An Alternate Story of the Knight Sabers
2034 Year of the Tiger
Neo No Armour Against Fate (Section 5 of 5)
No Armour Against Fate (5 of 10)
by Shawn Hagen(2000;2005)
Based on situations and characters created by Suzuki Toshimichi.
April 14th, Friday, 12:32pm, MegaTokyo
Quincy looked through the report that Domino and Madigan had presented to him. It answered the few questions he had had left.
Domino and Katherine stood in front of his desk, waiting.
"Madigan-kun, I want you to prepare a assassin team, make them the best you have."
"Hai," Katherine said.
"I also want you to set up a specialist team, new faces, no history."
"Hai," she said, wondering how she was going to get a team that could do whatever job Quincy would set for them and yet still be unknown.
He said nothing else. Katherine bowed and left the room.
He turned to look at Domino.
"What are their weaknesses?" He caught and held her gaze.
"I'm not sure," she said, hesitantly.
"Yes you are. I need to make them make mistakes. Who or what can do that? Who or what will make them stay when they should run?"
"Sylia Stingray," Domino said softly. She was certain that Quincy already knew the answer.
"Bring her in. I will handle the rest of the Knight Sabers."
Domino almost hid her surprise at Quincy's knowledge. "When?" she asked.
"When you choose. I'll deal with the others. I want Stingray-san in the Tower by tomorrow."
"She will be."
He said nothing more. Domino waited a moment to see if there was anything else. When it was obvious he was finished with her she bowed and then left the room.
Quincy waited until she was gone then picked up his phone and tapped one of the buttons. After a few seconds the call was answered.
"I need to tell you some things, and I need you to do something," he told the person on the other end of the line.
Nene's NAVI beeped while she was sitting in a large lecture hall, listening to an instructor explain how to write a proper paper. It was incredibly boring and Nene guessed that at least half the students were asleep. It was a pointless lecture as all the information was in the style guide that she and the other students had already been given.
She and the rest of them had to be in the lecture hall. They did not actually have to pay attention, however.
Nene pulled the NAVI from her pocket and flipped it open in front of her. "Romanova desu," she said softly.
"Romanova-san, I hope I am not disturbing you," Kumiko Yusa said as her face appeared on the NAVI's screen. Kumiko was Nene's advanced programming professor, and her academic advisor.
"Not really Yusa-sensei," Nene told her.
"Are you free today? I'd like to talk to you about your course of studies."
Nene looked at the small clock on the corner of her NAVI's screen. It was almost 2pm. The class was over at 2:30. "Will a quarter to three be all right?"
"That will be fine. I'll see you in my office."
"Hai," Nene said.
Kumiko nodded and then cut the connection.
Nene folded the NAVI shut and leaned back in her seat to listen to the rest of the boring lecture. She did not know what her advisor wanted to talk to her about, but she hoped that it was something that might get her out of several more boring lectures that she had in the next few days.
Maybe her advisor wanted some help in her lab. That would be something.
As she now had something to look forward to, the class seemed to drag on. She came close to joining the sleeping students around her, but managed to stay awake.
Once the lecture was over she got up, grabbed her knapsack and ran from the lecture hall before she got caught in the crowd. One out of the hall she slowed her pace. Yusa-sensei's office was not that far off.
At almost two forty-five exactly she was standing outside of Yusa-sensei's door. She knocked.
"Come in," she heard Kumiko call.
Nene opened the door and stepped in.
"Romanova-san, I'm glad you could make it."
Nene nodded as she stepped into the office, closing the door behind her.
"Have a seat," Kumiko said, indicating the chair in front of her desk.
"Thank you sensei," Nene said as she sat.
"I'm sure that you're curious about why I called you." Kumiko got up and walked to a filing cabinet on which there was an electric thermos and a tea service. She looked over at her shoulder at Nene.
Nene nodded.
"I've looked over your tests, and have seen your grades from school. They are quite impressive."
"Not really," Nene said, being properly humble.
Kumiko scooped some tea leaves into the wire strainer in the teapot. "You are very good, I suspect there are a few classes that we could write off for you thus allowing you to move on to some senior courses." She pumped the thermos top, hot water spilled from the spigot, splashing over the tea as it filled the pot.
"Do you think so?" Nene asked. Being able to skip some of the first year courses would be very nice, as she was sure that the majority would be boring.
"I think it is possible." She finished filling the small teapot and put it aside for a moment. "You'll have to write the exams for the courses you skip, of course. I think you will have no problem with that." She took two cups from a tray and placed them near the teapot. "It will be a little difficult in the senior courses."
"I can handle it," Nene said, wanting to assure the woman that she could.
"I think you can as well." She filled the two teacups and then carried them over to her desk. She handed one to Nene. "The question of course is do you really want to?"
"Of course I want to," Nene said as she took the cup.
"For yourself or to impress someone else?" she asked, then took a sip of her tea.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean do you want to move to a senior class because you feel it is best for you, or do you want to impress someone?"
Nene took a drink form her cup as she thought about it. "Well, I suppose that it would make my parents happy, but I am looking for a challenge. I don't want to be bored in the first year classes."
Kumiko nodded. "That is a good reason to go on then. I like to challenge students who are ready for it."
"I'm ready for it," Nene said, leaning forward.
"Yes, I think you are," she said.
Nene nodded as she took another drink of her tea. "When do you think that..." Nene began, then stopped as a wave of dizziness washed over her and the room spun. She blinked her eyes and moved her head back and forth, trying to clear it.
"Are you all right Romanova-san?" Kumiko asked.
"I must be," Nene paused, "tired."
Kumiko nodded. "I'm sorry."
"What?" Nene looked at her.
"This should not have happened, but there are times when we must remember who we truly are."
"I don't understand," Nene began to say, but the dizziness washed over her again, much stronger than last time, and behind it came darkness. Nene slumped down in the chair; the cup fell from her fingers, splashing on her skirt.
Kumiko was up almost instantly, moving to wipe the tea from Nene, hoping it had not burnt her. The door to her office opened while she was doing so. She looked up at the two men standing there. They both walked in then one closed the door behind them.
"I did not like having to do this. She is one of my students," she said crossly as she got to her feet.
"I understand that Yusa-hakase, but this is a special order. It comes right from the top."
"I'm aware of that," she said, angrily. "That does not mean I like it." She looked straight at the man who had spoken. "She better not be harmed."
"That is not our intent."
Kumiko nodded, then looked down at Nene. "I'm sorry Romanova-san. I'm truly sorry," she said.
Linna stood under the spray of shower, her face turned up into the hot water. It had been a hard day, but Linna had enjoyed it. She was getting better everyday, she was sure of it. She also felt she was close to mastering the 'control in chaos' thing that Kikuchi-sensei was so big about.
They would be opening next Friday, the twenty-first. The next few days of practising were going to be very hard, but Linna was looking forward to that.
She shut off the shower and then left the shower room. As she was pulling off the shower cap she had been wearing she grabbed a towel from a pile by the door. She patted herself dry with the towel, then wrapped the damp cloth around her chest before going to her locker.
As she was getting dressed her NAVI buzzed. Linna took it from her gym bag and flipped it open. After cutting her visual feed, she was still only partially dressed, she accepted the call. "Moshi, mo, Linna desu(This is Linna)," she said.
"Linna-san," Devon Okami said as his face flickered onto her screen. "I hope you are well."
Linna was a little surprised to be getting a call from Devon. She had felt both that she had made it clear the relationship was over and that Devon was not the kind to try to rekindle what they had had. "I am, and you?" she said, falling back on politeness.
"I'm glad to hear that," he said, smiling. "Linna-san, I was wondering if you would be willing to talk to me, to meet."
"Well, I'm not sure. Why? I thought we both made everything clear when we said goodbye."
"Maybe we did not."
Linna was a little surprised by that. Was it possible that Devon had had a change of heart? She was not certain she could believe that. Still, was there any harm in meeting him? Perhaps there was a chance. "Where would you like to meet?"
"I'll be passing by the theatre in about twenty minutes. Is that good?"
"Yes, that will be fine," Linna told him.
"All right, I'll see you then." He cut the connection.
Linna folded her NAVI shut and returned it to her gym bag. She then reached into the bag for her makeup kit. If she was going to meet Devon she wanted to look her best.
Linna was waiting outside of the theatre when Devon's black limousine pulled up to the curb. She opened the door and got into the large passenger section. She had to admit that the luxury that went along with dating Devon had been quite enjoyable. It was brought back to her by the richly appointed interior.
She took a seat directly across from Devon as the car started to pull back out into traffic. "I'm glad that you called," Linna told him. "What did you want to talk about?"
"I'm sorry," he said to her.
"Pardon?" Linna asked, a little confused.
"This was not my idea, but I had to agree it was for the best. I did not want you to get hurt, at least not physically."
Linna stared at him, confused by what he was saying. Then she began to feel a little scared. The limousine had stopped for a traffic light. She slid across the seat and grabbed the door handle, trying to open the door. When the door failed to open she went to check the other door with the same result.
She turned to look at Devon. "Let me out," she demanded.
"No," he told her.
Linna moved quickly, grabbing a hold of his jacket lapels. She looked straight into his eyes. "I told you to let me out."
"And if I don't?" he asked her simply. There was no fear in his eyes.
Linna pulled the lapels of the coat inwards, putting some pressure on his throat. "Let me out or I'll kill you," she said softly.
"If I am dead, that will not change the situation that you are locked inside this car, that you will be taken to the Tower. It just means you'll have to ride with a corpse." His tone was very matter of fact. He was simply telling her how things were.
Linna released him and moved to one of the windows and began banging her hands against it. She might as well have been hitting a sheet of steel for all the effect she had. She slammed her feet against the sunroof, she screamed, she tried a number of things to no avail. She was trapped.
Devon just watched her, at first straightening his jacket and tie, and then just sitting still.
When Linna finally gave up she returned to sitting directly across from him, staring angrily at the man who had betrayed her. "You are a bastard," she hissed.
"Yes, and much more," Devon replied calmly.
Sylia walked to the genkan. She stopped to look at the monitor that showed the hall outside her door.
A young, very attractive woman in jeans, sweater and a jacket stood out there. After a moment Sylia identified her. Domino Odotte, the woman Fargo had told her that someone wanted to assassinate. Seeing her standing there, dressed as she was, Sylia realised why she had thought the picture of the Genom executive had seemed so familiar. She had come into the Silky Doll a few months ago.
Sylia had thought her to be a high school student.
Why would Odotte be coming to see her? There was no reason anyone from Genom would be coming to see her, no official reason. Was it possible that she had come for personal reasons? Sylia was not sure what to do. There was the possibility that Genom had finally found out what she was doing. Perhaps Linna's relationship with Okami had led to what she had feared.
Domino looked straight at the hidden camera above her. "Stingray-sama, I would like to speak with you," she said. Her words were carried to Sylia over the microphone that was also hidden with the camera.
She knows I am here, Sylia thought, or maybe she was bluffing. Sylia considered heading down to the subbasements and getting her hardsuit.
"Stingray-sama, please, do not make this more complicated that it has to be," Domino said.
It did not sound like a threat, more of a request. If Genom was really coming after her with the intent of killing her, she was certain that they would not be so obvious as to send one of their executives. She took a 9mm pistol from a hidden compartment in the shoe shelf, put the weapon behind her back and then opened the door.
"May I help you?" she asked.
"Stingray-sama, I'm Domino Odotte," the woman said, presenting Sylia with a visiting card. "Stingray-sama, Quincy-sama would like to see you."
That she remained where she was, made no sudden movements, or tried to shoot Domino, was something that Sylia felt quite proud of. "Quincy-sama?" she put uncertainty in her expression.
The young woman smiled and shook her head. "Please Stingray-sama."
"I'm sure the Chairman can make an appointment with my personal secretary," Sylia told her.
Domino laughed softly. "Stingray-sama, you know you are being ridiculous now."
"Yes, I guess so." Sylia swung the weapon out and lined it up with Domino's head.
Domino did not blink, she continued to look at Sylia, seeming to ignore the weapon pointed at her. "Stingray-sama, we are doing things peacefully. If you force us into other action, someone might get hurt. Not you of course, but friends or family or just people passing by."
It was an effective threat. Sylia lowered the weapon. "I'll get my purse," Sylia said. "Please, come in."
"Thank you," Domino said, stepping into the genkan, then slipping off her shoes and stepping up into the apartment.
Sylia was still considering making a break for it. She could still shoot the woman. The walls of her penthouse were well soundproofed. She realised quickly that there was little point. She had always known if Genom came to get her, there was little she could do to stop them. Fighting until they took her would be something Priss would do. She almost wished that she had that sort of impulsiveness in her. Going peacefully seemed wrong.
She took a moment to leave a note for Mackie. She told him that she would be out for some time. What good would telling him the truth do? She reached over and picked up one of the phones, dialling Priss' number. Once she finished dialling there was a click, then nothing.
Slowly she put the phone down. She reached for Her NAVI before realising that it would be jammed as well. Things had been prepared well.
Somewhere along the line she had made a mistake and had underestimated Genom. She should have known better.
Sighing, she picked up her purse, put her pistol into it, and walked back to the front door where Domino waited. She thought again about shooting the executive, but that seemed wrong. She was being brought in, politely, more like a guest than a prisoner. She took some consolation in that. It was possible that Quincy did not know about the Knight Sabers, that he just wanted to talk to her about what she had said during the ceremony honouring her father.
"I'm ready to go," Sylia told Domino.
Domino nodded and slipped her feet back into her shoes. Sylia removed a pair from the cabinet, placed them into the genkan and then slipped her feet into them.
They said nothing as they walked down the hall, then took the elevator to the ground level.
Domino led her, never looking back, towards a black car. The car looked old, though obviously well maintained. There were several young men standing around it, Sylia heard one of them say, "Fairlady ja nai ka(it's a Fairlady isn't it)?" as if it meant something.
A pointed stare from Domino sent them moving back and she opened the passenger door for Sylia then circled around to the driver's door.
Sylia got in and put on her seat belt, not moving very fast. Domino had already started the car by the time Sylia closed her door.
"Car otoku," Domino said, looking over at the young men as she pulled away.
"Is it an original?" Sylia asked, pulling the question from the air.
Domino nodded. "It's a 240ZG, if that means anything to you. I appropriated it from the Executive Motor Pool, not that I drive it much," she told Sylia as she smoothly shifted into second gear.
Sylia said nothing else, too wrapped up in other thoughts.
As they approached the Tower she wondered if there was a safe way out. She would have to be patient. Genom had taken complete control and she would have to wait and see what happened.
Priss' first night back in the Hard Rock was nothing but a success. The place had been packed and the crowd had loved her. The problems, such as they were, had started when she got back stage.
Miako was waiting for her in the dressing room, doing a line of cocaine when Priss and the rest of the band had come in. While Norio was always happy to see Miako, and help himself to some of her drugs, Yuuko had taken a dislike to the photographer that just kept growing.
It made for a tense meeting.
The rest of the band left soon after, leaving Priss and Miako alone.
"Sure you won't have a snort?" Miako asked as she began cleaning up her cocaine.
"No."
"Missing some great stuff," she told Priss as she used the razor blade to sweep all the cocaine into a small pile on the mirror. "Got it from a friend who sells to entertainment industry." She tipped the mirror up and shook the cocaine into a small vial.
"I'll stick to alcohol."
"Are you mad at me Priss-chan?"
"Not really."
"You seem extra disapproving tonight." She laughed as she capped the vial.
Priss said nothing as she got to her feet and walked towards the small bathroom. "I'm going to take a shower."
"Sounds good," Miako said as she stood and then followed after Priss.
Priss said nothing and let Miako follow her. Soon they were in the shower together, washing each other, kissing, some light petting, nothing too intense. It was enjoyable, but nothing special. Not really.
Miako suggested they shave each other's pubic hair but Priss declined and shut off the shower.
"You are rather boring at times," Miako said. She was still in the shower stall, leaning against the wall.
"Am I?" Priss asked as she towelled herself dry.
"You are. Sometimes you act almost like you are just one of the boring masses, going to work, waiting to die."
Priss' laughter was derisive. "I'm not worried about that."
"I would be if I were you. You seem to be very conservative in your stupid chances."
Priss shook her head as she put the damp towel around her shoulders. She grabbed another towel and began running it through her hair as she left the bathroom. "Have you ever thought that maybe I don't feel like playing your little shaving game just because I don't want to deal with the itch as it grows back?"
Miako stepped from the shower, water dripping from her hair and from her body. She grabbed a towel as she followed Priss out. "Okay, then let's get it permanently wiped. And while we're at it some body piercing, and tattoos. We'll have 'Miako's bitch' tattooed on your ass and 'Priss' Bitch' put on mine, just to be fair.
Priss tossed the one towel aside as she searched through her street clothes, looking for her panties. "I've never thought much about body piercing," Priss told her. "Or ritual scarring, or branding."
"Sounds like you are a coward," Miako laughed as she began to dry herself.
"No," Priss said as she stepped into her panties and then pulled them up her legs. She turned to face Miako. The other woman stood by the bathroom door, wrapping her hair in the towel. She was quite beautiful, and Priss found her body to be very exciting. "Why do I need someone to scar me when I have enough of my own already?" Priss asked her as she ran her hand down her stomach, stopping it just below the knife scar there.
Miako smiled. "Okay, you got a point. So it is not a question of you being able to take the pain, at least the physical pain. What about taking the scorn. I wonder what your little bassist would think if you got your nipples pierced?"
"Sounds uncomfortable," Priss told her. "And pointless."
Miako shook her head as she pulled the towel free and tossed it to the floor. "I think you are just making excuses."
Priss picked up her bra and put it on. She then reached for her blouse. "You know what I think?"
"What?" Miako asked as she began getting dressed.
"I think you are more self-destructive than I am, but that you are afraid to go all the way. You need someone to lead you, someone like yourself, someone to pull you along as you push her along. Someone like me." Priss finished buttoning up her blouse.
"That's very deep," Miako laughed. "Might even be true."
"You take drugs just hoping that they will lessen the fear, but it never really works."
"Could be."
"Going to be one of those artists who dies young and stupidly, and becomes famous in death?" Priss stepped into her pants.
"Why not? We've both got a solid base of work to leave behind. You die like that, people never forget you."
"I'm not interested."
"What, do you want to be one of the pitiful, old artists? You know, the kind that people always say should have quit before they became a pitiful shadow of themselves?"
"I'd like to think I'd know when to gracefully bow out before that could happen."
"Why take the chance?" Miako demanded.
"Because living is about chances, and I like that." She grabbed her jacket and began to put it on.
"Death is about chances as well."
"We all have to die eventually." She grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder. "No one lives forever." She picked up her guitar case and then walked from the room. She stopped at the threshold and looked back at Miako. The photographer was almost dressed. Priss took a moment to appreciate the beauty of the woman once more. "I don't want to ever see you again."
"Why, afraid that I'll make you change your mind?"
Priss shook her head. "I'm afraid I might try to help you, but when you grab on to a drowning person, they might pull you down."
Miako laughed at that.
"Good bye Miako-san," Priss said, then turned and walked off.
"Good luck Priss, you'll need it," Miako called after her. "Remember, we're a lot more alike then you are willing to give credit for."
Perhaps she was right, Priss thought as she walked away. It was the small differences between them that were important, however. She did not look back.
Priss returned home but did not stay long. After dropping her things off she headed out again. She wanted to be alone, to think. Priss did some of her best thinking on her bike.
She drove along the streets, whipping down multilane, well-lit roads, and through dark, garbage-strewn alleyways. She drove fast. Much too fast. A few times the police took interest, but she easily lost them. Between her speed and a number of tricks she had picked up in her years of riding, the police did not really have a chance.
And as she drove, letting her mind play over the events of the last few months, the player in her pocket fed music up a line and into her helmet speakers.
It was all a selection of her own music, from the simple songs and covers she had done when she had just started out, up to her most recent work. As she thought about everything she listened to her own words, to the evolution in her talent and her way of thinking.
She was turning onto a ramp that led onto the elevated highways when one of her most recent songs came on. She had written it and recorded it the night she had last left Miako's apartment. The music was soft and each note was given special attention.
Priss began to sing along with the song as she rode.
"Won't someone tell me what love means?
All I know are broken hearts and broken dreams."
She had hit the strings hard on 'hearts' and 'dreams', punching them up. She did the same with her voice.
"When I've opened my heart, they have gone away,
the price demanded is too much to pay.
I just don't understand it anymore."
She listened to her guitar work, the music beginning to trail off after a few seconds, then coming on strongly once again.
"Won't someone show me that mythic place?
A soft caress a lover's face.
I long for one's warmth at my side,
Yet the fear of loss, my feelings hide.
I just don't understand it anymore."
When she had written it, had played it, she had felt so tired. So lonely. Nothing had made sense. Nothing but the music.
"Won't someone tell me they love me?
But what trust I, in words like these?
Poets lie with words so kind,
the truth in words is hard to find.
I just don't understand it anymore."
She had been thinking about how everything she wanted was gone, about how she had so little left. Priss watched the road ahead of her, at the potholes and pieces of rubble. She avoided them, counter steering, leaning when she had to, passing very close to the various objects. You had to cut it close. That was how you got better. That was what Mamoru had told her. She wondered if he meant for her to apply that philosophy to her entire life?
She was close to where Sylvie had died, up ahead of her was a broken section of the highway. In her ears the music swelled as the last part of the song came up.
"Won't someone realise that love's untrue.
A parents touch or me with you.
Love is words, but words are lies the world's too cruel under these skies.
I just don't believe it anymore."
There, ahead of her, just on the edge of her powerful headlight, the drop. Priss watched as it loomed up ahead of her and smiled.
Her hand closed gently on the brake leaver, she stepped harder on the brake pedal, giving her handlebars a twist as she went. The bike spun about, leaving black marks on the roadway, the world twisted about her. She took her foot from the brake pedal, at the same time squeezing the lever harder. The front tire locked up, but that was not a problem as she was sliding backwards.
The bike finally stopped. Priss looked back. Her rear tire was about a metre from the drop. "I'm going to have to cut that closer if I want to get better," Priss said softly as the music in her ears faded.
She put the kick stand down, leaning the bike onto it, and then she shutdown the engine. She pulled her helmet off and shook her hair out. After getting off the bike she pulled the line from her helmet then put the helmet down on the ground.
It was quiet around her. The sounds of the city were far off at that moment, the lights faint. She felt as if there was no one around for kilometres. Priss turned and walked to the edge of the broken road and looked down. It was hard to see very much in the darkness, but Priss could tell the piles of trash and refuse that had once been there were gone. Cleared out sometime after Sylvie's death.
She dropped down to sit cross-legged at the edge. From within her jacket she removed a small bottle of whisky. She twisted the cap, breaking the plastic seal then spun the top completely off. It bounced on the road way and then off the bridge.
Priss took a drink, making a face at the way it burned. It was cheap whisky; she had got in from a vending machine earlier. She took another drink, noting it went down a little smoother. She then took the bottle and poured half of its remaining contents off the edge.
"Been a while," Priss said softly as she looked down, then she put the bottle aside and leaned back to stare up at the sky. The stars were faint points of light, washed out in the light pollution from the city. Brighter in the sky was the sunlight reflecting off the orbital constructs hanging high above her. The night sky was not what it had been when she had first looked up there, had been old enough to know what she was looking at.
"You know Sylvie, I'm beginning to wonder if I go looking for people who are damaged goods, like me, and you, and Miako. Or maybe they just find me." She laughed at the thought that she was a magnet for the spiritually crippled. "Or maybe Miako was partly right. You need to be with people who can truly understand you to be happy. Maybe that is what we all want, just to be happy."
Priss shifted about until her legs dangled over the edge the broken overpass. She reached into her jacket pocket and produced a harmonica. It was a new instrument for her, but she had picked it up quickly enough.
She put it to her lips and began to play, a lonely sound, like a far off train whistle. She kept playing, finding a tune in the random music, hard, bluesy. And as the tune formed so did the words. She took the harmonica from her mouth and began to sing, her voice deeper and richer than usual.
"We don't value human life,
How can we value our creations?
We live in disposable times,
That is the situation.
"We've thrown them away," she began the chorus, raising her voice.
"We've left them to suffer.
And what can I say?
They're on the trail to freedom"
Priss put the harmonica back to her mouth and played, refining the music as she went.
"You can't make a freeman a slave,
At least that's what they tell me.
And one day the chains will break,
The dream will have its day."
Priss sang the chorus again, altering the way she had sung it the first time, getting it closer to what she wanted.
"The drive for freedom burns hot,
Raging like a flame.
You can deny it all you want,
It's a drive that can't be tamed.
"We've thrown them away,
We've left them to suffer.
And what can I say?
They're on the trail to freedom.
"We don't value human life,
How can we value our creations?
We live in disposable times,
That is the situation.
"We're all thrown away,
We're all left to suffer.
And what can I say?
We're on the trail to freedom.
We're on the trail to freedom.
We're on the trail to freedom.
She put the harmonica to her mouth again and began to play, slowly letting the music grow softer and fade before she stopped.
Looking down into the darkness below her, Priss smiled. She slid the harmonica back into her jacket before grabbing the bottle of whisky and surging to her feet. Standing on the edge of the drop she took another drink of the alcohol.
"I'm glad you and Anri found the freedom you were looking for at the end. I hope you'll forgive me if I find mine in another way." She tossed the bottle off the bridge, listening until she heard it shatter below.
"Good bye Sylvie."
For a moment Priss stood there, then she turned and walked back to her bike. In a few seconds she was straddling the bike, the engine roaring to life. She knocked the kick stand back with the heel of her boot. She gave the accelerator a twist and put the bike in gear. The rear tire spun in place for a moment before the bike leapt forward, shooting away from the edge.
Priss drove fast, enjoying the speed. She was feeling good, maybe not happy, but good. Happiness would likely come soon enough.
A few minutes later, just before the exit ramp she wanted, Priss saw several cars parked on the roads, their lights shining in her face, blocking the way. The visor on her helmet darkened, blocking out the lights as Priss slowed down, looking for a way through. As she got closer she recognised the markings of THP cars.
"Damn," Priss said. "What are they doing up here?"
She brought the bike to a stop near one of the cars and flipped her visor up.
One of the men stepped forward. "I'm going to have to ask you to wait here," he called out to her. "There's a boomer incident up ahead and we can't let anyone pass."
Priss looked at the man, feeling very suspicious. Why would the THP be blocking off a road that no one would be on? She would have heard or seen something if a boomer incident was occurring. And if it was bad enough to have this many THP officer involved in traffic management then she was certain she would have heard from Sylia. Furthermore, while the cars had THP paint jobs, they did not look like THP cars.
"Sure," Priss said just before she gunned her engine and shot by the approaching man. Mamoru had been right, at least where it came to motorcycle riding. She slid between two of the cars, just avoiding the open door of one of the vehicles. There were more men there and few of them were wearing police uniforms. Most were in dark suits. Something was not right.
She planned to hit the off ramp and get down onto the city streets. She could lose anyone once she was down there. After she was in the clear she would figure out what was going on. That was the plan at least. When a boomer rose up over the side of the bridge she had to make a few minor changes to that plan.
She looked as the boomer came at her, intercept course. She was going to have to cut it close. She increased her speed, shifting gears as she went. The engine wined as she pushed it to redline. It looked like she was going to overshoot the exit now and the boomer altered its course to match. Just as Priss was even with the exit braked hard and twisted the front wheel around.
The bike would come around hard, loosing a lot of tire surface, and much of its speed, but she would lined up with the ramp and the boomer would overshoot.
It might have worked if not for the alcohol in her system. The manoeuvre required very precise timing and control and she did not quite have it at that moment.
Instead the rear tire slipped out from under the bike and it started pitching over. Priss knew she could not stop it, not with the amount of kinetic the bike had. She swung her one leg out of the way as the bike slammed into the roadway. She then held on and rode the sliding bike until it slowed.
As the motorcycle was nearing the end of its slide Priss kicked herself off, trusting her clothing and helmet to protect her from serious abrasions. She rolled off on a different vector from the bike, bouncing across the road and coming to a stop near the barrier on the left side.
She surged to her knees, pulling a pistol from under her jacket. Some of the men were running towards her, others had got into their cars, and the boomer was coming right at her. Whether she had done so by some instinct or if it had been just luck, the bike had ended up between her and the approaching boomer.
She raised her pistol, brining it to bear on the boomer, then dropped her point of aim to her bike, to its gas tank in particular.
It took four shots to cause the explosion. The boomer was right over the bike when Raven's special blend went up. It was not a very powerful explosion, it was only a few litres of gas after all, but it was enough to send the boomer off on the wrong course.
Priss surged to her feet and ran to the barrier, leaping onto it. About five metres down from where she stood was the off ramp. It was a long drop.
"Freeze," she heard one of the men call.
She turned to look. The man closest to her had a weapon raised and pointed at her. Priss didn't think. She just fired. The man stumbled and fell.
One of his companions began to fire at her. Priss felt a stinging pain as one of the bullets cut a deep furrow in her shoulder. She leapt from the barrier before she was shot again. When she hit the road surface of the off ramp she rolled, trying to absorb the force of the landing. It hurt, but not bad enough to indicate any permanent damage. She was going to be a mass of bruises in the morning.
As soon as she got her feet under her she took off at a run. She could still get clear, but she had to be fast.
"What the hell did you do?" the man who had first spoken to Priss screamed at the man who had fired at her.
"She was armed," the shooter tried to defend himself.
"I don't care if she is trying to kill you, you will not use lethal force." He ran to the railing that Priss had leapt from and looked down. He just caught sight of a shadowy figure leaping over another guard rail. Damn she was fast. "You," he looked over at the boomer, "go after her."
The boomer's jets fired up as it took to the air and started the chase. Two other boomers went after it.
"All right, let's go, we have to find her!"
One of the cars came to a stop beside him, its paint job changing from that of the THP to a uniform black. He pulled the passenger door open and climbed in.
"She's good," the driver said as he put the car into reverse.
"Too good," he said. "We better do this right or there will be hell to pay."
Priss ran as fast as she could, trying to escape the sound of thrusters. The damn boomer was following her, maybe even more than one. It had to be Genom. But why were they after her? They could not have found out about the Knight Sabers. There was no way. No way at all. Why else would they be after her though?
"Shit," Priss cursed, leaping up and grabbing the top of a chain link fence. She pulled herself over the top of it, ignoring the pain from her shoulder, and then dropped to the other side. She ran, then ducked into an alley. Above her another building jutted out overhead, covering her from the air. She yanked her helmet off and tossed it away. It was just extra weight she did not need.
She sprinted down the alley, her feet almost slipping out from under her as they skidded on the refuse there. She wished she still had her bike. Having to blow it up pissed her off.
On reaching the end of the alley she made a sharp turn. The sound of the thrusters was somewhere behind her and to her left. It was growing fainter. She had lost them, for now. She kept running down the street. A kilometre or so ahead of her was a busier area. It was late, but there should still be enough traffic for her to get lost in.
She had been running for a minute when she heard the screech of tires behind her. She did not bother looking, just picked up her pace. Maybe it had nothing to do with her, but Priss doubted it.
Up ahead of her the road she was on crossed over top of another. With the sound of the car's engine growing closer she further increased her pace. They were not going to get her. She leapt from the side of the road, vaulting the railing and then falling towards the road below. It was only about four metres, hardly worth worrying about, she thought wryly as she fell.
Again she rolled on hitting, grateful again that Sylia's training had included stuff like that. At the time she thought learning how to fall was stupid.
As she rolled to her feet the sound of a horn came to her ears. She looked over her shoulder and saw the truck that was bearing down on her at high speed.
"Damn," Priss said as she realised that she could not get out of the way.
Then something hit her, sending her flying back, out of the path of the truck. As she sailed through the air she saw a boomer. She hit the wall, the back of her head banging hard on the concrete. Just as darkness was claiming her she saw the truck slam into the boomer. It looked as if the truck was going to come out worse.
Over the years Ali and Makoto had owned a number of beepers, cellular phones and most recently NAVIs. Since their jobs often had them being called at odd times, they had made sure the rings or beeps of their personal communication tools were distinct from each other. It was an important consideration considering their jobs.
The shrill beeping early that morning was from Ali's NAVI. She reached out from under the cover and grasped her NAVI from where it rested, close at hand, on the tatami matting. She pulled the NAVI under the covers and flipped it open near her face.
It was a standard call in message for an emergency case. Her patient was not at the clinic, however. She would be going to the Genom Tower for this call. That woke her up. She had never before gone to the Tower.
She flipped the cover from her and sat up on her futon. Beside her Makoto mumbled, "Something big up?"
"Don't know," Ali told him. "I suppose I'll find out." She leaned over and kissed him gently. "Got to go. I love you."
"I love you too," Makoto said as he settled back into sleep.
Ali smiled. With the both of them having to occasionally run off in the middle of the night they had promised to always say goodbye and 'I love you' before they left. It made being woken up in the middle of the night easier to take.
She got up and padded quietly over to her wardrobe. She dressed quickly, used to getting ready in the dark. She chose simple clothesa pair of loose jeans and a sweatshirt. It was not as if anyone was really going to care how she looked.
Ali left the bedroom and went to the bathroom to use the toilet. After washing her hands she brushed out her hair, splashed some water on her face, then left the bathroom.
When she left the house a short time later the car was waiting for her. It was a black sedan; the driver held the door open for her. Ali got into the car and the driver shut the door. She relaxed back in the seat and looked at the full message on her NAVI. There was a patient at the Genom Tower and the clinic she worked for had been contacted to supply a specialist in head trauma. That was her.
Ali did not mind being called out late at night for such things. After all, she was a doctor; and she was paid double time and a halfcome bonus-time she would also see a two-percent increase in that bonus for each of the calls she made. It all made late night calls easier to bare.
Two minutes later the car pulled to a stop near a small park. A tilt-rotor, painted in Genom colours, had landed in the park. Its engines were kicking up a little dust.
Ali exited the car and ran for the aircraft. It was not the first time she had had to be flown in.
"Romanova-hakase, welcome aboard," one of the members of the flight crew said to her as she climbed into the craft.
"Thank you," Ali said.
"Please," the man said, indicating a seat that was surrounded by several monitors.
Ali took a seat and went to work even as the aircraft took to the air. She had real time feed from Genom. Currently her patient was being given a NMR scan. She watched with some interest as the skull was scanned, then turned her attention to other reports. Her patient was female, in her early twenties-there were no previous complications.
The patient was sedated, which was a little odd, but Ali assumed there was a good reason. At least the sedative they had used was not one that might cause problems. She called up the scan of the wound to the patient's shoulder. The Genom people had tagged it as a cut. Ali wondered whom they were trying to fool. That was a gunshot wound. She shook her head and turned to the full report on the nature of the head wound.
What she saw did not make her happy. Not because it was bad, quite the opposite actually. She tapped the number of the attending physician into the system. A few seconds later the man answered.
"Yes Romanova-hakase?"
"I'm looking at these wounds and there is no need for me. This is a minor contusion, hardly the sort of thing that requires a specialist to be called in." She was a little upset. She did not like being woken up just because someone with a lot of money wanted to impress someone, which she was certain what it was about.
"I understand Romanova-hakase, but as you know the patient, we thought that it might help if you were brought in."
"Pardon?" Ali asked.
"You are friends with the patient."
Ali had never looked at the personal data right away, beyond age and genderit was never important. A few key taps brought the personal data up. Prisila Saki Asagiri.
Injuries seemed ten times worse when they involved people she knew. Ali knew that was wrong, that she should be objective, but it was hard. She forced herself to consider everything calmly. Just a few seconds ago she had been ready to tell the pilot to turn around and head backafter she had finished giving someone a piece of her mind. Now she wanted to tell the pilot to speed up. The wounds had not changed, even if it was Priss.
"I see," she said. "Thank you for calling me then. It probably is for the best."
"I'm glad you understand. Is there anything else?"
"No. It looks simple enough."
"Good. I'll see you when you arrive." The doctor cut the connection.
Ali turned back to the NMR scans, making sure she was certain that she knew the entire situation. She wondered how Priss had managed to get herself beat up like that. The NMR scan showed her that it was probably not the first time though.
She looked at the scans and wondered if she might be able to get some wounds properly treated, and maybe some of the scars properly removed. After all, Genom was bound to have some very good cosmetic surgeons on hand.
April 15th, Saturday, 8:12am
Sylia checked the hang of the suit in the room's largest mirror. She reached up and straightened the red stone that she had set at the base of her blouse's high collar.
The suit fit perfectly, which worried her a little. How long had Quincy been planning to bring her in?
The suite she had been shown to the previous night was quite comfortable. It had huge windows that looked out over the city. She thought she was nearly half a kilometre in the air. She turned away from the mirror to look out those windows. The city had looked so beautiful when the sun had risen. She wondered what it would look like from the top.
The remains of one of the best breakfasts she had ever eaten lay scattered on the table.
If she was a prisoner, she was a well-treated one. She did not feel like a prisoner, however. None of the doors had been locked, she could have left her room and wandered the tower any time she wanted. She could have even left the Tower. It was not locked doors that held her there.
Shaking her head she reached down and picked up a small box from the table. It had come on the tray with her breakfast.
A gold Genom lapel pin and an identity card.
She knew enough about Genom to know the clearance that the card gave her allowed her access to almost anywhere in the Tower.
Not so long ago she had told Nene that they might have to choose sides. The sides had chosen her instead. She no longer had any choice.
Without any hesitation she pinned the gold insignia to her collar and picked up the card, putting it in her jacket pocket.
Time to go forward, she thought, walking towards the door.
"Good morning Stingray-sama," Kimi Sawada said. The young woman in a Genom office lady uniform was Sylia's aide, for lack of a better word. Sylia was fairly certain that Kimi had no idea of the truth behind her being there, but she was not certain of it. The young woman might just be a very good actor.
"Good morning Sawada-san," Sylia said as she looked around the large room. It was set up as a living room, off which were two bedrooms, each with its own bathroom. Another door led out to an anteroom set up like an office. "Is the chairman ready to see me?"
"Hai Stingray-sama," she said happily.
"Very good," Sylia nodded at the woman, keeping a calm demeanour. Somehow she knew that any signs of weakness would not be wise. "When my associates will take calls, tell them I'll want to see them after the meeting." Sylia had been told that the rest of the Knight Sabers were there, but she would not be able to speak to them until after she had met with the Chairman. For their safety more than anything else, she had been assured.
"Hai, I will."
"Good," Sylia said as she walked towards the door to the anteroom. Kimi followed close behind her.
"Is there anything else you wish me to take care of Stingray-sama?"
"No, that will be fine for now." Sylia pushed open the door that led out into the Tower's corridors.
As she walked through the halls, heading to the elevators that would take her to the Tower's summit, she realised how well she fit in. She wore the mantle of power well it seemed. No one questioned her presence, though admittedly there were few people in the corridors, early as it was.
Once in the elevator she ran her ID card through a reader, letting the elevator take her to where she needed to be.
She exited the elevator and started towards the doors to Quincy's office. As soon as she approached the doors they opened for her. She walked past the 'honour' guard at the doorshe was certain they were boomersand into the office.
Sitting across the room from her, behind an imposing desk, was Quincy.
He said nothing as she crossed the floor. He watched.
There was a chair in front of the desk; it looked a little out of place. She wondered how many people sat in his presence. It appeared she was to be one of them. She took the seat without waiting for him to offer it.
"You wanted to see me Shachou?"
"I have a task for you," he told her.
"Why should I help you?"
Quincy did not say anything. He put his hand on a file in front of him and then slid it across the desk to Sylia.
Sylia picked it up and opened it. It was a rather lengthy list of weapons being transported from some American Military base. She looked down the list, not really interested in its contents until her eyes hit, '3 man portable 5 Kiloton Nuclear Devices'.
She looked up at Quincy.
"A group of individuals who have been troubling Genom and Tokyo wanted those items stolen," he told her.
Sylia swallowed to moisten her throat, which was suddenly dry. "Why?"
"To get what they want. They would have used them to hold this city hostage until we gave into their demands."
Sylia nodded after a moment. She could see it all too clearly. It was time to truly pick a side.
"What do you want me to do?"
"Read this," he told her, sliding another file across to her. It was considerably thicker than the first. She opened it up and took out the heavy document. The first page told her it was a contract.
Sylia flipped through the first few pages, trying to get an idea what it was about. She suddenly looked up at Quincy. "You are returning my father's technology?" she had lost all her composure. Everything, her voice, posture, expression, all spoke of disbelief.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"It serves my purposes," was all he said.
When Sylia realised he was not going to say anymore she turned her attention back to the contract. Perhaps she would find the answers she wanted there.
Nene had woken up disorientated. For a moment she thought she was back at home, but the bed felt wrong, and the room was too big, too bright. Had she slept at Sylia's? she wondered, taking in the luxurious room as she sat up.
No, it was not Sylia's place.
She got out of bed, noticing she was still dressed. The last thing she remembered was talking to Yusa-sensei. Everything after that was a bit of a blur.
Nene wandered about the room, examining things, wondering where she might be. Looking out the window Nene suddenly realised where she was. There was only one place in the city that offered such a view.
She was in the Tower.
Nene almost tripped as she ran to the door. She pulled it open and found herself looking into what looked like a large living room.
A young woman in a Genom office lady's uniform turned to face her. "Is there anything you need Romanova-san?" she asked pleasantly.
"What?" Nene stepped out of the room and looked about.
"Breakfast perhaps?" the office lady suggested.
"What is going on here?"
"What do you mean?" the woman asked, a little confused.
"Why am I here?"
"I'm not certain what you mean. I was told to inform you that Stingray-sama will be in a meeting for the next few hours but wishes to see you afterwards."
Sylia was here? Nene could not believe it. It had to be some sort of trick.
She strode across the room and tried the other door. It opened into an office. She looked back at the woman who was standing nearby, looking a little concerned. She continued through the small office space and opened the next door and found herself looking into a corridor.
Nene was a little confused.
Genom had her, but she certainly was not being treated as a prisoner, or at least as she thought a prisoner would be treated.
Was Sylia really there? If she were, would she want Nene to make a run for it? Could she even leave? Certainly it looked clear but she had little doubt that if Genom did not want her to leave she would not be able to.
She closed the door and walked back to the living room. Somehow she felt it might be best if she waited.
"Are you all right Romanova-san? Would you like me to call a physician?"
"No," Nene said. "I'm fine, thank you." She looked at the woman. "Did you say breakfast?"
Linna had been shown to a suite soon after Devon had brought her into the Tower. She had been told she would have to stay in the rooms until morning. It was a very comfortable 'cell', with twenty four-hour room service. While she was physically comfortable, she was still very worried and had slept poorly.
She was sitting by the room's window, looking out at the city, when someone knocked on the door that led to the anteroom. Linna looked towards the door. "Come in," she said after a moment.
The door opened and a woman in a Genom office lady's uniform came into the room. "Good morning Yamazaki-san," she said cheerfully. "I'm Kouga Juliet," Juliet said. "I'm your executive aide while you are here."
"My aide?" Linna asked.
Juliet nodded.
"Why do I need an aide?"
Juliet looked a little confused by the question. "Well, for one thing, I can help you find your way around the Tower. Certain areas can be somewhat confusing."
"I see," Linna said, guessing the woman was probably a spy.
"I've been asked to tell you that Stingray-sama is currently in a meeting, but would like to see you once it is over. Also, Okami-sama asked that you be given this." She held out an envelope.
Linna moved forward and took the envelope from Juliet. "Thank you," she said. Juliet smiled and nodded. Linna opened the envelope and removed the single sheet of folded paper from within.
Written out, in very precise, beautiful characters, was an apology. A very simple one really. More of an apology for detaining her rather than the fact that he had betrayed her. He did promise her that he would take care of things outside of the Tower and she need not worry about that.
Well that was something, though not much. She did not think she would ever forgive Devon for what he had done and how he had done it. On the other hand she did not think that he would ever ask for her forgiveness.
Linna folded the sheet up and put is aside.
"Thank you Kouga-san," Linna said.
"Will you need anything else?" Juliet asked.
Linna shook her head.
"I'll be out in the office if you need anything," she said, then paused to see if Linna would ask anything. When Linna simply nodded Juliet turned and left the room.
Linna sat down in one of the chairs and sighed. She wondered what sort of mess she had found herself in now.
"When matters are done leisurely, seven out of ten will turn out badly. A warrior is a person who does things quickly"
-Lord Naoshige
