Nathan Baxter wrote:

                   {[The Lobster Empire presents...]}

Lobster Empire?

      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.

Appropriately ominous.

  * * * * * * * *

            <<Warren Zevon, _Transverse City_>>

MegaTokyo 2033
A Story of the Knight Sabers

Originals then?

      There was a man.
      Call him Sam Smith.

Since that was his name, and calling him Awerr5gh Oggles would have been
rude.

      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.

He was also a hermaphrodite, but that's not important right now.

      There was a man.
      Call him Jim Jones.

He liked Kool Aid and arsenic.

Might want to choose a different name. (I could be wrong about the choice of
poison as well)

      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.

And if something did, he would wet his pants and cry for his mommy.

      Construction boomer #341 dreamt dreams of blood, of human skin expos

ed

to space, of flesh boiling away into the freezing vacuum.

And of owning a puppy. He liked puppies.

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.]

As would you. :P

      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.

Oops.

      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.

And that's that.

  * * * * * * * *

      Dress shoe'd

don't think that needs an apostrophe.

      "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.

Heh.

      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.

Nene had really gone to hell

      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.

Classic BGC, then. Not that I have anything against the new. Just curious.

      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.

You forgot mentioning they could be dead. That's the status of most ADP
officers in the series. :)

Since Nene Romanova had been proven

drop 'been'

      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.

Re: Golddigger.

      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.

True

      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

remembering

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."

Good idea.

      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,"

True.

      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...]

Heh

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."

Heh

      [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.

Heh. he is efficient.

      [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.

Hmm.

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.

interesting metaphor (or is that a simile) liked it, though

      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."

Heh. True.

      The training Reika's people were putting her through was easy enough
to deal with, just a variation of the stuff

'stuff' is too casual a term here. Use something else, similar to 'training'
would be good.

      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. I

Yeah. That does seem  bit much for her.

">       //Am I speaking to Mr. Quincy?// The voice was electronically

distorted, but still recognizably male.

Which could mean the distortion is very good.

      //Because only Parker or the direct intervention of God can save you
from contract penalties in the hundreds of millions.//

Good point

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."

True

      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."

Only hope to clean up the system, though. Next one does the same, off him
until one of them gets the message. Besides, Quincy's not immortal, and is
going to die someday.

      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."

Heh. Even better defence.

      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.//

Heh. This should be amusing.

      "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!

Heh.

      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.

Interesting place.

      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.

evening, Mr.

"Oh, and one more thing..."
      From that point, things started happening very quickly.

<<Warren Zevon, _Rottweiler Blues_, Mutineer>>

Blech. Get rid of the music reference. It's distracting.

      Kou bolted into the 'copter, which swung its chin turret around and
fired a burst into Quincy's chest...
      ...Which was full of circuitry.

Of course. They didn't realize he has doubles?

  * * * * * * * *

      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.

Fast work.

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.

Heh

      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.//

Nice to see them using solid tactics.

      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.

Heh. Just like sex. :)

      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.

Luckily.

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

couldn't afford (don't use the double negative)

      "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."

A wise decision.

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.

Looked okay to me. Prose was fine, things moved along quicikly enough. An
enjoyable piece.

D.B. Sommer




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