This story is dedicated to the following people:
Douglas Adams
1952-2001
Poul Anderson
1926-2001
Dr. Steven J. Paul
1952-2001
G'bye Uncle Steve.
The dim lighting of the room cast shadows from row upon row of
shelving; each filled with the shattered corpses of things cold and dead.
Except for the intruder, it seemed a fitting place to end one's days.
{[The Lobster Empire presents...]}
The intruder was a different sort of thing altogether, at least in
appearance. A metal oval, with various appendages dangling down as if from
some gelatinous sea creature, and ten thin, spidery legs that ended in
delicate claws, it seemed more suited to sitting in a steel cable web than
to skittering out of vents where it had no right to be.
It climbed down the wall as though it were walking along a floor,
then, after pausing to orient itself, scooted down one of the grim,
shelf-lined aisles, moving with an utter silence that would have been deeply
unnerving to any observer.
{[...A Nathan Baxter fanfiction...]}
Reaching its destination, it clambered up onto the computer console,
its electronic eyes staring at the legend on the side of the screen.
Satisfied as to its location, it dropped a pair of its central limbs
to rest against the processor casing. The tips of these began to roil and
bubble, seeming to oxidize to the metal panel at a thousand times normal
speed.
This went on for perhaps a minute, then stopped. The intruder spun in
place and returned the way it had come, the vent cover clanging shut on the
empty storeroom.
* * * * * * * *
<<Warren Zevon, _Transverse City_>>
MegaTokyo 2033
A Story of the Knight Sabers
] ] ] BUBBLE
] ] ] GUM
] ] ] CRISIS
Bubblegum^5
#2. The Coming of Shadows
There was a man.
Call him Sam Smith.
He worked nine to five for a large banking firm in the central
business district. His father had done the same, for a different company.
He was happily married and had two kids.
He shopped at a health food store, and the hungriest that he had been
in his life was when he had skipped meals for two days in college.
There was a boy.
Call him Rat.
He lived in the canyons, and just barely managed to steal enough to
stay alive.
He had two drug habits, and had never eaten a full meal in his life.
There was a lot.
It was at the corner of two streets. One was called Fifteenth and the
other didn't have a name.
The pawnshop that had stood there had been leveled in Second Kanto.
A sign at one corner said that it was to be the site of one of Genom's
Urban Redevelopment Projects.
There was a man.
Call him Jim Jones.
He was so good at managing construction boomers that the company had
sent him up to the Moon to work on their projects there.
He was glad to be part of something so important.
He stood, and watched the boomers, and made sure nothing went wrong.
Construction boomer #341 dreamt dreams of blood, of human skin exposed
to space, of flesh boiling away into the freezing vacuum.
* * * * * * * *
Clean straight walls in gray and white marble rose in medieval
grandeur over chessboard flagstones, while floor to ceiling windows gazed
over nighttime Houston.
"So what can we do for y'all, Mr. Yamata?"
The man asking the question was tall and heavyset, with a white
business suit and a short blonde crew cut, and a heavy Southern accent. [So,
high-and-mighty Genom Corporation needs MY help. What irony.]
[Arrogant gaijin.] His counterpart, who had a dark suit, a slight
build and wireframe glasses, looked across the large black conference table
and answered, "We have encountered difficulty in finishing some of the
systems on one of our new prototypes. I have been authorized to bid for your
help in correcting these errors."
[Bit off more than they could chew.] "I see. And what, precisely,
would this entail?"
[The fool is gloating far too much.] "Our magnetic joint drivers have
not scaled up well enough to offer on the open market. Your company's work
leads us to believe that you have already solved these problems."
[That's all? They're closer than they know.] "And what is this
information worth to you?"
[He will dig for all he can get away with.] "Ten percent of total
sales for the first three years of production. Sales for that time are
expected to exceed twelve figures."
[If I push, they might find it on their own.] "That sounds just fine."
[What game is he playing? He has to know that he could get more than
that.] "I'll have one of my assistants work out the details for us, Mr.
Bradley."
They smiled false smiles, and stood.
Later, in an elevator on the way to ground level, Bradley turned and
asked, "Do you always bring boomers with you when you travel?"
"It is standard company policy to assign a permanent bodyguard to all
traveling executives."
The larger of the two robots grinned and brushed a strand of
shoulder-length hair from his face. "After all," he said, a spark of green
flaring behind mirrored sunglasses, "It's a dangerous world we live in
today."
Yamata looked at him with narrowed eyes. "What is your designation?"
The looming boomer gazed blandly back, with a quirky smile and a
deeply amused air. "I'm generally called Crash."
The smaller bodyguard said, "Unit Alpha is production number
34897-CRS-23, and Unit Beta is 178374-DVN-19."
The other somehow managed to make his deep, deliberate voice carry a
vibe of chirpyness. "Very good, Devon! You get a cookie!"
Yamata made a mental note to have CRS-23 checked by maintence.
They were about to enter the limousines that had been waiting in the
plaza in front of the building when a quadripedal mech the size of a large
van tore its way out of a trailer which had been parked in the nearby
street. It had long, thin, three jointed legs that ended in icepick points,
attached to a body like the front half of a jet fighter, sans wings.
At Yamata's order, Devon leapt into the air, shedding synthskin to
reveal sleek blue armor that shrugged off the mech's cannonfire in a spray
of sparks. Crash grinned, then burst his own disguise and zipping sideways,
moving just over the ground, seeming no more than a gray flash fringed by a
corona of blue fire. Only when he stopped could his bulky, angular form be
resolved.
Its cannon having failed to eliminate the smaller pest, the mech
reared back, projecting two laser-straight cords of energy, too bright to
look at. These started at divergent angles then scissored together, catching
the boomer between them and chopping it in half at the waist.
Crash didn't react noticeably, instead lunging forward, mere inches
above the ground, flipping monomolecular blades out of boxy forearms. He was
caught in midair by a pair of thin, ropy tentacles that wrapped around his
waist and skull, then twisted, shattering his neck and breaking the control
lines that ran through it.
The threats dealt with, the mech moved forward, releasing its victim
as it did so. Before they could escape, it slammed one icepick leg forward,
impaling the executives on the sharp tip.
The businessmen dead and its task accomplished, it spun in place and
scrambled off into the night.
* * * * * * * *
Dress shoe'd feet moved catlike over the lush red carpet, a faint
shush-shush-shush audible over the muffled roar of jet turbofans and distant
shriek of air over the plane's metal skin.
"I'm scared, Kou."
Reika Chang turned the comfortable bucket seat from where it had been
facing the window. The tall man carrying the tray smiled at her
encouragingly, and she smiled back valiantly as she grabbed one of the two
cups.
"I'm not so much scared that I might die, but what we're trying to
do...it terrifies me." She took a sip from her cup.
The tall man facing her leaned forward and said, "We could always turn
back."
She shook her head, "No, I decided to do this and I'll carry it
through but..."
"I know," he said, then paused, "We'll have to find an extra pilot.
Teddy didn't want to leave the states."
"I'll do it." Her voice was soft, and her eyes distant. She seemed
almost unaware that she had spoken.
"What?! NO!!"
She glared, "I'm checked out." She didn't tell him her real reason-
didn't tell him how much harder standing on the sidelines made keeping to
her purpose.
Of course, he knew her well enough that he didn't need to be told.
"You're also too valuable to risk. You are Mr. Chang's heir. If you
were to die, he would be fatally weakened. You _know_ how bad that would
be." That wasn't a card he liked to play, she had always been too alive to
easily tolerate being treated like porceline doll.
Tension fizzled for a moment, then she sighed. "All right. I'll stay
on the sidelines. But if you can't find someone willing to do the job..."
He nodded unwillingly. Having the Chang group weakened would tempt
every one of the minor multinationals to try to take its place among the
ultranationals. Even if they lost, many people would die in the crossfire,
and the more ruthless corps higher on the ladder would be able to gobble up
the small fry weakened in the feeding frenzy.
But she was the boss.
* * * * * * * *
Sylia paused on the door's threshold, steeling herself for the
environment within, then walked gracefully through a room stinking of
alcohol, vomit, and cigarette smoke to an almost empty corner booth, nearly
hidden from the view of the front door.
"Hello, Fargo," she said, "You wanted to speak to me?"
The rumpled blonde fellow slouched under a failed light looked up,
then nodded. "Yes, I've got some news on our current commission."
She slid into the seat opposite him, raising an eyebrow in inquiry.
"Ah?" Those projects were top-secret, there wouldn't be many leaks.
"Our mutual friend in the tower just cut a deal with the Gulf and
Bradley Corporation of America. Guess what he wanted." She despised guessing
games, and he knew it.
"G and B?" she said, surprised, but hiding it. "I'd say he wanted to
pool resource bases."
He grinned, a flash of white in the gloom, "You're close, but no
cigar. Shortly afterwards, a Doctor Patrick Parker, one of their foremost
experts on electrical joint motors, left for MegaTokyo on express flight.
What does that tell you?"
That was a surprise. "Parker? He works with heavy load equipment. That
might mean that they've run into trouble on the Dragon design."
He stubbed out the battered cigarette he had been smoking. "That's my
angle too. Think it might be worth looking into where he goes?" Baiting the
ice queen was so much fun. He rustled in his pocket, coming out with a
small, white, unmarked box.
She gave him a quelling look. "Of course."
He smirked behind his flaring lighter.
* * * * * * * *
The ringing videophone jerked the young lady from her sleep, so that
tousled red hair formed a frame for glaring green eyes against a backdrop of
pink walls and a lifetime's collection of small cute fuzzy animals. Her
parents didn't like it, it wasn't 'dignified', but she wasn't really in the
habit of caring about her parents' opinions.
//Nene, how long until you can figure out the location of the Dragon
research labs?// Sylia looked amused by her appearance.
"Three weeks minimum," she bit out. [And I had just gotten to sleep,
too...]
//Why so long?//
Nene's glare grew more intense, if that was possible. "Because you
thought that it would be a good idea to work on the Demon first, because it
was closer to sale." Her tone could have been used to sharpen monoblades.
Sylia looked sheepish. //I'm sorry to bother you, but this was
important. We've got a VIP arriving in a few days who might give us a lead
on the location of that lab.//
[She woke me up for THIS?!] "Is. That. All?"
//No. If we try to interrogate him, then that will tip them off and
give them a chance to beef up security before we can hit the lab.//
A sudden premonition ran between crimson-framed ears. [I just know I'm
not going to like this.]
//We'll have to perform around the clock surveillance in order to find
out where he's going.//
Nene slumped. "Let me guess, I have first shift."
//Sorry,// Sylia apologized. Nene was too tired to get upset over the
lurking note of amusement in her voice.
* * * * * * * *
For any human being to sleep through the ruckus of the ADP's main
office, they would have to be either deaf, dumb, or tired enough to emulate
both. Since Nene Romanova had been proven to have exceptionally good
hearing, and possessed a remarkably capable and observant mind, when she
chose to use it, that meant that if she was slumped over her desk, snoring,
then she was tired. To her friend and co-worker, Naoko Akagi, that led to
only one conclusion: NENE HAD FINALLY FOUND A BOYFRIEND!!!
Even her closest friends thought that Naoko was somewhat obsessed with
the opposite sex, and they had good reason for their beliefs. She didn't
look at it that way; finding a proper husband to support you was a very
important thing in life, after all.
[Lucky girl,] she thought. [If she's THAT tired then he must really be
something.] Curiosity could wait, Nene needed her rest.
* * * * * * * *
"Yo!" Priss poked her head into the doorway. "You three got any place
you need to be?" She had just about given up on the sympathy angle for
making this lot feel better, so irreverence was probably the best way to go.
Sylvie looked up from her lunch, but Meg and Lou just kept eating,
"Well, we were planning on going out looking for Nam and Anri..."
Priss was unimpressed. "Uh-huh. Right. And I suppose that's what you
were doing BEFORE you stopped for lunch?"
Meg swallowed the last of her food and snarled, "Yeah, not that it's
any of YOUR business." Who the hell was this bitch to get involved in THEIR
business?
Tempers were frayed after the disappearances, so Sylvie spoke up
sternly, "Enough, Meg. She's just trying to help, so I don't want you two
getting into another of your fights."
While those two simmered, Lou finished her food and began to gather
the plates. She didn't like Earth, mostly because of the people on it. They
were all so intense all the time. "Sylvie? Are you going to finish yours?"
"Hmm? Oh, no thank you."
Sylvie being anything more than mildly disapproving was rare enough
that Priss took until then to pick up her original thread of conversation
and say, "Look, you've been spending every waking hour looking for them. If
you don't relax and cool down a little, you're gonna burn out and then
you'll be no use to them, or anyone."
Meg was on her feet, almost yelling, "So whaddya want us to do, huh?
Just leave 'em there for some sickos to do whatever they want to?" She had
stayed sane on Genaros by turning fear into anger, but once you started such
a behavior, it was hard to stop, even when circumstances changed.
Priss almost, ALMOST, flinched. "No! I've already talked to most of my
friends, asked them to pass the word to keep a look out. Sylia's done the
same, she even hired a few PI's to help, but until we get some kinda report
back, some sorta lead, three more people doing legwork isn't going to be
worth much. You can be more help by resting up, getting ready to kick those
bastard's balls up between their ears."
Meg was ready to explode, but Lou said, "Alright."
When Meg had spun around and begun staring at Lou, Sylvie said, "What
did you have in mind?"
Priss grinned mischievously. "Well, Linna knows this great mall..."
Meg started to turn red and growled, "Nam... And Anri... Are
missing... and you want to go SHOPPING?!" How DARE this flighty human bitch-
Sylvie shot her a quelling glance, and she blushed lightly as her
mental rant slid to an embarrassed halt.
Brushing the interruption aside, Priss continued, "So, I asked Linna
what would be the best place to take you guys to cheer you up, and she
mentioned this one mall and offered to come along."
Lou looked up like a bloodhound scenting a rabbit, all depression
forgotten. "Will Nene be there?"
"Yeah, Linna said she'd bring her."
Lou's smile could have been bottled and sold. "GREAT!! I'm coming,
just let me grab my notebook, there are a few things I want to show her..."
Priss looked at Sylvie and Meg. "Well? You going to come?"
Meg had calmed down some, and nodded, but Sylvie was much more
enthusiastic. "I'd love to." Or at least, as enthusiastic as she ever got.
"Good! We'd better get going, they're supposed to meet us in ten
minutes or so."
Meg's expression was somewhere between a glare and a smirk. "Got it
all planned out, didn't you?" She didn't have to like Priss, but the human
did deserve a certain amount of respect.
Priss was unintimidated. "Yep!" she grinned cheekily.
They all grabbed their stuff, and as they walked out the door, Sylvie
said to Priss, "You really must tell me how you met these people someday..."
* * * * * * * *
*Ding-dong*
[Now who could that be?] Linna wondered as she got up from her seat on
the couch to open the door.
"Is there a Linna Yamazaki here?" The woman on the landing was of
average height, but very attractive, enough to be a model. Despite this the
only odd note of her appearance was the green-dyed bangs.
"That's me."
"My name is Reika Chang. My sister mentioned you in her letters."
Linna's face grew very sad, "oh..." She shook off the momentary spell
and said, "OH! Where are my manners. Please, come in. Would you like
something to drink?"
"Yes, coffee, please, if you have any."
* * * * * * * *
"HELLO?!" Linna yelled. "HEY, PRISS! OVER HERE!"
Nene took her hands down from where they had been covering her ears
and glared at her teammate. Reika couldn't help but giggle at the redhead's
expression.
Across the street, a brown-haired woman in biking leathers spun around
and looked. Having verified that the unknown person shouting at her was,
indeed, the friend that she had intended to meet, she then proceeded to a
crosswalk.
Priss only believed in traffic violations while operating motor
vehicles.
Following her were three of the most beautiful women that Reika had
ever seen. For one raging moment she felt jealous enough to make Iago seem
like a goody-two-shoes pansy. It was a memory that let her suppress the
feeling, remebering the godlike exhaltation of standing on a stage in a
stadium to seat thirty thousand and knowing that the entire
standing-room-only crowd was cheering _her_, chanting _her_ name.
By the time the two groups had joined, she was almost ready to ignore
the fact that they made her feel like an awkward, ugly little schoolgirl.
"Who's this, Linna?" Priss asked.
She leaned forward and put out her hand, without thinking. "I'm Reika
Chang."
Priss wasn't put off by the westernism, shaking firmly. "Irene's
sister?"
"Yeah."
"Huh. Well then, maybe you can help me cheer this lot up." Priss
jerked a thumb over her shoulder. "Some friends of theirs are missing and
they're having a tough time of it."
Reika bit her lip, then smiled and said, "I know just the thing."
* * * * * * * *
To the surprise of all involved, they had actually become quite good
friends. It had almost become a ritual; Reika would turn up at Linna's door
and say hi. Then Linna would invite her in, they would talk, and Linna would
ask if she would like anything to drink. Reika always asked for coffee.
This time, while Linna was puttering around the kitchen getting that,
Reika said, "After I ... got the news, about Irene, I did some looking, and
discovered that Irene's murder had really been a silencing attempt by
_Genom_. My family has some unusual connections, and I decided that I was
going to use these to pay Quincy back for what he had done."
Linna nearly dropped the coffee cup she was holding, but recovered in
time. "Revenge?"
Reika looked sad, staring at the table, "Yes. Small, petty, vicious
revenge. I won't pretend it's anything else." She looked up, "But, if anyone
deserves it, it's Quincy," then paused and gave short, sarcastic bark of
laughter, "at least, that's what I tell myself."
Linna gave her her coffee and sat down. "Why tell me this?"
"Those connections I mentioned? They let me get ahold of a combat
mech, a new one, called the GD-42. It needs two crewmembers, a pilot and a
gunner. And, I was thinking that since you were one of Irene's friends..."
Linna was shocked, "You want ME to drive it? I don't know anything
about robots! I can barely even change a tire..." [...And Sylia is the one
who handles the hardsuits...]
Reika's expression gained a brief flash of genuine humor. "The weapons
station is really very simple, after all, I learned!"
Linna was on the verge of panic. "Then why don't you do it?!"
[Ohgodsheknowsheknowsheknows...]
Brilliant eyes danced under green-and-black hair. "Because our only
pilot is also my bodyguard, and he won't let me anywhere near it!" Reika
rather enjoyed shocking people, even when the situation was deadly serious.
All of Linna's protests dissolved. "Could I have some time to think
about it?" [And maybe get some instructions from Sylia...]
Reika shook her head. "No, I'm afraid not. If you should somehow
attract Quincy's attention to us... Whatever you decide, you'll be out of
circulation until he's dead."
[So much for THAT.] "Will anyone else be hurt?"
Reika shook her head again. "I'd sooner die."
"Then I guess I accept." [It's not like I have a choice... and maybe
I'll be able to talk her out of it.]
Reika looked remorseful. "I'm truly sorry to drag you into this."
"NOW you apologise."
* * * * * * * *
Genom Tower had eight boomer maintenance bays, four on the twenty
eighth floor and four on the two hundredth. These were long, tubelike rooms
that doubled as ventilation shafts, which, together with their size, created
an impression of an endless pipe, filled with a perpetual hurricane gale.
Chris Taylor hated it.
[Stupid goddamn wind. You gotta tie EVERYTHING down, or else it ends
up jamming the AC to some bigwig's office.]
He sighed, then picked up his notepad. [Guess I'd better get to work.]
First up was a BU-12-B. [Idiot thing's apparently been acting erratic.
Send it to programmers, not maintenance, idiot.] Mark the transfer, and,
NEXT.
[What kinda sicko does THIS to a janitor model? They didn't even trash
it properly, just cut off the head and took that. Weird.] Point it for spare
parts and NEXT.
[Jeee-SUS. Whatever it is that can do THAT kinda number on a
fifty-five, I don't wanna find out.] Send it to metals reclamation and NEXT.
[BUC-37-G/LC, production number 34897-CRS-23.] "Hi Crash. Back again?"
[Minor compressional fractures in the outer armor layer along the lower
torso region, broken neck, looks like something grabbed him and just
TWISTED. Nasty, but repairable. The usual.] Mark him for the mechanics and
NEXT.
* * * * * * * *
...drip...
The chill mist hung in the air, an almost liquid blanket that turned
the world into a film-noir nightmare of grayscale phantoms and hinted-at
figures.
...drip...
It condensed on every surface, gathering in beads and running down,
down, down.
It swallowed the normal hustle and bustle of the city, leaving only
the steady ...drip...drip...drip... of the dew falling from the arms of the
cemetery's crosses.
...drip...
Reika knelt in front of one grave in particular. The droplets of water
that had collected soaked into her pants as she laid the flowers in her hand
beside the stone.
...drip...
She reached out to trace the letters on the marker with one finger,
paying no heed to the remembered phantoms that came floating out of the fog.
...drip...
-I-
She remembered the first time she had seen her sister. Her parents had
carried the bundle into the room, and she had promised to take care of her.
She had been four.
...drip...
-R-
She remembered sitting on a couch, watching a children's show with
Irene when one of her fathers friends had come in and said that her parents
had been killed in a car wreck. His face had been drawn and weary with
grief, and she and her sister had held each other and they had cried late
into the night. She had been eight.
...drip...
-E-
She remembered eating dinner with Irene and her new fiance. They
hadn't been able to spend more than that one night together; she had been on
tour.
...drip...
-N-
She remembered curling up on the couch, clutching the letter that had
told her that Irene was dead. She had cried silent tears, and their drying
had turned her cheeks icy cold.
...drip...
-E-
She remembered reading her grandfather's secret files, and learning
how her parents and sister had died, and why. She remembered the feeling in
her gut then, like vomit mixed with melted lead.
...drip...
She stood, and turned, and left. Bradley had killed her parents, and
had died for it. Mason was beyond her reach, but he had been Quincy's tool.
...drip...
...
And she would have Quincy.
...
...drip...
...
...
...
...drip...
...
...
...
* * * * * * * *
//Hello Kou.// The man's voice was roughened and weary, battered and
weakened by age. //I'm calling to check on your progress, and the general
condition of the operation.//
"We're doing as well as can be expected. Miss Reika is unhappy, she
would prefer to be on the front lines for this operation. Despite this, I
feel that she does not have the required mentality. She is soft; she cannot
force herself to take a life. The conflict with her desire to see Quincy
punished is causing great mental distress, and further lowering her combat
potential."
A weary sigh. //I was aware of this when I granted her request, but I
could never deny her anything.//
Kou gave a nod, unseen over the voicephone. "We are nearly ready to
begin to extract Parker, but I am having doubts about our new weapons
person.
//Ah?//
Kou paused, considering. "Yes... It is not her competence; she is
doing very well for the amount of training that she has had, but... Her
reflexes are wrong. It is as though she has received training before, with
different equipment."
//That would seem to be a bonus, not a handicap.// The comment was a
prompt for more information.
"Yes, it's just..." Here Kou gave a sigh of his own. "We have not been
able to find any indication of where this happened. There are some anomalies
in her file, but as far as I can see, she is just an aerobics teacher with
odd taste in friends."
//What is her opinion of the operation?//
"She... does not approve, but is willing to work with us. I sometimes
receive the impression that she believes she can talk Miss Reika out of her
ideas before anything more comes of them. God willing, she will succeed."
//I doubt we will be that lucky, but we may hope anyway. Goodbye
Kou.//
"Goodbye Mr. Chang."
* * * * * * * *
The training Reika's people were putting her through was easy enough
to deal with, just a variation of the stuff that Sylia had done when she was
first putting the Sabers together.
She didn't have a choice, not really. She couldn't warn the other
Sabers about what was going on, Reika had made sure of that. She couldn't
just not take part, that would be agony, and perhaps, by seeming to help,
she could persuade Reika to give this up.
Still, she probably shouldn't just leave the others in the dark
without at least attempting contact.
There. Payphone. Perfect.
<ring><ring> Nene picked up. //Hello, who is it?//
"Nene? It's Linna."
//LINNA!// Nene's eyes were wide. //Where are you? You just dropped
off the face of the earth... We were worried.//
"I can't tell you... Not right now." She gave a sort of half laugh,
half sob. "Later, when it's over, I promise."
//Stay right there, Linna. I'll call Sylia, and we'll be right over...
Where are you?//
"No... Things are... complex. I can handle it. I just called to let
you know that I'm okay."
//No, Linna, don't do anything, we're a team, remember? We'll help.//
"I'm sorry." Linna set the handset back on the hook, absently pulling
her phone card from the slot. She reached up and rubbed a tear away from her
cheek. "I'm sorry."
* * * * * * * *
"Patrick Parker?"
"Yes, what can I do for you?"
A gun came out of a pocket. "Please come with me."
* * * * * * * *
A slim, blue and red power armor jumped through the air with the
greatest of ease.
//Priss? Are you there?//
"Sylia!" Priss nearly slipped from the fire escape she was perching
on. "Look, we got trouble. Some guy just grabbed Parker!"
//Couldn't he have been from Genom?//
She jumped onto the roof at the end of the block. "He pulled a gun on
him, Sylia."
//...Right. Have you been following them?//
"Barely. They're in a van, and moving pretty fast." She used a
billboard for Genom Motors as a stepping stone to the higher roofs of the
financial district.
//Stay with them, if you can.//
"Right." She jumped across the street, a flying leap that would have
been impossible without jump jets. "That air transport that you splurged on
would have a much easier time following them."
//...Something else has come up. We can deal with it on our own, but
we'll be tied up for a while.//
"Right." Somehow, she needed to stay with them when they hit the
country, which wouldn't be long now, if they kept going like this...
* * * * * * * *
Sylia Stingray switched off the comlink and slumped bonelessly, her
head on her crossed arms, the picture of utter weariness... Crying. Linna
was missing and what if Genom had her and if they did then they were all as
good as dead and there'd be nothing to keep Genom in check and they'd do
such terrible things and her father would be remembered as the person who
had let them do that and...
[Come on Sylia,] she thought, [You've got more control than this. If
you just sit here and cry, then who knows what'll happen to Linna.] She
straightened, [Right.] and walked out the door...
...Where she was promptly pounced upon by Nene.
"WELL?" the red head demanded, "What did Priss say?"
"I didn't tell her," Sylia said, her famed reserve like a strong stone
wall that had been weakened and cracked by the elements.
"_WHAT_?!"
"Someone has kidnapped Parker. She couldn't afford the distraction."
While Nene was busy regaining the ability to speak, she continued, "I've
asked Fargo to do everything in his power to find out where she has gone,
but it will probably be a day or two before he can give us anything. We are
going hold our forces in reserve, and when we find the person responsible,
and then he and we will have a long, private 'conversation'."
* * * * * * * *
//Am I speaking to Mr. Quincy?// The voice was electronically
distorted, but still recognizably male.
The reply was also male, a deep, bass rumble that was almost tectonic
in nature. "Yes."
//We have Gulf and Bradley's Doctor Parker. You will give us ten
million dollars in gold, _personally_, or finish the Dragon without his
expertise.//
"Why would I want to spend ten million dollars to buy something I can
do without?"
//Because only Parker or the direct intervention of God can save you
from contract penalties in the hundreds of millions.//
"...You are aware of the location of Genom Research Facility number
two-nineteen?
//Yes.//
"I will meet you there at ten tonight."
//Would this be a trap?// The voice was amused.
"Is that an objection?" Quincy's showed only curiosity.
//No. Ten p.m., then.//
* * * * * * * *
The door opened, casting a new ray of light into the stark pattern of
glare and shadow in the small room.
"I thought you might like to know, we have Parker. Quincy has agreed
to meet us in a few hours, so you should probably get ready, we'll have a
long trip." She turned to leave, her shadow twisting and contorting across
the floor and wall.
"Reika... Why are you doing this?"
She paused in the portal, one hand on the doorframe. "I... I need to
make sure that Quincy pays for what he's done." Her voice shook.
"Quincy had no part in Irene's death, the man who did it was named
Brian Mason, one of Genom's high-level execs. He's dead now."
Reika turned. "I know." Her voice was angry. "But Quincy appointed
him, gave him what he needed, even encouraged him, him and others like him.
He's the source of it all, Genom's rotten heart."
Linna's voice was a warning, "If you kill him, his subordinates will
fight for his position, the repercussions will hurt millions of innocent
people."
Reika looked away, not meeting her eyes. "His assistant, Madigan, has
the resources, intelligence, and ruthlessness to win control quickly and
with no fuss. She's amoral, but a complete professional. Quincy's policies
will ultimately become bad for business, so she won't allow them to
continue."
She deflated, staring down and the star pattern of shadows that the
room's lights threw away from her feet. "All right. I'll get dressed, go out
there, and help, but you'll have to kill Quincy yourself. I won't do it for
you."
Reika nodded. "Fair enough."
* * * * * * * *
The speaker on the massive monitoring station against the wall
crackled to life. //Sylia?//
Sylia leaned forward in her chair. "Yes, Priss? Have you found
something?"
//I think I'm at their base. I'm a dozen or so miles north of Tokyo,
near the airport. They seem to be holed up in a warehouse, but they've got
lousy security. I got inside without any trouble.//
"You shouldn't have taken the risk, Priss."
//You're probably right. I didn't think that they'd have anything to
match my suit, but they've got some kinda four legged battlemover, I don't
recognize the type. They were doing maintenance, but they're buttoning it up
now, I think they're getting it ready for combat. There are about fifteen of
them, no boomers, I think. They've got almost all their stuff packed up,
except what they need for the mech. They're ready to clear out. There's also
a transport 'copter of some sort, looks stealthy. The leader guy is big,
handsome sort, like Linna would go for... He's wearing some kinda pilot's
suit, probably for the mech...// There was a pause. //Okay, new player, a
woman in another pilot suit... She looks like Linna, actually... HOLY
SHIT!!! That IS Linna! There's the headband! Sylia, what the fuck's going
on?//
"I don't know," Sylia said, "All I knew was that she had disappeared."
//AND YOU DIDN'T TELL ME?!?!?!//
"By the time I was certain of it, Parker had already been taken. You
couldn't afford the distraction."
For a moment the comlink gave only the sound of labored breathing,
then, //We _will_ talk about this. Later.//
"Gladly. Nene and I will be there in ten minutes with the Skycarrier
and the motoroids. Don't get caught."
//Right.// And then the dim room was silent again.
* * * * * * * *
This particular research facility was locally famous for two reasons:
1) It was built into the side of a mountain, and 2) the people inside bought
enough Chinese takeout to support five different restaurants. General
consensus stated that it was a nuclear physics lab.
It was as though a divot had been carved from the flank of the living
rock, leaving a vertical wall on one side of a broad shelf, while the
opposite side dropped away into a yawning void. The side of the artificial
cliff was covered in mirrored glass, as though an office building had been
buried and then partially unearthed. Midway from either side of the shelf, a
ramp led down to what seemed to be an outsized garage door.
On one side of the shelf sat an old fashioned, free rotor helicopter,
while the vehicle maneuvering to land opposite it was an almost crystalline
member of the new school of design.
"Good evening Mr. Quincy, I trust you're having a good day?" Kou's
voice was almost too earnest to be real.
Quincy snorted, "No, I am not." He gestured towards the older
helicopter, where a pair of labor boomers waited with loaded carts. "I have
the gold. Where is Parker?"
Kou gestured, and Parker walked from the hatch, hands cuffed, but
unharmed.
When the exchange was done, Kou cocked his head to one side and said,
"Oh, and one more thing..."
From that point, things started happening very quickly.
<<Warren Zevon, _Rottweiler Blues_, Mutineer>>
Kou bolted into the 'copter, which swung its chin turret around and
fired a burst into Quincy's chest...
...Which was full of circuitry.
Linna stared at the displays from her place in the mech's cockpit. "An
android double?"
Quincy's voice echoed from hidden speakers all across the landing pad.
"An assassination attempt." He sounded almost bemused. "All this effort,
just to kill me. Amazing. And futile."
The Genom helicopter exploded under a burst from its Hou Bang
counterpart. Kou slammed into the pilot's seat in front of Linna's.
The Hou Bang chopper opened its belly doors and lifted into the air,
leaving behind the GD-42.
The fireball opposite it died away, revealing three perfectly healthy
boomers.
On the opposite ridge, across the narrow, deep valley, three figures
watched.
//Nene?// Sylia's voice was quick and firm, a forceful query.
Nene's voice was horrified, //They're Dobermans.//
//Shit,// said Priss, summing up the situation in one word.
The Bu-41-AEB "Doberman" combat boomer was noted for four things:
speed, strength, savagery, and stupidity. They had two settings, 'off' and
'kill'. They were also illegal in all but three countries on the planet
Earth.
The one on the far left launched itself forward, as though it intended
to rend its opponent apart with its bare claws. The other two took up firing
stances in an obvious attempt at covering fire.
Linna triggered the GD's tentacles, capturing the running Doberman's
arm and leg. Sparks and lubricants flew in perfect arcs disrupted only by
the bullets from the other Doberman's machineguns.
The boomer looked rather odd, with only its right arm and its left
leg.
Linna spun the disembodied boomer arm and jammed it, claws first, into
the boomer's chest. The machine collapsed as the monoblades penetrated its
braincase.
Nene turned green behind the concealment of her helmet's visor.
* * * * * * * *
"Well? Will it be ready in time? The Dobermans won't be enough."
The scientist didn't look up at Quincy, just kept working. "Depends on
how long the dogs last. If we're lucky, yes."
"Judge by the sims."
"Probably."
* * * * * * * *
One Doberman flinched under a storm of twenty-millimeter cannon
shells, while the other was blow to pieces by half a dozen rocket propelled
grenades.
Priss shivered in her armor. [If we had had to fight that thing...]
Dispatching the last boomer with its energy beams, the GD hunkered
down, folding its legs so that it would be able to fit inside its allied
helicopter.
The Genom facility had three entrances. Two were human scaled, and the
last was a large, hanger style affair intended to admit massive equipment.
It was this last one which flew off of its hinges.
* * * * * * * *
The boomer was huge, probably at least sixty tons. It was built like a
dragon; massive crested head, broad, powerful body, strong legs, long tail.
It shouldered its way through the hanger doors like they weren't even there.
//That,// said Priss, //Is a very big iguana.//
Nene snickered.
Kou threw the GD into a sort of sideways skitter, trying to prevent a
weapons lock before it started. Linna tried an attack, spraying blue-white
energy over the armor covering one shoulder, but it just splashed off.
[Oh boy...] Linna thought. Her left hand reached out, almost without
her willing it to, and adjusted the GD's radio to the emergency frequency
that Sylia had made them all memorize. "Mayday, Mayday," she sent, "This is
Saber Green requesting support, Mayday."
The reply came immediately, //Acknowledged. This is White. Support is
incoming.//
She might have known that Sylia would manage to keep track of her.
* * * * * * * *
It made an odd sort of sense that Nene's Motoslave would mount the
heaviest weapon. It had the best sensors, and its computers could easily run
auto-aiming procedures on their own. In the theoretical heavy-weapons
tactics that the 'Slaves had been developed for, that left the other three
teammates more free.
Plus, being the lightest, physically, it had more spare lifting
capacity.
Nene was quite good at shoot-em-ups, and the only real problem she had
with doing the same thing in her 'Slave was that having her arms forcefully
moved messed up her aim; she kept resisting. At this range, that effect was
minimal.
_WHOOM_
The boomer was on the other side of the valley; nearly a mile away. It
staggered, knocked sideways by her round's impact. The Sky Carrier swept
overhead, moving 'downrange', its fans roaring momentarily even through her
armor and then gone.
The magnified inset on her HUD showed the buckled area on its flank
where her shot had gone home. She shifted the targeting reticule forward,
onto its shoulder housing.
_WHOOM_
* * * * * * * *
Nene's scrambled voice came over the emergency frequency. //I've
damaged one of its shoulder joints. Also, I'm getting heavy infrared from
all of the major joints. They must be overloaded, or something. If you can
stretch this out, its own waste heat'll cripple it.//
//Will you be able to damage it further?// Sylia asked.
Nene's voice was doubtful. //Maybe. It's started jamming my
scanners... I probably won't be able to hit it, at least at this range.//
//Green, Blue, Air, how long can you hold?//
"There should be no problem, Miss White," Kou said politely,
preempting Linna's answer. "We are quite agile."
//No prob, sis. It doesn't have any ranged weapons.//
//Likewise, Boss. It can't hit me,// Priss said cockily.
//Don't take chances. And no personal references, Air.//
//What's life without risk?// A grin was implicit in her tone.
//I mean it, Blue!//
* * * * * * * *
This was what it was all about, the adrenaline, the suit's joints
rubbing against her own, the heart-in-your-throat crystal clarity of a near
miss, the _knowing_ that you were doing the right thing for the right
reasons.
Not bad, for street vermin, hey?
[The only problem,] she reflected inanely, [is that you don't end up
feeling properly sweaty.] After all, the suit was supposed to keep her body
at 'optimum operating temperature,' to borrow Sylia's phrase. Fighting just
wasn't the same if you didn't need a shower afterwards.
Their opponent was a prototype. It hadn't had its ranged weapons
mounted yet. That was one thing to be thankful for, although it was hard to
be properly grateful when the thing was trying to crush her by main force.
The planned monoblade hadn't been installed on the tail, either, so
when it caught her in the stomach she was only knocked flying, instead of
being chopped in half.
This wasn't the first time that her ribs had been broken, but still.
She couldn't just take it easy, that monster of a boomer would kill her if
she held still.
Now if only the world would stop spinning.
* * * * * * * *
The GD-42 was a lightweight, and the Dragon was a tank. They stayed
alive only so long as Kou was able to keep them out of its reach.
Linna wasn't driving, so she didn't worry about that. Instead, she
worried about the fact that, weapons or no, the boomer's jammers HAD been
installed.
The missiles would have been a great help, actually. The Vulcan on the
underbelly mount was effectively useless. The only parts of the enemy that
it could have damaged were the sensors, and those were well protected.
Given the machine's armor, and what Nene had said about its
overheating, she was trying to add to that problem. Several spots on the
Dragon's shell were glowing cherry red under her lasers... But the high
explosive/incendiary warheads in the launchers would have been even more
useful.
Oh well, no point in worrying over it.
Kou cursed suddenly, and the world spun around her.
* * * * * * * *
Sylia Stingray could perhaps best be defined by her control. In a very
real sense, she was who she chose to be.
When she was in college, she had decided that, for once in her life,
she was going to relax. Those friends that she had kept in touch with said
that the professors still spoke of her partying sprees with awe.
Here, and now, she was- had to be -the hard hearted tactician who had
created the Knight Sabers as a publicity weapon against Genom.
And she was losing.
The Dragon would be an immense success when it was released. Even
without installed weapons its sheer mass and power were demolishing its
lighter opponents. They were faster than it, but they couldn't not make
mistakes... and it could.
Priss had chosen her landing spot poorly, then taken an instant too
long to get back on balance. The boomer's long, ropey tail had caught her in
the chest, where the heavy protection of the chestplate prevented permanent
harm. Still, she wouldn't be getting up anytime soon; the shock of the blow
alone would have been stunning.
The GD-42...
A spurt of rage jabbed past her control. How DARE Linna jeopardize
their lives and dreams with such a stupid, thoughtless...
She fought it down, and made herself try to think of a way to
compensate for nightmare in front of her eyes. It was utterly obvious that
the Dragon had been designed as a terror weapon. It was The Beast. It was
_supposed_ to scare her.
And it did. Watching it, seeing it take the fast, lethal walker by a
leg and shake it hard enough that the hip joint actually parted entirely...
She couldn't lose control. She could _afford_ to lose control. She had
to be calm.
The GD had gone flying, skidding along the concrete before fetching up
against the retaining wall that kept the mountain from slowly flowing over
the notch which had been cut from it. The Dragon shifted from its previous
deliberate movements to an all out gallop.
Like a hunter running down its prey.
* * * * * * * *
It hurt. It could feel its joints burning, and the universe seemed to
exist in fire. The jabbing needles of pain that radiated from the imbedded
antiarmor rounds fired from across the valley were only drops in the bucket
of its hurt.
The world was dim before its eyes, and vast portions of its potential
were absent, gaping holes where tools of death should have been.
It didn't care. One of its foes was crippled, another stunned, and the
last could never hope to hurt or escape it.
It charged, pushing its screaming muscles to their limits in its haste
to close with and rend its prey to shreds.
Its left foreleg seized, dragging against the ground and sending it
crashing to the ground in a spray of thrown sparks.
It snarled defiance, roared in impotent rage as its suddenly weak legs
failed to bring it back to its feet.
* * * * * * * *
The infrared display was a brilliant, gaudy mosaic of green and
yellow, centered on a solid white reptilian shape.
Mackie's lips pursed in a silent whistle. Even with its systems
failing under their own waste heat, the Dragon still scrabbled weakly
forward, trying to get at its prey.
He twitched the control stick, swinging the Skycarrier's nose slightly
around, lining up perfectly on the giant boomer. The onboard battle computer
sang quietly in his ear, telling him that it had a solid lock on the Dragon.
A part of his mind mused quietly that the ECM systems onboard the
prototype must have actually melted in the blast furnace environment of the
robot's interior. How its AI systems were still on was a mystery to him.
He smiled, almost involuntarily, as his left thumb pressed the trigger
for the six heavy missiles stored in the VTOL's internal bays.
The visible light display vanished in a wall of grey-white smoke,
while the infrared showed six glimmering white dots drifting into the larger
silhouette.
* * * * * * * *
Quincy cursed as the missiles slammed home on the display, the sight
repeating simultaneously on the dozens of screens making up the main bank.
Moments later, a technician reported that the Dragon had ceased transmitting
telemetry.
"Sir?" asked the project director. "Should we evacuate?"
The old man inhaled deeply, then released in a breathy sigh. "Yes.
Take the backup data with you, and destroy the originals."
"Yessir."
* * * * * * * *
//Well, Nene?// Sylia asked, as she stood beside the hacker in front
of the complex's main computer. //Can you recover the data?// Behind her
armor's visor, she glanced around, taking in the rows of screens dominating
the far wall, the workstations scattered around the other walls, and the
massive central terminal that stretched to the ceiling like a massive
support column.
//Sure!// the redhead chirped. //They didn't have time to do anything
even _close_ to a proper job on the files. We won't even need to pull the
hardware, I can just reconstruct it here.//
//How long will it take?//
//Eh!// the red suit paused its typing to shrug expressively. //Don't
know. Could be anything from five minutes to a few days.//
Removing the hard drives and transferring them to the Skycarrier would
probably take twenty. //We don't have days.//
//Hold on... Got it. We need to pull modules seven through fifteen,
the rest were either unused, reserved for different projects, or tied up in
housekeeping.//
//Right. Lets do it. Priss, you'll carry then out to the Skycarrier.//
//Why me?// the singer whined.
//Do you know how to remove them without damage?//
//No. Why would I?//
//There you go.//
* * * * * * * *
Linna sat uncomfortably on the bare bones canvas seating of the
Skycarrier, writhing internally under the gazes of her teammates.
"We," said Sylia mildly. "need to have a talk."
* * * * * * * *
She smelled him before he spoke, mixed metal and plastic underneath a
reasonable approximation of human male. He was standing behind her, the
console faced away from the door.
"Does it have what we need?" Largo said.
Nam spun her chair to face him, meeting his eyes, one grey, the other
golden as her own. "Yes. I'm still not sure about this, though."
He looked amused, not offended. Some small part of her mind breathed a
sigh of thanks in the corners of her subconscious; he was much more
dangerous than he chose to appear. "Anri believes me."
"Anri is sweet, caring, honest, and a great deal brighter than she
chooses to appear. She is also far too trusting." Her lips pulled into a wry
smile.
"You doubt our goal?" He took another step forward, moving out of the
gleaming sunbeam from the window set high in the wall and into the shadow,
contrasting darkly with the brightly lit far wall.
"I don't think that people will take being slaughtered for buma
freedom very well."
"Grist for the mill of history. Shall we merely let them continue to
abuse all that has been built?"
She settled back in her chair and lowered, letting gold glitter
through a veil of fallen forward blue. "...No. No, I don't think so."
<<Steeleye Span, _Following Me_>>
=========================================
AUTHOR'S NOTES
I'm still not sure this is really ready.
Still, I've been working on it for nearly a year, and frankly, I'm having a
hard time caring.
Don't worry though, I'm not burned out on the series, just this ep.
#3 will be a real sticking point; I'm not really sure what I want to do with
it. Still, I've got a reasonably clear picture of #5, and #4 forced itself
to about 80% completion in a single burst of inspiration.
I _will_ finish what I've started.
Blessed be.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Nathan Baxter, Grand High Emperor of the Lobsters.
Author, Bubblegum^5, El Hazard: The Continuing World
(Now, if you've heard of both of these, THEN I'll be
impressed.)
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"_Nobody_ has _margaritas_ with PIZZA!"
--John Criton, Farscape
"saaaausaaaage... "
--Nall the Alfheim Cat Dragon, Christmas Rose
====================================================
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