I posted this would-be character study (before 002 hogged the show) over on AO3 first, and did not realize until now I hadn't posted it here as well. Oops?
Cyborg 009: TOMORO
Cyborg Soldier 002 Jet Link.
In the privacy of his mind, Jet groaned. Being woken up by the alien AI was a lot like being woken up by Ivan. It didn't hurt, exactly. Then again, neither did the Macy's Day Parade marching past your window at four in the goddamn morning. It was loud; commanding of his full attention.
It also meant Jet was still alive.
How bad 's the damage this time? Jet asked.
There was a cool pause from TOMORO-0117. Jet kind of wondered if TOMORO knew how much of his emotions he wore on his sleeve whenever he had an occupant in the J-Ark's maintenance system.
Inquiry. Your legs are often disabled?
Disabled. Such a nice way of saying blown to bits.
Heh. Do I still have my knee joints?
Barely, TOMORO noted, unamused.
Eh. Could have been worse. Last time I lost from my hips down.
Another silent pause. Jet felt like a kid at the doc's office and "blurted", Relax. Being targeted like that is an occupational hazard for a flier. I'm used to it.
You are accustomed to feeling your legs traumatically amputated.
Oh man... Jet knew that tone of voice. Digitized or not, shocked anger was always recognizable.
Black Ghost doesn't pull any punches when dealing with traitors.
The only traitor in your company is Dr. Gilmore, if one wishes to be specific, TOMORO-0117 stated as soon as Jet had commented. Black Ghost never had the loyalty of the 00-Number Cyborg Soldiers.
They "built" us. They "own" us. So far as Black Ghost is concerned that's reason enough to call us-
The flare of anger was not quite like a solar burst. It didn't hurt, but it sure as heck was shocking. The flare died down as soon as Jet recognized it for what it was.
Not even BioNet is so foolish, TOMORO-0117 noted, "voice" sounding absent. Distracted.
The fight still going on?
Jet remembered pieces of it before the missile had reduced his legs to bits. They had found enough tangential evidence of a Black Ghost plot to go poking around in some back end of nowhere. He remembered commenting at length that at least this nowhere wasn't one of the polar ice caps again; remembered how his joke had lightened the building tension. The memory of the J-Ark all but landing on top of them was bright with the mirth of twenty/twenty hindsight. At the time, Jet had been anything but amused by the behemoth ship looking as though it were going to swallow the Dolphin whole. They had just finished getting the paint redone!
Memories got a bit more murky after that. Something about Soldato-J saying with a straight face how it was date night, that the movie had stunk, and did the Cyborg Soldiers know of any fun bases of doom that needed to be obliterated. Which had to be Jet's brain being rattled, right?
Your recollection of the event is accurate, TOMORO-0117 assured him.
If he could have blinked, Jet would have. Then he would have buried his head in his hands and groaned. Insane. Soldato-J and Renais Cardiff Shishioh were insane.
The infiltration had been simple: Four man team consisting of himself, 005, Soldato-J, and Cardiff Shishioh. Getting in had been the easy part. Then an alarm had been tripped and it'd been punching and shooting from there. As more of the fight started filtering in, Jet remembered the grin of pure evil glee he'd caught on Cardiff Shishioh's face.
...so maybe Soldato-J had picked the right activity for a date night after all.
Mad Black Ghost base commander, check. Evil weapon of the week launching just ahead of their arrival, check. Blasting up after it to try and shoot it down, check. Succeeding, of course. And then a big painful blank.
Anti aircraft missile from the far side of the base. J caught you.
Huh. That's right. Soldato-J could fly using his scarf, which was both weird and awesome. The scarf for wings had to make stabilizing in flight a bit less tricky.
A flicker of red curiosity. A gentle poke, as soft as Ivan back when they'd first met, looking through Jet's memories and experiences. What is this? What is that? Questions played out in emotions like Francois dancing on the stage.
Your flight systems are remarkably efficient, TOMORO-0117 noted, nonjudgmental. Even so Jet could all but hear the words, "Despite the fact they are inferior to Red Planet technology," held back from being said out loud. So to speak.
Doc's always fine tuning them for me. The thought came unbidden of how it'd been the first time he had woken up with jets in his feet. Legs, technically. Damn, but it had hurt so much... Doc's been working to make sure I stay ahead of Black Ghost. I think you can guess how well that's worked.
Damn it; that made it sound like Dr. Gilmore wasn't doing enough. The problem was, he was doing too much. The man was no spring chicken! And he constantly insisted he come out in the field with them. It wasn't good for his health. It wasn't damn good at all.
The offer to join Three G as an independent unit focusing on Black Ghost remains open.
Times like these, that offer was tempting... But either they were all in, or none of them. That's how they'd survived this long, after all. And right now the team said, Thanks but no thanks.
Jet got a funny feeling all over again when TOMORO-0117 respected their decision and did not push further.
Darkness. The EMP grenade. The trap!
Cyborg Soldier 003 Francois Arnoul. Calm yourself.
The voice in the dark was startling and familiar at the same time. Francois knew she had heard it before. Over a radio...?
You received significant damage. Dr. Gilmore requested our assistance. Your functions came within
six percent of ceasing.
TOMORO-0117. Francois remembered him now. The bright but egotistical alien AI who ran the J-Ark. I must be in the maintenance chamber. His voice sounded very... human, like this.
Correct. Repairs are twenty percent completed. You are still in critical condition.
What happened to the others?
Your warning allowed 009 sufficient time to evacuate 007 and 008. The EMP bomb detonated before he could return to evacuate yourself.
Considering the narrow canyon, the cell bars that had sprung up around them, and the mundane ordinance that had pinned them down - Joe getting G.B. and Pyunma out was itself an accomplishment. Of course, Joe wouldn't see it that way. Knowing 009, he'd be beating himself up for not being faster.
Cyborg Soldier 009 Shinamora Joe is standing by in the maintenance room. All repairs to the Cyborg Soldiers, excluding yourself, are complete.
Francois sighed, a knot of tension loosening in her gut. Everyone was alive. That was what mattered most. Even the headache she could feel trying to build up wasn't enough to dim the relaxed contentment she felt.
You suffer such headaches regularly? TOMORO-0117 inquired.
Not as often as I used to. Dr. Gilmore did a great deal of exceptional work to get my systems to where they matched my potential rather than stifling it.
A soundless, wordless hum; a touch of curiosity there and gone against her heart. Francois could picture TOMORO-0117 in her mind's eye - at least, what she imagined he'd look like, if he were a cyborg rather than an AI. TOMORO-0117 took a "breath" to speak.
Feelings like soda fizz in an ice cream float bubbled around Francois's consciousness. Reflexively, Francois pulled her senses to their lowest sensitivity. She "flinched", in other words, startled by the sudden emotional brightness.
KouRyu! AnRyu! Desist!
More bubbles that sounded like childish laughter.
00-Number Cyborgs' cybernetic brains lack - they are nothing like - continuing could fry her brain! TOMORO-0117 snapped.
The bubbles went from happy curiosity to terrified retreat faster than Francois could process.
TOMORO-0117 gave Francois what felt like a full body check pat-down. A sigh of relief brushed her as TOMORO reported, You are unharmed. Please excuse them. They are curious to learn about you and your family beyond what Renais is required to put in her reports.
They hadn't meant to harm her. Francois had felt that much of their emotions before TOMORO had cut them off. Who are they?
KouRyu and AnRyu are the twin AI Dragon-Class mecha of Chassure. They are currently in the main hold. The Dolphin is parked on the J-Ark's cannon deck, TOMORO explained before Francois could ask.
They felt... young. Young in the same way 001's psychic touch felt young. Not truly a child, but still so innocent.
They are annoying.
Francois recognized that emotion. She'd felt it plenty of times growing up. They're your siblings! she giggled.
Only in so far as Renais is their "older sister" and Soldato-J is my captain. TOMORO-0117's fond annoyance felt like the tickle of feathers at the edge of Francois's heart. Would you be willing to meet with them once your repairs are complete?
Francois smiled. I'd love to meet your siblings, TOMORO.
Francois giggled at the AI's blush.
Easing into depths as dark and cool as the ocean, Pyunma allowed his mind to wonder where it would. The Black Ghost underwater base had been impressive as all things built by Black Ghost were. It had taken all of his skills just to get in and set the bomb.
He'd known he wouldn't be able to make it out.
Exasperation tipped with rueful understanding. Inquiry: Are suicide missions standard protocol for 00-Number Cyborgs?
Pyunma froze mentally. Joe – I mean, 009 said being in the J-Ark's maintenance chamber was different. Easing out of his freeze, Pyunma tried to picture himself underwater in favorable terrain. If he could hold the image strongly enough, he might be able to keep the AI out of his thoughts. So. What are you going to do to me?
Repairs are thirty percent complete. Once repairs are sixty percent complete, you will be required to exit the maintenance chamber.
Yeah? And?
The confusion was everywhere and nowhere all at once. Pyunma could not get a good "look" at his adversary. It didn't matter. Pyunma would not let it matter. 009 might have felt the Three G super cyborg's invasion of his mind had been a genuine accident. And, yes, there seemed to be nothing worse than some insane nightmares of fighting monsters made out of Jupiter's moons. But.
But Pyunma had not survived first the revolution, then Black Ghost, by trusting too easily.
Repairs at thirty two percent complete. Firewalls triggering – now.
The depths of the ocean in his own mind held Pyunma.
...hello?
Silent. Never ending watery, echoing silence. It might have been a trick...?
008?
001! The one and only presence outside himself Pyunma would trust inside his head.
TOMORO-0117 contacted me. He said he's put up firewalls to keep your consciousness out of the J-Ark's systems. Its not something he's doing lightly. Apparently, its standard protocol for whomever is in the maintenance chamber to be directly linked to the AI so that if something goes wrong, the AI can react instantly.
That's what he said, huh? Pyunma did not relax his guard, such as it was.
He'll keep it secret.
Keep what secret?
That you knew going down there was a one-way trip. Pyunma got the impression of small arms batting him on the nose before he could open his mouth to object. Psychic, remember? I can read all of you like books.
Pyunma tried to cross his arms. I don't trust them. Any of them. Every time we cross paths with Three G, they keep bringing up their "offer".
Its genuine.
So's Black Ghost's.
True, 001 conceded. We don't truly know much about Three G as an organization.
We don't know about their members, either, Pyunma pointed out. Sure, 009 has Guy's memories. But how do we know those are real?
Oh, they're real alright. I can vouch for it.
...alright, point. What about Soldato-J? Pyunma demanded. What's his motivation? And Renais Cardiff Shishioh? That girl is way too bloodthirsty.
001 hummed. I can't get as good a read on Soldato-J as I would like. His mind is... different. And somehow, he's guarding Renais's mind as well. But – what I can feel is very... straightforward. Defeat the Enemy. Love.
Love? Who?
His family. Who else?
Pyunma sighed. I can't trust them, 001.
I know. A pause as 001's attentions were turned elsewhere. TOMORO says your repairs at are about forty percent. Another five, ten minutes and you'll be out.
Getting out couldn't come soon enough.
Peace. Serenity. A distinct absence of pain from where his limbs had been ripped off.
Repairs twenty percent completed. Dr. Gilmore is working on your arms at present.
Listening to the hum of silence, Geronimo Jr. nodded affirmative. Thank you, TOMORO-0117.
You are welcome, Cyborg Solider 005 Geronimo Jr.
I think I will meditate. I don't suppose you have any classical music?
Wind that tasted of curiosity brushed the edges of his self.
No matter.
Emptying his mind, Geronimo sunk into the depths of his own heart, and listened for the spirits to speak if they so willed.
Later – much later, after the J-Ark and the Dolphin had parted ways once again – Pynuma exclaimed, "I still can't believe you fell asleep in there!"
Must you persist in allowing your legs to be blown off?
Hey! Jet felt compelled to counter. 009 got his blown off first this time!
Listening to TOMORO-0117 groan while trying not to groan at all was hilarious.
You've been all over the world, right? Any particular place with exceptional food?
Hey! Jet was right! Listening to TOMORO-0117 groan was pretty funny! Not funny enough to have put up with a grenade in his face beforehand. Well, no matter. That little village child hadn't gotten so much as a scorch mark on them. To Chang Changku, that alone had been worth it.
Recommendation. What felt like a folded piece of paper was put into Chang's hands. Arma's friend's parents own a restaurant at this location.
How wonderful! I'll definitely give it a try next time we're near Tokyo!
You may wish to provide us with advanced warning, TOMORO-0117 requested. Shishioh Guy has been, a pause, requesting –
I take it you mean pestering? Chang chuckled.
TOMORO-0117 continued as if unaware of Chang's interruption: Shishioh Guy has been requesting J follow proper date protocols through to their conclusion at least once. Shishioh Guy alleges continuing to switch activities from proper data protocols to engaging hostile forces is counterproductive to forming a strong relationship.
Having seen Renais Cardiff Shishioh on the battlefield, Chang offered, I dunno about that! You have to match the seasonings to the ingredients you've got, not the other way around. Though, maybe something a little less bloodthirsty would be a good idea from time to time.
Such as?
Did he try ice cream in Paris?
TOMORO-0117's "expression", for lack of a better term, was answer enough.
Let me guess. You got our S.O.S. right in the middle of it.
Negative. The previous attempt was interrupted by BioNet activity. The ice cream shop has since requested they not return.
Hum. Well, that does put them in rather a pickle. Hey! Here's a thought. He could cook for her up here!
Cooking is not within a Soldato's specifications.
Nonsense! Anybody can learn to cook! Chang paused. Except Jet. That man could set water on fire, I swear. Here, Chang pictured himself holding a pad of paper and a pencil, here's some basic recipes he can try cooking. And if he's worried about it, have him practice with his little brother first.
Recommendation noted.
When Chang left, he left chatting about what ingredients to start with, how best to prep the sauce pan, and a bemused Soldato-J looking at the printout in his hand wondering whatever had Chang and TOMORO had been talking about.
DESIST FROM ALLOWING YOUR LEGS TO BE READILY DESTROYED!
Jet jumped halfway out of his skin. Or would have, if he hadn't been a disembodied consciousness. For a certain level of "disembodied" and – okay, yes, he was trying to avoid the fuming TOMORO-0117's justified frustration.
...yeah, this one is all on me, Jet admitted meekly. 007 alright?
TOMORO-0117 paused for a beat to calm down. Your assist insured his damages were equivalent to scrapes and bruises only. Unlike yourself. One quarter right hip, destroyed. Right leg, destroyed. Left leg, destroyed from knee down. Left hip, out of alignment. Torso, right arm, left arm, forty to sixty percent burn damage down to sub-dermal armor plating. Jet Link. This must desist.
I hear ya, Jet did his best to assure the alien AI. TOMORO felt really, honestly worried, in a way Jet wasn't used to feeling from anyone other than his fellow cyborgs or Dr. Gilmore.
There was silence for a time. Jet felt his foot twitch, in a detached sort of way. Dr. Gilmore must have gotten the replacement parts and was installing them now.
Not installing, TOMORO-0117 corrected. They have been placed inside the maintenance chamber with you. I will handle installation.
Jet tried to joke, Jeeze, VIP treatment? To what do I owe the pleasure?
The joke fell flat against TOMORO-0117's omnipresent concern.
Hypothetical: You have not been given an opportunity to experiment with your abilities outside of combat scenarios.
Jet blinked. What, you mean like flying around for the sake of flying? Yeah, well, its true I haven't gotten a chance to do that. With Black Ghost able to strike at will, it was too risky.
Experimentation is key to gaining and upgrading one's skills.
You've been talking to Chang again. Jet rolled his eyes.
Irregardless, "playing" is critical to learning one's limits. Desist from attempting to state you are aware of your limits, Jet Link, TOMORO-0117 ordered. Jet metaphorically snapped his jaw shut fast enough to nip the tip of his tongue. You are aware of the technical limitations built into your design. That is not similar to knowing your limits. Do you not enjoy the sky, Jet Link?
Enjoy the...?
Silence mixed with a faint hint of sadness.
Its not so much I don't enjoy the sky. I guess you could say... I'm ambivalent. Kind of hard to feel enjoyment in something when it hurts so goddamn much. Or at least it did, before science caught up with the mad scientists at Black Ghost. Even then, I haven't...
You have not had a chance to "play", TOMORO-0117 finished Jet's stalled thought. To fly simply because you can rather than because you must.
The feeling of TOMORO drifted away slightly, though Jet never felt his attention waiver from making repairs. After a couple of minutes Jet could have sworn he felt his left foot and "toes", such as they were, twitch.
Repairs forty percent complete. Inquiry: Your opinion regarding additional flight training.
...what "additional" flight training? Jet asked warily.
Silence. You were not provided flight training by Black Ghost?
Does having to figure out how to dodge ordinance on the fly count?
If it had been possible, Jet got the feeling TOMORO-0117 would have been banging his head against the wall. What felt like a steady stream of insults was leveled in Black Ghost's general direction.
J has been requested to "take a vacation" by the Human Resources division of Three G.
Jet's sense of humor came to his "rescue". Soldato-J? A vacation?
Indeed so. It would be acceptable recreational activity for J to assist with providing you flight time. A chance to "play" in moderately non-lethal conditions.
Moderately non-lethal?
J is a Soldato. A living weapon. To not be so, would be to not be what he is. Do not presume his situation is in any way similar to yours. Soldato-J was born as a Soldato on the Red Planet. Mass produced, as were all Soldato, during the Zonder attack. J was born as he is; though he has been "remade" due to how the conditions of the Blue Planet dynamically differ from the Red Planet.
That was... a lot to chew on, honestly. Soldato-J having been born a Soldato and not made into one. But the chance to fly – just fly – without a care in the world... Jet had to admit: The offer was too tempting to pass up.
I guess it wouldn't hurt, Jet agreed.
Repairs one hundred percent complete.
Jet's sense of self returned as readily as it usually did to the accompaniment of a pneumatic hiss. One of these days, he'd figure out where the lid went. He took a few lazy seconds to tap his fingers and what past for his toes, enjoying the lack of pain. Times like these weren't rare, per say. Dr. Gilmore was quick to usher anyone who so much as looked like they might be having a rejection to a cyborg part back into medical. Still, the complete absence of rejection pangs or post-surgery soreness was nice.
Sitting up, Jet swung his legs over the side of the chamber.
"Are you required to go through a fitness check?"
Soldato-J was leaning against the wall without computer screens on it. His posture was relaxed, arms loosely crossed over his chest, and managing not to look too intimidating despite his armor.
"Doc doesn't let us out of maintenance until he runs one." Jet pushed himself the rest of the way out of the chamber and onto his feet. "'course if he waited until the foreign body reactions worked themselves out, we'd spend triple the time in sickbay."
"Hum."
Jet raised an eyebrow in Soldat-J's direction.
Soldato-J ignored the silent question and shifted his attention to the computer monitors. "TOMORO."
"Cyborg Solider 002 Jet Link fully operational. Zero foreign body reactions detected. Flight systems fueled and ready for use."
Soldato-J stood to his full height. Walking towards the door, he paused to look back at Jet. The expression was clearer than words, Are you coming or not?
"What, just like that?"
"'kaa-san stated dinner would not be ready for another hour. Her request was for me to," Soldato-J paused, "go play," and that was a chuckle hiding under the otherwise neutral tone, "while she and 006 complete preparations."
"Huh." Jet paused as he realized, "You have a mom?"
Soldato-J did not pause, nor hesitate, nor seem to take offense at Jet's idiot mouth blasting off again. "Yes. I have a mother. She requested to come with us so as to meet the cyborgs which have monopolized the J-Ark's maintenance systems."
Jet honestly had no idea what to think or what to say, but had sense enough to keep his first comment of, I didn't know aliens had moms, firmly to himself.
Any other comments were blasted into low orbit when what Jet thought was just a door... turned out to be an exit hatch.
"Where are we at, exactly?" Jet asked, shouting to be heard over the wind.
Soldato-J – smirked. And then as his scarf stiffened to become wings, he jumped out the door.
Feeling an answering smirk tugging on his lips, 002 soared out into the soda sky.
The rain pelted down over him. It washed the roadway ahead, turning the concrete dangerously slick. The darkness of night was broken by the truck's headlamps and the flash of lightning racing through the sky. There was not a sound coming from the back of the truck. Quiet. So quiet in the back of the truck.
No...
The security guard flagged him to one side. They always did given the growing tensions caused by the war. All he had to do was keep his calm just a little longer. Just a little longer...
God, no, not this dream again.
The guards – flickered? Then stepped back. They waved him forward without further question. And it was with bittersweet shock Albert realized he and Hilda were out of Germany. They were safe. They could get married! They could have a child – who, strangely, looked a lot like Ivan...
...that's not how this dream usually goes, Albert mused, bemused.
Cyborg 004 Albert Heinrich.
Albert relaxed, the tension caused by his confusion easing. Well. That explains it. Hello, TOMORO-0117.
The wedding band attached to the gold chain around your neck has been partially melted. Please advise if you would like me to enact repairs.
Remembering how the dented ring that was his last memento of Hilda should look, Albert asked, If you can.
Assent touched him, soft as Hilda's hand touching his. Which was bizarre and comforting, and all the more bizarre because it was comforting.
Your sensory inputs are scrambled, TOMORO-0117 noted.
Always have been. The man that was more machine than flesh gave a mental shrug. Bits of memory about the fire trickled back in; no wonder his mind had seized that old nightmare. Given the number of explosions he'd been ground zero at... So, how much flesh is left in me?
TOMORO-0117 paused at his gallows humor. Roughly the same as before the Black Ghost weapon detonated all of your on-board ordinance.
Huh. Well. Guess miracles do happen sometimes.
The silence of industry filled the blank void. Honestly, Albert preferred it. That nightmare, modified or no, always left him introspective. If Hilda could see him now... No. Best to banish that thought for the moment. The pain was too close; it twisted his memories of his sweet beloved. Pain turned the thought of if Hilda could see me now into she'd run screaming from the monster I am when the truth was the opposite. Ivan, Jet, and Francois had helped him see that at long, long last. Hilda would not have run from him. She would have sat him down, brewed them both cups of coffee with a shot of Schnapps (since God knew they'd both need the fortification), then sat next to him and let him cry on her shoulder.
Inquiry.
Hum? Funny. Jet and the others had never mentioned TOMORO-0117 being tentative.
If alcoholic fortification would assist, Shishioh Guy is willing to go on a "beer run" with you or any other member of the 00-Numbers excluding 001.
Albert barked out a laughed, Ha! For 001, it'd have to be a milk run!
Shishioh Guy would not be adverse to such an activity.
I get the feeling he wouldn't be adverse to any activity if we asked him along, Albert mused.
He would not, TOMORO-0117 acknowledged.
Albert guessed, He still really wants us to join Three G, huh?
It is Shishioh Guy's fervent desire to insure the 00 Numbers and Dr. Gilmore no longer fight alone against the Black Ghost organization. Your team – your family, TOMORO-0117 stressed the word, have protected this Blue Planet from threats otherwise unknown. You have done so alone for years. That itself takes tremendous courage.
So in other words, we're assets he wants on his side.
Negative.
Albert let a raised eyebrow do all the talking for him.
Speculation: Shishioh Guy wishes to allow you to rest.
To... rest? Albert echoed.
The 00 Cyborgs must be on alert at all hours. You cannot pause for fear Black Ghost will succeed in a retaliatory strike, such as they nearly did today. If the 00 Cyborgs were to join Three G, Three G forces could provide a respite from your pursuers. The probability of Black Ghost launching a successful strike against Orbit Base, for example, is less than seven percent. Not being members of Three G, you would, of course, not accept such an offer out of hand.
Seeing where TOMORO-0117 was going, Albert chuckled, Of course not. It wouldn't be right to drag a whole organization like Three G into our private squabble.
And yet, such a "private squabble", as you call it, is why Three G still exists, TOMORO-0117 stated, blunt as a dropped hammer to the foot. The protection of the Blue Planet is the duty and responsibility of those who have the capabilities to do so – and who choose to do so, as your family has chosen to oppose Black Ghost.
That's one way of putting it. Albert imagined himself sitting in a bear-garden, TOMORO-0117 "seated" across from him. Crossing his arms, Albert leaned back in the chair. Another way is more truthful: Black Ghost didn't give us much choice.
Incorrect. They did give you a choice: Fight, or die. You chose to fight. And you did not break.
Funny. Sometimes Albert felt rather broken.
Foreign body reaction detected. Neutralizing.
Ah. Foreign body reactions. If Albert's imagined beer had been real, he would have downed the whole eighteen ounce glass. The others didn't have the same type of foreign body reactions he did, given they had more organics in their systems. And it was the pain talking – he knew it was – but still, Albert wished... Would just one day of being able to feel without pain be too much to ask?
TOMORO-0117's alarm was a comforting shock. You are in constant chronic pain?
Well, not exactly constant pain – Albert went quiet at the sensation of TOMORO-0117's frustration and anger and... yeah. A little fear on his behalf. TOMORO-0117...?
Silence, save for the flickers of emotions.
TOMORO's voice when he spoke again was quite; soft: G-Stone cyborg technology has progressed to the point such errors are minimal.
Ah, but I'm not a G-Stone cyborg. Albert tried to shrug.
The fierceness behind the words, You could be, startled Albert to silence for a long, long minute. You could be rebuilt as a G-Stone cyborg. Perhaps even a J-Jewel cyborg; though the JJ-Ride technology is still in its testing phases, its applications are promising. The same for your family. Three G scientists would consult with yourself and Dr. Gilmore at every step of the process. You would have full say over what modifications would be made to your body. There is no point to continuing in such a way when a viable alternative is available.
Considering I'm not a member of Three G –
It does not matter! TOMORO-0117 snapped.
And then went quiet, as if he knew he had said too much.
It does not matter, TOMORO-0117 said quietly. So quietly Albert had to strain his "ears" to hear. Then, after a long enough period of time Albert had begun to worry, TOMORO-0117 reported, Your repairs are one hundred percent complete. Foreign body reactions estimated to persist for nineteen hours. You will be required to exit the maintenance chamber once the critical foreign body reactions have been neutralized. Approximate time: Two hours.
It was a long two hours. It was an even longer handful of days before Albert could come to peace with TOMORO-0117's comments.
Looking up into the sky, Albert thought he saw a twinkle of green that might have been Three G Orbit Base. Reaching under his scarf, Albert closed his machine gun hand around Hilda's ring. The dents were still exactly how he remembered them.
"It doesn't matter, huh?"
Tucking Hilda's ring away, Albert headed inside. Time enough had past he could talk about what had happened – and broach the idea, as terrible, terrifying, and fascinating as it was, with his family.
"We sure we want to do this?" 008 asked again.
Their intentions are genuine, 008. They truly want nothing more than to help us, 001 confirmed.
"I still think its too crazy to be real. But," 008 sighed, "alright. If the team wants to go for it, let's go for it. 003?"
003 nodded. Turning to the Dolphin's communication system, she tuned the radio to the frequency 002 had given her. Once the system was set, she picked up the receiver. "Dolphin to J-Ark. Do you copy?"
Silence.
"Well that's not ominous," 007 quipped.
"Maybe there's a security setting so the signal has to come from 002?" 006 offered.
"Given the advanced technology aboard the J-Ark, that's possible," Dr, Gilmore concurred. "002, maybe you should -"
"J-Ark here."
The nine Cyborg Soldiers and Dr. Gilmore exchanged looks in various degrees of concerned. That was TOMORO-0117 talking. But he sure didn't sound normal. Dr. Gilmore nodded, indicating 003 should continue.
But rather than sticking to script, 003 asked, "Are you alright?"
More silence. The Cyborg Soldiers and Dr. Gilmore exchanged more looks.
"Please be advised J has been," a hesitation, and no one thought that was good, "injured."
009 grabbed the mic from 003. "TOMORO! I remember what J said to Guy! He wasn't joking, was he? About how if -"
"My functions are not at risk."
Bullshit, 002's expression shouted. The others were likewise doubtful.
"J's repairs will take some time. Please be sure to take care of yourselves properly."
It was a surprise when 008 grabbed the mic. "Come pick us up. 003 will transmit the rendezvous coordinates." The question was audible through the silence. "Three G's down its two best fighters, right? Might as well take advantage of it and see how well we'd work. If we ever decided to formally take Three G up on their offer."
"Renais has also been injured."
"Even better. It'll give 003 a chance to showcase her skills." 008 was gripping the microphone a little too tightly.
You can't move. Can you.
As 008 was about to repeat 001's question, given it was possible TOMORO had not heard the psychic's voice, TOMORO-0117 responded with, "The J-Ark is undergoing extensive repairs."
"What the hell happened?" 002 summed up the group's question in his usual succinct way.
"The Amaterasu II will be making a sweep of these coordinates in one hour. Contact code to follow. J-Ark, signing off."
"Hey no wait!" 008 tried.
003 reported, "We're receiving coordinates and a contact code." The communication console beeped. "Transmission cut."
008 did not quite throw the mic down – only because 007 scrambled to catch it before it could be broken.
004 calmly stated, "003. Load the coordinates. 009. 002. Prep for takeoff." His eyes were shadowed as he said, "The J-Ark's saved our bacon plenty of times. Maybe we can't do anything for Mr. Super Advanced Alien Cyborg, but I'm betting Dr. Gilmore and 003 could at worst be another pair of hands working on Cardiff Shishioh's repairs."
"Hum." Dr. Gilmore scratched his chin. "At worst, it would provide a beneficial opportunity to study G-Stone cybernetics."
"Likewise at worst, the rest of us can backup Shishioh Guy." 005 crossed his arms over his chest. "Three G's forces will be stretched too thin without Soldato-J and Renais."
"Plus, Black Ghost hasn't made any moves," 006 chimed in.
008 countered, "That we know of. We can't spend too long away from the mission, no matter how damaged they are." Or how much we want to, 008 thought but did not say.
"We can check with Volfogg. See if he's got any information we may have missed." 009 headed for the controls. "Come on, 002!"
A stuttered, "R-Right!" and 002 was moving to get the Dolphin launched.
The flight out to the rendezvous was quietly tense.
Dr. Gilmore sat reviewing what notes he had available on current cybernetic research. He was partway through an article in Science by the late Dr. Leo Shishioh – and making a note to ask if this Shishioh was of any relation to the two whom they'd already encountered – when 003 gasped. On reflex, Dr. Gilmore checked his restraints were where he could quickly put them on. If any lesson had stuck over the years it was that the g-forces the Dolphin could pull in areal combat were not to be trifled with.
"Its huge!" 003 gasped.
"What's huge, my dear?" Dr. Gilmore inquired, partially dreading the answer.
The shadow that fell over them was answer enough. The collision alarms did not sound. Nor did any of the usual warnings. Even so, given the size of the shadow... God help them – whatever this was, it was bigger than the J-Ark by a sizable margin.
"Come in. Come in, Dolphin. Stallion White of Three G calling the 00-Number Cyborg Soldiers."
004 flicked a switch on the captain's console. "Dolphin here. 004 of the Cyborg Soldiers speaking."
"Transmit confirmation code, please."
"Transmitting," 004 paused to wait for 003 to set it up, "now."
"Confirmation code received, 004. Stand by for docking instructions."
"Receiving," 009 confirmed. He and 002 began flipping all the various switches and pushing all the various buttons and toggles needed to bring the Dolphin in for a safe landing. Of course landing on what was in question. Or maybe, Dr. Gilmore wondered, in what was the more appropriate question.
Hum. Yes. In what was the correct question.
The rolling grasslands and winking ocean were swallowed by the off-gray interior of a sizable hold. The Dolphin shuddered slightly as clamps took a firm hold followed by the engines cutting out. The sunlight sputtered out as the bay doors beneath them sealed firmly shut.
"Docking complete. Permission to come aboard granted."
"Roger that." 004 flicked the radio off. "003?"
"Bare minimum personnel," 003 reported. "No weapons on anyone, so far as I can tell."
Dr. Gilmore stood, cradling 001 close out of habit. "Well now. Shall we get going?"
The interior of the Amaterasu II's hold was as uninteresting as the ship itself was extraordinary. Unlike docking inside the J-Ark, there was room enough to fit another ship the Dolphin's size –
"Hello everybody! Nice to meet you!"
...truthfully, Dr. Gilmore wouldn't have really dropped 001. Still, maybe it would be better for everyone if Dr. Gilmore handed 001 over to 003. Just in case things got rather more exciting than his nerves could handle. Like they almost had now.
"Mic Sounders the Thirteenth, right?" 009 inquired. Given the distance between them and the... er... bouncy robot, perhaps 009 should have raised his voice to be heard.
Apparently the robot – who reminded Dr. Gilmore of those toy remote controlled robots he'd seen on toy store shelves last Christmas – could hear just fine. "You must be – 009! Right?"
009 laughed, "That's right. And this is 002, 003, 001 -"
"Oh!" The display that doubled as the robot's visible eyes flashed up blinking sparkles. "001! He's so cute! Ne, ne... Can... Can I hold him?"
"Mic!"
Dr. Gilmore and the others, including this Mic robot, turned towards the sound. Across from them were two large robots of near identical builds. One was pink and the other was black. It was the pink one who had harrumphed – er, spoken. Yes. Spoken.
"001 is a baby, dummy! He's too tiny for us to hold."
"You can hold 003, Mic. She won't mind," 009 offered.
"Oh!" Those sparkling eyes turned their full intensity on 003. "May I please?"
"Um... Sure?"
Laughing gaily, Mic Sounders waddled – er, walked – over. Cautiously, he scooped up 003, then set her lightly on his left shoulder. His hand lingered near her so that he could wave his index finger. Quietly, Mic whispered, "Hello, 001."
I'm not napping, Mic.
"Oh!" Mic's eyes flickered to exclamation marks before returning to what seemed to be default. "Sorry! Didn't mean to seem rude."
Quite the contrary, you're far from being rude. How old are you, if I may ask?
"He's been active for almost four years now. That puts him at about fifteen years old, so far as AI development goes," the black female robot stated. Her grin was bright as she giggled, "Even so, he still acts like such a child."
"003! If Mic even acts a little mean, let us know, okay?" the pink robot requested earnestly.
"I won't act mean, KouRyu! AnRyu!"
It was at least some consultation to Dr. Gilmore that he wasn't the only one staring in mute shock at the pink robot sticking her tongue facsimile out at Mic.
"KouRyu, AnRyu, its been some time. Are you both alright? TOMORO mentioned Renais had been hurt. Not badly so, I hope?" 003 inquired.
The two robots were rather human in their expressions. They both looked away from them, shamefaced.
"KouRyu and AnRyu weren't part of the battle. They were in maintenance at the time," Mic explained.
"Renais is going to be fine."
Almost as one, they turned towards the newcomer. Tall, lanky build, American blond and blue eyed. His smile seemed genuine as he offered his hand. "Stalin White. A pleasure to meet the 00-Number Cyborgs in person. Guy and the others have told me quite a lot about your exploits."
If Mr. White was at all thrown by 004's machine gun hand, he did not show it. 004 replied cordially, "Nice to meet you, I suppose. I'm 004."
Mr. White's expression dimmed. "Yes... I wish the circumstances had been different." Shaking off the depression, Mr. White inquired, "TOMORO asked for us to pick you up, though he wasn't too forthcoming on specifics. We're heading to Three G Orbit Base. Or," his expression gained a concerned frown, "do we need to change course?"
"No Black Ghost activity that we know of," 004 assured him.
"Actually, its been a bit too quite. I was wondering if we could maybe speak with that mecha I'm not supposed to know about in the Intelligence Division?" 009 requested.
"Oh boy." Mr. White's grin was genuine, if tinged with concern. "Guy mentioned you'd picked up some of his memories during the accident. In the report, he put down minor memories. If the UN Security council knew some of the major ones... Well. What's done is done. Volfogg is up at Orbit Base, and I'm sure he'd be interested in speaking with you."
"Thanks."
"But," Mr. White looked over their group, "that can't be the only reason you asked for a pickup."
"I'm afraid you got us," 004 joked. "We were planning on getting 002 some actual flight training, if Soldato-J was feeling accommodating. But when TOMORO stated Soldato-J was down, and that the J-Ark was undergoing extensive repairs – well. It would be poor repayment of their hospitality if we just sat on our hands and did nothing."
"He also mentioned Cardiff Shishioh had been injured. I may not know anything about G-Stone cyborgs in specific, but I'm a fair hand at cybernetics in general. If there's any way I can be of help," Dr. Gilmore offered.
"Of course. Thank you." Mr. White turned to Mic Sounders. "Mic?"
"Hai!" Mic chirped. With a faint, "Down you go," Mic lowered 003 and 001 back to ground level.
"This way, if you please. We'll be at Orbit Base in about fifteen minutes."
They weren't halfway to wherever the bridge was, or so Dr. Gilmore gathered, when 003 froze still. It was telling that Mr. White had not been given a full briefing: He stopped in confusion when the others tensed, ready to move at 003's command.
"003?" Dr. Gilmore inquired.
"The J-Ark. I can see the J-Ark. Its in parking orbit near the moon." 003's eyes went wide, horrified, and she shakily reported, "A third of the command deck has been blown off!" Around their aghast gasps she continued, "Multiple hull breaches. Looks like... Like the worst of the damage is on the starboard side. Its Regenerating Armor isn't functioning properly! I can see inside – Soldato-J is in the maintenance chamber. I... I'm not even sure he's breathing!"
"J is breathing, Ms. 003. I assure you, he is still alive," Mr. White swore. "I'm sorry. If I had been aware of your capabilities, I would have warned you beforehand."
"What... What took out the J-Ark?" 009 demanded. 002 added with a raised fist, "And how can we help punch its ticket?"
"There's a second J-Ark out there!" 003 closed her eyes to better concentrate. "Its... Its about a third smaller than the actual J-Ark. Its damaged, but not nearly as badly."
Mr. White nodded. "The J-Ark Beta."
"Please, please, tell me we're not dealing with a mad scientist prototype," 008 requested.
"Abel is a bit on the... eccentric side," Mr. White hedged. "However, he's an ally to a degree. He was one of a handful of survivors who escaped the Red Planet being mechanized."
"And a – a third J-Ark!? Its just now coming up from the far side of the Earth. Its identical to Soldato-J's!"
"Another Soldato survived?" 009 demanded. Turning to Mr. White, he demanded, "But, Guy's memories – I thought Soldato-J was the last of the Soldato Division!"
"Ah. Everyone thought so as well, until the evidence to the contrary..." Mr. White sighed. "Its a long, complicated story. Suffice to say everything we can do with our limited technology is being done to insure the J-Ark, TOMORO-0117, and Soldato-J make a full recovery."
"How, exactly?" 003 demanded "I don't see anyone or anything that looks like a repair crew on the J-Ark."
Mr. White explained, "Arma is on board fixing the circuits we cannot access. Once those internal repairs are completed, the Regenerating Armor can close the hull breaches so that the J-Ark can regain atmosphere."
"Where's your exit hatch?" 002 demanded. At Mr. White's blink, 002 explained, "I can handle deep space for up to four hours and I got enough fuel to make it to the J-Ark from here. Right, 003?" He barely paused for 003's affirmative before barreling on, "TOMORO-0117's patched me up enough times – damn it, I'm no engineer but I can help!"
"I may not be able to fly, but I can likewise withstand deep space for four hours," 005 stepped forward. "That much damage means debris. Even if all I can do is hold a piece in place for a spot weld, I would like to assist."
"But-" Mr. White attempted to protest.
002 turned in the direction 003 was facing. There was no audible cue he'd turned on his internal radio; there didn't need to be as he was shouting, "TOMORO! Like it or not, 005 and I are coming over. You got that?" A pause. 002 crouched as if expecting an assault. "What do you mean, it'd be a bad idea if Abel caught us? That doesn't make any -" 002's eyes went wide and 003 sucked in a gasp. "...alright." 002 relaxed minutely, fists clenching tight. "Alright, I get it. But once the J-Ark's hull can hold atmosphere, we are coming over there. Is that clear? Good."
Dr. Gilmore was hardly surprised 002 punched the closest wall.
004 waited a beat for 002 to calm down. "Abel?"
"Ex-leader of the Red Planet. Mad scientist. Doesn't know the concept of restraint when it comes to looking into interesting curiosities." 002's grin was grim. "Like Cyborg Soldiers with unique designs."
"Its doubtful Abel would take drastic action," Mr. White informed them. "Still, if TOMORO is worried, its best not to risk it."
I think he may just be embarrassed.
Mr. White did not startle at 001's psychic voice; rather, he asked an inquisitive, "Oh?"
002 huffed, "Yeah. That makes sense. Mr. 'I've got all the superior technology'. Taking a beating like that must have busted his ego and he doesn't want us to see him down." 002's grin was strained. "What a guy, right?"
Mr. White looked them over. Dr. Gilmore likewise looked at his worried, nervous family. Funny... Yes, it was darkly humerus how Dr. Gilmore had not noticed until now how close his family had come to their strange AI friend from another world. Though, truthfully, that was to be expected: TOMORO-0117 had saved their lives multiple times. 002's life alone had been saved no less than four times by the J-Ark's controlling AI.
"Everyone." Dr. Gilmore straightened as his family looked to him. "It appears we have a lot of work ahead of us. If its alright, Mr. White, I'd like 001 to go ahead and get in discrete contact with Shishioh Guy. I'd also like to get everyone some Three G basic uniforms so that we can blend in, in the event this Abel character comes on board Orbit Base while we're there."
"Of course," Mr. White agreed.
002, 004, 005, 007, 008, and 009. Guy will meet you once the Amaterasu II docks for a crash course in, in his words, "How to fix a busted J-Ark". Then, he'll take you out on the Galeon.
"Taking the Galeon won't arouse suspicion, I take it?" 008 inquired.
"If Abel really is from the Red Planet, no," 009 confirmed. "The Red Planet and Green Planet had pretty good relations, so far as I – I mean Guy's memories know."
004 crossed his arms. "Great. Just means we'll have to wear spacesuits. At least until we're in the areas with atmosphere."
001 looked over towards Mr. White. 003, 006, and I will accompany Dr. Gilmore. 001 paused. Why does Guy recommend we duck when we get to the cyborg maintenance center?
Mr. White looked a combination of embarrassed and laughing at a fond memory. "Dr. Liger is a bit... Well, he's a bit much. Since Renais is sill in critical condition, he's been – well, he's been hamming it up to cover his concern for his daughter."
"Cardiff Shishioh is the head Three G scientist's daughter?" 003 gasped.
At Mr. White's nod affirmative, 006 noted, "Don't that beet all."
"No wonder she's crazy on the battlefield!" 007 pointed out. "She's the walking trope Mad Scientist's Beautiful Daughter! She's probably been having to beat men off her with a stick before Soldato-J came along."
Mr. White's grin was strained. And he looked positively relieved when the speakers announced, "Dr. White, sir! We are beginning docking procedures!"
"Doctor, is it?" Dr. Gilmore inquired.
"Engineering and bio engineering with a focus on cybernetics."
Dr. Gilmore nodded. "Brief me on the patient as we go, if you please."
"Of course, Dr. Gilmore – correct?"
"Issac Gilmore. Please forgive my lack of manners."
Dr. Gilmore heard his family fall into step behind him. It did not take more than a minute for the "shop talk" to start flying fast and furious. If nothing else, this excursion was turning into one of those rare adventures that had nothing even remotely related to Black Ghost involved. And, more importantly, it would give him and his family a chance to see Three G up close and in person before they made their final decision.
An hour into examining Renais Cardiff Shishioh's modifications, and Dr. Gilmore was reassessing his earlier thought about there being nothing related to Black Ghost involved.
"Dr. Gilmore!" 003 was by his side, steadying him.
For her sake, Dr. Gilmore tried to slow down his stampeding heart. "I'm alright, child," Dr. Gilmore tried to assure her though he felt the opposite of alright. 001 used his telekinesis to set the chair Dr. Gilmore had hastily vacated back on its legs.
Once Dr. Gilmore was seated, 001 floated himself to lay in Dr. Gilmore's arms. Which Dr. Gilmore had to admit helped tremendously. His family was safe. His family wasn't in danger.
God please let me not be wrong about their safety!
The eccentric Dr. Liger asked with a perfectly straight face, "What's wrong?" And how anyone with bright pink hair that shot up like the afterburner of a rocket, dressed in yellow spandex of all things, expected to be taken seriously –
"When did you say Ms. Cardiff Shishioh was modified?" Dr. Gilmore inquired, surprised his voice was not shaking like a leaf in a hurricane.
"The first time or the second time?" Dr. Liger inquired.
"Oh! That's right. Ms. Cardiff Shishioh did say something about having been forcibly modified." 003 informed Dr. Gilmore, "I didn't think much of it at the time, considering how..." Absently, she touched the pocket the Three G pager was tucked in to.
Dr. Gilmore's voice shook as he stated, "They didn't use any anesthesia."
"Oh?"
Not defensive. Not terrified. Pure scientific curiosity. It made Dr. Gilmore sick to his stomach.
You already knew, 001 stated – for Dr. Gilmore, 003, and 006's benefit.
Dr. Liger looked as old as Dr. Gilmore's age. "Yes. I know what BioNet did to my daughter. I know how they did what they did." His eyes were hard as he announced, "I modified her the second time." Tone softening slightly, he asked, "How did you know?"
"How did I know? How could I not know? The evidence is all over!" Dr. Gilmore gestured to the microscopic slides he had been analyzing. The samples, taken from Ms. Cardiff Shishioh's cybernetic nerves, had been fascinating – before he had realized what he was truly looking at.
"Sorry, doc, you lost us," 006 blinked.
"Think of it... Think of it like putting in a replacement part for a computer." It was a horrible analogy – they were people, Dr. Gilmore's family! – but it was the best he could come up with. "When you need to replace or install a part, you turn the computer off. Electricity running through the circuit can cause havoc, after all. Put in a new part while things are active and you have a good chance of blowing out the replacement and the whole system. The same goes for neural networks. By putting in cybernetic neural networks while the individual is conscious, both the cybernetics and the organic nerves become..."
"Like overcooked octopus?" 006 grimly inquired.
"Yes," Dr. Gilmore finished lamely, "rather like." Unbidden, his eyes turned towards where Ms. Cardiff Shishioh slept. 003, who could see through the walls and corridors separating them, likewise turned to look.
Startled, she looked back at Dr. Gilmore. "That's why her systems continually overheat, isn't it? Because the circuit isn't properly grounded."
Dr. Gilmore shook his head sadly as he stated, "Yes, I believe so."
Dr. Liger's eyes widened. Slowly, he sunk into the closest chair. And for a time looked wholly defeated.
You knew.
Dr. Liger nodded as if detached from the here and now. "I had hoped... I had so hoped I was wrong. That maybe... Maybe, someday, technology would catch up with the damage BioNet had done..." There were tears filling his eyes; a few escaped past the sunglasses he wore.
Resolve crashed into Dr. Gilmore. A whole miniature tidal wave of it, as 003, 006, and 001 came to the same unanimous conclusion. Dr. Liger looked so much like the victims of Black Ghost, there was no other conclusion they could have reached.
We're all in accord, Dr. Gilmore. All nine of us.
Dr. Gilmore nodded. "Dr. Liger."
Dr. Gilmore's Three G counterpart raised his head.
"Is the invitation to join Three G still open?"
The startled smile was bright enough to fill the whole space station.