MEANWHILE IN ITALY
A Gunslinger Girl fanfiction, based on works by Yu Aida.
Thanks to Kiskaloo for the continued loan of Michele and Kara, Professor Voodoo for Marisa, and Officer Charon for the SRT.
CH08 – Keeping up Appearances
Taking another sip of coffee, Jean Croce reduced the cup's contents to gritty dregs, signalling the end of that particular minor pleasure. Placing it back on the small table by one elbow, he returned his attention to where Ferro was reading from a leather bound diary in the wide armchair opposite.
"...Other than that, we finally received a response from the Blackers: seemingly they took an unplanned jaunt to South America."
"Not a moment too soon either."
At those words, attention in the darkened room turned to its third occupant, positioned behind a large wood desk abutting the two sets of armchairs. In his own seat, Pieri Lorenzo leaned back, away from his table lamp's warm glow, sending shadows shifting across stacked bookshelves behind.
The field commander nodded slightly in reply to his chief. "Yes, another day or so and we would have needed to organise someone else to take on Moratti… there has to be a better way to keep track of those two."
Ferro looked back down at her notes. "I think this time they were genuinely out of range... Monty forwarded another data packet also, I've asked Priscilla to add it to Ribisi's backlog."
Glancing between the support manager and their collective boss, Jean absently reached again for his coffee cup, which was gone, and he was forced to instead grab the chair's arm by way of justification for the motion. "Since we're short on time, Ferro will be meeting the Blackers in Zurich rather than have them return here."
Now it was the chief's turn to eye the suited woman. "Do you have time for that?"
"I'll make the time, sir."
That was met with a nod: no arguments, issue closed, if Ferro said she could make the time, she could make the time. Apparently taking the signal to move on, she glanced again at her notes. "I have nothing else worth mentioning... though Jean, I will need to sit down with you either tomorrow or when I get back to finalise leave and a duty roster across Christmas/New Year."
There was a momentary pause.
"Find me first thing in the morning, and we will go over it."
The support manager nodded. "First thing."
"Nothing else from me either," continued Jean, "though I may be a few minutes late arriving for this tomorrow: Olivetti has put his cyborg forward for her Verifica..." he noted Lorenzo's twitch, "...and I would like to be present."
"Who's assessing?"
"Giorgio."
"Poor girl." The chief paused. "Well, if Ferro's going to be away, and you're otherwise engaged, we might cancel tomorrow's operations catch-up," the wry hint of a smile brushed his lips, "who knows, I may even get away from here at a reasonable hour…"
Taking a moment to drain his own coffee, the senior man set the cup back on its saucer, and this time, now that he was looking for her, Jean saw the blonde haired Tea glide silently forward to remove both to a silver service.
"...and there I think we will call it a night. Have a safe trip Ferro..."
"Thank you, sir."
"...Jean, a moment of your time?"
Waiting while the support team manager made for the door, being allowed out by the same attendant girl whom had somewhere lost her tray with its dirty cup in the interim, Jean turned to his commander.
"Yes?"
Now Lorenzo leaned back again, steepling fingers to peer over them at his immediate subordinate. "Tell me honestly Jean: do you think Olivetti's girl is ready to do her Verifica?"
Giving the question a moment to digest, the elder Croce brother collected his thoughts: if he were to read the handler's reports, then Raych was indeed ready to undertake her assessment. He had, however, also borne quiet witness to some of her training and…
He sighed. "I think she's borderline, and I think Olivetti's time frame has been ambitious to say the least: the only generation two we've passed out quicker was Blacker's Monique, and we waived her Verifica to do it. Monique though, despite her other... faults... was also particularly good. So far, Raych is developing slower than the norm, not by much, but the only reason she's as far along as she is, is thanks to Olivetti's pushing so hard... and removing her from the academic programme." Another sigh. "One way or the other though, it's Olivetti's call as to when she gets assessed…"
"…and we set it up that way from the start so the handlers would not lose their traditional autonomy, I know." Lorenzo leaned forward. "But you also know as well as I that we only created the Verifica to keep the bean counters happy and help Petris push the generation two programme budget through. We're already technically over-established, it would not do well to have girls start failing now… and if anyone's likely to fail one, it's Giorgio."
At that, Jean nodded. "That's why I want to be at Raych's assessment."
"I don't want her passed out if she's going to be a liability either…"
"The fratello will be useable eventually... someone just needs to save Olivetti from himself in the interim."
There was another pause and, finally, the chief sighed. "If C. Raych has to be passed sub-par, can you manage them until she's more up to speed?"
There was another pause.
"Yes. So long as we don't suffer any major reductions in manpower, then yes."
Under expansive ceilings of the SWA's lecture theatre-come-briefing room, the black clothed figure hunched in the bottom row of tiered seating cut a very lonely shape, engrossed in a thin sheaf of stapled papers. Before it Giorgio Bianchi, leader of the Agency's small Squadra della Risposta Tattica commando unit, stood silently by.
Watching from his own chair at the back of the room, Danilo ground teeth silently. The man had seemed hostile right from the outset, not the sort of conditions he needed for C. Raych to be assessed under, and that was not even the worst part.
Pulling his attention from assessor and assessed below, the handler's eyes flicked sideways to where, five seats along and one row down, Jean Croce had positioned himself, apparently absorbed in a manila folder of reports. Whose reporting that was exactly he had no idea, but if Bianchi's attitude was making him unhappy, he was doubly so about the field commander's presence. There had been nothing to indicate that anyone else should be present at the VdCO other than cyborg, handler and assessor: and even then only two of three were allowed interaction. Extras would just be a distraction, a distraction C. Raych did not need… and she certainly did not need the feeling of having the brass here to breathe down her neck.
Unfortunately, there was not a whole lot he could do about it either.
As if feeling eyes on him, the elder Croce looked up from neat paperwork, twisting to fix the other handler in his gaze, and Danilo turned back to watching his own cyborg. If he was going to be completely honest about it, he was still not entirely happy about bringing her here, but he had promised to have her ready, and now he had to make good on that promise. Still, C. Raych was now quickest to the VdCO bar one and, frankly, considering what the medical department had given him to work with it was a fucking miracle he had managed to bring her even this far. It was a shame no-one seemed to recognise that achievement.
Hopefully it would be enough.
Down on the briefing room floor, Raych stared at the sheet of paper before her: these questions were difficult, nothing like what Danilo had taught her at all. There had been a slideshow before this, and she knew the answers had been in that, she had even managed to fill some of them in while it was running, but then Mr. Croce walked in, and she had lost concentration. What was he here for? Was she in trouble? Was Danilo in trouble? Had she gotten Danilo into trouble? She hoped not, that would be terrible. She wanted to turn around, to see where Danilo was, but she could not, not until she was finished here.
She looked down at the paper again: "What should I do if I am separated from my handler?"
What should she do if she were separated from Danilo? That would be terrifying.
"Should I: a) go back to the last place I saw him or a designated rally point; b) attempt to contact him by radio or telephone; c) attempt to contact the Social Welfare Agency by radio or telephone; d) all of the above."
She did not know, she really did not know. They all seemed like good answers, she thought the video had mentioned all of them, she wished she could be more sure. Kara would be sure, Triela would be sure, Petra, Allison and Marisa would be sure… she was sure Monty would be sure. Why couldn't she be more like them and know what to do?
She circled option d.
Was she really ready for this? She did not feel ready for this, not at all. Her shooting was getting better, her obstacle course times were better, and her unarmed combat was getting better... she had been getting better: her GIS opponents rarely slipped past her guard now but… but was she really good enough yet? She did not want to fail, she did not want to be the first cyborg ever to fail her VdCO… what would everyone think of Danilo if that happened? She did not want to let him down, to humiliate him...
But Danilo thought she was ready did he not? That was what the other girls had said: her handler decided when she was ready for her VdCO, not anyone else. If she were here, then Danilo had to have thought she was ready for it, believed in her to be ready for it… and if Danilo thought she was ready for it then she had to be. She had to be. Danilo could not be wrong.
He had to be right. She had to be ready.
She looked at the next question: "How do I speak of the SWA if questioned by the public. Do I…"
She really had no idea.
Watching his cyborg scrawl another answer, Danilo hid a scowl. This whole thing was frankly a waste of his fratello's time: if the fabled Monique had been excused the VdCO assessment because someone deemed it irrelevant to her, then who was to say it was any more so to his cyborg. He'd watched the video slides from back here, and presumably it had been a "give you the answers" type of affair, but there was no point in telling C. Raych how to catch a bus or approach public officials. Maybe it would be helpful for some of the others, those expected to go undercover and risk being separated whilst walking the streets, but his cyborg would rarely, if ever, be required to operate away from him, and even then she would never be off the other end of a radio. That James Bond shit wasn't what he had been brought in for.
Of course, there had to be a baseline to measure against, but at least try to keep it relevant to those being measured.
Finally, after what seemed an age, Raych circled her last answer and put down her pencil. She hoped she had answered right, she wanted to make Danilo proud of her.
Taking the signal, caporalmaggiore capo Bianchi stepped forward to pick up her papers and, as if released by some spring loaded mechanism, her head snapped around, searching for her handler. Quickly she found him, seated at the rear of the room, and briefly their eyes met.
No response.
Danilo did not move, features impassive, and quickly she looked away, facing forward again as her shoulders slumped. Why had he not responded to her? Was he displeased? Surely he should be happy that she had finished.
At the speaker's lectern, caporalmaggiore capo Bianchi was going through her answers, but he did not look at her either. Suddenly, the room felt very large indeed: why did no one want to look at her? Was it because she had failed already? Did they feel sorry for her?
She froze at that thought, heart suddenly pounding. What if she had failed, not only would she be the first cyborg ever to fail, but she would have failed at the first test. Worse, Danilo would be remembered as her handler, the handler of a failure, she did not want him to be remembered as that. Feeling panic rise, the girl grasped for other explanations, surely there had to be other explanations…
"Don't bother looking for your handler, he's not allowed to communicate with you," Raych jumped as her assessor suddenly appeared beside her, "no one is except me. On your feet, we're moving on to something more practical."
Being ushered toward the door, the girl could not help but cast one final glance back, in time to see Danilo rise from his own seat. Was he coming with her? She hoped he was, she needed him there… what was she supposed to do without him there?
Outside was cold, very cold, sullen grey clouds overhead threatening sleet or snow, and she slipped her heavy parka over the long sleeved thermal she already wore. She had been going to wear her nice clothes for this, the leggings and loose top, at least the top, the ones that made her feel worthy of her role as a Social Welfare Agency cyborg, but Danilo had told her to dress in exercise kit... and obviously he knew best.
Blinking against the dry chill, Raych was directed to take a seat in one of the little carts she had seen the grounds staff use, and caporalmaggiore capo Bianchi settled himself into the driver's position, starting it to send them thrumming off across wintery grounds.
Icy air stung her face, and she squinted into it, twisting around again in the hope of seeing Danilo follow behind. She could not see him, and she huddled down deeper into the coat's warm embrace, seeking comfort there instead.
Glancing at the figure beside him, Giorgio took a moment to glare at it before turning his attention back to the road. She didn't look happy and, frankly, he wasn't exactly over-fucking-joyed with the situation either. For his sins though, at least he knew he could give a fair assessment... assuming of course the brass would ever let him.
...and at least Scarponi and Esposito could be reliably left to get the range set up in his absence.
Fortunately that faith was not misplaced and, arriving on the outdoor range, standing a neat twenty-five metres from the firing line he could see six, red painted, man-shaped, steel targets. Their other sides would be a clean white if the contraption had been refreshed since its last use, which could be shown to the shooter at the assessor's discretion: something the technology branch had originally knocked together for training purposes.
Halting at the table directly before it, he disembarked and pointed to a black nylon bag resting in the vehicle's rear, one provided by Olivetti that morning.
"Your kit is in there. Get set up, then wait for me."
"Yes, caporalmaggiore capo Bianchi."
Not pausing to see Raych get started, Giorgio hung a pair of ear-protectors around his neck and, also grabbing yellowed shooting glasses from the cart, strode off down-range.
Making a quick circuit of the target set, ensuring the base had been firmly pegged into the ground, he picked up a control box and spool of wire which rested beside it, the latter running to a car battery mounted behind more steel plate. Flicking each of the six switches on the box, he jammed down its "go" button, and watched as their corresponding targets slammed around to the clack of solenoids, snapping back again as the control was released.
Trust his SRT to get things right first time.
Content, the commando turned back whence he came, unspooling cable behind himself. As he did so, another engine's thrum signalled the arrival of the cyborg's handler. Watching the black car roll to a halt, he saw from the corner of an eye the girl pause from loading her magazines, turning to also watch as Olivetti disembarked the vehicle, seemingly in search of some acknowledgement of her presence. Only when it became clear she was not going to receive any did she bow back to the task at hand.
Dependent, just like all of them.
Arriving back at the bench, the assessor paused to note his observation, before double checking the control box remained firmly fastened onto its wire's other set of terminals. As he did so, a second car rolled into view, this one disgorging Jean Croce: that was something else he was not entirely thrilled about. The field commander was of course entirely within his position's remit to observe a Verifica assessment but, beyond the first few, had generally kept his distance and left the SRT handle it. Perhaps it was being overly paranoid, but Giorgio couldn't help but feel that the man's presence this time was because he, Giorgio, was running the test.
From beside him came a tiny click as Raych finished filling her third and final magazine. Index finger resting on the side of her trigger guard, she inserted the seventeen shot box into the pistol's handgrip before racking its slide to chamber the first round, then holstered the firearm.
Good, safe handling.
Picking up his control box again, Giorgio looked at her. "This drill is simple: shoot white targets as they appear, two rounds per target. Do not shoot them if they are displaying red, and re-holster between each set. Is that clear?"
"Yes, caporalmaggiore capo Bianchi."
On went hearing protection and glasses. "Shooter ready?"
"Yes, caporalmaggiore capo Bianchi."
"Range is live!" His parade-ground voice carried clearly across the area. It was probably a futile gesture considering the facility was booked out for the test, but some habits died hard and, flicking one of the box's switches, he jammed a thumb on its actuator button.
Down range the corresponding plate slammed around to present its white face, and he watched as Raych smoothly drew her pistol, aimed, paused briefly…
Bang! Bang!
Half a second later, two closely spaced dark patches opened up on the target's pristine surface as the bullets turned paint to dust, and he saw the cyborg flinch slightly at its ringing gong. Odd, had she never shot steel before? Surely she had.
Either way, the flinch caused her to miss re-holstering, and Giorgio made another note.
More shots at more patterns, more white targets appearing to be fired upon in each, and each more complex than the last, until eventually Raych was forced to eject her empty magazine, catching it to place it on the bench and retrieve a fresh one from the carrier on her opposite hip. She was proud of herself so far, and she reloaded smoothly before holstering her Steyr again.
Danilo would be proud of her.
Ahead, the targets slammed around once more and she drew, taking aim at the first white shape, and let off two shots. The clang of their impacts no-longer shocked her, and she tracked across to the next target, squeezing off another two, and again into the one beside it. She was just starting to re-holster when one of the remaining red shapes suddenly slammed around to present its white face for firing.
The change took a moment to process: that had not happened before! Movements suddenly made jerky and hurried by panic she raised the gun back up, sounding two more rushed reports. The first slug missed completely, the second shattering itself against the steel's edge, and she shakily returned her pistol to its sheath, heart pumping, as the targets once more presented red faces.
She hadn't expected that, caporalmaggiore capo Bianchi had not said anything about something like that. Did the miss mean she had failed? Or was it just part of the test?
The targets slammed around again. This time she was more prepared for the change, managing to land two bullets on the switching plate as another began to move.
So it continued, a target would start red, and then on no warning spin around to present for fire, or slam back to red again a moment before she could pull the trigger, forcing her to abort and track faster for the next opportunity. That was the worst bit: she could not wait, could not think, just react, and with each repetition it became harder. More targets changed, more targets changed faster, until all the forms were slamming back and forth through each set, straining her concentration, messily placed rounds barely connecting with painted steel and empty magazines left laying in the dirt in frenzied attempts to reload faster.
Her only respite came with the halts to refill those spent boxes, but she could not keep up with this, not forever. She would have to though, she had no choice… she wanted to go off campus with Danilo.
Finally, the inevitable: firing at a white target she shifted sideways, firing again before her next victim's colour registered.
Clang! Clang!
Downrange, two black bruises appeared on the chest of a "don't fire" silhouette, and instantly the rest slammed back to red, staying there.
Silence.
"Make safe and holster." Now the caporalmaggiore capo looked at her squarely. "Empty your magazines and put your gun away."
Dejectedly, the girl dropped the half-used magazine out of her pistol and cleared its chamber, before starting to remove unused rounds from the mag. So that was it then, she had to have failed, otherwise they would not have stopped the pistol assessment would they? What next? Did she have to complete the rest of the VdCO anyway? More importantly, what would Danilo think? Would he be angry? What happened to a failed cyborg?
Pistol case open before her, Raych stopped, twisting to look at her handler, but again she got no response, his face still unreadable behind dark sunglasses.
Placing his control box on the bench, Giorgio saw the cyborg glance around, searching for her master; and that was the problem wasn't it? The girl had not actually done that badly, she had not done particularly well either, but not badly. There had been hiccups and inconsistencies to her actions, but nothing she had done had been wrong per-se, nothing so bad he could fail her over it. Even so, she suffered the same limitation as every other cyborg: they were never one hundred percent focused on their own tasks, they couldn't create an effective unit with anyone but the handler the rest of their mind was permanently devoted to.
On that thought, he turned himself also to look at the man in question, standing off to one side, body immobile with face hidden behind dark tea-shades. If he had any sense he would be sweating over his cyborg's performance so far… though if the rumour mill and opinions were to be believed, sense may be something this particular one was short on.
Still, whether a handler had their head screwed down or not was not his problem right now.
Another cold ride across grey blanketed grounds put the day's chill back through Raych's bones but, looking around, she realised she knew the road they were on, this one she had travelled before. As they entered the obstacle course clearing Raych, once more seated beside her silent SRT overseer, felt some of her doubt sliding away. If her VdCO was still going, then maybe she had not failed completely after all, and the obstacle course... this she could do. This was something she was familiar with: its logs, ropes and metal solid and unchanging. It was the first place where she had proven her worth and, while her times were still only average at best, she was well ahead of Soni, and Soni had passed her VdCO.
Her times were good, this she could do... but where was Danilo?
Stepping again from the little utility vehicle, she shrugged off her warm jacket, feeling winter air bite through the long-sleeve top beneath.
"Umm, caporalmaggiore capo Bianchi? Umm…"
"Leave it on the mule, your handler can get it from there."
"Yes, caporalmaggiore capo Bianchi."
Dropping the coat, she was directed not to the course start, but instead to a patch of grass beyond its elongated loop. This was not right was it? This was not where she was meant to be, she was supposed to do the course here, and she turned to look longingly at its apparatus.
"You'll be assessed in the hand-to-hand component now," stated the commando, as if reading her mind, "the obstacle course comes last."
Where was Danilo? What was she supposed to do without him here?
Where was Danilo, she had not heard another car yet and, almost without thinking, she turned to look for him. Nowhere, nothing.
"Your handler will be here shortly," there was the sound of fabric hitting the ground, "but we will be continuing. For the purpose of this assessment, I am now giving you permission to engage me, do you understand?"
"Yes, caporalmaggiore capo Bianchi."
Attention drawn back to the task at hand, she found the commando already holding a fighting stance and, almost automatically, fell into her own, weak-side leading.
No sooner had she shown ready than the SRT man moved in, using his greater reach and bulk to press an attack. It was sudden, no warning, but she managed to fend off his first blows, dodging out of the way to try one of her own, which found only air, and she was once more forced into the defensive, desperately trying to block while she got back on balance.
It was only a matter of time until one found its way past her guard.
The powerful kick slammed into her head, sending her staggering. This was harder than she had expected, harder than training. Somehow she was still upright though: she had to press her own attack, the GIS had taught her that, you could not end a fight by defending. Just take the hits, she could take the hits, they might seem to hurt, but they could not damage to her cybernetic body: a human attacker's bones would break long before hers did, something Danilo had told her.
Where was he?
Using the distance she had gained from her stagger as a run-up, she darted forward, pushing through the fists that met her to land a hit in caporalmaggiore capo Bianchi's ribcage. As it impacted she heard the man grunt, but her next assault missed as he stepped away, turning the movement into another kick which she managed to block just in time. Then he was back on the offensive.
As she tried to back off once more, another sound reached Raych's ears: the thrum of an engine. Danilo was here! Elation welled up inside her, and she turned to…
…as before, the kick came out of nowhere, slamming into her skull.
This time however she was sent sprawling across the grass. It took a moment to re-gather her wits and, looking up from where she lay, this time she did glimpse her handler's face as a second vehicle pulled in behind.
She wished she had not.
The look there was not anger as she had been expecting, not disappointment, not any of the multitude of expressions directed at her in the past. It was worry, tight lipped worry and, somehow, that was even more terrifying. Danilo could not be worried, Danilo was always right, how could he possibly be worried? The only thing which could possibly worry him was her... and how bad would things need to be to worry him?
She looked over again, but the expression was gone. Perhaps she had been imagining things.
But what if she had not been?
Picking herself up, the girl dropped back into her guard stance, and caporalmaggiore capo Bianchi closed again, but this time she did not wait before wading into his blows, forcing her way in tight. Two punches were blocked, but then she dropped to lash out with a vicious kick. It was only half effective, catching one leg but not the other, but it was enough to off-balance her opponent and, seeing the gap, Raych leapt up into a shoulder charge which sent him sprawling.
Immediately she was back in her guard stance, but her assessor was quickly on his feet also, ready to go again.
Three more bouts came and went, victories all to the more experienced fighter, before the cyborg managed another win. Picking himself up from the grass, the SRT man signalled a halt to his panting charge.
"Hand-to-hand component finished. I'm rescinding your permission to engage."
And it was over, just like that.
"Yes, caporalmaggiore capo Bianchi." Dropping her guard, Raych looked at her feet, hands moving to dry-wash themselves before her. Danilo had looked so worried before, and that worried her. Was she still going to be able to pass? Or was this all going to be for nothing? She really wanted to know. "Umm... caporalmaggiore capo Bianchi? How am I doing?"
Her question received no response, and she was instead motioned to the obstacle course. "Go to the start, and wait for me there."
"Yes, caporalmaggiore capo Bianchi."
No reply. Did that mean she had failed? Surely not, not after she had come this far, someone would have let her know if she had failed, Danilo would have let her know if she had failed, he would not have let her continue if she had failed. At that thought she looked toward her handler again, but again she could not gather anything from his expression.
Someone would have told her.
Clutching to that hope, she turned toward the buried starting sleeper and its familiar patch of bare earth. Now a little confidence trickled back, this was known territory, this she could do, her times were good here. So long as she had not failed elsewhere, this she could pass.
And someone would have told her if she had failed already... Her times were good.
The crunch of a boot brought her back to reality. "Your handler should already have explained this to you: you get a single, untimed, run through..."
The remainder of the sentence was lost to her.
Untimed? What did he mean untimed?
If he said it was untimed, then did that mean times did not matter? But her times had always mattered, she knew they always mattered, Danilo always checked her times, she had worked hard to get her times down for him. Again she looked toward her handler, eyes pleading, willing him to say something. Did he know what was happening? Of course, he had to know what was happening, he was Danilo... but if he knew, then why had everything changed now?
Giorgio stopped short as he saw the cyborg's head snap around, he'd lost her attention. Something in the explanation had apparently upset her. Well, that wasn't his problem, he didn't set the damn test, just ran it, and he didn't much feel like standing here getting colder either.
"Raych."
She was still looking the other way.
"Candidate C. Raych!"
There was a yelp and little jump as her attention came back to him and, in the corner of his vision, he saw her handler stiffen in response as well.
"Yes! Caporalmaggiore capo Bianchi!"
"Do you understand what I just said?"
"Yes! Caporalmaggiore capo Bianchi."
There was no hesitation in the response at all, and it was accompanied by a wide eyed, jerky nod of the head.
No she hadn't.
Giorgio made another mental note.
"Then on my mark. Go!"
At his words, Raych shot toward the first obstacle, her assessor following at a fast jog along the parallel path. No human could hope to keep pace with a cyborg in full flight, but she slowed to tackle each apparatus, allowing him to close distance in the same steady stride, watching. She was going fast, possibly a little too fast for her own good. This wasn't a test of absolute speed, it was a test of co-ordination and control, of the ability to evaluate an obstacle and deal with it efficiently and smoothly, not simply as quickly as possible. The hand-to-hand component before really served very little purpose in terms of assessment, Giorgio gave a scowl at that: it should have, but it didn't. Despite earlier lessons, the SWA seemingly still felt its cyborgs able to overwhelm the majority of their opponents with brute strength, leaving training in unarmed combat as optional at the handler's discretion. Hence the associated VdCO assessment component was almost useless too: no, what the brass were interested in was if a cyborg could control her body effectively or not, and so the fight was simply to wear them down.
What a missed opportunity that was.
This one seemingly had some training, pity she seemed incapable of taking the offensive without an order or provocation. So far though, she at least appeared to have her body mostly under control.
As if hearing the thought, Raych chose that moment to miss the next jump, catching her foot on the top of a wooden wall and tumbling over face-first into the dirt. Sliding to a halt, she was quickly back up and running again, faster, as if in an attempt to make up for the failure, and Giorgio was forced to increase his pace as she very nearly repeated the action, this time using it to splash under the muddy wire crawl.
From where he stood, Danilo saw the fall, covering up another wince to glance at Croce. The obstacle course C. Raych should at least be good at, but something seemed to have thrown her. She had been marginal going into the VdCO: she had to do well here. Precisely why the SWA insisted on a zero-feedback assessment he had no idea, for the cyborg that was fine, but what was the point of keeping a handler in the dark as well? He had known he was never going to be completely happy with his unit's performance, but did her actions so far equate to a pass or a fail? Surely he could be given that much.
On the course, C. Raych tumbled over the final high-wall, stumbling across the finish marker to reach a halt and, shortly after, Danilo saw Giorgio arrive in her wake. Stopping, the man pointed the cyborg toward her handler and, with a nod, she began to jog across the short stretch of ground toward him, whilst the SRT leader behind started a slower walk toward where his jacket lay, consulting a small field notebook as he went.
The cyborg stuttered to a halt, and he looked down at his charge, voice stern. "What happened?"
"Umm..."
"What happened on the obstacle course C. Raych?"
"Umm... caporalmaggiore capo Bianchi said that times did not matter," now she stared up at him, eyes pleading, "but times always matter, do they not?"
They didn't? He couldn't remember reading that. But still, did he really need to explain this?
"Of course they matter, just not here. You have to adapt when the rules change."
"But..." her voice trailed off.
It could only have taken a minute for Giorgio to retrieve his coat, but to Danilo the silent wait was interminable. Finally however, his unit's assessor stood before him, watched by both fratello members and a stony-faced Jean, whom the man gave a glance before returning his attention to the waiting pair.
"She's passed..."
No preamble, just neutral words, and out of the corner of his eye, Olivetti thought he saw Croce give a small nod in response. His relief however was palpable, and it was all he could do to not let out a huge sigh.
Bianchi however wasn't finished, and he continued in the same hard monotone. "...by the skin of her teeth, but I am declaring cyborg C. Raych as competent to be allowed off campus. Congratulations."
With that he was gone, twisting on a heel to stride back toward his own transport.
As if on cue, the field commander also began to turn away, speaking as he did so. "Well done Olivetti."
And that was it, no fanfare, just the fratello left standing alone between course and trees.
"Get in the car C. Raych."
Directing his muddy cyborg to the black Civic, Danilo opened its rear door for her to settle onto a protective towel, beside her already stowed jacket.
As he started to close up again, a voice wafted from inside. "Umm... Danilo?"
"Yes."
"Umm, I passed, Danilo. Did I do well?"
There was a pause.
"Yes, you did well C. Raych..." he hesitated. The next words did not feel quite right, but they did feel appropriate, "...I'm proud of you."
Raych almost danced from her handler's car, jacket, pistol case and soiled towel floating behind in the cold air: Danilo had said he was proud of her! He really had! He was proud of her! She had to tell Kara, she had to tell someone.
Racing up stone dormitory steps, the girl flew right past the notice board without stopping and crashed through swinging doors. Inside, Henrietta turned on her perch atop a wobbly stepladder, steadied by Marisa at its base, a string of tinsel in one hand, and the new arrival slowed at their presence.
"Hello, Marisa. Hello, Henrietta."
"Hello."
Closer to floor level, the red headed cyborg was more enthusiastic. "Hi Raych!"
"Guess what? I passed my VdCO! And, Danilo said he was proud of me!"
That received a small smile from the high-mounted girl, but the other grinned wider. "That's awesome!"
"Yes it is, well done, Raych." Looking up, Raych found Triela descending the stairs, another bundle of tinsel clasped in cradling arms against her woollen jumper.
"I know, I am going to go and tell Kara!"
"Ahh! Stop..." the senior girl released one hand from her load to hold up a palm, "...shoes off first if you're coming in like that."
Dumping her burden on the floor, the newest generation two sat down to start unlacing muddy boots from below equally soiled trousers. Forced to pause, she finally slowed enough to take in what was going on around her.
"What are you three doing?"
Now Henrietta smiled properly. "It's nearly Christmas, Raych..."
Christmas... yes, of course Christmas was coming up... why had she not thought about that before?
It did not take long for both boots to be removed, and Raych was soon bounding up the stairs once more, feeling soft carpet beneath bare feet. Reaching their top, she trotted down the hallway and to her own room, giving one knock before pushing the door open. Inside, curtains had been thrown back, letting cold winter colours contrast against warm lamps.
Kara was laying on her bed, looking at the ceiling.
"Guess what Kara?"
"Hmm?"
"I passed my VdCO! Danilo said he was proud of me!"
At that the other girl looked across at her, and a wan smile brushed her lips. "Well done Raych, congratulations."
"Umm... thank you." Raych's shoulders sank slightly as the other girl returned to staring upward: it was not quite the reaction she had been hoping for, she had expected Kara to be... happier. "Umm... are you okay?"
The Asian featured girl turned back to look at her again. "Michele's gone to Milan."
Raych's voice still kept a touch of brightness. "And you did not go with him?"
"No."
"Well, I guess he does have an apartment..."
"He took Ferro." The words were harder now. "They went to retrieve his DB9. Apparently Monty needed it for something, and of course 'Monty is Monty', so Michele jumped."
Dirty kit still in hand, Raych glanced at her desk and the drawer in which now rested a decent sized wad of text-filled pages: mission reports from other fratelli which Kara had, as promised, printed out for her. She did not have much free time, but she had read them all by now, but her favourites were Monty's: it all sounded very exciting indeed, very glamorous... she would have wanted to see Monty too, so Michele wanting to help seemed perfectly reasonable. Of course, she had not met Michele yet, but everything she had heard from the other girls made him sound nice, and helpful, and rich... and nice. Kara made him sound nice too...
"I think Michele sounds nice. Maybe he was just being... nice?"
That earned her a weak smile. "Michele is nice, and he always wants to help everyone."
"See? Maybe he just wanted to help?"
"Maybe he did... no, probably he did," now Kara looked Raych straight in the eyes, "but that doesn't mean he should have gone without me."