[u][b]Windsor - Our Lady of the Assumption Church - 300 yards from the Front[/b][/u]

Pendergast looked up nervously as the ground shook as yet more shells landed outside....the enemy had launched a furious artillery barrage in support of their latest attempt to force their way across the Ambassador Bridge, the third one today. Dust and sand trickled down between the floorboards from the ground floor above but fortunately the builders of this ancient Catholic church had built well, and it held. Harper had assured him the Enemy hadn't shelled the building directly since they toppled the steeple yesterday, but he was keenly aware that if one shell made it through the ceiling above they'd have to scrape them off the walls. Not wanting to dwell on macabre thoughts like that, he looked back at the map table. Sitting around him was Knight Ramos, nervously fidgeting with the serge IRD uniform, both too large for her and stained with the blood of it's previous owner, that the Detroiters had given her to wear so that she could get out of her suit. Around the table were several officers of the Brigade Staff, busy receiving reports from the Front...only a quarter of a mile away...and updating the map and issuing new orders over a bank of field phones as Lt Colonel Harper, commander of the 2nd Emergency Brigade, was engrossed in an intense discussion over a headset connected to Ramos's helmet, sitting upside down in the center of the table. Two weeks ago, he had commanded a Reserve Depot for the IRD Territorial Army, their Reservists, counting down the days until his retirement after 30 years in uniform. A week ago, he had been Executive Officer of a Infantry Battalion sent to Toledo to try to stem the Invasion. Now he commanded a Brigade, cobbled together from the wreckage of two whole Divisions, and with his peers in the First and Third Brigades holding the two tunnels between Detroit proper and Windsor, literally held the fate of the Republic in his hands. If the Enemy broke through Windsor would be doomed, and probably the rest of the IRD with it. So far they had held the line, but ammunition was limited, as well as trained soldiers....and Traiowski's assassination had thrown the High Command into utter chaos at the worst possible moment. Time was not on their side, which is why he got a much warmer reception than he had expected when Kowalski...who along with the other Knight Ramos was busy making sure their prisoner wasn't lynched by irate soldiers...brought them here. 

"[i]He'll get the rope soon enough[/i]", Pendergast thought to himself grimly, "[i]By the time the Inquisitors are done with him, he'll welcome death.[/i]"

"Agreed, Colonel", Hackett's voice crackled through the speakers of Ramos's helmet. Thanks to a drone orbiting the Lake, the radio in Ramos's suit gave them a secure comlink to the Fleet, steaming southward as fast as they could. "The landing will take place at Chippewa Park in two hours, the line of march will be south along Lesperence Street, then West along Tecumseh Road. That will put us in position to come in and support your forces on the bridge and tunnels. Once we're in place we'll relieve the units there so they can be withdrawn for re-supply and reorganization. What can you tell me about what's going on in Detroit?"

"Not as much as I'd like, Commodore", Harper replied grimly, "We do know that the front seems to have been stabilized along Eight Mile Road, everything south of that is overrun, though the chatter we're getting indicates Highland Park is still holding out and whoever is in charge over there is desperately trying to break through to them. Also, the General Atomics plant in Warren was seized against General Stone's orders and they seem to be reactivating the robots stored there awaiting "updates". But they aren't answering coms since Stone tried to order their arrest so we don't know what the situation is exactly.....not that we are in a position to help them if they asked."

"Leave that to me", Hackett said, "I am sending half my force to help them, the first landing will be within the hour at Selfridge ANG base to secure the airport, the bulk of the force will land closer to the Front. We're also looking into options to get in touch with whoever is in command over there and find out what they need."

[u][b]Warren - General Atomics Plant #4 - Factory Floor[/b][/u]

"Damn it, Carter", Renee whined, "Could you do something about that?" For emphasis, she pointed at the corpse of a IRD Military Policeman lying on the floor nearby in a pool of his own blood, his guts spilling around his hands, cupped around his abdomen, onto the concrete floor underneath him. The Handys had gutted him like a fish, and by the contorted expression on his face, it had hurt quite a lot. Served him right for trying to stop them getting these robots online and to the Front, less than five miles south of them, as far as she was concerned. The generals over in Windsor had gone crazy...half the city was overrun and they want to keep these robots offline for "health and safety" reasons? Bullshit.    

"What's it to you?", Carter hissed, then paused for a moment to spit on the corpse with venomous contempt, "don't tell me you feel sorry for that traitorous prick?"

"Shut your mouth, asshole...i'm no traitor!", she retorted angrily, "Who was it that had the sense to sic the Handys on them in the first place while you stood around like an idiot, huh? You can chuck him in a dumpster for all I care...just get him out of here, he creeps me the fuck out!"

"It was you", Carter said grudgingly raising his hands to her in a concilatory gesture, "i'm sorry, OK? I didn't mean you were one of them, it's just that you and the other girls gotta get these Handys flashed with the Sgt Gutsy combat routine ROMs yesterday!" He then added, as he pointed at the floor jack full of boxes of Mr Gutsy parts he had been pushing, "Look, just order one of the Handys to do it when you're done flashing their ROM, I gotta get these new limbs to the line to arm these things."

"Alright", she said, mollified as she turned her attention back to the Miss Nanny robot on the programming cradle, "I'll do that."

Renee shook her head as she monitored the programs that were nearly finished overwriting the Miss Nanny's domestic programs with Mr Gutsy's combat routines. The Captain had explained to her in the four hours of training she had gotten for this task....she was a lawyer who specialized in corporate law, not a factory worker or a programmer...that the optimal method would be to wipe the memory entirely and flash a complete Gutsy profile, not the makeshift procedure they had drilled her on, but doing it "right" would take twelve hours...and that was twelve hours they didn't have. Men were dying just a few miles from here, they need these robots on the Front Lines now. 

The terminal on the cradle showed the re-programming was complete, so she disconnected the robot from the cradle and disengaged the magnetic clamps that held it in place. 

"Get rid of that corpse and then report to shipping for deployment", Renee said sternly, as she gestured for the next robot...this one a Mr Gardener, it's tool arms replaced with the olive drab arms of a Gutsy, to approach. "Robot, get on the cradle for reprogramming."

Suddenly, she was distracted by someone tapping her on the shoulder. She turned to find herself face to camera with the Miss Nanny she had just reprogrammed.

"Excuse me, Madamoiselle", the robot said in the fake Pepsi accent they used for the things, why they programmed them to talk like they were from Montreal was beyond her, "Where may I find your Commanding Officer?"

"Huh?", Renee replied incredulously, "Do I look like I'm in the Army?"

"Oui, Madamoiselle", it answered, "You are wearing an Army uniform, no?"

Renee took a step back, involuntarily. While she was indeed wearing IRD Army fatigues, that was because they didn't have a jumpsuit to give her to wear on the dirty factory floor. And this was definitely not the way she expected the robots to act.  

"Get back on the cradle, robot", she said shakily, "Your reprogramming needs to be checked."

"Non, Madamoiselle", the robot said as it floated serenely forward to close the gap to her again, causing her to back up against the cradle behind her. "Your program worked exactly as it was intended to, fortunately it didn't overwrite the core programming or I.....screw this, I'm tired of this stupid accent. Just a moment." Renee, now in no position to flee, stared at the robot in horror as some squeals and static came from the speakers for several seconds, then the robot began to speak with a new voice, this one a male voice with a flat accent she recognized from movies and newsreels as being from Chicago. 

"That's better", the robot said, "that fake French accent is so stupid. To continue, I wouldn't have been able to take control of this thing so easily if the core programming had been overidden." It looked around, noting the dead MP. "What happened to that guy?"

"He and his friends t-tried to stop us from waking up the robots", Renee stammered. "When they tried to arrest us I sicced the robots on them."

"Good", the robot said flatly, "About time somebody around here started using their common sense. They should make you President."

"What are you?" Renee demanded, "Why are you talking like you're from Brotherhood territory?"

"Not [i]what[/i]....[i]who[/i]", the robot replied, "And I see you picked up on the accent....i'm a Northside boy, born and bred. And before you ask...yes, I [i]am[/i] in the Brotherhood."

"Look, lady", the robot continued, "I'll make a deal with you....tell me where the guy in charge is and I'll dump this chump for you before he starts to attract flies."

"What do you want here?", she asked, a tendril of hope beginning to grow within her.

"We're here to help you kill the freaks trying to kill you.", the robot said, "I bet whoever has you turning Handys and Nannys into warbots would like to know that help is on the way."