Bubblegum Crisis Fan Fiction ❯ Bubblegum Avatar #1 -- "Tin-Sell City" ❯ Chapter 7 - "Basic Training" ( Chapter 7 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

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Chapter 7 - "Basic Training"

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The last week of the old year and the first five weeks of the new were a rather quiet time for the Knight Sabers. The snow, as a whole, had finally succumbed to the heat generated by the steel and concrete buildings of the city, though a few pockets of the white stuff clung stubbornly in shadow-filled alleys and doorways. It remained cold, a veiled threat of possibly more snow in the near future.

The threat of boomer rampaging also seemed to be only a veiled menace during that time. Only three out of control boomers were reported during the six weeks, and all were quickly, if not quietly, taken down by the ADPolice before the Knight Sabers could even think of suiting up.

Which suited Sylia fine. Taking the opportunity presented by the relative peace, she'd started several projects in motion.

The first project was to check out White Guardian Security corporation. After a couple of hours, Nene had dug up the following: White Guardian Security had been in business for over thirty years, and was well-regarded in the field of physical and computer security. The owner and head of the company was an Ishmael White, a reclusive genius who had not only built the company into the largest independent security firm in the world, but had managed to stave off takeover attempts from the large multi-national corporations like GENOM and Gulf and Bradley. Beyond that, Nene had run into the equivalent of a cyber stone wall when she tried to access the company's internal network. Sylia had order her to back off and try other databases.

The results of that search weren't helpful. No personal information about Mr. White existed anywhere in several databases Nene tried, which raise the redhead's eyebrows. More digging proved to be fruitless. No evidence of Mr. White's existence could be found, but somehow, Sylia knew that the man who had been in her living room hadn't chosen that name or that company by coincident.

The second project was to have Fargo put together files on a list of names she'd supplied him with. Her informant was puzzled at the instructions, seeing as the list were made up of unknowns, and wanted to know why Sylia wanted information on people like J. B. Gibson, Doctor Miriam Yoshida, and Irene Cann. Sylia ignore the questions.

Her next task was redesigning the hardsuits. She had thought about putting off the upgrades until the middle of the year at the earliest, but with the money from Ishmael and the future shown in the animated stories, she thought it prudent to start designing now.

An offshoot of that project was designing Craig's hardsuit. When she asked him what he wanted in the hardsuit, he'd told her, "Make it black and gray in color and no high heels. I have enough of a problem walking around in regular shoes, let alone something like you guys wear. Everything else I leave to your discretion." It had taken her two weeks, but she'd completed the basic design, then started working on several additions.

While Sylia wasn't handling the design work, she oversaw Craig's training regimen. His typical day started with a run and early morning sparring sessions with Linna. After breakfast, he'd spend most of the day helping Mackie or Doctor Raven with repairs and maintenance on Knight Sabers equipment. Late afternoon and early evenings were split between Sylia's language lessons, Nene's explanation about the current state of computers, or Priss' motorcycle riding instructions, depending on which one of the three was free at the time. Twice a week was spent in the training rooms located under Raven's, while three days were spent at a local health club on weight machines. Then, it was to an early bed and start the whole process over again the next morning.

He wasn't the only one that was learning. Linna found herself leaning some of what Craig knew about close in fighting, while Nene got some insights into old operating systems, programming languages, and computer security. Mackie and Doctor Raven learned that Craig could, and frequently did, curse very long and loud when the need arose, much to their amusement.

Of course, Mackie hadn't been amused when the girls took their revenge on his attempted voyeurism with the cameras. Waking up next to the penthouse's pool stark naked wasn't good. Waking up next to the penthouse's pool stark naked when the air temperature was well below zero degrees Celsius and snow still on the ground was even worse. But waking up next to the penthouse's pool stark naked, when the air temperature was well below zero degrees Celsius, snow still on the ground, and being watched by four women, three of them making loud and lewd comments about his physique, was too much. He'd tried to escape by fleeing into the penthouse, but all the doors were locked, and there was nothing he could use to cover himself or hide behind. After ten minutes of complete embarrassment, Sylia stopped the others and handed Mackie a thick blanket. "Now you know how we feel," she'd told him severely. "And I hope you felt the same way." Mackie, shivering from the cold and humiliation could only nod. Craig had slept through the entire event and didn't find out about until much later.

The train and physical activities had it's effect on Craig. Despite his grumbling, he lost several more kilos. Under Linna's relentless instruction, he'd shaken all the rust off his martial arts knowledge, catching the dancer every so often with a remembered technique or combination in their sparring matches. Craig's mechanical knowledge, under Mackie and Doctor Raven's eyes, also increased, but even he admitted that he was all thumbs and not to be trusted around delicate equipment. After about two weeks of discussion, Nene had brought him up to speed on the current state of computers in 2032.

The two areas where Craig was having problems was with Motorcycle riding and learning Japanese. With Priss, insults between the two of them seemed to fly faster then the cycles were. The arguments had never come to blows and Priss continued to teach him, but there a tenseness between the two that hadn't quite dissolved.

The language lessons were stumbling along, partly because Sylia's schedule was always changing, and in part because Craig's skills at picking up new languages was poor. His attempts at speaking were slow and halting, making him sound like he was drunk or stupid. They kept at it, and there was slow improvement along the way.

Despite the troubles he was having, Craig seemed to be adjusting to his new life. Thanks to a couple of Sylia's contacts, he now had a full set of identification papers, proving he was a new citizen of MegaTokyo. Nene had made sure the papers would hold up under close scrutiny by cracking several of the city's important informational systems and planting several data files. He'd also had money, some from the job he had at Raven's, which seemed to please him.

Despite seeing him on a constant basis, Sylia still managed to be surprised by Craig. She had walked into the penthouse late in the afternoon one day to find a small pile of books sitting on the table in the living room. Sitting in a chair, looking relaxed, and reading was Craig. He had waved a greeting in her direction, but hadn't look up from his reading.

"What are you reading?" she had asked him.

"The Art of War," he'd replied. "I'm refreshing my memory on Sun Tzu."

Sylia nodded. She was familiar with the book and several others in the same field. "Where did you find these?" she'd asked, motioning to the books on the table.

"Old store four blocks over." He turned the page and continued reading.

"Most of the books come in a e-text format."

"I've worked with computers enough as it is. Besides, staring at a screen for a long time isn't something I want to be doing."

Sylia gave him a mild stare. "Just don't leave too many of them lying around."

After that, the number of books in and around the penthouse seemed to grow and shrink at a controlled rate. Science fiction, thrillers, fantasy, military history, martial arts, chess, and other sorts of books appeared, both hardback and paperback. Every two weeks, Craig would fill a box of books he'd read and store them in a nearby warehousing place. She asked him once what he was doing buying so many books. He'd replied that he was rebuilding his library. It seemed that every minute he wasn't doing something, he was reading.

Books weren't the only thing Craig started buying. Audio disks and a player appeared one day, and soon there was a varying number of albums here and there. Whenever Sylia came across several of the miniature disks Craig had left lying around, she would go through them out of curiosity. She quickly realized his taste in music as varied, but unusual. A good number of movie and television soundtracks (mostly from the science fiction genera), a selection of Scottish and Irish music (with a seeming emphasis on bagpipes) some rock music (nothing later then the turn of the century), and old-time radio shows (mostly mystery and suspense shows). On occasion, she would see him sitting outside in a lounge chair, earphones on, listening to something.

Sylia also got glimpses of Craig's psychological make-up. When she found a picture of Largo from the animated stories taped to the refrigerator, and asked him about it, he'd simply shrugged and replied "Appetite suppressant," and left it at that, despite Sylia's follow-up questions. She did notice that the picture would disappear when there was team meetings held at the penthouse, only to reappear after everyone else had left.

Besides the reading and the picture business, Craig tried to stay out of Sylia and the other Knight Saber's way as much as possible. He'd never been into the Silky Doll, telling Sylia, "All that frilly stuff is unhealthy for the male cavemen psyche. More then three unused bras and panties in the same sight radius is usually enough to send us neanderthals running off in the other direction, and that includes me."

"That sounds sexist," Sylia replied.

"Maybe, but think about this. A women can wear a man's dress shirt and she looks sexy. A guy wearing a woman's blouse has about as much sex appeal as a road accident. Who got the better deal there?"

Sylia conceded the point. In his own way, her houseguest was beginning to fit into the team....


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The six weeks of quiet was broken one night by reports of a trio of construction boomers storming through a residential district. Nene, working as an ADP dispatcher, relayed the report to Sylia, who called the team together. Fifteen minutes later, the Silky Doll truck rolled onto the highway. Craig had suggested, and Sylia finally agreed, that the Silky Doll logo should be covered over, just in case there was a problem. With some magnetic backing, the logo was covered over in a matter of seconds.

It was late enough for the traffic to thin out from the evening's business. Mackie was driving, while Craig sat in the back with Sylia, Priss and Linna. All three of the ladies were suited up, but helmetless

"What do you want me to do?" Craig asked the Saber's leader. He had refused to stay behind this time.

"If you language skills were better, I would have you monitoring the police bands and feeding us updates. But since you can't -"

"Mackie will. Right. I can take the wheel duties if need be."

"I hope you drive better then you can ride," muttered Priss. There were a couple of unusual side effects resulting from the arguments she had with Craig - Priss' English was improving slightly, and her cursing fluently in that language had increase tenfold. In return, Craig could swear in Japanese better then he could speak it conversationally, though it still sounded like he was drunk most of the time.

"I can drive," said Craig acidly, "and I expect I'll hang onto my licence longer then a certain speed demon I know."

"Not now children," said Sylia, picking up her helmet. "You can argue after we'd stop these boomers."

"Yes Mommy," Priss and Craig chorused, she in Japanese, him in English. Linna started giggling, while Sylia smiled. Priss settled for glaring at Craig, who managed not to smirk..

"Three minutes," Mackie called out over the loudspeaker

Sylia pulled the helmet down over her head, becoming the visual leader of the Knight Sabers. "Let's get ready."

**************

The truck was pulled over on a side street that was deserted at this time of the night. Mackie was in the back, monitoring the ADP radio channels and tracking the battle. Craig sat in the cab, watching the surrounding building for any sign of trouble. The truck's radio was playing softly, but Craig wasn't listening to it.

"They got the second boomer," said Mackie over the com system that ran between cab and the trailer. "But the third Boomer's gone into a construction zone."

"That's not good," said Craig, his eyes still scanning the surrounding buildings.

"It isn't."

"Where are they now?" asked Craig.

"About four blocks over from here."

A chill went down Craig's spine. Something was wrong, but he couldn't place the feeling. He peered at the buildings around him, looking for a cause of his discomfort. Nothing seemed out of place. "Are you picking up anything locally on the sensors?" he asked Mackie

"No. Why do you ask?"

"I'm getting a feeling that we're sitting ducks here."

"Don't worry about it. We're far enough away that we can get away if the battle comes in this direction. Besides, Sylia doesn't want us to attract attention."

"I still don't like it," he said, starting the engine.

"Just relax, will you? Sylia and the others will be back in about five minutes."

"I don't care, I'm moving the truck."

"What for?"

"We've sat here too long for my taste." Craig shifted into gear and the truck moved forward.

"We're not suppose to move!"

"I'll try and keep the truck close without the battle or the ADP ending up in out laps. Which direction is the battle?"

"East, but -- "

The road behind the truck exploded, hurling chunks of rock and asphalt into the air. The shockwave slammed into the truck, nearly wrenching the steering wheel out of Craig's hands. He fought the wheel, stomping on the accelerator as hard as he could. The truck shot forward, racing for the intersection.

"What the hell was that?" shouted Mackie.

"How the bloody hell do I know?" Craig shouted back. He looked at the oncoming stop sign. "Right or left?" he shouted.

"What?"

"Which way is the fight?"

"Right!"

A red beam shot from a rooftop and punched through a parked car fifty meters in front of the truck, on the other side of the intersection. The explosion shattered nearby windows and sent a large fireball rolling up into the night air. Another bolt of angry red smashed into the street twenty meters ahead of the truck, leaving a crater in the middle of the intersection. Several cracks appeared in the windshield and a chill went through Craig.

Since the attacks seem to be coming from the left side of the street, Craig cut the steering wheel to the right, aiming for the sidewalk at the intersection's corner. As he did so, he shouted, "We're under attack!"

"What? Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm bloody well sure! Somebody's firing lasers at us!"

The truck ran up on the sidewalk , missing the edge of a solid looking building housing a bank by millimeters, then was back on the road again. At the next intersection, he made a hard left turn, nearly losing control of the truck and rolling it. He managed to save the truck before it flipped, then he floored the accelerator again. The truck leapt forward like a bolting horse.

"I've recalled the team!" Mackie yelled, "They're homing in on us now!"

"Tell them to be careful. Do we have any spare firepower back there?"

"Nothing we can use."

"Where's the ADP?"

"Two blocks over. We should avoid them."

Craig's eyes caught movement ahead of them. "Ask the team their location."

"If you see movement in front of us, that's them." Just as Mackie said that, three hardsuited figures come out of the alley. Craig slowed the truck to a stop near them.

The white Saber came over to the window. The green and blue Sabers took defensive positions to cover the buildings "What happened?" Sylia asked.

"Somebody on a roof fired at us," Craig said hurriedly. "At least three shots, a laser-type weapon."

"Are you all right?"

"Right now, yea. Ask me again in two hours."

"We'll take a look. Try and find a spot nearby, and we'll meet up in ten minutes."

Craig nodded, suddenly feeling exhausted. The three Sabers leapt into the air and disappeared onto the roof of a nearby building. Craig leaned back and said, "Mackie?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think you can come up and drive? All of a sudden, I don't feel so good."

"I think I can do that."

"Thanks." Craig looked at his hands. They were shaking.

**************

Craig's hands had stop shaking by the time the team gathered to discuss the event. Mackie had driven the truck back to the Lady633 building. Craig sat beside him, looking somewhat tired as the post adrenalin effect hit him. The three hardsuited members stayed on the rooftops, running parallel with the truck for several blocks until Sylia was certain that no one was tracking them. The team boarded the truck and Mackie took a long, circuitous route back to the building.

No one said a word until the truck was back in the garage, at which point, everyone got out of the truck and inspected the damage. In a way, the truck and its passengers had been very lucky. The last third of the trailer was pitted and burnt from the near first-miss, while the windshield and front grill had suffered several cracks from the second and third shots.

Before the discussion could start there, Sylia ordered everyone upstairs. Nene was waiting for them, having just gotten off work and had come straight over. In ten minutes, they were all sitting around Sylia's living room drinking a small selection of hot beverages. For Craig's sake, they decided to conduct the meeting in English.

Sylia started the meeting. "This attack on the truck is very disturbing. Did either one of you do anything to attract attention?"

"Nope," replied Craig. "We stopped, sat there for a while, then I got this feeling that we'd stuck around there for too long, and started to move the truck. That's when the attack first happened."

"We were lucky, Sis," said Mackie. "If we'd been sitting there when the blast hit us, we'd both be dead now."

"As it is, the truck can't been seen out on the streets like that," said Nene.

"I have already contacted someone to handle the repairs," said Sylia.

"Are you sure you guys didn't see anything on the roofs?" asked Craig.

"We found nothing but the craters and the destroyed car," replied Sylia. "You two were very lucky."

"Don't I know it," muttered Craig.

"What could have caused such damage?" asked Linna.

"I'm not sure," replied Sylia.

GENOM had to be behind it," said Priss, who was lounging on a chair on the far side of the room.

"We don't know that," said Nene.

"GENOM might be not be involved," said Craig, "but then again, the sun might not come up tomorrow. Which is more likely?"

Sylia sipped from her cup. "Now the question becomes was the truck attacked on purpose, or because it was there?"

No one had that answer, so the conversation had turned to the trio of rampaging construction boomers. Both Priss and Linna described how they're taken down two of them.

"What about the third?" asked Mackie. "Right before we were attacked, you chased it into a construction area."

"We managed to trash it pretty good," said Priss, "but the damn thing managed to smash its way through a fence where some ADP hotdog with a big pistol blew a hole through it." Her expression was sour.

"How do you know he was a hotdog?" asked Craig.

"With the size pistol he was carrying?" Priss snorted. "Only hotdogs would carry a monster pistol like the Earthshaker."

Craig frowned. "Would this hotdog be about two meters tall, brown hair, could be called handsome if you put your mind to it?"

Priss gave him a level stare. "That describes him. Why, you know him?"

"I hear rumors."

Sylia gave Craig a brief warning look. With the exception of Mackie, none of the others knew about the items in the backpack. Sylia decided to continue keeping it from them, despite Craig's objections. That had involved some heated words between the two of them, one of the few times he had seriously challenged one of her decisions.

Nene frowned. "That sounds like Leon."

"Who's Leon?" asked Sylia

"Leon McNichol."

"That idiot," snorted Priss.

"He's one of the ADP's field commanders," said Nene. "And he was out there tonight."

"They didn't do too well against those construction boomers."

"Maybe because they weren't acting like construction boomers," said Sylia.

Linna and Nene chorused, "What?" while Priss scowled. Mackie and Craig looked at each other.

Craig shrugged and said, "I'll bite, why do you say that?"

Sylia took another sip of tea before she continued. "Rampaging boomers are out of control machines. They have no set actions, and commit random acts of destruction. The three tonight had a very precise set of orders, which they followed out."

"I don't know Sylia," said Linna doubtfully. "That seems to be awfully thin."

"Would it interest you to know that despite GENOM owing more then half the building in the battle zone, only three were damaged, none of them seriously? And of six buildings that were destroyed or severely damaged three belonged to companies that GENOM has been trying to buy out?"

The reaction to her news was mixed. Both Linna and Nene looked shocked, while Priss rolled her eyes. Craig said, "Is it just me, or is GENOM beginning to get on my nerves?"

"It's you," the rest of the team chorused un unison.

"Gee, thanks," muttered Craig. Nene giggled.

Sylia's tone returned to being serious. "There was also an attempt by those construction boomers to coordinate their attacks on us and the ADP troops. I would say they ended up with some military science programs in their last upgrade."

"It didn't work that well," said Priss with a snort.

"That's because they weren't military boomers, If they had been, it would have been much tougher to take down."

"And how long will it be before we start seeing boomers that are more combat orientated?" asked Craig, slouching down in his chair. Sylia gave him another warning look, which he ignored.

"We'll have to be more careful in the future," said Sylia, steering the conversation back on target. "The Silky Doll truck identity should be considered as compromised until we know better."

"Maybe," said Mackie, looking thoughtful.

"You know something?' asked Sylia.

"Not know, suspect."

"What do you suspect?" asked Linna, looking puzzled.

Mackie leaned forward. "While we've been sitting here discussing this, I've been thinking that those shots were a bit too wild."

"You think the attack wasn't intended to destroy the truck?" asked Priss.

"It's a possibility we should consider. I mean the truck is a big target. Even if they missed their first shot, we weren't going fast enough to miss any follow-up shots. Those next two should have hit us."

"So you're complaining about the bad guy's marksmanship?' asked Craig. "I think sticking a big target on the side of the truck might improve their aim, but -"

"Could it have been a trick to follow us back here?" asked Nene, cutting Craig off in mid-sentence.

Sylia shook her head. "We made absolutely sure that we weren't followed, and I scanned the truck to make sure there weren't any tracking devices located on it before we returned."

"Anything else?" asked Craig, standing up.

"Besides warning everyone to be careful for the foreseeable future, no."

"Fine. If there's nothing else, I'm going to bed." With that, he walked out of the room.

"What's with him?" asked Priss, switching back to Japanese.

'Tonight was the first time in his life that someone's tried to killed him," replied Sylia quietly. "And there was nothing he could do about it except run."

"Is he going to be all right?" asked Nene, looking over her shoulder in the direction Craig had gone.

"He needs time to put it into perspective," replied Linna. "The question is how long will it take him to do so."

The meeting broke up after that.

**************

What remained of the night slipped off onto the darkness, broken by the rising sun that signaled a new day. People awoke, got dressed, and went to work. Some went to office jobs, while others opened and operated businesses. A few, like policemen and emergency personal, moved about the city, trying to keep order in a megalopolis, that by its very nature, was just slightly short of anarchy. And there was those who had no job, and most no future.

The center of the city's solid foundation, the bulwark around which the sea of chaos lapped at did not lie with the mayor, city council, or police department. Instead, it resided inside the monolithic tower that dominated the city's skyline the same way mountains dominated over foothills. No major decision regarding the governing of the city was made unless the man in the Tower allowed it to be made.

Quincy, Chairman of the board and CEO of GENOM was, in many ways the defacto ruler of the planet. Governments rose and fell at his word. Companies succeded or failed at his order. Those who knew him feared him, but allied themselves with him because they had seen what happened to those that openly opposed him. Others who did not know him, tried to, knowing that their futures would be secure with a nod of the chairman's head. He played them off against each other, watching with concealed amusement as they fought to seek favor in his eyes. Words, actions and even a few murders were the core weapons of this type of combat. To a few of the victors, he would award something, like a king bestowing a gift to a subject, to encourage others onto the field of battle.

Quincy was sitting in his office, watching the sun rise about the city. His city. He dominated this city the same way his tower overshadowed the city's skyline. GENOM might look like it controlled the city, but he was GENOM.. A few ambitious people had forgotten that small detail over the years, only to remember it too late to save their jobs - or their lives. Quincy may be a despot, but he was an able despot, with years of experience, cunning and intelligence behind him.

A small 'beep' interrupted his thoughts. He tapped a button on the armrest of his chair. "Yes?"

"Miss Madigan is her to see you, sir," said his secretary.

"Send her in."

Kate Madigan walked into the office of the chairman. Elegant, intelligent and a hard worker, she had work her way into the small group of people who worked directly for the Chairman. The only threat to her position was Brian J. Mason, resulting in a tense battle between the two that Quincy enjoyed immensely..

"What is it?" the Chairman asked. He turned his chair around to look at her.

She handed him several pages. "The results for the laser live-firing trial last night."

Quincy too the pages from her and scanned then quickly. He frowned. "These results are unsatisfactory," he said after handing the pages back to her. There had been no anger in his voice, just a cold statement of fact.

"Yes Sir. Professor Tome thinks the problem is in the targeting software."

"The software has performed excellently when it was installed in our combat boomers." Again, the cold statement of fact.

Madigan nodded. "The professor believes that the waste heat from the laser's first shot seriously degraded the accuracy of the next two shots. The software was unable to compensate for the target's sudden movement, and the waste heat generated slowed the boomer's response time by at least fifteen per cent. The boomer also suffered other problems, such as its vision being reduced by twenty percent for a period of twelve seconds. We thought it was prudent to recall the Boomer once the truck had slipped out of sight."

"Any identification on the truck or its driver?"

Madigan shook her head. "Even with advanced imaging, the boomer couldn't see any identifying marks and the angle was wrong to see the licence plate. And once the boomer had fired the laser...."

Quincy sighed. "Has the driver filed a report with the police?"

"No sir. Our agents inside the ADP have reported that there have been no reports of a truck being attacked by a laser."

"I see." Quincy turned back to the window. "Makes you wonder what a truck was doing in that area of the city at that time of night."

It wasn't far from the boomer incident and the Knight Sabers. Could that truck be part of the Knight Saber's support structure?"

"Possible. It also as possible that the driver was engaged on a illegal venture of his own making and decided to wait for the ADP to resolve the Boomer rampage instead of risking his cargo by skirting the battle zone. Why was the truck chosen for the target?"

"The Boomer was given a set of parameters," replied Madigan. "We thought with the rampaging boomers nearby, a destroyed truck would just be considered collateral damage."

Quincy nodded slowly. "How long did Professor Tome think it would take to revamp the laser system and software?"

"A minimum of another month. The Professor thinks he has found a way to reduce the waste heat that would minimize the effects on the boomer's programing and CPU."

Quincy turned to look at his assistant. "Inform the good professor that he has five weeks to rebuild the laser system so it functions within the required parameters."

"Yes Sir." Madigan turned to walk out of the room, but Quincy's voice stopped her.

"There is another matter I wish to speak you about."

Madigan frowned. She turned back to her boss. "What matter, sir?" she asked respectfully.

Quincy gave her a cool stare. "Mr. Mason and the Lazarus project."

"I don't understand, Sir."

The chairman leaned back in his chair, steepled his fingertips and started at his assistant. "I read your report very carefully," he said slowly, "and there are a couple of things in there that disturb me."

Now Madigan was really confused. "What things?" she asked, fighting to keep her composure.

"The first is the inconsistent count in the number of Boomer shells."

"We checked the number of boomer shells three times, twice without warning," replied Madigan. "Every shell was pulled from storage and check. None were dummies."

"I know, but there seemed to be one that would occasionally go 'missing' for short periods of time."

"I found no record of such an event."

Quincy smiled at her. "That's because you don't have the access to the computer system like I do."

Madigan nodded slightly. Nothing was kept from the Chairman - he knew every project, the status of every manufacturing plant, every sales campaign, every black ops that affected his conglomerate. His access to GENOM's computer system was unlimited, and unlike most of his contemporaries, Quincy knew how to access the system for anything he wanted.

"There have been some unusual power increases during off hours in several of the labs connected with the Lazarus project," the Chairman continued.

Madigan's frown increased. "I was under the impression that those labs were secured by boomers, with no one allowed to enter them during those off hours."

"That is suppose to be true. However, a few people can override the boomer's standing orders and open those labs for their own use."

"How many?"

"Three. Mr. Mason, Doctor Ming, and Doctor Galloway." The Chairman's expression became one of distaste. "Neither doctor has any motive to do such a thing - they are small men with small passions. On the other hand...." he left the accusation hang in the air between them.

Madigan was quick to pick it up. "Is Mr. Mason trying something?"

"That is the question that must be asked." Quincy was silent for a moment, watching Madigan with half closed eyes. "Are you aware that Mr. Mason is spending time alone in the same lab that the unknown boomer is located?"

"No Sir."

"It is amusing to watch him at times. For some reason, he talks to the boomer as if it is alive. The one-sided conversations are very interesting and highly reveling about some of his future plans."

"Which are?" asked the lavender-haired woman. Outwardly, she was calm, but the knowledge that Mason was being monitored by Quincy himself, and by inference herself, made her feel uncomfortable.

The Chairman shook his head. "I think I keep them as a surprise for now. Despite his sudden irrational behavior inside the lab, he still of use to me."

"Then, why are you telling me this, sir?" asked Madigan.

"Because I want you to discover what he plans to do with Project Lazarus. He's clearly has something in mind, something that could ruin GENOM if it is not stopped."

"If I should discover something, do you wish me to stop it?"

"No. I want that pleasure for myself. Whatever you find out, bring it to me."

"I understand sir." Madigan turned and walked out of the office. Quincy smiled and went back to looking over the city - his city. It would be interesting to see if Madigan had the courage and skill necessary to discover Mason's plot before Mason discovered her. Yes, he decided, it was going to be an interesting contest....

**************

The USSD research facility was considered a top-notch security installation. Located in the same complex as the headquarters building, most of the organization's non-hazardous development was done here. Five stories tall, the building actually sank into the ground for another seven levels below the street level.

The fifth basement level was given over to a top secret USSD project know to a very few as project Hikigane. Even fewer people know that Hikigane was the newest weapon in USSD's arsenal, a black box installed inside a boomer that could call any of the orbital particle satellites to fire at a designated target at the speed of thought. The prototype was installed inside a boomer made to look like a little girl. It was a strategy that went all the way back to the Trojan Horse - placing a weapon of mass destruction inside an seemingly innocent form. Only the most paranoid or suspicious authorities would ever consider a little girl as a threat to their country, which is why USSD chose the form.

The director of the project was Doctor Yoshi Takahari, a middle aged, average height, plain-face man with thick glasses. Most of the time, he was in the lab, supervising the Boomer's construction, but every so often, he had to spend time in the office filling out paperwork and keeping the USSD apprized of the project progress. He was in the office now, reviewing several inventory forms when there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," he said, not bothering to look up from the papers. People were always bothering him in the office - that was one of the reasons he preferred working in the high security laboratory, safe from most of the mindless dribble he was forced to face in his office. Another strike against the office was its size - there were literally broom closets on the base that were larger. There was just enough room for a desk and two chairs, making it cramped quarters for any more then two occupants at anyone time.

"May I speak to you, Doctor?" asked a attractive alto voice from the doorway.

Takahari looked up from his reports and smiled at his visitor. "Of course, Captain. Please, Take a seat."

Captain Amanda Rowley, USSD, matched her voice. At a hundred and seventy centimeters, she was taller then the doctor, but her lean agile build make her look even taller. Blonde and blue-eyed, she carried herself with the controlled energy of a professional dancer. As a military officer, she was in top shape, a fact that didn't go unnoticed by most of the lab's male staff. But her polite refusals for dates were backed up by a third degree black belt in Judo and a second degree black belt in karate. In addition, her IQ topped most of the staff by twenty points and her twin degrees in mechanical design and computer science made her more then just a pretty face in USSD. Her role was Project Hikigane's liaison with the USSD command structure overseeing the project.

There were times when he talked to Rowley that Takahari wished he was twenty-five years younger and unmarried - with her combination of brains and beauty, he would have fallen in love with her in a snap. Since he wasn't a young man anymore, and he still loved his wife deeply, he settled for acting like Rowley's uncle. This allowed for an informal way speaking to each other without the shields of rank and position getting in the way. Both found the relationship beneficial.

"And how is the liaison business these days?" he asked, give her an amused smile.

"Busy," she replied, taking a seat near the desk and crossing her long legs. "The General is on my ass again, trying to push the project along."

Takahari frowned again. He didn't need to ask 'which General?' was trying to push the project along - Only General Schwarz, the commander of USSD's Far East Command, was in a position to do so. In many ways, Hikigane was Schwarz's baby, from the original concept to this point in time. And like any person in power who came up with a new idea, he had a tendency to try and supervise the day to day operations of the project himself.

"Did you explain to the General what we're actually doing?" he asked Rowley in a disapproving tone of voice. "The complexities of the integration between the black box and the boomer's CPU are not well understood. We have to do this slowly and methodically. If we make a mistake, one of those damn satellite could wipe out this entire complex! Not to mention the software -"

"I told him that, chapter and verse," replied Rowley, her own voice showing some of her own frustration. "I even used small words, so there would be no chance of misunderstanding. He doesn't care. He insists that the 'killer doll' will be ready on time, or else."

"Or else what?"

"He didn't say. I guess he wanted to leave it up to our imaginations."

"He's an idiot." Takahari said disdainfully.

"I can't agree with you there. He is my superior officer -"

"And thus you have to support him in any decision he makes, wether or not you personally agree with the order," finished the doctor. "I know the drill by now."

"Can you be ready by the deadline?"

"I think we can manage that, but we're going to have to juggle some teams around to provide maximum work time."

"The General has authorized overtime to be paid if the needs arises."

Takahari raised an eyebrow. "He is serious about this."

"You thought he was kidding?" asked Rowley sarcastically. Then more seriously, she said, "He wants Hikigane as soon as possible. The Iranians and Iraqis are making noises about going to war again, and he's afraid other nations will be sucked into the fight this time."

"We can't accelerate the schedule any more then we've done."

"I know, but he thinks the Iranians and Iraqis are going to fire off nukes this time."

The doctor leaned back in his chair and stared at Rowley. "Does he really grasp what trying to do with this project? This isn't a simple as opening up a boomer and sticking in a black box, splicing a couple of wires together and presto! Instant killer doll!', and you know it."

Rowley held up a hand. "You're preaching to the converted here, as my daddy use to say."

Just then, someone else knock on the office door. "Yes?' asked Takahari.

A tall, man with orange-reddish hair opened the door wide enough to stick his head into the office. "Sorry to bother you, Doctor," he said apologetically, "but we're having a problem with one of the secondary signal relays and Parson's getting hot under the collar over it."

Takahari stood. "I'll be there right away. Go tell Parson to go get a cup of coffee and keep him out of the lab until I get there."

The man nodded. "Right, Doctor." His head disappeared and the office door closed.

"Who was that?" asked Rowley "I haven't seen him before."

"The scientist shrugged. "He's been here about a month now. Usually works the late shift, but one of the techs on Beta team was on the wrong end of a hit and run, and ended up in the hospital." He glanced at his watch. "I better go see what went wrong before Parson tears the entire relay apart."

Rowley frown. "What's the tech's name?"

"Name?" Takahari frowned for a second before understanding her question. "The man who was just here? Oh, Frederick. F. G. Frederick."