Disclaimer: Most of the characters are belong to me, a lot of the concept are belong to Capcom, several of the jokes are belong to their respective owners, the Three Laws of Mavericks are belong to Erico, and one of the lines are belong to Toaplan. Thank you.
In Search of Lost Time
Chapter 2: "Reaction"
Personal journal entry of Dr. de Capo for 13 June 2266 at 0632 hrs.
After three days of getting input from such things as updated encyclopedias, episodes of television series, and the omnipresent Internet, I believe Andante has gained a coherent personality. She has a distinct sense of humor, a sharp wit, and a mild edge of cynicism. I have yet to see her in a combat situation; I think, however, that with a little training she can become a skilled fighter.
There is also the matter of her creator, who over a hundred and fifty years ago put her in that capsule in the first place. Andante certainly doesn't know who he or she was, and Edward, the computer that came with her, refuses to say anything other than that he will eventually reveal everything we want to know, but is waiting for what he calls "the right time."
Meanwhile, we've had another report of RAS activity around the junkyard where Andante's capsule was discovered. Just to be on the safe side, I've asked that everyone stay underground for the time being. I have a nasty suspicion that Andante's combat skill will be tested soon, and I want to postpone it as long as possible.
Perhaps I ought to tell her more about us.
A sign over the lounge door read "Notice: All your base are belong to us." Andante smiled inwardly, mentally quoting an old axiom: "Some jokes never get old, some jokes never die, and some jokes exist in a state of undeath that is technically way too old but which doesn't stop people from quoting them." The Zero Wing phenomenon fell into the last category, especially since "A.D. 2101" had passed without any invasions from aliens that spoke mangled English.
Inside, Jakesten, Edward, Arvisven, and two Reploids she didn't recognize were playing a game of cards. Andante noted that whenever Jakesten and Arvisven went against each other, even if it was just a game of cards, tension radiated from Jakesten, wafted around the room a bit, and was then sucked into Arvisven, who had apparently never been tense in his life. Jakesten, however, seemed to become tense as often as he could.
Two days ago Edward had transferred his entire memory into a nonsentient but much more powerful handheld computer, and was now using it to generate holographic images of the cards for each player. He was apparently the dealer. "Are you sure you want to make that bet, Plaid Terrier?"
The somewhat doglike old Reploid nodded. "Aye, lad," he said, with a thick Scottish accent. "I know this'n well enough!"
The green humanoid chuckled. "Ah, but do you?" he asked, his voice even, cool, rasping, deadly, and bursting with confidence. "Twexty, you can't beat MY hand!" Andante, from her vantage point, noted that he had an absolutely ghastly hand: a two, a three, a five, a six, and a four.
"No matter what ye say or how ye say it, Drune," said Plaid Terrier, or Twexty as Drune had called him, "I can tell when ye're lyin'. It's the fact that ye're startin' with a tone of voice in C shahrp!"
"What are you playing?" asked Andante.
"Gin," said Arvisven. "At least, I think we are."
"Gin!?" barked Twexty. "Are you kidding me? I thought we were playin' Scotch!"
Andante idly glanced in his direction. "I'm not going to ask you what Scotch is," she said humorously, "because I've seen that episode of 'The A-Team' and I know that if I do I will just curse myself when you tell me that Scotch is a game where all cards are wild except the three of spades, which gets removed from the deck prior to the deal, thus rendering that card useless."
"Scotch," growled the terrier, "is a light, blended whisky."
"There," said Andante. "See? I was wrong."
"The game we're playing," said Jakesten, "is poker."
"Or possibly Rock Bottom," said Drune, looking at his hand. "Y'know, that game where you try to get the lowest score?"
"I was dealing for a variant of BS with multiple decks," said Edward in a cheery voice.
"Look, is it okay if we start over?" asked Arvisven, dropping his hand and revealing five aces of clubs.
"I'm available for a game of Egyptian Rat Screw," said Andante.
"And I thought my game had an odd name," muttered Edward. "I was right, too."
Andante paused, recieving a transmission. "Oops, I guess I'm not available after all. The Doctor calls. You, too, Edward," she added, picking up the computer.
"Oh, well, you know what they say," said Arvisven, "an apple a --"
Andante left without bothering to listen to the rest of what the bat was saying.
Doctor de Capo, also known as The Doctor or just Doc, sat in his office, appearing to pore over some text documents on a small computer. Actually, his computer could display anything from news reports to video games, but when someone got near his office, it would alert him, he would switch to something pretentious, and then proceed to pore over it.
This was much how Andante found him when she entered. He switched it off and smiled at her. "Hello, Andante, Edward," he said.
"Good morning," said Edward.
"Hello, Doctor," said Andante. "What did you call me for?"
This was a delicate subject and he chose his words wisely. "Well," he began, "I have decided that it's time you knew exactly what we were all about."
"Tell me," said Andante.
"Well, we are a group called OMNI," said the Doctor. "We're a sort of rebellion against the RAS."
"What's the RAS?" asked Edward.
"The Reploid Authority System," said the Doctor. "They're a new government order, consisting of humans and reploids who are apparently a bit over-paranoid about Maverick attacks, so they've begun to arrest us with little provocation. And if they've actually done something, they are summarily executed."
"I see," said Andante. "And everyone has a right to a trial by jury unless they're accused of something that warrants a trial by jury."
"Precisely," said Doctor de Capo. "Though I think it's more of a privelege, that people violate by allegedly commiting a crime. The most chilling aspect of all, though, is that they've been doing this to humans as well."
"Humans!?" Andante gulped.
"My god," muttered Edward. A Reploid would do all in his or her power to prevent a human coming to harm. And if the RAS had Reploids and condoned killing humans --
"So you see," said the Doctor, "what we're up against: a government consisting of Mavericks who allow some humans to exist, but take out their destructive tendencies on others. This is why we are especially worried. How are you at combat?"
Andante shrugged, still shaken by this revelation. "I -- I don't know. I mean, I just came out of a capsule four days ago."
"In that case, we'll have to get the training center ready," replied the Doctor.
A team of robots was at the junk yard, watched by two Reploids and a human atop a hill made of debris. The Reploids were humanoid; since it had been seen that animaloids were eleven times as likely to go Maverick as humanoids, no animaloid had ever been seen as members of RAS Military. The human was Lieutenant Maria Hastings, and the Reploids were Lieutenant Aurol and Commander Gaius. Aurol shined brightly in his golden armor; Gaius with his black armor was barely visible.
The robots continued their work, undaunted by anything at all. In the age of Reploids, robots with any intelligence beyond slavery to their programming were few and far between, and none of them was among these. They did their work without any desire for reward or fear of punishment, and their masters were satisfied by this. When they moved fast, it was without any air of urgency; when they moved slow, it was without any air of relaxation. They were interested in nothing, disinterested in all but what was assigned them. The word robot had originated in a term that meant slave, and these beings fit that definition perfectly.
Some of them examined the blue, empty capsule which four days ago had suddenly started and shortly ceased emitting a tremendous electromagnetic field. Others examined the area for clues as to what happened.
Hastings stirred. "I hope that they come up with something soon," she said.
Gaius glanced idly at her. "Patience, Lieutenant," he said. "If we find something, we'll find something."
She glowered at him, but didn't say anything. Aurol turned to her. "I know how you feel, but should this warrant that much worry?"
"Potentially, yes," she said. "Suppose whatever was in this capsule turned out to be a powerful Maverick that could wipe us all out? It could show up at any time!"
"She's right, you know," said Gaius. "Just because it hasn't appeared yet doesn't mean it won't. I mean, it took Zero, the first being infected with the Maverick virus, months to show up."
"Yes," said Aurol, "but after the truth was revealed, I believe they found out that he had been sealed away in a capsule ... until Garma's unit found him and stupidly released him."
The woman glowered at them, not really caring about all this ancient history. She checked her wrist computer, which indicated that her shift was almost over.
"Look, I'm going back to the dropship," she said. "I'm going to need some rest."
"Good luck," said Aurol as she left.
"Aurol, you shouldn't make fun of other peoples' insomnia," said Gaius.
"You have no sense of humor," complained Aurol.
Gaius gave him a sidelong glance. "I was exposed to Aristotle," he said, "before Monty Python."
Aurol considered this, and decided that the jet-black Reploid wasn't trying to be funny. "Look," he said, "let's just wait until our shift is over and then go, okay?"
"Fine," said Gaius. "But I want to be back here the instant something happens."
He didn't know it, but something would.
"Nice shot," said Jakesten.
Andante had just made a rather difficult shot in a target practice game, and after a rough start, her score was closing in on his.
"Thanks," she said. "You know, I've been meaning to ask you: where'd your name come from? It doesn't really sound usual to me."
"It's actually from my model number," he said. "JX-10. A lot of Reploids are doing that now away. Arvisven does it -- he's actually called Sonic Bat RV7; Twexty is model 2XT ..." He winced as one of the targets managed to dodge a shot he had made, but he scored a few extra points because it promptly crashed into an obstacle. "Your move," he said.
She fired some shots at the moving targets, hitting two. "What about Drune?" she asked. "I can't come up with any model numbers that would actually be used by any human or Reploid."
"He's actually a BN3, which would make him Benthry," said Jakesten, scoring a direct hit on a target, "but Twexty calls him Drune because, in his words, most of the time he's dr" -- she assumed he meant dour -- "and cares for nought but his eun self. Hence, dr-eun, or Drune."
Andante said, "I wonder if his aim is as bad as his puns?" and fired at an obsticle instead of a target. The bolt bounced off and ricocheted around the room, clearing most of the remaining targets, and almost squaring her score. The bolt ended up leaving the arena entirely and leaving a slight scortch mark on the wall near the door.
Jakesten's jaw dropped. "Um, compared to you, I think almost anyone would be. How the hell ...?"
"A quick burst of mental spatial trigonometry," said Andante. "I calculated the vector off of several surfaces, and angled my shot to the millimeter so that it would hit all of them. In other words, sheer luck."
"You've got plenty of that," said Jakesten. "Here, should we rearrange the playing field ...? Uh-oh." Arvisven had just entered.
"Soooo, how you two lovebirds doing'?" asked the bat. "Can I join in the fun?"
"No, I don't feel like socializing with people who are too batty," said Andante, not missing a beat.
Arvisven chuckled. "You can never be too batty, girl."
"Yes you can," she said. "And you are."
"Ohh," said Arvisven, clutching his stomach and stumbling. "She got me with her Snappy Comeback move! I shoulda saw this coming!"
"Should we finish him off, or leave him for dead?" asked Jakesten.
"I'm okay!" said Arvisven.
"I wish you weren't," said Andante. She and Jakesten left.
The Maverick stole silently through the city, careful to avoid detection, looking for two things: something to destroy, and a source of power.
Years of experience had allowed it to find ways to recharge its power without using those ridiculous "pods." It tapped into a power cable here, converted fuel cells into electricity there, and could even steal power from other Reploids. Whether blood or mech-fluid coursed through its veins, no one was safe.
It also liked to download information from these Reploids, stealing information and memory for itself. One such Reploid transmitted this Maverick a strange sort of virus that it had never tried to remove, because it had no effect; the three mandates it gave were mandates this Reploid already followed by nature. They were: DESTROY! Anything that lived must be killed, and all that opposed it must be destroyed. INFECT! When it wasn't killing Reploids, it tried to transmit this virus to them. SURVIVE! It did its best to protect its own existence, unless it involved failure of the other two.
And the odd thing was, it had already had this virus since before it could remember.
In any event, it now found itself among towers of things destroyed; robots, Reploids, means of transport, all lay in pieces around it. It hid itself among the scrap, and watched an intact dropship take off from the ground and fly away. It gazed at this for a moment, and then wandered over to where the dropship had been. Below, it saw many mechanicals which seemed alarmed by its presence. The giveaway was probably that they were shouting, "Halt! Surrender-or-you-will-be-destroyed! Of-course,-you-will-probably-be-destroyed-anyway! Fighting-back-will-not-do-you-any-good! Or-us-for-that-matter!" and other words to that effect in that monotone voice of theirs.
Beneath the white skull-like mask that hid its face, the Maverick smiled and picked up a large piece of metal tubing. "I think," it said, the mask giving it a demonic voice, "that it is you who will be destroyed." And then it threw the tube.
"Oh-crap," said the leader of the robots. "Blast-him!"
Simpleminded as robots were, to a fighting machine, "Oh crap" and "Blast him" were probably synonymous. But it was in vain. The robots were very easily destroyed, even before they could fire, and the Maverick reveled in the carnage. Then another large flying machine hove into view above it. The Maverick laughed -- a chilling sound -- and threw the tube at it. The antigrav generators on the bottom sputtered and fell, then it crashed to the surface of the junkyard, bursting into flame. The Maverick laughed again, and saw a blue capsule. It destroyed that, as well. Then it decided that it might be safer to leave this place than to tarry. And so it did, disappearing in a stream of blue light that shot into the sky and vanished. It was some time before another flying machine arrived, and by the time it did, the Maverick was long gone from where it materialized.
And the penultimate creation of the old doctor recharged itself from a power cable, biding its time, its mind around one thought:
Someday, I will have my revenge ...
"May I have your attention please: Would units Humanoid JX-10 and Humanoid Andante 1 please report to The Doctor's office?"
The primary reason that this was a bit silly was that this message, rather than being broadcast over a PA system, was being transmitted directly into the skulls of Andante and Jakesten. The secondary reason was the pun on "The Doctor's office." A third silly thing was referring to them by their designations, and a fourth was giving Andante a number.
Irregardless, the two of them ended up arriving at the Doctor's office. Doctor de Capo was poring over some text documents on his computer, but he looked up when they entered. They knew something was up by the fact that he didn't smile pleasantly, and Andante said words to that effect.
"Well, you know that the RAS's initial paranoia about Mavericks wasn't wholely unfounded, even if their reaction was a bit extreme," began the Doctor.
"Give it to us straight, Doc," said Jakesten. "What got hit and how hard?"
"A military camp in Pakistan and the junkyard where we found Andante," said Doctor de Capo. "Apparently, a so-called 'crazy blue Maverick' singlehandedly wiped out everyone at the camp, then teleported to the junkyard and annihilated everything there. The casualties total seven humans, fourteen Reploids, and about twenty-eight robots. All but one of the robots was at the junkyard, and only one of the humans and four of the Reploids were. To make it even more fun, all were among the RAS's finest. And that's not all."
Andante and Jakesten grimly exchanged a glance. What could be much worse than a Maverick who could singlehandedly kill forty-nine of the RAS's best fighters?
"This is a picture they managed to get of it," said the Doctor, bringing up an image on his monitor.
They looked and were chilled. The Reploid wore blue and white armor on its chest, feet, and hands. The helmet, which had a white, skull-like mask that hid the face, had blue, sweeping curves that gave the impression of horns, or feline ears, and a triangular, red control crystal dominated the forehead. Even though it didn't have chest lights or long hair, and even though its face was hidden, it was clear to them. This Maverick looked like a blue version of what anyone who fought him called the Red Terror: Zero Omega.
Andante and Jakesten looked at each other. "This is bad," she said.
