Edward Becerra FOREWORD Though I cannot with complete candor state, as did the late Professor Tolkien, that "the tale grew in the telling," I _can_ allow that this tale grew in direct proportion to the ominous number of times that I found myself reading and re-reading, and re-re-reading Darren Steffler's "Twisted Path" fan-fic series. This was in itself not a cause for alarm (or "alarum" as Professor T. would have put it) but the worried looks on the faces of my family and friends _were_. So I thought long and hard upon the situation, and came to a decision. Locking myself in my house with a metric ton of potato chips, several mega-liters of Mountain Dew and enough Spam(tm) to choke a horse, I sat down to a super-charged, fuel-injected Commodore Amiga 500 personal computer, and began this.. a story about as readable as Linear A and of the same literary value as an autographed centerfold of Saint Simon Stylites. (Eventually the production of this turkey _did_ require the choking of a small horse, but that's another story entirely...) Then I ran the first few chapters of this opus past Twister, who read them, and allowed that it wasn't exactly the _worst_ fanfic that he'd ever read. (Although it came close. ) Then he gave me permission to use his characters, urged me to continue with it, and the result is what you're reading now. I hope you enjoy this little take-off on Darren's wonderful stories, and that in the goodness of your hearts, you decide that traveling to the northeastern corner of Colorado simply for the pleasure of lynching me is much too far a trip for you to take. So have fun reading, don't take it too seriously, and remember.. if you do decide to kill me.. I FAKED MY ADDRESS! BWAHAHAHAH! Ed Becerra The characters of Twister and Darlene Stefanson are Copyright (c) 1994, 1996 by Darren Steffler. The characters of White Wolf and his bar, Wolf's Place, are Copyright (c) 1995, 1996 by Hitomi Ichinohei ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "I wanted to be happily useless. You made me miserably useless." - Peter O'Toole, "High Spirits". *********************************** "No, Minerva. I'm _not_ going to take a rest. I'm going to keep going, whether you like it or not!" The ACI stared back. "B'wana, you are tired, you just spent 12 years fighting in a war that was none of your business, and you are suffering from shell-shock. You are in _no_ condition to go hunting for home. If you try, you'll end up making some stupid mistake, and no one knows what will happen then." "I can't stay here, girl. It's bad enough I participated in the Fall of the Pentagon worlds. The taking of Strana Mechty was worse." Ed buried his face in his hands. "You had _no_ way of knowing that Clan Jade Phoenix would fight to the death. No one did. Not even Prince Victor. He wouldn't have ordered the assault if he'd had the slightest idea that their Crusader Khan would order the massacre of all the non-warrior castes before he led the final resistance." "I can't stay here, girl. I just can't. I don't belong here." "That's not true. Dr. Banzai and his team want you to join them. They're the most respected designers of Battlemechs in the Inner Sphere. And I may have no proof, but I believe that they aren't native to this reality any more than we are. A ship named 'The Nth Dimension'? His name? Team Banzai? The winged double-B emblem they use? You'd fit right in, boss." Her face grew frustrated. "And even if you don't want to take them up on their standing invitation, there's the Federated Commonwealth. You're a hero to the people, b'wana. House Davion's offered you a Dukedom! Why not take it?" "No. I made a big mistake coming to this universe, and a bigger one in staying. We're leaving. Now. Prepare for rotation." "But boss..." "NOW, DAMNIT!! RIGHT NOW!" he screamed. "WE'RE LEAVING!" ".. yes, boss. Rotating.. " * * * STEEL BREEZE PRODUCTIONS and Industrial Might & Logic Are Proud to Present L E G I O N ' S Q U E S T Tangled Skeins * * * "Start scanning, Minerva. Does it look like home?" She shook her head. "No. There are orbital colonies around Terra, and extensive industrial development on the Moon and in orbit, both in LEO and in GEO. In addition, some asteroid mining is clearly evident." A moment's hesitation, then.. "And I'm picking up a broadcast clock signal from several of the navigation satellites. It's 2035 AD, here. Wherever here is." "Prepare for another rotation, then." "Boss..?" "What is it?" "Maybe you should get some sleep, first? And something to eat? You're exhausted." A tired sigh escaped his lips. "You're going to keep after me about that, aren't you." He rose from the chair. "All right. One day. 24 hours. I'll rest, and then we'll leave. Are you happy now?" "Yes, I am. You've got to start taking better care of yourself, boss. Just because you can't be physically harmed, doesn't mean that you aren't vulnerable to emotional problems. Now go get something to eat, and go to bed. I'll wake you in twelve hours. I promise." He headed for his cabin. "Don't forget to cloak, pretty lady." "I'm already cloaked, boss. Standing orders. _Your_ orders." "Right." Sigh. "I forgot. I.. ah.. forget it. See you in a few, girl." As he walked down the corridor to his bed, Minerva looked after him with worried eyes. Then she started some deep scans to identify what reality they were currently in. Perhaps when he'd rested she could persuade him to take some time off... *********************************** After a night of restless sleep and a breakfast he'd just picked at, Ed returned to the bridge. "What have you found, Minerva?" "It's a Bubblegum Crisis reality. I've already found many news items referring to the Knight Sabers, GENOM, and the on-going problem with rogue boomers." "So, let's leave. We've got a long ways to go, yet." "There's going to be a slight difficulty with that, lover." She brought up some figures on the main viewscreen. "That charge you're carrying, the one that keeps diverting us off-course... it's not draining as fast as usual. I think.. I think that if we try to rotate, nothing is going to happen." "Is this another attempt to get me to take a vacation, girl?" "No. You can take the controls for yourself, if you like. But the results will be the same. Watch. Rotating.." Several failed attempts later, Ed gave up in disgust. "So we're stuck here until.. when? How long until we can leave?" "You're still discharging, but at a _much_ slower rate. I don't have any idea why, yet.. but something about this reality is odd. If I had to hazard a guess, I'd say that we weren't the first extra-dimensional travellers to arrive here." "Terrific. My plans get shot to hell because some other careless traveller got here first." His shoulders slumped. "All right. Take us down to Earth. If I'm stuck here for a while, I might as well get that rest you want me to have. Maybe a week off will help." He snorted. "Try Japan. Since this _is_ a BGC variant, I might as well take the opportunity to see the Knight Sabers in action." "That's the spirit, boss. Who knows? You might like it here." "Like it? Mega-Tokyo? Doubtful. Around there, if you're not part of a mega-corp, you're just boomer fodder. But at least they'll have bars." "What is it with you and bars, lover? Every world we set down on, they're the first place you head for." She made a moue at him. "Old habits die hard, I guess. I feel comfortable in a nice quiet bar." He shrugged. "Too many years as a soldier, I suppose. Soldiers are supposed to get drunk and chase skirts in their free time. It's a tradition." "And you're a traditional type." She blew him a kiss. "I'll see if I can't spot a nice bar and grill for you. One that's got some cute girls nearby for you to chase. Go get some more rest, and I'll let you know when we've touched down." Ed nodded silently and turned for his cabin. Then he looked back, for just a moment. "This time, girl... _this_ time, we are *not* going to get involved. No matter _what_ happens. We just.. walk away." Then he left the bridge. *Now why do I have such a hard time believing that, lover?* thought Minerva to herself. She turned her attention to the delicate task of slipping past the web of radar networks filling the air of the world ahead. Even with full cloaking on, it was still bothersome. But in the back of her mind, she wondered... * * * "We're there, boss." When Ed didn't answer, she piped a 60 cycle hum into his room over the intercom system. The raucous buzz shook him from his bunk with gratifying speed, and she smirked to herself when he hit the floor with his face. *All these years, and it's _still_ Faceplant Maneuver #1 when he wakes up. I don't think he'll _ever_ learn.* "Wakey, wakey, b'wana. We've reached Mega-Tokyo, I've found a parking space on the sea floor, and there are a few things you should know about." She paused at that point, as he staggered blindly down the companionway in semi-conscious search of the coffee he could smell. "Boss.. Oh, Boss.. Oh, hell.." She gave it up as a lost cause.. or at least until after he'd had his morning brew. Several cups later, he was considerably more coherent, and able to talk. "What was that you said, pretty lady?" "Well, for one, I found a spot on the sea bottom that should prove a safe place to park. For another.. I did a routine scan of Mega-Tokyo and found some interesting things." "Like what?" "The most interesting was what I couldn't scan." She frowned prettily. "There's some sort of underground anomaly, outside the city. Every time I scan the area, I get a sort of .. _ripple_ in the returns. There's something there, I'm certain of it. But I can't get a lock on it. Or even a good location. What ever it is, it's cloaked even better than I am." "That's saying a lot, considering where we got your cloaking device, m'dear. Could it be a threat?" "I honestly don't know, boss. It worries me." "Well, leave it be, for now. No sense in borrowing trouble. Anything else I should know about?" "I found you a bar, b'wana. And with any luck, you shouldn't be bothered. It's one of those bars where people mind their own business. It's down near the Canyon." "A place where people `mind their own business,' eh? It's not a yakuza bar, by any chance?" "Well.. not exactly. Just a place where certain types can meet in peace to do deals, boss. It's called Wolf's Place." "Wolf's Place, eh? Sounds like some of the watering holes back on Outreach. Jamie Wolf would have liked that. Well, if the shady types can meet there in peace, then I shouldn't have much trouble. Those folks don't answer annoying questions, nor do they ask them. Much. And that's the way I like it." He blinked once or twice. "Weapons, or not?" "A piece or two of steel wouldn't be out of place, boss. Nothing rowdy allowed _inside_, but once you leave.. it's not the best of neighborhoods." "Good. It may not make much sense, given what I've become.. but I feel better with a pistol on my hip." He turned to a small cabinet on the bulkhead, rummaging through it. "Where did I put my Sternsacht? Dammit, it was here somewhere, I know it.." His voice trailed off as he searched. Minerva was taken aback for a microsecond or two. "Ed...?" The use of his first name got his attention. "What?" "You lost the Sternsacht during the retaking of Romulus. Don't you remember?" A frightened look swept across his face, then quickly vanished. "Oh. Yeah. That's right. I.. forgot that. Replicate me a new one, please." "I will, boss. Try not to get in any trouble, please?" "I'll do my best, baby. But trouble has a way of finding me." * * * Minerva had found him a nice dark alley in the rubbled area near Wolf's Place, less than 10 minutes walk from the bar. There had been a few street punks in the area, but they scattered when he picked up a steel I-beam from the ruins of a collapsed building and waved it around like a twig. *Pitiful. I've seen tougher people washed out of kindergarten. Now where is that bar... There!* Inside it was quiet and peaceful. He stepped up to the bar, and flagged down the bartender. "Got any pepper vodka?" The owner of the bar looked him up and down. "Yes. Polish and Russian. What's your preference?" "I'll have the Russian. And a bottle of tabasco sauce, if you have any." He flipped a gold coin on the bar. "You take this credit card?" White Wolf smiled, and the coin vanished. "Your drink will be here right away!" he said with professional cheer. "Anything else?" "Just a little privacy.. and some corn chips, with salsa. Hot." A few moments later, he had a corner table, a fifth of Smirnoff's and the chips. He eased back into the seat, and relaxed. *This is _much_ better,* he thought. *I should do this more often.* He poured himself a drink and glanced around the bar, watching the other patrons. After a moment or two, they'd accepted him as just another person interested in a drink and some quiet. * * * Things stayed that way for a while. Ed soaked up most of the bottle as he watched various deals made between vaguely suspicious-looking types at the other tables. But the atmosphere changed very quickly. A uniformed man ran into the bar and shouted for everyone to evacuate. White Wolf was on the officer in a second. "What do you mean, evacuate?!" "We have a boomer on the loose! It's headed straight for this building. Clear out while you have the chance!" The bar emptied rather rapidly at that point. With two exceptions. Ed slammed his glass down on the table, taking care not to break it. *I am _not_ leaving my drink because some tin-can wind-up toy is on a rampage. I am sick and tired of being attacked in bars! If it's not the Puma sisters, or Clan warriors, or other-dimensional monsters, then it's some mechanical jakanape!* He glanced over at the bar, where the bartender had pulled out a large weapon of an unfamiliar sort. *Looks like a cut-down assault cannon, or a chopped anti-tank rifle of some sort. He's gonna fight for his place. And I don't blame him one bit.* A few moments later, the boomer, a C-55 model, kicked in the door and strode in. It spotted the human glowering at it from a table in the rear of the bar. "Leave me be, and we'll have no problems. Fuck with me, tin man, and I'll hand you your head. That clear enough for your little mechanical mind?" The boomer answered him with a barrage of heat beams and particle cannon fire. The table exploded into a cloud of wood smoke and vaporized metal, obscuring the rear of the room. It turned to face the other human in the building, targeting the weapon the barkeep held braced against the wall. It got the surprise of its synthetic life when a hand tapped it on the shoulder. It whirled around to face an angry something. Something wearing smoldering clothes and a _very_ upset expression. The boomer had a little trouble adjusting to the situation. After all, humans, and even most boomers, simply did NOT shrug off laser and particle beams as though they were raindrops. It upgraded the threat estimate of the target by several levels. "You smoked my clothing. I can get a new suit. My hair is a mess. Any barber can fix that." His voice started to rise in volume. "But you _had_ to go and spill my drink. I like to drink in peace, thank you very much. This was my first chance in _months_! AND YOU RUINED THAT, YOU AUDIO-ANIMATRONIC JUNK-HEAP!!" The boomer tried a physical attack. "Pathetic," Ed muttered. He caught the punch it threw in one hand, and squeezed. The boomer's fist was crushed into a metallic lump. It quickly took stock of what had just happened, and signaled to GENOM headquarters, then continued its attack. The fight didn't last very long. * * * The Knight Sabers had headed out towards Wolf's Place as soon as they had received the call of a rogue boomer. They beat the ADPolice to the area by only a few minutes. Leon's response time had been improving recently. Spotting the shattered door, they entered quickly, expecting the worst. What they saw surprised them. A wide-eyed White Wolf stood behind the bar, a Gerlitch squeezebore rifle with a shortened barrel held limply in one hand. In the middle of the floor stood a rather average looking person (?) who was rather industriously yanking parts off of, and out of, a C-55. And doing so with all the gay abandon of a sadistic child pulling the wings off a fly. He finished by twisting the head from it's shoulders with a single motion, and crushing it between his hands. Over their private circuit, Sylia demanded, "Nene.. what _is_ that?" "I don't know, Sylia. I can't get anything at all! Passive scans aren't returning anything but its external appearance, and active scans are simply reflected back at me! I don't _think_ it's another boomer, but ..." "I see.. Keep it under observation, and repeat the scans. You might get something on a second try." The person being discussed brushed his hands together, and slapped the ashes from his shirt. Then he walked towards the door, seeming to pay no attention to the four hardsuited figures barring his way. "Hold it right there, buster!" A blue hardsuit with red go-faster stripes held up an arm, barring his path. "You aren't going anywhere 'til you answer some questions. Like, who the hell are you?" She pointed to the pile of boomer parts lying on the floor. "And _how_ did you do _that_?!" Priss got a rude surprise at that point. She was answered with a blank stare, as two arms reached out, picking her up, hardsuit and all. She was moved to one side like a toy, and gently placed back down. "I'm sorry. I really don't have time for this. I've got to go." Then he stepped over the wreckage of the door, and saw the ADPolice. He groaned. "Fine. Just fine. It's the comic relief." An angry mutter answered him from their ranks and a variety of personal weaponry was leveled at him. One officer stepped forward with a pair of handcuffs dangling suggestively from one hand. "I'm afraid you'll have to come with us, sir. There are some questions we'd like to ask you." "And you are...?" "Officer Bochinski, sir. Of the ADPolice." Ed froze. "Officer ... Bochinski? Wadderson's partner?" The officer nodded curiously. "Yes. Do I know you?" The stranger standing in front of the bar simply stared at the ADPolice officer for a long moment, a stunned look on his face. Then he shook his head. "No. We haven't met. I've .. heard of you, though. I'm sorry, officer. I can't answer any of your questions, and I can't stay." He looked up towards the sky. "Minerva, emergency recall." A glittering cascade of light surrounded him, and as the Knight Sabers and the ADPolice watched in astonishment, he slowly faded from sight. Bochinski dropped the handcuffs. "Kenneth is _never_ going to believe _this_ story." In the bar, Nene's eyes went wide beneath her helmet. "I wonder if he's like Darlene," she mused. Sylia's eyes narrowed. Could it be...someone else from another universe? * * * "My people, Hymath? Sure. Take the first space/time warp to the fifth dimension, then it's the third wormhole on the right." - Kelly Davies, "The Human Memoirs" Aboard the Calypso, Ed carelessly tossed his pistol belt to a near-by table. He failed to notice the loose cartridges spilling from an open ammo pouch on the belt. The expression on his face was that of a man sick to death. "Were you monitoring me, Minerva?" A deafening silence answered him. "Then you know what just happened. Pull up every fan-fic we have by Darren Steffler, girl. Do it now. Concentrate on the Twisted Path series, but don't focus on them exclusively. I have to find out what I'm up against here." "I can show you everything up to the third story, b'wana." "I thought you had everything, girl. You're from my personal future, after all. Don't you have those files from the net?" "They're locked. And I can't open them until the proper time." "WHAT?! Who ordered that?" he demanded. "I thought _I_ was the only person who could order you to lock a file!" "You are. And you did." He sat down with a thump. "Maybe you should repeat that. Slowly. Use small words. Assume I'm totally confused. Because I am, you know." The hologram looked worried. "This might serve better, boss. I have something here that you should see." She flicked out, replaced by an image on the main bridge viewscreen. Ed recognized the face. He saw it every morning in the mirror. "Hello, Ed. I know you're feeling rather frustrated, upset and angry right now, because that's how _I_ remember feeling.. which is why this recording was made." A brief chuckle. "Actually, I remember this recording twice. Viewing it for the first time, as you, and making it now, as myself." The face of his future self smiled out of the screen at him. "Remember our talks with Doc Mui back on Utopia Planetia? Well, what you're trying to do right now, accessing information from your own future time-line, could cause a major paradox. So.. before I brought the Calypso back through time to hand it over to the Wedge Defence Force, so they could pass it on to you, I took some precautions. Certain files have been time-locked, so you'll be unable to read them until it's safe to do so without endangering yourself with a self-inflicted paradox." He grinned. "And don't think you can out-guess me. I'm _you_, remember? Anything you can think of, I've _already_ thought of, and taken steps to prevent. Each of those files has been locked with a one _terabyte_ key. Even if you order Minerva to crack them for you, it will take her so long, by the time she does succeed, it will already be long since time for them to release themselves." The figure on the screen leaned back, and the viewpoint pulled back, revealing a mirror image of the bridge Ed was standing on. "There is _one_ thing I can tell you, brother. We did make it through, and we _did_ make it home. Try to take comfort in that, if you can. And trust Minerva. She _does_ have your best interests at heart. Don't give her too much grief. She loves you. It may have been programmed into her, but it's no less real for that. Take good care of her, brother." He waved. "And remember... Fortuna bless. Always." The screen flashed, and went blank. * * * Outside Wolf's Place, officers were busy taking statements from witnesses, and collecting evidence. Bochinski was busy arguing with a representative from Genom who was demanding the release of the boomer's remains. "We _require_ whatever may remain of the C-55, officer. It will be of invaluable assistance in determining _why_ it went rogue. The more we know of why boomers go berserk, the more likely it is that we will be able to prevent it from happening in future models!" Bochinski was keeping his temper, but it was taking a major effort on his part. If he didn't know better, he'd swear this over-officious junior executive type was deliberately trying to annoy him. "I _am_ sorry, sir. The remains are evidence in a case. When the ADPolice sees fit to release them, I'm certain you will be informed. But at present, there is simply nothing I can do for you." * * * While Bochinski was having this conversation, one of the workers bagging, tagging, and loading the pieces onto a waiting van took a moment to look around. Careful to remain unobserved and taking advantage of the distraction the argument was providing, he quickly opened the bag containing the upper torso of the boomer and swiftly removed several chips from a recording unit. The chips went into a pocket, and he resealed the bag with a quite official looking ADPolice seal that he took from the same pocket. * * * At Silky Doll Enterprises, Sylia was reviewing everything she had learned from Twister about inter-universal travel. It wasn't much, as Twister himself wasn't altogether well versed in the subject. But it helped. She put her elbows on her desk, and steepled her fingers, deep in thought. *Anyone lost between dimensions, like Twister, would want information, first. Where am I, when am I, and most important, how can I get home. He'd be asking himself these questions right now.. if he _is_ from another reality,* she thought. *Of course, that's assuming he's in a rational state of mind. Darlene arrived here suffering from amnesia, so that may not necessarily be the case.* She nodded, then reached for the phone, tapping out the number for the ADPolice. She made certain to route the call through Wingman to keep it secure. Nene's face filled the tiny screen. "Hi, Sylia! What can I do for you?" bubbled the redhead. "Nene, I want you to keep alert for some sort of effort to raid the network. From what I saw yesterday, I rather suspect that our .. friend .. may be lost, and confused. He might try appropriating the information he needs in the same way Firelord did." Nene looked puzzled for a moment, then nodded, realizing who Sylia was talking about. "Okay. I'll be certain to watch out for it. Do you really think.." Sylia frowned. "We'll talk about it later." Then she hung up. *Something is happening here, and I'm not certain what it is. Until we have more information on who and _what_ that.. person at Wolf's Place was, it's best to take a defensive posture.* She tapped out another number. The screen didn't light up, this time. "We need to meet." "The usual place." "Done." If the stranger was from another reality, then it wasn't very likely that Fargo could find out anything useful. But it couldn't hurt to have him search. And information was a weapon, in the right hands. *********************************** "I want information, girl. I need to KNOW, dammit!" "I'm sorry, boss. All of the open systems seem to agree. The Crystal Knight hasn't been seen in months. And there _is_ a death notice for Dr. Miriam. A rather gruesome one, at that. Now that I've read it, I'd have to give Ms. Madigan points for creativity in the field of revenge, at least. Given the details from TP3, I'd say we're too late. Twister is gone." "I refuse to accept that. He didn't leave right away, and no dates were given. You hit the public access databases only?" Minerva tried to head off what she could see coming. "That's right, boss, but they all agreed that.." "I. Do. Not. Care. Raid them all. Public and private. If they're connected to any net in any fashion, I want every stinking bit and byte in them. And I want it _yesterday_. Is that quite clear enough for you?" She sighed. "Yes, boss. You do realize that to get results _that_ fast, I'll have to be about as subtle as an epileptic bull in a china shop? They may not be able to trace me, but they _will_ notice me." He glared at her without a word, then stalked away to his cabin. *This is _not_ a good sign,* she thought. *He's starting to lose control.* Then she got to work. * * * When Sylia answered the phone, Nene was in a minor panic. "Are you using Wingman, Sylia?" "No, I haven't. Why?" "Something just broke into every machine on the net. Nothing seemed to stop it, or even slow it down. Passwords, firewalls.. they all failed. Hardware locks simply slowed it down. The only successes were when someone cut the power completely. I haven't seen anything like it since Darlene left." Nene's eyes widened. "Do you think she's come back?" Sylia shook her head. "It's unlikely. If she had, she'd have come to see us by now." "Oh.." Nene looked disappointed. "I hoped.." "I know, Nene. We all miss Darlene. But she'll be back. In the meantime, I think you should look into this. Find out what you can. It may have something to do with what we talked about yesterday." Nene thought that over for a second or two. "You think it could be him?" "Anything is possible." After Sylia hung up, Nene returned to her desk, and started a search. Naoko wandered over and looked over her shoulder. "Checking out that intrusion, Nene?" "Uh-huh.. I _really_ want to know how they managed to get into so *many* machines so fast." She giggled. "Who knows.. it might come in handy!" "Nene!" squealed Naoko in mock-horrified tones. "You _know_ what they'll do to you if the Chief catches you cracking systems again..." "But it's in the line of _duty_." she smiled. "They certainly can't object to that!" Naoko just sighed. "You're gonna get in trouble..." * * * In Leon's office, Bochinski was showing a piece of evidence to Leon. "The owner of the bar stated that this is what the `person' who destroyed the boomer used to pay for his drinks." He dropped a plastic evidence bag on the desk. "It's an American twenty dollar gold coin, commonly referred to as a `double eagle' in the States. More important, the lab insists that it's not just real gold.. but that it's authentic. Not a forgery. They claim it's at _least_ 140 years old." He tapped the coin through the plastic. "And if they're right, it's worth enough to coin collectors that he could have _bought_ Wolf's Place outright." Leon McNichol picked up the coin between a thumb and forefinger, absently watching the light from the overhead fixtures glint on it's bright surface. "So.. we have another _unusual_ person in Mega-Tokyo. First the Knight Sabers, then the Crystal Knight, the Elf shows up, there's a werewolf working ADP duty, and one of my best men is now a woman." He rubbed his aching eyes. "Life in the ADPolice. It just doesn't get any better than this." "It could be worse, sir." "How?" "I could have fleas." Leon groaned. "I really didn't need to hear that. All right, did you get anything else? How about the witnesses?" "You know those types, sir. Didn't see anything, didn't hear anything. They went blind and deaf the second they walked through the door. But there was this." He fished in a shirt pocket for a moment, and removed another, smaller evidence bag. "We found several of them scattered near the remains of the table where the suspect was sitting. It looks as if he was carrying some loose rounds in a pocket or possibly on a pistol belt, and they spilled out during the fight." "A pistol cartridge, eh?" Leon narrowed his eyes. "And it looks like a heavy round, too. Have you traced it?" "That's the problem, sir. According to the markings on the casing, it's a.." Bochinski paused to consult his notebook. ".. a Sternsacht 12.5mm Heavy Load." "So?" Bochinski shook his head. "There isn't any such load. Or any such pistol. When nothing turned up in the weapons database, I tried a gun collector in the States. He has one of the largest collections in the world, and the most comprehensive set of references known. He went back to the 1800's without finding anything. There simply isn't any handgun by that name." Leon blinked. "The 1800's?" "After the lab dated the coin, I thought.." Bochinski shrugged. "We've had hardsuited mercenaries, magical elves and Crystal Knights. I've turned into a werewolf. Ken's been changed into a woman. What's a time traveler or two?" "What the hell?" laughed Leon. "We've had nearly everything else. Why not a time traveler?" The laughter threatened to overwhelm him. "I can see it now. We put out an APB on Dr. Who, and a British police call box." He rolled his eyes. "Imagine the response we'd get from Scotland Yard." "How do you want this handled, sir?" "Daley and I will take it over from here, Bochinski. But I want you and Wadderson to lean on the street snitches. Check out anything that sounds bizarre enough. It might be connected. And go see the sketch artist when you have some free time. As well as any other officer who got a clear look at his face. This person, whoever.. or _whatever_ he is, can't just disappear from the face of the earth. Someone has to see something." "The sketch artist? Wasn't anything recovered from the boomer?" Leon gave him a long level stare. "Someone got to its black box before we did. I never said that. You never heard that." Bochinski nodded slowly, and left the office. Then struck by a second thought, he turned back and stuck his head through the door. "When we catch him, you might want to ask him for the name of his gunsmith, Inspector." "Why's that?" "Well," drawled Bochinski, "When they pulled the first round apart for analysis, I'm told the lab boys nearly lost control of their bodily functions, once they realized that they weren't dealing with normal gunpowder." Leon raised a curious eyebrow. "Oh?" "Each of those rounds was loaded with something they thought was impossible. A gelatine form of nitrogen tri-iodide." That drew a low whistle from the inspector. He gazed at the cartridge with new respect. "Ouch. And it didn't blow up in their faces?" The patrol officer shrugged. "Seems that it's somehow stabilized in the gelatine form. It'll only go off when ignited by the primer. They don't know how, though. When I left the lab, quite a few of them were muttering about figuring out how it was done and winning the Nobel prize for chemistry once they had. Sure makes for a hell of a propellant though.. they loaded a sample into one of those `Earth Shaker' revolvers you're so fond of, and tested it." "And?" Bochinski shrugged again. "Scratch one revolver. And the test stand. Along with the target, the armor steel plate behind the target, and the foot thick steel-reenforced concrete wall behind the steel plate. There wasn't much left of the test slug they used, but before it disintegrated under the impact, it went through the armor plate and cracked the wall behind it like an eggshell." He grinned at his superior. "Looks like someone's giving you a run for your money in the `Who's got the biggest gun in Mega-Tokyo' contest, sir." He nodded, and left. Leon sat there for a while, quietly examining the two evidence bags on his desk. *Who are you, Mister Mysterious Stranger? And _why_ have you come to Mega-Tokyo?* *********************************** "What do you have for me this time, Sylia?" asked Fargo. She passed several photos over to the fixer. "This person. I want him located. And, if possible, I'd like the opportunity to speak with him." Fargo looked them over, and frowned. "You're not the only one. There are quite a few people who'd like to have a little talk with this young man." Sylia raised an eyebrow at that. "Oh? Who?" "Who doesn't?" He chuckled quietly. "The line forms on the right, Sylia.. and you are nowhere near the head of it. Genom checked in first, followed quickly by the ADP, the USSD, and several of the usual minor corporations who snoop on Genom and try to poach from them." He stopped to check a mental list, and laughed. "And oddly enough, the owner of a bar!" "A bar owner?!" Fargo nodded, amused. "His name is White Wolf, and he claims he wants to thank the man for saving his business." His fingers shuffled the photos, and tapped the topmost one. "As it is.. the low bid started at 2,500,000 yen. It's currently at 10 million yen for him alive; 5 million for him dead, and 250,000 yen for any reliable information as to his whereabouts. And that was as of this morning. It's still rising." "Why?" "Officially? The ADPolice want to question him about the boomer attack. Genom would like to know how he defeated it. Unofficially? Genom is frothing at the mouth at the idea of losing what appears to be some form of working teleportation. If someone does have that technology, Genom wants to see that it gets into the right hands. _Their_ hands. The USSD feels the same way. Except, of course, to them the right hands are those of the USSD." "I see. Has there been any information?" "No." Fargo looked mildly interested. "Which is fascinating, considering just _how_ many people are looking for him. It's as if he's dropped off the face of the planet. The USSD is even checking the orbital zaibatsu's, on the off-chance that he might have gotten to a shuttle." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I'm taking that one with a grain of salt, given his rather unique method of departure from Wolf's Place." Sylia nodded. "If you hear anything.." Fargo smiled. "As usual, you'll be the first to know. For the usual fee." * * * "The time is out of joint: O cursed spite, That ever I was born to set it right!" - Shakespeare, `Hamlet', Act I, scene v. "I hate temporal mechanics." - Miles O'Brien, "ST: DS 9 - Visionary" A small scutter rolled up to Ed and handed him another printout. He took it absently, and returned to studying the copy of Twisted Path 3, comparing it to the files Minerva had retrieved. His ready room was littered with paper, and logic solids were scattered across his desk. The more he read, the less he liked it. "Minerva?" "Yes, boss?" "I'm sorry." "You're sorry? What for? Why?" Astonishment was evident in her voice. He shook his head. "Because you were right all along," he sighed. "Because I was too busy feeling sorry for myself to admit to the truth. And because I was behaving like an ass for the past few weeks out of self-pity. When I thought I had a chance.. when I thought I'd _finally_ managed to find someone who might be able to tell me which direction my home was.. I completely forgot about anything or anyone else. And worst of all.. for the way I treated you, pretty lady." He rose from the chair and started pacing back and forth, avoiding the piles of printout in his path. "That recording you played for me. He.. I.. We.. arrgh! I _hate_ time travel. The pronoun trouble is a killer. And it's giving me a headache," he grumbled. He rubbed at his temples and began again. "_That_ Ed was right. Just because your love for me was programmed doesn't make it any less real. I had _no_ right to be that abusive toward you." He stopped in the middle of the room, and dropped both arms. "I know it's totally inadequate, but.. I'm sorry." "Shhhh... It's all right, lover. It's all right. These things happen." A note of humor entered her voice. "After all, you're only human." He snorted, and began to chuckle. "Ouch! Too true, pretty lady.. too true by half. Can you forgive me?" "What is there to forgive, love?" Ed closed his eyes for a long moment. "I don't deserve someone as special as you, girl. I really don't. But I'm not going to question my luck. What I _do_ need to question is.. what next? What happens now?" He returned to his desk and sat. "Twister isn't here, it may take weeks before I'm able to leave, and I have the police looking for me. Hell, with my luck, I probably have _Genom_ looking for me!" He glared down at the papers. "And I can't even go back to the bar, damnit!" "Boss.. Why not wait?" "Eh? What's that?" "I've read the story too. Darlene.. err.. Twister.. err.. whatever, said that s/he'd come back for an occasional visit. That was on line number 3586, in part 3 of Twisted Path 3, remember? If you settled down in Mega-Tokyo, you could keep an eye on both the Knight Sabers and on the art shop. Then, when Twister returns, you could try and ask him if it would be possible to find your way home by magic." He scratched his head. "Hold on, m'dear. I don't have your perfect memory. Lemme.." He pawed through the printed copy, flipping the pages. "It's on the last few pages, boss. Try turning to the end and working forward." "Right, right, whatever... Yes! There it is. Darlene, speaking to Nene: `I'll be back. Count on it. Then we'll REALLY turn this city upside down.'" He frowned. "The question is, is _when_. When will he visit?" "No. The question is, does it matter, boss? You have all the time in the world." She giggled. "You have all the time in _all_ the worlds, lover. I can't speak for the boredom, but you could likely outwait the lifetime of a star." He gave her a suspicious look. "You're trying to get me to take another vacation, aren't you. What have I told you about that?" She smiled innocently at him. "Would I do something like that?" "Damn right you would," he snorted. "You _never_ think I get enough rest. But I have to admit, this time you're right. It seems like the sensible thing to do." She gazed at him. "Boss, are you feeling well?" "Huh? Of course. Why do you ask?" "Well, you're actually planning on doing something sensible for a change." She smirked. "Are you _certain_ you're not ill?" "Why you little.." he growled. "I oughtta.." Her snicker echoed throughout the ship. *********************************** At "Flights of Fantasy", Priss was still fuming about what had happened. She still couldn't get over it. "He picked me up like a damn _Barbie_ doll! Nobody does that to me! Nobody! Soon as I find him, he's gonna die! Slow and painful, too!" Sylvie glanced over at her. "You're just irked that it happened so easily. From what I heard about it, he didn't even break into a sweat. And you weren't able to break his grip even wearing your suit. So I _really_ don't think it would be a good idea for you to try and take him on bare-handed.. providing you're even able to find him." "I don't care!" Priss smashed a fist on the counter, rattling it, and knocking a few small dragon sculptures of Darlene's to the floor. Anri knelt and picked them back up. "Nobody gets away with making me look like a fool!" "What about the Blue Bullet?" giggled Anri. "He did! And so did we!" Priss glared at her. "That was different. Twister was a friend. And so are you two. You had a _reason_ for hiding. Darlene had an even better one! I mean, who would have believed... Escaped sexaroids are one thing. I can deal with that. Someone from another dimension who has psychic powers as a guy, and who turns into a girl with *magical* powers every time he gets wet?" She shook her head. "Makes life in Mega-Tokyo look normal by comparison." Sylvie smiled. "I know. It was.. eerie .. seeing it happen that first morning. Still, I think that you might want to leave _this_ one alone, Priss. I saw it on the news last night, and heard the details from Nene. Anyone who take hits like that without injury, and can tear apart a boomer with their bare hands isn't someone to be taken lightly." Priss growled, and gave the two a dirty look. The conversation halted then, as a customer walked in, looking for one of the famous pieces of dragon art. The customer gaped for a while at the high prices, and complained. Sylvie explained that the artist had left Japan, and hadn't given a date for their expected return. Priss was unable to hold back a smirk at that remark. "You see, ma'am.. with the artist currently unavailable, the remaining pieces have increased in rarity and price," noted Sylvie. "But that also means that once a piece leaves the shop, it will continue to grow in value. This makes it an excellent investment." The elderly woman nodded her agreement, and purchased a small black dragon battling a knight, one done in a European style. Once she'd left, the conversation resumed. "I'm not about to tell you what you should and shouldn't do, Priss. We're too close of friends for me to do that," Sylvie frowned. "But I will say this.. _I_ wouldn't take this `Goldeneyes' person on in a fight unless I was forced to. But it's your life, and your choice." "And besides," added Anri. "You have to _find_ him first. After seeing how he disappeared when they showed the video on the evening news.. I don't think that will be very easy." Priss ground her teeth. "Oh, I'll find him. No matter how long it takes." She stomped out of the shop. *********************************** Leon had just returned from an extremely unpleasant meeting with the Chief. One could practically _see_ the dark cloud hanging over his head. Fellow officers scattered from his path like grasshoppers as he stalked down the hallways. He charged into his office and slammed the door so hard the window cracked. "I don't believe it. We're running around trying to find someone who had a good, clear look at our mysterious stranger, so we can produce a sketch of his face; we're still hunting for the contents of the boomer's black box, in order to retrieve a picture of him, and what happens?" He threw his hands in the air. "A lousy news reporter doing a color piece on urban decay gets a shot not only of our suspect, but of his disappearance! To top it all off, the Chief spends a whole 45 minutes chewing _our_ butts for something that wasn't even our fault!" Daley patted him on the shoulder. "We could have been in a lot more trouble, partner." "HOW?! Tell me, just _how_ could things be worse!" "For one thing, no one _outside_ the department knows how clueless we were. If this had been on the evening news as well.." Daley shuddered. "I don't even want to think of all the charges of incompetence that they'd have levelled at the ADP." "So instead, _we_ get charged with personal incompetence. Terrific." Leon drew a cup of coffee and sat down. "We're lucky something good came out of this whole mess. We've got some nice clear pictures of our suspect to work with." He spread them over his desk. "Now we at least have a good shot at finding him." * * * "Arrrrrrgh! I don't BELIEVE this!" Ed threw his drink at the screen. "_Goldeneyes_? GOLDENEYES?? They nicknamed me that?!" Minerva laughed. "But b'wana, your eyes _are_ gold!" Ed continued to fume. "That news cameraman! This is _his_ fault! He's gonna pay for this. Sticking me with an idiotic tag like that. Ooooh, am I gonna get him!" He gritted his teeth so hard, she could hear them creak. "Twister gets something noble. _He_ gets to be the bloody Crystal Knight! What do I get? Goldeneyes! Bah!" "It wasn't the reporter's fault, boss. You're the one who forgot to put in your contact lenses. He was just doing his job of recording the news. You can't blame him for that. If you want to blame anyone, blame the boomer for vaporizing your sunglasses." She walked up behind him. "Besides, you need to start thinking how to fit in to this world. You can't keep an eye on the Sabers OR Darlene's store if you're cooped up in here." "True, true.. I'll need another identity. And I'll have to do something about my appearance. My picture has to be all over Japan, thanks to that damned cameraman." "Glasses." "Glasses? What about them?" "Eyeglasses, boss. It worked for Clark Kent. It might work for you." "Do you realize just how _utterly_ ridiculous that sounds, pretty lady?" "Don't knock it till you've tried it, boss. If you put on a pair, and we grey your hair completely, that will hide the grey streaks down your temples. A bit of makeup to hide the scar across your forehead, and that should work nicely." She rubbed her hands together. "After all, lover, most humans notice the _un_usual looking areas of the face. That means almost everyone who's seen those photos will be concentrating on the hair, eyes, and scar. Get them to concentrate on the glasses and the _grey_ hair, and they will think you are a totally different person who simply happens to faintly resemble the pictures on the news." He thought that one over for a moment. "I'll give it a try, girl. I haven't seen you make a mistake yet. But really.. grey hair?" "You'll see, b'wana. You'll look _soo_ distinguished!" Minerva giggled. "A perfect gentleman, in every way." "Humph. That'll be a first. I've never been accused of _that_ particular crime before. Everything else, but never that." He scrubbed a tired hand across his face. "Why do I get the feeling I've created a monster, here?" His only answer was another giggle. *********************************** "Cunning and deceit will every time serve a man better than force." - Niccolo Machiavelli Sylia turned to answer the phone, and discovered Nene at the other end. "What is it, Nene?" "Sylia? It's happened again. Two more net break-ins. But this time only a few systems." Nene looked puzzled. "The ADPolice mainframe was the first. Then the systems belonging to the THP. But the others? I don't understand this..." "What?" "Why in the world would anyone want to break into real estate firm computers? There's nothing in those machines but property listings, Sylia." Sylia's face stilled. "Nene, what _area_ of the Highway Police systems were broken into?" "Let me check." She glanced at something out of Sylia's sight. "It looks like the.. driver's registration and ID? What does that have to do with real estate?" "They have a great deal to do with each other," said Sylia absently. She looked back at Nene. "I want you here tonight. There is something I want you to look for." * * * "I have a couple of surprises for you, boss." "What's that, m'dear?" muttered Ed absently. He kept reading the job listings for Mega-Tokyo. "There _has_ to be _something_ out there that I can do. I'm not totally incompetent, damn it all... I'm intelligent - I can figure this out for myself... I can _do_ this... Really... Eventually... I _think_... " "For one thing.. Happy Anniversary, Boss!" A scutter rolled up and handed him a small package. "Eh? What? What's this?" "It's been twenty years now, boss. Remember? Twenty years ago today is when you came aboard me at Utopia Planitia." His eyes widened. "Good lord! I'd completely forgotten! And I didn't get you a thing!" "That's all right, lover," she smiled. "There's no need to panic. You can pick me up something in Mega-Tokyo. You're legal, now. I just finished... _adjusting_ the records for you. I've even faked the necessary paperwork, and inserted it into the proper file cabinets all over the city. You are now Anthony Edwards, with ID to match." She smirked. "Transporters are such wonderful tools." He nodded, then looked at the package in his hands. "And this is..?" "Open it!" He did so, then collapsed into his armchair. "Gaaah! You.. you've got a _sick_ sense of humor, m'dear." He stared in horror at the hardbound book in his hands, and re-read the title, not quite believing what he was looking at. "`The Incredible Umbrella' by Marvin Kaye." He flipped to the flyleaf and read the inscription with a sinking feeling. To Edward Anthony Becerra Through the good graces of: John Wellington Wells President J. W. Wells & Co., Family Sorcerers. If anything anyone lacks, He'll find it all ready in stacks at 70 ST. MARY'S AXE, LONDON ("SIMMERY AXE") "You didn't.. you _couldn't_!" he moaned. "I could and I _did_, lover!" she replied. "Arrrrgh!" * * * After he'd calmed down, Minerva showed him the real estate listings she'd plundered. "Why real estate, girl?" "B'wana.. every time you've taken a job, it's always been as a soldier, or occasionally a member of a police force. Like that time you spent as a tank mechanic for the Tank Police. You've got to stop that. It's not good for you." "And what on Earth does real estate have to do with that?" "You've said it before, boss. You've always dreamed of being the owner of a bookstore. Why not try it now?" Ed started to wag a finger at Minerva, then halted abruptly. Her words echoed in his head. *Why not? Why the _hell_ not?* He nodded. "Why not, indeed? But how would I get started?" Minerva tsk'ed at him. "Boss.. I have one of the largest, if not THE largest, mobile archives in the multi-verse. I have books that have never been written in this reality. I have books that were written, then _lost_ for all time. I have the complete contents of the Library of Alexandria, from before the Great Burning. To put it bluntly, I have books that collectors from this world would quite cheerfully _kill_ for." Ed snapped his fingers. "And by using the replicators to re-create them.." "Now you're getting the picture, boss. We'll set up in the rare book business. The _really_ rare book business. Once word gets out, customers will come _crawling_ on their hands and knees to your shop. I guarantee it!" "Okay, then! Let's start looking for a place to buy!" *********************************** Kate Madagan approached her superior's office with no small amount of trepidation. She'd failed to carry out her orders, and she knew it. Quincy wasn't a man to suffer fools gladly. The truth be told, he didn't suffer them at all. They were removed from their positions in the company. Such removals tended to be somewhat.. terminal, on occasion. She thought of that fool, Brian Mason, and shivered. She noticed the open door just seconds before Quincy's voice greeted her. "Come in, Ms. Madagan." She entered the office, and at his request, took a seat. "Sir, I am afraid I must report a failure on my part. We have been unable to locate even the slightest trace of the person who was responsible for the destruction of the boomer in Wolf's Place. I accept full responsibility for this." Quincy rotated his chair slightly, and looked out over the Mega-Tokyo skyline. He steepled his fingers, and seemed to be lost in thought. Then his gaze returned to Madagan. "I had expected as much. Although I am moderately disappointed that you failed to realize that." "Sir?" "Come now, Ms. Madagan. Having fought the Crystal Knight, you of all people should be well aware of the potential inherent in teleportation, whether by means psionic, or technological." His eyes returned to the window, and the cityscape beyond it. "Given access to such abilities, and a need to hide, I would quite likely be doing what our young friend is. He has taken refuge somewhere, and is using teleportation to serve his needs. All the while monitoring the local newscasts to ascertain when it has become safe to emerge." Quincy smiled. "Food, water, even air can be easily and untraceably supplied in such a manner. His retreat could literally be anywhere, from the streets of Mega-Tokyo, to the barren wind-swept rocks of Tierra del Fuego. Or even the mares and mountains of the Moon, for that matter. He could be just as comfortable there, as anywhere, using teleportation." Madagan swallowed hard. She cursed herself for not realizing this on her own. "Then, how are we to find him, sir?" A sere smile crossed Quincy's face. "We do not." "Sir?" asked a confused Madagan. "We will allow our target to find _us_, Ms. Madagan. When you leave here, cancel all the bounties we have offered for his capture. Call off all of the agents actively searching for him. Remove any visible signs of the hunt. Pressure the ADPolice to do the same. Additionally, you may need to interfere with the USSD's efforts, as it is unlikely they would willingly submit to any coercion on our part." He turned to face her, his eyes cold and hard. "Once he is certain it is safe to return, he will do so. We need merely wait, and keep a wary eye out for his return. Thinking he is safe, he will grow careless. He will make a mistake, and reveal himself, Madagan. And we will be waiting for that mistake." *********************************** At "Flights of Fantasy" Sylvie and Anri were busy opening the shop for the morning's business when they noticed a large moving van roll down the street and stop about a block and a half away, in front of a smallish warehouse that had been closed since before Darlene had opened the store. A crew hopped out, and started unloading furniture and personal effects as a second van pulled up behind them. This one was labeled 'Nakamura Cleaning Services' down the side. "It looks like someone is moving in, Sylvie," remarked Anri. "I wonder who they are?" Sylvie looked at the furniture being carried in from the pavement. "Whoever they are, it looks like they intend to live on the premises. I wonder if they just bought it as a home, or if they intend to set up in business?" * * * On the third floor of the warehouse, the cleaning staff was rapidly removing the accumulated dust and grime from years of disuse and setting up small portable room dividers. As they cleaned each section, the moving crew brought in the furniture and arranged it. One of them approached their employer. "Sir, where would you like the kitchenette?" Ed frowned. "Put it in the south-east corner. I like a bright, cheery kitchen with lots of sunlight in the morning. And I want all the bookcases along the north wall. Put my office equipment there, as well." He turned toward the stairs. "I'm going to see if the rest of the office furniture for the lower floors arrived. Carry on." As he walked down the stairs, he noted that the cleaning crews had already finished the first two floors, and looking out the front window, he noticed a third, much larger truck pulling over to the curb. *Hopefully, that will be the bookcases for the store itself.* As he waited for the movers to unload it, he looked down the street. Seeing the two sexaroids watching, he frowned slightly. *I wish I could have found someplace further away from them. I tend to attract trouble, and I don't like the thought of nice girls like them getting tangled up in my problems.* He snorted. *But every other place in town wanted prices that were totally ridiculous! Not that I couldn't have paid them, but even a blind man would have sat up and taken notice when I trundled in enough gold to purchase them. That much cash just doesn't wander into town unannounced. Hell, it was hard enough laundering enough gold to get this place. Anything bigger, and everyone in town would have started to ask questions.* "Ahhhh, bother! That's the trouble with being a legitimate businessman.. all the bloody record-keeping." He glanced over at Sylvie and Anri. "Oh, what the hell.. I might as well invite them over. If anything is going to happen, it's going to happen. Que sera, sera." He walked over and gave the women a florid bow, doffing his hat with an elaborate flourish. "Anthony Edwards, Esquire, at your service, m'ladies. And you are?" *Yahright. As if I didn't know..* Anri giggled, and Sylvie smiled. "I'm Sylvie, and she's Anri. We run the art store just down the street." Ed nodded. "I see that you're interested in my new acquisition. Would you care for the nickel tour?" He offered them each an arm. The women both smiled at the courtly gesture, and each taking an arm, they walked with him to the warehouse door. * * * Anri gazed around herself in awe. Almost everywhere she looked were workmen assembling bookcase after bookcase. The room was beginning to resemble a medium sized library from the nineteenth century. She stroked the oiled walnut of one bookshelf with a gentle finger. "It's beautiful," she breathed. "It's almost a work of art itself." Ed smiled. "Thank you." He looked to the walls. "I was fortunate that this wasn't one of those stainless-steel and chrome monstrosities that architects were throwing up all over cities for a while there. Pun intended." He smiled gently. "There's just something about brick and wood that lends a certain.. warmth to things, don't you think? And the previous owner kept her in good repair, if you don't mind a little dust and grime." He waved the two over to a small table in one corner. "Care for some irish coffee? It's fresh." "Thank you," nodded Sylvie. "We'd be delighted." As they sat, Ed waved at the work going on around them. "So.. what do you think?" "It's very.. busy," ventured Sylvie. "It'll calm down, once I'm through moving in," laughed Ed. "Beginnings are always a rather clumsy time, getting started and all. The grand opening will be much more dignified, trust me." He looked at the workmen and nodded. "I paid extra to be moved in as rapidly as possible. I've always been a little over-eager, you see." "What sort of bookstore will this be, Mr. Edwards?" "Oh, please... Anri, isn't it? Just call me Ed. And it will a rare book store, for the most part. When I was a lad, I was often frustrated when searching for that certain special book, or reading _part_ of a series, and discovering that the other volumes were currently unavailable, or even worse, out of print with no one planning to reprint them." He stood, and strode over to a large box, and pulling it open, extracted a rather sad looking paper-back book, in English. He handed it to Sylvie. "Take a look." She glanced at the title, mentally translating it into Japanese, then made a face at him and began to snicker loudly. Then she read it aloud for Anri. "A Parody Of J. R. R. Tolkien's 'The Lord Of The Rings' - _BORED OF THE RINGS_, by The Harvard Lampoon." Anri had a sour expression, looking as if she'd just sat on a whoopee cushion. "That's.. terrible." Ed grinned boyishly. "What can I say? I was born with a warped sense of humor. But those aren't the _only_ works I'll be carrying. I'll have something for almost everyone." "When is the grand opening, Mr. Edwards?" He looked around the room again. "If all goes well, in about one week. I'd like to invite you both to come. And bring all your friends. The more, the merrier, I always say." * * * Later that evening, Nene was going over a disk full of records with Sylia. "I don't understand, Sylia. What are we looking for?" Sylia pursed her lips. "What did Darlene do when she first arrived?" "She came home with me," smiled Nene. "I meant after that, Nene. What did she have to do, when she settled down in Mega-Tokyo?" said Sylia patiently. The redhead's brow wrinkled in thought. "Well.. we had to get her some identity papers.. and later she bought a home of her own, and her shop.. OH!" The redhead's fingers flew over the keyboard. "That's the reason for the break-in of the THP's system. You think that person we met was setting up an identity for himself?" Sylia nodded her assent. "And the system break-ins at the real estate firms were to acquire information on properties for sale in the city. Our mysterious figure is obviously thinking of moving to Mega-Tokyo." "I don't think we'll get much from the THP files, Sylia. So far, everything in the system matches up with the proper paper files, and the optical backups." She typed some more. "If a fake ID _was_ inserted, they did a GREAT job of it." A glint appeared in Sylia's eyes. "Perhaps.. but the property is another matter entirely. Show me the list of currently available pieces of land, and buildings for sale in the city." Nene scrolled the list up the screen. "How will that help us, Sylia?" "There are a limited number of businesses and business people in Mega-Tokyo. And as the owner of both Silky Doll Enterprises, and the shares in other businesses that were part of my father's inheritance, I'm passingly familiar with the majority of them. They can be eliminated. An inquiry or two within the business community will reduce the list even further. The few remaining are the ones that will have to be investigated." * * * Ed yawned and headed upstairs. {You tucked into a safe orbit, love?} She responded in a slightly grumpy manner. {Safe, yes. Clean? No.} {Pardon?} {Boss, these people _really_ need to clean up the Clarke orbits. It's _filthy_. There's more junk floating around their near-earth space than there was in the Mutara nebula.} {That bad, eh?} {Worse. There's everything from paint flecs to entire dead satellites up here. Don't these idiots ever sweep their traffic lanes?} He sighed. {Probably not, Min... it IS a distopic reality, after all.} There was a pause, then he continued. {Tell you what... go ahead and clean up what you want. Just be careful that no one notices.} {Done and done. You get some sleep, okay?} {Will do, m'dear. Night night.} *********************************** "Do not try to solve all life's problems at once - learn to dread each day as it comes." - Donald Kaul The next morning was a little confusing for Ed. He woke up in an unfamiliar room, and couldn't place his location for a few moments. Then he remembered deciding the night before to sleep in the apartment over the bookstore, rather than aboard the Calypso. He shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs from it, then headed for the bathroom. Showered, shaved (not that he needed it as much, these days), and generally groomed, he felt able to face the day ahead. He rubbed his hands together and grinned as he walked over to the kitchenette and looked it over. *Been a while since I've done this in a proper kitchen. Either Minerva was fixing the meals, or I was dining on field rations. Talk about your going to extremes,* he thought. *She can beat out a french chef, and those rat packs tasted like something C-Ko might have cooked. Bleah.* "Now.. let's see if I still know how to fix a breakfast for myself. One that _won't_ qualify as toxic waste..." * * * Once breakfast was over, he headed downstairs and with Minerva's help, began stocking the book shelves. He whistled as he worked, and Minerva flinched. *Twenty years, and he _still_ can't carry a tune if you gave him a bucket!* "Boss...?" "Hmmm.. lessee.. Newton's _Principia_ should go.. eh? What is it, pretty lady?" "B'wana, would you _please_ stop whistling? It _hurts_!" He made a sour face. "It's not _that_ bad, is it?" "Look at your coffee mug, lover." Ed turned, and saw a pile of ceramic shards lying on a nearby table. "Ooops. Ahh.. err.. heh, heh.. maybe I should stop whistling?" "That would be a GOOD idea, boss." "Well, back to the books. Have you finished replicating those special ones we picked out?" "Yes, and they're ready for delivery. I'll transport them directly to your living room. Fewer eyes, that way." The small bell he'd hung over the front door rang then, announcing a visitor. He looked over his shoulder, then rose. "Oh.. hello, Anri. Is there anything I can do for you?" "No, but thank you. Actually, I came over to see if there was anything _we_ could do for you. To welcome you to the neighborhood." She glanced at the rapidly filling shelves. "You certainly work fast!" "De nada, chica. It's nothing." His forehead wrinkled. "The _hard_ part is getting word out to potential customers." He shrugged. "Ah, well. I've advertised in the paper, and on the net. Now it's just a matter of waiting." Anri poked around the open boxes. "There are a lot of books here I've never seen before.. how rare are they?" She picked up a fragile volume. "Like this one.." She frowned over the english title. "'The Gods of Mars'? I've never heard of that one." Ed laughed. "You've heard of Tarzan, haven't you?" Anri nodded. "Well, that is another series by Edgar Rice Burroughs, the author and creator of Tarzan." He pointed to the book in her hand. "That particular copy is a first edition, first printing. It's about one hundred and twenty years old, and signed by the author. Worth about.. oh.. ten to fifteen thousand dollars, American. That's what.. 1.5 million yen, I think?" He grinned, as he watched Anri carefully replace the book where she had found it. "Probably more, depending on how desperately a collector might want it." "It seems a lot like our business, in a way." Ed rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I suppose it is. Books are works of art, in their own unique way." An idea struck him. "Say.. as I'm the new kid on the block, so to speak, how about I take the two of you out to lunch? My treat. You're the only people I know in Mega-Tokyo at present." He grinned widely. "And it would do my reputation good to be seen with two such lovely ladies." "I'll ask Sylvie," replied Anri. "But I'd like that. Where can we go?" He spread his hands in a confused gesture. "Anywhere you like. I'm not that familiar with the restaurants around here. I'm afraid I've been eating take-out food for quite a while." *Oh Ghod, _please_ let Minerva forgive _that_ lie.* "I leave myself in your no-doubt quite capable hands." She nodded happily, then noticed a large plaque hanging on the wall near the cash register. The words caught her eye. "Who said that?" she asked. "Eh? I mean, excuse me?" She pointed to the plaque and read it out loud, curiously. "The written word is all that stands between memory and oblivion. Without books as our anchors, we are cast adrift, neither teaching nor learning. They are windows on the past, mirrors on the present, and prisms reflecting all possible futures. Books are lighthouses, erected in the dark sea of time." Ed smiled gently. "Jeffery Robbins, an old acquaintance of mine. A person and an author whom I greatly respected. It's a quote from a book of his, `The Sword and the Staff - A Book of Merlin'. No matter where or when you are, for the human race, truer words were never spoken." His eyes went distant, and Anri could tell that, for the moment at least, he'd forgotten she was even in the shop. "The power of the written word. More powerful than any weapon known to mankind. The words held inside of books have the power to echo down the dark reaches of eternity, defying death and time itself. When the first human created the first written word.. _then_ was true power born." He blinked suddenly, and noticed her standing there. He gave an embarrased laugh, and blushed. "I'm sorry. Didn't mean to preach at you like that. It's just that, well, books mean a great deal to me, you see." Anri smiled. "I understand. And you made it seem so vivid. I've never thought about books in quite that way before. It's a lot to think about." * * * Fargo looked across the table at Sylia. "You want me to investigate these people?" "Just a short brief on them, for now." She placed a short list with half a dozen names on the table. "I may have an interest in one of them. I need to determine which of them that might be." Fargo gave her a strange look, but took the list and tucked it in a pocket. "How much do you want on each of them?" "An open background file, and a photo will do for now," Sylia noted. "And the quieter this can be kept, the better." Fargo looked mildly offended. "When haven't I done anything quietly, Sylia?" The shadow of a sly smile darted across her face. "There was that time I asked you to investigate a certain art store owner for me.." "That wasn't one of mine, Sylia." He managed an hurt expression. "I don't know what the person I hired ran into there, but it must have been something rather impressive to scare them like that." "I expect that it was," Sylia replied. Fargo looked at her, but refrained from asking. Unwarranted curiosity was generally unprofitable. Under the wrong circumstances, it could kill you. "I'll send some people to check these out. Should take about a week at most. Probably less." He re-read the list. "Will that be soon enough?" Sylia nodded. "Until next time, Fargo." But Fargo didn't rise to leave yet. "There's something else, Sylia. Something interesting. Genom's called off the search for the man involved in the attack on Wolf's Place." Sylia frowned at that, and Fargo went on. "They've cancelled all the bounties they'd offered. They are also quietly pressuring the ADP to drop the search as well." "Why?" "No one knows. Even the professional ears haven't any clues." "How much do I owe you for that, Fargo?" He looked at her. "That one's for free. Something feels wrong out there, Sylia. Very wrong. Watch your back." Fargo stood and left. * * * Late that night, Ed was trying to relax in his living room. It wasn't going very well, however. The lunch with Sylvie and Anri had been pleasant, and plans for the grand opening were progressing nicely. So why was he so down, he wondered. Turning on the stereo, he put on an album he'd bought on the way home from the restaurant. Tina Turner began to sing softly through the room. Lighting a cigar, he listened to the music, and pondered. "Boss? What's the matter?" He took off the glasses and rubbed at his eyes. "That's what I'm trying to figure out myself, Minerva." He waved at the stereo. "I think it boils down to that." "What? A song?" She listened for a moment. It was "I don't wanna fight." by Tina Turner. "Well, an emotion, anyway. Haven't you wondered? Why here? Why Mega-Tokyo, instead of America?" The small, disguised projector resting on the cocktail table switched itself on and a hologram of Minerva faced him. "I had, b'wana. But I'd figured.. it's your life, after all. You need all the privacy you can get." "It's what, 2035 AD, right? And historically speaking, this reality is pretty close to my own. It occurred to me... with modern medicine, my family might still be alive here." He shivered. "_I_ might still be alive here. I don't think I could face that. I wonder if anyone could. I was running away." "You can't run away from yourself, boss." "I think I know that now. God knows I tried hard enough." He turned off the music, and walked towards the bedroom. "Maybe I can get my head straight, now that I do." He grimaced. "At least I've something to look forward to. Six more days, and then the grand opening of `Rare Books'." He stopped. "Minerva?" "Yes, B'wana?" "Thank you." *********************************** Four days later, Fargo delivered a small disk full of reports to Sylia. Of the six people she'd requested backgrounds on, five had checked out clean. One was.. unusual. "Unusual how, Fargo?" "He checks out on paper, but there doesn't seem to be anyone who knows him personally. He has no immediate personal ties, and every personal contact dead-ends rather abruptly." His brow furrowed. "So I managed to slip someone inside his store, as part of the installation team for his security system. His store and home are sanitized. His furniture is standard store bought, all his clothing straight off the rack. With two small exceptions, there's nothing there that shows _any_ personality at all. He's _too_ clean, Sylia." "And the two exceptions?" Fargo pulled out two photographs. The first showed what appeared to be a large piece of Egyptian art; the second, a small identity card of some sort. "I wasn't able to identify either one. The sculpture is definitely Egyptian, but none of the experts can place it. The card? Nothing." Sylia looked closely at the second photo. ---------------------------- | COMBATANT PERSONNEL | | HOUSE OF STEINER | | The Lyran Commonwealth | | | | 121740 | | | | Mechwarrior | ---------------------------- A small icon of a clenched fist in an iron gauntlet was off-centered on the small card, located where the picture on a photo ID might have been. "And you couldn't find anything about this card." Sylia's tone made it a statement, not a question. Fargo shook his head, and she continued. "That's enough. I'll handle this from now on. Thank you, Fargo." * * * "Are you certain that it will work?" "Yes. Whoever that worker was spying for, all he got were a few pictures of that piece of art in your bedroom. And, unfortunately, a photo of the card-key for your Enforcer." She frowned. "Everything else was clean. If it was Genom, then they'll drive themselves crazy trying to figure out what the sculpture means." "Good. The spook mind-set is 'guilty until proven innocent'. And to them, an _appearance_ of innocence merely implies that your subject is a pro at covering his tracks. Ergo, the subject has something to hide. If they hadn't found anything, they'd simply have looked harder." Ed paced around the room. "So a false clue is better than no clues, where those types are concerned. They'll happily follow the bogus trail we left them, and never look in the right direction." He chuckled. "With any luck, they'll end up searching in Egypt." "True enough, lover.. but they also have that snapshot of your card key. You shouldn't have left that in the shop, boss. That was a mistake." He scratched at the scar on his forehead. *Damnit! I've _got_ to break that habit.* "Maybe so, pretty lady. But I got that card from Adam Steiner himself. It stays with me. If that makes my life a little difficult, s'beit." "All right, B'wana. Reminder: You promised Anri and Sylvie to visit their art shop today." He blinked. "Oh? When did I do that?" "During lunch with them a few days ago." "Figures," he mused. "A big lunch and a pretty girl. Works on me like kryptonite on Superman. Well, it's not like it won't be fun." He smiled. "I've always wanted to visit that place, ever since I first read about it in the real world." "Every world is equally real, boss. Don't be such an existential snob." "All right, girl." He pulled on a hat. "Stay with me, pretty lady.. I may need you to cue me. I don't want to make a slip, and say something revealing." "All right, lover. But you've got to watch that paranoia. I think you've had one too many run-in's with Loki." He nodded, wincing at the memories of his encounters with the External Security Division of the Lyran Commonwealth's Intelligence Corps. "Oh, that reminds me. Were there any bugs left behind?" "No. But that doesn't mean you're not under surveillance." "Now who's paranoid, Minerva? But I'll keep that in mind." He stepped outside, and turned down the block towards "Flights of Fantasy". *Nice name, that. Twister always _could_ turn a phrase.* Looking in the window, he admired the art on display. They still had a few of Twister's dragons for sale, and Ed's eyes widened slightly as he glimpsed the prices. *!!* he thought. *I knew they were popular, but DAMN! We're talking _serious_ cash here. That's getting up into the "If you have to ask about the price, you can't afford to buy it" territory.* He opened the door and stepped inside, tipping his hat. "Hello, Anri! Hi, Sylvie! How's the art business?" He was answered by a pair of happy smiles. "Hello, Mr. Edwards. It's pretty brisk," answered Anri. He rolled his eyes in mock despair. "Ed, Anri.. just Ed. Somebody says Mr. Edwards, and I turn around looking for my father." Sylvie laughed. "So.. I see you finally found time to drop by. I take it the book store is almost ready?" He nodded. "And I'll be opening up tomorrow morning. I'll expect the two of you there." He wagged a finger at them. "Nothing like a pair of pretty girls to brighten a place up and draw in the customers. A fact which explains the success of _this_ store, I'm certain!" Both women smiled again. "We'll be sure to be there, Ed." Sylvie chuckled. "Is there anything we can bring?" "Some customers?" Everyone laughed at that. Then he looked around the shop, admiring the decorations. The swirls of small colorful crystals embedded in the walls and shelves caught the light with a fiery shimmer that drew his eyes. "It's beautiful," he breathed. He gazed at the statue of the deep red firedrake that stood in the center of the floor. "Now _THAT_.. that is really something! I may not know art, but I know what I like." He stepped over and ran a hand along its side. All three in the store froze when a deep growl rumbled through the shop. Ed jerked his hand away, then carefully stepped back. The drake hadn't moved, it hadn't even twitched, but he didn't intend to take any chances. As he moved away, from the corner of his eye he saw that Sylvie and Anri were both staring at him, astonished. They hastily hid their expressions when they noticed him looking back. *I don't know _what_ the hell just happened, but discretion is the better part of valor, and all that,* he thought. He took a second, closer look. It wasn't his imagination. The dragon's eyes _were_ glowing. *Oh, _shit_. I think.. no, I _know_ I just stepped in something deep here...* Minerva's frantic voice was suddenly in his ear. {Boss? What the hell is going on?! Whatever you're doing, STOP IT! I'm getting energy spikes near you, and they're off the scale! I can't tell what they are, but I think you should get OUT of there.} {Baby, I don't know what I just did, but I think I just messed with something magical. Seriously magical. I'm out of here, girl.} He turned toward Sylvie, keeping a wary eye on the statue. "I'm sorry. I think I may have eaten something that disagreed with me. Is it all right if I come back later?" Sylvie nodded, still staring at Charcoal. "That's.. okay, Ed. You can just.. come back when you feel better." The further he got from the statue, the fainter its eyes glowed. He edged out the door carefully, feeling as if he'd somehow waved a flag, giving himself away in some mystical manner. Anri stared at him with an odd expression on her face. *This.. did _not_ go well,* he thought. * * * The two sexaroids didn't know what to think as Ed carefully exited their shop. They'd seen Char react to threats before, but this was the first time he'd taken notice of a visitor. As Anri stood there, collecting her wits, Sylvie reached for the phone. Quickly punching out a number, she drummed her fingertips on the counter, tapping out a nervous tattoo. "Sylia? It's Sylvie. I need to talk with you. Something... unusual just happened that I think you should know about." * * * "And it _reacted_ to you, boss?" "Reacted, HELL! The blasted thing _SNARLED_ at me, girl!" Ed shuddered. "Magic. You know _I_ hate it." Minerva pondered that. "Perhaps it was reacting to the energy you're giving off, lover. I know you don't like to think about it, but you _do_ radiate a great deal, especially in terms of probability. Remember the last time you tried to play poker with the Strikers?" "How could I forget?" he snorted. "Four people at the table and each one of us wound up with a flush. And shooting craps was worse. Even with dice LOADED to roll snake eyes, I got nothing but sevens. Val was dead certain that I was cheating." "That might be the problem, love. Inadvertent tampering with probability may not be the same as magic, but it could be close enough to cause Twister's little pet to sit up and take notice." He reached up to scratch his forehead, then yanked his hand back, frustrated. "Wonderful," he said, irony dripping from his tone. "Just bloody wonderful. So what do I _do_ about it?!" "You could simply avoid going near Charcoal." "I need the most powerful sentient computer in existence just to tell me this?" he snapped. Minerva looked hurt, and he relented. "I'm sorry, pretty lady. That spooked me." "I know, b'wana. I'll see if there's anything we can do about this. But until I find something..." "I know, I know. Stay away from the dragon." He groaned. "I can't believe I just said that." * * * Sylia hung up the phone, and pondered what she'd just heard from Sylvie, adding the information to the report that Fargo had delivered. This `Mr. Edwards', if indeed that _was_ his real name, bore further investigation. She smiled, coming to a decision. Tomorrow, she, Nene and Linna were going to attend the Grand Opening of a rare book store. *********************************** "Opportunity plus instinct equals profit." - Ferengi Rules Of Acquisition # 9. The next morning, in the apartment over 'Rare Books'... BRIIINNNGGG!!!*crunch* "Ooops." Ed stared blearily at the palm-full of crushed metal, plastic and circuitry resting on a seriously dented nightstand. *Damn. I lose more alarm clocks that way...* He yawned, and headed for the shower. "Can't be late this morning. After all, I _am_ the boss," he grumbled. * * * The morning started out rather pleasantly. Ed's advertisements had worked better than he'd expected, and there were a baker's dozen of customers in his shop shortly after he opened the doors. He hadn't expected Sylvie and Anri to show, after what had occurred the day before. He was rather happily surprised to see them walk in. "Hello there, Sylvie, Anri.. ahh.. I'd like to apologize about what happened yesterday. I'm not quite certain why it happened or what caused it, but I still feel terrible about it..." Anri looked a little nervous, but Sylvie shook her head. "It's not important, Ed. Char is something a.. friend of ours left us. Sometimes it does the unexpected." Ed smiled, and tried to appear to take the statement at face value. "Thank you. Still, I do feel responsible, though. If there's any way I can make it up to you...?" "We'll think of something." She looked at her watch. "In the meantime, we invited some friends of ours to your opening, Ed. They should be here soon. I hope you don't mind." "Oh?" He raised an eyebrow. "More customers, I hope?" "One of them, perhaps. I don't think Nene or Linna would be interested in rare books, but Sylia Stingray is into science, and I'm sure she'd be interested in some of your older items." Ed had to stifle a strong reaction to that statement. *Blast! I should have expected this. I asked them to invite their friends. Of _course_ they'd invite the Knight Sabers!* He nervously checked his reflection in the front window of the book store. *Hair is nicely gray, eyebrows too. Glasses, check. My contacts are in place and the makeup is doing a nice job of hiding the scar. Fortuna willing, they won't recognize me.* He turned back to Sylvie. "I'd be happy to help her. I've got a nice selection of manuscripts she might find fascinating." He forced a grin. "I've never met a lover of science who'd willing pass up a chance at a copy of 'A Brief History of Time' that's been signed by Steven Hawking himself. Or a first printing of Desmond Morris's 'The Naked Ape'." He stepped over to a shelf. "And I just received a copy of Richard Feynman's autobiography." He noticed Anri's eyes beginning to glaze over, and roped himself in quickly. "Sorry.. I tend to wax over-enthusiastic about books on occasion. It's a failing of mine." "Oh, please don't apologize for that, Mr. Edwards. It's _nice_ to see people who love their work." He gave Anri a reproving gaze. " `Mr. Edwards'? " She smiled. "I'm sorry. Ed. Is that better?" "I'll forgive you this time. But if it happens again, you'll have to pay the penalty. That means letting me take you out to lunch again!" Sylvie chuckled. "I don't know about that. You could end up taking her out every day!" "Ooooh.. a fate worse than dinner!" They all laughed. The two stepped over to the buffet table for a bite to eat, leaving him for the moment. Ed took a moment to ring up a sale, then turned back in time to see the door swing open, brushing against the tiny bell he'd hung over it. He tried not to flinch when he recognized their faces from the anime. "Good morning, ladies. Welcome to the grand opening of `Rare Books'. I'm the owner, Mr. Edwards." He looked Sylia Stingray directly in the face. "Is there anything in particular that you are looking for?" Sylia smiled. "Thank you, no. We're just here to meet our friends." "Ah.. then you'd be Sylia, Nene and Linna. Sylvie said you'd be by here." He looked past them. "I thought there would be four of you. Anri said something about a 'Priss' possibly coming by...?" Linna and Nene both grinned at that. "I don't think Priss is the sort to want to come to a rare book store, Mr. Edwards. She's more the rock and roll, motorcycle type." said Nene. "I see. Well, there's nothing wrong with that. I used to have a Harley-Davidson myself, when I was younger." A wry look spread across his face. "A _lot_ younger." Nene, ever the ADPolice officer, asked "What do you drive now?" Laughing inside at the thought of the Calypso, Ed responded, "Something MUCH larger, dear child. Much, much larger." * * * Ed watched as Linna looked around the store. He could practically _see_ the yen signs flashing in her eyes as she totaled up the value of the furnishings. *Quark would have _loved_ her,* he thought. {Minerva, I'll bet you two bits Linna tries to involve me in something financial.} A binary raspberry was blown in his ear. {I don't take sucker bets, B'wana.} {Heh, heh, heh. Okay, then.. two bits says she can't even leave the store before she tries it.} {What.. do I have a big flashing sign on my CPU that says "Kick me, I'm stupid!"? Not on your life, boss.} {That could be a pretty long time, girl.} {Exactly my point. *!Thpppppppt!*} He shifted his gaze to Sylia, and grew anxious. Ms. Stingray was closely inspecting the contents of a sealed glass case when he was keeping some of the _special_ items. *I hope I didn't get _too_ cute there with those books. That woman is arguably one of the sharpest minds on the planet. If not _the_ sharpest.* He watched her closely. *If she has even the slightest suspicion, she won't stop till she knows the truth.* "Mr. Edwards?" He hurried over. "Yes? Can I help you.. let's see.. Ms. Stingray, right?" "Yes," she replied absently. "I'd like to take a closer look at that scroll. The one in the sealed case." He unlocked the case and carefully removed it, handing it to her. She unrolled it, and began to slowly read aloud. "Ego Tiberious Claudius Drusus Nero Germanicus --" She broke off, staring at it. "A copy of the Great History by Emperor Claudius?" Ed nodded smugly, watching as her eyes widened slightly. "It's quite authentic, Ms. Stingray. Although there is no way to prove it, as that _is_ a copy, and obviously not the original. "But this was lost to history centuries ago! How...?" He couldn't resist the urge to brag slightly. "Let's just say that I happen to have access to the right places, and leave it at that. As a result, I can obtain quite a few obscure rarities." He took back the scroll, gently re-rolling it and replacing it in the case. "I even have some Mayan codexes that escaped the book burning that the Spanish priests conducted in the 1500's, a copy of the Ebers Papyrus and a complete copy of the Book of Dzyan." Sylia shook her head in wonder. "The value of such items... aren't you fearful of being robbed?" "No. I don't believe I have anything to worry about. In addition to the standard security system, I have a.. _special_ someone watching over my shop when I'm not here." He chuckled, thinking of Minerva. "She's a friend of mine and tends to take any such attempts personally. Actually, I'd be more afraid for the thieves. They might not survive her." Sylia raised an curious eyebrow. "She sounds like a formidable person. It might prove interesting to meet her someday." "That's unlikely, Ms. Stingray. But who knows what the future holds?" He turned back to the register to ring up another sale, and Sylia almost missed his next words. She puzzled over what they could possibly mean. "I wish I didn't." * * * "I want to boot some head, too." - Student #1, "Ti Kwan Leep (Boot to the Head)" Late that afternoon, he closed up the shop and was totalling up the first day's receipts. *Not bad, considering I've just opened. Pretty damn good, as a matter of fact.* Then the bell over the door tinkled. He looked up as a pair of young men stamped into the store. They practically had 'motorcycle gang' written across their foreheads in bold print. *Sylia was right, blast it. My first day in business is barely over, and already the roaches are crawling out of the woodwork.* He sighed, and returned to the figures. One of them pulled what appeared to be an old .50 caliber Desert Eagle. "Hand over the money, pops, and you don't get hurt." Ed didn't even bother to look back up. "Could you please take care of this, Minerva? I have to finish the totals here." The punks looked around wildly when a pleasant female voice answered him from thin air. "Can do, boss. Temporary, or permanent?" He considered. "Best keep it temporary, pretty lady. It doesn't do to leave bodies lying around... even those of trash like this. Besides, it's unsanitary." He returned to the paperwork. "Hey! Who the hell d'ya think yer talking to, old man? We're tha Outriders, tha meanest gang inna city!!" Ed _did_ look up at them, then. "That's not what I've heard. There isn't that much left of you boys, or so I understand. First the Griffin trashed your gang; then a girl beat up your leader, Steelfist, and tore off those mechanical arms he was so proud of," he said gently. His voice abruptly hardened. "You have one chance to leave. I suggest you take it." The punk with the pistol decided that the grey-haired old geezer wasn't being respectful enough, and aimed at him. "Gimme the money now, old man!" "Minerva..?" This time the voice didn't sound at all pleasant. In fact, it sounded downright vicious. "Done and done, B'wana." The punk with the gun panicked and fired a single shot. That was all he had time to do. It didn't take very long. * * * Leon was sighing over the lack of progress in the 'Goldeneyes' case (*Goldeneyes*, he thought. *What a stupid name.*) when a loud uproar caught his attention. Then Daley stuck his head in the door. "Come on and see this, partner. You won't _believe_ it!" Leon grumbled, but put down the paperwork and followed Daley. What he saw, he couldn't believe. A couple of officers were leading a pair of Outriders to the holding cells. A pair of _bald_, _nude_, _bright green_ Outriders, that is. He caught Daley by the arm. "What the hell is going on?" Daley laughed. "I didn't get the whole story myself, but apparently these two idiots tried to rob the wrong store." He waved an arm at the iridescent green perpetrators. "The beat cops found them like that, chained to a lamp post in the middle of downtown. Nobody knows how they got there, or saw them arrive." He took a firm grip on his laughter and continued. "They just keep babbling something about monsters from outer space punishing them for trying to rob a bookstore." Leon had the queasy look of a man who'd just seen his world turn upside down and inside-out. Again. "A bookstore?" Daley nodded affirmative. "But they won't tell us where. They say that if they do, the monsters will come back and get them." He began to laugh again. "And the best part is... the green is some sort of indelible dye. It won't wash off. They're going to be green for days!" "Why hasn't someone gotten them some clothing? A blanket, at least." Daley collapsed into a nearby chair, convulsed with laughter, so Leon collared another officer and repeated the question. The patrolman he grabbed told Leon that the arresting officers had tried, but the green stuff, whatever it was, seemed to have given the pair some sort of allergy. Clothing of any sort now made the two break out in a painful, bleeding rash. *Someone has a warped sense of humor, here.* thought Leon. *Could Darlene be back? She's capable of this. And this fits with her idea of a joke. I'll call Sylvie. She'd know, if anyone would.* * * * Sylvie hung up the phone, a strange expression on her face. Anri noticed it and came over, curious. "What's the matter?" Sylvie pointed at the phone. "Leon McNichols just called. He wanted to know if Darlene had come back." Anri blinked. "Why in the world would he want to know that?" "I'm not sure. He wouldn't say. He just said that something had happened today that made him think of her, and kept muttering 'you'd have to see it to believe it'." The two women looked at each other, and shrugged. "Men." *********************************** Personal Log: Entry 19, Year 20. So far, so good. The opening day of the store went well, and I seem to have the hang of running the place. Thankfully, Minerva has taken a great deal of the weight off my shoulders. Regulations. Paperwork. Japanese tax laws. Arrrgggh! _SHE_ gets to do the income tax. Sylvie and Anri are still a little bothered by the fact that Char growled at me, but they don't seem to hold it against me. Incredible. They are two of the kindest, most caring people I've ever met. I can't see how _anyone_ could consider them anything other than human. Carbon or silicon.. they're just building blocks. What makes you a person is how you act towards others. Whether you treat another thinking being as a fellow person to be cherished, or a mere thing to be used. And by _that_ standard, I'd say at least 20% of the executives of Genom don't qualify. Probably more than that, now that I think of it. I don't _think_ the Knight Sabers are suspicious of me, but one can never really know, then. Sylia's mind is so sharp, it terrifies me. She is dangerously intelligent. If it weren't for Minerva, advising me from behind the scenes like some high-tech Jimminy Cricket, I could have easily spilled the truth to her accidentally. Of course, I'm going to _have_ to do something about Minerva's sense of humor. I can't believe she dyed those wanna-be robbers green. Still, it _was_ hilarious! I'm glad she recorded the expressions on their faces when they saw what looked like three of the bugs from "Aliens" appear out of thin air and grab them, dragging them away. Heh. Tonight should prove rather entertaining over at the ADPolice holding cells. The police are going to get a surprise when they find out that those two empty-headed wastes of skin will now glow in the dark until the dye wears away! I had to replace my fake glasses, though. The idiot with the pistol managed to get off a single shot, and he hit me right between the eyes. It didn't really hurt me, (actually, it itched a little) but the slug shattered my specs, trashing them completely. Most annoying. Kept the pistol, though. A nice little piece, once I cleaned it up and did a little maintenance on it. The Israelis always did make good guns, and the Desert Eagle was one of their best. I think I'll add it to my collection. Twenty years now.. It's still hard to accept. Technically, I suppose I'm fifty-four, now. Yet if I remove the dye from my hair, I look twenty-five at the very most. I wonder what my family and friends are doing right now. Do they think I'm dead? Do they think I've just run away? I wouldn't put it past that bastard Smith to lie to them. The only hope I have left are the recordings I've seen that tell me I do eventually get home. Travel between universes affects duration in odd ways, from what little I've studied. With the Burroughs Irrelevancy Drive, I can hopefully return to a moment right after I left. If that makes any sense. Fortuna knows it confuses the hell out of me. The recording _did_ say I managed to get home, eventually. I have to keep hoping. End Log Entry 19, Year 20. *********************************** Several weeks went by, and sales remained steady in the bookstore. As word spread of Ed's seemingly miraculous ability to find rare, exotic, or simply out-of-print books, a small reputation began to build in the literary community of Mega-Tokyo. Word of mouth spread rapidly, and customers began appearing from other parts of Japan as well. Sylvie and Anri apparently decided to let the little incident with Charcoal slide, and Ed visited them regularly. Not that he ever went near the dragon again. That, he thought, would be about as sensible as a normal human sticking their head into a microwave oven and turning it on. Lunch, though... lunch with the two women remained the high point of each day. For some strange reason, Sylia seemed interested in his store. She would occasionally drop by and take some time to browse the shelves. Each time, she would invite him over to see 'Silky Dolls', but he begged off on the grounds that a lingerie shop made him uncomfortable. He considered the possibility that she was suspicious of him, and wished to use those hidden sensors in the store front on him. That worried him somewhat, but he refused to let it get in the way of waiting for Twister. Minerva didn't agree. "Boss.. just let me snoop on her, please?" she pleaded. "I can be in and out of her systems and she'll never even know I was there!" "That's not the point, pretty lady." "Then what _is_ the point?!" "Has she tried to come after me?" Ed asked. "Or even spy on me?" "There was that snoop in the security alarm company's installation team.." "Can you _prove_ it was Sylia behind that? Without spying on her first?" She let out a defeated sigh. "No, boss. I can't." "There you go. For what it's worth, girl, I DO think that was Sylia's man... or someone Fargo hired for her. But it was likely done out of concern for Sylvie and Anri. I can't fault her for that." He looked stern. "I'm an unknown, flashing a lot of cash around, no background that isn't on paper and apparently well connected, if you go by my ability to... acquire things. She has to _know_ whether or not I'm a threat to them. Hell, I'd do the same, were I in her position." He began pacing back and forth across the living room of his apartment. Then he stopped and looked straight at her. "We leave it be. I will _not_ fire the first shot and start a fight." He looked at her. "But you have my word. I won't start a war, pretty lady... but I'll damn sure finish one." * * * At 'Silky Dolls', Mackie looked up as a FedEx delivery truck pulled up. The driver entered and handed Mackie a small package. "Delivery for Sylia Stingray, please sign here." Mackie did so, looking at the return address, then went in back where his sister was going over some records. "Sis? There's a package from you. Did you order something from America?" "Ah! It's arrived." She stepped out to the counter, and opened the package, revealing several small video disks and a thin book. She turned to Mackie. "I need to view these right away. Take care of the store, please." She quickly returned to her office, closing the door. Mackie shrugged. *If it's something I should know, she'll tell me. Sooner or later.* In her office, Sylia slipped the first of the disks into a player, and watched intently as a kaleidoscope of cartoon images filled the screen. A star map appeared. The opening narration was in English, with Japanese subtitles. She listened to it closely. "This is the Inner Sphere - thousands of planets colonized by humankind. Once it was united under the Star League, but for the last three hundred years it has been consumed by savage wars. Until a new enemy appeared - mysterious invaders known as the Clans. Powerful and ruthless, they struck like lightning, attacking ever sector at once. But they made one big mistake: they attacked my home planet! Now, in the spirit of the Star League, ancient enemies have reunited... and we're gonna take back our galaxy!" Sylia watched, intrigued. Three hours later, she was still watching. * * * Riding in the elevator at Genom's main office, Kate Madagan was listening to a subordinate rave on and on about a wonderful new bookstore she'd recently discovered. She tuned out the conversation, nodding politely now and then, maintaining the fiction that she was interested in the subject. Until the young exec happened to mention the address of the store. "You should see it, Ms. Madagan!" gushed the young woman. "It's just a block or two away from that wonderful little art store with all the dragons, and the owner has the most _incredible_ gift for finding a book, no matter HOW rare it is. He's even got museums asking after him. If you want something, and you can pay, he can get it for you." Madagan winced inside at the mention of the art store, remembering a certain encounter almost a year ago with its owner. She knew she'd been _extremely_ fortunate to walk away from that confrontation alive and uninjured. If that ADP officer hadn't convinced Darlene that she'd eventually come to regret killing Madagan... well, she had _no_ illusions about her chances of escape from the power-maddened young elven mage. She felt a.. tugging in the back of her mind, and listening to her precognitive powers, began paying closer attention to what the young woman was saying. When the elevator came to her floor, Madagan touched her on the arm. "I'd like you to come with me to my office. I want to hear more about this bookstore. I'll clear it with your immediate supervisor." * * * "Sir? We may have encountered a break-through in the Gramarye project." Quincy looked at Madagan, calmly noting the faint golden glow in her eyes. "Indeed?" "A possible source of the documentation necessary to advance the project has come to my attention, sir. With your permission, I'd like to approach him, and acquire the items we need." She placed several sheets of paper on Quincy's desk. "Here is what information we currently have on him." Quincy scanned the papers, and smiled faintly. Madagan had been quite thorough. Ever since her psionic awakening, her value to the company had increased steadily. Reading them, he nodded. "The proprietor does appear to be the sort who would either have, or be able to find, some of the items we need." He handed the papers back to her. "Please proceed. But take all due precautions. This project is inherently hazardous, and any person dealing in such items could prove to be extremely dangerous. And avoid approaching the art store," he added dryly. "We do not want a repeat of the `Elf' incident, Ms. Madagan." Madagan shuddered ever so slightly. "I _fully_ understand, sir." * * * Upstairs, in Ed's apartment... "Ahhh... there is _nothing_ like good italian take-out. Trust me on this one, Sylvie." Ed eased back in his chair, and sighed happily. He took a Cuban cigar from his jacket, then hesitated. "Do you mind if I smoke, ladies?" "It's your home, Ed.. we're the guests today," said Anri. "Well.. true.. but I do try to remember that not everyone appreciates breathing tobacco smoke, m'lady. It's just common courtesy." He smiled. "Besides, you two are my friends. You are the closest thing I have to family, here." Anri blushed, and Sylvie looked away, embarrassed. "We were just being friendly, Anthony." "No. You've been _friends_." He looked at them. "There's a difference, a big difference. I haven't had many friends, and I cherish those I have." The downstairs bell rang, and Ed stood up. "Whoops! I thought I hung out the `out-to-lunch' sign, blast it." He snorted. "Open a store, and sure as Ghod made little green apples, the customers will try to take advantage of you." He turned and headed for the stairs. "I'll take care of this. You two go ahead and finish lunch." * * * Back in 'Flights of Fantasy', the eyes of a metal statue began to glow softly. A faint growl echoed through the room. Then it fell silent again. * * * Downstairs, Ed found a tall, elegant woman waiting for him. She was accompanied by two muscular bodyguards. Even a blind man would have known them for the boomers they actually were. *Why does this scene feel so damned familiar?* he thought. *There's something here I'm missing...* He looked the woman over closely, noting that she was doing the same with him. Long purple hair, pale skin, and elegant clothing that reeked of power, class and influence. *Damnit.. I _know_ her. I'm certain I do. But who is she?* He shook his head. *What I wouldn't pay for a better memory. Doesn't matter. But I wonder where all the weird hair colors come from?* "I'm sorry, but we're closed for lunch at the moment. I'd be happy to help you later in the day, ma'am." She smiled. "I understand. But I can make it more than worth your while." She waved one of the bodyguards forward. It held out a bank draft for 25,000 yen. "This is for the inconvenience I've caused in interrupting your lunch." He blinked and waved it aside. "That isn't necessary. But if you feel that it's _that_ urgent, I suppose I can spare a few minutes to listen." She smiled. "Thank you. My name is Madagan, and I.." Ed snapped his fingers. "Madagan! Kate Madagan, right? You work for Genom. That's why you look so familiar!" "Pardon me?" She looked confused for a moment, then examined him closely. "Do we know each other from somewhere else?" He shook his head. "No. We've never met. I've simply heard of you from an .. err.. acquaintance of mine." He rubbed the back of his neck, where an ache was beginning to develop. *Well... it's not _really_ a lie.. I AM acquainted with Twister through Darren's stories.* "What can I do for you, Ms. Madagan? A high-powered corporate VIP like yourself doesn't visit the peons lightly. There must be something you want." "There is, Mr. Edwards. I have a list of books I'd like to commission you to find for me. You will be well paid for your efforts." Ed's brows drew together suspiciously. "May I _see_ the list before I agree to undertake the commission?" Madagan considered the request for a moment, and after finding nothing harmful in it, took a small sheet of paper from her briefcase. Ed looked it over, his eyes slowly growing cold and hard. "Cultes des Goules" - the Comte d'Erlette. "The Book of Eibon" "Unaussprechlichen Kulten" - Von Juntz. "Thaumaturgical Prodigies in the New-English Canaan" - Reverend Ward Phillips. "De Vermis Mysteriis" - Ludvig Prinn "The Book of Dzyan" "The Revelations of Glaaki" "The Pnakotic Manuscripts" "Ponape Scripture" "Marvells of Science" - Morryster "Saducismus Triumphatis" - Joseph Glanvil "Daemonolatreia" - Remigius "Necronomicon" - Abdul Al-Hazred. "You want _these_ books?" he asked in an icy voice. Madagan nodded. "And as quickly as possible. We will pay all expenses, and any required bribes, if need be. Price is no object." "The price may be no object, but I _am_." Madagan was surprised to see his eyes begin to glow a bright gold behind his photogrey glasses, noticeable even under the bright lights of the bookstore. Her psionic senses were muttering at her, hinting at dangers that she couldn't see, telling her that the man in front of her was much more than he seemed to the naked eye. "Madagan, we've just met. So this time, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. You don't _want_ these books. No one in their right _mind_ wants *these* books. They are too dangerous. They make biological warfare look like child's play. Trust me. Go home to Genom, and forget about these books. Tell _them_ to forget about these books. Please." She shook her head. "I'm sorry that you feel this way, Mr. Edwards. But we _do_ require these for our research. Is there anything I can do to change your mind?" "No. Putting those books in the hands of Genom, or the hands of ANY megacorp for that matter, would be akin to passing out loaded submachine pistols in a kindergarten classroom." His face hardened. "I _cannot_ be a party to that. Go home, Ms. Madagan. Forget about this. It's safer that way." She considered using the boomers to convince him otherwise, but the second that the thought crossed her mind, her precognition *screamed* at her in a way she hadn't heard since the day she'd attacked Darlene Stefanson. Stepping back, she bowed respectfully. "If you do not wish to undertake this effort, I understand. However, should you ever change your mind, I can be reached via my office at Genom tower. I've left instructions to forward any calls from you immediately." As she left, followed by her bodyguards, he muttered "not very damn likely" and locked the door behind her. Then he headed upstairs to finish his interrupted lunch with Sylvie and Anri. It wasn't until hours afterwards that he realized he'd nearly, and neatly, duplicated Madagan's first meeting with Twister, the occasion when she'd tried to purchase Charcoal from Darlene. * * * Later that night, Ed found himself pacing restlessly in his living room. Frustration and anger wouldn't let him sleep. "Why, Minerva? Why? Just as soon as things settle down, Genom has to try something stupid! Doesn't that idiot Quincy know how deadly those books _are_?! C'thulu isn't something that you can summon and control.. it's something that eats your very soul! And then it goes out and polishes off the entire planet like an after-dinner mint!" He kicked at a chair lying in his path, unthinkingly reducing it to splinters. "Damn him! What kind of fool is he?!" "The standard kind, boss. He wants to take over the world. It's that simple. And you're ruining the furniture, b'wana." "Well, I've got news for him," Ed snorted. "Madagan isn't Pinky and he isn't the Brain. Lucifer is going to take up a job as a ski instructor on the powder slopes of paradise before I help that megalomaniac lay a finger on those books." He frowned, and replayed Minerva's remarks, then looked down at the wreckage of the chair. "Ooops. Sorry 'bout that, m'dear." "You need some way to relax and have some fun, lover.. let me think for a moment." A sound not unlike a version of "Toccata and Fugue in D Minor" as played by a wistful audio generator hummed in his ears. "How about this? There are still plenty of muggers left in Mega-Tokyo..." "Hunting for punks?" He grinned. "True.. but I haven't done that in years. I don't have a look anymore. Besides.. PCHammer wasn't very happy when he heard about my running around in a cheap knock-off of his 'Darkwing Diggy' outfit." "That simply means I'll have to think up a new look for you, boss." He could practically hear the grin in her voice. "I haven't done a superhero costume for you in quite a while." "Just don't go overboard, pretty lady.. last time, they could see me coming from miles away, what with all the flashy details you put on it," he smirked. "Try and be a little more subtle this time around, girl." *********************************** Leon and Daley were going over the weekly reports when Bochinski interrupted them. "I think you might want to hear this, Inspector. There's been a reported sighting of the _person_ from White Wolf's bar." Daley looked up. "The one who tore apart a boomer with his bare hands and then vanished into thin air?" Bochinski nodded. "Uh-huh. Only it seems that boomers aren't the _only_ item on his menu. Some muggers downtown tried to jump a couple, and a man dressed in a cowboy hat and a long leather coat came to their rescue." He gave his superiors a bemused look. "When the couple called it in, they told us that the muggers were tied up. They failed to mention that they'd been tied up with traffic railing." Daley looked a little startled at that, but Leon just nodded. "And there are other reports, aren't there." His tone made it a statement. Wadderson walked in at that point. "Two more have just arrived," she added. "Some Outriders were harassing people in the Ginza district, and they were found disarmed and tied up with their own motorcycles." "Motorcycles? I've heard of tying someone _to_ a motorcycle, but how do you tie someone _up_ _with_ a motorcycle?" wondered Daley. "By crushing the bike with your bare hands and twisting the wreckage around their body," Wadderson smirked, and flexed a muscle. "Whoever this is, I like their style. I'll have to try that myself someday, now that I'm strong enough." She laughed, then looked down at her notepad. "What makes it certain is that all the reports have one thing in common. Each time, the mysterious hero _vanished_ in a pillar of light, or so the witnesses say." Leon hmmm'ed to himself. "It sounds like our man.. if it _is_ a man. It could still be some advanced type of boomer, for all we know. Or worse." "Worse?" asked Daley. "What's worse than an unknown type of boomer?" Leon reached across his desk and *ting'ed* a fingernail on a small statue of a dragon by a fire hydrant, receiving a parking ticket from a cute looking police officer on a motorscooter. "Think about it for a moment. Do you really want to know?" Daley looked a little nonplused. "Ummm. Yeah. I see what you mean. So.. we have what appears to be a new vigilante in town. Do we set a trap for him?" "No. We buck this up the chain of command and wait for orders from much higher up on this one, partner. I smell politics in the wind." Leon frowned. "It's time we start preparing CYA packages, people. Personal logs, and document every single breath you take. Teleportation? Every one from the government to Genom to the USSD is going to get involved. We'd better watch out that we don't end up caught in the crossfire." Everyone nodded. * * * Ed peeled the leather duster off, and threw it onto the bunk in his cabin aboard the Calypso. The Stetson followed it, sailing across the room. Then he fell into his chair, laughing like a loon. "Fortuna! I haven't had _that_ much fun in YEARS! YEEE-HAAW! Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!" "Told you it'd relax you, boss," interjected Minerva. "I especially liked the expression on the mugger's faces when you _ate_ their guns." Ed broke up into laughter again, then belched loudly. "W-w-well.. In the TV show, Superman always crushed them with his hands, and I wanted to try something a little different." "It was a nice touch." Minerva smiled, and a scutter rolled in with a tray of steaming towels and a bottle. "We'd better get you cleaned up, B'wana. And you need to re-color your hair before you go back to the book store." "I think I'll take a hot shower first," he said, still snickering as he headed for the shower. "Then you can do my hair, pretty lady. Goddess.. the expression on those punk's faces.. Did you record it all?" "Done and done, lover. It'll make for some fun home movies." Blurred by the running water, Ed's voice sounded cheerful. "Maybe we can send some edited copies to the AD Police, baby..." * * * Nene looked at Naoko. "Could you cover for me for a few moments, Naoko? I need to take a quick break." "No problem, Nene. Calling a boyfriend?" Naoko smiled. Nene shot her a withering glance. "Naoko..." "Just kidding, Nene. Hurry back." Nene hurried to a public phone outside ADPolice headquarters. A moment later, she had Sylia on the line. "Sylia.. the person you wanted me to watch for? He's appeared again. I'll have more for you in the morning." * * * In her office in the rear of `Silky Dolls', Sylia hung up the phone and returned to examining a collection of faded paperback books on her desk. It was rather unusual reading matter for someone like her. She ran her fingers down the list of titles she'd managed to obtain: "Battletech: Legend of the Jade Phoenix" - Robert Thurston. "Battletech: Blood of Kerensky" - Michael Stackpole. "Battletech: Saga of the Grey Death Legion" - William Keith. There were many more, and several of the novels apparently came in sets, following the adventures of a particular individual or mercenary unit. But they all seemed to share the same basic background, a shared universe based on a popular role-playing game. She reached for a pad and started taking notes. *********************************** "I'll never be an angel/I'll never be a saint, it's true/I'm too busy surviving/Whether it's heaven or hell/I'm gonna be living to tell.." - Madonna, "Survival", _Bedtime Stories_ The next day, Sylvie and Anri could sense the difference in Ed. A huge grin covered his face, and occasionally, he'd stare into empty space and chuckle. They were having lunch at his place again, and Sylvie noted the small works of art that he was using to slowly fill the empty spaces in his apartment. "Ed.. why haven't you come to us if you want some art? We'd be happy to help. After all, we're friends. It would be a pleasure to find a few pieces for you." He started to speak, then stopped with his mouth half-open. "Ahh.. Would you believe it never even crossed my mind?!" He slapped himself on the forehead. "Quote from the Three Stooges - 'I'm tryin' ta think, but nuttin' happins'!'" The two women giggled. "You aren't _that_ bad, Ed," smiled Anri. "Just sort of." She stood and walked over to the wall, where two small pencil sketches hung. "Did you do these, Ed? I've never seen these before. They're very beautiful." Sylvie joined her and they both looked closely at the pictures. Two different women, one depicted as an elegant vampire, the other as an anthropomorphic cheetah. They jumped, and turned around when they heard a glass shatter. A puddle of ice tea had spread over the tabletop from Ed's glass as he looked at the sketches with pain in his eyes. "No. I didn't." He looked down numbly. "I'd better wipe this up. Don't want to make a mess." Sylvie rushed to his side, grabbing his arm. "Sit down, you idiot! Let me see your hand. You've probably cut yourself badly..." She blinked in astonishment at his uninjured palm. "How..?" Suspicion colored her voice. "You're a boomer," she said flatly. Anri edged closer to the door, ready to make a run for it. He just sat and stared at the wall. Several minutes went by tensely. "No. Not a boomer, m'lady. Although I might have been better off if I were." He finally blinked, and looked over at them. "And before you say what you're thinking, no. I'm not a trap set for you by Genom, either. Not that Genom would even try, after the scare Darlene threw into them." "You _know_ about that?" gasped Anri. "Yes. Just as I know that the two of you are sexaroids, and that you occasionally keep company with the Knight Sabers, the Crystal Knight and the Elf. But those are _your_ secrets. They're not mine to share." His lips twisted into a bitter smile. "I was right. I should never have bought a shop so close to you two. All it did was cause trouble." Sylvie still looked at him warily. "Who and what are you? And how did you know those things about us?" "That's a very long story, Sylvie. One that's also very hard to believe. Even for me." She pulled over a chair from the dinner table, turning it around and crossing her arms over the back. "We're waiting." He nodded soberly. "S'beit, then. By your leave, m'lady. It was a little over twenty years ago, in a little town in northeastern Colorado..." * * * An hour and a half later, the two sexaroids were staring at Ed with astonishment in their eyes. Sylvie shook her head, stunned. "I've never heard anything like that before. Except possibly for what happened to Darlene." "At least what happened to Twister was a true accident, Sylvie. I walked into that laboratory with my eyes open and wide awake," sighed Ed bitterly. "I knew, or _thought_ I knew, what I was doing and I _still_ managed to shoot myself in the foot." "Are.. are you still human?" asked Anri. "Anri!" Sylvie exclaimed, embarrassed. "How could you ask something like that?" They were both surprised to hear Ed laughing. "No offence taken, m'lady." A faint note of hysteria colored his laughter. "She hasn't asked anything I haven't already asked myself for decades now. And for what it's worth, the answer is - I don't know." Sylvie looked at him closely. "Why are you here, Ed?" He had the grace to look embarrassed. "I'm here because this was the last place I know of that Twister had also been to. I'm _not_ a mage. Aside from what very little a certain one of my otherselves knows about magic, I'm completely ignorant about it. I'd hoped.." He stopped and took a deep breath before continuing. "I'd hoped that by staying near to you two, I might find an opportunity to approach Twister and beg for Darlene's help. Science hasn't been able to find my home short of trial and error. Perhaps magic could succeed where science has failed." The women looked at him, thinking. He cleared his throat. "And as long as I'm being honest here, you should know this as well. I'm the person the ADPolice is looking for in that case involving White Wolf's bar." Sylvie raised an eyebrow and Anri's eyes went wide. "That was you?" Anri gasped. "You're the one who tore that boomer apart bare-handed?" Ed nodded. "That was me. The disappearing trick was pulled with the help of the ship I mentioned." He smacked himself on the side of the head. "Jesus X. Bushmaster! If brains were gunpowder, I wouldn't have enough to blow my own nose! Minerva, m'dear, feel free to introduce yourself to the ladies." A warm, musical soprano filled the room. "Greetings, Sylvie and Anri. I am Minerva, an Autonomous Computer Intelligence. I serve as the brains behind Ed's ship, the 'Calypso'. And I generally try to keep him from making an utter fool of himself. Not that I'm very successful at that, most of the time." Ed groaned, while the three females laughed. "Just what I need. A feminist critique of my life. Thank you, Susan B. Anthony." After the giggles stopped, Sylvie spoke up. "So.. where do we go from here?" Ed shrugged. "It seems to me that it would be in your own best interests to avoid me. I tend to attract trouble. Minerva tells me it's because I'm a `focus of probability'. Reality tends to.. get weird, when I'm around." Both women shook their heads. "We don't just abandon our friends, Ed," said Anri. "Hmmm.. Edward Anthony - Anthony Edwards.. I see. So you wouldn't slip up when someone called you by name, right?" He nodded. "I was afraid if I took a totally different name, I might not notice when someone called me. That would start people wondering, if they're the suspicious type. Assumed names can be awkward, particularly if you forget which one you're using at the time." He looked back at Sylvie. "Will you be telling the Knight Sabers about me?" Sylvie shook her head. "Why should we?" Ed bit his lip. "Well.. I'm arguably the most powerful single being in the city at the moment, I own a starship that could burn Mega-Tokyo to the ground and leave nothing behind but a smoking crater, and I have Genom, the ADPolice, the USSD, and Fortuna only knows _how_ many other groups after me in order to pry the so-called `secret' of teleportation out of me." He winced. "I'm bad news walking, ladies. A natural disaster on two legs. The sensible thing to do when you see me coming is to dig a hole, jump in, and pull it in after yourself." Sylvie looked angrily at him. "Will you _stop_ that? Anri already _told_ you, we DON'T give up on our friends. If you've read about us in that story you told us about, you should know that already." Minerva spoke up. "They've got you there, B'wana." "No commentary from the peanut gallery, please." He sighed. "But you're right. If you aren't going to give up on me, I can't give up on myself. But.. why NOT tell the Sabers?" "You said it first, Ed.. It's _your_ secret. Not ours. Your privacy is safe with us." He closed his eyes for a moment. "Thank you." A tired smile crossed his face. "And as for your original question, Anri... No. I didn't do those sketches. A friend from days long past did them for me. Shou listened as I described Natasha and Ailuro, then he did those for me." He waved a hand at the pictures. "They're a.. remembrance of my past. And fortune willing, a hope for my future." He looked down at the table. "Looks like we let lunch grow cold while we were talking. Heh. Tell you what. Let's find a restaurant and have an early dinner. My treat." * * * Late that night, he came home to the shop, and walked upstairs to the apartment. He felt.. odd, somehow. He sat down with a snifter of brandy and thought it over. Reflecting upon his feelings, he came to a realization. *Sylvie and Anri are my friends. And I _HATE_ lying to my friends. No matter _what_ the reason. It makes me feel dirty. Now.. now I feel clean again.* *********************************** Personal Log: Entry 131, Year 20. Well, I seem to have developed a bit of a reputation in the weeks since Sylvie and Anri discovered the truth about me. I've been out hunting muggers at least three nights a week, and sometimes more. Heh. What can I say? It's good, clean fun! And vastly entertaining. Needless to say, the number of muggings has dropped rather dramatically in that time. I had to have Minerva snoop in the THP and ADP systems just so I could find some more muggers to play with. They've been going into hiding, lately. I _wonder_ why?! HA! I've had some close calls, though.. and that _DAMNED_ nickname stuck to me like superglue! Everyone in Mega-Tokyo is calling the mysterious vigilante `Goldeneyes', and that's got the THP, the ADPolice, Genom and the Knight Sabers following me around like a pack of cybernetic bloodhounds. Not that the first two are any real problem - with their budgetary restraints, they can't catch me. They can barely catch a cold, poor fellows. Genom and the Knight Sabers, however.. they're an different story. Genom's been filling the streets with undercover boomers, and has even used some as fake muggers and fake victims to set traps for me. They've managed to find me at least four times now. All they got for their troubles, however, were several lessons in the practical difficulties involved in successfully capturing and restraining a meta-human. Lucky they don't know my other identity, or they'd send me a bill for all the boomers I've trashed. Going by the current market value for a new 55-C, I've managed to run up quite a tab. Heh. As for the Sabers? Ouch. They _have_ been showing up close on my heels. Faster than their advanced suits and technology can account for. I had Minerva maintain a constant scan around my location the last time I went out, and she noted four small energy signatures just before they appeared to confront me. Signatures that were much weaker but otherwise identical to that of Charcoal's. Could they be using something Darlene gave them to _magically_ transport to my location? There _was_ something in the last story about her giving the four of them a way to teleport to and from the cavern she built. What's worse is that somehow, they seem to be anticipating my actions to a certain degree. Could they have found out something about me? They're acting like professionals who've been given an intelligence profile of an opponent. I have to do something about this. I can't keep evading them forever. I'm just not skilled enough. Goddess, this is frustrating... End Log Entry 131, Year 20 *********************************** "Come quietly or there will be... trouble." - Alex Murphy, "Robocop" Sylvie looked up as the door to "Flights of Fantasy" opened. "Oh.. hello, Ed! Is there anything we can do for you?" "I'm going to be gone for a bit. I'm getting sick and tired of walking around Mega-Tokyo, and riding public transportation is driving me around the bend. So I'm heading down to Motor Vehicle Registration. They tell me it takes a little more than the usual paperwork when you want to register an imported vehicle, so I need to get an early start." He walked over to the counter, carefully avoiding Charcoal, and handed her a duplicate set of keys for his bookstore. "Could you watch over the book store for me? I've put up the 'Closed' sign and Minerva's keeping an eye on things inside, so it won't take much." "We'd be happy to." She thought for a minute, then leaned over the counter and spoke quietly. "Are you going.. hunting.. tonight?" In the same tone he replied, "Yes.. is there a problem?" She looked at him, worried. "Maybe. Priss was just over, swearing up a storm. She told me.." Ed sagged. "Let me guess.. tonight the Knight Sabers are DEFINITELY going to capture the Mystery Vigilante, right?" Sylvie nodded. "That was all she would talk about. That, and how she was going to get her revenge on him for making her look so foolish." Rasing his glasses, he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and middle finger and began to massage it roughly. "Goddess. If it's not one thing, it's another. I can't win for losing!" "Perhaps you shouldn't go out tonight?" "What? And disappoint Priss?" He laughed. "Don't worry, m'lady.. they can't hurt me, and I think I know a way to avoid being captured. I promise. I won't do _anything_ to risk either myself or the Sabers." * * * "I do not _BELIEVE_ how much paperwork I just had to go through for just One. Bloody. CAR! What? Do they _live_ on paperwork down at the DMV?" raved Ed quietly, as he got on a bus for the apartment. His fellow passengers gave the gaijin odd looks, but left him alone for the most past. {Got to expect that, boss. It's just as bad anywhere else. Bureaucrats hate things that disturb the red tape. The rare and unusual tends to do that. And you've got to admit.. Christine is both rare and unusual.} He rolled his eyes, exasperated. {She isn't _that_ unusual a car, pretty lady..} {Boss.. Do you _really_ believe what you just said? Don't you remember _where_ you got her?} {You know I don't like thinking about that, m'dear.} {Exactly. And installing that extra circuitry was not a good idea.} He sighed. {Okay. You're right. But she was my favorite ride until you came along, love.. I felt I owed her something for all the years of faithful service.} He sent the mental equivalent of a shrug through the link. {Silly of me, perhaps. And yet..} His mind drifted through memories, and Minerva dropped her end of the conversation. He spent the rest of the bus ride in quiet contemplation. * * * After picking the keys back up from Sylvie, he invited the two women over to watch him get ready for a night on the town. As they walked over to `Rare Books', Anri noted the car parked in front. She commented on it. "That's an antique car, isn't it?" Ed grinned. "Yes, and one of my favorites. It's nearly as old as I am. A Mercury Capri, German-built in 1975. Which makes it 60 years old, in this reality. It has a 2.8 litre engine, a five speed manual transmission, and a few little... extras I installed over the past twenty years." He chuckled. "Space travel isn't _nearly_ as glamorous as it's portrayed in the media. In fact, at times, it's downright dull. Trust me, I _know_. So, I'd work on Christine as a hobby. It helped kill the time." "Christine?" asked Sylvie. "You named your car?" He nodded. "After the car in the Stephen King novel. The first few years I owned her, she gave me plenty of grief. Yet I loved her anyway. Hence the name." Both women laughed. "Ed.. you have a strange sense of humor," Anri said. "That's what they tell me, m'lady." Sylvie just shook her head in exasperation. "Come on in. I want you to see this." He waved the two into the shop. "You've asked about that piece of sculpture in my living room several times. Now you'll see what it's there for!" When they reached the apartment, Ed pointed at the large round stone piece. "Minerva, dear?" "Right, boss." As they watched, the sexaroids saw a small ripple develop in the center of the 2 meter tall stone circle. It began to grow, and fill the entire space. When it stopped, Sylvie and Anri could see something on the other side that _wasn't_ the wall behind it. "What is that?!" asked Sylvie. She turned to see a self-satisfied smirk on her friend's face. "It's a Thorens-P'wheet Probability broach. A little piece of time/space skipping technology some friends gave me. That's the main cargo hold of the Calypso on the other side. Take a single step, and you travel from this room to my ship, which is currently in geosynchronious orbit over Mega-Tokyo." The smirk threatened to overwhelm his face. "Nice for shortening travel time, don't you think?" As he spoke, a small four-wheeled 'bot rolled through the hole and deposited a small bundle on the floor. Then it rolled back into the ship, and the broach rippled shut once more. Ed picked up the bundle and shook it out, revealing a leather coat, a tremendously ugly cowboy hat, and a pair of metal forearm bracers. Reaching into a pocket of the coat, he withdrew a black silk handkerchief with two small eyeholes cut into it. He tied it around his head, covering his scalp and the top of his face, knotting it in the back. "What do you think?" Anri took one look, and began to whoop with laughter. Sylvie just grinned and pointed a finger at him. "Zorro lives." He made a sour face at her. "Surely it isn't _that_ bad.." "It's worse. And don't call me Shirley." "Arrrgh! A touch! A touch! I'm cut to the quick!" He picked up the pair of armored braces. "Here's the real trick of it. Minerva got the idea for these from an old comic book villain called 'Bloodsport'." He strapped them on. "I've been told I have a lot of powers, but I can't seem to to get the hang of using any of them, aside from the strength and the invulnerability. And you never really know when a weapon or two might come in handy, so..." He made an odd motion with one hand and a large pistol suddenly appeared in his fist. "Taaa-dahhh!" Anri clapped. "How'd you do that?" He smiled. "Aside from providing armor that I don't really need, each bracer is a direct link to a transporter pad installed in the armory aboard my ship." He made another movement, and the pistol vanished. "I can simply `reach' into my arsenal for whatever weapon that best fits the situation. And I don't have to worry about running out of ammunition. The `magazines' of each gun are really very small Broaches, linked to _bins_ full of ammo in the armory." Sylvie looked intrigued. "That could make a person almost unstoppable, provided they had a wide enough assortment of weapons." Ed nodded. "Yup.. first time I tried these, I used a pair of Ingram MAC-10's in .45 caliber. Unlike most folks, I could hold them on target in spite of the recoil, and I never had to change magazines or ran out of ammo. Bullets flying everywhere." He laughed. "I forgot one thing." "What's that?" she asked. "Gun barrels melt." Both women smiled at him. "Does Minerva ever tell you that you can be just a little dense at times, Ed?" asked Anri. "All the bloody time." The ACI aforementioned made a rude noise. "That's because you _need_ a woman to take care of you, b'wana. By the way, I installed the new circuitry in the belt. So you won't have to worry about the Sabers getting hurt if they jump you." "Ah! Thank you, pretty lady! That should solve the problem nicely." "What should?" Anri inquired. "_This_ should. A little something we stole from Stark Enterprises, when we dropped by there." He put the belt on. "An old enemy of Anthony Stark's invented this. He called himself the Ghost, for obvious reasons." He touched a stud on the belt then, before either woman could react, threw a punch at Sylvie. Both of their jaws dropped when his fist simply passed harmlessly through her body. "Intangibility. A lesser version of the phasing cloak that Minerva uses. If I wanted to, I could also be anything from translucent to totally invisible." His voice sounded oddly hollow and faint. "As it is, this should prevent the Sabers from taking me in." "Incredible," said Sylvie. "What Sylia wouldn't give for something like that." Ed shrugged and passed a hand over the stud, returning to normal. "Perhaps when I get to know her better. As it is, she'd likely take after me in her suit, if she knew that her acquaintance from the book store was also the `Mystery Vigilante'. As it is, we do have _one_ thing is common. We both want to see Genom punished for it's crimes." He pulled on the leather duster, and tugging the Stetson over his head, turned towards the stone circle. "Where are the muggers tonight, pretty lady?" "Mostly near the Canyon, B'wana. They seemed to have cleared out of the better parts of Mega-Tokyo after you took up that habit of breaking all the fingers of every one of them you caught." "Heh.. there's nothing like positive motivation, eh m'dear?" "Works every time, boss!" Minerva's voice filled with humor. "'Port you straight there?" "Yup." He turned and waved to Anri and Sylvie. "Don't bother waiting up for me. I don't know when I'll get back. And don't worry. I won't get caught, and I won't put the Sabers in any danger. You have my word of honor on that." He waved. A column of light surrounded him. When it faded, so had he. * * * As he prowled the streets and alleys of the badlands near the Canyon, a happy smile was on his lips. He never really understood why, but removing the sort of human refuse that chose to prey on the weak just gave him a warm, fuzzy feeling deep inside. He spotted a pusher trying to make a sale of some drug, and he quietly drifted up behind the man. A moment later, he dropped a hand on the pusher's shoulder. "So... what are you selling, eh? And more important, is it worth your life?" The pusher, a rail-thin young man with greasy blond hair and an unhealthy complexion, spun around with a humming vibro-switchblade in one hand. "You gonna die, you motherfu..." His voice trailed off into silence. "Maybe I'm going to die, boy, but it won't be you that kills me. And it _certainly_ won't be with a toy knife like that." Ed took the shiv from the punk's non-resisting fingers, and snapped the blade in two. "Now.. what was it you were saying, hmmmm?" "You HIM!" gasped the pusher. "You Goldeneyes!" Ed growled angrily, almost causing the punk to faint. "I Hate That Name! Got that?" "Yessir, yessir," whimpered the pusher. There was a quiet trickling sound, and they both looked down. The pusher in shame, Ed in disgust. "Jesus X. Bushmaster! Don't you have _any_ pride? Control your bladder!" He shook the man by his collar. "Listen up. You got a choice. You can take your chances with the police, or you can take them with me. Remembering, of course, that the cops have to play by the rules." He balled his fist in the man's shirt, lifting him into the air. He shoved his face into the punk's. "I, on the other hand, do _NOT_. Which do you want?" "P-p-p-p-police...." "Excellent choice. They don't tear your limbs off when they get pissed with you. I _do_." He lowered the punk to the ground. "Now then. Go to jail. Go DIRECTLY to jail. Do not pass Go. Do not mug someone for two hundred dollars. Do you understand? I'll be checking to see if you get there. And if I find out that you _didn't_ go straight to the cops and give them a full confession... I'm going to break so many of your bones, you'll end up as a training aid in a teaching hospital. Is that clear?" A second trickling sound answered him. He shook his head in mock sadness. "Low caliber of scum, these days." He set the pusher on his feet, and pointed him towards the street. "Get going." The pusher did a credible imitation of an Olympic sprinter as he raced down the avenue to the nearest police station, making Ed smile. {That's one more piece of trash cleaned up, baby.} {You're mean, boss.} He could sense the smile in her `voice'. {Only to garbage like that, m'lady. Only to vermin like that who attack the innocent.} {Uh-oh..} His face went taut. {Uh-oh? You know I don't like it when you say uh-oh, baby. What's the matter.. oh. Oh, hell. Cancel statement.} He didn't need to ask, now. The blue hardsuit headed his way was all the answer he needed. He surreptitiously brushed a palm over the stud on his belt. "Freeze, you bastard!" Ed almost broke out in laughter at the venom in Priss' voice. "Make a move and you're going to get a railgun spike right in the gut!" He spread his arms wide. "Hey, I don't want any trouble. Nice hardsuits. I particularly like the high heels. They're a nice touch. They add a certain something. The Knight Sabers, right?" *Yahright. As if I didn't know...* "I've got no argument with you folks. I'm not a boomer, and I'm not Genom." He shook his head and his voice echoed eerily in the street from the effect the shield had on it. "So why don't we all just turn around and simply walk away?" The white Saber came into view. "If that's the case, then you shouldn't mind coming along quietly with us and satisfying our curiosity." "Errr... that's not quite _fair_, you know... I don't see _you_ four answering the police's questions." He heard muffled laughter behind him. *Must be Linna and Nene. They _would_ get a kick out of that,* he thought. "Look, I'm not cutting in on _your_ turf, here. I mean, I'm not taking any mercenary contracts, nor am I going after Genom, okay? I'm just cleaning up the streets a bit. What's wrong with that?" He could practically _see_ the blood boiling in Priss's veins. Sylia began to say something, but Priss's angry shout interrupted. "This isn't about a few street scum, this is about your throwing me around like a piece of trash in the bar! Yeah! That's right! I know it's you, you bastard. I can see those eyes of yours glowing." *Ooops! Bloody hell. Hadn't thought she'd noticed that in the bar. And I hadn't even _considered_ that she might watch the news. Stupid, stupid, stupid. D'oh! If I had a brain I _might_ be dangerous.* "Uhhh... heh, heh... wasn't anything personal... " "Well, _I_ took it personal. And if you don't surrender, I'm going to take it PERSONALLY out on _you_!" He looked over to the white Knight Saber. "Is she _always_ like this? I can just imagine what commanding her in battle must be like. You have my heartfelt sympathies." The growls Priss let out at that comment lent a whole new interpretation to the word `bloodthirsty'. And while he couldn't be certain, he was willing to bet cold cash that the quickly smothered sounds that came from the pink and green Sabers behind him was more quiet laughter. Even the expressionless white armor facing him seemed to be somehow smiling. "That tore it. You're coming with _me_!" Priss snarled. She charged him. His back was to a building, and he winced at what he knew was about to happen. Sure enough, the blue suit moved to tackle him. It passed completely through him, slamming violently into the brick wall behind him. Ed flinched at the impact. "Owch. Did that hurt? It looked real painful." He stepped to one side so the other three Sabers could see Priss clearly. He didn't want them to think she was seriously injured. "Look... I _knew_ you were going to try to bring me in tonight, so I took some precautions. I'm intangible right now, and I intend to stay that way whenever you four are around." He shrugged expressively. "So can't we come to some sort of truce?" Ed moved away from the wall as Priss rose to her feet. Then the white Saber approached him slowly, then arm outstretched, passed a hand slowly through his body. "Interesting." She nodded thoughtfully inside the hardsuit, and stepped back. "For now, then. Obviously, there is nothing we can do to you while you are like this. However, while we may not be able to capture or restrain you, neither can you continue with your.. `cleaning of the streets' while we are present. I assume, of course, that you are unable to take any offensive action, while in that state." All four women watched with varying degrees of amusement as the Vigilante slapped himself across the forehead, dragging his hand down across his face. *D'OH! I never even thought of that!* "Uhhh... Would you believe that I have this horrible, terrible superweapon hidden inside my coat that will disable every hardsuit in the city?" "No." "How about a mediocre, average weapon that will shut down powered suits for 100 meters in every direction?" "I don't think so." "Would you believe two Girl Scouts and a rabid beagle?" "Unlikely, at best." "I should maybe go back to the drawing board and start over?" The white Saber finally nodded. "That I'd believe." The Sabers could see the lower half of his face flaming scarlet with embarrassment. "I'd really be rather grateful if you could possibly see your way clear to keeping this little error on my part just between the five of us? It's not exactly the sort of thing that makes a hero look very heroic, if you know what I mean." "I don't really see as that will matter, Mr.. Mr.. " "Heh. I'm not _that_ foolish, Saber Prime. Call me Legion, if you need a name. Like it or not, I always seem to get tagged with that." Inside the armor, Sylia raised an eyebrow and continued. "Well, Legion," she asked, "What is there to prevent us from simply following you back to your headquarters and apprehending you there?" "Mmmmm... good question." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You mean, in _addition_ to the fact that I could simply start walking through walls, buildings, and even Mount Fuji in order to leave you behind?" The white Saber nodded at him. "In addition to that, yes." "Well, as someone _else_ once said.. 'My armor can be invisible. It's not hard to find out things when you can't be seen.'" That quote elicited a gasp from from the pink armor standing behind him. "The same shield that renders me intangible can make me invisible as well. While I'm unable to engage in combat in such a condition - as you so _conveniently_ pointed out, thank you SO very much - it does tend to make trying to track me down and/or capture me an exercise in frustration." "Stalemate then. But from what little we know of you, you seem to be a person of honor, Legion." Ed nodded carefully, turning the statement over and over in his mind, looking for the trap he knew had to be hidden in it. "It's true I've been accused of that particular failing, now and again." "Good. I'd like your word of honor that you will do nothing to endanger Mega-Tokyo, or it's people. I want your word that you will take all due precautions during your.. `hunting' and will give it up rather than cause any harm. In return, we will.. `let this lie', for now." The Sabers watched as the Vigilante visibly winced. "Ouch. You are.. a formidable opponent, dear lady. Not all battles are fought with blade and beam. Now and again, I forget that. And then someone like you will come along to remind me." He bowed elaborately. "You have my word, m'lady. I will take _no_ actions that might possibly endanger Mega-Tokyo or it's law-abiding citizens. Additionally, I will not interfere with the Knight Sabers. In the event that my little hobby presents a threat to the city, I'll give it up immediately. My word upon it, Saber Prime." Inside her suit, Sylia smiled. "I'm told you've used this phrase several times, and I find it peculiarly appropriate." The helmet nodded to Ed. "Well bargained, and done." Ed laughed. "More appropriate than you probably realize, m'lady." He doffed his hat with a flourish. "Well, if all's been said and done, I have generic street trash to clean up, and you, no doubt, have both boomers to eliminate and contracts to fulfill." He smiled. "I bid you all a good evening, and good hunting!" With those words, he simply vanished. Priss swore furiously. "You let him get away, dammit!!" "Only for now," replied Sylia. "Legion will be meeting the Knight Sabers again. And next time, we will be better prepared." Sudden laughter filled the street. "Perhaps, Saber Prime.. But then, so will I!" The Sabers all heard the now-receding footsteps fade. Sylia smiled, wondering if it was somehow her destiny to run into every eccentric superhuman on the planet. *It certainly seems so, after Twister...* * * * Back at `Rare Books'... "Do you think that will keep them off my back, pretty lady?" asked Ed as he peeled off his gear, dropping it on the floor. The broach rippled open, and another small 'bot emerged to pick it up and take it back to the Calypso. "Sylia, and the Sabers.. yes. But Priss is still going to try and find you in her civilian identity, lover. Sylia can't ride herd on her 24 hours a day. And even without her armor, she's a handful." Ed grimaced. "Too true. Between her bike, and that little take-down pop gun of hers, she could prove a major irritant. But I can't afford to touch her.. she's too important to this reality. As are _all_ the Knight Sabers. Besides, Leon would never forgive me." He laughed. "You'd think the man would have given up by now. Priss wants him about as much as she wants a high colonic." Minerva quietly brrrr'ed in his ear. "The simplest solution is to track her, boss. I can maintain a sensor lock on her when you're out having fun, and when she gets too close, let you know. You'll be able to stay out of her way." He tilted his head, thinking. "Not an ideal solution... but it works for me. Make it so." "Already taken care of, b'wana." "You're a smart lady, Minerva." "Awww... I bet you say that to all the computers, boss." "Only the cute ones, pretty lady. Only the cute ones." * * * At Doctor Raven's garage.. Nene approached Sylia hesitantly. "Sylia? There's something.." Sylia frowned as she changed out of her softsuit. "Yes? What is it, Nene?" She reached for a dress and pulled it on. Nene bit her lip, then got out in a single, breathless rush, "IthinktheVigilanteisfromanotheruniverseandIthinkIknowwhichone." Sylia blinked, and touched her on the arm. "Slow down, Nene, and say that again?" She nodded, and took a deep breath. "I think the Vigilante is from another universe, and I think I know which one he's from." Sylia let go of her arm and looked her in the face. "We've suspected that possibility from the beginning, Nene. What's happened to make you think you know _where_ he's from?" "Do you remember what he said to us, when you asked him why we couldn't just follow him to his hide-out?" Sylia nodded. "He said that he could be invisible and that it's not hard to find out things when you can't be seen." "No, he said his _armor_ could be invisible.. and he wasn't _wearing_ any! He SAID he was quoting someone, Sylia, and I know who. Remember when I told you about my first visit to Twister's cave? I asked him how he knew we were the Knight Sabers, and he said 'My armor can be invisible, Nene. It's not hard to find out things when you can't be seen.'" Sylia nodded slowly. "Aside from the use of your name, that is exactly what the Vigilante said, word for word. You were the only two present in Twister's cavern, as I recall. Bugging that cavern is unlikely in the extreme. There'd normally be no way he could have know what the two of you said, unless you or he repeated that conversation verbatim to someone." She looked thoughtful. "It might simply be coincidence. However, given what Twister has told us about multiple realities, and the fact that in some of those realities we exist only as fictional characters, and that we already suspect that the Vigilante comes from another reality..." She nodded again. "The conclusion would seem to be that he comes from a reality where both ourselves AND Twister exist as fictional characters. Interesting." Nene shivered. "That's weird... to think that there was someone watching us then... that there's someone watching us right NOW, peeping at us and enjoying it." Sylia smiled. "It goes both ways, Nene. The very person who is watching or reading about us is just as fictional in _our_ universe as we are in theirs." Nene looked at her oddly. "It still bothers me. Doesn't it bother you?" "No. And you should put it out of your mind. There isn't anything anyone can do about it. Except, perhaps, learning to live with it. Otherwise, you could drive yourself to distraction over the possibilities." Nene stuck out her tongue. "Maybe.. but I still don't have to like it." *********************************** The next morning, Ed invited Sylvie and Anri out to an early brunch. They closed both stores, and headed over to a good restaurant. They took a private booth, and talked about the night before. "Priss did _what_?" Ed smirked. "She took a running tackle at me. _While_ I had the shield on, and was standing in front of a brick wall." "That HAD to hurt," winced Sylvie. Anri was giggling quietly. "You know that she's _never_ going to forgive you for that one, don't you?" "Well, as long as she doesn't know who I am, that isn't a problem. And Sylia promised that if I keep my word, the Sabers would keep theirs." "That won't keep Priss from trying to come after you without her suit, if she ever discovers your identity," noted Sylvie. "Yeah... Minerva said as much last night. I'm just going to have to be VERY careful she never find that out, won't I?" Both women nodded. "Don't take Priss lightly, Ed. She's a tough woman." Sylvie said. "And a good shot with that pistol of hers," added Anri. "Girls, girls, girls... Guns don't worry me. I've probably stopped more slugs over the past twenty years than the bullet trap at a target range." His eyes narrowed. "It's the possibility of her anger at me overriding her good sense that worries me. If she discovers who I am, and gets furious enough, she might try dropping a hint or two by Genom's way." Anri leaped loyally to Priss's defence. "She'd _never_ do that! She hates Genom!" Ed looked over at Anri. "Oh? I seem to recall someone who once thought that the enemy of my enemy was my friend. Or was that someone _else_ standing next to Largo, and sticking a knife into Priss during that last battle atop of Genom tower..." He recoiled in surprise as Sylvie reached across the table and slapped his face. She winced, shaking her stinging hand. Ed looked at her, unhurt but shocked. "Hey! What the hell was that for... Oh." Now it was his turn to wince as he saw the tears in Anri's eyes. "I'm sorry, Anri. That was entirely uncalled for." He ducked his head. "Sometimes I'm such an ass." Anri wiped her eyes. "You're forgiven, then. And you're right, even if you were crude about it. If I could make a mistake like that, then Priss could too." "Yeah.. but I shouldn't have hurt your feelings, Anri. If it helps any, Minerva is going to be all over my case for doing that." He scratched his head. "She's really come to like you two ever since you found out who we were." Anri smiled then. "Well, then, I won't have to worry about making you pay. I know she will." Ed rolled his eyes melodramatically. "Women.. can't live with 'em, can't get any resale value for 'em." "Ooooooh.... you MAN, you!!" * * * Leon gave a bilious look at the scruffy looking pusher sitting in the interrogation room. "You say the mystery vigilante was the one who told you to turn yourself in?" The pusher nodded until Leon thought his head would snap right off of his scrawny neck. "Yessir, yessir, yessir..." Daley flipped through the arresting officer's report. "It says here that you saw the Knight Sabers approach him after you ran down the street." "Uh-huh! I run too fast an' hadda stop 'n catch my breath at the corner an' I saw 'em. They hadd'em surrounded, but they weren't doin' nutthin." "And that was all you saw?" "I didn't hang around none. _He_ tole me to head right to you cops an' thass just what I did. I don't want him gettin' mad at me none." Leon nodded, then turned to address the uniformed officer waiting outside the room. "That's all we need. Thanks, Ishido." Officer Takashima grinned. "No problem, sir. When I noticed what the perp was blabbering about the reasons _why_ he'd turned himself in, I thought you'd want to know." Walking down the hall, Leon wondered aloud. "Are they joining up? Or are they enemies? This is getting deeper by the moment, partner." Daley shrugged. "We'll just have to wait and watch. After all, waiting and watching are half of a police officer's life right there. Collect all the information you can, and try to make a prediction that will let you anticipate the bad guys, then catch them. Academy stuff, but that doesn't mean it's obsolete." Leon sighed, and reached into his pocket, pulling out a pair of Shades of Utter Cool +3, and putting them on. "That doesn't mean I have to like it, Daley." Daley looked at him. "You know, I've always wondered, partner. Just _where_ do you buy those at? And why are you wearing them inside?" *********************************** Personal Log: Entry 152, Year 20 It's been over three weeks now, and the Knight Sabers have left me strictly alone. Sylia's word is her bond. Although.. from the way Priss's suit shook the few times we've run across each other since then, Priss is having more than a little trouble with her self control. Not that I blame her. If I were in her position, I'd want to wipe up the floor with me. I seem to be running out of muggers, though. They _finally_ got the word that the police couldn't stop me, and all that's left working the streets are a few pitiful junkies trying desperately to mug someone for the price of a fix. The professional muggers have all `pissed off to pastures new' as an old friend once put it. I suppose I could have Minerva start looking for cat burglars, bank robbers, and such. But the regular police seem to have them well in hand. Sigh. Isn't this always what happens? You get over-eager, and run out of new playtoys. Then life gets so _dull_. Minerva and Sylvie were right. Priss is spending every free minute she can spare, hanging around the seedier parts of the city, hunting for me. Fortunately, the fact that I've run out of muggers to pound is actually working in my _favor_. I'm not out as much, and Priss is basically a day late and a dollar short, so to speak. Something which has _not_ put her in a good mood. Quite frankly, I've seen rabid wolverines with a better disposition. I've got to do something about this. But I'm not quite certain what. When she figured out the Darlene/Twister thing, first she made him take singing lessons, then forced him to build her a superbike like his own. I do NOT want the world to hear me sing. I have enough crimes on my conscience already, thank you very much. Having to defend myself from blood-thirsty hordes of music lovers wanting to lynch me for my singing is not my idea of a good time. Ah, well. Book sales are brisk, and cash is rolling in. Not that I need it. I end up donating most of the profits to various charities, which is getting me a second reputation. It's an annoyance, occasionally.. I keep getting junk email and people showing up in the store begging me for donations to their particular cause. I swear, if I see another Dianetics type show up, I'm going to punt the little buggers into the stratosphere. I haven't seen Madagan for weeks. A fact I am _profoundly_ grateful for. Hopefully, Genom has forgotten all about me. End Log Entry 152, Year 20 *********************************** "Threats...and Other Promises." - Vernor Vinge Ed looked up at the sound of the bell over the front door. "Welcome to `Rare Books'. May I help you?" He looked the customer over. Tall, dark, athletically built, and almost offensively handsome. "I'm here to help _you_, Mr. Edwards," replied the man. "I'm here to make you very wealthy." "Oh?" Ed raised an eyebrow. "And just how do you intend to do that?" *Something isn't right, here,* he thought. {Minerva, _carefully_ scan the gentleman, if you please.} The man smiled and took what looked like a business card made of crystal from the inside pocket of his jacket. "You're invited to a meeting at Genom tower tonight, sir. Someone would like to speak with you about your skill in finding hard to find literature." He placed the crystalline card on the counter. "Show this to the guards. They'll let you in." He looked down at the card. Cut from a single slice of perfect quartz, engraved letters inlaid with gold leaf marched across its glimmering surface. Only one word, but only one was needed. A single name. Quincy. Minerva interrupted at that point. {I'm not sure how you did it, but you called it the first try, boss. It's a boomer. A 33-S, to be precise.} That caught his attention. {A sexaroid? I thought Anri and Sylvie were the only ones currently on Earth. The rest are supposed to be off planet. On Genaros, and the Moonbase, to be precise.} He could practically hear Minerva shrug. {We're talking about Genom here, b'wana. They don't exactly pay a great deal of attention to the law, you know.} {You shooting for the Understatement of the Year award again, m'dear?} He turned his attention back to the sexaroid. "I gave Madagan my answer the first time, tin can. That answer hasn't changed. I want nothing to do with either Genom or Quincy. Clear enough? Get out of my shop, and tell your masters to stay out of my life. End of message." The boomer evinced no surprise at his knowledge of what it truly was and nodded politely. "It would still be to your best interests to meet with Mr. Quincy, sir. But I shall inform him of your message and of your feelings in this matter. The invitation remains open. Good day." The bio-machine turned, and left. Ed stared angrily at its back as it did so. When the door swung closed, he began to swear loudly. Minerva spoke up. {Boss...} "..evil, vile, corrupt, foul.. ehh?" {What is it? Why the private link, m'dear? No one is in the shop now..} {I guess they just couldn't resist, boss. The card is a plant.} {Excuse me??} {There's molecular micro-circuitry buried under the gold leaf, boss, with the crystal acting both as a solar power source and a sounding board. A very elegant design, actually. The entire card is one very _nicely_ disguised bug.} Ed's eyes flashed golden for a brief second, as his fingers clenched tightly around the card. It exploded into a spray of brilliant glittering shards. His fist shook as he ground them under his heel, enraged. A mile away, in a safe house, a Genom technician flinched painfully as her ears rang to a squeal of harsh feedback. "Oh.. I'll be visiting Quincy tonight, baby. But it isn't going to be quite the visit he expects." * * * Sylvie looked up as Ed walking into the store. She noticed his frown. "Is something wrong, Ed?" He sighed. "Yes. And I need your help." She nodded and waved him into the back room, motioning to Anri, who joined them along the way. "So, what's the trouble, Ed?" asked Anri. "I just had a visitor from Genom. I've received an... _invitation_ to a meeting with Chairman Quincy. Something which is suspicious enough in itself. When you add in the facts that they just tried to bug my shop, and that the person who brought the invitation was a sexaroid..." His voice trailed away, and he shrugged. "Something is going on, and I don't know what. That's not good." Sylvie's eyes widened slightly. "A sexaroid? Are you certain?" "I had Minerva scan him thoroughly, Sylvie. Male, sexaroid, 33-S. Aside from the purely gender based differences, his construction was identical to yours. The programming was seriously different, however." His eyebrows came together tightly. "Minerva was able to pull some of the hard-wired directives when she scanned him. Three guesses as to what those directives were, and your first two don't count." "Loyalty programming," snorted Anri. "To keep any more 33-S's from rebelling and going independant." "That, and a little bit more, Anri. There were a few other surprises. For example, several small but strategically placed thermite charges inside his braincase and power core. Min believes they can be triggered remotely, and I see no reason to doubt her on that. One wrong move, and he melts down into a puddle of slag." Anri made a disgusted face. "True. But even with safeguards like that, why would they risk bringing another sexaroid Earth-side?" "I don't know," he shrugged. "That's what bothers me. Whatever their plan is, I'm totally clueless." "You don't have to go to the meeting, Ed." "Perhaps, Anri. But if I don't, I rather suspect that they'll try other measures to get my cooperation. And I don't want that." He looked down, then back up. "What I do plan to do is attend the meeting, and tell them no. I don't believe there is anything they can do to me that I can't take, but there's no sense in taking un-neccessary chances." "And if violence does break out?" asked Sylvie. "Then.. well, I guess I'll play it by ear. But that's part of the reason I'm here, to explain why I'm meeting them on their own ground. They'll be less likely to take any measures that involve mass destruction, if only to keep the costs down." He grinned. "After all, the cost of replacing something the size of Genom tower is considerable, even for a mega-corp. And I think they learned that lesson rather thoroughly when Darlene started to dissolve it down around their ears." The two women laughed aloud at that, then waited for him to continue. He paused then, chewing on his lower lip. "The rest of the reason I'm here right now, Sylvie, is this." He reached inside his jacket and removed a sheaf of papers. "If something goes seriously wrong, this is a notarized statement. In the event that I disappear, you and Anri will have my power of attorney. And you two will inherit the bookstore, it's contents, and the cash in my bank account." Both women drew a sharp breath, Anri speaking first. "You didn't have to do that!" "No.. I didn't _have_ to. But I _wanted_ to." He looked at them steadily. "You two are the best friends I have in this universe. You stood by me when you discovered what I really was, when most people would have simply run for their lives, or ratted me out to the authorities. That takes a lot of courage, and more than the usual amount of `live and let live' attitude. More than I've seen in a rather long time." He shook his head. "Ha. Listen to me. I sound like one of those bad `hero goes to his death making noble cliche-ridden speech' scenes from a _very_ bad movie." "Well, when the shoe fits, Edward," smiled Sylvie. "Maybe so, but I always _hated_ those scenes," he laughed. "Anyway, I don't _really_ expect anything serious to happen, but I _do_ believe in taking precautions." He smirked and handed them the papers. "I want you to hold on to these, and return them to me when I get back. I don't really expect you to need to use them. I'm not too worried. I don't think it can get any worse. After all.. what _else_ can happen, eh?" Dangerous choice of words, there. * * * The highway was a deserted section of Mega-Tokyo due to its bridge having collapsed a long time ago and the city hadn't bothered fixing the damage. Thus, no one was around to see the sudden flare of purple light, nor the bone white car which shot forwards from its arrival point with a squeal of rubber. The car was of an ancient make for Mega-Tokyo, but little else about the unusual appearance would have been found evident as it suddenly vanished. It had not vanished. Now it was cloaked by the spells woven into the car by the person sitting in the passenger seat, which should have been the driver's side in Japan. And that person was pleased. "Perfect!" Darlene chuckled. "Where do we go first?" the driver asked her. "It's night so de-cloak when we start running into cars," the mage advised. "Bet you we run into Priss within two hours." The person in the back seat grinned. "No bet; that's a given." "True," Darlene admitted. "Hey, clear race track. Onward, Mortis!" the driver chuckled and the car accelerated. A lot. Darlene rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Grim..." * * * Up in orbit, Minerva detected the strange energy surge. *That dragon again?* she wondered. But no, it came from the wrong location so what...? Her thought processes froze. *Could it be...?* Quickly, the ACI scanned the city but whatever the cause was she only got a ghost image of...something... before it disappeared. Repeated tries got even less. She matched the signature against the readings she'd obtained from Charcoal, and the earlier scans of Mega-Tokyo, when she'd noticed the underground anomaly she now realized must be Twister's private cave. The energies involved were nearly identical. "Ed's going to want to hear about this," she murmured. Was Twister back? * * * Priss had been riding the highways more often lately due to her current frustrations with that mystery man who had torn apart a Boomer like it was nothing. Soon, the normal routes grew boring so she started on the lesser used paths where there were fewer THP cars and opened up the gas. Her pleasure in the acceleration must have distracted her, how else could that old-looking car have gotten behind her? She glanced at her speedometer and blinked. *How the fuck is that piece of crap keeping up at 220km?!* she thought, amazed. The white ghost behind her was silent. Too silent, she couldn't even hear the engine, which should have been howling like a demon! *Is it that asshole?* she wondered. Then, impossibly, the car switched lanes and somehow went from 220 to 300 in one second, zipping by Priss as if she were standing still. She couldn't believe it! "How the HELL...?!?!" Priss demanded aloud. Up ahead, the car braked to a dead stop, just as fast in deceleration as acceleration. It seemed a clear invitation to her so she warily applied her own brakes and coasted to a halt beside the white car with black, impenetrable windows. The driver's side opened and a familiar red-headed face popped up to grin at her. "Hiya, Priss!" Darlene giggled. "Like the car?" The singer sat, stunned, on her bike for a moment before she jumped off and met her friend in front of the car with an enthusiastic hug. "Darlene!! About damn time you came to visit, you little..." "Been busy," the red-head admitted as they separated. Priss snorted. "I bet. What's the deal with this old thing and why were you chasing me with it?" the singer demanded. "Huh? Oh, this is a car made for America; the sides are reversed," Darlene explained. "I wasn't driving." "You weren't? Then who's the asshole who was?" Priss demanded. The true driver's door opened and a long pole with a wicked-looking, curved blade on the top came into sight before its owner slid out of the seat and stood, closing the door behind. Priss paled as she saw light-absorbing, black robes covering the whole body. The only portions of the driver visible was the skeletal fingers gripping the scythe and the somehow amused-looking skull in the robes hood. The singer's hand suddenly clenched on Darlene's shoulder, hard. "Priss, meet Grimreaper. Grimreaper, this is Priss," Darlene said for an introduction. I'M HAPPY TO FINALLY MEET YOU, PRISS ASAGIRI, the robed being said cheerfully. Priss' eyes almost popped out from their sockets. "I... No... A..." she stammered, then fainted dead away, Darlene caught her as she crumpled. The mage giggled. "Got you!" she said triumphantly. BWAH HAHAHAHAHA, the skeleton laughed, I LOVE IT! "Turn off 'Death's Voice' will you, Raj?" Darlene asked him. SURE, JUST BE "a sec, there," a more human-sounding voice finished. "God, I never get tired of that." "Better not, given how much time I put into it." The one of the back doors of the car opened and a lean, young man with black hair stepped out to stretch. "You have a mean sense of humor, Darlene." "Thanks, Dave," she replied, dimpling. "It's a calling." All three chuckled. * * * "GENOM Corporation. We make everything you need, and you need everything we make. Buy it, or we'll kill your family." - failed slogan proposal, 2290 A.D. {courtesy of Ben `Gryphon' Hutchins} Genom tower was a _huge_ building. Ed had seen taller ones now and then in his travels, but none with such an.. arrogant? Yes, that was the word. An arrogant attitude. The entire building seemed to say that Genom was the destiny of mankind, or some other grandiose statement like that. He despised it at first sight. He'd was dressed a little differently, tonight. Usually, when in the book shop, he wore a sweater and a sports jacket, trying for a professorial air. But tonight he wanted to make something perfectly clear to Quincy. He stepped into the main lobby, and headed for the elevator. An armed guard confronted him. "Where do you think _you're_ going, fella?" Ed reached into the pocket of his jean jacket and pulled out a handful of glittering dust, pouring it out at the guard's feet. He pointed at it. "To a meeting with Quincy. You were told to expect me." He stared at the guard. "That _was_ my invitation. It used to be a solid quartz business card, until I became.. upset with it. You want me to get upset with you, son?" The guard darted a quick glance at the glittering pile at his feet, and waved to his partner. "Ahh.. Jake? Ya wanna check and see if there was an appointment for a Mr... err..." "Anthony Edwards." "Anthony Edwards, right! Jake.. Uhh.. Jake.. could you _hurry_? Please?!" While he was waiting, Ed heard a buzz in his ear. {Boss? I got something important..} {What is it, pretty lady? Can't it wait?} {I've got another sighting, boss. The readings were similar to those I got off of Charcoal. But _much_ stronger. It might be Twister.} Right about then, the guard behind the desk looked up. "Ralph? He's cleared for Mr. Quincy's office," he said nervously. "And we're supposed to insure that he arrives there as rapidly as possible." Ralph nodded, and came closer. "Sir? If you'd care to come with me?" He waved Ed towards the private elevator. "I'll see that you're escorted there immediately." {Baby.. I got my hands full right now. You keep a close watch, and do your best to see if you can't track Twister down.} A thought struck him. {Keep a sensor out for the Sabers, pretty lady. He'll likely stop by to visit with them and say hello.} {Will do, boss.} Ed followed the guard into the elevator, and watched as he slid a card into a slot under the control panel. A heartbeat later, they were rocketing upward at a speed that bent the guard's knees. He looked over at the guard. "Fast elevator, son." "Built by Genom, sir. The best available!" Ed snorted at that, but didn't bother arguing. He had a bigger target tonight. He looked up as the doors opened with a musical chord, rather than the standard *ding* sound. *Figures*, he thought. *No matter _how_ unimportant the game, Genom _always_ has to try a little one-upsmanship.* "The end of the hall, sir. They're waiting for you." "Thank you, son. And a word of advice..." "Sir...?" "It never hurts to scout out a piece of cover _before_ the shooting starts. You have a better chance that way. Remember that when you get back to your post." The guard looked at him warily. "Thank you, sir." Ed grimaced. "Just trying to keep a clean conscience, boy. Now run along. I got folks to palaver with right now." He started down the short hallway, and rapped on the door. An elderly voice spoke out. "Come in, Mr. Edwards. We've been expecting you." "I rather thought you were, old man." He pushed the door open and stepped inside. Quincy's office held a small group of people. Quincy himself, Madagan, four boomer bodyguards, and several types that looked like lawyers. A small, tight semi-circle of chairs faced the front of Quincy's desk, with an empty one in the center. He took it, and sat. "So. You went to a great deal of trouble to get me to come here. Say your piece, and get it over with. I don't particularly care to be here." He stared rudely at the head of Genom. "I don't like Genom, I don't like you, and I don't like being here." Quincy never blinked. "That is what we are here to change, Mr. Edwards. Genom wishes to purchase your services. You are somehow able to obtain reference works that we cannot. We wish for you to do so on our behalf. We are willing to compensate you for your efforts, most handsomely." One of the lawyer-types leaned towards Ed with a sheaf of papers. "We have a contract here, that binds Genom to pay you over one million yen per book, _exclusive_ of whatever you may have to pay of obtain it. In addition, Genom will provide an unlimited line of credit for you to draw upon for travelling expenses, payments to book owners, daily living expenses and any necessary.. easements to customs officials." "No." "I understand," burbled the lawyer. "The fee per book is negotiable, and we can raise it for items that are especially difficult to acquire--" "I. Said. No. What part of 'no' don't you understand, little man?" He turned hard eyes toward Quincy. "Lose the lawyers, old man." Quincy raised a single finger, and the legal crew fell all over themselves trying to leave the room as fast as possible. The bodyguards remained, however, as did Madagan. "So, Mr. Edwards. What might you wish to say that you do not wish them to hear?" "What I said before. No. I won't work for you, I won't help you, I wouldn't even spit on you if you were on fire. Get it straight, Quincy. because I'm saying it once and once only. Genom burned me once before. And Genom isn't going to get away with it a second time. Hell will freeze over before I ever help Genom, and the _only_ payment I'd ever accept from you would be the heads of yourself, Madagan and Brian Mason in a silver plate." "That.. would not be advisable, Mr. Edwards. Genom is your friend, no matter what you might currently believe. I suspect you will find yourself in urgent need of liquid cash very shortly, and Genom will be the only place you will be able to find that money." Ed's eyes narrowed. "Just what do you mean by that, old man?" "I understand that your bookstore is uninsured, Mr. Edwards. A dangerous state of affairs that one should always take care to avoid." Quincy's face showed nothing. "It's always a tragedy when books are burned and valuable information is lost to the ages. Don't you agree?" "So... that's what this was all about. You're playing your old game of trying to get a handle on a person," he snarled. "Well, if I want your advice, I'll open your head and sift through your brains for it." "Everyone has a price, Mr. Edwards," replied Quincy calmly. "The _only_ question is what that price might be. Tell me, what is _your_ price?" Quincy was surprised to see a flare of golden light come from behind Ed's glasses. It faded quickly as Ed closed his eyes. "Quincy, you really don't want to know. Trust me. What I want... you _can't_ afford. You don't have what it takes." He stood, causing the bodyguards to twitch. "You're playing outside your league, old man. _Way_ outside. I understand that Genom is the only thing that means anything to you. If you keep this up, you could see it destroyed in the cross-fire." Quincy's expression didn't change. "You claim to have that sort of power?" "No. But what's following me _does_. And if there's a showdown between myself and my enemies in Mega-Tokyo..." He shook his head. "Quincy, the earthquake of 2025 will look like a peaceful stroll in the countryside by comparison. If you were lucky, really, REALLY lucky.. the planet _might_ still be left standing, after the battle." He turned toward the door. "Good evening, Mr. Quincy" Quincy shook his head. "I'm afraid I cannot accept that answer." He addressed the guards. "Detain him. But do not damage him." The boomers quickly grabbed Ed by the shoulders and attempted to force him back into the chair. They were surprised when he remained standing. A second, more forceful try was just as ineffective. "Right. Now I'm pissed," Ed gritted out. He grabbed the first boomer by the throat and squeezed. As Quincy looked on, mildly astonished, the android's neck was crushed like a styrofoam coffee cup. A back-handed slap removed its head. Ed tossed it to one side and went after the second, driving his fist into its gut and out through its spine. The remaining two boomers immediately upgraded their threat estimates, and opened fire with their lasers, taking care to avoid involving Quincy. The beams damaged the office, but did little to stop or even slow Ed. A moment later, the two boomers were spare parts scattered around the floor. Quincy gazed at him dispassionately. "So.. you are not human. And from the _interesting_ display you have just provided, I suspect you are also the mysterious bar patron and vigilante we have been searching for these past several months." The faded ghost of a smile crossed his face. "Teleportation is a powerful tool. Possessing it, Genom would become the pre-eminent corporation on the planet. With your assistance, Genom would leap far ahead of all others." Brushing the ash from his jacket, Ed gave him the sort of disgusted look that most people usually reserved for times when they found mold on a slice of bread. "Quincy, you simply enlarge my understanding of the depths of human depravity. I couldn't believe the Crystal Knight when he told me about your attempts to hire both himself and Largo. I see I was wrong." Quincy's eyes narrowed at that statement. "You are a friend of the Crystal Knight?" Ed took several steps forward to stand in front of Quincy's desk. "I'm _me_, Quincy." He slammed a fist on the top of the desk, splitting it in two. "And that's none of your business." He felt a distant tug on his shoulders, and turned to see Madagan, her eyes burning brightly. "And the psionist takes her shot. One word for you, girl. Don't." He jerked his shoulders sharply, causing Madagan to shudder painfully at the mental feedback. "What _are_ you?" she choked out. "None of your concern. And none of Genom's concern, either. Leave me alone and I'll extend the same courtesy to Genom." He heard running footsteps in the hall and the door behind him open. "More boomers, no doubt. So I'll take my leave." He walked to one of the windows and kicked. "This isn't my world. It isn't even my universe. I don't want a fight. I just want to find my way home, Quincy. Nothing more. But if you get in my way.. No threats, old man. Just be ready for a war if you do." With that, he stepped out through the hole in the glass and plummeted towards the ground. * * * A bone white car cruised past Genom tower. The driver blinked in surprise as an indigo streak fell from the sky and crashed into the pavement by the side of the street, missing them by only a few feet. He stopped the car and turned to the person in the passenger seat. "Dave.. did you just see a guy in a jean jacket fall from the top of that skyscraper and _not_ die?" Dave looked out the rear window. "Jean jacket, lumberjack shirt, and a really _ugly_ looking Stetson?" "Check." "Yup." Dave looked at Grim. Grim looked back at Dave. They both nodded. "Life in Mega-Tokyo." "Uh-huh." Grim stepped on the gas and drove away. * * * Ed swore at the tail-lights of the car that had just left. "You could have given me a hand, dammit!" He looked down at his legs, which were sunk knee-deep in the concrete sidewalk. He shook his head, then pulled his feet free, leaving two shattered holes in the walkway. "Why me? Things like this _never_ happen to Superman." He walked away, muttering, "I better get started looking for a spot where Minerva can beam me up without any witnesses. Or maybe I should just _walk_ home. Goddess, what a day I'm having..." *********************************** The next morning... Priss groaned and slowly opened her eyes. Had seeing...IT been just a dream? The singer looked at the couch she was on and recognized it. *Wait a minute, I'm in Darlene's place!* she realized. She looked to the kitchen when noises from that locale caught her attention and there her mage friend stood, regarding the surprised Priss with amusement. "Good morning, sleepyhead," Darlene cheerfully greeted the blinking woman, smiling impishly as she held a bowl containing breakfast. "Faint...er, sleep well?" Priss recalled at that moment just WHY she had fainted. "You... You.... I ought to strip you naked, dip you in honey, and dangle you by your feet at Leon's front door!!!" Priss declared ominously as she slowly rose from the couch. "Where have you been?! Who...WHAT the hell WAS that last night?!" Darlene blithely continued making breakfast, totally ignoring Priss' mood, much to the singer's rising ire. "That was Raj, or rather, Rajish Perumal. I usually call him Grimreaper or Grim though. He's a friend that I knew in my home universe before I originally left it, along with Dave but you didn't see him. The 'Death' bit was something I made for Grim a long time ago and we both get a kick out of it," she finished with a smirk at Priss. "I bet," Priss grumbled, giving the red-head the Evil Eye. "Are they here now?" "Well," Darlene said, tasting whatever was in the bowl, "they thought they'd hang out in Mega-Tokyo on this little 'shore leave', party for a while, then come back." "Shore leave?? What'd ya mean by that??" The mage looked a little abashed. "I... It took me a while before I decided to visit here again. I wanted to look older and you know how long it takes me to age. I got involved in a few things and... well..." She looked at her friend with a little trepidation. "It's been almost four centuries since I left." Priss stared at her, then numbly sat on the couch as the fact sunk in. "Four...?" She had to admit, the mage DID look older, a little over a year more. Darlene sighed at the expression on the singer's face. "I haven't really changed too much, just a lot more memories in my head now." She giggled. "Certainly you could tell by the joke we played on you." That reminder made Priss scowl, and would have retorted but then they heard a door downstairs open and excited voices could be heard. Darlene grinned. "I left a few messages around so that should be the others." Indeed, Priss could hear Nene, Linna, Sylvie, Anri, and the more subdued Sylia. Priss thought of something to ask the mage, "Hey, do you have anything to do with this Goldeneyes character?" Darlene blinked and looked at the singer in honest confusion. "Who?" * * * "Minerva.. have I ever told you just how much I hate getting up in the morning?" The computer laughed. "Only once a day for the past twenty years, b'wana. You simply aren't a morning person. Don't worry.. I fixed you an entire pot full of Morning Thunder." "You _are_ thoughtful, pretty lady." He yawned and stretched, heading for the shower. "Nothing like a mix of black tea, chickory and mate' to start a morning right. Unless it's Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee, eh?" "Covered that too, boss. Breakfast has already been prepared, and it's on the table. I thought you might need it, after last night." She made a disapproving sound. "Along with some of your cuban cigars. Bleah. Boss, I honestly believe you'd be better off smoking a piece of old rope." "Some of those _taste_ like old rope, m'dear.. that's why I like 'em." Minerva gagged. Loudly. "You have the most atrocious tastes, lover." "Yep.. that's me. The man who grossed out an entire planet." "Well, so far, so good, boss. No signs of Genom yet, the morning is clear and bright, and all in all it looks like a pleasant day ahead. You don't have any appointments for the day aside from your regular lunch with Sylvie and Anri." She paused briefly, and Bach filled the break as she checked the morning news. "Nothing about any accidents at Genom tower, boss. All's quiet on the Western Front, so to speak." Ed humphed. "Maybe Quincy learned a lesson from the previous times someone's trashed his office. But I doubt it." He finished up his shower and dressed, then turned towards the breakfast nook. "I'll head downstairs just as soon as I finish breakfast." He paused. "Minerva..?" "Yes?" "Stay alert, baby. I don't know why.. but I have a bad feeling about today." "You're still edgy over last night, that's all." "Maybe. And maybe not." Minerva then said The Words That Should Never Be Said. "Come on, boss! The sun is shining, the birds are singing. It's a beautiful morning! What could _possibly_ go wrong?" * * * "bortaS bIr jablu'DI' reH QaQqu' nay'." (Revenge is a dish best served cold.) - tlhIngan proverb. "Revenge... is better than Christmas!" - Elvira, the Mistress of the Dark Ed looked to the door as a beautiful young woman entered. Something about her seemed.. wrong, but he put that down to a case of nerves over his little confrontation with Quincy the previous night. "May I help you? Is there something in particular you're looking for, Miss..?" The blond shook her head. "I'm here on business, not pleasure. I have a message for you, Mr. Edwards." His brows drew together. "And the message is..?" Long, humming, claw-like blades slid from her fingertips. "Genom doesn't like it when little people refuse to accept their proper place in the world." "Their proper place in Genom's schemes, you mean." His lips thinned. "If they programmed you with even the slightest bit of information about me, you'd know that those little toys of yours can't even scratch an itch on my back, you cheap-jack Terminator knock-off. So leave my place now, before I decide to disassemble you for spare parts." The razor doll smiled in a disturbing fashion. "Oh.. I know." She waved a careless hand through the air, the claws effortlessly cutting gashes in a walnut bookcase. "These are simply to get your attention, sir. So that we might ask you one more time. Will you accept Genom's generous offer for your services?" "What? Do I have to tattoo it on Quincy's forehead? I said _no_. As in no books, no teleportation. Nothing. Got that? Now leave this place." The boomer nodded. "Mr. Quincy has your answer, sir. Now, here is his response." * * * As Darlene and her guests chatted, a sudden explosion interrupted them. Sylvie ran to a window, and saw smoke pouring from the shattered storefront of the bookstore down the street. "Oh my god! That's Ed's place! Someone call emergency services!" she gasped. Priss had been hot on Sylvie's heels, and looking out the window at the devastation, shook her head. "Don't bother. It doesn't look like anyone made it out alive. Looks like the entire lower floor is trashed. Need the fire department, though." She put an arm over Sylvie's shoulder. "If it's any comfort, he likely didn't feel anythin..." Her jaw dropped. Sylia looked over from the phone. "What is it, Priss?" "Hoooooly FUCK! There's someone coming out!" Sure enough, when Nene and Linna poked their heads around her, they could see a figure wearing smoldering clothes slowly picking it's way around some of the larger chunks of rubble that filled the street directly in front of the now ruined bookstore. Darlene blinked, then shook her head with a sigh. *Genom certainly makes a habit of annoying visitors from other dimensions,* she thought, resigned. *Judging that he survived that explosion means things are gonna get rough 'cause he looks pissed.* In the street below, Ed turned his face towards the sky, and in a voice that could have shattered steel, he screamed, "QUINCY!!!" * * * As he stood in the middle of the street, watching the fire department put out the blaze, Ed's temper flared hotter than the flames. The bomb inside the razor doll had been most carefully calculated. Most of what had been inside it had been a firebomb, intended for arson, not blasting. Aside from the windows and furnishings, little had been damaged. The building was still structurally sound, and he could rebuild any time he liked. But the books had all gone up with the fire. "I've been sent a message," he muttered. "A message from Genom." He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, and turned to see Sylvie standing there. "Are you all right, Ed?" The muscles around his left eye twitched wildly. "No. I'm not all right, Sylvie. Genom just pushed me. And now I'm going to push back." He gave her a quick hug. "Looks like your friends are coming, and they'll ask questions I can't answer. You take care, and take care of Anri. I'll try to be back." He whirled, and ran off down the street before the other women arrived. Sylia walked up, and frowned at the running figure in the distance. "Why is he leaving, Sylvie?" "I don't know. And I'm afraid I don't _want_ to know." * * * As he shimmered into visibility on the main transporter pad, Minerva saw the grim expression he wore, and winced inside. "Get the Enforcer ready, Minerva. Quincy is going to pay for this one. He went too far with this. Now it's my turn." "No, boss! Please! This isn't right!" A snarl answered her. "I am _not_ concerned with what's right or wrong at the moment, girl. It's payback time. Get. The. Enforcer. Ready. NOW. Do you understand? Or will I have to use the override codes?" She answered him reluctantly. "Aye, aye. I understand and will comply. But... boss?" "_WHAT_?" "It was your farewell gift from the Sommerset Strikers. Do you really want to take it into this? You'd hate yourself if it was damaged." She hesitated. "We still have several of the Chameleons... and I can prep one of those just as fast, if not faster." He stood and stared for a moment, then nodded curtly. "A Chameleon, then. Prep it. You have an hour." * * * "Why is it always giant... humanoid... robots???" - Ben `Gryphon' Hutchins, "Undocumented Features 1" Ed looked up at the 10 meter tall, 50 ton BattleMech lying prone on the deck of the Calypso's cargo hold. A marvel of 31st century technology in its native reality, where it served as the ultimate war machine. A mirthless grin crossed his lips, failing to reach the cold rage in his eyes. "Ready or not, Quincy... here I come." Popping the hatch, he stepped inside the cockpit that filled the head of the anthropomorphic machine. Since the battlemech was lying on it's back, everything was on its side. That didn't bother him. Strapping himself in the pilot's seat, he began the start-up procedure. Once the fusion engine had ignited, he slipped on the neuro-helmet and put the battle computer on-line. He didn't bother with the medical monitors nor the cooling vest. He didn't need either one, and he wasn't trying to hide his differences from fellow mercs any longer. He punched a button on the command console, and began the identification sequence. A computer-generated voice sounded through the neuro-helmet's speakers. "CLN-7X Chameleon 450376YM2232 online. Proceed with voiceprint identification." "I am Edward Anthony Becerra." "Voiceprint pattern match obtained. Working... Please give the password. Warning: If an incorrect password is entered, intrusion countermeasures will be taken. You have one opportunity." His next words rang with unconscious irony. "Killing a man is never easy, and never should be." The computer responded with, "And who taught you this?" "Kai Allard-Liao." "Welcome aboard, Lieutenant Becerra. Note: There have been two authorized modifications to this machine since it has last been used. The three small torso-mounted lasers have been replaced with small pulse lasers and linked with the anti-missile system. The large laser mounted on the right arm has been replaced with an extended-range particle projection cannon." As he listened to the machine make its report, his eyes drifted to the coaming overhead, and the symbol painted there, an iron gauntlet superimposed on a stylized, flaming sun. The symbol of the Federated Commonwealth. Below it was stencilled a quote. "It's time to earn your princely pay as a Mechwarrior." - Natasha Kerensky. *I wonder.. do they even remember me?* Then he shook the memories from his mind. Old habit seized hold of him, and he slid into the startup checklist without conscious thought. / Fusion plant .. switched on. Power to operational parameters. Go. / / Gyros .. running .. up to speed. / / Engine .. ready. / / Battlecomputer, targeting system and Heads-up display. Go. / / Commo system .. working. / / Tactical. On. / / Weapon systems ... / / Particle Projection Cannon - Weapon on safe, power connection green, power nominal. On-line. / / Lasers - On safe, power connections green, power nominal. On line. / / Chainguns - On safe, ammo loaded, full ammo cassette. On line. / / Control systems and neuro-helmet feedback .. nominal. / / Checklist complete. Mech is battle-ready. / Staring at the green boards in front of him, he emerged from his trance and finally spoke up. "Minerva, prepare to beam me to whatever open plaza is closest to Genom tower." He twitched slightly as he felt the transporter effect take hold. A brief moment later, the Chameleon was standing in the middle of a large square, with a crowd of terrified bystanders running away from him. The HUD in his neuro-helmet stabilized, and suddenly popped up a map display. Less than two kilometers from Genom tower, he noted. Aside from the plaza surrounding the tower itself, the map didn't seem to have anything closer. A few taps on the Optisight-12 battle computer, and a cursor traced a bright red line from the target to his current location. He nodded, satisfied. "You attacked me in my own home, old man. Now I'm coming for you in yours." As he looked over the plaza, an ironic smile darted across his face. If he was going into battle with Genom, he was going to do it _right_. He reached over to an auxiliary console, and touched a hidden switch. The front panel swung open to reveal a strictly non-regulation CD player tucked away among the circuitry. A moment later, music filled the cockpit. As he turned back to the controls, trumpets and drums played in the background. "Ride of the Fire Mares" echoed in his ears. *Theme music,* he thought. *Every good battle should have some.* The 'Mech began to slowly walk down the street, all sensors extended. Ed wanted Quincy's head, but some tiny remnant of common decency kept him from deliberately harming any civilians. He carefully stepped around and over the automobiles and trucks, taking care to avoid damaging the street any more than he could, given the immense weight of the war machine. As he headed towards the tower, a threat display began bleeping quietly at him. Something with military potential was on the other side of the corner he was approaching, but the battle computer didn't recognize the configuration. *Stupid of me,* he thought. *All the threat profiles are set up for weapons and vehicles from its native reality. Should have updated the database, dammit.* He cautiously rounded the corner, and was confronted by a hastily erected barricade manned by members of the ADPolice. He zoomed the sensors, and grimaced. "Figures." "Halt and dismount from your mecha, in the name of the law," announced an officer at the front of the barricade. "I'm afraid I can't do that, Officer Bochinski. In fact, I'd appreciate it if you and your men would kindly remove yourselves from my path. I have a bone to pick with Genom, and while I don't want to hurt any cops, I don't intend to let the ADPolice interfere with me." Bochinski looked startled, and peered at the mirrored canopy. Despite the distortion caused by the loudspeakers, the voice sounded familiar. "It's you, isn't it. The person from the bar. The mystery vigilante." "Got it the first try, Officer. And thank you for not using that _annoying_ nickname." From the rear of the barricade came a smart-alecky voice. "What annoying nickname? Goldeneyes?" An exasperated sigh came from the mech's speakers. "I supposed I should have expected that one..." The machine turned back to face Bochinski again. "Now, if you'd kindly step aside...?" Bochinski shook his head. "I can't allow you to go any further. Please dismount your mecha, and surrender yourself. Otherwise, we will be forced to open fire." The other officers behind the barricade leveled a variety of anti-boomer weapons at the 'mech. An arm swung up and rubbed back and forth under the cockpit, giving the humanoid 'Mech the eerie appearance of a man pondering a difficult problem. "I aim to get Quincy, Bochinski, and get him I will. But I understand duty. If you must, then you must. Nothing personal, I know. So, to make it simple, go ahead and open fire. I won't hold it against you." Bochinski gawked at him, but when the 'mech took a step forward, he gave the order to fire. When the smoke cleared, the ADPolice received a rude shock. Aside from a few scorch marks and some slight dimples where grenades and rockets had struck, no damage had been done to the machine. "Ten tons of armor, Officer," said Ed from the cockpit. "And every ounce of it a rhenium-tungsten-tantalum alloy that makes vanadium steel look like cheap tin foil. You can keep trying, if you like, but it will take more than the ADP has to stop this machine." The Chameleon took another step forward, and a pair of pulse lasers lashed out, burning away the wheels and engines on the vehicles used in the blockade. "That's simply to keep you from following me. I really don't want to hurt _anyone_, aside from Quincy. And if you want to try to keep people safe, call ahead and have them evacuate Genom tower. Now. But leave Quincy there." Then it carefully stepped over the barricade, and continued on. As it left the roadblock behind, Bochinski watched it head towards Genom tower. He threw up his hands. "You know.. I think Quincy just might have bit off more than he expected to. This isn't going to be pretty." Then he grabbed a mike and called it in. * * * At 65 kilometers per hour, it didn't take very long to reach the tower. Most of the delay came from trying to avoid hundreds of panicked motorists. Vengeance or not, rush hour traffic in Mega-Tokyo remained the snarled-up nightmare it had always been. Even a 10 meter tall war machine had trouble picking its way around the cars jam-packed in the streets. Entering the plaza around Genom, he noticed the array of combat model boomers lined up before the tower. *Looks like Quincy wants to do this the hard way. Fine with me.* A group of twenty BU-88 missile boomers opened fire simultaneously. The smoke of their launch obscured the front of the tower. Ed turned control of the torso-mounted pulse lasers over to the battle computer, under an anti-missile program. Then he started in swinging. BU-12's and a swarm of C-55's used the cover of the missile smoke to try and rush him. One managed to leap up upon the left leg of the Chameleon, and clawed it's way up to the cockpit. Swinging wildly, it tried to smash in the canopy. Unfortunately for the C-55, it was neither glass nor polycarbonate. A large metal hand rose and mashed the boomer against the thick Aluminum Oxy-Nitrate that formed the Mech's canopy. *Personal note,* thought an irreverent corner of his mind. *Install windshield wipers.* As he crushed, lasered, and otherwise destroyed the attacking boomers, he began to grow suspicious. This was all too easy. Far too easy. It had to be a distraction. So when the threat board signaled an aerial assault, he actually felt relieved. The trap had been sprung. Until he got a close-up of what was about to attack. It wasn't hard to mistake them, even though he'd never actually seen them before. Oh, there were the infrequent pictures of them he'd seen on the news at night, and sometimes in the newspapers. And there was Bert Van Vliet's description of the cursed things from his `Bubblegum Zone' stories. Even the anime tapes he'd watched all those years ago. But that wasn't quite the same as seeing them in person. The black and white coloration of their external armor, along with the clawed extremities, was all the ID he needed. Dobermans. Twelve of them. *Judas Priest! Where the FUCK did Genom get _those_?!* Then he banished the thought from his mind, and opened fire with the particle cannon on the 'Mech's right arm. He got three of them with the first shot. The particle projection cannon, an anti-mech weapon which had been designed to vaporize nearly a ton of armor with a single shot, went through the Dobermans like a bullet through jello. The remaining boomers, seeing the ease with which the PPC had reduced their companions to slag, broke formation and attacked him from every direction. They were moving too fast for him to hit again with the arm mounted anti-battlemech weapons, and the pulse lasers in the torso were too low powered to do much damage with a single shot. "Damn! Fast little S.O.B.'s." He stopped for a moment, and the boomers took the opportunity to charge him. Things started to get serious at that point. Their claws, sharp as they were, couldn't do much more than gouge the rhenium armor plate. But if they took it into their minds to go after the canopy.. the ALON was tough, but it couldn't stand up very long against such a concerted attack. "No wonder the USSD uses them," he muttered. "The little buggers make C-55's look like Robbie the Robot, combat-wise. They move faster than a cheetah on crack! I can't kill what I can't _hit_!" He slaved the twin 30mm chainguns to the battlecomputer, and quietly thanked Minerva for filling the ammo bins with depleted uranium rounds. Between those, and the pulse lasers, he got another two. The seven Dobermans left closed with him, clinging to the 'mech and trying to dig their way inside with their claws. Several frantic minutes of slapping later, he was left with several small dents in his armor, and half a dozen crushed boomers. A six-inch gash in his canopy attested to just how close one of them had come to getting inside the cockpit. The final one attempted a suicide dive straight at the head of the Chameleon. It ran into the massed fire of four lasers, two chainguns, and one particle projection cannon. It didn't just blow apart, it simply _vanished_ in a fireball. Then Ed turned and stepped the 'Mech over the wrecked boomers littering the plaza, and across to the tower. Scanning it indicated a section that was mostly structural steel, and he tapped on that gently, like a man knocking on a door. The building rang like a bell. "Yoo-Hoo! Can Quincy come out and play?!" He hammered a little harder. "I'm in a hurry!" "Quincy isn't here at the moment. Did you want to leave a message?" came a voice from around his feet. Ed closed his eyes painfully. *Please. Not now. A joke _that_ bad can come from only one person. And _him_ I REALLY don't need at the moment.* He shook his head, then opened his eyes and looked down. It wasn't the day for his prayer to be answered. Standing there below were four motoroid encased hardsuits of familiar design, along with a fifth hardsuit of a type and design he'd never seen before, but recognized instantly. The entire plaza echoed to his next statement. "Goddess, I _HATE_ my life. I _really_ do." Twister was thinking along much the same lines. It was different, but he recognized the style of the mech from a computer simulation game he had loved centuries ago, not to mention a few symbols on the mech itself. *Battletech, definitely Battletech,* he groaned mentally. *Another anime fan who had gained power in his travels then. Great. Well, it's nice to have company, I suppose, but how the hell did he GET it here?!? If we can only persuade him to get OUT of the thing...* The mech turned slightly, facing the five armored figures. "Look. All I want is Quincy and to remove Genom from the face of the earth. Can't you just go away and let me have him? We'd _all_ be better off, and that's the truth! Please?" The white Saber stepped forward. "That's impossible, and I think you know that as well as we do. While destroying Genom is a commendable idea, the collateral damage that would result would cause irreparable harm to the lives of millions of innocent people." Ed shouted into the mike so loudly, it squawked, overloaded for a moment. "I DON'T CARE!! CAN'T ANY OF YOU SEE THAT?" Then less violently, he continued. "This is the second time that something of Genom's has stolen my life. No more. It ends here." He killed the loudspeakers. {Minerva? The Sabers have a private, encrypted com-link. Find it, break it, and put me through to them. Now.} A few seconds later, a display lit up on the comm console. {It's done, boss. Maybe you can talk your way out of this?} She sounded hopeful. {Only if I get to leave with Quincy.} The hope in her voice died quickly. {Inshallah, boss. Inshallah,} she replied in dull tones. {I stopped believing in gods the day Largo attacked me in Utopia Planetia, girl.} He switched over to the comm console and tried the channel. "Am I correct in thinking I'm addressing the Knight Sabers? As well as the Crystal Knight? I certainly hope so, as I don't particularly care to blast the rest of this conversation all over Mega-Tokyo, for the world to hear." A slightly shocked Sylia answered him. "You are... but _how_ did you access this channel? It should be impossible." The Crystal Knight glanced at her, but did not comment. "There is very little that's impossible for me, Sylia. And right now, I WANT QUINCY. I'm going to get him. No matter _who_ stands in my way. Nothing is going to stop me. Not the ADPolice, not you and your Sabers, and not Twister." There was a hiss of indrawn breath over the speakers, and a male voice replied, "Twister? Who might that be?" "No games, Darren. I know what you are, and where you're from. And I won't let you stop me either." *Where the HELL did he get that info?!?* Twister thought incredulously as Nene looked at his still form worriedly. He had never told the Sabers his original name, nor anyone else here in Mega-Tokyo. More than ever he wanted to talk to this guy. Right about then, things got worse. Much worse. At the base of the tower, a small contingent of bodyguards emerged, surrounding a single man. One of the guards lifted a portable loudspeaker. "I'm glad to see you here," said Quincy. "I was afraid you might not have received the message. Are you willing to discuss arrangements to transfer your data on teleportation technology to the Genom corporation?" "When hell freezes over, you waste of skin! petaQ jay' Ha'DlbaH!" "A pity," Quincy sighed melodramatically. He nodded to the Sabers. "Take care of this problem for me, won't you? I'll speak with him again after you've disarmed him. Be assured, you'll be well paid." He turned to leave, and the left arm of the mech snapped up. "Not this time, monster!!" Paired lasers fired, striking Quincy in the back. The results surprised neither the Crystal Knight, nor the Knight Sabers. Lying on the ground, smoking and damaged, stripped of the organic skin that had camouflaged it, was an android. "Nooooooooo!" "You didn't ..#SKRRT#.. expect me to be ..#BZZZT#.. that foolish, did you, boy? #ZAKK# Perhaps my offer of ..#BRZZ#.. employment was ..#ZZZT#.. premature. You are rather.. imma..#SPZAK#.. immature, emotionally. We'll meet again. After you have ..#BRZZT# outgrown these ridiculous ideas of justice and fair play." Then the android exploded. "DAMN YOU, QUINCY!!" This time he lashed out with the heavy weapons, vaporizing the metal carcass, and the boomer bodyguards along with it. "That's the way you want it, FINE! I'm going to yank your company out of Japan like a rotten tooth!" "We can't allow you to do that. Don't force us to stop you," responded Sylia. "Don't even try, Sylia. I won't hurt you, but I'm not about to surrender, either." The Chameleon turned away from her and fired the PPC repeatedly at the top of the tower, its man-made lightning blowing away large chunks of the building. "No one owns me. Do you hear me, Quincy? Damn you, DO YOU HEAR ME?! NO ONE OWNS ME! NO ONE!" The Knight Sabers opened fire at him, then. Autocannons, railguns, lasers, and a barrage of the Crystal Knight's C-spheres struck him simultaneously. He staggered for a moment, the sheer firepower surprising him. The surprise was returned when the five noticed that aside from some minor cosmetic damage, the Mech's armor was holding up astonishingly well. He caught himself with an arm against the tower, and looked down. "Dammit, Sylia, WHY? Genom owes me. They owe _you_, they owe Twister! Hell, they owe nearly everyone! This is payback! This is justice! They _deserve_ it!" "Revenge is a fool's game," the psionist muttered. "The price is too high, and the return too small." *I don't know what he used for armor on that thing,* thought Twister, *but it can't stand up to a diamond blade with a mono-molecular edge!* He launched himself from the ground, heading for the arm holding the particle cannon. The blade did cut through the thick armor, but reluctantly. *What in the world is this stuff made of?! It's thicker than my blade is long.* Then a large arm swatted at him and he was forced to dodge. Down below, the Sabers were directing their fire at the legs of the mech, in the hope that if they could drop it, they would gain the upper hand. They poured on the fire, trying to cripple the machine. A foot swept them aside, knocking them across the plaza, and slamming them painfully into a nearby building. "I asked you to _stop_, dammit! I don't want to hurt you!" "Then surrender. We can't let you do this." There was a pause. "And how did you discover who we are? Have we met before?" A tired and extremely frustrated laugh answered her. "Fair is fair I suppose, Saber Prime. You still owe me an additional 15,000 yen shipping and handling for that copy of Ptolemy's _Life of Alexander the Great_, Sylia. Unfortunately, the copy of Aeschlylus's _The Myrmidons_ that you ordered was destroyed when that bastard Quincy TORCHED MY SHOP!!" "Mister Edwards?" "Just Edward, actually. Anthony Edwards was a pseudonym." There was a moment of silence at the other end. "You don't seem very surprised, Sylia. Did I give myself away, somehow?" He laughed sourly. "I suppose I should have expected it, given your natural genius. How long have you known?" "I didn't. I had my suspicions, however. Your reaction to my use of the traditional phrase that ended a batchall was a major clue. As was the identification card in your apartment." "My friend _told_ me keeping that in my apartment was a mistake. It seems she was right. But I couldn't bring myself to leave it behind. It was one of the very few mementoes of my past that I truly cherish." The giant 'mech braced itself. "I'm not going to leave without Quincy, Sylia. Let's end this." Twister looked at the Sabers, and all five nodded. The battle was rejoined. * * * Up in low earth orbit, Minerva was going quietly crazy, trying to scan the battlefield that Genom Plaza had become. Between Twister's psychic powers, and Ed's unnatural and unintentional bending of the laws of probability, things were happening in the plaza that had to be seen to be believed. Quantum physicists would have cheerfully murdered their own families in return for a chance to observe them. Reality fluxed with every micro-second, and nothing was quite what it was supposed to be. She watched in awe as a stray bolt from Sylia's lasers struck a vending machine inside the tower. The machine proceeded to dump it's contents and the spare change it carried onto the floor. To her amazement, every single coin landed heads-up and the soft drink cans spilling from it lined up neatly in rows, stacked according to flavor. Even _she_ didn't want to think about the odds of that happening naturally, even with her built-in floating point hardware. Finally, in an act of sheer frustration, she simply ceased all analysis, and dumped the sensor inputs to recorders for later examination. Not that she felt that it would do any good. It just made her feel better, making the attempt. * * * "I've had a bad hair day. A bad shop-been-blown-up day. A bad brother-been-murdered-and-my-father-thinks-I'm-scum day. So... could you please get to the point?" - Jack Knight Sylia looked around at the plaza as she dodged another laser beam. Walls were pockmarked with with pits and laser burns from ricochets and missed shots. Broken power lines showered brilliant sparks everywhere. *He may be making a deliberate attempt to avoid harming us, but the incidental damage is increasing with every second! This battle must come to an end _NOW_.* She looked up to where Twister was avoiding a flailing mechanical arm. "Crystal Knight! We have to bring this to a halt. If this battle goes on much longer, the city is going to suffer." The ebon helmet nodded. "I think I have a way, but it's going to be messy." "We no longer have a choice." "Agreed." Twister moved back to get a clear view of the battle. Then he gathered together as much Mindfire as he thought would be safe, and hurled it at the battlemech. He didn't want to kill Ed, but he was determined to bring the 'Mech to a halt. Striking dead center, the Mindfire chewed away at the armor, burrowing deeply into the center torso. Twister's next move was no surprise to the Knight Sabers. "Cue protector dragon! Charcoal, AWAKEN!" At this, a small mushroom-shaped puff of smoke appeared in the air some distance behind Twister. It dissipated quickly, leaving behind a small dragon-like creature, which made a bee-line for its owner. The 'Mech's confused battlecomputer bleeped at Ed, signifying another potential enemy. He risked a brief glance at the viewscreen, and paled at what he saw. _Oh, SHIT! Charcoal! Great, just what I need._ Charcoal moved incredibly fast for such a small creature, landing on the Crystal Knight's armored shoulder. "Charcoal, take that DOWN!" Charcoal's tail twitched slightly, and it chirped cheerfully. _Boomers,_ it thought as it took off. _Yummy._ It headed straight towards the 'Mech's cockpit. Ed knew _exactly_ what Charcoal could do, and it didn't disappoint him. As it flew towards him, it began to grow. And GROW. And _GROW_. Until it was at least forty feet long, and about the same wingspan. Ed watched, fascinated, as it rapidly gained speed and altitude, heading straight for his 'Mech. The firedrake stooped like a hawk and hit the 'Mech dead center, wings folded and moving unnaturally fast, tearing through the weak spot in its armor created by Twister's Mindfire. The force of impact knocked the machine to its knees as Char emerged through the other side of the mecha, leaving behind a large, ragged hole. The dragon banked, mouth full of high-tech scrap which he struggled to chew. Even enchanted teeth were having trouble getting through the abnormally tough metal. "_THAT_ should stop it," said Twister, smirking at the damage. The smirk quickly disappeared, however. Everyone froze as a synthetic voice began to loudly announce, "WARNING! WARNING! FUSION REACTOR INTEGRITY COMPROMISED. FUSION CONTAINMENT AT 35% OF NOMINAL AND DROPPING. MAGNETIC FUSION CONTAINMENT FAILURE IMMINENT. EVACUATE AREA IMMEDIATELY. REPEAT, EVACUATE AREA IMMEDIATELY." Inside the Chameleon, Ed swore as sirens howled and swept his eyes across the status panel. Charcoal, knowingly or not, had taken out most of the engine shielding when he'd rammed the 'Mech. *NO! It's gonna blow, and there isn't a damn thing I can do to stop it!* {Boss! Punch out! Punch Out!} {Not now, baby.. I'm busy. Talk to you later.} He shunted her frantic pleas to the back of his mind as he desperately tried to dump the reactor core. *Shit. Isn't gonna work. Damn dragon of Twister's couldn't have done more damage if it tried. Core ejection system's off-line big time.* "WARNING. WARNING. REACTOR BREACH IN 120 SECONDS." *Fuck. Fuel controls are out and deuterium's dumping straight into the reaction, non-stop. Damper plates are jammed. Jump jets are dead, too. I just can't get a break! Gotta try..* "WARNING. WARNING. REACTOR BREACH IN 90 SECONDS." {Boss!!} Minerva wailed. *Can't let this happen. Not again. No more innocent blood on my hands.* "WARNING. WARNING. REACTOR BREACH IN 60 SECONDS." {Can't leave this one, baby..} he muttered over the link. {Not this time. Too many good people would fry. If I screw the pooch on this one, love, take care of yourself. Promise me.} {Nooooo! Punch out! Please!} {Too late, baby. Promise me!} She sobbed. {I.. promise.} "WARNING. WARNING. REACTOR BREACH IN 30 SECONDS." *I did it once before by accident.. Can I do it again by design? Guess I'm gonna find out.* He shut down the link, cutting Minerva off abruptly. *Don't want you to suffer, baby. Here goes nothing..* "WARNING. WARNING. REACTOR BREACH IN 10 SECONDS." "This is probably going to leave a mark..." "WARNING. WARNING. REACTOR BREACH IN 5 SECONDS." "4...." "3..." "2.." *I love you, Ailuro..* "1." There was a bright light... * * * Three minutes earlier... "WARNING! WARNING! FUSION REACTOR INTEGRITY COMPROMISED. FUSION CONTAINMENT AT 35% OF NOMINAL AND DROPPING. MAGNETIC FUSION CONTAINMENT FAILURE IMMINENT. EVACUATE AREA IMMEDIATELY. REPEAT, EVACUATE AREA IMMEDIATELY." The Sabers and the Crystal Knight froze at the horrid words blaring from the external speakers on the war machine facing them, and Priss flashed back to another day, when she'd been faced with the price of Sylvie's life as the cost of saving Mega-Tokyo from a 0.5 megaton neutron bomb. "FUCK! What can we do now?!" "WARNING. WARNING. REACTOR BREACH IN 120 SECONDS." "It's not a bomb, this time.." said Sylia quietly. "Unless he can stabilize his engine shielding, it will explode. There is nothing further we can do." "WARNING. WARNING. REACTOR BREACH IN 90 SECONDS." Twister's voice interrupted. "But there might be something Darlene can do, Saber Prime." He vanished in a dark cloud that enveloped him, and brief seconds later, his place was taken by Darlene. She began to chant under her breath, using an old shield spell for lack of anything else, and a lambent purple circle sprang up from the ground to enclose the damaged battlemech. "You'd better bail.." she ground out as she poured energy into the shield. "I don't.. know if.. I can.. hold this.." "WARNING. WARNING. REACTOR BREACH IN 60 SECONDS." "Why?" asked Linna calmly. "How far could we possibly get?" The circle began to extend itself upward, slowly forming inward curving walls. A dome began to take shape. *Too slow! Too slow!* was Darlene's agonized thought. *I have to close it!* But even then she wondered if the spell would be able to hold the explosion. "WARNING. WARNING. REACTOR BREACH IN 30 SECONDS." She stopped listening to the countdown and poured all the energy she had into closing the dome of purple light. She gave it everything she had. In the end, to her vast surprise, she was almost successful. * * * "And with the power of conviction/There is no sacrifice." - Pat Benetar, _Invincible_ The universe was bright light and bitter pain. *Where am I? WHY am I?* -You are where you were once before.- *I know you, don't I.* -That you do, grandson.- *Coyote?* -I'm pleased that you remember me.- *Hmmm. I thought I couldn't die. But if I'm here.. is this hell? And if it is.. why's it so bloody bright? The pain fits, but I always had hell figured for a dark and foreboding kind of place, you know? And you are the _last_ being I'd expect to meet there.* -Come now, boy. Think. This isn't hell, grandson. If you are speaking with me now, then obviously you didn't die, did you? You tried to do something, and you took a step beyond. Quite a _few_ steps beyond, actually. The trick, youngster, is that we are trying to overcome our limitations in order, patiently, gradually. We don't tackle the bare-handed extinguishing of runaway fusion reactors until a little later in the program.- *Oh.* -What you did manage to do was to change your level of consciousness rather abruptly. Now it's your choice. You've come a very long way in a very short time, and this time you did it by deliberate choice. You can stay here and learn on this level -- which is quite a bit higher than the one you left, by the way -- or you can go back and return to your previous course.- *That would mean leaving my friends, wouldn't it? And more important, leaving the people of Mega-Tokyo to suffer from my shameful behavior.* -Yes, it would.- *If I return, would I be able to stop the reactor from devastating the city?* -THAT would depend on how much courage and strength of will you bring to the task, grandson.- *Ayuh. Figures. In the final analysis, it isn't even a choice. Will we meet again, Coyote?* -We will. And ... - *And what?* -You do an old trickster proud, boy. Very proud indeed.- *I didn't do it for _you_, old one. I do what I must. And I do what I _am_. Sometime again... grandfather.* -Good. Now, remember what we were saying about one's body being nothing more than thought itself...?- * * * The Knight Sabers could see the armor around the reactor mounted in the Battlemech's chest melting away like ice on a hot summer sidewalk, as Darlene's shielding spell rose above it. But before that shield had a chance to close, the reactor failed. The 'mech vaporized as a ball of brilliant, white-hot plasma swept out from the magnetic fields that had held it constrained seconds ago. There was no time for action, no time for thought. The five people and one dragon left in the plaza stood their ground as the fireball expanded. Then it stopped. "What the _HELL_?!" goggled Priss. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. A glowing ball of seething nuclear hellfire, hovering in mid-air, that had stopped just short of the shimmering purple spell Darlene had cast. A voice she could barely recognize as Linna's croaked, "I hope I'm insane, because if I'm actually seeing what I _think_ I'm seeing, the world has gone mad." Sylia spoke up then. "None of us are mad. We're witnessing something to which the rules of nature as we know them simply do not apply. I'd suggest that you finish closing your spell, Darlene, and then.. then we wait." The red-head nodded, silently agreeing with her. "How.. how can you take this so calmly, Sylia?" got out Nene. "There's no other way to take it, Nene. If that explosion hadn't suddenly stopped in mid-air, we'd all be dead by now. With the possible exception of Darlene, there is very little any of us can do to affect the outcome of this. So we wait." "For how long?" The white armor didn't move. "For as long as need be, Priss. For as long as it takes." Belatedly, Darlene finished the shield at that point. * * * Nearly fifteen minutes has passed, and the tension was palpable. Then Nene pointed something out. "Sylia? It's getting smaller!" "Are you certain?" "I am now. It's shrank by nearly ten centimeters in the past ten minutes. And it's speeding up, as well. If it keeps up.. it should be visible to the naked eyes in seconds... There!" All eyes turned towards the fireball. Even through filters, it was difficult to look at directly, but Nene was right. It _was_ beginning to diminish appreciably. The rate of shrinkage was increasing. Suddenly, it collapsed inward, and dwindled to less than two meters across. Darlene cautiously began to move her spell walls closer to it, and cast a second spell to cool the molten pavement this action revealed. She was sweating not from the heat, but from the effort of the first spell since she had poured a lot of her energy into that spell. Then the globe dropped to the ground, burning a second, smaller crater in the naked rock the initial blast had bared. The brilliant light began to fade, and a human figure could be seen in the center of the sphere. The area inside cooled further, and Darlene cautiously began to lower her spell shields. She blinked, and looked closer. "I don't believe it. He's still alive. He should have been toast in there. For that matter, he should have been ash and gone. Just what the hell is going on here? I knew he was tough, but this..." A groan answered her from the crater. "Oooooooo... goddess, what a hangover. I haven't felt like this since that drinking contest in Hamburg thirty years ago." The figure, still glowing, tried to struggle to its feet. It stumbled and fell several times before it was able to remain upright. "What happened? I.." He looked at them. "Oh, shit. I remember. The reactor blew." He looked around. "It.. it didn't blow?" "It blew," said Sylia quietly. "But then it stopped in mid-explosion. Did you do that?" "I.. I don't know. Maybe, I think." He looked at the others. "Fucked up again, didn't I." *Understatement of the year,* Darlene thought, a little pissed off. At least she had the excuse of being insane when trying to destroy the Tower. This 'Edward' guy did not, much less stomping about Mega-Tokyo with a potential nuclear bomb. She also did not like the fact that she had started the reaction with Char. Unlike Twister, Darlene had an extreme aversion to taking a life after a crisis a long time ago, and she would have been partially responsible if the reactor had killed anyone. It sent cold shivers down her spine. Priss strode forward. "Yeah, you fucked up, all right. And now you're going to pay for it." Her railgun was aimed at his head. "You aren't intangible now, buddy, and you aren't hiding inside a bookstore." Ed wasn't paying any attention to Priss, which merely enraged her further. He stared at the fading glow surrounding his hands. "I did it," he whispered in an awed tone. "I did it. I held it in. All of it." An infuriated Priss was visibly shaking with anger as Ed ignored her. Before anyone realized what she was doing, she fired a spike at the ground in front of Ed. He looked down at it, then switched his gaze to Sylia. "Why?" They all knew what he was asking. Sylia looked at him levelly. "If defending my enemies is the cost of protecting the innocent, then so be it." "Something I should have remembered before I even stepped into the cockpit.." he whispered. He looked around at the damage, and clenched his fists. "I was in the wrong, but it doesn't end here. For me, it can never end. Sometime again, Knight Sabers." Priss opened fire, but she was too late. His form shimmered, then faded away to nothing. The railgun bolts simply struck the building that had been behind him. She dropped to her knees, pounding the pavement with armored fists in her frustration. "That's TWICE, dammit! There _isn't_ going to be a third!!" Darlene frowned. She recognized the tell-tale signs of a transporter since the universe she had just come from had been a Star Trek one. This guy was chock full of surprises. Nene sounded the alert. "Sylia, we've got ADPolice moving in rapidly, and Army units are also headed this way. We'd better leave while we still can." Sylia looked over to Darlene, who nodded. A dark cloud surrounded her and the Crystal Knight stepped out of it. Silently, all five armored figures vanished, leaving behind an empty plaza littered with boomer wreckage. * * * "She's alive! Alive!" - The Bride of Frankenstein Ed grimaced right after he re-materialized on the transporter pad, smoking clothes and all. "That.. could've gone better," he muttered under his breath while heading towards the living area of the ship. After his impetuousness (it sounded better than sheer bloody-minded, mule-headed stubbornness) he hoped the interference that prevented them from rotating out of this universe had dissipated enough to leave. Minerva heard him and also knew what had happened on the planet serenely rotating below them, even through the clashing interference of some downright WEIRD forces she was still trying to give parameters to. "That could definitely be labelled as an understatement, boss," she commented worriedly, more concerned with his mental state than with the events below. The suddenly-weary Ed sighed as he rubbed his face. All he wanted to do now was collapse into a nice comfortable chair and relax; he'd clean the soot off later. The door to his cabin whooshed open and he stomped into the room. "Well, it's about time," a merry, amused voice...chimed?...unexpectedly. Ed's head shot up as his body stiffened, ready for some form of assault, but the being casually relaxing in his chair with an ease that looked disgustingly natural was a total surprise. Long, flowing purple hair, gracefully pointed ears on an elegantly angular and beautiful face, and violet clothing with a strange-looking upper torso armor all conspired to give Ed the uninvited guest's name. Darlene's older elven form, Valanna! She was flashing an enigmatic smile his way as she steeped her fingers over her previously crossed legs. {Minerva!} His ship's ACI seemed flustered when she replied. {She just appeared, boss! I can't tell if it was because she was hiding herself or she just arrived!} Ed noted Minerva sounded nervous, and she had a right to be since Valanna's powers could very well tear her apart from the inside out. But why weren't her eyes glowing? The elf's lips twitched upwards. "Oh, I've been waiting a while, Minerva; sorry to upset you." Her smile deepened at Ed's start; she'd heard! "And there is no need to be upset." "No?" Ed replied warily. "Since when did you change your mind?" "Mmm.... About a thousand years ago." His mind went blank for a moment. "Hanh?" She cocked her head coyly. "I may not like time travel much, but as I'm immune to paradox it has its uses at times." {Boss, is it just me or is this getting too strange for words?} {Unfortunately, it's just not you, pretty lady.} Ed replied as he stared at the amused elf. He rubbed his temples with his fingertips, trying desperately to prevent the headache he could feel coming on. Time travel. He repressed a tingle of anger at the thought of yet another possible conflict. "So," he finally said out loud since she could hear him either way, "you're an... older version of Twister?" "Very good," Valanna complemented, clapping her hands mockingly with a twinkle in her eyes. Despite the sarcastic gesture it didn't anger Ed the way it should've. It seemed... oddly right for her. "Much, much older, actually," she added, placing her hands down on her legs as she looked directly at him, "and much, much stronger." *Oh shit...* Ed didn't care to wonder how much that meant, but it was a good bet it wouldn't be wise to piss this elf off, mostly for Minerva's sake and the ship's. "So why ARE you here?" he asked her cautiously. "To aid you by offering a few choices," she stated and started ticking them off with her long, slender fingers. "One, do not accept my help; two, shorten your journey in a more useful way; or three, go straight home. Which do you want?" He blinked, then swallowed as the elf watched him. "Wh-what?" he stammered. Was she telling the truth? COULD she send him home?? {Boss...} There was nervousness in Minerva's voice, but Ed ignored her as he stepped towards the curious Valanna. "CAN you send me home?" he demanded. "Oh, yes," the purple-eyed elf agreed, "I can send you home..." she paused significantly, "if you so desire." "And why shouldn't I?" he asked, suddenly suspicious as her reply had been layered with something he felt was labelled 'Road Hazard Ahead'. In huge flashing day-glow letters. Ten meters tall. He was surprised when the elf smoothly rose from her seat and walked over to face him directly. There was something about her that she had to a lesser degree in her 'present' self that gave him an uneasy feeling, yet faintly exciting. It was like wanting to whoop for joy and throw up at the same time. "You know you have enemies, Legion," she said plainly, losing her smile. "Do I have to tell you what might happen if you went home, totally unprepared for what they may throw at you?" Valanna nodded sympathetically as Ed's face fell. "I see I don't." His fists tightened in helpless rage at his sides; he could guess only too well and he wanted to howl in fury. There was an opportunity to go home, NOW, and yet he knew that he couldn't. It was so frustrating! Maddening! {I think she's right, b'wana,} Minerva added reluctantly. {I KNOW that!} Ed snarled through the link. He was so focused with his internal torment that the kiss from Valanna came as a complete surprise. His eyes widened as he felt a tingling sensation pass through him from scalp to toes. Whaaaa??? {HEY!!!} Minerva protested heatedly as the smiling elf broke off the kiss and drew back from the confused Ed. Wasn't Twister's female self afraid of that sort of contact with the opposite sex? "I thought... you didn't like that?" Valanna twirled with a little laugh. "Things change. I AM change. Besides, you needed it," she said with certainly. The elf shook her head. "You can't dwell on what you can't do, Legion, or you won't do anything. What you DO need to do is LEARN," she told him firmly. "Find out what you can do as you journey so you can defend yourself and your home when you DO return." "So... what did you mean when you listed choice number two?" "Let's shift first; the interference is gone. Minerva?" {I'm not taking any orders from an... an off-color Tolkien reject!} Ed sighed; his ACI was still peeved from the kiss and Valanna's smirk told him she knew it as well. {Minerva...} {Oh, all right,} she grumbled. {Shifting.} There was a pause, then she reported, {We've arrived at a dead world.} Valanna didn't waste time. "What I would do is this; you would no longer shift purely by random but each world you come to will hold a key or lesson you must learn in order to control your powers. It will cut down your travel time by going blind by at least half what you would originally have taken, even if you do visit each world." She fixed him with her purple eyes. "It is the best course for you, but it is all up to you to decide." Ed grimaced. "Is it a choice?" "Yes." {B'wana?} Minerva asked quietly after he had remained silent for a few minutes. He heaved a sigh. {Not much of a choice, baby. Hobson's choice, in fact.} "I can't take the chance of leading them to my home and leave it undefended." Ed looked at the waiting elf. "I accept." Valanna nodded and smiled. From out of nowhere she pulled out an ornate, multi-colored staff about five feet long and glowing with power. Then she unexpectedly slammed it, to Ed's alarm, into the floor. {GAH! BOSS!!} Minerva shrieked in panic. The whole ship shuddered from the magic-charged impact and when the light around the pole dimmed he saw a good foot of the staff was merged with the floor, leaving the rest of the object to stand in the middle of the room. The elf smiled at the rattled Ed. "It is done. The next rotation will begin your training and your shorter path home." {A twisted path no doubt...} the ACI muttered. Hesitantly, not sure to be grateful just yet, Ed extended his hand. "I'm... sorry our first meeting wasn't what I had hoped," he apologized, "and I'm glad our second was more friendly." {A little TOO friendly...} {Minerva!} he chided. {What on earth's bugging you?! You've never acted this way before when I've flirted!} His ACI was silent for a moment before reluctantly answering him. {She's more like you than the others, I suppose. Unique, powerful, odder than last year's leftovers...} {I get the message, pretty lady.} "Don't worry, Minerva," Valanna assured the ACI as she playfully waved Ed to sit in his chair, which he did to his relief. "I've done what I came to do and I'll be going now." "Thank you, Valanna," Ed told her with rising spirits. "It was not a problem," she assured him, then snapped her fingers as if she had just remembered something. "Oh, yes! I almost forgot my second surprise!" Ed blinked at her, confused. "Forgot what?" /* Weird Science, Oingo Boingo */ Valanna winked playfully, eyes flashing purple light, and the next thing Ed knew there was something soft, warm, pink, shapely, female, nude, and very, very surprised to be sitting on his lap. What's more, to his startled disbelief, Ed recognized whom it was. "MINERVA?!?!?" The familiar face of his ACI was indeed on the confused and terrified human female, who seemed to be in understandable shock. "Boss!!" she cried in her panic, realizing that the impossible had just occurred. "What...?!?!" Minerva gaped down at her naked human body before recovering enough of her wits to cover herself with her hands and arms, blushing furiously. Ed was in a state of shock. {Minerva??} {Boss!!} came the surprising and terrified response from his link. {I'm HUMAN! But I'm still HERE! I'm in...} Astonishingly, the Minerva on his lap spoke out to finish the sentence, "... TWO places at the SAME time!" They stared wordlessly at each other for a moment. Then Valanna, who had silently walked up to them, gently twisted Minerva's head towards herself and kissed her deeply for a few seconds before pulling away. "Ha... haba.... Wha.... This..." Minerva was totally rocked to her core by what was happening, with Ed not much better off. "Magic is the spice of life, is it not?" Valanna laughed, a merry, faintly wild sound that had both staring at her. "She can survive as either! Have fun, kids!!!" She quickly vanished with a swirl of her cape, the gleeful laughter remaining in the air seconds after she left. Leaving a speechless Ed with a naked woman, who was also his ship's guiding computer intelligence, on his lap. Minerva shifted on his legs, unused to and uncomfortable in a human body purely hers. "So... what NOW, b'wana?" she finally asked him. "Uhhhh...." She sighed. "That's what I thought." * * * At Darlene's place, Sylvie was trying to explain to Sylia _why_ she hadn't told the Sabers about Edward until now. Sylia, Nene, Linna, and Darlene took it surprisingly well. Priss was another matter entirely. "YOU KNEW?? You KNEW he was the vigilante and you didn't tell me?!" she shouted. "I _told_ you I wanted to get back for what he did to me! Why didn't you let me know?" Surprisingly, it was Anri who defused Priss' temper. "We didn't tell you for the same reason we don't tell our other friends that you are a Knight Saber. Priss was taken aback. "Huh? I don't .." "You trust us to keep your secrets, Priss. And we have. Edward trusted us to do the same. And we did." "But it's not the same! It's.. ahh.. uhm.." Priss flushed a deep red. "It's just different," she ground out. "If we can't be trusted to keep one secret, we can't be trusted to keep _any_ secrets, Priss," Anri said quietly. "Trust is an all or nothing situation." Darlene put a hand on Priss' shoulder. "Priss, I'm angry too, but Anri is right. It _is_ a matter of trust. He trusted them to keep his secret, even from their own friends. Just as you trust them. They can't break that trust simply because you might find it convenient." "OOOOH... DAMN! I'm going to go riding." With that, she stomped out. Sylia watched her go, then turned to the sexaroids. "She'll get over it. You were right, and she knows it. But her pride won't let her admit to it right now. She'll come back, after she works it out." Her eyes narrowed. "Now.. as trust and secrecy are no longer an issue here, I need you to tell me all that you know about Mr. Edwards." "Mr. Becerra, actually," said Anri sadly. "That was his real name. I'd better get us all something to drink. It's a long story." The Sabers nodded, and everyone took a seat, while Anri went for some refreshments. * * * Minerva had left to cloth herself. Ed, on the other hand, had a death grip around the neck of a bottle of single-malt scotch, and nothing short of total obliteration was going to make him let go. T'was a pity he couldn't get drunk, anymore. *What do I do now? I've royally screwed up things in Mega-Tokyo, Minerva is flesh and blood now, and it's very likely that Darlene wants my head on a plate. Although, as fights go, that would be an.. _interesting_ one, to say the least.* he thought. *We _both_ possess nearly unlimited power. However, both psionically and magically, Twister is oriented for offence. He knows what he's doing, too. He's trained himself in the use of his psychic powers and from what I've read, Professor Miyabi's trained him in the use of magic. My abilities seem more defensive in nature, and I have absolutely NO idea what I'm doing, or how the hell I'm doing it!* A pair of warm hands caressed his shoulders, rubbing the tension away. "Thinking black thoughts again, love?" "Just... musing, pretty lady." He set the bottle down carefully. "More important, how are _you_ holding up? This has to be as much a shock for you as my accident was for me!" She smiled, the joy in her face lighting up the room. "It's _very_ strange, but it's also very wonderful, b'wana. I just tried my first drink of water! Now I understand the human obsession with taste. I want to try everything!" He smiled and hugged her. "I understand, love. It must be very different from using the holo-emitters to simulate a solid form." He took one of her hands in his and marveled over the warm flesh. "But there are things we have to see to, first." She blinked at him, worried. "You're not planning on anything stupid, are you?" "I made a mess there, m'dear. Now I have to clean that mess up. We already _have_ the co-ordinates for Twister's version of Bubblegum Crisis. We're going back." "Lover.. you are just too noble for words." He laughed. "Noble? More like too terminally stupid, Minerva." She kissed him on the nose. "Noble is as noble does, boss. A stupid person would simply skip out on this. Which you are _not_." She laughed, as he blushed, then her face twisted in concentration. "We'll be ready to rotate in just a few minutes, b'wana." "Thank you, pretty lady." He began to change, removing the ruined clothing he'd worn in the 'Mech. "If I'm going to do this, I might as well look presentable." Minerva's eyes went wide. "Boss? There's something distinctly odd, here..." "So what _else_ is new?" He rolled his eyes. "What is it _this_ time?" "The co-ordinates..? They've already been set. And I didn't do it." They both glanced uneasily at the staff embedded in the floor. Ed finally shrugged. "I guess Valanna has me figured out already. Or else there's a lesson still waiting for me to learn, back there." He slipped into a fresh shirt, hanging the scorched one on the staff so he wouldn't have to look at it. "No use fighting the inevitable, girl. And no sense in it, either. Go ahead and rotate." "Right, love. Rotating..." * * * "The way to fight a woman is with your hat. Grab it and run." - John Barrymore "...t'were done, then t'were well it were done quickly..." - Shakespeare, `Macbeth', Act I, scene vii The fire trucks and police vehicles had left some hours ago, most of the sidewalk gawkers had long since gone home. So there was no one present to witness the sudden shaft of light that appeared inside the gutted first floor of `Rare Books'. When it faded, Ed took a look around, seeing the water and foam soaked ruins. He clenched a fist, suddenly furious. *Quincy won, damn him. He won this round.* {Don't go there, boss. It'll just make you crazy again. Please.} He nodded. {I won't, pretty lady. But somewhere, somewhen.. Quincy is going to get his. As you've told me before.. I've got eternity on my side. I can afford to wait. Quincy's going to learn that, to his regret.} He slowly made his way around the burnt remains of books lying on the floor, and eased his way over to the door. Ducking under the yellow crime scene tape, he stepped out into the street. {Baby? If I can manage to pull this off without the Sabers trying to tear my head off, I want you to see if there's a range limit to what Valanna's given you. If there isn't... then I'd like you to come down and join us.} He felt a warm smile inside his head. {Thank you, boss.} Then he squared his shoulders, screwed up his courage, and started down the block to `Flights of Fantasy'. * * * Priss' curiosity had gotten the better of her anger, and after a quick spin around the neighborhood on her bike, had returned from her ride, and was listening as raptly as the rest. As Darlene and the Sabers absorbed the tale Sylvie told them, there came a knock at the door downstairs. Anri rose and went downstairs to answer it. When she looked through the peephole, she got a shock. She quickly unlocked the door and threw it wide. "ARE YOU CRAZY?! You can't come back here! _They're_ here right now.. and so is _she_! It isn't safe for you!" "I didn't have any choice," replied Ed. "When I got to my ship, there was someone waiting for me, Anri. An elf." She looked at his face. He didn't _look_ like he was joking. "Valann.." "SHHHH! Don't say that name!" He clapped a hand over her mouth. "Look, there's something I _have_ to do, and if that means I have to let Darlene & Company beat the crap out of me.. well.. then I _have_ to. It's out of my hands, now. I think it's even out of the hands of the gods." He pulled his hand away. "But there _IS_ something we can do to try and keep the shooting from getting started in the first place. IF you're game." "I'll do anything I can to help you, Ed. You know that." He nodded. "Thank you." He reached under his coat and brought out a pair of items. He kept the first, and handed the second to her. "Get the idea?" She shook her head. "You _did_ warn us you had a warped sense of humor. Do you really think they'll buy this?" "Maybe not.. but at least they won't shoot first. It'll buy me a few seconds of time.. and that may be all that I'll need." He looked at her pleadingly. "I _have_ to do this, Anri. Please." "All right. But this has to be one of the looniest ideas I've ever heard of." She nodded slowly, and he snapped the handcuffs around his own wrists. Then they both started slowly up the stairs, Anri backing up them carefully, holding a pistol on Ed. * * * In years to come, Ed would remember the expression on the faces of the people in the room. He'd never seen as many long jaws in a single room in his life. They didn't last for long, though. Darlene shot to her feet, her hands glowing a bright purple. Priss's break-down gun appeared with a speed that amazed him. He froze. *It's times like this I'm _very_ glad I'm bullet proof. I just hope that I'm _Darlene_ proof. She looks.. oy! I wonder if it _hurts_ to be turned into a toad?* Sylvie looked at the pistol in Anri's hands, confused. "Anri, what are you doing?" "What Ed asked me to do." That earned her six confused looks. "_He_ asked you?" Anri nodded. "He put on the handcuffs himself." Ed broke into the conversation then. "I'd hoped that it would do what it did. Buy me a moment to surrender. Without getting another fight started." The long jaws reappeared, and got even longer this time. Surprisingly, Priss was the first to recover. She jumped up and began to stalk towards him. "You're not gonna surrender, you bastard. Not yet. I haven't had a chance to kick the shit out of you for making me look like a fool!" "Priss." The single word from Sylia carried an entire lecture in its subtle tones. Her jaw clamped, and she returned to her seat. The expression on her face was easy to read. It promised the world.. _This isn't over_. Ed turned towards Darlene. "Besides.. I didn't have a choice, thanks to you." She looked at him oddly. "What do you mean by that?" "You.. or rather _Valanna_, showed up on my ship. Actually, she'd been there for some time, from what she said. She .. did some things, and cast some sort of spell on my ship. As well as one _hell_ of a spell on my ship's ACI." Eyes in the room widened as he spoke, and he rubbed his forehead, thinking of Minerva. "The spell you.. she cast on my ship was supposed to take me where I _need_ to go, rather than rely on random chance. And the first place it took me was right back here." "Time travel," said Darlene flatly. "Got it in one. Her exact words to me were.. 'I may not like time travel much, but as I'm immune to paradox it has its uses at times.'" He looked around the room for a chair. "May I please sit down?" She waved him towards a chair, and he cautiously sat. "I assume Sylvie and Anri have already told you who and what I am?" Sylia nodded, intrigued. "I had already assumed that you are from a reality where, like Darlene's, the Knight Sabers are fictitious beings. Is it also true that Darlene herself is a fictional character in your native universe?" Ed rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Yes. In point of fact, I even know the person who wrote the stories collectively titled `Twisted Path', where I first heard of Twister. I used to correspond with the author on a regular basis, when I was just someone writing fan fiction on an internet mailing list. Now I don't write fan fiction, I _AM_ fan fiction." He shook his head. "Recursive - (adjective); see recursive. Arrrgh. I think I'm giving myself a headache." "And you say Valanna appeared on your ship?" "Yes. She.. did some things I don't fully understand, then cast a spell on my ship, the Calypso. She said it would keep me from wandering aimlessly, and that from now on, I'd only arrive in realities where there was something there for me to learn or do." "Why didn't she send you straight home?" asked Linna curiously. "She probably could, from what we saw of Darlene in that form." "She offered to do exactly that, Linna. And reminded me that if _I_ could find my way home.. so could those who are following me." Sylia's brows knitted together. "Who is following you?" "The Circle Oroboros, for one. The Oans, for another. And last, but NOT least, I've got the Q after me. The first two seem to regard me as a threat to meta-reality, due to something that I haven't done yet, but that I'm supposed to do sometime in the distant future. The Q... well, _they_ simply want to draft me." Darlene looked at him strangely. "The Q? As in Star Trek?" "Yup. They claim that, given my current nature, I belong with the Continuum whether I like it or not." He sighed. "And she.. err.. you.. err.. _Valanna_ was right. I can't go home, as long as there are beings willing to use it as a hostage against me. Not until I understand enough of what I am to be able to defend both myself and my home from them." He glanced at Sylvie. "There's something else. Something that Minerva would like to show you and Anri. But we'll need your permission." "What is it?" asked Anri. "I can't say.. you'll have to _see_ it to believe it." He shrugged. "I didn't believe it, and I was there." He looked at the Sabers. "Look, I'm _not_ trying to escape, or anything, so please hold off on the gunplay. Okay?" He spread his arms, casually snapping the chain links holding the cuffs together. Then he looked up at the ceiling. "Minerva? It's all right, love. You can come on down, now." Sylia watched with interest as a shimmering column of blue light manifested in the center of the room. A female form quickly took shape within it. When it faded, a tall, elegant looking woman stood there, in a jet black, low cut dress, slit high up the sides to show off her shapely legs. The dress hung in tatters about her legs, but was clearly designed for this effect. Her hair was as dark as her attire, and piled up high in a cross between a sixties bouffant and an eighties punk spike. At the moment, her face was made up in a way that would have made Cleopatra envious. A pair of small silver earrings in the shape of adders dangled from her earlobes and a jeweled dagger decorated her belt buckle. Sylvie blinked, recognizing the woman. "Minerva?!" She stepped over and gently poked the newcomer. "You.. you're real! You're flesh!" Minerva nodded, and hugged Sylvie. "Valanna did this. She winked, there was this flash of purple light, and suddenly I was in two places at once! I was still part of the Calypso, _and_ I was sitting in Ed's lap, with a human body!" Ed snorted. "Sitting _nude_ in my lap, with a human body." He glanced at Darlene. "Don't take this the wrong way.. but in a few thousand years, I'm gonna get you for surprising me like that." Sylia looked over at Minerva and said with a perfectly straight face, "I see what you mean by 'some things you don't fully understand'." * * * On that note, the conversation broke up for a few moments as everyone in the room paused for refreshments and a breath of fresh air. Anri hid a grin as she noticed Ed carefully staying on the opposite side of the room from Priss. Then Sylia nodded for everyone took their seats again, and she motioned for Ed to continue. He looked at them, his shoulders sagging. "You know.. there's a very old saying.. `When you're up to your ass in alligators, it's easy to forget that your original goal was to drain the swamp.'. I made the stupid mistake of becoming wrapped up in the whole revenge thing. It's not as if Quincy could have really hurt me. I lost sight of that fact that I was here only to try and find a way home. Sylia's expression was a mixture of insight and cold compassion. "Losing yourself to revenge is all too easy a mistake to make, Edward. So easy that it's a cliche. However, that doesn't excuse what you've done." "I've been all kinds of fool in my time, but I'm not fool enough to think that it would, Sylia. I have some hard choices here." He paused. "No. No, I don't. Not really. `Debts must be paid.' I caused this entire mess by trying to single-handedly settle up with Quincy. A stupid thing to try. Now I have to try to repair the damage I've done. Then... I'd best get the hell out of this reality before I make things worse." He spread his hands. "I can't trust my own judgement, at the moment, and it's _your_ world I did the damage to. I realize it's a silly thing to say, and a needless formality, but.. I surrender myself to you, the Knight Sabers. I will abide by your judgement, whatever it may be." He glanced over at Priss and grimaced. "Although I can guess what _her_ decision would be." The other women in the room laughed as Priss did a slow burn, Sylia included. Then she turned back to him, her mien sober again. "We're all capable of losing our judgement, Edward. All it takes is punching the correct emotional buttons. This isn't something that can be done in a snap decision. We ALL need rest and clear heads." Darlene nodded. "We need to sleep." Ed shrugged. "Works for me." He paused, thinking. "My apartment's still full of smoke at the moment. I'd better sleep in my cabin aboard the Calypso until I can get things cleaned up and aired out." Sylia frowned. "Actually, Edward, I'd like to talk to you about that..." * * * Sylvie passed by the bedroom door where they'd put Ed up for the night. He'd protested, saying that it would be much simpler for him to return to his cabin aboard the Calypso, but Sylia and Twister insisted that he remain in Mega-Tokyo for the nonce. She could hear him tossing and turning rather violently in the bed, and she started for the door when she heard a faint humming noise. A sparkling light shimmered on the wall opposite the open door, and Sylvie quietly crept to the bedroom door to see what was happening. As she looked in the room, she noticed the beautiful raven-haired woman she'd been introduced to earlier. *Minerva. That's her. Incredible.* She shook her head, still amazed at the idea that Valanna had simply.. _created_ a living body from thin air. Then she noticed that Ed seemed to be in the grip of a nightmare. She watched as Minerva approached the bed. Her sensitive ears could hear him muttering a name repeatedly in his sleep. It sounded like Ailuro. She didn't _like_ to eavesdrop but this seemed important. "Don't.. Aili.. please don't leave me.. don't leave me.. not again.." The computer turned flesh sat on the edge of the bed and stroked his forehead gently, brushing the hair from his eyes. "I'm here, baby. Aili's here," she whispered. "I won't leave you. I'll never leave you again. I promise." He didn't wake, but his breathing calmed, and his violent motions slowed, then stopped. Sylvie blushed and turned to go, embarrassed to intrude on such a private moment, when she heard Minerva start to quietly sing. "Dream... dream, dream dream.., Dream... dream, dream dream.. When I want you in my arms, When I want you and all your charms, Whenever I want you, all I have to do is dream... dream, dream dream. When I feel blue in the night, and I need you to hold me tight, Whenever I want you, all I have to do is dream... dream, dream dream. I can make you mine, taste your lips of wine, any time, night or day Only trouble is, Gee whiz, I'm dreaming my life away. I need you so that I could die, I love you so, and that is why Whenever I want you, all I have to do, is dream... dream, dream dream. I can make you mine, taste your lips of wine, any time, night or day Only trouble is, Gee whiz, I'm dreaming my life away. I need you so that I could die, I love you so, and that is why Whenever I want you, all I have to do, is dream... dream, dream dream. Dream... dream, dream dream, Dream... dream, dream dream.. Dream... dream, dream dream.." Ed let out a tiny sigh, and relaxed. Minerva looked down at him and whispered, "I'll never leave you, lover. I'll always be here for you. Forever." She brushed the hair from his forehead one more time, then carefully rose from the edge of the bed, and left the room. Still wondering at what she'd just witnessed, Sylvie failed to notice her exit, and the two women bumped into each other in the hallway. "Oh!" exclaimed Minerva. "I'm sorry. I'm still unused to having a human body. I'm a little.. clumsy yet." Then her eyebrows drew together. "Why are you here? Were you watching us?" Sylvie nodded towards the bedroom. "I heard Ed. He was having a nightmare." She blushed slightly. "Does he know you love him?" Minerva nodded slowly. "Yes. And I know his heart belongs to someone else." She looked away. "But.. she made him happy, Sylvie. I can't hate her. Not when his memories of her are what keeps him going when everything else fails him. Sometimes.. sometimes that's all he has left. Just his memories. I can't take those away from him, Sylvie." Sylvie watched as a tear slowly started down the person's? computer's? cheek. "What you need is some hot chocolate and a sympathetic ear, girl." She took Minerva by the hand. "I have the ear, and there's plenty of the former in the kitchen. Let's go." Behind them, in the bedroom, Ed had begun to dream again... *********************************** "I've lead a thousand lives, it seems.. there's been a lot of broken dreams." - The Monkees, _That Was Then, This Is Now_ "Does the pain ever go away?" - Dick Grayson, Batman: The Animated Series Somewhere, somewhen else... The fight was fast and furious. But that didn't stop either of them from taunting each other. "You've returned to your death, coyote. I am younger, stronger, faster!" Their blades met with a loud clang. "Yeah. You smell worse, too! I should have insisted on mouthwash and a shower before the fight. Ungh!" Kickaha grunted as he parried a swing from the ax. Burning Stone screamed wordlessly, and delivered a stroke that could have split a boulder. Kickaha danced aside, and the ghila hit nothing but the sand at his feet. "Fool! I will make you suffer and die a thousand deaths!" screeched the lizard. "Yep. Uh-huh. Right. Where'd you learn the bad dialog, 'Stone? Robotnik giving classes in `How to Sound Like A Dramatic Villain 101'?" "Yaaaahhhhhhh!!!" shouted Burning Stone and he raced towards Kickaha, who simply stepped aside and extended a foot. The ghila tripped and rolled to the edge of the circle, barely avoiding crossing the line. Kickaha laughed. "Don't cross the line, 'Stone! I don't want the guards to kill you for trying to leave the circle. I want that pleasure for _myself_!" He stood, waiting for his opponent to rise. Instead, the lizard spat at him. A droplet of the spit hit the bat'leth and sizzled, tarnishing the bright finish of the steel. The guards surrounding the circle stirred. Stone noticed, and froze. "No!," shouted Kickaha. "He's mine!" He shook the venom from his blade. "Try that again, quvHa'wI, and I'll let them take you anyway. Now try and fight as though you still had some honor left." "Honor is for fools and dreamers," hissed Burning Stone as he climbed to his feet. "All that truly matters is ... power!" He charged Kickaha, swinging his ax wildly. Their blades clashed. "Well, then, I think class is in session, lizard!" He parried a blow. "Time to learn the facts of life!" "Lesson number one, 'Stone: Youth and enthusiasm will never win out over old age and experience!" laughed the coyote. He blocked another swing of the ax with his sword, then kicked Burning Stone in the groin with his artificial leg. The was a muted `clang!' and the ghila dropped like a rock. *Clang?* thought Kickaha. *What the...?* He shook the thought from his head and continued with the fight. "Lesson number two: Know your enemy!" He kicked the ax from the writhing lizard's grip and out of the circle. "Lesson number three: Don't make me angry!" "And lesson four," choked out the agonized ghila. "Never underestimate me!" He rolled over suddenly and clamped his powerful jaws around Kickaha's calf. There was a bright flash of lightning and a small explosion shook the circle. Kickaha was thrown across the circle as smoke filled the ring. When it cleared, the onlookers received a shock. Kickaha had struggled back to his feet, supporting his weight with his bat'leth. The sparking, smoking wreckage of his bionic leg hung limply as he hopped over to where Burning Stone lay. The ghila had bitten into the power supply for Kickaha's leg, and the sudden, unexpected electrical discharge had revealed the truth. On the ground, stripped of it's disguise by the power of the current, was a 'bot. It twitched, jerking spasmodically. The electrical shock had done it serious damage, causing it's own power supply to explode, ripping open it's chest. "...Burning Stone?" whispered Kickaha. "...yes... #SHRRK# ... damn you ... #BZZT# ...did this to ... #ZZAK# ... get you ... #BZZK# ... Robotnik promised ... could reverse later ... #SPZAK# ... offered chance to ... #ZZOP# ... rule Pack ... #BRZZ# ... fulfill ... #ZZZT# ... my destiny ..." The voice faded away. Kickaha had a horrified look on his face. "You hated me that much, 'Stone? Oh, Mother Earth! How could you do this to yourself? Did I hurt you that deeply?" He began to shiver uncontrollably. Pyre rushed over and grabbed him by the arm before he fell. He shrugged the wolf away. "Damn it, you idiot, you're in shock! You need help!" "Perhaps, old friend, but I have a job to finish first." He steadied himself and raised his sword. "Now it ends, Burning Stone. May Mother Earth and Father Sky be merciful in their judgement." The blade flashed downwards. Then Kickaha allowed himself to collapse. * * * Another time, another place... Planet Werthahekahwee, Deep Periphery, June, 3060 A.D. "Lieutenant Becerra!" "Yes, Sir?" "You just volunteered to do a forward recon of the Jade Falcon front lines." He blinked. "I did sir? I don't remember.." "You volunteered five minutes ago. Is that clear, Leutenant?" He sighed. "Yes, Major. Skin, armor, or 'mech?" The officer behind the desk rattled some papers. "I see here that you once served with the 1st Sommerset Strikers, and are current with both the SLH-X1 Sloth combat armor and the IFR-X1 Infiltrator reconnaissance stealth armor as well as with your battlemech. Due to a paperwork error *kaff-kaff* you are the only person I have on planet at the moment who is." Ed nodded. "I'll take the Infiltrator suit, sir. If that's allowed." *And three guesses whose error _that_ was, eh? You incompetent idiot. You're not fit to command a kindergarten classroom.* Major Pedersen smiled. "That's what I had in mind, Lieutenant. It's being rigged with extra sensors, recorders and memory modules at this very moment. We want an in-depth scan of the Falcon emplacements and whatever you can get on their support units, as well as any possible re-enforcements that may have arrived. There are rumors that they've brought in several solahma units to stiffen their front lines." The major frowned. "And you'd best be certain to bring this mission off successfully. _MY_ promotion depends on it." "Yes, sir." *So you intend to take all the credit too. Figures. If it weren't for the fact I've got friends out there on the front lines, I'd bilge this mission and let you take the fall, you cowardly little REMF. Bet you got your commission by way of Katrina Steiner's bed.* "If that will be all, sir?" "No. We suspect that the 1st Falcon Guards are here. Your orders are to verify that. You will stay out there until you do." Major Pedersen nodded at him. "Dismissed." Ed saluted and left. Eight hours later, he was dodging incoming fire from both Jade Falcon forces and his own side. When he returned, Major Pedersen demanded to personally debrief him. Thirty minutes after that, Lieutenant Becerra had the transfer he wanted, and Major Pedersen had a broken jaw. * * * Yet another world... Denver, North American Protectorate, Earth, 2070 A.D. "I don't _care_ whether it can be done or not, Detective. I want it done ANYWAY! Is that clear?" The police commissioner for the Denver metroplex stared over the desk at her. "The UN Peaceforcers are on my back over this. They want this `Erythrina' caught _now_." Detective Erin Mitchell yawned and ran her fingers through her waist length, jade green hair. "If they want her that bad, why don't they catch her themselves. Besides, she's just another net ghost. She hasn't hurt a single innocent citizen. All she's done is embarrass Peaceforcers. She makes them look like the jackasses that they are. And I'm all for that." "You won't be. They're sending a Peaceforcer Elite to oversee the investigation." She stiffened in her chair. "A cyborg? Why?" "Because they've finally had enough, Detective. An Elite cyborg has the authority to cut Denver off from the net." Mitchell went grey under her facial tattoo. "They can't do that! It would crash the city! Thousands of innocent people would suffer!" "The Peaceforcers don't care about that, Detective. They're called Peaceforcers for a reason. They don't care about justice, or innocence, or anything but enforcing the peace." The tired commissioner rested his head in his hands. "They've officially defined this Erythrina as a threat to themselves, and technically, that makes her a threat to world peace. That allows them to do anything they like, Officer Mitchell. When it comes to keeping the peace, the Peaceforcers are above the law." "Isn't there anything we can do to prevent this, sir?" "Only bringing in Erythrina, Detective. They've already made up their minds and they don't want to be bothered with the facts." He glared at her. "I _know_ you have connections in the black net, Detective. That's why you're tolerated in the department. Because you have sources that no one else has. Use them. There isn't any choice any longer, Mitchell. There's no fence to sit on. It's Erythrina, or us." She looked back at him bleakly. * * * Yet another world... Planet Genowara, Galactic Core, Spinwards, 2402 A.D. "The rest of the assault team is ready, sir." "Are the Blackcollars set?" "They're in place, sir. The Ryqril don't have a chance." The old major spun around. "Are you naturally that stupid, Leftenant? Or do you study at it? War is the _single_ most uncertain action humans ever undertake. Of course the Ryqril have a chance. It may be improbably small, but it's still there. Never forget that. If you do, you'll end up in a body bag, and it won't necessarily be the enemy who'll put you there!" "Y-yes sir, Major Two Bulls." "Good. Now get your head out of your ass and armor up, boy. You got five minutes. After that, we leave you behind." The younger man scrambled to obey, and the major looked at him irascibly. *Stupid little puppy'll likely get himself shot to pieces in the first five minutes,* he thought with a sigh. He walked over to his command post and donned his own armor. *Looks like I'm going to have to add a bit of baby-sitting to the list for today. Great Spirit, was I ever that green?* *********************************** Ed shot up straight in bed, shivering violently. *Damn. Haven't had _that_ dream in quite a few years. Now if I could just make then stop completely.* He looked around, noting the feminine decorations in the room. *You know, I'm _really_ getting tired of waking up in strange beds. It gets pretty old after a while.* He noticed a stack of clean clothing resting on a nearby chair, with some towels piled neatly beside them. *Guess Minerva planned ahead. Bless her cybernetic little heart.* He grabbed the clothing and headed for the bathroom. Cleaning up quickly, he headed to the kitchen where he found Sylvie and Minerva deep in discussion. Minerva smiled at him as he walked in. "How are you feeling today, boss?" "I've had better days. And better nights." He gave her an ironic smile. "And you, pretty lady?" "I've been having a long talk with Sylvie." She waved a hand across her body. "This was a pretty big change for me. She had some insights on what it's like to be both organic and inorganic at the same time." He nodded to Sylvie. "Thank you, m'lady. I appreciate that. It looks like our lives will be going through some unexpected changes, and we can use all the help we can get." He fixed himself a bowl of cereal and sat, absently picking at it. "Bad dreams again, lover?" He blinked, surprised. "Eh? How did you know?" Minerva smiled and pointed at the bowl. "You always do that. Get some cereal and then ignore it. After twenty years, it was kind of hard to miss the signs." He frowned, and pushed the untouched bowl away. "I'm going to take a walk and get some fresh air." "What about Sylia?" asked Sylvie. "What about her? Where could I possibly go?" he growled. "It's not as if there's any place I can escape to. After all... I gave my word." He headed out the door. "He isn't taking this very well," observed Sylvie. "He never does," replied Minerva sadly. * * * "You guys never cease to amaze me! All the moral fiber of Jack the Ripper. What do you do in your spare time? Juggle babies over a fire pit? Oops, there goes another calculated risk!" - Commander Ivanova, "Babylon 5 - Mind War" "You're a triple-decker sauerkraut and toadstool sandwich.. with arsenic sauce!" - Thurl Ravenscroft, "How The Grinch Stole Christmas" In an temporary office that had been set up for him at one of Genom's other buildings, Quincy was viewing the recordings that had been made of the battle. "Fascinating," he murmured. A soft rap at the door caused him to pause. "Enter, Ms. Madagan." Kate Madagan stepped through the door, her arms full of files. "I have the preliminary reports, sir. As well as my personal impressions, as requested." "And those impressions are?" She squared her shoulders. "Sir, after what I witnessed in the plaza, it is my opinion that we should not pursue this any further. I seem to have vastly underestimated the potential danger that Mr. Edwards represents. The mecha he was piloting was, at the very least, a full generation beyond our current technology. His physical survival of the explosion of its power plant indicates that his personal abilities were seriously underrated as well. The technicians assigned to examined those few scans that survived the battle estimate that when the fusion reactor powering the mecha blew, the resulting blast was in the kiloton range. Their judgements are somewhat tentative at the moment, however. The sudden arrival of and interference by Ms. Stefanson tended to introduce a large amount of uncertainty in the readings." She sighed. "Further attempts to pressure Mr. Edwards could prove both counter-productive and non-profitable." "A succinct analysis." Quincy smiled. "In point of fact, your conclusions are quite similar to my own, Ms. Madagan. Our book-seller is far more than he appears on the surface. Attempts at physical harassment were in error. That error is understandable, however, given our lack of information." Outwardly, Madagan didn't react. Inside, however, she gave a mental shudder, and a tight knot in her gut relaxed. She had feared Quincy would take issue with her recommendation to avoid any further conflict. "In addition, sir, we have reason to believe that he has access to material resources that we do not." Quincy raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" Madagan extracted a paper from the sheaf she was carrying. "A small fragment of the mecha's armor survived its destruction, due in part to the Crystal Knight. It was sliced from the right arm of the mecha by one of his diamond swords. Chemical analysis shows it to be a highly exotic alloy, composed largely of rhenium." "I'm given to understand that rhenium is a mere chemical curiosity. It's far too rare to be of any widespread commercial use." "Yes, sir. But the 10 kilogram chunk that was recovered contained more rhenium than is currently produced world wide." She ran a finger down the page. "The only known commercial source is flue dust from the roasting of Arizona molybdenite. Production is at less than 3 tons of Cottrell dust per year, resulting in less than 1/4 kilogram of rhenium. The sample of armor is over 24% rhenium, or slightly less that 2 1/2 kilos of it. Or the equivalent of ten years production in the sample alone. The metallurgists flatly refused to estimate the amount that must have gone into the construction of the entire mecha. Or it's potential value on the precious metals market." She paused. "The company that owns the mine and refines the dust is, unfortunately, wholly owned by the Chang Conglomerate." Quincy paused and pondered. "Interesting. I trust repair of the damaged floors of Genom tower progresses rapidly." "Yes sir. Your office will be ready by tomorrow morning, with the remainder of the tower fully repaired by the end of the week." "Good." He turned his chair back towards the monitor he'd been watching. "Every being, no matter how powerful, has a weak point, Ms. Madagan. Even our.. acquaintance, the Crystal Knight, was shown to be vulnerable to an attack upon his friends. He risked his own life to save that of the pink Knight Saber." He tapped a key, and the monitor went blank. "Maintain a discrete surveillance on Mr. Edwards. But take no chances on our being connected to it. Everyone has a price, Ms. Madagan. We need to discover his." "Yes, sir. But sometimes that price can be very high. Can we afford to pay his?" "If Genom is to remain the most powerful corporation on the planet, we cannot afford _not_ to. The corporation that controls teleportation controls the world." He waved Madagan out of the office, steepling his fingers together. "This isn't even your universe, eh? What a fascinating statement, Mr. Edwards." He smiled. "Fascinating, indeed." * * * Sylia walked into Darlene's apartment. "Where is Edward? I need to speak with him." Minerva looked up. "He went for a walk, Ms. Stingray. He wasn't feeling very good." "Do you know where?" Minerva shook her head. "No.. he asked me not to track him for a while. And if I did know, I couldn't tell you. I hope you understand why." She nodded. "Your primary loyalty lies with him. I can't fault you for that. Besides, I believe I may have an idea where he's gone." "It isn't going to be a confrontation, is it?" "I hope not, Minerva. I certainly hope not." * * * At ADPolice headquarters, Bochinski threw a unfinished report at the wall. "Why the hell do they still have us looking for him? We haven't seen the Vigilante for since the attack on Genom Tower! He's probably left the damn country!" Wadderson spread her hands. "Ours is not to question why and all that crap, partner. We just do the job. And right now, part of that job is to keep an eye out for Mr. Mysterious." She rubbed her chin. "Besides, _you_ were the one who submitted that report that claimed he was at the controls of the machine that trashed Genom tower. I expect there's more than a few bought and paid for politicians who want to get on Genom's good side by finding him." Bochinski made a rude noise. "Politics. Bah. Bunch of chair-warming idiots and incompetents who couldn't get a job anywhere else. You ask me, we'd have been better off if they'd all died during the quake." "Maybe so, but we still have a job to do if we want to keep drawing a paycheck." She picked up another report of a sighting, flipping through it idly. "It _would_ be nice if they'd stop sending us every drunk with the DT's who thinks they've seen him." * * * "There never is [profit] in revenge. Let the dead rest, and the past... remain the past." - Jean-Luc Picard, "ST:TNG - The Battle" Sylia was right. She found him where she'd expected to; in the remains of his book store. He sat staring at the ashen remnants of the books and scrolls, the wreckage of an overturned counter serving as a makeshift seat. She stepped up behind him, but before she reached him, he spoke. "Revenge is an ugly thing, isn't it? It steals the soul." He shook his head, refusing to look at her. "I gave up my honor, my responsibilities, everything. All for the sake of revenge. A meaningless revenge at that." He waved a hand at the room around them. "There's nothing here that I couldn't replace. I could have restored everything here with a single, simple command to Minerva. For that matter, I could simply have walked away. Just left it all behind, and found someplace else. I was stuck in this reality until Valanna came along, but there was still an entire galaxy out there for me to explore." He clenched a fist. "But I wanted to _show_ Quincy... to rub his nose in the idea that he was a fool when he challenged _me_." A grim look of self-contempt slid across his face. "I did it because I was furious that he _dared_ to think he could take me on as an equal. Megalomania at its worst." "And what does that say about my own actions against Genom?" Sylia asked quietly. "Absolutely nothing." He smiled painfully. "Sylia, I don't pretend to know you like a friend, but you're not doing what you do for revenge. You're not doing it for yourself, either. Not any more, at least. You're doing it for them, the people of Mega-Tokyo. You're doing it because someone _has_ to do it, and you and the Knight Sabers you created are the best suited for the job. Pun intended." He rubbed the back of his neck, and continued. "What I did was done for reasons wholly selfish, and entirely petty." "And that bothers you?" "OF COURSE IT DOES!" he snapped. "I.. Oh, hell." His shoulders slumped. "Sylia, I thought I'd gotten away from all this a long time ago. Habits of thought and action." He shivered as old, ugly memories stirred in the back of his mind. "Things like.. Dying soldiers aren't dying soldiers, they're `acceptable losses'. Scorched earth doesn't matter.. it's `denying resources to the enemy'. People left homeless, dying of exposure, starvation and plague.. they aren't important, they're merely `collateral damage'. The means don't matter.. only the ends you achieve. Political expediency." He spat out the last two words with a cold venom that impressed Sylia. "And I let myself fall to that. Again." "At least you're able to see that clearly now. Of course, it would have been better if you'd seen it in the beginning," she added dryly. "And what exactly do you mean by again?" "Remind me to tell you about the Fall of Strana Mechty, someday. A day when I'm feeling particularly self-abusive." He looked over his shoulder at her. "Have you come to pronounce my sentence, Sylia? Do I get a last meal?" "In a way, I have. You have much to make restitution for, but you can't do it and abuse yourself at the same time." She stepped over a burnt scroll and sat next to him. "First of all, you will remain here, in this universe, for the present. I believe you've learned that running from your problems doesn't solve them. Next, your assistant Minerva assures me that so far as wealth is concerned, you have no worries whatsoever. So you will rebuild this shop, and you will arrange to funnel the profits, as well as additional funds as needed, into a fund to repay the damages you caused during your rampage. If you need help, I will arrange for my business contacts to aid you. You will also reimburse _me_, personally, for the costs I incurred during our battle." She paused at that point, looking at him expectantly. Ed blinked in surprise. "That can't be it. It's too bloody simple." She smiled suddenly. "Good. You may be inclined to foolish acts of impulsive rage, but you are not stupid. You, Mr. Becerra, are about to receive an education in the practical realities of dealing with the responsibilities that come with power." He looked at her, eyes wide. "And you said that all in one breath, too." She shot him an irritated look, and he shrugged. "Can't help it. I think my mother was frightened by a stand-up comedian before I was born." He stood, and scuffed his feet through the ashes. There was a muted clank, and he stooped to see what he'd struck. His jaw sagged. "Well, I'll be dipped in horseradish!" "What is it?" Sylia stepped over, curious. She watched as he bent, and lifted what looked like a sword of some sort from the floor. She frowned. "That was hanging over the door to your office, wasn't it?" He nodded, amazed. "This.. was a gift from a friend. I thought it was lost with the books." He brushed the ashes from the scabbard, revealing what looked like a ninjato. "Franklin Sakamoto gave this to me years ago. We'd been jumped by a dozen assassins from the Black Dragon Society. They were after him, and I managed to delay the bishonen bastards long enough for him to grab a gun and sound the alarm." He held up the blade with both hands, balancing it on his upturned palms. "I took this from one of the assassins. It was supposed to be the blade to kill Franklin. Instead, Franklin gave it to me, as thanks." He shrugged. "He didn't know what I was, and thought I'd risked my life for his. So he tried to honor my 'noble spirit of courage'. He told me that this blade would never fail me." Sylia hmmmm'ed quietly. "It certainly seems as if he was correct." Ed made a non-committal sound. "Hey, it wasn't as if I was in any real danger from those pretty-boy idiots. Those fools could've beaten me over the head with their swords all day long, and the most it would have done is mussed my hair, and maybe given me a headache from the noise." She frowned. "Sakamoto.. the name sounds familiar. Franklin Sakamoto, the illegitimate heir to the throne of the Draconis Combine, wasn't he?" Ed favored her with a startled look. "Yes. But how did you know? That wasn't even in this universe!" Sylia smiled. "Both the game and the cartoon exist in this reality, as well as, I assume, they do in your own. I took the time to watch all thirteen episodes." "Ahh.." A faint grin danced on his lips. "I should have thought of that. And more to the point, I should have expected it. What I know of you told me that you'd _never_ give up on a puzzle." He caressed the blade. "I'd better put this someplace safe. It's obvious the shop isn't secure any longer." He addressed the room. "Minerva?" "Yes, boss?" "Tuck this away in the armory, pretty lady. And clean out the rest of my personal belonging, as well. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on _me_." Sylia watched as the sword shimmered and vanished. "Interesting. So that is the technology everyone is so anxious to acquire. You may have gone about it improperly Edward, but you were right in keeping it out of their hands. It could be quite easily abused." "I shouldn't have made the mistake in the first place. But thank you.. I think." She nodded. "As long as you realize that, you're learning." "Too schoon ve get old und too late shmart," Ed sighed. "True no matter _what_ universe you live in." He brushed the ashes from his jeans, and turned towards the door. "Well, time to get started, I suppose. I've got to rebuild a shop, and a life. Soonest begun, soonest done." *********************************** "In my life I've seen the mystery begin/And in my time I've felt some wonderful things/Winds will change bringing us something new/So little time still there's so much we can do..." - 'Find The Key To Your Life', "TMNT2" ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ And that's it for this part of `Tangled Skeins'. But the story will continue. I hope you've all enjoyed it. Now for the obligatory legal verbiage. With the exception of those characters I created myself, none of these characters are mine, and they are being used without permission. I'm not making a single penny from this story, and the copyrights are as follows. Bubblegum Crisis is (c) Artmic, Inc. & Youmex, Inc., and is used without permission. All BattleTech references and material are (c) FASA, 1980-1997, and are used without permission. All other characters are (c) by their creators and are used without permission, with the following exceptions: Twister is (c) Darren Steffler. White Wolf and his bar are (c) Hitomi Ichinohei. Doc Mui is (c) Pearson Mui. PCHammer is (c) Martin F. Rose. Thank you for letting me mention you in the story, guys. Ailuro and Natasha are NON-fictional characters, friends of mine who have given me permission to use them in this story, and their characterizations are (c) by them. Please respect that. The song "All I have to do is Dream." is (c) 1958 by the Everly brothers. This story is (c) 1997 by Edward Becerra, with the exception of certain scenes written by Darren Steffler and John Collins. Thank you, guys.