Episode 3: Dark to Light
It was dark. Everything seemed enclosed and heavy, and Sean foggily decided he was in a tunnel. He was on his feet, sweating, but healthy. [I vaguely remember being injured... or was that a nightmare?] {Iczel?} he called, noticing that he was still Iczelion. Iczel didn't reply. {*Iczel?*} Still nothing. The armor seemed heavy on Sean's body, lifeless. {**ICZEL?!??**} He didn't realize that he'd screamed aloud until a heavy voice reverberated down the tunnel.
"The alien pet ain't gonna help you now." The voice brought back the awful memories of the recent fight. [Oh shit, Firehawk!,] Sean thought. He leaped airborne -
-and came down on his face as he utterly failed to fly. [What the?!?]
"I said, the alien ain't gonna help ya!" Coarse laughter echoed down the tunnel, which seemed to be a natural cavern and not a sewer. The hiss of jets announced Firehawk's approach, prompting Sean into a run. He sighed in relief as he came up to an area too narrow for the bulky Warhawk K-11 variants to pass through. Turning sideways, he squeezed through and ran around a bend in the tunnel. As he paused, panting, Firehawk bellowed in fury.
"YOU THINK THIS'LL STOP ME?!!" The roar was punctuated by the flare and **P-SHOOM** of Firehawk's huge particle cannon. Fear jolted Sean back into a run, and he sighed again as he came into a cavern with four more tunnels leading into it. Sean took a hard right and charged into the nearest one, rounding a corner and, against all logic, coming up against a sliding door. Not stopping to think, he wrenched it open -
and jolted to a stop, skidding down to his back, at the sight of Silverhawk inside the door.
[Shit.] He scrambled to his feet as Silverhawk spoke.
"You're helpless! I know, I can tell! I could break you in half with no weapons at all, scared little boy!" Sean slammed the door and ran back to the cavern. The sound of Silverhawk's pulse laser reducing the door to rubble sped his steps. The air seemed warmer, uncomfortably so - or was that just him? He turned to the next tunnel, noting as he did that the farthest tunnel from him seemed very wide. As Sean pounded down the new tunnel, he came upon another narrow spot and grinned. [I'm out of here,] he thought.
A glance through the gap proved Sean wrong. Nighthawk was there, as if waiting for him. The black K-11 variant spoke in a voice cold as the grave.
"I thought we should've killed you and foregone the bonus - it would've been more certain. I could do it now, without blinking an eye. I don't lose my temper -" a bellow from Firehawk echoed through the caves - "like _some_ people, but as long as the job gets done, it's no skin off my nose, whatever happens." He extended a vibroblade from one arm and began cutting a way through the bottleneck as Sean, now close to a raving panic, pelted back to the cavern and ran into the fourth passage. It ran for a good hundred yards and around three bends before it came to a door - a door Sean recognized.
[That's the door to Sylia's room back at the penthouse! I'll be safe there!,] he thought, somewhat irrationally. He tore the door open and leaped inside before slamming it behind him, cutting off the noise from the caverns as if by magic. Then he sagged back against the door before turning to look at the room. He froze. There in Sylia's bed, with the covers pulled up to her neck, was Yvette - Skyhawk!
"My goodness, Iczelion, how forward! Decided to accept my offer after all, hmm?" Her eyes were two green flames of desire, and Sean froze, unable to move for a moment. Slowly, as if through cement, his hand moved toward the doorknob, his only thought to flee.
"Oh, don't do that, please!" Yvette implored. "If you go back out there, my friends will get you. It'll be _so_ much nicer to stay in here..." Sean's hand shook as if he had palsy, but with a supreme effort of will, he closed it on the knob. As the door opened, the room disappeared, leaving bare rock - and Yvette simply _morphed_ into the Skyhawk suit with a banshee's scream. "All right! You had your chance! You could have had heaven, now GO TO HELL!"
Indeed, the stones were the color of dried blood, and the heat became oppressive. Sean sprinted back to the main chamber with Skyhawk in hot pursuit, and saw to his horror that the other Warhawks were emerging from their tunnels. He turned to the last, wide corridor, but a salvo of missiles from Firehawk collapsed it, pinning his legs. All the weapons the four suits had came to bear, and Sean could only see the brilliant flash of white light...
*** ***
Sean woke from the nightmare in an unfamiliar bed to the sounds of Sylia talking with, from the voice, a middle-aged male. Sylia was just asking,
"But you're *sure* he'll make a full recovery, Dr. Zahn?"
The male voice replied, sounding vaguely annoyed. "Sylia, I put the _full_ medical resources here into ensuring that he'd recover without complications. Have I disappointed you yet?" Sean caught a brief flash of embarrassment along their link, and she replied,
"No, you haven't. I think he's awake, so... thank you, Richard."
Richard asked, "Sylia, I haven't heard that degree of concern in your voice since Priss got injured in that Skorpion incident. You seem a bit less reserved, too. Is it him?"
"Yes. He knows about me, and we... we're lovers."
"Indeed," Richard replied. "Before events sidetracked me, I was vying for that position, did you ever realize that? You never gave a sign if you did. Well, my compliments to the lucky man." Heavy footsteps receded in the hall, and Sylia entered the room with Sean.
"You heard?" she asked. Sean nodded, looking down at himself in the process. His head seemed to be bandaged, his right forearm and left middle finger were in casts - [My gosh, that looks obscene,] Sean thought - and so was his left shin. His ribs were heavily taped, but painless.
Sylia explained, "We brought you here after you passed out. Richard Zahn is... unusual, like most of my friends, but his clinic and medical skills are excellent. He and I have an understanding about medical care for friends of mine, no questions asked. He's also been my doctor for some time, and he knows about my... condition." Sean nodded again, realizing Sylia was referring to her intellectual enhancement. She went on, "He has been a good friend and might have been more if I'd allowed it to happen. One more for the file on 'what might have been.'" She smiled. "And on the subject of friends..." Sylia commented as Sylvie, Linna, Priss, Nene, and Mackie filed into the room. Seeing the downcast expressions on his friends' faces, Sean tried to lighten the mood.
"Hi guys! Boy, isn't it _awful_ what can happen to you from falling down the steps?" Priss and Linna cocked an eye at him while Mackie, Sylvie, and Nene grinned. Faced with only partial success, Sean tried again. "Aw, come on! It's not as bad as what _you_ threatened to do to me once, Linna!" Every eye in the room focused on the dancer as Linna colored slightly, then explained.
"We'd been training for about a week when he put his hand squarely in my crotch to try and lift me above his head." Now the stares were directed at Sean.
"Hey," he defended himself, "I'd done all my training before that with either males, Mannequins, or family! I didn't realize my crime until I found myself on my butt with a sore _everything!_" The group looked at each other and grinned. Deciding to get some information, Sean asked, "So..." he looked to see the door firmly shut. "How badly did you trash those 'Warhawk' goons?"
It was the wrong thing to say. Sylvie looked concerned while Nene and Sylia studied the floor and Linna and Priss glared at them. Priss answered first, still glaring at Sylia.
"Linna and I _wanted_ to go after them, but _Sylia_ insisted on letting them go to get you to the clinic! We were _really_ mad when it turned out your injuries weren't life-threatening! I -" Priss broke off as Linna grabbed her arm and she looked up to see Sean gone totally pale.
"Th.. They're still _out_ there?" The query was a bare whisper.
*** ***
Nearly a week had gone by since Sean's arrival in the clinic, and after the casts came off, Dr. Zahn finally gave permission for Sean to undergo non-strenuous exercise. Sean, keeping in mind his promise to Nene, had called her and arranged for her to visit during his exercise hours. As a result, the two of them were sweating as they finished an hour of finding and holding various T'ai Chi positions.
"Normally," Sean commented as the two sat down, "I'd just be holding the position long enough for you to reach it yourself, then observing, but I need to get my body back into shape as much as you need to practice the positions and forms. As I recover I may be doing this less and less." Nene pouted - she'd have preferred to do more, but she was _exhausted._
"I never knew it could be so much work just holding one position!" she commented as she flopped into her seat.
"Well, it was a lot of different positions, but yes, that ability to just stand still and _not_ move is as crucial to martial arts as the ability to punch or kick exactly where you intend to - and that's another thing we were working on today," Sean replied. "We can keep training daily to build up our stamina. Like I said, I need to recover my old levels of ability, and you need to improve your current ones." A nurse came to the door, and Sean finished, "Uh-oh. Looks like my moment of freedom is over. See you tomorrow, Nene!" Nene dragged herself to her feet and waved a tired good-bye to Sean as the young man was led back to his bed.
*** ***
Priss pulled her towel off the security camera after making sure she was fully clothed - [There's a fine art to frustrating Mackie,] she thought with a grin. She and the other original Sabers had just gotten back from putting down a rogue BU-55-C Boomer in the Canyons, and she was in a pretty good mood. [It would've been even better,] she mused, [if Sean and Sylvie could've come along, but I can't argue with Sylia's reasons _this_ time. It's only been three weeks since Sean was injured, so he could still be feeling it even if they are mostly healed, and Sylvie hasn't had _any_ experience operating with the team yet.] She grinned. [From the expression on Sylia's face I'll bet Sean was arguing for inclusion in the operation via 'sending' even as we left. She deserves at least that much for letting those _damned_ mercs get away scot-free!] The grin vanished. [Oh well, I may as well go say 'Hi' to Sean.]
Priss knocked on Sean's door. "Sean? It's Priss! Wanna hear how we trashed the Boomer?"
"Go away," Sean muttered from inside the room.
"What? That's pretty damn rude! After pestering Sylia about going I thought you'd at least want to hear how it went!"
"I don't care anymore, now go away!" Sean cried. Annoyed, Priss tried the knob. The door was unlocked, and she stepped inside. There was no immediate sign of Sean until Priss looked over to the corner to see Sean huddled there in a ball. She dashed over to him with a yell.
"SEAN! Hey, are you okay!?" Her only answer was mutters and what sounded like a sob. Looking him over, Priss couldn't see any sign of physical injury, so she took him by the shoulders and shook him hard. "HEY!! Snap out of it! What the hell's the matter with you, anyway?!" She started when Sean looked up at her - his eyes were positively _haunted._
"I - I don't know if I'll be coming back to the Knight Sabers anymore..." He started sobbing again.
"_What?_ Of course you'll be back! You haven't gotten _that_ rusty in three weeks -" she stopped as Sean began talking very quietly.
"When Sylia made the decision that I wouldn't be coming, I didn't like it. I argued with her via 'sending' for a good five minutes after you left. Finally, she got fed up and cut me off, and I went to the window to calm down. I have a pretty good view of the street from up here, and I figured out later that what I saw was an A.D.P. K-11 suit on its way to the Boomer incident. That wasn't what I thought at the time, though. I saw the silhouette and I freaked! I thought it was the Warhawks come to get me - I was so panicked I didn't even call for Iczel, I just cowered in the corner! Then, when I snapped out of that, it hit me that I had been that scared just at the _sight_ of a K-11! How'm I supposed to be a useful Knight Saber like that?!?" he lamented, burying his head in his hands. Priss stared down at the young man who she'd almost come to think of as a younger brother because he'd seemed to take the fighting in stride so well. Suddenly, an answer dawned on her.
"Sean, have you ever been beaten before?" she asked. He looked at her like she was crazy.
"Are you kidding? Of course I've lost before, I lose to Linna all the time when we spar! What does that have to do with any-" Priss cut him off.
"Sean, I meant 'beaten' as in 'pinned down so you can't fight back and had the shit kicked out of you' beaten, like a beat-*ing.*" Sean just stared, resembling a deer caught in the glare of headlights. The singer sighed. "I guess not. You're lucky: most people who learn to fight have it happen to them at least once while they're learning. By what you said about the Warhawks, they batted you around without much trouble, right? And they hurt you pretty badly in the bargain. So now you're scared of them: it's only natural. I went through it too, once." Priss fell silent for a moment as her own memories resurfaced. "I joined the Highwaymen - a bike gang - when I was around 17. One day I was coming out of a karaoke joint when four or five Outriders - that gang's still around today - jumped me. Someone called the Normal Police and they broke it up before I was seriously hurt, but I couldn't fight for weeks, 'cause I kept *feeling* the hands holding me down, *seeing* the fists come down again and again..." She started at the feel of a hand laid across her wrist, then pulled out of her memories to see Sean's hand there.
"How..." Sean cleared his throat and tried again. "How did you get over it?" Priss looked Sean in the eye.
"Basically? It took time. At the end, I spent a whole day arguing with myself in my trailer, convincing myself I didn't need to be so scared. Finally, I figured out what I could *do* about something like that, and that's when I stole myself a gun." The singer looked Sean over - at least he seemed to be thoughtful now instead of miserable. "I'll let you think about it - this is somethin' you have to do yourself." She let herself out, worried - Sean had a hard road ahead of him. She brightened as she remembered that she and the Replicants had a concert scheduled in a few days - maybe there was something she could do!
*** ***
Sean, much to Iczel's delight, had called her to him as soon as Priss's advice sank in. [Half the terror of being beaten so badly is that I don't know _how_ they did that. If Iczel and I can figure that out, I'm halfway home.] Aloud, he asked his partner, "So. Any theories about those shields, Iczel? I mean, I know they're made of the BU-12-B's ceramel composites, but how did they parry so perfectly?"
Iczel's reply was almost immediate. "Sean, I've been studying that battle ever since you recovered. Sylia even let me download my memories of it into her computer so we could examine it together. We detected a slight fluctuation in their scan patterns every time we were about to fire or slash at them. Sylia also realized that the arms of the suits - especially Firehawk - were supporting far too much weight to have human arms inside. Our best guess is that the arms of a Warhawk model K-suit are fully mechanical, not sleeves around human arms, and they were slaved to the suit scanners and some sort of dedicated point-defense computer."
Sean digested this for a moment. "So basically, the scanners detect us about to fire, extrapolate the impact point, and move one arm and its forearm shield to intercept the attack before it strikes normal armor. Bad news is, that system can probably intercept anything I can shoot, good news is, I don't have to worry about putting a human in the hospital by hitting the arms of the suit with gravitic strikes - and there's no way those dinky shields can take that kind of abuse. Now how did I get hurt so badly? The forcefields should've protected us, right?"
Iczel paused for a moment before answering. "Sean, that requires a reasonably detailed explanation of the concepts and functions of your twin-field system."
Sean groaned. "I didn't get this the last time you tried to explain it, Iczel! Can you at least *try* to keep it simple?" Iczel sighed, audibly and mentally, before nodding to her partner. "Okay then, explain away."
Taking a moment to think, Iczel framed her reply. "All right. The outer field, the sphere that you have to concentrate on to use, is our strongest defense. It becomes stronger the tighter your focus on it becomes, and it can readily intercept solid projectiles or energy beams. It does allow air exchange, however, unless you specifically tighten the field to block it, so gases and shockwaves propagated through the air will only be slowed down a little if you're not defending against them." Sean's face lit up.
"Oh, _now_ I get it! That's why those concussion missiles got damage through the field!"
"Exactly. Now the inner field is in constant operation, but it needs to be flexible to allow you your full range of motion *and* permit you to touch and grab objects without them slipping along the field and away. So while the skinfield is excellent against energy beams, it will only stop solid impacts if they are above the velocities that a normal human can use." Sean frowned.
"But the HyperBoomers and Skyhawk both hit a *lot* harder than a human - how come _they_ got through?" he asked. Iczel sighed.
"Sean, you weren't listening. The field doesn't acknowledge overall _force_ or _momentum,_ just _speed._ The extra force behind the physical strikes that have often broken your ribs comes from mass, not speed, so the field doesn't protect us!"
Sean looked crestfallen. "Oops. Problem."
*** ***
It was the next day when Sylia called all of the Sabers to Survival Shot to engage in another 'training' exercise. Sylia, Sylvie, and Nene had beaten Priss, Linna, and Sean when Sean had missed a clean shot at Sylia and she'd shot him down with ease. On the way out of the restaurant, Priss was still complaining to Sean.
"I just don't know why you can't learn to shoot! You and Sylia were the only two left, if you'd gotten her, we'd have won again! Don't you practice?"
Sean sighed. "Priss, I _used to_ practice my aim regularly, but my convalescence kind of put a stop to that as I retrained myself to get back to my old levels. I'm just thankful for 2030's medicine: if I'd been mangled that badly thirty years ago, I'd still be bedridden." He shivered at the thought. "Ugh! Can't they ever serve *good* food in a hospital, or is there some union rule against it?"
Linna laughed. "Well, if that's the worst you went through from those injuries, I'll stop worrying." Priss and Sean both started, and Sylia sighed. "What? What's wrong?" Linna asked. Sylia looked over at Sean and Priss, but neither one seemed inclined to speak.
Sylia sighed again. "I believe Sean has suffered psychological trauma from his ordeal. He admitted to Priss when she pressed him and to me later that day that he was terrorstruck at the sight of an A.D.P. K-11 suit enroute to our engagement. I believe he will recover," she smiled at Sean as she said this, and he felt as though the sun had risen inside him, "but _when_ is an open question. The only cures are determination and time."
Sean was suddenly surrounded by solicitous friends, as everyone but Sylia and Priss clustered around him with questions, sympathy, and encouragement. He closed his eyes and fought the impulse to burst into tears. [To have such good friends is the stuff of dreams, but the thought of not helping them is a nightmare! I _have_ to get through this... if I can just figure out how...]
*** ***
Such thoughts were much farther from Sean's mind a week later. In his rush to get back up to speed, Sean had stepped up the intensity of his training sessions with Nene, his only concession to her feelings being that he made sure *never* to tease or taunt her about her flaws, just to point them out politely. Politeness only goes so far when one is on one's back with the wind knocked out of you, meaning Nene started putting a lot more effort into _her_ training to try and get a little of her own back on her teacher. The result was that Sean was actually putting some effort into their current freestyle sparring session.
[I can hardly believe how much she's improved!] Sean thought, amazed, as Nene hit the mat after Sean swept her feet out from under her and bounced right back to her feet in a creditable nip-up. He flicked a jab at her face as she straightened, and she ducked her head to one side, dodging the blow. She crouched lower and kicked at Sean's ankle from her crouch, and he jumped back to avoid it. He pressed forward quickly to try and force Nene into the ropes, where his advantages of weight and reach would be most effective. His surprise was complete when Nene didn't retreat. Instead, she turned side-on to him, extended one leg out across his path, hooked an elbow under his shoulder, and rolled him over her hip to crash on his back. [A - a hiptoss!] was his first (stunned) thought after landing. His second concerned vengeance, but that was put on hold as he opened his eyes to see Nene jumping around yelling "I DID IT! I DID IT!" over and over. He slapped the mat three times in a signal to end the match, then rolled to his feet.
"Well done, Nene! That was a textbook hiptoss, or hip-roll as some people call it! I didn't think you were paying attention during the wrestling lessons," he finished.
"Well, I wasn't at first, but I remembered what you said about not relying too much on any one kind of fighting, so I practiced the motions behind your back, kinda. I asked to use the ring at the Fitness Bee and one of the practice dummies."
"You sure did that well enough! (cough) So what other wrestling moves have you studied?"
Nene gave Sean an innocent look. "What makes you think I studied other moves?"
Sean just smiled. After a moment, Nene relented. "Oh, okay. I studied a few others: the one where you grab the attacker's arm, pull it straight, and drive him to the ground.."
"The armbar takedown," Sean interjected.
"Yeah, and the one where you grab the enemy's head under your arm and fall backward to spike his head down to the floor..."
"The D.D.T."
"Yeah. Why's it called that, anyway?"
"I think it's a reference to some poison from the 1970's, but I'm not sure. Go on."
"The last one I studied was the one where you sort of run at the other guy and smash your arm across his throat. Priss said a Boomer used that on her once."
"Oh, the clothesline! Yeah, but be careful about using that on opponents bigger than you, including Boomers. You've gotta be able to knock them off their feet to be effective with that."
"O.K., Kai-sensei!"
"Gah. Now I know what Linna meant."
"Huh?"
"She always complained that it made her feel old if I used 'sensei' as an honorific."
"Oh. Well, Priss invited us all to her concert with the Replicants tonight. Are you gonna come, or are you too sore?" Nene asked with a sly grin.
"Impudent student! I'll be there, never fear, even if Largo were between me and Hot Legs, I'd be there after _that_ gibe!"
Nene, laughing, ran towards the ladies' changeroom. "I'll see you there! Later!"
"Later, Nene!"
*** ***
Later that evening, Sean was at the Priss and the Replicants concert at Hot Legs with Sylvie, Linna, Nene, and Mackie. Priss had been her usual exuberant self, performing old favorites like 'Konya Hurricane' and 'Mad Machine'. As the concert was winding down, Priss paused after 'Burning Highway' and signaled that she had an announcement for the crowd. It took a few moments for everyone to quiet down, then Priss spoke.
"Okay, everyone, My voice is starting to go, but I'm gonna do one last song." She stared right down at Sean in the front row. "I wanna dedicate this song to a good friend of mine who I really hope takes this to heart. He knows who he is." Cheers and murmurs greeted the announcement, and Sean jumped as the Replicants played the opening chords of 'Victory'. Sean's thoughts mingled with the lyrics in his mind.
[What she told me before, how she was beaten - the song's about that! About the aftermath, I mean!]
"-Don't hide your eyes from the bitter facts spreading before you,/
Turn them into courage now and 'Blow Up - - Blow Up'!"
[She took the fear she suffered and turned it into anger, courage, who knows: she made it work _for_ her and not against her!]
"-so long as you keep believing in the power of love/
you will achieve your 'Victory', yours alone."
[She's right. I care about the Knight Sabers like family: I *will* *not* let this fear drive me away from them. I will have a 'victory' over it, over myself.]
"'-Never say Give Up, never again',
overcome your sadness.
'Never say Give Up, never again',
you will fly once more.
'Never say Give Up, Never again',
pierce through the storm,
'Never say Give Up, never again',
start running to tomorrow."
As Priss fell silent and the band took up the final chorus, she stared down at Sean again. Sean looked back up and nodded. [I understand, Priss. I won't let fear keep me down.]
*** ***
Across town, in a small bar called C'est La Vie, the only Knight Saber not to attend the concert was walking in to meet Fargo, her fixer and information broker. She sat down beside him at the bar, and as usual, the bartender noticed a blemish at the far end of the bar and went to polish it.
"Sylia. Looking lovely as ever, I see," Fargo commented. Sylia, however, was in no mood to flirt.
"I don't have time for this at the moment, Fargo. I've already deposited a sizable sum in your Geneva account: do you have the information I requested?"
Fargo frowned. "I'll say this for your requests, Sylia: they're seldom dull. I've had a fair amount of trouble getting information on the location of your targets, these 'Warhawks'; more than I should have for a set of relative newcomers to the city. They're either incredibly good at intelligence and social integration or they've been here longer than I can confirm."
Sylia frowned. "In that case, how reliable is your information?"
"I would say ninety-nine percent. The informant in question is a personal friend, and has been since my days as a private investigator. I saved his daughter's life from a drug overdose once, so no normal incentive would get him to betray me."
"Very well. Their location?"
"An abandoned warehouse in the reclamation zones, Canyonside. Private, and ready access to their quarry's most-frequented location." Fargo handed Sylia a disk. "The location and surrounding area are here." With that, he got up and walked out.
Sylia held the disk in her hand for a long time. [I promised there would be a reckoning for what you did to Sean, and now it's coming. Sean, unfortunately, is still having problems, and Sylvie is too inexperienced for this: tomorrow I'll wait for Sean to go out for his evening run and summon the original Knight Sabers to deal with these attackers. Sean,] she thought to herself, [you will be avenged, and the threat to the Knight Sabers dealt with.]
Across town, back at Hot Legs, Sean sneezed.
*** ***
The next evening, the hardsuited Knight Sabers - the original four - moved carefully closer to an abandoned building practically on the lip of the Canyons. Sylia waved in a hand signal to move in. The four closed on a door with a far-too-complex electronic lock, but Nene extended her computer probe and had the lock code broken in moments. As Linna and Priss pulled on the doors, they slid quietly open - one more indication that this warehouse was in better repair than it appeared. The four armored women slipped inside and trained their sensors on their surroundings. Inside the darkened building was a large truck similar to the Sabers' own mobile command center, and beside it were four silhouettes of modified K-11 Powered Suits. A hole in the floor large enough to accommodate two of the suits at once led into a storm drain and revealed the Warhawks' method of access to the Canyon. Over in one wall was a door with heat, visible on infrared scan, streaming out from it - a probable location for the pilots of the suits. Sylia stepped towards it - the others followed -
-and in a flash of static and a howl of haywire sensors, the situation dissolved into chaos. Sylia felt herself falling as her hardsuit lost all power, and realized what had happened. [A trap,] she thought. [They have some kind of E.M. pulse generator, and they used it to disable our hardsuits. If only I'd been able to install the EMP armor before this mission!]
She jumped as she felt her suit's arms being pulled behind her back, and something snap into place around them, pinning them there. Her sensors finally sorted out their programming and came back on line, only to show her the silver suit putting a clamp around her suit's legs, as the other Warhawks treated the other Sabers similarly. Nene was shouting and struggling, Priss was cursing vehemently, and Linna was trying to work an arm free of the hydraulic clamp pinning her hardsuit. [They were waiting for us,] Sylia realized. [Somehow, they either turned Fargo's agent or fed him false information, and set a trap!] She looked up as Skyhawk spoke.
"Greetings, Knight Sabers! I'm sorry that Iczelion isn't here, but I don't think he'll be too long in coming now that we've got you. You managed to break through our radio jamming when we ambushed him, so perhaps you have a sort of 'dead man's switch' signal that sounds an alarm if it's lost. Regardless, you can't fight or escape, so if he doesn't come, we'll just take you four to get the secondary contract." A dread colder than arctic ice chilled Sylia's soul.
*** ***
Sean had just come in from his run and nodded to Sylvie, who was closing up the Silky Doll, when an icicle of fear jabbed him from within. It was so similar to his panic at the sight of the K-suit that it took him a moment to recognize it as a 'sent' leakage. {Sylia! What's going on!?}
Her reply was a flashing replay of recent events - a trick they'd been working on for quite some time. Where she'd been during the concert. Her telling the other Sabers, except Sylvie, about the night's mission. The approach to the warehouse. The trap. Skyhawk's statement. Finally, she shifted back to words.
{Sean, I want you to stay away. Sylvie has the ability to take in all the information I have from my father - she and Mackie can help you in building the new Knight Sabers. You have the fear to cope with and Sylvie is still inexperienced, so you should cut your losses. I -} Sean cut her off.
{DAMN IT, Sylia! Do you think I'm gonna abandon you!?! I said I was with the Knight Sabers all the way, and I meant it! I'm with you all the way, too - for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, until *death* *do* *us* *part!*}
Sylia, stunned silent, didn't reply for almost thirty seconds. {Sean, did you just propose what I think you did?} she sent quietly.
{You're damn right I did, so you'd bloody well better not die before I get there!}
Silence was his only reply. He turned, calling mentally for Iczel, but stopped at the sight of Sylvie locking the front doors. [Hmm...]
*** ***
The silence in the warehouse was broken by Silverhawk. "He's coming. Flying down the canyon, just below the lip. Five hundred meters. Four-fifty. Four hundred. Three-fifty. Three hundred. Two-fifty. Two hundred - he's slowing down. One-seventy-five. One-fifty. One hundred. Still slowing down - must be searching for his friends. Seventy-five - he's stopped. He's hovering just about at the edge of the Canyon, or just under. He's climbing. Places, everyone!" The Warhawks all moved to positions out of sight of the open door. Moments later, Iczelion's silhouette appeared in the doorway - only to dive out of it and take refuge in a clump of barrels. The Sabers almost laughed at the dismayed cries of the Warhawks, as Sean had by no coincidence chosen one spot that none of his foes could easily target. He called up,
"I scanned for you before I came in, Skyhawk - I know where you're hiding." [Indeed I do,] he thought, [because when I told Sylia my plan she started relaying your actions back to me. I 'saw' you running and hiding.]
In reply, Skyhawk yelled, "Nighthawk! NOW!!"
There was a (Snap-CRACK!) of electricity, and the Sabers' sensors once again went berserk. Four hearts sank in their chests as their electronic vision cleared to show a masked Sean experimentally leaping up and down - with his faceplate _off._
He jumped up and down once more, then stated flatly, "E.M.P. weapon. *Verrry* cute."
Inside, Sean was a morass of fear. [Keep calm, you're the one with the surprises!] he thought. It didn't help much. It was all he could do to stay there and not flee as fast as possible.
Skyhawk called down, "Iczelion! You're disabled, you can't escape! I have a deal for you: give yourself up and I'll let your friends go free!"
Sean glared up at her. The silent stare was all the answer he gave.
She stepped back under the glare, then sighed. "Very well. Firehawk, get him - but *be* *careful!* I still want him intact for us!"
As the red-patterned suit approached, Iczel called to Sean. {Sean, the jamming is down! They must have stopped now that they think there's no one to call for help!}
Sean grinned. {Good. Send our backup the position of Nighthawk and open a channel.} As Iczel did so, Sean ran to an open space near the doorway to get some maneuvering room. Firehawk skimmed in, and Sean dove to one side, rolling back to his feet as Firehawk had to brake to avoid the wall. Sean fought another surge of fear - [They look a *lot* bigger from the ground!] and forced a laugh through his throat. "Is that the best you can do? I'm not even flying, Firebug!"
"That's FIREHAWK!" the mercenary roared, charging in again. The other Warhawks moved closer, and Nighthawk emerged from behind the truck to guard the hole down into the sewers. Sean sighed in relief. [Whew!] he thought, tumbling back to evade a third rush from Firehawk.
As Firehawk wheeled around, but approached more slowly to grab his target, Sean felt as if a tight band constricting around his chest suddenly snapped. [Payback time!]
"Saber-five, NOW!" he cried.
As all the Warhawk suits jerked around to look at the door, two things happened. The first was that Sylvie, in her black (with gold trim) hardsuit, jumped up out of the hole in the floor. Sean thought, [Dropping her in the mouth of the closest large sewer tunnel and directing her to the hole Sylia saw really paid off!] as Sylvie fired her railguns and plasma cannon in two volleys, reducing Nighthawk's backpack sensors - and presumably, his EMP array - to rubble.
The second thing happened as Firehawk let his guard down. Sean and Iczel routed power back into the systems they'd intentionally shut down after Sean's forcefield deflected the EMP, and Sean powered up his gravitic strikes.
Skyhawk jerked back as two large chunks of metal flew past her. She wasn't nearly as surprised as Firehawk, though, who was staring down at the ruined mounts that once held his shields to his arms.
"HOLY-" he cried, but that was as far as he got. In the grip of a desire for revenge as strong as any need in his life, Sean dropped both beam swords into his hands and slashed the arms off the suit, then embedded both blades in Firehawk's backpack mount - the missile rack - and dove away.
The blades blowing detonated the missiles and smashed Firehawk violently to the floor. He moaned, but lay still.
[YES!] Sean exulted, then roared toward Silverhawk, who had fired on a frantically dodging Sylvie with his pulse laser. Sean stiffened his outer forcefield and rammed the silver K-11 variant, sending it tumbling. Sylvie waved her thanks as she ran to free the Sabers, as planned. Sean turned, slowly, menacingly, toward Skyhawk and the crippled Nighthawk. Inside, he fought to throttle down his hunger for revenge - [Is this how Priss feels about Boomers and GENOM?] Sean wondered. [If so, no wonder she's so combat-happy!] A (snap-hiss) told Sean that Sylvie's plasma blade was in play, and he grinned, knowing that the Sabers would soon be free. Skyhawk started forward, but Sean held up one hand, visibly building a gravitic field around it. "I should warn you that this little trick literally hits like a one-ton weight," he commented, and she stopped.
A moment later, she charged. Sean, startled, lashed out, the shields parrying - for all the good it did - and the force of the blow hurled Skyhawk back into the side of her truck.
It was obviously armored, because it didn't give much, and the back of Skyhawk's suit caved in like tinfoil with a horrifying shriek.
"NO!" Sean and Nighthawk cried in chorus. Sean got to the suit first and extended his field around it, blocking Nighthawk out. Sweating, he lowered his faceplate to clear his vision and pried open the faceplate, cutting the front armor off the K-11 variant when he couldn't see if she was all right from her head alone. He pulled the padding and wiring off of her and sighed. [Whhew.. no obvious injuries. Thing must be padded to a fare-thee-well; heck, Firehawk might be okay too!] He closed his eyes in relief for a moment, then jumped as he opened them.
There was Yvette, propped on her elbows and staring directly into his eyes - and Sean could swear her green eyes were _glowing!_ All he could see was the eyes, all he could hear was Yvette saying intently, "*Come* *With* *Me,* *Iczelion!*"...
...until Iczel screamed into his mind, {**WAKE UP, SEAN!!!**} As he jolted back to awareness, he remembered where he'd seen eyes like hers before...
*** ***
[Sean jumped off the Mackiecycle and ran through the darkness toward the pair on the highway, not bothering to remove his helmet or visor. He'd been looking for survivors of the SDPC shuttle crash and two women had stumbled onto the Canyon Highway in front of him. As he approached them, the tall one called, "Help us!" while staring wildly at him. For a moment, her eyes seem to glow, but the visor made Sean uncertain. That was the first time he'd met Sylvie and Anri, and it wasn't long after that when Iczel had told him she was...]
*** ***
"You're a 33-S!" Sean cried, jolting back to an upright position beside Yvette.
"Whaa?! A Sexaroid?!" a voice cried beside Sean. Sean suddenly remembered Nighthawk having been right beside him and rolled away, looking around.
All five Knight Sabers had their guns on the Warhawks, while Silverhawk, having recovered from his tumble, was pulling Firehawk out of his ruined suit. Nighthawk was under Sylia's guns and seemed stunned - at least, for someone wearing a K-suit.
Nighthawk was staring at Sean. "You mean we've been working for a damned Boomer?"
Yvette worked her mouth and tried to speak, but Nighthawk turned to Sylia and said, "Looks like we weren't as independent as we thought. I guess the contract on you is off - you can do what you like with the Boomer," he finished, coolly gesturing to Yvette. Sylia nodded coldly and gestured to the door, which the three male Warhawks used without listening to the desperate voice of their former leader.
Sean, having fought so hard for his self-control, was visibly trembling to keep calm. Once the three were gone, he verbally exploded.
"Of all the lousy, racist *hypocrites!* She's the same person they knew, what the hell's the difference? Human, Boomer, or hell, Alien, if it acts like a person it is a person, damn it, however it came to be!"
Having vented his anger, he took several deep breaths to calm down. At a touch on his shoulder, he turned around to find Yvette standing there.
"You'd say that? After all I did? Does that - I mean, can you - oh, blast! May I join the Knight Sabers?" Sean turned to fix her with a look cold as ice.
"Lady, you are a person, as are all your breed, but you aren't a person I can trust or live with. You've tried several times to use your eyes to get your way, and you were quite willing to sell our lives for your gain. I'm not going to give you to the police because it'd be tantamount to a death sentence, but I never want to see you or hear from you again." With that, he turned and flew out the door, followed by the other Sabers, leaving Yvette to stand amid the wreckage of her life.
*** ***
Inside the Knight Sabers' command truck, Sean separated from Iczel while the others unsuited. Sylia came to stand beside him and took his hand.
"Sean, do you remember what you 'sent' to me before you came to our aid?"
Sean thought for a moment, then realized what Sylia was probably referring to. "Oh! Yeah! Um.. so you mean.."
"I accept," Sylia replied before kissing Sean on the lips, waving a 'go-away' shooing motion behind his back as Priss and Nene hooted and made catcalls.
Sean didn't care. [As far as I'm concerned, I'm in heaven,] he thought.
END BUBBLEGUM CRIS-ICZ 4: SAY YES!
To be continued in BG Cris-Icz 5: Pre-Crash!
It was dark. Everything seemed enclosed and heavy, and Sean foggily decided he was in a tunnel. He was on his feet, sweating, but healthy. [I vaguely remember being injured... or was that a nightmare?] {Iczel?} he called, noticing that he was still Iczelion. Iczel didn't reply. {*Iczel?*} Still nothing. The armor seemed heavy on Sean's body, lifeless. {**ICZEL?!??**} He didn't realize that he'd screamed aloud until a heavy voice reverberated down the tunnel.
"The alien pet ain't gonna help you now." The voice brought back the awful memories of the recent fight. [Oh shit, Firehawk!,] Sean thought. He leaped airborne -
-and came down on his face as he utterly failed to fly. [What the?!?]
"I said, the alien ain't gonna help ya!" Coarse laughter echoed down the tunnel, which seemed to be a natural cavern and not a sewer. The hiss of jets announced Firehawk's approach, prompting Sean into a run. He sighed in relief as he came up to an area too narrow for the bulky Warhawk K-11 variants to pass through. Turning sideways, he squeezed through and ran around a bend in the tunnel. As he paused, panting, Firehawk bellowed in fury.
"YOU THINK THIS'LL STOP ME?!!" The roar was punctuated by the flare and **P-SHOOM** of Firehawk's huge particle cannon. Fear jolted Sean back into a run, and he sighed again as he came into a cavern with four more tunnels leading into it. Sean took a hard right and charged into the nearest one, rounding a corner and, against all logic, coming up against a sliding door. Not stopping to think, he wrenched it open -
and jolted to a stop, skidding down to his back, at the sight of Silverhawk inside the door.
[Shit.] He scrambled to his feet as Silverhawk spoke.
"You're helpless! I know, I can tell! I could break you in half with no weapons at all, scared little boy!" Sean slammed the door and ran back to the cavern. The sound of Silverhawk's pulse laser reducing the door to rubble sped his steps. The air seemed warmer, uncomfortably so - or was that just him? He turned to the next tunnel, noting as he did that the farthest tunnel from him seemed very wide. As Sean pounded down the new tunnel, he came upon another narrow spot and grinned. [I'm out of here,] he thought.
A glance through the gap proved Sean wrong. Nighthawk was there, as if waiting for him. The black K-11 variant spoke in a voice cold as the grave.
"I thought we should've killed you and foregone the bonus - it would've been more certain. I could do it now, without blinking an eye. I don't lose my temper -" a bellow from Firehawk echoed through the caves - "like _some_ people, but as long as the job gets done, it's no skin off my nose, whatever happens." He extended a vibroblade from one arm and began cutting a way through the bottleneck as Sean, now close to a raving panic, pelted back to the cavern and ran into the fourth passage. It ran for a good hundred yards and around three bends before it came to a door - a door Sean recognized.
[That's the door to Sylia's room back at the penthouse! I'll be safe there!,] he thought, somewhat irrationally. He tore the door open and leaped inside before slamming it behind him, cutting off the noise from the caverns as if by magic. Then he sagged back against the door before turning to look at the room. He froze. There in Sylia's bed, with the covers pulled up to her neck, was Yvette - Skyhawk!
"My goodness, Iczelion, how forward! Decided to accept my offer after all, hmm?" Her eyes were two green flames of desire, and Sean froze, unable to move for a moment. Slowly, as if through cement, his hand moved toward the doorknob, his only thought to flee.
"Oh, don't do that, please!" Yvette implored. "If you go back out there, my friends will get you. It'll be _so_ much nicer to stay in here..." Sean's hand shook as if he had palsy, but with a supreme effort of will, he closed it on the knob. As the door opened, the room disappeared, leaving bare rock - and Yvette simply _morphed_ into the Skyhawk suit with a banshee's scream. "All right! You had your chance! You could have had heaven, now GO TO HELL!"
Indeed, the stones were the color of dried blood, and the heat became oppressive. Sean sprinted back to the main chamber with Skyhawk in hot pursuit, and saw to his horror that the other Warhawks were emerging from their tunnels. He turned to the last, wide corridor, but a salvo of missiles from Firehawk collapsed it, pinning his legs. All the weapons the four suits had came to bear, and Sean could only see the brilliant flash of white light...
*** ***
Sean woke from the nightmare in an unfamiliar bed to the sounds of Sylia talking with, from the voice, a middle-aged male. Sylia was just asking,
"But you're *sure* he'll make a full recovery, Dr. Zahn?"
The male voice replied, sounding vaguely annoyed. "Sylia, I put the _full_ medical resources here into ensuring that he'd recover without complications. Have I disappointed you yet?" Sean caught a brief flash of embarrassment along their link, and she replied,
"No, you haven't. I think he's awake, so... thank you, Richard."
Richard asked, "Sylia, I haven't heard that degree of concern in your voice since Priss got injured in that Skorpion incident. You seem a bit less reserved, too. Is it him?"
"Yes. He knows about me, and we... we're lovers."
"Indeed," Richard replied. "Before events sidetracked me, I was vying for that position, did you ever realize that? You never gave a sign if you did. Well, my compliments to the lucky man." Heavy footsteps receded in the hall, and Sylia entered the room with Sean.
"You heard?" she asked. Sean nodded, looking down at himself in the process. His head seemed to be bandaged, his right forearm and left middle finger were in casts - [My gosh, that looks obscene,] Sean thought - and so was his left shin. His ribs were heavily taped, but painless.
Sylia explained, "We brought you here after you passed out. Richard Zahn is... unusual, like most of my friends, but his clinic and medical skills are excellent. He and I have an understanding about medical care for friends of mine, no questions asked. He's also been my doctor for some time, and he knows about my... condition." Sean nodded again, realizing Sylia was referring to her intellectual enhancement. She went on, "He has been a good friend and might have been more if I'd allowed it to happen. One more for the file on 'what might have been.'" She smiled. "And on the subject of friends..." Sylia commented as Sylvie, Linna, Priss, Nene, and Mackie filed into the room. Seeing the downcast expressions on his friends' faces, Sean tried to lighten the mood.
"Hi guys! Boy, isn't it _awful_ what can happen to you from falling down the steps?" Priss and Linna cocked an eye at him while Mackie, Sylvie, and Nene grinned. Faced with only partial success, Sean tried again. "Aw, come on! It's not as bad as what _you_ threatened to do to me once, Linna!" Every eye in the room focused on the dancer as Linna colored slightly, then explained.
"We'd been training for about a week when he put his hand squarely in my crotch to try and lift me above his head." Now the stares were directed at Sean.
"Hey," he defended himself, "I'd done all my training before that with either males, Mannequins, or family! I didn't realize my crime until I found myself on my butt with a sore _everything!_" The group looked at each other and grinned. Deciding to get some information, Sean asked, "So..." he looked to see the door firmly shut. "How badly did you trash those 'Warhawk' goons?"
It was the wrong thing to say. Sylvie looked concerned while Nene and Sylia studied the floor and Linna and Priss glared at them. Priss answered first, still glaring at Sylia.
"Linna and I _wanted_ to go after them, but _Sylia_ insisted on letting them go to get you to the clinic! We were _really_ mad when it turned out your injuries weren't life-threatening! I -" Priss broke off as Linna grabbed her arm and she looked up to see Sean gone totally pale.
"Th.. They're still _out_ there?" The query was a bare whisper.
*** ***
Nearly a week had gone by since Sean's arrival in the clinic, and after the casts came off, Dr. Zahn finally gave permission for Sean to undergo non-strenuous exercise. Sean, keeping in mind his promise to Nene, had called her and arranged for her to visit during his exercise hours. As a result, the two of them were sweating as they finished an hour of finding and holding various T'ai Chi positions.
"Normally," Sean commented as the two sat down, "I'd just be holding the position long enough for you to reach it yourself, then observing, but I need to get my body back into shape as much as you need to practice the positions and forms. As I recover I may be doing this less and less." Nene pouted - she'd have preferred to do more, but she was _exhausted._
"I never knew it could be so much work just holding one position!" she commented as she flopped into her seat.
"Well, it was a lot of different positions, but yes, that ability to just stand still and _not_ move is as crucial to martial arts as the ability to punch or kick exactly where you intend to - and that's another thing we were working on today," Sean replied. "We can keep training daily to build up our stamina. Like I said, I need to recover my old levels of ability, and you need to improve your current ones." A nurse came to the door, and Sean finished, "Uh-oh. Looks like my moment of freedom is over. See you tomorrow, Nene!" Nene dragged herself to her feet and waved a tired good-bye to Sean as the young man was led back to his bed.
*** ***
Priss pulled her towel off the security camera after making sure she was fully clothed - [There's a fine art to frustrating Mackie,] she thought with a grin. She and the other original Sabers had just gotten back from putting down a rogue BU-55-C Boomer in the Canyons, and she was in a pretty good mood. [It would've been even better,] she mused, [if Sean and Sylvie could've come along, but I can't argue with Sylia's reasons _this_ time. It's only been three weeks since Sean was injured, so he could still be feeling it even if they are mostly healed, and Sylvie hasn't had _any_ experience operating with the team yet.] She grinned. [From the expression on Sylia's face I'll bet Sean was arguing for inclusion in the operation via 'sending' even as we left. She deserves at least that much for letting those _damned_ mercs get away scot-free!] The grin vanished. [Oh well, I may as well go say 'Hi' to Sean.]
Priss knocked on Sean's door. "Sean? It's Priss! Wanna hear how we trashed the Boomer?"
"Go away," Sean muttered from inside the room.
"What? That's pretty damn rude! After pestering Sylia about going I thought you'd at least want to hear how it went!"
"I don't care anymore, now go away!" Sean cried. Annoyed, Priss tried the knob. The door was unlocked, and she stepped inside. There was no immediate sign of Sean until Priss looked over to the corner to see Sean huddled there in a ball. She dashed over to him with a yell.
"SEAN! Hey, are you okay!?" Her only answer was mutters and what sounded like a sob. Looking him over, Priss couldn't see any sign of physical injury, so she took him by the shoulders and shook him hard. "HEY!! Snap out of it! What the hell's the matter with you, anyway?!" She started when Sean looked up at her - his eyes were positively _haunted._
"I - I don't know if I'll be coming back to the Knight Sabers anymore..." He started sobbing again.
"_What?_ Of course you'll be back! You haven't gotten _that_ rusty in three weeks -" she stopped as Sean began talking very quietly.
"When Sylia made the decision that I wouldn't be coming, I didn't like it. I argued with her via 'sending' for a good five minutes after you left. Finally, she got fed up and cut me off, and I went to the window to calm down. I have a pretty good view of the street from up here, and I figured out later that what I saw was an A.D.P. K-11 suit on its way to the Boomer incident. That wasn't what I thought at the time, though. I saw the silhouette and I freaked! I thought it was the Warhawks come to get me - I was so panicked I didn't even call for Iczel, I just cowered in the corner! Then, when I snapped out of that, it hit me that I had been that scared just at the _sight_ of a K-11! How'm I supposed to be a useful Knight Saber like that?!?" he lamented, burying his head in his hands. Priss stared down at the young man who she'd almost come to think of as a younger brother because he'd seemed to take the fighting in stride so well. Suddenly, an answer dawned on her.
"Sean, have you ever been beaten before?" she asked. He looked at her like she was crazy.
"Are you kidding? Of course I've lost before, I lose to Linna all the time when we spar! What does that have to do with any-" Priss cut him off.
"Sean, I meant 'beaten' as in 'pinned down so you can't fight back and had the shit kicked out of you' beaten, like a beat-*ing.*" Sean just stared, resembling a deer caught in the glare of headlights. The singer sighed. "I guess not. You're lucky: most people who learn to fight have it happen to them at least once while they're learning. By what you said about the Warhawks, they batted you around without much trouble, right? And they hurt you pretty badly in the bargain. So now you're scared of them: it's only natural. I went through it too, once." Priss fell silent for a moment as her own memories resurfaced. "I joined the Highwaymen - a bike gang - when I was around 17. One day I was coming out of a karaoke joint when four or five Outriders - that gang's still around today - jumped me. Someone called the Normal Police and they broke it up before I was seriously hurt, but I couldn't fight for weeks, 'cause I kept *feeling* the hands holding me down, *seeing* the fists come down again and again..." She started at the feel of a hand laid across her wrist, then pulled out of her memories to see Sean's hand there.
"How..." Sean cleared his throat and tried again. "How did you get over it?" Priss looked Sean in the eye.
"Basically? It took time. At the end, I spent a whole day arguing with myself in my trailer, convincing myself I didn't need to be so scared. Finally, I figured out what I could *do* about something like that, and that's when I stole myself a gun." The singer looked Sean over - at least he seemed to be thoughtful now instead of miserable. "I'll let you think about it - this is somethin' you have to do yourself." She let herself out, worried - Sean had a hard road ahead of him. She brightened as she remembered that she and the Replicants had a concert scheduled in a few days - maybe there was something she could do!
*** ***
Sean, much to Iczel's delight, had called her to him as soon as Priss's advice sank in. [Half the terror of being beaten so badly is that I don't know _how_ they did that. If Iczel and I can figure that out, I'm halfway home.] Aloud, he asked his partner, "So. Any theories about those shields, Iczel? I mean, I know they're made of the BU-12-B's ceramel composites, but how did they parry so perfectly?"
Iczel's reply was almost immediate. "Sean, I've been studying that battle ever since you recovered. Sylia even let me download my memories of it into her computer so we could examine it together. We detected a slight fluctuation in their scan patterns every time we were about to fire or slash at them. Sylia also realized that the arms of the suits - especially Firehawk - were supporting far too much weight to have human arms inside. Our best guess is that the arms of a Warhawk model K-suit are fully mechanical, not sleeves around human arms, and they were slaved to the suit scanners and some sort of dedicated point-defense computer."
Sean digested this for a moment. "So basically, the scanners detect us about to fire, extrapolate the impact point, and move one arm and its forearm shield to intercept the attack before it strikes normal armor. Bad news is, that system can probably intercept anything I can shoot, good news is, I don't have to worry about putting a human in the hospital by hitting the arms of the suit with gravitic strikes - and there's no way those dinky shields can take that kind of abuse. Now how did I get hurt so badly? The forcefields should've protected us, right?"
Iczel paused for a moment before answering. "Sean, that requires a reasonably detailed explanation of the concepts and functions of your twin-field system."
Sean groaned. "I didn't get this the last time you tried to explain it, Iczel! Can you at least *try* to keep it simple?" Iczel sighed, audibly and mentally, before nodding to her partner. "Okay then, explain away."
Taking a moment to think, Iczel framed her reply. "All right. The outer field, the sphere that you have to concentrate on to use, is our strongest defense. It becomes stronger the tighter your focus on it becomes, and it can readily intercept solid projectiles or energy beams. It does allow air exchange, however, unless you specifically tighten the field to block it, so gases and shockwaves propagated through the air will only be slowed down a little if you're not defending against them." Sean's face lit up.
"Oh, _now_ I get it! That's why those concussion missiles got damage through the field!"
"Exactly. Now the inner field is in constant operation, but it needs to be flexible to allow you your full range of motion *and* permit you to touch and grab objects without them slipping along the field and away. So while the skinfield is excellent against energy beams, it will only stop solid impacts if they are above the velocities that a normal human can use." Sean frowned.
"But the HyperBoomers and Skyhawk both hit a *lot* harder than a human - how come _they_ got through?" he asked. Iczel sighed.
"Sean, you weren't listening. The field doesn't acknowledge overall _force_ or _momentum,_ just _speed._ The extra force behind the physical strikes that have often broken your ribs comes from mass, not speed, so the field doesn't protect us!"
Sean looked crestfallen. "Oops. Problem."
*** ***
It was the next day when Sylia called all of the Sabers to Survival Shot to engage in another 'training' exercise. Sylia, Sylvie, and Nene had beaten Priss, Linna, and Sean when Sean had missed a clean shot at Sylia and she'd shot him down with ease. On the way out of the restaurant, Priss was still complaining to Sean.
"I just don't know why you can't learn to shoot! You and Sylia were the only two left, if you'd gotten her, we'd have won again! Don't you practice?"
Sean sighed. "Priss, I _used to_ practice my aim regularly, but my convalescence kind of put a stop to that as I retrained myself to get back to my old levels. I'm just thankful for 2030's medicine: if I'd been mangled that badly thirty years ago, I'd still be bedridden." He shivered at the thought. "Ugh! Can't they ever serve *good* food in a hospital, or is there some union rule against it?"
Linna laughed. "Well, if that's the worst you went through from those injuries, I'll stop worrying." Priss and Sean both started, and Sylia sighed. "What? What's wrong?" Linna asked. Sylia looked over at Sean and Priss, but neither one seemed inclined to speak.
Sylia sighed again. "I believe Sean has suffered psychological trauma from his ordeal. He admitted to Priss when she pressed him and to me later that day that he was terrorstruck at the sight of an A.D.P. K-11 suit enroute to our engagement. I believe he will recover," she smiled at Sean as she said this, and he felt as though the sun had risen inside him, "but _when_ is an open question. The only cures are determination and time."
Sean was suddenly surrounded by solicitous friends, as everyone but Sylia and Priss clustered around him with questions, sympathy, and encouragement. He closed his eyes and fought the impulse to burst into tears. [To have such good friends is the stuff of dreams, but the thought of not helping them is a nightmare! I _have_ to get through this... if I can just figure out how...]
*** ***
Such thoughts were much farther from Sean's mind a week later. In his rush to get back up to speed, Sean had stepped up the intensity of his training sessions with Nene, his only concession to her feelings being that he made sure *never* to tease or taunt her about her flaws, just to point them out politely. Politeness only goes so far when one is on one's back with the wind knocked out of you, meaning Nene started putting a lot more effort into _her_ training to try and get a little of her own back on her teacher. The result was that Sean was actually putting some effort into their current freestyle sparring session.
[I can hardly believe how much she's improved!] Sean thought, amazed, as Nene hit the mat after Sean swept her feet out from under her and bounced right back to her feet in a creditable nip-up. He flicked a jab at her face as she straightened, and she ducked her head to one side, dodging the blow. She crouched lower and kicked at Sean's ankle from her crouch, and he jumped back to avoid it. He pressed forward quickly to try and force Nene into the ropes, where his advantages of weight and reach would be most effective. His surprise was complete when Nene didn't retreat. Instead, she turned side-on to him, extended one leg out across his path, hooked an elbow under his shoulder, and rolled him over her hip to crash on his back. [A - a hiptoss!] was his first (stunned) thought after landing. His second concerned vengeance, but that was put on hold as he opened his eyes to see Nene jumping around yelling "I DID IT! I DID IT!" over and over. He slapped the mat three times in a signal to end the match, then rolled to his feet.
"Well done, Nene! That was a textbook hiptoss, or hip-roll as some people call it! I didn't think you were paying attention during the wrestling lessons," he finished.
"Well, I wasn't at first, but I remembered what you said about not relying too much on any one kind of fighting, so I practiced the motions behind your back, kinda. I asked to use the ring at the Fitness Bee and one of the practice dummies."
"You sure did that well enough! (cough) So what other wrestling moves have you studied?"
Nene gave Sean an innocent look. "What makes you think I studied other moves?"
Sean just smiled. After a moment, Nene relented. "Oh, okay. I studied a few others: the one where you grab the attacker's arm, pull it straight, and drive him to the ground.."
"The armbar takedown," Sean interjected.
"Yeah, and the one where you grab the enemy's head under your arm and fall backward to spike his head down to the floor..."
"The D.D.T."
"Yeah. Why's it called that, anyway?"
"I think it's a reference to some poison from the 1970's, but I'm not sure. Go on."
"The last one I studied was the one where you sort of run at the other guy and smash your arm across his throat. Priss said a Boomer used that on her once."
"Oh, the clothesline! Yeah, but be careful about using that on opponents bigger than you, including Boomers. You've gotta be able to knock them off their feet to be effective with that."
"O.K., Kai-sensei!"
"Gah. Now I know what Linna meant."
"Huh?"
"She always complained that it made her feel old if I used 'sensei' as an honorific."
"Oh. Well, Priss invited us all to her concert with the Replicants tonight. Are you gonna come, or are you too sore?" Nene asked with a sly grin.
"Impudent student! I'll be there, never fear, even if Largo were between me and Hot Legs, I'd be there after _that_ gibe!"
Nene, laughing, ran towards the ladies' changeroom. "I'll see you there! Later!"
"Later, Nene!"
*** ***
Later that evening, Sean was at the Priss and the Replicants concert at Hot Legs with Sylvie, Linna, Nene, and Mackie. Priss had been her usual exuberant self, performing old favorites like 'Konya Hurricane' and 'Mad Machine'. As the concert was winding down, Priss paused after 'Burning Highway' and signaled that she had an announcement for the crowd. It took a few moments for everyone to quiet down, then Priss spoke.
"Okay, everyone, My voice is starting to go, but I'm gonna do one last song." She stared right down at Sean in the front row. "I wanna dedicate this song to a good friend of mine who I really hope takes this to heart. He knows who he is." Cheers and murmurs greeted the announcement, and Sean jumped as the Replicants played the opening chords of 'Victory'. Sean's thoughts mingled with the lyrics in his mind.
[What she told me before, how she was beaten - the song's about that! About the aftermath, I mean!]
"-Don't hide your eyes from the bitter facts spreading before you,/
Turn them into courage now and 'Blow Up - - Blow Up'!"
[She took the fear she suffered and turned it into anger, courage, who knows: she made it work _for_ her and not against her!]
"-so long as you keep believing in the power of love/
you will achieve your 'Victory', yours alone."
[She's right. I care about the Knight Sabers like family: I *will* *not* let this fear drive me away from them. I will have a 'victory' over it, over myself.]
"'-Never say Give Up, never again',
overcome your sadness.
'Never say Give Up, never again',
you will fly once more.
'Never say Give Up, Never again',
pierce through the storm,
'Never say Give Up, never again',
start running to tomorrow."
As Priss fell silent and the band took up the final chorus, she stared down at Sean again. Sean looked back up and nodded. [I understand, Priss. I won't let fear keep me down.]
*** ***
Across town, in a small bar called C'est La Vie, the only Knight Saber not to attend the concert was walking in to meet Fargo, her fixer and information broker. She sat down beside him at the bar, and as usual, the bartender noticed a blemish at the far end of the bar and went to polish it.
"Sylia. Looking lovely as ever, I see," Fargo commented. Sylia, however, was in no mood to flirt.
"I don't have time for this at the moment, Fargo. I've already deposited a sizable sum in your Geneva account: do you have the information I requested?"
Fargo frowned. "I'll say this for your requests, Sylia: they're seldom dull. I've had a fair amount of trouble getting information on the location of your targets, these 'Warhawks'; more than I should have for a set of relative newcomers to the city. They're either incredibly good at intelligence and social integration or they've been here longer than I can confirm."
Sylia frowned. "In that case, how reliable is your information?"
"I would say ninety-nine percent. The informant in question is a personal friend, and has been since my days as a private investigator. I saved his daughter's life from a drug overdose once, so no normal incentive would get him to betray me."
"Very well. Their location?"
"An abandoned warehouse in the reclamation zones, Canyonside. Private, and ready access to their quarry's most-frequented location." Fargo handed Sylia a disk. "The location and surrounding area are here." With that, he got up and walked out.
Sylia held the disk in her hand for a long time. [I promised there would be a reckoning for what you did to Sean, and now it's coming. Sean, unfortunately, is still having problems, and Sylvie is too inexperienced for this: tomorrow I'll wait for Sean to go out for his evening run and summon the original Knight Sabers to deal with these attackers. Sean,] she thought to herself, [you will be avenged, and the threat to the Knight Sabers dealt with.]
Across town, back at Hot Legs, Sean sneezed.
*** ***
The next evening, the hardsuited Knight Sabers - the original four - moved carefully closer to an abandoned building practically on the lip of the Canyons. Sylia waved in a hand signal to move in. The four closed on a door with a far-too-complex electronic lock, but Nene extended her computer probe and had the lock code broken in moments. As Linna and Priss pulled on the doors, they slid quietly open - one more indication that this warehouse was in better repair than it appeared. The four armored women slipped inside and trained their sensors on their surroundings. Inside the darkened building was a large truck similar to the Sabers' own mobile command center, and beside it were four silhouettes of modified K-11 Powered Suits. A hole in the floor large enough to accommodate two of the suits at once led into a storm drain and revealed the Warhawks' method of access to the Canyon. Over in one wall was a door with heat, visible on infrared scan, streaming out from it - a probable location for the pilots of the suits. Sylia stepped towards it - the others followed -
-and in a flash of static and a howl of haywire sensors, the situation dissolved into chaos. Sylia felt herself falling as her hardsuit lost all power, and realized what had happened. [A trap,] she thought. [They have some kind of E.M. pulse generator, and they used it to disable our hardsuits. If only I'd been able to install the EMP armor before this mission!]
She jumped as she felt her suit's arms being pulled behind her back, and something snap into place around them, pinning them there. Her sensors finally sorted out their programming and came back on line, only to show her the silver suit putting a clamp around her suit's legs, as the other Warhawks treated the other Sabers similarly. Nene was shouting and struggling, Priss was cursing vehemently, and Linna was trying to work an arm free of the hydraulic clamp pinning her hardsuit. [They were waiting for us,] Sylia realized. [Somehow, they either turned Fargo's agent or fed him false information, and set a trap!] She looked up as Skyhawk spoke.
"Greetings, Knight Sabers! I'm sorry that Iczelion isn't here, but I don't think he'll be too long in coming now that we've got you. You managed to break through our radio jamming when we ambushed him, so perhaps you have a sort of 'dead man's switch' signal that sounds an alarm if it's lost. Regardless, you can't fight or escape, so if he doesn't come, we'll just take you four to get the secondary contract." A dread colder than arctic ice chilled Sylia's soul.
*** ***
Sean had just come in from his run and nodded to Sylvie, who was closing up the Silky Doll, when an icicle of fear jabbed him from within. It was so similar to his panic at the sight of the K-suit that it took him a moment to recognize it as a 'sent' leakage. {Sylia! What's going on!?}
Her reply was a flashing replay of recent events - a trick they'd been working on for quite some time. Where she'd been during the concert. Her telling the other Sabers, except Sylvie, about the night's mission. The approach to the warehouse. The trap. Skyhawk's statement. Finally, she shifted back to words.
{Sean, I want you to stay away. Sylvie has the ability to take in all the information I have from my father - she and Mackie can help you in building the new Knight Sabers. You have the fear to cope with and Sylvie is still inexperienced, so you should cut your losses. I -} Sean cut her off.
{DAMN IT, Sylia! Do you think I'm gonna abandon you!?! I said I was with the Knight Sabers all the way, and I meant it! I'm with you all the way, too - for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, until *death* *do* *us* *part!*}
Sylia, stunned silent, didn't reply for almost thirty seconds. {Sean, did you just propose what I think you did?} she sent quietly.
{You're damn right I did, so you'd bloody well better not die before I get there!}
Silence was his only reply. He turned, calling mentally for Iczel, but stopped at the sight of Sylvie locking the front doors. [Hmm...]
*** ***
The silence in the warehouse was broken by Silverhawk. "He's coming. Flying down the canyon, just below the lip. Five hundred meters. Four-fifty. Four hundred. Three-fifty. Three hundred. Two-fifty. Two hundred - he's slowing down. One-seventy-five. One-fifty. One hundred. Still slowing down - must be searching for his friends. Seventy-five - he's stopped. He's hovering just about at the edge of the Canyon, or just under. He's climbing. Places, everyone!" The Warhawks all moved to positions out of sight of the open door. Moments later, Iczelion's silhouette appeared in the doorway - only to dive out of it and take refuge in a clump of barrels. The Sabers almost laughed at the dismayed cries of the Warhawks, as Sean had by no coincidence chosen one spot that none of his foes could easily target. He called up,
"I scanned for you before I came in, Skyhawk - I know where you're hiding." [Indeed I do,] he thought, [because when I told Sylia my plan she started relaying your actions back to me. I 'saw' you running and hiding.]
In reply, Skyhawk yelled, "Nighthawk! NOW!!"
There was a (Snap-CRACK!) of electricity, and the Sabers' sensors once again went berserk. Four hearts sank in their chests as their electronic vision cleared to show a masked Sean experimentally leaping up and down - with his faceplate _off._
He jumped up and down once more, then stated flatly, "E.M.P. weapon. *Verrry* cute."
Inside, Sean was a morass of fear. [Keep calm, you're the one with the surprises!] he thought. It didn't help much. It was all he could do to stay there and not flee as fast as possible.
Skyhawk called down, "Iczelion! You're disabled, you can't escape! I have a deal for you: give yourself up and I'll let your friends go free!"
Sean glared up at her. The silent stare was all the answer he gave.
She stepped back under the glare, then sighed. "Very well. Firehawk, get him - but *be* *careful!* I still want him intact for us!"
As the red-patterned suit approached, Iczel called to Sean. {Sean, the jamming is down! They must have stopped now that they think there's no one to call for help!}
Sean grinned. {Good. Send our backup the position of Nighthawk and open a channel.} As Iczel did so, Sean ran to an open space near the doorway to get some maneuvering room. Firehawk skimmed in, and Sean dove to one side, rolling back to his feet as Firehawk had to brake to avoid the wall. Sean fought another surge of fear - [They look a *lot* bigger from the ground!] and forced a laugh through his throat. "Is that the best you can do? I'm not even flying, Firebug!"
"That's FIREHAWK!" the mercenary roared, charging in again. The other Warhawks moved closer, and Nighthawk emerged from behind the truck to guard the hole down into the sewers. Sean sighed in relief. [Whew!] he thought, tumbling back to evade a third rush from Firehawk.
As Firehawk wheeled around, but approached more slowly to grab his target, Sean felt as if a tight band constricting around his chest suddenly snapped. [Payback time!]
"Saber-five, NOW!" he cried.
As all the Warhawk suits jerked around to look at the door, two things happened. The first was that Sylvie, in her black (with gold trim) hardsuit, jumped up out of the hole in the floor. Sean thought, [Dropping her in the mouth of the closest large sewer tunnel and directing her to the hole Sylia saw really paid off!] as Sylvie fired her railguns and plasma cannon in two volleys, reducing Nighthawk's backpack sensors - and presumably, his EMP array - to rubble.
The second thing happened as Firehawk let his guard down. Sean and Iczel routed power back into the systems they'd intentionally shut down after Sean's forcefield deflected the EMP, and Sean powered up his gravitic strikes.
Skyhawk jerked back as two large chunks of metal flew past her. She wasn't nearly as surprised as Firehawk, though, who was staring down at the ruined mounts that once held his shields to his arms.
"HOLY-" he cried, but that was as far as he got. In the grip of a desire for revenge as strong as any need in his life, Sean dropped both beam swords into his hands and slashed the arms off the suit, then embedded both blades in Firehawk's backpack mount - the missile rack - and dove away.
The blades blowing detonated the missiles and smashed Firehawk violently to the floor. He moaned, but lay still.
[YES!] Sean exulted, then roared toward Silverhawk, who had fired on a frantically dodging Sylvie with his pulse laser. Sean stiffened his outer forcefield and rammed the silver K-11 variant, sending it tumbling. Sylvie waved her thanks as she ran to free the Sabers, as planned. Sean turned, slowly, menacingly, toward Skyhawk and the crippled Nighthawk. Inside, he fought to throttle down his hunger for revenge - [Is this how Priss feels about Boomers and GENOM?] Sean wondered. [If so, no wonder she's so combat-happy!] A (snap-hiss) told Sean that Sylvie's plasma blade was in play, and he grinned, knowing that the Sabers would soon be free. Skyhawk started forward, but Sean held up one hand, visibly building a gravitic field around it. "I should warn you that this little trick literally hits like a one-ton weight," he commented, and she stopped.
A moment later, she charged. Sean, startled, lashed out, the shields parrying - for all the good it did - and the force of the blow hurled Skyhawk back into the side of her truck.
It was obviously armored, because it didn't give much, and the back of Skyhawk's suit caved in like tinfoil with a horrifying shriek.
"NO!" Sean and Nighthawk cried in chorus. Sean got to the suit first and extended his field around it, blocking Nighthawk out. Sweating, he lowered his faceplate to clear his vision and pried open the faceplate, cutting the front armor off the K-11 variant when he couldn't see if she was all right from her head alone. He pulled the padding and wiring off of her and sighed. [Whhew.. no obvious injuries. Thing must be padded to a fare-thee-well; heck, Firehawk might be okay too!] He closed his eyes in relief for a moment, then jumped as he opened them.
There was Yvette, propped on her elbows and staring directly into his eyes - and Sean could swear her green eyes were _glowing!_ All he could see was the eyes, all he could hear was Yvette saying intently, "*Come* *With* *Me,* *Iczelion!*"...
...until Iczel screamed into his mind, {**WAKE UP, SEAN!!!**} As he jolted back to awareness, he remembered where he'd seen eyes like hers before...
*** ***
[Sean jumped off the Mackiecycle and ran through the darkness toward the pair on the highway, not bothering to remove his helmet or visor. He'd been looking for survivors of the SDPC shuttle crash and two women had stumbled onto the Canyon Highway in front of him. As he approached them, the tall one called, "Help us!" while staring wildly at him. For a moment, her eyes seem to glow, but the visor made Sean uncertain. That was the first time he'd met Sylvie and Anri, and it wasn't long after that when Iczel had told him she was...]
*** ***
"You're a 33-S!" Sean cried, jolting back to an upright position beside Yvette.
"Whaa?! A Sexaroid?!" a voice cried beside Sean. Sean suddenly remembered Nighthawk having been right beside him and rolled away, looking around.
All five Knight Sabers had their guns on the Warhawks, while Silverhawk, having recovered from his tumble, was pulling Firehawk out of his ruined suit. Nighthawk was under Sylia's guns and seemed stunned - at least, for someone wearing a K-suit.
Nighthawk was staring at Sean. "You mean we've been working for a damned Boomer?"
Yvette worked her mouth and tried to speak, but Nighthawk turned to Sylia and said, "Looks like we weren't as independent as we thought. I guess the contract on you is off - you can do what you like with the Boomer," he finished, coolly gesturing to Yvette. Sylia nodded coldly and gestured to the door, which the three male Warhawks used without listening to the desperate voice of their former leader.
Sean, having fought so hard for his self-control, was visibly trembling to keep calm. Once the three were gone, he verbally exploded.
"Of all the lousy, racist *hypocrites!* She's the same person they knew, what the hell's the difference? Human, Boomer, or hell, Alien, if it acts like a person it is a person, damn it, however it came to be!"
Having vented his anger, he took several deep breaths to calm down. At a touch on his shoulder, he turned around to find Yvette standing there.
"You'd say that? After all I did? Does that - I mean, can you - oh, blast! May I join the Knight Sabers?" Sean turned to fix her with a look cold as ice.
"Lady, you are a person, as are all your breed, but you aren't a person I can trust or live with. You've tried several times to use your eyes to get your way, and you were quite willing to sell our lives for your gain. I'm not going to give you to the police because it'd be tantamount to a death sentence, but I never want to see you or hear from you again." With that, he turned and flew out the door, followed by the other Sabers, leaving Yvette to stand amid the wreckage of her life.
*** ***
Inside the Knight Sabers' command truck, Sean separated from Iczel while the others unsuited. Sylia came to stand beside him and took his hand.
"Sean, do you remember what you 'sent' to me before you came to our aid?"
Sean thought for a moment, then realized what Sylia was probably referring to. "Oh! Yeah! Um.. so you mean.."
"I accept," Sylia replied before kissing Sean on the lips, waving a 'go-away' shooing motion behind his back as Priss and Nene hooted and made catcalls.
Sean didn't care. [As far as I'm concerned, I'm in heaven,] he thought.
END BUBBLEGUM CRIS-ICZ 4: SAY YES!
To be continued in BG Cris-Icz 5: Pre-Crash!
