The Bubble Gum Crisis OVA's (which this story is based on) are copyrighted
by Artmic Inc. and Youmex, Inc. I am just borrowing the characters for a little
while for non-monetary reasons. Serious CandC will be accepted, out-and-out
flames will result in a Boomer or two being sent after you, once they get around
to building them.
Please, enjoy my take on the Bubble Gum Crisis universe . . .
Chapter 21
Warehouse #41526584
Yokohama District
December 22, 2035
4:14am
The warehouse was a hive of activity. Before the two surviving choppers finished touching
down inside the large warehouse, the retractable roof was slowly sliding back into place. As
soon as the two gunships were down, the pilots cut the engines. The roar of the engines died,
replaced by the shouts of the personnel.
Each Rattlesnake was met by a team of medics and techs. The injured were removed to waiting
stretchers. Most of the Knights got off under their own power and walked over to anxious techs,
who began to unseal the hardsuits.
Knight One watched the activity in silence, scanning the personnel. He saw the man he
wanted, and said over the loudspeaker, "Doctor Mayer! Over here!"
The doctor, a short thin man with a bulbous nose, and thinning brown hair strode over to
Knight One. "What do you have?" he snapped.
"Patient for you," replied the Knight, pointing a thumb at the helicopter behind him.
"Who?"
"One of the Knight Sabers."
"What? A Knight Saber? What the hell are you doing with a Knight Saber?"
"Trying to get her medical attention, if the doctor will stop asking stupid questions."
"All right," muttered Mayer, "all right. How bad?"
"Don't know yet."
"Let me take a look at him."
"It's a her."
"A woman?" A look of disbelief crossed the Doctor's face. "Is this world going insane?"
"It went insane a long time ago, doctor. She's inside."
The doctor nodded, and climbed inside the helicopter. Thirty seconds later, he stuck his
head out of the compartment. "I'll need a couple of your Knights to carry the stretcher to the
first aid station."
Knight One pointed to two of the other Knights who were still suited. "Nicky, Marla, carry
our guest's stretcher to the first aid station."
The two Knights climbed inside the helicopter, and carried out the stretcher with Priss on
it. Moving quickly, but carefully, the stretcher, accompanied by Mayer, was carried away.
Leon climbed out of the gunship slowly, looking weary. He waved a hand at Knight One. "Did
the Doctor say anything to you about Blue Saber?" he asked slowly. "He threatened to gag me if I
didn't shut up."
"Doctor Mayer may have the bedside manners of Attila the Hun, but he's the best trauma
doctor on the East Coast of the USA." Knight One pointed toward the First Aid area. "She's over
there."
"Thanks." Leon slowly walked off. Knight One watched him walked away. He turned and nodded
to a waiting tech. "Let's get this hardsuit off."
He had some plans to make in the next few hours.
Sylia's Apartment
December 22, 2035
9:14am
Sylia felt a hand on her shoulder, and she half opened her eyes. Mackie was gently shaking
her awake, a look of concern on his face. "A visitor for you, Sis," he said quietly.
She opened her eyes completely. "Who is it?" she asked.
Mackie's eyes never left her face, nor did his serious expression change when she sat up.
"A Mrs. Marla Brooks-Fenton, personal assistant to Greg Mallory."
"Where is she?"
"I showed her out to the patio by the swimming pool. I told her you were on the phone with
an important supplier overseas."
Sylia climbed out of bed, and put on her bathrobe. "Did she say what she wanted?"
"Nope, and I didn't ask."
Sylia nodded, running her hand though her hair. "Is Nene still sleeping?"
Mackie shook his head. "I drop her off at work about forty-five minutes ago. She was a bit
groggy, but she'll be all right."
"Fine. Give me ten minutes to get ready, then bring some tea out to the patio."
"Got it Sis." He walked to the bedroom door before he turned and looked at her again. "I
thought you'd want to know. There's no news about Priss. The news services have been covering
the disaster hot and heavy, but they don't know much more then we do."
"Thanks, Mackie."
Mackie opened the bedroom door. "I better go start on that tea, then."
After her brother left, Sylia slipped into the bathroom. She quickly showered and changed,
her thoughts on this person from Greg Mallory. What does Greg want from me? And why?
Despite her thoughts, she still managed to reach the patio before Mackie arrived with the tea.
The woman was sitting at a small table on the patio, looking through a sheaf of papers.
Sylia's first impression of the woman was elegance with a very solid core beneath it. The woman
herself was slim and attractive, wearing a dark, severely cut business suit. She had red hair
and bright green eyes, and most people would consider her strikingly attractive. She looked up
at Sylia's approach.
"Mrs. Marla Brooks-Fenton?" asked Sylia.
She nodded and stood. "Miss Sylia Stingray, I presume?"
"I am. Please, Take a seat."
The two women sat. Sylia waited until Marla replaced the papers into a small briefcase.
"What can I do for you, Mrs. Fenton?"
"It's Brooks-Fenton, Miss Stingray."
"Please, call me Sylia."
The woman considered this for a second, then nodded. "Very well, Miss . . . Sylia."
Mackie came out of the apartment with a tray. He placed it on the table and left. Marla
watched him disappear into the penthouse before she said, "That's your brother Mackie, right?"
"Yes. He's here for the holidays from Germany." Sylia picked up the tea pot. "Would you
like some tea?"
"Yes, please." There was no conversation while Sylia poured two cups of tea. When she was
done, she leaned back in her chair and looked at Marla. "What does Greg Mallory want with me?"
"Mr. Mallory wishes to invite you to lunch at Dastari's today."
Sylia raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What time?"
"About a quarter to twelve." Marla tilted her head. "Will that be a problem?"
"No problem. Did he say what he wished to discuss?"
"Not in any great detail. He did mention he was looking to expand some of MALCORP's
holdings in this city."
"Indeed." Sylia sipped her tea. "He could have invited me by phone."
"He could have," replied Marla. "But since I was in the area anyway, on other business, He
thought a personal invitation might be more appropriate."
"I see." Sylia was silent for a moment, her thoughts racing. Always the hidden motive with
you, Greg. Now what?\
She looked at Marla. "You can tell Greg I'll meet him for lunch, and I'll listen to him.
Beyond that, I will not commit myself."
The redhead nodded and pulled out an envelope from her briefcase. "Mr. Mallory also told me
to give this to you." She placed the envelope, face down, in front of Sylia. "I have no idea
what is in that envelope and Mr. Mallory didn't inform me of its contents." She stood and picked
up the briefcase. "I must leave now. Is there anything else you wish to know?"
Sylia shook her head, her eyes never leaving the envelope. "Not at the present time."
"Very well," replied Marla. "I will inform Mr. Mallory that you will join him for lunch."
"Mackie will show you out. Good morning, Marla."
"Good morning Mis . . . Sylia." Mackie appeared and escorted the woman back into the
penthouse. Sylia picked up the envelope and looked at it. She guessed it contained a single
sheet of paper. It wasn't until she turned the envelope over and read the words printed on the
front did she felt a chill go through her. In neat block letters, it read KNIGHT SABERS.
Sylia picked up a knife off the tea try and slit the envelope open. She slowly pulled the
sheet of paper out, and unfolded it.
Sylia,
You know I've never been too subtle when it comes to speaking to you. And
this isn't a time to be subtle. So I will say it, and hope you'll understand.
I know you are the one behind the Knight Sabers. I won't go into details
about how I know right now. All I will say at this time is that you and I are a
lot more alike then you know. That is one of the reasons I want to talk to you
over lunch. Another reason I need to see you concerns your father, his work, and
the future for both of us.
If that isn't enough, you should know that your teammate is alive and she is
recovering from her injuries. She is in need of rest and healing right now. I think
it's best that she is reunited with your team as soon as possible. She saved two of
the Black Knights from harm last night, at a great personal danger to herself. I
know Knight One will not forget the service she's done.
Please, this is important. I promise this will not be a waste of time.
Greg Mallory
Mackie walked out of the penthouse. "What was that all about?" he asked.
Sylia passed the note to him. He read it slowly, then looked at his sister. "How did he
know?" he asked woodenly.
"I'm not certain. But I need to see him."
"Are you crazy, Sis? It could be a trap."
Sylia shook her head and sipped her tea. "I don't think so. The Greg Mallory I know doesn't
go for elaborate traps."
"The Greg Mallory you know is thirteen years in the past. He could be just like Quincy, or
Carson Bradley."
"Nevertheless," replied Sylia, putting her teacup down, "I'm going to meet him."
"Not without me, you're not."
"No," she replied, standing slowly. "I want you to go over to Raven's Garage, and wait for
my call. If I don't call by one o'clock, initiate the Medusa protocols."
Mackie looked pale. "You're not serious!" he exclaimed.
"Very much so."
"But all your work on the Hardsuits, and other projects -"
"Are better destroyed then in the hands of someone who will twist them to their own use."
Mackie regained some of his color. He exhaled deeply "All right, Sis. What about Nene and
Linna?"
"Call them after you start Medusa. Tell them what's happened, and give them the option of
going underground. The exact instructions are in the safe at Raven's." She walked toward the
penthouse.
Mackie called out after her, "Do you think he's telling the truth about Priss?"
Sylia stopped and looked at him. "I believe him," she said simply, then went inside the
penthouse. He didn't hear her say, "Because I have no other choice in the matter."
Warehouse #41526584
District 4
MegaTokyo, Japan
December 22, 2035
9:34am
Priss slowly opened her eyes.
She found herself looking up at a drop ceiling made up of white tiles. Where am I?
she thought. In a hospital? That doesn't seem right.
Priss let her eyes wander around the ceiling and noted the room wasn't that large. She
moved her head slowly to the right, and found herself looking at a pale yellow wall close enough
to touch. Surprised, She tried to move her right arm to touch the wall, but couldn't. Why
can't I move my arm?
She lifted her head and looked at where her body told her it was. All she could see was a
lump under the green blanket, about where her stomach was. Carefully, she flipped the blanket
back with her left hand, and looked at the arm. It had been strapped across her stomach, and was
wrapped in a thick looking cast. A broken arm, she thought. At least, I hope that's
all it is.
She pulled the blanket back into place, and laid back on the pillow. So, I'm lying on a
cot somewhere, she thought. Someone has looked at my injuries, and has tried to make me
comfortable. She also realized that someone had stripped the hardsuit and innersuit off her,
placed a bandage around her ribs and head, then dressed her in loose fitting robes. How long
have I been out?
She thought back, putting together the last several minutes before she'd passed out into
some sort of coherent order. She remembered the explosions that had knocked her down, the Boomer
that was about to execute her, then the end of the Boomer when Leon -
A soft snore from her left startled her. She looked over and was amazed to see Leon stret-
ched out in a chair next to her cot. His eyes were closed, chin on his chest, hands interlaced
across his stomach, and he was snoring softly.
Leon's here? Then I must have been carried off by the Black Knights before the Thor
Strike.
She reached out with her free arm and poked Leon in the thigh. He shifted slightly, but had
no other reaction to the poke. Priss jaw tightened, and she hit him as hard as she could across
the chest. The blow wasn't as strong as she wanted, but it was enough to wake Leon up.
His eyes snapped opened and he snorted. He blinked several times, then stared down at
Priss. "You're awake."
Priss opened her mouth to berate him for the obvious, but her throat was dry and scratchy.
Instead of a finely tuned insult, all that came out was a croak.
"Here," said Leon, picking up a glass off the side table next to him. "Have some water." He
slipped his free hand under her shoulders, and lifted her halfway off the cot. He held the glass
at her lips and gently allowed her to drink half the water.
He lowered her back onto the cot, then refilled the glass from a large pitcher. He placed
the glass and pitcher back on the table, then looked at her again. "How are you feeling?"
"Like hell," Priss whispered. "How long have I been out?"
He looked at his watch. "About five hours. It's a bit after nine o'clock in the morning."
Priss struggled to rise, but Leon pushed her back down. "Oh, no you don't. You're not going
anywhere. Your arm's broken, you have several cracked ribs, and you have a concussion."
She scowled at him, but didn't try to sit up again. "Where am I?" she asked, her voice
stronger now.
Leon leaned back in his chair. "In a warehouse the Black Knights are using for their
headquarters while they're in MegaTokyo."
"What happened last night?"
"After you fainted?"
"After I passed out."
Leon shrugged. "Not much to tell. Several Black Knights showed up, and bundled the both of
us into the chopper fifty seconds before the area was leveled."
"How bad's the damage?"
He shrugged. "Don't expect to use the Coastal Highway for the next year or so. At least six
kilometers of the highway, the surrounding land, and any structure within a kilometer of the
area is gone. Luckily, the area around the site was businesses and warehousing, so considering
the damage, the body count is on the low side."
Before Leon could continue, A door on the other side of the side table opened, and a tall
woman with dark hair stuck her head into the room. "Rise and Shine, Rookie!" she called out with
a gleeful shout.
"You're too late Jeena," said Leon, stretching. "My alarm clock beat you to it."
Priss backhanded him in the stomach, but she couldn't get the power she wanted behind the
blow. It bounced off his torso without any effect. Leon looked at Jeena. "See what I mean?"
Jeena came into the room, and shut the door. Priss noticed the empty right sleeve, and made
the connection. "You're Jeena Malso, aren't you?"
"Got it in one, Kid."
Priss glared at her. "I'm not a kid!" she snapped.
Jeena's smile got wider. "I can see why Leon likes you."
That caught Priss by surprise. She looked suspiciously at the woman. "How?"
"Well, you like destroying things, you dislike authority when it gets in your way, and
you're almost as stubborn as he is." She motioned toward Leon, who was in the middle of getting
out of the chair, and out of Priss' reach. "I can see why you're Leon's girlfriend."
"I AM NOT LEON'S GIRLFRIEND!" shouted Priss, trying to sit up, and failing miserably in the
task. Before she could try again, both Leon and Jeena were there, pushing her back down onto the
cot. Unable to fight off three arms, Priss settled for giving each of them a glare.
"As I said, Leon," continued Jeena, looking at him. "She's the perfect girlfriend for you.
She hot tempered, carries almost as much firepower as you do, and would cheerfully cut your
throat if you walked out on her. I'm going to have fun watching the two of you get together."
It was Leon's turn to glare at Jeena. "Has anyone told you to mind your own business?"
"Not in the last ten minutes."
"Are you finished running my love life?"
Jeena shook her head. "Nope, Rookie. Take it from me, she's the best candidate to come down
the pike in a long time."
Leon sighed. "In that case, what are you doing here?"
"Well, Breakfast is ready. I thought you and Little Miss Blue Saber here will want some
chow. Also, The boss man has called a meeting in about an hour's time. We're included."
Leon nodded. He looked at Priss. "You stay there. Knight One doesn't want the other Black
Knights to see you -"
"- And he doesn't want you to see the other Black Knights," finished Jeena. She walked over
to the door, and opened it. "I'll leave the two of you alone - for now," she said, wagging a
finger at them. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do. Later."
After Jeena closed the door, Priss looked at Leon. "How many people saw me without my
helmet last night?"
Leon sat down on the edge of the bed. He looked at the ceiling. "Without your helmet? About
half of the Knights, Knight One, myself, Jeena, and the Doctor who treated you. Most of them
were busy with other things, so I don't think they'll be able to describe you clearly. How many
know your name is Priss Asagiri, and you're a singer? Myself and Jeena. Even the Doctor doesn't
know your name."
Priss wasn't aware she was tense until she relaxed. "You don't seem to be surprise to find
out I'm a Knight Saber."
He looked at her, his expression unreadable. "I've known for two years about you and the
Knight Sabers."
"What?" she hissed, her eyes widening at the statement. "When did you find out?"
"During the DD Battlemover incident. I saw your face after your helmet was damaged."
There was silence for several seconds, neither one of them wanting to say the first words.
Finally, Priss whispered, "You knew, and you never said anything to me about it."
Leon shrugged. "It's not the type of thing you can bring up in causal conversation. And
before you ask, I haven't told anyone, not even Daley. Your secret's safe with me."
He hesitated for a second, and Priss could see he was struggling with something. She
decided to take the lead. "Why didn't you say anything? To me, or anyone else?"
"Because this city needs you and the other Knight Sabers," he said, the words tumbling out
quickly. "The ADP can't handle the Boomer rampages, and it's getting worse every day. You and
the other Knight Sabers are making a difference, to the ADP officers out on the street and this
city's citizens. Over the years, you've saved too many people to count, including myself, Daley,
and several dozen ADP officers."
He reached over and placed her free hand in one of his. "I've also come to think of you as
a friend. A friend I want to keep around. I didn't tell you about it because I thought you'd
avoid me, or worse, never see me again."
Priss looked at him, unable to believe what she just heard. Her own thoughts and feelings,
held in check for so long, began a long delayed war inside her. Leon was far from being shy, but
had she heard him right? A small sliver of . . . feeling breached her carefully prepared
emotional defenses.
"Can you sit me up?" she asked, saying the first clear thing that came into her mind. "I
don't want to talk to you lying down."
Leon pulled two more pillows from under the cot, and eased Priss up into a sitting
position. He adjusted the new pillows, then eased her back into a reclining position. "Thanks."
"No problem."
She decided to change the subject before the current one went any farther. "I guess I owe
you my life."
"I just happened to be in the right place at the right time. Like I said, I owed you."
Her eyes narrowed. "What were you doing there anyway?" she asked.
He related the story of his quitting ADP, being found by Jeena, then being recruited by
Gregory Mallory.
"Greg Mallory," she said, interrupting his story. "A tall, lean guy, with one green blue
eye and one gray eye?"
"Yes. You've met him?"
"Yesterday, at the garage where I get my bike worked on. His mother was an old friend of
the guy who runs the garage."
"What do you think of him?"
"I don't know."
There was silence for a minute this time. Both were lost in their own thoughts, neither
looking directly at the other. Finally, Leon looked at her. "When this is all over, would you
like to go out with me?"
Priss returned his look, half a dozen scathing replies springing to mind, but none of them
passed her lips. She shook her head slowly. "I don't think that'll be a good idea."
"Why?"
"Because nearly everyone I get close to, dies." The sliver of feeling was growing, crashing
all her other emotions.
Leon nodded. "Your boyfriend in the biker gang."
"There's been others," she replied, her voice choking with emotion. "I don't have many
friends, and even fewer who I can call close friends."
"Do you consider me a close friend?"
She nodded slowly, tears forming in her eyes. "Yes I do, dammit! One I don't want to
loose!" She suddenly launched herself at him, wrapping her free arm around his neck before he
could move. "Hold me," she said in a small voice.
Carefully, he held her. He stroked her hair with gentle strokes, listening to her sobbing
softly. Now what? he thought. He hadn't expected this reaction from her. Nearly getting
killed last night took more out of her then I thought. I never seen her like this before. Better
take it easy.
That got harder to do as he felt her lips on his neck. She stopped sobbing, and pressed
herself against him. He disentangled himself from her hold, and gently pushed her away. He
looked at her, and winced at the hurt look on her face.
"Is something wrong?" she asked in a small voice.
He nodded. "I don't want you to do something you might regret later. You're tired, injured,
and you aren't yourself right now. I think too much of you to risk throwing it away on a
moment's whim."
She chuckled softly, wiped the tears from her eyes, and laid back. "I don't believe it,"
she said, with a small smile. "The great Leon, afraid of me. You've spent the last three years
chasing me, and when I finally throw myself into your arms, you back off."
He sighed. "I love you too much to ever risk hurting you. If I allowed you to continue, and
you decided later you'd made a mistake, I'm not sure I could live with myself."
"Wait a minute." She looked at him, his words slowing sinking in. "Did you say you love
me?"
"I did."
Priss looked at him carefully, watching for any hints he was joking. She didn't see any.
"You're serious," she said finally. "You're downright, goddamn serious, aren't you?"
"I am." He stood slowly, his expression unreadable. "I think you should get some sleep now.
Or would you want to have breakfast first?"
"Wait a minute!" she yelled angrily, making a grab for his arm. She missed. "I spent half
the damn night out looking for you! If you think I'm going to let you walk out of here, after
you told me you loved me, you've got another thing coming!"
"I think I should warn you," said Leon quietly, "before you continue your tirade. These
walls aren't that thick, and I suspect everyone within ten meters of the door just heard you."
Priss rolled off a long stream of curses that were just as loud. After ten seconds, the
door opened and Jeena stuck her head into the room. "Interesting vocabulary," she remarked
dryly, interrupting Priss in mid-curse. "There's a dozen people out here taking notes on the
structure and content. Which might be fine at any other time, but Mr. Mallory wants to talk to
you for a minute, quietly. Can you spare the time?"
Before Priss could reply, Greg Mallory stepped past her into the room. "Stay outside Jeena,
and make sure everyone stays away from the room while we're discussing things. Get Nicky to help
you."
Jeena nodded and left the room, closing the door behind her. Mallory looked relaxed in a
dark, well-tailored suit. "Besides your excellent voice, Miss Asagiri, how are you feeling?"
"I hurt like -" she began, but then realized what he had said. "Wait a minute! How do you
know my name?"
Mallory held up a hand. "Before you go jumping all over Mr. McNichol here, he told me
nothing about you." He stepped forward, pulled out the chair Leon had been sitting on, reversed
it, straddled the seat, and leaned forward on the back of the chair. Leon sat on the end of the
bed, and watched.
Priss glared at Mallory while they both made themselves comfortable. "Then who did?" she
finally snarled.
"Would you believe Pops?"
Priss tried to outstare Mallory, but didn't succeed. "Pops wouldn't say anything," she said
finally.
Mallory shrugged. "Pops didn't say anything of a sensitive nature, but I'm somewhat nosy.
After you left the garage, he and I caught up on some old times. In passing, I asked him who you
were and he mention your name."
"I see."
"So, out of simple curiosity, I asked several of my people to check you out. One of my
people recognized it as belonging to the Queen of the underground music scene here in Tokyo." He
saw the expression on her face. "I did this all before last night's fun and games, and I doubt
anyone got a real good look at you since then."
He gave Priss a small smile. "You have a loyal following out there in the world. It's a
pity no recording label has snatched you up yet."
"They won't touch me," Priss muttered in a low voice, her eyes never leaving Mallory's
mismatched eyes. "GENOM has seen to that."
"Figures. GENOM has always had a thin skin on some subjects. Unfortunately, MALCORP doesn't
own a recording company, or I'd sign you myself."
"Don't try to humor me," said Priss, "or ever worse, try to patronize me."
"I wouldn't dare," replied Mallory in a flat, cold voice that suddenly reminded Priss of
Sylia. His voice lightened again, as if nothing had happened. "The question that I want to talk
to you about is what are we going to do with you?"
"You could let me just walk out of here."
"In your condition?" asked Mallory. "Doctor Mayer would have a fit."
"Screw the doctor," growled Priss angrily. "I'm not going to stay here any longer then I
have to."
Mallory nodded. "Stubborn, aren't you?"
"Arrogant, aren't you?"
Mallory didn't rise to the bait this time. "I don't think you'll be here too much longer.
I've already arranged a meeting with the person behind the Knight Sabers. I suspect you'll be
out of here before nightfall." He stood. "Until then, I suggest you get some rest - when things
are arranged, I'll have Leon drive you to your comrades. Fair enough?"
Priss blinked twice. "The person behind the Knight Sabers?" she asked woodenly, her mind
racing.
Mallory looked at Leon. "Why don't you get Priss some breakfast? She looks like she needs
something to eat."
Leon, looking disappointed, nodded slowly, and left the room. Mallory waited until he
closed the door before he began to speak again. "Don't bother denying that Sylia Stingray is the
one behind the Knight Sabers."
Priss said nothing, and Mallory smiled. "You didn't give anything away. I came to MegaToyko
almost sure that Sylia was behind the Knight Sabers, and after last night, I knew she was the
one."
"You seem to know a hell of a lot."
"I have to in my position." He stood and walked over to the door. Just before he touched
the door handle, he looked at her. "You don't like me, do you?"
"I don't."
"I'm not your enemy, nor are the Black Knights."
"No, you're here after a fourteen-year-old girl who happens to have information that you
want."
Priss saw Mallory's hands ball up into fists. She waited for him to explode into anger, but
it never came. "That girl," he said slowly, "is my goddaughter. I don't give a damn about what
she knows. I want her home, nothing more. If you can't understand that, then I pity you." With
that, he walked out of the room, leaving Priss alone in her thoughts.
Chapter 22
GENOM Tower
MegaTokyo, Japan
December 22, 2035
9:56am
Quincy watched Faust through half closed eyes. "Your report?"
There were only three men in Quincy's office. Quincy sat behind his desk, his face an
unreadable mask. Faust was looking worn and tired from the frantic mission he had received
yesterday. Tarson, another of Quincy's new special assistants, watched quietly with a poker
face.
Faust glanced down at the papers in front of him, then looked at Quincy. "It is as you
thought, Sir. The bottom line is that GENOM cannot account for somewhere between a hundred
seventy-two and two hundred five Boomers over a period of three years. Would you care for a
breakdown as to type?"
"I do not care at this moment. Is there a pattern involving how and where the Boomers are
lost?"
"No Sir. The missing Boomers are from all over the world, in a variety of methods. I have
several of my people looking for a possible connection involving one of the other Megacorps, but
nothing yet."
The third man in the room glared at Faust. "Grasping at straws, Faust?"
"Mr. Tarson," said Quincy, allowing steel to creep into his voice. "Refrain from cheap
shots. It will not help the current situation any."
"I'm sorry, Sir."
"Continue, Mr. Faust."
Faust readjusted his glasses. "Most of those we cannot account for disappeared during
disasters such as explosions, building collapses, and transport crashes. Also, there has been a
slightly higher then expected number of missing Combat Boomers from the combat zones."
"I see." Quincy was silent for a minute. "Thank you, Mr. Faust. You have done excellent
work."
"Thank you, Sir. Do you wish for me to continue investigating the matter?"
Quincy was silent for a minute, then stared at Faust. "I do. Coordinate with Miss Madigan
and her security people on this. I want whoever is behind this rooted out as soon as possible.
You will work with a small staff full time on this matter, and refer all inquiries to this
office. You have a top priority clearance on this - but make no move to shut down the people
behind this until I give you the word. Is that clear?"
"Understood, Sir." Faust left a question hanging.
Quincy nodded. Faust would never ask, but it needed to be answered. He said, "I want the
entire operation in one fell swoop, Mr. Faust. I want to leave no one who was involved in this
disgrace behind when their leaders are rounded up."
Faust nodded. "I'll start on that right away, sir."
Quincy looked at Tarson. "Have the police discovered what exactly happened on the Coastal
highway last night?"
Tarson shook his head. "There were Boomers involved, but according to our sources inside
the ADP, the Thor strike left very little in the way of salvage. The few useful pieces that were
recovered are already in our possession. As soon as we have enough data, I will forward it to
Mr. Faust and his team for their analysis."
"What is the estimated cost of this incident to GENOM?"
"We were fortunate in that we have very few operations in that area of the city. One of our
bioresearch labs was damaged, but our people report the damage was minimal, and repairs will be
completed in a couple of days."
"What about the reports that the Knight Sabers and another group in hardsuits were at that
location?"
"It looks like both groups were involved in the incident, but their exact role is unknown
at this time."
"I can guess their role," replied Quincy slowly. "The unseen enemy who took Janie VanDell
set a trap, and both the Knight Sabers and the Black Knights set it off."
Both Faust and Tarson look at their boss in surprise. "The Black Knights?" asked Tarson.
"Here?"
Quincy waved a hand. "It's not hard to deduce the identity of the other team. Our people in
the United States have tried several times to hire them, without success."
"Who are they working for?" asked Tarson.
"MALCORP," replied Faust. "The Black Knights have a long history with them."
Quincy nodded. "I think it is time that I meet the new CEO of MALCORP. Extend an invitation
to Mr. Mallory for dinner tonight."
"And if he refuses?"
"He won't. I think he will want to meet me as much as I want to meet him."
Faust made a note. "Anything else, Sir?"
"The investigation will start now, Mr. Faust. I want your team at work before noon. Mr.
Tarson, you will assist Mr. Faust any way you can. You two can go now."
Warehouse #41526584
District 4
MegaTokyo, Japan
December 22, 2035
10:14am
Gregory Mallory looked at the people sitting around the table. All the Knights but Marla
were there, even the ones who had been injured in the fight last night. Marcus Jackson, Nicky
Yashida, Harland Grace and one of Harland's team sat on the one side of the table. All of White
Team and the other member of Blue Team were on the other side. Leon and Jeena sat at the far end
of the table, with Doctor Mayer standing behind them. Most of them had cups of coffee or other
hot drinks in front of them, along with the remains of a hasty breakfast. None of the Knights
smoked, so the air was clear of tobacco.
"Listen up, Knights," said Mallory, and waited for the muted conversation to die away
before he continued. "We should have done this morning, but I doubt any of us were in any shape
for a debrief then. I don't have a lot of time, so I'll keep this meeting short."
"Good," muttered Kelly Hollis, Blue Team's number two. "I have a splitting headache."
"At least you still have a head," replied Harland gruffly. "You came close to losing it
last night."
"Don't remind me."
"That's a good place to start," said Mallory. He looked up at Doctor Mayer. "What's the
latest on the injury list?"
Mayer looked peeved. "Hollis has a mild concussion, nothing that a couple of days of strict
bed rest won't solve. McLendon there," he motioned toward Blue Three, who had his right arm
bound tightly across his chest, "has a second degree shoulder separation, and a concussion. And
Dawes has a compound fracture of the ulna bone. Most everyone else has the large collection of
bruises and cuts I've ever seen outside of an emergency room."
"So, what's the verdict, Doc?" asked De La Cruz lightly. "Are we going to live?"
"For the next ten minutes," replied Mayer blandly. "After that, I won't make any
guarantees."
"What about our guest?" asked Mary Pierce, the Leader of White Team. "What's her con-
dition?"
De La Cruz leaned back in his chair and smiled. "She's strong enough to curse at our new
friend over there, that much I do know."
"You and everyone who's spent any time within ten meters of that door in the last half hour
knew that," replied Grace evenly.
"She's got an arm broken, several cracked ribs, and a concussion," said Mayer, a look of
distaste crossing his features. "Not to mention being as stubborn as a Missouri Mule."
"She'll live," remarked Mallory dryly. "And before anyone asks what we're going to do with
her, I'm already taking steps to get her back to the Knight Sabers. It the least we can do for
her."
"What's the condition of the Hardsuits?" asked Grace.
"Seven of them are on-line," replied Nicky. "The other two are undergoing repair, and
should be ready before nightfall."
"Good," said Mallory. "How about the helicopters?"
"Battered but still usable. They both should be ready about the same time as the
hardsuits."
Mallory nodded. "Mr. McNichols picked up some information last night on who's behind Janie
VanDell's kidnaping. Leon?"
Leon stood slowly and looked around the room. Everyone at the table was watching him, their
expressions hovering between curiosity and mild interest. He knew word had gotten around about
his actions the night before, and because of that, most of them were ready to accept him as a
member of the team. Not that different from the ADP, he thought to himself.
He took a deep breath and said, "One of my informers told me that Gulf and Bradley Japan
brought in a Doctor Yin Zin-Choon late last week. He's a specialist in informational retrieval."
"Who's running Gulf and Bradley Japan?" asked De La Cruz.
"You're going to love this, Knights." Mallory's smile held no warmth. "Carlton Bradley."
"Shit," muttered Grace. "Don't tell me Cora's here too."
"She is."
There were muted conversations among the Knights as the news was digested. Leon, his face
puzzled, asked, "I don't understand. What's with Carlton and Cora Bradley?"
Mallory looked at him. "I take it you've never met them?"
"All I know about them is what my source said - they're not people to mess around with."
"To put it mildly," said Jeena. "It's safer playing with a lit stick of dynamite then to
cross those two."
"Jeena's right," said Mallory. "Carlton and Cora Bradley are the only legitimate heirs of
Carson Bradley, former CEO of Gulf and Bradley."
"Wasn't he the one that died a couple of years ago in the US? In some type of terrorist
attack?"
Mallory nodded. "Killed literary minutes after Gulf and Bradley signed that deal with GENOM
to co-produce a Boomer Giant."
"That was a joyful day," said Dawes in a low voice. "I didn't shed a single tear when I
heard the news."
"Mr. McNichols, you have to forgive my people's lack of surprise at hearing that the Brad-
ley twins are involved in this," said Mallory to Leon. "We've had some run-ins with Gulf and
Bradley in the past."
"What's the deal with them?" asked Leon.
"Carson was a bastard," replied Mallory. "But he was a stable bastard. You knew which way
he'd react to a given situation. Neither Carlton nor Cora inherited the stability, so there's no
way of knowing how those two would react."
"Cora's a psychopath," said Jeena. "The type that would pull wings off of flies for the
sheer pleasure of it."
"Carlton's not much better," said Grace, staring down into his coffee cup."
"But they've never cross over the line this seriously before," said Mallory. "As far as we
knew."
"Aren't we making an assumption here?" asked Leon. "We don't know that Gulf and Bradley is
behind this."
"We have to start somewhere," replied Mallory. "However, I doubt Gulf and Bradley, on the
whole, is behind this. Jansen Bradley's ruthless, but not stupid. If Gulf and Bradley is
involved, it's confined to the Japan branch."
He looked at Nicky. "Start digging into Gulf and Bradley system ASAP. I want a list of
properties that they might be using."
Nicky stood. "On it, Boss." He walked away briskly.
"Harland, I want you and a team of Jeena's people to start shadowing Carlton and Cora. Keep
the tail loose - I don't want them to know we're watching them."
Grace grimaced. "Round the clock?"
"Yes." Mallory looked up at Jeena. "Who's your opposite number at Gulf and Bradley Japan?"
"Hachio Ozu. If the Bradley twins are involved, then so is he."
"We'll include him in the surveillance."
"We're going to be stretched thin," said Jackson slowly.
"Can't be helped. This is the closest thing we've had to a lead since we got here. I want
this confirmed or denied as quickly as possible."
Mallory glanced down at his watch. "I've got a meeting in about an hour with someone from
the Knight Sabers. If things go well, we'll have Blue Saber out of here before the afternoon."
"You have been busy, haven't you?" asked Grace. "How much sleep did you get last night?"
"Five minutes less then you did," replied Mallory, stretching slowly. "That's it for now,
people. Let's get this show on the road."
Gulf and Bradley Research lab G-46
MegaTokyo, Japan
December 22, 2035
10:37am
Mclaren stalked down the hallway, trailed by two of his assistants. He kept the scowl on
his face to hide the uneasiness he felt. What in hell is Bradley doing here?
He'd gotten the call from Ozu ten minutes ago, too late to be ready for the visit, but
early enough to allow doubt and some fear prey on his mind. It was Bradley's way of reminding
Mclaren who was in control here and the scientist hated it.
He turned the corner and saw two large men flanking the door to his lab. He recognized them
as two of Bradley's bodyguards Boomers, he thought, Probably BU-55Cs. Another reminder of
who's in charge here.
The Boomers watched Mclaren march toward the lab doors in silence, their faces impassive.
Mclaren glared at them, but didn't slow. I won't be humiliated by a pair of scrap pile
rejects!
The Boomer on the right stepped in front of Mclaren. Forced by the sudden movement, the
scientist halted in his tracks. "Yes?" he snapped.
"Mr. Bradley wants to speak to you only," the Boomer said in a cold, flat voice. "Your
assistants will wait here for your return. Those are Mr. Bradley's orders."
"Very well," said Mclaren, his own voice hard and tinged with anger. Another one of his
foolish stunts. "I'll play along with his damm game. Miles, Hal, wait here while I see what our
'Lord and Master' wants."
Without waiting for a reply, Mclaren stalked into his lab. At the last second, the Boomer
moved aside, allowing the scientist to walk through the lab doors unopposed.
Bradley was standing in the middle of the lab, Ozu and two more Boomer bodyguards standing
several meters away. As always, Bradley was dressed in an expensive suit, dark gray today, and
looked freshly groomed. He looked up and smiled at Mclaren. "Ah, Doctor, there you are."
"Cut the pleasantries," snapped Mclaren. "Why the visit?"
Bradley snapped his fingers, and Ozu stepped forward and handed Mclaren a computer disk.
"The disk holds some modification I want made to the shield generator design. I want it done as
soon as possible."
Mclaren took the disk, his eyes never leaving Bradley's. "What else?"
"I want at least a dozen Boomers ready to move out twelve hours from now. I also want them
equipped with the new shield generators."
"Are you serious?" shouted Mclaren in anger, taking a step toward Bradley. Ozu and the two
Boomers moved to intercept him, but Bradley waved them off. "You want me to drop everything else
so you'll have more toys to play with?"
Bradley's smile faded. "You will do it, or you'll wish you were back in prison."
"What you're asking for is impossible!" continued Mclaren. He held up the disk. "These
changes are going to take several hours to make by themselves, assuming they are doable! And do
you know how long it takes to bring a deactivated Boomer on-line?"
"I did not come here for excuses, Doctor."
"Then you're a bigger fool then I thought you were!"
A cellular phone rang, disturbing the sudden silence. Ozu pulled a phone out of his pocket
and answered it.
Bradley's eyes narrowed, and Mclaren knew he'd gone too far. He would have never confronted
Carson Bradley this way, when the man was alive. But his time in prison had taught him something
about fights - don't let the other guy know you were scared, no matter how scared you were. And
it would be a cold day in hell before he'd give Bradley the satisfaction of seeing the fear he
felt. He had to stand his ground now.
"Would you like me to have my bodyguards break both your arms?" asked Bradley in a quiet
voice. Mclaren saw Bradley's calm exterior crack, letting part of his tightly controlled anger
surface.
"Then who in hell would supervise this job of yours?" shouted back Mclaren. "If any of
these other clowns in this lab knew as much as I did, you wouldn't have broken me out of jail!"
Ozu stepped forward. "Mr. Bradley, you sister wishes to speak to you. She said it's
important, and it concerns the VanDell matter."
Bradley grabbed the phone out of his security chief's hand, and spoke into it. "Yes?" he
growled. "What?...Are you sure?... How in hell did it happen?....Find out! We need to know!
What's her condition?....What's does Doctor Kyso say?...Damm it, Cora! That girl can't die now!"
Mclaren prudently stepped back, out of Bradley's reach. Bradley ignored him and started
pacing, his voice hard and sharp. "Seal the building, I don't want anyone in or out until I get
there. I also want everyone who was on the security detail when this happened in my office be-
fore I get there . . . No! I will do the questioning!. . .I don't care! It's my responsibility,
not yours ...I'm on my way. Good-bye."
He returned the phone to his security chief, then glared at Mclaren. He was trying to hide
his anger, but he wasn't doing a good job of it. "You have twelve hours," he said in a hard
voice, "from this minute, to complete the task I have set for you. If you do not, I will kill
you myself. Is that clear?"
"Yes!" snapped Mclaren angrily. Unlike Bradley, the scientist did nothing to hide his
anger. "I'll have to pull several techs off other projects, but you'll have your damn dozen
Boomers in time."
"Good." Bradley strode out of the lab, followed by Ozu and the two bodyguards. Mclaren
watched them leave, then picked up the phone and started dialing. He had a job to do, and no
time for pleasantries....
Chapter 23
AD Police Headquarters
December 22, 2035
11:09am
Nene stopped and stared at the small plaques next to the door. It still said COMPUTER
SECURITY OFFICE, but under it, there were two more plaques, smaller in size and lettering, but
still readable. The first one said, COMPUTER SECURITY OFFICER - SERGEANT NENE ROMANOVA. The one
below that said, ASSISTANT COMPUTER SECURITY OFFICER - CORPORAL ALAN TREMOLINI.
She didn't know how long she stood staring at it before Alan stuck his head out of the
office and asked, "Like it?"
She looked at him, feeling a little stunned. "Sorry?" she said. It had taken her a bit over
two hours to fill out the paperwork for her promotion, followed by a short meeting with
Lieutenant Asaikeda, head of ADP's Computer Support Office, and her new boss. She wasn't sure
how she managed to get through both the paperwork and Asaikeda's bombastic speech without
falling asleep.
If she had been given a choice, she would have called out sick, but Mackie had forcibly
vetoed the idea once they got into the car. "It wouldn't look good if you called out sick on you
first day at your new job," he'd told her. When she'd objected, he'd replied, "I'm sorry, but
you'll have to act like nothing's happened."
"But Priss is dead!" she'd yelled at him, trying hard not to cry.
"We don't know that," replied Mackie quickly. "In fact, I think she's alive."
"What?"
"After you went to bed, I ran the last transmissions we got from Knight One through the
computer trying to piece together what he said. I'm not one hundred percent sure, but I think
the Black Knights hustled out an injured Priss before the Thor Strike."
Nene didn't remember the trip to ADP Headquarters. She was tired, still a bit sore from the
fight on the highway, and worried about Priss. Priss could be a pain in the neck sometimes, but
she was a team mate. How could Sylia just take off and leave Priss behind?
"The plaques. I had them made up last night."
"Oh." Get in gear, girl! "They're nice, real nice."
"You don't sound happy."
"Er . . . well . . . I didn't get a real good night sleep, and . . . I . . . er -"
Alan held up a hand. "I'll get some coffee. You look like you need it."
"Thanks, Alan. I could use a cup."
"One cup of coffee coming up." He came out of the office, and walked past her. "I suggest
the first thing you ask supply for is a coffee maker - you're going to need it."
"ME?" Nene squeaked. "What about you?"
He smiled. "I'm a confirmed tea drinker. I hate coffee."
"Oh. Where are you going?"
"The cafeteria - they have the closest thing to coffee in this building."
"I'll get set up, and after you get back, you can start getting me up to speed on the
security system."
"You got it, Boss. Back in five."
Nene watched him walk out of sight before she ducked into the office. She sat at her desk,
and worked frantically to check the hospital and morgue records over the last eight hours for
anyone matching the description of Priss. She leaned back in her chair and waited for a match.
She exhaled slowly when the screen flashed "NO MATCH FOUND".
Well, she isn't in a hospital, or the morgue - at least not yet. Of course, if she was
still there when the Thor strike hit . . . . She cleared her mind of that thought and
checked police reports for the same period, again with no match. Disappointed, she eliminated
all evidence of her search from the computer system. She switched back over to the security
system ten seconds before Alan walked back in the door with a cup of coffee.
He placed the coffee next to Nene and said, "OK, Boss. Where do you want to start?"
She looked up at him. "A general overview, followed by planning a threat assessment for the
system. How long do you think it'll take to complete a threat assessment?"
"A week, week and a half."
"Too long. Let's see if we can a preliminary threat assessment done by the end of the shift
tomorrow. We can start a full assessment the day after Christmas. Fair enough?"
"Sounds like a plan." Alan went to his cubicle, and came back with his office chair. He
sat. "All right. Let's start with the basics of the ADP computer security plan . . . "
Dastari's Restaurant
Tinsel City
December 22, 2035
11:35am
Sylia waited until the elevator doors opened completely before she stepped out into the
foyer. The foyer was elegant, letting the customer know that the restaurant they were about to
enter was far and above the normal dining experience. Just the type of place Greg would want
us to meet.
She had chosen to wear a dark and severely cut business suit for this meeting. Looking at
her hands, she saw they were steady, which surprised her. She wasn't sure what to expect from
someone she hadn't seen in fifteen years, but she wasn't going to act as she did when she was
thirteen. Find out what he wants first, then react, she thought. Don't worry about
anything until then.
She approached the doorman, who bowed and opened the door for her. Once inside, the matre'd
strode smoothly up to her, and bowed. "Yes Madam?"
"I have an appointment with a Mister Gregory Mallory," said Sylia calmly. "For ten-thirty."
The matre'd's eyebrows' rose slightly, but he nodded. "Miss Sylia Stingray?"
"Yes."
"Mr. Mallory and his party arrived ten minutes ago, Madam." He turned away. "If you will
follow me, please."
There were only a few tables occupied this early in the day, mostly executives having a
late breakfast, or an early lunch. The layout of the restaurant gave every table a spectacular
view of the surrounding city, but the most highly sort after tables were the ones nearest the
windows.
It was one of these tables the matre'd led her to. A tall and lean man sat there, drinking
tea. He was almost handsome, with dark hair cut short and combed away from his face. He looked
up as Sylia and the head waiter approached, and Sylia saw his eyes - one was green blue in
color, the other steel gray - light up with pleasure.
He waited until Sylia was seated before he motioned to a teapot. "Care for some tea?"
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak yet. He carefully poured her a cup and handed it
to her. "I'm glad you came, Sylia," he said cautiously.
"It has been a long time, Greg."
"I know. Don't worry about anyone listening to us." He tapped a finger on a small flat
device sitting on the table next to him. "This will keep our conversation to just between you
and me."
"It must be important."
"It is." He stared out the window. "It's change a lot in twelve years, hasn't it?"
"It has. The earthquake started it all."
"And GENOM continues it. Creating MegaTokyo in its own image." There was a tone of anger in
his voice, one that Sylia was quick to pick up on.
"You don't like the changes?" she asked carefully. "Ten years ago, this city was a
disaster."
"But is the price to rebuild it too steep?" He motioned to the view. "How much of this city
does GENOM own outright, or control through other corporations?"
Sylia sipped her tea. "A strange thing for a CEO of a Megacorp to be asking, isn't it?"
He turned and smiled thinly at her. "Sylia, I'm not Quincy. I still believe in white
knights and slaying evil dragons. Only, these days, my knights are lawyers and accountants, and
the Evil dragons are called GENOM and Gulf and Bradley."
"Still dreaming, aren't you?"
"It's the only way." He reached across and placed a hand on one of hers. "I hear your
brother is studying in Germany. How is he, by the way?"
"He's doing very well," she replied, gently disengaging her hand from his. "He's home for
the holiday."
"Following in his father's footsteps?"
Sylia nodded, then put her cup down. Time to go on the offensive. "Enough of the
good old days. What's the real reason you wanted to see me? I know why you're here, and I'm not
sure I like the reason. Why does MALCORP want Janie VanDell?"
"You don't miss much."
"You're not answering my question."
Greg inhaled deeply, then released it slowly. "Since you insist. Doctor Nathan VanDell is -
was, an old friend of the family. He and my mother went to the same school, and worked together
on several projects."
Sylia nodded. "And how much did you know about the work he was doing?"
"Very little, it turns out. Two years ago, he came to me when his company was in financial
trouble, and asked if I was interested in buying into his company. I paid three times the value
for a thirty per cent share in the company, just so one of the other Megacorps didn't slide it
and grab it."
"How helpful of you."
Greg ignored the sarcasm. "We didn't discover exactly what Doctor VanDell was working on
until just before we left the United States to come here."
"It wouldn't be a force shield small enough to fit on a Boomer or a hardsuit, would it?"
"You have good sources."
"Thank you, but what does this have to do with Janie VanDell?"
"You're the second person in two days who's asked me that question." He paused to sip his
tea. "And I'm going to tell you exactly what I told him. I've known Janie since she was born.
She's a bright, sweet natured teenager who wants to be a medical doctor. She's also the only
person still living who knows the plans for the force shield." He gripped the teacup tightly,
and said in a loud voice, "I'm not going to have my goddaughter's mind shredded for a lousy
piece of electronic junk!"
One or two people in other booths turned to look at them, but Greg's stare sent them
quickly back to their own meals. Greg took a deep breath, and continued in a voice just above a
whisper. "Somebody has gone too far this time, and after we extract Janie out of whatever hole
she's in, I'm going to make sure that the people responsible never have the chance to do any-
thing like that again."
"Whose we?"
"MALCORP, and the Black Knights."
"What about the Knight Sabers?"
Greg looked carefully at her. "That's one of the reasons why I asked you here today. I want
an alliance between the Black Knights and the Knight Sabers."
Sylia felt a stab of coldness grip her. He wasn't guessing. He knows! "Why tell me?"
she asked slowly, her face still. "Why should I care about the Knight Sabers?"
A flash of irritation crossed his face. "Sylia, don't deny being part of the Knight Sabers.
As I said in my note, I was almost sure you were behind the team before I came here, and after
last night, I'm certain of it."
Sylia looked at him coolly. "And what makes you think I'm behind the Knight Sabers?"
He leaned back. "I remember a shy young girl with a genius IQ, and a drive to be just like
her father. I remember her taking apart my toy Boomer, examining it, then putting back together
so well, it worked better then it had before."
"I'm surprised you remembered."
"I had some help, just like you did." he replied cryptically. "I don't think you're changed
all that much in the last thirteen years, and I don't believe you are just an owner of a
lingerie store."
He sipped his tea. "A simple businesswoman wouldn't hold onto the land where her father's
lab once stood, not when she could demand nearly any price for it." He looked out the window.
"I've seen some of those offers, and several were more then generous. That property is not an
investment for you, it's a reminder to you about whom the enemy is, and what they will do to
succeed."
"An interesting idea," replied Sylia blandly
"And then there's Doctor Raven. I've known him for years and my mother has known him for a
lot longer then I have. If there's three others in the world who can match his creditals, you've
found them all. There's at least ten Megacorps, including MALCORP, who would pay him a huge
amount to have him working for them." He looked out the window. "Believe me, I've tried, but he
refuses to leave this city. For him to be running a garage in a slum area is akin to finding
Albert Einstein working as a High School Physics teacher."
"That's not much evidence."
"No," he admitted, looking into his tea. "But Doctor Raven is a man of honor. Men like him
are not easily induced with money or other materiel things if it means sacrificing their honor.
I think . . . " He stopped. "No, I know, it is honor that keeps him here. He was a good friend
of your father's, Sylia."
"I know. He's been a good friend to Mackie and me since Father died."
"I know. He's the type of man who would keep a promise to a friend. A promise to your
father to help you and Mackie fight the battle that Katsuhito Stingray knew was coming."
Sylia nodded slowly. "What else makes you think I'm behind the Knight Sabers?"
"The incident outside the pool hall last night, for one. The battle on the highway, for
another."
Damn! "I suppose denying it is out of the question?"
"It is. I know you were there at the pool hall, and on the highway."
"Did you tell Knight One my name?"
He took a deep breath. "I suppose since I know a secret of yours, Sylia, I should trust you
with one of mine."
She was silent for a minute, surprised at this admission. "What type of secret?"
He put down his teacup, and looked directly into her eyes. "Sylia," he said quietly, but
firmly. "I am Knight One. The Black Knights work for me, and with me. I was the one outside of
the pool hall. I was the one who warned you about the backup team that tried to kill you, and I
was the one who took out that Boomer." He picked up his teacup. "Any questions?"
She sat there, silent, her mind numbed. The man who sat across from her, someone she'd
known as a child, doing the same thing she was doing. Are we that much alike? And yet,
what he said made sense. Too much sense. I need time to think.
"What about Priss?" she asked slowly, afraid of the words.
"She's always that ill-tempered?"
Sylia smiled weakly, then nodded. "You get use to it after a while."
"I hope so, because she gives new meaning to the term `Loose Cannon'. As to her current
health, well, she has three broken ribs, a concussion, but healthy otherwise. Her hardsuit's a
bit mangled though."
Sylia nodded slowly. "When do we get her back?"
"Later today. Leon will drive her to a location you chose, and turn her over to you."
Her eyebrow went up. "Is that wise? Priss has been starving off a potential relationship
with him for several years now."
Greg chuckled. "That would explain why she spent several minutes and an extensive use of
street language letting Leon know just how a big a jerk he is. From the way he acted last night,
I suspect Leon's known about Priss being a Knight Saber for a while now."
"Oh? Priss never said anything about it to me."
"That's because Leon didn't tell anyone about it, including Priss, until today. Under that
macho exterior is a true romantic."
"That's debatable. Does he know about my involvement?"
Greg shook his head. "With Priss, there was no way of avoiding it, but I will shield your
identity from the rest of my people." He finished his cup and poured another. He added milk and
sugar, then stirred his tea slowly. "Priss doesn't usually get close to people, does she?"
Sylia shook her head. "Nearly everyone she's gotten close to has died on her. She's
afraid."
"I know how she feels. And so do you."
"Do I?"
Greg put his cup down and reached out to hold her hand. "You do," he said, and Sylia saw a
gleam in his eyes. "I know because you and I are much alike. We both fight against something we
see as wrong, using our minds, hearts, and souls to blunt the excesses of GENOM and the other
Megacorps."
She again removed her hand from his. "Assuming I believe you about Janie VanDell," she said
coolly, "why bother talking to me at all? It seems your people have things well under control."
"I think that it's time some matters were cleaned up. That's another reason that I asked
you here today. I need you to tell you some things you don't know anything about."
Sylia felt a lump form in her stomach. "What things?"
"For one, your father is not the sole inventor of the hardsuits you use."
Gulf and Bradley - Japan Headquarters
MegaTokyo, Japan
December 22, 2035
11:39am
Carlton Bradley came storming through the front doors of the building, with Ozu and two of
the Boomer bodyguards right behind him. The other two bodyguards had preceded their boss, and
were scanning the area for possible trouble.
If the actions of the bodyguards weren't enough warning, the expression on Bradley's face
more then made up for it. He was seething, and he did nothing to hide it. Why must I be
surrounded by idiots?
He strode toward the elevators, Ozu and the Boomers forming a tight circle around him.
Employees and visitors alike gave way before the small knot of men, none wanting to risk the
displeasure of a man well known for his temper.
The elevator ride up was made in silence, as was the walk to the office. Bradley slammed
open the door to his office, startling the people waiting inside. He strode in followed by Ozu
and two of the Boomer bodyguards. As he walked around to his desk, he glared at each of them. He
continued to stare at each of them after he sat, allowing the tension in the room to build slowly.
There were seven people in the office besides the four that had come in. Four were dressed
in subdued suits that Ozu insisted his security people wear. They were standing in front of the
desk, along with Doctor Zin-Choon, and a heavyset woman wearing a lab coat. Cora Bradley sat by
herself on the couch nearest the desk, looking like a cat getting ready to play with a mouse.
After a minute, Bradley said in a seemly mild tone, "What exactly happened?"
A thin man in a rumpled suit nervously licked his lips, and stepped forward. Bradley looked
at him, waiting for the man to speak. When the man said nothing, Bradley slammed his hand down
on the desk. The loud crack startled everyone in the room.
"I will say this once," Bradley said in a low, tight voice barely above a whisper. "I want
to know what happened to Janie VanDell, and if you people don't tell me now, I will fire you so
fast your head will spin. Once more, I'll see you never work anywhere in this city ever again.
Is that clear?" He stared at the man in the rumpled suit. "You start, Chasen."
Chasen licked his lips. "I was on monitor duty in the security area. At ten twenty-five, I
saw the VanDell girl throw a sheet over the security camera. As soon as she did, I alerted the
security team on duty."
"We confirmed that," said Cora.
Carlton didn't look at his sister. He looked at another of the security men. "Hathaway,
what happen next?"
"We reached the girl's cell at ten twenty-eight," replied the squat, thick-faced man. "We
attempted to open the cell door. But the door didn't respond to the key card, or the override
sequence."
"The little Bitch had managed to pry open a small access panel and shorted out the door
motor," said Cora, her voice laden with anger.
"It took us several minutes to force open the door. By the time we managed to open the
door, she lying on the bed, with blood everywhere," continued Hathaway.
"How did she manage to slit her wrists?" asked Carlton sharply, his face a mask of rage.
"She broke off a piece of the bed's metal slats, and somehow managed to sharpen an edge on
it."
"Why wasn't her cell searched on a regular basis?"
"Because we were ordered not to."
"Whose orders?"
"Miss Bradley, sir. We were told to have no contact with the girl in any way, shape or
form. The girl wasn't to see or talk to anyone."
"I see." He didn't look at the female Doctor. "Doctor Kyso, What is her condition?"
"Critical," replied the woman. "She lost a lot of blood."
"What about a blood transfusion?"
Kyso shook her head. "She has an abnormal blood condition that makes a normal blood
transfusion impossible. If we gave her regular blood, it would kill her."
Carlton closed his eyes and leaned back. "What are you doing to try and stabilize her?"
"She's hooked up to a machine that will keep her alive for the time being. I have people
quietly scouring the city for either people with the same condition to use in a transfusion, or
a source in one of the labs." She shrugged. "The next twenty-four hours are critical for her."
"Go back to your patient, Doctor," said Carlton wearily. "She is to be your only concern
until she's improved."
Kyso nodded and stalked out of the office. Carlton opened his eyes to look at the four
security men. "I should fire the whole lot of you right this second," he said, letting some of
the anger back into his voice. "But, I can't fire you for following orders - even my sister's."
He saw her straighten up in anger and he smiled slightly. Let her stew for a while.
"What I am going to do, though, is put the four of you on probation for the next six
months. Any other screwups, of any size, and you're fired. No appeals, no reconsiderations, but
you will be gone. Understood?"
The four men chorused a ragged series of "Yes, Sirs" and "Understood, Sirs".
"Then, get out."
The four security men hustled out of the room. Carlton watched them leave, then looked at
Ozu. "Those four are to get every lousy job that comes along for security in the next six
months. If any of them survive, they get a clean bill of health and the matter closed."
"Yes sir. Any other actions against them?"
Carlton shook his head. "Not unless I say so. That is all. I need to speak to my sister and
Doctor Zin-Choon over this matter."
The Security chief nodded, and strode out of the office. After Ozu closed the door, Carlton
looked at his sister. "Why did you issue such an order?"
Cora shrugged. "I didn't want her to be able to identify anyone. Also, I didn't want to
take the chance that one of our people would feel sorry for her and help her escape."
"Does that include security?" hissed Carlton. "Damn it Cora! Your order came close to
ruining six months of work!"
"How was I supposed to know the little witch would have the balls to cut her own wrists?"
snapped Cora. "Her psychological profile showed no signs of this!"
"May I say something?" asked Zin-Choon mildly.
Carlton looked at the doctor. His anger at his sister had caused him to forget the presence
of the interrogator. "Yes, Doctor?" he asked coldly.
"I afraid Miss Bradley is not quite correct about the girl's psychological profile."
Cora glared at the Doctor. "What do you mean?"
"While the psychological profile does not show a suicidal tendency, it does show a very
intelligent girl who will analyze her position and act accordingly."
"So?" asked Carlton.
"Put herself into her position. She's alone, no chance of escape, and she knows she can't
hold out for much longer. So, she decides to prevent us from securing the information we need
the only way she can - by killing herself."
"Only because we gave her the time!" shouted Cora, standing. "If you hadn't asked my
brother to give her a day's rest, we would have the data by now!"
"I doubt it," replied Zin-Choon quietly. He looked at Cora, his expression unreadable. "I
know her type. She would have found another way to resist us. An attempted escape on the way to
the interrogation chamber, or throwing herself off a balcony, or out a window . . . " He sighed.
"All she has managed to do is delay any interrogation for the foreseeable future. To attempt now
would be folly." He stood up and walked to the door. "I suggest that the girl be restrained, in
case she tries again. Good Morning."
"Now what?" asked Cora, after the Doctor left.
"Now?" said Carlton softly. "Now, we start a war."
Chapter 24
AD Police Headquarters
December 22, 2035
11:42am
Daley Wong stalked into the office, feeling only slightly better after four hours sleep
then he had before. He stopped long enough to pour himself a cup of coffee, then sat down and
stared at the pile of paper on his desk.
"You all right?" asked a voice from behind him.
Daley blearly turned and looked up to see a clean-shaven male face framed by short dark
hair. The face had brown eyes, and a look of concern. His face was a bit sharp for Daley's
liking, but he wasn't ugly by any stretch of the imagination.
"Lousy night," Daley mumbled to the face. He turned back to his desk and sipped his coffee,
feeling the hot liquid run down his throat and banish some of the weariness.
"I'm looking for Inspector McNichols or Wong," said the face.
"I'm Wong," replied Daley, feeling slightly better. "Who are you?"
The face perched itself on the edge of Daley's desk, and the inspector duly noted the body
the face was attached to was slim and well trimmed, wearing a nice, but not too expensive suit.
"I'm Kosaku Sanemori. I've been assigned to the ADP Investigations division." He smiled and
stuck out a hand. "Call me Ko."
Daley took the hand, and they shook. "Welcome to the world of no sleep mixed with a few
minutes of complete terror ever so often."
Ko chuckled. "You look like hell."
"I feel worse. You'll look like this after a while."
"The Coastal Highway incident?"
Daley nodded. "What are the press saying about it? I haven't bothered watching any of the
news coverage."
Ko grimaced. "You don't want to know."
"That bad?"
"The ADP is being blamed for everything short of actually launching the attack from orbit.
The UN is in an uproar, the USA is scrambling to find out what happened, the USSD is being
roasted for not stopping the attack, and the Diet is demanding an explanation from everyone.
About the only ones who aren't on the hot seat are GENOM and Quincy."
"Wonderful." Daley downed the rest of his coffee in one go, and stood up slowly. "Since
Inspector McNichols is on vacation, you can partner up with me. I'll give you the ten-yen tour
of our happy establishment, then we can head out."
"Sure."
An ADP officer strode up to the pair just then. "Inspector," said the officer. "The Chief
wants to see you."
"Oh, glory," muttered Daley, scratching his head. He waved at Ko. "Stay here while I see
what the Chief wants."
"No problem."
Daley shuffled over to the Chief's office, and knocked on the door. He heard what sounded
like "Enter" and opened the door and walked in.
Like Leon, Daley didn't like the chief much. Unlike Leon, he was better at hiding his
dislike. The man was a weak leader, a bureaucrat of the worse sort. While Chief Todo had been a
veteran police officer who done his best to support his men in the field, this new chief was
completely clueless. The fact he looked like a mildly successful United States President from
late in the last century didn't help much.
You wanted to see me, Sir?" he asked politely.
The Chief nodded, not bothering to look up from his paperwork. "Is your report on last
night's incident complete yet?"
"No sir. I think it's going to take at least a couple of days to complete it."
"Oh?" The Chief looked up with mild interest. "And why is that?"
"It's going to take a couple of days for the evidence people to go over the area. And
there's going to be teams from everywhere crawling all over the site. The press is calling it an
unprovoked strike from an American satellite, so I expect the Americans to send a team of their
own. The Diet, USSD and the UN are bound to get involved, and I would prefer to talk to them
before I commit the ADP to a stance on this matter."
"I see." If there was one thing the Chief understood, it was bureaucratic wrangling between
different groups.
"Also," Daley continued, "I need to review the reports of the Detachment commanders before
I can complete my own report."
The Chief nodded sagely. "I uderstand. Thank you, Inspector."
"Yes Sir." Daley turned and walked away. As he reached the door, the Chief voice stopped
him again. "There's something else that's bothering me, and I would like your answer."
Daley turned to look at him. "Sir?"
"I understand you had a phone call from Mr. McNichol last night just before you ordered the
ADP units to pull back. Can you explain this?"
Oh, Shit. Daley thought furiously for several seconds, then nodded slowly. It's
stupid,
but it just might fool him. "Yes Sir, I did receive a phone call from Leon last night,
warning me about the satellite attack."
"And how did he know about the attack?"
Here goes nothing. "He's working undercover, sir."
The Chief's face took on a puzzled look. "Undercover?"
"Yes, sir," replied Daley with a straight face.
"But he shouted at me yesterday that I should take this job and sh -"
"All to establish the fact that he'd quit the ADP and wasn't working for us."
"I don't understand."
Because that would take a brain. "Sir, Leon heard from one of his informants that
there was a Corpwar brewing. You heard about the shootings last night involving Boomer-led hit
teams?"
"Yes."
"That was the opening salvo. Leon figured that if he could get inside one of the corps
involved, he could limit the amount of damage to the city. So, he quit publicly, and one of the
Corps picked him up."
"So, the yelling at me . . . "
"Was to convince anyone listening outside that he really was quitting."
The Chief leaned back and stared at Daley. "Why didn't he tell me?"
"He thinks the Corps has agents inside the ADP." He held up a hand at the Chief's expres-
sion of anger. "Not you, Sir. He decided that the fewer people who knew, the better. I had to
know, so as to keep things running along without him. He didn't tell you, just in case you had
to issue a statement denying ADP's involvement in the matter.Plausible denialbilty, I believe is
the correct term."
"Oh."
"If you check his file, it notes that it lists him as on vacation."
"I see. And he didn't mean those things he said about me?"
"No, Sir."
"Thank you, Inspector. I need to think some on this subject. That's all."
Daley left the office, his mind whirling. Why didn't you just tell him Leon's actually a
secret agent for the USSD? That might have been more believable!
He was aware of Kosaku Sanemori waiting by his desk, waiting for him. "You all right,
Inspector?"
Daley gave him a tired smile. "First rule around here is call me Daley, not Inspector.
Ready for a tour?"
Dastari's Restaurant
Tinsel City
December 22, 2035
11:03am
"I don't believe you," Sylia replied coolly. "The Hardsuits are Katsuhito Stingray's
creations."
Greg shrugged. "I'm telling you the truth. The original idea for the Hardsuits was his, as
was most of the work on the outer shells. But, you know that he didn't have the skill or the
knowledge to design some of the components you use, like the innerwear suits, or the weapons
systems."
"Then who does? And what really happened at Bioescape?"
Greg sipped his tea. "I should start at the beginning. My mother told me most of the story,
the rest I found out on my own or I can guess at. Your father's work on Boomers was well known
in the science community. So when he contacted my mother and several other people, invited them
into the project, they jumped at the chance."
Sylia nodded. "That's why you came here."
"Yes. Mother thought the experience of living in another country would be good for me." He
refilled his teacup, added milk and sugar, and stirred slowly.
"After my mother and the others arrived," he continued slowly, "your father told them the
truth. He was closer to perfecting the Boomer design then anyone else knew. But he saw Mason's
greed, and he didn't trust Quincy. He realized that there was a need for something to counter
the strength and power of a Boomer. Thus, the idea of hardsuits was born. In the hands of the
right people, they would be the best defense against rampaging Boomers."
"He was right."
"Your father realized that he couldn't openly devote time and money to hardsuit develop-
ment. He was sure Mason and GENOM had agents inside Bioescape. So, while he directed all
attention and publicity on the Boomer project, the team working on the hardsuits worked in the
shadows. They were supposedly perfecting several minor sub-systems for the Boomer project that
had already been completed."
He looked at Sylia. "But Mason caught wind of the project, and put pressure on Doctor
Stingray to share the hardsuit designs with GENOM."
Sylia was silent for a minute. "That's why Mason killed him. Not for the Boomer plans, but
for the hardsuits designs."
Greg nodded. "I don't know if Mason was acting on orders from Quincy, or on his own, but he
was definitely after the designs. But by the time he made his move, it was too late. Your father
had disbanded the hardsuit development team and purged the computer systems in Bioescape of all
related data. Finally, he gave copies of the hardsuit designs to three team members, including
Dr. Raven. My mother was one of those three. Mason and GENOM got nothing but the Boomer
designs."
"And the other member?"
"I don't know. Mother doesn't know, or will not tell me. For my own protection, or so she
tells me. I suspect that's why several of Doctor Stingray's associates had 'fatal accidents'
over the years."
"So, what happened after the team was disbanded?"
"GENOM came sniffing around my mother, but they didn't find anything. All they could find
out was she had done some minor work on the Boomer project, then left several months before the
explosion that killed your father. And Mason wasn't about to arrange an `accident' for my mother
- my father let him know that wasn't a ggood idea."
"What did he do?"
Greg's smile became grim. "MALCORP was a subcontractor on the particle beam satellites.
Among my father's talents was that of a system programmer. He quietly incorporated a fail-safe
into the targeting system during the last stages of the design process. He told Mason that if my
mother met with a fatal 'accident' of any sort, the satellites would fire and eliminate every
single GENOM tower on the planet within five minutes of her death."
Sylia leaned back and looked at him in shock. "Is it still active?" she asked slowly.
Greg shook his head. "One of the first things I did as CEO of MALCORP was to shut down the
fail-safe. It would need a special key to start it up again." His smile became warmer. "Of
course, only three people know I've done it -- Myself, Mother, and now you. As far as GENOM's
concerned, the system is still in place."
Sylia closed her eyes. "That's a relief." She opened them again. "I'm surprised, however,
you let such a weapon slip away so easily. There's several others that would kill to have a
weapon like that."
"And become the next GENOM?" asked Greg sharply. He stared out the window again. "When I
saw what those particle beams did to Aqua City, the GENOM towers in Chicago, Berlin, and Sydney,
I couldn't leave it in place, no matter how much GENOM deserved it. Too many innocent people
would die."
"So, why did you end up with hardsuits designs? And why the Black Knights?"
"I guessing now, so don't take this as one hundred percent fact, but it should be somewhat
close to the truth." He paused, then started. "Your father knew that it would take more then
superior hardware to keep the Boomers from rampaging wildly. It would take people, special
people to carry the fight."
"Yes."
Greg put his teacup down. "But who is he going to trust to continue the fight against
GENOM? Most of the people he's working with are too old to go running around in hardsuits,
assuming that they're not spies for GENOM. And would you give a person off the street a
hardsuit?"
"Not without knowing them really well."
"Exactly. But what about the children of those same researchers? They're young enough to
adapt the mind set, and aren't yet under the influence of corporate loyalties. But he can't
recruit just any child. They have to be bright enough, physically active, and mentally tough."
"So," interrupted Sylia, "Father quietly watches the children of his coworkers, looking for
the right type to recruit."
"Yes. Think back to that group of kids we were apart of. How many do you think could climb
into a hardsuit and go out Boomer hunting today?"
Sylia was silent for a moment. "Not many," she replied at last.
"'Not many' is right. I think only you and I made the cut."
Sylia looked out the window. "What else did you receive besides the hardsuit designs?"
"Very perceptive," replied Greg. "I got a data cassette as a sixteenth birthday present. A
very special Data cassette."
"What was the number on it?"
"Number one." He grimaced in memory. "I had a headache for a week after viewing it. What
was the number on yours?"
"Mine was Number two." She looked away from the window and gave him a small smile in
sympathy. "You're not alone in having a headache after viewing the data cassette. But why your
sixteenth birthday?"
"When did you receive yours?"
"Right after Father's death."
"I see." Greg thought for a minute, sipping his tea as he did so. "Your cassette was his
insurance policy."
Sylia nodded. "I always knew that father was a meticulous planner, but for something like
this...."
They were silent for a moment, then Greg said, "If your father had lived, I'm certain he
would've guided your course in life very much as you've done on your own. He would have taught
you and Mackie everything that was on that data cassette at a slower pace, and groomed you to
take either his place, or command the hardsuit team. But he never got the chance."
"But why did you get a cassette?"
"Because I was halfway around the world. For me to come anywhere near this city after we
left would have peaked GENOM's interest, something Doctor Stingray wanted to avoid." He
chuckled. "I expect that I was also a gunia pig with the imprinting process."
"And how did it work?"
"So damn well, it's scary. I went from being an above average student to an exceptional
pupil overnight. I earned my bachelor's degree in three years, my MBA a year and a half after
that."
Sylia nodded in understanding. "I experienced the same thing."
He waved a hand causally. "After college, I worked for MALCORP in different departments,
learning the nut and bolts of the business under the best people my father had. When he died
several years ago, I became the CEO of the fifth largest Megacorp in the world."
"What about the Black Knights?"
Greg paused to sip some tea. "I organize the first team six months after I took over
MALCORP. I recruited people I could trust, trained them, and led them for the first six months."
"What happened after that?"
"My duties as CEO began to eat into my time. I couldn't lead the Black Knights and
effectively run a Megacorp at the same time. MALCORP simply won out, as the corporation as
several hundred thousand employees who depended on me doing my job. I expanded the unit to six
three-man teams, and I still supervise the overall operations. But, these days, I only put on
the armor if the mission is important, or personal. This mission is both."
"I see. What do you want from the Knight Sabers?"
"As I said before, an alliance between the Black Knights and the Knight Sabers. Somewhere
in this city, there is one scared and lonely fourteen-year old girl. She's been torn away from
her family, her father killed, all because she's got the plans for new technology in her memory.
Between our two groups, we can rescue her."
"Your people seem capable of doing the job."
"We don't know the city like your people do. The freelancers we were using have gone under-
ground because our enemy went after them last night."
"Fargo's one of your freelancers?"
Greg nodded. "Several others weren't as lucky as you two were. From the makeup of the group
last night, all the hit teams were Boomer led. I sent word out to the freelancers to go under-
ground. I don't risk people unnecessarily."
"What's in it for us?"
"Fifty million up front, one hundred million more when the actual location is found."
"Interesting." Sylia sipped her own tea. Time to find out how much interest he has in
the girl, and how much is in the technology she has locked in her mind.
"Interesting?"
"The money isn't the problem."
"But?"
"What about the shield technology Janie has in her memory?"
She saw Greg stiffen. What are you reacting to?
"What about it?"
"What are your plans for it?"
Greg's face darkened with anger, and his eyes narrowed. "That goddamned shield generator
should never have been created," he said, his words low and hard. "If I could remove the
memories from Janie's mind with a wave of my hand, I would so without a second thought. Because
of that piece of technology, nearly twenty people are dead, twice as many are wounded or
injured, and Janie is going through God knows what. All I want is Janie back. Everything else
can go to hell."
Sylia looked at him, her mind analyzing his words. There's a ring of truth there. Enough
to trust him - for now. "All right, I think we can discuss terms. Make I make a phone call
first?"
Greg finished his tea, and poured himself another cup. "Go ahead."
Sylia pulled out her cellar phone and dialed the number for the special line in Raven's
garage. It rang twice, then was picked up in the middle of the third ring. /Hello?/ asked a
cautious male voice.
"Mackie. Staying out of trouble?"
She heard him relax slightly as he heard the code phase for 'everything's OK'. /Sis, are
you all right?/ he asked slowly.
"Yes, I'm sitting here with Greg Mallory right now. I called to make sure everything's all
right."
She could almost hear the gears turn in Mackie's head as he thought of a reply. He knew the
line was prone to being tapped, so any direct reference to anything dealing with the Medusa
protocols or the Knight Sabers was out of the question. /I take it then the job you wanted me to
do at one o'clock is on hold, right?/
"Yes, but stay where you are for now. Greg and I have some business to discuss, and I'll
call you back in a couple of hours. Greg did tell me some good news about a friend of ours, the
one we were so worried about."
/How is she?/
"Not too bad, considering the accident she was in. I'll call you with details when she can
receive visitors."
/Great! I'll call the others, and let them know the good news./
"I'll talk to you in a couple of hours. Bye." She hung up, and replaced the phone in her
handbag.
Just then, Marla walked up to the table. "Excuse me, sir. This just came in." She handed
Greg a folded sheet of paper.
Greg unfolded the sheet and read the message. The expression on his face became one of
curiosity as he read the note. "Interesting," he said finally.
"What is?" asked Sylia.
"What are you doing tonight?"
That question caught her flatfooted. What type of question is that? "I-I don't know," she
managed to stammer out.
Greg gave her a quirky smile. "It seems Quincy has decided to see what I'm doing on his
turf. He just sent me an invitation to have dinner with him tonight."
"And you want me to accompany you to this dinner?"
"Why not? It should be a pleasant experience."
Sylia stared at him. "I don't believe you. You haven't changed - you're still full of
surprises."
"Thank you. Now, are you free tonight? I promise you, no business talk, or other work
related subjects. Just you, me, Quincy, and a cast of thousands."
She chuckled softly. "You don't quit, do you?"
"I'm not allowed to." He grew serious again. "If I had my choice, Quincy could go jump off
GENOM tower. I don't want to see the old ghoul, but I can't ignore him."
"And Janie?"
"I've got my people looking over a prime suspect right now."
"It wouldn't be Gulf and Bradley Japan, would it?"
Greg raised an eyebrow. "You are well informed, aren't you?"
"Fargo listed them as a wild card. He also said that the head of the local branch, Carlton
Bradley, is ruthless and his sister Cora is crazy."
"A fair assessment of both of them."
"They're your prime suspect?"
"They are."
Sylia looked out the window. "I think dinner would be a nice idea. What time should I be
ready?"
"According to the note, dinner starts at eight. Is seven o'clock early enough?"
"Seven o'clock is fine."
"About your fee...."
Sylia removed a small pad and pencil from her purse, wrote a series of numbers on a slip of
paper, and handed the slip to Greg. "The account is at the First National Bank of Hong Kong. How
soon can you make the transfer?"
Greg waved Marla over. "Ten minutes. I want to route the money through several accounts
before depositing it." He handed his assistant the slip of paper and whisper the instructions to
her. She nodded and left them alone.
He leaned forward, placed his elbows on the table, and steepled his fingers. "What about
your team mate?"
"Have Leon drive Priss to her trailer. I'll have someone meet them there. Is three o'clock
a good time?"
"They'll be there."
Sylia stood. "I want a free hand in this VanDell matter."
"You have it." He reached inside his suit and handed her a business card. "I can be
contacted at this number at any time."
She took the card. "I'll let you know what I've turned up. It's been good to see you,
Greg."
"Same here. See you at seven o'clock."
"Until then."
Sylia turned and walked away. She had some phone calls to make, and some planning to do.
She just hope she could trust Greg....
GENOM Tower
MegaTokyo, Japan
December 22, 2035
11:56am
Quincy was standing at the window when Faust entered the office.
"What is it?" the chairman asked, not looking away from the window.
"I've just received word from Mr. Mallory's personal assistant that Mr. Malloy has accepted
your dinner invitation for this evening."
"Excellent. Have the dinner arrangements been made?"
"Yes Sir. Also, Mr. Mallory is bringing a guest."
Quincy turned and looked at Faust. "Who is it?"
"Miss Sylia Stingray."
"Indeed?" The GENOM chairman smiled. It wasn't a warm smile. "An interesting turn of
events. You have included her in the arrangements?"
"I thought it prudent to do so, Sir."
"Excellent. Enough about pleasure for now. What is the latest regarding Gulf and Bradley
Japan?"
Faust adjusted his glasses. "Something is going on there. There's increased security in
effect, and the Bradley twins have not been seen in public for several days."
"I thought so," murmured Quincy. "What do our spies inside Gulf and Bradley say?"
"As I said, there's a very tight lid on security at Gulf and Bradley Japan. Ozu is very
cautious, and our people can't find out what's going on without risking their cover."
Quincy turned to face his assistant. "If there is no other way, they are to risk everything
to find out what's going on there. Those two are up to something, I just know it."
"Sir, do you think it was Gulf and Bradley Japan that kidnaped Janie VanDell?"
"I do. For what reason, I do not have an answer - yet. How is the Gulf and Bradley Main
Office reacting to the latest developments here?"
"They're taking a wait and see attitude. Janson Bradley is not certain about what's going
on, but he's not about to step in unless he has to."
Quincy sat down behind his desk and leaned back. "What about your investigation into the
missing Boomers?"
"My team is in place and they have started running down possible leads. I'm sorry I can't
give you a solid timetable on this matter."
"I want this matter resolved, no matter how long it takes. You are dismissed."
Faust strode hurriedly out of the office. Quincy stared at the office door for several
minutes, deep in thought. He turned his chair to face the window. His eyes picked out the squat
glass and metal Gulf and Bradley-Japan building among the MegaTokyo skyline and stared at it for
several more minutes in silence. Then, he whispered in an amused tone, "Think you can challenge
me? We'll see if you have any of your father in you...."
Chapter 25
Highway 4
MegaTokyo, Japan
December 22, 2035
12:04pm
Sylia waited until she had steered her car out into traffic before she dialed Mackie on the
more secured car phone. He answered it on the second ring. /Is it OK to talk now, Sis?/
"Yes."
/How did it go?/
"Better then I thought." She outlined the conversation in several sentences. After she
finished, she said, "I think we can cancel the Medusa protocols."
Sylia heard her brother exhale slowly in relief. /You won't get an argument from me on
that. What now?/
"Can you get hold of Linna and Nene? I want us all at Priss' trailer when Leon shows up."
/I think I can swing it. What about the job for Greg?/
"After you call Nene and Linna, check the Hong Kong account. Once you've confirmed the
money's been transferred, start a rundown on Gulf and Bradley Japan. Once we've retrieved Priss,
I'll have Nene crack into their system."
/I'm on it. Er . . . one other thing, Sis?/
"What?"
/How is Greg Mallory these days?/
Sylia was silent for a minute as she tried to put her thoughts together. "He's still much
the same, and yet . . . " she stopped, uncertain of how to continue.
/Yet what?/
"I don't know. It's kind of hard to describe right now."
/Try me./
"I'm having dinner with him tonight."
/You're WHAT?/
Sylia smiled. "You seemed surprised, little Brother."
/I...er...well..YES!/
"And the dinner's going to be at GENOM Tower."
She heard the sounds of disbelief and shock on the other end of the phone line. After
several seconds, Mackie managed to croak out, /Are you crazy, Sis? This could be a trap!/
"It isn't."
/How do you know that?/
"I just know." She glanced at her watch. "You better get started. I'll see you in about an
hour."
/OK, Sis. I just hope you know what you're doing./
"I do. Good-bye, Mackie."
/Good-bye./
Sylia replaced the receiver in its cradle, and concentrated on her driving.
AD Police Headquarters
December 22, 2035
12:09pm
"...system is three years out of date," continued Alan, pointing to several lines on his
computer screen.
"Why haven't they upgraded?" asked Nene. The ADP system security was worse than she
thought. She hadn't realized how bad it was until Alan calmly described the problems and
possible solutions. It had been an informative hour on the massive task ahead of her.
Alan frowned. "One word: Money."
"I should have guessed. Can we cobble something together ourselves?"
"We can try. It may take some time though."
Nene bit her lip in thought. She was beginning to warm up to the task ahead of her. To
secure ADP's computer system was going to be interesting indeed. "How often do Crackers use this
path into the system?"
"One out of ten. But the ones who use it are the serious type, including Hacker forty-
four."
Nene stiffed a giggle behind a coughing fit. In the last hour, she'd discovered that Hacker
forty-four had become a personal bugbear of Alan's. He was convinced this cracker was a member
of the Knight Sabers, and had taken more then a little interest in tracking her down. The irony
that his nemesis was now his superior was almost laughable. It also meant she was going to be
extremely careful from now on.
"You OK, Boss?"
Nene inhaled. "I'm fine," she assured him. "Let's start with the closing up of the obvious
holes in the system and go from there."
The phone ran, interrupting them. Before Nene could react, Alan reached over and picked up
the receiver. "Computer Security Officer, Corporal Tremolini speaking . . . Yes she is. Who's
calling please?...One moment, please." He looked at Nene. "Phone for you, Boss," he said
grinning. "Says he's your boyfriend."
The redhead snatched the receiver out of his hand and glared at him. Alan was still smiling
as he stood. "I'm going for a short walk," he announced, stretching slowly. "Back in a bit."
With a wave, he walked out of the office and closed the door behind him.
Once the door clicked into place, Nene spoke into the receiver, "Mackie?"
/Yep./
"You idiot!" she hissed. "What's the idea of calling me here and telling my subordinate
you're my boyfriend?"
/I didn't want to give him my name./
"I'm going to have enough trouble with him without him thinking I'm some giggling school-
girl!"
/I didn't lie to him, did I?/
Nene sighed. "No, you didn't. Just don't this a habit, OK?"
/Don't worry. I called to tell you Sylia met with Greg Mallory for lunch, and Greg told
Sylia that Priss is alive./
A sense of relief washed over Nene. "How is she?"
/Banged up but still breathing. Sylia wants to know if you'll be free this afternoon./
"What's up?"
/Leon's dropping off Priss at her trailer this afternoon. Want to be part of the welcome
wagon?/
"I think I can be there. Does Sylia want us in formal dress for this?"
/Yep. Pick you up about two o'clock?/
"That sounds good. I'd better get going. See you about two."
/Bye./
Nene hung up the phone, leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. Tension she hadn't
realized she had loosened in her neck and shoulders, and she relaxed completely. Priss was
alive!
Alan opened the door and strolled back into the office. "Ah, the excitement of having a
social life," he said dryly when he saw Nene. "I hope you're not too attached to it."
She opened her eyes and frowned at him. "What do you mean?"
He returned it with a shrug. "I haven't had a date in eighteen months, and I can't remember
the last time I talked to someone about any subject that didn't involve the ADP, computer
security, or Crackers. It wasn't until I got home yesterday that I realized I'd spent the last
two and a half days in this office. To say this department is understaffed is like saying GENOM
Tower is big."
Nene closed her eyes and tried hard not to grit her teeth. "How understaffed?"
"There should be a minium of four people in this department, with eight being even better."
"What does Lieutenant Asaikeda say?"
Alan glanced outside the office door before he closed it slowly and walked over to Nene.
"Lieutenant Asaikeda is completely clueless," he said in a low voice. "He's a nice guy and tries
his hardest, but computer technology detail is something he can't comprehend. He's smart enough
to let most of the people under him do their own thing, but try and explain something to him . .
. " he waved his hand in the air. "Instant zone out."
"What about the other departments?"
Alan shuddered. "They guard their turf like a mama grizzly bear guarding its young. Most
won't even talk to me, as I'm 'acting' department head. They'll talk to you, but I wouldn't
expect a miracle. It'll be easier getting blood out of a Boomer."
Nene closed her eyes again, the beginning of a rather large headache forming in her
temples. She heard Alan move to his desk, remove something from a desk drawer, then move into
her cubical. She opened her eyes as he dropped two small pills into her hand. "What are these?"
she asked.
"Pain killers," he replied quietly, handing her a glass of water. "You look like you could
use them."
"Thanks." Nene took the pills, followed it with the contents of the glass. "I hadn't
realized the situation was so screwed up."
"No one outside the department does. You're going to spending as much time fighting with
the other support sections as you will be fending off crackers and other intruders."
"Oh great," moaned Nene
"It's not that bad. I know the people involved, who to trust, and who not to. You may have
to fight the other sections, but you won't be fighting in the dark. That's a promise."
"Thanks, Alan."
"No problem, Boss." He gave her a silly grin. "I'm now dependent on your performance
evaluations, so I'd better help you do you job."
"You're not upset that I've come in to take charge of the department?"
"Why should I be? They're not going to give me the department anytime soon. Besides, I'd
like to have someone to talk to besides myself."
"You don't miss the street?"
The smile faded from Alan's face. "I do. I won't give you the entire song and dance
routine, but I don't belong here."
"Your medical condition?"
He nodded. "I was given a choice, either take a support position inside the ADP, or retire
on a medical disability. I took the support position."
"You don't want to tell me about your condition?"
"Not right now. Sometime in the future, maybe. All I will say is that I'm not going to got
crazy and start shooting people at random anything soon."
"Do you want to give your fellow officers a hand in evening the odds somewhat against
Boomers?"
Alan snorted. "Short of joining the Knight Sabers, I don't see how."
Looks like I hit a sore spot. Nene looked at Alan carefully, looking for signs of nervous-
ness or unease. There was none in his stance. "Nothing as active as that," she said finally.
"Do you want to start a blood drive among the support staff?"
Nene took a deep breath. No time like the present. "I'm putting together a team to
do some special work for Daley and Leon. Are you interested?"
"Doing what?" Alan's face was serious, despite the light tone of his words. "Cracking
GENOM's computer security for Boomer design specs?"
"In a word, yes."
There was silence for several seconds. Nene's mouth went dry as she thought that maybe
she'd moved too fast. The expression on Alan's face was unreadable.
Finally, Alan smiled. "Sure, boss. Count me in."
Nene didn't realize she'd been holding her breath until she exhaled. "Thanks Alan."
Alan shrugged. "If I can't blast Boomers on the street myself, I can try and give my
friends a shot at it." He cocked his head. "You got a hot date tonight?"
Nene reddened. "That was my boyfriend. He'd called to tell me a friend who was in an
accident last night is getting out of the hospital today."
"What time?"
"Three o'clock today."
"Going to go see your friend?"
"Yes. Is that all right?"
Alan shrugged. "Hey, you're the boss. You set your own hours."
"It's not like that!" Nene shouted. "My friend was traveling along the Coastal Highway last
night, when the...."
"Hold on!" Alan put his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "You convinced me, Boss. What
time is your boyfriend picking you up?"
"Two."
"Good." He looked at his watch. "That gives us time for lunch, then another hour of
explaining the system. speaking of which, are you ready for lunch?"
"Sure. You buying?"
"I suppose I can, this being your first day and all...."
Near Highway 17
District 6
December 22, 2035
1:29pm
Daley got out of the car slowly, putting on his sunglasses as he did so. I feel like a
bloody vampire, he thought. He glanced at the crater that started less then a hundred meters
from where he was standing. There were hundreds of emergency personnel, with a smaller number of
emergency Boomers assisting, swarming across the wreckage like ants over a piece of fruit.
Several cranes were in operation, removing rubble and other signs of damage from the surrounding
areas.
Ko climbed out of the car and leaned on the roof. He'd done most of the talking during the
drive, filling in Daley on his background. He was twenty seven years old, single, and had spent
three years with the N-Police before requesting a transfer to the ADP. He'd become a police
officer because his father, uncles, and grandfather had all been police officers.
Daley scowled as he ignored Ko and just stared at the mass of broken concrete before him.
According to the information Daley had already read, there were at least a dozen craters within
a kilometer's radius of this spot. They had been created by at least fifteen objects that had
struck the earth in a matter of a few minutes ten hours before. The shallowest of the craters
were only fifteen meters deep, while the deepest was close to a hundred meters deep and still
too hot to safely approach.
Ko stared at the twisted wreckage that had been the Coastal Highway twelve hours before.
"It didn't look this nasty on television," he said slowly.
Daley looked at him. "It never does," he said roughly. "Be thankful that it happened at
three o'clock in the morning. Imagine the carnage if it had happened twelve hours sooner or
later."
"I don't want to." Ko looked off to his left. "Hold on, we've got a welcoming committee."
Daley glanced in the direction Ko was looking in. A trio of figures was making their way
through the rubble towards the ADP officers. Two of them he recognized at once.
One was Assistant Police Commissioner Mizahara, a tall lean man with narrow eyes and a look
of distaste perpetually etched on his sharp features. He wasn't well like among the officers on
the street. Most thought he was on GENOM's payroll, while others believed he was too stupid to
be worth bribing. After having to deal with him several times, Daley thought it was the latter.
Trailing after Mizahara was a thin woman with flat features, short yellow hair, and wearing
glasses that made her look like a misplaced librarian. She wore the same expression as did the
Police Commissioner, and Daley flinched slightly. Ms. Amiko Dasen, Special Assistant to the Prim
Minster of Japan. The stories about her weren't much better then the ones about Mizahara.
Neither one could be considered a friend of the ADP.
The only one Daly didn't recognize was a short, powerful looking man wearing mottled green-
and-black army fatigues and boots. Unlike the other two, his expression appeared to be neutral,
but Daley had enough experience in reading expression to guess that he had already sized up both
Mizahara and Dasen, and wasn't happy with either one of them.
"Ah, there you are, Inspector," said Mizahara in a nasal voice that was grating on the
nerves at the best of times. This wasn't the best of times. "Have you anything new to report?"
"No sir," replied Daley briskly. "It might take up weeks to sort through this mess."
"Weeks?" replied Dasen. She shook her head. "We can't afford to wait weeks for you to
finish shifting through this, this . . . . " She waved a hand in the direction of the craters.
"Disaster," said the soldier in a deep rumbling voice. He was close enough for Daley to see
the single star on the collar of the fatigues and read WOLFE off the name tag. "But, the
Inspector is right. It could take weeks to shift through all of this."
"Inspector Wong," said Mizahara in a bored tone, "this is Brigadier General Nathan Wolfe,
United States Army. The General is spearheading the American team looking into this event.
General Wolfe, this is Inspector Daley Wong, AD Police." He ignored Ko, who was watching every-
thing in silence.
Wolfe and Daley shook hands. Wolfe's grip was strong, but not overpowering. He gave Daley a
searching look before he stepped back and nodded slightly.
Mizahara looked around, then looked at Daley. "Where's Inspector McNichols?"
"On another assignment, Sir."
"What's more important then getting to the bottom of this?"
"He's undercover, Sir. He's in with one of the groups involved with this destruction."
The Assistant Police Commissioner frowned. "I see." He glanced at his watch. "I've a
meeting to attend with the Mayor and Police Commissioner." He turned to his companions. "Care to
join me?"
Wolfe shook his head. "I want to stay and take another look at what my people have found."
Dasen nodded grimly. "I need to talk to the Mayor about funding for the new construction.
The sooner we settle that, the better."
"Fine." Mizahara glanced at Daley. "I'll let you gentlemen to your work, then." He turned
and walked off to a waiting limo, Dasen following.
Wolfe waited until the limo drove off before he said, "Candy-assed bastards."
Daley shrugged. "They sign the checks."
"Maybe, but they're still Candy-assed bastards." He looked at Daley. "How do you people
function with that bunch making the policy decisions?"
"Badly." Daley pointed at GENOM Tower. "That's the reason why. They're scared of pissing
off Quincy and company."
Wolfe shook his head. "Loose anyone last night in this?"
"We were lucky. We pulled back when we saw the incoming strike."
"What exactly did you see?"
Daley turned and looked at Ko. "Stay here," he said. "The General and I are going to take a
look at the nearest crater."
"Sure thing, Daley."
The pair walked away from the car, toward the lip of the crater. They were halfway when
Daley spoke. "We picked them up as they dropped out of the sky on radar. Some sort of plasma
weapon is my guess."
Wolfe shook his head. "Not exactly a plasma weapon. What happened here was the result of a
Thor strike."
"A what?"
"A Thor Strike. Imagine large steel needles, each weighing a ton, dropped from orbit onto
any target you choose. The heat and friction as the spike passes through the atmosphere turns
the steel into white-hot plasma. When the spike hits, it releases all it's accumulated energy in
one massive explosion."
"Shit," Daley breathed. "Whose satellite?"
Wolfe grimaced. "It was American. A relic from before the Space Weapons Deployment Ban
Treaty. The President didn't know, and I doubt more then a handful of long time Congressmen who
even remember the system being put into place." He glanced in the direction of the crater.
"Hell, the Pentagon only told me about it two fucking hours ago - Three hours after I got here!"
"Does Mizahara know about this?"
Wolfe snorted. "I wouldn't trust that bozo with my shoe size, let alone anything impor-
tant."
Daley kept his voice level. "This wasn't an accident then?"
"Hell no! Those bastards thought some yahoo with more RAM then common sense hacked into the
system and tripped the fail safe." The General reached into a pocket and pulled out a pack of
Gum. He pulled a stick out of the pack, unwrapped it, and placed it in his mouth. He offered the
pack to Daley, who accepted.
After Daley started chewing his stick, Wolfe continued, "This isn't some Hacker prank gone
wrong. Somebody on this planet did this deliberately." He looked at Daley. "I need to know what
the hell happened here last night to cause such a reaction."
"How many spikes hit here?"
"At least a dozen and a half. I've got people checking the status of the few Thor satel-
lites still in orbit. It won't be too difficult to figure out which one was used." He stopped
and stared at the Inspector. "I read McNichol's and your file before I arrive. If those yellow-
backed bastards gave ADP half the support you needed, you wouldn't be up shit's creek without a
paddle. What happened here last night?"
Daley licked his lips. Better tell him the truth. He doesn't look like he'll take
anything less. "Have you ever hear of the Knight Sabers?"