Bubblegum Crisis is Owned by...I guess now its AIC, but more importantly
is the product of Keiichi Sonada's impressive imagination. This fic is
set nearly a hundred years after an alternate ending to BGC and contains
mature language, themes and sentence structure; don't fear the
semicolon.
Ten Years Before:
To human eyes the data stream looked however the interface program
rendered it, from the neo Noir trappings of BEBOP to the sleek metallic
future painted by GENOS. It had beauty, sometimes-indescribable amounts
of it, but was constantly translated from its original form. No human
could truly perceive the menace this region of the Net contained as
their vision was composed simply of objects floating on the data stream.
To a machine intelligence this area projected malice and rage, the
emotions patterned into the 'stream itself by the data contained in the
secure systems this place was connected to. Deep, dark shadows of
information stretched themselves across the narrow bandwidth, shadowing
the form that had come here. An essence, pure and elegant in its
demeanor, gazed at the monstrosity before it.
In machine language the central construct read 'Mason, J.' The last
alone was a name that resonated in the modern world even more than
Hitler had in the past. A reconstructed personality, made at the behest
of the Chairman nearly forty years before, that was responsible for more
suffering and death than any single entity before or since.
Now the basic data that had formed the reconstructed being was housed
here, deep in the heart of Genom's central computer. Shielded by two
full AI's and countless DAI's, Mason's 'memorial' was considered
adequately safe. Should the unthinkable happen and someone try to steal
the Mason data the system would fry the hardware itself, leaving nothing
of the former executive's existence behind.
The essence before the massive construct gazed on, its form indistinct.
A bit of the essence brushed against the container, a chill passing
between the two information systems. What did it feel like? The essence
wondered morbidly, when you let that plague loose? Did you smile,
knowing the effects? Did you not think before your little machines cut
through the children of the world?
The other vessel was not answering.
Large stretches of the planet had yet to recover from the nano-plague,
gray marks on the surface of the earth where nanites still struggled
with one another, Genom's hunters locked in battle with Mason's
children. With an almost wistful turn the essence departed, the little
light in the area finally extinguished. In the darkness something else
moved, approaching the Mason construct in a similar manner to the first
visitor.
There was nothing elegant about this visitor, nothing remotely similar
to the first besides its vague appearance. It too touched the construct,
though there was nothing contemplative about the connection. The dark
stranger went to work on its task with obvious care and patience.
After all, who came to visit the world's biggest murderer.
"How do I know loving life is not a delusion? How do I know that in
hating death I am not like a man who, having left home in his youth, has
forgotten his way back?"
-Chuang Tzu, Discussions on Making All Things Equal
'How's she doing?' Patricia asked, worry penetrating her voice. The
girl's body was shaking slightly, though the suit seemed to be
containing the bleeding. Chiriko turned her over, wincing as she saw the
size of the exit wound. 'Boxer rounds,' she said worriedly. 'We've got a
rail gun sniper around here somewhere.'
"One of your friends?" Ingrid asked their prisoner, anger in her voice.
"Nope. Looks like boxer rounds though, and there's only one company
that makes em." He looked over at the twitching body for a moment, then
faced the firm suit again. "We're in a kill zone here, and those fancy
suits of yours don't seem to be capable of stopping Genom's big guns. I
take it this wasn't in your plan?"
Ingrid turned away in irritation. "Its your ass too," she told him.
"Your boss wants it in one piece though," Smith shot back.
'How is she?' Ingrid asked Chiriko, ignoring the suit telemetry
reports.
'The suit's stopping the worst of the bleeding, but her shoulder is
shattered. She'll need it replaced if we get out this.' The blue suit
paused. 'Look we can't stay here and we've got no idea what we're up
against. Can we call in the Wing?'
'For a hot evac?' Ingrid asked. 'I'd like to know what we're up against
first just to make sure they're not trying to flush out our support.
Patricia, Chiriko fast break pattern. I'll coordinate.'
'Roger,' the two others said in unison. They stood from a crouch and
dashed forward as Ingrid activated the full tactical interface. The Tac
Interface roared into action, collating the data from line of sight
laser comm bursts and compiling it all into a real time simulation of
the battle. Patricia was darting forward, changing her direction every
hundredth of a second. Her sensors were reporting multiple contacts and
as she continued laser blasts erupted from the enemies.
Ingrid recognized the return signatures from Greece. She tagged the
contacts J-series and updated the other suits' battle computer.
'Careful,' she told Patricia, though the historian's speed was blinding.
She was apparently too fast for even the boomers to track properly in
the bad weather, and the rain was doing a good job of blunting the laser
attacks.
Chiriko leapt from her position, sailing across the distance between
her and the remaining six boomers not engaged with Patricia. As soon as
she landed she began blasting, rail gun slugs drilling through the
bizarre looking boomers. She picked out the ones with the rail guns
easily, their nightmare skin stretched around a blocky looking weapon
embedded at the shoulder.
Patricia lashed out with her particle beams, twin azure spikes erupting
from around her wrists. They both landed on the same boomer, knocking it
down in a pool of new glass. The responding lasers started connecting at
the closer range, but they were still too weak to penetrate the
defractive field.
Ingrid watched the telemetry returns, impressed by the performances her
teammates were offering. Patricia had closed in with a pack of the
J-series and was twisting in a series of moves that Ingrid couldn't hope
to follow, her cutting whips trailing behind her motions. Chiriko was
holding her own as well, bouncing between the three boomers still
standing near her. More importantly they managed to occupy all ten of
the combat boomers.
They weren't getting away unscathed, Ingrid noticed as she concentrated
on the data streaming through her consciousness. Patricia's green suit
was torn in a few places and the nanites hadn't managed to seal the
gaps. Blood was visible, though it was mixed with the yellow fluid that
served as coolant in the Jubei boomers. Ingrid watched two of the
J-series double team Chiriko, driving vicious punches into her
midsection. Even the firm suit couldn't stoop the force of the punches
and Chiriko went down.
"No doing so well," Smith said, his hand busily working on another
cigarette. How he kept the papers dry in the wet wind was anyone's
guess, but he calmly folded, twisted and licked the smoke he created.
The sound of his lighter was inaudible above the wind and battle, but
its flash lit his face for a moment. "Shouldn't you give them a hand?"
"And leave her with you?" Ingrid shot back, annoyed that she didn't
ignore him. Smith grinned back at her.
"I'll be a perfect gentleman. Besides, what good would it do me?
Genom's probably got some serious firepower headed out here and they
want me dead more than you guys do." He took a drag from his smoke,
barely catching his hat as a fierce gust nearly took it off his head.
Ingrid stood, conscious of Chiriko's broken rib and Patricia slowly
getting pushed back, the Jubei series' homogenous tactics and numbers
finally getting the better of the two Sabers. "Fuck," she muttered, and
stood, deactivating the tactical interface with a thought. She wasn't
nearly accomplished enough at its use to try and fight hand to hand with
it on. She sent one message to the OTV, stirring the vehicle from its
standby mode.
Then she sprinted down the hill at the battle, a loud yell building
deep in her stomach and finally tearing free as she hit the hundred
kilometer an hour mark. She took one of the nightmare boomers with a
sword strike across the neck, the barbwire body stiffening as its head
was torn off. Skidding to a stop just past Chiriko she focused the beam
cannon in her palm at the Boomer pinning Chiriko. The blistering heat
tore deep into the robot's chest, and Chiriko kicked it far into the air
as she leapt to her feet.
Six boomers remained standing, three clustered around Patricia and the
rest facing Ingrid and Chiriko. Chiriko charged, her own sword extended.
Her battle cry sounded insane as she slammed her shoulder into one of
the boomers, knocking it back. Another lined up against Ingrid, blasting
her with its laser as it closed to hand to hand. The machine moved with
none of the grace a martial artist, rather each move was calculated for
the maximum force delivered. Throws were plotted by the equations of
motion formulated almost a thousand years before.
Each strike was predictable, Ingrid remembered the efficiency of the
J-series' slaughter well enough from Greece, but there was little she
could do against them but back up and block. In machine glee the robot
pressed her, closing the distance between its lethal hands and Ingrid's
body. The others telemetry reported increased damage, and in Patricia's
case serious blood loss. But the medical nanites kept them on their feet
and still alive.
'Lets go ladies,' Ingrid demanded as her opponent forced in closer.
'Ten J-series isn't nearly enough to shut Chiriko up.'
'Real funny, but who's the one getting backed up by a former coworker?'
Chiriko shot back, driving her sword into the center of the nearest
boomer. The machine staggered to the ground, leaving five.
'Quit joking and give Patricia a hand,' Ingrid replied. The musician
silent complied, relieving some of the pressure from the quiet
historian. Stepping forward to get inside the arc of the attacking
boomer, Ingrid drove a fist into the machine's chest. It staggered back,
unprepared for the series of kicks it received.
Capitalizing on the machine's lack of balance, Ingrid tore its legs out
from under it. Though it immediately began rolling to its feet, Ingrid
stepped back and unleashed the plasma stored under pressure in her right
forearm. Focused by the magnetic fields it tore into the boomer, thermal
energy tearing the memory metal chassis into bits of magnetized
shrapnel.
The remaining four boomers regrouped, somehow escaping the frenzied
attacks Chiriko sent their way. Ingrid maneuvered the battered Sabers
between their most wounded member, and a moment of calm materialized.
The winds died down a bit and the raindrops seemed to lose a bit of
force as they pelted down from the storm.
All the rail gun armed boomers lay destroyed, so the boomers pestered
the Sabers with a collection of laser and missile attacks. Ingrid,
taking Andrea's job as Electronic Warfare provider, couldn't handle the
incoming rounds and withdrew back up the shallow hill. Fending off the
now cautious boomers proved a difficult task and Ingrid knew it would
only get worse when the boomers had easy shots at Smith and Andrea.
'They're trying to flank us!' she cautioned as one of the boomers tried
to slide around Patricia on the flank. The cutting whips lashed out,
guided by magnetic fields slaved to Patricia's thoughts, and the boomer
lost an arm in the flanking attempt.
'We can't give ground forever,' Chiriko told her, her voice taut with
pain.
'Cavalry should be here shortly,' Ingrid replied, checking the OTV's
status. She interfaced with the ship's controls, designating targets for
suppression fire. She also prepped the medical systems, referring them
to Andrea's firm suit's auto-doc. 'In firing range in twenty seconds.
Pickup in a hundred twenty.'
'Thank god,' Patricia said, her voice tired. 'I don't think I'll be
able to hold these guys back much longer,' she added, causing Ingrid to
double-check the historian's status. She hissed as she glanced at the
readout and sent another message to the OTV's medical suite.
Visibility had dropped again, the wet sands whipped up by the wind
coming straight off the sea with nothing but the big metal block to slow
them. Her suit tensed as she loosed another plasma salvo, warning her of
high-energy expenditure. Six seconds until suppression fire, the OTV
reported. Its powerful sensors also relayed returns from six high-speed
interceptors, currently being vectored from the Arcology's airbase.
Their ETA was just over three hundred seconds.
Five seconds until the OTV could help and the boomers surged forward
through the murky sandstorm. Particle fire greeted them as Chiriko took
point, her beam cannon savagely mauling one of the advancing J-series.
The others countered with a concentrated missile barrage, pure numbers
defeating Chiriko's electronic warfare systems. The explosion sent her
flying in the direction of Smith and Andrea.
Three seconds, Ingrid thought as she readied her plasma gun. The suit
told her it would be the final shot of the system, and recommended
against using it. Two seconds and Patricia fell to her knees, blood loss
finally overtaking her. Ingrid darted over to her fallen comrade,
forcing herself to lift the woman in an awkward grasp. One second and
the boomers were nearly on them. Desperate, Ingrid dumped her remaining
power into the plasma generator and fired at a spot between the three
active boomers and herself. The explosion knocked Ingrid and Patricia
back, drops of melted sand scattering across them. It slowed the boomers
down until the countdown reached zero.
The brilliant beam of light that stabbed from the heart of the storm
nearly blinded Ingrid, even through the flash compensators. The roaring
sound of a million cubic meters of displaced air threatened to deafen
her and her suit struggled to deal with the wave of heat that washed
across her body. Of the boomers nothing remained besides a discoloration
in the newly formed glass pond.
A moment or two later the OTV emerged from the storm, floating steady
on twin columns of superheated air. It looked like a video game addict's
design, all smooth flowing lines conveying utter lethality and elegance.
Compared to the blunt looking Tonobu it was a beauty, and Ingrid
couldn't think of a better sight. Keeping her voice emotionless, she
said: "Lets get moving people, Genom fighters are on their way." She was
proud that her voice revealed none of the amazement she felt at drawing
another breath.
Smith stood next to the airlock door, mindful of the safety locks
preventing it from use. In his hands he held his pouch of tobacco
contemplatively, holding an inner council on the events of the day. More
happened than even he expected and the plans he and K-DAI had laid were
nothing more than idealistic musings. He was reminded of the oddness of
his day as one of the Sabers approached from what he knew was the
medical section of the amazing little OTV. She was Asian, her black hair
pulled back in a severe ponytail. He identified her as the one in blue
from her walk, but remained silent until she approached.
"Got another one of those?" she asked tersely, an unconscious hand on
her ribs revealing she was in pain. Smith looked down at her and nodded.
"Can you roll?" he asked her as he readied the papers and tobacco. Her
grin was the only answer. He handed her the papers and a small clump of
tobacco and watched as she spread the brown mass onto the paper.
"Which one are you?" Smith asked as he watched, slightly curious as to
the identities of his pseudo-captors. The ramifications of their
openness were concerning, but he still had the information they needed.
A card he held, which appeared to trump.
"Subon Chiriko," the woman responded, pausing to lick the glue on the
edge of the papers.
"The first Japanese I've noticed here," Smith commented. "Pretty ironic
for a bunch of Mega Tokyo vigilantes."
"Want to join me?" Chiriko said, motioning to the airlock with her
finished cigarette. "I haven't had company for a smoke in a long time."
"Give me a second," he said, starting his own cigarette. Tobacco first,
he thought, relishing the relaxation the rolling process brought. Steps
in the hallway resonated in his ears, computer identifying the direction
and distance. Roll and twist he thought, looking up at the ruffled hair
of Ingrid Casper.
His hands ripped the paper as she walked by. Sighing he pretended not
to watch her as she continued down the hallway. He had another paper
ready and he stepped into the airlock with Chiriko.
What a great ass, he thought idly as Chiriko smoked.
Author's Notes:
The last scene was written in the throes of a nicotine fit, so you'll
excuse the cigarette motif. Or perhaps you won't. Anyway, this part
didn't take nearly as long as the last one. Maybe this means I'll have
some kind of regular schedule with this fic- nah, who am I kidding.
Thanks for reading and if you have any comments or criticisms then I'll
be happy to hear them (www.brandeis.edu/~jmele or jmele@brandeis.edu)
Fnord!
Jerico