================================================================================
Prologue: Somewhere in Central Japan, 2087
================================================================================
The boy took a few steps forward, and filled the
mirror with his image.
Combed brown hair and a tidy ponytail framed a
face which wore a carefully rehearsed stoic expression.
He had to show that he... That he was not weak, like his
brother... That he could ENDURE... That he could SURVIVE...
And facial expressions were ever so important,
as Sakuin often reminded him. If he didn't get them right...
His skin paled as he lost control and allowed an
eyebrow to relax slightly. Were that seen, he'd... He'd...
<Blank your mind, Sable...>
He looked inside himself, and saw a few thoughts
moving through his field of consciousness.
Tests.
Experiments.
Trials.
And training. Always training. He had to, of course.
If he was to be strong, he had to learn how to forget. He had
to rid himself of all the useless organic instincts, and not
flinch away from pain, or avert his eyes from light, or...
There it was. There was the feeling that was causing
so much trouble... Always the same one; the same useless mental
vagabond that walked his neural pathways and distracted him.
It would tease, and pull at his conditioning, trying
to weaken it, to soften it, to perhaps make him laugh at a joke,
or feel pity towards one of the mutilated orphans on those war
videos he was often shown...
Of course, whenever he tried to pinpoint it and eliminate it,
it would laugh at him, and run away faster than he could catch it.
Ironic. He had all the strength he could wish for; all
the brute POWER, but his brother, that failure that crept and
whined and led a life of softness; that creature that was not
deigned worthy to even know of his existence, HE had all their
father's speed, and more, and HE would have no trouble going
to this monster...
Why?
He'd asked Sakuin about that once, and she'd cleared it
up for him.
Or had she?
Sable shook his head, and put his hand on his forehead.
So hard to remember sometimes... Memories just came and went,
never permanent... It was so much easier to hear the truth from
the Directors, or from movies... But...
Yes. She HAD told him.
He remembered now.
"Your HALF-brother is fast, that much is true," she had
admitted.
<Half-brother. I must keep that in mind. Always.>
"And he has other... Talents... But he only uses them to
run AWAY from things, never to face them. If he is hurt, he cries.
If he bleeds, he screams. And if he experiences pain..."
"He is strengthened!" he'd cried, finishing the first
chant he had ever learned.
Executress Gosunkugi had slapped him, then.
"He is not. You are not the same, you and he. HE was the
first; an experiment. YOU are the finished product. He is a
nuisance; you are a warrior. YOU, Sable, must stand to your
enemies, and NEVER back down; NEVER let them know that you
are capable of weakness... And the only way you can be sure of
that is..."
She waited for his answer.
"By being strong!"
"Incorrect."
"By... By..." He'd forgotten the right answer, and she
had to prompt him.
"Strength in itself is not enough. You must be free of
weakness."
"I.. I see..."
"Think. What causes weakness?"
"Pity?"
"Among other things."
"Re... Reacting?"
"Reacting to what? It is, after all, good to react to my
commands, is it not?"
"Hai."
"You are nearly there..."
"Reacting to... To..."
"Think of it this way. What is the most perfect
profession, Sable?"
"That of the soldier."
"Correct. And what is the perfect soldier?"
"He who obeys."
"And does what else?"
"Naught else."
"Correct. He must not be deterred from his objective,
regardless of the consequences to himself. Only THEN will he find
strength. Remember that always, Sable."
"Yes, Gosunkugi-sensei."
"Pain is bliss."
"Pain is bliss..."
"Endurance is the only thing to pride yourself on."
"Endurance... Endurance is right..."
"And..." Her eyes had narrowed. "EMOTIONS are a
weakness."
"Emotions... Are a weakness..."
"Tell me, Sable. In all the natural kingdom, what is that
with the least emotions?"
"Stone."
"And what is the strongest substance?"
"Stone."
"That, too, keep in mind. You must be a stone soldier.
Unwavering, unfeeling, taking joy only in the accomplishment of
your mission. As the sword is made more powerful through being
tempered, so must you be. Understood?"
He had understood.
His half-brother could run away from problems. He was
good at that; but it was up to HIM, as the finished product of
the project, to save their family's honour... Their father's, his
MOTHER'S... HE had been deprived of anything that would entice
him to flee from confrontation, because he would not be stopped...
He would destroy his enemies...
Like this one before him.
He concentrated once again on the battlefield of his
mind, and saw his opponent clearly.
Fear.
The grinning golem was more bold this time, because it
knew what Sable was about to go through. It knew that today was
the decisive testing, and that all of the stone soldier's future
depended on the results...
And so it didn't run away.
That was its fatal mistake.
The boy projected an avatar into his inner space, suited
in his mother's uniform.
The monster bared its teeth, confident in its triumph as
it tugged at his conditioning, straining it, almost to the point of
breaking, and just as it was about to snap...
The spatula swung down and cleaved it in two, causing
it to vanish.
Sable smiled, and willed his knight to disappear.
He had triumphed. The creature would bother him no
longer... Not for today, at any rate, and that was what mattered.
The eyebrow shifted back into its prepared position, and
he smoothed the last few wrinkles out of his blue school uniform.
Sable heard the Director's door swing open, and a
familiar voice call out:
"Director Ono will see you now."
He pivoted flawlessly on the heel of a polished black
dress shoe.
"I am ready."
/
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| \ | \ /\ | | /\ /\ | \ / /\
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| __ \ | _ \ | | | | | | | _ \ /\ \/ /
| | \ \ | | \ \ .| | | |.| | | | \ \ / \ \ /
| | / / | |__\ | | | \| | | |\ /| |.| |__\ |/ /\ \/
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| |/ / .| ___ |.| |.| |.| |.| | | | | ___ /\ \/ /
| |\ \ | | .| |.| |.| |.| |.| |.| |.| | ./ |\ /
| | \ \ .| | | |.| |..\ |.| |.| |.| | | | /| | \
|_|. \__\ |_|. .|_|.|_|...\/..|_|.|_|.|_|.|_|. \|_| \
/\ \ /
Written by Christopher 'Ratiko' Willmore. / \ \ /
4cw6@qlink.queensu.ca / / \/
Based on a story by Rumiko Takahashi and /
Developed by C. Michael Schumacher / /
[Kensu: cschumac@waun.tdsnet.com], \ /
R2096 page: http://qlink.queensu.ca/~4cw6 \/(Logo:Armakuni)
================================================================================
VISION
================================================================================
For Erin Mills
================================================================================
Quotes:
"Sometimes a traumatic experience can... Alter your perception..."
-From 'The Frighteners'
"Libera animas ... de profundo laeu ... ne cadant in obscurum."
"Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine: et lux perpetua luceat eis."
-From the Requiem Mass
================================================================================
[Office of the Director - Onocorp Sable Site, 2087]
"You summoned me, sir?"
"Yes."
Director Tanaro Ono swung on his seat to face the
newcomer.
It always impressed him to see the boy. Only ten
years old (or was it eleven, now?) and yet so... Controlled...
So...
Imposing.
Not like Reiraku at all.
This one was full of confidence. Every ounce of his
body exuded - well, not CERTAINTY, per se, but 'lack of
doubt'. Not to mention his OTHER attributes...
His mother's sense of responsibility, his father's
endurance...
<He'd BETTER have it, and more, after all we've done to make
sure of it...>
But, the OBEDIENCE... THAT was all theirs. Gosunkugi
was very good at indoctrination, and the thick half-Hibiki
skull of her subject had been especially receptive.
A good thing, too, considering the nature of his...
Abilities...
Which they were going to test today, fully, for the
first time.
"I am ready, sir."
The boy was unreadable. They'd taught him well.
"Excellent." He gave two nods. "Hokoriko, Sakuin. You
may begin."
His wife and assistant stepped from his side, and
walked a few steps before stopping and pulling out their
tasers.
Sable looked ahead impassively, and waited.
[Shirotori Central High School, 2087]
Childra looked through the dusty glass of the schoolroom
window, taking in the sights of Shirotori. In the distance, green hills
poked lazily out of a cool grey mist, the treetop cover being broken
occasionally by the red roof of a temple. Closer to her, she could make
out bathers at the riverside, and even a few couples picnicking on the
grassy slopes surrounding the main residential area.
Here, on the edge of Hakusa national park, modern civilisation
had yet to arrive. Neither the cultural nor the technological
changes of the last hundred years had seemed to have left much of an
impression; everything was just as it was in the late twentieth
century. Kunou's legacy was only visible in the currency, and even
THAT was a partial triumph, since the townsfolk (young and old alike)
always referred to their money as 'yen'.
An old man in a nearby alley caught her eye, as he stepped
boldly forward on his afternoon promenade. His short and wrinkled
frame, though worn, had a nobility about it seldom seen these days,
and complemented the architecture of the area perfectly. All the
buildings were in the traditional style, and even the new ones were
no taller than four stories, by law.
It sent a thrill through her to be this close to the past, to
be immersed in a culture that should by all means have disappeared
after the Revolution. She was a historian at heart, and to be allowed
to go to school here was simply...
"Jansen? Are you listening to me?"
Awful. Simply awful. The sights were wonderful, and she loved
exploring the surroundings on her own, but to have to deal with
teachers like HIM...
"Hai, Genzai-sensei."
She WAS listening. Not paying attention, but LISTENING, as a
mouse will listen for a hawk.
He looked at her in silence.
She hated these moments. She couldn't look away, for fear
of punishment, and to look into his eyes... Into his EYE...
Half a dozen years ago, the story goes, he'd lost one of them
in an automotive accident, and since then he'd been supplied with
a cybernetic replacement.
Machinery covered half his face; the prosthetic was a cheap
model that didn't even bother to disguise the metal or wire pathways,
and what should have been a globe, a sphere, or something even VAGUELY
human was instead a telescoping lens.
A lens which now extended towards her, scanning, sending
deity knew what information to his mind.
What was he looking at? Her heat sigs? Muscle twitches? Brain
waves? Or... Or her body?
Rumours ran around the school, saying that the man had plucked
out his own eye just so he could have an Onocorp replacement and gaze
at his female students' forms...
Childra instinctively put her arms across her bosom and crossed
her legs, trying to hide what she could, and knowing that it was
impossible, knowing that it was futile even to speculate what was being
shown and what was not.
He KNEW.
What he wanted to find out, he would, with that eye of his.
And what he wanted, no one knew.
"Perhaps," he spoke, cold and distant, "you could explain
to us the effect of twentieth century literature on modern writers?"
She paled, and he smiled, half-revealing yellowed teeth.
The face drew closer.
"Hmmm?" it asked. Or did it? Maybe it was just the purr of
a machine...
"I... I..."
"According to Markus, whom we have just discussed."
"I can't! I..."
"You know what this means."
"I... I... Don't..."
<Yes, I do... The Field...>
The Isolation Field was an impenetrable energy barrier,
seldom used by other teachers, but which Genzai gave out to his
students like bread crumbs to pigeons.
"No?" The teacher grinned, sunlight reflecting off his lens.
"It seems you are about to find..."
[Office of the Director - Onocorp Sable Site, 2087]
"Sire; the subject has been connected to the monitoring
apparatus." Daimonji Chashaku stood somewhat uneasily in the
middle of the room, the occasional nervous shiver sending ripples
coursing down his ample, aged sides.
<Odd,> thought Tanaro. <What could be worrying him?>
Daimonji was in charge of power allotment for the Sable site.
They were on a tight budget, in THAT respect, if not monetarily...
Secrecy and the need for independence for the underground
bunker from the main lines had forced them to work on a
shoestring energy budget. So far, everything had run smoothly...
Or had it?
Today's tests involved high-powered, concentrated
radiation...
"What about the shielding?"
"In place."
"You're sure he'll be... You're sure WE'LL be safe?"
"If these walls can't contain him, Sire, nothing can. And...
I can vouch for the radiation."
"Good..." Something didn't seem quite right, though... The
shielding was fine, the electrodes were secured, but he STILL looked
drawn out, and pale... Almost like a Gosunkugi - quite the feat,
considering he weighed as much as that whole family put together...
"You look worried, Daimonji. Is something the matter?"
"No! Of course not!"
He was lying. Through his teeth.
"Tanaro sweetened the tone of his voice and put his arm
around the technician. After all, even the bitterest of teas could be made
to yield a pleasant flavour, if mixed with enough saccharin...
"Is something concerns you, engineer, surely you may tell
ME..."
"But..." He swallowed and wet his wrinkled lips, trying to bring
moisture to a mouth that had long gone dry.
"Am I not your _friend_, as well as your employer?" The
words flowed like corn syrup off his tongue, and every one of them
was insincere. Ono didn't like to make a habit of deception, but if
there was a problem with the SABLE program...
"O... Of course, Director Ono."
"Well, what is it then?"
"I..." Chashaku looked down, and twiddled his fingers. "Are
all those tests - the energy ones, I mean... Are they really
NECESSARY?"
Necessary??? For YEARS they'd been planning this, and
NOW, at the eleventh hour, he had doubts? Someone must have
been planting ideas in his head.
"Of COURSE they're necessary!" Tanaro let go of his
charitable facade along with Daimonji's neck. "You KNOW that
unless Sable's in pain, he's not NEARLY strong enough to be of use
to us..." A slight exaggeration. But why settle for Ryouga oh point
nine when they could have two point oh?
"Us?"
Curse him. If he continued along that train of thought,
Chashaku would make himself VERY expendable, VERY quickly.
Naivete and intelligence were often a deadly combination.
"The military. I meant the military. Onocorp is a PEACEFUL
organisation, of course."
"As you say, Ono-san."
"What our clients DO with their products is no concern of
ours."
"Understood... Still... He's only eleven!"
"Only eleven? You make it sound as if he were a... A
person... He's a machine! No... LESS than a machine. He's a TOOL.
We made his body from the most basic ingredients, custom-crafting
it to suit our needs PRECISELY, then we MADE his PERSONALITY..."
"Sakuin..." There was a trace of bitterness in his voice. The
two had had a falling-out? Interesting...
"Madame Gosunkugi is quite good at what she does, as
today's preliminary trial shows. Rather impressive, I'm sure
you'll agree... Not a twitch when the two tasers were fired on his
abdomen, and enough of a strength increase to smash granite when
ordered to do so. Quite a remarkable TOOL."
Was that a scowl he saw?
<My, my... Daimonji certainly is daring today...>
"What about Reiraku?" he asked.
"WHAT?!?"
"What about Reiraku? Have you told Penelope that he's only
a 'tool', as well?"
The Director struggled to keep calm while his facial capillaries
swelled with blood.
<He's going too far...>
"Daimonji, you will leave my sister OUT of this. Is that
understood?"
For once, Chashaku was as expressionless as Sable.
"Perfectly, Ono-san."
<His insolence will not go unpunished...>
"You are NEVER," he said, emphatically waggling his
finger, "NEVER to speak of Project R within these walls."
"I will not." A pause. "Director."
<Let him have his fun for now...>
"Are you through whining, engineer, or are there any REAL
objections?"
"You sound like a western Minister..." Daimonji enunciated.
"Speak now, or forever hold your peace?"
"More or less."
<He will pay in full for his words. But at the moment... There
is business to attend to...>
Tanaro wondered what could have possibly happened to
make him so bold. He'd been so... Meek... before, and with
his parentage... Maybe he was finally going senile, in his old age?
His wits and problem-solving skills had been invaluable in the past...
If that was so...
No matter. His present state of mind was the
only thing of importance. It would not go untreated.
"The reactor is already near capacity, as is."
"I am aware of that. There was no way to bring a nuclear
facility to Shirotori in secret, except by making it as small as
possible."
"With today's energy tests... The lasers, fields,
bombardments... We'll certainly EXCEED that limit."
"We MUST go through with them, Daimonji. You know how
the other nation-states are building up their beam arsenals... And
if our product is to be successful as a prototype for the manufactured
soldier, we must be certain that he can thrive under such conditions.
Is there nothing you can do? Divert power from other activities, or..."
"You don't seem to realise how much energy you are asking
for, Director. We'd need a whole new reactor to.."
"That's it, then. Hook up to the Shirotori power supply."
"Sire?"
"Connect us to their power grid. Create a plausible
explanation for a blackout, just in case, and let us use THEIR
energy. We DO still have operatives at the power company, is that
not so?"
"Hai, Ono-san... But... If it's a busy day, then theoretically
we could still..."
Tanaro laughed. The man's naivete, combined with his
cartoonish figure, was almost enough to let him forgive his indiscretions.
Almost.
"A BUSY day? In SHIROTORI? They're still using fireflies
to keep their rooms lit at night!"
"If you are certain, Sire..."
"I am."
"Very well. May I..." He gestured towards the door.
"You may. Dismissed."
Tanaro watched him leave, and once the door had clicked
shut, tapped a panel on his desk.
"Sakuin?"
"Yes, Sire?"
He would not go unpunished. Simple respect for elders would
not stay his hand. Not this time.
"Daimonji's just left my office. He's off to do some... Repair
work to the electrical system. When he's done, apprehend him,
and take him to a suitable interrogation cell."
"Sire?"
<The guilty must be punished,> he reminded himself, then
took a deep breath:
"I think we've just found the perfect 'test' for Sable."
[Nowhere, Notime]
"...out."
And then, the whiteness came. A bright hot flash, approaching
from the front, that blinded me, but right before it touched my skin,
stopped short. Instead, I was encapsulated in a cold and sterile
artificial globe, to keep away the heat which nature had entombed
outside.
Beyond the bounds of my confine, it may be light, but inside
all was dark. I could perceive the luminosity, but not touch it, and
much as I moved, or struggled, it stayed distant, far away...
Why... Why had this happened?
<Try to think, Childra, try to think...>
My memories were slurred, spinning like a thick bean soup when
stirred, all mussed and lumped into a semi-solid mass. Bits of what
might be an individual item formed and surfaced, only to regroup before
I could focus on them.
One of them drifts by me...
My arm automatically reaches for it, touching it... Or not?
In this muddled state, the constructs of my mind take physical
reality or a fair semblance of it, so it would come as no surprise if I
could literally clutch my ideas...
<Wu li...>
<Have I gone mad?> I ask, but no one answers. I cannot, myself,
for at the moment I do not remember sanity, and for the others...
My friends. They'll know... I... I remember... I wasn't alone, I
was with... With...
<With no one.>
They have disappeared.
The scene has changed.
I am no longer in my world of black and white; I am in...
<Central Shirotori?>
<How...>
<My hand... There's something in my hand...>
It is that bit of me I'd seen before, that fragment I could not
make out when it first passed. I must have grabbed it, after all...
I force myself to release my grip, and look at what was clutched
within it. It's a heart-shaped silver locket, old and dented so that once-
ornate leafwork is reduced to a barely distinguishable bas-relief. What's
more, it's open, and whatever it once held, it's empty...
Or rather, I correct myself as I look around, it seems that what
was inside of it has slipped without and filled my surroundings...
Is this what it contains? Is it a memory, or a clue?
I walk, dazed, holding the strange item to my chest (close to
my heart), and try to see what's happened now.
[Onocorp Sable Site: Pain Room - 2087]
Sakuin stepped into the room, flipping on the light switch and
closing the door behind her. Familiar panels of complicated
instrumentation lined the walls of the 'Pain Room', but one thing was
different this time... The occupant of the X-shaped metal cross on the
end was not SE-1B-Y-L, but Chashaku.
He was breathing with difficulty, sweat streaming down his
face and pouring down onto his ample chest as he gasped. Apparently,
the attendants had already... Softened him. From there, the water
droplets coursed down the rest of his naked body, past the folds of
fat around his waist, down along his wide, strong hips and along the
sides of his trunk-like legs... He was massive, but his face... It
seemed somehow... Not right... Somewhat emaciated, perhaps? His
eyes were jutting from their sockets, burying into her head, BLAMING
her...
Sakuin snapped herself out of her reverie. She wouldn't be
fooled. He'd brought this on himself.
Now, to begin the interrogation.
"We found an amazing amount of transceiving equipment hidden in
your clothes... Care to explain?"
"Nice to see you too, Sakuin." The voice was gruff and the
tone unpleasant, the more so because of the memories it held.
"I asked you a question."
"Haven't you heard of respect for your elders?"
"Answer me."
"I... It was necessary for maintenance work. Tools-"
"Tools..." she interrupted, tapping the side of her surgical mask
as she spoke. "Yes, we found tools also. Incredible how much can fit into
a suit with no pockets... Very careful seaming. Who's your tailor?"
No answer. Only a grunt, and a lowering of the head.
"Never mind... I think I know." The head snapped up, and the face
wore a look of alarm. "I like you better WITHOUT your clothes, anyhow..."
"You... Know... What?" The words came slowly, as if he were trying
to get past some sort of mental barrier... It would make sense, if he'd
been used...
"Your tailor. I think I know HER."
"You're bluffing."
"Am I?"
"You always DID think you knew everything."
"Oh, but I do..." She moved closer to him and ran her hand
across his scalp. "Your hair's sagging... Are you sure you don't want...
Something to stick it up?"
Chashaku gasped, and his face straightened into a perfect poker
expression.
<Oh, so you DID notice... Clever boy.>
"Don't touch me," he growled.
"Oh, I'm so hurt..." She withdrew her hands and put them into
her pockets.
"I doubt that. No one can get past that stonish skin of yours.
You have no feelings."
"I did once."
"That wasn't FEELING, that was an OBSESSION."
"I only wanted to BE with you, to TOUCH you..."
Now prepared, she took her hands and ran them over his back,
feeling the warm, glistening skin, searching, and concentrating as she
whispered the words into his ear... Her chest was pressed against his,
and he was unable to move away, while she intertwined her neck with
his own, placing her head in a better position to see... To see the
glowing dots form on his skin.
When they had reached the full extent of their brightness,
Sakuin buried her iron fingernails into as many as she could, transferring
just enough of her energy to cause small eruptions at the centre-most
points.
Chashaku screamed, and as she disengaged herself he looked at
her with wild eyes.
Sakuin cackled.
"At last, I get under your skin."
"How..."
She undid her mask with a snap. Once it'd fallen to one side,
she grinned and licked the excess blood, skin fat and bits of bone from
her press-on claws.
"Studying Ryouga's attacks for decades tends to give one...
Special knowledge."
"Bakusai-ten-ketsu..."
"Oh? You know of it?" Sakuin arched an eyebrow. This was...
Suggestive, to say the least.
"Rumours, only."
"And not quite correct ones..." She once again bent over him
and stroked his chest, feeling, touching, pressing on the fat until she
felt the bumps beneath, until she saw the luminescent pinpricks... Which
she proceeded to jab with clinical accuracy.
Specks of bone erupted from the sites, splattering the room
with pale skin, globs of fat and drops of blood on their way out
of Chashaku. By the time Daimonji was done screaming, only a few small
red gashes bore witness to the deed.
"It's the Bakusai-ten-KATSU," explained Sakuin, lifting up her
hands in exhibition. "The blasting point VICTORY. Quite an improvement,
wouldn't you say?"
"Sakuin... How could you..." The phrases came with difficulty in
between his bouts of hyperventilation.
"No... How could YOU? Listen to me, Chashaku." She grabbed him
by the shoulders, digging her claws in randomly, this time. "I GAVE
myself to you. I offered you all I had, all I WAS, and you REJECTED it."
"I was old enough to be your father..."
"That didn't matter!"
"You were obsessed..."
"Oh, really?"
She narrowed her eyes and looked at him. He looked back with
a mixture of curiosity and fear. Smiling, she took her right index
finger and led its metallic nail down his chest; past the sternum,
across the smears of blood, to the belly-button and lower, until...
"It's no use. No bone THERE was ever hard enough to fracture."
Sakuin erupted into maniacal laughter, but was interrupted by
a beep from the one-way speaker above the door.
Hokoriko's voice.
"Sable tests in five minutes. Finish the interrogation NOW, Sakuin."
"Hmm... That's right..." She stroked her chin, recalling a forgotten
detail. "This IS an interrogation..."
The Gosunkugi took Chashaku's face in her hands and pressed it
close against her own.
"Care to tell me where those transmissions were going?" she purred.
"What transmissions." A statement, not a question, and said with
a grim face and firm eyes. It was surprising that he still hadn't betrayed
his associates, after all the pain he'd been through... She'd never thought
him to be the type to have a backbone.
"You had enough hidden in that coat to start your own vid station.
I'm sure you weren't taking home videos."
"I... Keep records of everything I do for... Aid in maintenance."
"Liar." She pulled away and walked to the one of the wall-mounted
control panels. A turn of a knob, to start his cross spinning, then a
flick of a switch, to add an electric shock to each revolution... It
took a while for the speed to build up, because of his weight, but once
the spinning had truly started, it was well worth watching. Each spark
elicited a scream, and the faster they came, the closer the cries were
to each other, until at last they were just one continuous high-pitched
whine...
That's when she stopped it.
He ended up upside-down, but that was no concern of hers. It
simply meant that Sakuin had to crouch somewhat, before speaking to him.
So, she did.
"Who?" she asked.
"Tei..."
"What?"
"Table."
<Of course.> The equipment. What they'd stripped from him was
laid out on a table just to her right. There was probably something
important there... But what?
"What about your hardware, Chashaku? What is it I should be looking
for?"
He opened his lips to speak, then stopped midway and closed his
eyes, staying silent.
"Tell me!"
Nothing.
She waited all she could, but forced herself to rise when the
speaker came to life.
"Sakuin," said Hokoriko, from elsewhere in the complex, "we can't
wait any longer. Join us in the Arena. NOW."
Oh, well. At least she now knew where to start her search.
Wiping her knees, she hinged her mask back over her mouth and
went back to the cross controls. Daimonji pleaded, but that only made
it more enjoyable to let him watch as she slowly turned the RPM knob
to full and the electricity to maximum.
"Don't worry," she said before pressing the start button, "As
you've pointed out, we're short on power. I'm sure that it will shut off
LONG before Sable is ready for you."
On her way out, she turned off the light switch and closed the
door, so his screams would not disturb the functionaries in the hallway.
[Nowhere, Notime]
Am I awake, asleep, or dead?
No one seems to notice me. I wander through the busy streets,
and see the markets, with their matrons dressed in flowery kimonos,
and fruit-peddlers selling the last of their wares before the sunset...
No one blinks an eye at the untraditionally-dressed teenager
with the raven hair.
Not that I mind...
I'm floating at the moment, unconcerned, living a fever dream
in health, and in a favourite place of mine...
<If this is a dream, I hope I can remember it.... And if it is a
memory, a lunatic's recreation of fond times, let it never be forgotten...>
Shirotori is beautiful, especially at this time of day...
An orange-and-red sky shines down on couples taking slow-paced walks
to grassy slopes. Once there, they recline, and look up at the
wispy clouds, reflecting (or refracting?) the Sun's rays into a pinkish
colour, shadowed blue.
To walk through its streets, on the worn cobblestones, to
feel at once familiarity and the excitement of rediscovery... It
makes butterflies beat against my chest, and lifts my head even
higher than it is... To the clouds...
I look up at the beautiful twilight, the Sun now a disc just
barely above the horizon.
Strange, how a light can be so bright, so warm, and yet be
painless to the eye...
[Sable Testing Command Centre - 2087]
Below the Director, multicoloured beams of light (and other
energy) danced in star-like patterns, starting from various projectors,
but all terminating on the head of a small boy.
They'd been done with the PHYSICAL tests for some time,
now... A broken tank and the rubble of what had been walls were
proof of THAT... Now, they were onto more... Subtle... Levels. There
was a certain KIND of pain that just COULDN'T be reproduced by
tasers, or thumbscrews, or cutting implements... Often, one
had to go to the ROOT of something if one wanted results.
In this case, that meant the brain.
"You're certain, Sakuin?"
His assistant turned her head, pointing her dark goggles at
him. She'd be laughing now, if she ever did. After so many years,
Ono assumed she'd lost the ability to move her facial muscles in
that way.... <That is, if she'd ever POSSESSED it...> Then again,
who could tell what went on behind that surgical mask she always
wore?
"I am always certain, Tanaro."
"How silly of me to forget."
"The preliminary analyses showed a two-point-oh potential
strength peak."
"I am aware of that."
"Today's tests only reached one-point-five."
He looked behind him, at the test chamber. There were the
remains of a few granite barriers, assorted metal ones, burning
fragments of military machinery...
"I'd say it's quite enough, Sakuin."
She shook her head.
"It isn't enough. Sable's strength increases with his pain. If
we can raise the amount he feels..."
"We've already used all the methods of torture known to
be current in..."
She waved him into silence.
"And THAT is why we are tapping directly into his pain
centres."
"That's what the light show is for, I take it?"
"Most of it. Some of it just transmits data back to us. The
rest, yes, does stimulate the electrodes we planted earlier.
If he survives, it should bring him up to two-point-oh."
"If?"
Her goggles glinted, almost with... Amusement?
"There is always the chance that even SE-1B-Y-L will buckle
under sufficient pressure." A pause. "Director."
"If we lose him..."
"Then the project will have been a failure. We shall learn
from our mistakes, and start anew. Onocorp cannot afford to
support more than ONE... False start in this branch of its
operations."
Reiraku... It always came back to that. To HIM. It's true,
he wasn't what they had expected, what they had hoped for... But...
He was Penelope's SON, and on top of that, he'd made a promise.
One he couldn't break. He had to keep Project R going, at least until
Nabiki...
"Very well," he said softly. "Proceed."
"Whether I would was never in question."
Ono grunted. Sometimes, he wondered whether Onocorp
wasn't STILL run by a Gosunkugi.
"Hokoriko, how are the readings?"
His wife looked up from the display she manned, and took
off her earphones.
"Strength reads one-point-nine and rising. Are you all
right, dear? "
"I.. I'm fine."
One-point-nine. To reach THAT high a point, the boy would
have to be in enough pain to... To...
There just weren't metaphors to cover it.
He looked through the bullet-proof glass to the arena below
him. Sure enough. Beads of sweat were forming on Sable's
forehead, and one of his eyebrows was twitching.
Nothing, apart from that.
"You've trained him well, Sakuin."
"You can flatter me when he's passed the final test, Tanaro."
<The final...> Oh. Chashaku. He'd... He'd brought his doom
upon himself, that one... He couldn't have been allowed to live...
It's not as if he had long to go before a natural death, in any
case... He was in his... What? Seventies? Eighties? At most, he had
five years left in him.
Then there was the matter of his sudden sentimentality, and
senility... Not to mention his poor judgment. What Sakuin had found
during the interrogation was damning, to say the least.
Having Sable... It was just... This way, his passing would
PROVIDE something. They needed to know if their soldier could
KILL.
He closed his eyes, and placed his hands flat upon the table,
while he stood.
"The final test. Of course."
Tanaro was roused by a gasp from the console.
"Two-point-ONE, and RISING!"
"What?!?" The Director rushed to the screen, then turned to
the Gosunkugi. "I thought you said he could only go to two-point-OH!"
"I did," admitted Sakuin, cool as ever. "This is... unexpected."
"Are the sensors malfunctioning?"
Hokoriko shook her head, brushing aside the red-brown strands
that fell before her eyes.
"I just ran a check. Unless diagnostics are also off, they're
fine."
"My, my... Sable is FULL of surpri..." Gosunkugi stopped
her sentence short. "He's turning blue," she said, never looking
away from the window. "He can't breathe..."
"Seems he couldn't take the pain..." <They'd better not be
overloading him. It's bad enough to lose a defective model, but
if we lose the perfect prototype because we pushed him past his
design limits... > He wondered whether the SE model now
fit Sakuin's definition of a success. "Is he a failure, then?" he asked.
"N... No. He's... Exceeded expected parameters. Get him
air! Hokoriko? Feed him oxygen!"
"I can't." The face of the director's wife was blank, and her
tone matter-of-fact.
"Why not?!?"
"He... Doesn't need it."
Gosunkugi stood still for a moment, and Tanaro guessed that
underneath her goggles, eyelids were fluttering rapidly.
"Give me that!" Sakuin grabbed at the console, swung it
around to face her, and began pounding away at the keyboard.
"Breathing's controlled, but healthy," she mumbled, "Still conscious...
No tissue damage... But..." She froze.
When 'Index' Gosunkugi showed ANY sign of emotion,
something was wrong.
"Sakuin?"
"According to the neural link, he..."
"Yes?"
"He isn't feeling any pain..."
An alarm sounded, sending Hokoriko scrambling frantically
over her controls.
"Energy build-up in the reactor link!"
"What?!? Do something! Where's it coming from?"
Tanaro's wife licked her lips, then swallowed.
"Sable," she said.
"Sable?"
"He's generating the burst. It's coming from him. And if
it continues for much longer..."
"He's not supposed to have that kind of power! What are
his readings?"
"Strength, stable at two-point-five."
"We need more. Run a full scan. NOW! Ki-peaks?"
She punched a few buttons, before intoning:
"His... His ki has been actualised from potential, and is
stable at... Oh-point-one."
"Then his skin..."
"Oh, deity..." Suddenly, it all fit together... With one-tenth
of the original Ryouga's ki abilities, he wasn't going to be doing any
'Shishi Houkodans' anytime soon, but when one combined the
energy-focusing emotional-based talent he DID have with his ability
to increase strength under pain... That blue tint wasn't due to lack of
oxygen... "Shut it off! I want the testing terminated, NOW!"
"I need the codes..."
Blast their security. There was such a thing, Ono reflected,
as making something TOO foolproof.
"Voice check, Ono Tanaro, code alpha-ess-ee-one, order:
terminate testing for subject SE-1B-Y-L."
*INSUFFICIENT PARAMETERS. PLEASE SPECIFY.*
"All of it!"
*INSUFFICIENT...*
Too late. There was a far-off rumble, and a brief flicker as
the auxiliary generators kicked in.
In Sable's arena, all was dark.
[Nowhere, Notime]
A ripple, and a change.
Shock. The locket which I hold against my chest dissolves into
a sky-blue light. It disappears, and all is metamorphosed.
As if a blind-string had been pulled by some enormous hand,
the day was gone, replaced by starless, misty night.
The people all around me disappeared, taking with them all the
warmth, all the softness of the evening breezes, and leaving... What?
A biting wind, that tore through clothes like mites through
wood, a dreamy canopy above, and below a twisted version of what once
had been...
The darkness brought decay, and change. They very pebbles on
the street seemed hostile, and the architecture now was more grotesque
than beautiful.
Shadows jumped from here to there, twisty corners peeked from
surreal shapes, and all around the spawn of night-time wreaked their
mischief on the daytime town, painting over it their own twelve-hour
facade.
Surely... Surely there was SOME way to bring things back to
normal, SOME way to prevent the change... There had to be SOME way
to light...
The Moon.
I hadn't noticed it before, when I'd looked up, but it must
be there... The clouds are not enough to hide it tonight.
Where, then?
I craned my neck and scanned the heavens, 'til I found the
grey-white disc, emitting light only within itself, and letting
none escape beyond its local boundaries.
[Sable Testing Command Centre - 2087]
"Status report, Hokoriko?"
"The reactor's gone."
"Deity... How... How much..."
"Radiation? Eight million becquerels."
"Eight million?" Sakuin smirked as she went over the
diagnostic routines. "Shirotori has half an hour to live."
"She's right, dear..." admitted his wife. Gosunkugi's
coolness had long since ceased to impress them both, and they
now took it as a matter of course that she would confront the most
gruesome scenes with no emotion stronger than clinical curiosity.
"I'll have the drones scan for life signs," she continued, "but at that
level... It'll take them thirty-five minutes just to reach the town
centre, and by then..."
"I understand." Tanaro closed his eyes, and vented his
frustration on the palms of his hands. His fingernails dug deep,
drawing blood... <But not as much as I have spilt today...> That
wasn't what bothered him, though. Loss of life, he could deal with,
but this... This didn't have to happen. If only they'd STOPPED with
the physical tests; Sable was never going to encounter anything
more than that in battle.... Now they knew he had some kind of
ki ability, but it was of no use to them, and the cost... No... It
wasn't the LOSS of life that worried him. It was how much he had
WASTED. There was nothing he could do about it now. Best to
attend to the matters at hand. Slowly, he separated his eyelids.
"What about us?"
"We're safe... For the moment. The shielding set up for
the Sable project should keep out most of the energy... But..."
Sakuin squinted at a display, trying to make out details. "If you
and Hokoriko are planning on any more children, I would recommend
evacuating as soon as possible."
"And yourself?"
She raised an eyebrow.
"I gave up on a... a family... Many years ago, Tanaro. All I
have..." She shook her head, as if to clear away unwelcome thoughts.
"I'll stay behind to take care of Sable."
"But..."
"No buts. All the beam generators were shut down, and the
shock from having the electrodes suddenly cut off left him unconscious,
but once I revive him, he'll be perfectly fine. I'll stay behind to finish
testing."
"Sakuin, you're going too far... What about the boy's own
susceptibility to radiation? If we lose him..."
"Sable has already proven his endurance. He can take
whatever leaks through containment, and more, for at least several
hours, most likely a day. Besides which, he's ALREADY sterile."
"He will be evacuated with us. You, too. We can't take
the chance..."
"Listen to yourself. Is this truly 'Director Ono' of
Onocorp speaking? Or the man whose sister married into the
Hibikis?" Tanaro grimaced. "I thought so. We only have the
Shirotori site for today; we couldn't risk using after this, even if the
radiation were under control." A thoughtful pause. "I take it your KF
people are ready with a cover story?"
She thought of everything.
Then again, so did he.
Ono nodded.
"They'll pass this off as a bomb test in Hakusa Park gone
awry. There'll be some public outcry, of course, but..."
"But it's better than letting Sable out into the open. OR
letting Japan know that one of their quaint villages was actually
an advanced military research centre." In a Gosunkugi, phrases
like these passed for humour. "Agreed," she concluded.
"I've finished all the shutdown routines, darling." Hokoriko
had been busying herself with the intricacies of dismantling an
underground bunker, and now that she was done gave herself
the luxury of arranging her hair. "It's set to detonate the entrance
charges tomorrow afternoon. After that, this place will look like
nothing but a normal hill with a few landslides on its circumference."
"Good. Sakuin, when can we expect you in Tokyo?"
"SE-1B-Y-L and I will arrive tomorrow morning, if not
this evening. I must run the final test. After that, we will have
nothing to keep us here."
"Surely we can arrange for..."
"No. This is our only opportunity. Don't you see? Chashaku
presented himself openly as our opponent. He has no surviving
relatives, and thanks to his disguised paycheques, we can easily
pass him off as an... Industrial accident. Such a chance won't
come again."
<I certainly hope not...> To think of the old man going
through all that... He threw a nervous glance at the wreckage
left behind by the physical tests. If the boy could demolish a tank,
what could he do to an obese, ancient electrician? He'd been with
the Company for longer than he himself...
"Sakuin, maybe I was a bit harsh on Daimonji... Perhaps
we could..."
"Could what, ONO?" There was ice in her words. "Just like
your predecessor. It was Kyoofu who convinced him to go on... If
management were truly left to YOUR kind, there would BE no
Project R; no Sable... And you would still be a bankrupt, snivelling
family, committed to the resurrection of your greatest foe. You
must learn that one must cast AWAY emotions if one is to succeed.
Chashaku broke the rules; he must pay the price. ESPECIALLY since
it is... Convenient for us. We must know if he can fulfil his function. If
not... We must start again. Any delay in this could prove costly, and
very INconvenient."
"Is that all you care about, Sakuin?" asked Hokoriko, disgust
apparent in her voice. "Convenience?"
"Is there anything else?"
"Of course there is!"
"I suppose you'll point to your marriage."
"I... I..."
"Which tied together the Musk dynasty and the Ono line."
All humanity went out of the woman's eyes, to be replaced
by the savage glint of a hunter. Gosunkugi could bandy words well,
but she would have to do better than that if she chose to insult
the honour of Herb's daughter.
"How DARE you even suggest that..." As she reached for
her dagger, a red light came on one of the consoles.
"Oh, dear... It looks like your transport is ready for you..."
"You... You PLANNED it that way, you..."
"You'd better hurry. Those trucks have considerably less
shielding than the bunker."
Reluctantly, Hokoriko removed her fingers from the jewelled
hilt of her weapon, and walked out the exit, never taking her eyes
off the executress.
Tanaro followed.
[Nowhere, Notime]
And then, I see it is not an emitter, but something that
draws in... The pale half-glow that lets me make out details of the
town is all that earth can keep t'itself from this circle's inspection.
All it sees, it draws to itself; all it gazes at becomes
absorbed.
And now, it focuses on ME.
I struggle, try to break away, but find myself confined within
an immaterial grasp; a force I cannot feel, but that I know surrounds
me, coats me, pulls me in...
The ground moves away, and I am thrust through blackness
towards the putrid, stolen light.
As I draw closer, I see more. Once-dark areas gain detail,
showing forms of grey and pale flesh pink, and...
<No... It... It can't be...>
Eventually, the 'moon' itself strips its facade, to bare its
true form 'fore me...
No craters here, or mares, or dust, or rocks, but cold, unfeeling
polished glass surrounded by a frigid metal frame.
A lens.
Behind it, massive plates of circuitry and metal, forming a quarter
of a whole, the other being -
My teacher's face.
He'd followed me, and found me. Even here, inside my mind, inside
whatever Wonderland I'd jumped into, I could not hide.
The gargantuan face noticed my attention, and smiled.
Walls formed around me, closing in, bonding together at the edges...
Top, bottom, sides, and only a small view-hole left so I could look at
Genzai, and he at I.
I bang on the material, harder than concrete and rougher than
sandpaper, but gain only a few scrapes for my trouble. He sees, but does
not help, and what he looks at is not ME.
Desperate, I finger every corner, every indentation in the
hope that there might be SOME way out I've overlooked. All the while,
I feel his lens on me, searching, investigating, analysing my frame like
a sample under a biologist's microscope, and ignoring what's within it.
When IT looks inside, it sees lymph, and blood, and organs.
Not my soul.
I must get out; I must escape, I must go back, to where I am
a SOMEONE...
As if it'd read my mind (misread?) and thought it needed more
than visual examination of mon corps, the walls began to morph, remoulding
in parts, extending fibrous points, and causing them to grow from the
enclosure, t'wards me.
Metallic probes they are, tentacles that poke and pinch, taking
samples of my skin, my hair, and more.
I bat at them, but they continue; testing, tasting...
When they've done all they can in my present state, they
try to remove my clothes, tugging at my boots and jacket.
I resist, but they are many, and strong, and I know I cannot
last for long.
How can he do this?
Why must he do this?
<Ask...>
Outside, the obscene face still is grinning, its Onocorp eye
whirring busily and taking pictures-
But the OTHER eye is organic.
It must have feelings.
It must know pity.
I cry to it, plead for help, for release, appeal to its humanity to
aid me, to treat me as something other than an interesting bit of data.
I have its attention, but not that which I want. The pale grey
pupil points towards me, but the eye burns red with lust, not sympathy.
The fire grows as it ogles my form, as it watches my vain fight
against its tendrils, and anticipates the moment when its inspection will
be complete.
Not even my tears seem to hold it back; not even the water streaming
from my eyes can make it call back its metallic minions.
Instead, its animalistic fever grows, spreading to the rest of the
face, brightening it, heating it, a crescendo in an unholy symphony of
soundless, emotionless instinct.
The pull grows, in both directions. I am now as drawn to HIM, as
he is towards me. We accelerate, much against my will...
What of my cage? Genzai seems oblivious to its solidity... He
ignores it, focusing instead merely on my OTHER casing... The fleshy one.
I brace myself, and close my eyes for the impact which I know
must come.
And, of course, it does.
There is a flash, a spiralling of sparks as stone clashes with metal,
and a shuddering, a shaking, a vibration...
The walls around me crumble. At every point where their outward
surfaces have come in contact with the face, there forms... A breaking point...
A glowing dot which catalyses the disintegration of what lies around it. Eager
for release, I try to speed the process, touching those which's glow seems
too weak to mature the explosions on their own...
A tap with a finger is all they need to erupt, but the fragments
shower inwards, towards me, and so I'm hurt as much as I am freed.
Now mottled purple, my skin is still a driving force for
Genzai's baser nature, for when the debris is cleared, and floats off in the
vacuum around me...
He's still there.
Waiting.
The explosions have affected him, reducing his organic half to a
gasping, throbbing mockery of a human face, and his... other parts show
dents, and damage... The lens extends one final time, to get a final glimpse,
and then stops. Dead. Halfway out of its socket, it jams, and all the lights
around it dim, blink, and grow dark.
But only for a while.
Mixed with the panic that I feel are images from ancient manuscripts,
of birds, with wings of flame, death's messengers rising from the ashes of
their own destruction to bring the same upon the land surrounding them...
Such pictures pale in comparison to what I sense, to what I... I
PERCEIVE in front of me...
From what I hoped was now merely a non-sentient mass, a lump of
consciousness forms... At first, I feel nothing... I am alone, truly, for the first
time, and only MY heart, MY thoughts, MY feelings (though there were never
more than those) are present; only THEY disturb the pattern of the moment, or
create new twists in it...
Then, gradually... The ambience of Genzai, the mood surrounding
his parts, every little sensory matrix in his corpse twinkles back to life, and
while I feel it, they reach out to each other, and join. They meld into an
aggregate form, not physical this time, purely...
Spirit?
No... Not spirit... There's not enough soul in the old man for that...
What is it, then?
A luminous form rises from the shell - mostly white, but here and there
the red of meat in a butcher's stall will take the place of shadowing... Amorphous,
but trying to be something...
False starts, as growths form on the figure, then recede into the main
conglomeration. Finally, they settle into a vaguely humanoid form... Long legs,
arms, knobs that might pass for hands and feet... And a head. A head with
a nose, and a mouth, and ears...
Which now opens its eyes.
Once again, they focus on me, and I am too weak to move, too drained
by my injuries...
Both of us are free, but only he has TRULY been released; I am still
confined by the bodily casing which Genzai has discarded, and because of my
refusal to leave it, because of my need to endure, I am now easy prey for a
willing hunter.
He knows that, of course. The line across the bottom of the top
projection curves into a semi-smile, and he rushes towards me.
What can I do? I sit, I flinch, I wait... I curl into a ball, cover myself,
try to avoid what I know must come, what I can feel in his gaze, and always
could...
There is some comfort in the fact that though he might defile my body,
he himself has given proof that that is something easily cast away, and
exchanged for another thing which cannot be corrupted...
<Past that point to which it is itself decayed...>
Genzai advances, turning himself into a torpedo of pink-tinted plasma,
a cylinder which spins, and flies through the dark straight towards where I
sit, crouching...
My arms, from instinct, fly before me, covering my eyes and face, and
so I miss the impact visually...
I feel it, though... Feel his substance enclosing me, pressing against
my skin, seeping through every pore and contaminating all it touches.
<Get it over with,> I plead. Soundlessly, since my mouth is also covered
by his viscous presence - a viler gag I know not of. I know what he wants -
what he's wanted all this time, and since I cannot avoid it, I...
<Wait...>
The sludge slowly dissolves, leaving shivering tissue where it once
had lain... It evacuates my lungs, seemingly evaporating... And still his
stench, his vileness, permeates mon corps...
<What's happening?> I ask myself. I welcome my deliverance, but
cannot fathom from whence it might proceed...
<<Relax...>>
I'm answered. From within. A strange voice, not my own, not my
mental avatar...
<Who are you?>
<<Relax...>>
I probe, sending tendrils of thought to test the ground of my
mentality... Something intercepts them, cuts them short, stops my train
of thought...
<Who are... What... What was I...>
I forget what I am thinking of... What I WAS thinking of... It's
gone... Lost...
<Lost? What... What is lost...>
A blank...
Then vileness, building up... Resentment, growing, becoming
tangible, taking form, and finally exploding outwards.
A burst of angry white explodes from me, clearing anything in
its path... Chunks of rock and stone, what had been... What had been...
<<It is of no importance...>>
What had BEEN... That, too, is removed, and even the security
of floating in nothingness, even that...
I fall.
I tumble through the void, back to the earth, back to the
town that I had left, not knowing what had happened to the artificial
eye, not caring, only thinking that at last I have returned...
<To what?>
[Onocorp Sable Site: Testing Arena - 2087]
Darkness.
Only the blue glow of the emergency lights allowed Sakuin
to make out details in the arena.
To her sides she could distinguish a few monitors, wires,
keyboards - the usual paraphernalia of an establishment such as this
one. Behind her she could hear a pneumatic hiss as the automatic
door finished closing. In front of her...
In front of her was Sable, reclining unconscious on the Link seat.
His head was cocked at an acute angle with his trunk, and now-inoperative
electrodes trailed their wires from his skull.
She grabbed a handful of cables and examined them, determined
to go over every inch...
<Best to begin at the beginning.>
Sakuin started with the connection to the main computer. A brief
pressure of her fingers on the right spots, plus whatever meagre visual
information made it past the thick dark lenses of her goggles were enough
to let her know that all was as she had expected, and feared. The leads
were melted to the point of fusion, and the plastic covering was badly
scorched.
<It has to be...> All the evidence pointed to it, but it was still so...
Illogical, that it should happen this way.
The energy back-flow that had originated from Sable had to be a
ki-blast.... The blue tinge to his skin would have then been a build-up of the
spiritual energy... Not enough to generate an aura - after all, his peak WAS
oh-point-one, but enough for a dim glow... <Dim enough to be perceived as
pigmentation?>
As she had so often in the past, she resigned herself to the facts.
It was useless to argue with truth.
<Whether the jar hits the rock, or the rock the jar,> she quoted
mentally, remembering Cervantes, <it's always the jar that ends up
the worse for it.>
Ironic, though, that *he* should exhibit such abilities before
KE-A-Y-P... Unfortunately, it was of no use to their... Goals.... Even
if they successfully designed a neural stimulator, the amount of pain
they'd have to put him through to bring him to the point where he could
use that would...
<I'd better check the electrodes.>
Quick scans with trembling hands...
The wires seemed untouched further along the cables, so there
was hope that the implants hadn't melted. If THAT happened...
Gosunkugi took a deep breath and put a gloved hand to Sable's
head. She allowed her fingers to probe his scalp, pushing past thick,
strong, young brown hair, feeling the metallic surfaces and foam
adhesive discs of the devices she herself had placed, ever so carefully...
There was no corrosion or noticeable damage; that much was
clear after a few seconds. Still, she continued her 'examination', delighting
in the luxuriant growth, taking pleasure in feeling the soft strands brush
by her fingers... She allowed her touches to become caresses, and was
about to remove her glove before she stopped herself.
<No,> thought Sakuin. <This way... This way madness lies.>
All that mattered was that nothing had gone wrong at the
neural level. His brain would be unharmed...
The project would continue.
With precisely-calculated movements, she set to work removing
the electrodes. For each one, she'd stretch the skin surrounding it, then
pull the cable at an exact perpendicular to the skull's curvature, taking out
the thin metal spike which had sent information to and from his neurons.
Once all of them had been discarded, and she was satisfied that
there had been no damage to the subject, she loaded the correct medication
cartridge into her air-syringe.
<Better this than the needle. He's - had enough pain for today...>
Sakuin put the tube within her teeth to free her hands while
she took Sable's arm, moved his sleeve out of the way and disinfected
the target area with an alcohol swab. Not that there was much to
sanitise... He kept himself clean, and through a quirk of his genetic
engineering, his skin was smooth, pale, and soft...
<Enough of this.>
She took the 'jet and quickly administered the dose. A push,
a slight hiss, and it was done.
Only a small wait, now.
<What else?>
The lighting. She liked the dark - all Gosunkugis did - but
the boy... SE-1B-Y-L was used to different, and it would ease his
awakening if she...
<Where's that switch?>
She fumbled, then found the lighting control panel. Sakuin
hesitated for a moment, then turned the dimmer to half power.
* * * * *
The inside of Sable's eyelids pulsed a dull peach, and strange
amorphic shapes in greens and yellows danced in front of his unopened
pupils.
<What... Where...>
His brain crackled, filled with static which gradually decreased
in strength. As it cleared, so did he see past into what the mental 'snow'
had been hiding...
<The tests... I...> The tests were the last thing he remembered.
Walls, a tank, and then... A chair...
<A chair? So hard to remember...> Something about bright white
lights, and metal.... Pain, much pain... More than he had ever felt
before, and... It had made him strong, just as she promised, just as...
"Sable?"
Executress Sakuin.
<Oh, deity...> If she saw him like this, half-asleep when he was
supposed to be in his prime... <Let her not see me as a failure...>
"Are you conscious, Sable?"
He opened his eyes, only to find Gosunkugi's goggles directly
in front of them.
"H-hai, Executress." Against his will, and conditioning, beads
of sweat began to form on his forehead. Sakuin's face was unreadable,
as his own should be, but that made it impossible to tell whether he
had done well, or... "What happened?"
Was that a smile peeking from the sides of her mask?
<On SAKUIN?> Surely not. He... He must still be imagining
things...
"There is no need for concern, Sable."
"Madam?"
A frown. THIS one was certain; her eyebrows moved into a
V-shaped pattern.
"No need for concern, OR for sweating. Your physical conditioning
should allow you greater control than THAT, by now."
"H-hai. I'll stop it at once."
"Good. You have done well."
"I have?"
"Better than expected, in fact."
Sable deliberated. Was it proper to feel joy at this? It was within
Onocorp's goals for him, so he should be pleased, but... It was best to
play it safe. He resolved to choose his words carefully. With the
executress, seemingly innocuous phrases such as these could easily
be a test in themselves.
"I am pleased to hear that."
Each word was enunciated clearly and distinctly, but with no
emotion attached to it.
"As well you should be."
Tensed muscles relaxed. His reaction had been approved.
"However," she continued, "do not allow it to go to your head."
"I will not, Executress."
"There is still one final test."
<Final test?>
The boy opened his mouth to give voice to the mental query,
then promptly shut it. One did not question a Gosunkugi on such
subjects. If one needed information, it would be provided in due course.
He resigned himself to nodding an acknowledgement, face firm.
"This test is different than the rest... In the others, you had to
DESTROY. In this one..." She turned away from him, paused, and bowed
her head. "You have to KILL."
"Kill?"
"It is what you are designed for, Sable." A surprisingly snappy
tone, for HER. "Fail this, and all our work will have been for naught. What
good is a soldier who cannot destroy his enemies?"
"I understand. Who are my... enemies to be?"
Sakuin paused, then answered slowly.
"Only one, and not much of a challenge for the likes of YOU...
He is, however, a self-confessed traitor, blasphemer, and... Possible
saboteur." Something else, too, she added... Mumbled... To Sable's
heightened hearing, it sounded like... 'Among other things...'
"Other things, sensei?"
Gosunkugi's head jerked up, and she spun around.
"I said nothing of 'other things', SE-1B-Y-L. You must have
misheard."
"My apologies, Executress Gosunkugi. I misheard."
Sable smirked. This was no test; rather, it would be a PLEASURE
to be able to render such a service to his creators, to rid them of this...
This vermin, that was so able to agitate his teacher.
He did not know the details, but if 'Index' Gosunkugi used such
strong phrases, they must be accurate and well-deserved.
"Who is this creature? Lead me to him!"
There was no response for a few seconds, then Sakuin lowered
her eyes.
"Chashaku," she said slowly. "Daimonji Chashaku."
Sable's head spun.
Chashaku? How?
He'd... The old man was... Harmless; an old relic, an electrician...
And... Always kind, telling stories, bringing... Food... Fresh fruit...
How could he?
"You seem confused, Sable. I take it I was understood?"
"You were, Executress," he admitted. If it was her will...
If it was ONOCORP'S will, then it must be done, but... "Are... Are you
certain? Chashaku has always been so..."
"You doubt me?" A glint from the goggles.
He couldn't doubt her.
Sakuin never lied.
The Index was never incorrect.
"No!" he exclaimed. "Of course not! It's just that... He's always
been so... Loyal to Onocorp. He's been with it so long... As long as you,
I'm told, and he's..." He had to say it, but did not know how to, except in
a whisper. "A friend."
Sakuin clenched her fists, then released them. That was a bad
sign.
"Friend," she snorted. "Don't you see, Sable? THAT is why he
is the most DANGEROUS villain of all. He does not use projectiles,
or beams. Your endurance is proof against an army of those. His
weapons are EMOTIONS."
<Emotions...>
"He has been using your own feelings against you; softening you,
trying to make you feel... Pity... and... Compassion..." She almost spat
out the words. "His 'friendship' is nothing but a ploy to soften you. A clever
one, true, but..." Her voice became a hiss. "Trust me when I say that
DAIMONJI is void of any TRUE feeling."
<No feeling? Then...>
"He is strong?"
His teacher looked amused, and stroked her chin pensively.
"Yes... I suppose you could say that... Strong... In a very different
way from that in which YOU are strong... That only makes him all the more
dangerous, and all the more perfect as a test of your abilities. Remember
your training - today is when you need it most."
He'd almost forgotten that, in the passion he'd flown into, in
this flurry of confusion... He'd lost track of what he was here to DO.
Truly...
"Emotions make one weak."
"Excellent. And what else?"
"I... I must be a stone soldier."
"Good... And, as a soldier?"
"I must obey."
"Who?"
"You."
"For the moment, yes... And I tell you that Chash... That DAIMONJI
is a TRAITOR, and an enemy. Put your emotions aside, SE-1B-Y-L, and
eliminate him. Do not fail Onocorp. Do not fail ME."
"I will not, Executress."
[Nowhere, Notime]
The downward motion's stopped, but I'm still somersaulting,
whirling in a sea of dust that blocks the sight of all that lies
beyond it.
With time, the curtain settles down into a layer of sediment,
and my own movement changes into simple turning, like a top...
My eyes adjust. It takes a moment, since I've gone from
darkness into light... But... Is it light? There is a yellow glow,
and figures... Dancing... Spinning... Pointing...
<Who is moving? I or they?>
I... I recognise them now... My classmates... But.. Why like
this? Why...
They are translucent. I see right through them, see their
pained expressions juxtaposed one upon the other... A boy's scream
peeking from behind a young girl's frown... An arm reaching out
to anyone, to anything, right through another student's thorax...
What has happened, and why do they not notice me?
In my movement, my rotation, I extend a hand to each in
turn, trying to touch but failing, trying to contact them, to let them
know I'll listen, and I'll help...
They do not hear! They scream in silence, move their mouths,
but...
Wait. They are not quiet. When I listen closely, I can hear
them. They speak in tongues of anguish, panic and despair. I did not
recognise the sounds, at first, because I thought they were my own.
Yet, _I_ am silent now, and they're the ones who speak, and
plead, and try to cry...
...and will not see the one who'd help them.
I can see them, but not touch them, and yet I, who can be
touched, am made invisible to them.
Again, I question what's gone on. What calamity has happened
so that I am separated from them, on a different plane?
As if to answer me, the dust piled on the moving ground
stops still, coagulates, and finally reforms into identifiable shapes.
The shapes of corpses , of the friends I knew, with blackened
shirts, and burnt-up skin, and yellow, melted yes, their limbs stuck
now forever into the unnatural positions gi'en by rigor mort' and
sudden death.
Those gruesome sights immobile stand, while my own body,
warm and pulsing, young and energetic, pirouettes, ALIVE, amidst them.
<Are they dead, then? And am I...>
No answer needed. The transparencies point at the sickly sea of
blackened blood and hanging skin, each once-had-been in recognition of
its former shell.
There's cries of pain, of loss, of mourning... I can't bear it.
I must do SOMETHING, HELP, or at the very least must let them
know that they are seen and heard, and someone understands their needs!
To do that, I must join them on their field of play.
I must stop moving.
So, I try.
I turn myself the other way, press all my might and
concentration on the effort, focusing, re-channelling, until...
[Onocorp Sable Site - 2087]
Like all the others in the bunker, the corridor they now passed
through had walls of solid stone - roughly cut, perhaps blasted. The
facility had been made in a hurry, and there hadn't been much time or
need for aesthetic detail. Nonetheless, Sable had grown to find the
'unfinished' appearance... Comforting... At time like these, the sight of
them would help to calm him. 'Even something that is not perfect, that is
not polished', they seemed to promise, 'can fulfil its purpose - provided
it is STRONG, and does not WEAKEN'.
Only emergency lights lit their path. Every few metres, a sheet-
metal box with a few plastic panels on it would jut out, connected to all the
others via insulated cables.
The coloured lights pulsed intermittently, giving their voyage a
psychedelic appearance...
Greens would blink and alternate with reds, flickering and casting
from the shapes he knew - Sable's own, the walls', and Sakuin's - unfamiliar
shadows that would tease him, daring him to identify them before they
disappeared... For a millisecond, all'd be dark, and calm, and peaceful...
And then, it would start again...
<Much like my own mind...>
All his training seemed to be in jeopardy, fulfilment of his
goal threatened by the identity of my opponent. He *knew* that these...
Feelings were illusions, that they were traps, tricks of the mind, but
still there was enough... Enough compulsive force in them to raise
doubts. They played and toyed with rules he'd learned as truths, and
cast them before an unfamiliar light...
Light, that he had always comforting, was now a mockery.
None of the clinical purity he had grown to crave, none of the pure,
undiluted white... Here were baser colours of the spectrum, shining
as they had not a right to. It was a mockery of true 'enlightenment'.
A fate far worse than darkness.
What comfort was it to have a tainted glow appear, and
pour its vile imaginings upon his conscience, activating that appendix
of the soul? True, they scattered when he summoned his conditioning,
but the deed was done.
All this was so... Confusing...
Very little sound was present in the hall, and what there was
reverberated, echoed and was amplified.
Sakuin's measured breaths sighed through her mask, his own
paling next to the roar which hers became in the impromptu acoustic
chamber.... Her PRESENCE, too, seemed magnified. The mood she
emanated was at one with the solidity which he perceived from the rock
tunnel.
Sable's, was not.
Questions rose in his mind, and when he tried to quiet them,
they only stayed down for an instant before bubbling up again. It was
Chashaku against Sakuin.
Both were equally persistent, on their own... There was need
of a third factor to settle the dispute...
<Me?>
They walked on, the crunch of their boots on the pebbled floor
heralding their perseverance.
Sable's breath quickened as he reminded myself that each footfall
brought him closer to the final test, a test which he was no longer certain
he could pass...
Regardless of what he had told Sakuin...
That settled it.
Many things he could do, but deceive HER?
<Never.>
He had given my word, and would fulfil it. Not only that, but he
would do so with a TRUE heart - anything else was deception, even
if no one else knew it.
To do that, he would have to fight a preliminary battle, but of much
the same sort... He would have to eradicate some of those feelings, some
of those thoughts that had proven comforting to him, and so thoroughly
uproot them that they had no chance of ever coming back...
It was a sacrifice, but one that he must make. For EVERYTHING.
For himself. It was his goal, as a soldier and a weapon, to
destroy. And, as a tool, if he could not fulfil my purpose, he was obsolete,
and useless - without a reason to exist. Therefore, if anything threatened
this... He must be rid of it.
For his mother. She'd been forced to stain her honour... She
had been a formidable warrior, but her mistake was to allow such doubts,
such emotions, to overtake her... In fact... In fact, the very same ones
that had proven her downfall <How distasteful that word is - reiraku>
Regret, compassion, hesitation - were the same demons that now
tormented him. If he could not rid himself of them, he would go down the
same path. Lose his mind, and the ability to KILL, and be left incomplete,
with only the capacity for brute DESTRUCTION.
For Onocorp. Sable was their hope for a perfect project. His
half-brother had proven a disappointment... But they kept him, to fulfil a
promise. *He*, not that half-grown rodent, was their pride. *He* was who
they relied on to be a perfect prototype. He must not fail his Creators...
And... For Sakuin. All his life, she'd been there. Teaching Sable,
instructing him, letting him know the TRUTH, and what was RIGHT. To
fail her was worse, FAR worse, than to fail himself.
He focused all my mental powers on driving out the homunculi
that littered his mind. One by one, Sable forced myself to extinguish the
brilliant flashes, snuffing them with the same weapon with which he
always armed my mental representative - the combat spatula.
He'd see the offenders as candle-flames, dancing upon wicks
in their shades of red and yellow, orange and blue... One
precise and downward swing of his instrument's cold metal surface,
and it'd be gone, a thin column of smoke the only remnant of its
existence.
That, too, soon rose and dissipated, and the wick, the root
which could in future times lead to a greater conflagration...
THAT he stamped on, crushing it to dust, and letting the black
powder scatter in the wind.
In little time, his consciousness was once again a void.
Clean.
Pure.
And undiluted dark. When one could not have white, this was the
next best thing...
Sakuin stopped suddenly. They had arrived.
In front of them was the door to a primitive holding cell - plain iron,
painted creamy white.
Silently, she undid the latch, letting at first only the grating of
metal upon itself and stone greet their entry - until those sounds are
joined by a whimper, and a whine.
HE was there.
[Nowhere, Notime]
A change occurred. I halted, stopped my spinning, but that
was not without its consequences... Momentum is conserved, and mine
was transferred outwards, to the morbid ring.
The mass of bodies meshed and melded into a fence-like
structure. The cadavers' arms were interlocked, their legs were twined,
and e'en the jaws of one would hinge upon the shoulder of another.
Once finished, the enclosure throbbed, and pulsed, beating as a
unit, increasing in strength and frequency until at last the whole
exploded, fountaining upward in an obscene shower of once-human parts.
Steadily the bits rose, slowed as if they moved through fluid,
and not air. The spirits stopped, and ceased all other movement to
lift up their heads, and see it all. They wailed, and pointed at the
sight, bemoaning what they once had been , what they were seeing
destroyed by MY own action.
Then, somehow, be it magic, or collective force of will, their
strength of feeling merged itself with the organic cataract.
The pieces of their pasts glowed black, a darkness that
grew deeper with each cry of loss.
Soon, before they fell, the dark had spread to all WITHIN,
not just surrounding, but a _part_ of the rain, infusing it with dismal
energy, and fusing it all into a single, black and solid beam of pure
despair.
Which then fell onto me.
[Onocorp Sable Site: Holding Cell - 2087]
In front of Sable was a man.
He looked no more that mortal - no fangs, or scales, or claws
to characterise him as the monster that he was.
Just a man.
An old one, too, huddled against a corner in the manner of a
mouse, and crying. The tears flowed through the natural channels
provided by the wrinkles on his face, dripping past the long white sideburns,
down an almost-non-existent neck and continuing their passage down
his chest, where even MORE of the aged creases could be found. He
was obese, but not so large that his stretched and aged skin couldn't hang
in fold over his rolls of fat.
Daimonji looked up, showing a face bursting with fear and
resentment.
"You've come for me at last," he sobbed, directing the statement
not at Sable, but at Sakuin.
She nodded.
"I hoped... I hoped that you'd remember, that you'd... Oh, what's
the use? You've grown different... You've changed..."
"I never change, Daimonji."
<She is stone, as I should be...>
"Oh, but you HAVE..." the voice was a tremulous baritone, but
had a power all its own. "You're now less like the girl I knew and lo... and
liked, and more like Kyoofu..."
"Flattery will not help you now."
"WHAT flattery? That man was cruel, and did anything, ANYTHING
to reach his goals!"
"As well he did. Very effective."
"Effective..." He grunted. "I suppose it was... Effective... But ME...
What's the use in... In getting rid of ME? Are you that afraid of the past?
That vengeful? Was I that cruel, that savage that when given the slightest
opportunity, you would... Do THIS?"
He held up his hands, bound in iron manacles.
"You know what you have done."
The two looked at each other fixedly, eye-to-goggle. At length,
Chashaku spoke.
"I know what I have NOT done."
"Your inaction was voluntary. You could have complied."
"'Complied' is a rather clinical term for it, wouldn't you say?"
Silence. "You will not forgive me?"
"Forgiveness?" She glanced at Sable. "I... You are beyond
forgiveness. TRAITOR."
The man had obviously been trying to restrain himself, probably
thinking that his only way out lay in intelligent conversation... His shield
broke, and the tears once more gushed forth.
"Sak-chan," he pleaded, trying to embrace the Executress, "don't..."
A slap crossed his left cheek, drawing blood.
"Don't EVER call me that, Daimonji."
"You were..." He rubbed his cheek and breathed with difficulty.
The rasping of his lungs, and the distortion caused by the phlegm in his
aged throat added to the effect of his sob-filled words. "You were not
ALWAYS so reluctant to have me say that name..."
"Things change."
"You do not, or so you said."
Sable had been still. He knew better than to interfere, and he had
his own internal battles to fight.
Which the present situation only intensified.
Sakuin, showing emotion - openly! Chashaku, calling her
'Sak-chan'...
The dust he'd thought long gone began to gather, threatening
to coalesce, and form anew the wicks of doubt.
<Clear your mind...>
The particles swirled, a mental whirlwind...
<Clear your...>
"Now, Sable." A command.
He began to walk, then hesitated.
"Chashaku, I'm..."
Daimonji glanced at him, then turned his head away.
"Do what you... What SAKUIN thinks is right," he muttered.
"Finish him, and we'll be done."
Sable did not know the electrician's crime, and relied only on
the Gosunkugi's assertions...
Could he perform an execution, his FIRST, on such a foundation?
The boy thought, then straightened.
"Executress, I..."
[Nowhere, Notime]
With a deafening roar, the projectile cataracts onto my frame...
The depression bathes me, falling in coils, slipping around me,
and finally finding a foothold in my pores.
From there, it infiltrates my body, racing through the circulatory
system; to the heart, the lungs, my glands...
I feel it.
Their emotions, their sadness, burns throughout my whole. Though
it come from outside, it's internalised, processed into a crisp, sharp fire
that leaps outwards.
Racing through my veins, the assimilated pain pours out in roiling
streams that join into waves at the surface.
Where they touch my clothes, the material is dissolved. It turns into
grey dust which sprinkles to the floor.
This dust, this remnant of the last barrier that I had used to hide
myself, does not seem to trouble the spirits, or their eyes.
In fact, the powder allows them to see me, for the first time. It wafts
past them, and they blink, and turn, and jab their fingers at me, noticing a
newcomer amidst them.
At last I have descended to their plane; I've lost myself among the
dead...
<Not quite.>
I see the fear. I am not natural, not of THEIR nature.
But, no matter how strange my liveliness may be to them, or my
solidity, I am relieved to see they recognise me as a friend.
Through eyes half-closed and watery, and swollen red with pain,
I look up at them.
Yes, up.
No longer am I in their sky, above their ground, the graceful spinning
angel.
I am crouched naked on the ground, bathed in a grimy, slimy, oily,
filthy sweat and hurting like I didn't know I could before.
They see; they CARE, they KNOW me for what lies within.
My body's bare, but that's not what their gaze admits.
They see inside and find what makes me separate from all the other
masses of protein on the Earth.
They also see that I am wounded.
And they try to help.
They cannot lay aside their own concerns; they've lost too much for
that, but they make room in their collective consciousness for a smidgen of
charity...
I see it in their eyes, as a glimmer, a faint glint as they continue
spinning around me...
A sudden pain. Sharp, and new.... My lower abdomen...
My stomach? I...
[Onocorp Sable Site: Holding Cell - 2087]
Sable's stomach lurched, the lower folds of his intestine
flipping over themselves, churning and causing ripples to rise through
his oesophagus up to his throat.
<This,> he thought, <is what it must feel like to be sick.> He'd
never known such a sensation... He had lived in a sterile world, always,
free from bacteria, and pre-supplied with all the antibodies he would need
to fight any which he was ever likely to encounter.
As his heart beat against his chest, it seemed to... To spread
somewhat, and send chills from his sternum, outward along his ribs.
"You will what, Sable?" asked Sakuin.
"I..."
<I MUST.>
The boy took a step forward.
When he heard the crunch of a boot on gravel, Chashaku turned
to face him. His face had the look of a deer standing before an armed
hunter.
Sable swallowed and wet his lips. His mouth was dry, but his
brow was covered in sweat.
He saw Sakuin from the corner of his eye. She trembled. Rage?
Fear? Either one would be just as remarkable in the normally unshakeable
Executress.
She closed and opened her fists (in frustration, perhaps), keeping
her eyes focused on Sable.
When she saw his resolution about to fail, the Gosunkugi reached
into a pouch hidden beneath her outer garb and removed a single item,
holding it aloft so all could see.
It was a spatula.
A single, metal, throwing-spatula.
<My mother's...>
All other thoughts were banished from his consciousness by
virtue of the cooking implement. They were instead replaced by an
overwhelming sense of SHAME, to be removed only by completion of
his task.
Kuonji Ukyou'd gone mad because she had allowed herself to
be WEAK. He would not make the same mistake.
He would not fail this test.
Sakuin placed the spatula in his waiting hand, and he in turn
slipped it in between his belt and shirt. It had served its purpose; it had
strengthened his resolution. He would not allow it to do more - the boy
refused to rely on an instrument to do HIS work. That was the way of
a coward.
Besides which, Sable HIMSELF was a tool, or so he had been
taught... And a _weapon_.
The time had come to prove it.
He took Chashaku's chin with his left hand, being careful to
finger the throat so that he could not use his vocal chords.
Sakuin noticed this, and nodded her approval. Last words from
the condemned would only be an inconvenient distraction.
Daimonji struggled, but in vain. SE-1B-Y-L's strength was more
than enough to both lift him off the ground (heavy though he was) and
absorb the impact of his flailing arms.
<Now...>
Sable closed his eyes and launched a punch with his right fist.
There was no scream to hear.
[Nowhere, Notime]
A scream bursts from my deepest regions, coming unbidden and
refusing to leave, once out, echoing instead to postpone its dissipation.
The sound stops them at last, and they stand in a circle, jaws
agape.
"Lost!" they moan collectively.
<Lost?>
A tearing... A gashing in my lower body. There's strains, and snaps
of nothing material, of nothing concrete, but when they're broken, I feel...
I feel lighter, but laden; like a diver undersea, whose density is less
than that of the water which bears down upon her.
[Onocorp Sable Site: Holding Cell - 2087]
His hand was covered in pulpy mashes of red, green and yellow -
wet, slimy excrescences that dripped down his sleeve. They were the same
colours as the lights that had troubled him earlier, but they did not shine...
Far from it - they were dull in colour, though one or another surface might
reflect a bit of light.
It was hard, thought Sable, to believe that moments ago, these...
Pieces?
Fragments?
No... They were not even that... It was hard to believe that these..
BLOBS had been part of a human...
Of a man that he had known.
Yet, the proof stood undeniable before him. He could not fight
the evidence of his senses...
Apart from FEELING the warm ooze upon his skin, and SEEING
the bloodstains black on his blue shirt, he also...
He could SMELL it. Death, or has-been-life - a musty, salty
smell that went through his nostrils down to his mouth, where it became
a steamy taste... The sensations conjured images of a meat-market by
the seaside, during a hot summer's day...
He also HEARD it.
If only to reassure himself, he had reached down to the body and
pulled up a handful of the remnants, squishing them the mass between
his fingers. As it trickled through them, it emitted a contented gurgle.
A baby-like sound, coming from what had been the head of
an old man...
There was humour in that, but somehow-
He didn't feel like laughing.
This had been Chashaku, and now was not.
Simple.
He had caused the change himself.
<With help...>
Sakuin had spent her time staring at the corpse, never moving
her eyes from the pulp that lay above the neck; the soup that now
replaced the head. Apart from that, the anatomy had been left intact.
She moved shards of cranial bone around with her foot.
The fragments were many, and small. Daimonji's frail, arthritic
skeleton had easily cracked, splintering and sending gruesome
shrapnel to all parts of the cell.
He was dead.
The traitor had been killed.
His duty was fulfilled.
Gosunkugi smoothed her front, then looked at him.
He thought he could see traces of tears on the underside
of her goggles...
"Executress?" he asked.
"You have passed, Executioner Sable."
[Nowhere, Notime]
Something's left. What, I do not know precisely, but it was the final
link that held me to the Lens's world of iron, glass and newness.
Now I am of THEM. The pain which pounds and beats through all
of me only reminds me of that.
It starts from the centre, then pulses towards my heart, which shivers,
continues painfully down through my thighs to my legs, then again up to my
brain, where it hits with the force of a dozen hammers.
This is my lot, now, the badge of the world to which I've drawn myself.
The world of these shades whom I sought to help, of memory, the past, regret,
and loss of opportunity to do that which fate cut off...
Now, THEY try to save ME, but find themselves powerless to do a
thing.
A few reach towards and through me.... I feel them as a breeze, a
slight refreshing touch, but nothing more. Once it's gone, in its absence the
fire seems stronger than before...
Like Dickens' ghosts they moan and wail at their own inability to
DO, and I stay crying, for myself and them.
They turn away...
My friends...
One by one, each form stops movement, nods, and pivots to face
outward.
When all the circle's done, they walk away.
But not too far.
The two halves form themselves into a set of rows that marches
forward, settling finally into...
<A corridor?>
A hallway built of souls, a passage to... What end?
I look, to see if one of them will tell me what the meaning of this is.
None does.
They just smile, and point toward the end of their passage.
There must be something there, I reason. They must have found
SOMETHING to help... Me...
<And once I'm healed, I can help THEM.>
Bearing the pain as best I can, I stand.
My steps are slow, but they come in their time.
I trudge past dozens of my former classmates, 'til there are no more
to pass, and see what they have led me to.
[Onocorp Sable Site - 2087]
"Where are we headed?" Sable asked, as he walked down
yet another stone corridor with Sakuin.
"Out."
"Executress?"
"To my room, then out. I have... some 'things' to collect... You
have passed; we have no further need of the testing centre, and considering
the current situation, it is best if we leave quickly."
"And the body?"
They proceeded for a few steps in silence.
"It will be destroyed when the charges detonate tomorrow afternoon.,"
pronounced the Gosunkugi. "Destroyed, or buried in rubble. We need not
concern ourselves with... Sanitation."
A funeral was out of the question, naturally. One did not render
such honours to traitors.
"Understood."
At length, they arrived before a white door set into the granite,
with only a brass name-plate reading 'Gosunkugi Sakuin' to distinguish
it from all the others in the bunker. The executress pressed her palm
against the scanner beside it and hastily stepped through the opening
doorway, beckoning Sable to follow.
The inside of her room was as expected.
The walls were bare of anything, including paint. Only the natural
colour of the rock showed. There was no window; only a simple bed,
a small desk, a computer and some climate control equipment, and...
Two closets.
One was standard issue whitewashed plywood.
The other was an advanced container. It was made mostly of
plastic, with metal supports, and had a hermetic sealing around the edges
of the door. For a lock, it had a complicated-looking mechanical device
bulging from its front, to which was attached a thumbprint scanner.
Sable raised a questioning eyebrow.
[Nowhere, Notime]
A glass case in front of me reflects my haggard face. My black hair
is matted down with oil, and my skin is a pale red, seemingly burnt from my
exertions.
"This?" I ask. "Is THIS what I must use?"
The case's front reflects only myself. What it hides, I cannot guess.
Heads move up and down, giving the impression of a grisly field of
some strange grain, waving in the wind while it waits to be harvested.
<I take it that's a yes.>
[Onocorp Sable Site: Sakuin's Room - 2087]
Sakuin merely pointed at the scanner.
"Only you can open it," she said.
<Then... It must have been prepared...>
Something had been kept for him... And it had also been
kept FROM him... Why?
"What is it, executress?"
The goggles glinted.
"Think of it... As a graduation present."
Not wishing to delay, Sable placed his thumb against the
smooth green glow of the lock panel.
[Nowhere, Notime]
The crystal shatters when I punch it. Shards fly out, some cutting me
in places, drawing blood. The others travel through the spirits. From their
grey forms, they take no red. Only my own organic, solid flesh is damaged.
I scarcely feel the pinpricks. The other wounds have made me numb.
Now that its shield is gone... What's inside?
<A suit...>
[Onocorp Sable Site: Sakuin's Room - 2087]
An outfit, mounted on a wire-frame mannequin.
First to be noticed was the blue boy's uniform, much
like his own, though several sizes too large... It was well-kept
for, and ironed, and smelled (like all the inside of the container)
of preservative gases and disinfectants...
Across the chest, from left to right, a leather bandolier
housed metal throwing spatulas in narrow cartridges...
Sable fingered the one that now pressed against his
thigh. He was speechless, too awed to vocalise his thoughts
as his mind went over the information which his eyes conveyed.
He'd seen this before; he'd dreamt of it, and if it was that
which he hoped, there should be...
There... In the background... The closet and the room
were only dimly lit, but now his eyes were fully adjusted to the
half-light, and he found what he was looking for.
Behind it all, a monumental combat spatula peeked out,
with yellowing linen wrapped around the handle just below its
ring-shaped pommel...
<My mother's...>
[Nowhere, Notime]
A transparent plastic radiation suit.
<Radiation? But...>
The spirits hurry me on, waving their arms wildly.
I touch a sleeve on the thing. My hand is relieved. The pain speeds
away, its natural flame banished by the cold, inorganic substance.
I tell myself that it's not right, that THIS is of the world of Genzai, and
his Lens! The pain HURTS, but it's from THEIR world. HERE. The PAST.
Too much. I cannot bear it.
I must choose.
I can stay, or leave, but not both...
And, if I stay, the torment will become to great, and I'll succumb. If
I remain, it won't be to help them, but as one of their own.
<I must.>
I snatch the sterile package reluctantly, unfold it and slip it over my
naked frame.
[Onocorp Sable Site: Sakuin's Room - 2087]
The bandolier feels heavy as I slip it over my neck and onto
my cloth shirt. It carries with it far more than the weight of a few
cooking utensils...
It brings with it new responsibilities, new promises... I'd
always known it was my fate to cleanse the Kuonji name, to bring
it into the forefront as a model for all warriors... And these garments
are the symbol of that vowed commitment.
The weighty combat spatula is next to be picked up - I
leave the clothes themselves to be folded, and taken on our exit...
I've yet to grow into them, after all.
My hands - my killing hands - run along the cold, hard,
polished surface... The feeli... The SENSATION brings me closer
to my mother, closer to Sakuin, and closer to the stone soldier which
I must always strive to be...
[Nowhere, Notime]
Little more than a plastic bag, it is. Folds and wrinkles, all
transparent...
What use is it as a covering? It hides nothing. All it does is block out
my friends, making their cries unhearable, and blunting the edge of their
sorrow.
Also, it brings me to the notice of...
<He's found me.>
I can feel HIM on me once again, know that HE is watching me,
out of that metal eye...
<Still invisible...>
<No sight of it...>
Watching?
<<No.>>
Perhaps.. Perhaps not yet...
I'm safe so long as I am PHYSICALLY within this world.
<I can hide!>
<<You cannot.>>
The walls crumble. What I'd thought to be untainted black, once
outside light's let in is shown to be my school.
Fissures appear, revealing chalkboards, desks, and plastic tile, all
scorched, all burned... All bathed in a filthy, grimy light of bluish white.
His favourite light.
The sterile light.
He's coming. I must run. But... I can't leave THEM here!
<Where?>
<<From you.>>
More holes appear, letting in more of the rays.
As a beam hits one of the shades, it disappears. No puff of smoke,
no ash, no farewell gesture, just a simple 'there, not-there'.
Wherever I look, another crack grows... I try to stop them, move,
and attempt to shelter them with my arms, but with no effect... The spirits look
at me, and beyond, then quake, and in a second, they... Are gone...
This happens many times, to everyone and every thing...
And THEN, I realise....
It's me...
I am Medusa - A Medusa in reverse... Those things I look at, what I
try to see, loses what solidity it has, and simply - vanishes...
What have I done?
What have I become?
<<You have become ME.>>
Is... Is Genzai's taint so strong that I can't...
I raise my hands in front of me, these hands that only killed, that only
could eliminate when they had tried to protect, and heal, and save...
Then wonder whether I myself am proof against my curse...
[Onocorp HQ: Tokyo - 2087]
"Report, Kootaku?"
<The radiation must still be high,> thought Ono, as he squinted
at the image on the view-screen. Interference caused by the alpha
particles made it difficult to make out anything but a blurry outline
of the Doctor's radiation suit. Thankfully, the sound transmission seemed
unhampered save for a slight crackle.
"The drones... found life... Shirotori"
That was interesting... He looked back at Hokoriko, who
shrugged in her seat. After eight hours, everyone SHOULD be dead.
If there were many people still living and available as witnesses,
it might poke holes in their cover story... Perhaps it'd be better to
leave them there...
"How many, Keko?"
The figure on-screen moved, but only a crackle answered him.
"Could you repeat that?"
"One."
One? That wasn't too bad... All the easier to...
Better check who it was, lest he regret it afterwards.
"Identified?"
"Hai."
A pause.
"Well?"
"Schoolgirl, late teens. Jansen Childra."
<A JANSEN?!?!?> Hokoriko started as she heard the name,
and stood behind him to watch the rest of the conversation.
"Send... Bring her to Tokyo, AT ONCE."
"Sire, there's little chance she'll survive... Even with the best
insurance..."
"We'll treat her at Sasuke Memorial OURSELVES, with
Onocorp funds."
"Sire?"
Hokoriko put her hand on his shoulder.
"We... Can't risk the life of a Jansen. That's all."
"As you wish, Sire." The fuzzy image bowed once before
the screen went dark.
"It's..." The director took his wife's hands in his own, holding
them as he would lifesavers. "One girl... Not a problem, is it?"
"Tanaro?"
He shut his eyes and clenched his teeth.
"Blast it! If okaasama finds out there was a JANSEN at the
site..."
"She'll understand... You were doing it for the project..."
"For the SABLE program, NOT Project R. She's been
against it from the start... Hokoriko..." She stroked his hair as he bit
his lower lip and shook his head. "By all rights, MY name should
be Jansen, but then otoo... Then LAMORAK went on that expedition...
She remarried, to that Shinnosuke, but she never got over him... Her
first husband... What if she dies? The Childra girl? What if..."
"She won't." A cold, female voice from elsewhere in the room.
"I'll take care of her myself." As Tanaro looked closer, a familiar
figure stepped into the light from the corner in which she had been
concealed.
"Sakuin." The word left a bitter taste in his mouth. He shouldn't
be surprised, really... The whole Gosunkugi line had an uncanny knack
for hiding in shadow. "How long have you been here?"
"Long enough. You shouldn't worry about Jansen. With our
cloning therapies, there should be nothing to worry about except some
minor trauma... That is... Assuming that she's out of Shirotori within
the hour..."
"She will be."
"And... Assuming that I'll be given unlimited access to all of
Onocorp's facilities."
"Anything... Just... Make sure she's better, before ok...
Before Belladonna finds out."
"Of course."
Hokoriko hadn't let go of her husband's hand, and with each
passing second, her grip was tightening. Tanaro was glad he
couldn't see her face. The visage of an angry Musk was not one
easily forgotten.
"You _dare_," she hissed, "come HERE, *unbidden*, after
what..."
The executress held up a plastic card.
"I have a key, and the scanners are programmed to accept
my voice, hand and retinal prints."
The Musk woman glared at the Director.
He shrugged.
"I... Well... She comes here so often, and..." It was useless
to try to explain.
"We'll talk about this LATER, Tanaro. For now..." She
turned to Sakuin, and flipped her dagger out of its sheath. "GO,
before I forget I'm no longer on Togenkyo."
"I see you two have a lot to settle, so I'll let you be."
Just like her, to make it seem like leaving had been HER
idea. Before she left...
"What about Sable?"
"He passed." Silence. "SE-1B-Y-L is in his quarters. I thought
it best not to bring him.." Tanaro nodded his approval, and she continued.
"I have to visit my brother and take care of his girl-child for the day...
I'll check in on your 'Childra' while I do so... Be sure to have her
at SMH by nine at the latest."
That said, she turned and left.
[Sasuke Memorial Hospital - 2087]
Sakuin nodded as the doctor continued his explanation. So
far, the news was good.
First of all, they'd run a bio-search on her, which had turned
out better than they could have hoped for. No close relatives - not
in Japan, at least... <Except for Tanaro, and he won't admit it.>
She was being financed by a distant cousin somewhere in Africa...
That made a lot of things much easier.
Her physical condition was also promising.
The girl would be barren - that much was to be expected, but
there was no significant corruption of nerve cells, and though the
damage to the muscle tissue was extensive, thanks to Director
Ono's 'generous' offer...
"I take it Jansen has samples in the tissue bank?" she asked.
"Hai, Gosunkugi-san."
Good. It shouldn't be a problem to heal _that_ via cloning
therapy. Now, the most important question...
"How about her brain?"
"Minimal damage. One percent, at the most, and that is
partial - no total neural destruction whatsoever."
Even better news... 'The brain cannot be cloned,' that was
the first rule every geneticist learned. So long THAT was fine...
"I am... Pleased to hear that, isha."
"Her consciousness is unstable, however. She drifts in and
out, and our nurses report that even when awake..."
Sakuin started.
"Nurses? You were told to keep the patient SECRET!"
"I assure you, all our staff can be relied on to..."
"How many have seen her?"
"Apart from the doctors you've selected? Two."
"Keep it at that. For as long as treatment continues, keep a
watch on those nurses, and threaten them with severance if they
say a WORD about their patient. Remove all other duties from them,
if need be."
"She's only a schoolgirl, Gosunkugi-san..."
"You heard what I said. Must I call the Director of Onocorp
and have HIM confirm my instructions?" She reached for her
portaphone and watched with satisfaction as he paled.
"That.. That won't be necessary... We'll... Keep it under
wraps."
"One more thing..."
"Yes?"
"When the girl awakens... Do not let her know who is paying
her medical fees."
"What SHALL we tell her, then?"
That was a good question... In this case, silence was almost
as bad as the truth...
Lamorak HAD left a large amount of money behind for
charitable purposes... Most of it was being diverted to Onocorp,
so it shouldn't be too much trouble to set something up...
"Tell her that a... A 'Jansen Trust' is financing her recovery.
They've... Recently found out of her existence, and will pay for her
basic expenses from now on."
There. That should satisfy Belladonna's protectiveness of
members of that family, and eliminate many possible sources of
inquiry. Her first husband had been quite the eccentric, after all.
It was entirely plausible that he'd have set up a trust fund for
destitute relatives... <Deity knows KUNOU did...> That last was
the butt of every financial joke. A multi-billion-Kunou fund, earning
enough interest each day to finance a small army, which could
be touched by NO ONE, simply because there were no more
Kunous to claim it...
The Doctor raised an eyebrow.
"Trust me," she assured him. "It exists."
<Or it WILL, once I get to the lawyers.> It shouldn't be TOO
hard to fabricate a past for it...
"Will that be all... Executress?"
"You may go. Mind my instructions this time."
"Of course." With that, he bowed and went on his rounds.
Sakuin seldom ad-libbed, but in this case, her spur-of-the-moment
thought had provided the perfect solution to her problems. Simple,
as well, and relatively cheap. With Lamorak's fortune earning
interest daily, one woman's costs of living would be nothing but a
drop from the bucket.
For some reason, it also... Eased her conscience, somewhat.
Not that she was guilty of anything, of course...
Now, to find those lawyers...
"Skeride, it's time to go."
Nothing. Sakuin looked around her, without success. <She
must have left while I was talking...> Truly a Gosunkugi. She hadn't
even noticed...
Not a problem. With that squirrel of hers on her shoulder,
she shouldn't prove TOO difficult to find.
* * * * *
"Anikaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" Skeride ran after her pet squirrel,
darting past surprised orderlies, jumping over bedpans and crawling
under cots.
It seemed she ended up doing this EVERY time she took
her out... Honestly, that animal...
The dark-brown squirrel snuck into one of the patient rooms.
Checking to make sure no one saw her, Skeride followed
through the door marked 'Private'.
Then stopped.
The room held a single patient, on a bed...
Or, rather...
A single BODY.
As she looked at it, the face on it seemed to change, to morph
in between that of an older girl, with short black hair, and an old man
with a mechanical eye...
The young Gosunkugi stood sill, trying to decide what to do.
Something... Something very BAD here... Something wasn't
right...
<No kidding, Skeride,> she chided herself. <Two people
in one body isn't your healthy, normal everyday occurrence...>
She'd seen some... Some things that came close to this,
with the Collective, but...
This was evil.
Thankfully, whatever-it-was was unconscious. She could just
grab Anika, and leave.
Or so she thought.
Before she could do anything, the squirrel climbed up the
bedpost and settled itself on the patient's chest.
<Oh, deity...>
Auntie Sakuin would be missing her soon, and if she found her
in a private room she shouldn't be in, it'd be trouble. It'd be even
WORSE for Anika if the animal were found there alone... Maybe even
lethal...
Skeride bit her lip, tried to ignore the nausea that she'd
begun to feel, and started towards the cot... Chances were, after
all, that this wasn't REAL... Didn't she always see things other
people didn't?
<Just my mind acting up again... Nothing but that...>
She took a few stealthy steps, making them quiet as only
a Gosunkugi could, and launched her hand at the squirrel.
The body intercepted it.
It raised its right forearm mechanically and gripped her
wrist. She pulled, and tugged, but it wouldn't let her go...
The face turned to her. It was the old man, burrowing into
the girl with that eye...
"What have we HERE?" it asked. Tinny, the voice was, and
distant - as if from a ventriloquist, or if it were speaking with a borrowed
tongue.
<Is it?> With two faces in one shell... Maybe... Maybe one
of them did not belong?
Then, it hit her... It'd taken longer, this time, but she felt it.
Whenever she came in contact with someone, whenever she touched
them, she'd see a... A kind of halo surrounding them, and she could
sometimes tell things from it... Usually, it was instantaneous... But
this one... Had taken a while, and she thought she saw why...
It wasn't stable, but flickered in between a canary yellow
tinged with red streaks, and an awful, putrid aura, made of slimy
greens and the purples, browns and yellows of decomposition...
The first was... Friendly, comforting, and feminine... Warm,
but shaken and confused... The second was corrupt; full of perversion
like she'd never felt before... And male.
Definitely... This one did not belong.
It had taken over the other, and she had better rid herself
of its grip before it did the same to HER.
"Let me go!" she shouted.
"Not quite yet... Oh... So young, you are..." The left hand
tried to brush her hair. She batted it away. "Feisty, too... Yes, I
think I like you..."
With a quick manoeuvre, he... or she... or whatever it was...
managed to take both her wrists in one hand, and began to use the other
to stroke her hair, feel her face... And more...
Panic built up in Skeride, filling her like fire would a haystack.
It grew inside of her as the monster continued its 'inspection', building
up, until she finally found a way to let it out, a way she'd learned, but
never thought she'd use this way...
A lilac glow built up around her, pulsing along with her heart.
The cyborg's face seemed not to notice, focusing instead
on... other things...
<So much the better.>
The aura built itself into a casing of spiritual energy, which
she re-focused, sending all of it to the space in between her cupped
hands, and turning it into a bubble, which soon detached...
Before her, the man blinked, then opened his mouth in
soundless horror as he realised what was to come.
Skeride grinned, now, as she directed the sphere over the
patient's body, expanding it to fit the whole, then lowering it, and
compacting it...
The unwelcome spirit tried to scream, but his shouts
could not pierce the purple barrier.
The bubble grew smaller, tinier, going PAST the skin,
filtering out that morbid, evil essence, and separating it from that
which she gathered to be the rightful occupant of the body...
Resistance grew, but faded quickly as she forced herself
to concentrate, and keep up her object's strength...
Already, the man's face ceased to show itself... The arms
had relaxed, and all that visually lay before her was an unconscious
young woman in a hospital gown with a panic-frozen squirrel on her
chest.
<Almost there...>
Sweat trickled down her brow as her bubble continued to
shrink, continued the elimination... At last, right beneath the physical
heart of the patient, it reached a subatomic size, and finally...
[Childra's bedroom, University of Tokyo: 2093]
...Disappeared.
Childra woke up with a start, and was mildly surprised (once
her eyes cleared) to find herself back in her university room, back with...
"Something wrong, Childra?"
Zannen. Her companion now stretched out groggily, roused
from her slumber, and reached out to ruffle Jansen's hair.
"N... No... Just... Just a dream..." She shook her head. "It's...
Gone now..."
"Glad to hear it. It'd be awful to spoil a lovely evening like the
one we had with a NIGHTMARE..." She smiled, and Childra giggled.
They'd... Had fun, yes...
And... All she had dreamt; all those things... were in the past.
This was 2093, and she was safe, in her room... No Genzai here - Skeride
had sent him deity-knows-where... And... No Shirotori, either... Only
Zannen's warm olive skin against her own milky-white one, only the sheets
above them both, only her head on Childra's shoulder...
Jansen took the woman's head in her hands, looking into her
face.
"You have such lovely green eyes..."
"No prettier than your brown ones," answered the Hibiki,
returning the compliment with a caress.
Jansen let herself melt into Zannen's embrace, glad for its
feel of solidity...
No more spirits to torment her, no more ghosts, no more...
*It's past six, Childra.*
She turned her head to see Akane, hands over eyes, and
glowing pink.
*I... I'm sorry... I didn't know...*
She mouthed an 'It's OK', and a smile.
*You told me to get you up by six for your 'jump, and...* Still
covering her eyes with her right hand, she used her other to point
at a clock.
Six-thirty AM.
<Deity... I'd better run...>
"Zannen..."
"Hmm?"
Childra disengaged herself.
"It's... Nearly time for the 'jump... I have to go."
"I've been meaning to talk to you about that." The Hibiki's
face assumed a serious expression. "Being head of the EH department
DOES have its privileges... If you don't WANT to go, I could always find..."
"An hour before the event? Don't be silly... What's wrong, lass?
Getting cold feet?"
Another grin.
"After last night, Chi-chan, I doubt I'll be having cold ANYTHING
for a while..." Childra smiled, dreamily, then burst into a giggle as she
saw her ghost-friend's aura go a few shades deeper into the red end
of the spectrum. "I know it sounds silly... But... It's just not safe, and
I'm WORRIED about you..."
"Twenty minutes in Victorian England? What could be safer?
At the very worst, I'll be 'accosted'..."
<Uh-Oh...> She'd phrased that as a joke, but she'd forgotten...
A little SOMETHING about her superior... <Here it comes...>
Zannen shuddered.
"THERE'S a fate worse than death... I wouldn't put it past
them, either... For those lecherous MEN, a quarter of an hour's all
they need to... To... Argh! I don't know how most women STAND them..."
Childra nodded a nervous agreement and looked at Akane
out of the corner of her eye. SHE, for once, was having a ball.
*You mean she doesn't KNOW?* Jansen shook her head
slightly. *All those nights you spend with... And she doesn't... And
she thinks... Childra, how could you?!?*
She expected a ki-mallet to flatten her for insensitivity any
moment now, but it never came. Instead, the ghost burst into laughter.
She couldn't decide which was worse...
She's have to tell Zannen SOMEDAY, but... That... That was
in the future.
<Hopefully, the FAR future.>
The Hibiki sighed.
"You're right... I'm being silly... It's not like you're my nephew,
or anything, and are in danger of getting lost if I take my eye off you
for a second..." She slapped her on the side. "Go get dressed." A
pause, then a wink. "I'll help with the bustle."
Childra slipped out of the bed.
"No need,' she replied. "They're keeping the garb for me at EH."
Jansen dropped the bed-sheet that had been covering her and searched
the ground for the clothing they'd scattered there the night before. "I'll
just go in my work outfit... Are these yours, or mine?" She held up a
pair of pink lace panties, eliciting a stronger glow from Akane.
"Yours, I think..."
"Right..." The ghost turned to leave, but she motioned her not
to. 'You're too uptight', she whispered. 'It'll do you good to stay.'
*But..*
'Good. You're starting to get the picture.'
*...*
Once found, she put on her undergarments, along with the
other essential items: khaki trousers, white socks, hiking boots
and a lovely T-shirt reading 'Libens, Volens, Potens'... Then there
was...
She looked over her 'hardware', deciding what to take. The bo
and machete were tempting, and she reached for them.
"No weapons, Chi-chan," the head of her department reminded
her. Childra nodded, and reluctantly drew back her hand.
Almost automatically, she slipped on her worn leather bandolier,
checking its cartridges to make sure all her 'supplies' were there. It
was doubtful they'd let her take them, but after years of habit it would
take more mental effort NOT to do it than to perform the scan. Her
university jacket went over that, and she was done at last. Childra always
felt... Undressed until she had those two items on.
<Not that that's a BAD feeling...>
"So..." she stood before her mirror, brushing her hair. "How do
I look?"
"Lovely, as always."
*You look fine, Childra.*
She set the brush down.
"Then I... I guess it's time to go..."
"Yes..." Zannen rose from the bed, wearing the bed-sheet like
a toga. "But before you go..."
She walked to Childra and wrapped her arms around the
historian's neck, the pressure between the two women being the only
thing keeping the cover from dropping to the floor.
As they broke into what promised to be a long and tender kiss,
Akane shook her head, sighed, and stepped out through the wall into
the main corridor.
She was right. Minutes passed before they disengaged, and
Childra walked out the door, leaving her superior clutching a blanket
to her bosom, and looking at an empty doorway with tear-filled eyes...
END VISION
EPILOGUE:
>From 'The Strand Magazine - Late 19th/Early 20th century' [In the
Japanese National Library, MS # GB-E-10642. Partial page; damaged.
Missing top and bottom.]
"Since the death of my dear friend Sherlock Holmes, the
responsibility has fallen upon me several times to clear his name
in certain matters which were in his lifetime left undiscussed for
the sake of national security, or of giving him credit in those cases
which were thought best kept out of the public eye at the time. However,
time heals all wounds, and the perpetrators and victims of the crimes
portrayed are long since dead or murdered, and so I once more try
my hand at the chronicler's task, and reach into that famous safe-box
at our bank near Covent Garden, pulling out the notes of one such
case. The time has come, dear readers, when I may safely reveal the
strange and wonderful circumstances surrounding the Adventure of
the Giant Rat of Sumatra..."
-Christopher Willmore
Credits:
Thanks to Rogue1 for miscellaneous (read: copious) ideas, and specifically
that of Akane walking in on Childra and Zannen.
Credit goes to Kevin Eav for pointing out that Genzai had to die
just like the students - and for suggesting that Childra be possessed
by his spirit. (Truth to tell, Rogue1 has also been bugging me for a
while for a possession scene. Hope this one satisfies him.. ^_^)
RpM came up with Skeride's.. Unusual way of exorcising spirits.
Kunoichi suggested Chashaku's name, but she has nothing whatsoever
to do with his physical appearance or eventual demise... ^_^
Ross McKenzie invented the term 'Exploratory History'.
Erin Mills was the one who suggested Sable to me in the first place...
Loeden@GamesMUX dreamed up the concept of someone using nails to
perform a modified Bakusai-ten-ketsu while we spoke at Otakon. Many
thanks to RpM for allowing me to use a variation of the idea he came up
with for 'The More Things Change' in my own series....
The spinning electric chair was suggested by AlberCrombie, though
he might not remember it. ;) (There were a lot of things going on
in his room that night...)
And... Finally...
American Airlines' Advance Reservation system is responsible for
coming up with Sable's name and serial number. ^_^