Well, this has been ready for a long time, but I was waiting until I
finished rebuilding my website so I could actually archive it. That's
done, so here it is...
Stormwalker <stormwalker@stormwalker.org> presents...
Megatokyo 2037
Bubblegum Crisis: Cry of the Phoenix
A work of fanfiction by Douglas A. Reeves
Chapter One - Rebirth
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Note: This is a work of fanfiction, and is not intended to make
a profit for the author or anyone else (for that matter, if it is
making a profit for someone, please let me know so that I can put
a stop to it.) The Bubblegum Crisis OAV series is owned by
Artmic and Youmex, to whom the author is deeply indebted for
providing such a wonderful world in which he can play.
If you have not read the prologue of this story, I advise that
you look at it first. It can be found, along with my other
fanfiction works, at my new website: http://www.stormwalker.org/
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31 December 2036
22:20 GMT+0900
Moving quickly down the darkened corridor, the young nurse
suppressed a shudder of fear. <You shouldn't be doing this,> she told
herself. <They'll catch you, and you'll end up like her... or worse.>
Even that terrifying thought, though, only served to drive her onward.
Could there be anything worse than what this young woman was being
subjected to? <I'm supposed to be helping people, not acting as party
to their psychological torture.> Since signing on with her present
employer, what chance she might have had to do any real good in the
world had vanished, she thought... but she could still help this one.
She knew the path by heart, having walked it hundreds of times over
the past few months. Down this corridor, turn right, third door on the
left. It looked innocuous enough from the outside, a block of research
labs each exactly like the others. This door, though... this one was an
exception, and held a secret she had been instructed to guard with her
life.
It was time to let that secret out. It would be the death of her
if she was caught, but she probably deserved that after allowing this to
go on all this time. No, she had stood idly by for too long, caring for
the body while allowing the soul and mind to suffer.
Pausing in front of the door, she pulled out the small keycard she
had... acquired... from one of the guards. It had not been an easy
thing to remove it from his person, and she had given up more of herself
than she would have liked, but was it such a great sacrifice in light of
what she had to do here? She could not think of herself at such a time.
Besides, the die was cast... she had come this far, and there would be
no turning back once she opened the door.
The keycard reader beeped softly as the lights cycled from red to
green. She drew a deep breath as the door hissed open, and then stepped
inside. If they suspected anything, she would find out...
Silence.
No, not quite silence. There was the ever-present hum of the
diagnostic equipment next to the table where the young prisoner lay.
She did not know the girl's name; she had asked once, and been told to
mind her own business. She knew her face, though. She knew her raven
hair and cold blue eyes, and knew the same soulless expression she had
seen there too many times. She wondered, and yet feared to learn, what
thoughts lay behind those eyes, at once empty and piercing to her core.
The girl was asleep, drugged so that she could not attempt escape.
No... the bonds prevented her escape. The drugs were to make it more
difficult for anyone to do what she was about to attempt. For anyone
else, it might well not be possible... but the one who administered the
sleeping medication knew better than any how to counter it. Anxiously,
she took the syringe from her pocket and removed the needle guard.
Finding the right place in the darkness took a few moments; there was
only one small area of the girl's monitoring suit where the needle could
penetrate without damaging the circuitry. She had to be careful; one
mistake would certainly set off alarms and bring the guards down on her
head.
<Got it!> Injecting the contents of the syringe into the young
prisoner's arm, she stepped back and waited for it to take effect. Only
a few seconds passed before those blue eyes snapped open, glancing
wildly around the room before locking their gaze onto her. Surprise,
anger, fear... the emotions flashed across the prisoner's expression as
they held eye contact for a few seconds, and she started to open her
mouth.
"Sssshhh!" the nurse hissed before anything could be said. "I'm
going to get you out of here, but you have to cooperate with me, do you
understand?" The prisoner looked confused for a minute, then nodded
silently. "Good. Now stay still. I'm going to release the bindings.
Don't move until I tell you it's okay." Another nod. Thankfully, the
raven-haired girl seemed reasonable; her cooperation would be critical
to her escape.
<I wonder if she recognizes me?> the nurse thought. <Does she
remember my part in all this?> If she knew--if she remembered--she
might well attack once freed from her bonds. <Wouldn't I, if faced
with someone who had contributed to such torture? What reason does she
have to trust me?> With trembling hands, she entered in the commands to
release the metal bindings which held the girl down. Finally, it was
done, and she stepped back.
The girl sat up slowly and unsteadily, leaning on one arm to hold
herself up, while resting her forehead on her palm in an effort to clear
the mental fog caused by the sleeping medication. After a few seconds,
she finally looked up at her would-be rescuer. "Why?" she whispered
softly.
"...I'll explain later," the nurse answered softly. "We shouldn't
talk much here. We'll attract attention." Taking the girl's hand to
help her up, she whispered, "You can lean on me if you need to, but if
you think you can walk we'll be faster." A nod, and a hand placed on
her shoulder for balance, was the only response. "Come on. This way."
The two of them moved as quickly as they could manage, and yet it
seemed tortuously slow to her. She had learned as much as she could
about the guard patrols, and chosen her time for this carefully; most
of the guards, like everyone else in the city, were out celebrating the
oncoming New Year, and they were running on a skeleton crew. Even so,
the guards that *were* here would be alert, and she would not be able to
put up a fight if they were caught. She glanced at her charge, who
seemed to be regaining strength and steadiness with each step. If they
made it just a little farther, she might even be able to manage on their
own.
Just a little farther, she told herself again. Down one more
corridor, and then one flight of stairs, and there was an exit. It
would normally be locked, but the guards' keycards should open it.
Then the girl would be gone, and she would need concern herself only
with her own undetected escape.
They had made it to the stairwell when she heard the shout. Her
treachery had been discovered, and the guards would be coming. She felt
the pressure of the young woman's weight leave her shoulder, and she
turned to see an expression torn between panic and resolve. She had to
buy this person some time, no matter what it cost her. Clasping one
hand between her own, she pressed the keycard into the girl's palm.
"Go!" she hissed. "Down the stairs, turn right, there's an exit. Once
you get outside, the holiday crowds will cover your escape. Good luck!"
The other hesitated. "Go! I know places I can hide, but if they find
you with me..."
A nod, and then the girl stepped into the stairwell. Carefully,
the nurse closed the door behind her, listening to the uneven footfalls
on their way down the stairs. It was enough; the prisoner was away. As
she turned back toward the hall, though, she saw the guards coming...
and knew that she herself would not be so lucky.
*****
Sitting alone in her darkened apartment, a young woman desperately
tried to ignore the world around her. Sounds of celebration crashed in
from all sides as Megatokyo's denizens vented another year of repressed
tensions, heralding the new annum as if something might actually change.
Rumbling bass from a neighbor's stereo rattled the walls as dancing
footsteps shook the floor beneath; the jubilant cries of drunken
revelers crashed in on her solitude, taunting her with the joy and
freedom she would never again know.
Outside her confining walls, people were happy, and Nene Romanova
hated them for it.
Any cause for celebration in her life had been long since
destroyed, crushed to powder under the oppressive heel of GENOM and
scattered on the wind. So much had been lost since that accursed
night two years before.
Linna's death had only been the beginning. Priss had walked away,
for good this time. The Knight Sabers were finished; even if suitable
replacements could be found, the emotional loss was simply too much to
overcome. She and Sylia had carried on their private war on subtler
battlefields, but ultimately even that had come to little.
Boomer terrorism, she remembered bitterly, had only grown worse
after their fall. Without the persistent thorn of the Knight Sabers
providing a check on their more ruthless activities, GENOM found the
seeming coincidence of the rogue cyberdroid an effective tool for
removing resistance to their objectives. AD Police had found itself
frequently in the line of fire, including one incident where ADP
Headquarters itself had been the target. Nene had lost friends in
those battles... the chief, Daley, and others. Worst of all had been
Naoko, who had died in her arms, the second of her close friends to
fall. Mounting losses, and the repeated exoneration of the megacorp in
the incidents, had embittered the entire force. Unappreciated and
overmatched, many ADP officers scarcely knew why they bothered to fight
anymore. Of late, Nene had found herself understanding them.
She was weary of the struggle; the constant battle to salvage a
little of the world she had known and loved was a drain upon her spirit,
and she could not fight forever. GENOM had won, and all the stupid,
foolish celebrations in the world could not possibly change that fact.
A soft tapping at the door, barely audible over the surrounding
cacophony, caught her attention. Could they not see that she wanted to
be left alone? She ignored it, hoping that it would go away, but
another knock soon followed. Still she sat, not wanting to be
disturbed, until a third and much louder knock brought her to her feet.
Angry at the intrusion, she trudged over to the door, unbolted it, and
violently jerked it open. The sight that greeted her there, though,
froze the spiteful greeting on her lips.
The young woman who stood before her could once have been called
beautiful. A black, silver-marked skintight full-body suit adorned her
dancer's frame, granting her the appearance of a finely honed weapon.
Eyes of ice, deep blue and bitterly cold, bored straight into Nene's
soul. Raven-black hair offset unnaturally pale skin, and her familiar
features were hardened into an emotionless mask. Her presence was
almost ethereal, a ghost of the past given earthly form, and Nene
stumbled backward in shock.
"L-Linna," she stammered. "You... you're dead..."
"I was dead," the apparition answered, stepping through the open
doorway. "They didn't have the decency to leave me that way."
*****
Sylia stood perfectly still, scarcely moving even to breathe as she
tried to assimilate Nene's rapid-fire stream of words over the phone.
Were it coming from any other source, she might think this a joke, but
even in her more mischievous younger days, Nene would never have made
light of something such as this. Even if she had been the type to do
that, her manner alone would have convinced Sylia of the deadly serious
nature of the situation...
...and deadly, she thought, might be the operative word. "I'm on
my way, Nene," she answered, her tone commanding. "Don't tell her
anything until I get there." She listened a moment longer, as Nene
acknowledged her instruction, then set the phone down on its cradle and
leaned heavily against the wall as the full weight of what she had just
heard washed over her.
Linna was alive.
A certain mental numbness seemed to obstruct her thoughts as she
tried to process this realization, and for several long moments she sat
there considering. How had this been done, and why? Someone, most
likely someone within GENOM, had gone to the trouble to revive Linna
after two years; this was not a simple task. Furthermore, it demanded
that preparations had been made at the point of--and probably
before--Linna's death. A scheme of this magnitude would not be
undertaken lightly, even by their megacorporate nemesis. If indeed
Linna had been revived, it had been done for a reason, and the possible
nature of that reason disturbed her deeply.
Rising from her seat, she began to turn the situation over in her
mind. She needed to reclaim her clarity of thought; Holmes would
chastise her for theorizing before she had collected all the evidence,
and at this point she had only Nene's judgement to tell her that this
was not simply an elaborate deception. An S-series cyberdroid would
make an effective double, and with enough work it might even be possible
to deceive Nene's experienced senses. There were technical obstacles
to be overcome there, as well... but could it truly be more difficult
than reviving the dead? There were no impossibilities to eliminate,
only improbabilities. She needed more information.
Even if Linna had returned to them, there was another question to
be answered. Was this a trap? Quite possibly it was, but why would
such a snare be laid after so long? The Knight Sabers had been inactive
for almost two years, and her current efforts were far too minor to
attract or merit such attention. On the other hand, what other reason
could there be? Assuming, then, that it was a trap, how could it be
thwarted? She refused to leave Nene for the wolves, regardless; she had
lost one of her own, and that was one too many. Then, there was the
matter of Linna herself. If she was truly alive, Sylia had an
obligation to her as well.
Resolution pressed her into action. She selected two firearms,
both for their concealment value; an automatic handgun went in a
shoulder holster, and a single shot hold-out tucked into the loose
sleeve of her coat. It was less protection than she might like, but
with all the police out on the streets for the holiday, she could
scarcely carry more without asking for difficulty. An attache case full
of various electronics would provide any other equipment she might need
without raising too much suspicion; aside from that, she would have
only her wits to assist her. Taking a moment to steel herself against
what unpleasant surprises might be in store, she checked the electronic
locks on her apartment and set out into the night. She would have to
be quick; if this was indeed a trap, Nene was in immediate danger. If
not... she would know soon enough.
*****
Nene shifted uncomfortably in her chair, not really knowing how
to act. There before her was a friend she had believed lost for two
years, a friend she would have given everything she had to see again,
and she could not talk to her. What would she say, even if she had not
been forbidden it? What could she say? Did she really, truly believe
that this was in fact Linna?
It was difficult. A healthy degree of skepticism was something
that as an investigator she had learned to maintain. Logic solved
mysteries, where emotion only compounded them. All her instincts as
a police officer and a hacker rebelled at the very idea that this could
be true, and still... she did believe.
If Linna needed anything, it was comfort and reassurance. Her
eyes, at first piercing and cold, now seemed frightened, even haunted.
<What has she been through...?> Nene wondered, unable to imagine what
could affect the seemingly irrepressible Linna so. She wanted to say
something, do something to help, but what comfort could she offer?
She had no words for something like this; any gestures she might make
seemed dwarfed by the magnitude of her friend's apparent pain.
A sharp, sudden knock at the door broke the spell over them, and
Nene quickly rose to answer it. Checking the peephole to verify the
caller's identity, she sighed softly with relief before unbolting and
opening the door for Sylia.
Linna looked up, uncertainty replacing a momentary panic in her
eyes, and her voice was scarcely above a whisper when she spoke.
"Hello, Sylia."
Sylia glanced down at a small scanner in her hand before meeting
Linna's gaze, and she held that contact for several long moments. "So.
It is you, after all," she answered noncommittally.
A pained look crossed Linna's face at the evident distrust. "Yeah,
it's me," she sighed. "I... suppose I have a story to tell."
Sylia nodded, again glancing at the scanner before slipping it into
a pocket. "Yes, I would say that you do." She took a seat opposite
Linna, setting her attache case on the coffee table and opening it up.
Inside was an assortment of electronic devices; she checked the readouts
on two of them, then closed the case again. Finally she settled back in
her chair as Nene took a seat closer to Linna.
Once they were settled, Linna took a deep breath, clasping her
hands. She looked down at the floor, then closed her eyes, and finally
after a few seconds she raised her head to meet Sylia's gaze. "I don't
remember anything past mid-December... I guess that's about when I
died. I don't really remember that at all, but they talked about it a
lot in the lab." She paused, wringing her hands together, then
continued with a heavy sigh. "They did experiments on me. They..." her
voice broke. "...I can't talk about that. I just can't. I don't want
to remember it." Her eyes grew distant for a moment, then seemed to
focus again. "They said they were going to control me... program me.
They--" she stopped again, shaking her head vehemently. "...I fought
them... it hurt, but I couldn't let them win."
Nene bit down on her lip, trying not to react, trying to suppress
the compassion she felt building up within her. She needed to listen
to this. She needed to hear it with her mind, not her heart. Even as
she told herself this, though, the sight of Linna unable to compose
herself and the broken, horrified whispers of that voice cut to her
heart, and she could not deny what she was feeling. Reaching out, she
took Linna's hands between her own.
Linna looked up at her then, and seemed to steady herself a bit.
"...thanks, Nene," she said softly.
Nene only nodded, fixing her eyes on their clasped hands, partly to
reassure herself that this touch was real, and partly to avoid looking
at the disapproval she knew Sylia would show her for this gesture. She
knew she was supposed to be dispassionate, but she just couldn't. Not
now.
Silence fell upon them again, and several minutes passed before
Linna spoke again. "...I don't know how long they had me there. A lot
of it is fuzzy... I know they kept me drugged a lot, but not always.
Sometimes they wanted me to feel what they did to me. They wanted to
hurt me. Today... today someone decided to let me go. One of the
medical staff." She shook her head. "I... I don't know why. I asked
her... but the guards came before she could explain. She told me she
could escape, made me leave her. I... I don't think she did. There
wasn't time. I'm not sure. I know they didn't follow me, though. You
taught me too well for that."
Sylia nodded slowly. "I see. You do understand that it is
difficult for us to trust you. After two years--"
"Two years?" Linna interrupted, stunned. "I've been..." she
shook her head, voice shaky with disbelief. "...it's been two years?"
Sylia nodded silently, and Nene was relieved at the hints of
conflict she saw behind those previously cold eyes. If even Sylia was
having trouble keeping her emotions in check, then she felt less guilty
about not controlling her own. For herself, she was convinced. Somehow
Linna had come back to them.
"Two years," Linna echoed, and her haunted, desperate tone stole
any joy out of Nene's heart. Linna was back, indeed... but she was
wounded, more deeply than Nene knew how to heal. Tears streamed down
the dancer's cheeks, and she sighed heavily. "I have nothing. No home,
no job, no life... they took it all away from me." She released her
hands from each other then, clenching them tightly as Nene drew back
from her. "...they took it all away. Sylia, you have to trust me. You
have to let me back in." The words came out in a rush, fueled by an
emotion darker and more impassioned than the pain that had preceded it.
"Run whatever tests you have to on me. Do whatever you must. It can't
be any worse than what they've already done. I... I can't let them get
away with this. I need this. I want back in."
Sylia drew a deep breath of her own, seeming to wrestle with her
own response before finally she sighed. "Very well. Come with us, and
we will see what can be done."
*****
It seemed to Linna that an eternity had passed in sightless void
when the car's motion finally stopped. "Are we there yet?" she asked
dryly.
"Indeed," Sylia's voice answered as the engine shut off. "I
do apologize for the blindfold and the roundabout route, but our new
headquarters must remain secure until certain aspects of your story can
be confirmed."
Linna gave a wry smile. Sylia, at least, was still Sylia. No...
even Sylia was not quite this paranoid before. Not with her own, at
least. <...but does she consider me one of her own anymore?> "I
understand. Let's just get this over with."
"Of course." The front car door opened, and she heard the sound
of shoes--with heels; those would be Sylia's, Nene had been wearing
casual clothes--on pavement. Besides, she was fully alert now, and she
had enough martial arts skill to sense Nene's presence sitting only a
foot to her right in the back seat. It was nice to have that awareness
back, she thought, though she hated having to rely on it. The door
next to her opened then, and she held out her hand for Sylia to help her
stand up. Once she was out of the car, she heard Nene open her door
and get out as well.
Still blindfolded, she was led across the pavement to a door; they
had parked in a garage, she observed. This could be 633, then, but
somehow she doubted it. Sylia had mentioned a new headquarters. <Or
was that just to throw me off?>. Next came a flight of stairs, which
proved to be difficult, even with her exceptional balance. Without the
handrail it would have been nearly impossible; as it was, she had to
take them one step at a time, painfully slowly. She gritted her teeth
impatiently, wanting to get it over with so she could have her sight
back.
Finally, they reached the top of the stairs. Another door was
opened for her, and she was greeted by a welcome surge of warm air. She
had not quite realized how cold she had been outdoors in the skinsuit
until she felt the comfort of heated rooms again. The change was so
sudden that she did not realize that her blindfold was being removed
until her sight came back to her in a flood of light.
She squeezed her eyes shut with a surprised yelp, then opened them
just a slit--and realized she had overreacted. In truth, the light in
this room was fairly dim. She took a few steps forward, looking around
the entry corridor. The decor was familiar, in that it looked somewhat
similar to Sylia's apartment at 633, but it was different as well.
Darker, she thought... and more plain.
It took her a moment longer to realize why. Sylia's old apartment
had large expanses of glass to let in the light from outside, whether it
be the sunlight of day or the neon intensity of District 3 by night.
Here there were no windows that she could see, and it left the place
with something of a dreary feel by comparison. "Kinda dark, isn't it?
I mean, compared to your old place..."
Sylia nodded, seeming to take note of the response. "In this room,
anyway. The living area here is interior to the building, a consequence
of my having used the prime space for more... practical concerns." The
Knight Sabers' smiled thinly, an expression Linna had come to associate
with a certain degree of irony. "If you will excuse me a moment, I need
to prepare some equipment. Nene, could you find Linna something else to
wear? I will need to examine that bodysuit as well."
<What could she want to look at that for...?> Linna asked herself,
then turned a little pale with realization. It would have been nothing
for them to sew a microtransmitter into the fabric, and she might have
led her captors right to her friends! "...you don't think they're
tracking me, do you?" she asked anxiously.
"No," Sylia answered, allowing herself a slight smile. "I was
careful of that."
<Of course,> Linna thought, wondering why she had bothered to ask.
Sylia always thought of such things, right? I mean, hadn't she always
been the paranoid one? But then, considering what had happened to her,
maybe she should still be worrying... even Sylia wasn't perfect, was
she?
Nene's reaction, though, was one of curious amusement. "So that's
what you keep in that case! I've wondered..."
Sylia turned a sharp look on Nene, the type that discouraged
further inquiry. "Among other things. Now, if you would...?"
Nene grinned, motioning for Linna to follow her. "Sure, sure.
Come on, I'm sure we can find you something that fits..."
Linna nodded, following behind. There was still something that
seemed vaguely surreal about the whole situation to her. Maybe it was
being treated so coolly by someone she had finally come to view as a
friend. In a way, it was like being back to day one, and she felt that
she hardly knew Sylia any better than Sylia trusted her. Still, there
was nothing to be done for it but to carry on as well as she could. At
least Nene seemed to be something like her former self... though she
clearly had changed as well.
They found their way to Sylia's bedroom, where Nene seemed to take
a sort of mischievous pleasure in going through her closets. "I'm
surprised she let us come back here," she told Linna with a
conspiratorial grin. "You know how she has to be so secret about
anything." Linna favored her with a small smile, but her mind was too
occupied with weightier matters to really appreciate the amusement value
of the situation.
Nene seemed to recognize this, and her smile faded a little.
"...don't worry, things will work out," she told her. Picking through
the clothes hanging in the closet, she finally handed a couple of
selections to Linna. "There, those should do all right until we can
get you something your size."
Linna smiled weakly, accepting the chosen garments. "Thanks,
Nene." For a moment, she hesitated, glancing around nervously. "Umm...
should I just change in here, or...?
Nene giggled. "Don't worry, it's just us. Mackie's gone off to
Europe for college."
Linna laughed a little at that, actually smiling for a moment.
Turning around, she prompted, "In that case, could you help me with
that zipper back there? I don't think they wanted me to take this off,
and there's some kind of clasp holding it that I can't get to."
Nene nodded, finding the hidden catch at the top and releasing it,
and Linna slipped out of the one-piece outfit, kicking it aside in
disgust. Turning back toward Nene, she picked up the panties that had
been chosen for her and was stepping into them when Nene gasped.
"What?" she questioned, suddenly self-conscious. She had changed
clothes in front of Nene enough times before, what could possibly--?
"...your stomach," Nene indicated, her voice hushed, and Linna
looked down at the jagged scar that stretched completely across her
abdomen. "That's..."
Linna shivered violently. "I... try not to look at that." Closing
her eyes, she let out a deep sigh. "There's really no getting away from
it, though, is there? It's always there to remind me." Several moments
of silence passed before she opened her eyes, looking up at Nene again.
"Nene... how did I...?" She hesitated, then shook her head. "Never
mind. I don't want to know."
Nene winced sympathetically at the reaction she had provoked.
"Linna..." Reaching out, she drew her friend into a tight embrace.
"I'm sorry."
Linna held her like that for a moment, not quite sure what to say,
or how to react. "...it's not your fault, Nene. It's not anybody's
fault, though I'm sure Priss tries to blame herself for it."
"Yeah, Priss..." Nene whispered, her voice trailing off into
silence.
Linna's heart seemed to stop for a minute; something in Nene's tone
worried her as much as anything she had heard at all. Had something
happened? "What is it, Nene?"
Nene hesitated. "...I'll tell you later. I'm sure Sylia's waiting
for us, and once we get this over with, I'll be able to say more."
Linna nodded sadly. More distrust... even from Nene. Or was it
simply that Nene would afraid Sylia would overhear her saying things she
shouldn't? Yes, that was probably it. With a heavy sigh, she answered,
"All right, I understand. But I will want you to tell me later..."
*****
When that was done, they found Sylia waiting for them in the living
room. She glanced appraisingly at Linna, then at Nene, who gave her a
slight nod in response. Linna frowned slightly at the sense of being
"talked" about behind her back, but by this point she was resigned to
it.
Sylia turned back in Linna's direction, seeming to study her for a
moment longer before speaking. "The equipment is prepared. I will be
performing a base physical scan, looking for implants or cybernetics;
also, I will be scanning your central nervous system in detail, to
locate any damage caused by the trauma of your death and revival."
"Or GENOM tampering," Linna added darkly. "You may as well say it,
Sylia. I'm as worried about it as you are, you know. Probably more,
since it's my head they claimed to be messing around with."
Sylia nodded slightly, a wry smile crossing her face. "As you
say," she conceded. "Are you ready?"
Linna nodded, and the three of them made their way down the hall to
a heavy security door. Sylia placed her palm flat against the scanner,
then spoke, "Stingray, Sylia. Identicode one-one-alpha. Hand and
voiceprint verification."
Crimson light washed over her hand for a few seconds, then faded.
"Identity confirmed," the computer responded in synthesized monotone.
"Access granted." Sylia removed her hand from the scanner, and the
door opened to reveal a small but very well-equipped medlab.
"If you will lie down over there," Sylia indicated the diagnostics
table, which was surrounded by several pieces of automated scanning
equipment, "we will get started. I'll be in the next room monitoring
the readings."
Linna nodded her assent, suppressing the shudder that came over her
then. Her memories of what had been done to her in the laboratory were
mercifully vague, but she could scarcely look at such equipment again
without being reminded of it. Suddenly she found herself less certain
that she really wanted to know what had been done to her. <No. I have
to do this,> she told herself. <I have to know. And Sylia won't let
me back in if I don't, and then where would I go?> She tried not to
think about the possibility that if the scans came out badly, that she
might not go *anywhere*. If Sylia determined that she was a danger to
what remained of the organization, she had no doubt that the threat
would be removed. Permanently.
It was a risk she had to take. As Sylia left through the door
they had entered, she sat down on the edge of the table, then lay back
as the scanning device moved into place above her. "...so, Nene," she
said, trying to sound casual. "...what does this thing do, anyway?"
Nene dropped into a nearby chair. "Pretty much what she said it
does. I've had it used on me before... she had to map my nervous system
to make the transceptors in my hardsuit work. It's one thing to try and
monitor motor control functions with standard equipment, but the
computer interfaces had to be custom-built. It takes a while, and looks
kinda weird, but it's painless." She smiled a bit more. "I'll do the
best I can to keep you entertained."
"You were going to tell me what happened to Priss."
"Right to the point, huh?" Nene leaned back in her chair, and her
smile faded. "You see... that's just it. She walked out of here right
after you died, and we haven't heard from her since..."
*****
Sylia frowned slightly as she looked over the readings. The
preliminary scan showed a general lack of implanted hardware, which was
a good sign. She had almost expected to find at least one homing
beacon, but it seemed Linna's captors had not truly considered the
possibility that she might escape. The bodysuit she had been wearing
had monitoring devices woven throughout the fabric, but it relied on a
small transmitter not unlike those used in the measuring suits she
employed in the Knight Sabers' training facility, and its range was only
about fifty meters. There had also been a time-delayed homing beacon
sewn into the suit's fabric, now disabled. It had not been anything
unusual; such devices were used in prisons the world over, which perhaps
said something about the conditions in which Linna had been kept.
The neural scans proved to be less mundane. Linna had evidently
undergone extensive reconstruction of her nervous system to account for
the trauma of her death and rebirth. This was a concern; if indeed
GENOM had tampered with her mind, it would be entirely possible to hide
such alteration amidst the rebuilt nerves. On the other hand, Linna's
brainwave readings were within acceptable tolerances of the baseline she
had established during the construction of her most recent hardsuit,
which indicated a general lack of such alteration. Still, Sylia made a
note to keep her under close observation at all times; she could ill
afford to make a mistake on this count.
Degradation in overall function was negligible, from what
she could determine... and Linna certainly *seemed* like herself,
except for the emotional changes that would be expected from an ordeal
like that which she had described. From what she could tell, Linna's
reflexes and motor control would be acceptably close to the exceptional
qualities which made her ideal for her role in the Knight Sabers. That
at least would not be a concern.
As she set the neural scans aside, the second set of readings came
through. Again there were few surprises... large segments of Linna's
internal organs were constructed from cloned tissue. This had also been
expected, considering the severity of wounds which had been inflicted
upon Linna at the point of her death. She was otherwise healthy;
however barbaric her treatment might have been, she had been kept
adequately nourished and protected from bacterial and viral infections.
Furthermore, though Linna had not indicated that she had been allowed
any sort of exercise, it was clear that her captors had gone to some
length to ensure that she suffered little loss of muscle mass or bone
density. If her reflexes were up to speed--something which could only
be verified by testing--she would be perfectly capable of combat
operations.
She let the system run a while longer, recording data to form a
baseline for Linna's records, then finally shut it down. More testing
would be needed to determine the extent of damage to Linna's nervous
response, especially under combat conditions, but that could wait. For
all that Sylia could tell, Linna was everything she claimed to be, and
her mental function seemed on the whole free of alteration. At last,
she allowed herself a slight smile. Linna was, it seemed, alive and
returned to them. Implausible, perhaps... yet it was somehow true. For
a moment, she even allowed herself to entertain the wildly optimistic
thought that the Knight Sabers might be able to resume normal
operations.
If that was to be, however, it would not be soon. She needed more
time to observe Linna before she could place that degree of trust in
her prodigal child, and besides that, there was much work to be done.
New technologies would have to be integrated into their operations, and
new tactics would have to be developed. A degree of retraining would be
necessary for all of them, to shake off two years of rust from their
combat skills. Before any of that could even begin, though, there was
one more uncertainty to be dealt with. Finding her would not be
difficult, she thought... but it would be up to Linna to bring her back
into the fold.
*****
It was the next evening, and Linna drew the trenchcoat more tightly
around herself as she slipped through the crowded doorway. Two years
had changed the place, she thought. Once, Hot Legs had been the regular
stage of Priss and the Replicants, pulsing with life and the rebellious
spirit of youth; now, it was a haven for drug pushers, addicts,
prostitutes, and various other cast-off debris of society. A thick,
acrid smoke hung in the air, heavy with the scents of various illegal
substances. Pale, lifeless forms drifted around the bar, the fire gone
out of their eyes. Even with Priss' history with this place, it was not
the sort of environment in which Linna would have expected to find her.
With what she had been told, though, she somehow knew that this is where
Priss would be.
She was not wrong. The former rock singer was at the bar, downing
what looked to be her fourth shot of some poison or another. She was
less than a shadow of her old self; her long, brown hair fell in
unkempt, unwashed tangles over her shoulders, her biker leathers were
tattered and torn, and her face looked even worse. Priss had always
been a fighter, and a collection of bruises combined with a nasty scar
along her cheekbone to show that one thing, at least, had not changed.
A small crowd clustered around the once-popular performer. Some offered
her encouragement; others spoke in whispers about how far she had
fallen. Linna found herself torn between fury and sympathy at the
sight.
Gathering her confidence, she pushed her way through the
congregation and took the next seat at the bar. Gazing at her old
friend, she whispered, "You look as dead as I was."
"What the hell d'you know?" Priss lashed back viciously, not
bothering to look up from her glass.
"Forgotten me already?" Linna's voice was bitter, and she gestured
at the quartet of empty shot glasses on the bar in front of Priss. "Or
is that the point of this exercise?"
Priss started violently, her hands balling into fists as she slid
off the barstool. "Nobody talks t'me like that," she growled. "You
want a fight, you got--"
She stopped in mid-sentence as she finally looked up, her eyes wide
in shock and recognition. There, in a trenchcoat and poorly-fitting
combat fatigues, was a ghost of her past. "Linna?" she asked in
disbelief.
Linna's anger melted off, replaced by a rising surge of compassion.
"Yeah. It's me."
Priss staggered, taking a step back. "Can't be. I... I saw you
die. We buried you."
Linna nodded. "Yeah. But someone thought I was more valuable
alive."
"Impossible. You're a boomer copy... or a clone... or..." Priss
glanced at her discarded glasses. "Or I'm ha... hallucinating. Yeah,
thassit. Maybe I jus' need a little more of this stuff, and Sylvie'll
come back, too." Amused with her deduction, she reached for the bottle
to pour herself another drink. "Go bother someone else. I don' believe
in ghosts."
Linna's backhanded blow laid Priss across the bar. "Get a hold of
yourself!" she screamed, grabbing the singer by her shoulders and
lifting her to her feet. <Woah, Linna... calm down. Low profile and
all that,> she reminded herself, then pulled Priss close and hissed at
her, "Is this what I died for? So you could drink yourself into
oblivion?"
"Linna... I..." Priss stammered, trying to collect herself, rubbing
at the darkening skin of her cheek where Linna had struck her. She
shook her head, seemingly trying to clear her mind, and blinked back
tears. "I can't... I want to believe, but I can't. The dead don't come
back."
Linna drew a deep breath, trying to calm herself. Would she be
doing any better if she were in Priss' position at this point? Probably
not. "Look... Priss. I can prove it to you, but you have to come with
me. Get out of this hellhole."
Priss wavered for a moment. "This's gotta be a trap," she slurred.
Linna sighed. The crowd was gathering again, having dispersed a
bit at her sudden show of violence. There would be trouble if they
didn't get out of here quickly, she thought, and while she was perfectly
capable of holding her own in a bar fight, she was *trying* not to
attract attention. "What have you got to lose, Priss?" she asked
gently, offering her shoulder for support.
Priss seemed to consider that a moment, then finally accepted,
leaning heavily on her. "...you win. The hell... why not?"
"Let's go, then," Linna answered, drawing some money from her left
pocket and tossing it to the bartender. Priss was more drunk than she
had realized, and she practically had to carry her up the stairs to
get out. Once they were outside, away from the crowd, she whispered,
"The others are waiting for you, you know. It'll be just like old
times. We're back in business."
*****
End Chapter One