Chapter 12: Exhibition, II

Merribit's attention drifted from the coffeetable book of photos of the history of the museum she'd been obliged to go through with the head of Guest Services as a young girl's excited voice came to the central island of desks seemingly ahead of her body.

"Excuse me! Excuse me!"

"Yes, Miss?" said the docent next to Merribit and the manager.

"I'd like to become a patron!"

The docent indulged her, "Is that so? We're very grateful."

Merribit glanced at the girl as she came to the desk beside her, and after a second look froze, panic overtaking her. It was Almiria Bauduin. Which could only mean -

"Miss Stapleton, what a pleasant surprise."

Merribit swallowed, turned to face McGillis Fareed approaching his young fiance. She smiled quickly. "I might say the same, Sir!"

"One must have a diversion every now and again," he said, and placed a gloved hand behind Almiria's back, "Almiria is quite the patron of the arts, and has taken a keen interest in science and technology."

"For you, Mackey," the girl said. "I want to know more about your work."

The two adults chuckled politely.

"It so happened that I also needed to come to check on the final preparations for tonight's gala," he continued. "Which reminds me." He fished in his jacket pocket and procured a narrow envelope, "I'm a little old-fashioned - might I ask you to give this invitation to your employer?"

Merribit accepted it, tucked it in her purse. "Of course."

A slight pause, and then McGillis said, "Well, don't let us keep you. Enjoy the rest of your visit."

She returned the smile and, realizing it was a strange but irrefutable cue to leave, excused herself. She did her best to keep calm as she searched for the rest of the team.

It cannot be pure coincidence that McGillis is here on the same day that we arrive searching for clues, even if the Komori exhibit has been open for a week now, she thought. And now there's an evening gala of some kind? She wanted to open the invitation to ascertain the particulars for herself, but refrained. It's possible that he's already seen Artima wandering about, and even if he hasn't, me being here will have aroused suspicion - we were meant to be heading for Mars, after all. We need to leave as soon as possible.

Azee fell into step beside her as she headed for the special exhibit. "I saw," she said. "Lafter and Akihiro will still be outside; I saw Eugene come this way not long ago."

"Presumably headed for Artima," said Merribit, trying to cheer herself. "He's becoming predictable, that one. Convenient for us, though."


He felt like a creep, realizing what he'd done. Following just out of sight - wanting to see if she'd pick up on his presence - roaming through these pieces of her private life on display for everyone, then standing here watching her from a distance as she seemed to get her bearings yet look more and more lost as she did so.

This is bad, Eugene thought to himself. Orga was right. You need to -

He was startled when Artima rushed to a small trash can beside one of the staff's interactive displays and vomited into it. As he walked over the staff member anxiously offered her a paper napkin and a half-drunk bottle of water, which she accepted with an apology.

"Hey, you all right?" he asked as he joined her. She gave him a severe look with raised eyebrows, but didn't object when, without waiting for any other response, he began to lead her away. "Sorry, I guess it's obvious. Let's go." He navigated them carefully through the crowds.

Artima swigged at the water, kept silent and kept her head down.


"Clearly it's deliberate," Merribit said. "It could be a trap of some kind."

"He doesn't have any reason to trap me," Orga said. "We're business partners at this point." He glanced at Artima, expecting some kind of snide holier-than-thou remark, but she was quiet as she sipped at a large bottle of water that she'd turned light green earlier with some kind of powder, apparently preoccupied with not coughing too much in front of him. She'd been oddly quiet since the group got back, come to think of it. He fiddled with the gala invitation in his hand, then sat forward. "Well, time to RSVP." He propped the tablet up and made the call; the dial echoed through the office. Artima walked slowly away from the window to behind the tablet to remove her shadow from view.

McGillis accepted the call with a, "Glad to hear from you."

Orga held up the embossed cream card, "Got your invite. Didn't realize this was your kinda thing."

"Normally not," he admitted, "but for one, it's an interest of my fiance and therefore mine, and two, this particular occasion is worth my backing."

"The 'private advanced viewing of additions to the exhibit'," Orga quoted from the card. "What might that be?"

"Oh I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise. Will we see you there?"

"Brings me to my point - isn't it a risk to us both for me to be anywhere near you?"

McGillis smiled indulgently. "It's a small gathering. Invitations have only been given to those who share our goals. Your presence will not be a risk. Of course, if you're still concerned you're welcome to send an emissary - I'm sure you can think of someone worth sending in your stead."

Orga both felt Artima and Merribit's eyes on him, but held McGillis' own. So this was about Artima, some kind of way. An opportunity to hand her over, maybe. But if so, why do so publicly rather than the quieter method they'd hypothetically agreed upon before? Why go through all this trouble? He considered a moment. "I'll be there," he said.

"That's good to hear. And don't forget your plus-one."

Another jibe that he wouldn't entertain. "I won't."

The call ended. His eyes lifted to Artima. She didn't blink as she asked, "Does he know I'm among you?"

Her wording conjured the image of the viper they'd seen on the forest floor, but he didn't blink either as he said, "Not that I'm aware of."

Interestingly, she did not push. But even more interestingly, it was Mikazuki instead. "Miss Merribit, you said that special exhibit was all about Artima's time? And that part of it was blocked off?"

Merribit agreed.

"Then, what if this opening of a new part of the exhibit is something to do with Artima's suit?" Mikazuki speculated.

Merribit's eyebrows rose and she tipped her head to one side. "If McGillis suspects she's with us, putting the suit on display could be a lure," she agreed. "Though it seems like going through all that trouble would take a lot of time to prepare - he'd have to have suspected for a while."

"He may think we have the Khort Mogoi, too," Mikazuki added. His tone was uncertain and Orga had to wonder what the purpose of the pretense was - owing to their conversation when they were bringing the Khort Mogoi on board, Mikazuki knew that Orga had been in touch with McGillis and by association, that he'd told McGillis of their acquisition - and there was no point in that acquisition if they did not, in addition, have Artima. The office was suddenly claustrophobic, even with just the four of them.

Mika what are you trying to do? Get me to own up? That'll get us nowhere, Orga thought. "It's a possibility," he admitted - after all, beware he who doth protest too much. "It could also be a bluff. We won't know anything for certain unless I go. Mika, you'll come with me. Unless..." he looked at Artima. "I mean, it is your life in that room."

Artima smirked, "What, you think I'm going to get all dressed up and do the glamorous lady-spy thing? You really don't know much about espionage outside storybooks, do you?"

"I wouldn't know, we didn't have those in CGS," he smirked back. "Though to be honest espionage isn't my style, anyhow."

She walked toward the door. "I'll go, but not with you - I'll pose as a member of waitstaff and hide until lights out, if there's anything worth hiding for."

His head fell back, resting on the chair. "The invite says Nine PM," he said, and sighed when the door shut behind her. Pick your battles. And besides…

"I guess I'll help her sort out a uniform," Merribit stood.

Orga frowned at the ceiling. "Ms Merribit," he said to stop her. "What was Artima drinking?"

"She said she had a scratchy throat, is all. We stopped and got her Vitamin C powder on our way back." She chuckled, "Nothing suspicious, promise. Her immune system is still getting back online, as it were. I do wish both of you would stop being so suspicious of one another. It's exhausting." She left.

The tail of his thought came back to him. ...and besides, soon it won't be my battle at all.

"Tonight, then," Mikazuki said into the quiet. "Are you sure?"

Another sigh. He couldn't answer.


Orga and Artima had at least agreed that he not be aware of her arrival or her movements. He wasn't entirely sure when she'd left the Isaribi, in fact. He and Mikazuki had arrived ten minutes later than the advertized Nine o'clock by design; he'd donned his usual suit but, though Merribit had offered, Mikazuki had refused to dress for the occasion, which drew curious looks as they entered the museum. The building was lit both inside and outside, and a hired pianist was sending unobtrusive notes into the heights. There were maybe a dozen to twenty people in suits, Gjallarhorn uniforms, and evening gowns, he estimated, with a handful of waitstaff in the dark green shirts and white silk ties of the museum carrying lacquer trays of finger-foods and champagne. It didn't take long for them to be found; he accepted a crystal flute just to have something to do and to help him blend in. Mikazuki declined the skewered shrimp in favor of the perpetual plums from his pocket. They were both glancing around for Artima as they moved through the crowd.

"You made it, I see!"

Orga turned at McGillis' voice as he moved through the crowd toward them. "It would have been rude to cancel last-minute," he replied.

McGillis glanced at Mikazuki, "And you brought your plus-one. Though not the one I was expecting!"

Orga was tired already. "Who were you expecting instead?"

An aide interrupted McGillis' response. "Sir, all the invitees have arrived."

"Good, thank you. No need to waste time. Excuse me," he nodded to them both with that ever-present smile and moved away, toward the grand staircase. When he reached it he climbed up a few steps to be seen above the crowd, and announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, if you'd be so kind as to make your way to the special exhibit."

Excitedly, the crowd moved as one to the hall under the stairs, directed by more staff. Orga and Mikazuki lingered for a moment and then followed the other guests to the eastern wing. The left side was devoted to the special exhibit that Merribit and the others had reported back about earlier that day; he recognized the salient points as staff escorted them through it - no doubt to up the suspense - all the way to the very back of the wing. A walkway had been opened up between two temporary walls to allow entrance to the previously blocked-off back portion of the right side of the wing. Orga eyed McGillis as he and a Gjallarhorn aide emerged on a stage at the far end.

As the space opened up, Orga saw that the stage wrapped around a covered rectangular shape - presumably a case of some kind - and that in the center of the space was a roped-off, large holographic projector platform about a couple of feet high, currently displaying a slowly-rotating Gjallarhorn crest. Otherwise the space was oddly bereft of 'exciting additions'. Still no sign of Artima.

"Welcome, again," said McGillis to calm the noise. "I'm honored to have you all here. As you've seen in your walk-through, Chifeng takes well-deserved pride in accurately and enthusiastically portraying the link between our colonial past and our current success as a governing body, thanks to advances in military technology - and, hopefully, wiser decisions." He smiled coyly.

Polite laughter at some joke Orga didn't care to try to get.

"Those of you familiar with my work -"

Is that what we're calling it? Orga thought.

"- know that I also take pride: in having my finger on the pulse for new developments that would see Gjallarhorn to greater heights, and in being resourceful that will facilitate those new developments." He began to pace slowly. "We all are aware that thanks to salvaging efforts on the Gundams Wing, Deathscythe, and - most recently and most especially - the Eternal Meteor, also known as the Komori, we were able to bolster our own technology. What you may not know is that there is a fourth lost Gundam frame we should be thanking." He gestured at the holograph display. All of the lights in the wing faded to black.

He supposed he shouldn't have been, but Orga was nonetheless shocked by the appearance, in partial blue-tinted color like a bad bruise, of the Khort Mogoi in the display to his left. The crowd turned in unison, pressing toward it as if they understood all of its to-scale intricacies. It turned too, humoring them. Then Orga realized that it wasn't the accurate depiction of the Gundam - as if they'd taken a picture of it in the Isaribi's hold - that unsettled him, but the dark. Or rather, who moved in the dark with movements completely out of his control or knowledge. It was the depths of the water all over again.

He focused on the hologram. Don't be ridiculous. She won't do anything you need to worry about and besides, it's not you she's after. He caught this last thought by the tail. After? She's not after anyone tonight. But what if she was? He was distracted by McGillis speaking again.

"The Khort Mogoi. Companion Gundam to the Komori and prototype for what was known as the Viper Construct, which succeeded the ZERO System and as a result, bridges that crude origin to our far more elegant Alaya-Vijnana System," said McGillis. He paused, waited for the crowd to digest, then continued. "A curiosity, to be sure. But it's understandable if you ask yourself what possible use such a curiosity has when it is so outdated."

The hologram dimmed, but the lights didn't go back on. Orga resisted the unreasonable anxiety that gnawed at him, surreptitiously scanned the faces around him as they shifted to look at McGillis for direction, expecting Artima to have suddenly appeared beside him. Mikazuki was staring at him when Orga looked his way, as though detecting the thought. A small smile.

The sound of the sheet being pulled off the display beside the stage brought Orga's attention back around again. His squint was alleviated when the large rectangular glass case was slowly illuminated from below with golden light, revealing Artima's pilot suit at last. It was black and ran from neck to wrist to ankle, as most of the old specialized suits did, and was hung spreadeagle. The front, one leg, and one arm were unzipped and splayed open, though from this distance Orga couldn't see what was being shown inside. From what he'd heard from Artima, Merribit, and Shino, however - and what he remembered of the bloody pinpricks on Artima's legs that fateful day - he recalled that there would be hundreds of needles inside.

"The Viper Construct was more of a physical system than the ZERO System and in that respect, closer to our Alaya-Vijnana System," McGillis explained. "As much as we rightfully admire our system and the elegance I mentioned, it does have one flaw: it requires surgery, and it requires it by a certain age in order to be successful. The Viper Construct, though it of course required mental and physical conditioning as any system would, does not have such dire limits. I propose to use it to remove those limits."

A few murmurs went through the crowd.

McGillis placed his hands behind his back, looked down at the stage as he walked a couple more paces, "Bad news, though, I'm afraid."

Orga raised an eyebrow.

"And good news," McGillis conceded. "I would not present a problem to you all without having a solution!"

More mild chuckles.

"The bad news is that this suit is incomplete," he gestured at it, let his hand drop to his side. "It does not have its helmet, which we believe to have been attached to the Khort Mogoi itself. And as I'm sure you've noticed, there is no Khort Mogoi in whole or in part here. Neither do we have its short-lived pilot, the illustrious and elusive Artima Wei."

For some reason, Orga began to feel uneasy. Genuinely, this time. Something wasn't quite right. He nudged Mikazuki but didn't have anything to whisper.

After another languorous pause, McGillis leaned forward a little and added, "The good news, however, is that both the means to the suit and the pilot herself are in this very room."

Excited and perplexed whispers rustled to life.

Orga saw the shadow step into the hologram in his periphery at the same time he felt his stomach drop, as if they were one and the same. He'd barely turned his head when Artima had aimed her gun at the stage and fired.