Chapter Nine: Aftermath Signas managed a grin, looking from face to face among those in his presence. “Well, guys,” he said with all the enthusiasm he could muster, “You did it.” His companions nodded their heads in agreement, smiling a little themselves. Finally, they’d smiled. Signas let out a mental sigh. He’d spent the better part of the last few hours debriefing X, Zero, and Mason. He’d finally decided that enough was enough and, now that the havoc had died down somewhat, it was about time for people to get some rest. To his left, a tall Reploid equipped with red and white armor nodded his head to agree with Signas’s plan to conclude the meeting. This was Tiberius, the Chief Medic of the Maverick Hunters. At Signas’s right, a slight Reploid in nothing more than a loose fitting brown leather coat merely gave a slight shrug of his shoulders. Caligula, the Chief of Intelligence, tended to be very indifferent about things, and this more often than not irked his co-workers. Indeed, there weren’t many Hunters in the base who were friendly with Caligula, though then again, not many people were friendly with the spooks in general. The Unit commanders looked fairly exhausted, and Signas could hardly blame them. Of the three who were present, Zero was the worst off. Deep slash wounds to his back and a bullet wound in the leg had been treated on site at the quarry, but only barely so, since the tools the medics had with them were far from the quality that was found at the base hospitals. Zero had limped here supported by both Mason and Torque, a new Hunter from Unit 3 who had stood at attention for a good while until Signas had bade him sit down. The wounds to Zero were hardly serious enough to be fatal, but they still had to hurt like a bitch. X was fairly haggard too, with plenty of shrapnel stuck in him that would have to come out via a surgeon’s tweezers. Unit 3’s commander, Archer, was too badly wounded to appear for a debriefing, and though he was receiving medical care, he was still in serious condition. And so were a good twenty or so others. The mine traps laid by the Mavericks had been good at causing mass damage, and several Hunters had bit the bullet for good. The process of reviving Reploids was a lot trickier than was common knowledge, for all too often the control chips were too badly damaged. When that wasn’t the case, the medics were scrambling to revive the Reploids they could, but though Tiberius still had yet to make a full list of casualties, Signas wasn’t very optimistic. “You’re being too hard on yourselves,” Caligula suggested, “You guys were hit hard, but you did complete the mission objective. You killed Sigma. Has that registered yet?” Mason leaned back and let out a small laugh. “Not really, Cal. This victory seems a little hollow.” “Not so,” Caligula insisted, “Think of all the other struggles to defeat Sigma. Thousands of innocents and fighters alike lost their lives during those campaigns. Thousands! And last night, we accomplished the same goal while losing only a miniscule amount of lives. Please forgive me if I sound cold, but while it’s hard to lose our friends, it was hardly as bad as it could have been.” “He’s right, you know,” Tiberius agreed, “Your troops all performed excellently. Be sure to instill that in their minds; they’ll need the encouragement, I think.” His listeners nodded, fully intending on complying. “Now you two,” he motioned to X and Zero, “need some help. I’ll help you down to the medical ward—give me a hand, Torque? Thanks.” “Then check up on your Units,” Signas added, getting up to adjourn their little meeting. “I’ll report what we know to Cain, but for now, job well done. You did as best you could under the circumstances, and completed your objective.” “And just bought us all a lot more peacetime,” Zero added breathlessly, grinning through teeth flaked with blood, “Without a strong leader, the Mavs will fall into disorganization.” “Just like all the other times,” X agreed, smiling himself. Signas nodded, and everyone present saluted each other. Then, Tiberius and Torque helped Zero out of the room, and X and Mason followed. Caligula glanced up at Signas when they were alone. “You think it’s over, just like that?” the spook asked warily. “That’s what I was about to ask you,” Signas replied, just as wary. “Hmm…” Caligula pursed his lips in thought. “True, every time in the past, once Sigma is taken down, the Maverick infrastructure self destructs. Power struggles begin, people start bumping off their allies, etcetera. Though we of course always have more problems in the future.” The intelligence officer gave Signas what passed as a salute and made his recommendation. “Our people will monitor the Maverick Base for any suspicious activity, as well as other known Maverick strongholds. If anything comes up, you’ll be the first to know, sir.” Signas nodded. “Dismissed.” Caligula departed and Signas was left alone with his thoughts. His real assignment was to report to Dr. Cain all about the attack, but he wanted to make sure the casualty list was up to date before doing so. That left him with the threat of Maverick retaliation. It was up to him to devise the Hunter programs necessary to guard against Maverick attack during times of increased threat, known as Red Climates. In the past, Sigma had been killed only after most of his army had been eliminated. This time, Sigma had been taken down before his forces could be dwindled, and those forces would more than likely want revenge, meaning this Red Climate could last a very long time. They had to be ready for anything. “Why worry?” he said to himself, “Sigma is gone, at least for a while. We averted a lot of crises with what we just did. It could have been so much worse…” “What do you mean, we’re out of morphine?” “I mean what I said. We’re out of morphine.” “We don’t have any more?!” “We don’t have any morphine!” “Are you SURE?” “Do you want me to SPELL it for you?” Lifesaver sighed. It had been a long night and an even longer day. The senior medic was sitting in his office behind a mountain of paperwork, desperately trying to get a casualty report ready for Tiberius. The technician in front of him now had to know that this was the third time they had sent for more morphine that week, had to know that there was nothing left in the reserves, had to know that this knowledge would only serve to piss Lifesaver off, but he’d come to report it anyway. Lifesaver mentally added the tech to his list. “Fine, just whack ‘em on the head with a hammer if they complain…” the medic conceded. “Seriously…?” asked a curiously hopeful technician. “Actually? I don’t have a better idea.” “YES. I’ll get right back to work, SIR.” Lifesaver sighed again. He leaned back in his chair, which was completely full of his stocky frame, and stretched luxuriously. He longed for sleep. The day’s shift would be over shortly, but the commanders and senior officers, meaning him, still had a lot to do. Technically, Unit commanders would be called off duty along with everyone else, but Lifesaver figured X, Zero, and Mason would be far more concerned with checking up on their soldiers than they would be on their shuteye. The door opened again, and Lifesaver almost growled in irritation until he realized who had entered. “Ah, there you are! I’ve been looking for you two.” Vulcan and Rykov nodded respectfully, not really knowing why Lifesaver’s assistant had sent them here, but they did know that the man, while not a soldier, technically outranked them, so they kept polite. “I want to thank you,” the medic went on, “For helping me out there at the quarry. That there was rising above and beyond the call of duty, and I really think you deserve due credit for that.” “It was nothing, sir,” Rykov insisted immediately, “We just did what we had to do.” “Feh,” Lifesaver waved it off, “You could just of easily have said your commander needed you elsewhere or kept looking for people lost in the rubble. You helped out where help was really needed, and actually saved quite a few lives with your haste.” He brushed a list on his desk with his fingertips. “Your friend Krysta, for instance.” “She’s okay?” Vulcan asked, a bit quickly. “Well,” Lifesaver’s face scrunched up in a thoughtful smirk, “she’s not exactly ‘okay’, but she’s alive at least. She’s in serious condition, along with several others, but her injuries are no longer life threatening, and repairs are proceeding smoothly. In fact, most of the people in ‘serious’ condition are actually conscious and collected.” He laughed a little. “That means they complain a lot, but at least they’re talking. Oh,” he added, “your Unit’s commander, Archer. He’s also in serious condition but he is scheduled to make a full recovery. It’ll take time, though, for his systems to re-align, as with any serious reconstruction, and I doubt he’ll be ready to work with you for a few weeks.” “At least he’s holding up,” Rykov said, somewhat relieved. The medic nodded. “That he is…and that’s all I really had to say. I’ve reported your deeds to your commanders and they’re as impressed as I am. I was really grateful for the help. You can go now, if the hospital smell is getting to you.” The two stood briefly at attention, then decided that the medic really cared little for military formality, so they thanked him again and left. Almost immediately afterwards Mason entered, looking inquisitively at the piles of papers Lifesaver was trying to work on. “Argh!” the senior medic dropped his pen again, “At this rate I’ll never finish!” “My apologies, Lifesaver, I just wondered if you had any word on my fighters. X and Zero have asked me to get information for them, too.” “It’s no problem, Mason.” Lifesaver chuckled inwardly. “I don’t really want to work on these, anyway.” “I know the feeling…” “So. Your Unit 7 did suffer some losses, I’m afraid. Here’s a list of wounded for you to look at, but I’ll need it back before you leave. As far as those killed, the names I’ve got are Jerome, Harrier, and Kars.” “Damn,” Mason grumbled, passing back the list. “All dead on site?” “Affirmative.” “Maverick bastards…” Losing troops was never easy for commanders, at least for the good ones. Mason didn’t look like a very happy camper, and frankly, Lifesaver pitied the next Maverick that Mason came across. “Perhaps you should take notes for Archer, too. He’ll be coming out of surgery tomorrow.” A nod. “Let’s hear it.” “Well it’s not good news, I’m afraid. Units 3 and 0 took the heaviest damage, since they hit that first minefield. Raust, Gamma, and Gustav are dead from Unit 3, and their Kyre is in very critical condition. I don’t know if he’ll make it or not. As far as Unit 0, Sol died from the mine blast, and shrapnel has shredded a bit of his control chip. A revival operation would be a bit risky, and the Sol that was reborn could possibly have serious problems. Also, a Maverick gunman took out Katana, one of Zero’s recon soldiers. As far as Unit 17, the only injury was to Alia. She’ll survive, but her internal structure was a bit warped by the heat generated by the laser that hit her. I really don’t think she’ll be able to fight any more after this.” Lifesaver took a breath. “But that’s the worst of it, I believe. As far as Maverick casualties, we have Sigma, of course, and three of Sigma’s guards. I know it doesn’t seem like much, but it’s still an impressive kill, given the skill they had this time.” “We learn anything from the enemy?” “We’re sending the control chips to Intel as we speak. They’ll scan them and see if they can figure out what to expect from our enemies.” Mason nodded. “Your team did well out there, Lifesaver. Really lived up to your name, there.” “You too,” the medic nodded, “By taking out Sigma, you probably saved a lot more lives than I ever could.” Mason just tilted his head to stare at the ceiling. “We’ll see, I guess.” Rykov bid his friend farewell and left the infirmary, heading back to the dorms to inform the rest of their unit about the casualties, but Vulcan remained among the doctors and medics. The still-armored Reploid passed wordlessly through the aisles of wounded Hunters, carefully avoiding the hospital staff as they bustled about performing their duties. He thanked whatever angel had been watching over him last night that he and Rykov had gotten off with just a few scratches from the final mine blast, rather than being killed off or winding up in this situation. Eventually he found himself wandering amongst those of his own Unit. Most everyone had taken some form of injury, and though not all were serious, several others were still at the risk of death. Hawkins, leaning heavily on a massive crutch and sporting a metallic cast on his right leg, hobbled towards Vulcan. The Reploid’s leg had been shot up during the mission, and though it had been repaired, nanobots were still making the final connections within the limb to make it whole again, which was why the cast was needed. “Glad to see you alive,” Hawkins, a big red and blue Reploid, said in greeting. “Likewise,” Vulcan replied, taking his comrade’s offered hand in a firm grasp. Any trace of non-unity between the two that had existed before was gone now, even though they didn’t know each other terribly well. That didn’t matter; what mattered was that they had both stared death in the face and had come out on top, and in that sense they and all the others were blood brothers. Warfare mentalities like this made it easier for the Hunters to fight for each other as well as themselves, and this had helped them win more than one battle in the past. “Got out of it without a scratch, eh?” Hawkins noted. “Not exactly. The last explosion threw me for a loop. How’s your leg?” Hawkins shrugged. “They said it’ll be up to snuff in a few days, so I won’t be long out of practice when I rejoin you.” He grinned. “Tell that friend of yours to watch his back; this is just a minor setback.” It was a well-known fact among the Unit that Rykov and Hawkins had a friendly rivalry going in the field of heavy assault. While it could be argued that it didn’t take much to run into an arena with giant guns blazing, these two insisted there was finesse to it and kept trying to best each other. When two big Reploids are competing for the title of King Carnage…well, you can imagine what the Unit’s training room had looked like recently. “That’s good, and you can bet Rykov’ll be ready for you when you come back.” A beeping came from Hawkins’s wrist com, and the Hunter smiled apologetically. “’Fraid I can’t grace you with my presence anymore, Vulc. Leg needs a final setting.” Vulcan nodded. “Be seeing you, then.” “Roger,” Hawkins confirmed, hobbling off towards one of the idle doctors, “Don’t blow yourself up or anything.” Unsure of whether Hawkins was serious or not, Vulcan just nodded and returned his attention to the others who were lying around, unconscious or otherwise. He finally came upon Krysta, who was just in the process of waking up. The mines she had charged into had done a number on her. The initial explosion had sent her systems into shock and the shrapnel had shredded most of her armor and done damage to her internals. By some miracle, the damage was repairable, and though Krysta would be out of action for a good period of time, she’d survive and be almost as good as new. Her armor had been removed at the quarry to make it easier for Lifesaver to operate, as with all the other victims treated on-site, and a gaggle of machinery was nearby her bed to keep her life systems running while the nanobots repaired them. These machines were generally able to support two Reploids at once, and were positioned in between every bed in the rows. Vulcan noted grimly that Krysta shared her machine with the critically wounded Kyre, who was still worrying the doctors with sudden failures of various internal systems. Clothing on a Reploid always looks a bit awkward, unless the Reploid is designed to be as humanoid as possible, and hospital gowns on them seemed even more odd to Vulcan, but there had been nothing else to put on Krysta and since leaving a patient, human or Reploid, stark naked in plain sight was not a very good idea for those doctors who wished to remain alive, she was covered in one of the said gowns. At least she looked comfortable. Vulcan felt a sudden, profound sense of relief when her eyes opened to confirm her life, similar to ones he’d felt at the quarry when he and Rykov had found her amidst the rubble and again when Lifesaver had told them she would live. He was becoming good friends with all the members of his Unit, but he felt especially close to Krysta. He rested a hand on hers and waited for her optics to register that he was there. “Vulcan…?” “Good morning, sunshine,” he said, and almost laughed. With her hair all tattered and messy and the fact that she was a wreck in general, she seemed the epitome of someone waking up to the Morning From Hell. “What’s…so funny?” “Nothing.” He unconsciously squeezed her hand a bit more, as if he thought it’d wake her up faster, “How do you feel?” “Mm…” she closed her eyes and let out a weak cough. “Like shit…?” “Heh…and you were worried about me.” This time she laughed a little. Her head rolled to the side a bit, eyeing the machine. She kept her gaze fixed on it for a while before turning to look back at Vulcan, her eyes asking the question she was afraid to. He recognized it. “Don’t worry, Krys. You’re gonna be fine. The docs say you’ll make a full recovery. It’ll just take a while, is all.” “Ah…” She closed her eyes again, as though working up the strength to talk. “That’s good, I guess…how’s Rykov…? “He’s good,” Vulcan assured her, “Both of us got out of it unhurt.” “Heh…I should…take lessons…” “Nah. Just make sure you look before you leap, from now on.” “Right…” Tiredness was closing in on her again. Sleeping would probably be better for her, Vulcan reasoned. “Well, look. You just get some rest, ok? That’s the best thing for you, right now.” “Okay…” she agreed, somewhat reluctantly. Vulcan started to take his hand away but she tightened her grip, stopping him. “Come back later…?” she all but pleaded to her confused friend. Vulcan hesitated briefly, and then nodded his head. “Sure. I’ll come back in a few hours, okay?” She nodded in turn and seemed to relax a little. They stared at each other for a while for no real reason until Vulcan smiled down once more at her while slipping his hand out of hers. He patted her gently on the head and left her to sleep. Sergeant Major Timofey Komanov had been in the Megacity 5 army for as long as he could remember, and the middle-aged officer had been in the secret operations program for most of that time. During his career as a soldier/spook, he had participated in some particularly disturbing operations, but his biggest role had been in an extremely hush-hush project that should have been totally eliminated years ago. However, rumors were floating around that the program was very much alive, and was responsible for the murder of his colleague and superior officer, General Peter Thornton. Komanov’s career had been based on one simple fact; he hated Reploids. He hated them personally, he hated what they did to his fellow humans, he hated the mess they had made of the world, and he most of all hated them for thinking they had some place in the world that demanded their independence. In Komanov’s mind, they were the servants of humans, and nothing more! They should never have been given the freedom of choice and the freedoms they now had. If you gave them an inch, they’d walk all over you. The Mavericks had proved this time and time again by demanding the right to rule over their human creators, as though they had some God-given mandate. Then Repliforce had gone so far as to betray the humans who had spent so much time organizing them and trying to make their lives worthwhile by demanding an independent state for Reploids. It was never meant to be that way, and as far as Komanov was concerned, it never would be. He and his colleagues had a lot of leverage in the political handling of Megacity 5, and were among the most vocal opponents of Reploid rights and freedoms. They argued that with too much power, even the non-violent Reploids would become “Mavericks” in their own right and start to manipulate and maltreat the humans. And they would, because they had been built to be like humans. The suggestion that Thornton had been murdered by a rogue element of one of his programs was inconceivable. More likely, thought Komanov, Thornton had been taken out by a disgruntled Reploid or supporter of Reploids who was tired of hearing his hard line policies against their race. This didn’t add much to Komanov’s feelings about Reploids. This hatred was to be his undoing. The army spook exited his vehicle in a sparsely populated section of Megacity 5’s slums in civilian clothing and wearing a heavy black hat to shade his face. No casual onlooker would recognize him as the machine-hater he was. Komanov wove through the predetermined path of back alleys and neglected roads that were bent and torn out of shape after years of stress born from continual wars. He disliked meeting contacts in this way, seeing it more suitable for a lesser man to do the grunt work. However this information was still top secret, and the couriers were all trusted members of Komanov’s faction, and no one else could be responsible for handling such information. This information would contain orders from General Klementi Virdelko, the Grand Commander of their faction, who had relocated to the nearby Sub City 12 under the guise of a troop evaluation soon to take place. Komanov was pretty sure he knew the real reason why Virdelko had fled Megacity 5, though. The contact was right where he should be. He was dressed in what remained of a tattered cloak, which was the typical clothing of the homeless because of the warmth it provided, and he was smoking a cigarette while leaning calmly against the side of a run down building. To the casual onlooker, he was just a bum who was collecting his thoughts. Komanov knew none of the contacts used by Virdelko personally, and therefore the sound of the contact’s voice meant nothing to him. In fact, there wasn’t supposed to be any vocal communication at all unless necessary, but even as the shrouded contact handed Komanov the envelope containing Virdelko’s instructions, he breached protocol by speaking. “We may have a problem.” Komanov blinked, staring blankly. Then his mind started moving. He didn’t doubt the loyalty of Virdelko’s man for an instant, believing that anything that merited speaking to be dead serious. An unnecessary breach in protocol could come down very hard on an intelligence officer, and therefore Komanov found it hard to believe that this grunt would risk being court marshaled due to something that wasn’t serious. He tilted his head slightly and the contact waved him towards a nearby shack. Komanov approached the shack carefully, covertly drawing a Beretta XR20 laser pistol. He saw nothing, and turned back to the shrouded man, who motioned for him to go around the structure. It was only now that Komanov wondered why the contact hadn’t bothered to take care of this “problem” before their meeting. He didn’t have to think long about it, because what awaited him behind the dilapidated shack was a dead body wearing bits and pieces of the cloak he was supposed to wear while meeting Komanov. The major had found the contact, all right. Komanov dove across an alley and leapt over a fence into at one point in time had been a family’s backyard. His coat snagged on the top of the fence, spilling him onto the ground. He furiously removed the garment and rolled behind the thick trunk of a still-standing tree, pistol ready to fire at anything that moved. Shortly after, the ground in front of him exploded into a cloud of dirt as it was hit by a laser shot. He had to escape, he knew, before the man who killed Virdelko’s contact and then impersonated him got any closer. He didn’t quite know why he was being attacked, but he figured there were plenty of groups who didn’t like what his faction was up to. He’d have to show them up again, he decided. Komanov leapt out from behind his cover and darted down another alley. He made a left, a right, another right, and finally another left and threw himself against a wall of a large building that passed as the area’s civic center. The alley branched forward and to the right of him, and he could clearly see both ways. He was near the outskirts of a former residential section, he knew, and if he could just get back to one of the main roads he’d find someone else immediately. At the moment, however, he doubted anyone would be up around here this late at night. As soon as he got up to move, a round from a blaster exploded into the wall where he had been. Drawing a sharp breath, Komanov spun to stare down the central alley. The shrouded figure was there, walking ever so slowly towards him, like the goddamn Grim Reaper. In his hand he held a very mighty looking firearm that was extended towards his form. Komanov reacted fast enough and dove to the side alley, but no shot followed. He paused ever so briefly, wondering what the hell this guy was up to. Was he just playing with him? Komanov took off again down the alley, and soon enough another laser crashed into the ground behind him. More followed this one, and as Komanov rapidly chose escape routes, he began to lose himself in the moment and lose all track of where he was. When he finally stopped he realized that he was quite lost. The shrouded figure, who had somehow kept up all this time though whenever Komanov saw him he was walking, appeared again, this time far closer to Komanov than ever before except when he had retrieved the papers from him…the papers! Komanov cursed reflexively; he realized that he had dropped them. The man in the tattered cloak stopped in his tracks just as Komanov came to his senses and raised his pistol. The army man fired and the figure rolled to the side, throwing the cloak off of him as he rose. The garments landed in a tattered heap and Komanov laid eyes on his attacker, a medium sized Reploid in black armor and very dark violet limbs. Komanov recognized him, but not by name or face. He just knew they had met before, and that meant…oh, shit. The look in the Reploid’s eyes was poisonous. Obviously, their last meeting had been an unpleasant one. Komanov fired again, frantically, but the Reploid dodged the shots like a speed demon, each time coming closer and closer to the suddenly terrified Komanov. The human started backing up, and wound up tripping over his own feet. He screamed in both fear and defiance, shooting his blaster randomly over and over until he realized that he was alone. He stopped, panting, and pulled himself to his feet, a shaky wreck. Hope returned, flooding his senses, and he turned to make a dash to freedom. Then the hope died around him as the Reploid descended from some roof and landed fifty or so yards ahead of him like some falling angel of death, and at the same time a laser from the Reploid’s blaster tore a gory hole through Komanov’s throat. The human screamed, but it came out like a hoarse, revolting croak. He clutched at his throat, which spewed blood like a geyser, letting his weapon clatter to the ground. He sank to his knees, feeling his lifeblood fleeing him, and stared in abhorrence and wild confusion at his assassin. The Reploid let nothing but hate radiate from his own eyes, telling Komanov nothing. The soldier finally slipped into unconsciousness and eventually death as his blood ran out. Malevex expected some feeling of justification, or some kind of burden to be lifted from within him. It didn’t happen. He stood there, watching the life leave that abhorrent man who’d caused so much to go wrong, and it meant nothing. It all meant nothing. He was filled with both supreme disappointment and supreme confusion. Gredam had described a completely different experience when he’d killed Thornton, and Komanov was just as guilty as the general had been, so why…? The Maverick shook his head as though clearing it, and at the same time he produced the papers he’d taken back from Komanov earlier. At least, he knew, this wasn’t a total loss. Word of Komanov’s assassination spread like wildfire among the intelligence community, and it wasn’t long before it was time to send word to General Virdelko that another one of his lackeys had been taken out and secret papers lost. Since Virdelko was not in Megacity 5 any longer, the information first went to Colonel Alan Kitao, who was based in the Megacity Army’s floating base Icarus, far from the killers below. Colonel Kitao quickly relayed word to General Virdelko, and upon receiving his orders, he decided quite against protocol that they were not enough. He sent a call out to untraceable sources, spreading word of a conference aboard Icarus that they and only they would be invited to. There he, Colonel Kitao, would take command of the situation and with his secret army at his side, vengeance would be wrought.