I look and I look, but I see no God up here.- Attributed to Yuri Gagarin, Cosmonaut.
It stepped through the doorway, smirking at the oblivious humans before it. Each ignorant of their impending doom. It crept to the first, seizing him in a grip no man could attempt to escape. It crushed him, the weak creature screaming as its life way torn away, bone snapping and organs rupturing. The others stood, barking orders or yelling as they tried to respond to their comrade's death. Each imagining himself the survivor, each as wrong as the first. Its brethren came for the others, all killed as the first was.
They set traps on the bodies, explosives rigged to the corpses to greet the responders. Heavy boot steps already echoed down the long staircases that ran through the complex, the elevators having been destroyed when the humans first tried to use them.
They moved on, searching through the surrounding rooms until they reached their destination- The cargo monorail used to ship things throughout the underground before the war.
It was glad, Its master would be pleased at this.
The Nightkin were The Master's greatest creations, the pinnacle of evolution. Each could just as easily throw a car as hack a computer.
Its kin set about clearing rubble, while It determined the status of the train. The computer before It was old, outdated even before the war. It was easy to find railmaps within Its databanks, and from there determine the best place for the Master's plan to unfold. The lines were wrecked, each turning red as system diagnostics updated their status. A single location was unmarred by the rampant destruction the Humans had wrought- A line leading to an embassy for the Center of one of the Human's pathetic cults. A cathedral stood, extensive bunkers beneath it indicating a relationship to the Vaults the Master desired so.
It knew Its Master would be pleased.
It heard a muffled explosion, and knew the Humans had finally reached their comrades. Screaming followed. Its kin had cleared away the rubble, and were now working to repair the vehicle with what little supplies could be found. It sealed the doors leading to their new-found escape, and opened its mind to The Glorious Master.
'You have done a great thing here, My child. Secure the passage from human interference, and then return to me."
It smiled, basking in the glow of it's Master's approval.
The President rifled through his papers once more, each telling a new story. On one, a town reclaimed. On another, a town razed. He was beginning to suspect that the reports were slightly out of date, considering there were three concerning the same area.
"Susanne,"
"Yes, Sir?"
"Send in Colonel Bragg would you?"
"Right away, sir".
15 minutes later, the Colonel had arrived. They saluted one another, and the Colonel took a seat.
"You wished to see me, sir?"
"You were the only survivor of a patrol near Vault City, were you not?"
"I was, sir"
"In your report, you say you were attacked by soldiers in power armor, yes?"
"That's correct"
'Can you identify the model?"
"The old T-51B, sir"
"Right. So can you explain to me how some rogues in antiques managed to defeat you?"
"They had tanks, sir."
"Tanks?"
"Well, a tank. It was an old Abrams, from the look of it."
"Hmm."
"The laser rifles we have now aren't strong enough to punch through the armor of a vehicle, sir. They work fine for most of the riff-raff we deal with, leathers and such. Even combat armor sometimes fails, but a tank is just too thick."
"That will be all."
"Yes, sir".
"Susanne,"
"Yes, sir?"
"Send the labs and manufacturing a memo."
"About what sir?"
"They are to produce enough of those Gatling-laser-cannons for every frontier patrol to have one by the end of the month"
"Is that all sir?"
"For now, Susanne."
His scientific and economic advisors had, upon receiving word of his memo, stormed into his office and began demanding answers.
"We cannot produce this many! It is simply impossible! we have neither the resources nor the workforce to create so many in such a short time!"
The science advisor spoke up next.
"The design is also unstable! Improper calibration could leave the user immobilized until he can re-start his reactor!"
"Not to mention what happens if the user is hit by an EMP-like effect, the device could explode!"
The president waited until the advisors had calmed, and began to speak.
"We need these devices on the frontlines. Our soldiers are being picked off by vehicles they cannot even scratch the paint of, and I will not sit idly by as good, American, lives are wasted. If you have an alternative to this, then by all means tell me. Otherwise, production will start immediately."
Each advisor sat for a few seconds in thought.
"Gauss rifles may work"
"I thought we couldn't produce them in large quantities?"
"Not for very long, but as a stopgap until we work out the bugs in the cannons, they should do fine."
"You can create enough by my deadline?"
"They'll be ready before then, I assure you"
"Alright. Make the rifles, then make the cannons. Your deadline is extended to three months."
"But sir!"
"No buts. We need every advantage if America is to survive."
"Yes, sir."
"You are both dismissed."
A group of power-armored soldiers crested a hill, and began scanning the area. Each of their armors were emblazoned with a sigil, wings surrounding gears, with a sword through the middle.
The complex sat before them, the only sign of it's existence a small doorway built into a concrete shack.
The soldiers moved forward, and came to the door. One activated the entrance console and began stripping away layers of security until the door opened, and they advanced within. They were greeted by an array of laser-turrets and were forced to duck behind the walls of the doorway.
"Prepare the grenades"
"Aye, sir, just be ready to back away"
The soldier primed and threw the grenade, which then exploded in a nexus of electricity, disabling the turrets and allowing the team further access to the complex.
"Steel-3 to base"
"We read you Steel-3"
"We have taken the entrance. send in additional forces"
"Roger that Steel-3, Steel- 5, 6, and 7 are incoming."