, new guy on the block. A word of advice, Ko, she's ex-ADP, and she knows a thing or two about Boomer hunting, so don't try to impress her."

Jeena smiled at Ko like a cat sizing up her next dinner. Ko went from looking uncomfortable to looking nervous. "Ko," said Daily, with a
frown, "go with Weiss here and see of the forensic people turned up everything. I need to talk to Jeena -- alone."

"Sure," replied Ko, who kept glance at the one-armed woman out of the corner of his eyes. He turned and walked away quickly, Weiss
trailing behind him.

"That was interesting," said Daily, finally pulling a cigarette from the box. "You must be losing your touch."

"He's young," replied Jeena with a shrug and a smile. "If you're not using him, can I borrow him?"

Daily tried to stifle a chuckle, failed and smiled. "If you give me some answers, I might consider you 'request' seriously."

Jeena grew serious. "If I can without compromising MALCORP security."

"Where's Leon?"

"He's double checking a lead Skeeter's people uncovered. Have you talk to Skeeter yet?"

"I haven't had the time. Between the Chief, the Thor strike on the Coastal Highway, and this simmering Corpwar, I haven't had more then two hours of sleep in a row."

Jeena motioned with her head towards a doorway half-hidden in the shadows. "Let's talk over there. I think it's time the ADP were clued in on what the hell is going on."

**********