CHAPTER 2 - A Dockside Story
Despite all the weird, wacky and downright dangerous stuff Ian
had... _discovered_ when his travels took him to the twisted universe
from the mind of Douglas Adams, the one thing he was glad of, was the
organism called the Babel fish.
It was a small leech-like creature, that fit snugly into a person's
ear. It fed on not the brainwaves of its host, but that of those
emanating from others. It then excreted a brainwave pattern similar
to that it had taken in, in a form that its host could understand.
The upshot of all this, was that Ian could understand any language
spoken to him.
Sometimes Ian wondered exactly how far the thing worked. It should
have worked only one way, and only if the person was present. But
surprisingly, it seemed that this was one thing that was determined to
go right for him. For not only could he understand those near him,
but they automatically understood him. Apparently, they thought he
replied to them in their native language, which had made for some
awkward encounters at times. With the Babel fish, every spoken
language had been opened for him. It was like one of those
Linguaphone things, except without the hassle. Less expensive too.
Of course, it didn't break all the language barriers. Reading still
made as much sense as ever; Japanese was just a funny set of squiggles
to him.
This somewhat _small_ limitation had in the past caused, and was
currently causing, problems. Directions for example. Since Ian
couldn't read the various streetsigns, or decipher any sort of map, he
usually took to asking directions from passers-by. Said passer-by had
a tendency to look at him strangely, point at a nearby sign, and then
walk off without a word.
To put it in a nutshell, it was annoying.
However, he eventually managed to find out which direction the docks
were, where, hopefully, he'd find some sort of disused warehouse where
he could spend the night. If some deranged scheming mad scientist
hadn't decided to use it as his base first. Sometimes it astounded
Ian exactly how many of those there were.
He also managed to figure out a few things of where he was. As
always seemed to be the case in these futuristic cities where most of
the social interaction had disappeared, at least, any social
interaction not found indoors (pubs, nightclubs, motels, etc.), he'd
found a newspaper in the side of the road. With help from it and a
Japanese dictionary he'd picked up a few months ago, he discovered the
date. Or at least the year. 2032. Somehow, he'd have thought that
things wouldn't have changed as much as they already have. However,
it _did_ confirm his worst fear.
/Yep, this is Manga, alright. Nothing else would have Japanese as
native, and a futuristic city called MegaTokyo. Which, of course,
means... first portal I see, I'm outta here!/
So far, though, despite his initial encounter which what had
appeared to be the ADPolice force - /sounds familiar... now where have
I heard that before.../ - it had been a pretty quiet day. He just
hoped it'd stay that way.
He didn't know it yet, but like so many times before, he was going
to regret ever thinking that.
--**************--
Nene was puzzled, perplexed, and very worried. It wasn't often that
had happened. As soon as the report had been filed into the central
database, Nene had gotten access to it and given herself a copy to
read.
Things started getting weird when she called up the database to
search for "Ian Robinson". She got a big negative. Trying "Robinson"
brought up 53 alternatives, but when she limited the search parameters
to allow only those who were aged under 35, it brought it down to just
12 records. Adding the parameter "above 17" brought it down to 2.
And finally, she belatedly added the parameter "male" to narrow it
down to just zero possibilities. /Damn./
Well then, it was obvious that it was a false name. From the
report, `Ian' had delivered no ID, so there was no way to tell _what_
his real name was. It was highly probable that he didn't _have_ any
identification; the usual tactic was to forge anything needed, and
then just hack the records at ADP.
Some of the other parts of the report gave her pause too. She
wished she'd been the one to interrogate the guy; Fraser didn't really
have much patience for what he didn't understand, and it showed in his
report. Mind you, hadn't Inspector Grant been haranguing him and
forcing him to help with the now ever-increasing paper influx? In any
case though, she was just a data entry clerk. She smiled; _this_ data
entry clerk was also Queen of the Net. Unofficially, of course.
Matter Transportation, huh? If scientists were that close to it,
Nene doubted that such a young kid like this `Ian' guy would have had
access to it. On his own, as he claimed. Besides, Sylia would have
heard of it. /That's an idea..../ Nene resolved to ask her about the
transportation sciences later.
It was a sign of Fraser's annoyance at the time that what he'd put
down for the guy's address was "Japan (like where else)". It would
have appeared that `Ian' lucked out in his investigation. If `Ian'
was everything he claimed to be, she would... she'd... why, she'd
attend Linna's exercise classes for an entire month. And go on a
diet.
After a few minutes more scrutinising, she decided to take a break.
/A chocolate cake would be nice,/ she thought.
A few moments after she left, her computer silently alerted the fact
of someone outside hacking into the ADP databases. Nene's hidden
tripwires were designed to inform _her_ when hacking was done; it
wasn't standard ADP security. But since Nene wasn't there, the
warning went unnoticed for the timebeing. And after about a minute,
the infiltration stopped, shutting down the alarm in the process.
Of course, activity logs are such useful things. But their
usefulness diminishes if no one actually checks them.
--**************--
Nene wasn't the only one interested in Ian's report. Far from it.
It was well known that ADP had computer security to rival an egg. At
least when it was compared to any of the many corporations that were
based in MegaTokyo.
News travelled fast. It was particularly known for its ability to
travel faster than light in some cases. Bad news sometimes travelled
even faster. The kind of bad news that had just been transferred
happened to be bad for Ian, and in Ian's experience, that was the
fastest kind of all.
"Matter Transference, you say?" Quincy was a rather imposing man.
Not really because of his physical figure. Or maybe partly because of
it. He was a middle-aged man, with greying hair, dressed in a white
suit. There was something about the way he composed himself that
was... unnerving.
Perhaps it was because he was the CEO of the biggest corporation in
MegaTokyo. A corporation that had, behind its legal and above-board
facade, been responsible for many boomer attacks on MegaTokyo. And
also had its fingers in as many pies as you could name. A
megaconglomerate, is the term given. Many said that Genom was the
driving force behind the government of MegaTokyo. They weren't far
wrong. But they were perhaps out by a continent or two.
However, some explanation is probably required about these
"boomers". Boomers were basically an artificial construct made in
humanoid appearance. Essentially, they were androids. Genom, the
corporation in question, was the major supplier of combat boomers.
These types of boomers generally looked human right up to the point
when they pulled off their skin and went completely berserk. ADP was
primarily set up to deal with the numerous boomer outbreaks in
MegaTokyo, but due to a lack of funding, they weren't having a great
deal of success with the task.
There is more to the story: how Genom stole the knowledge of
creating boomers from the scientist, Dr Katsuhito Stingray, and how
they warped his legacy into the military scheme it was now; and how Dr
Stingray's daughter, Sylia, set up the vigilante group, the Knight
Sabers, to bring down Genom and their twisted ideals. But that wasn't
important right now. What was important, was that Quincy was the CEO
of Genom, and he had recently been informed of Ian's ADPolice report.
The words "Matter Transportation" had a tendency to cause certain
corporation search engines to go berserk.
For those who haven't worked it out yet, this is _bad_.
"Yes. He claimed to be an inventor working on his own. According
to a separate report filed by the officer who was on duty that night,
there may be some truth to his claims." Kate Madigan was a very high-
level personal aide to Quincy. She had earned a great deal of
trust and respect from the old man, and unlike many of her peers, had
no personal ambitions in regard to replacing Quincy in any respect.
At least, not in the cut-throat way her colleagues envisioned.
Quincy smiled. This could be interesting. Genom was always on the
lookout for raw talent. "But?"
"His given name doesn't appear on any record in either the ADPolice
or government archives. Apparently, he produced no identification,
and the only thing we have is a physical description and some awkward
shots of him on the security camera."
The CEO raised an eyebrow. "Awkward?"
"For some reason, the cameras never got a good shot of him. Even
when he was interrogated, his back was to the camera the whole time.
He must have known about them. There's no way someone can avoid that
many security cameras so successfully. They'd have to have known
their exact positions. That, or have been extremely lucky."
/...and I don't believe in luck,/ finished Quincy for her silently.
Hmm. This wasn't very good news. It might mean that this `inventor'
was working for someone high up. Very high, if all his records could
have successfully been wiped. That was, of course, if he had given
his real name.
It was all so complicated. A high-up agent would have had a decent
cover story that would have had passed computer analysis. At the very
least, they would travel with forged ID. And generally, agents didn't
appear from nowhere inside an ADP jail. "Have you checked if there
were any important prisoners in the station at the time?"
"Yes. The ADP have been having more trouble with boomers than
actual criminals, and as such, they only had minor offenders inside
that night."
Most perplexing. Well, perhaps this `inventor' would be worth
observing. "Keep him under surveillance."
Madigan bowed, and then turned to leave.
"Wait." Quincy smiled. "Keep him alive. He may be useful."
"Do you expect there to be an attempt on his life?"
"Just observe him. But make sure he's alive when I decide to have
him brought in."
--**************--
"So this is the stuff?"
Max and his gang had followed their employer to an out-of-the-way
construction facility. Last Max had heard, this building had been
fully operational, making car parts. Now, it seemed pretty deserted,
with production halted midway. It seemed that their new friend
Chronos had been busy.
Kyle was up and walking, thankfully. Chronos had merely stunned
him. /So why couldn't he do that to Carl,/ thought Max angrily.
The silhouette turned from a worktable to face him. "Yes," it said,
in that modulated voice of Chronos's. Strange, that. Both the figure
and the voice were heavily disguised. It was even more effective than
one of those suits those Knight Sabers wore; you couldn't really tell
if the guy was male or female. Nor how well armed he was. They
already had an inkling of that anyways.
Max took a closer look at the suit on the table. It was rather
bulky; nothing like his figure at all on the outside. It was like one
of those archaic 20th Century space-suits, except more massive. He
looked at Chronos. A sweep of shadow gestured him to try it on.
It took a bit of getting used to, but once all the pieces were in
place, they snapped together and began to hum. Last, was the round,
domed helmet, with the small slit that served as the visual array. He
placed it on, and....
It was one of the most liberating experiences of his life. He felt
stronger, faster, more capable than ever before. A Head-Up-Display to
the sides of his viewscreen gave him targeting and terrain
information, while a single thought changed it to show system status.
The view seemed to be a little restricted, but it served well enough.
He lifted up the rifle that accompanied the suit and swung it around
easily. Then, he selected a car chassis as a target, and opened fire.
The results weren't as good as he'd expected. The rifle vibrated in
his hands like a berserk horse, the recoils sending many of his shots
wide. Those that _did_ hit the target though, soon left it a smoking
wreck, swinging on only one of the four chains that had held it up.
Another few shots brought it down with a crash. Max tried to fire off
another few shots, but discovered that the rifle no longer responded.
In fact, it felt fairly warm, even through the insulation in the suit.
Chronos turned towards him. "I apologise for the... imprecise
nature of your firearms. I was pressed for time, and had to make do
with the Mk I plans. Watch out for the plasma rifle overheating as
well. I'm afraid you can only use short bursts, before it gets too
hot to work. Then you have to wait for it to cool down. However,
this should be sufficient for now. Perhaps when you come back, I'll
have a couple of Mk II's ready."
The rest of Max's friends were already clambering into their own
suits after the impressive display. Max watched them for a moment,
before facing Chronos again. "You got any idea where this target of
yours is?" His voice came out very deep, in almost a monotone.
Obviously, a voice modulator was also part of the package.
The shadow shrugged. "It's been a long time. I have no idea where
my enemy could be. However, you'll find an accurate description in
the databanks. And the Chronotrooper targeting array is already set
up to recognise him. How you deal with him, is up to you. Eliminate
him, capture him, bring him to me, dead or alive. I care not, only
that he is out of the way."
Behind the helmet, Max smiled. /If I bring in this character, maybe
we can catch Chronos with his guard down. For what he did to Carl,
he'll die./
"Is it agreed, then?" asked Chronos.
"Yeah. We'll do your job."
--**************--
It was nine o'clock. The sun had just gone down below the horizon,
and the sky was darkening at a fast rate. Ian had just found the
docks, and was now impatiently searching for some warehouse he could
camp in. Something told him that he would be better off if he could
get inside. This didn't look like the type of city where you could
expect to live through a night of sleeping rough.
Actually, Ian didn't figure on getting much sleep. He'd checked his
stopwatch earlier, and worked out he'd arrived around eleven o'clock
at night. Earlier, Ian had synchronised his watch to the local time
with the help of a passer-by; he had only two hours to wait until a
portal opened. And there was little hope that Chronos hadn't been
busy. /He's probably searching for me right now,/ Ian thought
dismally.
Ian wasn't in much of a mood for a fight. He was tired, exhausted
even. Even his impromptu dreamless `slumber' had done nothing for his
state of health. He felt as worn-out then as he was now; his
exhaustion then had been the main reason he'd been unconscious for so
long.
One of the problems with the portals was that it left Ian vulnerable
to severe jetlag. In one world, it could be early morning. A leap
later, and he might find it's late afternoon. Or vice versa.
However, getting out of a world like this was a greater priority
than having a good night's sleep.
Ian stopped suddenly, and glanced around. He was _sure_ he was
being watched. It wasn't Chronos; if it had been him, he would have
shown himself far earlier. He _hoped_ it was a good guy. And then he
hoped that they knew that _he_ was a good guy. Convincing them that
usually took quite a while. Or a short battle with Chronos. Ian knew
which one _he_ preferred.
With a shrug, Ian started back on his search for a somewhat
comfortable building in which to spend the night. Maybe he was so
tired, that he was imagining things. Maybe not. At the very least,
he still had his pistol.
A few seconds after, the boomer followed.
--**************--
The targeting reticle flared red as it touched the brown-haired
young man in the dark leather jacket. Stats and information on the
target flashed up in a green box at the bottom-right hand corner of
his vision. Max couldn't believe his luck. Vernon had been the first
to spot him, alerting the others on their personal communicators.
Already, they had their target in sight. All that was needed now, was
to take him.
Admittedly, this type of ambush took a little getting used to.
Max's gang weren't used to all this hitech weaponry, or being so
spread out. Generally, most of their ambushes had been two groups
converging on both sides of an alleyway.
Louis came on the communicator. "Max, I'm gonna see if I can take
him without bruising him. Maybe we'll get more if we don't bring in
damaged goods."
Well, it was worth a shot. Might as well see what this character
was made of. "Go ahead, Louis."
--**************--
Someone was coming. That was for sure, now. Ian could hear the
heavy footsteps approaching. Slowly, Ian reached inside his jacket,
hand closing on the handle of his pistol....
"Hold it." A single deep and modulated voice. /Oh shit..../
Ian leapt to one side, rolling as he hit the ground, bringing the
gun round to bear all in one smooth movement.
Then he realised he hadn't been fired upon yet.
A Chronotrooper stepped out of the shadows of one of the warehouses,
levelling its plasma rifle at him. "You are Ian Robinson?"
Nervousness tended to make Ian sarcastic. "Nope. You must mean my
twin brother. He's on vacation in Hawaii."
"We've been hired to take you in. What do you think about that?"
"Did Chronos tell you about all the _others_?"
"Others?"
Ian smiled evilly. "Never mind," he said cheerfully.
The Chronotrooper shouldered its weapon, and moved into a more
threatening posture. "I don't think I need this. You look like
someone I could take easily." The helmet moved slightly as it glanced
at Ian's weapon. "We've already seen what bullets do to these suits."
"Oh, so Chronos _hasn't_ told you about the others then. Think you
know everything about that suit you're wearing?"
The suit took a step towards him. "I think you're bluffing."
"Hang on," replied Ian, "before you charge me, tell me something.
Are you just some gang that Chronos picked off the street?"
A couple of shots later had the suddenly charging Chronotrooper on
the floor, looking down at its cracked leg armour. "Guess so,"
quipped Ian.
And then all hell broke loose.
--**************--
/SHIT,/ Ian almost yelled, as he dove behind a stack of gas
canisters. A couple of plasma bolts slammed into them, causing metal
to sizzle and singeing a couple of his hairs, but most were way off
mark. After a few seconds of fire, the sounds died off as the rifles
began to overheat, and everyone watched to see what was left.
Ian spent his first uninterrupted second blessing his quick
reflexes, and then the second second in quiet shock as he realised
exactly what his cover was composed of, and that the bolts had crashed
into his aforementioned cover. The third second was spent silently
thanking specific deities that the barrels hadn't been full.
As soon as Ian caught his breath, he got into a crouch position.
And then he raced for another bit of cover.
--**************--
When Louis went down, the feeling of invulnerability disappeared
from every one of the gang. Then, they all opened fire. Louis was
still alive, but whatever that guy was carrying, it had blasted a hole
through the suit, severely damaging Louis's leg.
However, they still hadn't gotten used to the way the rifle
recoiled, so most never had chance of hitting the guy. The sheer
amount of firepower more than made up for it, and had their target
diving for cover.
After a while, heat began to pour from the rifles, and the automatic
cut-off stopped all fire. They watched to see what would come out of
there alive. A single barrel, blackened from the fire, swayed and
then toppled over with a bang.
Vernon was the first to spot Ian running out from behind the oil
drums. The guy was coming straight towards the building he was on; it
would be an easy shot, despite the uselessness of the plasma rifle as
a sniper's weapon. Vernon aimed, and tightened his finger on the
trigger. He watched as Ian got closer, waiting for just the right
moment....
Cold metal brushed Vernon's neck as something punched through his
helmet as easily as a Mack truck through a roadblock. It tightened.
Vernon screamed.
--**************--
Those who had begun to fire upon the fleeing Ian stopped
immediately. Even Ian himself stopped in his tracks. On top of the
building he had been rushing to, some sort of mechanical android was
crushing the life out of a Chronotrooper. The modulated voice of the
suit made the screams take on a whole new dimension.
The boomer turned its head to face Ian. Its eyes glowed with an
evil red glint.
Ian fled. The other way.
--**************--
Vernon's screams echoed across the communicators. For a moment, all
the others could do was look on as their friend was held by the neck,
clutching at the boomer's arm. Unlike Ian, they knew exactly what
they were facing.
They opened fire on the boomer. And then the boomer opened fire on
them.
Unnoticed, an helicopter circled the area high above, watching the
laser display in the dock district.
--**************--
"Ah, Nene, you're just in time."
Sylia motioned the young woman in quickly, and shut the door behind
her.
"We just intercepted an ADP transmission. Seems there's some sort
of confrontation going on in the dock district. We're going to check
it out. Linna should be here in a couple of minutes, and Priss is
already in the KnightWing."
Nene sighed. She'd had to leave work late, having been snowed under
with work almost as soon as she'd come back from her break. She'd
been surprised that nothing had been said about the report, but she
put it down to the sudden influx of paperwork that had overcome ADP.
As everyone knew, there was to be a review of ADP's weapons budget,
and so all the businessmen who were in charge of the money wanted to
know whether ADP actually needed so much of it. As if they knew what
it took to take down a single boomer. The fact that boomer activity
had been down lately made the current outlook bad.
In any case, Nene had been hoping to ask Sylia what she knew about
this transportation stuff that the guy they'd let go earlier had used
as an excuse. Instead, it looked like she'd have to come along to
check out yet another disturbance. It was rather strange, when she
thought about it. The first boomer rampage in weeks. Well, all good
things had to come to an end.
"Okay," Nene replied. "I'll meet you on the launch pad."
--**************--
"Why now?" Ian asked no one in particular as he ran from the
firefight. People, much less Chronotroopers, had no business being
that well armed. A glance at his watch confirmed it; he had over one
and a half hours to keep away from the enemy behind him; he hoped to
get as far away from them as possible before they wised up and started
chasing him again.
All of a sudden, he ran out of pier. He realised he hadn't been
paying attention on where he was going, focusing more on what he was
running away _from_, rather than where he was running _to_. /Well,
guess I better back up a..../
"Got you." The voice was deep. And modulated.
He had already half-turned when he noticed the large silhouette at
the other end of the jetty. Nervously, he backed away until he felt
the end of the pier underneath his feet.
"Uh," he said wittily. The shadow brought to bear a large weapon,
which Ian recognised as the Mk I plasma rifle, standard armament for
the Chronotrooper. Not very good at hitting a target, but powerful
enough to rip armour to shreds. Ian was wearing a brown leather
jacket, hanging open. Underneath it, was a white T-shirt. Under
that, Ian was wearing nothing.
It occurred to Ian that he wasn't going to get very far saying witty
things like `uh' or `er', so he took one more step back, and dropped
out of view as plasma bolts blazed overhead.
Cold water hit him like hammer on an anvil.
--**************--
End Chapter 2
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PS. Don't reply to the address I'm sending
this from. Use the address at the start of
the fanfic.