| Chapter Twenty-Five: Green Lights Smaller cities not part of nearby Megacities were referred to as “Sub-Cities”, and each Megacity in the Megacity System generally had 5 or more Sub-Cities surrounding it. Megacity 5’s Sub-City 3 was a largely residential area, where wealthier citizens purchased homes away from the big city atmosphere. Sub-City 3 also housed a decent meeting hall used often by the local division of the Megacity Council. This cold morning would be one of those days when the council would gather in City Hall to discuss matters of glaring importance. Also in Sub-City 3 was a “reserve” military base used by the Megacity Army. It was known as the Alden Base, after a veteran of a recent human war. Alden Base sat relatively close to the City Hall, and so the Council met often in this area due to the close proximity of a military presence. Alden Base wasn’t all that big, and consisted mostly of warehouses full of some tanks, heavy weapons, some Raven jets, ride armors, and plenty of automated defenses. The command center was the largest and best defended building on the base, which only made sense. Generals in the upper echelon of the Army controlled Alden Base, but the “Active Commander”, as he called himself, was Full Colonel Tony Jones. Jones resided in the base and held operational command, at least until some General took over for him. Jones didn’t much like the concept of being puppet leader of a “just in case” army base, but on further reflection he wasn’t really a puppet—he got everything done on his own, the big boys just sat around and watched. What really sucked was that there wasn’t much way to draw attention to a just-in-case base, meaning he probably wouldn’t be noticed and tapped for general’s stars. That was okay, Jones had decided on further reflection. The work he did as a Colonel was more fun than the Council meetings Generals had to sit in on. Colonel Jones had started with the Army a few months before Sigma had gone crackers, and had seen all four wars fly by. He’d fought in all of them, climbing to a Colonel’s rank due to his service, but he’d been taken out of serious action due to a leg injury sustained when Storm Owl’s air force had decided not to allow Jones’ just-in-case base to have a chance to do anything (just in case) and dropped a rather large bomb on Alden Base…several of them, actually, and Jones hadn’t gotten out of things without a scratch. Before that, though, during the third uprising, shortly after he’d taken command of Alden Base, Jones had sent reinforcements to Hunter HQ when Doppler’s air force was attacking it, and had gone personally to make sure things went as planned. There, Jones had met Zero, and he’d helped the crimson Hunter take care of the remaining Maverick elements while X dealt with the main unit in Doppler’s invasion force. The two had been fast friends since then, even though they hadn’t had a chance to get together lately. Zero hadn’t come out of the fourth war in a very good mood, and Jones had been busy putting his leg back together. They still were on good terms, however, and that was why the morning’s meeting went off without a hitch. “About time they let me play with the toys we got here,” Jones harrumphed as he and Zero walked into Garage F. Jones limped slightly. He carried no cane—medically he didn’t really have to and personally he was too proud to accept the help of a brainless sliver of wood. He got around just fine, thank you very much, and if anyone found his limp funny Jones would personally feed the son of a bitch his balls for lunch…if the offender were a woman, Jones would find a way to improvise. “I imagine you want the works?” “Yep,” Zero affirmed with a nod. “Douglas has a decent supply of everything, but for the kind of assault we’re planning we’ll need more heavy artillery, such as the mini-tanks, hovercraft, maybe an extra Raven or two, and definitely some ride armors.” “You came to the right place, then.” Jones nodded towards the interior of Garage F, which housed all the dormant ride armor mechas that Alden Base possessed. Zero could see plenty of the Chimera models that had been popular since the first uprising. Oh yes, he knew those beasts very well—one had killed Gradient and Zero himself had died stopping another. They were the most durable ride armor models, followed immediately by the “Kangaroo”. The Kangaroo resembled the Chimera in most every way except that instead of fists, the Kangaroo had giant gauntlets with rows of spikes curled circularly around a large center spike. The Kangaroo could perform a deadly attack by dashing forward and launching one of the gauntlets from its arm like a mace ball. When the gauntlet hit something, it would spin like a drill, ripping the target to shreds. Zero saw eight “Hawk” models lined up next to ten “Eagles”. The Hawks were the older models of the Eagles, created during the Doppler uprising. Both models had flight capability, but the Hawk’s arm units fired swarms of small homing torpedoes, while the Eagle used large bursts of plasma as its projectile weapon. The Eagle was also more heavily armored. They passed by a few “Raiden” models, which had been widely used by the Repliforce. The Raiden was a variant of the Chimera. It was smaller and slightly less powerful, but far more maneuverable. Zero had used one in his battle against Magma Dragoon, during the fourth uprising. Finally, there were but two “Frog” units. The Frog was a very flimsy mecha as far as armor went, but it was currently the only ride armor that could survive underwater. It was very clumsy on land, but when submerged it was highly maneuverable, and could fire swarms of cluster bombs. All the ride armors looked alike as far as basic structure—all were bipedal machines not much taller than Zero. Each one had a different arm function, but it didn’t take much in the way of expertise to pilot any of them once you had experience with one of them. “We won’t need any Frogs,” Zero stated. “Not unless the Catskills are hit by a deluge.” “You never know,” Jones chuckled. “Oh well, these two shouldn’t even be here, in my opinion. Send ‘em to a marine base, that’s what I say. But who listens to old Jonsey, eh?” “You haven’t changed, Tony,” Zero said with a chuckle. “And what’s that supposed to mean? You never change, either. You’re still a big blonde pretty-boy in red pajamas.” “Touché!” Zero laughed. “Always good to see you, too, you vulgar bastard.” “Me, vulgar? You should see yourself when you get hammered! You’d give a nun a heart attack something fierce!” “Appendicitis,” Zero corrected. “A stroke!” Jones insisted otherwise. “We oughta have a contest sometime, Jedi. See how many old ladies we can each horrify with our soldier talk.” “Tony, I’ll bet the old ladies would beat US.” “Oh. You’ve been speaking to my ex again, haven’t you?” “Jesus!” Zero threw up his hands. “You win!” “As always, Jedi,” Jones chuckled. He’d called Zero “Jedi” ever since the first time he’d seen the crimson Hunter swinging his lightsaber around. The Star Wars films were classics, after all, and any self respecting movie buff knew about them. “So what’s the deal? There’s a big stink floating around about some superweapons that fell into Maverick hands.” Well that had leaked fast. Zero knew that he wasn’t supposed to tell people about the Buzzbombs—uncontrolled panic, and all that—but Jones was a war buddy, and Zero had never cared much for red tape anyway. “Keep it on the down-low, but the Mavericks got their grubby mitts on some nukes.” Jones blinked. “Well damn it, Jedi, you’ve successfully caught me off guard. Looks like you win after all.” He looked around the garage thoughtfully. “I imagine you’re massing your forces for one solid blow?” “Correct,” Zero nodded. “We started mobilizing yesterday. We’d like to have our plan in motion in two days, but I know better; it’ll be more like three or four.” “The Mavericks aren’t gonna miss such an obvious buildup,” Jones pointed out. “I know. Their weapons aren’t all that potent…well they are, but I mean, we don’t know what the chances are of the nukes being activated. We imagine that they’re pretty low, but still…” He looked Jones in the eye. “You’ll need to have some forces at this base, just in case the Mavericks get lucky.” Colonel Jones nodded. “Hakuna Matata. We’ll handle things on the home front, while you’re away.” “That’s one relief. We could use more of those.” “Something wrong?” He must have looked worse than he thought he did, Zero realized. “One of our spy planes was shot down last night over Maverick territory. The pilot’s dead, he has to be. His partner said that his Raven was all but vaporized.” “I’m sorry,” Jones said quietly. “Taggart must be pissed.” “It was an insult to his unit,” Zero agreed. “But they’ll get the bastards back. Right now, we’re just hoping that the Mavericks don’t—what in the HELL is that?!” “Wha…? Oh!” Jones grinned. Zero was looking towards the back of the garage, where a half finished monster of a ride armor was suspended from the ceiling by steel cables. It was hooked up to a number of different machines and computers that would monitor its internal functions when they were all turned on, but no one was working on it at the moment. Jones and Zero approached the ride armor, which was about twice Zero’s height and equipped with seemingly more weapons than an army. A large empty space was next to the machine-in-progress, and it looked like it had been recently used for something. “Can we say ‘overkill’?” Zero said, mainly to himself. “The Council gave us the grant money to pursue a new type of ride armor…one that’ll mop the floors with the ones the Mavvies uses.” Jones grinned. “The plan was to build two. We finished one and began work on the other.” “Seems like you guys went all out.” Jones chuckled. “Riddle me this! What is the beast of beasts, the monster that could put even Vile’s fancy “Goliath” out of its misery? It’s the X74-Marauder, that’s what! Marauder was slated exclusively for the Army, but if it works like it should then we’ll be sending you Hunters a few of them. The Marauder’s got speed, firepower, and durability. It lacks the endurance of a Chimera, but it more than makes up for it with power. We’re talking sabers, lasers, missiles, machine guns, the works! Hard to reload, though, and terribly expensive to fuel. You use up ammunition like it’s air, and it costs more than we’d like to keep the weapons at the ready, but still, who cares about dollars in the middle of a deathmatch? Not me! It’s got hover capabilities, like Hawk and Eagle, only not as advanced.” “Lordy,” Zero breathed. “What can’t it do?” “It can’t go underwater. Its turning speed is kind of pathetic, and thus it’s rather dependent on its radars.” Jones shrugged. “It’s beatable, if that’s what you’re asking.” Zero nodded slowly, and then his face scrunched up in confusion. “You said that there were two of them…?” Jones’ smile disappeared. “Riddle me that! Why is there a giant empty space next to Marauder No. 2 over here, where Marauder No. 1 should be? I’ll give you a hint: WE didn’t move it.” “No way,” Zero felt sick. “Don’t you dare say that someone stole it.” Jones nodded soberly. “Hard to believe, isn’t it?” “HOW?” Zero all but exploded. “A thing that big! Don’t you have cameras, or something?” “It’s not something I’m proud of,” Jones said, somewhat embarrassed. “Alden Base sits right on an atmospherical line that a number of satellites pass directly over. Some of these passovers have the effect of a chaff grenade on our security systems.” Jones frowned and shook his head. “It doesn’t last very long at all. But one night, it lasted a bit longer than usual. We checked, and there was an irregularity in the satellite’s path, the satellite that was causing the interference. What it was, however, was a real chaff grenade. Someone busted into Garage F and made off with a Marauder. We still don’t know how the hell nobody saw that monster, which leads us to believe that they had a cloaking device of some sort.” “Great,” Zero said flatly. “Now the Mavericks have nukes AND the ultimate ride armor.” “It’s beatable,” Jones insisted, though somewhat feebly. “It’s more beatable than you’d think, actually.” “Let’s hope so.” Zero sighed and turned back to his friend. “Hopefully it won’t make much of a difference. A Marauder may be tough, but no one ride armor can withstand an entire army. Signas is at the Hall now, getting the green light for our little mission.” “I imagine that you can’t wait to join him.” “Oh, I can’t wait! And in the mean time, I’d like to be impaled on a rusty railroad spike while sipping battery acid from a warthog’s bloody skull cavity.” “Well why didn’t you say so!” Jones grinned, banishing the dour atmosphere. “C’mon back to my digs and have a drink. May be our last one before things get interesting, you know. The blood is dried in most of my warthog skulls, but I don’t imagine that you’ll be all that disappointed?” Zero had to laugh. Only Jonesy. “Fine.” They left Garage F and went to the main complex, where Jones’ quarters were located. Zero found himself regretting his earlier choice of words; Jones served him a Rusty Nail, which tasted rather like battery acid, he thought. At least the warthog thing remained a mere joke. The irony wore off and they both cracked open a beer. Zero preferred the coolers designed for Reploids, but Jones’ stash was drinkable. He stalled as long as he could. Zero hated, absolutely hated, Council meetings. He’d been forced to sit through a few of them, and while it was bad enough that the people spent half the time repeating themselves, Zero couldn’t stand the way they talked to Hunters. Whenever Zero had been present, no one had spoken to him unless absolutely necessary, and even then they’d talked down to him. Pardon me for saving your worthless lives, Zero had managed not to say, I won’t try so hard next time. But that, he thought, would be giving in to Sigma, in a sense, and Zero could never live with a decision like that. “Glad you got to see me, Jedi,” Jones said twenty minutes later. “Always a pleasure,” Zero replied. They parted company shortly afterwards, with Jones headed to his office and Zero headed for the exit. But history always repeated itself in this damned place—Zero got lost. All the halls looked alike, he often grumped. He stumbled around for ten minutes before someone took note of him. It was a medium sized Reploid in sparse black armor who wore no helmet in order to let his wild black hair stick out. “Need directions, sir?” the Reploid said almost casually. “Damn it, Cassius, why’s it always you?” Zero knew the kid by name. It was the same kid who always helped him find the way out. Cassius just grinned. “The Colonel asks me to babysit you. If you don’t mind me saying so,” he added. Zero just grinned and shook his head. “Well, as usual, tell me how to get out of this maze!” “Yes sir, of course sir, follow me sir.” “And knock it off!” “Affirmative,” Cassius said with a chuckle. Zero had no particular method of picking the Reploids he would be especially cordial to; Cassius just had the luck of the draw. He was an agreeable soldier who was good mostly with computers and base security. His straightforward attitude countered his name, which put his comrades at ease. Everyone was confident that Cassius would not live up to his namesake, the jealous Roman “patriot” who’d assassinated Caesar as much to advance himself as to improve life in Rome. It was oh so perfect an illusion, Cassius often reflected. Cassius escorted Zero out of the base and to his waiting hovercycle. He waited for the Hunter to leave and chatted with the other base personnel on his way back to the main complex. He took a detour behind Garage C, however, and activated a communicator in his wrist. He spoke a few words and switched off the device, walking casually back into his theater of operations. He wasn’t quite like his namesake, Cassius decided. He wasn’t jealous. He was a patriot; he’d admit that—Reploids needed more patriots, he thought. He was betraying his employer, but for the greater good, not to advance himself. Hell, he knew, he’d have to hide out once this was over. But for now, Cassius had his cover and his role to play, and while today he’d played a big role, his crowning achievement was yet to come. ____________________ The Maverick switched off his radio and hissed a command to his partner. They were both feline Reploids, and so were more than suited to leaping across the tops of buildings. The first Maverick, a panther, hissed again into a different radio and crept on silent feet to the edge of the roof he was perched on. He leapt across it covertly, even though he was doing it in broad daylight. His comrade, a female white tiger, followed him across, and they joined a third member of their team, one of their snipers. They were all snipers, but this man was one of the better ones on their team, and he’d be covering their exit. They nodded to acknowledge each other, and then they waited. The air around the three began to distort, and a tiny breeze appeared as molecules rearranged themselves violently. A second later, Boomer Kuwangner faded into existence at that very spot, having warped over from another rooftop. Boomer was a lanky beetle Reploid who’d been one of Sigma’s original eight generals. To his knowledge, he and Storm Eagle were the only two of those original vassals who were still active. Boomer was very tall, with long thin arms and legs, and he walked with a slight hunch. His face was rather creepy. His eyes were fairly normal, but his mouth was hidden behind a fanged mask, and his chief weapon sat atop his head. He was a stag beetle, and therefore his weapon, the Boomerang Cutter, resembled a stag beetle’s horns. He could remove the apparatus and throw it like a boomerang…an extremely sharp, terribly deadly boomerang. The Maverick was exceptionally agile and speedy, though he rarely ran anywhere: he had a short-range warp device installed internally to cover distance. He was in charge of most of the Maverick’s covert field operations, and more of them were going on than people knew about. Boomer’s troops all found him to be somewhat eerie, but none were about to tell him that. Boomer flicked one of his optics in the panther’s direction. “Situation?” “Zero’s heading to City Hall now,” the panther, whose name was Fang, reported. “Agent Cassius reported it a minute ago.” “And Signas?” Boomer continued without pause. The white tiger, Kismet, fielded that one. “He entered City Hall an hour ago. Figure another hour or so before they finish up, and God knows how long for formalities.” “Right,” Boomer rasped simply. Even his voice was eerie. The lanky beetle darted over to a separate corner of the rooftop and activated his internal communicator. He used a channel that Cyber Peacock had set aside strictly for Maverick purposes. “Boomer Kuwangner.” “Malevex,” a voice replied from a hundred miles away. “Your status?” “We are on schedule,” Kuwangner replied. “Zero is going to City Hall, and Signas is still there. Repeat: both targets remain in the area.” There was silence on the other end. “The operation is a go,” Malevex ordered at last, and Kuwangner shut off his communicator. Now, there was real work to be done. “Comrades,” he said, switching his communicator back on and to another frequency, “get into position. It is happening.” ____________________ Inside what passed for Seraph Castle’s intelligence center, Malevex leaned heavily on a table next to the radio he’d just used and wondered how exactly in the hell had they gotten into this mess? What was it about commanders, he asked the vacant air, that inspired them to make drastic changes to a plan that was about to succeed? But this wasn’t Gredam’s fault, Malevex knew. He had his orders, too. “It will work,” said the man in question. “Boomer doesn’t like it,” Malevex replied to his friend as he moved to join him at a table. “Neither do I. It was thrown together too fast.” “All of the intelligence that the Serpent sold us has been correct up to this point,” Gredam pointed out. “’The best laid plans of mice and men,’” Mortar quoted innocently from where he stared down at a map of Sub-City 3. “Don’t worry so much,” Gredam asserted. “The overall goal is simple. Kill one, take the other, and if things go badly just kill ‘em all.” “I wish we could just kill them both outright!” Malevex stated. “Instead, we’re inviting Zero inside our base, where he will eventually escape and destroy us all.” “Oh,” Mortar said nostalgically, “you always were such a pessimist! It’s just like old times! Thank you, Vexy, it’s been so long since I’ve heard it—no one quite gripes like you can.” “You should hear him when things are really going well,” Teytha observed dryly. “Someone’s got to think logically for us,” the spook pointed out. “Name me one optimist who ever got anywhere in a military campaign!” “Hitler,” Gredam pointed out easily. “That doesn’t count! He lost in the end; the early days of the war mean nothing.” “And he also became a pessimist in the end,” Teytha pointed out sweetly. “He did better when he was accentuating the positive.” “And getting his rocks off of torture and murder all the while,” Malevex countered. “Well, we aren’t angels either, are we?” Teytha pointed out. “Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of Zero,” Mortar said with a chuckle. “If you’re that afraid of him, then just stay away from him.” “My sniper rifle’s in my quarters,” Malevex offered. “You go shoot X in the head, and then tell me if you’re not afraid of that man. He doesn’t forget it when you knock out a friend.” “Neither do we,” Gredam said quietly, ending the conversation. “Focus on the mission at hand.” Malevex sighed and glanced down at the map of Sub-City 3. Zero would enter City Hall soon, and in about two hours he and Signas would be on the road heading for the station that would teleport them back to Hunter Headquarters. That was when Boomer would strike, assassinating Signas and incapacitating Zero. The final part of the mission was to get Zero to Seraph Castle and into confinement, and that was a plan Malevex did not support. It was less because of any personal fear of the crimson Hunter than the fact that the Hunters had not been able to penetrate them thus far, and inviting a known terror of a soldier into the core of their war effort seemed like a bad idea. An enemy like Zero needed to die, plain and simple. Dicking around like this with capture and whatnot had gotten Sigma killed…how many times was it? No matter. They had a job to do, and it would get done. Diavus had gotten a tip from Guyver, a man working for the Gold Serpent. Diavus had conferred with Malevex and the information was deemed purchasable. Diavus bought a disc from Guyver and on it was the exact time and place of a meeting between Signas, Zero, and the Megacity Council. Malevex sorely wished that they had the ability to send a Buzzbomb crashing down on the place, but Gallagher was still not quite completed. Revolver and his team were running a few final checks. Instead, they had to settle for this plan. The Mavericks would send an assault team to Sub-City 3, where they would wait for Signas and Zero to place themselves out in the open. Then, a coordinated and sudden attack would drop Signas and his guards and leave Zero open for tranquilization and capture. Boomer Kuwangner had immediately agreed to take the assignment, though even he had his reservations. Boomer had been killed once, and he was in no hurry to repeat the process. He liked it when a plan was well thought out and rehearsed, and this plan was none of those things. But, what could you do? Nothing, Malevex thought, nothing except doing what needed to be done. He’d pulled off harder things than this before, but then, he’d been the one in the field. It rather sucked, he thought, to have to sit behind a desk and coordinate things, even if this did spare him from life-threatening harm. “Kuwangner’s team is headed for their post,” Diavus announced from his position at the radios. “This thing’s on unless you say otherwise.” Malevex nodded to his underling and glanced briefly up at the ceiling. I hope you know what you’re doing, he thought. ____________________ “…and the supplies allocated from Alden Base are yours to use as you will. If there is nothing else, then that is the Army’s position,” General Klementi Illy’ch Virdelko finished. “Nothing further,” Signas responded. “Very well,” said a heavyset, bespectacled man who sat at the head of the table. His name was Marcus Raleigh, and he was the Governor of Megacity 5. “If that is all, then I think we can conclude this meeting. Commander Signas, your reinforcements should be arriving shortly. In two days maximum, you should have all that you requested.” “Thank you, sir,” Signas said with a respectful nod as Raleigh closed the file in front of him. The Megacity Council began to file out of the room almost instantly, none of them much relishing the thought of being in the same place at the same time, not with missing nukes out there. Raleigh walked to Signas as the Council members brushed past them towards the exit. “I’m told that Dr. Cain is going to be passing the torch to you, Commander?” “As it stands,” Signas replied awkwardly, “we’re not sure of the exact details.” “Don’t be modest,” Raleigh insisted. “You’ll get the job, if Cain formally nominates you, which he will. You’ve already proven yourself to be a trustworthy administrator.” Trustworthy meant less that he was of admirable moral character, Signas knew, than that he would not easily submit to the Sigma Virus, which, he thought, was really a valid concern for Raleigh, who had a giant city to look out for. “Thank you, sir. For the moment, though, my concern is removing Seraph Castle from the map.” Raleigh smiled, already liking the Commander. “You’ll do well, Commander. Knock ‘em dead.” Signas stood politely still as Marcus Raleigh passed him and exited, accompanied by several bodyguards, which also was to be expected—Mavericks liked to kill influential humans to send a message. He found himself trying to decide what kind of man Raleigh was, and if he liked the politician. Well, Raleigh might have been as career oriented as the rest of the bastards, but to his credit he was a very effective administrator who, as far as Signas could tell, actually liked Reploids. He liked them mostly for their potential as workers, not soldiers, but he didn’t seem to carry the unfair prejudice against Signas’ race that the Mavericks had bred in so many other humans. For that, he could be respected, Signas decided. The big Reploid turned and nearly collided with General Virdelko, who was coming to talk to him. “Thank you for your support, General,” Signas said at once, half meaning it. Unlike Raleigh, Virdelko wasn’t all that fond of Reploids, and most of them knew it. Still, it was nice that Virdelko didn’t put up a huge fuss about the money that the Army would have to spend replacing all of the toys that the Hunters would inevitably break while fighting the Mavericks in the Catskills. “Colonel Kitao made all the arrangements beforehand,” Klementi Illy’ch answered with a slight nod of acknowledgement. “We have a common enemy, after all. We must make haste.” “Agreed.” What the hell else could he say? Not much, apparently, as Virdelko walked off right afterwards. The Grand Commander saw Alan Kitao near the door. He conferred briefly with Virdelko before they both left the room. Bastards, Signas thought. Virdelko was an arrogant prick, though not as bad as his underling. Colonel Kitao was a known asshole who treated Reploids like they were something that had dripped out of his nose. “Infuriating, isn’t it?” said a new voice. Signas looked to his left and then down. Finally! A non-asshole! “Excuse me? What?” Signas replied innocently. “Sometimes,” the man replied, “I just want to jam cattle prongs into that Kitao’s…but let’s not go there.” “Don’t tempt me.” “Of course,” said the man—he was a purple Reploid of average height decked out in a long white lab coat—“it would be cruel to do a thing like that. Now, perhaps removing their ears…” “Lord, Gate!” Signas laughed despite himself. “I don’t know how you ever got a security pass!” “I stole mine,” Gate replied with a casual shrug. “Come on, Signas, no one ever suspects the wormy scientist. You know that.” “I wonder what people would think if they knew that the ‘wormy scientist’ carried more mines on him than half an army…” “Well! It’s a dangerous world out there,” Gate laughed as he followed his old comrade out the door. Sub-City 3’s City Hall had several outer walkways through gardens, and the two Reploids decided to take a walk down one of the said paths. When they were a safe distance from prying eyes or ears, Gate piped up. “Am I going to learn why I was summoned here, or do I get to just wait in terrible suspense?” “Suspense,” Signas responded. “Fine,” Gate shrugged. “I’ve got something to tell you, anyway.” “Me first,” Signas said, and stopped. He was staring at a nearby flowerbed, though his mind was not on lilacs at the moment. “Goddamned soldiers!” Gate groaned. “Make up your mind! How do you win wars, for chrissakes?” “We’re special like that,” Signas grinned. “And that’s why you help us out.” “Well I’m reconsidering, you inconsistent bastard,” Gate said as he stretched. The morning air—it was still morning, after all—was nice. The factories hadn’t switched on quite yet, and this was about the only time where you could breathe semi-unpolluted air. “That’s right…you never were a morning person, were you?” Signas chuckled and yawned like the hypocrite he was. “All right. I need you guys to help us out on a sensitive issue.” “What else is new?” Gate snorted. “Oh, don’t mind me. Go on.” “After Doppler was busted,” Signas went on warily, “the codes he used were adapted by the Hunters for our own use. This is confidential, by the way.” “Of course,” Gate nodded. “If I talk, you beat and torture me until I name my co- conspirators.” “We don’t do that anymore,” Signas pointed out. “Nowadays I just walk up and shoot you.” “Well that’s not so bad.” Gate smirked evilly. “Oh fine, I’ll be good. So, you have this code…and let me guess, the Mavericks figured it out?” “Of course,” Signas nodded. “The lab we got the code root from wasn’t properly destroyed, and now it’s in Maverick territory.” “Jesus,” Gate observed. “You guys really need to be more careful with these things. Go on.” Signas was surprised at the shortness of the lecture. Lecturing was something that Gate was fond of. “Well, we need to get the Mavericks out of there so we can examine the place and find out exactly what codes they managed to crack. From that, we can determine exactly how much they know, and what we have to change. But we can’t send in one of our own units, because…” “They might go Maverick one day, and you’d be in a fix.” Gate nodded. “You do know that I’m not perfect either, right? My circuits are just as corruptible as yours.” “That’s why I trust you,” Signas said with a smirk of his own. “Seriously now, do you think you might be able to help us? We’d need you to send a small group of your investigators to the spot—we call it UNDINE—and have them dispatch the Mavericks present and retrieve the necessary information.” “Right,” Gate nodded. “Any other conditions?” “Well, last night we observed a military exercise near the UNDINE site.” Signas’ voice fell. “It killed one of our spy pilots.” “Damn,” Gate observed. He wasn’t involved enough to care about Carlos Delgado’s life in particular, Signas knew, but it was the situation itself that struck Gate. “So this place may be near heavy reinforcements?” Signas nodded. “However, that’s why we’re planning to have your Investigators move in at the same time that we’re launching our main attack. This way, the defenses can’t be solely focused on you.” Gate nodded thoughtfully, though he spent several minutes thinking. Thinking was one of his best talents, and after those few minutes he knew everything he needed to know. “All right. It’s the mountains, so Wolfang will be a must. He’s damn good in that kind of environment. Also, if you’re doing an infiltration, Scarabich is the guy. He’s insanely skilled at entering supposedly secure areas. And for support…I suppose I could send Heatnix. He’s the only other guy I have up here now anyway. I just hope the damned flames he gives off doesn’t alert anyone.” Signas nodded. “We can work out the finer points later. But for now…you think we can do it? We’ll reimburse you, of course.” Gate smiled. “Money’s hardly a problem, old friend. I’ll just tell some other country that I need a wee bit more money to make the vaccine to that terrible disease they need cured. You’d be amazed how quickly things happen when certain strings get pulled.” “And they call you the good guy,” Signas scoffed. “I am! I’m just the unorthodox good guy, and that’s why people love me: I go places, I make people happy, and I maintain peace. You, you save zillions of lives and create the peace I maintain, and no one likes you people. You know why?” “Because, being soldiers, we can destroy the world but can’t add two plus two?” “Well, yes, that, and you have yet to come up with a permanent solution for the Sigma Virus.” The scientist shook his head. “The woes of the human race are yours to cure. The Reploids, on the other hand, depend on me, and yet most Reploids aren’t all that fond of me. It’s an interesting dichotomy.” “To say the least,” Signas agreed. “Okay, so, what was it you had to say to me?” “It’s quite interesting, considering the deal we just made.” Gate stretched again. “I have a man in Brazil. Commander Yammark, you know him. He’s a dragonfly Reploid, good recon guy. Anyway, he was buzzing about in the jungle one day, and he and his boys came across something interesting.” Gate looked Signas in the eyes. “What exactly does Caligula think that the Mavericks are going to do after they launch the nukes, if that is indeed what they’re planning to do?” Signas frowned. “We imagine that they have a backup base somewhere. Seraph Castle, tough as it is, will not hold out long against a determined assault. We have to assume that they have some place to evacuate their main personnel to.” “Well, pal, I think Yammark found it.” “Really!” Signas had hoped that this was where the conversation was leading. “In Brazil?” “Deep in the Amazon,” Gate affirmed. “It’s only about halfway complete, really. Big place, guarded decently, but without any really skilled defense troops.” Gate reached into a pocket in his coat and produced two pictures. He handed the first one to Signas. “This is the base commander, or at least, that’s what Yammark assumes.” “Split Mushroom,” Signas said with a slow shake of his head. “How many times to we have to kill that prick?” “It gets better. Well not really, but…” Gate showed him the other picture. “Yammark did some digging. This guy is called “The Breaker”. He’s a mercenary of sorts, a security expert who manages high-risk defense systems. He’ll be in charge of their protection for the time being.” “I’ve never heard of this guy.” “That doesn’t surprise me. The Breaker keeps a low profile. Looks like he got in a little too deep this time though. Thing is,” Gate said weakly, “he spotted Yammark. He knows that the base is being watched, so we can’t use the dragonfly surveillance method anymore.” “Damn.” Signas loved that trick. “Well, this is fine, we know their base. But, dammit, Brazil? How were they gonna get that far south? Oh, forget that, the Hunters have to take care of them.” Signas frowned gloriously. “Brazil’s Hunter team isn’t all that powerful…and we’re going to need to devote our manpower to stopping Seraph Castle. Damn!” “I can order Commander Yammark to work with the Brazilian military,” Gate offered. “It’s slightly unorthodox, but an air strike on the compound will probably do sufficient damage to it. From there, the ground troops can move in for the kill.” Signas considered this. “How hard will it be to get the army’s help?” “Not hard. They like me down there.” Gate stretched yet again. “I guess we’ll have to open the communication links, eh? I can probably throw something together for both this UNDINE thing and for Brazil.” “Thanks. It’s a real relief.” “Just win the damn war.” “If things proceed as they are, that will be easy enough.” Signas was confident. “Oh yes, I nearly forgot. Alia sends her regards.” “Alia!” Gate perked up. “How is she doing lately? I heard she was messed up pretty badly in the mess at the quarry.” “Some of her internal structure was messed up…the laser she got hit with melted some things, I’m afraid.” “Owch. How’s she getting along?” Alia had been one of Gate’s pupils some years ago, before she joined the Hunters. Even now, she was heavily tied to Gate’s operations, and Gate was a man who troubled himself to care about the well being of his friends and associates. “Oh, she’s recovered,” Signas reassured him. “She just won’t be doing any more fighting. She’s left X’s unit to serve as a general dispatcher for our missions, but she still works closely with Unit 17.” The Commander smirked. “Don’t worry, pal. We take good care of your lovely lady.” “My dear Commander!” Gate laughed. “Don’t make me assassinate you!” Though he couldn’t possibly have known it, it was the worst thing in the world for Gate to say on this particular day. Footsteps stopped their conversation. Gate and Signas turned and acknowledged Zero, who had just arrived and found, to his great joy, that the Council meeting was over and Signas was merely passing time chatting with Gate. “How’d it go with the Colonel?” Signas asked. “Jonsey never changes,” Zero responded vaguely. “What can we count on?” “Ride armors, a Raven or two, some mobile artillery, everything we needed,” Zero responded to his boss. “That’s one more relief, then.” Signas turned to the scientist. “I believe you know Gate, Zero?” “Yes,” the Hunter answered, extending his hand. “We’ve met a few times. Impressive work you do overseas, sir.” “Thank you,” Gate replied, shaking hands. “We’re making a lot of progress lately, not counting this current crisis.” Gate and Zero did indeed know each other. The first time they’d met had been at a convention to reorganize the list of priorities for the Maverick Hunters and the Megacity Army so that proper funds could be distributed—about the only thing the two armies liked about their government was the fact that money was freely given to them nowadays, to control the Maverick threat by building new toys. It was actually using those toys, however, that the government hassled them about. Gate and Zero had formed first impressions of each other at their first meeting, and those impressions still stood; Gate thought Zero was an arrogant, hasty, impulsive firebrand and Zero thought Gate was an overbearing, self-important lackey of the government. So, perversely, they got along extremely well. “There is a matter of a missing ride armor,” Zero told Signas. “Jones was building a test model, and he believes it was stolen.” “The Marauder?” Gate put in. “How’d you know?” Zero frowned. Gate shrugged. “I already knew that the completed Marauder had vanished. At first I assumed that it was just an error in its storage files, but further investigation revealed that no one really knew where it was.” “What is this ‘Marauder’?” Signas felt left out. Gate glanced at Zero and got a nod; the crimson Hunter had rightly guessed that Gate knew more about the ride armor than he did. “It’s a new ride armor model, designed to throw all the capabilities of the old ones into one big battle body. It’s not especially big, but it’s still bigger than any other model we know of, and it’s armed to the teeth—missiles, napalm, lightsaber blades, lasers, machine guns, and even a cryogenic beam to aid in infiltrations. You know, when you freeze a section of a wall and then destroy it? The Marauder can also hover, like the Eagle, and can enter full-blown flight for a short time, though it taxes heavily on its generator, and it’s slow in the air. It’s not much faster on ground, and, in fact, most of its weapons are hard to reload and the energy attacks really do a number on its power supply…and this is with the best small generator that the Megacity System had available, complete with energen crystals. This I know from files given to me by the Army when they developed the project. Of course, I didn’t see this happening, though I should have.” “It’s always the most obvious scenarios that we never take into consideration,” Signas observed. “Well, it’s just one ride armor. We’ll deal with it when we come to it, if it has fallen into enemy hands.” Gate nodded. “A few regular ride armors can successfully take that thing on and destroy it. It’s hardly invincible. It’s meant for clearing out foot soldiers, really.” “Sounds like it’d do a pretty good job,” Zero thought out loud. “Let’s hope we never have to find out for sure,” Signas said direly. He turned to Gate. “Nice to see you again, but it’s about time to head on home.” “Indeed,” the scientist nodded. “We’ve both got work to do.” He shook both Signas and Zero’s hands and followed the path around to the back of City Hall, doubtless to meet with the transportation that had brought him here. “What’s up?” Zero asked as they walked in the opposite direction, back into City Hall and towards their own motorcade. It was a short drive to the Hunter station where they could use teleportation capsules to return directly to Hunter Headquarters in Megacity 5. Signas and his two bodyguards—it seemed unlikely that a big guy like Signas would need bodyguards, but still, you could never be too careful—had a speedy car that’d get them where they were going, and Zero would ride ahead on his hovercycle. It wasn’t often anymore that Zero got to ride one, and he’d always loved the feel of the wind in his face, though less so during these colder months. “We’ll be ready in two days, possibly three, and I won’t wait longer than four. I wish we hadn’t dispersed so much of our equipment after the Repliforce War or we’d be moving already.” “How could we have expected this?” Zero challenged. “But it’s no big deal, I guess. What about Gate?” “He can get us the help we need,” Signas said simply. “Also, it seems that he’s found a Maverick base in Brazil. He’ll be taking that out for us.” “Really? Awfully nice of him.” “Don’t look the gift horse in the mouth,” Signas reminded his associate. “And speaking of gift horses, it looks like Virdelko hasn’t quite bugged out yet. I’m gonna clarify a few things with him. I’ll be back in a minute.” “Roger,” Zero answered with a yawn, leaning against a wall in the small antechamber in the Hall’s lobby. There weren’t many people left, and Zero found himself briefly alone. Another presence announced itself with heavy footsteps, and Zero didn’t trouble himself to identify the person until the newcomer spoke. “Dangerous times, eh Zero?” Zero stood up straight and looked towards the Reploid. “So long as you guys come through, Chartreuse, there won’t be a problem.” Chartreuse waved his hand dismissively and crossed his arms over his chest. He wore no armor, and looked rather like a middle aged human man. He was like Caligula in the sense that he always had a trench coat handy, but that was where the similarities ended between the two. Zero didn’t much like Caligula, but that was because they were in different fields that required almost entirely different operating methods. He didn’t like Chartreuse, either, and there was no real reason for that. It confused Zero. To his knowledge, Chartreuse hadn’t offended him in any way, nor had he done anything particularly bad, so where did the mistrust factor in? When Chartreuse spoke, he appeared calm and methodical, and most of the time was very reasonable. There was no doubt to the fact that he was an excellent fighter. Zero by rights should have liked the guy, but still…there was just something about Chartreuse that made Zero’s skin crawl, so to speak, and when Zero had those kinds of feelings, he never ignored them. “It’s not a problem,” Chartreuse assured the Hunter. “This is one of those situations where there isn’t much of a choice, you know?” “Yeah,” Zero agreed. Go away, he thought as loudly as he could. No luck. Well, maybe small talk would satisfy him. “So what do they have you doing nowadays?” This elicited a shrug. “I get to command a team of dragoons on the ground. Our prime concern will be the walls of Seraph Castle…deactivating the booby traps, I mean.” “Sounds dangerous as hell,” Zero opined genuinely. “Yeah, well, I’m the idiot who went and impressed my superiors. I’m just not sure how. Reploids don’t usually get this far in the Army.” “Yeah,” Zero nodded, not knowing what else to say. Normally he would have let the other guy know without a doubt that he had no interest in talking to him, but something deep inside Zero prevented him from blowing Chartreuse off. What the hell was it? Fear? But of what? “What’s your take on the Maverick bosses?” He scarcely realized that he had spoken. Chartreuse blinked. “That Gredam dude, you mean?” Absolutely no emotion seeped its way onto Chartreuse’s face, though inside he was a wee bit nervous. He chose his words very, very carefully, and went on. “I’ve had some experience with his kind…you know, the kind of Maverick that keeps vanishing from the radar, and reappearing someplace else with a better cache of weapons?” “I follow you,” Zero nodded. “Not necessarily like Sigma, but still an elusive bastard?” “Yeah. I used to track fugitives for Interpol before coming to the Army,” Chartreuse lied. “I still do a bit of that, but not much, and it’s usually stuff that any amateur could find out.” He threw the Hunter a wry grin. “High up for a Reploid, I am, but still a Reploid, trusted with tying my shoelaces and not much more.” “It does suck,” Zero agreed. “No wonder Repliforce was so highly motivated all the time…there, Reploids were trusted with absolutely everything.” “And look what happened to Repliforce,” Chartreuse pointed out. “Just like that, a perfectly good management system is thrown into skepticism. But oh well…can’t really change the world, can we?” “Sure we can: we can lose.” “Too true.” Chartreuse nodded. Signas stopped at the end of the hallway and waved Zero towards him. Chartreuse noticed and nodded cordially to Zero. “Well, I won’t keep you, then. See you on the frontlines, I suppose.” “Right,” Zero responded with a nod of his own and started towards Signas, grateful to be going, though still not knowing why he was so uncomfortable in Chartreuse’s presence. Chartreuse…stupid name! They should call him Blackie, Zero thought. There was no chartreuse coloring on him…just black. Black coat, black clothes, black hair, probably even black eyes, if that was possible. Zero had never checked. The man in question watched Zero and Signas leave before turning away. He got about two feet before another voice stopped him. “I really don’t understand you,” Colonel Alan Kitao said icily. “You play both sides as easily as you drink air!” “I don’t breathe,” Chartreuse pointed out distractedly. “Don’t have to, I mean.” “Shut up! You know what I mean, and you know what I’m talking about!” Kitao fixed “his” Reploid with a dire stare. “You’re the one who caused all of this.” At this Chartreuse whirled and faced his superior with an even colder stare. “Correction, boss! YOU started this. Actually it was Thornton who started this, and got Virdelko on the ticket, but YOU are the one who got all gung-ho about Terrornova, you and Komanov. Anything and everything I ever did to them or to anyone was done under your orders.” “How do I know that?” Kitao all but growled back. “You can’t prove that. You can’t blame anything on me.” “Do I have to?” Chartreuse asked with an innocent smile. “Come on, Al. Everyone knows that I take my orders from you, and I follow them to a T. I do my job real well and real accurate, and Virdelko knows it, else he’d have never let me stay on this long. If you go accusing me of this, who’s gonna doubt that it was your order to begin with?” “It wasn’t!” “Prove it.” Kitao recoiled. “You really think that people would take the word of a…of a…” “A Reploid?” Chartreuse offered quietly. “A lowly Reploid servant’s word against a known rogue like yourself? Yes, I think they’ll take my word, and even if they don’t, you’ll still be under too much suspicion to do any more worthwhile things with your career.” “You’d blackmail me?!” “I don’t want to, boss, but you’re not giving me much of a choice!” Chartreuse calmed himself and began to speak reasonably, a tactic he used to all but hypnotize people into lowering their guard. “You’re overreacting. The goal has been achieved, so what’s the problem?” “The problem?” Kitao exploded, though he exploded in a quiet hiss. “The problem is that you gave the Mavericks nuclear warheads!!!” “No,” Chartreuse corrected him while stifling a yawn. “I gave them—well, I didn’t give them anything as much as I told them where to find them—a few broken pieces of scrap that were once nuclear weapons, but are now nothing more than paperweights. These ‘Buzzbombs’ are nothing but the physical form of an empty threat. The whole point was to stir you guys into action…you were just gonna sit on your hands until the Mavericks tried something really deadly, I knew it! So I leaked some info, and now, just like that, the Mavericks are going down.” Chartreuse conveniently left out the important detail that had Ludwig not been searching for a treasure, the fact that the bombs had been stolen would never have come to anyone’s attention. Kitao, however, didn’t notice. “What else?” the Colonel said ominously. “The other reason, Chartreuse. Now.” “Other reason? You mean, ‘them’?” Kitao didn’t answer with anything other than a glare. “I was programmed to follow orders given to me,” Chartreuse explained defensively. “You ordered me to kill the Terrornova fugitives…and I did. I got most of them, took them right out of commission. But, ‘most’ is not ‘all’, and my orders were to destroy every last one of them.” “Surely you don’t mean for me to believe that…” “What should I have thought? That failure was an option?” Chartreuse glowered convincingly. “No, boss, I don’t fail. But up to this point I have not succeeded, either. I can’t accept that my most important mission never came to completion, and now that these fools have placed themselves back in the open…” An involuntary grin crept onto his face. “Well, sir, that means I still have work to do. Now that you’re going to mobilize, those Mavericks are as good as dead. And this time,” Chartreuse said with conviction, “I’m gonna make damn sure of that.” “You had better,” Kitao said after a few seconds of reflection. He let out a long breath and spun on his heel, marching off to rejoin General Virdelko. Chartreuse turned and spat on the wall. It was the most vulgar thing he could think to do. What hypocrites they all were! They were bound by their stupid prejudices and stubborn thought processes that never accomplished anything in the end. The Army was too busy worrying about thinking things out and how to minimize costs of all things while the enemy did whatever they pleased. The Hunters, conversely, just got up and dealt with the problem. But, they didn’t use any thought process at all, so that made them just as bad. Why couldn’t there be just one organization in Megacity 5 that knew what the hell it was doing? But there was, he reminded himself. One group existed that had only one real goal, and they did their jobs with a skill so great that none of the law enforcement agencies had been able to catch them. Guyver had been very proud of that during his last meeting with Chartreuse, when he’d collected insider information about the X74-Marauder. A few days later, the Marauder had been stolen from Alden Base. The Gold Serpent was happy with that development, Chartreuse thought with a smirk. It was time. Chartreuse walked ten steps towards the door where Zero and Signas had exited City Hall, and activated an internal communicator. “Heads up, BK,” Chartreuse said in a low tone. “They’re on the move, and headed your way.” ____________________ About a mile away, perched on a rooftop overlooking the road leading the Hunter station in Sub-City 3, Boomer Kuwangner answered his communicator and responded with a simple “Affirmative.” He then switched channels and alerted Malevex. Thirty seconds later he was met with a “green light”—the mission was a go. Kuwangner switched channels again and told his troops the same thing. One roof over, Fang and Kismet tensed, and prepared for the moment of action. Around the same time, the citizens of Sub-City 3 gradually began head home. It wasn’t that work had let out, or anything. It was just that those who had been out on other matters decided that it was a good time to get out of the open. There was no real way to explain why this happened. It was merely a sixth sense that the citizens had…something was going to happen. You could feel it in the air. These people had experienced a lot of this sort of thing since Sigma rebelled, and no one was much in the mood to tempt fate. As he hopped onto his hovercycle a mile away, at the City Hall garage, Zero made a mild mental note that the streets were rather barren. He didn’t give it any more thought than that as he started his engine. |