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Tales From Silicon City: Titanium Rider in

"R&R"

By Psion

A Silicon City Story

All Rights Reserved

Mongolia, birthplace of one of the greatest warlords of the ancient world, these humble steppes once saw legions of mounted cavalry race across the plains in a seemingly never-ending pursuit of plunder. In modern times, outsiders knew the country more for its nomadic herders and a surprising wealth of mineral deposits buried beneath the expansive grasslands. Yet as the unblinking mechanical eye of Tzu turned its gaze upon the country for reasons unknown, a few Mongolians rose up to realize their warrior lineage...

The twenty-strong platoon of Chinese combat androids marched forward through the steppes with a suicidal single-mindedness. Moving in perfect unity, the mindless combat automatons advanced towards their target, a small mining village in southern Mongolia. Twenty unfeeling, emotionless stick figure robotic riflemen ready to unleash murder upon a community of miners and their families.

Linked together by a crude wireless network, even synced into a primitive hivemind the Tzu droids were not particularly bright; but their combined situational awareness more then passed muster for lone guerrillas trying to pick them off one by one. Unfortunately what was about to hit this particular platoon was anything but...

The androids turned their heads in eerie unison in response to the roar of several motorcycle engines echoing across the grasslands. Off in the distance, several motorized tricycles and quads raced towards the mechanical intruders on fat all-terrain tires. Mortar cannons screamed as the shells found their mark in the heart of the enemy group, exploding in a shower of dirt and scrap metal. As the artillerists reloaded for another salvo, the other bikers mopped up with their favored weapons. Within minutes, the brutal attack was over, the Daughters of Khan had claimed another victory against the machines.

Mounted atop high-tech motorized trikes and quads, the Daughters of Khan were a roving band of heroines protecting their homeland from the advances of Tzu's legions. Hitting their enemy hard and fast with a combination of explosives and vehicle-mounted automatic weapons, the seven female Mongolian bikers had become some of the country's best robot hunters. Essentially living like their namesake, they fought savagely against their foe then brought the plunder of their conquests home to live lavishly for anywhere from a few days to a few weeks at a time. And as they loaded the metal corpses of their slain foes onto their mobile command vehicle, simply referred to as the "Ger" in reference to the yurts and tents of their ancestors, it was time for them to return home and celebrate the conclusion of another glorious campaign with a round of drinking, feasting, and carousing.

As the last of the robots was crammed into the Ger's cargo hold and the bikes were safely stowed away, the Daughters' leader, the Titanium Rider, smiled. While it worried her somewhat that there never seemed to be an end to Tzu's forces, in truth she relished the battle almost as much as the riotous parties the Daughters went on afterwards. While there was a mystery behind Tzu, she was sure it would be solved in time. Right now there were more pressing matters; sell their plunder, get more supplies and ammunition, then celebrate in such a way that even their namesake would blush if he could see.

The pear-shaped Mongolian Wild Ass jenny smiled as she left the Ger's garage and headed towards the front of their leviathan land-ship. Oyunbileg "Titanium Rider" Batukhan, the leader of the Daughters, cut quite the imposing figure even for an armored "biker bitch." A steely blue gaze and short black hair gave her a slightly butch appearance that contrasted with her stout womanly assets. Modest C-cup breasts, a plump beer belly, and a wide, exaggerated rump providing ideal cushioning for long rides on her trike or in the Ger as it plodded along the steppes, "Oyun" was very much the image of a Far Eastern Amazon.

Black obsidian hooves clopped on the metallic floor as she rejoined her clan sisters in the front of the wheeled landship. The other daughters were already gathered in the helm/living room, seated around the main living area or behind the wheel, guiding the giant vehicle as it plodded along towards the Mongolian city of Khovd. Cari, the Ger's driver, dutifully manned the wheel while the others boisterously chattered about their last battle or what they planned on doing once they arrived in town.

And then came the message over the shortwave radio. Since Tzu's first appearance nearly destroyed half the country, Mongolia had been frequently talking with its neighbors. Relations with China had soured, partially because Tzu was their out-of-control creation, partially because the Chinese stubbornly insisted that no external help was necessary. Russia on the other hand was justifiably terrified; if the AI general had been successful in Mongolia it would have been free to cut the former communist country in half. India and the former Sov-bloc countries to the west were similarly frightened, subsequently all of them wanted to make defense treaties with one another. And while the current state of affairs frequently helped protect the Daughters' homeland, it also occasionally led to particular demands on their time like it did now.

The Russian Federal Registration Agency had finally decided to send one of their agents down to help fight Tzu, a state-sanctioned armored heroine named Night Witch. The FRA wanted them to meet her in the city of Kyzyl-Mazhalyk, in the Tuva providence about a day's drive from their current position. Meaning that their vacation plans had just been changed.

Briefly gritting her teeth in frustration, Oyun nodded to her driver. Their stopover in Khovd would be short, just long enough to unload their spoils and acquire food, spare parts, and pick up some mortar shells for Bobak Marmot triplets Aniya, Catia, and Dasia from a sympathetic militia group in Khovd... which is probably how the Russians got the shortwave frequency she was using, from the pro-Russian Mongolians she traded with for ammunition. No sense getting angry about that now though. First they would resupply, then they would exchange some of their money for rubles and see if a small Russian border town was worthy of hosting warriors like the Daughters....

The Russian providence of Tuva was one of several states along the Mongolian-Russian border, an administrative district within the Russian Federation a little larger then the American state of Wisconsin. Like most of south-central Russia, its people spent many nervous nights anticipating an attack by Tzu's robotic forces. The town of Kyzyl-Mazhalyk itself was typical of the largely undeveloped region. West of the main urban center of the area, its one true claim to fame was a brickyard and a handful of food-processing plants. Still, the local workers needed a place to eat and drink between shifts, which meant there was bound to be a few Russian bars and taverns the Daughters would find suitable.

Stopping in an abandoned field at the edge of the small town, the seven rotund Mongolian biker women left their mobile fortress and walked down the main street as the first shift finished errands before heading home for an evening meal. Herbivore hooves and armored leather boots clopped against the road as the Daughters of Khan sought out the tavern they agreed to meet Night Witch at. Locals watched them walk past with a mix of emotions; some with disgust and preconceived perceptions, after all they were seven women riding together in what was essentially a giant camper van, others with a look of quiet awe in their eyes, realizing that these were the robot hunters from Mongolia, these were the Daughters of Khan.

The cantina was a small eatery on the end of the main street across from a fueling station, near the highway connecting the small town to the rest of Russia. A Cyrillic sign that the triplets translated as "Anastasia's Kitchen" hung over the door of a squat concrete building that looked like it was built at least a decade before the Berlin Wall collapsed. An older wolf female behind the counter, the only other occupant at the moment, watched the seven enter the cramped confines of the dining room. As the old wooden chair creaked in protest of supporting Oyun's broad figure, the Mongolian jenny looked to the lupine watching them.

"Are you the owner?" The biker leader asked in Russian, her grasp of the language was not the best but it was enough to handle the task of shopping and ordering dinner.

"Yes, what can I get you?" The wizened cook asked cautiously, more then a little intimidated by the sight of seven large, rough-looking women dressed in leathers adorned with skulls and spikes.

"Two of everything on the menu. And if you serve mead, I'll also have a round for each of us." The wild ass replied, her Russian was less then perfect but her tone was direct and polite. Just because the Daughters refused to dress like shameless Western superheroines didn't mean they took pleasure in plundering from those that couldn't provide fair sport.

Apparently her reply did enough to settle the old wolf's nerves, the Russian woman shouted an order to someone in the back before pouring out seven tankards full of the honeyed liqour. As the weathered owner set the mugs down at their table, Titanium Rider smiled. Perhaps this little Russian town might be worth a return visit after all, the donkey biker mused as she took a long drink of her brew. As the kitchen worked to fulfill their order, others entered the Russian diner. First was a petite red-furred vixen that seemed to recognize them, a pair of overstuffed suitcases in her hands and her body hidden in an overcoat that seemed too large for her and somewhat out of season. Right after the vixen came four males, all different Russian "grand predator" anthros and not one of them looking like they came from the local factories, that promptly sat down at the bar. The vixen took a seat at a small table adjacent to the heroines from out of town and placed a more humble order then her neighbors, seemingly trying to disappear in the noise the jenny and her friends were making. Somehow, a small scrap of paper appeared by Oyun's gloved hand. In a hastily written attempt at Mandarin script that was almost as bad as the Mongolian's Cyrillic, the vixen next to them wrote, "I am Night Witch, can we talk after dinner?"

The equine maiden stuffed the note in her pocket, briefly contemplating whether it would be better to humor the Russian heroine or point out the "old childhood friend" to the rest of her group. Meanwhile, the four male strangers at the bar were growing increasingly irritable, talking to each other in harsh whispers. One, a white and black striped tiger, looked restless, eager to do something. But his neighbor placed a hand on the first male's shoulder and did his best to discreetly point at the visiting Mongolians while tell his cohort to cool his heels with a harsh whisper. Titanium Rider quietly made a note of this while her order arrived then promptly put it aside as the cooks came out to serve her.

The diner's menu turned out to be smaller then Oyun realized, but given that the bartender somehow misheard "two of everything" as "three of everything," that mistake probably worked out in their favor. Bowls of half a dozen different hot and cold soups from beet soup to the noodle-based Lapsha were set in the center of the table in a communal fashion before the Daughters began to eat in earnest. Their surroundings momentarily forgotten in the warm bliss of good food and drink enjoyed between friends, Batukhan and her companions began to laugh and joke with one another in Mongolian. Night Witch was clearly the only one in the room that understood a word they were saying, her red furred cheeks turning even redder as Titanium Rider made a few lewd comments about China's top champion Mao Tang, getting laughs from her sisters.

And then in an instant the atmosphere was ruined. The hot-blooded one, likely a newly appointed foot soldier in one of the Russian mob families based on what was about to happen, stood up and drew a handgun at the bartender. The Mongolian biker didn't understand most of what was said but she knew enough Russian to recognize when someone was saying "Pay up bitch!" in front of her. Night Witch was discreetly rising to her feet...

With a sigh, the other three enforcers got up and reached for their weapons just as the concealed Russian heroine shouted "Eyes!" in Mongolian. The seven foreign robot hunters looked away just in time to avoid being blinded by a detonated flash bang thrown in the middle of the four aggressors. By the time the toughs' vision cleared, the female bikers were on their feet and brawling with them. The Russians were armed but the girls were in close and fought dirty, taking down two with blows to the crotch before following up with an uppercut to the face. In the span of a minute, the fight was over with all four males on the floor in pain, their weapons kicked out of reach.

"Damn bitch! Do you know who we are?" The hot-blooded tiger began shouting in Russian.

Oyun kicked him in the stomach. "Someone that interrupted a very good bowl of Lapsha." She answered with a crass belch while hauling the striped feline up to his feet, holding his collar in a death grip.

Meanwhile Night Witch stepped forward and presented her FRA badge, announcing that the providence capital of Kyzyl had been notified and were sending someone to pick the four men up. It turned out the jenny's hunch was right and these four were known members of a mob operating out of Moscow. Their presence here probably also explained why the Daughters weren't accosted by a local official about parking what was essentially a giant military-grade tank on the outskirts of town. In the meantime, the vixen suggested that the foot soldiers kindly take a seat with the vixen and her friends from further south, gesturing at her fellow urbanites with an oversized sleeve that now suddenly seemed quite threatening given how easily it concealed a small flash grenade.

Oyunbileg's restrained opponent snarled unintelligibly and started to swat at her with a set of beautifully manicured claws. He might as well have been attacking her with a butter knife for all it did against her leather bodysuit. The bartender and cooks watched speechlessly as the biker drug him back over to her seat and forced his head up against the back of the chair before sitting down squarely on his face. His tormentor merely shifted her weight around to better her attempt to slowly smother him and resumed eating.

The interruption to their meal over and their new "friends" pressed into sitting with them, the rest of the Daughters went back to eating. Night Witch took her plate and mug of non-alcoholic kvass and joined their table as well. Yet the main surprise was carried out a few minutes later. A large single tray loaded with bowls of sweet porridges, some sort of cake the Wild Ass biker didn't recognize, and fried curd fritters known as syrniki dripping with honey. Oyun looked at their hostess, she knew dessert was on the menu but somehow this felt like more then they ordered. The Russian wolfess smiled as she spoke. "Dessert is free tonight."

The bikers needed no further prompting; deliberately carving up the cake, dividing up the fritters amongst themselves, and guzzling down the porridges before the three seated enforcers even thought to ask if they would share or otherwise weasel some, the girls' action motivated far more out of spite then greed. Meanwhile, the smothered tiger buried beneath Oyun's broad bottom started to make something that sounded vaguely like a muffled appeal to God that the heavy weight on top of him get off or at least stop stuffing her face and getting heavier. The jenny decided that the mobster's god had people more deserving then the cur pinned beneath her backside to help and helped herself to the leftover desserts, throwing the remaining syrniki and cake slices atop the last full bowl of porridge and slowly began to consign the whole lot to her generous paunch. Her gang-mates cheered her on until a pile of empty bowls and plates was all that remained of the small banquet they had enjoyed.

By the time the tavern closed the province police had came and went, four humiliated thugs had to explain to their bosses how they were beaten up by seven fat Mongolian women and an itty-bitty little Russian vixen, and the bikers had downed two or three more rounds of beer and mead before paying their tab and leaving with a chorus of stuffed groans and more then one loosened belt. The trip back to their Ger somehow seemed longer then the trip into town as seven returned to and boarded their wheeled home to retire for the evening. Night Witch followed, likely having rolled her eyes or shaken her head at least once on the walk through town.

Aboard the Ger, the vixen automatically went through the motions of removing her coat and boots. Standing barefoot in her armor, she stopped and stared blankly back at the half-drunken Mongolian heroines looking at her with a flicker of recognition in her eyes.

The Night Witch "armor" turned out to be a suit of ballistic fibers and hard polymers dyed jet black with gray trim, cut to a relatively tight fit to help reduce drag when her jetpack and turbine-equipped jetboots were activated. Oversized black metal gauntlets bore a menacing pair of barrels for launching miniature grenades such as the flashbangs demonstrated earlier... and high-explosive rounds if the memories that were coming back to Oyun's mind were accurate. Strapped to the vixen's hip was the remainder of her costume; a form-fitting jet-black hood, a high-altitude respirator, and a slim pair of night-vision goggles.

"It was you..." Darice said finally, as much a question as it was a statement. The big camel mare, Oyun's lieutenant, was about as good at holding her liquor as she was with her anti-material rifle. It didn't surprise the Mongolian donkey one bit that the sharpshooter was the first to sober up enough to start having a proper conversation with their guest.

"I'm sorry I don't understand." The vixen replied, still clearly confused.

"Outside the city of Hovd, in the providence of the same name. Tzu was trying to take over the airport there and cut off the flow of aid coming in from Russia and Europe. We rode to meet his forces but we were almost too late." The Titanium Rider began, nodding as she started recalling the battle. "We would have been too late had the Great Khan not sent another warrior ahead of us. A single flyer, little more then a black speck in the early morning light, but one was all we needed. Explosives fell like rain, Tzu was pushed back from the city, and we were able to finish what was started. It was you wasn't it? You are the hero of Hovd."

The Russian vixen was silent for a moment, visibly debating what to say, then decided to reply. "Ever since the battle at Ulan Bator, Premier Ivanovitch had been watching Tzu as closely as one in his position can. Even though the Agency has been busy with Russia's own problems, we have tried to spare a few agents to slip past the border and try to find where Tzu is based since Bejing is being so helpful in the matter. I was returning from a scouting run in eastern China when I received a distress call from the leader of our relief workers in Mongolia. I had equipped myself for anti-armor combat in case I encountered the machine king's forces in Chinese territory, it seemed a waste to pass up an opportunity to introduce Tzu's robots to Russian might." The vixen replied, smiling as she recounted the battle before she focused back on the present. "I suppose you will want to wait until tomorrow before we discuss what my superiors want your help with, but believe me when I say it is to the benefit of both our countries if-"

"Tomorrow will be fine for discussing business then." Oyun interrupted with a yawn and a belch. "Do you have a place to sleep in town or will you be staying with us?"

"I was told to see if you had space first so if it is alright with you...?" Night Witch asked.

The smiles that ensued told the straight-laced vixen that perhaps she might want to reconsider checking the options in town. The grins were not malicious or forced, but possessed an air of sensual mischief that was almost just as terrifying to her. "Of course, we would be honored to have stay with us. And I have the perfect place in mind for the hero of Hovd..." The leader of the Daughters of Khan replied with a broad smile.

Several minutes later, the Daughters were ready for bed in the Ger's sleeping compartment. A communal space filled with mats, blankets, and comfortable pillows, the actual dimensions of the room were cramped as much a concession of space as a conscious design decision. Here, surrounded by women much larger then she was and dressed in much less clothing then she was comfortable around other people, Night Witch was laid down beside the Titanium Rider herself. Wrapping a stout arm around the smaller female and pulling her close, the jenny waited for her guest to finally relax before shaking her head and falling asleep. The two of them couldn't possibly be from more different worlds...