Mega Man X: Trinity Helix

by Revokov

Episode 5: Two Towers-Two missions begin at once, dividing Hunter ranks while Kou Cao's agents set up some deadly surprises.

7. Two Towers

Episode 5—Two Towers

August 4

It has been a busy week.

After the attacks three days ago I gave Caligula permission to implement some new security measures that will allow our Hunter branches around the globe more power in apprehending individuals suspected of plotting against the Maverick Hunters. It's tricky, because while we have a lot of leeway in arresting Reploids we have to be very careful questioning humans, and we have no legal power to take them into custody. It's not a good situation but it's the best we've got. I know X was against these security measures but given recent events I'm inclined to believe we need all the help we can get…

Damia's apprehension of four Serpent operatives in Denver quickly led to a clear understanding of what happened to the Hunters over there, and may give us some insight into how Chartreuse operates—it seems this 'Daedalus' character, deceased due to a rather enigmatic attack by a mantis robot, worked under a Reploid named 'Caliph' who has a base somewhere in Montana. Local intelligence sources, plus information from Wildcard Azarias, should soon show us the exact location of that base, and then it'll be time to rock and roll.

I wish I could say it'll be a good day, but it's starting on a terrible note. I haven't buried a Hunter since the Seraph Uprising. This won't be an easy thing to watch…all I can do is try to make sure it doesn't have to happen again.

--Personal Log, Commander Signas

---

Battleship New Liberty

Okinawa Island Base

The Captain's frown had been set on full power as he read the brief report, and it showed no signs of softening any time soon. "This is confirmed?"

"Yes." Commander Rachel Clarke, executive officer of one of the Megacity Navy's prized battleships, ran a hand through her head of short black hair, unable to decide if it made more sense to feel glad or annoyed. "Intel picked up several key transmissions to this shipyard near Niigata in previous weeks, and today we struck gold. We've long suspected it had something to do with the Gold Serpent, but this…"

"It's a former military instillation," Captain William Marquez observed sourly. "This report says we allowed them to keep their weapon systems?"

"You know it's common practice," Clarke protested. "Maverick attacks are unpredictable. People—and businesses—have a right to defend themselves."

"And that includes our friend Chartreuse?"

His XO sighed. "He has rights too. I know it sucks."

Marquez clasped his hands behind his back, standing erect and exhaling slowly while gazing out his window at the Pacific Ocean. New Liberty had only been here a few months, assigned to help escort commercial transports that feared Maverick interference. Japan was, after all, one of the world's most booming economic markets, and boats could still be sunk. So far no one had launched any attacks, primarily because they didn't want to deal with New Liberty. She was one of the Navy's new fleet of battleships, part of a two-ship construction deal that was an exercise in just how much firepower could be added to a boat and still leave room for a crew to sleep. Her sister ship, New Justice, was guarding interests around Pearl Harbor at the moment, while New Liberty was under command of Churchill, the floating fortress that served as the Megacity armed forces' only installation around Japan. New Liberty and her sister vessel virtually ensured that Kou Cao was kept out of the Pacific, and for that they were much revered.

To be fair, Signas and his Hunters handled Japan's internal security pretty well, but William Marquez would never publicly admit that. He hadn't come to command a ship as mighty as New Liberty by being a friend to Reploids. It was common knowledge that many in the military echelons wanted their commanders to take an anti-Hunter stance, since the big shots still did not trust Signas after his erratic move to Tokyo. Marquez for his part had no real feelings for or against the Hunters, or the Reploid race as a whole, and therefore he considered himself better qualified to reason his way though potential attacks than someone badly predisposed to their Hunter allies. Therefore he'd decided to stay off the soapbox and just do his job.

"A ship left a harbor in Dalian, China this morning…a ship with the same ID code as the one we intercepted in Nelynda's communiqués," Clarke was saying. "Likely this is what they're trying to transport…whatever it actually is."

"Good. If we catch them in the act, things will be easy."

"Hmph. You really think they'd come quietly?"

Marquez frowned, letting out a heavy sigh as he looked over the information again. "Do the Hunters know?"

Commander Clarke offered another one of her slight shrugs. "If they don't, they soon will. Their spies are good, and they just caught that Azarias guy the other day…"

"True." Marquez knew the order he was going to have to give, but didn't feel all that eager to give it. It meant all sorts of hell from those above him, it meant planning a military operation with mercenaries whose organizational skills didn't really impress Marquez, and above all it meant sharing intelligence, which had gotten him burned before.

But, unfortunately, he knew he wasn't going to retake that harbor alone without risking a lot of troops, and he doubted he'd be lucky enough to secure permission to just raze the place. Whether he liked it or not the Hunters were just better at this sort of thing. "Rachel, get a message off to Admiral Vance. He's not gonna like this, so…"

"I know." She nodded, understanding without a word what was to be done. "I'll report back if anything new turns up."

"Thank you." Marquez raised a hand to his temple, which was already beginning to throb. They'd found a Serpent base a stone's throw away from Hunter Headquarters…that would have to earn them some brownie points with that tightass Signas. But would they be allowed to collect…?

Either way, it would be a long few days.

---

Inafune Harbor

Niigata, Japan

Mr. Helm eyed the crab-like Reploid with no small amount of distaste. Sloppiness and carelessness were two things that badly irked the well-groomed, cautious Serpent operative, and this crab was both. Seeing Helm's agitation, the crab took his sweet old time verifying Helm's identification card, twice feigning error and starting over before Helm cut him off with a sharp "Oh here, would you like me to do it?"

"I've got it covered, Guyver-san," the crustacean said with a grin, enjoying Helm's irritation at being addressed by his proper name. He was so high strung, this slightly built humanoid, and so smug that it was impossible not to harass him a bit. "Though I'd wait a bit before going to see your friend."

Helm scowled as he replaced his card. "Why is that?"

"He's busy."

"Busy how?" Helm pressed as he started into the corridors of the harbor's traffic control complex, the largest structure in the area. A lookout tower rose up behind it, a tower that Kou Cao's agents had long since outfitted with artillery in case of attack.

The crab Reploid followed him on his humanoid legs, and his pincer-hands clacked together every once in a while as though he were snapping nonexistent fingers. "Well, I guess it's nothing too important. So what brings you here, oh great one? Some massively important cargo?"

"Perhaps."

"Hmm." The crustacean frowned, his claw-clacking becoming more frequent. "You don't talk much, do you?"

"Only when necessary," Helm agreed curtly, pausing at an intersection in the hallways.

"That way," the crustacean said, gesturing down a hallway to the right. "He's garrisoned down there. Your card should get you in." The smile returned to his face. "He's a lot happier than you are, you know. Lighten up. We're on top of the world."

"We're nowhere yet—could you stop that?" Helm finally snapped, glaring at the musical claws. The crab chuckled lightly and obliged, keeping his condescending eyes on the shorter Reploid. "We're nowhere yet," Helm repeated. "I don't count my roosters before they hatch. Unlike some others…"

"Whatever. Peace out," the crustacean said with a sigh, having had his fun.

Helm exhaled through clenched teeth, walking briskly down the hall with his black suitcase in hand. There were some people he hated dealing with…people who just didn't take things seriously enough. After all, this was a very serious business, one that was to get even more severe in a few days. But after that, he thought with half a smile and a glance towards where he'd left the irksome crab, some sources of annoyance might not be around to bother him any longer.

He stopped at the desired room and inserted his ID card in the door without pausing or thinking about what he might find inside…and without listening to some really obvious sounds. The result was when he opened a door he was treated to sharp swearing and a storm of bed sheets flying through the air as the surprised occupants of the bed before him tried to recover their composure. Helm stopped dead in his tracks, letting the door shut behind him, looking with some disbelief upon the chaos before his eyes. "Ah, now I see," he thought, fighting the urge to laugh. "'Busy'."

"Jesus, Guyver!" exclaimed a shirtless man with shoulder-length gray hair. "Wanna knock next time?"

Helm allowed his lips to curl into a smile of wry amusement. "Dynamo. You're looking about as professional as ever. And Nelynda," he continued evenly, turning his attention to a thin blonde woman who appeared especially horrified at the intrusion. "You look a bit pale. Is something the matter?"

"I…you…" the harbor's security chief stammered, still unable to take conscious action.

"My god…holy Christ," Dynamo exhaled, perhaps hearing Helm, perhaps not. "You scared the hell out of me, you bastard!" However his irritation quickly dissolved into mirth, and his face adopted a smile that was nearly as evil as Helm's. "Well if you want to join in, my friend, I think you can fit..." At this Nelynda choked on what remained of her breath and shot out of the bed, draping herself in a sheet and vanishing into a bathroom like a startled bird.

Helm actually laughed, keeping a pointed eye on Nelynda until she was out of sight. "Seems I'm not her type. Nice to know you two have been getting along, though. I'd heard she was incorrigibly nasty."

"She is," Dynamo said with a wide grin, grabbing a shirt from the floor and throwing it on. "She'll probably kill you for this."

"Oh, I think you're in the doghouse too," Helm replied, for the first time feeling a twinge of embarrassment at his timing. But that passed quickly enough. "You know why I'm here, I presume?"

"Oh yeah. 'Bout time, too," he added, opening a refrigerator and retrieving a can of Reploidic alcohol. "Want one?"

"Sure." He caught the tossed can with his one free hand, setting his briefcase down on a table and taking a seat next to it. Despite his relative distaste for rogues and miscreants, Helm found that he not only worked well with Dynamo but also didn't mind his company. "You're still able to do your part?"

"What?" Dynamo asked, genuinely curious, until he noticed Guyver's glance at the bathroom. "Oh!" A big laugh escaped his lips before he could stop himself. "Are you serious?"

"Well…" Helm laughed again, opening his can. "You can certainly understand my concern…"

"Guyver, Guyver, Guyver…" Dynamo shook his head, pulling over another chair and dropping his voice. "Do you honestly think I'd just spontaneously fall in love like that? Me of all people?"

"Dynamo, you're the only one I know random enough to fall in love spontaneously like that." Helm glanced towards the bathroom, where Nelynda, the coordinator of operations at Inafune Harbor, was emerging with a black robe wrapped around her body. Helm smiled pleasantly at her as she approached them awkwardly, and he detected the glint of fire in her dark eyes as soon as she saw him staring at her. She was attractive, Helm thought, but in a predatory kind of way. Her features were sharp and she had a severe look about her, clearly dangerous and concerned with business, simple pleasures and little else. Helm had no problem imagining how Dynamo had taken to her. Nelynda paused and sat on the edge of the bed rather than pulling up a chair, letting her golden hair fall in front of her face to hide her lingering blush, but the poison in her eyes prevented either man from commenting. For a little while, anyway.

"Well, now that we're all dressed," Helm finally said, with just the proper edge of cheerfulness to annoy Nelynda further, "Shall we consider what has to be done?"

"It's all ready," Dynamo assured him, sprawled out lazily in his seat. He was the self-possessed lord of any room he walked into, and this time was no different than the others. "We cleared the transport from Dalian. It should be here tonight. We can send it out just as quickly. Did you get us the boat?"

"Oh, we got you the boat." Helm's smile became even thinner. "New Liberty received the transmission we wanted it to receive. Likely the Hunters are getting that same information from our dear friend Wildcard Azarias."

"Stupid bastard," Dynamo grumped. "Why didn't he call for help? We'd have gotten him out of there before Virgil even got close."

"I can't explain his actions any better than you can," Helm lied. "The point is, the Hunters will take offense to a Serpent base so close to their home, and the Navy will take offense at being duped—this was, after all, one of their own bases. New Liberty will be here before tomorrow's sun sets…so," he continued, turning towards Nelynda, "will our security measures be able to handle this?"

"My security measures will be quite effective," Nelynda responded icily, feeling insulted by the question. "That is, effective in taking out aerial patrols and warding off New Liberty for a little while…" Her dark eyes narrowed on Helm. "But it's up to you to procure this secret weapon the Conseilpreached so much about. Do you have it?"

"You needn't worry about that," Helm reassured her almost dismissively. "My pieces will be on their proper squares when the time comes for the checkmate. What about your ground troops?"

"They'll hold their own," Nelynda responded with an air of pride. They were her troops, after all. "But again, this is the full brunt of the Hunter forces, and they will still be pissed about the assassinations. Are you sure you can—"

"We're positive, hon," Dynamo said, smiling easily. With him there seemed to be no doubt. "We've got another operation in the works as we speak that'll thin out the Hunter ranks quite a bit."

"See?" Helm said to Nelynda, opening his briefcase on the table. "Your friend occasionally knows what he's talking about."

"Does he," the security chief replied with disinterest, focusing her attention on the contents of the briefcase. "What's that?"

"A detonator."

"Shit," Dynamo's exclamation was involuntary. "We're really doing that?"

"We won't be able to use this place after all this is over," Helm explained. "Its major purpose was to set up this scheme anyway. Why not take out as many of the Hunters as we can when they come to reclaim it?"

"Guyver," Dynamo said suddenly. "What exactly is in that cargo ship from Dalian?"

Helm just smiled. "Let's just say we won't mind if the Hunters decide to seize it." He presented a datacard to Nelynda. "Here's all the information you'll need. Coordinate the defense grids accordingly and…well, just wait for it. It'll only be a matter of time."

"And where are you going to be during all of this?" Nelynda asked pointedly.

"Oh, you know. Here and there."

"Guyver never stays in one place very long if he can help it," Dynamo offered helpfully, finishing his drink and crushing the can. "Something about 'operational security'…"

"Sounds more like Guyver's just covering his own ass," Nelynda said coldly. She smiled in her piercing way at the high-ranking operative, doing her best to bait him. "Don't you want to join in the fighting? You don't seem to have a problem letting us take all the risks for you."

"Well, it's your job to take risks for me," Helm replied evenly, his smile perfectly intact. He couldn't be effectively baited by someone he'd so utterly humiliated not ten minutes ago. "I start the fights, and you finish them. You get paid rather well for it, so why complain? Besides, there seem to be unwritten benefits attached as well," he added, with a glance at Dynamo, who laughed while Nelynda fairly snarled.

"Play nice, kids," Dynamo warned, with forced sternness. "Anyhow, I've got the Splicer gassed up and ready. So whenever you send the order, I'm ready to rock."

"Good." Helm closed his briefcase and stood. "I'll rendezvous with both of you at Alpha after this ends. We'll make sure you know about the Hunter advance before they want you to."

"Off to start another fight?" Nelynda pressed.

"Not quite. I've got someone else doing that for me this time."

"And will we ever meet this new lapdog of yours?"

"Lapdog?" Helm's eyebrows rose. "Well, if I were you, I wouldn't really want to meet him, or call him 'lapdog' to his face." He smiled curtly at her before nodding once to Dynamo. "Take care of things, will ya?"

"We've got this covered," the mercenary replied with a grin, slithering next to Nelynda and draping an arm around her shoulders. "Go make things blow up."

"Always." Helm nodded again to them and left.

As soon as he was gone Dynamo redirected his attention to the still-perturbed Nelynda. "Sooo…where were we…?"

"Oh, get over yourself," she hissed, wriggling out of his grip and storming back into the bathroom. Dynamo just chuckled and stretched himself out on the bed, yawning and shaking his head.

"Mehhh…women."

---

Future Times, August 4

GLOBAL CONFERENCES CONTINUE AS ELECTIONS DRAW NEAR

By Bradbury K. Wells

Megacity 5—Dignitaries from all over the world continue to flock to the United Nations headquarters to resolve disputes despite what many feel to be a growing threat of Reploid hostility in regard to recently passed laws.

The timing of the conferences, which have increased in number compared to prior years, reflects global anxiety over the upcoming elections. While governmental shifts have occurred in the Megacity System and the European Union simultaneously before, the pressing issues this time are the steps to be taken in regard to the Reploid population.

"I believe that progress is being made," says Xander Couteau, the System's defense secretary. "There has been some controversy over recent laws, but the presence of the Gold Serpent, and of remaining pockets of Maverick resistance, requires some added security."

Couteau may not have much to worry about. Current polls show that a majority of System citizens either approve of or don't mind the restrictions currently placed on Reploids. These same polls favor a return of incumbents, who have been taking a fairly conservative view towards extending rights to the Reploids.

Despite its liberal reputation, polls show that sentiments do not differ very much in the Union. Recent attacks by Reploid extremists have rekindled fears of another Maverick revolt, and many citizens favor an expansion in the powers of the Maverick Hunters to keep the Gold Serpent out of their land.

The subjects of the recent conferences include everything from Reploid rights to trade agreements, most of which are understandably aimed to please swing voters. But whatever the outcome may be, if history has taught us anything, it's that proponents of all sides will have quite a bit to say in the coming months. The world can look forward to a most spirited debate.

---

Salem Vale

Tokyo Headquarters

The rain continued to fall, albeit lightly. The individual drops caught the last rays of the setting sun and rushed at the world below glinting like tiny diamonds from heaven. The sharp, tinny sound of those drops splattering onto Reploid armor echoed throughout the little cemetery, an acre of grassy land shaded by synthetic trees. The site was located at the very edge of the Hunter base, having been purchased after the initial land grab. The name, Salem Vale, had something to do with the former landowner's heritage and Cain—who had made the purchase, rather than Signas—had decided not to change it.

Gathered now at an open grave near a row of trees at the far east end of the burial ground were rows of Hunters in full battle dress standing respectfully in military formation—at least, as close to military formation as the Hunter mercenaries ever came. They were an interesting blend of greens and yellows and reds and every other color of the spectrum, most of them members of Unit 5, which had assembled in full to pay respects to their fallen lieutenant commander. All the unit commanders were present, plus a few friends of the deceased from other units, and finally the chiefs: Signas, Douglas, Caligula and Lifesaver.

But the most notable presence of all was a man of medium height in a flowing, hooded black raincoat. He stood to the right of Signas in front of the grave, observing events from the shadows cast on his face by his hood. However, Dr. Cain's familiar white beard was clearly visible, the pale whiskers jumping lightly at the impact of raindrops.

Vulcan, standing in the front ranks of Unit 5, his polished silver armor glittering like a wet mirror, found his attention drawn to the calm old scientist once more. Many if not most of those assembled appeared to feel somewhat awkward, but Cain, recently returned from a business trip to Florida, merely stood with quiet dignity and seemed to exude nothing but respect for the fallen Hunter, even though the said Hunter had not arrived yet. Cain was the one who'd opened the door for Reploid burials amidst the Hunter ranks. He considered it disgusting to throw the remains of sentient life forms, whatever their composition, into junk heaps and recycle them like mere objects. It was a gesture that had won him much gratitude, but also some skepticism, primarily from his fellow humans but also from many Reploids, who really didn't care if they wound up in a hole or in a junkyard—it wouldn't change the fact that they were dead.

But it was the principle more than it was the practice, and Cain realized that, and Vulcan felt himself idolizing the scientist for that. Even he had had his doubts, but standing here now he could find nothing awkward or wrong about the process and found himself touched quite beyond words by what was taking place.

But no one could tell that by looking at him. The silver Hunter forcibly contained all his reactions, trying to appear as collected and calm as possible. He took this example from the commanders flanking Cain and Signas. X stood with his arms behind his back, his eyes focusing on something distant. He was as calm as Signas appeared to be, and was politely respectful of the situation. He seemed to be turning something over in his mind, which didn't surprise anyone. He had a reputation for being a deep thinker.

Next to him stood Zero, who seemed a bit more martial in his stance. He too wore a calm expression on his face, but his eyes told more than X's. In them Vulcan saw a curious sadness, not outright grief but rather an emotion that seemed to suggest that Zero regretted that it was necessary to bury another comrade. He must have been burying friends all his life, Vulcan realized, suddenly feeling sympathetic towards the revered warrior.

With the two famous Reploids stood two humans: Commander Tremont and his girlfriend, the dark-haired Ravenna Steele. The latter wore a black raincoat of lighter make than Cain's, but the former stood in his pilot's uniform. The rain was not so bad as to drench him, and he wouldn't mind it if it had been. Alec had been relatively relaxed these last two years, but the fierce bear of a man Vulcan remembered from the Seraph Uprising seemed to have made a reappearance since the recent incidents.

Standing opposite these four, Damia's aqua-blue armor sparkled with a sheen that rivaled X's. Vulcan knew little about her other than that she was something of a legend in the organization, an impression one wouldn't gather from simply glancing at her slight body. But she had the ear of the intelligence chief, and that coupled with the fact that every Hunter of import Vulcan could think of seemed willing if not eager to fight wars for her made her very mystifying to the young Hunter. Vulcan knew that she had been a friend to the deceased, and was interested in the fact that this famously stoic commander wasn't at all bothering to conceal the grief in her eyes. If Vulcan had heard correctly Damia had also been a friend to Revenant, the Hunter who'd been nailed in Moscow. This wasn't a good time for her.

Commanders Luna and Zegmann stood side by side next to Damia, and their expressions were almost polar opposites. Luna, a Huntress who Vulcan had heard was quite light-hearted, seemed to be taking the event far more seriously than Vulcan would have expected. However Zegmann, a man who had always appeared stern and serious to Vulcan, seemed unable to keep his lips set straight—the corners of his mouth kept twitching upward, and the light that flickered through his eyes, a light he struggled to hide, seemed to indicate that he was one of those who found these ceremonies somewhat superfluous. Next to both of these was Mason, the most martial of them all, who simply stood at attention and waited, his face betraying nothing.

Directly across from Vulcan and the rest of Unit 5 were the assorted others who had come. There were the chiefs, with Caligula at the end, significant despite his soggy appearance. Caligula's deputy had been there on the walk to Salem Vale, but had returned to base after receiving a phone call. It had seemed important.

Here Vulcan wondered at himself for once again letting his attention fall on the intelligence chief. It was the third time it had happened in the very brief time he'd been standing here. The area around Caligula seemed to demand his attention. There before him was the master of the upper level of Hunter HQ. His people were the ones who would find out who had done this and where they were hiding. His people were the ones who would do the most important work in this strange new war. Without realizing it Vulcan had constructed a curtain of mystique and cast it over the Invisible Men, making them appear even more appealing to his young mind. Piquing his interest further was the fact that he'd spotted among the crowd both Castle and Acrystos, and, to complete the picture, Unit 17's Scylla. The presence of these three supposed spies so close to Caligula painted an image in Vulcan's brain that attracted him like a magnet. There was a secret unit, he thought. Castle, Acrystos and Scylla were connected by something more than camaraderie. And perhaps—most intriguing of all—perhaps Vulcan's late superior had actually been a member of their ranks.

But his attention was snatched away from the intelligence chief when, at the foot of the little hill the grave was located on, the pallbearers appeared.

The casket Archer had obtained for Hawkins was made of simple white metal, adorned with red trimmings that reflected the image of the Hunter within. Archer himself held onto one end of the front of casket, staring resolutely at the open grave that was his destination. His armor was as well-polished as everyone's, but yet it seemed to shine less than that of those around him, and Vulcan saw that his face and eyes not only bore no expression but, if such a thing was possible, had negative expression. Vulcan suddenly felt the void that so tortured Archer in his own soul and, as quickly as if a switch had been turned, the young Hunter's mask of indifference shattered like one of the raindrops hitting his armor.

Until now he hadn't known exactly how he was supposed to feel, but seeing them coming he was filled with all the emotions he'd seen going through the other Hunters he'd observed. He wished he knew something that would console Archer, or Rykov, who held the end across from his commander. Rykov looked plainly upset, but wanted to remain collected at least until this was finished. Behind him was Torque and behind Archer was Sparks, both fellow members of Unit 5 and friends to Hawkins.

As bereaved as Vulcan felt to see them, his sympathetic gaze lingered longest on the woman behind the casket. Vulcan sensed that she was a Reploid, though she wore no armor of any sort. She had covered the lower half of her face with a black handkerchief, as though she were afraid that her own life might slip out from between her lips. Her dark eyes glistened from tears and her right hand rested limply in Krysta's left as Vulcan's friend led her towards the grave. Vulcan had never heard Hawkins say anything to suggest that he had a love interest. Indeed, he seemed to have kept it a secret from everyone except Archer and Rykov. This woman, known simply as Veronica, seemed to feel terribly out of place, and it wasn't until she got close that Vulcan saw the ice in her eyes. She was angry.

Vulcan glanced around and realized that it wasn't a sentiment limited to her. Several Hunters seemed to be experiencing a bout of righteous indignation. Vulcan's eyes fell once more on Caligula, whose optics positively burned. After seeing this Vulcan felt anger rise within himself too. His sympathy for his friends was suddenly drowned by a hatred for the ones who had done this, and a desire to make them pay. He saw this desire in Alec's eyes as well, and in Scylla's, and Castle's and Acrystos's, and it was rightly so.

Signas began delivering a short speech as the pallbearers lowered the casket onto the platform that would later be lowered into the earth. The speech seemed generic to Vulcan, and this irritated him. Try as he might he couldn't latch onto the words and instead focused on his surroundings, trying to be as sympathetic towards Rykov as he could when he and Krysta appeared next to him. Then he chanced to look at Damia, and he saw that she did not look angry at all, but seemed torn about something. He realized her attention was focused on Veronica, and when he looked at the woman he understood that her anger was directed at the Hunters. She was a civilian in love with a warrior, and had never fully understood why Hawkins was interested in this kind of work. Perhaps it would have been easier had he been killed in combat, but the actual circumstances were such that she had no reasonable target for her anger. So she blamed the Hunters, rather involuntarily, for exposing her lover to the danger that had killed him.

Vulcan, however, did not yet know enough about life and love to understand this chain of emotions. A feeling of repulsion came over him when he saw her expressions, and he found himself disliking her at once for her unspoken accusations. She didn't understand a thing about the life of a Hunter—what business did she have casting blame at them for the death of one of their own?

It was though another switch had been thrown. Vulcan blinked his eyes to clear them of rainwater, and when he opened them he seemed to see things from a new light. Everyone suddenly was false to him, everyone so irritating. His indignant attitude towards Veronica expanded to include Zegmann, and the others like him who didn't take this seriously. There would be a calamity if someone was rude at a human's funeral—what did Hawkins's racial identity have to do with the respect he deserved at this moment?

Even Alec didn't escape his wrath. The woman at his side looked around with eyes that were curious rather than eyes that were reverent. She was a tourist, Vulcan couldn't help but think. She was here to amuse herself, not to honor the death of a comrade, and Alec should not have brought her.

He didn't think twice about this newfound bitterness, even when he looked at Rykov and noted that his friend was quietly shedding tears. Instead of his former sympathy, Vulcan wanted to reprimand Rykov. This was a time for strength, not for tears. He should have understood that.

"Are you all right?" Krysta finally whispered to him.

Vulcan realized that his face must have been telling more than he'd realized, and in his embarrassment he immediately shook off the hand she'd pressed against his. "I'm fine," he said, much harsher than he'd intended. Krysta looked hard at him, confused and slightly offended. Vulcan, however, was conscious only of his embarrassment, and began swiping the rain off his face for fear it might appear that he, too, was crying. Then he thought that the gesture might make others think he was wiping away real tears, and he became even more flustered.

This irrational shame drowned out his irritation, but he was unable to regain a positive or even a reverent mood. He felt oppressed by the presence of those around him and wanted very badly to be alone. When they at last began to march past the casket, bidding their final farewells, Vulcan was unable even to think up a suitable goodbye, and just stared at the wet white coffin as he passed it by. When he looked up again his eyes met Veronica's. Her eyes still accused him of something, but rather than irritating him this just added to the stifling feeling that was making him long to escape from this place.

As the burial ended, Vulcan caught sight of Archer, who knelt before the casket as though saying a prayer, with Rykov standing behind him. The sight of his commander and his best friend so grief-stricken hit him harder than he'd expected it to, and his demeanor changed once more. Who did the Serpent think he was? Did he really think he could get away with this?

"No," Vulcan whispered without realizing it, attracting Krysta's attention. She saw him glancing in a certain direction, and shivered despite herself. "What is it?" he asked, conscious of her eyes on him.

"You're looking at him," she replied in a curious tone, staring in Caligula's direction but seemingly unable to stare directly at the man.

Vulcan frowned. "He's been looking at me."

He referred to many instances before this, and she understood, and it frightened her. "Vulcan, don't do this," she tried to say, but succeeded only in saying his name, unable to express the rest of the thought. He frowned, not reading her expression correctly, and began marching home with the rest of the unit.

They were halfway back to the base when Caligula felt Vulcan's presence behind him. The intelligence chief tilted his head towards the silver Hunter, raising an eyebrow in open inquiry.

Vulcan had often imagined himself experiencing difficulty in speaking directly to this man, but today he had no troubles at all. Memories of Hawkins's grim death and of his friends' grief drove him forward. "You've been watching me for a while," he said with ease, carefully scrutinizing Caligula's face for a reaction. "If there is something you want from me, why don't you ask?"

The only reaction was in the chief's dark eyes, which displayed confirmation of his suspicions. "Suppose I did. Given what you think you know, what would your response be?"

Vulcan hesitated involuntarily before responding. But his answer was already set—a sense of finality had long ago settled over him. "I'm willing to do everything I can."

The chief held eye contact a little longer before replying with a definite nod. "Good."

That word seemed to settle the matter. Vulcan fell back into the crowd, which didn't really hold any solid formation any longer. As he returned he glanced towards Krysta, and nearly stopped cold when he detected the look that was only just fading from her eyes: fear. Vulcan glanced around, wondering what could have frightened her, but then realized she'd been looking at him. She quickly avoided his gaze and said nothing to him, even when they approached the base.

Vulcan didn't understand her, or why she mistrusted Caligula and the spies so much. He was in no more danger with them than he had been fighting Mavericks in Megacity 5. And besides, Hawkins had charged him with protecting his friends, and he fully intended to fulfill his promise.

Even if it required turning Invisible.

---

Operations Center

Intelligence Sector

"So it's true." Kevin Seitz glowered at the document in his hands. This was the kind of information that chilled his bones.

"Looks like it," replied a tall Reploid with fiery red hair. "Kou Cao has been occupying this harbor for…hell, I don't even want to think how long."

"Right under our damn noses," Seitz growled. "He's…Christ, he may have even used this place to coordinate Hawkins's murder…what's the troop strength here, Volkado?"

His associate offered an uncertain expression. "We imagine the place will be well guarded…but probably more by mechaniloid security than by actual foot soldiers. Too many of them would have attracted attention by now."

Seitz nodded in agreement. "So it's automated defenses, then…" He turned to a table behind him, where Volkado had already spread out a diagram of Inafune Harbor. "It's a big place."

"A third of the place is docks," Volkado replied dismissively. "We'll want enough manpower to seize the vessels there but that shouldn't present us with too much resistance on the enemy's part. They'll likely be stationed here," he said, pointing to the two processing buildings on either side of the control building. "The central structure is a real labyrinth, and I don't trust the tower behind it, but if we take it we'll likely own the place."

Seitz frowned. "I don't like it. A direct assault will be costly…unless we have Alec get rid of the tower and cover us from the air."

Volkado nodded. "Steel Wind has been itching for some action."

"Azarias gave us this info? Did he tell us anything else about the place? Like, weak points?"

"Virgil's sending his complete interrogation results soon," Volkado assured his superior. "We'll have them in a few hours. Until then…"

"Until then we have some planning to do," Seitz finished, preparing to head out in search of Caligula.

"Kev, wait." Volkado gestured to the other end of the large room. "Azarias gave us a big lead on the Denver bust, too. Listy's working on it now."

"Is she?" Seitz walked over to where Kalisto, Volkado's shorter, blue-haired sister, was gazing intently at a satellite feed. "Hey. What's the deal?"

"Hey…" She blinked, having not realized he was approaching. "Azarias gave us Roscoe, Montana as a hunting ground. We came up with this place." She gestured to the satellite image, which depicted a tall facility surrounded by smaller factories and storage garages. "This is Hargrove Tower, an armor manufacturing plant. We've been monitoring it for two days now, and we've seen an awful lot of these coming in." She handed Seitz a printed satellite photo of what looked to be a large transport. "Familiar?"

Seitz's eyes widened. "Those things…they're a smuggler's dream come true. They're also as illegal as you can get."

"Then we have probable cause," Kalisto said smugly. A secure phone rang, and Volkado picked it up. Kalisto hid her curiosity and continued. "You'll want to move on this one right away, Kev. I think they've been evacuating this place ever since Damia nabbed their agents in Denver."

"Two missions…" Seitz sighed. "It's a bad idea to divide our forces. Keep an eye on this place, let me know the instant something major happens."

"Will do."

Seitz nodded and once more turned to go in pursuit of Caligula, but yet again Volkado stopped him. "Oh, lord, what is it now? Elvis in the Zen Garden?"

"Uh…well, it's about as plausible." Volkado extended the phone. "You'll want to take this call, Mr. Senior Officer."

"And why is that?" Seitz asked, taking the receiver with some curiosity, though he wasn't at all prepared for the voice he heard at the other end.

"Hello, Mr. Seitz. I'm Commander Rachel Clarke, of the battleship New Liberty. Wanna go blow up a harbor with me?"

---

Hargrove Tower

Roscoe, Montana

"So this is the last of it, then?"

"Yeah, boss. No more nasty incriminating evidence to worry about. It'll all go out with this transport."

"Excellent," the boss replied. He was a humanoid Reploid, average in every way except for his radiant, gleaming gold armor, which had often been compared to a second sun. "It's been a hell of a week, Kitsch. If I ever see another of Moor's inspector's again, it'll be too soon."

Kitsch, a lizard Reploid with polished green scales who wore an open black coat and equally black armor from the waist down, smiled a pointy-toothed grin. "It would be much easier if Daedalus had taken out that furball instead of Greaves. What good was that, anyway, Caliph? Greaves was a lightweight."

"The idea is fear, Kitsch. It's all about the fear." Caliph, Kou Cao's operations director for the northwestern United States, smiled and stared out the window down at the factory workers bustling to load the recently arrived transport. It would be ready to leave tonight, and with it would go anything that could have spelled trouble for Caliph with the Maverick Hunters. "Greaves was a lightweight…so was everyone in his unit. We killed Hunters of every rank that day…so they all know that none of them are safe. They're all our targets."

"Well then that's all the more reason for them to come down on us hard," Kitsch groused, hissing at an approaching human. As a former Maverick, security boss Kitsch still enjoyed picking on the organics.

"What is it?" Caliph asked the human, who he knew to be a messenger.

"You said you wanted to know as soon as he arrived," the human said simply.

Caliph nodded. "Ah, at last. Now we can take care of the last thing of value here…" He looked to Kitsch and gestured down to the transport. "Make sure it leaves on time."

The lizard nodded, slithering past the two of them with a coy look in his eyes that made the human's blood chill. "Of course…"

Caliph waited for the ex-Maverick to leave earshot. "They say he was one of the raiders who plundered Megacity 5 the night the Buzzbombs flew. That surprise you, Yergin?"

"Not in the slightest," the human replied without hesitation. "Anyway, boss…he's on the balcony."

"The balcony?" Caliph queried, getting a nod in response. "Figures," he sighed as he started walking, Yergin keeping step. "And how is Mr. Helm this fine day?"

"Actually, boss," Yergin said, attaching importance to the words, "it's not Mr. Helm this time."

This caused the golden Reploid's eyebrow to peak. "Who is it?"

"Dunno. Some new guy."

Caliph frowned at this news, his gait slowing down a bit. "And what does this new guy look like?"

Yergin shrugged. "Tall guy in a white coat. Never seen him before, but there ain't nothin' special about him."

Caliph nodded. "Right…I'll handle this. You make sure things run smoothly down below. Give me a buzz if anything weird happens."

"Will do, boss," Yergin said, turning to leave. He clearly didn't read much into this, and thought Caliph was overreacting.

But in Caliph's opinion he had a lot to be worried about right now. He still didn't know who had killed Daedalus, or even how, but he sure as hell had a few good guesses why. Daedalus would have been a major liability had the Hunters gotten their hands on him. If the Conseilhad decided that Caliph, too, was a liability now, then his current guest might be something more than just a messenger. Involuntarily he checked his arm cannon's readiness as he stepped into Hargrove Tower's executive elevator, which had coded access to all floors of the facility. He doubted that he'd be ready to deal with a Gold Serpent assassin, but he at least had to try, should it come to that.

"Destination?" the elevator's voice, a feminine monotone, asked calmly once the soundproof doors had closed.

"Observation Ring," Caliph replied. "Codeword Runaway."

The elevator quickly came to life, bringing Caliph to the top of his facility while the Reploid himself pondered what he would find waiting for him there. The Observation Ring was a balcony that ran along the edge of the facility's highest level, just below the roof. Floodlights were located just below it to aid in visual scans of the grounds below. The facility itself was a square building, so 'Observation Ring' was a bit of a misnomer, but not one that demanded enough attention to change.

The doors opened and Caliph walked down the hall approaching the doors to the outer balcony, where he noted two guards standing watch. "He's alone?"

"Yessir."

"Good…keep it that way." Caliph opened the doors and stepped out onto the Observation Ring. His target was in plain sight, standing with his back to Caliph while looking out at the surrounding mountains. He was indeed a tall man, with dark, well-groomed hair and a build that suggested agility more than it did power. He wore a long white leather jacket, and held one arm behind his back in a calm, dignified pose as he glanced out at the scenery. Caliph immediately judged him a businessman, rather than any kind of assassin, and relaxed…though not completely. "I'm sorry if I kept you waiting, Mister…?"

"White," the man replied. His voice was deep and methodical, but at the same time smooth and casual. "And it's no trouble at all." He gestured towards the mountains. "You have quite a view up here, you see…"

Caliph had never much cared for scenery, but he supposed he could understand what his visitor was talking about. The sun was just setting, and the reddish-gold sky behind the mountains was a little bit breathtaking even for Hargrove Tower's normally materially minded chief. "So we do…I guess I never paid it much attention."

"Really? God, I'd be up here every chance I had…"

As much as the man's reverence interested him, Caliph had other things to do. "Sorry to tear you away from the view, Mr. White, but we are in the last phase of our product evacuation, and we're all a bit—"

"Yes, yes I understand," White replied, turning to face Caliph for the first time. He had an easy smile on his face and the kind of eyes that always implied he knew more than someone else did. The image of an approachable but conniving businessman was completed in Caliph's mind. "Sorry Mr. Helm can't be here, but he's otherwise engaged. The Conseil sent me to handle this. I hope it's not a problem?"

"No, no problem," Caliph answered quickly. "But I don't have much to tell you, other than that this will be our last major shipment."

"Ah, yes," Mr. White said, somewhat apologetically, instantly making Caliph nervous. "About that…it's not going to be the last shipment, after all. You see, we forgot about something."

Caliph blinked. "If you mean that…well, whatever that thing was that Helm was so protective about…it's not so much that I've forgotten it as that I'm not about to touch it without direct approval from the Conseil"

"Well now you have it." Mr. White reached into his coat pocket and produced a datacard that he handed to Caliph. "This is all the permission you'll need. I'm sending a Vector to pick it up tonight—"

"Tonight?" Caliph interrupted him, already feeling overwhelmed by the inevitable. "White, with all due respect, we'll just have sent off this transport by then. The Hunters will know something is up if a Vector shows up so soon after—"

"I'm afraid that the Hunters already know something is up, Caliph," White interrupted in turn, his voice hardening slightly. "They know because of your man Daedalus's slipshod performance in Denver last week. They know because Wildcard Azarias can't keep his mouth shut. And we'd just as soon get that 'thing' as you so elegantly termed it out of here before the Hunters decide to storm the castle."

Caliph recoiled slightly. "You…you actually think the Hunters are coming here?"

"Caliph," White answered, somewhat tiredly, "I know the Hunters are coming here, and they'll be coming soon…by morning, probably. They know about this transport, and that's all they need nowadays to bring a place crashing to the ground in flaming ruins."

"But," Caliph still protested, "but I'd have heard something by now if that were true. They can't just show up and attack us. They have to investigate, detain, get warrants—"

"No, my friend, I'm afraid they do not." White paced across the balcony, one arm swinging at his side with the other still pressed firmly against his back. "Not since our gas attacks, anyway. Their powers have been, how shall we say…expanded."

"Expanded?" Caliph couldn't believe the universe would conspire against him in such a way. "I can't believe no one has challenged this!"

"Oh, they've challenged it," Mr. White said, his smile somewhat devious. "Every self-respecting Reploid rights activist has claimed 'betrayal' over these new developments, but Emperor Caligula has always been brutally effective with the power he is given. No one complains for long," White finished, in a tone that left no doubt.

Caliph swore, stalking to the edge of the balcony and looking down at the factory grounds far below. "So we prepare for the Vector tonight? Won't that almost certainly bring the Hunters crashing onto our doorstep?"

"Without a doubt," White said, as though it were the most unimportant thing in the world.

"You sound sure of yourself," Caliph said harshly. "You sticking around?"

"Me? No, unfortunately. I have other matters to attend to."

"Of course. I mean, why wouldn't you have 'other matters' to attend to…"

White smiled thinly. "Now, Caliph…is that the kind of trust you place in the Conseil des Cindres after all we've done for you? Do you really think we'd leave you…unprotected?" He said the last word with a glint in his eyes that struck at Caliph's core.

The golden Reploid stiffened, not about to be labeled a coward by this smug, self-important bureaucrat. "Your 'protection' is a bonus, White. Not a necessity."

"Well, nevertheless," White said, not bothering to hide his amusement in irking Caliph, "I think you'll want to accept it."

Mr. White called Caliph's attention to the far corner of the balcony, where the shadows seemed thicker than in other places. Caliph felt his blood begin to chill, more so when the shadows began moving closer to them, taking on a vaguely humanoid form. Caliph opened his mouth to question White when, from behind, he felt the presence of someone's face near his own, with cold breath falling onto his cheek. "What the hell?" Caliph yelled, spinning around to confront thin air. "What is this?" he asked again, turning round sharply once more, but the shadowy mass was no longer there either.

White's light laughter further enraged Caliph, and served to draw the golden Reploid's attention to the edge of the balcony where he'd first seen White. "I'd like to introduce an apprentice of mine," the Conseil's representative was saying. "Call him 'Blade'."

Caliph's eyes widened as he took in the chilling sight of a figure wrapped in a flowing black cloak, his optics radiating like balefires from within the darkness of the hood that covered his head. He seemed to Caliph a Grim Reaper of sorts, or perhaps more like one of those cloaked, hooded monks who stalked about silently, only glancing your way to intimidate you.

"I'm leaving him to assist you in case any of the Hunters do come," White continued. "We cannot allow them to get their hands on the Vector's cargo, Caliph. If the Hunters should close in, you worry about the cargo, and leave the enemy to him." The tall man smiled at his shadowy companion, and to Caliph it seemed as though it were a secret smile, the kind that conveyed information Caliph himself wasn't supposed to know. It wasn't exactly good for his nerves. "We'll expect a report from you as soon as you get yourself hidden away."

"Right," Caliph responded, swallowing his apprehensions and nodding at White. "Of course…but first things first, eh?"

"Good attitude." White smiled as though at a child who had just successfully completed some menial task. "We'll keep in touch, Caliph. Until then…" He nodded to the chief of operations, then to his comrade, and passed through the balcony doors back inside the tower.

Caliph exhaled slowly, turning his head with grudging effort from the door to the cloaked man standing at the balcony' edge. "Well I hope you're happy, Mr. Blade. You've just successfully complicated what would otherwise be a relatively easy mission. You know how many kinds of hell my grunts are gonna raise when I tell 'em we have another shipment tonight?"

Blade moved forward—he did not seem to walk as much as he seemed to flow—steeling his blazing eyes at the golden Reploid in front of him. Then he spoke. It made Caliph visibly recoil. Blade's words weren't words per se…at least they didn't seem so to Caliph. The wraith's harsh, icy voice seemed to project itself directly into Caliph's mind, making his spine go rigid and his blood run cold.

"Irrelevant." The balefires burned even brighter, transfixing Caliph like arrows. "You have a job to do…" Blade raised his left arm slightly; Caliph yelped and swatted at the back of his neck, finding nothing despite the unmistakable feeling of spiders or some other many-legged insects rushing across his flesh. The wraith's arm lowered, and in his next words was the unmistakable sensation of a smug grin.

"Get to work."

Caliph regained control of himself with an effort, focusing his attentions on the rage that this creature procured in him. "Well fine then, Captain Bedsheets," he seethed, gesturing to the opening door. "Whatever gets you out of here quickly is good for me." He left the wraith and turned immediately to the two guards he'd left posted near the door. "How the hell did you let that guy get past?"

A guard blinked. "He was the representative of the—"

"No, no, not White, the other one!"

Another blink. "What other one, boss?"

"That one, the one in the Halloween costume, he's right out there…" Caliph stopped, his angry features melting into a colossal frown. Blade, of course, had vanished from sight.

"This is gonna be one hell of a night," Caliph groaned, retreating to the elevator.

---

War Room

Tokyo Headquarters

"…And as you can see, the harbor itself is easily approachable by a ground force, since it is well within the realm of safe teleportation."

X nodded slowly, glancing to the other commanders, who seemed to share Captain Marquez's opinion. The human officer, talking to them from aboard New Liberty by way of holoscreen, referred to the 3D image of Inafune Harbor projected on the planning table. The Azure Hunter gestured to the central building. "This is where most of the targets are?"

"Most likely," Caligula answered for Marquez, standing to the right of the holoscreen with Signas. "We can focus our efforts here, and send smaller teams into the buildings flanking the central core. Teleportation onto the scene is probably the best way, as the Captain said."

"And my boys will be standing by in case that tower goes live," Alec surmised. "You sure I can't shoot holes in the bastards on the ground, too?"

"And cause all manner of friendly fire incidents? Sure, why not. I never liked any of you anyway." Signas smiled and looked back to the Megacity officer. "How soon before we move on this?"

Marquez shrugged, his image flickering briefly. "We're tracking the transport that left Dalian. It'll be in Niigata in a few hours…we want to let them have a chance to work on it a bit before we move in. We don't know if it's carrying cargo to them or if they're sending cargo back to China…either way we figure we can catch them in the act of importing or exporting something illegal."

"And once we confirm that they are, in fact, assholes," Luna asked, "we warp in to do a job?"

"As soon as I get the signal from your headquarters I'll start moving New Liberty into position." Marquez glanced apologetically towards X and Zero, the only two commanders he really recognized. "We'll have to keep the ship out of the line of sight, so it'll take a few minutes to get there. They'll probably already know we're in the area, since a ship like this doesn't move without being noticed, but…" He smiled. "Once they see us pulling in, I doubt their fighting spirits will be anything but decimated."

"I sure hope so," Damia groused, staring mistrustfully at the tower. "An alcove full of Serpent agents is going to be full of Serpent traps…probably we'll run into Nexnecis somewhere along the line, and I dunno about the rest of you, but that's not my idea of a good time."

"We've got the curative serum now," Mason reminded them. "If we take it right away, we shouldn't be too messed up."

"Even so," Signas said, "let's not go tempting death. Whoever's in there needs to be ready for anything."

"So what exactly will we be doing once we're, you know, in there?" Luna queried.

"This isn't like hunting Mavericks," Marquez answered, too quickly. "You're making arrests now. Lethal force is authorized, but not preferable." The Captain let out a quiet breath, trying to bridge the gap he'd created by lecturing them. "Look, I'm not going to tell you to stand around if a human is shooting at you. I'm a soldier myself. These guys are the bad guys, we're authorized to go in there and stop them, and the governments can't really complain if one of you has to drop a human."

"Even so," Signas said, feeling as though he were a broken record today, "shoot to wound, not to kill, all right? Every time we kill a human the line between Hunter and Maverick is blurred a little more, no matter how much the bastard may have deserved it."

"Oh come now, humans are all our friends and I can't possibly think of one of them deserving a good scalping," Damia said with perfect innocence, earning herself an elbow from Luna.

"We'll finalize our plans and get back to you within the hour," Caligula said to Marquez, feeling irritation setting in. "Let us know if anything important happens."

"Will do," Marquez nodded, breaking communications. The look on his face said clearly that he hadn't the slightest idea what to make of these heroes that the world placed their trust in.

"Anything?" Signas asked of his comrades once a silence had permeated the room.

"Well since it's probably gonna be a light day, I was thinking I'd head down to the beach for some extreme volleyball. You guys want in?" Zero asked, straight-faced as always. He gestured to the 3D model dismissively. "Look, this is no big deal. I don't like not knowing what security tricks they've got in store there, but I don't think they're gonna mount a serious defense knowing that the whole of the Hunter Headquarters is able to come crashing down on them."

"…Maybe not," Caligula said suddenly, receiving an internal communiqué.

"Excuse me?" Signas asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Give me a minute," the intelligence chief replied, heading for the monitor that he had displaying the Montana satellite feed.

"Who exactly are we looking to detain in there?" Mason asked.

Signas fumbled with the table's controls and replaced the image of Inafune Harbor with the profile of a dark eyed blonde woman. "This is the harbor security chief, and probably the overall base operator. Her name's Nelynda. She's got a smuggling record…minor stuff mostly, but enough to get her police attention."

"Looks like she hit the big time," X observed.

"Guys," Caligula called out, "come here." The assembled commanders frowned in unison and moved closer to where their comrade was loading up a large picture of the mountains in the Roscoe area. "This is an armored transport that pulled into Hargrove Tower a while ago."

"This is the place you told us about earlier?" Zero asked. "The one Daedalus was trying to reach?"

"We thought so," Caligula nodded. "Now I think we know so. These transports are used primarily by smugglers, and this isn't the first we've seen around Hargrove Tower since the Denver bust."

"Is this live feed?" Luna asked, impressed.

"The Megacity System lets us pirate off their Impervious satellite," X explained. "It's how we found Sigma in that quarry a few years back."

"Isn't this Commander Moor's jurisdiction?" Signas was asking.

"It is, and we've tipped him off." Caligula sighed. "He's getting a team together, but they spotted something they thought we should see." The image flipped to that of a security video sent in by one of Commander Moor's contacts. It showed a large, heavily armed helicopter speeding through the sky, barely distinguishable from the dark night by the cockpit lights and moving rotors.

"Is that what I think it is?" Commander Zegmann asked, his mouth getting dry.

"I'm afraid so," Caligula answered, rewinding the clip and freezing it in the middle, focusing on the aircraft.

"Christ," Zero breathed. "That's a Vector gunship."

"Those are military!" Damia exclaimed. "Is the System moving on this without telling us?"

"No," Caligula shook his head, gesturing towards a bulge on the helicopter's right side. "Kevin and the others have analyzed this…it's a cargo holder, attached after the gunship was manufactured. So that means…"

"It's stolen," X finished. "Do we know where it's going?"

"We're trying to get a fix on it," Caligula replied, "but at the course it was on when we snapped this clip it's heading at least for the vicinity of Hargrove Tower."

"So they want our attention focused on the grounded transport while the Vector sneaks back to Hargrove to take out the really incriminating cargo," X summarized, glancing to Signas.

"Sir," Caligula said to the boss, "I think, and Moor concurs, that whatever's happening in Roscoe is happening in the next few hours."

"Exactly when the Niigata bust will take place." Signas sighed heavily. "Cal, get a hold of Marquez. He'll need to know about this. It's possible one of these may be a diversion…"

"Or that one or both is a trap," Zegmann suggested.

"Or that," Signas allowed. "But whatever the case, Roscoe is definitely our business, and I'm not sure Moor can take Hargrove Tower alone."

"Here," Caligula said, calling up a model of the Roscoe facility on the planning table. "Let's figure this out."

"This place is set right in the mountains," Damia observed instantly, not liking what she was seeing. "It's also a bit bigger than the harbor…could take some serious manpower to conquer the place."

"I'm not so sure," X frowned, pointing to the main building. "This place, the actual 'tower', is probably where the big shots will be hiding." He motioned to the factories in front of the main building. "Here's where the artillery will be, if they have any." He glanced to Caligula. "Have you done any work on the place?"

The chief nodded. "Hargrove Tower draws power from two main generators located back here," he motioned to the two most entrenched factory buildings. "If someone can sneak inside before the main cavalry moves in…"

"I wonder who 'somebody' could be," Damia deadpanned, frowning gloriously at the buildings. "Let me guess…we'll be moving past the most heavily concentrated defenses to get to these things?"

Caligula smiled thinly. "Of course."

She sighed. "Well, what else is new. Get me a blueprint."

"We're working on it." Cal looked at the others. "We need a main assault force."

"Unit 5 goes to the harbor." It was the first time Archer had spoken during the meeting, and all heads turned automatically towards him. He looked at them with the quiet determination that was his chief strength. "We're thinking these people…this 'Nelynda' might have had something to do with Hawkins getting killed." He straightened up, pronouncing sentence. "That place is ours."

"Agreed," Signas acknowledged. "Unit 5 and Steel Wind will cover the harbor."

"Unit 0 will go with them," Zero piped up. "Look," he said to Archer, "you'll have a lot of ground to cover, and we don't know how strong their defenses will be. Never know when you might need the Crazies," he said, referring to his squad's proudly acknowledged nickname.

Archer nodded slowly, and both he and Zero glanced to X, who took the hint. "Unit 17 will lead the attack on Hargrove Tower," he volunteered. "I've got a pretty big infantry at my disposal…we'll secure the grounds and help Damia's people get into the tower itself once they've blown the generators."

"All right," Signas nodded. "Mason, I want your unit with X and Damia. These missions have too many variables involved for us to go in without backup. Help secure the perimeter and move in when you can."

Mason gestured back towards the satellite feed. "Why don't I help Moor get that transport, too? We'll bring his people back with us to help out. They've gotta be itching to get the guys who killed Greaves and his troops."

"Makes sense," X agreed. "Send half your unit to help, but we need the other half keeping watch." He looked to Caligula. "Do we have a specific target?"

The chief nodded, and again the image changed to a profile, this time of a golden male Reploid. "Our hunt for the 'Caliph' mentioned in Daedalus's communications didn't turn up many results, but this is one of them. He's a combat Reploid, but he's reportedly been trained for business and management as well…interesting skills for a warrior, eh?"

"A regional operator for Chartreuse," Mason rephrased it. "He's a big deal, then."

"If this is who we think it is, then yes, he's a huge deal. We don't know what the hell it was that killed Daedalus—"

"It was a bigass bug," Damia cut in. "A big, shiny mantis that froze him and ripped his head off." She frowned. "I'm glad it didn't obey nature and rape the bastard next…"

"Oh thanks for that image," Signas griped. "Anyway, Mason, you help X and Miss Bugsex over there, and Luna," he said, turning to the purple-haired woman, "I want Unit 20 ready to move in on the harbor in case things turn ugly. We don't know what's in that transport from China and it might be something they can use against us."

Luna nodded. "Gotcha."

"So can I just take the day off, then?" Zegmann asked, rather politely.

"Sorry, Eric. You are getting your people set up in their nastiest machines and guarding the headquarters with a vengeance." Signas narrowed his eyes. "We are not repeating the mistakes of the Seraph Uprising. With so many of our units gone, I want the heavy weaponry team making sure no one tries to take advantage of anyone's absence. Clear?"

"Crystal clear." Zegmann smiled. "Can I blast the reporters?"

"Sure. Now, any serious questions?" Those assembled simply straightened to attention, signifying a collective no. "Well then, get your people together."

"I'll get word to Marquez," Caligula said. "Damia, X, I'll have Hargrove blueprints in a few minutes."

"I wish we weren't going in so suddenly," Signas said, feeling like they'd screwed up somewhere along the line. "We shouldn't be going in so blind…"

"But that takes the fun out of it," Damia countered, poking idly at the image of Caliph and wondering just what the man was trying to smuggle out of Roscoe.

"Hey, you of all people should be watching your back over there," Caligula admonished her. "Caliph and company aren't likely to forget that it was you who blew their cover in Denver. They won't be happy to see you."

"Ah," she replied with a smile, "but the point is for them not to see me, my good sir. And even if they do I think they'll be too busy running from Mega Man Friggin' X over here to care," she added.

"Yeah," X piped up. "I'm mighty."

"You're also late for something or other," Zero said, gesturing outside where Alia was gesturing frantically, looking quite ridiculous.

"What does she want…" X's eyes suddenly lit up. "Oh, yeah! Ha ha! I can cancel Jen Sun now! I'll have to thank Caliph in person for this one!"

"You know you can't dodge her forever," Luna warned as they all moved to the door. "Sooner or later you'll walk into your room and she'll just be there, waiting."

"Thanks," X groaned. "Is there any worse thought with which to haunt my nightmares?"

"Sure," Damia answered, her own eyes reflecting the devilish glint in Luna's. "You could be getting decapitated and violated by a giant Reploid mantis."

"Oh, Jesus," Zero shuddered. "Can we change the subject, for crying out loud?"

"Who's getting violated by what now?" asked a very startled Alia.

"X has been keeping certain habits a secret from us," Damia said, grinning evilly and stealing off towards the Intel wing.

"It's…she…oh never mind," X stammered, shooing Alia. "Go cancel Jen Sun, there's a global crisis."

His navigator just frowned in disapproval. "Come on X, you have to do this sometime and making excuses isn't going to make it any easier—"

"No seriously, big crisis, two Serpent bases." He shooed her again. "Go on, go cancel. You know it'll be satisfying."

"Well…well fine, but is it possible for you to maybe show a little emotion about these global crises once in a while?"

"Nope. Now skidaddle, I've got a comeback to make" he replied, rushing after Damia. "Hey! Get back here, you little imp! This isn't over!"

Alia stared after them and just shook her head. "Once, just once, can't things make any sense around here?"

"Well to quote the 'imp', that would take all the fun out of it," Zero replied, clapping her on the shoulder. "Come on. Jen Sun can wait. X'll need you on dispatch tonight."

"All right," she said, shrugging with finality. "So there's really a global crisis, huh?"

"Not quite yet," Zero replied carefully. "Hey, you stopped by the lounge yet…?"

"Yeah," Alia replied, her voice growing heavier. "They're pretty down in the dumps."

Zero smiled. "Well, what Archer has to say will probably brighten their spirits…"

---

Unit 5 Lounge

"Y'all don't know the real Hawkins," Kyre was saying, smiling wryly. "Y'all only knew the serious, responsible, second-in-command Hawkins."

"Who the hell are you talking about?" Rykov asked, laughing with an ease that softened the tension further in the formerly somber room.

"Pay no attention to him," Kyre waved Rykov off. "See, me, I came into the force with Hawkins. I know the real guy, the smartass rookie who couldn't stop getting himself into trouble."

"We're all smartass rookies who keep getting into trouble," Sparks pointed out, before Torque cut him off with "Hey, be quiet and let the man eulogize!"

"Thank you," Kyre nodded formally towards Torque, who saluted back. "Picture, if you will, Douglas and Caligula in all their chiefly glory, unveiling the aerial ride armors we were going to use to match the ones Repliforce was using. Serious atmosphere, so serious…and here's me, Rykov and Archer standing near the back, none of us really caring, and I'm stabbing a bottle of water with one of the techie's geometry compasses."

"Why?" Krysta had to ask.

"Hey, you ever heard Douglas give a speech?" Torque asked with a slow smile. "All the technobabble on God's earth and then some. Booooring!"

"Thank you again," Kyre said. "Anyway, we're bored, and I've got wet metal prongs, and I gesture like I'm gonna jam them into this nearby electrical socket. But I stop at the last minute and say, 'Ha, right, I'm not that stupid." He paused, interrupted by his own disbelieving laugh, which inspired more of the same from those around him. "So Hawkins, he gets this look in his eyes, and he's like 'Gimme that!' all determined and stuff, and he takes it right out of my hands—"

"Oh, noooo," Seri groaned.

"—And he jams the wet metal in the electric socket and boom," he emphasized, waving his arms to indicate flying sparks. "We're talkin' showers of sparklies, people, we're talkin' melted compass prongs. And everyone in the damn garage, Douglas and Caligula included, turns to look at Hawkins, who's just standing there with his hair on end and soot on his face looking guilty as sin, and what are the first words to come out of this genius's mouth?" Kyre held up his hands, affecting a look of indignant protest on his face to mimic Hawkins. "'I…I didn't know it would do that!'"

"Oh, God," Vulcan said with a grin, as the whole room broke out in appreciative laughter. "And Archer was fine with this?"

"I think that's what convinced Archer to give him the promotion," Kyre replied with a smirk. "Don't you feel well managed?"

"Totally," Vulcan laughed, leaning back in his chair and listening to Rykov start up another story about their departed friend. They'd come here after the funeral, drifting naturally into conversation about the Hunter they'd just buried, and as they did so they began to recover from the complicated emotions the funeral scene had evoked in each of them.

Rykov spoke almost as though it were an assigned mission, and he was doing his damned best to complete it to the best of his ability so that Hawkins could be remembered as well as possible. He seemed to have mostly recovered from the grief Vulcan had witnessed at Salem Vale, and was enjoying the recollection of the brighter moments of his friend's life. In this he was similar to Torque and Sparks, and especially Kyre, who many believed would be Archer's choice to replace Hawkins as lieutenant commander. This was fine with them, since as far as Vulcan knew everyone liked and trusted Kyre, and those things tended to be the biggest deals Archer considered when selecting an SIC.

Next to Rykov was Seri, an energetic new recruit that Rykov was rather fond of. She seemed to return the sentiment judging from the occasional flickers in her eyes that Vulcan sometimes saw when she was looking at his friend. Being new, she didn't know Hawkins as well as the others, but showed a genuine interest in getting to know the late lieutenant by way of listening to eulogies.

There were plenty others in the room, but the only other one Vulcan knew well was Krysta, who sat in the chair next to him. She appeared to have lightened up a bit since the funeral, but not as much as the others. Vulcan was conscious of her glancing at him covertly at several occasions, but could not bring himself to look directly at her without feeling ashamed of himself. He'd been inexcusably cold to her at Salem Vale, at a time when she'd been suffering just as much as he was. He felt her eyes sting the side of his head again, and wanted to say something to her but couldn't. He realized that neither of them was really paying attention to what Rykov was saying when the rest of the crowd laughed and they did not. The incident left Krysta feeling embarrassed, and she reverted her attention to Rykov. It made Vulcan feel stifled once more, and he wished that he could leave.

Another thing that detracted from his comfort level was the fact that they were running out of people to tell stories. So far no one had asked Vulcan to contribute, since he'd been there when Hawkins had fallen and was believed to still be troubled by the incident, but that didn't mean they wouldn't ask him to talk before the meeting broke up, and Vulcan really couldn't think of a meaningful tale to offer them at the moment.

Fortunately he was saved when the door to the common room opened and Commander Archer appeared, in full alabaster battle dress.

"Hey," the boss greeted them curtly, glancing around the room. "Are we eulogizing our friend, here?"

"That we are," Kyre answered, noting quickly that it did not appear as if the commander wanted to join in, much to the unit's confusion. "Sir…?"

"Well…we can do this any time. Right now, however…" A cold smile tugged at one corner of Archer's mouth. "How'd you like to help me avenge him?"

It was as though he'd pressed a button and activated the battle modes of every person in the room, humans included. "Where?" Rykov was the first to ask.

"We found two Serpent bases," Archer answered, striding from his perch in the doorway into the room itself. "One's in Montana, and we think they were involved in a hit in Colorado the same day Hawkins was killed. The other…" His smile grew both wider and thinner. "The other is a harbor in Niigata."

Seri blinked slowly. "That's right in our backyard."

"Yes," Kyre agreed, understanding. "Yes it is. Are we…?"

"Given the high probability that Serpent bases have connections to Serpent attacks," Archer answered, "yes, I was able to explain to Signas the wisdom of letting Unit 5 go after Inafune Harbor."

"Alone?" Krysta asked, actually apprehensive about the idea.

"No," Archer replied, deflating slightly to the dull plane of practicality. "We don't know exactly what kinds of garbage they might throw at us. Zero's madmen are coming with us…along with…well, that'll be a surprise." He gestured sharply for the door. "Clear out. Get your gear and meet me in the planning room. We've got some time, so I want to get this one right."

Vulcan thought this might be one of those incidents in life where one piece of information was both the best and worst news he'd ever heard. He stood with the others, but moved towards Archer instead of the door, knowing the answer to his question before he asked it but still holding onto a thread of hope. "Sir…"

"No, Vulcan," Archer cut him off, burning the thread decisively. "I'm sorry. You know I'm sorry, but you're not in fighting condition."

"Please," he said, nearly losing his composure. "He was my friend, too."

"There will be other bases, Vulcan," Archer replied unyieldingly, though his eyes couldn't stop apologizing. "Look, you nearly died back there. That gas melted your guts."

"I don't need to be reminded," Vulcan replied icily.

"Apparently you do," Archer retorted. "I lost one good Hunter to Nexnecis and I'm not losing another. I'm sorry," he said again. "But there will be other bases."
The conversation was over and Vulcan knew it. He nodded once in resignation and Archer took his leave, even as Rykov and Krysta approached. "Hey, man," Rykov said carefully, "he's right, you know? No sense getting killed off."

"I know," Vulcan conceded with a sigh, smiling half-heartedly at his friends. "But it still pisses me off…"

"Don't worry," Krysta said, smiling back. "We'll get one of them for you."

He nodded again, and the two of them started to leave. "Krysta," Vulcan said, stepping forward before he entirely realized what he was doing. "Hey, uh," he said once she turned back to him, faltering over what to say. "Listen…back there…look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you or anything…"

She smiled, allowing him to stop stammering. "Hey, it's all right…we're all a little weird today, y'know?"

But it wasn't all right, he saw. Her eyes betrayed her and she knew it. When she looked at him her gaze was full of uneasiness, and both were conscious of it and unsure exactly how to react to it. Vulcan knew there was only one other thing that had occurred in the cemetery that might have caused this and opened his mouth to ask her a question that interested him greatly, but she spoke quickly, cutting him short. "I need to go…I'll see you later," she said, trying to insert an apology into her expression but not doing such a stellar job of it.

"Be careful," Vulcan said, smiling weakly and letting her go. Suddenly the only one in the room, he sat back down and exhaled a long breath. Then he slammed his fist hard on the arm of the chair, cursing bitterly. Nothing today had been going entirely right for him. Worst of all was, of course, not being allowed to go on this new mission. Those bastards had attacked him too, after all.

So absorbed in his anger was he that Vulcan didn't notice the door open again until a new occupant had sidled in.

"Am I late?" Vulcan's eyes rose to find Kevin Seitz. The human looked quizzically at the Reploid in the chair. "Guess so. Why aren't you with them?"

"I'm broken," Vulcan replied with a curt smile. "And yeah, if you're here for the wake, you're out of luck."

"I see." Seitz nevertheless took a seat across from the Reploid, getting rather comfortable and thus starting to perk Vulcan's attention. "And you? What story did you tell?"

"I…didn't," Vulcan answered slowly, tilting his head at the highly ranked spook. He knew him only in passing, and couldn't ever remember having a dialogue with him. There was only one explanation…the same thing that Krysta for whatever reason didn't want to talk about. "They never got around to me. Why do you ask?"

"Just wondered is all. What story would you have told?"

Vulcan frowned, scrutinizing Seitz's face. It only took a second to realize that the human was interested only in complete honesty…for the moment, anyway. "What story would I have told?" Vulcan repeated the question and straightened up in his seat, his eyes falling to the floor. He was still young enough that he didn't like looking people in the eye when he bared his soul. "Probably how he acted in Megacity 5."

"What do you mean?" Seitz asked, apparently with honest interest.

"He…you know, he was just acting like a leader should act." Vulcan shrugged. "He got us out of that mess with the tank…saved my life. Hell, he saved a lot of lives that day. But," he added, smiling dryly, "that story really wouldn't have fit the mood."

"On the contrary," Seitz replied thoughtfully, "it may have been the perfect finish." Vulcan waited for another question, but Seitz took his time in asking it. Finally he glanced to Vulcan and said, almost conspiratorially, "I know a few things about Hawkins, too. Want to hear some?"

Vulcan drew a slow breath, almost certain where this was going. "Sure."

The human smiled, running a hand through his white-blonde hair as though conjuring up a fond memory. "I know that he was willing to do absolutely anything necessary to protect his friends. Even things Hunters aren't really supposed to do. Friends were a big deal to him."

"I know," Vulcan said, because it seemed like Seitz was waiting for him to say something. "He told me they were all that mattered."

"Did you believe him?" But he continued without waiting for an answer. "Hawkins put himself at great risk to help humans and Reploids alike. He was willing to protect any Hunter, and even Mavericks, if it meant the greater good would be served. In one particular mission…he went beyond the protection of the law—one of the few Hunters crazy enough to do such a thing—and with other brave souls he made the rescues that brought more pride to Intel than we've ever had before. Despite some nasty consequences," Seitz added quietly. "Your lieutenant was a hero in more ways than you know, Vulcan." Suddenly his eyes shot up to meet Vulcan's own. "What about you?" he asked purposefully. "You think you've got the guts to do crazy shit like that?"

Again Vulcan drew a slow breath. He knew Seitz was testing him, even though he wasn't sure what the exact criteria of the test was. He only knew he didn't want to fail. Honesty had worked well so far, so he figured he'd stick with what worked. "I don't know."

Seitz frowned. "You don't know?"

"Well, you're asking me pretty general questions. No, I can't honestly tell you I've got the guts to do something when I don't know what that something is." Vulcan shrugged, conversationally rather than dismissively. "But from what you just said…I mean, I'm not really as shocked as I probably should be," he admitted. "I guess…I guess I always figured certain stuff went on that we don't know about."

"And you accept that?"

Another shrug. "If it keeps my friends alive, then I can probably accept it."

Seitz crossed his arms behind his head, examining Vulcan carefully. "The bitch of it is, if I gave everyone the benefit of the doubt, I'd be responsible for a lot of dead agents. You understand, right?"

"Yeah. You want to make sure I'm not just a kid out to prove himself."

"Are you?"

Another deep breath. He was never quite prepared for Seitz's manner of direct questioning. "I don't think so. Proving yourself is painful." He smiled without humor. "Lots of people still think I killed Sigma two years ago in that quarry…but I didn't take the shot. I've never pretended otherwise. Does that sound like someone out to prove himself?"

But Seitz was stubborn. "Modesty sometimes gives way to inadequacy."

"Well," Vulcan replied quickly, to stop himself from getting angry at the comment, "I did go chase a train with elites one night. They liked me for it, especially after I served as a decoy for X and got cut nearly to pieces by one of the Seraph Bosses as a result."

Seitz did smile lightly at this. "All right, so you're mature for your age. But you lost to a skilled Maverick. Do you have what it takes physically?"

"Not at the moment. My insides are still solidifying after that fun run a few days ago. But I…" His mind drifted to an ethereal version of the crater where he'd fought Tetra, the name 'Ares' dancing across his central processor. "I've dealt with my share of tough enemies."

"Have you." Seitz stood suddenly. "Let's take a walk."

Vulcan blinked, coming slowly to his feet. "Where are we going…?"

"Ever been upstairs before?" The spook grinned at Vulcan's reaction. "I promise you it's far more boring than you'd imagine. Just don't touch anything. Caligula shoots sticky-fingered visitors."

It was telling of the situation that Vulcan wasn't sure if Seitz was serious or not. "Well then…uh…lead the way."

---

Sakimoto Airfield

Raven 13 emitted a rumbling purr as its systems and engines came to low power, signifying the completion of preflight procedures. Every reading was in the green, and all the weapons were loaded. A big mechaniloid backed slowly away from the jet, its telltale warning beeps sending airport technicians scattering as the refueling droid moved on to the next aircraft.

Alec smiled instinctively as he felt his baby come to life. The mild vibrations of the activated aircraft traveled up his spine and allowed him to experience the mild thrill he felt every time flight was imminent. He didn't get to go up in the air as often anymore thanks to his command rank, and this increased his anticipation of aerial combat.

Satisfied that his transport was battle-ready, Alec put the system on standby and left the cockpit. He flashed a thumbs up to Bale, who was about to jump into Raven 5, and returned to the garage. Ravenna waited for him in his 'office', which was more of a general planning room. Smiling as easily as he knew how, the pilot approached his significant other and took a seat next to her. "Everything's in the green," he said. He hoped he sounded casual, because he knew she wasn't exactly at ease.

Ravenna smiled a little, brushing her dark hair from her face. "An easy mission?" she asked. Her voice was not timid, but her eyes were. This was the first time during their relationship that Alec was flying into combat. Since she rather liked him, she was a bit apprehensive about the whole thing.

Alec knew it. "Sure, nothin' to it. We fly in, blow the bitches to hell and fly circles 'round the joint 'till the boys on the ground take care of the hard part." The corners of his mouth turned upwards in one of the quiet but cocky gestures he knew she liked, the kind of smile she wore when she came up with a training program that she knew would foil even the cleverest of the clients using it. "Really, babe, my job is a piece of cake. Don't worry about me."

"You?" she asked with a grin. "It's that expensive aircraft out there that concerns me. I spent a lotta time on your nav systems, so you better not break anything up there." It was true. She'd made sure Alec would see most anything that was heading his way.

"No worries," he said, draping an arm around her and squeezing her shoulder. Then he changed the subject before either of them could sink back into anxiety. "Sorry about the long day…I'd planned for a bit more free time."

"It's not your fault," she said, somewhat distantly. Then her dark green eyes flickered up towards his face. "Thanks for taking me along this morning."

"Ah…yeah, sure," Alec replied, calling to mind the funeral. "I thought you'd be more uncomfortable."

"I've met Hawkins before," Ravenna protested. "And they said the funeral was open to all his friends…though I guess I still don't know if I should have been there."

"Are you glad you were?"

She nodded, and then appeared uncomfortable. "I…uh, don't know how to say it correctly, but…I dunno, I guess I just never gave the Reploids much thought until now. I mean, I always thought of them as sentients, just like mechanical versions of us…but without certain quirks humans have, since they are, in fact, machines."

Alec nodded slowly. "I understand what you mean. Most humans are the same way…we don't think of the Reploids as entirely as advanced as us, at least mentally. But when you live and work around them, you learn not to differentiate, and to just think of them as one of the guys…or one of the gals," he quickly added.

"So then," she pressed, "you now think of them as being like us mentally?"

"More or less," he responded, already feeling out of his league. Philosophy was not his thing. "I've seen young Reploids come of age with the same angst and uncertainty as a human adolescent…hell, you can almost watch their brains putting together a code to live by. It's just like with us. And I've seen Reploids fall in love too, love as pure or purer than humans are capable of."

She tilted her head a bit. "Yeah…I was a bit surprised to see how much they responded to Hawkins's passing. All the mental processes we go through, they go through…love, grief, a desire to change the impossible…" She shivered, awed by the complexities of the programming. "God, Light was a genius…" She roused herself from her admirations for the late roboticist and turned her attention back to Alec. "You think they fear death like humans do?"

He blinked. "Well, I'd assume so…"

"Even though they can be resurrected, is what I'm asking."

"Uhh…well, it's not as simple as that," he said, fumbling for an explanation. "I mean…it ain't like you just get up after a long nap. Sometimes the control chip is damaged, so they can't be resurrected. Or sometimes they come back without some or all of their old memories. That can be even scarier than death. Plus," he added, seizing on an earlier statement that he hoped would end the conversation quickly before he ran out of smart things to say, "like you said, they're sentients. That means they comprehend death as an ending, and frankly, who isn't afraid of not existing anymore?"

"Mm." She smiled, sensing his discomfort. "Very insightful, Professor Tremont. You should give up flying and write theses."

"God, no," he said forcefully, recalling his college days. "I think my thesis had something to do with birds. You know, evolution of animal flight and all that. Turned into one big god damned biology study."

"Ah, but did you learn anything, my scholar?"

"Well, I can't explain those weird shits on the beach, the hoo-aka mutants, if that tells you anything."

Ravenna laughed. "Then maybe you should stick to flying after all."

"Yeah," he agreed, even as his communicator began to signal a go-mission. "Damn," he said absently. This meant New Liberty had detected the Chinese transport moving into the Niigata harbor. And that meant it was time to rock and roll.

"Go on," Ravenna said with a sigh, understanding what was happening. She leaned towards him and kissed him tenderly, but briefly. She'd learned that for whatever reason her kiss was about the only thing that destroyed his well-presented but insincere machismo and softened him up, but she didn't want him feeling warm and caring at the moment. He needed to be a fighter. The kiss was more of a reassuring promise, and for his part Alec felt the promise hook him like an anchor, and briefly he felt a curious happiness resonate within himself. Is this love, he asked himself as he did every time this happened, but he quickly put it out of mind. He had no time for love now. Now was a time for war.

He was nearly out the door before her voice stopped him. He turned back with a raised eyebrow. She was trying to say what she'd been thinking during their entire conversation. "You said you don't differentiate between humans and Reploids…so…" she asked, irate with herself for stammering when she knew he had work to be doing. "So how…how do you handle killing them? Is it hard?"

Of course it is, he almost said, but somehow he could not say it. The realization left him stiff as a statue, and about as cold inside. Was it hard to kill his enemies? Had he ever really thought of it before? No, he realized, they'd been more like targets on a grid to him, people who wanted to kill him and thusly had to be killed first. Even now he didn't exactly feel guilty about it, since as far as he'd known he'd never attacked anyone who didn't deserve it, but he'd always imagined that somewhere deep down he had a moral problem with his deeds.

"Killing is never easy," he replied, but the answer satisfied neither of them and both knew it.

Fortunately Ravenna didn't press the issue any further. "Never mind…go be a hero. I'll be here when you get back."

"You don't have to wait up…"

"Yes I do." She strode over to him, walking with him out of the garage. "Be seeing you," she said, kissing him again and stepping aside so he could board Raven 13.

Alec as usual could find no words that he didn't feel would profane the moment, so he smiled sincerely at her, a gesture he found rather easy to pull off, and vanished into the cockpit of his beloved jet. "Steel Wind, are we ready to rock?" he asked once the radios were active.

"All ready up front boss," Bale's voice came back over the frequency. "You know, you could always stay behind if you two'd rather spend the night snuggling or somethin'."

Alec's face adopted the grin it wore whenever he was challenged. "Blow it out your heating vent, Bale! Maybe you wouldn't be so cranky if you weren't denied so often…"

"O-ho!" his friend laughed in reply. "Is that so? Well you know what this boils down to."

Alec did. It always amazed the other members of Steel Wind, and the Hunters in general, that during moments of heavy combat and crisis Alec and Bale somehow found enough free time to show off with loop-de-loops and other aero-acrobatics in some kind of private competition while wars were going on in the background. "You're on," he accepted, almost certain he could feel the blood racing faster through his veins. Flight was what he lived for. He was ready. "Bring it on, Serpent, you scaly-assed bastard," he murmured, even as he heard the signal from the dispatch tower.

"Raven 13, you're cleared for takeoff."

---

Hargrove Tower

The night was cold. Kitsch had held out on hope that as morning drew ever nearer some hint of the future sunlight would heat things up, but it was to no avail. The lizard drew himself up to full height and stretched mightily, watching as the Vector gunship approached from the skies to touch down at the loading zone at the center of the facility grounds. It made more sense, in Kitsch's opinion, for the loading zone to be closer to the buildings, but Caliph didn't seem willing to deviate from this Mr. White fellow's explicit instructions. Probably this was due to the wannabe ringwraith following the boss around, Kitsch surmised. Neither he nor Caliph could be called cowardly, but this Blade guy made absolutely everyone nervous.

"Is the cargo prepared?" Kitsch asked loudly to his human counterpart over the din of the descending chopper.

"The boss is bringing it out now," Yergin shouted back. "Any idea what it is?"

"Somethin' important," Kitsch replied dismissively. "Who cares? Let's just get this done and get out of here."

Yergin shrugged and stepped away to answer a com call. Things were normal, Caliph reported. Everything was on schedule. Yergin breathed a sigh of relief. With luck, it would all be over soon.

---

Far behind them, deep within the clustered garages and mini-factories, two groups of Reploids moved stealthily towards their separate targets, all six figures hidden by mobile cloaking shields. The decision to sneak onto Hargrove grounds while the Vector was landing had its obvious benefits, as the bulk of the security personnel would be keeping track of the gunship, but Damia was still worried about increased security on the base borders. So far infiltration hadn't been a problem, however, and with Castle and Acrystos she headed for the generator on the east end of the grounds. Dantz reported that he, Nexus and Deluge had arrived at the western generator without incident and shortly afterward Unit 8's second half arrived at its own destination.

"There," Castle whispered, gesturing towards the heating duct the base blueprint had revealed. "Looks small," he added.

"Smaller than we thought," Damia agreed quietly while Acrystos scanned for any enemy sentries. The commander knelt down in front of the vent, removing a cutting laser from her utility belt and setting down the powerful pistol she'd brought with her as her primary weapon. It took her two minutes to make a hole in the back of the smallish building housing the generator, during which time her accomplices stole away on separate scouting missions.

"We've got a few patrols wandering around," Acrystos whispered upon return. "But they all seem kind of bored, and half of them aren't even openly armed. So long as we stay quiet, we're cool."

Castle returned seconds later. "The two escape exits are located on the top floor, and both doors have security systems. We can knock 'em out with minor EMP pulses, but they have to be simultaneous." He looked down at the open vent shaft. "Going in?"

"Can either of you fit?" Damia asked, knowing the answer already. "Fine…don't screw up with the EMP then. I'll meet up with you near the generator."

Her comrades nodded and vanished, so to speak, since they were already cloaked. Damia drew a long breath and eyed the vent shaft untrustingly. She didn't know what to expect on the other side, and that bothered her, especially since it had been a while since she'd been in the field and—she'd admit it—she was a little nervous.

But deep down she was glad to be back in her element and she knew it. She waited to make sure there really was no one watching and recalled her armor, which would have produced a significant infrared flash if someone had been monitoring the area. Then quickly she holstered her pistol and squeezed herself into the vent, wriggling like a worm through the tight confines while trying to ignore the oppressive heat. At first she banged around a bit against the steel walls and this unnerved her, but she quickly remembered the proper way to do this and in time was slithering silently towards her objective, just as she'd done countless times in the past.

She heard no noise above her, and her scanners showed no signs of life. There would probably be cameras, but she'd have to count on her cloaking shield for that. A few seconds later she received a confirmation signal from Castle and Acrystos—they had overcome the security and were moving downstairs towards her. She could now hear the hum of the generator and felt as though she were about to melt—any further and she risked coming up under the generator itself. Scanning once more for life and receiving a negative response she rolled over onto her back and retrieved her cutting laser once more. She held her breath the full time she created her exit, exhaling hugely in relief once the task was complete. According to the blueprint she should be in a relatively shaded portion of the room near the generator, and the cameras should have trouble seeing something happening here. She gently lifted the shaft's ceiling up only enough to clear the floor and slid it slowly away, and then the dim light of the generator shed spilled down onto her perspiring face.

The path through the vents was the most direct path. It would take Castle and Acrystos at least ten minutes to quietly make it down to her position, and the mission needed to be accomplished with haste, hence Damia's solo action. Just before she began to rise out of the vent she got a communication from Dantz that said his mines had been set on the western generator. Their greater speed was doubtlessly due to Nexus's teleportation skills, Damia thought. If only she had that luxury. But she'd made it this far without incident, and now all she had to do was set the mines she carried on her belt and leave.

Finally, after checking to make sure her cloaking was still active, Damia lifted herself up into the eastern generator shed in the Hargrove Tower base, ready for anything other than what turned out to be waiting for her.

---

Caliph couldn't help but be interested in the heavy black box he carried. Only he was allowed to touch it, and even then only when the Conseil des Cindres gave him permission. Despite this privilege, Caliph wasn't exactly sure what was in this most guarded box. He'd only seen the contents once, and that wasn't supposed to have happened, or so he'd gathered from the look in Helm's eyes when he noticed Caliph watching. It was, if memory served, a simple crystal sphere containing what looked like a living, sprawling black fog. And yet it had seemed more than a fog…it had substance to it, almost like something Caliph would see come out of an arm cannon. So he had to assume it was an energy source of some kind, but why Kou Cao would want it hidden in Roscoe was beyond the Hargrove chief.

Behind him, Blade flowed like a never ending shadow, the only fixed points being his blazing eyes. He had said nothing to Caliph since their initial conversation, nor had Caliph said anything back, but now on this solitary journey to the ground level Caliph felt the need to clear a few things up. "Tell me," he said without looking back or wholly expecting an answer, "why would the Serpent place something as important as this in my base only to let it sit around until it needs to be moved someplace else? What's the point?"

Blade's eyes shifted towards Caliph's position, but no communication issued forth from the wraith. The silence made Caliph feel as though he'd just spoken to a wall, and he dismissed the cloaked figure with a sigh of annoyance. But then the dark Reploid spoke, or 'spoke' in his manner anyway, startling Caliph and prompting him to stop and turn around. "It is…as those who build stationary towers for radio across the land…to enhance the range of their broadcast." Blade gave the impression that he was about to say more, but no more icy words invaded Caliph's brain. But the chief thought he got the message, and decided it was better not to ask what Chartreuse was broadcasting.

Blade floated forward and Caliph followed suit, resuming his trip to the elevator, where they both stood at opposite ends as the doors closed and the descent began. "Everything's normal, Yergin," Caliph said, patching in to his field contact. "Everything's on schedule."

But as the elevator approached the ground floor, Blade seemed to stiffen, solidifying enough that Caliph thought he saw the image of arms beneath the cloak of flowing darkness. His balefire eyes dimmed slightly, and from him an icy aura chilled the air, sending a cold shudder down Caliph's spine. "You," he hissed, "what are you doing…?"

"I sense…" Blade emanated thinly, lost in some wide-range scan. "That aura…I sense…them!"

"What?" Caliph asked, as though someone had flipped a magic switch to 'danger'. "What's going on, dammit?"

"They have come," Blade said significantly, and that was all he would say. Then a harsh but mirthful laugh escaped his soul, reverberating through the close elevator confines like a sonar wave off the ocean floor.

Caliph felt his resolve slipping to madness at the very proximity of the frightening Reploid, but before he could ask another question the doors opened. Caliph rushed outside, turning back to look at the creature behind him, but there was nothing there. Not even the trace of a shadow remained. Blade was gone. Completely, utterly and simply gone, like he'd never been there to begin with.

"Boss!" a guard called from down the hall. "Boss, what's goin' on?"

Caliph spun towards him, breaking into a run towards the exit. This was too much. "Sound the alarm," he shouted, turning on his communicator to send the same message to Kitsch. "Sound the alarm. The Hunters are here!"

---

X collected reports from his lieutenants one by one and, secure that his perimeter was secure, he turned on his communicator and patched into Alia. "What's the situation down south?"

"Mason reports that he and Moor have closed in on the transport. The takedown is likely occurring right now," the dispatcher responded. "Also, we're about to go into the harbor."

"Damn…I was hoping the missions wouldn't be simultaneous." He sighed, glancing around at the four Reploids that made up his little squad. Each of his lieutenants had about this number at their disposal as well. "Keep me posted, Alia." He broke contact just as someone tried to get through to him. "Yeah, Dantz?"

"It's done," the guerilla's deep voice responded. "We're fanning out now. Damia should be done any moment. Give the order and we'll blow these things sky high. That'll attract their attention."

"Then we'll ground the chopper and move in," X finished. "I just hope Damia pulls this off before they load that thing…we can't let it get away."

"She'll have it done, sir." Even the implication that one of his people would screw up irked Dantz, X observed.

"X," Jasper broke in, on another frequency. "Hey, something's happening to the south."

X looked, and swore. Indeed, the personnel seemed to be moving towards the chopper, and the looks on their faces suggested that they were worried about something. "Oh shit, don't tell me…"

Two seconds later his fears were realized when the wail of an active alarm system began to resonate among the clustered mountains.

"They see us!" Shadin cut in, from the south. "X, we gotta scramble!"

"Dammit! How did they know?" X growled. "Dantz! Go help Damia and the others. Don't blow the generators just yet!"

"Roger," Dantz replied, though he'd come to the same conclusions on his own.

Someone came running out of the tower's main doors. It was a golden Reploid carrying a black case. Caliph. He was flanked on both sides, and his guards were heavily armed. The Vector pilot was already taking off, and Caliph had to lob the case hard to get it inside the cargo hold.

X was already on the move. "Unit 17, same plan, execute now!" he ordered before closing his com lines. His arm converted to a blaster and he activated the emergency acceleration system in his boots, jetting across the landscape down from his perch towards the center of the complex, where guards were already beginning to cluster and open fire. X's four comrades rushed after him, opening covering fire on their targets. The Hunters were trained well, striking their enemies with stun blasts while X accumulated power in his cannon. The gunship had gained sufficient altitude already—Vectors were startlingly fast—and was already twisting around to make an escape. Ignoring the multitude of shots flying his way, X leveled his cannon at the fleeing ship and sent a thick bolt of plasma screaming up through the sky into the tail rotor. The copter instantly began its fatal spiral, slamming into the mountains only a little ways away from where X had been encamped. The fall wasn't that great, and the pilot was healthy enough to crawl out of the ruined gunship and try to make his escape, but two of X's four accomplices were rushing back already to apprehend him and the cargo. But Unit 17 was closing in from all sides now, battling their way to the central area to join their leader.

Caliph took one look at the scene unfolding before him and realized he was outgunned. He turned and sprinted back with his guards towards the gates of Hargrove Tower. X immediately gave pursuit, switching his cannon to stun and opening fire at the fleeing criminals. But he was too late to catch them before the doors slammed shut, and an additional adaman barrier slid down over the doors to prevent a forced entry.

"Damn it!" X spun around to see what was happening around him, and was rewarded with the sight of several energy projectiles heading his way. Breaking into a tumble he threw himself to the ground and rolled away from the shots, but nevertheless felt a sting in his left leg. "You'll pay for that," he growled, jumping to his feet and sending a blast at one of his attackers, a human. Perhaps it was the mere sight of the human champion X shooting at him that did it, perhaps something else, but the human just stood there dumbly and let himself get stunned. X proceeded to stun the two Reploids fighting beside him, unable to hide a smile of appreciation toward this new kind of combat, the kind where he wasn't supposed to actually kill anybody. They needed these people for information, after all, and they couldn't get that if they were dead.

"Commander!" Jasper was yelling, rushing towards his comrade. "There's something going on at the garages," he said, gesturing.

X looked, and immediately his stomach sank. Things were emerging from the garages…large, nasty-looking security mechaniloids. X knew them from conversations with Douglas. They were known as 'Desdemona' units, and they were about as dangerous as a mechaniloid could get. Above them, Hargrove Tower's defense networks came to life on the building itself. Security personnel were assembling en masse near the Desdemona units.

"Everyone," X said, patching through to all his troops, "gather 'round. This is gonna be harder than we thought."

---

The first thing Damia did was call back her armor. Like all the guerillas she had several protective suits, and this one was a darker shade of blue than usual to better blend with the night.

Still cloaked, she ducked to a corner before actually taking time to examine the room. It was a big chamber, and the generator hummed menacingly at the center. There were two cameras, one on one end of the room and one directly across, just as the blueprint had suggested. She was just beginning to devise a way to deactivate them when the alarms began to wail.

Instinctively wondering if she was responsible for the alert, Damia quickly decided that no, if it had been her then the alarm would have gone off as she'd been cutting, or as she'd emerged, not while she was standing cloaked and motionless in the shadows. But then, what was happening outside? "X," she said into her communicator, "X, do you read? What's going—"

Something struck her hard from behind, sending her flying forward with a startled cry. Damia landed badly, slamming into the floor with enough force to drive all the air from her synthetic lungs. She groaned, desperately trying to muster enough energy to pull herself to her feet, but even as she did so she heard her cloaking shield crackle and die. It must have been damaged by the fall, she realized dismally. Adding further to the confusion of the moment was that even though she'd had her back pressed against the wall she'd been struck from behind.

She spun around to face her attacker…but no one was there. No one at all. What was going on?

Then there came a cold laugh that echoed throughout the room, all but freezing Damia's blood. The Huntress drew her pistol, ready to unleash an adaman bullet into anything that moved. She looked all around her, but could find nothing to shoot at. "Let's go," she challenged. "Where are you hiding?"

"Turn around," said a voice—if it could be called a voice—directly behind her. Damia felt the cold breath on the back of her neck. She could feel what could only be described as the essence of spiders running up her arms. Springing like a mousetrap she spun around and opened fire at point blank…only it wasn't point blank, because no one was there.

Sufficiently intimidated, Damia turned to look for an escape route, but again she was struck in the back, and spilled violently to the floor. She raised her gun in defense but it was smacked out of her grip by a powerful hand, and this time Damia got a look at her dark, haunting opponent. "What in the hell…?" she breathed, her eyes widening.

"Hello, Damia," the cloaked, demonic figure said, his voice and his very essence materializing in her mind. "It has been a…rather long time. I missed you…up in Moscow."

"Get…get out of my head!" she ordered, scrambling to her feet and backing away. "Who the hell are you?"

But she knew. She knew it even as he moved forward and she looked into the balefires glowing amidst the darkness…even before he drew back the cloak of flowing shadows to reveal a solid Reploid frame of ebon metal lined with sharp, gleaming blades. His cowl remained, but Damia didn't need to see his face to recognize her old friend.

"Oh, my God…Revenant!"

A light of mirth danced in the fires of the wraith's eyes. "One…and the same."He stepped forward slowly, methodically. Behind him his cloak billowed out like a cape, expanding to shade the whole room in darkness. Damia couldn't help but gasp at the sight. "Tonight is a beautiful night, my small one," Damia heard as the revered former Hunter moved closer and closer to her, his conflagrating optics fixed almost affectionately on her cornered frame. The Huntress found she could do nothing but watch as he approached, as the darkness behind him encroached forward upon her and made her blood run cold, as invisible spiders crawled over every part of her body and made her tremble. Revenant smiled with teeth bright enough that Damia could see them from within the shadows of the hood, and reaching out for her with a bone-white metal hand he completed his thought.

"Tonight…the end begins."