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 41


Gulf and Bradley Biomechanical Research Institute
December 23, 2035
5:22am

	The security boomer was hit with a wave of heavy machine fire, lasers, and gauss needles 
that turn the killing machine into a pile of broken limbs and spurting yellowish-orange fluid 
that spattered the walls and floor of the corridor.

	The smoke hung in the air of the corridor like a unwilling wraith until it began to 
disperse. "Is that the last of them?" Skeeter asked, removing the magazine from his machine gun 
and replacing it with a fresh clip.

	"I think so," replied White One. He glanced back at White Three, who nodded. "It looks 
like we got them all."

	"Fine," replied the giant. He looked at the squad that had come down the elevator shaft 
with them. "All right, spread out and start looking! I want live bodies and undamaged computer 
systems! You've got five minutes! Move!"

	The armed group scattered, leaving Skeeter and the two Black Knights alone in the hall. 
"Any idea how many more sublevels we're going to have to give the once over?" the gang leader 
asked, slipping a new grenade into the launcher under the barrel of his weapon.

	"If we don't find something on this floor, there's two more under this one," replied 
White Three."

	"Wonderful," the giant muttered. "We didn't find anything on the four sub-levels above 
this one." He activated his radio. "Gawain Six to Back Door. Status report!"

	//Back Door here,// said the squad leader left in charge of the lobby. //No change so 
far, but we're hearing a lot of noise coming from floors above us. White Two think  we've got 
five minutes before we find ourselves hip deep in mechanized munches.//

	"Understood. Is Gawain Five aware of the situation?"

	//Affirmative. He's got his team covering as much of the outside as they can manage. 
Permissions to blow the elevator shafts and stairwells?//

	Skeeter closed his eyes. "Only if the boomers use them," he said in a patient tone. "I 
don't want to burry our only way out of this hole, especially with me in it! Understand?"

	//Oh! Er....Affirmative. Just make it quick, Okay? We're beginning to feel like Custer 
and the Seventh Calvary here.//

	"Understood. As soon as Third and Fourth Squads are done with sweeping their sublevels, 
I'm sending them back up. Are the demolition charges in place?"

	//Affirmative. We can flatten this place on your say-so.//

	"Good. Gawain Six out." Skeeter drew the bolt of his machine gun back, sending a fresh 
round into the chamber. "Move it people!" he called out over his radio. "Our back door's about 
to have some unwelcome visitors who are not going to take 'no' for an answer. Third Squad! 
Fourth Squad! How much longer do you have until you're finished with your sublevels?" 

	Suddenly, there was a hiss of superheated air as a laser bolt shot out of a side corridor 
and slammed into the wall ten meters from the trio. That was followed by several shots and a 
lot of yelling from several of Skeeter's men.

	Skeeter cover the distance in a dozen swift strides. His machine gun ready to fire at any 
unwelcome targets. "Hosokoawa!" He bellowed, partly into his radio, but mostly to be heard in 
the hallway. "What the Hell is going on?"

	Hosokoawa darted from around the corner the laser had come and looked up at his leader. 
"We found some live ones in the storage room, Boss," he said hurriedly. 'They must have rigged 
an extra boomer weapon or two. Nearly took Lankan's head off. As it is, he won't need a haircut 
for the next month."

	"Where's the door?"

	"End of the hall. It's the one with the large hole in it."

	Skeeter leaned around the corner. The rest of the squad was either prone on the floor or 
squeezed into doorways that lined the hall. But all had their weapons pointed at the door at 
the far end of the hall, about thirty meters away. The door itself had a large hole in it about 
the size of a softball, and about chest high. The door had been an off-green in color before, 
but there was now more black charring then green to be seen. A mix of burnt ozone and plastic 
floated along with the thin haze of smoke.

	"How do you want to do this?" asked White One. "We don't have time to talk them out!"

	"Leave that to me," growled Skeeter. "You in the storeroom! Can you hear me?"

	"Yes!" a muffled voice replied. "What do you want?"

	"You have a choice! You have five seconds to come up of that storeroom, unarmed and with 
your hands up!'

	"And if we don't come out?"

	Skeeter spun so he was standing out in the middle of the hallway. His finger tighten 
around the trigger of the grenade launcher, sending a round flying down the corridor. The 
grenade slammed into the ceiling just above the storeroom's door and exploded, bringing down a 
knee high pile of ceiling tile, concrete, and ruptured piping. "That will happen," the giant 
shouted. "Only my next round and every round after that will be through the door. You have five 
seconds."

	Skeeter's men, use to their leader's style, were prepared for the demonstration. The 
people in the storeroom, most who had never fired a shot in anger, were not. After about three 
seconds, the door was opened violently and the half stunned technicians stumbled out, hands 
raised, all their faces showing the same terror and uncertainty. There were about a dozen of 
them, dress in a mix of day clothes and sleepware. Skeeter's troops scrambled forward to take 
charge of the prisoners.
                                          
	"An interesting technique," White One remarked.

	"There are times to use a scalpel and there are times to use a sledgehammer," replied 
Skeeter, opening the breech of his grenade launcher and replacing the spent round with a fresh 
one. "This was a sledgehammer time."

	"Assuming these techs have anything to tell us," said White Three.

	White One was watching the prisoners as they were quickly searched. Suddenly, he 
stiffened and stared hard at one of the prisoners. "I want to talk to that man," he said 
pointing at an older man with a thin mustache and short graying hair.

	Skeeter nodded. "Hosokoawa!" he bellowed, pointing at the man White One had picked up. 
The squad leader nodded in reply, gammed the unprotesting man by the arm and escorted him to 
the two Black Knights and Skeeter.

	White One leaned forward and stared at the man, who was dressed in dust smeared pajamas 
and a worn bathrobe. "Doctor Richard Mclaren, I presume?" 

	The man shrank back from the hardsuited figure. "A Black Knight here?" he managed to gasp 
out. "But why? How?"

	"That's no concern of yours Doctor," White One replied cooly

	"You know this one?" asked Skeeter.

	"One of G and B's top boomer designers until he ran into a small problem with the law 
over a small matter of manufacturing combat boomers inside the borders of Japan." White One 
tapped Mclaren in the chest. "The funny thing is, he's suppose to still be in jail."

	"I-I was, until the twins decided that they could use me," Mclaren replied shakily. "I 
wasn't given a choice in the matter."

	"Do you know about the shield equipped boomers?"

	Mclaren nodded. "That's why they yanked me out of prison. They've had me down here for 
over two months building the generators and modifying the boomers to carry them."

	"For that long?" asked White Three.

	"We've only gotten decent design specs in the last several days."

	"From where?" asked White One. "Does Carlton Bradley have an R&D lab somewhere?"

	"I don't know. Carlton Bradley either sends them over, or delivers the design specs 
himself. I have no idea where he's getting them from."

	"I don't believe him," said Skeeter in a flat voice.

	"He could be telling us the truth," White Three said.

	"And maybe Quincy is the lead singer in a grunge band," replied the gang leader in a low 
menacing voice, "but I kind of doubt it." He looked down on the cringing PhD. "I think my 
people could use some target practice," he said in a cold, still voice.

	"It-it's true!" Mclaren stammered. Carlton Bradley was a psychopath, but compared to this 
dark-skinned giant here and now, Carlton was a minor danger somewhere off in the distance. 
"They forced me to work on this insane plan of theirs!"

	Skeeter let his machine gun dangle by the strap and cracked his knuckles. "On the other 
hand, I haven't had a chance to practice on a live sparing partner in a while."

	Hosokoawa, who was still standing behind Mclaren, shrugged. "Not since Ronnie Yee."

	Mclaren's face went white. He should have realized it as soon as he saw him. "You're 
Karns!" he managed to get out.

	"I see you've heard of me," Skeeter replied.

	"What happened to the Red Cobras was the main topic of conversation in the prison yard 
for weeks after they were wiped out." Mclaren looked at White One. "I'll tell you anything you 
want to know, but only if you keep Karns from killing me!"

	The gang leader shrugged. "If you want him, he's yours," he said to White One. "But if 
not," he continued, his expression unreadable, "I'll take him."

	"I think our employer will want to discuss this matter with Doctor Mclaren," replied the 
Black Knight.

	"I'll tell him anything he wants to know!" said Mclaren quickly. "I'll call up all the 
files you want, the schematics for the generator, anything you want!" The mix of Bradley's 
constant pressure, Mclaren's lack of sleep, the sudden attack, the near miss of the grenade, 
and the presence of Skeeter Karns had shattered the shell that he had spent months building up 
while in prison. Right now, a cell somewhere was looking very good right now.

	"I'll get started on the downloads," White Three said. She grabbed Mclaren by the arm. 
"You're coming with me," she said firmly. "I need you to show me the right computers and the to 
supply the correct passwords. And I will warn you once -- keep your hands to yourself, or 
you're going to lose them. Your choice." With that, she dragged the shell-shocked doctor away.

	"Get them all out of here," Skeeter barked to Hosokoawa. "Then, get the squad to plant as 
much plastique as they can in five minutes." Hosokoawa nodded and stated barking out orders. 
The gang leader activated his mike again. "This is Gawain Six to all units. We have what we 
came for people!" he growled. "Third and Fourth squads --break off your search and reenforce 
Back Door. Hold until we join you, our ETA is ten minutes. Gawain Five, stand by to cover our 
withdrawal. We're halfway home people, but we're not out of the woods yet. Gawain Six, out."

	"You certainly scared the shit out of Mclaren," White One remarked.

	"It didn't take much," the giant replied.

	"I thought he'd have a heart attack when you talked about using him for a punching bag. 
You almost had me convinced you were serious."

	Skeeter looked at him. "Whatever made you think I wasn't serious?"

	You mean you would have --"

	"Beaten the hell out of him?" Skeeter shrugged. "I doubt I would have to do anything more 
then grab him by the throat and tell him which bones I would break first before he would have 
started talking anyway."

	"Isn't that a bit...."

	"I believe 'barbaric' is the term you're looking for. But my world is made up of almost 
nothing but barbarians. All they understand is force. Not the 'appearance' of force, not the 
'threat' of force, but solid, overwhelming force applied quickly and in the right place. I 
never make a theat unless I have the means and the will the carry it through to the end. It's 
the only way I and the people who follow me can survive." Skeeter surveyed the hall. "I'd 
better get my people moving." 

	He strode off down the hall, bellowing for Hosokoawa. White One watched him for several 
seconds before he went after White Three and Mclaren. If Skeeter was going to stick to his 
timetable, then they have very little time to grab anything more then the most important stuff 
off the computers. He hoped they had enough time to do that....



Gulf and Bradley - Japan Headquarters
December 23, 2035
5:23am 

	The hallway had fallen strangely silent in the last minute. Both Nene and Red Four were 
working on defusing the laser charges, while their respective leaders watched them. The medic, 
with the assistance of a white-face Doctor Kyso, was in the midst of stabilizing the injured 
VanDell girl. Leon and the last trooper were tasked with guarding the prisoners.

	Next to the stretcher, the cryogenic capsule was open, ready to be used. It reminded 
Sylia uncomfortably of a coffin. The capsule was about seven foot long, dull black in color and 
its shape was that of a somewhat flatten cylinder. There was a clearfaceplate about where the 
face would be, and below that a small panel with lights and indicators sat. A series of U-
shaped handles were welded to the lower half of the capsule, allowing it to be carried. 

	The sound of a nearby explosion made the everyone except the two computer experts to look 
down the hall. The walls vibrated and a thin layer of dust began to drift down from the 
ceiling.

	"That's not my people," said Knight One softly. The fury that had consumed him before was 
now under control, but it still had lost none of its strength.

	"That sounds like a shell of some type," agreed Sylia. She turned to look at Nene and the 
Red Four. "How are you two doing?" she asked.

	"We're making progress," Nene replied. "They didn't take the time to integrate the wiring 
and programming into the normal security systems, but they did add a lot of redundancy that 
we're going to have to hack through."

	"You're running out of time."

	"We know. It'll be close, but I think we can make it."

	Another explosion, closer this time, echoed through the hall. The prisoners shifted 
uneasily and even Leon and the other MALCORP trooper looked nervous. Kyso and the medic 
continued working.

	There was a series of small explosions, mixed in with gunfire, that seemed to be very 
close by. Sylia and Greg looked at each other.

	"I don't like this," said Greg, glancing up and down the hall. "It's --"

	Sylia caught a flash of brown and tan at the far end of the hall. Even as her arm came up 
and began tracking, she recognized the silhouette. "BOOMER!"

	Leon and the other unarmored trooper, both veterans, dropped without hesitation. Knight 
One was only a split second behind White Saber, but he fired first. Sylia and the others were a 
close second, even as the boomer, a BU-12 commando, raised it's own weapon to fire. Lasers and 
armor-piercing bullets struck it, sending sparks and miniature explosions across the boomer's 
entire body.

	Sylia heard someone behind her yell, "Drop!" and she threw herself down just assomething 
was fired from behind her and flew over her head. The projectile struck the staggering 
cyberdroid and immediately, the sparks became compact balls of lightning that began to play 
across the armored skin. With several small explosions that shredded several sections of its 
body, the BU-12 fell over. 

	"Everyone all right?" Red Four asked from the doorway of the storeroom, the muzzle of his 
rifle still pointed in the direction of the downed boomer.

	"We're fine," snapped Knight One. "Get back to the cracking that self-destruction 
system."

 	"Right." Red Four popped back inside the storeroom.

	Sylia stood up slowly. "There's going to be more of them," she said.

	//Red Two to Knight One,// said a voice over the common channel. //We've got problems.//

	"We've got boomers on this floor," said Greg.

	//I take it you already know.//

	"We just ran into one. He isn't getting up anytime soon."

	//Sorry. They came through a hole in the wall and almost into out laps before we knew it. 
We got caught up in a 'mad minute' and took down two of his buddies, but we're expecting more 
guests in the near future. Those new boomers of Bradley's are slowing down GENOM's combat 
boomers, but their shields can't handle the firepower that Quincy's machines are putting out.//

	"In that case, forget the elevators and secure the stairwell. We're out of here as soon 
as Janie is stable and in the capsule."

	//Right. We're heading for the staircase right this second. You'd better boogie ASAP, 
Bro. I'm beginning to loose track of who's side we're on.//

	"The same side we've always been on, the side of the angels."

	//Well, the next time you talk to them, ask for more warning next time we have to fight 
the minions of darkness. This mission is playing havoc with my holiday plans.//

	"I'll tell them. Get going."

	//On our way. Red Two out.//

	"Okay!" shouted the medic. "She's stable enough to be moved!"

	Nene stuck her head out the door of the storeroom. "We've shut down the self-destruct 
devices!" she said excitedly, "And opened the door!"

	"They're too far away for us to go after," Sylia reminded Greg.

	"I know, but that doesn't make it better." Knight One motioned towards the girl on the 
stretcher, letting some of the hate rise into his voice. "For now, I'll have to settle getting 
her back to her mother and make sure that she'll have the best medical care she can get. But 
the Bradleys will pay for this...brutality, even if I have to do it myself. That is a promise."

	"What about the prisoners?" Leon asked.

	Greg looked at the blue-and-pink Saber. "You said the door to the escape staircase is 
open?"

	Nene nodded. Greg looked at the prisoners. "You have two minutes to get down that 
staircase," he said in a cold voice. "After that, all bets are off."

	Given a glimmer of hope, none of the Gulf and Bradley employees wasted the chance. Like a 
pack of frighten lemmings, they charged into the storeroom, past the two hardsuits and into the 
stairwell. The last one into the storeroom was Doctor Kyso. She stopped and turned to face the 
two leaders. "I'm sorry it came to this," she said softly.

	"I'd advise you to find another position," replied Knight One in the same cool voice. 
"The Bradley twins are walking dead, as is anyone who is still allied with them."

	Kyso nodded, a intermingling of fear and sorrow on her pale face. "Only two things 
stopped me from resigning before this," she said. She motioned to Janie. "One was that girl. 
There was no way in hell I could have looked at myself in the mirror if I'd walked out on her." 
she sighed. "The second reason is more mundane -- If I had tried to resign, Carlton Bradley 
would have killed me."

	"You've been given a second chance," said Sylia. "Don't waste it."

	"I'll give it my best shot. Good-bye and good luck." With that, she strode through the 
door and into the stairwell.

	"Can you lock the door again?" Knight One asked Nene.

	"No problem."

	"Do so. Make sure those devices stay dead. I'm sure the police would love to see another 
example of the twin's disregard for life other then their own."

	"Right!" Nene disappeared back into the storeroom.

	"I'm going to need help putting her into the capsule," said the medic.

	Leon and the other trooper moved over to the stretcher and under the medic'ssupervision, 
lifted her off the stretcher and into the capsule. The medic closed the capsule's lid, secured 
it, and with some trepidation, he pressed a large red button on the side of the unit. The unit 
hissed and the small clear faceplate in the lid became thick with frost. After about five 
seconds, the hissing stopped and the medic checked the small panel just under the faceplate. 
"She's stable," he said after ten seconds. "We can move her now."

	"All right," said Knight One. "How many do you need to carry the capsule?"

	"We can get by with three for the short haul."

	The leader of the Black Knights motioned to the trio not wearing hardsuits. "You three 
carry the capsule." he looked at Sylia. "Do you want point, or rear guard?"

	"Rear guard," the White Saber answered.

	"Funny, I had the same thought."

	Red Four and Red Saber came out of the storeroom. "All fixed," the Saber member of the 
pair said. "Nothing short of explosives will open that door now."

	"Good. I want you two to take point, while Me and White Saber will take the rear guard. 
Red Two and the rest of our group will meet us at the stairwell. I want scanners on full and 
expect trouble. We've come too far to become lazy now."

	"Right, Boss," said Red Four 

	The pair started up the hall at a quick jog. The MALCORP troopers reached down, each 
grabbed a handle built into the and lifted the heavy unit. At a quick walk, they lugged the 
life support unit in pursuit of the point people. After several seconds, Greg and Sylia started 
after them. As they stated out, Greg opened the common channel. "Knight One to Red Two. We're 
on our way."



	Doctor Yin Zin-Choon was feeling something he hadn't experienced in years -- Fear.

	He crouched in a empty office, five stories above the ongoing battle in the street,
watching the fight with some dread. The boomers attacking the building, Zin-Choon guessed that 
were from GENOM, were in turn attacked by other boomers that had appeared out of nowhere. 

	The Doctor didn't wonder where the second group of boomers had come from. His knowledge 
of technology outside of his field was limited, but he knew why the Bradleys had hired him and 
he recognized the possibilities with this new technology. But a look outside told him that the 
technology applications were still in its early stages. Even with the element of surprise and 
some sort of shielding, the new Gulf and Bradley's boomers were being destroyed by the heavier 
armed combat boomers. Still, the GENOM boomers were suffering losses themselves and the fewer 
boomers left, the greater the chance of escape.

	Zin-Choon watched the battle in silence, his mind working on a possible escape plan. The 
last twelve hours had turn an interesting, if somewhat unusual, case of information retrieval 
into a complete and all-out disaster. He'd been getting ready for the next interrogation 
session with the VanDell girl when the attacked started. A couple of phone calls before the 
internal lines went dead had failed to get hold of either Carlton Bradley or his sister. Under 
the circumstances, getting out of the building as quickly as possible was the prudent thing to 
do. So, he'd left and tried to escape the battle.

	But getting out was difficult, Between the fires, explosions, and the boomers of both 
sides shooting at anything moving, regardless of affiliation, a simple task had become a 
nightmare. Armed with only a small automatic, Zin-Choon knew if he met any boomers, he'd die.

	Still, he might cheat death yet again. The GENOM boomers were now concentrating on the 
immediate threat of the Gulf and Bradley boomers. If luck was with him, he could get out. Which 
what he had in his briefcase, he might not only come out alive, but well-paid to boot.

	He reached down and caressed the briefcase. He had always been a careful man, careful not 
to make a final report until he was sure the subject had told him everything of value. Janie, 
by slashing her wrists, had delayed the final session, but she had said enough. Zin-Choon had 
delayed telling Carlton anything important until he was certain the girl had told him every-
thing, but the information he had already sifted from her mind was still valuable.

	With the record of the transcripts he had in the attach‚, any Megacorps would save months 
of research, months saved that they would be willing to pay for. GENOM would, for one, as would 
the main branch of Gulf and Bradley. Maybe even MALCORP....

	Zin-Choon didn't care about the consequences, money being more important then vague ideas 
like 'responsibility' and 'accountability'. All he did was supply the data asked for by his 
employers. He had no say on what they did with the data or how it was used after he had turned 
it over to them, and he frankly didn't care. He was a retriever of information, not someone who 
would act upon it.

	A 125 millimeter shell slamming into the office two doors down from his current location 
told the Doctor it was time to move. He went to the office door with a swiftness that belie his 
age, and carefully open the door. The hallway was empty. Seizing his chance, he stepped out 
into the hall and started down the corridor.

	It was then that fate, or an unseen hand of vengeance, made itself known.

	Doctor Yin Zin-Choon was ten meters away from the office door when a pair of tan-and-
brown BU-12 boomers came around the corner in front of him. Even as the shock of the sudden 
appearance flashed through the human's mind, a trio of GBS-33 came charging down the corridor 
from the opposite direction.

	The two sets of boomers, while operating under different protocols, had very much the 
same set of instructions: search for and destroy the enemy. In the case of the Gulf and Bradley 
boomers, they were operating under the Zeta Protocols, which turned the boomers into psycho-
pathic killers of everything and everyone in and around the building with the exception of 
their own model. The GENOM boomers, on the other hand, were following their own programming 
with some updated priorities to take in account certain members of the Gulf and Bradley leader-
ship. However, Doctor Yin Zin-Choon was not one of those in the GENOM boomers' memory.

	To be fair to the boomers, both sides were targeting the other boomers when they opened 
fire. But they had neglected to consider the human between them as nothing more then a minor 
obstacle between them and the real targets. The corridor filled with laser and bullets as each 
side tried to erase the other through sheer firepower.

	Caught between the two sides and that much firepower, Doctor Yin Zin-Choon could only do 
one thing -- he died. For a brief instance, he felt much of the pain he had dealt out over the 
years, as lasers and bullets tore into his body, but the time passed and so did the doctor's 
life. In a matter of seconds, the only thing left of the torture specialist was a shattered, 
charred corpse. The briefcase he had carried was nothing more then a burnt lump of ash, it's 
contents destroyed.

	Heedless of the Doctor's gruesome death, the two sides continued to blaze away at the 
other side. Two of the GBS-33 fell quickly, smoke and fluids pouring out of every tear in their 
armor, but the third hung on long enough to fire a shot that amputated the right arm of one of 
the BU-12s. The blistering return fire from the two BU-12's annihilated the last GBS-33.

	As soon as the last Gulf and Bradley boomer fell, the two GENOM boomers stopped firing 
and scanned the hallway. Satisfied that there were no more threats present, then moved on, 
continuing their programed mission....



Near Gulf and Bradley - Japan Headquarters
December 23, 2035
5:26am 

	The tunnel was narrow and for the most part, dark. The only light came from the 
flashlights that all three escapees carried. The Boomer bodyguard lead the way, followed by 
Cora, with Carlton brining up the rear, occasionally looking back over his shoulder for any 
signs of pursuit. He wrinkled his nose at the smell, but compared to what was behind him, it 
was a minor thing.

	The stairwell had connected to a sub-basement that, in turn, lead to this tunnel. The 
tunnel itself ran adjacent to the sewers for a couple of kilometers before it would lead to an 
underground garage and escape vehicles. But while the tunnel was separate and had no direct 
access to the sewers, the smell somehow permeated through the walls and into the tunnel. The 
Boomer bodyguard assured his charges that the air, while foul smelling, was still breathable.

	"How long before those charges go off?" Cora asked, her voice echoing in the tunnel.

	Carlton glanced at his watch. "Another minute," he said.

	"Are we far enough away?"

	"I think so. We are well outside the blast radius." He addressed the boomer. "Jiro, how 
long before we reach the garage?"

	"A minimum of another ten minutes at out current rate of speed, Sir," the boomer replied.

	"Pick up the pace."

	"Yes Sir." The boomer immediately began to walk faster, forcing the Bradley twins to pick 
up their own pace. The floor of the tunnel, dry and free of any mold or mildews, echoed with 
the increased tempo.

	They walked along in silence until Carlton said, "Stop."

	Cora turned to look at her brother. "What's wrong?" she asked.

	The charges should have gone off by now."

	Cora frowned. "Maybe we're too far away to hear them."

	"But we should have felt them, at the very least."

	"Do you think the Sabers and Knights stopped the charges going off?"

	"A disturbing but very real possibility." 

	"They could have gotten the door open too."

	"True." Carlton looked at the bodyguard. "Jiro, how far are we from the garage?"

	"Approximately seven hundred meters, Sir."

	"Good. I want you to go and secure the garage for us. Make sure it has not been com-
promised. If it has not, prepare the best of the escape vehicles, then come back to us. If 
it has been compromised, scout out the situation and come back to us for further orders. You 
are not to initiate combat unless there is opposition and you have been seen by them. Do you 
understand your orders?"

	"Yes Sir."

	"Then go."

	The boomer turned and started down the tunnel, moving quicker then it had before. Cora 
and Carlton followed at a slower pace, but still quicker then before. In a matter of minutes, 
the illumination from the boomer's flashlight had vanished in the darkness.

	"I wish we had mined the tunnel too!" Cora hissed. "We could have dropped it on their 
heads!"

	"No use crying over spilt milk," Carlton said easily. "Even if they managed to open the 
door to the stairwell, we have too great a lead for them to catch us now."

	"I hope you're right. We can't let this go unpunished, brother. We must have our 
revenge."

	"And we will, but here and now is not the place and time for it. We must escape first, 
then we can strike at a time and place of our own choosing."

	The conversation died after that, as both concentrated on reaching the safety of the 
garage.




Chapter 42


ARNPTSE Storage compound
December 23, 2035
5:26am


	"Here they come again!"

	Chika snarled a harsh word and went to the window. The threat of dawn was in the air, but 
the group of about three dozen men charging out of the warehouses towards her position was more 
dangerous. The ground between the warehouses and the single standing office building was 
littered with shallow craters, torn up swaths of dirt, shattered concrete and the equally 
fragmented bodies of a dozen Yakuza gunmen. The area was backlit with the out-of-control fires 
raging through the warehouses, and Chika was concerned that the fire department was going to 
put in an appearance at any moment.

	This was the third time in the last five minutes the Yakuza gunmen had tried to assault 
her people's position, and Chika was angry at the stupidity of the leaders. "Wait until they're 
closer this time!" she snapped into her radio. "We want them in range of the claymores!"

	//Hokay, Boss.//

	"Why the hell are they doing this?" Chika hissed out loud.

	Suyuri, who was in the room with her, shrugged. "Given a choice between having to explain 
to Sato why they lost one of his drug labs and dying, most are choosing to die."

	"That's stupid!" Chika snarled.

	The ex-solider shrugged again. "Which would you rather do -- fight boomers with no heavy 
weapons of any type, explain to your Oyabun how you managed to loose an entire drug lab to 
another gang, or try and kill us and regain control of the lab? The worse we can do to them is 
shoot or frag them. Boomers aren't as considerate, and neither is Sato." 

	Chika ignore him for the moment. "Galahad Six to Galahad Red Six. What is your location?"

	The channel was scratchy and //...three minutes....We have one seriously wounded 
Knight....four dead among Galahad Blue.//

	"Damn interference," she muttered. "Galahad Six to Galahad Black. Can you see Galahad Red 
and Blue?"

	//Negative, Six. Between the smoke and the heat those fires are putting out, I can't get 
close enough to see anything.//

	"Any sign of the Fire department or the ADP?"

	//Negative, Six. If I didn't know any better, I'd think they'd taken the night off.//

	"Or more likely trying to put out some of the other fires we've started. Stay ready in 
case we --" 

	//They're here!// yelled Fuko over the radio in a high-pitched, sing-song voice.

	"Black, stand by. All Green members -- open fire!"

	Just then, several of the gang members opened fire on the advancing Yakuza. A few fell, 
but the rest came charging, firing their own weapons from the hip and screaming at the top of 
their lungs. More of the defender's guns joined the gunfire, and more Yakuza fell.

	Until they ran into the line of claymores.

	Originally developed and used bu the US Army in the last half of the last century, 
claymores were anti-personal mines, designed to disrupt an enemy's charge. They were covered 
under the land mine ban treaty of 2010, but Skeeter Karns was never a signer, and with Doc's 
help, designed a version that could be useful against boomers. It was this modified design that 
exploded in the faces of the charging Sleeping Dragon's men.

	The attack died right then and there, as did most of the attackers. Chika felt bile rise 
in her throat as she saw Yakuza turned into unidentifiable lumps a bloody meat. "You fucking 
assholes," she hissed. "You bloody stupid assholes."

	A few, outside the blast range, managed to stumble back to the dubious safety of the 
warehouses. The sounds of screaming men in agony was almost lost in the sounds of explosions 
and other sounds of destruction. Chika watched in silence as one or two tried to crawl back to 
the warehouses.

	She felt a hand on her shoulder. "They made their choice," Suyuri said softly. "They 
chose honor over living."

	"A choice to die for some asinine ideals!" Chika snarled back. "For an old man who preys 
on other's people's weaknesses? Where is the honor in that?"

	"Skeeter is much the same way. He expects us to follow him in whatever he decides."

	"But Skeeter would NEVER accept us throwing our lives away like that!" She gestured to 
the carnage outside the window.

	"I never said Sato would be happy with what those men out there decided to do." replied 
the ex-mercenary. "Do you know why I joined up with Skeeter Karns?"

	"No."

	"I could have gone to work for GENOM, or MALCORP, or even Gulf and Bradley. But Skeeter 
talked to me one night and promised me something more valuable then money or power."

	"What was that?"

	"That I could do the jobs he wanted me to do and I could still look at myself in the 
mirror the next morning. That is a feeling that's better then the feel of money or the taste of 
power."

	Just then, the radio flared to life. //Galahad Six, this is Red One! We're at the edge of 
the warehouses and are ready to make a run for it. Do you copy?//

	"Affirmative, Red One," the dark-haired woman replied, all business again. "What is your 
status?"

	//Red Three is wounded and Galahad Blue has four dead, two wounded. Be advised that we 
are low on ammo and out of explosives. There are a large number of security guards and GENOM 
boomers running around here, and we're nearly had it.//

	"Understood. Get ready to move out in thirty seconds."

	//Right. Red One, Out.//

	"Black, this is Six," Chika said. "I want you to start a strafing run across the row of 
warehouses nearest to the office building on my mark. I don't want anything getting through but 
our people."

	//Understood Six.//

	"All units, this is Galahad Six. Galahad Red and Blue are about to join us. Look sharp 
and don't shoot at anything coming across the area between here and the warehouses unless 
you're one hundred percent sure of your targets. Galahad Black is about to make a strafing run 
against the nearest warehouses. We pull back as soon as Red and Blue has joined us. Any 
questions?" Silence was the only answer. "Galahad Red and Black, stand by to move on my mark."

	"I'd better get back to the troops," said Suyuri.

	"Is the building ready to blow?"

	"Say the word, and it's rubble."

	Chika looked at her second in command. "Take charge of the remote detonator. As soon as 
the tin suits and our people with them have reach us, take them and half the troops and fall 
back to the factory across the street. As soon as you're in place, call me and I'll lead the 
other half out of here. Once the last of us have gotten clear, blow it. Don't wait for me to 
give the order."

	"Right. You're expecting trouble?"

	The raven-hair woman snorted. "With the way things have gone tonight, you actually have 
the nerve to ask me that?"

	Suyuri shrugged. "Just thought I checked, Boss."

	"Get going."

	"Right." Like a wraith, Suyuri slipped out the door, and was gone.

	Chika turned back towards the battle scene before her. "Galahad Red and Blue, this is 
Galahad Six, Go! Go! Go!" She waited until she saw figures break free of the burning 
storehouses before she snapped, "Galahad Black start your strafing run -- now!"



Gulf and Bradley - Japan Headquarters
December 23, 2035
5:27am 

	The rescue team raced back towards the staircase. Both Red Four and his Saber counterpart 
were running down the corridor to the next intersection, stopping long enough to allow the rest 
of the team to catch up, then dashing on to the next intersection. The trio carrying the heavy 
pod were straining from the effort, but they hung on grimly. Trailing behind them were the 
leaders, who continued to watch all their backs.

	After three minutes of tense traveling, Red Four said. //We're around the corner from the 
stairwell.// From ahead of them he turned and waved back at the rear guard.

	"Right," said Knight One crisply. "Red Two, you guys awake?"

	//We're wide awake and nervous as Hell. Get your asses over here.//

	"Copy that. You all heard the man, let's move." 

	"Nene," Sylia said crisply over the Saber's private channel. "Go with Red Four and join 
up with Linna."

	"Right!" Red Four and Nene slipped around the corner and out of sight.

	"Linna," Sylia said as the team started forward again. "Any problems?"

	"No. Are you guys all right?"

	"We're fine. I'm calling in the KnightWing right now. Stay alert. We're not out of the 
woods yet."

	"Understood."

	"Nene, any signs of Boomers?"

	"No," replied the redhead, "but this area of the building is making it difficult to get 
solid readings."

	"Stay with it." Sylia switched over to the KnightWing channel. "Mackie, we have the girl. 
Get here ASAP."

	//We're already on our way in,// Mackie replied. //Priss' been listening in on your 
conversations and convinced me to start in as soon as you had the girl. Our ETA is two 
minutes.//

	Sylia closed her eyes for a second. Priss can't stand to be out of a fight, she thought. 
"Be careful. The building is crawling with boomers from both sides."

	//Understood. Priss is standing by on the weapon system, ready to kill something.//

	"Just make sure she knows what she's shooting at before she fires." 

	Leon and the others reached the intersection and were met by a couple of Red Two's 
troopers, who grabbed handles on the pod and hurried the pod and it's cargo out of sight. With 
only them left in the corridor, both Sylia and Greg dashed for the intersection.

	//Don't worry about us,// Priss said, sounding more cheerful then she had a couple of 
hours ago. //Just don't hang around, Okay?//

	"We've no intension of wearing out our welcome. Just don't be late."

	//We won't. See you in a couple of minutes."

	Just then, Greg turned and fired a laser at something behind them. "We've got company!" 
he shouted.

	Sylia turned, dropped and fired in one smooth motion. One of two BU-12 boomers who had 
stepped into the corridor at the far end of the hall staggered as both her shots hit it. Before 
it or the other boomer could react, both leaders had flung themselves into the hallway leading 
to the stairwell. The rolled to their feet and ran for the staircase, some ten meters down the 
hall. As they ran, they heard the walls behind them get fractured as several hundred bullets 
impacted within a span of a couple of heartbeats.

	 The pod was just going through the door, now carried by all six troopers. Red Two stood 
by the door, along with Linna and Nene. Sylia noted that Nene's pulse strikers were deployed 
and ready for action, and she shifted her stance slightly so she could cover the corridor.

	"Where are the others?" Greg asked as they dashed up.

	"I sent them up to secure the roof," replied Red Two. He waved towards the other Sabers. 
"I would have sent these two also, but they wanted to wait for their leader."

	Just then, the first two boomer came flying around the corner. Before they could fire, 
Nene fired her pulse strikers. The shot seized the boomers and the pair started convulsing as 
their internal systems were turned into junk. Before either one could fall, a burst from Red 
Two's cannon finished the job.

	"Yes!" Nene cried in triumph. Linna patted her in the shoulder.

	"Very nice," said Knight One. "But I don't think they were the last."

	"The rest of you go first." Red Two said. He held up the still smoking, multi-barreled 
gun that comprised his hardsuit's lower right arm. "I'll take rear guard now."

	"Right." Knight One went into the stairwell, followed by the Sabers and raced up the 
stairs, three at a time. The pod containing Janie was moving rapidly upwards, now a full floor 
above them. The sounds of multiple footsteps was loud in the confined area of the stairwell.

	Sylia turned to Nene and Linna. "Catch up with the capsule and see if you can give them a 
hand."

	"Right!" The two tore up the stairs after the troopers.

	"You have a well-trained team," said Greg over their private channel.

	"They're more then that. They're my friends."

	"Your father would be proud of you."

	"Maybe." Sylia looked at her counterpart. "But this isn't the time or place to discuss 
this. We've got an evacuation to lead." 

	Knight One stepped aside and waved a hand. "Ladies first."

	With the assistance of the two Knight Sabers, the pod was being moved quickly up the 
stairs. The two leaders followed at a slightly slower pace, not wanting to crowd the rest of 
the team. 

	The pod had gone up four stories, and the leaders three when the combat boomers started 
their attack

	//Here they come!// Red Two backed into the stairwell, firing a couple of bursts down the 
hallway at unseen targets as he did so. He pulled out a small gray block out of a belt pouch 
and slapped on the wall next to the hall door. "Fire in the hole!" he yelled.

	"How long?" Greg shouted back.

	"Thirty seconds!"

	"What did he do?" asked Linna.

	"You'll find out in about thirty seconds! Stop talking and start running!" Knight One 
took his own advice and increased his pace, White Saber right behind him. The troopers who had 
given up their spot on the pod grabbed it again and increased the pace.

	They managed to gain another floor before they heard the door below them crumple under a 
barrage of bullets. There was the sound a door being violently slammed open above them, and 
someone shouted over the common channel, //We've made it to the roof!// 

	Sylia and Greg were now running up the stairs as fast as they could, with Red Two right 
behind them. Just then, something crashed through the door below them, and Sylia though she saw 
a flash of tan and brown several landings beneath her.

	"Five seconds!" Red Two shouted. They were still half a floor away from the door leading 
to the roof. All three took the last flight of stairs in two strides.

	"Clear the doorway!" Greg roared just as the demolitions pack Red Two had left went off. 
Sylia felt herself go airborne as the force of the explosion threw her and the others through 
the open door. She went limp just before she hit the roof, allowing herself to roll and tumble 
to take the force of impact out of the fall. She got to her feet quickly, her mind quickly 
placing everyone's location on the roof.

	Both Knight One and Red Two had landed close by, but not as smoothly as Sylia. The other 
Black Knights were running to aid their team members, while Nene and Linna ran towards Sylia. 
Leon and a couple of the other MALCORP troopers were carefully watching the smoke filled 
stairwell, just in case the boomers hadn't been destroyed in the explosion. The other black-
clad troopers were standing by the capsule and it's critically injured cargo some distance away 
from the stairwell.

	"Are you all right?' asked Nene.

	"I'm fine," Sylia assured her. "Is the pod all right?"

	"No problems," Linna assured her.

	Red Two got up slowly, shaking his head. "I'm getting too old for this shit," he 
muttered.

	"We're all getting too old for this shit," Greg replied, sitting up. "Everyone all 
right?"

	"Now I know how a champaign cork feels," growled Red Two.

	"I'll take that as a 'yes'." He looked over at Sylia. "Are you okay?"

	"I'm fine."

	Knight One got up. "Defensive positions!" he said in a command voice. The MALCORP 
troopers and Black Knights started moving into a loose circle around the capsule. Leon stayed 
close to the stairwell.

	//We're coming in now!// said Mackie. //Our ETA is thirty seconds!//

	//Boomers on the way up!// Leon shouted over the common channel. He dove out of the way 
as a pair of BU-12s came charging out of the smoke-filled stairwell. 

	The defenders were a bit slow to react, which gave the boomers a few precious seconds to 
analyze and start maneuvering. A quick burst from the boomers' machine guns sent both Red Three 
and Four twisting away to escape. Sparks from the return fire pitted the boomer's armor, but 
the boomers were still intact. One of the MALCORP troopers grunted and collapsed as shrapnel 
struck him in the thighs and knees.

	Until the Knight Sabers and Black Knights moved into action

	Linna went for one, while Sylia move in after the other. Even as she started in, Sylia 
saw Greg charge in after the same boomer she was going after, while Red Three somersaulted her 
way towards Linna's target. The other two Knights moved to place themselves between the battle 
and the capsule, while Nene hung back, her ECM system running full blast.

	Sylia tucked and rolled towards the boomer, as the combat machine tried to decide which 
one of the two targets attacking it was the most dangerous. It took in the size, distance, and 
possibilities into its calculations. After a few milliseconds of processing time, it decided 
that the Black Knight was the more dangerous of the two.

	It decided wrong.

	As the boomer fired at Greg, Sylia came out of her roll and fired both lasers as she dove 
forward. Both shots struck low, hitting the boomers in the legs. The boomer staggered, sending 
its fire wide of the black-and-gold hardsuit. Revising its calculations, the boomer abandoned 
its previous decision and turned towards the rapidly approaching White Saber.

	Greg fired his laser and gauss needler, then launched himself in a high arching attack. 
The laser slammed into the BU-12's shoulder, while the steel bolts struck deep into its exposed 
neck. The boomer fired a short burst, but Sylia had tucked herself in a tight roll and when she 
came out of it, she was inside the boomer's arc of fire. The twin laserswords snapped out and 
buried themselves in the boomer's middle. A heartbeat later, Greg's own vibrosword punched 
through the top of the boomers head and out through the neck. With a spray of yellow fluid, the 
boomer started dying.

	Sylia withdrew the laserswords, and sliced the boomer's machine gun in half. Pushing off 
the boomer's shoulder with his free hand, Greg finished his somersault over the dying cyber-
droid, twisted in the air and landed a couple of meters away from the boomer. Sylia dove clear 
just as the boomer toppled over with a loud crash.

	The second boomer fell nearly as fast as the first, only in several more pieces. Both 
Linna and Red Three watched as several explosion wracked the dismember boomer as it fell apart.

	The sound of jet engines overhead made everyone on the roof look up. A dark shape dropped 
out of the dark sky towards them. As it got closer, several streams of tracers from the ground 
flash by the aircraft, but the craft was coming down too fast for the boomers to lock onto it. 
As illumination from the roof lights struck the descending craft, the dark sleek form of the 
KnightWing was identifiable.

	Fifty meters from the roof, the sound of the KnightWing's engines became more high 
pitched as Mackie applied more power to them. The aircraft slowed quickly and landed on the 
roof slightly harder then if it had been a normal landing, even as the wheels bounced on the 
roof's surface, the rear ramp was opening. As soon as the craft settled, and the ramp came 
down, a blur of blue dove out of the KnightWing onto the roof and rolled to her feet.

	"Hey, guys!" Priss said over the Saber's private channel, waving at the rest of her team. 
"Time to leave!"

	"I thought I told you to stay on the craft," Sylia said cooly.

	"You can yell at me later," the blue hardsuit replied, running towards them. "Mackie 
picked up several boomers climbing the side of this building, and he thinks we're going to be 
hip deep in them in a couple of minutes."

	The Pod was being hauled towards the KnightWing by four troopers and Red Three and Four. 
Red Two and Leon was covering them, while Knight One was carrying the wounded MALCORP trooper. 
There was no shouted commands, no need for orders to be issued.

	"Let's get out of here," Sylia said.

	They started for the KnightWing, but they had only managed to reach the base of the 
aircraft's ramp when the next wave of boomers appeared.

	A trio of dull black BU-55C leapt over the lip of the roof at the opposite end of the 
building and charged towards the invaders. Even as they ran towards the KnightWing, another 
pair of tan-and-brown BU-12's came blasting out of the smoke-filled stairwell.

	"Get the pod onboard!" Sylia shouted turning and firing her lasers at the 55C. Her beams 
slammed into an invisible wall just short of the lead boomer. "They've got force shields!"

	Two of the troopers, Leon, Priss, and three of the Black Knights also opened fire on both 
sets of boomers, lighting up the rooftop with lasers and muzzle flashes. Linna, Nene, and the 
two other uninjured troopers half carried, half dragged the pod up the ramp into the cargo bay, 
while Knight One paused only long enough to carry the injured trooper up the ramp before he 
returned and added his fire. Mackie, unable to target the Gulf and Bradley boomers, activated 
the aircraft's laser turret and sent a stream of lasers at the two BU-12s, who dodged them. The 
wind and noise from the engines almost drowned out the sounds of battle.

	The boomers themselves found themselves facing an unusual tactical situation - the BU-12s 
were GENOM's, while the 55Cs were the only survivors of Bradley's special boomer strike force. 
Both sets of Boomers analyzed the two different groups of opponents, weighed the factors 
according to their programming, and decided in several microseconds that the other group of 
boomers were the bigger threat.				

	The 55Cs angled their charge so they were charging the 12s. The combat boomers responded 
by altering their fire to sweep across the 55C's arc and informed other GENOM boomers nearby of 
their situation. Several more GENOM boomers, including one of the anti-tank models, moved to 
assist the BU-12 on the roof.

	"Let's move!" Knight One shouted. "All unarmored personnel, get into the craft!" The 
MALCORP troopers broke of their firing and dashed onboard, Leon kneeling on the ramp and 
continued firing at any target he could see. Mackie stopped firing the laser turret and 
concentrating on getting ready to lift off.

	"Red Three and four, You're next!" The two Knights charged up the ramp and disappeared 
inside. 

	Sylia said, "Priss, you're next!" over the Saber's channel. The singer, realizing that 
this wasn't the time for arguing, ran up the ramp, stopping only long enough to grab a 
surprised Leon and dragging him inside by his tacvest collar.

	"Let's move!" Knight One shouted, and the last three members of the team dashed up the 
ramp, Sylia making sure she was the last one up. 

	Halfway up, Sylia shouted over her radio, "Mackie, take us out of here!"

	The KnightWing began to rise, and Sylia could feel the ramp rising, closing even as she 
was still running up it. She reached the flight deck just as the ramp finished closing. 
"Everyone!" Mackie was shouting, "Hang on tight!" The aircraft banked sharply to the right and 
suddenly accelerated, sending anything not firmly secured bouncing around the deck.

	"I'm receiving ground fire!" Mackie yelled.

	"I'm on it!" Nene called out from her position at the EW board. "I'm maxing out ECM and 
stealth systems."

	"Priss," said Sylia over her radio. "Get up front and help Mackie. Nene, stay on top of 
the ECM. Some of GENOM's boomers are armed with ground-to-air missiles, and I don't want to 
take any chances this late. Linna, see if you can help Leon with the wounded trooper."

	The Sabers moved off to their tasks. Knight One looked at his Saber counterpart. "I hope 
we've pulled this off," he said.

	"So do I," replied Sylia softly "So do I."


Outside Gulf and Bradley - Japan Headquarters
December 23, 2035
5:30am

	"What the hell is going on?" were the first words out of Ko's mouth when he was escorted 
into Daley's and Jeena's presence. His escort, one of the Black Knights, stepped back into the 
shadows and was gone.

	The battle around the Gulf and Bradley building was winding down, most of the combat that 
was left visible only a small explosions and sporadic laser and cannon fire, and most of that 
was inside the building itself. The area surrounding the building was a field of shattered 
concrete, twisted metal, and broken bodies, both boomer and human. A few GENOM combat boomers 
patrolled the wasteland, looking for any survivors, and preventing either escape or rescue for 
the surviving Gulf and Bradley forces. Once in a while, one or two Black Knight would come out 
of the surrounding darkness, fire their weapons at the patrolling boomers, then retreat before 
more then a single boomer could respond to the attack.

	Jeena barely gave the young Inspector a glance. "Do you have any idea when your people 
are going to get here?" she asked Daley.

	"Lars said he'd tried to be here in fifteen minutes," Daley replied.

	"You got through?" Ko asked him.

	The redheaded Inspector nodded grimly. "Jeena was kind enough to let me use her phone."

	"What's she doing here?"

	The one-armed woman allowed a smile to cross her face. "What would you say if I told you 
I had a bad case of insomnia?"

	Ko gave her a distrusting look, but before he could say anything, Daley said, "Looks like 
those shielded boomers didn't fare too well against Quincy's combat boomers."

	"With the amount of firepower those babies were putting out, Mount Fuji wouldn't have 
lasted long."

	"So what are we going to do?" Ko asked again, feeling like he was missing something.

	"Until Lars and his people show up, we can't do shit."

	Jeena focused her binoculars on the Gulf and Bradley building. "Looks like we have some 
action on the roof." An explosion and flash on the cover of the said building gave her words 
some credence.

	"What's going on up there?' Ko asked, trying to see something in the darkness.

	"You expect me to know?" Daley replied.

	"Now, now children," Jeena said, not looking away from her observations. "It looks like 
the main event has moved to the roof."

	For several more seconds, there was the sounds of battle, then it stopped as suddenly as 
it had started. After several seconds, an aircraft dropped out of the darkness above the roof 
and disappeared from the trio's view, apparently landing on one of the helicopter pads located 
on the roof. They could hear the engines though, a low scream that almost lost in the 
background.

	"What the hell is that?" Ko asked.

	"Looks like the KnightWing," Daley said.

	"The Knight Sabers are involved in this?" asked the younger man.

	"Of course they're involved," said Jeena easily. "MALCORP hired them as 'native guides' 
and extra support for this mission."

	"What the hell is going on?" Ko demanded. "How many laws are being violated --"

	"Ko," said Daley mildly. "Shut up for the time being and I'll explain everything later. I 
believe Jeena when she told me that this is a rescue mission, and Gulf and Bradley are 
responsible for most of the mayhem that's occurred in the last three days." Daley gave his 
temporary partner a stern look. "I will explain everything later."

	"All Knights," said Jeena into her radio, ignoring the disagreement between the two ADP 
officers. "This is the One Armed Bandit. "We've got action on the G and B rooftop. Does anyone 
have a sight line on what's going on up there?"

	"Something's moving near the entrance of the building," Ko said, his need to find out 
what was going on less pressing then what was happening around them.

	Three humanoid shapes separated themselves from the darkness dashed across a short 
expanse of rubble-strewn street, and reached the base of the G and B building. Once they 
reached the base, they started to climb the side of the building. They swarmed up the side of 
the building like ants, reaching the roof quicker then any human could have. They climbed over 
the wall surrounding the rooftop, and in a couple of heartbeats, a intense firefight started.

	"It's our rescue team on the roof," said Jeena to the ADP officers. "They're under attack 
from both GENOM and Gulf and Bradley boomers."

	"Isn't there anything you can do?" asked Daley.

	"The Knights' hardsuits are good, but they're not good enough to take on AT boomers and 
their firepower. We've been trying to draw them off, but they've been programmed to stick close 
to the building. We can't rush them, even with the Rattlesnakes in support."

	"So we wait?"

	"Only thing we can do. By the time we could move in to help them, the fight will be over, 
one way or another. The team has more then enough firepower to take on most boomers." Daley 
thought he heard her say under her breath, "I hope," but he didn't have time to ask her before 
the whine of the KnightWing's engines picking up speed became louder. Several small explosions 
on the roof added somewhat to the noise level, then a black shape shot into the air. Several of 
the boomers on the ground, turned towards the ascending craft and opened fire, sending tracers 
and missiles after it.

	"Rattlesnakes Two and Three!" Jeena snapped into her radio. "I need a strafing run 
against the boomers on the ground, Now!"

	The KnightWing stopped climbing and banked hard to the right, the engines becoming even 
more high pitched as the pilot accelerated. The boomers shifted fire, trying to anticipate 
their target's actions, but the craft darted right, then left. There was now half a dozen 
boomers firing at the escaping craft, the streams of machine gun firing just missing the 
aircraft, while the missiles, evidently affected by strong ECM, twisted and randomly went off 
in different directions. Several slammed into nearby buildings, adding to the surrounding 
damage. The three spectators had to duck as a missile slammed into the far side of building 
they was standing next to. More smoke rase into the air from the new fires and the old ones.

	Two more aircraft came out of the darkness and fired several salvos into the boomers on 
the ground. The land erupted as torrents of fire, concrete, and others fragments added another 
layer of destruction to the already battle scarred terrain. Several of the boomers were 
staggered, and a couple were even destroyed. The Rattlesnakes held formation long enough to 
shoot across through the billowing smoke before peeling off and out of sight behind some 
buildings.

	Jeena was listening to her radio. As she listen, a grin broke on his face. Like a 
striking cobra, she reached out and grabbed Ko. Before he could protest, she'd spun him around, 
grabbed him by the front of his shirt, pulled him close and kissed him. After a few seconds of 
struggling, Ko finally gave in.

	"Good news, I hope?" asked Daley blandly, but his expression was one of amusement.

	Jeena released Ko, who stumbled back with a stunned looked on his face. "You might say 
that," she said, her grin even larger. "The Knights rescued Janie and got away clean. The 
mission is over."

	"You're pulling out?" Daley asked.

	"Yep. I suspect that GENOM will be doing the same, as soon as they figure it out. They 
don't want to get out there's combat boomers in the city, so they'll clear out as soon as your 
people show up."

	"That's a comfort."

	The faint sounds of sirens could be heard in the lightening dawn. Jeena glanced in the 
direction. "That sounds like our cue to scatter. Daley, call me in about a week and we can 
discuss everything over a beer or two -- you're buying." She turned to look at Ko, her smile 
feral. "You on the other hand...." She pulled out a business card and handed it to him. "You 
have three days to call me," she said, stroking Ko's cheek. "If you don't, I'll come looking 
for you...." She chuckled deeply at Ko expression. "Relax, I don't bite...much." All Ko could 
mange was something like a strangled moan. Still smiling, Jeena climbed into the van and drove 
off.
	
	Seeing Ko's slightly stunned, Daley leaned in. "Are you married?" he asked softly.

	"N-No," the young man managed to get out.

	"Engaged?"

	"No."

	"Then a word of advice. Do not wait three days to call her. The sooner you call her, the 
sooner it will be over." 

	"Er...."

	"Trust me on this. I've known her for years, and when she takes an interest in someone, 
she doesn't relent until she's satisfied."

	"Um...."

	The sirens were getting closer now. Daley slapped Ko on the back. "Snap out of it!' he 
said loudly, startling the younger man. "We have a mess to clean up. So let's get back to 
reality."

	"Right," Ko replied weakly.

	"See if you can contact Lars now. He should be close enough."

	"Right!" This time, the voice was stronger, more assertive. Daley steeped away as Ko 
called Lars and started directing the incoming ADP force into position.

	The battlezone was a mass of wreckage, bodies, fire and smoke. It looks like the only 
winners tonight were death and devastation, Daley thought. On a sudden impulse, he turned to 
look in the slowly fading night sky where the KnightWing had disappeared. Well, maybe not the 
only winners....




Chapter 43


Gulf and Bradley Biomechanical Research Institute
December 23, 2035
5:37am

	By the time Skeeter and the others got back to the lobby, the number of dead boomers 
scattered across the entrance hall had dramatically increased, as had the number of dead and 
wounded defenders. The armored car that had been stationed outside the lobby was a morass of 
flames, hot metal, and thick black smoke, some of which was leaking into the lobby, adding a 
extra haze to what was already there.

	"Status?" snapped Skeeter as he approached the makeshift barricade. The other squads 
darted past him and joined the thin defenses. The two Black Knights that had gone down with the 
giant into the sublevels stayed behind Skeeter, Mclaren squarely between them. The prisoner 
looking tired and scared, which was ignored by his captors.

	"They've hit us twice in the last five minutes," said the leader of the lobby defense, a 
diminutive woman by the unlikely name of Paco. "The first time, they tried dropping down the 
elevator shafts, but after we blew two of them, they stopped. Must have a directive to avoid 
unnecessary damage to the building. The second time, they smashed the windows above, dropped 
out of them and tried hitting us from both sides of the lobby. We've must have blown away maybe 
ten or fifteen of the mechanized mannequins. We've got three dead, two more wounded, but those 
two can still shoot. The armored car is history, but the crew managed to get out before it 
blew. The tin suit," she motioned towards White Two, who stood in the center of the circular 
rampart, "Has been a big help, but I don't have any idea how much ammo he has left."

	"What's your ammo situation?"

	"Could be worse. We're low on grenades, and we've got three rounds left for the RPG. We 
could hold off one more attack with no problem, but I can't say after that."

	The giant nodded. "We're ready to get out of here."

	"Gori said you hit paydirt downstairs," Paco said. If it wasn't for the way she held the 
assault rifle, or the coldness in her eyes, she might have been mistaken for a teenager playing 
war games.

	"Gori has a big mouth," Skeeter replied, giving the youth acting as communications link a 
cold stare. Gori wilted under the glare.

	After several seconds, Skeeter activated his radio. "Gawain Six to Five. Doc, are you 
still breathing?"

	//Of course, heroic and perceptive warlord. We anticipate your demands with zealous 
suspense.//

	"We're getting ready to pull out. How many boomers can you see from your position?"

	Doc's voice switched to a more matter-of-fact tone. //We can see half a dozen. Looks like 
they're waiting for you to come out into the open so they can catch you in a cross fire.//

	"How many can you take out from your location?"

	//My people can take out three with no problem, but the others are inside the building, 
and none of us have clean shots at them.//

	"Which floor?"

	//One on the third, two others on the fourth. There could be more we can't see.//

	"Understood. Rattler Four, what's your status?"

	//Still have plenty of ammo and fuel. What do you need?//

	"I want you to take out the third and fourth floors of this building, then cover our 
withdrawal. Doc, I want the other armored car at the gate doing the same thing. We're coming 
out in two minutes. Rattler Four, I want you to start your attack in one minute, three-zero 
seconds. Continue for one-five seconds, then drop back and cover us."

	//Understood. I'm swinging into position now. I'll be ready.//

	//We shall organize a defending fusillading accorded for a potentate.//

	"Just do it Doc. Gawain Six out." Skeeter looked at Paco and  Hosokoawa. "Get everyone 
ready to move out. The gunship's going to blast a couple of floors above in less then ninety 
seconds. Hopefully, that'll keep the boomers off us. Blow the rest of the elevators and 
stairwells in one minute. I don't want the boomers hitting us from the lobby. I want us to 
start moving out as soon as I give the word. Go!"

	The two gang members darted away, and the lobby became a scene of quick, but complete 
preparation. The dead were wrapped in sheets and readied for transport. The wounded were check 
for mobility and assigned a partner to make sure they stay with the group. Weapons were 
reloaded with fresh magazines, as were the grenade launchers and RPG launchers. Squad 
assignment were quickly hashed out and put into place.

	The Knights were also busy. While White One stood next to Mclaren, White Three cracked 
the building's database again and uploaded some files as a 'going away present.' White Two 
reloaded the Gatling gun attached to his armor, singing something in Russian in a low soft 
tenor. Skeeter stood in the middle of the preparations like an immobile rock in a stormy sea, 
with his eyes the only thing that moved.

	As ordered, a series of loud thumps echoed through the lobby, as the elevator and stair-
wells were turned into impassible shafts. A thick layer of dust drifted down from the ceiling,
covering everything with a fine powder. A few of the gang members glanced up at the ceiling in 
concern as the building groaned slightly.

	"Boss," Hosokoawa said, "maybe we overdid it with the explosives." 

	Paco shook her head. "Ain't such a thing as overkill when it comes to saving your hide."

	"We can discuss that later," Skeeter rumbled. "The gunship should be making his attack 
anytime now."

	As if on cue, Skeeter's radio came to life. //This is Rattler Four. I'm starting my 
attack run, now.//

	"Stand by to move out!" Skeeter bellowed. "Everyone hit the floor   NOW!"

	Everyone did so, falling onto their stomachs, closing their eyes and covering their ears. 
For several seconds there was silence in the lobby. Then, from outside, a low wail could be 
heard, getting louder every second. There were a series of small explosions, then several 
thunderous explosions above them filled the air with thick dust and pressed the assault force 
into the floor.

	The air became alive with the dim sounds of cannons and machine gun fire, mixing with the 
ring of shattered glass and broken concrete, as the gunship turned the two floors into a mass 
of flaming ruins. A shower of glass and burning wreckage plummeted from above, turning the area 
just outside the lobby into a morass of destruction and havoc.

	Skeeter leapt to his feet as if he was a man half his size. "Let's go!" he bellowed and 
charged for the shatter doors. In ones and two, then as a wave, the troops followed him.

	Glass was still falling when the assault force swarmed out of the building. The heat from 
the fires still burning on the floors above them was oppressive, the fire giving off enough 
light to illuminate the compound with as hellish glow reminiscent of a nightmare. One of the 
gang members stopped long enough to drop a thermite grenade into the cripple armored car. The 
muffled explosion was lost in the general confusion, but there wouldn't be a lot left for the 
Police or Gulf and Bradley to work with. 

	They darted around several still smoldering piles of jetsam, a few of the gang members 
turning and covering their fellow warriors until all had passed them, then running after the 
group while others covered for them. Skeeter, the Knights and Mclaren remained close to the 
center of the group, the core of the temporary gestalt. Mclaren, still wearing his bathrobe and 
pajamas, was carried along by White Two and Three like a sack of rice. White One took point, 
while Skeeter stayed behind Mclaren and his keepers, directing the retreat with short sharp 
orders and strong gestures. Above them, the Rattlesnake hung in the air like an airborne shark 
waiting for its next meal. 

	The force was close to the wall when a bulky shape pulled to a stop outside one of the 
breeches. A figure leapt out of the vehicle and dashed towards Skeeter's command group. Doc 
looked excited as he shouted, "I counsel that we vacate this locality instantly! Both the 
constabulary and the fire service are on their way, and I don't presume we can illuminate our 
proximity to this predicament with any conviction!"

	"How long!" Skeeter bellowed.

	"No more then five minutes!"

	"Which direction are they coming from?"

	"North and West!"

	Skeeter stopped and changed channels on the radio. "All Gawain units!" He said. "This is 
Gawain Six! Execute Evac Plans Sierra and Echo! I repeat, Execute Evac Plans Sierra and Echo! 
First rendezvous point, twenty minutes!" He looked at Doc. "We found a VIP," he said, pointing 
at Mclaren. "Take him and the Knights out of here on the car, Evac Plan Sierra. I'll hook out 
with you in about thirty minutes. If I'm not there in forty, head back to the staging area and 
I'll join up  with you there."

	Doc smiled. "I conclude we've managed to rankle Gulf and Bradley this daybreak." 

	A couple of small explosions sent fireballs out of the burning building and into the 
slowly arriving dawn. Skeeter turned to look at the fire that was now beginning to spread 
upwards in the building, his expression unreadable. "'Rankle' is not the word I would use, 
Doc," He said. "'Put on notice', is more like what this is. And it's about time." He looked at 
Doc again."Let's get going."



ARNPTSE Storage Compound
December 23, 2035
5:39am


	The strafing run by Galahad Black was the turning point in the battle of the storage 
compound. Both the Yakuza and Boomers forces had been shredded by the gunship's firepower, 
allowing the Black Knight team and the attached demolition squad to reach the office building 
without incident. 

	"Suyuri!" Chika barked into her radio. "Get going!"

	//Right.//

	"Fuko!"

	The woman with the Mohawk stuck her head into the room. "Yea?"

	"We ready to move out?"

	"Just say the word boss, and we beat feet. Saki's got all the wounded with him, so we can 
move fast."

	The strike leader glanced out a window and saw Suyuri's people flying down the stairs of 
the building entrance. Two of the Black Knights were supporting the third member of their team. 
Several of the Gang members were also assisting wounded comrades out of the building and 
towards the abandoned factory across the street. One of the armored cars stopped long enough to 
load a couple of the more seriously injured onto it before it roared past the building and out 
into the street. As the gang members ran for safety, Chika could hear the fire from the others 
still left in the building pick up to cover the withdrawal. 

	Time to leave, Chika thought. "Let's get downstairs," she told Fuko as she ran past the 
woman.

	"Hokay, boss."

	The took the steps two at a time, their boot soles slapping the concrete a counterpoint 
to the roar of automatic weapons that got louder as they got closer. Chika slammed the 
stairwell's door open and dashed out into the small lobby.

	Mongo was there, looking pleased with himself as he watched the area outside the 
entrance. He glanced in Chika's direction and smiled at her. "Hey ho chief," he said.	

	"How much of the bank did you get out?" Chika asked him.

	Mongo looked offended. "All of it, of course. What did you expect?"

	"No funny business?"

	"None whatsoever. It wasn't pretty, but we cleaned the room out with two minutes to 
spare. Ramon, Preacher and me got all over there in one trip." 

	"Who's guarding it?"

	"Preacher is."

	Chika nodded. Preacher was an odd combination of Bible-spouting scholar and expert 
marksmen that served as the gang's chaplain, and thus was trusted with things of value. "Any 
idea how much?"

	"Twenty, maybe thirty million Yen." Mango shrugged. "We didn't have much of a chance to 
count it."

	The radio cracked to life. //Suyuri here. We're across and ready to cover you.//

	"Right." Chika opened another channel. "All right, Galahad! Time to get the Hell out of 
here! We've got thirty seconds to clear the building before we become part of it! Galahad 
Black, cover us! Go! Go! Go!"

	She took her own advice and charged out the doors, Mongo and Fuko following close behind. 
She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and waved the others on. Even as the pair tore past 
her, others were charging out the doors and down the stairs. As their appeared, fire from the 
factory streaked over their heads and towards the smoke and flame beset warehouses. The second 
armored car thundered past her, it's heavy machine gun spitting a stream of bullets in the 
opposite direction.

	Ramon came racing out of the doors and leapt down the stairs. "I'm last man!" he shouted 
as he raced past Chika.

	Chika took off after him, her boots crunching in the broken concrete. She managed to 
reach the street when she heard Suyuri shout over the radio, //Fire in the hole!//

	A car was less the three meters away and she threw herself towards it she was dropping 
into its shadow when twenty kilograms of C-9 detonated.

	A sheet of flame twice the height of the building shot into the not so dark sky, 
expanding into a fireball as the building disintegrated. The shockwave destroyed almost all the 
building's internal supports, flattened fences and walls at twenty meters, and shattered 
windows at ten times that distance.

	Fortunately, Chika was fifty meters from the blast. She felt the car rock and the car's 
safety glass pelt her back, then she struck the sidewalk next to the car. She laid there, 
stunned by the explosion and shockwave. After several seconds, the car stopped rocking, but 
Chika's ears were still ringing.

	She felt a hand touch her shoulder and she looked up. Ramon, looking like a specter in 
the smoke and dust looked down at her. "You all right?" he mouthed, his voice faint in her 
still ringing ears.

	Chika nodded and Ramon help her stand up. "Where is everyone?" she shouted, trying to 
hear her own words. Her legs felt wobbly, and her vison was somewhat blurry. She took a step, 
only to have her legs buckle. Ramon grabbed her by the arm before she fell.

	"You need help." Ramon waved Mongo and Fuko over and they half carried, half-dragged 
Chika into the factory. The rest of her unit was there, most trying to shake off the effects of
the dash to safety and the explosion. The trio deposited Chika into a empty chair, then Mongo 
went looking for the medic while Ramon and Fuko stayed with their leader.

	Suyuri came running up. "How is she?" he snapped. To Chika, his voice sounded louder then 
the others had.

	"She's a bit woozy," Fuko replied, her voice also sounding louder. "She only had a car 
between her and the explosion."

	"We're moving out in three minutes," said Suyuri. "If she isn't able to take command, 
stick her into one of the cars. We're using evac plan November."

	"Any word on the police?"

	"They're on their way, and I don't want to be sitting here when they do show up. So let 
Bones look her over, and if she says Chika's out of it, cram her into a car and go!"

	"I'm all right!" Chika snapped. "I just had my bell rung."

	"Do you want to take back command?" asked Suyuri.

	"You're doing everything I would have. It's your show."

	"Right." the ex-mercenary grinned. "It was good dealing out some of the shit we've been 
taking over the last couple of years."

	"Celebrate later," Chika warned. "We've got to get out of here first."

	"We will," Suyuri replied. He looked at Ramon and Fuko. "Get her into a car and get her 
out of here." he turned and walked away, shouting commands and making sure everyone had their 
orders.

	Mongo showed up, trailed by a gaunt little woman with almost no hair and a beaked nose 
who served as the unit's medic. After a minute's examination, the medic said, "You have a mild 
concussion. Nothing serious, but you'd better take it easy for the next couple of days."

	With that as the final word, Chika was lead over to an armored car and buckled into an 
extra seat. The hatch was closed and the car's engine roared to life. With a cloud of smoke the 
car raced out of the factory and into an alley. Three minutes after the car left, the factory 
was deserted again, the only sounds that of approaching sirens of the fire and police 
departments.



Above MegaTokyo
December 23, 2035
5:40am 


	As it was before, the cargo compartment of the KnightWing was crowded with people and 
equipment. Sylia had reclaimed her position in the doorway leading to the cockpit and watched 
the others in the compartment. The pod in the center of the compartment held the injured 
VanDell girl. From where she was standing, Sylia couldn't see into the small clear portal, but 
the blinking lights seemed to say that everything was all right. The wounded MALCORP trooper 
was lying on a bunk, his entire leg swathed in bandages. Leon and the other unarmored soldiers 
were slumped against the bulkheads relaxed in the knowledge they had completed the mission and 
survived. By unspoken agreement, the hardsuited members kept their visors down, even though 
there was no question of trust between the two groups. It was a matter of respect.

	As for the members of the Knight Sabers, Priss was back in the cockpit, helping Mackie. 
Nene was monitoring communications and ECM, while Linna was keeping an eye on the injured 
trooper. 

	The Black Knights were also attending to their own responsibilities. Red Two was checking 
his suit's weapons systems. Red Three was checking medical supplies, while Red Four was helping 
Nene. Knight One was standing next to the pod, facing away from Sylia, staring down into the 
clear panel at the face beneath.

	Sylia walked over to him, carefully avoiding the others in the compartment. "Are you all 
right?" she asked over their private channel.

	Greg didn't turn to look at her. "She looks like a ghost," he said softly, stroking the 
pod with the fingertips of his right hand. "So pale and so weak."

	"We got her out."

	"Yes, and we couldn't have done it without your help. But I don't know if we did the 
right thing by saving her."

	"She's survived this long. A few more days and she'll be on the upswing."

	"You realize the Bradley twins are dead people walking, don't you?"

	"I know, and I won't try and persuade you otherwise. But remember why they did this. 
Don't allow your hate and anger at them blind you to reason."

	"I won't let my anger get the best of me on this," Greg replied. "But the Bradley twins 
will not escape the justice they deserve."

	"Let the police handle them."

	"No." The word was swift and firm. "I will not allow those two to escape behind their 
phalanx of lawyers and legal maneuvering. The terror they have caused Janie, the deaths they 
were behind, their plans of destruction, it will end with their deaths. Anything less will be a 
denial of justice. From now, until they are dead, they will never know a moment's peace, find a 
safe place, or the freedom from the same sort of terror they caused. I promise this."

	"Don't allow you hate to make you just like them."

	"I won't." He turned to look at her. "I want those two dead, but I'm not going to 
sacrifice everything to get them. I will do it methodically, with cold deliberation. And do you 
know something?"

	"What?"

	"No matter what happens to them, it will be only a fraction of what they deserve." Greg 
let his fingers linger on the surface of the pod. "But my immediate concern is Janie's safety. 
The pursuit of Carlton and Cora will wait -- for now."

	"And she's safe?"

	"Then it's their turn."

	Sylia nodded. "She's going to need excellent medical care. Are you sure this medical 
research subsidiary of yours is the best?"

	"The medical facilities there are as good as any hospital's, if not better. I have two 
specialists in blood disorders standing by, along with our own trauma specialist. As soon as 
she can be moved, she's going to the best private clinic in the United States. As much time and 
money as she needs, she'll get." He looked down at the pod. "That is the least she deserves."

	"We'll be there shortly."

	Greg nodded and continued to look at the pod. "Mackie," said Sylia over the Saber's 
channel. "What's our ETA to the landing site?"

	"Seven minutes," her brother replied.

	"Fine. Nene, any signs of pursuit?"

	"Nope. I think we got away clean." 

	"Keep watching. There's too many people what want Janie and what she knows."

	"Right!"

	Sylia switched back to the private channel. "Our ETA is seven minutes."

	"I call the facility and tell them we're coming."

	"Good." Sylia went back to the doorway, but her eyes never left the armored figure and 
the pod it stood by.



Five Blocks South of Gulf and Bradley - Japan Headquarters
December 23, 2035
5:43am 


	The car that pulled out of the underground garage was large, black and expensive. The 
windows were mirrored so no one could see inside, and if anyone was to run the licence plate, 
it would be traced to the personal transport of a senior GENOM vice-president. But the people 
inside the car weren't part of the GENOM senior management. Rather, they were the CEO of Gulf 
and Bradley - Japan and his sister.

	Cora was curled up in on corner of the rear seat, her expression a twisted intermingling 
of anger, anticipation, uncertainty, and arrogance. "What do we do now?" she grated out.

	"Relax," replied Carlton. He sat across the compartment from her, a large glass of 
alcohol in one hand. His composure was back, and he didn't now looked like a man running away 
from a fight. "We're going for another twelve or so blocks to where a specially prepared 
tractor-trailer is waiting for us. That will take us to our emergency shelter."

	"And how long will it be before we're found there?"

	Carlton sighed. "How can they? The holding company that owns the building and the land  
has no connection with Gulf and Bradley. The loans for the land's purchase came from several 
different banks, and the impression that I taken great pains to spread is that it's a 
subsidiary of GENOM. The only place that has all the details is up here." he tapped his temple.

	"How do we get back at them?"

	"Patience, sister, patience. We must first discover what our assets are first. Even now, 
there's computer programs at work, funneling supplies and money to our use, though I don't know 
how much time we have before they're discovered."

	"Patience? I want to kill something!"

	"And you will have your chance. But it will take some time to secure ourselves from all 
the prying eyes that infest this city. When our enemies can't find us, they will assume we have 
left the city, and thus will not look for us here. Soon they we forget us. That is when we will 
strike."

	"I hope you are right."

	Carlton smiled. "I am right. And soon those who oppose us will find out that fact for 
themselves soon enough."




Chapter 44


Kanseianpi Medical Research Corporation
December 23, 2035
5:49am 


	There were a dozen people waiting for the KnightWing as it touched down on the rooftop 
landing pad. Even as Mackie shut down the engines, Sylia had opened the rear hatch. AS soon as 
the ramp touch the rooftop, a team of medical technicians dashed up it. The wounded trooper was 
immediately carry off the craft and placed on a gurney and wheeled inside. To make room for the 
medical techs to work, most of the passengers were quickly hustled off the aircraft and inside.

	Sylia and Greg stood off to one side as the pod was quickly loaded onto a dolly and 
pushed down the ramp and into the building. He turned to look at her. "Would you care to change 
out of your hardsuit? I can lend you a jumpsuit."

	"I think that would be a good idea."

	Greg was silent for a moment. "They're sending out some change of clothes for you and the 
others. If anyone asks, you're a member of the Black Knights."

	"Within five minutes, a woman wearing a dark grey jumpsuit came out, several jumpsuits 
and baseball caps settled in her arms. She handed them to Greg and went back inside. "This 
should be about your size," he said, handing Sylia a jumpsuit and baseball cap. "After we get 
changed, we can go inside and see how Janie's doing."

	"Won't I be noticeable in this?" asked Sylia.

	Greg shook his head. "There's enough people around here wearing the same outfit that you 
won't stand out. If you're with me, you'll be less noticeable, not more."

	"Give me the jumpsuits for the others," said Sylia. Greg did so, and Sylia took them up 
the ramp and inside. She returned five minutes later, wearing the jumpsuit and the baseball cap 
pulled low over her face.

	"Very nice," Greg said. 

	"It'll do," Sylia replied.

	Greg waved a hand towards the door. "Red Two tells me they've got a changing room for the 
Knights. We've got coffee and tea inside for those who want it."

	"Can I get some for my people? I don't want to leave the KnightWing unguarded."

	"They can send someone in and pick up some, or we can send someone out with some. Your 
choice."

	"I think it would be best that we limit contact with the teams outside of their 
hardsuits."

	"All right. I'll send one of my people out with a couple of thermoses and cups for your 
people."

	"That should be acceptable."

	"Already done. Shall we go inside?"



	Ten minutes later, Greg was out of his hardsuit and both him and Sylia were walking down 
a sterile-looking corridor. There were a few people in the hallway, some dressed in similar 
jumpsuits, while others were dressed in the whites of medical personnel. Greg was right in that 
no one took notice of Sylia in the atmosphere of busyness.

	They reached an intersection, where a heavily armed MALCORP trooper stood guard. When 
Sylia and Greg approached, the trooper straightened and saluted. "Good morning Sir," he said.

	 "Where did they take Janie VanDell?" Greg asked.

	"Operation room three, Sir." The security man pointed to the corridor to his left. "Down 
there, and your second right will take you to an observation area overlooking the room."

	"Thank you."

	They soon found themselves in a circular room, with the center of the room occupied by a 
large steel-and-glass dome that allowed the people in the room to watch the activities of the 
people in the operation room below. A few people were standing around watching.

	Both Greg and Sylia walked over to the dome and looked down. There were a dozen people in 
the room below, all clustered around a operating table. On the table, the thin form of Janie 
VanDell laid, an oxygen mask over her face, her hair tucked inside a surgical cap, and a sheet 
covering her to her shoulders. At that moment, one of the masked medical people was injecting 
something into Janie's arm.

	"Marcus!" Greg called out to a large man with skin the color of old leather, dressed in a 
gray jumpsuit who was standing on the other side of the dome. "What's the latest?"

	"We don't know," Marcus replied, and something told Sylia that this man was Red Two. 
"When I asked Doctor Mayer for an update, he told me, and I quote, 'Go away and leave us alone 
so we can fix what's broken.' end quote. He's taking this one personally."

	"I see." Greg walked over to a intercom built into the dome and punched a button. "Doctor 
Mayer?" he asked in a voice that demanded attention.

	One of the surgically dressed figures looked up at him, and even from this distance, 
Sylia could see the anger in his eyes. He stalked over to another intercom, this one built into 
the wall. "I'm busy," a voice snapped from the intercom.

	"I know you're busy," replied Greg cooly. "I want to know what Janie's current condition 
is."

	"She's still alive," Meyers replied testily. "Now, why don't you leave me alone and let 
me get back to it?"
	
	"Doctor, she is the entire reason we are here. If she dies, then our mission is a 
failure."

	"I know that!"

	"Then can you tell me your medical opinion of her condition."

	Meyer sighed. "Between the loss of blood, malnutrition, the number of drugs in her 
system, and some of the worse physical torture I have ever had the misfortune of ever seeing, 
she's lucky she's still breathing. Did you kill the slime who did this to her?"

	"We're not sure."

	"Then why don't you go and make sure and leave us alone!" With that, Meyer snapped the 
intercom off and stalked back to the table.

	Greg looked at Marcus. "Keep an eye on things, and let me know if something happens."

	"Right."

	Greg touched Sylia on the arm. "I need to talk to you," he said in s soft voice. "But not 
here." He led her out of the observation room and down the hall to an empty office and said, 
"Please have a seat." 

	Sylia chose a chair, while Greg declined the chair behind the desk and instead opted for 
a couch. "I think it's time to talk."

	"About what?" Sylia asked, taking the baseball cap off so she could look at him.

	Greg leaned back. "We never did agree to your fee for this operation."

	"I thought we agree on that already."

	"That was for finding Janie. That didn't including rescuing her."

	Sylia leaned forward. "All right. What do you think is fair?"

	Greg didn't bat an eyelash. "One hundred million dollars."

	There was silence in the office for a moment. What is he doing? Sylia asked herself. 
"A bit excessive, isn't it?"

	"Not really. I would pay twice as much to get Janie back."

	"I think I can agree to one hundred million."

	Greg slapped his thigh. "Good. Meet me for dinner tonight and we'll hash out the details 
then."

	"Dinner?" Sylia asked cooly.

	"Dinner," confirmed Greg. "I refuse to discuss business dressed like this, at this time 
of the morning, on an empty stomach with very little sleep. You should feel the same way." 
Greg's eyes were half closed, making it hard to tell exactly what he was thinking.

	"I suppose I can see my way to have dinner with you," Sylia replied.

	"Fine. Dastari's Restaurant, say seven thirty?"

	"Make it Eight."

	"Fine. Do you want to stay here and wait for a progress report on Janie, or go home?"

	"I think I should go." Sylia stood, Greg half a heartbeat behind her. "It's going to dawn 
in a very short while. I should get my people home before then."

	"Yes. I'll escort you back to the landing pad."

	"There's no need. I can find my own way back."

	Greg gave her a tired smile. "Oh, no you don't. You're not getting rid of me that easily. 
My mother taught me to be a gentleman. If she ever heard that I didn't escort you to your 
vehicle, she'd never let me hear the end of it."

	"Does you mother know about the Black Knights?"

	The leader of the Black Knights laughed. "Does Mother know about the Black Knights? Who 
do you think led the Knight's hardsuit design team for me?" He went to the office door and 
opened it. "Let's go, My Lady. Your chariot awaits."



GENOM Tower
December 23, 2035
6:04am 


	Quincy didn't turn when he heard the door to his office open. "Yes?" he said.

	Madigan stood in the doorway, a folder on her hand. "The latest reports on the night's 
incidents."

	It was then the Chairman turned from the window to look at her. "Have you read the 
reports?"

	"Yes Sir. We expected to revise the conclusions as we receive more data."

	"I understand. I am looking for a preliminary report at this time. I will expect the 
final report in two days. Come in and summerize the situation as it stands right now, if you 
please."

	The special assistant walked into the room and stood by the desk. "Over the last seven 
hours, a total of six Gulf and Bradley business were attacked last night, including -"

	"Six? I only order five attacks."

	"I was about to explain that sir."

	"Indeed?" Quincy waved his hand toward a chair. "Sit and explain."

	"Yes, sir." Madigan sat. "The one Gulf and Bradley subsidiary that was not on the list 
you approved was the Gulf and Bradley Biomechanical Research Institute."

	"Someone attacked it?"

	"Yes Sir. A mix of armed intruders, at least one team of Black Knights, and an attack 
helicopter. According to the reports we have, the building was heavily damaged."

	The Chairman nodded. "MALCORP did not waste any time, did they?"

	"No sir, they did not." 

	Quincy walked over to his desk and sat down. "What other targets did MALCORP attack?"

	"To the best of our knowledge, they also attacked two other targets, both of them were on 
the list. One was the ARNPTSE Storage Compound, where they clashed with our own attack force 
and an unusually large guard force. The other was --"

	"Gulf and Bradley - Japan headquarters building," finished Quincy.

	"Yes Sir."

	"A logical conclusion. I take it that Janie VanDell was not recovered by our forces?"

	"She was not."

	"And the Bradley Twins?"

	"There has been no sign of them."

	Quincy sighed. "So it is very possible that they escaped?"

	"Yes sir. I'm sorry."

	"Don't be. Those two are displaying a cunning I did not think they had. You will, of 
course, activate a hunter team with orders to locate and eliminate the twins."

	"Yes sir. Do you wish to activate another hunter team to retrieve the VanDell girl?"

	The Chairman thought for a moment. "No," he said finally. "Mr. Mallory has shown he is 
willing to go to extreme efforts to recover what he feels is his. No doubt any effort to take 
the girl from them would result in too much effort for too little return. We will allow Mr. 
Mallory his victory."

	"Yes sir."

	"Back to the report. The results of the attacks?"

	"Both the ARNPTSE Storage Compound and Novastar car plant are complete losses, which 
means a minimum of a year to rebuild and restructure their manufacturing plans. Their 
headquarters building is heavily damaged, as is the Biomechanical Research Institute. We 
predict a minimum of two months before they will be back at one hundred percent. The other 
targets are not as seriously damaged, but they will be out of operation for several weeks." 

	Quincy leaned back in his chair, steepled his fingertips and looked at Madigan. "What are 
the effects on Gulf and Bradley's overall profitability?"

	Madigan glanced down at the report in her lap. "The preliminary reports indicate that 
Gulf and Bradley -- Japan lost thirty percent of their annual profits for the next twelve 
months, decreasing to fifteen percent for the twenty-four months after that and returning to 
current levels after that. We also project that the corporation will have to take a two hundred 
million dollar charge against their profits for the next two quarters to cover the repair, 
construction costs and lawsuits resulting from tonight's actions."

	"Have a team investigate the possibility of GENOM purchasing one of more of Gulf and 
Bradley's subsidiaries. I want a list of the top five possibilities in two days."

	Madigan made a note. "Any consideration of location, field of business, or 
profitability?"

	"Not at this time."

	"Yes sir." She stood. "Anything else?"

	Quincy looked at her with half closed eyes. "Yes," he said softly. "Mr Mallory interests 
me. It appears that he is interested in an 'alliance' with Miss Stingray. Maybe it's time we 
took a closer look at him and his corporation."

	"Do you wish to take action against him?"

	The chairman shook his head. "Not unless we have to. It has been a long time since I had 
a challenge, and Mr. Mallory might be the one to supply it. For now, we wait and watch."

	"Yes sir."

	"Now," said Quincy firmly. "You will go and get six hours of sleep as you are in need of 
them. You will join me for lunch at one-thirty, where we will continue this discussion. Any 
questions?"

	"No sir."

	"You may leave. Good morning, Miss Madigan."

	"Good Morning, Sir."



Outside Gulf and Bradley - Japan Headquarters
December 23, 2035
6:53am


	The four vans slowed as the street became thick with smoke. In the front passenger seat, 
Martha Desalvo was having a hard time controlling her temper. If I ever get my hands on those 
two, she swore to herself, I'll kill then with my bare hands!

	The reports that came in while her and her security teams were en route pictured a 
disaster of incredible magnitude. The Alpha Star Refinery -- out of action for at least two 
months. The Biomechanical Research Institute -- seriously damaged with valuable research lost. 
A storage complex -- loss of cargo, time, and the monetary losses running into the millions 
already. Other Bradley-owned businesses were in a state of havoc, as their management tried to 
sort out the thunderbolt of chaos that struck overnight. And the Headquarters building....   

	A barricade blocked the van's progress. A heavily armed police trooper with the letters 
ADP on his flack jacket stepped over to the van. Desalvo rolled down her window, trying to 
ignore the stench of rubber, plastic, and other odors that hung in the air. "Yes?" she snapped.

	"I'm sorry Ma'am," said the trooper. "But I'm afraid the street's blocked."

	Desalvo pulled a small leather case from her pocket and opened it. She thrust it in the 
surprised policeman's face. "My name is Martha Desalvo, Executive Vice-president in charge of 
Internal Affairs for Gulf and Bradley. The men with me and myself have been ordered to secure 
the Gulf and Bradley-Japan Headquarters building from any non-authorized personnel. If you do 
not let us through, you Mayor is going to receive a personal call from Janson Bradley, CEO of 
Gulf and Bradley, who is already extremely angry at the total incompetence of the city's police 
and emergency services. If you hold us up any longer then is absolutely necessary, the city 
with be hit with a lawsuit so big that anything not belonging to GENOM directly will end up 
belong to us, including your useless hide! Do you understand?"   

	"I need to contact my superiors," said the trooper as he stepped back.

	Desalvo rolled up the window again. The driver next to her looked solemn. "Do you think 
the twins managed to escape?" he asked.   

	"Knowing those two, Hyde, they crept out at the first explosion." Desalvo looked over at 
him. "Tell the team leaders -- Cora and Carlton are considered SOS targets."

	George Hyde had worked with Desalvo for several years now and recognized the tone in her 
voice "What about Ozu?"

	"I want him alive and able to talk. Anything short of that is allowed."

	The man shrugged. "I don't think Mr. Bradley's going to like having his niece and nephew 
under a 'Shoot On Sight' order."

	"Well, he's going to like it less if those two go on trial for kidnaping, murder, 
terrorism, wilful destruction of property, plus any other charges the police can throw at them. 
And if it's any incentive, I know that MALCORP and GENOM will also be gunning for those two, so 
we won't be alone in out pursuit."

	"Is that wise? We're already going to take a hit for this fiasco, that last thing we need 
on top of that is a circus right here in Quincyland"

	"I want them dead. The sooner that happens the better."

	"Do you really think Quincy will go after them?"

	Desalvo looked at him. "The old bastard didn't get to the top and stay there by being 
stupid or leaving live enemies behind him."

	"I don't want to have to fight both the twins and GENOM."

	"Quincy won't actively interfere with our operations. I bet right now, he's sitting back, 
laughing at all of us."

	"No bet," grumbled Hyde. "What else do you want us to secure once we're inside?"   

	"The computer system for one." Desalvo scowled. "Once we've secured the communications 
system, I want all subsidiaries reporting to this headquarters locked down and secured until we 
can clear them of any of the twin's influences."   

	"Oh shit. Do you know how long that will take?"   

	"Think of it as job security. Or would you rather be out, pounding the pavement?"    

	"Did Mr. Bradley okay it?"   

	"He did. Got the authorization as the temporary head of Gulf and Bradley - Japan."   

	Hyde looked over at her. "The old man made you the head of this disaster?"  

	"He did. He wants all of the twins's influence eliminated before he hands it off to 
someone else. That's my job." She looked over at him. "And as of right now, you're the vice-
president."   

	"Me? Why me?"   

	"I trust you. I don't trust anyone working here yet."   

	"Thanks for the vote of confidence," muttered Hyde. "We're going to need more security 
teams, though."   

	"I talked to Mr. Bradley before we landed. We'll have another five teams here from 
Houston before the day is out, and another five teams from other parts of the world by this 
time tomorrow. You're in charge of all of them."    

	"How's the old man taking it?"   

	"How do you expect? He's frothing at the mouth. You're safer here right now then in 
Houston."   

	The ADP trooper walked back over to the van. "You're cleared, Ma'am," he said 
briskly."Please stop by the headquarters trailer first and speak to Inspector Wong. He'll have 
information that you should know before you enter the building."

	"Thank you," snarled Desalvo. "Let's move it, Hyde."




Chapter 45


Warehouse #41526584							
Yokohama District 
December 24, 2035
3:14pm


	The morning had passed quietly in the warehouse, despite the warfare that had occurred in 
the early morning hours. Most of the Knights and others that had been out in the field were 
still sleeping, while the support technicians and medical personnel continued their own 
responsibilities. Others monitored the emergency channels, piecing together the results of the 
last twelve hours.

	Marcus Jackson yawned as he walked towards the office. Six hours of sleep had worked 
wonders, but it still wasn't enough. He down half the contents of his coffee cup, then entered 
the office.

	He stopped short at the sight of his friend and boss sitting at the desk. "When did you 
show up?" he asked.

	Greg glanced at his watch. "About two hours ago."

	Marcus walked over to the couch and dropped into it. "I thought you'd be still be with 
Janie."

	"Mayer threaten to sedate me for the next several days if I didn't stop hovering. So I 
came here to look over the paperwork from last night."

	"How's Janie?" 

	"Physically, she's stable. I don't know about her mental state."

	"Has she waken up?"

	Greg shook his head. "Meyer thinks that it's best that she doesn't wake up until she's 
home with her mother by her side."

	Marcus closed his eyes. "I really hate this job sometimes."

	"So do I."

	"I wish we'd had those two in our sights last night. We could have solved so many of our 
problems if we'd killed them."

	"Don't give up hope yet. My sources say that the twins have worn out their welcome with 
everyone. Besides ourselves, Gulf and Bradley have a Shoot-On-Sight order out for them, and 
Quincy has activated a hunter team. The police, the governments of Japan and the United States 
have a dragnet out for them, and Skeeter's put the word out on the street. If either one sticks 
their head up of whatever hole they've slithered down, they're going to lose it." Greg's 
expression was one of mild anger. "I don't care who nails their hide to the wall. As long as 
someone does it."

	"What are we going to do next?"

	"We're going to spend another day here, then head home."

	Marcus sighed. "I wanted to be home for Christmas."

	"So did I. But we need this day. Meyer thinks that Janie will be stable enough to be 
moved by then, the teams can get some need rest and repairs done, and I'll have some time to 
clear up some lose ends."

	"Does one of those lose ends involved your dinner date from last night?" asked Marcus 
with a smile.

	Greg returned his smile. "I wouldn't go that far, but I am having dinner with her 
tonight."

	"Twice in two days? Sounds serious."

	"It is."

	"Do we get a name to go along with the face?"

	Greg leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. "Maybe later."

	Just then, there was a knock at the door. "Enter," Greg called out.

	Jeena and Leon walked into the office. The one-armed woman gave her boss a cheerful wave 
while Leon was more sated in his greeting. "How's Janie?' Jeena asked.

	"Still hanging in there. You two did good work last night."

	Jeena shrugged. "It was fun to be on the giving end of the battle then on the receiving 
end this time around."

	"Do you think Inspector Wong is going to give you any trouble over the attack?"

	Leon shook his head, "Daley's has too much on his plate as it stands right now. He trusts 
Jeena, so he's not going to cause waves in MALCORP's direction. Gulf and Bradley is going to 
take up most of his investigation time."

	"How did Skeeter's people do?"

	"He had a few casualties, lost an armored car at the Institute, but he seemed awfully 
pleased with himself when I talked to him."

	"Might have something to do with the large number of Yakuza bodies they found at the 
storage site," said Marcus.

	Leon snorted. "Figures." He looked at Greg. "Skeeter told me to tell you that he wants to 
explore the possibility of an alliance for some future projects."

	"We're not going to do anything illegal," said Marcus.

	"I don't think Mr. Karns is talking about getting us involved in anything illegal," 
replied Greg slowly, looking amused.

	"Skeeter prefers to keep his operations out of the public eye," said Leon, "but he might 
hit you up for a school or a clinic for his turf."

	"We might do better then that," said Greg, looking thoughtful. "Marcus, could you find 
Marla for me? I need her to put some plans into motion."

	"What sort of plans?' asked Marcus.

	"Ambitious plans. I think it's time we started expanding into Asia more then we've been 
doing."

	"Expanding? Here?"

	"Why not? With Gulf and Bradley-Japan in shambles, it would be the perfect time. We spin 
off our current holdings here with some new acquisitions in a corporation headed up by a senior 
vice-president, and a local board of directors. We pick some small companies and cast offs  
from other corps and build slowly."

	"Assuming Quincy allows you to do that."

	"It'll be years before the new corp would be anything but a mild annoyance, and Quincy 
doesn't both with small annoyances. Go get Marla."

	"Right."

	Greg waited until Marcus left the office before he looked at Leon. "What do you think of 
our operations here?"

	"I'm impressed. I can see why Jeena likes working for you."

	"Do you want to come onboard MALCORP full time? We pay well for experienced people like 
you."

	There was silence for several seconds. Leon shook his head. "I can't," he said. "No 
offence, but --"

	"You're not sure you can trust us in the long run," Greg finished. He shrugged. "I'm not 
offended. Jeena, you owe me twenty."

	Jeena sighed and took out her wallet, she handed Greg a US twenty dollar bill. "I thought 
he would have jumped at the chance," she said with a reluctant expression."

	Leon frowned. "I don't understand. You expected me to say no?"

	Greg place the bill into his pocket and smiled. "Leon," he said smoothly. "The offer was, 
and is, genuine, but you don't strike me as the type that would accept it right now. I can't 
say about down the road, but you are not the corporate type."

	"I don't know if I should be insulted or pleased."

	"In your case, take it as a complement."

	"I'm not enamored by the corporations I've had to deal with over the years."

	"I don't blame you. In fact, I understand exactly where you're coming from. This city 
brings out a certain edge of cynicism that you don't see elsewhere, and after the actions of 
the last two days, none of corporations who were involved improved our collective images any."

	"You were the only one who had a motive I could agree with."

	"True, but if you didn't like my motive, you would have walked away from MALCORP without 
a second thought. We had a common goal, getting Janie VanDell back from a pair of walking 
snakes, but that goal is over, so our paths with separate again."

	"You seemed like you already knew my answer before you asked the question."

	Greg shrugged again. "One of the reason why I'm successful is I can read a person's 
motives very quickly. You're a man of principles, and you stick to them. I respect people who 
have them and defend them. You're afraid that you'll have to sacrifice them for the sake of 
your job, good pay and benefits."

	"You make it sound like I'm too noble," said Leon.

	"There's nothing wrong with being too noble, as long as you keep it perspective. You 
can."

	"Nobility isn't going to get me paid."

	"No, but I know an outfit that can use the skills attitude you possess that can really 
use your skills."

	"Who?"

	"The ADP."

	"What?" shouted Leon. "I quit that outfit. They're not going to take me back!"

	"On the contrary, they will. You see, another talent you have is choosing people who will 
do what they can to help you. You didn't quit, you went undercover to try and stop a coprwar."

	"I what?"

	"It's true," Jeena said with a smirk. "You're listed as being on vacation. You saw there 
was a corpwar brewing, but you didn't have time to brief and place an undercover officer into 
the situation, so you decided to do it yourself. Daley went to bat for you and convinced the 
chief that you staged the blow-up in his office to establish your status and make you a 
probable target for recruitment. And you were recruited."

	"But how am I going to explain what happened?" Leon asked. "I don't have any evidence 
that would hold up in court."

	"It won't go as far as that," Greg replied. "Quincy doesn't want an investigation into 
this matter, just on general principles. Gulf and Bradley sure as hell doesn't want an 
investigation, because of the twins' actions with the Thor satellite. I don't want an 
investigation, because I don't want to expose Janie to any more trauma. Therefore, a word in 
the right ear, and there will be no investigation. You'll write up a report, it'll be filed, 
then forgotten. There will be an official explanation that no one will believe, and there will 
be conspiracy theories that'll somehow tie this all into a grand plan to take over the world 
for an invading race of aliens."

	"That almost makes sense," said Jeena.

	"What do I put into the report?" asked Leon.

	"The basic truth, just shade some of the details," replied Greg. "MALCORP came to 
retrieve something of value that Gulf and Bradley stole. Gulf and Bradley didn't want to give 
the item up, and there was some violence. You were hired as guide and local expert, but you 
weren't in on the planning sessions."

	"I suppose that will work."

	Jeena snorted. "According to Daley, that moron in the chief's chair will believe 
anything. Just don't make it too elaborate. It would only confuse him."

	Greg leaned forward. "We also picked up a gentleman who would be able to supply some of 
the answers to some of our questions. Do you remember A Doctor Richard Mclaren?"

	Leon nodded. "Yes. He was involved with the giant boomer project a couple of years back. 
But he's suppose to be in jail."

	"Not for the last two months. Carlton 'borrowed' him to work on the force shield project. 
We're not sure what we're going to do with him. Bradley forced him to work on the project, and 
he knows too much to simply let go."

	"How about putting him back into prison?" suggested Jeena.

	"How do we do that without rasing the alarm?"

	"I'll talk to Skeeter," said Leon. "He might know a way to smuggle Mclaren back into 
prison. But how do we keep him silent about this?"

	Greg smiled. "We let Mr. Karns talk to him. I think a few choice words from him with 
solve any possible problems with the good doctor's silence, at least long enough for MALCORP to 
get him transferred to another prison in the US." He leaned forward. "But let's go on to 
another subject. While you won't come to work for MALCORP full-time, could I temp you with a 
role as a consultant?"

	"What sort of consultant?" asked Leon.

	"MALCORP is looking to expand into the police market, especially in the area of Boomer 
control. We need people who have street experience who can work with our people in developing 
effective anti-boomer weapons. You would be perfect for the position."

	"What would I get out of it?"

	"Besides a nice paycheck?" Greg placed his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers. 
"How about enough of the new weapons you help develop to outfit the ADP at no charge to the 
department?"

	"Are you serious?"

	"Very. This farce of boomer rampages has gone on too long, and people have suffered 
because of it. I think it's time to make a stand."

	"Is that all you want from me?"

	Greg shook his head. "I also want to set up an independent corporation that would be 
owned by members of the ADP to invest and manage money from the members of the ADP, both active 
and retired. It would act as a source of income for those crippled in the line of duty, or for 
the children of widows and orphans. I will make sure MALCORP kicks in a large, one-time sum to 
get things started, but this company will be independent from MALCORP's control after that. I 
want both of you to be part of that."

	"How much would this 'one-time' sum be?"

	"How about a quarter of a billion US dollars?"

	Leon raised an eyebrow, but it wasn't enough to disguise his surprise. "Why the sudden 
outpouring of goodies?"

	"Because I can. Because I like helping people. Because it'll tweak Quincy's nose. Because 
I can write off the investment on my tax bill. Your choice."

	"You're making a real effort to sell me," said Leon.

	Marla walked in without knocking. Greg looked at her. "Do you have the list of 
businesses?" he asked.

	"Yes Sir."

	"What about the other item?"

	"The jeweler was a bit surprised at the request, but he agreed to the commission. It 
should be ready by six tonight."

	"Good. Let me see the list."

	Marla, looking rested and relaxed, pulled a sheet from a folder she was holding and 
walked over to the desk. She handed the paper to Greg. Greg scanned it and nodded.

	"What's that?" asked Leon.

	"A list of business for sale in the city. Most are too small for companies like MALCORP 
to bother with, but a few of these might be suitable for the basis of the new ADP company. Look 
at number eight on the list." He handed the paper to Leon.

	Leon scanned the list until his eyes hit the item Greg had mentioned.

	#8 - HOT LEGS NIGHTCLUB

	"It's for sale?" he asked in surprise.

	"The price is not outrageous," Greg replied. "And there's potential for steady growth" He 
now looked amused. "It would also allow a certain friend of yours to rely on a solid home base 
for her singing career."

	"She'll never go for it."

	"Your friend needs friends who can support her other job. Who better then someone who 
knows and appreciate both her jobs?"

	"She'll see it as an attempt to bribe her."

	"I get the feeling that she don't like handouts," said Greg with a smile.

	"Not her," said Jeena with the same smile.

	"Could I discuss it with her?" asked Leon.

	"If you like. I think we can have the basic corporate structure in place by the new year, 
and I suggest you move fast before people realize who you are."

	"I want to think about it."

	"That's fine. I could send you a list of reliable people who can run the day-to-day 
operations of the company, but I think the board of directors should all be ADP people. I can 
start the process right now, but it would be up to you and the other ADP officers to decide if 
and when to put this plan into operation."

	Leon looked over at Jeena. "What do you think about this?"

	Jeena smirked as she shrugged. "I say go for it. Who do you think suggested the idea to 
the boss in the first place?"

	"Couldn't this be considered a conflict of interest?"

	"Only if we invest in boomer technology, which may not be a bad idea."


	"Give me until the new year to think this over," said Leon.

	"Fair enough," replied Greg. "When you came to a decision either way, you can contact me 
through Jeena."

	Leon nodded. "You're not at all I'd expected a CEO of a mega-corporation to be like."

	"I was never one to conform to stereotypes. Which reminds me...." He looked at Jeena. 
"Have you paid him yet?"

	Jeena was still smiling. "Nope."

	"I think that's the last order of business before we part ways. Jeena?"

	The one-armed woman's smile got even broader as she reached into the pocket of her 
jumpsuit and extracted a large roll of cash. Instead of counting off some bills, she said to 
Leon, "Hold out your hand." When Leon did so, she dropped the entire roll onto his hand.

	Frowning, Leon flipped through the roll, noting the large denominations of the bills. He 
glanced at Greg. "That's a lot of cash," he said finally.

	The CEO looked relaxed. "I decided you deserved a bonus for your help."

	"I see." Leon looked at the roll. "I'm not sure if I should accept it."

	"Take it. You worked hard for it, and you definitely earned it. Without your help, I 
think we would have been still searching for Janie and we might have had even heavier 
causalities. This amount will square things between MALCORP and you."

	"Don't you dare think about refusing it," said Jeena with a dangerous gleam in her eye. 
"Because if you did, I would have to refuse my bonus, and if that happens, I will make you life 
miserable."

	Leon glanced at her. "You wouldn't."

	"You know me better then that, Rookie. I've already have plans for that money, and I'm 
not about to let your sense of honor ruin it for me."

	"I would have to turn this cash in as evidence."

	"No you don't." Jeena extracted another, smaller roll of cash and slapped it into Leon's 
other hand. "You give them this."

	Leon glanced at the new roll. Despite being smaller then the first roll, it was still a 
healthy amount. "I don't know if they'll accept this."

	"It's what will be officially listed in our expense reports," said Greg. "But if they 
never ask for it, I won't object if you kept it."

	Leon sighed and pocketed both rolls. "You two drive a hard bargain."

	"That's the way I've always worked," replied Greg, standing up and extending his hand to 
Leon. "It has been a pleasure working with you, Leon. If you ever want to come work for 
MALCORP, you will be welcomed. I hope you take me up on my proposals. I think we can both make 
a difference in this city."

	Leon took the offered hand. "You've given me some things to think about," he admitted.

	"Good. As I said, when you come to a decision, You can contact me through Jeena."

	Jeena linked her arm through Leon's. "Come on Rookie, we're going to have an early 
dinner, then some nightclubbing before you go back to the glamor of the ADP."

	"Anywhere in particular?" asked Leon.

	"Well, the Hot Legs nightclub should be jumping tonight. Who knows? Maybe your girlfriend 
will be there."

	"I doubt it."

	Jeena grinned. "This is Christmas, the season of miracles. At the very least, you'll have 
one night to enjoy without having to respond to a boomer rampage." She tugged on his arm. "Come 
on, Rookie, lets roll."



AD Police Headquarters
December 24, 2035 
6:09pm


	Alan leaned back in his chair and stretched. "Another day," he muttered, "another handful 
of Yen."

	"Hmm?" asked Nene. A long day of work on top of little sleep the night before was taking 
it's toll on her. Instead of going home, she had sacked out on a cot in the Sabers' ready room 
for an hour, then Mackie had driven her into work. She wonder if she'd stay awake long enough 
to make it home. And she promised Mackie that she'd join him and maybe the others at the Hot 
Legs for a celebration later tonight....   

	Alan stood and leaned over the cubical wall. "Did your boyfriend keep you up THAT late?" 
he asked, amusement in his tone. "Or are you already turning into the nasty mean-spirited 
bosses we all hate and despise?"

	Nene glared at him. "It wasn't like that," she grumbled. "I was up half the night working 
on a detection program to supplement the ones we already have."   

	"Oh? Any luck?"   

	"Some," she replied stiffly. "Give me another week, and it'll be ready for a Beta test."   

	"Want me to give you a hand with it?"   

	She shrugged. "I suppose you can. How fast can you code?"

	Alan straightened and buffed his fingernails on his shirt. "I know a thing or two about 
coding." He smiled. "And since I have nothing resembling a social life, I can devote time to 
it."   

	The low snarl in Nene's throat brought a smile to Alan's face. "Calm down, Boss," he said 
easily. "No need to go ballistic on me. It's Christmas Eve."  

	"So?"   

	"So don't pull a Scrooge act on me."   

	"So what are you going to do for Christmas?" asked Nene.   

	"Sleep in," replied Alan stretching.

	"You don't have family?"   

	"They're all in the US. I'm working today and the day after Christmas, because we're so 
short-handed that I couldn't take any time off. I'll have to be satisfied with a long  vid-call 
with the family. What about you?"   

	"I-I'm not on speaking terms with my parents right now."   

	"Oh? Why?"   

	"They think I should be going to college, find a nice guy, marry and settle down."   

	Alan smiled. "You don't strike me as the bookworm type."   

	Nene made a face. "Keep it up, Corporal," she growled, "and you'll be working for the 
traffic division."   

	Alan made a face. "Not that!" he said in mock seriousness, waving his hands. "Anything 
but that!"   

	"Good."   

	"So that means you'll have more time for your boyfriend."   

	Nene rolled her eyes, then grinned mischievously at Alan. "I've got an idea," she said 
slowly.   

	"What?"   

	"You're not doing anything tonight, are you?"   

	"Besides sleeping? No."   

	"Good. I'm meeting Linna and another friend at a local bar tonight. You're coming along."   

	"Me?"   

	"Yes. I'm ordering you to come along and have a good time."   

	Alan looked askance at her. "Huh?"   

	"You told me you haven't had a night out in two years, right?"   

	"Er...yes, but-" 

	"And Linna is between boyfriends right now."

	"But --"   

	"And my boyfriend is going to be there too. And I promised Linna to find someone for her 
tonight." Linna, don't you dare find someone else before tonight! She thought. "Plus, Priss 
doesn't believe I actually have anyone working for me in this job, and I want to prove her 
wrong."

	Alan frowned. "Who's Priss?"

	"Priss, as in 'Priss and the Replicants.' You know, the music you were listening to the 
first time I met you?"   

	Alan's eyes lit up. "You know Priss Asagiri? Wow."   

	"She doesn't like drooling fan boys," replied Nene defensively. "Especially drooling 
fanboys that happen to be cops."   

	Alan gave her a grin. "Don't worry, Boss. I won't embarrass you by acting like Leon,"   

	"You'd better not!"   

	"Besides, if she's resistant to 'Mister Macho,' what chance would a tech-weenie like me 
have?"   

	"Just promise me you'll be on your best behavior." 

	"I know Priss' reputation. I want my body parts in the same order they are now." 

	"Do you know the Hot Legs nightclub?"

	Alan smiled. "Sure Boss. What time?"

	"Eight o'clock?"

	"Sounds fine by me. I shouldn't stay out too late, though."

	"Why?" Nene asked, puzzled.

	"I don't want to sleep in with a hangover."

	"Now who's being the Scrooge?" asked Nene tartly.

	Alan shrugged. "I hate hangovers. Besides, you shouldn't be out late yourself. You look 
tired, and I thought I heard snoring coming from that side of the wall a couple of times 
today."

	"I don't snore!"

	"Well, something was snoring over there, and -"

	"I don't snore!" Nene repeated, color coming into her cheeks.

	Alan again put his hands up. "See? You're already in denial. Another couple of weeks and 
you'll be just like the rest of the department heads."

	"That's not funny!"

	Alan became serious. "You'll have to forgive my sense of humor, Nene. It's a little rusty 
from not being used much the last couple of years. It's a thankless job we've been stuck with, 
and humor's about the only outlet we're going to get."

	"I know. Just try and tone it down, Okay?"

	Alan smiled. "Sure thing, Boss."

	"I wish I'd known beforehand that you weren't going to be able to spend Christmas with 
your family," said Nene. "I could have arranged emergency leave for you. I think you could have 
used it."

	"No need, boss. My family's been soldiers for the past five generations, so we're use to 
not having all the family together at holidays." He smiled. "Besides, there's no way I'd leave 
you alone with this mess."

	Nene smiled back. "Thanks."

	Alan glanced at his watch. "If you want to meet over at the nightclub at eight, then we 
better get moving. I want to take a shower and get changed."

	"Me too. I think it'll only take us ten minutes to put everything we can into place for 
the next couple of days."

	"That sounds good to me." Alan disappeared behind the cubical wall and for the next seven 
minutes there was nothing but the sounds of two set of fingers running over a couple of 
keyboards.



Dastari's Restaurant
December 24, 2035
7:53pm   


	 The restaurant was surprisingly busy tonight as Sylia walked out of the elevator.

	The same Matra de' from yesterday walked over to her. "Good Evening, Miss Stingray," he 
said formally. "Mr. Mallory is awaiting your arrival. If you will please follow me?"

	As Sylia followed the smartly dressed head waiter, her mind drifted back over the last 
twelve hours. The KnightWing had managed to make it back to the Lady633 building before the 
last of the night had faded. Using the aircraft's engine mufflers at full, Mackie managed to 
guide the aircraft onto its landing pad, which quickly dropped into the tower and away from 
prying eyes. By the time they descended to the main hanger, the Sabers were out of their 
hardsuits and had secured everything away.

	For reasons of morale, Sylia had decreed that everyone get some sleep before they did 
anything else. Nene had begged off, citing that she had to be at work in a couple of hours, but 
Sylia had insisted that the ADP officer take a nap anyway, with Mackie promising to drive Nene 
in time for her shift. Reluctantly, Nene laid down on a cot and promptly fell asleep. The 
others followed suit, with the exception of Mackie.

	By the time the Sylia and the others had gotten several hours of needed sleep, Mackie had 
taken it upon himself to clean up the hardsuits, put them into storage, drive a somewhat sleepy 
Nene to work, and make breakfast. As they ate, Mackie told them he'd made plans to take Nene to 
the Hot Legs nightclub after her work, and would the others like to come along? Linna had said 
yes, Priss had to prodded into accepting, but Sylia declined, telling about the dinner with 
Greg. That caused a reaction.

	"I told you," Priss had muttered darkly. "He isn't going to stop until you're married to 
him, or he's dead."

	"It's a business dinner," Sylia had replied. "To arrange the details of the payment. 
Nothing more."

	"You'll be the one getting the business," Priss said gruffly.

	"I can take care of myself."

	"Are you sure, Sis?" Mackie asked, his concern that of a brother for a sister. "He might 
be obsessive about you."

	Sylia shook her head. "I can take care of myself," she repeated. "Greg Mallory is not 
going to kidnap me and carry me off, all right?"

	"I wouldn't put it past him," said Priss.

	"He is a honorable man."

	"Honor has nothing to do with his thoughts about you."

	Sylia shook her head. "If it will make you happy, I'll wear an emergency beacon, just in 
case, all right?"

	"Don't do anything rash," said Linna. That earned her a stare from the other three. She 
flinched. "What?" she said defensively.

	"Never mind," replied Sylia with a smile.

	The meeting broke up after that, and Sylia spent the rest of the afternoon going over 
paperwork and the hardsuits. Late in the afternoon, she got ready for the dinner.

	She decided for a less formal dress and appearance for the dinner, to stress the business 
aspect of the meeting. So, she chosen a cream color, knee length skirt and coat over a pale 
blue blouse, with white, low-heel shoes and purse. She had driven herself to the appointment 
and now was steeling herself for the meeting.

	Greg rose from his chair as the maitre de' and Sylia approached. The table he was sitting 
at was again was next to the window, though it was a different location. The anti-eavesdropping 
device was on the table, the little lights indicating it was on. Greg was dressed in a dark 
blue suit with a shirt and tie that was a slightly lighter shade of blue. He smiled at Sylia 
and motioned to the seat on the other side of the table. "Good evening."

	Sylia sat down and place her purse on the table. "I'm surprised that it's this busy 
tonight."

	Greg resumed his seat. "My fault. Most of these people are senior MALCORP management and 
department heads, getting together for dinner and talk." With a nod from Greg, the Maitre de' 
left them alone.

	"I didn't expect to walk into a party," Sylia said.

	"Not a party. I don't plan to give any speeches tonight, though I will have to move about 
later to press the flesh and pass the encouraging word. But that is later."

	"I wanted to get our business out of the way."

	Greg nodded. "Would you care to order first? The food is excellent."

	"I know." Sylia picked up the menu and scanned it. "How is Janie?"

	"She will survive, no thanks to Carlton and Cora. But it won't be easy or a short 
recovery. Doctor Meyer has decided to keep Janie sedated until she's home. But she has a 
chance, which is all I want for her now."

	"What were the final casualty figures?"

	For an instant, Greg looked weary. "We had four Knights injured, two of them seriously. 
Mr. Karns losses were five killed, seven wounded." He then gave Sylia a small smile. "But it 
seems that his unit that hit the storage uncovered a large Yakuza drug lab in the basement."

	Sylia looked up him. "A drug lab? How did that happened?"

	"I don't know. All I know is the entire storage facility was raise to the ground, 
including the office building with the lab in it.  Mr. Karns takes a dim view on drug pushers, 
doesn't he?"

	"A very dim view," Sylia replied. She glanced down at the menu again. "Anything new on 
the Bradleys?"

	"No. They've gone to ground. My sources say that a Miss Martha Desalvo has been sent in 
to get a handle on things for Gulf and Bradley, and she wants the twins dead almost as bad as I 
do."

	 "And GENOM?"

	"Quincy's looking for them, as expected."

	Sylia closed the menu. "I'm ready to order."

	"So am I." Greg raised his hand into the air, and, if by magic, a waiter appeared. After 
both of his customers had order, he vanished into the kitchen.

	"Do you want to discuss payment now?" Sylia asked.

	Greg leaned forward. "I think it would be a good idea. Where and when?"

	"It took them five minutes to hash out the details. After they had finished, Greg smiled. 
"You definitely did not pick that stuff up in a classroom."

	"I have plenty of experience," Sylia replied, still keeping her cool, business-like 
manner. "Anything else you wish to discuss?"

	When she saw the gleam in Greg's eye, she knew she had just made a mistake.

	"Several things," he replied blandly. "For a change of pace, let's get the personal 
business out of the way first." He removed a small case from his pocket and placed it in from 
of Sylia. "I want you to have this, if you'll accept it."

	Sylia stared at the box. It was small and expensive-looking, with plush material covering 
it. She reached for it slowly, her eyes never leaving the box. Once her fingers caressed it, 
she picked it up with care, her mind screaming what she already knew was inside the box. 
Delicately, she opened the box, and her fears and suspicions were confirmed. At that moment, 
complete indecision gripped her.

	It was a ring, sitting on the velvet material inside. The band was gold, two strands of 
metal twisted around each other for the entire band. A number of colored gems were placed 
around a diamond about he size of her thumbnail, and her mind noted that the color of the gems 
on the left side of the setting matched the color of the Saber's hardsuits,   white, blue, 
green and red -- while the gems on the other half were the black and gold of the Black Knights.

	Sylia didn't know how long she stared at it. She felt the conflict inside of her, and she 
could do nothing but let it continue.

	It's an engagement ring! part of her mind was shouting.

	So? the rational part of her mind countered. I can't marry him.

	Slowly she closed the box and pushed it toward Greg. "I can't accept it," she said.

	"Because of what it represents?"

	She nodded. "I told you I have commitments here. I can't walk away from them."

	"I would never ask you to do that."

	"Then, why the ring?"

	Greg leaned forward. "Remembered when we discussed the future? How if all you ever 
thought about was the present, you would lose your future?"

	"I remember. I'm not sure if I want to think that far ahead."

	"I'm not asking to think that far ahead."

	"Then, what do you want from me? We've only seen each other for a couple of days, but you 
want me to marry you. Why?"

	Greg steepled his fingers. "I've already explained my reason. I have no other motives 
then those I listed before. Do I have to explain them again?"

	"No," Sylia said with a shake of her head. "But I am wondering if maybe your thoughts 
about me have been...influenced."

	He frowned at her. "Influenced? By what?"

	"By the data unit you received when you were sixteen."

	"Ah. That's your worry, isn't it?" Greg nodded slowly. "You think that your father 
programmed my data unit so I would fall in love with you."

	"My father did have a favorable opinion of you. I wouldn't have put it past him to make 
sure we would fall in love with each other."

	Greg chuckled softly. "Do you actually believe that?"

	"It is something I think we could consider."

	"He didn't have to program the data unit for that."

	Sylia gave him a startled look. The firmness of his statement had surprised her.

	The CEO continued, his tone steady, his expression soft. "I wasn't candid with you at 
lunch yesterday, because I didn't want to give you the impression I was obsessed with you."

	"What do you mean?"

	"The week before my mother and I left Japan, I had a short meeting with your father."

	"I don't remember --"

	"You were in school at the time. At that meeting, I told him then that I intended to come 
back in ten years and court you."

	"What?" Sylia's tone was flat.

	"I was fifteen years old at the time, young and full of bravo. Your father smiled at me 
and said he wouldn't object to my courtship of you, as long as I graduated from college and 
applied myself in whatever career I chose."

	"He didn't."

	"He did. As I look back on that meeting, he seemed rather amused at my announcement."

	"He never said anything about it to me."

	"I wouldn't have, in his place."

	A waiter came over with a tray and placed two cups and a pot on the table, then with-
drew. The conversation lagged until after Greg poured them each a cup of tea. They each took a 
sip, then Sylia asked, "So why didn't you came back three years ago?"

	"Several reasons," Greg replied. "I had a major corporation that needed my attention, the 
Black Knights needed my direction, and I wasn't sure you would welcome my attention at this 
time. If it wasn't for Janie, I don't think I would have gotten here for another year or two."

	"You knew I was behind the Knight Sabers before you came."

	"I had strong suspicions. The hardsuit technology we have in common proved it came from 
the same source."

	"What made you change your mind about romancing me?"

	Greg snorted. "Some romance. If we're not fencing with words over a meal, we're dueling 
with Boomers over a girl's life."

	"That is not an answer." 

	"Do you mean, why I'm pursuing you now?"

	"If you like to phrase it that way."

	"I had wanted to meet you, for purely business reasons, but when I saw you for the first 
time yesterday, I remembered why I told your father that I would be back thirteen years ago. 
The promise I saw in you then has been realized in your beauty, your intelligence, and your 
strength of character. I remembered why I loved you even back then."

	Sylia was silent for a moment. "I still cannot accepted the ring," she said, fighting to 
keep her voice level.

	"I don't want an answer now, or next week, or even next year." Greg picked up the box and 
held it out to Sylia. "What I want you to do with this is to keep it as a reminder that there 
is a future beyond fighting GENOM. A life I want to share with you."

	"You're not going to take 'no' for an answer, are you?"

	"About accepting the ring? No. About the other question?" Greg took a deep breath. "If 
you were to say 'yes' right now, I would be ecstatic. But I know your answer would be right now 
and the foreseeable future."

	Sylia took the ring box and placed it off to one side of the table, near the window. "I 
cannot promise that I will ever change that answer."

	"I wouldn't expect you to change your answer, under these circumstances."

	"Then why even ask the question?"

	"Because I must."

	"I don't see the situation changing anytime soon."

	"As it stands now, you're right." He placed the box in front of her. "But do you want to 
change that?"

	Sylia's eyes narrowed. "In what way?"

	"You said the situation here isn't going to get any better. I want to change that, and I 
will need your help."

	"And what is your proposal?"

	Greg hunched forward. "I want to make a difference here in this city. To do that, I need 
to expand MALCORP's operations in Asia. In order to do that, I need people I can trust."

	"You want me to head up your operations here?"

	Greg shook his head. "That would be too high profile. I will bring in people to run the 
day-to-day operations. But I want you on the local Board of Directors."

	"Why?" Sylia asked bluntly.

	"Because I trust you."

	"You don't know me."

	Greg shook his head. "You're wrong there. Sylia. I know you well enough to want you on my 
side." He sipped his tea. "I want you to make sure we're not putting profit over people. You 
are smart enough to chose a good position, tough enough to stick to your guns when you need to, 
and caring enough to remember that the corporation is not the god we live under."

	"It sounds like you want me to be the consciousness of the board."

	"Not its consciousness, its perception."

	Sylia sipped some tea. "Suppose I agree to this. What are you offering in exchange?"

	"As a Director, you would have stock opinions and a salary. You would also have access to 
research materials and other items that you could find useful for the Sabers."

	"That doesn't interest me."

	"You need allies, Sylia. You've done a lot on your own, but you're just sticking your 
finger in the dike. You are forced to react to Quincy's calling of the tune. I can help you 
stop reacting and start acting to improve things."

	Sylia sipped her tea, her eyes never leaving Greg. "What do you mean by 'improving 
things?" she asked, holding the cup in her hand.

	"First, MALCORP is going to equipt the ADP with effective anti-boomer weapons."

	Sylia stared at him. "How are you going to do that? GENOM isn't going to allow the ADP to 
buy weapons like you describe."

	"Who said ADP is going to have to buy them? I've already decided to give the weapons to 
the ADP at no cost." Greg down half the contents of his teacup, then continued. "After the 
events in the last couple of days, the city government and the Diet are going to have to do 
something radical to save what's left of their reputation with the voters. A few words in the 
right ears, and they will have to accept help, no matter who it is. I'm also bringing Leon 
McNichol onboard as a 'special consultant,' to help in the design and development of tactics 
for the new systems."

	"'Special consultant'?"

	Greg shrugged. "It was the best I could do. As a matter of course, I offered him a 
position with MALCORP, and -"

	"- he turned you down flat," finished Sylia.

	"Yep. But he's willing to go back to the ADP. Seems he has friends in high and low places 
inside the ADP."

	"The quality of the personnel have never been the problem at the ADP. Just the people in 
control don't want them doing too good a job."

	"After the last two days, there is no way those in power can let that continue. They are 
going to have to spend millions to repair the coastal highway, and the insurance claims are 
going to be astronomical on the damaged and destroyed businesses." There was a glint in Greg's 
eyes. "And when the rumors start floating around that this was a corpwar that could have been 
prevented, there's going to be a scramble by the politicos to distance themselves from their 
pay-masters. I plan to wedge MALCORP into that distancing."

	"Is that wise?"

	"Unless someone does something, it will never get better. I not expecting a miracle 
overnight. What I'm expecting is the beginning of a better future."

	"These new weapon systems for the ADP," said Sylia cooly. "How long are you expecting it 
will take before the ADP will be armed with them?"

	"Ninety days from today."

	"That's moving fast."

	"With McNichol and other members of the ADP supplying knowledge and advice, we can narrow 
down our focus to what will and won't work on the street. I've got people putting together 
ideas and criteria right now. I also have two factories readying themselves for the new 
systems. The can have the first systems ready to be shipped twenty-four hours from the time the 
designs are approved."

	"Quincy isn't going to take this lying down."

	"He'll let me run free while he calculates how much of a problem I will be."

	"While you do something else he doesn't expect."

	Greg smiled. "Exactly. I have some other projects in the works right now that will 
hopefully catch that old buzzard off guard when they come out."

	"Don't underestimate Quincy. His reach is long and his power is great."

	Greg nodded "I know."

	Just then, the waiter approached with their dinner. Both Sylia and Greg said nothing 
while they were served. After the waiter had withdrawn, they started eating. After a couple of 
minutes, Greg said, "I also want to put the Sabers on a yearly retainer."

	Sylia stopped eating. "What for?" she asked.

	"This operation pointed out that the Black Knights aren't as effective outside the US. We 
suffered intelligence, logistics, language and cultural problems on this mission. If it wasn't 
for the intelligence you and Inspector McNichol supplied, Janie wouldn't be safely in our care 
right now. There had been a suggestion that MALCORP hire the Sabers to rescue Janie, but I 
wanted to rescue her myself. I let my heart overrule my head, and it nearly was disastrous."

	"What terms are you offering?" Sylia asked.

	"Ten million a year for the first three years, plus you have the right to refuse any 
assignment and a free hand to plan and execute as you see fit."

	Sylia shook her head. "Thirty million per year for the first two years, with the other 
stipulations you mentioned, plus access to the design data for the Black Knight Hardsuits."

	Greg looked at Sylia through narrowed eyes. "Fifteen million per year for the first two 
years, with the refusal and free hand clauses, plus access to the Knight's intelligence 
databases."

	Sylia took another bite of her meal, giving her time to think. "Twenty million per year, 
two years, with all the stipulations that have been listed so far, plus I chose the mission 
payment."

	"I will agree to the amount, the length, and the stipulations, but I want to retain the 
amount I offer per mission."

	"Minimum amount to be the retainer plus fifty percent." 

	"Agreed."

	The were silent as they continued eating. "If I had any concerns about your business 
sharpness," Said Greg, "you just allayed them."

	Sylia wiped her mouth withe her napkin. "Maybe if you actually tried to bargain, you 
would have gotten a better deal."

	Greg shrugged. "Maybe, but I wanted to make the deal."

	"Why the sudden explosion of interest to what's happening here? Are you that committed to 
marrying me?"

	"Yes."

	Sylia blinked. "Priss was right about you," she said.

	"Oh? What did she say?"

	"She expected you to sling me over your shoulder and carry me off to America."

	Greg looked thoughtful. "Well, I hadn't contemplated that." He smiled. "It does have a 
certain appeal."

	"She also said you wouldn't no for an answer."

	"I'm not use to hearing no, but in you case, if you say 'no', I will accept it."

	"Why don't I believe you?"

	"Why should you?" He picked up the ring box, and held it out to her. "There are not  many 
people in this world I consider friends. I have people who work with me and for me, but I don't 
feel the same way about them as I do about you."

	Sylia looked at the ring box. "I'm not sure I should accept that."

	"This ring means more then just a personal promise. It is a promise to this city and the 
people in it."

	"I don't -"

	"I am willing to wait for as long as it takes for you to say 'yes', but if I do nothing 
to change the situation here, then I'll be waiting forever." Greg took a deep breath. "So, I 
must change the situation in this city. I must become an opposing force to GENOM and the others 
who see people the same way as they see an office chair -- something that can be replaced every 
so often. I want your help in changing things here in this city. You cannot do it yourself, no 
matter how hard you try. I am willing to make a stand. Are you willing to help me do that?"

	"Do you realize what you are doing? Quincy is the most powerful person on the planet."

	"And if no one challenges him, he'll stay the most powerful person on the planet. I'm not 
planning to destroy GENOM, just shake it out of its attitude that only they matter in this 
world. It has become a bloated monstrosity that has sunk it tentacles deep into our society, a 
cancer that has to be cut back, if humans are to survive and prosper. I've been considering 
this for a while, but seeing you again has brought a personal purpose to my decision. If 
nothing else, you've given me a reason to start this fight."

	"You could destroy MALCORP doing this."

	"I'm willing to risk it. I've been gearing up for this since I took over, but I haven't 
actually had the courage to take the last step until now. Will you take that step with me, to 
make an attempt to grind away the excesses of GENOM?" 

	Sylia glanced between the ring box and Greg's serious expression. "I cannot give you an 
answer for the personal reason behind this," she said, taking the ring box from Greg's hand. 
"But for the other things, you have an ally."

	"I won't ask you that question until you feel the situation here has improved, but I will 
ask it sometime in the future. When that time comes, I will abide by your decision. Fair 
enough?"

	"I can accept that."

	"Good. In that case, I want to introduce you to some of the other members of the senior 
MALCORP leadership, as the first member of the new Board of Directors for MALCORP - Far East."

	Sylia sighed. "I suppose it's too late to say 'no'."

	"Don't worry about it. You'll find them in the same frame of mind as me. Like I said, 
I've been readying myself for this since I took over." He stood and held out a hand to her. 
"Are you ready to meet you allies?"

	Sylia took his hand. "How much will they know about me?"

	"Besides your public persona? Not a damn thing. The Sabers are your secret and whatever 
happens, that won't change. I can keep secrets too."

	Sylia arched an eyebrow. "Don't keep too many secrets from those who might need to know."

	Greg smiled as he assisted Sylia to rise out of her seat. "That is half the fun. Shall we 
mingle?"


Hot Legs Nightclub
December 24, 2035
9:26pm 


	Alan had met Nene at the entrance to the nightclub at about eight o'clock and the two had 
gone in. They found the other three already there, sitting around a table on the terrace 
overlooking the dance floor and stage. Nene had introduced Alan to both Mackie and Priss, and 
Alan, dressed in a loose blue sweater and slacks, was polite and charming to Nene's friends. 
Linna, who had shown up alone, immediately claimed Alan as her date tonight, which the ADP 
officer did nothing to dispute.

	They spent the next hour talking, the conversation possible because of the nightclub's 
acoustics. By unspoken agreement, they avoided talking about work and instead talked about 
friends and family. Snacking on an assortment of appetizers, the flow of the conversation at 
the table remained relaxed, if not familiar. Even Priss, who wasn't happy with having a 
stranger with them, stayed aloof without being totally removed from the discussion.

	The first real break in the talk around the table came when Nene began to snuggle up to 
Mackie. She had drunk a couple of wine coolers and she was, in Linna's words, "Feeling no 
pain." Priss, Linna and Alan were more or less spread around the rest of the table, a slight 
look of disbelief on their faces at the sight of the new lovebirds

	Alan shook his head and asked, "Is she always like this after a couple of drinks?"

	"Nope," replied Priss with a smile. Her arm was now in a sling, but it hadn't stopped her 
from consuming a pair of beers. "She likes to try and sing my songs. Sometimes she even hits 
the right notes."

	"I remember one time when she tried to get on top of a table and do a strip tease," said 
Linna. "Priss and I had to hustle her out of there before she could get started."

	Nene mumbled something and snuggled closer to Mackie. He was looking embarrassed and 
uncomfortable.

	Alan smiled. "I'll have to remember that the next time she does my fitness evaluation."

	"Don't tell her who told you," said Linna.

	"Your secret is safe with me."

	"You don't act like a tech weenie," said Priss, looking at Alan.

	Alan arched an eyebrow. "How are tech weenie's suppose to act?"

	"You haven't said anything about a computer all night. I figured that you, Mackie and 
Nene would have started discussing the latest tech."

	The male ADP officer shrugged. "I'm rather new at being a tech weenie."

	"How did you end up as a technical support person?" asked Mackie. "Priss is right, you 
don't seem the type."

	"I was...a front-line officer," Alan said carefully. "I ended up involved in an incident 
that put me out of action for a while. After that, I was offered a technical position and I 
took it." His expression hardened. "If you don't mind, I rather not talk about it any more.'

	"But -" said Priss.

	"He said he didn't want to talk about it," said Linna sharply. "I think we should respect 
his wishes."

	The singer gave the dancer a cold stare. Alan glanced over the rail at the crowd below. 
"That's interesting," he said mildly.

	"What?" asked Priss.

	"Inspector McNichol is here."

	"Leon?" said Linna.

	"Where?" asked Priss.

	"By the bar," Alan replied. "He just walked in with a tall, one-armed woman."

	"Jeena Malso," said Priss. "Leon's ex-partner."

	"So that's Malso. I know her by reputation only."

	"What are they doing?" Mackie asked.

	"Leon asking the bartender something, while Jeena's scanning the crowd. The bartender is 
point up here and Leon's turning and he's seen me." He waved down. "They're coming this 
direction."

	"I wonder what they want?" asked Linna.

	"I bet you he asked the bartender if he'd seen me," said Priss, a scowl on her face.

	"Should we prepare for bloodshed?" Alan asked.

	Linna grinned. "I don't think we have to worry about that."

	"Oh. She's going to strangle him then?" Priss gave him a dark look.

	"Er...Priss and Leon have -" began Linna.

	"He doesn't have to know," said Priss flatly.

	Linna turned to look at Priss. "He's going to find out sooner or later."

	"There's nothing to find out."

	"Find out what?" ask Alan.

	"Nothing," repeated the singer, glaring at Alan, who ignore her. 

	Nene burbled something and one of her hands drifted into Mackie's lap. The expression on 
the younger Stingray's face was hard to describe. "I could use some help here!" he hissed.

	Priss' expression became a smirk. "You're on your own, Romeo" she said slowly.

	"Maybe you should take her home," suggested Alan. "She told me she was up half of last 
night working on a new security program, and it's clear she can't hold her alcohol."

	Mackie removed Nene's hand from his lap. "I think you're right." He looked down at the 
sleepy redhead. "Let's go Nene. I'll take you home."

	"Nope," Nene replied, her voice soft and slurred, but still understandable. "I want to 
stay here with my friends."

	"But your tired and you're not feeling well, and -"

	Nene opened her eyes and stared up into Mackie's face. "I am staying," she said flatly. 
She grabbed the back of his head and pulled him down into a passionate kiss. Mackie tried to 
struggle out of the hold, but the ADP office had better position and was applying most of her 
strength to maintain her grasp.

	"I don't believe it," said Linna, staring at the sight of her friend lipped locked with 
her new boyfriend.

	"Planning to take notes?" asked Alan in an amused tone. 

	Linna glared at him. "I don't need any --"

	"I think she's giving him the tongue," said Priss in a shock tone as she stared at the 
kissing couple. "I didn't think it was possible."

	"I think she's been practicing," said Linna.

	"I think Mackie's stopped struggling," noted Alan, still looking amused. He looked 
around. "Does anyone have a camera I can borrow?"

	"What for?" Linna asked sharply.

	Alan grinned. "It's too good an opportunity to pass up. You never know when you might 
need something like this when I need a good evaluation from her."

	Before Linna could reply, Leon and Jeena walked up to the table. "Hello, ladies," Leon 
said pleasantly, holding a beer in one hand and looking mellow. "How are things...." He stopped 
and stared at Nene and Mackie, surprise flickering across his features. "Nene?"

	Jeena looked amused. "Well, Rookie," she drawled, "there's another one taken. I do hope 
they come up for air soon."

	"Anyone want to start a betting pool?" asked Alan. 

	Leon glanced over at him. "What are you doing here?"

	Alan shrugged. "I was ordered to come here and enjoy myself."

	"Who order you to do that?"

	"My immediate superior, the senior computer security officer."

	"There isn't a senior computer security officer at the ADP," said Leon flatly.

	"Yes there is." Alan grinned again. "In fact she's across the table from me right now, 
cleaning her boyfriend's tonsils."

	Leon expression was shock. "Nene? When did that happened?"

	"Day before yesterday. Daley did it right after you left on vacation."

	Nene broke the kiss and looked up at Leon. "Hi ya, Leon-chan," she chirped happily. "How 
ya doing? Enjoying your vacation?"

	"Er...fine," Leon replied lamely. "And I've had more restful days off." Nene giggled and 
went back to cuddling a red-face Mackie

	"What brings you down here?" Priss asked him, her tone not quite hostile.

	"I wanted to talk to you."

	"About what?"

	"I rather talk to you alone. It's kind of personal."

	A vestige of an expression came and went from her face. "I don't know if I should..."

	Another group approached the table. Priss eyes narrowed as she saw who they were. "What's 
your problem now?" she snarled at the newcomers.

	The new group didn't look happy. One of them, a short, thin guy with shallow features 
stepped forward. "Hey Priss," he said, his voice thick. "Haven't seen you in a while."

	"What do you want, Kaho?" the singer asked.

	The drummer of the Replicants looked ill at ease. "How are you doing?"

	"I'm doing all right," replied Priss stiffly.

	"What happed to your arm?"

	"I fell off my motorcycle."

	"Oh. Well....that's good. Doing any singing lately?"

	"Some. What are you guys doing?"

	"We're doing all right. The owner lets us play here a couple of nights a week, but  "

	"Will you get to the point Kaho?" snapped Hower, the base guitarist.

	"What is the point?" Priss asked.

	"Well, er...."

	"Look," said Hower. "We've been thinking it over and we think  "

	"We made a mistake when we threw you out of the band," finished Kaho.

	Priss leaned back in her chair and stared at her former band mates. "You finally realized 
that?" 

	"Don't give us that shit!" Hower snapped angrily. "We weren't the ones who disappeared 
whenever they felt like it, skipped rehearsals, and piss off the boss three times a week!"

	"Chill, Howie," said Kaho. "Starting an argument isn't going to solve our problem." He 
looked at Priss. "Things haven't been going so well since we parted ways, and --"

	"What Kaho is saying," interrupted Francine, a wild-haired blonde who played rhythm 
guitar for the group, "Is that while you're a pain in the ass when you were with us, we're shit 
without you. We made a mistake and we're sorry."

	"We want you back with the group," finished Kaho

	A strange emotion drifted across Priss's face, a blend of hope and anger that went from 
one to the other in a matter of seconds. But before she could say anything, Leon said. "She 
accepts."

	Everyone turned to look at him. "I didn't realize you were my agent," said Priss acidly.

	"Just looking out for your best interests."

	"I don't recall hiring you."

	"Can we talk for a couple of minutes?" he looked around at the others. "Alone?"

	Alan stood up and held his hand out to Linna. "Care to dance?"

	Linna glanced at Leon's expression, then Priss', and took Alan's offered hand. "I think 
we should." She stood and they left the table.

	Mackie, with Nene still holding on to him like he was a stuffed toy, said, "I think I'll 
take Nene home. I'll see you tomorrow, Priss." He stood, and left the table with Nene still 
clutching his arm.

	Priss looked at the Replicants. "Can you give me a couple of minutes?" she said. "I need 
to talk to my agent here."

	"But  " began Hower.

	"Chill man," said Kaho. "That's Leon. ADP and Priss' main squeeze." Priss glowered at 
him, and the drummer took a couple of steps back.

	Priss sighed. "Look, give me ten minutes and I should have an answer, Okay?"

	Kaho nodded. "Okay, Priss. Ten minutes." The band members walked away.

	Jeena slapped Leon on the back. "While you're talking to your girlfriend there, I'm going 
to see what the local talent has to offer. Don't wait up for me." She strode away, giving them 
a wave as she did so.

	Leon sat in the chair nearest to Priss. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

	"Like hell," Priss replied. "My arm stills hurts and I'm stiff. What brings you down 
here?"

	"Jeena suggested it."

	Priss snorted. "I don't believe you. You going to go work for MALCORP?"

	Leon shook his head, then took a sip of his beer. "They offered, but I turned them down. 
I'm going back to the ADP."

	"You're what?"

	"I'm going back to the ADP."

	"Why?"

	"Because they need me."

	Priss looked at him askance. "Why the hell are you doing that?"

	"Because I can make a difference there. I've already talked to Daley and I go back the 
day after tomorrow."

	"You're insane."

	"Maybe I am."

	"Maybe your are." Priss leaned back in her chair. "What brings you down here? Were you 
looking for me?"

	"Not really, but I asked the bartender if he'd seen you tonight and he pointed me in this 
direction. I really came by because I wanted to talk to the owner about this place."

	"Why? Did he forget to make the monthly pay-off?"

	"I wanted to see how much he wanted for the place."

	"This place?"

	"Yes."

 	"The Hot Legs nightclub?"

	"Yes."

	Priss' expression was one of pure disbelief. "Who are you bullshitting? You don't have 
the money to buy this place."

	I don't, but I know someone who does."

	"Who?"

	"I rather not say."

	"MALCORP?"

	"Sort of."

	"What do you mean 'sot of'?"

	Leon sighed. "I mean that MALCORP is willing to put up seed money for a corporation."

	"What for?" Priss snarled, disbelief and anger in her tone and expression.

	"For members and former members of the ADP."

	"What is that arrogant son-of-a-bitch up to?"

	"Greg Mallory?"

	"Yes, that arrogant son-of-a-bitch! Did you sell out to him?"

	"What do you mean sell out to him?" Leon shot back. "He's willing to fund seed money for 
a corporation that would do what this city and GENOM won't -- pay the disabled and those who 
lost loved ones a decent pension. A situation caused because they won't let the ADP do the job 
they're supposed to be doing!"

	"And running to another megacorp is suppose to a good idea?"

	"Hey, I haven't accepted his offer for the money yet."

	"So are you thinking of selling out to that bastard?"

	"What do you mean sell out? He's also offering to equipt the ADP with anti-boomer 

weapons, at no cost to the department."

	"I don't trust him," said Priss with some heat. "He's just as bad as Quincy is. He thinks 
he's God, and you're willing to take what scraps he's offering you and you think he's your best 
friend! I don't buy it!"

	Leon's eyes narrow and his mouth tightened. "Look," he said, "It's about time you 
realized that the world isn't black and white. There's a hell of a lot of gray areas, and you 
have to chose how much gray you're willing to let into your life."

	"Bullshit."

	"Is it? You think Greg Mallory is a bastard   maybe he is, I don't know. But he's 
offering something that will help the city and the ADP, which is more then Quincy or the 
government ever did. Do you know what the average life expectancy of an ADP street trooper is?"

	"No."

	"A month and a half. We suffer more then thirty percent causalities three times out of 
five. The press makes us out as gun happy freaks who are in the ADP only because the SDF didn't 
want us because we're too violent. The public hates us, the government despises us, and GENOM 
does its best to cripple us. We can't go on like this for much longer before the ADP becomes 
completely useless in stopping boomers. That would mean more work for you at you other job."

	Priss grimaced. Leon was right, though she wouldn't tell him that.

	"To put it bluntly," Leon continued, his expression strangely passionate. "We are 
drowning in a sea of blood and the only one that's holding out a lifeline is MALCORP. If we 
have any chance of reclaiming any hope of saving this city from the boomers, we need outside 
help. Greg Mallory is offering that help. I'm beginning to see that I'm not in a position to 
turn it down, not if I want to halt the slide of the ADP into the abyss."

	"So you are leaning towards accepting the offer."

	"I am. But I wanted to talk to you first before I accepted it."

	"Why start here with your corporation?' Priss asked.

	"Most of the money will be invested in business like these, too small for GENOM and the 
other megacorps to worry about." He smiled. "I have some personal reason for making this place 
the first asset of the corporation. That's why I want to talk to you first."

	"What do you mean?"

	"The Hot Legs is almost your home base. How would you like it to be your home base 
officially?"

	"I don't take bribes!"

	"Not a bribe. An inducement to get your singing career back on track. And don't tell me 
you haven't missed singing. I know you too well for you to try and pull that shit on me."

	"Look, I don't need your --"

	"Look, you need help. Why don't you admit that?"

	"I don't want to be in debt to you, all right?"

	"Do you think I would take advantage of that?"

	"I -" Priss stopped, then shook her head. "No, you wouldn't. You know I'd would accept 
that."

	"But I've seen you on stage. You take the crowd's energy and make your own. Don't tell me 
you haven't missed that."

	Priss' expression was resigned. "I do miss it. But I'm not sure I want to sell my soul to 
get it back."

	"I'm not asking you to do that. Thanks to Mallory, I'm in a position to offer you a 
chance to do what you love to do, with no strings attached."

	"But what about the Sab "

	"We can work around those obligations," said Leon calmly. "And we can construct the 
agreement so you can play other clubs on a limited basis, and you would retain all rights to 
your recordings."

	Priss leaned back in her chair and glared at him. "Damm it Leon," she snarled. "Just when 
I think I've gotten you figured out, you go and pull this stunt!"

	"Just part of my charm."

	"You've been thinking about this for a while, haven't you?"

	Leon shrugged. "I have. You singing is what made me first notice you, and I know how 
important it is to you. I can't compete with that, so, I have to not only live with it, I have 
to encourage and support it. So, what do you say?"

	"You don't leave much of a choice. If you buy this place, I'll sing here. Satisfied?"

	"Good. What about the Replicants?"

	Priss glanced in the direction of the band. "They're mediocre without me, but I'm a hell 
of a lot better with them. If they really want me back, then you can include them in on the 
deal."

	"That's fine. Do you want to go tell them to good news?"

	Priss smiled. "Not for a couple more minutes. Let them sweat that much longer."

	"You're an evil woman."

	"I know."

	"Oh, by the way. Priss?" 

	"Yea?"

	"Merry Christmas."

	"Yea, it's been a hell of a Christmas season, hasn't it?"

	"I hope it's a happier New Year."

	Priss picked up her drink. "That," she said seriously, "I'll agree with." 

	The clank of their bottles was lost in the backbeat of the drums as a band began to play 
on the stage below....



Author's Notes


If you made it this far, THANK YOU! THANK YOU!!  THANK YOU!!!

Black Knights, Steel Hearts wasn't supposed to anywhere as long as it turned out to be!! I 
thought maybe twenty chapters and it would be finished, but no, it's more than twice as long, 
and more complex than I thought it would be. What started as a simple idea slowly turned into a 
monster, as the story became more and more involved. It took over four years to write and it's 
the longest piece of fiction I have ever written. I might have been able to shorten up the 
length of time, but I have other fanfictions I've been working on, and I went back and forward 
between several stories.

My thanks to all those who have sent me kind words regarding my writing. I hope to one day do 
it professionally, though I do need to work on my proofreading.

This story is to be the first in a series I plan to call BUBBLEGUM CRUCIBLE. The second and 
third stories are already underway - Vigilante's Run and Storm Warning. There are other stories 
in the planning stages, including a three part 'mini-series' that will introduce another 
hardsuited vigilante named Kagemusha, who will have his (or her) own effect on the Sabers.

I also have other stories, including what I hope will be a series called BLEGUM AVATAR,
another BGC universe that is a Self-insertion fanfiction in the tradition of  The Bubblegum 
Zone.

Later!

C. A. Reed, Jr.

5/23/01




	

	
Chapters 36 - 40
	
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