Bubble Gum Crisis
An Alternate Story of the Knight Sabers
2034 Year of the Tiger
Neo No Armour Against Fate (Section 2 of 5)
Flash Powder (Part 9 of 11)
by Shawn Hagen(1999;2005)

Based on situations and characters created by Suzuki Toshimichi.

The money man was surrounded by a cloud of steam as he came from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. He walked to the windows and pulled back the curtains, looking out over MegaTokyo. The St. Regis hotel gave him a good view of the city, he could see the Tower. He hated it.

At least he thought he did. He could never be sure. Everything seemed a jumble. His skin hung loose on him, as if he had lost a lot of weight over a short time, adding to the appearance he might have just recovered from some sort of illness. Turning he walked over to his bedside table and picked up a half empty flask of gin and took a long drink.

It would be over soon, he thought, finally over. He hoped. The terrorists, they would start it, after that...

He was not sure about the 'after that', he only knew that it would be over.

Letting the towel drop he took a seat on the bed and began to pull on the dark clothes he had laid out before his shower. He picked up the pistol he had set out with them and looked at it. What was he doing with a gun? He did not deal with guns. Of course most of the stuff in the backpack he had were not things he dealt with. At some point his life had changed greatly.

He dressed quickly, putting on the shoulder holster, then putting the pistol into it. The straps around his shoulders felt binding, and he shifted his shoulders about in an attempt to shift it into a more comfortable position. It did not seem to work. It just felt heavy. The jacket he pulled on covered the weapon well enough, though the jacket felt too warm. It had a kevlar weave between the outer shell and the lining.

As he grabbed up his back pack he looked out at the windows, out at the Tower. He had been looking at that view for nearly two weeks. It would be nice to never see it again.

He left his room, the door locking behind him. Had he brought his key? Well, it hardly mattered. He walked down the hallway, away from the elevators. His steps dragged along the carpet, as if he was moving forward against his will, yet there was excitement in his eyes.

He finally stopped outside of a door, some distance away from his room. He raised his hand, about to knock, then stopped. His hand dropped. He turned around and walked away from the door, his stride lengthening, getting faster the farther he got from the door. He was almost running when he reached the elevator doors.

He stabbed the call button hard, so hard it cracked the tip of his nail. He stared at the broken nail, then reached down and tore the broken part free, leaving a ragged end. The elevator doors opened, revealing several people, tourists more than likely. He stepped into the car, moving between two men, towards the back of the car. "Lobby," he said not being able to get close to the control board.

"Already going there," one of the occupants said, sounding very cheerful. He wondered how long they would be cheerful, once everything started.

A short time later the doors opened on the lobby. He left with the others, but where they went straight towards the exit, he walked to the front desk. There were five people working there, he went up to the guest services section. One of the women working the desk moved quickly to meet him. "How may I help you?" she asked, smiling.

He reached into his pocket, producing a thick envelope. On it was scrawled the name 'Mira'. "Can you make sure that this gets to room 1532," he said, placing the envelope on the desk top.

"Of course sir." She smiled, pulling the envelope towards her. "Is there anything else?"

"No, that is all." He turned and left. Behind him he heard the young woman thank him. So polite. It got on his nerves sometimes.

He left the hotel, making straight towards the line of taxis waiting for him. The shadows around him were growing longer as the sun neared the horizon. It would be dark soon.

He slid into the back of a taxi, told the driver where he wanted to go, then leaned back in the seat. It would all be over soon, one way or another. It would all be over.


Priss had been the first to arrive at Sylia's place. She had gone straight to her suit, checked it out, then went to look the Typhoon II over. Nene and Linna had showed up at nearly the same time. Sylia had given them a chance to look over their suits, then had called them together.

"This is a fairly straightforward mission. We are to keep people from being killed and property from being destroyed. Between Chang-san's people, the ADP and Genom, things should be dealt with. We are there to provide assistance when needed. I am more concerned with the GD-42s than I am with the individual members of the Prometheus Bound, but if you have to engage the terrorists, do so.

"Priss-san, you will take the Typhoon II and do what you are best at. Don't take any excessive chances."

"I'll think about it," Priss said, smiling.

"It is the best that we can hope for. Linna-san, you will be doing the same thing with the Tornado, but Mackie and the Heavy Motoslave will be along for support."

"Mackie-san?" Linna said, sounding a little surprised.

"Better you than me," Priss said.

"Mackie will be providing long range support and cover fire for you," she told Linna, then looked over at Mackie, making sure he understood that.

Mackie and Linna nodded, both of them getting the message.

"Nene and I will track down the blood agent. We will be taking motoslaves, but I don't expect to have to use them. Once the canister of AF-5 is secured, we will simply wait for Chang-san to send her people to recover it. At that point, if the situation in the city has not improved, we will go out to aid the ADP and the others."

Nene nodded.

"Any questions?"

"Can I put some bigger guns on the Typhoon II?" Priss asked.

"Wow, Priss wants bigger guns," Nene said.

Priss reached over and punched her in the shoulder.

"If you feel the need," Sylia told her. "Please try not to destroy more things than the enemy would."

Priss smiled. "I'll try."


The garage door opened, the GD-42, legs folded in half, slowly walked forth. The front door opened and people began to flow out of the house. Someone kicked out the boards covering the windows, and more people came out that way. They were all carrying weapons, mostly assault rifles. Many were in some sort of camouflage clothing, mainly jungle print.

From where he was hiding, Daily watched it all, resisting the urge to shake his head. The people below him were not in any way professionals. That made them more dangerous in a way. As he watched a man moved to the front of the growing group and started yelling at them, giving them some sort of motivational speech. Daily watched until it appeared as if everyone was out of the house.

He swung the boom microphone of his head set down to near his mouth. "This is Beta Prime to net A and B, status, over."

"Net A, ready to go, over."

"Net B, ready to go, over."

"This is Beta Prime to all units, you know what to do. Net A and B, do it, out."

Set up ninety degrees to each other were a pair of taser net launchers. As soon as Daily had given the orders the ADP troopers manning the launchers triggered them. From each launcher hundreds of small darts launched, each trailing a thin wire of conductive material.

The members of Prometheus Bound looked about, still in a tight knot. Some had not even heard the quiet launch. Then the wires began to cross over them, forming a net. A moment later the two launchers began pulsing with power from the generators.

Not an effective tool against boomers, but the perfect weapon for crowd control.

Many of the Terrorists began to go down, shocked into helplessness. Some did not, protected by clothing, or outside of the area of effect. Daily watched for a moment. "This is Beta Prime to all units, open up on them, out."

All around the area ADP troopers rose up from cover, bringing their M42s up to their shoulders. They opened up, the gel bullets splashing across the terrorists. The gel rounds were a little like paint balls, but much denser. They spread out on impact, transferring their force over a wider area.

They were not completely harmless as they could break bones, and easily destroy eyes. Still, they were much less deadly than the steel jacketed rounds the ADP normally used.

Some distance away from the main battle, a team had set up a 12mm anti-boomer gun. They opened up on the GD-42, the huge rounds hitting the armoured vehicle at high velocity. Unfortunately, as Daily had worried, they had little effect.

The GD-42 began moving, running across the bodies of the down Prometheus Bound members, no doubt killing many. That did not seem to slow it down. It leapt, the thrusters lighting up, flinging it into the air. It landed far off, almost falling, then was off and running.

Daily switched frequencies. "This is Beta Prime to air control, where is my air support? Over."

"This is air control Beta Prime. We had to redirect your air support, it was needed elsewhere, over."

"Well get a spotting helicopter into the area, one of the primary targets is making a run, out." Daily switched frequencies once more. "Beta Prime to Beta Oni, where are you? Over."

"Sorry Beta Prime, we had a problem. We're moving now, over."

"Go after the primary target, out."

"Got you," the pilot of the GD-42 called out. A moment later the GD-42, with its ADP markings, ran through the area, moving to avoid the bodies on the ground, chasing after the GD-42 that had recently fled.

Daily watched it go, then shook his head. "Beta Prime to all of team B, move in, let's get this cleaned up. All units, cover team B."


Kumeko Urabe steered her cruiser through the dark streets of one of the areas of the city that had yet to be reclaimed by Genom's MegaTokyo project. The police patrolled areas like it constantly.

Kumeko had been doing the job for nearly three months, and other than a few boomer incidents nothing exciting had happened. When something big came crashing through the wall in front of her she realised that something exciting was happening.

She jammed the brakes on, shifted into reverse and stomped the gas pedal in a few seconds. She yanked the steering wheel, reversing into an alley she had just passed. There was a loud booming sound and part of the wall where her car had just been exploded.

The rear of the patrol car scraped up against the alley walls and the tires bounced over the objects that littered the ground.

Coming out of the alley at speed she jerked the wheel, hit the brakes and shifted back into drive. Pushing the gas pedal to the floor Kumeko left the area behind. She grabbed the microphone for the radio.

"This is unit Juliet 6 to base, something big just crashed through one of the buildings in area UB5. It fired on me. I think it was a boomer or something."

"Did it look anything like a big crab, four legs though?" a voice asked over the radio, sounding a lot calmer than Kumeko thought it should.

"What?"

"Just relax officer Urabe, you'll be receiving orders soon. Base out."

Kumeko began to slow her car, looking up a moment later when a set of lights passed over head. An ADP helicopter, she thought, recognising the aircraft. They got here fast.


As soon as things started Sylia had ordered the Knight Sabers out. They had broken up into their sub groups and had sped out into the city. Police were out in force, working on crowd control and evacuating areas in the city where they thought that fighting might break out.

The Knight Sabers were not slowed by this, in fact, with the streets being cleared, as much as possible, they were able to move even faster.

Linna was listening to one of the Kyuusei controllers, getting a feeling for where help was needed. On the interior of her helmet a map of the city was projected, showing her where she was in relation to problems. She called to Mackie, then sped off towards one of the elevated highways.

It was the first time she had taken the Tornado, her new motoslave, into combat. She was very pleased with its performance.

A GD-42, followed at some distance by a group of terrorists, had been spotted, moving along the elevated highway. Linna was the closest to it.

She spotted it ahead of her, moving quickly. "Stay back and give me covering fire," Linna told Mackie. She knew what Sylia wanted her to do. She was not going to let Mackie get hurt. It rankled a little, playing baby-sitter to Sylia's little brother, but Linna did not mind too much. She was fairly certain that Mackie would be able to take care of himself, for the most part.

Linna twisted the accelerator, rocketing towards the approaching mech. As she got closer she activated the motoslave's transformation sequence, then released the handlebars and sat up straight, standing up on the riding pegs.

At the speed she was moving the wind whipped her off the bike, and into the air. As soon as she was free of the bike she activated her suit's flight units. Ahead of her the motorcycle shifted into her autonomous, mecha partner.

Linna shot forward and grasped a hold of the motoslave, letting it pull her along towards the GD-42. They flew closer and closer to the other unit, waiting for it to notice them. Finally the huge cannon swung around to target them. "Now!" Linna yelled.

She released her hold on the motoslave and cut right. The motoslave cut left, moving off at speed. The gunner in the GD-42, much as Linna expected, wavered between the two targets, unable to decide which to fire at.

The Tornado cut in right, heading straight towards the GD-42. It began firing its main gun, a 35mm cannon. The heavy rounds impacted on the armour of the other mech, rocking it slightly.

The gunner, having decided what the major target was, shifted over towards the Tornado. That gave Linna a clear run at the GD-42, and she took advantage of it. While the GD-42 was firing at the Tornado, Linna moved underneath the mecha and spun about, her ribbons deploying, slashing into the legs of the unit.

She had hoped that she might do more damage, but the armour was a little too strong. She was considering what to do next when the antipersonnel whips lashed out under the GD-42. She twisted around them, not letting them get a hold of her, then, before getting out of range, she slammed her knuckle bomber into the joint of the right, rear leg.

The explosion tore into the armour, and some of it reached the interior, but the damage did not seem crippling to Linna. It was not blown clear off, that was certain.

She moved away from the GD-42 at speed, trying to decided what to do next. The Tornado had dropped below the highway for cover, but it informed her that it was coming up on the other side to support her.

Some distance away Mackie and the Heavy Motoslave had set up. The GD-42 had presented its profile to him, which gave him a good shot at the connection point between the main gun and the body of the mech. He raised his suit's right power arm, locked the hardsuit up, and let the targeting computer do its job. When the suit locked on target he began to fire. The interior indicators dimmed slightly as the rail gun drew the power it needed.

At the same time he was firing, the Heavy Motoslave opened up with its assault cannon.

The GD-42 was rocked back by the combined fire, and the right, rear leg slid slightly, putting the entire unit off balance.

Mackie stopped firing when he saw Linna moving back in.

Linna came in at the rear, left leg. She spun about in tight spirals, letting the ribbons slash into the legs several times before she closed. The armour was deeply scored, small chunks actually cut away, by the time Linna slammed her knuckle bomber into the damaged area.

The shaped charge sent a blast of superheated gasses into the leg, cutting through the interior components. The concussive force that followed shattered everything in its way. Linna jumped back as the GD-42 began to topple on that side.

The computer shifted weight to the three remaining legs, regaining its balance. The main gun was beginning to swing about towards Linna when the Tornado shot up from under the highway. It landed on top of the GD-42, rocking it off balance.

The anti-personnel whips lashed out at the Tornado, wrapping around it in an attempt to pull it off. The Tornado used its thrusters to maintain its position, then swung its 35mm down between its feet, at the cockpit.

The heavy rounds tore into the reinforced armour around the cockpit. For a moment the armour held, though it was seriously deformed by impacts. Then the armour cracked, and the rounds tore into the interior.

The GD-42 became still for a moment, then shuddered and began falling. The Tornado leapt free, landing some distance away, ejecting the empty magazine from its weapon, loading a new one in, all in one smooth sequence.

There was a loud crash as the GD-42 collapsed to the road surface; its legs sprawled out about it.

Linna waited for a moment, watching to make sure that the mech was not about to get up, then turned her back on it. "Five, this is three," she sent to Mackie. "Let's go."

"Where now?" Mackie asked.

"There are a group of well armed terrorists heading this way. We'll hold them until the ADP can get here. Three out." Linna told him as she walked towards the Tornado. The motoslave was shifting back into its motorcycle form.


Priss squeezed the trigger throttle, the roaring engine sending vibrations through her body. She smiled beneath her helmet. She was in her element.

Ahead of her was one of the GD-42s. It had recently escaped an ADP road block and was now pounding along, unimpeded. Well, unimpeded until now. Priss shifted to a higher gear and dropped the clutch. The bike rose up on the rear wheel for a few seconds before dropping back to both wheels.

"There is a certain danger to this course of action," her motoslave told her.

"Shut up, when I want you to have an opinion on something, I'll tell you," Priss snapped. While she appreciated the improved AI system that Sylia had put into the Typhoon II, there were times when it got on her nerves.

"Yes Mistress," it said.

Priss was about to yell at it, telling it to stop calling her Mistress, but she did not have time. She was almost on top of the GD-42. "You know what to do," she called out as she and the bike shot between the legs of the mech.

As soon as they cleared it, moving in front of it, Priss kicked herself off the bike, flipping backwards, activating the jets in her suit's heels to get the motion and speed she wanted, needed. Linna could make something like that look so easy. Priss was not Linna. Fortunately the hardsuit's computer was able to compensate.

Priss sailed up and over the GD-42 while the Typhoon II, beginning its transformation sequence, continued on ahead, hopefully capturing the attention of the crew in the mech. She landed on top of the mech, just behind the cockpit. For a moment she thought she was going to slip off, but by shifting her balance Priss was able to maintain her perch.

She did not have long, the anti-personnel whips would already be moving to deal with her. She ducked to the right, dropping to her knees. She caught the motion of the whips out of the corner of her eyes as they twisted through the space she had so recently occupied.

Raising her powerarm, she drove it down, arming a charge for the knuckle bomber. She slammed the fist into the cover over the rocket propelled grenades. She hoped that they were armed. Even as the blast from the knuckle bomber tore into the compartment, Priss was flipping herself off of the GD-42.

The blast set off the three grenades, as Priss had hoped, the force of the explosions tearing a large section out of the mech's right side. As she landed, Priss lifted her powerarm, pulling the first stage of the railgun's trigger.

Some distance off the Typhoon II had finished transforming. It spun about, bringing the pair of 40mm machine cannons up to target the GD-42. The GD-42 was firing at it, the huge cannon mounted underneath it was turning the road near by into rubble. The Typhoon II remained where it was and opened up on the enemy mech.

The big rounds hit the GD-42, shaking it, rocking it back slightly. Its cannon, jerked upwards by the motion of the mech, fired into the wall of a building, blowing out a large number of windows. The Typhoon II was about to open up with another blast when it saw Priss moving into its field of fire.

At times the Typhoon II was not at all pleased with the actions of its Mistress. It was programmed to work with Priss in combat, and to do its utmost to protect her. Protecting Priss was made difficult by the fact she tended to take a lot of chances. Still, there was nothing it could do but its best.

Priss leapt up, grasping the cowling of the weapon, the fingers of her powerarm digging into the metal. The knuckle guard swung forward, over her use hand. She cocked her arm back, then slammed it forward.

When the knuckle guard hit, it not only had all the hardsuit's strength behind it, but it had also matched a sympathetic frequency within the metal. The metal shattered under that assault, the knuckle guard destroying one of the three barrels within the cowling.

She felt something brush against her suit's leg, then a sudden pull as one of the anti-personnel whips wrapped around her. She locked the fingers of her powerarm, holding onto the weapon. The GD-42 was beginning to jerk around, trying to shake her free. The laser cannons on the forward part of the mech were swivelling about, trying to target Priss.

Damn, Priss thought angrily, trying to pull her leg free. The whip maintained its tight hold on her suit's leg. Cursing softly, Priss brought up the suit monitors, finding out exactly where the whip was holding her. She smiled when she saw where it was, and then triggered one of the leg bombers.

The explosive cut the whip cleanly, allowing Priss to get free. She swung down, quickly moving out of the lasers' arcs of fire.

The Typhoon II opened up on the GD-42, cutting its front legs off at their midway point. The entire unit fell forward, crashing onto the stumps of its forward legs. The rear legs began to fold in half, to make it level again.

Priss moved back, firing rapidly on the mech, picking out the weak points that had been programmed into her hardsuit's computer. Her motoslave continued to fire short, controlled bursts into he GD-42, doing more and more damage.

Finally the entire unit collapsed, crushing the main cannon underneath it. Priss watched for a moment, keeping her power arm extended. After several seconds she tensed up, the unit began to move.

It turned out there was no need for alarm, the cockpit hatch was blown free and the pilot began to pull himself free from the cockpit. He stopped suddenly when Priss pressed her railgun into the side of his head. He turned, slowly, to look at her.

"You're one of the Knight Sabers," he said, swallowing.

Priss said nothing to him. "How long until the police arrive?" she sent to the Typhoon II.

"One minute."

"We'll wait."

Presented with silence, unable to hear the conversation between Priss and her motoslave, the terrorist tried again. "You fight against boomers. You know what it is like. We should be working together."

Priss thought about asking him what shooting up buildings had to do with stopping boomers. Instead she said nothing.

He tried again, trying to convince her to let him go, or to help him. Priss waited until the first cruiser pulled to a stop near by. She leapt away, moving towards the Typhoon II which was shifting to bike form.

The police officers did not give her any trouble. They knew which side the Knight Sabers were on that night.


Leon had his back pressed up against the wall of a building. He could feel the ground vibrate slightly as the mech approached. He wondered how good the sensors were on the A3s. He wondered if Cat had been completely truthful in her assessment of the weapon that he held cradled in his arms.

He shifted the boom mike of his head set closer to his mouth. "The is Alpha Prime to control, over."

"This is Control Alpha Prime, over."

"I'm in section EF7, more or less. Is there any support close by? Over."

"Negative Alpha Prime. Group Alpha is currently pinned down and will be unable to help you. I can have air support in your area within five minutes, over."

"Get something into the area. I'll see what I can do. Alpha Prime out."

Leon took a few quick breaths, looking the weapon over once more. It should do what he needed, if things went well. The sound of the GD-42's clawed feet on the pavement had become louder. Leon was pretty sure if he just stayed where he was it would pass him by, but that would not stop it. The area he was in had already been evacuated. Not far away was an area that had yet to be cleared out.

No time for second thoughts now, he thought.

Jumping out Leon put a long burst into the front leg of the GD-42. He watched as the armour and the leg disintegrated from the barrage of flechettes. Thank you Cat, he thought, holding the weapon steady.

The sudden removal of one of the legs caused the mech to lose its balance for a moment. It dipped in the direction of where the leg had been, presenting its dorsal surface to Leon. He aimed at the cockpit, hesitated for a moment, then fired.

The canopy over the cockpit was holed several times but the mech began to straighten itself. Leon kept up the fire, walking the fire back and forth across the canopy area, hoping the find some weak point. The GD-42 suddenly shuddered, and then it went over on its other side, crashing to the ground.

Leon kept the weapon pointed at it as he circled the fallen machine. He reached forward, and after some searching and prying managed to find the emergency canopy release. He pulled it, walking back quickly, the long cord playing out. When it got to the end he gave it one more yank. The explosive bolts fired, blowing the canopy free, sending it skittering across the road.

Inside the gunner was trying to free himself from the seat restraints. He was wounded, his left shoulder a bloody mess. The pilot was not moving at all, Leon was pretty sure he was dead.

"Don't move," Leon ordered.

The gunner stopped trying to free himself and looked across at Leon, at the weapon he held. He did not say anything.

Leon activated his radio again. "This is Alpha Prime to control," he said into his radio. "Cancel air support and send a cruiser and an ambulance, over."

"This is control Alpha Prime, message understood, units are on their way, over."

"Good. Alpha Prime out."

Leon slung the railgun and pulled his Earth Shaker out instead. He climbed onto the fallen GD-42. He had best do what he could to save the gunner and the pilot, if the pilot could be saved.


Sylia had driven through the city, Nene following, avoiding the busy streets whenever possible. The police were beginning to block of roads, to evacuate people from areas where they thought fighting might take place.

It was hard not to be seen, and Sylia might have taken the Silky Doll van, had she not been worried about ending up stuck in traffic or behind a police barricade. Neither of those things were a barrier to the motoslaves.

Finally Sylia pulled her bike off to the side of a road way near Shinjuku. She looked back at Nene. "Find them," she said.

"Hai." It had not taken Nene long to make her suit able to emulate the NAVI that Sylia had told her they had to work with. Somewhere, a small unit, hidden within a computer, acknowledged the signal, then sent out a compressed pulse of information along the signal relays, back to Nene.

As soon as Nene got the information she set her suit's computer to decompressing it while she called up a map of the city. As soon as the information was ready Nene lay the inertial locator's trace pattern, as well as the time stamps over the map.

The path traced out from Giovanni's apartment, to the Shinjuku station, as Fargo had told Sylia. The map projected on Nene's face plate shifted to floor plans of the station, following the path. Finally the inertial locator stopped in one area, only moving a couple of meters at a time.

"I found it," Nene said.

"Where?"

"One of the sealed off sections. It is not rated as being structurally sound."

"A prefect place to hide then," Sylia told her. "Send a message off to Chang-san's people." Sylia put her bike in gear and left the road side.

Nene sent the message, as Sylia had told her, then followed after her.


Shinjuku was busy. Perhaps not Friday or Saturday night busy, but busy nonetheless. The police had moved into the area, asking people to get off the streets, to go home if possible. It was all very confusing.

One of the major places of confusion was Shinjuku Station. Commuters getting off the trains, ready for a night out, found themselves facing police with bull horns who were asking them to return to their homes. A state of emergency had been declared and while they were not in any danger, it would be best if they just remained indoors.

There was much confusion, some of the crowd obeying the police, others who believed it was some sort of drill were arguing. And news of what was happening in other parts of the city was beginning to spread, introducing a note of panic into the mix.

Sylia had guessed what the situation would be like, and that a pair of fast moving motorcycles, with armoured riders, might cause some problems. Those who recognised the Knight Sabers thought that perhaps they were about to be in the centre of a boomer attack. Those who did not recognise them, mostly tourists, thought the must be some sort of police force, or perhaps the reason why the police were trying to close down Shinjuku.

Nene followed Sylia, noting the reactions of the crowd around them. Once she had to swerve when a young child ran towards the bikes. What was it with children and lack of fear? she wondered. Well, the hardsuits and the motoslaves probably did look rather interesting.

Sylia drove right towards the station. She did not know if her target knew that the Knight Sabersor anyonewere on the way. If they did, Sylia did not want to give them any time to do anything.

She hit the stairs leading up into the department stores over and around the station. The fastest way she had. The bike bounced up the stairs, handling easily, though she had to brake once she was up the stairs to avoid hitting a group of shoppers.

Nene was not sure about trying to ride up stairs, but she followed Sylia. The Tempesther new motoslavewas able to aid her in the task, so she easily made it up the stairs. It was actually kind of fun, in a sort of anti-social way. She thought, somewhat uncharitably, that she had a better understanding of Priss.

Sylia led the way, the bikes whipping by the store fronts, by people, and then down stairs, cutting sharply around to drive down another set of stairs. After that it was a straight out run for a time along one of the main corridors.

There were a lot of people there, milling around, waiting to get aboard trains, or arguing with the police, or just waiting to see what happened. At the time Sylia had felt a little, well, strange, when she had put horns in the motoslaves. Obviously it had not been the worst idea she had ever had.

They moved out of the way of the two bikes that raced down the corridor. Sometimes the riders had to break, the rear tires sliding around, pointing the bikes in a new direction, a bit of throttle moving them off at speed again. It was all rather exciting.

Sylia left the main thoroughfare and took a sharp turn, her bike cutting through a chain that blocked off a set of stairs. The subways under Shinjuku Station had been closed after the quake in '25 due to structural damage. The city planners had brought in supports, filled tunnels with cement to repair the damage done to foundations, and then had just left it.

For the most part it remained empty, but for the occasional transient, or some students looking for a private place to get drunk and kiss. The police went through the open areas once a day, and chased out anyone they found.

It would, if you could get into a closed off area, be a perfect place to hide.

Finally Sylia left the stairway, not a moment too soon she thought, her teeth felt as if they were still vibrating and the padding in the suit could only do so much.

Ahead of them were the ticket gates that led into the subway, blocked off by a roll down gate. Sylia initiated the transformation of her motoslave, letting the mech wrap her up in its protective cocoon of metal and plastic.

She hit the gate, tearing through it easily, flying over the ticket gates and out onto the subway platform. There she dropped down, flying into one of the tunnels.

Nene followed, still riding her bike, She crashed through the blocking bar of the ticket gate, and followed after Sylia. She, well, the Tempest's computer mostly, skidded the bike to a stop, just at the edge of the platform. She then sped along the edge, and a moment later hopped the bike down onto the tracks.

Sylia flew down the tunnel for a short distance before landing her motoslave. The chest section opened and she stepped down, out of the motoslave. The unit was too large to easily go any father. Nene pulled up a moment later, bringing her bike to a stop beside Sylia.

Set into the wall of the tunnel was a steel door. Sylia walked towards it, then looked at Nene. "Any alarms?"

Nene turned her sensors on the door. "Yes, but, they are not active."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Sylia turned back to the door and gave it a pull. It held, until she used a little more force, at which point the bolt snapped.

"You stay here," she told her motoslave. She looked at Nene. "Let's go."

"Wait," Nene said. "Something is coming." She was looking down the tunnel.

Sylia looked the same way, though could not detect anything at first. A moment later her sensors marked an object moving towards them.

"Hold position," Sylia told both Nene and the Hurricane. "No firing unless I confirm it." That was more for the motoslave.

They waited until the boomer came out of the darkness. It was a C-Class, draped with several belts of pouches. It stopped and stared at them, doing nothing.

Sylia waited for a moment, watching to see if the boomer would do anything. "What are you doing here?" Sylia asked, her voice masked by the distortion device in the helmet.

"Current mission involves monitoring for traces of blood agent AF-5. If discovered I am to detonate the explosives I am carrying," it said in a flat voice.

"What?" Nene asked.

Sylia held up her hand to silence Nene. "Are there any others?"

"Affirmative. Exact number and placement cannot be given."

"Let's go," Sylia told Nene, then entered the corridor behind the door.

"Shouldn't we do something about the boomer?"

"No. It is necessary."

"But if it detonates explosives..."

"Thousands will be killed, or wounded. It is better than if the AF-5 is released in Shinjuku. In that case hundreds of thousands may die."

Nene wanted to say something else, but suddenly realised that Sylia was right. It was just another reason for them to find the container system and make sure that the blood agent was not used.


Laura yawned, opening her mouth wide as she filled her lungs. She was exhausted. With the money man being of little help, when one got right down to it, she had been doing most of the work. It had been more than two days since she had managed a straight eight hours of sleep.

While she was used to working late hours, she usually got at least a little rest, and was not working on such a complicated system. Part of her wanted to scrap it all and just leave. The attack would have started by now.

It would have been much better if they had used the threat of the chemical weapon in conjunction with the attack. That would have had a much more telling psychological impact.

She looked up, thinking she might have heard something, then she shook her head. She was just tired. And maybe if she did hear something it was just the money man coming back, or perhaps Yoshito coming to get her. That would be nice.

She turned her attention back to the computer. Such a nice design. She'd try to keep it if she could. She thought she had about seventy five percent of the code she needed. In a few hours she'd have it all. Well, she hoped she would have it all.

The sound of the heavy door opening made Laura raise her head. "It is about time you got back," she said, then saw that it was neither Yoshito nor the money man coming into the room. It took her a few seconds to recognise the newcomer as one of the Knight SabersYoshito had had the team study up on the various groups in the citybut even before she knew what she was looking for she had grasped a device from beside her.

"Don't move, don't do anything," she called out as she surged to her feet. "This is a deadman's switch I have here." She held out the trigger device. "I go down, this thing opens up and people die." It was a bluff, but it was all she had. And, all things considered, it was a damn good bluff.


Sylia had been a little surprised to find a woman just sitting there, working at one end of the container that held the blood agent. She had actually looked around, thinking there had to more people about. That had given the woman time to act. It was a mistake on Sylia's part.

The woman was standing there, holding the deadman switch in front of her, almost as if it was a holy symbol of some sort.

"Go to full containment mode," Sylia sent to Nene as she activated her suits own NBCDNuclear Biological Chemical Defencegear. The filtered vents on the suit sealed and it went over to its internal air supply.

"You've lost," Sylia called out. "The area is surrounded by boomers packed with explosive. All you will do by releasing the gas is kill us all."

"Then you had best make sure I get out of here safely, unless you don't care for your own life."

"Perhaps we can work something out," Sylia called out. To Nene she sent, "Can you do anything?"

Nene, who had sealed her suit, moved into the room and looked about. After a moment her eyes locked on the tank. "I have an idea," she sent to Sylia.

"What are you doing?" Laura demanded, trying to appear as if she was in complete control of the situation.

"What do you want?" Sylia asked.

The woman turned her full attention to Sylia. Nene took that as her cue. She lifted her powerarm and used her lasers to cut a hole directly into the outer tank.

A look of surprise spread across Laura's face. Sylia suspected that a similar expression was on her own face.

The laser burnt through the outer container, and, as Nene had hoped, resulted in the detonation of the shaped charges.

The charges tore into the interior of the container, ripping the inner canisters apart. The immense heat generated caused a number of chemical reactions, the compounds undergoing a large number of changes in a very short period of time.

The pressure within the container built up very quickly, and a lance of fire erupted from the hole Nene had burnt into it. While some of the pressure was able to escape, it was not enough. The container began to swell, like a balloon.

Laura, who was just beginning to realise what was happening, decided she did not want to be close to the expanding container. She was moving away just when the valve assembly exploded. The force and the shrapnel lifted her up and hurled her across the room. She slammed into the far wall, hitting it hard.

Where the valve assembly had been was now a gout of flame. That pushed the container forward like a rocket, sending it off of its support frame to crash onto the floor. It then slid across the floor, picking up speed, until it collided with the wall.

Sylia and Nene watched as the flame dwindled, then stopped all together, the force all used up. Nene stepped forward, deploying her recently modified sensor booms. She moved up close to the container, then slowly turned around. "Trace chemicals, no indication of the blood agent or its precursors."

Sylia let out a breath that she had not been aware she had been holding. "That was a rather large chance you took," Sylia said, keeping her voice calm.

"It was excessive," Nene admitted. "But I was certain that it would work. The container system was designed to do just what it did."

"I suppose that is true."

"What should we do now?" Nene asked. "What about her?" She looked over at the woman lying on the ground.

"We'll take care of her," a voice came from behind them.

Sylia and Nene looked towards the door, and the man in the black suit who had just entered. He walked into the room, obviously sniffing at the air. "Very good work."

"Who are you?" Sylia demanded.

"I'm from Genom," he told her. "We'll secure the area until Kyuusei can send a team in to collect this." As he said this two paramedic boomers entered the room and quickly went over to the unconscious woman.

Sylia remained where she was. She was not certain she liked the idea of turning over the site to Genom control. Kyuusei had hired her; she was responsible them.

The man, Sylia was certain he was a boomer, smiled slightly. "The terrorists are still out on the street. People are still in danger. I don't think your work is finished yet."

Not saying anything, Sylia started towards the door. She wished she were a little more like Priss at that moment. Putting one of her sword blades to the man's throat and making some sort of threat would make her feel a little better. She was not like that though.

Nene, realising that it was time to leave, quickly followed after Sylia. She kept as much distance between the man, who she also was sure was a boomer, and herself as she exited the room.

The boomer watched them go, then walked over to the paramedics. "Let me see her face," he ordered.

"Sir?" one of the paramedics said.

"Turn her so I can see her face."

"She might have a spinal injury."

"Let me see her face or I'll kill her. Then you won't have to worry about a spinal injury."

The paramedic boomers turned to look at each other. Treating one of their charges in such a way was against their basic programming, yet they also had been told to follow the C-Class's orders. Ultimately, they did as they were told to save her life.

Moving her body carefully so as to keep the spine in line, they shifted her so her face was in view. One of them cleaned the blood from her face.

"Good," the C-Class said, bringing a camera out from under his jacket. He took several pictures of her face, then knelt down, placing the camera on the floor. He removed a scanner from under his jacket and used it to make a record of her fingerprints. "Let me see one of her eyes," he told the paramedic units as he removed a pen sized retinal scanner from his pocket.

The paramedic boomers did as they were told, pulling back Laura's eyelid so the C-Class could record her retinal pattern.

"Get back to work," the C-Class said as he got back to his feet, scooping his tools up as he went.

While the paramedics worked to save the woman, the C-Class walked over to the container and began to take pictures. He bent down and took several shots of the interior through the hole where the valve used to be.

The camera work finished, he removed a sampling case from another pocket and began to swab the container, placing the samples into glass vials.


When the Genom Tower had been built it was realised that the structure would require underpinnings of the likes never seen before.

It was said that the foundations had foundations which had foundations.

It was true.

Tunnels had been dug, sloping down, deep into the earth, allowing the construction vehicles, the men and the materials to build the first and second of the foundations. All the tunnels and been filled in afterwards, they no longer had a purpose, as far as anyone knew.

At least one tunnel had not suffered that fate. For whatever reason, perhaps because it was small, only meant for people, or construction boomers, it stayed open, but forgotten. It had been sealed, hidden, lost, to any who did not know some of Genom's secrets.

The man who stepped into the dark water was someone who knew the right secrets. The money man was also the secret man, in some ways.

After leaving his hotel room it had taken him some time to find his way through the maze of deserted subway tunnels to the sealed and forgotten hatchway. A security code, also long forgottenby mosthad opened the hatch without setting off the explosive charges that would have dealt with an illegal entry.

Then it was a slow walk down the sloping passageway. Every few hundred meters the tunnel would suddenly rise up, a place for water to collect, to drain away. Unfortunately most of the drains had long since been clogged with dirt and other things. In those places stagnant water, one or two meters deep, blocked the path.

He moved through the water feeling it climb up his legs, then to his waist, up to his chest by the time he reached the ladder. He climbed out of the water and once he reached the top he sat on the ledge. The passageway sloped down again from there.

Slipping off his backpack he rifled through it, pulling out a flask full of rye. He twisted the cap off, breaking the paper seal, then put it to his lips. The alcohol warmed him quickly, dulled the pains of the long hike. He put the cap back on and returned it to his pack. It was his last bottle and he wanted to save some for a toast when it was all done.

He looked back the way he had come, the beam of his headlamp playing over the concrete ceiling. Not much farther to gohe was down deep, very deep. He looked up, wondering just how much earth was above, he marvelled at the weight of it. He was not afraid, even though he had crawled through sections of the tunnel, partially blocked by small cave ins.

Very deep. Near the end of his journey.

After several minutes of rest he pulled his backpack back on and resumed his trek down the tunnel. The terrorists would have started their attacks by now, he thought. Probably well on their way to being killed. Genom would be worried about the blood agent, looking for it. They would be too busy to be looking the right way. He was certain of it.


The fires were being brought under control as the fire fighting boomers and the human fire fighters worked to keep it from spreading. Twenty minutes before one of the GD-42s had come though the area, crashing through several buildings, and starting the fires.

Now, having hit a road block, the weapon system was on its way back. Fire fighters moved for cover, while the boomers remained where they were, combating the blaze.

The GD-42 crashed into one of the boomers, the huge legs lifting up and then slashing down onto the large boomer, driving it forward and down. The A3 continued the brutal and pointless assault on the boomer, the hook like feet raising and falling on the fire boomers back, ripping into it.

Then another of the fire fighting boomers suddenly leapt forward, hitting it hard, tangling both of the front legs in its arms. The huge boomer strained against the strength of the GD-42, pushing it back onto its rear legs. From their housings the anti-personnel whips snaked out, but they were ineffective against the huge boomer.

It suddenly released the front legs, moving in, crashing into the rear legs. The mech, unbalanced, went over onto its back.

One of the flailing legs caught the boomer, knocking it away. The GD-42 began to get up. It was at that moment when one of the ADP GD-42s came around the corner. The lasers flashed out, cutting through one of the legs. The Prometheus Bound GD-42 collapsed, putting its cockpit towards the ADP mech.

A burst from the A1's main cannon ripped into the cockpit.

Everything went quiet for a time, the enemy unit simply lying on its side, not moving.

The boomer got to its feet and went back to fighting the fire. The ADP unit remained for a time, calling ADP control and telling them that the target was down.


Almost there, he thought, reaching up to shut off the lamp around his head. There were a number of small lights placed along the ceiling at regular intervals. They provided enough light to see by.

He stopped every ten meters, looking at the small panels set in the wall. He finally found the one he was looking for and typed in the opening code. Above him a hatch opened. He reached up and pulled himself though it, into a long corridor, similar to the one below. It was a maze down there, all the tunnels that were built to allow maintenance crews to work on the lowest part of the Tower.

He continued to walk, not bothering to stop any longer. He knew exactly where he had to go now. It was as if he had been there before.

Finally he reached his destination. A small computer terminal covered by a heavy, armoured shield. It was not a major barricade to his progress. He had the code that opened it. From that computer he could get into the deepest levels of the Genom computer system.

He took off his backpack and placed it on the floor. He was about to open it when he heard a noise from down the corridor. Footfalls, many of them, the sound of people running. He released the backpack and moved into cover. He pulled his pistol from its holster and pointed it down the corridor.

When he saw the first shadows he began to fire, desperate not to be caught. The fire did not seem to make any difference. The shapes continued to move towards him.

"Throw down your weapon and come out," a voice called out. "You will not be hurt."

He remained where he was, crouched down, breathing heavily. He was going to be caught, and there was nothing he could do. No, that was wrong. There was something he could do. It came to him with surprising clarity. It was the only road to peace he had left.

Turning the pistol about, he placed the barrel into his mouth. Warm steel, gun power residue and gun oil filled his mouth, a unique mix of tastes. He suddenly felt a sense of fraternity with all those who had shared those tastes as their last experience.

He pulled the trigger.


The area around the building had been cleared. The police waited behind barricades, waiting to see what the terrorists would do. The wrecked form of a GD-42 lay close by, and what looked like unmoving bodies lay in the roadway. Boomer paramedic units, cut down when they had gone out to get the wounded.

Even the most bitter of the ADP had found themselves siding with the boomers as they had gone out there to bring the casualties back to safety. One had been cut in half by a burst of fire from the terrorists' weapons. It had pulled itself back; vital fluids leaking from it as it dragged a wounded police officer with it.

The terrorists held the building, claiming they had hostages and would kill them if the police tried to gain entry into the building. They were demanding that Genom remove all boomers from Japan.

Looking at the destroyed paramedic boomers lying about, few people could feel much sympathy for the terrorists' position.

On the roof of the building three of the terrorists stood guard. They were to make sure that no one gained entry from the roof.

One of the guards was looking over the edge of the roof, down at the police. "Those idiots, they don't know what they are doing," she said. When no one answered she turned back towards her companions. A green figure with an orange face stood over the sprawled forms of her companions.

She was bringing her rifle up when a blue form rose up beside her. Something clipped her hard on the side of her head and she fell to the roof's hard surface, consciousness fading.


Priss stood over the terrorist, making sure the woman was not going to get up. "This is 2, all targets down."

"Understood 2, we're coming in."

Priss looked over at Linna who gave her a thumbs up. Priss returned the gesture, then knelt down and took the rifle from the woman she had dealt with. After ripping the trigger guard free, Priss shifted the weapon around, getting a feel for it. If Sylia did not want them using any of their hardsuit weapons, fine, but she was going to have some firepower.

Sylia and Nene put down on the roof a moment later. Sylia took a look at the rifle Priss was carrying but said nothing. It probably would not hurt to have the option if they needed it. "We're here to find out if they have hostages and if they do, then secure them. We'll let the police handle the terrorists," Sylia told them. "4, I want to know where everyone in this building is. You take point. 5, remain in position." She had stationed Mackie with the motoslaves, in case they needed heavy firepower. She doubted they would. "Let's go."


Reika watched through the rear window as 'Buddy' went off. Kou would handle the final clean up on his own. It had been almost two hours since the last of the stolen GD-42s had been dealt with.

She had received a call from Genom, suggesting she might want to come to the tower.

She undressed in the back seatthe driver had darkened the partition between him and the passenger compartment. She used the water in the limo's wet bar for a quick sponge bath. It would not do to go into Genom stinking of battle sweat.

When the limo pulled up to the steps that led into the upper tower she was ready. Clean, a freshly pressed suit, conservative use of jewellery, make-up and perfume had erased all traces of the fighting she had been involved in. She was every inch the executive, at least in appearance.

Her driver opened the door for her. After a quick check to make sure that she had not forgotten to zip up her skirt or missed a button on her blouse, Reika stepped out.

"Wait here." She told the driver.

"But..."

"Wait here. Genom will not do anything to me while I'm a guest in their own Tower," she told him.

"Yes ma'am."

Reika turned and walked up the stairs towards the glass doors that separated the interior of the Tower from the outside world. Two men in dark suits flanked one of the doors. As she approached the one on the right opened the door for her.

She moved by them, suppressing a shiver. She did not doubt they were boomers.

Inside a young woman was waiting, dressed in the uniform of a Genom office lady.

"Chang-san, would you please come with me?"

Reika nodded then followed after the woman as she walked off towards a set of elevators. The doors on one elevator slid back as they approached, revealing an empty car. The office lady walked in, Reika a few steps behind. The woman pressed a button for one of the lower floors. The door closed and they began to descend.

For a moment Reika considered trying to engage the woman in conversation. She decided against it. Too much potential that she herself might give something away.

They changed elevators twice, heading towards the deepest levels of the Tower. The areas that were talked about almost as if they were myths. Places where people could disappear. She shook off that idea, trying not to let it colour her thoughts.

"We're almost there," the woman said as the doors of the third elevator opened up, revealing a long, dimly lit corridor.

Reika followed her, doing her best to ignore the shadows, not letting her imagination fill them with dangers. She needed to be calm. She doubted that the corridor was normally kept that dark. It had the feel of the Odotte woman and her games.

The office lady stopped in front of one door and opened it. She stepped aside so Reika could enter. She heard voices coming from the room beyond when the door was beginning to open but they cut off so suddenly she could not tell what they had been saying. She entered.

Odotte, a woman Reika recognised as Katherine Madigan and several other people were in the room, sitting around a table. All of them were looking at her.

"If you will excuse me," Domino said to the others as she got to her feet. "I have to have a word with Chang-san." She made a half bow to the people at the table then moved towards Reika. "Konban wa(good evening) Chang-san. Please, come with me." She pushed open another door in the room.

Reika looked towards the people at the table then walked through the door Domino held open.

Domino followed her and closed the door behind them.

The room they were in had a large window looking into an operating theatre. A woman and man appeared to be performing an autopsy.

"What is this all about?" Reika asked. She looked away from the body.

"The corpse in there may be the cause of our mutual problems."

"He arranged it all?" Reika moved closer to the glass, almost against her will. She wanted to see his face. "What happened to him?"

"In the vernacular, he ate the barrel of his pistol. He killed himself to avoid being captured. And while we cannot be certain that he arranged everything, there are some strong indicators."

"What indicators?"

"We took a prisoner. Her name is Laura Black. She is a member of a mercenary company of some note. She identified the man as the one who provided them with the job and the money to do it."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Who is he?"

"Nigel Rathen. He was the vice president in charge of production for Gulf and Bradley's military design branch."

"G&B, you mean they are..."

"No," Domino interrupted her. "Rathen-san retired eight months ago, citing personal and health problems. A month ago he embezzled the funds for this operation. Gulf and Bradley have quite a few people searching for him, and they are keeping it secret. They are a hollow shell and if anyone finds out about this they will be destroyed."

Reika absorbed the information, considering what it meant. It would not take much for Kyuusei to take G&B, and it would give her revenge for her parents. Then she realised Genom had probably known about it for at least an hour. She was by no means an expert in Mega-Finances but she knew that an hour was a huge amount of time. It was very likely that Genom would be getting bigger soon.

"What was he up to?"

"He had a few items with him." Domino indicated the table in front of the window. There was a pistol, an almost empty flask of Crown Royal, a small tool kit, several flashlights and a lap top computer, as well as some other things. Domino picked the computer up.

"This has a number of programs in it that, as of an hour ago, could have compromised our computer security, perhaps."

"Which would have given him access to?"

"Everything." Domino smiled as she placed the laptop down. "In theory."

"You seem less than concerned about that."

"Acceptable risk. We won in the end."

"You knew this was going to happen," Reika accused, several things falling into place.

"Chang-san, why ever do you say that?" Domino's tone and bearing were so innocent Reika almost bought into it.

"You've let a terrorist group operate in your city with a chemical agent that would have killed a large number of people if released. You did nothing at all to stop them. You may have been able to blame it on us but you would not have just sat back unless you knew something."

"Perhaps."

"Perhaps?"

"Never show more than you have to Chang-san."

Reika turned away from Domino and looked back into the theatre. "Why would he kill himself?" Reika asked. "Who was he trying to protect?" She turned back to Domino.

"That is a very good question Chang-san. Unfortunately the secret dies with him."

"You still have not answered my question. Genom knew this was going to happen."

"Yes, if not this, something like it." Domino pulled a disk from her pocket. "This contains records of our interrogation with Laura Black, I'll have my Doctor send your people information on Rathen's autopsy."

"Will the autopsy tell us anything?" Reika looked back into the theatre.

"Dead men tell no tales, so they say." Domino had moved behind her and was whispering into Reika's ear. She reached around and slid the disk into the pocket of Reika's jacket. "I think you just have to ask the right questions."

"How did you know?" Reika pulled away from Domino and spun to face her.

"Genom knows everything Chang-san."

"How did you know?" Reika had to keep herself from shouting.

"Perhaps we did not know. Perhaps we just guessed. Perhaps one of the mercs informed us that they were not having much luck cracking the codes on your container."

"You knew where the blood agent was all the time?"

Domino smiled. "Perhaps."

"Can't you give me a real answer!"

"Would you believe anything I told you?"

"I think you knew. You used me, used Kyuusei, and Hou Bang."

"Perhaps. If so, it was very easy."

Reika moved forward, fast, her hand clenching into a fist, she swung at Domino. The other woman simply stood still, not moving, watching Reika come at her. Then Reika's fist just stopped, held in the vice like grip of Domino's left hand.

"This is how we do business Chang-san. Get used to it. Violence has no place here. Civility is of utmost importance."

"You're lecturing me?" Reika could not believe what had just happened.

"A parting gift." Domino released Reika's hand and turned away from her. "Leave by that door." She pointed to her right. "Our time of co-operation is at an end." Domino went through the other door, back to the room she had originally been in.

Reika turned and noted the window showing the operating room had darkened and was no longer transparent. She looked at the things on the table and considered grabbing the laptop but decided against it. She went through the door that Domino had indicated.

The office lady who had brought her was waiting for her.

"This way Chang-san."

Reika followed, thinking about what had just happened. She had been warned about Genom, but she had never quite believed that they could be as bad as she had been told. She had found out they were worse. She wondered how many steps ahead of her Odotte had been since the beginning.

I should have hit her with my free hand, Reika thought, she deserved it. Then she remembered how Domino had just grabbed her hand without seeming to move and the strength in that grip.

A ringing sound brought Reika back to herself. She looked towards the end of the hall. One of the elevators had opened and Quincy, as well as two men in black suits, had come out.

Reika stared at the man who she had desired to kill not so long ago. She still wanted to kill him, the feeling rose up in her chest with such force it surprised her. To her he represented the evil that had killed her sister. It was wrong that he should live while Irene was dead. So wrong.

Everything went through her mind. She could leap between his bodyguards, no doubt boomers, and get at him. She would die, but she was almost positive she could take him with her. Even if he was another android, like before, the shock of what she would do might make it worth it.

She passed him without acting on her thoughts. She wanted to live, it was that simple. If she could have killed him without dying, then it might be different.


"...a man whose profession is the use of arms should think and then act upon not only his own fame, but also his descendants. He should not scandalise his name forever by holding his one and only life too dear. On the other hand, to consider this life that is given to us only once as nothing more than dust and ashes, and lose it at a time when one should not, would be to gain a reputation that is not worth having"
- Shiba Yoshimasa