Author's Notes: I didn't actually think I'd find anybody in this category who actually watches Seven Days, but what the hell! Um, megane-san_87, were you referring to the part in episode 7 of the second stage (Where Hibiki was just about to tell Dita his feelings when the Earth attacked) or were you really talking about the episode in the first stage? (The part where Labat/Rabat/Robert/Sam/whatever-his-real-name-is would've beaten Hibiki to death had it not been for Meia) Well, whatever! Just tell me exactly what you mean via e-mailing me. Got that?
Disclaimer: Must I do this with every chapter? Vandread belongs to GONZO and to those they deem worthy to it being so. Seven Days belongs to Chris and Zack Crowe.
"You're about to be let in on the most highly classified data the Tarak-Mejeele system holds."
"We have a device that can allow us to send one human being back in time Seven Days."
"This is a matter of Stellar Security! Its effects on the star system could be catastrophic!"
"Well, looks like I'll be seeing you last week."
"Reactor at 100 percent. Engage."
"Ah. Let's do it again."
Seven DaysBy DJ Madcat
Chapter 1: Frank Parker, SSA… Oh, no, wait… That's Classified Information
Never Never Land, Blackroot Prime, Interplanetary Asteroid Belt
Post-Backstep Timeline…
Bradley Talmadge and Nathan Ramsey, Nate as he was called, listened in on what the chrononaut on the other side of the link had to say. "What's the situation, Frank?"
"Okay, here's the scoop," he started, "In a few hours, the Old Part of the Ikazuchi that Magno's Pirates hijacked last year is gonna run into Tarak's automated minefield and get reduced to a pile of spacedust. The SSA panel has ordered one backstep good to go with hot pickles and onions to pick up a Tarakian Government agent implanted into Magno's pirate group and extract information about a covert alien operation known as Harvest."
"Where are you now?" Talmadge asked him.
"I'm in the stellar magnetic storm just outside the system, and it looks like Ikazuchi's old section is about to pick me up. Once I give the okay signal, you are to send an escort force to pick the old section and me up to bring back to NNL. The SSA panel will decide what to do then."
"Hey, Parker," Ramsey butted in, "Don't molest anybody on board that ship, ya hear!? Magno's pirates is just another term meaning party girls' club, and if I know you, you'd lose yourself once you catch the sight of a dozen or more babes!"
"Actually, Ramsey, there are about a hundred fifty 'babes' on that ship," Frank corrected, "And don't worry. I'm sure none of them would fall for me, since they aren't used to coexisting with men and the like. Besides, I'm already taken."
"Excuse me?" Ramsey asked.
"Send my regards to Olga." That statement somehow connected well with the balding security chief's brain. "Oh, yeah, and have Donovan command the Vanguard/Dread escort team. I don't trust those SSA hotshot pilots who think they're so damn good."
"No problem, Frank." Talmadge said, "We have just received a transmission from Intel. They've just confirmed the presence of two third-generation Cadets on board. They could be the pirates' prisoners."
"Why just prisoners?" Ramsey asked, "If they've been on Ikazuchi for a year, won't they just be… dead?"
"Not under agent Tenmei's care. That's what we believe." Backstep program's chubby bearded director imposed, "Frank, save those cadets if they're still alive. One of them is Bart Garsus, son of the Chairman of Tarak's food pellet chain, Garsus Rations Inc."
"A spoiled rich kid type, my bet. Who's the other one?"
"Duero McFile, graduated first in his class and overall first in his entire batch. This man specializes in medical services, so they could still use him… Not Bart, though. My guess is that they could be holding him for ransom, or just killed him at once."
Parker chuckled, "Don't worry, Bradley. I'll get them and agent Tenmei, or my name ain't Frank B. Parker, SSA." With that, he ended their discussion.
"You think he'll screw up, sir?" Ramsey had a gut feeling that something would go wrong ever since Parker phoned in. No matter how many times the man told himself that Parker won't screw up, he always did, anyhow. He swore that one of these days on one of these timelines, he was going to blow his top if the chrononaut messed up one more time and beat him so badly that that Russian gal of his wouldn't even be able to recognize him even if she looked at his dental records.
"I don't know, Nate," Talmadge replied, "I just don't know. That's why we'll have to trust Frank in this situation."
***
The Nirvana, Tarak-Mejeele System Border Magnetic Storm
Post-Backstep Timeline…
Belvedere Coco was just thinking about joining in on the party where everybody else was, save her, the vice-captain, that bald navigator and the Boss. Celtic, Amarone, and Ezra had gone on ahead for obvious reasons. She stared out into the turbulence of the magnetic storm, through the viewing port of the Bio-Park where the party was well under way, through Vandread Jura's verdant shield, and…
Her eyes widened as she saw some sort of round mechanical object materialize out of nowhere, and what's worse, if it was another of Earth's harvest implements that is, it was inside the barrier that the crimson Vanguard/Dread hybrid was generating, therefore leaving the ship absolutely defenseless.
It was just a moment later that it registered on her scanners. Distance 450. It was well inside Vandread Jura's shields and was apparently approaching the hangar. The thing that caused her to doubt its being of Earth origin, though, was the fact that it was giving out Tarakian, no, both Tarakian and Mejeelian distinction codes crammed into some strange hybrid transmission. Furthermore, had it been an Earth ship, it would've attacked them immediately. It wasn't their style to just louse around and give out distinction codes from their home worlds. "Boss," she announced, "We have an unidentified spacecraft inside Vandread Jura's shields at distance 450 and closing. It's sending us a mixture of Tarakian and Mejeelian distinction codes, Fushima-76240013, and Tango-Alpha-1220P-Conundrum."
Conundrum!? BC thought, Rumor has spread throughout the government about a covert joint venture between the two planets known as the Stellar Security Agency…and one of their best men, codenamed Agent Conundrum, a living legend, is supposed to know things before they happen. It was like he had a crystal ball of some sort …
"Have you tried opening a channel?" Magno said, interrupting the agent's musings.
"We've received no communication. It's either a one way frequency, or whoever is on that thing doesn't want to answer us." The Blonde Caucasian answered, tapping a few keys on the board. "We have laid out its general form… it's some sort of mechanical sphere." A cross-section of the unidentified vehicle appeared, marked X. "Apparently, its outer hull is outfitted with microscopic heat shield generators at Level 87. Basically, that's heat shields efficient enough to get your ship through atmosphere plunging both Mejeele and Tarak without so much as getting a scratch."
Atmosphere Plunging was a term used as synonymous to reentry. In other words, whoever built this thing made sure it could penetrate both planets' atmospheres. And to do that, one would need to know the exact details of both. In other words, only a local of this system could've constructed such a device, or vehicle perhaps, not the Earth.
"I see…" the pirate considered several options they had at this time. On one hand, they could just ignore that thing that had gotten into Vandread Jura's shields as nothing but trash. Then again, they might as well destroy it. On the other hand, they could retrieve the object and study it to find out who exactly in the Tarak-Mejeele system could've built it.
BC, though, had spotted something with his sharp eye. Somebody, or something, was sticking a piece of white material onto the vehicle's hatch, "Belvedere, zoom in on the opening of the object."
"Yes, Ma'am." A few sounds of interface manipulation, and a moment later, a mag-window appeared, showing a human being in an orange space suit, posting a message on what was either a window, or the vessel's hatch. The thing was that it was written in both Tarakian and Mejeelian. Although the person's handwriting was horrible, probably from his or her hurriedness to write it, somehow the three people on board were able to make out the message, a distinct, 'Emergency! Let Me In!'
"Okay, so whoever is in that thing needs help." Magno concluded that from the way the person wrote it in a hurry, she opened a com-link to the navigation room where Bart was still staying, "Bart! Open the hangar, we have a visitor."
"Okee-Dokee!" he said with his usual over-eagerness as the vid-window closed on her.
***
Meia Gisborn reclined on the railings of the bridge that overlooked the Pexis power core, Misty Cornwell by her side. She just couldn't tell why she was here with the blue-haired 14-year-old Plutonian, when she could while the last few hours of the magnetic storm away celebrating with people she spent several years with. Then again, the two of them were alike, more or less, outcasts to society, lonely. That was the most possible answer to why she was staying here with her.
Just like it read her emotions, the cyan-colored alien life form throbbed as though to say, 'Don't forget about me! I'm lonely too!' or some similar statement. The only way she could speak to her in an understandable language, though, was through that Navi-robot, Pyoro. Although it was true, one way or another, she still understood what it was trying to 'say'.
The two just stood there, staring at particularly nothing, the explorer-turned-power source resonating with their isolated emotions. It was just the three of them, just like the legendary musketeers of the olden days, 'All for one and one for all' or something like that. Ancient folklore was odd, although it was hardly folklore as what Duero had researched so far. They were fictional characters conjured up to star protagonist in a novel.
She shook her head at that. Parallelism could sometimes tire the hell out of you. Time can change people a lot; if not that, then maybe other people of influence to their lives. One such person was Hibiki Tokai, first generation reject, Vanguard pilot, and divinely inspired semi-strategist with the capability to think of the most ingenious plans when others were just plain barren of them.
For some time, these past few months, ever since learning the truth about men and women, she felt strange whenever she thought about him. Strange like what that woman in the Christmas video must've felt towards her man. Was that the right way to put it? In any case, whenever he went by, she felt a sort of… 'tinge' that there was something about him she just could never put her finger on.
Worried that she might have had some sort of new disease, she visited Duero for an inspection. That, of course, whatever it was, probably didn't have any physical manifestations at all… not until Misty did to Hibiki what she explained later to be something that lovers do to show how they feel, something she called a kiss. She said it was similar to shaking hands and hugging, but far more 'intimate' as she put it.
There was that way that somehow, she could feel blood going around and around with nowhere to go, until it 'bunched up' at her face. She was good at hiding these personal things, though, and always managed to control the flow one way or another. Nobody even noticed her get flushed for just a split second to say, "Oh my goodness, Leader! You're blushing! Who're you thinking of, you sly fox, you!" or something like that. Thank God nobody noticed at all. Well, there was a great chance that Paiway did.
She always managed to sneak in on the most personal and private affairs of people no matter what they did. Whether it was Celtic experiencing menopause, or Bart falling in love with the Vice-Captain, or the Boss with a bad hairdo under that hairnet of hers, or, well, her going flush red at Hibiki passing by for just a moment, Paiway Underberg was able to collect pictures or notes about them. Well, maybe except the time Pyoro locked her up in the meeting room to prevent disturbance of Hibiki confessing to Dita about his true feelings.
But, no matter what precautions you take, no matter how much trouble you go through, life just has its way of saying 'Sorry, guys, looks like you'll just have to break it up,' because at the precise moment that things were supposed to end like in the ancient romantic movies, those damn Harvesters just had to attack and ruin everything. Everything Jura had worked for, everything she had done to pacify Misty in the bio-park, all of Paiway's waiting in the meeting room for nothing, everything everybody worked so hard to achieve was wiped out by something as simple and solvable as an enemy attack.
Some people called it fate, others called it wrong timing. What did she think of it? Just plain damn bad luck. Still, some people called it life. It reminded her of an old song about life… actually, how complicated life could get. She couldn't quite remember the title, or the lyrics, but there was a line or two saying 'Life's like this' or something like that.
She shrugged off the whole contemplation from the very start. After all, she had somebody to take care of right now, somebody who needed her love, although not as intimate as what she thought she was experiencing, still love. Sisterly love. She turned her head to the girl standing beside her and was just about to say something, but was interrupted when her com-link sounded, "Meia here."
An aged voice, probably that of the boss', responded to her own, "Get a security team down to the hangar immediately. We just picked up a hitchhiker and he or she needs some bad help fast."
"Why a security team? Is the person that dangerous?" the fact that they picked up somebody in the middle of a magnetic storm and the fact that the boss wanted a team to secure the vehicle sounded as though the was taking no risks whatsoever. She never doubted the boss in her decisions before, but a security team was just like saying 'Okay, we're going to let you on board and then steal all of your belongings since we're pirates and all' or something like that. She let out a sarcastic grin, which although was sarcastic, was still extremely rare to find on her face even these days.
"Just a precaution. You never know when somebody like Rabat would just pop up one day here, board the ship, and mess around with the insides." Meia could only remember the encounter too well. First, he played merchant and looked like an insensible kind of person, as she had always expected. The next thing you know, his attitude worsens and he beats Hibiki to a pulp had it not been for her. To top it off, he gave Parfet an add-on of some sort that just shorted the Pexis out. What a guy.
Then they found out that he had
connections with those creepy spirit-talking people who knew just about
everything about everything. That relieved her for just the slightest bit. At
least he was somewhat on the level. "I understand what you're trying to say,
boss, but do we have to be so rough?"
"That's not my point." Came the stern, commanding reply of the person who took her in, "The startling thing about this particular vehicle was that its pilot knew both Tarakian and Mejeelian."
"Can you clarify the meaning of that?"
"He or she knew both Tarakian and Mejeelian writings and distinction codes to be exact."
"WHAT!?" she was stunned to hear this. A man or a woman could learn the other's scripts easily, but the opposite faction's distinction codes? That was scarcely possible unless the male or female spy was so deep in the enemy's territory that the officials actually trusted the said person to the point that they provided him or her with distinction codes. Either that, or there was some sort of conspiracy going on between the two planets; that they were actually allied in secret and thus provided their operatives with both male and female codes to get them past security of the opposite gender. They were probably given much more than that; a symbol of this conspiracy to show just that, and some such other implement. The probability of that happening though… came down to an extremely complicated equation concerning the improbability of all things that just occurred. Those spy movies she had been watching in the storage room were probably making her paranoid. She shook off the thought. Conspiracy… yeah, right.
"You heard me. The pilot gave out both male and female distinction codes to us. Besides that, he or she posted a sign in both languages that asked us to let him or her in." something as grave as this definitely called immediate attention. "It has just entered the hangar. Get that security team down there now."
"Yes, ma'am." She returned her attention to Misty, saying, "I'm sorry I can't stay any longer, somebody has just boarded the ship. I'm sure you can keep the Pexis company whilst my team and I find out just who it is." The younger girl could only nod understandingly, smiling in fact, as the Dread squadron's team leader left her alone there on that lonely walkway, with nobody to talk to but the real alien.
***
Frank Parker stared in dismay at the spacesuit-clad, pulse ring and laser rifle totting, aggressive-looking women that were accumulating like hell on the platform. His bet was that they either didn't trust him, or that just plain wanted to rob him. Okay, Parker… we've been in tighter shenanigans before. Think of a good way to get out of this little problem where our little charm on the ladies doesn't work.
Call Talmadge and tell him that he was pulling out? No. Surrender then let them ransack, hijack, and expose what was going to be the former best-kept secret in the star system? No. Fight, lose, get executed, and leave the record of being the chrononaut who experienced the worst way of being 'fired'? Definitely no. Looks like the only thing left that we can possibly even hope to, for the slightest bit, work on these intolerable sociopath lesbian freaks is our good ol' irresistible Parker's Charm.
Grapples latched onto the spherical time device's sides and tugged it closer into the mouth of the former Tarakian Flagship's hangar. "Looks like they don't want me to leave too early," Parker said mockingly as he realized that the metallic beams' grip was a little too tight for his comfort. Several unfortunate things have created a bad enough week for him. One good example would be Dr. Vukavitch 'accidentally' kneeing him where it really hurt. Boy did Ramsey get a laugh out of that one. Then there was that Tuesday when he spilled coffee all over the meeting table. Bradley got steamed at that.
Now he was going to live the same week all over again. The only difference was that in the past timeline, he started his week as usual with a little reprimanding from Ramsey about sneaking out through the sewer system, his favorite 'escape hatch', so to speak, which, as usual, always passed out the other ear. On this side of the timeline, though, something much worse than a talk with the bonehead was happening, like getting hijacked by a group of lady pirates with most probably unfriendly intent.
He heard the mechanical sound of the hangar's doors closing as the women pried his hatch off. With the hissing noise of depressurization, he removed his helmet and placed it on one side as he attempted climbing out. Of course, within a second or so, he found his cheek on the cold, steel surface of the docking bay's floor. On top of the fact that he was unarmed, outnumbered, and had his face kissing the ground, somebody had her black and white high-heeled shoe to the other side of his cheek, holding the poor SSA agent down.
He rolled his eyes to the side to see more of his captor, straining them to the point that he only got a view of her shapely legs, hips, and thighs, the black and white jumpsuit that coated the mentioned in a rather seductive manner, and her impressive… well… to put it simply, (as a kid, that is) 'water balloons'. What's more to that, was that whoever she was, had a pulse ring trained right smack-dab dead center point blank at his aquiline nose.
He shifted his sight away from the gorgeous specimen before his instinct was able to force him to do something indecent and right at another one. Damn! He had just locked on his visual receptors to someone else. This peculiar character was armed with, of all the damned weapons made in the last millennium, a 9mm Berretta or something similar. Whatever it was, though, it was an old, really old, 20th Century pistol with standard adjustments made by US Special Forces or maybe even more. Tanned flesh remained exposed beneath the pale yellow tank top and white vest. The fact that her hair was a dark, glossy green surprised him. No girl he'd ever seen before, moreover noticed, had green hair.
Probably because he didn't get away from NNL that much except during Backsteps. He was never even sent to Mejeele because of scrutiny, and in his place went his female counterpart, Agent Jezebel Manna. There were no more than 2000 women at NNL, and over half, more or less, belonged to Security Teams Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, up until Juliet. What that meant? They all wore crash helmets.
To top that off, he didn't get around too often, and even if he did, he never noticed any of the ladies except Olga Vukavitch, the biologist. Therefore, it wouldn't be surprising that his eyes finally rolled up into his head on sight; partly because of that, and partly because the pulse ring had gone off .01 seconds ago, scrambling neuron connectivity in his brain, knocking him out.
***
He stirred to life with a serious burn pain on his nose, squinting to see exactly where he was. "I see that you've come to." This statement caused Sphere Pilot Frank Parker to jerk up to a sitting position, giving him more pain around his lower back portion. He searched the room, which was lined with several hospital beds, a couple of emergency tables, one of which he was on, and several tons worth of medical equipment.
"How are you feeling?" he was finally able to locate the owner of the low-toned voice. He was a raven-haired man no older than 18 in a lab coat symbolizing his being a member of the medical staff. The layer of hair that hid the right side of his face erased all remaining doubts that Frank had. Standing before him alive and well, which was of smallest possibility, was M.I.A. (Missing in Action) Tarakian Cadet Duero McFile.
"Oh, yeah, I'm fine." He winced as he felt the throbbing on the side of his head, "Though I could use a little pain relief."
"Hmm… very well, then." The Doctor went over to a table and brought a pack of capsules, most probably the painkillers that Frank had been waiting for. "Take one after each meal. This should last about three days. If your head still hurts, call me."
"Thanks." Holding the side of his head with his left hand, Frank took the medical pills from the raven-haired man. "Name's Parker, Frank B."
"I already know." Duero answered.
"How?"
"You had a tag that I had the computer analyze and verify," He replied blankly, "Frank B. Parker; born on Tarak C.Y.72, 29 years old. You work with an organization known as the Stellar Security Agency: a covert joint effort between Tarak and Mejeele, under which you work with a Division assigned to perform a repeated operation known as Backstep." His eyes narrowed, "Tell me, Agent Parker. For how long has this SSA existed? Moreover, what is this so-called Operation: Backstep?"
"Over 70 years, I guess." Frank's carelessness caused this event. He should've hidden the tag better. He couldn't hide the nature of the SSA any longer, so why not give out the background as well? "As for Operation: Backstep, I can't tell you anything about that. It's classified information. Why'd you ask?"
"I'm curious about it. Does that mean you work with women?"
"Yep. I've been for three years, now. Once you find out how nice they are, it's not so bad." He searched for something else to say, "Looks like you already have, though, judging from the fact that you're alive, well, and at a good post on this ship. Frankly, when my boss told me you and Garsus were taken as captives, I thought you'd be dead—"
"Your superiors know of our presence here?"
"My people know every single registered Tarak-Mejeele citizen on board this flying bucket of bolts, McFile. So tell me, have the ladies been treating you nicely?" A young, pink-haired girl passed by the open infirmary doors, "That's Levania Stoke, 17 years old, used to be a hair stylist before the unit was shut down."
"Yes, they
have," Seeing as to how a stranger recognized one of his daily patients without
so much as asking him, Duero could only surmise that Frank Parker was telling
the truth, "You memorized all of the information?"
"No, not really." Parker admitted, "They were just showing me some photos along with personal info. I just remembered her face, that's all. I have very good photographic memory, you know."
"I see…" he noted the man as he massaged his temple, "I'm sorry if Meia treated you too harshly… she tends to be that way to strangers. Once you get to know her well, though, you'll see that there's more to her than meets the eye."
"Meia?" this raised Frank's eyebrow. He had heard that name somewhere before, on another timeline, perhaps. He tried to place it, thinking really hard and straining his head to the point that a nerve received an impulse signaling pain. That, of course, gave him the shock treatment that he needed to realize it: the bodacious bod, the black and white jumpsuit, the pulse ring… Oh, yeah, Meia. Meia Gisborn, Dread Team Leader. "Oh, yeah, Meia. Her records say that she has a very tenacious Ice Queen attitude."
"Hmm, well,
you could be wrong."
"Say what?"
"Your information could still be true, but around these days, she apparently has become softer and warmer around the crew." Duero could only be sure that the wall of Ice that imprisoned the true woman within.
The True Blue Meia on the inside was just hiding, eh? True blue; it was a phrase Frank connected with The Blue Avenger, Frank Adams. When was the last time it came to mind? Oh, yeah, it was that fiasco with that autistic savant, Walter. The poor guy had the Mejeelian Secret Service along with the SSA on his ass. Even though Talmadge had promised Frank that Walter would remain unharmed, he still went with his feelings and stashed him away in the orphanage where he grew up. Walter had always liked The Blue Avenger. And the fact that his first name was the same with that of the BA's true identity, Frank Adams, only helped with the case. Frank always had a soft spot for autistic savants, and his best bet was that it surfaced during that mission. "Possibly. You never know, though. Promise me you'll keep this knowledge a secret."
"I will."
"Good. Oh, yeah. We're going to float right into a Tarakian Minefield once we break through the magnetic storm, so you'd better think of a way to get us through without wrecking the ship, destroying the mines, or without needing to use distinction codes."
"How do you
know that?"
"Let's just say that in the Stellar Security Business, you know a lot of things before they happen. In other words, we have a crystal ball." He stood to leave, "Well, I have to go now and notify your Captain, Magno Vivan, about this." Of course Frank was going to tell Magno. That was of course after he had paid a visit to Commander Uragasumi Tenmei—err, Vice-Captain Buzam A. Calesa.
***
Never Never Land, Blackroot Prime, Interplanetary Asteroid Belt
A few minutes later…
Captain Craig Donovan, along Isaac Mentnor and Bradley Talmadge, escorted by an Alpha security team neared the hangar door marked: Restricted Area. "So tell me, sir. What's the big deal about escorting Frank back here? I mean, just get me a Vanguard and Dread team, and we'll rack the ship up, making sure it gets here safely."
"Craig," Talmadge replied, "What we're about to show you is another one of this star system's best kept secrets. This could be well considered the War-prepped counterpart of Project Backstep."
"How is it that, sir?" NNL's Chief Military Adviser inquired.
"Remember that the Sphere uses Element 115 as a power source allowing it to break through the time-space continuum and go back." Mentnor answered, "Well, the SSA panel has decided to experiment with the more metaphysical attributes of Element 115."
"What are you trying to say?" he knew these people, and he also knew that they hated getting straight to the point. They stalled the point by going around it to tell riddles and tire people from asking, but why he kept this up was a mystery.
"We'll get straight to the point this time," Talmadge commented, "Imagine the ultimate integration of a Vanguard and a Dread to the point that they are as one weapon; a fusion to the molecular level. Ever since the standardizing of Vanguards and Dreads as Mejeele's and Tarak's backbone war machines, the SSA technical division has always searched for a way to bind them together in attempts to destroy each others' weaknesses completely. That fusion, even with modern day technology, has always eluded them."
"Until the discovery of Element 115, that is." Isaac finished Talmadge's statement and continued the discussion, "Besides the fact that when combined with modern reactor technology, it could be used to travel back in time, the SSA technical division has also discovered several other properties unique to Element 115. One of these properties was the metaphysical transmutation and fusion of certain materials."
"Such as machines," Craig was finally beginning to understand what they were trying to tell him. "Which is why the SSA technical division has been using Element 115 to experiment with different combinations, right?"
"You learn fast, Craig," said Talmadge, "That's why we know you're the man for the job." The group stopped at the hangar door as Talmadge punched in an access code, bringing the six-foot-thick neo-titanium shutter upwards, revealing something similar to a Vanguard hangar, five awkward machines suspended in the holding chambers for display. "Welcome the home and laboratory of the team working on Project: Dreadguard."
Donovan's eyes widened at the sight. There they were, standing in front of all who were present to see, five examples of the ultimate integration of the Mejeelian Dread, and the Tarakian Vanguard. In their own stature, they were magnificent to see, each one glistening with a slightly bluish aura to it. "So what do you call these things? Dreadguards?"
"Yes. Each one has had extensive exposure to Element 115 to allow binding." Talmadge explained, "These are the only ones in existence at the moment, and have their own strengths in certain areas." The group approached one to the far left, slightly humanoid, and bulky, a silvery-blue job done to it. Its right hand grasped tight a deadly-looking fashioned spear, whilst from both its wrists extended a few feet's worth of glowing energy cutters. Some kind of bulky funnel was suspended behind its left shoulder, protruding in an intimidating manner. "Gentlemen, meet Dreadguard Type 1: Juggernaut. This type is a fusion of 101-Type Vanguard and Medea-Class Dread. It's designed for firepower and demolition purposes. Armed with a type 16 Plasma Spear, Dual Energy Cutters, Packs worth of Spider Web Missiles, and a Genocide-Class Particle Cannon, this baby's weapons fit its nickname perfectly."
"I can see why they call it the Juggernaut." Craig marveled at its unique structure, vaguely resembling its parent war machines to the point that it did look like a crossbreed between them. "What about the next?" he was starting to feel very at home in this hangar; mainly because he had spent most of his adult life as a Vanguard Pilot in the Tarakian Special Forces Division, using state-of-the-art weaponry against female forces.
Now he was seeing the combination of his machine's the female's, symbolic in a way that placed man and woman side by side once more in the Garden of Eden, partaking of the tree of life in blissful immortality. He looked forward to what the other machines could do, and could not wait to test them in bringing Parker back to NNL, along with 150 female pirates and two male cadets held prisoner for about a year.
***
BC's Private Quarters, The Nirvana
Two Hours to Magnetic Storm Escape…
Frank
Parker reclined into the comfortable female-designed couch, very similar to the
ones back at NNL, although a lot plushier. He observed the person standing in
front of him, Tarakian Secret Service agent Uragasumi Tenmei, sole government
agent to witness the so-called Harvest operation started by the unknown enemy.
Of course, he wouldn't let on his knowledge until he's played around a little
bit with this man's female alter ego, Buzam Calesa. "So tell me, Vice-Captain.
How does it feel to be away from your home system for so long?"
"What's it to you?" he observed the aquiline-nosed character who was feeling very at home in what was probably a very good imitation of a woman's room. He sensed no anxiety in this man with his presence. It was either he didn't believe those liver-eating rumors, which BC had, over time, discovered to be a ridiculous implement of the Prime Minister to scare soldiers, or he knew of his true identity. "We passed by several planets, most of which have been harvested, others we had to save from being. I can't really say it's boring. What about you, Mister Parker? What brings you to this side of the Magnetic Storm? More importantly, who do you work for?"
"Me? I'm just a soldier in the Tarakian Special Forces Unit who got stranded out here."
"You're not a very good liar, Mister Parker." BC had seen through that disguise almost immediately. Soldiers had no authority whatsoever to possess distinction codes, moreover distinction codes smuggled from the enemy. Thus this person was definitely not a soldier. "How is it that you have male and female distinction codes, then? Soldiers don't even have access to their own distinction codes unless they were commanding officers of battleships."
"I'm surprised you saw through my cover." Parker had noticed the slip in his conversational partner. No real female would know that soldiers did not possess distinction codes, "Although how do you know all that shit about soldiers and distinction codes? The only kind of person to know that kind of information would be a male. It's been nice chatting with Buzam A. Calesa, although it's been more fun flushing out Special Agent Uragasumi Tenmei. How are you supposed to disguise yourself as a woman if you can't even say the right stuff and keep the ladies from getting suspicious?"
BC let out a humph, "Well then, I suppose we are both hiding some things from each other that we should know about. Don't you agree, Mister Parker?"
"I guess. Well then, since I know everything about your identity, I might as well tell you mine to gain your trust. I work with the Stellar Security Agency, a covert joint effort between Tarak and Mejeele to ensure the security of the Star System from all dangers on the inside and out."
The Secret Service agent put a finger to his chin, "Rumor has been going around about an SSA. Of course, the Prime Minister and GrandPa both dismissed its existence as a concoction of some paranoid conspiracy lunatic. I never imagined it to exist."
Parker picked up the glass of orange juice set at the table in front of him and took as sip, "Well, proof of that is that I know this stuff isn't poisonous venom that women drink to become deadlier against their enemies." Another crazy story GrandPa put up was that juice was poisonous venom that women drank to become deadlier and more agonizing when they fought against men. "Tell me something, Agent Tenmei. How're the veggies they cook here? Green and leafy? Yellow with Vitamin A?"
There was no doubt about it now. The way this man felt completely at home with women, his knowledge about their food and nutritional values, the fact that he acknowledged his being a member of the SSA. He was indeed one of them; one of the privileged to know the truth about the races and not be punished by the government for knowing so. BC had set his mind now. He was going to tell this man everything he wanted to know for the security of the system…after he had confirmed a few things, that is. "If you are with the SSA, where's your badge?" one rumor concerning the nature of the SSA's badge, was that it held the both the authentic copy of the Tarakian Empire's Secret Emblem, the Blue Phoenix with its talons gripping a pair of thunderbolts, and the Mejeelian Republic's Artemis Seal, the symbol of GrandMa's power.
Parker fished out a leather case from his pocket, and disclosed the contents as he bottoms-upped the last of his orange juice. Imprinted in every explicit detail were the two symbols, side by side, the logo of the SSA printed beneath. Under that was Parker's identification and badge number. "Need any more proof to get convinced?"
"No. So tell me, Agent Parker. What is the purpose of your arrival?"
Neither of them noticed the crack in the door, hallway light seeping in, along with the lens of a camera and a loose dark blue ponytail hanging. A soft click, followed by the whispering of "Pai Check!" preceded the retreat of the shadowy figure, along with the vague sounds of scribbling… Paiway Underberg was at it again. Apparently, another man conversing privately with the Vice-Captain was more intriguing than seeing Jura collapse on top of Hibiki as they entered the hangar and exited their vehicles. This was going to be a far more interesting issue.
"We're going to have to undo that event. You're the one we've chosen to make the Backstep."
—Dr. Bradley Talmadge of Seven Days
Author's Notes: Sorry I wasn't able to update that early. Suffered from another issue of mental block. This is as far as the buck goes, though. This chapter might be a little too odd for you guys, but bear with me please. The removal of Seven Days from AXN was almost unbearable for me. I have to get stuck with the first season on RPN 9, a local Philippine TV Station. Blech! But it wasn't like I was able to see the whole first season. I guess I'll have to make do with Olga's old hairdo and Donovan without a beard. Apologies to USS-Kenji for not updating that soon as you wanted.