Well. This is my first major post to the list, and, if you'll
pardon my lifting a phrase...
I'M A LITTLE NERVOUS!!! AGGGHHHHH!!!!!
Ahem. Excuse me.
C&C is begged for, pats on the back will be accepted with NO
humility whatsoever, and flames will be returned threefold.
Bubblegum Crisis belongs to many people, most of whom I can't
remember, and all of whom could fry me in a legal battle if they so
chose. (Battle? More like massacre.) {Shut up you.}
Songs used within belong to Warren Zevon, Virgin Records, Giant
Records, and Universal Television.
Enjoy!
DRAMATIS PERSONAE:
Knight Sabers:
Linna Yamazaki- Sabre Green. The money-hungry one.
Nene Romanova- Sabre Pink. The innocent one.
Sylia Stingray- Sabre White. The cold one.
Priscilla Stephanie Asagiri- Sabre Blue. The agressive one.
Maxwell Stingray- Sabre support. The perverted one.
Sexaroids:
Sylvie- Leader and back-up pilot. Determined.
Nam- Computer person. Level-headed.
Lou- Tinkerer. High strung.
Anri- Computer person. Innocent, sorta.
Meg- Pilot. Agressive.
Armored Division Police:
Leon McNichol- Idealistic. A soft touch for hard cases.
Daley Wong- Feminine. A soft touch for idealistic inspectors.
Chief Todo- Stressed. A soft touch for nothing.
Bad Guys (and Gal):
Gregory Flint- Head of GPCC. Baddie #3.
Kathrine Madigan- Special Assistant to the Chairman, GENOM Corp.
Baddie #4
Masada Quincy- CEO, GENOM Corporation. Baddie #1.
Maximillian Largo- Hyperboomer messiah. Baddie #2.
Eric Kaufman- Head of SDPC. Flint's flunkie. Baddie #5.
Others:
Rak- a man of low moral character
CRaSh- a boomer with bad luck and a taste for worse romance
novels
The ZedHeaDs- a band with no little skill, all of it bad
Fargo- a fixer with an unfortunate habit of honesty
chopper pilot- a nervous man in a dangerous profession
* * * * * * * *
It was not a particularly nice bar, but it served. Any and all
sorts of people could come here and not be noticed. That was what
made it so useful.
Sylia tried to keep this in mind as she picked her way past
the drunk sleeping on the sidewalk.
{]The Lobster Empire presents. . .[}
"You wanted to speak to me Fargo?"
"I've got something you might be interested in."
{]A Nathan Baxter Fanfiction.[}
"So Klarion wants all the existing data on the third generation
boomer developement projects? Do they have any idea how heavy the
security on
those files is? Even my people wouldn't be able to get all of it."
"They're willing to pay one hundred million US just to have you,
in particular, try. Another one hundred on completion, with an
additional fifty if you destroy GENOM's copies of the information."
". . . . ."
"They're even willing to have a Swiss bank make sure that your
payment is secure."
". . . I'll . . . have to talk to my people."
<<opening theme>>
<<Warren Zevon, 'Quite Ugly One Morning', _Mr. Bad Example_>>
<<Don't the sky look funny>>
<<Don't it kinda chewed-on like>>
<<Don't you feel like running>>
<<Don't you feel like running from the dawns early
light>>
MegaTokyo 2032
A Story of the Knight Sabers
] ] ]BUBBLE
] ] ]GUM
] ] ]CRISIS
Bubblegum^5
#1. Signs and Portents
<<Quite ugly one morning>>
<<We all said goodnight>>
<<It came without a warning>>
<<Just a flash of light>>
There were two reasons to start with the GPCC. First, it was the
nexus of both their target and hundreds of other projects. Second,
of all the targets they would hit for this operation, it had the
lightest security. Since the other targets would be top secret
weapons developement labs, 'light' was just a relative
qualification.
<<Don't you feel kinda funny>>
<<Don't you feel kinda funny inside>>
<<When you feel like laughing>>
<<And everybody tells you you oughta be crying>>
The high heels of the Knight Sabers armor were not designed for
running.
Jump jets eliminated the need, and let you move faster to boot.
//How much farther Nene?// came over the tacnet.
//It should be the last door in the next hallway to the left,
Priss.//
Rounding the corner brought them face to face with seven C-class
boomers.
//Nene, ID the model type. Priss, you have the two in the middle.
Linna, go to the left,// Sylia ordered, rapidly, while the others
were still flinching in shock.
<<Quite ugly one morning>>
Linna dodged down and forward, ducking under the opening beams
of her opponents, then swung her head forward and sideways,
swishing
the ribbons attached to her helmet through the waist and upper
chest
of the one on the left. The other boomer took tried to grab them,
and
lost a hand for its troubles.
<<We all said goodnight>>
Priss braced herself and put three railgun needles into the
chest of one of her adversaries, which fell and did not rise. Her
firing stance gave them perfect targeting solutions, which allowed
them to score two glancing hits. The head shot just tore off one of
her helmet antenea and left a smoldering path in the paint at its
base. Her shoulder had at least a first degree burn, though, which
hurt like hell.
<<It came without a warning>>
Sylia spun to the left, easily dodging the beams directed at
her, then deployed her arm blades while feinting to the right and
lunging forward to impale her attacker through the neck before
sliceing down into its chest and pulling loose.
<<But it was quite all right>>
Nene was so panicked at being shot at that she jerked back,
falling flat on her butt and making the laser beam that would have
killed her scorch harmlessly over her head.
<<Quite ugly one morning>>
Sylia turned, then charged her palm cannon and put two shots
into the head of the one nearest her. Its companion turned and
reached out with a brutal backhand that sent her flying down the
hall.
<<We all said goodnight>>
Priss lunged toward her remaining target, switching weapons as
she did so. She struck out with one leg, catching the boomer in the
ankle and sending it crashing to the floor. This let her jump on
top
of its chest and place the auto cannon at such an angle on its
throat
that the rounds would ricochet around inside its braincase.
<<It came without a warning>>
Linna charged her knuckle bomber and lunged under the boomer's
guard, unloading into the 'bellybutton' and tearing it completely
in two.
<<but it was quite all right>>
The single forlorn survivor of the boomer group was simultaniously
bombed and ventilated mere moments later.
Nene quickly moved down the hallway until she came to the room
that she was looking for. She ducked inside and ran up to the main
computer terminal.
Sylia appeared in the door, //Is this it, Nene?//
<<From dawn to sundown>>
<<It's a long, long way>>
<<And it's a hollow triumph>>
<<When you make it to the bottom of another day>>
//Uh-huh!// Nene answered breathlessly, //I think so.//
Nene worked feverishly for sereveral minutes before finding the
data that she was looking for. 'Okay,' she thought, 'design
summaries,
cost assesments, _market_ assesments; lab locations, _lab
locations_,
WHERE ARE THE LAB LOCATIONS?!'
//THERE!// she said, //lets go I got it!//
<<There's a fever rising>>
<<When the evening comes>>
<<And when the battle's over>>
<<There'll be nothin left but the sound of drums>>
Guard boomer 34897-CRS-23 was reading one of his favorite romance
novels when the alert went out and inturrupted him. Previous
experience left only one conclusion. <THIS IS GONNA HURT,> he
thought.
When the Knight Sabers sprinted up to his post, he had barely
begun his attack before he crashed to the ground, all control runs
severed. <TYPICAL.>
<<Quite ugly one morning>>
<<We all said goodnight>>
<<It came without a warning>>
<<Just a flash of light>>
<<Quite ugly one morning>>
<<We all said goodnight>>
<<It came without a warning>>
<<But it was quite all right>>
<<End music>>
* * * * * * * *
<<Music cue>>
<<Warren Zevon, Real Or Not, _I'll Sleep When I'm Dead_>>
The being standing in the door was not quite a woman, although a
detail scanner would have been needed to tell. The light blue hair
could just as easily have been dye, after all.
<WHAT'S KEEPING SYLVIE AND THE OTHERS?> she thought, <THEY'RE
LATE!>
"NAM!" shouted a voice. Nam turned and saw serveral other women
running towards her.
"I thought you were done for!" Nam cried.
"Is she ready?" the dark haired one, Sylvie, asked.
"Uh-huh," Nam answered breathlessly.
That being said, they all hurried aboard without mishap or
delay, almost.
As the last one, Meg, was about to enter the shuttle there came a
harsh banging noise from the entrance of the bay, as though
something were trying to force its way inside. The dent in the door
indicated that it would probably succeed, given more time.
Time that it wouldn't have. She ducked inside and slammed the
hatch closed.
"Hurry!" she said, almost in a panic, "There's a Doberman at the
door!"
"Get strapped down!" Nam shot back, "Quickly!"
"There's no TIME!" Sylvie, who was in the cockpit, said, "We
have to take off before it gets inside!"
"Alright," Nam said, taking a breath to center herself, "Go NOW!"
The shuttle's engines cut in at exactly the same moment that
the Doberman finnaly forced its way through the doors. It was
tossed
a dozen meters down the hallway, eventually grinding to a halt flat
on its back, up against a pressure door.
Meg, by the hatch of the shuttle, fell across the entryway,
landing with all her weight on one elbow, shattering it and sending
a rainbow of pain in front of her vision.
Nam, in the main compartment, had farther to fall and ended up
landing against a a girder, which punched right through her lower
torso. The wound was large and ragged, but not fatal.
Lou, who had been working on a console at the back of the
compartment, had sufficient warning to place her hands on the wall
and
lock her elbows. She was completely unharmed.
Anri had been lying on one of the acceleration couches in the
center of the room and was thus completely unharmed. At least, not
beyond the terrible cut in her side that had been obtained earlier
in their escape.
<<End Music>>
* * * * * * * *
The first breathy tendrils of air brushed against the shuttle's
hull as it arced towards Honshu.
Sylvie looked over to her left at the first shudder.
"That's our cue to jettison the booster as a decoy," she said to
Lou, who was sitting in the co-pilots seat.
Lou nodded and punched in the neccesary sequence of commands .
The shuttle bored through the upper atmospere, sliding closer to
it's destination.
* * * * * * * *
The schematic on the projector screen showed a thin, gaunt
looking boomer. Its right arm matched the rest of it, but the left
forearm was a curved, scythe-like blade that was almost as long as
the boomer was tall. The head resembled a human skull, except for
the prominent fangs.
"This," Nene said, "is the BUC-69-LCX, generally called the
Reaper. It's eight feet tall and weighs about 1,300 pounds.
Strength,
speed and agility are all slightly higher that that of our suits,
and
its armor is significantly better. The forearms are composed of
solid
blocks of polymorphic metal, similar to that used in fusion
boomers.
They can take any of a number of forms, the most common of which
are
shown on the right and left arms of the unit in the schematic. It's
fully flight capable, with the thruster units in the calves and
shoulders. The mouth weapon is a high powered cutting laser. Are
there
any questions on this one?"
Linna and Priss shook their heads 'no' from where they were
lounging in a recliner and on the couch, respectivly. Sylia did the
same from where she sat by her computer.
Nene tapped at her keyboard, changing the schematic to a larger,
bulkier figure that was completely covered in angular armor plates.
Long, broad spars emerged from its shoulders, forming a shallow
chevron. The head was comparatively tiny, with a sloping forehead
and
elongated jaw, which was filled with numerous needle-like fangs.
Both
arms and legs ended in razor sharp, wickedly curved claws. The
upper
arms and lower legs all had long, narrow boxes built into their
outer
sides.
"Okay, the next one is the BU-74-HCX, which is called the Demon,
is ten feet tall and weighs nearly 4,700 pounds," Nene said. She
continued, "Its weapons aren't anything new, but there are a lot of
them. The mouth weapon is a triple particle beam; there are six
plate lasers in the torso, they're the same kind as the ones on a
C-55;
and there are twelve missles in fold-out launchers on the arms and
legs."
"How strong is it, how does it move?" Linna asked.
"Strong," Nene answered, "I managed to get a copy of the combat
tests and it was shown flipping a tank over. Its speed and agility
are
roughly comparable with a C-55, though."
"Thank you Nene, now what about the last prototype?" Sylia said.
"Okay!" Nene said, bringing up a new schematic. "The last type is
the Dragon, which is officially the BU-78-HCSX. It's quadripedal
and
_huge_, weighing in at nearly forty tons! It's heavily armored, and
even more heavily armed. The mouth weapon is an array of plasma
accelerators; it literally spits _fire_! There are missles arranged
in pop out launchers along the length and breadth of the back, AND
the tail ends in a monomolecular blade!"
"So we have to get all the development data on these, probably
after first fighting our way through their prototypes, and then
destroy
the labs COMPLETELY?!" Priss said "We never get the EASY jobs, do
we?"
"Maybe," Linna said, "but for thirty-one million a piece, I
don't mind."
"Hmph."
"Where are the labs Nene?" Sylia asked.
"I don't know," she answered, "Everything we managed to get from
GPCC was encrypted, just at different levels. This relatively
general data was intended for the administrative higher-ups, while
more exact data, and the location of the labs, is under a
high-level code that I haven't been able to crack yet. Worse, each
set of data has a
different encryption, which means that this will take a while."
"How long until you've found the first one?"
"No more than a few days."
* * * * * * * *
The helicopter was quite simple in appearance, a ring with a broad
bladed rotor in the center, cockpit and fuselage attached to the
centerline and curving both above and below the rotor, stabiliser
fins
attached to the sides of the ring.
"It's rediculous I tell ya! We haven't had any sleep all night."
"Well come over to my place, and I'll make a new man out of you,"
replied the thin red headed man sloched on the other side of the
cabin.
"Not now," Leon said, "I've got a headache."
"You _always_ have a headache."
Moments later the craft sat down in a large clearing, next to a
large, delta-winged shuttle, of the type used in the higher orbits.
It
had been wrecked, one side of the cargo bay torn completely open.
It
looked like it had been mauled by some gigantic preadator, deep
slashes
covering its hull, vital components spilling out on to the ground.
"Man, what coulda done this?" Leon asked, on seeing it for the
first time.
"We don't know," said Lieutenant Carlson, the officer in charge
of the scene, "The registration numbers indicate that this was
stolen
from Genaros about a week ago, but SDPC was pretty closed-lipped
about
what it was carrying."
"No chance for us then," said Daley, glumly.
"I dunno," Leon said, "whatever stole this shuttle obviously
didn't want it to be used again."
"Not really sir," said Carlson, shaking his head, "those slashes
are pretty precisly targeted to take out every transmitter on the
thing. It's more likely that they simply didn't want it to be
found."
"Cosidering how eager SDPC is to find those responsible, and how
eager they are to get rid of us, it's a pretty safe bet that it's
something underhanded."
"No bet," said Daley, glancing at the wreckage.
* * * * * * * *
The office was huge and high ceilinged, seeming, except for the
decor, more like a medieval grand hall than a modern place of
business.
The doors were almost six feet wide each, and tall enough to seem
narrow. At the opposite end of the room, a large, plain desk sat in
front of a set of bay windows whose dimensions matched those of the
doors.
A soft bell rang through the room. "Ms Madigan to see you, Mr.
Quincy."
"Send her in."
The doors swung open ponderously, with no apparent prompting. A
young, attractive looking woman in a simple buisness dress walked
in, coming to a stop six feet away from the desk, then bowing to
the man behind it.
"You asked for a report on the attack at GPCC sir?" she asked.
"Yes."
"Almost all of the security boomers were destroyed, though the
human guards were simply knocked unconsious. Both their testemony
and the security footage indicate that the Knight Sabers were
responsible. We don't know what they were after, they used a virus
to destroy the archives," she said.
"I see. And how long will it be before security is back at full
strength?"
"Serveral months sir."
"And this cannot be bettered?"
"Not without preempting product deliveries sir," she said
apologetically.
"I see. Put all remaining forces on the priority sectors. Only
when they are fully guarded may you place incoming units on the
other areas."
"Yes sir," she said, turning to leave.
"Miss Madigan."
"Yes sir?"
"What of Project twenty five oh one?"
"The network will be in place in three months, and the primary
program blocks are already in place."
"I see. You may leave."
"Yes sir."
* * * * * * * *
Rak was tough. Everyone who knew him agreed on that. He was,
perhaps, not the toughest guy in the Switchblades, but he was still
tough.
He was also looking for someone to spend the night with.
Considering that his idea of 'sweet talk' was to _ask_ before
grabbing someone, he was very lucky that the woman he approached
had the same idea.
Or perhaps very _unlucky_.
"Hey baby, wanna have a good time?" he said, leering horribly.
She paused, a flash of...something...crossing her face. She looked
slightly ill, not that he noticed, but nodded and came without
complaint.
Sylvie stepped out of the alley into the main street before
turning and walking towards her hotel.
<HORRIBLE, DISGUSTING MAN,> she thought, <WELL, AT LEAST I'VE PUT
HIM OUT OF EVERYONE ELSE'S MISERY.>
* * * * * * * *
Another office, smaller than the first and lacking the first's
lush decoration, creating instead a bare, spartan appearance. The
back wall was almost entirely window, looking out over a beautiful
coastline. Before the windows rested a desk, behind which sat a
large man with sharp, craggy features. In the back right corner of
the room was a single potted plant, and opposite it, in the front
left corner, a tall, handsome man with white hair leaned against
the wall.
The first man spoke to a monitor on one side of his desk.
"Something will have to be done on your end about this latest
fiasco," he snarled.
//I-I understand. I did not mean to cause you any inconvenience
Mr. Flint,// stuttered the man on the screen, who was tripping over
his tounge from sheer fright.
"This has _nothing_ to do with me or my people," Flint said.
//Y-yessir. I am considering the worst case scenario, rest
assured.//
"DO THAT!" he said harshly, cutting the connection.
"It would seem," said the man in the corner, "that at least for
now, Kaufman is following our orders."
"He'd better," Flint said bluntly, "However, our top priority is
to find the D.D., which was supposed to be on that shuttle. If the
A.D. Police or the Tower become aware of its existence, we will be
forced to temporarily cut the strings between us and our puppet,
SDPC."
The other flipped a coin "Oh really?" and caught it. "On the other
hand" <flip> "it might be" <catch> "more expedient to cut some"
<flip> "other strings as well." <catch> "for example: the ones
that make you dance!" he said in a voice laden with menace.
"The Tower and the A.D. Police will be investigating this" Flint
said, "but I know what those girls want, which gives _me_ the edge.
Even so, sheilding you is risky, Largo, and should I fall I will
not fall alone."
Largo laughed, and dropped the crumpled mass that had once been a
coin.
* * * * * * * *
This room was large and open with many desks arranged evenly all
over it. One corner had been walled off into a seperate office, in
which there was a single desk. Behind it sat a short, balding,
black man with snow white hair, wearing a police uniform.
"Considering the origin of that shuttle, there's a strong
possibility that the answers to this puzzle are on Genaros. That
being said I want you to go upstairs and look into the matter, see
if you can identify the cargo."
The man he was speaking to was standing right in front of him, but
it was the one kicked back in the desk on the other side of the
dividing wall who answered.
"And if we know what it was, then we know why someone would want
to steal it," said Inspector Leon McNichol.
"Just as a final note before you leave," said the Chief, "_Try_
not to step on _too_ many toes, okay?"
"Can't be done," said Leon, "whatever warrants the kind of
equipment that they hit that shuttle with is at the very least
classified top secret."
Daley just grinned at their squabbling.
* * * * * * * *
"You look worried sir," she said, walking up to his desk.
"Huh? Oh, hi Nene. Yeah, there's been a series of murders in the
rougher parts of town."
"You mean the vampire murders that the newspapers have been
screaming about?" she asked.
"Uh-huh," Leon said mirthlessly.
"But why would we be worried about that? We have enough trouble
with boomer crimes," she said.
"Exactly. The Forensics people think that the culprit is a 33-S
boomer," he answered.
"A _boomer_?! What kind of boomer drinks blood?!"
"A sexaroid. They were designed to be as human as possible, right
down to an artificial circulatory system with synthetic blood
plasma. If they can't get any of that, they can use the real thing,
and their blood supply needs regular replenishment."
"Oh god! That's horrible!"
"Uh huh. But they weren't banned until it was discovered
that they could link to advanced weapons systems."
Nene was puzzled, "Why would that matter? Any military
boomer can do that."
"A 33-S is much smarter than a combat boomer."
* * * * * * * *
Two young women, one with short black hair and the other with long
blonde hair, walkied into a dark room a hundred feet by a hundred
feet by fifty feet. The room had a bar on one wall, a stage on the
opposite one, and booths and tables along the other two. Long
balconies over the tables overlooked the central dance floor. On
the stage a band played, but between the rumble of conversation and
the shriek of feedback, the only things that could be determined
about them was that 1) they were loud and 2) their act involved
laserlights.
Sylvie looked over the room, then, having spied what she was
looking for, dragged Lou over to one particular booth.
"Hi Priss," she said, "who are your friends?"
"Huh? OH!" said the woman sitting on the left side of the booth,
then, pointing at the woman across from her, "This is Linna," and
then to the girl behind her, "and this is Nene."
"Hii!" chorused the two in question, giving their best smiles.
"Pleased to meet you," Sylvie said warmly, while Lou just gave a
shy smile, looking like she wanted to bolt at any moment.
"C'mon," Priss said, scooting over, "we got room, sit down, loosen
up, have FUN, for goodness sake."
Lou glanced at Sylvie, then took a seat, to be followed a moment
later.
"HEY! WAITER!" Priss shouted at the room in general, "BEER!"
* * * * * * * *
Two hours later, Hot Legs was half empty, the band gone and the
populace quieted. Linna had left early, saying something about
tickets and blood alcohol levels. Priss was slumped against the
table, midway between 'tipsy' and 'unconciouse,' while mumbling
half formed comments at Sylvie, who was trying to keep track of
both her words and the conversation between Lou and Nene, which
effort she was failing badly at.
For their part, the two girls were still bright eyed and bushy
tailed, delving deep into the mysteries of hardware software
interaction with a boundless enthusiasm and energy that had Sylvie,
(who, it must be said, was a bit under the weather herself)
completely baffled.
They were still going half an hour later, when Nene streatched,
yawned, and fell asleep, right in the middle of a sentance.
Lou was on the verge of panic at the thought of her new friend's
apparent death when Sylvie roused enough to say, "S'allright. She's
just asleep..." before falling back into slumber.
Lou spent the rest of the night getting the various sleepers to
their respective homes.
* * * * * * * *
Two motercycles streaked over the highway, weaving and dodgeing
and generally making things difficult for the honest commuters
trying to reach the grocery store.
When they turned onto an access road, everyone else on the highway
heaved a collective sigh of relief.
"Hey Priss," Sylvie said.
"Yeah?"
"What's that?"
The singer turned, following her friend's gaze. "Oh, that? That's
the GPCC, the place where GENOM does all its boomer work."
"Oh." <IF THERE'S ANYTHING THAT CAN GET RID OF OUR BLOOD
DEPENDANCY, IT'LL BE THERE.>
* * * * * * * *
Nene Romanova was mad.
Specifically, she was mad at her supervisor, who had apparently
decided that a complete review of every case the ADP had ever had
was necessary. Nene wouldn't have minded so much if the review
hadn't been urgent-and the supervisor in question hadn't also
decided that SHE was the only worker who could be spared to work on
it.
She was NOT in the mood to get killed.
Still, the decription program had come up with a location, and if
they waited too long then the research site might be moved.
"Sylia? I've got a site."
"Good. How far?"
"Right here in town. It's in the canyons."
* * * * * * * *
"HEY, LEON! DALEY ON THREE!"
The aforementioned kicked his feet down from the desk, slamming
forward and picking up the line in one smooth motion.
"I'm here."
"Hey handsome," Daley said, "I finally managed to ID that
shuttle's cargo."
"So what was it?"
"A next generation battlemover called the D.D., fully equipped
prototype, complete with ammo, blueprints and self destruct."
"So what's the big deal?" Leon asked casually.
"The big deal is that aside from being one of the best armed
pieces of equipment on the market, this thing is absolutely
revolutionary. It's nearly as strong for it's size as a boomer is,
and at twenty-five feet tall, that's no small thing."
"Ouch."
"Uh huh. And, on top of that, it's got the J-1 battle computer,
one of the most advanced solid state AIs around. THAT is the really
bad news about this. It's designed to take over if the pilot is
injured or killed...and to detonate the self destruct if it runs
out of power while in control."
"So?" Leon said, "We'll just have to scrape fried 'bot off the
street. Nothing new about that."
"Leon, the self destruct is an neutron bomb."
* * * * * * * *
In theory, it should have been easy to sneak into the datarooms
and get what she needed. Since the Knight Saber attack, most areas
of the GPCC had been very lightly guarded, with a very low
proportion of boomers. Just her luck to run into one of them.
For his part, CRaSh had just been listening to one of his music
files when he ran into her. Running into a sexaroid was unusual.
Unusual things usually ended with him experiencing much pain. He
encountered a lot of unusual things.
He winced mentally, then, speaking politely: "I'm sorry miss,
could you please come with me?"
She pulled a revolver and smiled, "I'd rather not," before firing
six shots and bolting.
He shifted modes, freeing his weapons and spattering psuedoskin
all over the walls, and pursued, bouncing off the wall when the
corridor turned sharply, then slamming through one of the exterior
panels after Sylvie dived through a window.
The roar of an unmuffled internal combustion engine attracted his
attention to the gate where, sure enough, the sexaroid was zipping
out onto the highway on a motercycle.
* * * * * * * *
The chopper pilot was a brave, competent worker. Nevertheless, the
thought of the official displeasure that leaving without
authorization would bring down on him had him squirming in his
seat.
"Are you sure this is a good idea Leon? I mean, leaving without
flight authorization..."
"Don't worry, just do it."
"But on whose authority?"
"Mine," Leon said.
The blades spun up, the chopper wafted upwards then slid forward
into the open air near the ADP Building's roof.
//Attention! Running firefight moving west on Route 237!//
"Your heard the man," Leon said, "_Move it_!"
"Don't teach me my job," the pilot shot back, his pride wounded.
And it quickly became apparent that whatever else you said about
him, the pilot did know his job. He crossed the buisiness district
at maximum velocity and below roof level, saving the time that it
would take to climb to a sane altitude. One minute later they were
over the combat, observing the streaks of light that marked a
particle weapon.
* * * * * * * *
It should have been an easy shot. Hit a mid-sized target at medium
range, while accounting for its dodgeing in one dimention, relative
to firing point.
Guard boomers are not noted for the accuracy of their fire, and
CRaSh was in rather poor condition. This explains why, after two
minutes of firing, he had yet to even scratch her.
But that didn't matter.
She was running out of road, the canyons were just ahead. She
could either stop or jump into them. He wasn't under the illusion
that the fall would kill her, but the bike wouldn't survive it.
She'd be able to hide, but she couldn't dodge as well on foot. The
tradeoff was worth it.
She hadn't slowed, that meant she was jumping.
Good.
* * * * * * * *
After both dots had vanished from the road and into the canyon,
Leon turned to the pilot and said, "Bring us into the canyon. I'm
going in."
"Should I notify headquarters?"
"Only if something happens to me."
The ADP used two different armour designs, both produced by the
same company. The K-11 was exactly what you would expect to see in
the hands of the police, small, cheap, and light. The K-12 had been
aquired army surplus. At ten feet tall, twelve feet wide and six
feet thick, it was a very impressive piece of equipment. Its
angular, blocky armour looked just as brutal in ADP blue and yellow
as it had in Army olive drab. This is what Leon McNichol was
climbing into.
Another difference between the ADPs two units was that the K-11
used a parachute to deploy from the air. The K-12 was so heavy that
aquiring parachutes that could handle it would be prohibitively
expensive for the underfunded ADP.
So, Leon armed the jump jets...and stepped out into space.
* * * * * * * *
The sexaroid couldn't be far; the bike was right here. There was
no WAY she could have escaped.
<UNFORTUNATELY,> CRaSh thought, <SHE APPARENTLY HAS.>
A loud screeching noise, like tortured metal, brought him around
to see what looked like a giant mechanical cross between a gorrila
and a panther heave itself out of a scrap pile.
He jerked around, then picked up the motercycle and hurled it at
the mech, using the distraction to spin away from the mech and kick
his thrusters to maximum. This allowed him to dodge into a niche in
a pile of cars...just in time to be buried when Leon McNichol used
that same pile to break his K-12's fall.
<JUST WONDERFUL,> he thought <WELL, AT LEAST THAT MECH ISN'T GOING
TO KILL ME.>
</ALL UNITS ATTACK!!/>
<_WHAT_?!>
* * * * * * * *
"I'm not gonna hurt ya," Leon said, "Just come outta there."
"I'm sorry, Inspector. I'm afraid I can't do that."
"You have to! Your mech has a nuetron bomb for a self destruct!"
Leon was on the verge of panic.
"I know, I disabled it after I disconnected the battle computer,"
the woman's reply was almost amused.
Leon heaved a sigh, 'Thank _god_' "What are you going to do now?"
"I have the data I need to get rid of my blood dependency, now all
I need are the tools to make the necessary modifications," she
sounded positively gleeful.
"_YOU'RE_ THE _SEXAROID_!!!"
"Yes."
"Great. _Now_ do I do?"
<<Begin music>>
<<Warren Zevon, Boom Boom Mancini,>>
<< _I'll Sleep When I'm Dead_>>
She never got a chance to answer, because that was the moment that
the security forces of GENOM development center #159 chose to
attack.
Three BU-55 guard units and five BU-69 prototypes erupted from the
bunkers hidden in the walls of the canyon with a cascade of enrgy
beams and machinegun bullets.
Two of the 55s broke off to attack Leon, but the rest of the
boomers swarmed towards the battlemover.
* * * * * * * *
[Recommend slave mode,] the screen read.
</Begin./> she ordered.
* * * * * * * *
Inside the battlemovers cockpit, manacle like control units
attached themselves to Sylvie's arms, legs, and shoulders.
Outside, the change was more dramatic.
The battlemover reared back, its joints twisting and realigning
from those of a quadroped to an arrangement closer to that of a
human, while the limbs telescoped to a greater length, turning it
from a chunky beast to a bulky human form.
Undaunted, the formost of the BU-69s launched itself into the air,
forarms warping and lengthening into huge sythelike blades that it
slashed at the D.D.'s sensor arrays.
Which, in turn, reached up with one arm, snagging the boomer from
the air in immense curved talons which promptly closed, crushing
the Reaper's torso in a spray of fluids and shattered armor.
Leon spun awkwardly, raising his arms and triggering a burst of
cannonfire that caught one of the 55s in the chest, sending it
reeling to the ground, its primary systems a shredded mess.
* * * * * * * *
When the Knight Sabers arrived at the site of the lab, they found
a firefight already underway. Three Bu-69s and one BU-55 menaced a
large humanoid mech, while a second 55 was chargeing an ADP
armoured trooper.
//Nene, go assist the trooper. Priss, provide covering fire.
Linna, with me.//
//_Right_!// they chorused.
Nene skittered down the slope, moving from one outthrust of rock
to another, while Sylia and Linna lept high into the air over the
canyon, using their airborne position to pinpoint each of their
foes.
Priss fired three shots, tearing one of the 69s to shreds and
distracting the others so that Sylia and Linna landed unmolested.
Nene activated her jammers, disorienting the 55 attacking Leon and
allowing him to get a grip on it and use the K-12's mass to slam
the boomer into the ground, shattering its fiber-optic spine.
Linna landed and lunged to the right, retracting the guards on her
ribbons and tossing her head forward, sending them into the boomer
nearest her. One ribbon hit its shoulder, severing that arm, while
the second divided it in half, from skull to crotch.
Sylia used one of her swords to knock the 69's sweeping blade
aside and twisted forward, stabbing with the opposite blade, but
without effect as her thrust came up short.
Sylvie sent a mental command that riddled the air where one of the
remaining boomers had been with thirty millimeter armour-piercing
rounds.
A 69 spun on its heel, slamming a spike shaped arm through Linna's
stomach, before being snagged by the D.D. and tossed into the wall
of the canyon hard enough to disable it.
Sylia jerked backward at Linna's cry of pain, only to be brought
up short as the blade she had blocked seemed to melt and ooze over
her arm, while the other arm formed into a spike and pulled back
for a killing blow.
The 69 that Sylvie had shot at twisted in midair, opening its
mouth to release an almost invisible beam of energy that melted a
long scar into the D.D.'s shoulder, only to be destroyed by her
return volley of missles.
Sylia brought her free arm up and fired a shot that blew through
the armour protecting her foe's CPU.
After she had freed her arm Leon said, "Thanks for the save Knight
Sabers, but what are you doing here?" as Priss landed on the floor
of the canyon and moved to support Linna, who was starting to slump
to the ground.
"We were in the area on business of our own," Sylia said, //Linna,
how do you feel?//
Her reply was clouded by pain, //I'll live. Where's the target?//
Nene aswered, //It's in the wall of the canyon,// she highlighted
the appropriate spot on the group displays, //Over there.//
"Huh," Leon said, before turning towards the battlemover, which
was gone, "HEY!"
* * * * * * * *
The hotel room was small and shabby, located in a cheap building
in a bad part of town. It would have been small for two people,
with five it was positively stuffed.
Sylvie came in, brimming and bubbling with energy...
"I've got the disk! Lou, get out your-"
And stopped dead.
Meg was leaning against one wall, her arm in a cast and her face
clotted purple with sheer rage. Lou was curled in a fetal position
on one bed, sobbing. Of Anri and Nam, there was no sign.
"What's wrong?"
Meg looked up, then said: "They're gone."
Sylvie swallowed a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach and
asked, "Who?"
Meg gave a short, harsh bark of laughter. "Who else? Anri and
Nam."
"What happened?"
"Lou and I went out to get groceries. When we got back, they were
gone. Lou hasn't stopped crying since."
"Oh. I see."
END SIGNS AND PORTENTS
===
* "There is nothing so dangerous as a good man who believes
* he is doing the right thing." --Source unknown(to me, at
* least)
# "For the crime of injuring me, a god, I demand in
# atonement death" --Largo, Bubblgum Crisis Six: Red Eyes
& "No boom TODAY. Boom TOMMORROW. There's ALWAYS a boom
& tommorrow." --Commander Susan Ivonava
_________________________________________________________
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