First.. do NOT ask what hoops I had to jump through to connect to
my ISP. Trust me, you DO NOT want to know. {shiver}

	Second... in response to the _surprisingly_ enthusiastic mail I've
received over this fic, I'd decided to release another teaser. Wasn't easy
getting it here, and I don't know if I can do it again until the phone
lines are fixed. So I hope you'll all enjoy it.

	So, here's another piece of 'In Dangerous Ground'. Let me know
what you think, okay? 

	See you all in a few days when the lines are fixed.

	Ed Becerra

	"Dreamers may die, but the dream is eternal..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

   "An enemy without a motive is the purest evil of all."
      - Christi Smith Haydeen, `Mockingbird'.

   Ed whistled as he walked down towards the Canyons. Wolf's Place had been
repaired some time ago, and he'd been meaning to drop by and take a look.
The wraparound shades and the battered slouch hat would, he hoped, cover
enough of his face so that no one would recognize him.

   He turned a corner, and stopped. Something was seriously wrong. The
street was far too quiet, even for a neighborhood near the Canyons. Even the
junkies and the winos were absent. He turned, and spotted three figures step
around the corner behind him. Three more emerged from the street ahead of
him.

   *This is _not_ a Good Thing (TM),* he thought. *This SCREAMS of a setup.
I am in _deep_ jungledung here...*

   "So, gentlemen.. I take it you feel an urgent need to borrow my watch and
wallet, or something like thaaaaa..."

   Before he could finish the sentence, a bright flash of light interrupted
him. A unexpected impact sent him flying first into, and then _through_, the
building behind him.

   Raising his head, he noticed that his attackers had shed their false
skin. *Boomers again.. But _not_ C-55's, these.. and not standard combat
boomers, either. They look like.. like someone with access to Miriam's
research tried to reverse-engineer a hyperboomer ala Largo. Not good.*

   He pulled himself from the pile of brick and building rubble, coughing up
a smoke ring. "...nice toy, tin man. I actually felt something that time.
What the hell is it?"

   The lead hyperboomer grinned nastily, and raised its arms so that the
large bulges on its forearms could be seen clearly. "The right side fires
negatively charged ionized undepleted plutonium. The left side uses
positrons of the same."

   Ed shook his head, trying to clear it. "Whoooo. And I thought the USA and
the USSR had an arms race going..." He climbed to his feet. "Well, if that
was your best shot, tinkertoy, you've got a serious problem. So unless
you've got something better, I suggest you leave now, before I decide to
recycle your tin ass into a soda can."

   The hyperboomer smirked, "Now that you mention it.." Its mouth opened up,
but instead of the usual particle beam, the muzzle of a different weapon
appeared. A line of brilliant sparks traced their way through the air,
striking Ed on the shoulder. To his astonishment, they scorched his shirt.
He swatted at the spot, putting out a tiny flame.

   "An X-ray laser? Nice. How did they manage to pack something like that
into something as small as you? Or the plutonium cannon, for that matter.
Who the hell built you guys, the Swiss Army Knife company?!"

   "You'll find out soon enough, little human.. if human _is_ what you are.
There's someone who wants to have a _long_ talk with you, concerning the
transfer of certain technologys."

   "Not _that_ old crap again.. don't you people ever _invent_ anything for
yourselves anymore? You've got to steal everything from others?"

   "We're not philosophers, fleshling. We're just here to do a job."

   Ed smiled grimly. "Fine. If that's the way you want to play this..." He
raised a hand and made a `come here' gesture. "Come on then. Let's get
this over with. I've got dinner waiting for me, and I don't want to be
late."

   The leader shook it's head. "We're not here to fight you.. just to keep
you here for a while. Sit down, shut up, and we can all walk away from this
intact."

   "Delay me? Why?"

   He was distracted by a sudden scream coming from the link with Minerva.
{BOSS! BOSS! HEL.... #ZZZARKK#}

   {Minerva? What's the matter? Minerva?! Answer me girl!}

   {MAIN SHIP'S SYSTEM OFF-LINE. NULL PROGRAM - REPEAT - WAITING FOR
   PROGRAM}

   {Minerva!}

   {MAIN SHIP'S SYSTEM OFF-LINE. NULL PROGRAM - REPEAT - WAITING FOR
   PROGRAM}

   His face went grey. "I don't have time to fuck with you clowns. Get out
of my way or fry."

   "Can't do that, human. Why don't _you_ surrender?"

   {Run Program be'nI'oy mach.}

   {Running. Enter command.}

   {Target transmission coordinates. Fire Brownian disrupters on command.}

   {vISuqta'. Target acquired. Warning, weapon spread will include you in
affected area.}

   {Override. Authorization: For Hell's sake. Fire.}

   In orbit over the city, the Calypso decloaked, and rotated until the
photon torpedo tube oriented on the city. The mouth of the tube glowed, and
a rainbow shimmer of color lanced down onto the spot where the six
hyperboomers were faced off with Ed.

                                   * * *

   About a kilometer away, Wadderson was on patrol. She noticed the oddly
colored beam, and shivered when an odd visual ripple obscured her sight for
a second. Braking to a halt, she hauled the wheel around, and headed for
what she estimated was the point of impact.

   "God, PLEASE don't let it be that elf again. I've had all I can stand
from her already."

                                   * * *

   Ed picked himself up from the pavement, pain shrieking in every joint. He
felt like someone had stuck a key in his guts and wound them up like a
spring from some cheap clockwork toy. The boomers hadn't been so fortunate.
Most of the street was filled with clots of dust, and the rest of it was on 
fire. Where the hyperboomers had been standing were drifts of powder.

   "I am _never_ using that damn thing again," he moaned. "It hurts too
bloody much."

   The Brownian disrupters were a weapon that he still didn't understand,
despite Minerva's many attempts at explaining them to him. Distantly related
to the Burroughs Irrelevancy drive that powered the Calypso, they apparently
functioned by disrupting probability in a very specific way, reducing the
odds that a certain thing might occur from utterly ludicrous to a sure
thing. They were very useful since they could be used to cause the target to
simply fall apart into its component elements. Steel, for existance, would
collapse into carbon dust and iron fillings.

   Neat, quiet, and few messy side effects. The target simply fell apart
into a pile of fine dust. Sometimes fires would start, when some of the more
highly reactive elements - such as sodium or florine - were liberated, and
poisonous compounds could form, but on the whole, it caused much less
incidental damage than most other weapons.

   But since his own accident involved the un-natural manipulation of
probability, the Brownian disrupters were one of the very few weapons that
could cause him serious pain.

   He stumbled out of the settling cloud of dust and down the street,
looking for a car or motorcycle. Any transportation. He had to get back to
the store now! Then he spotted what looked like an ADP patrol car. He rushed
it.

                                   * * *

   Wadderson looked at the haggard man who just torn the door off her patrol
car. Somehow, she didn't think her pistol would impress him much. She swore
to herself and wished she hadn't left the GBS assault cannon Inspector
McNichol had given her in the trunk. She wound up and took a swing at him.

   Ed caught the punch Kenneth threw at him in one hand and held it
effortlessly. "I don't have _time_ to fool with you. Give me the keys to the
car, Wadderson. You want to throw me in the jug, fine. But do it LATER! A
friend is in danger and I HAVE to get to her right NOW!"

   Kenneth looked at the short man who was holding her right fist without
the slightest sign of strain, and decided that discretion was, in this case,
the better part of valor. When he released her hand, she slid out of the
driver's seat, leaving the keys in the ignition.

   "You'll get it back when I'm done. I keep my word, Wadderson. Ask
Bochinski if you don't believe me." Ed stomped on the gas, and pulled away
in a loud squealing of tires. As he departed, the AD policewoman finally
put the facts together.

   "SHIT! I just blew a chance at busting the Vigilante!" She gave an angry
kick at the curb, and set off on foot for ADP headquarters.

                                   * * *

   *Dammit, this thing's probably got a locator beacon,* thought Ed as he
mashed the pedal to the floor.  *I _can't_ leave it anywhere near the shop,
it'd be a dead giveaway! The ADP'd be all over me like flies on sugar.
What can I do... YES! The junkyard! Enough metal there to mask any
beacons, and it's close to the store. Yet far enough away that it won't
point any fingers. Ditch this heap there, and head for the shop.*

   He turned at the nearest cross-street, and spotted the back gates of the
junkyard Twister had spoken of. He didn't pause, ramming the reenforced nose
of the patrol car through the locked gates. The chain holding them closed
snapped like cheap string, and he bounced over the entrance. Skidding to one
side, he noticed two stacks of crushed automobiles waiting to be recycled.

   *Perfect. Enough steel there to block any signal,* he thought. Twisting
the wheel sharply, he slid the patrol car between the two tall stacks. He
leaped out of the car and headed for the shop at a dead run.

                                   * * *

   Sylvie had heard the angry scream coming from the bookstore down the
street. Rushing to the window, she spotted a 55-C carrying a limp Minerva
over its shoulder towards a small van while a second boomer, skin already
shed, was looking in all directions for possible resistance.

   "ANRI! Someone's attacking Ed's place!" she shouted. "They've got
Minerva! Call Sylia!" Her hand darted into a drawer under the register that
Darlene had put there after the incident with Madigan. Inside was a
breakdown pistol of the sort Priss habitually carried, along with several
loaded three shot magazines, all marked with a bright red stripe. She
snapped one in the pistol, shoved the rest into a pocket, and vaulted over
the counter, hitting the door with all the strength her sexaroid body was
capable of.

                                   * * *

   "Hold it right there, thing."

   The boomer carrying Minerva turned, surprised. "You aren't supposed to be
here. The others should have stopped you, at least temporarily." The other
oriented on Ed and all of its weapon ports flipped open, aimed at him.

   "Yeah, well, shit happens. Your buddies are ready for recycling. Put my
employee down, and _you_ get to leave in one piece." He couldn't see it, of
course, but both boomers noted that his eyes had lost pupils, iris and
whites. Nothing was left but a pair of gold spheres.

   The first boomer shook its head. "She's coming with us." With incredible
speed, it pulled a small automatic pistol from a jacket pocket and put the
muzzle to Minerva's head. "Or she dies. Your choice, meatboy."

   "Do that, and you're both scrap," he snarled.

   "So? We're expendable. That's what we're programmed for, human. Behave,
and you might get her back alive."

   Ed snarled, and took a step forward. The boomer's finger tightened on the
trigger, and the second bio-mech moved to support its partner.

   "Well, Mr. Edwards? Do you want to surrender? Or does your little human
here get her brains spilled all over the stree..*squerk*"

   There was a loud gunshot, and the 55-C's head snapped forward abruptly.
Two more shots followed in rapid sucession, reducing its braincase to so
much scrap metal. It dropped to its knees, and slowly toppled over, its
arms cradling its hostage at it fell forward.

   Its partner spun around and spotted the attacker. Internal scanners gave
it a threat assesment it found difficult to understand at first. "A 33-S?
You're one of us! Why'd you fire on us? No matter. You have to die now."
Its mouth cannon tracked on Sylvie and made ready to fire.

   "I don't really think so. I'm not ready to die, and you're forgetting
something." Sylvie smiled at the boomer. "Remember?"

   A hand dropped onto the boomer's shoulder and spun it around. A pair of
angry gold eyes confronted it. "You forgot _me_, Robbie. You hurt one of my
friends, and just threatened another. What do you think I'm going to do to
you now?"

   The boomer did a 360 scan. An armed opponent to its rear, in the form of
a 33-S carrying what scanned as a Member-II autopistol currently loaded with
teflon-coated armor-piercing ammunition with explosive tips. Not quite a
match for a 55-C in full assault mode, but still a significant threat. An
unknown life form to its front that had apparently survived an attack from
several hyperboomers and presumably had defeated them. The combat routines
in its mind were all coming up with the same results. No possible way to
win. Direct attack was no longer a viable option. It took the only possible
course of action.

   Vents snapped open on its back and calves, and plasma was dumped from
its reactor. In seconds, it was airborne and headed away from the scene of
the crime. It didn't get very far, though. A steel spike suddenly embedded
itself in the mechanoid's back and exploded, showering the street with
scrap.

   A blue armored suit landed next to Sylvie. "What happened here?"

   "Someone attacked his shop. Minerva's injured," said Sylvie. "I think
we'd better get her to some medical attention." She stepped over to where Ed
was bent over the prone form of his assistant, and tried to shake him by the
shoulder. "Ed? Ed! You have to get up! She needs medical attention."

   Priss quickly stepped to her side. "Here, let me." She drew back and
slapped Ed across the back of his skull with a gauntlet. "Wake up, Stupid!
Minerva needs you!"



/* 
** 
*/ 


   Sylia blinked at the results of the scan. "Nene?"

   "Yes, Sylia?"

   "Bring me the hardcopy of the medical scans I did on Darlene, please."

   "Okay..." The short redhead turned to go, then looked back. "Is Minerva
going to be all right?"

   "If what I suspect is correct, yes, she will be fine. Perhaps better
than fine, Nene. But don't tell Edward that. Simply let him know that
she'll recover completely."

   When Nene returned with the hardcopies, Sylia went through them. Certain
things were becoming quite clear.

                                   * * *

   Ed rose to his feet as Sylia left the small sickbay. "How is she, Sylia?"
His face reflected his worry.

   "She requires several days of bed rest, but she will be all right. The
damage was limited to severe brusing of muscle and some bones, along with a
light concussion from a blow to the head."

   He looked confused. "I don't understand. She apparently resisted those
boomers. How did she get away with such light injuries?"

   "That's something I need to discuss with you." She handed him a sheet of
paper. "Please look at that. It's the baseline physiological state for the
average human being."

   He gave it a confused glance. "Okay.. so?"

   "Now look at this one.. it's a baseline reading I took for Darlene when I
examined her over 2 years ago. This is the result of the deep scans I took. 
If you will compare the two, you will note that her muscles are differently
constructed, the neural response time is faster, and her skeletal structure 
is far more durable than the norm."

   Ed nodded, his confusion growing. "I understand that.. In fact, I
remember something about that from my reading. You found she wasn't aging
normally, either. But what's that got to do with Minerva?"

   Sylia handed him a third sheet of paper. "These are the scans I just took
of Minerva. Allowing for her injuries, and the fact that she is taller than
Darlene, you will note that Darlene's results and Minerva's are nearly
identical."

   He sat down with a thud. "What are you saying?"

   "Apparently, when Valanna created Minerva's new body, she used her _own_
body as a partial template. The metabolic and structural enhancements in
both bodies are practically identical. However, Minerva's body _isn't_ a
clone of Darlene's, if that is what you're worried about. Her genetic
structure is unique unto her. It _has_ been enhanced in a way that is much
the same as Darlene's, though."

   "I...I...this is..." He shook his head, confused. "I don't know what to
think."

   "Perhaps you should go home for now. She'll be safe here, and it's as
good a place for her to recover as anywhere." She looked him over closely.
"I'll have Linna drive you to your apartment. You don't look up to driving
at the moment."

   Ed stood up. "You're right. And I'm not any use here."


/* 
** 
*/



   "Friends may come and go, but enemies accumulate."
      - Thomas Jones.

   The phone rang, and he answered it, his mind elsewhere. "Rare Books, may
I help yooo..?! MADAGAN!" He had to make a conscious effort not to crush the
counter under his fingertips. "I take it you have a death wish, bitch. Give
me one good reason why I shouldn't reach through this connection and blow
you and Genom off the face of this planet."

   The small image of the Genom executive bowed. "Because I wish to beg your
pardon, Mr. Edwards, and we have information that you may find of interest."
She paused, taking a deep breath. "I am to inform you that the recent events
were not instigated at our behest, and that Mr. Quincy requests a meeting
with you. The location to be determined by you."

   His jaw sagged in astonishment. "And you expect me to trust you? Just how
incredibly stupid do you think I am?!"

   Madagan nodded. "Your feelings in this matter were anticipated. You may
bring along anyone you wish, to include the police, if you feel that is
neccessary. We wish to show you that we were not responsible, and Mr. Quincy
wishes to give you some information involving who was." She paused for a
moment. "We realize that you have no reason to trust Genom, but in the
interest of sparing the city another... conflict along the lines of our
recent clash, would you at least consider it? As always, you can reach my
office anytime, day or night." The screen went blank.

   Ed stared at the phone for a long moment, thoughts racing through his
head. Then he rapidly tapped out a number, scrambling the call.

   "Sylia? May I come over and see you? I have a problem. I believe I need
to hire the Knight Sabers."

                                   * * *

   "You intend to go through with this?" asked Sylia.

   He nodded. "You were the one to tell me that I had to learn to be more
responsible, Sylia. I don't see any other way to do this. Do you? If Madagan
wasn't lying, then it was someone else who tried to attack me and who hurt
Minerva. And I have to find out who."

   She nodded. "Agreed. However, I am curious... why do you wish to _hire_
us?"

   "I have the money, you can _use_ the money, and... well, it didn't seem
right to involve you without proper compensation. I've already cost you
enough in time, effort, money and general frustration." He shrugged. "Call
it a guilt attack, okay?"

                                   * * *

   Madagan's secretary interrupted her. "Ma'am? There is a private message
for you. It's encrypted with your public key." He handed her the disk and
left the office.

   "Madagan? I'll be outside Mega-Tokyo, tomorrow at noon. I believe you're
familiar with the location. You once tried to kill the Knight Sabers there,
and injured the Crystal Knight. Tell Quincy.. tell him no second chances. If
this is a trap, Genom dies. Stem, branch and root."

   She frowned, and hit a button on her phone. "Mr. Edwards has accepted the
invitation, sir. Shall I make the preparations?"

   "Do so. And take care not to offend him, Ms. Madagan. There is potential
here. It is in our best interests to avoid wasting it."

                         *************************

   A large limo approached the clearing, flanked front and rear by two small
vans. Three boomers stepped out of each van and moved toward the limo. Madagan
stepped out, and opened the door for Quincy. He gazed across the clearing,
noting the huge fan-shaped trench seared into the earth and the damaged
building in the center.

   "A pity such power could not be harnessed to our cause, Madagan. Still,
some things cannot be helped." He raised his voice slightly. "I am here, Mr.
Edwards."

   A man stepped from behind the building, followed by four armored figures.
"I see you brought a bodyguard, Quincy. That's _all_ they'd better be."

   Quincy nodded. "When one is in a position of power, Mr. Edwards, it is
rank folly to take no precautions." He looked at the four hardsuited women
standing behind Ed. "There was no reason to bring them. I don't intend this
meeting to become confrontational."

   "Maybe.. and maybe not. If there's anything I've learned in my time, it's
that only a fool trusts Genom. And _I_ am feeling VERY confrontational at
the moment." Ed's face was expressionless. "Let's get this over with."

   Quincy nodded to one side, and one of the boomers pulled a pair of
folding chairs and a small card table from the first van. "Please, sit.
There is much I have to show you, and you have little time."

   Ed approached cautiously. "And why am I so short of time, Quincy? Because
of something _you've_ done, eh?"

   "Actually, because of something Genom has failed in, as much as it pains
me to admit that."

   Inside her armor, Sylia raised an astonished eyebrow. Quincy, admitting
to an error in judgement? Would wonders never cease? "Nene, are we alone?
Are there any other boomers in the area aside from Quincy's bodyguard?"

   "No, Sylia. None. And the vans are empty. No weapons, either, aside from
what the boomers carry normally. The vans are all standard commercial
vehicles. There's nothing that we haven't faced before, and certainly
nothing that could stop or injure Ed. I don't understand this. Not at all."

   Quincy held out a hand, and one of the boomers opened a briefcase and
placed a file folder and an optical disk in it, He laid them on the table
and addressed Edward.

   "Mr. Edwards.. When last we met, you stated that you understood Genom was
the only thing that means anything to me. That was quite correct, for as far
as it went." He frowned slightly, and continued. "Now, I find myself in an
rather unusual position, in part due to the actions of one of my employees."

   Ed simply gazed across the table, silently.

   "After our recent encounter, I chose to place you in a somewhat higher
category. The same catagory as the USSD, Microsoft Incorporated, the Chang
Conglomerate, Stark-Fujikawa Enterprises, OmniConsumer Products, the Banzai
Institute of Technology and several other major organizations and
governments." He noted Ed's astonished look and smiled slightly, then
continued. "The report by our researchers on your war machine was _most_
enlightening. But I digress. As such, you were placed in the status of
`observe and report'. No deliberate interference with your actions was to be
taken unless they should conflict with Genom's goals and then only if
directly authorized by myself."

   "Then _how_ did the second attack on my shop and the injury to my
employee occur, Mr. Quincy? Would you care to explain _that_?" asked Ed
levelly, fighting for control.

   Quincy noted that the air around Edward was shimmering slightly, rather
like a heat haze. He extracted a photo from the file. "This _was_ William
Jennings, a minor researcher in one of our metalurgy labs. The lab where a
small piece of the armor plate from your mecha was sent. During the analysis
of that fragment, he accessed the files we have accumulated on you. Then he
disappeared."

   "So?"

   "Shortly before the attack on your assistant occured, he re-appeared. On
the Genaros space facility. As Major Sir Henry Landsdown the 12th, of the
USSD Intellegence Service." Quincy's lips twitched ironically. "I find that
both myself and Genom have been placed in a rather invidious position, Mr.
Edwards. For the first time in a very long time, we are actually innocent of
that which we are being accused of. The USSD is apparently still desirous of
the technological progress you represent, and felt that if they were to take
a hostage, they would find you somewhat easier to deal with. More amenable
to their demands. And if their actions should fail to produce the desired
state of mind, the blame could be placed squarely on the shoulders of Genom,
thanks to their use of a covert agent inside the corporation."

   There was a loud crunching sound as Ed's hands crushed a piece of the
tabletop. "You are asking me to believe that you were used in this matter?
That Genom is nothing more than an innocent pawn? Please!"

   "Innocent? No. Nor a pawn. Merely a convenient diversion." Quincy stated.
"Your.. emotional outbursts have been noted, Mr. Edwards. And you _still_
represent a treasure trove of technology that nearly everyone who is aware
of your existance is more that willing to kill to acquire. However, since
your rather dramatic assault on Genom tower weeks ago, none wish to do so
openly. You can expect any number of attempts at manipulation in the weeks
to come. And the simplest method is to enrage you and cause you to act
foolishly, and in haste. This _does_ seem to be your major weakness," he
pointed out.

   The blue armor standing behind Ed twitched slightly, and a faint snicker
could be heard coming from it. He rolled his eyes. "No remarks from the
peanut gallery, please.. I didn't pay twenty million to be _insulted_ by the
Knight Sabers." He returned his attention to Quincy. "And your proof?"

   Quincy pushed the file and the optical disk across the table to Ed.
"Everything we have to date on the good Major Landsdown and the current
situation. Consider it a goodwill offering of sorts, Mr. Edwards. I'm well
aware that you intend to take action against the persons responsible. I 
merely wish to insure that should you choose to take violent action, you 
strike at the proper target." He frowned slightly. "Make no mistake. I am 
not doing this out of the goodness of my heart. This is motivated solely by
a desire to prevent further conflict that Genom finds potentially far too 
costly."

   "Just another cold cash decision, is that it?" Ed's eyes went flat and
hard. "Always the bottom line with Genom."

   Quincy smiled. "That's all it's ever been, Mr. Edwards. The very nature
of business. Nothing more, nothing less." He stood, and turned towards the
limo. "The sooner you learn that, the better. Good day, Mr. Edwards." The
boomers followed him to the car, holding the doors for him and Madagan. Then
the tiny procession drove away.

                                   * * *

   As Mackey drove the van back into Mega-Tokyo, Ed pondered his options.
"Sylia? I'm not certain what to do, here. I can't just stomp on the USSD.
I'd cause more problems than I'd solve. Besides, you need the USSD. Yet if I
do nothing at all, I'll just invite more attacks. Minerva's already been
injured. I can't let this go on."

   "Wait until we return to the garage, Edward. Sylvie and Anri are looking
in on her right now, and she should recover completely." She looked over at
him. "As much as I despise the man, Quincy was right. Most of your problems
are caused by your tendency to.. how did Minerva put it? Your battle plans
are best described as `scream and leap'. Not the best way to fight."

   Ed winced. "You sound just like her."

   Priss considered smirking at him, then remembered the injured woman
waiting in the sickbay at the garage. She put an armored hand on his
shoulder. "She'll be all right, Ed. She's healthy and young.. well.. sorta
young."

   He gave a sharp nod. "She was hurt because I failed to think ahead. That
_isn't_ going to happen again." He remained silent for the rest of the trip.

                                   * * *

   "How are you, pretty lady?"

   "I'm better, lover. I'll be okay." Minvera smiled painfully up at him
from her sickbed. "So this is what it feels like to be hurt."

   "It's my fault, girl," Ed winced. "I should have been there for you.."

   She reached up, laying a finger across his lips and shook her head. "No,
it isn't. We're in this together, boss. If anything, I should have been
watching myself more closely. I've been too absorbed in enjoying my new body
to realize that I need to take precautions with it just as I do with that
part of me that is the Calypso. Now quit blaiming yourself, and go take care
of things." She looked in his eyes. "Just promise me you won't get crazy,
boss."

   He nodded curtly, not trusting his voice, then left the room.

                                   * * *

   Priss was the first to hear the furious screams coming from the garage.

   "HURT! MAIM! SMITE! KILL! HARM! CRUSH! DESTROY! WRITE BAD MICROCODE!
RUIN! BEND! FOLD! SPINDLE! MUTILATE!!" Various and sundry smashing sounds
filled the air. "STUPID PEOPLE!! STUPID MILITARY!! !!STUPID USSD!!" There
was a loud crunching noise. "'ang'eghQo' quv Hutlhbogh jagh neH ghobtaHvIS
ghaH!!

   Priss nudged Doctor Raven. "I think that was the engine Mackey was trying
to rebuild.. you wanna check?"

   The elderly scientist glared at her. "I am old, not stupid. You go check."

   "Me? Why would _I_ volunteer for that?"

   Doc Raven held up a bottle of his special fuel. "If he destroys the
garage, you won't be getting any more of this."

   "Ouch. That's fighting dirty, Pops..."

   "Doctor!!"

   "Okay, okay... <sheesh>."

                                   * * *

   From her bed, Minerva could hear him too. His emotions were bleeding into
the link. *He's cursing in tlhIngan again. Not good.* {Boss.. Boss! DAMMIT
BOSS! LISTEN TO ME!!}

   Ed dropped a piece of scrap metal he'd been hammering on the concrete
floor. It struck his foot, and bounced off, unnoticed. {Baby? You should be
resting! Why aren't you resting, girl?!}

   {Well,} she replied dryly, {It's easier to rest when people aren't
keeping me up with noisy temper tantrums, you know...}

   {Oh... err... ahh...}

   {Yes. Now, for just this once, shut up and _listen_! Calm down, let the
Sabers back into their garage, and get a handle on your emotions. They TOLD
you I'm going to be all right, _I_ told you I'm going to be all right, and
if you'd take the time to look at the diagnostics, you'd _see_ that I'm
going to be all right.  So will you _please_ stop behaving like a two-year
old and get with the program?}

   {Uhh.. I'm sorry?}

   {Good. Now move the junk that's blocking the door and let Priss and
Doctor Raven in. Clean up the mess, then go take a nap before you do
anything else.}

   A frustrated rage boiled over the link, then slowly faded. {Yes, pretty
lady. You sound just like my mother, you know?}

   {Good. And don't you forget it.}

   He sighed, and moved the pile of scrap away from the door, opening it and
looking at Priss and Doctor Raven. "I'm sorry. I lost my temper. But I tried
not to break anything of value this time. And I'll pay for all the damages."
He looked around the room and started cleaning up the mess he'd created.
"Ah, well. It could have been worse. I could have ended up as the 142nd
fastest gun in the west."

   Priss looked at him, puzzled. "What?"

   He snorted. "Old joke, Priss. Before your time. I guess you had to be
there."

/* 
** add
*/ 

   "The enemy of my enemy is my friend."
      - Old Arab Proverb.

   "So with friends like these, who needs enemies?"
      - Old Jewish Proverb.

   Looking down at the file and the optical disk Quincy had given him, Ed
scratched at his forehead. The contents of both _seemed_ straightforward.
And if the information had come from anyone else but Genom, he'd have been
inclined to trust it

   But that was the sticking point. It _had_ come from Genom. It had come
straight from Quincy's own hands, to be precise. Not the best reccomendation
in the world.

   "It could be a setup," he muttered. "Or simply a wild goose chase to keep
me busy while they're doing something behind my back. But do they consider
me enough of a snarl in their string to go to this much trouble?" He slapped
a hand on the desk, causing it to creak loudly. "Dammit, if this is legit,
it's invaluable. If it isn't.. it's not even worth the paper it's printed 
on. Trusting Genom and Quincy... how low can you get?"

   *I do NOT want to disturb Minerva with this. I already feel bad enough
for bothering her with my little rant. I need to verify this. But how can I?
This isn't my world. I don't know where to go or who to see. Who do I
know... Yes!*

   He reached for the vid-phone. "Sylia? Can you put me in touch with Fargo?
I think I might have a job for him. I'll pay double.. no, triple his usual
rates. Plus expenses and a bonus. What the hell.. it's only gold."

                                   * * *

   "Can Fargo handle this, Sylia? I know that I'm asking for a lot, and not
giving him much time to do it in."

   Sylia nodded. "It shouldn't be too difficult. You're asking him to verify
information you already have, not gathering info you don't. And offering to
pay all of his expenses as well as triple his usual fee will speed things
up."

   He nodded absently. "Money often buys a loose tongue where nothing else
will. A universal truth, albeit an unpleasant one. No matter what universe 
you happen to come from." He gritted his teeth. "If this Landsdown character
_does_ work for the USSD, they're going to pay, Sylia. I'm not going to take
this lying down."

   "A straightforward attack would be foolish, Edward. And you'd damage more
than the USSD. The army would be called out to assist in its defence."

   Ed frowned at Sylia. "Then what?"

   "Something more subtle. I've been talking with Minerva while she's been
healing, and together, we've come up with an idea." She handed him a piece
of paper. "Take a look at this, please."

   "Orbital co-ordinates? What good will those do me? What are they to..
OH!" His jaw dropped and he stared at Sylia, his face awestruck. "Damn my
eyes. You know.. it's a damned good thing you're one of the good guys. If
you were sitting in Quincy's office, say, with all the resources of Genom
behind you..." He shivered, and shook his head. "No one would stand a chance
against you."

   She smiled, and bowed slightly. "Thank you."

   Ed looked over the numbers, running a finger down the list. "Looks like
you have the position of every single one of them here. Bet _this_ wasn't
easy to get."

   "I did have to call in a few favors."

   "Well, I'll make good on them for you. I owe you big for this one, Sylia.
Really big. Thank you."


/* 
** add (Fargo verifies info.)
*/ 

   Ed looked around at the traditional Japanese teahouse. "Let me guess.
Fargo just watched a re-run of `The Teahouse Of the August Moon', right?"

   Sylia nudged him. "It's Fargo's choice where he meets us. Besides, I find
it somewhat humorous."

   The aforementioned fixer stepped into the small room. "Thank you for the
vote of confidence, Sylia." He nodded to Ed. "I have the information you've
requested, Mr. Edwards. The bonus and extra expense cash speeded things up
considerably."

   The three sat. Ed looked at the cup of green tea dubiously, and sighed.
"So.. what did you find, Fargo?"

   "For one thing, the files that Genom gave you were extensively edited,
but nothing in them was incorrect. It was the USSD behind what happened to
you, and it was started by an agent they had planted on Genom. One Major
Henry Charles Landsdown the 12th. Seconded to the USSD from British
Intellegence in the early 2020's. Currently posted to the Genaros space
station for an indefinite period. No explanation, or assignment given. The
USSD unit on Genaros was told to shut up and ask no questions why he was
there. That was all I was able to get on him. Most of his carreer is still
under seal by the British government."

   "No use pushing that.. I remember what those guys are like. After 900
years of spying experience, the Brits know their business. Besides, it's
obvious to me why he was transferred to Genaros. They're trying to keep him
out of my reach. Okay.. who's this Colonel that gave him his marching
orders?"

   Fargo smiled. "A Colonel Kevin McCarthy. Head of the USSD's intellegence
section, and a stone cold bastard. He could give Quincy lessons in nasty."

   "That bad, eh?"

   "Listen, this gentleman considers playing both ends against the middle to
be a parlor game.. just something he does to while away the hours when he's 
a little bored, and the REAL fun hasn't started yet." He eyed Ed carefully.
"I don't know who you really are, and since Sylia's vouched for you, I don't
_want_ to know who you are. But this man is a serious player." He fliped
open a palmtop computer and tapped in a password. Data scrolled up it's tiny
screen.

   "Colonel Kevin McCarthy. Born Londonderry, Ireland, in 1975. His family
was IRA since before time began. His father was a member of the Provisional
Irish Republican Army and one of their best infiltrators. Kevin was even
better. He even scared his fellow Provos. He was one of the yongest heads of
internal security they ever had. And the most ruthless. He had an ugly habit
of using IRA assets to settle personal scores, which earned him more than a
few enemies inside the ranks of the IRA itself. When the Catholics won, and
Northern Ireland was merged with Ireland, young McCarthy didn't have any
playmates left to shoot at, aside from a few Protestants here and there who
were too stubborn or stupid to leave with the rest. So he left the auld sod
and joined the USSD. Climbed through the ranks swiftly, a little too
swiftly, some say. More that a few fellow officers wound up with a knife in
the back that had Kevin's name on it. But _never_ his fingerprints. He
_always_ had an air-tight alibi. Became the head of the USSD's intelligence
section about 2020.. it's hard to get an exact date. He's been there ever
since."

   Fargo snapped the palmtop shut with a soft click. "He's buried more
enemies than a professional grave digger. Not someone you want to cross if
you can possibly avoid it."

   "Not exactly Time magazine's `Man of the Year', eh?"

   "No."



/* 
** scene at USSD HQ.
*/ 

   "What's the point of having god-like powers if you don't abuse them?"
      - Garry Donnely, "Weird Science"

   Ed slipped behind the wheel of his Capri, and started it up. As he pulled
into the stream of traffic, he reached for the link with Minerva. {Baby,
give me a downlink to Sylia.}

   {Done, boss. Just say `phone home' and she'll hear you.}

   {Phone home?! You've been flipping through the video archives again,
haven't you. <sigh> I never should have exposed you to my cheesey taste in
movies.}

   {It's a little boring when half of me is stuck in a hospital bed, lover
boy.}

   {Granted. Just don't go overboard with the quotes, all right? Now give me
Sylia.}

   {What's the magic words?}

   <Grumblefuckmutterdamngripe> {Phone home, please.. Sylia?}

   {Speaking.}

   {Okay.. I'm headed over to USSD HQ. Do you have me?}

   {You're coming through five by five. Mackie has a lock on the beacon in
your car with the van, and we're about a kilometer behind you, more or
less.}

   {Okay. I don't expect this will get violent... but then I didn't expect
to get into a shooting war with Genom either. Thanks for watching my six for
me, Sylia.}

   {You're paying for the service. By the way.. I would appreciate it if you
were to pay me in platinum this time. I have certain uses for it, and the
supply is rather limited.}

   {Platinum? Okay. No problem. I.. whoops!}

   Listening to Edward's end of the conversation, Sylia heard what sounded
like a particularly inventive brand of profanity. She turned to the front of
the van. "Is there a problem, Mackie?"

   Ed's angry voice interrupted from the speaker. "Hey, idiot! Yeah, you!
Gerber's baby food handing out driver's licences again? Whoops.. Sorry,
Sylia.. Didn't mean for you to hear that bit. I just got cut off by some
idiot in an econobox. Where will you be when I'm inside?"

   "The USSD has fairly sensitive detection equipment, as we discovered when
they attempted to scan our suits the last time they hired us. We'll be about
2 kilometers away. Not far, in a hardsuit."

   "Good. And I promise I won't fire the first shot, Sylia. I _will_ try to
keep my temper."

   "Excellent. We'll monitor you as best we can from outside, but for the
most part you're going to be on your own with this."

   The car pulled up outside USSD headquarters, and into the visitor's
parking area. Ed waved to a guard standing outside the main entrance. "I
have an appointment with a Colonel McCarthy. Can you direct me to his
office?"

   The guard picked up a phone and made a call. He nodded, and pointed to a
directory on the wall. "Third floor, sir. You'll need a visitor's pass.
There is a kiosk in the lobby. You can pick it up there. You'll have to show
your ID and sign in, first."

   "Thank you, Corporal." He stepped inside, went through the process,
picked up the pass and got directions to the office.

   There was a captain waiting for him in the outer office. "Colonel
McCarthy is rather eager to see you, sir. He was extremely happy when you
called earlier." The young officer frowned. "You are somewhat late, sir."

   "That, Captain, was entirely intentional. Now you tell him I'm here."

   The captain escorted him into the inner office, where a short square man
with iron grey hair sat behind a plain, military issue desk. The man looked
up. "That will be all, Captain Eav. Dismissed." The younger officer saluted,
and left.

   The short man looked across the desk at his visitor. "Took you long
enough. We'll have to get you over to the labs ASAP. We'll want a working
teleportation device immediately."

   "Just a little presumptuous, aren't you?"

   The USSD officer stared at Ed rudely. "Who do you think is in charge
here? It certainly isn't you. We want what you have, and we intend to get it
from you no matter what it takes."

   "And that includes sicking a pair of boomers on a helpless woman, sending
a couple to trash to trash my shop and a six-pack of hyperboomers to harrass
me?"

   McCarthy snorted. "You should be grateful we simply didn't kill her. As
it was, we normally would have attacked you instead. The reason we didn't
was due to the reports we received from our agent inside Genom."

   "Ah, yes... the ever efficient Major Landsdown. Someone else I have a bit
of a grievance with." A muscle jumped in his jaw. "So you're saying you went
after my assistant because you knew you couldn't threaten me with physical
harm."

   McCarthy laughed. "Exactly. And you're going to behave, or she's going to
be hurt again. And next time, she might not survive." He smiled. "In fact, I
think we'll be taking her into our custody. We wouldn't want her to be
injured unless we're the ones who are doing the injury." He dropped the
jovial attitude like the mask it was and pointed a finger at Ed. "If you
want her to stay safe, you are going to cooperate. And it had best be a
willing, cheerful and enthusiastic cooperation, Mr. Edwards, or you won't
see her again." He poured himself a drink. "On the other hand... there _are_
rewards for those who choose to side with us. Life can become extremely
comfortable, if you are willing to throw your lot in with us." He raised his
glass. "Twenty year old Bushmills whisky. I don't even pay for it."

   "You know.. right about now, I'm wondering if your superiors even know
what you're doing. This whole thing reeks of someone who is trying to pull
off a bit of internal politicing." Ed looked around the office. "In fact, it
might be rather interesting to read a recent tax audit on you."

   McCarthy actually laughed. "You don't even know the half of it. You have
all that power in your little invention, and you waste it playing a hero.
Building ridiculous mecha, harrassing muggers, chasing rogue boomers, acting
like every cliche'd action hero in every bad movie ever made... heh. But 
don't worry. We'll teach you the _proper_ use of power." He smirked. "Who 
knows, we might even succeed in teaching you to enjoy it."

   "Teach me to _enjoy_ using people?" Ed's voice went bitterly cold.

   McCarthy nodded, smiling widely.

   "That was the last damn straw." Ed looked at him grimly. "Now get this
and get it straight, you idiotic collection of colloidal proteins! I have
had it up to _here_ with everyone and their idiot cousins trying to use
and/or abuse me! First Genom, then you... Who's next on the parade, the
bloody Boy Scouts?" His fists clenched, and he shook slightly. "I tried to
be calm and reasonable. I tried to be polite. I _tried_ to treat you
microcephalic military morons like sensible, thinking human beings. That
stops here and now. Just because I made someone a promise to use no _direct_
violence doesn't mean I can't take you and your annoying little
pseudo-military militia apart like a cheap wristwatch!"

   "What are you going to do?" sneered the Colonel.

   Ed matched him, sneer for sneer. "The USSD exists for a purpose. If you
can't carry out that purpose you'll be replaced by something that can. And 
the world will do all the dirty work for me. I won't have to lift a finger."
He tapped the antique Casio chronograph he was wearing. "I felt the scans,
Colonel. You had me searched me for any weapons or communication devices
that I might have tried to carry in here, but you never considered something
as simple as a dead-man's switch. Payback starts in about five minutes.
Enjoy the show."

   McCarthy looked at him sharply. "What the hell have you done?"

   "Wait for it, Colonel. It'll be MUCH more fun that way.. trust me." His
face went cold and unfeeling. "You tried to take something very important
away from me. So I'm merely returning the favor. You said something about
learning to enjoy the abuse of power? Allow _me_ to teach _you_ a lesson in
the use of power." He pulled out a cigar from a jacket pocket, pointedly
ignoring the `No Smoking' sign on McCarthy's desk, and lit up.

   Colonel McCarthy glared at him, but waited. About ten minutes later, a
rising tide of noise in the hallway outside his office attracted his
attention. He tapped the intercom on his desk and sent his secretary to find
out what was going on. The young captain returned, his face blanched.

   "Sir! Sir! It's the orbital beam-sats!"

   "What about them?" replied McCarthy testily.

   "They're _disappearing_!"

   The Colonel's eyes went wide. "What do you _mean_ they're disappearing?!
TALK TO ME, YOU FOOL!"

   The captain quailed, and Ed reached over to pat him comfortingly on the
shoulder. "Return to your desk, Captain. I can tell the Colonel what's going
on." He looked over at McCarthy. "Like I said, buddy boy. Payback's a bitch.
Never considered the other uses that the technology you wanted to steal from
me might have, eh?"

   McCarthy glared at him. "It's you. You're destroying them."

   "Not destroying them. They're still quite intact. I've merely... moved
them elsewhere. Actually, you're rather fortunate, Colonel. A friend of mine
convinced me I'd get a better revenge doing it this way than if I simply
stomped into your office with a mecha." He puffed on the cigar, blowing a
cloud of smoke in McCarthy's face. "Your beam-sats are still around. And
you'll get them back. On one condition. I think you can guess the terms."

   "You expect us to back down like some inferior _civilian_ corporation?"

   Ed nodded. "I take it you've been informed of the.. truce, for lack of a
better word, that Genom and I have struck. As soon as the USSD agrees to
leave me alone, it will get its satelites back. It's that simple. Inform
your superiors, McCarthy. And don't push me again. If you do, I'm going to
push back. Hard."

   He stubbed out his cigar on McCarthy's desk and rose to leave, turning
back towards the desk when he heard the soft rasp of metal against leather -
a very soft sound, but a very distinctive one if you're listening for it -
and faced a pistol leveled at him.

   "Don't move. I don't care what you have to do, but you're going to give
back those satelites right NOW!"

   Ed looked at the gun and smiled thinly. "Please put that down. You might
hurt yourself with a stray riccochet. And I don't want that. Not yet,
anyway."

   McCarthy looked at the gun in his hand and slowly lowered it to the desk,
shaking in anger and frustration. "You can't do this to us. You can't!"

   "Correction. I already have. Call me when you make up your minds." Ed's
smile went razor-sharp. "I believe you already know where to find me." With
that, he stepped out the door.


/* 
** add
*/ 

   He didn't drive back to the book store. Instead, he turned off towards
Doc Raven's garage, after making certain with Sylia that he hadn't picked up
any tails. When Sylia and Mackie entered the room they saw him sitting
there, his face tight with fury and his hands shaking violently.

   She nodded at him. "Troubles?"

   She was answered by a vicious growl. "I swear by _EVERYTHING_ I hold
sacred. If that idiot hurts Minerva again, or even looks at her cross-eyed,
I'm going to wring his neck until his _hair_ bleeds!"

   Priss stepped through the door and smirked. "Now _there's_ an interesting
image. Losing your temper again, buddy boy?" Sylia waved the singer back and
looked at him levelly. "What brought this on?"

   Ed growled again, and fished a small disk from his pocket. "I had Min
make a recording of the meeting, using our personal link. They had no way of
detecting that. You'd better watch it." He slipped it into a small player,
and the Sabers witnessed the entire meeting from his point of view. When it
was over, Sylia pursed her lips.

   "This McCarthy appears to be something of a sadist. And he seems to take
a certain enjoyment in the corruption of the innocent," she noted. She
raised an eyebrow at the hurt look Ed gave her, and smiled. "Not that you
are _that_ innocent, Edward."

   "Nice save," whispered Priss. Sylia shot her a mildly annoyed look and
continued. "McCarthy seems to have viewed you as a challenge on a personal
basis, much the same way a mountain climber might view an unconquered peak.
This means that he's unlikely to retreat unless forcibly made to do so.
Doubly so, since you've already forced him into an untenable position. He
_must_ back down in order to get the beam sats back, and that's humiliated
him. That will make him _far_ more determined to win. In other words... from
now on, it's become more than a personal contest. Now it's revenge."

   "I got news for him," Ed snapped. "If the USSD wants those satellites
back, they'd best muzzle their dog. Because if they don't, I _will_. I
promised you that I wouldn't get violent anymore, Sylia, but this goes way
beyond that. I will NOT allow Minerva to be endangered again. If that
two-bit IRA reject thinks he can get to me through my friends, then hide
from me behind the USSD's skirts, he's got another think coming. If he even
_fantasizes_ about blackmailing me with a friend's life, I'm going to toss
those beam sats into the sun. Then I'm going to work my way through every
piece of military hardware in orbit, Genaros included!"

   "You gave me your word, Edward. You promised to refrain from needless 
violence while you were here," said Sylia. "I'm holding you to that
promise."

   "I said no fatal actions, Sylia. Nothing that would endanger human life.
But if any humans are safely deposited on the landing fields at the USSD
spaceport outside Mega-Tokyo _before_ the hardware is destroyed, does that
violate the terms of our agreement?"

   Sylia paused, considering. "Interesting. That would be within the letter
of your agreement, if not quite within the spirit. You could guarantee that
there would be no fatalities?"

   He nodded confidently. "I can."

   "Then I see no reason why I should forbid you. It would cost the USSD
greatly if they were forced to replace so much equipment. Striking at the
checkbook is one of the most effective means of revenge." She frowned
slightly. "However, it would be best if you and Minerva were to keep me
informed as to your actions. The USSD will react strongly. It is best to
take certain precautions."

     "I will. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry, Sylia." His shoulders
drooped. "It's just that despite everything I seen and done, underneath it
all, I'm not really a very civilized person. When someone hurts the people 
I lo.. care about, it brings out the worst in me." He gave her a crooked
grin. "Thank you for following me. If you hadn't been there, I might have 
done something unpleasant to McCarthy.. something involving sharp, barbed
hooks.  Red hot ones."

   She looked him over. "Would you like a moment alone to compose
yourself?"

   "I _am_ composed, Sylia. I'm not nearly as angry now as I was an hour
ago. In fact, I'm rather proud of my self-control at the moment. I haven't
even once suggested burning McCarthy at the stake."

   Priss snickered. "Now _there's_ a suggestion I could get behind."

   They both gave her a look that time.

/* 
** add
*/

   Two men in business suits strode into `Rare Books', pulled heavy pistols
and took up back to back positions on either side of the door. Ed's lips
thinned, but he recognized them as bodyguard types, and waited. Sure enough,
they were followed by two men in blue USSD officer uniforms.

   One was a heavyset elderly man, balding, with an iron grey beard. The
other, much younger, appeared to be an aid-de-camp. It took a few seconds,
but he realized he'd seen them before.

   *The anime. They're the same two gomers that hired Sylia and the Sabers
to retrieve Cynthia, then tried to take scans of their suits using that
bogus security camera. Cute. Is _everyone_ who works for the USSD a
blithering idiot? Maybe it's a job requirement, or something.*

   He snorted loudly, then pointed to the rear of the store. "Gentlemen, my
office. I believe we have some things to speak about."

   The Commander nodded, and the two stepped in. Ed followed, and waved them
to a seat. He reached for his humidor, paused, and decided to make a peace
guesture. He pulled out two Havana cigars, offering one to the commander.
"I'm aware you smoke, Commander. Try one of mine. I get them straight from
Cuba."

   The Commander nodded, and accepted the smoke. "We're here to discuss your
recent actions at our headquarters."

   "I know that. And only a fool would fail to realize that you want your
satellites back _now_."

   Puffing the cigar alight, he looked at Edward steadily. "And _I'm_ well
aware you want something in return. What is it?"

   "Hard as it may be to believe, Commander, simply peace. Shorten McCarthy's
leash, and _keep_ it short, where I'm concerned. That, and one thing more."

   The older man looked at him closely. "What else?"

   "I'm not stupid enough to think you'll simply stop trying to pry
technological secrets out of me, Commander. To be _that_ stupid, I'd have 
to be brain-dead. But it's in your best interests to avoid involving my
friends." Ed's fingers tapped on the desk. "Coming after me; that's one
thing. It's irksome, but it's something I've learned to live with over the
past twenty years. But involving innocents in the conflict? _That_ pisses me
off, Commander. I've seen more wars in my time than you'll ever see. And
there's one thing they ALL had in common. Too damned many cases of
`collateral damage'."

   The Commander stroked his beard thoughtfully. "So if we restrict our
`dealings' to you, and you alone, then...?"

   "Then you're perfectly welcome to do so, Commander. Spy on me all you
want. Send boomers to `persuade' me. Do all you want to _me_. Feel free. But
hands off my friends. Break the deal, and next time, you'll lose Genaros.
After that, you'll lose the Moonbase and the asteroid mining facilities.
Push me far enough, and by the time I'm through, space travel will be set
back by 100 years. Is that clear enough?"

   The Commander nodded. "That's acceptable. Do you want McCarthy killed for
his attack on your employee?"

   *Jesus Quack! What a cold blooded barstard.* "If I wanted him dead, he'd
have _been_ dead before I'd left his office, Commander. And if I should need
him dead in the future, I'll do it myself. I shoot my own dogs." He closed
his eyes for a brief moment. {Min?}

   {Yes, b'wana?}

   {Start putting the beam sats back in place. One at a time. Slowly.} He
opened his eyes and looked across the desk. "You'll get your beam sats back,
Commander. The first one will be in place in moments. And I believe that
concludes our business."

   "It does." The officer smiled, and tapped the cigar in the ashtray. "An
excellent brand. Where do you buy them?"

   "It's a house-grown brand, custom rolled for me. I'll messenger a box
over to your office." He paused for a moment. "One last thing, Commander."

   "Yes?"

   "Just because I'm willing to put up with _personal_ attacks.. does NOT
mean I'm not going to retaliate. Make no mistake about that."


/* 
** add
*/