Bubblegum Crisis Fan Fiction ❯ Bubblegum Avatar #1 -- "Tin-Sell City" ❯ Chapter 9- "Birth of the Shadowknight" ( Chapter 9 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Trboturtle 
Some of the details about Craig's Hardsuit are revealed, and Madigan discovers that Mason does have his own agenda.
Anime/Manga: Bubblegum Crisis Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Sci-fi / Cyberpunk / Action | Type: Self Insertion | Uploaded On: 12.21.2005 | Updated On: 12.21.2005 | Pages: 5 | Words: 5.7K | Visits: 1.1K | Status: Completed
Some of the details about Craig's Hardsuit are revealed, and Madigan discovers that Mason does have his own agenda.
Anime/Manga: Bubblegum Crisis Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Sci-fi / Cyberpunk / Action | Type: Self Insertion | Uploaded On: 12.21.2005 | Updated On: 12.21.2005 | Pages: 5 | Words: 5.7K | Visits: 1.1K | Status: Completed
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Chapter 9- "Birth of the Shadowknight"
**************
The next morning, Sylia was working in the auxiliary computer room. She had left a note on the breakfast table asking Craig to join her after he finished eating. Right now, she was adding some finishing touches to the latest hardsuit designs.
The auxiliary computer room in the Lady633 Saber's section was smaller then the one Sylia usually used, but she preferred it when she was working on designing hardware. For one thing, it offered less distractions then the main computer room. It also had a holographic projector that allowed her to model designs in 3-D long before the building stage.
After loading the last of the programs she had prepared into the holoprojector, she glanced at her watch. Any moment now, she thought.
Craig stuck his head around the doorframe. "You wanted to see me, Boss?" The smile was a little forced, but at least the attempt was there this time.
Right on time. Sylia waved him into the room. "How's your head?"
"It still throbs a bit, but it's getting better." Craig lost his smile and looked uncomfortable. "I want to apologize for last night. I'm afraid I let my brooding get the better of me, and -"
"There's no need to. You did nothing wrong, and no one was hurt. Just forget about it."
"I'll try, but I always seem to remember my mistakes and forget my triumphs." He took a deep breath. "What did you want to talk about?"
"I wanted to show you the hardsuit design I've worked up for you."
The smile was real this time. "For real?"
She returned his smile. "For real." she motioned to the holoprojector, a waist-high console that looked like a flattened mushroom that stood in the center of the room. "Care to take a look?"
"Are you kidding?" Craig strolled into the room. "What do you have?"
"First, we'll take a look at the basic design." She entered a command on the keyboard, the stepped back. The station hummed, then a hologram flickered into view, showing a hardsuit, rotating slowly on its axis.
The hardsuit was dull black in color with dark gray trim, but without the feminine curves of the other Saber's hardsuits. Instead of the high heels, the suit had low-heel boots, and the chest plate was flatter and broader. A stubby pair of wings attacked to a jet pack of some sort was on the back.
Craig nodded. "Nice."
"Thanks to your friend Ishmael, I can start upgrading the hardsuits at least a year ahead of the planned timetable. Because I've started designing your hardsuit from the ground up, your suit is going to be the most advanced for the next couple of months until I can upgrade the other suits. Your suit will also be a test bed for several of the new concepts I'm working on."
She motioned to the hologram. "On the plus side, you'll have slightly heavier armor protection then the current hardsuits, and a slight strength advantage. On the minus side, you will be limited to about two hundred meters jumping ability. Otherwise, your communications and sensor suites will be top of the line."
"I am impressed." Craig looked at her. "I guess the first thing I should ask is 'What's my role in the field?'"
Sylia arched an eyebrow. "I expected you to ask first was 'What weapons does it carry?'"
"Once I know what my role is, then I can start worrying about what weapons I'm carrying."
"That's fair enough. I have designated you as the heavy weapons specialist."
"Define 'heavy weapons.'"
"In a moment." Sylia tapped several keys on the console. "The Suit has several weapons that are integral to the design." She pointed at two tubes along the left forearm. "The left arm houses two laser cannons, with the same striking power and range of my own."
"Why not house them in the arms like on your suit?"
"I'll explain in a moment." She tapped another button and a blade slid out of the right forearm and locked into place. "Thirty centimeter, laser edged sword. It's similar to the design on the hardsuit from the role playing book."
"The Hardsuit-2 design?"
"Actually, they call it 'New Hardsuit Sylia', but the hardsuit itself will be ready to go before Spring."
"Those weapons don't seem that heavy."
Sylia smiled slightly. "That's because your suit is the first one designed to be modular." She tapped a few keys and the hologram changed to a close up of the head and shoulders of the hardsuit design. "Note the track located on the right shoulder."
Craig noticed a shallow grove running from the front of the shoulder to the back. "What's it for?"
"To install these." Sylia changed the hologram to show a trio of weapons one about the other. She pointed at a bazooka-type weapon. "Starting at the top, that is a 78mm recoilless cannon. It has a range of about twelve hundred meters, with a choice of armor piercing, fragmentation, thermite, or smoke shells. You will also note that it has a changeable four-shot magazine, and you will have the ability to carry two extra magazines for it. When it's combined with the suite's sensors, you should get a solid hit on an unsuspecting boomer nine times out of ten."
Craig's eyes lit up. "Oh, wow."
Sylia motioned to the weapon below it. The barrel of the middle weapon was longer and thinner then the one above it, and more streamline, but it still looked menacing. "The middle one is a semiautomatic sniper rifle based on the Barrett model 82A1 sniper rifle from about thirty-five years ago. The bullet it fires is a 12.7mm by 99mm, with a muzzle velocity of 850 meters per second. It has a theoretical range of 2 kilometers, but most shots will be a lot closer. When it's attached to the suit, you can use the suit's sensors to adjust your aim. Again, a detachable magazine, with the ability to carry two extra magazines. That will give you thirty-three shots."
"That's a lot of shots. How detectable will it be to the bad guys?"
Sylia pointed to the thick muzzle. "A combination sound suppresser and flash hider. I'm afraid it won't do anything about the subsonic crack of the bullet, but as long as you keep moving and using cover, it shouldn't be a problem."
"And the third?"
"That's a six shot missile launcher, with 8.8 cm 'brilliant' class missiles that can hit a target as far away as three kilometers. They're 'fire and forget' types, so you don't need to stay in one place after you fire them off."
Craig tried to snap his fingers, failed, so he settled for pointing at the slowly rotating holograms. "That's why you built the lasers to keep my hands free. I'm going to need both hands to fire these weapons."
Sylia nodded approvingly. "Yes."
"Anything else?"
"Not at the current time. I thought you should be involved in any future development."
"How long until it's ready?"
"Three weeks. The parts will be here within the week, and I want you to help me build it."
Craig nodded. "Why don't we discuss this over a cup of tea? I'm feeling a bit dry and I want to discuss this sitting down."
Sylia nodded. "Give me five minutes to shut everything down and I'll join you in the kitchen."
**************
By the time Sylia walked into the kitchen, Craig had laid out a teapot, cups, and a small dish of pastries. He shrugged at Sylia's raised eyebrow. "I had just brewed a pot when I saw your message."
She sat in a chair across the table from Craig. He poured a cup and handed it to her. "What did you want to discuss?" she asked.
Craig poured himself a cup of tea, added milk and sugar, then stirred it. "It begin with," he said, "it appears that my role is a stand back and attack."
"To begin with, yes." Sylia sipped from her teacup. "Eventually, I want yours and Priss' suits to be able to use several weapons systems interchangeably. But I want you to get use to combat without getting you involved directly for right now."
"What about later? Those weapon systems you showed me are not useful close in."
"I am working on something to address that, but that's for a later date."
Craig nodded. 'Fair enough."
"What else do you want to talk about?"
Craig leaned back in his chair and gazed at Sylia. "As I see it, we need to figure out various loads for the magazines, depending on the type of mission. I mean, I would need different ammo for the bazooka if I'm trying to stop a boomer rampage then I would if I'm trying to stop a human terrorist attack."
"That won't be hard to do."
"I'll need to practice with the weapon until I'm familiar with them."
Sylia nodded. "I can arrange something when the time comes. First things first, though. After your suit is built, It's going to take a couple of days to adapted the suit to your movements, then at least two weeks of training in order to use it properly. Which means that Linna is going to up your workout, starting tomorrow." She ignored Craig's groan and continued, "After you have the basics down, you'll have another two weeks of advanced field hardsuit training, after which, you'll start training with the different weapons systems. If you sail through your training, you should be ready for your first real mission in a little less then three months." she looked at Craig's perplexed expression. "You didn't expect to suit up the first time and go on a mission, did you?"
Craig shook his head. "Knowing me, it'll probably take longer then that to get up to speed. I was a bit surprised that you're giving me that much leeway."
"I would prefer to take the time and train you well from the beginning. If this Largo is as dangerous as Ishmael says he is, and the anime indicates he isn't to be ignored as a threat, then I will need every single advantage I can get."
"Well, If you need a Joker, here I am."
Sylia smiled thinly. "I prefer to think of you as an Ace up my sleeve. The question is, can I trust you to work as part of a team, or should I expect you to pull the occasional SkyKnight solo act?"
Craig blinked. He was silent for a moment, his staring off to the side, his face taking on the look Sylia recognized as his 'deep thinking' expression. "I don't know," he said slowly, still not looking at her. "Will I go out in my hardsuit, looking for trouble? I can answer that with a definite 'no'. Will I install enough weapons on my hardsuit to take on the Death Star single-handedly? I wouldn't know where to start. Will I go charging into battle like Lancelot and the Knights of the Round Table? Not if I can avoid it. Will I go out and challenge Largo to a one on one battle? I may have lapses of judgement, but I'm not that stupid. Otherwise, I don't want to promise something that I'll have to renege on when the situation arises."
"That's fair enough. I wouldn't ask you to make a promise that you couldn't keep in the heat of battle. But the reason why the Knight Sabers have managed to survive is because we work together as a team."
Craig looked at her and raised an eyebrow. "Does that include Priss?"
Sylia's smile was warmer. "She has her own definition of teamwork that I've taken in account in my planning." Her face became serious again. "But I don't need two wildcards on the battlefield. Priss has the luxury of being a known factor to me, but you are an unknown."
"Well, it looks like I'll be limited in what I can do with the weapons you're planning for me."
"I would be lying if that didn't play a part in my design," Sylia admitted.
"So I play long range fire support to begin with."
"That I think would be the best. After you've done that for a while, then we'll start working you in on the front lines."
Craig gave her a little grin. Sylia returned it with a smile of her own. "Any other questions?" she asked him.
"Only to ask if this is where I'm suppose to beat my chest like Captain Macho and act like a three year old because you're not going to let me whomp on boomers up close and personal?"
Sylia blinked as her mind translated his statement into understandable terms. "Would you like to dispute your assigned role?" she asked him.
Craig shook his head. "Nope. But it seems to be part of the sequence that would-be heros are suppose to follow."
"Just remember that this isn't a game," Sylia said calmly. "Here, the boomers are real and will kill you in a heartbeat. We have to make the right decision every single time we put on those hardsuits. If we don't, one of us, some of us, or all of us don't come back."
"I know." Craig was somber now.
Sylia finished the last of her tea. She stood and walked out of the kitchen. Craig followed her out into the living room, his tea mug still in hand. While he claimed a chair and sat, she went over to the window. "GENOM has its tentacles into every part of this city," she said, looking out over into the city. "They tolerate the Knight Sabers because we don't threaten them or their long range plans. Yet if they ever wanted to really come after us, we couldn't stop them."
"Yet you continue to fight them."
"I must. If GENOM is allowed to do whatever it wants, people's lives become nothing more then 'usable resources,' or 'potential revenue.'"
"And the boomers?"
"My father didn't design the boomer to be combat machines. He wanted them to be a help to the human race, not its murderer."
"That's the problem with good ideas," said Craig slowly, staring at the bottom of his now empty mug. "Sooner or later, someone comes along and perverts the idea."
"I don't think my father could have handled what GENOM has done to his work."
"Short of hardwiring Asimov's Laws of Robotics into each and every boomer brain, he couldn't have stop them."
"How do you know that?"
"Because Quincy may be a bastard, but no one ever said he was a stupid bastard." Craig stood. "I have no doubt that Quincy had it set up so he could anything he wanted to do, with or without your father's help. Your father's death just simplified things for GENOM."
"I know." He felt the wall come up between them, the one of personal pain and loss that she let slip out at times. Without saying a word, he know the subject was closed.
Craig took his mug back into the kitchen and returned. "Sylia?' he asked softly. She turned and looked at him. He held out his hand. "You never actually asked me to join the Knight Sabers," he said, "and I never asked if you wanted me as a part of the team. But, since we're both in this up to our necks, we're going to have to work together. Don't think that I have been forced into this."
"What about Ishmael?"
He shrugged. "He just has to be able to outrun me, because if I catch him, he's dead."
Sylia didn't say anything about Ishmael's obvious superior abilities. "And what do you offer?" she asked, playing along with Craig.
"What I offer is someone who's ready to learn, willing to offer a different point of view, even when you don't need one, and able to help you when and where you need it."
Sylia nodded and took his hand and smiled. "Welcome to the Knight Sabers," she said.
"Thank you."
"We'll see how thankful you are after Linna start pushing you harder."
Craig grimaced and released her hand. "You had to remind me of that, didn't you?"
Sylia folded her arms. "Just keeping things in perspective. How's your motorcycle lessons coming along?"
"I can ride at a reasonable speed without falling off, but I'm not in Priss' level. Hell, most fighter pilots aren't at her level. And if I have the sense God gave a Communist, I will never be anywhere near her level. Getting thrown from my bike and bouncing along the highway at a hundred and sixty kilometers an hour isn't my idea of fun."
"I assure you," said Sylia in a soothing tone, "one speed demon is all I can handle."
"Well, Priss' idea of going slow is keeping it under Mach 1. If I'm going to go that fast, I want something more between me and the road then an engine attached to a pair of wheels. That and the fact Priss still thinks I'm secret agent double-O GENOM, makes her teaching a bit along the lines of 'Rev it up and floor it.' I swear that she's trying to kill me sometimes."
"That means she's beginning to warm up to you."
Craig looked at her. "Huh?"
Sylia answered his question with a smile. "What do you have planned for the rest of the day?"
"After lunch, Mackie want me to go down to Raven's Garage and help him overhaul one of the motorslaves. After that, I'm free."
"Good. I'm hosting a dinner for the entire team tonight over at the St. Regis hotel. Dress accordingly."
"Suit and tie?"
"That is usually considered proper dress," replied Sylia archly.
Craig frowned. "What time?"
"Seven o'clock. Mackie will make sure you will get there on time."
"Okay, Boss. Just where am I going to get a suit and tie?"
"There's one in your closet."
"There is? I never noticed."
"What do you mean you never noticed?" asked Sylia, exasperation clear on her face.
"I'm not a big suit wearer. To me, suits are worn at weddings, funerals and job interviews. Wearing one out to dinner is a new experience for me."
Sylia sighed. "What time is Mackie expecting you at Raven's?"
"After lunch."
"Then we'll spend the rest of the morning going over the basics of your hardsuit. "
"Okay, Boss." He smiled, stepped back and motioned towards the door. "After you."
Sylia walked past him. As she did so, Craig asked her, "Is there any chance to install a disk player in my suit?"
Sylia stared up at the ceiling, wondering if Ishmael really did have a sense of humor and was standing somewhere, laughing at her....
**************
Kate Madigan hadn't reached her current position on just her looks. In fact, her intelligence had gotten her farther then her beauty, despite a couple of run-ins with 'over amorous' superiors on her way up. Neither supervisor had taken their rejection well, especially after Madigan had kneed one in the groin in one instance, and raked the other across the face with her nails in another. Once Madigan had reached her current position, both supervisors had lost their jobs and any other benefit the lavender-haired woman could think of. In her own way, she was as ruthless as Brian Mason, but she was less personal about it in most cases.
But, as she stared at the reports on her computer screen, she was fighting the urge not to give into her hate of Brian J. Mason.
Madigan had taken to an instant dislike to Mason from the first time they met. Something about the way he looked at her made her skin crawl. He'd never made any improper advances towards her, about the only thing about him she had been grateful for, but there was something not quite right with him. It had taken several months to realize that Mason was looking out for only Mason. While that wasn't uncommon in the cut-throat world of business, the way Mason acted on it went beyond simple career protection.
The situation with the late Doctor Stingray was such an example. While the official story was the doctor had died in a laboratory explosion, a few rumors had floated around that Mason had helped the scientist to his reward before the blast. These very same rumors also said that Mason had taken great pleasure in removing the last obstacle to GENOM's production of the boomer. She had tried to find out more, but the Chairman had curtly ordered her not to pursue the incident any farther. She had backed off, but since then, she always kept an eye on Mason.
She frowned as the matter of Mason pushed their way into her thoughts. If there was something Katherine Madigan prided herself on, it was her ability to dispassionately analyze a situation and resolved it in a complete and timeless manner. Emotions clouded the judgement, shaded the facts, and influenced the decision in unforseen ways. While that could work in the short run, it could prove disastrous over a longer period of time. It had taken discipline on her part to hone her abilities, but the rewards were well worth it.
Mason, on the other hand, allowed passions to influence him. If someone opposed him, he took it as a personal affront, a threat to his position and power. Instead of being merely an obstacle, the person became someone to be crushed, eliminated in a brutal way with no thought of the consequences. He allowed his ambition to outweigh any other factor, his lust for power diving almost every decision he made. He had been lucky so far, but Madigan knew it wouldn't last.
The intercom on her desk beeped. Shaken out of her thoughts, she stabbed a button. "Yes?"
"Mr. Mason is here to see you," her secretary replied. "He said he has some reports for you."
"Very well," Madigan replied. "Send him in." She closed the report on the computer she had been trying to read and pressed a small button on her intercom. She then picked up a pen and glanced down out the papers on her desk. She heard the office door open, but counted to five before she looked up. "Yes?" she asked in the most neutral tone she could manage.
Mason presented her with several folders. "The Chairman instructed me to have you look over these," He said, his tone haughty as if talking to an subordinate instead of an equal.
Madigan took the reports. "What are they about?" she asked.
"The land purchase in district three is completed and the Chairman wants to make sure there will be no problem with any of the residents when the time comes to start building. The reports cover the people most like to oppose our construction. He would like you to look them over and recommend a course of action with each should the need arise."
"Is there any restrictions?" Madigan asked, glancing through the folders. Unasked was the question, Can I recommend assassination if I have to? It paid to be careful, even inside GENOM Tower.
Mason picked up on the unasked question. "The Chairman told be that there are to be no restrictions in your recommendations." If assassinations are needed, so be it. The way he said that made Madigan look up at him. His expression was disinterested, but there was a gleam in his eye that Madigan read as: If it was up to me, I'd flatten the entire area and every person in it.
"How soon does the Chairman needed it?"
"He would like your recommendations within the next couple of days."
Madigan nodded. "I will do so by Thursday." She decided to change gears. "When is Doctor Ming going to start with reconstructing the Boomer?"
"Sometime next week. By then, the bugs in the new subsystems should be ironed out, and technicians can be reassigned to the rebuilding project if they want to be."
"Isn't what you're proposing, namely bringing this Boomer back on-line, dangerous?"
"He frowned. "In what way?"
"We know nothing about this boomer. Suppose it's a part of a plan to destroy GENOM?"
"And who would have the ability to create such an advanced boomer design?" Mason asked coldly. "No other corporation in the world could have done it. No one inside GENOM could have done it. We need to access the boomer's memories to find out when and where it came from. And we can only do that if the boomer's on-line."
"I don't like it," Madigan said flatly.
Mason waved a hand. "It's not any of your concern."
"If it is a threat to GENOM., then it is my concern."
"It's one boomer, although a very advanced design. It won't have any internal weapons, excess strength, or mental abilities, plus it will be wired with enough explosives to turn it into very small pieces. How much harm could it do?"
Madigan eye's half closed, the only sign she allowed herself to show her displeasure at a subject. She knew Mason was hiding something, but what? "I think once the boomer has been rebuilt, you should also assign a couple of 55C to watch it."
Mason nodded, a short sharp motion, and his eyes took on that cold fury he was well known for. "I said the boomer is my responsibility. Don't tell me how to do my job."
"Does you job include the Knight Sabers?"
His jaw tighten, and inside, Madigan allowed herself a smile. Maybe there is something to that idle talk. "I've noticed a marked increase in the number of recon boomers being used to monitor the Knight Sabers fights. Recon boomers are part of my area of responsibility, as they're considered part of security. Would you like to explain why?"
"I found the lack of data from the recon boomers incomplete. The increased numbers allowed more data to be collected."
"And increases the chances of them being discovered," replied the lavender haired woman cooly. "And if they are, people will be asking question, questions that could embarrass the company."
"They will not be discovered."
"Not yet. But sooner or later, they will be."
"The Chairman authorized the extra boomers."
Madigan frowned. She didn't believe him for a moment, but she wasn't going to let him know that. "I was not told of this," she said.
Mason smiled, a smile that promised pain and horror for someone, somewhere. "He probably though you didn't need to know," he said in a sweet voice.
Madigan restrained the urge to shoot the bastard right then and there. "From now on," she said, giving Mason her best glower, "I want written requisition for any more then the normal number of recon boomers sent out to monitor a battle, and I want them signed by you and on my desk twenty-four hours in advance." Got you.
Mason stared at her for a moment, then nodded. "Very well. You'll have the first forms on your desk within two hours." He turned and walked out of the office.
She waited until the door closed behind him before she leaned back in her chair. "You heard, sir?" she asked the empty room.
"I did," Quincy replied from the intercom. "I did not authorize the use of extra recon boomers, despite Mr. Mason's claims."
"Should I prevent him from continuing to deploy the other boomers?"
Quincy was silent for a moment. "No," he said finally. "The obsession with the Knight Sabers is just a side show. I think Mr. Mason's plans revolve around that boomer that he wants rebuilt."
"Shouldn't we destroy that thing before its rebuilt?"
"No. We allow him to proceed."
Madigan frowned. "I don't understand, Sir."
"It's very simple," Quincy replied. "We allow him to continue his plan, while we watch and wait. When we have discovered what his plan is and who is involved, then we move in. If Mr. Mason has lived out his usefulness, then I do not want to take the chance that a ambitious underling decides to take his place."
"I now understand."
"Good. About those reports Mr. Mason had just given you - I would like your recommendations at your earliest convenience, and I would like to keep any extreme measures you advocate as a last option if at all possible. GENOM cannot afford any hint of exposure, and sometimes the dead scream louder then the living. Please take that into account. Good afternoon."
"Yes sir." Madigan shut off the intercom and stood slowly. She walked over to the large plate glass window that replaced an entire wall of her office and started out across the city. The reports could wait for now, when she was more calm and composed. She didn't think she would have to recommend any severe options - most would and could be paid in what would amount to less money then the cost of a 'rogue' boomer.
Now she had to allow the emotions Mason stirred slip back into her projection of discipline before she continued. She hated wasting the time, but she needed to be at her best, for herself and GENOM....
**************
*It continues,* said Ishmael.
[I still do not like it,] the other intelligence replied.
*All we can do is balance the situation that our opponent has managed to unbalance.*
[The one you have chosen as the Avatar is not please at being given the honor.]
*Would you be, if the situation was reversed? To be truthful, he was never my first choice for this task, but to search for a better candidate would have cost us precious time.*
[He is angry at you.]
*I cannot help that. There is too much at stake to worry about his feelings. We must stop this experiment here, or we will face other, more damaging attempts to disrupt other timelines. If that were to happen, then we would be forced to take a more active role, which would mean -*
[That they would take a more active role. And that could lead to the final conflict that we have worked so hard to avoid.]
*Yes.* there was silence between the two of them, then Ishmael continued. *In many ways, there is much riding on the shoulders of the Avatar.*
[The avatar is still angry at you. He wants to commit physical violence against you.]
*I know. In this case, that is a good thing.*
[What?]
*By focusing his hate on me, he does not use it against those he must ally himself with. He knows the Knight Sabers are not to blame for his placement there. He is also not willing to commit suicide because he wants to kill me first.*
[Has it occurred to him that he cannot kill you?]
*It might have on an intellectual level, but he prefers the emotional reaction.* Ishmael gave the equivalent of a human shrug. *Besides, it's interesting having an Avatar that doesn't worship you as a god, or looks at you in awe. While it's nice the first couple of times, it becomes annoying after that.*
[I guess so.]
*All we can do now is try and delay Largo's rebuilding as much as possible. Time is not an ally of ours. We must give our Avatar as much time as we can so that he is ready.*
[Is that all we can do?]
*That, and the depositing of the promised money in the account of the Knight Saber. Otherwise, that is all we can do.*
[I hope this plan will succeed.]
*As do I.*
Chapter 9- "Birth of the Shadowknight"
**************
The next morning, Sylia was working in the auxiliary computer room. She had left a note on the breakfast table asking Craig to join her after he finished eating. Right now, she was adding some finishing touches to the latest hardsuit designs.
The auxiliary computer room in the Lady633 Saber's section was smaller then the one Sylia usually used, but she preferred it when she was working on designing hardware. For one thing, it offered less distractions then the main computer room. It also had a holographic projector that allowed her to model designs in 3-D long before the building stage.
After loading the last of the programs she had prepared into the holoprojector, she glanced at her watch. Any moment now, she thought.
Craig stuck his head around the doorframe. "You wanted to see me, Boss?" The smile was a little forced, but at least the attempt was there this time.
Right on time. Sylia waved him into the room. "How's your head?"
"It still throbs a bit, but it's getting better." Craig lost his smile and looked uncomfortable. "I want to apologize for last night. I'm afraid I let my brooding get the better of me, and -"
"There's no need to. You did nothing wrong, and no one was hurt. Just forget about it."
"I'll try, but I always seem to remember my mistakes and forget my triumphs." He took a deep breath. "What did you want to talk about?"
"I wanted to show you the hardsuit design I've worked up for you."
The smile was real this time. "For real?"
She returned his smile. "For real." she motioned to the holoprojector, a waist-high console that looked like a flattened mushroom that stood in the center of the room. "Care to take a look?"
"Are you kidding?" Craig strolled into the room. "What do you have?"
"First, we'll take a look at the basic design." She entered a command on the keyboard, the stepped back. The station hummed, then a hologram flickered into view, showing a hardsuit, rotating slowly on its axis.
The hardsuit was dull black in color with dark gray trim, but without the feminine curves of the other Saber's hardsuits. Instead of the high heels, the suit had low-heel boots, and the chest plate was flatter and broader. A stubby pair of wings attacked to a jet pack of some sort was on the back.
Craig nodded. "Nice."
"Thanks to your friend Ishmael, I can start upgrading the hardsuits at least a year ahead of the planned timetable. Because I've started designing your hardsuit from the ground up, your suit is going to be the most advanced for the next couple of months until I can upgrade the other suits. Your suit will also be a test bed for several of the new concepts I'm working on."
She motioned to the hologram. "On the plus side, you'll have slightly heavier armor protection then the current hardsuits, and a slight strength advantage. On the minus side, you will be limited to about two hundred meters jumping ability. Otherwise, your communications and sensor suites will be top of the line."
"I am impressed." Craig looked at her. "I guess the first thing I should ask is 'What's my role in the field?'"
Sylia arched an eyebrow. "I expected you to ask first was 'What weapons does it carry?'"
"Once I know what my role is, then I can start worrying about what weapons I'm carrying."
"That's fair enough. I have designated you as the heavy weapons specialist."
"Define 'heavy weapons.'"
"In a moment." Sylia tapped several keys on the console. "The Suit has several weapons that are integral to the design." She pointed at two tubes along the left forearm. "The left arm houses two laser cannons, with the same striking power and range of my own."
"Why not house them in the arms like on your suit?"
"I'll explain in a moment." She tapped another button and a blade slid out of the right forearm and locked into place. "Thirty centimeter, laser edged sword. It's similar to the design on the hardsuit from the role playing book."
"The Hardsuit-2 design?"
"Actually, they call it 'New Hardsuit Sylia', but the hardsuit itself will be ready to go before Spring."
"Those weapons don't seem that heavy."
Sylia smiled slightly. "That's because your suit is the first one designed to be modular." She tapped a few keys and the hologram changed to a close up of the head and shoulders of the hardsuit design. "Note the track located on the right shoulder."
Craig noticed a shallow grove running from the front of the shoulder to the back. "What's it for?"
"To install these." Sylia changed the hologram to show a trio of weapons one about the other. She pointed at a bazooka-type weapon. "Starting at the top, that is a 78mm recoilless cannon. It has a range of about twelve hundred meters, with a choice of armor piercing, fragmentation, thermite, or smoke shells. You will also note that it has a changeable four-shot magazine, and you will have the ability to carry two extra magazines for it. When it's combined with the suite's sensors, you should get a solid hit on an unsuspecting boomer nine times out of ten."
Craig's eyes lit up. "Oh, wow."
Sylia motioned to the weapon below it. The barrel of the middle weapon was longer and thinner then the one above it, and more streamline, but it still looked menacing. "The middle one is a semiautomatic sniper rifle based on the Barrett model 82A1 sniper rifle from about thirty-five years ago. The bullet it fires is a 12.7mm by 99mm, with a muzzle velocity of 850 meters per second. It has a theoretical range of 2 kilometers, but most shots will be a lot closer. When it's attached to the suit, you can use the suit's sensors to adjust your aim. Again, a detachable magazine, with the ability to carry two extra magazines. That will give you thirty-three shots."
"That's a lot of shots. How detectable will it be to the bad guys?"
Sylia pointed to the thick muzzle. "A combination sound suppresser and flash hider. I'm afraid it won't do anything about the subsonic crack of the bullet, but as long as you keep moving and using cover, it shouldn't be a problem."
"And the third?"
"That's a six shot missile launcher, with 8.8 cm 'brilliant' class missiles that can hit a target as far away as three kilometers. They're 'fire and forget' types, so you don't need to stay in one place after you fire them off."
Craig tried to snap his fingers, failed, so he settled for pointing at the slowly rotating holograms. "That's why you built the lasers to keep my hands free. I'm going to need both hands to fire these weapons."
Sylia nodded approvingly. "Yes."
"Anything else?"
"Not at the current time. I thought you should be involved in any future development."
"How long until it's ready?"
"Three weeks. The parts will be here within the week, and I want you to help me build it."
Craig nodded. "Why don't we discuss this over a cup of tea? I'm feeling a bit dry and I want to discuss this sitting down."
Sylia nodded. "Give me five minutes to shut everything down and I'll join you in the kitchen."
**************
By the time Sylia walked into the kitchen, Craig had laid out a teapot, cups, and a small dish of pastries. He shrugged at Sylia's raised eyebrow. "I had just brewed a pot when I saw your message."
She sat in a chair across the table from Craig. He poured a cup and handed it to her. "What did you want to discuss?" she asked.
Craig poured himself a cup of tea, added milk and sugar, then stirred it. "It begin with," he said, "it appears that my role is a stand back and attack."
"To begin with, yes." Sylia sipped from her teacup. "Eventually, I want yours and Priss' suits to be able to use several weapons systems interchangeably. But I want you to get use to combat without getting you involved directly for right now."
"What about later? Those weapon systems you showed me are not useful close in."
"I am working on something to address that, but that's for a later date."
Craig nodded. 'Fair enough."
"What else do you want to talk about?"
Craig leaned back in his chair and gazed at Sylia. "As I see it, we need to figure out various loads for the magazines, depending on the type of mission. I mean, I would need different ammo for the bazooka if I'm trying to stop a boomer rampage then I would if I'm trying to stop a human terrorist attack."
"That won't be hard to do."
"I'll need to practice with the weapon until I'm familiar with them."
Sylia nodded. "I can arrange something when the time comes. First things first, though. After your suit is built, It's going to take a couple of days to adapted the suit to your movements, then at least two weeks of training in order to use it properly. Which means that Linna is going to up your workout, starting tomorrow." She ignored Craig's groan and continued, "After you have the basics down, you'll have another two weeks of advanced field hardsuit training, after which, you'll start training with the different weapons systems. If you sail through your training, you should be ready for your first real mission in a little less then three months." she looked at Craig's perplexed expression. "You didn't expect to suit up the first time and go on a mission, did you?"
Craig shook his head. "Knowing me, it'll probably take longer then that to get up to speed. I was a bit surprised that you're giving me that much leeway."
"I would prefer to take the time and train you well from the beginning. If this Largo is as dangerous as Ishmael says he is, and the anime indicates he isn't to be ignored as a threat, then I will need every single advantage I can get."
"Well, If you need a Joker, here I am."
Sylia smiled thinly. "I prefer to think of you as an Ace up my sleeve. The question is, can I trust you to work as part of a team, or should I expect you to pull the occasional SkyKnight solo act?"
Craig blinked. He was silent for a moment, his staring off to the side, his face taking on the look Sylia recognized as his 'deep thinking' expression. "I don't know," he said slowly, still not looking at her. "Will I go out in my hardsuit, looking for trouble? I can answer that with a definite 'no'. Will I install enough weapons on my hardsuit to take on the Death Star single-handedly? I wouldn't know where to start. Will I go charging into battle like Lancelot and the Knights of the Round Table? Not if I can avoid it. Will I go out and challenge Largo to a one on one battle? I may have lapses of judgement, but I'm not that stupid. Otherwise, I don't want to promise something that I'll have to renege on when the situation arises."
"That's fair enough. I wouldn't ask you to make a promise that you couldn't keep in the heat of battle. But the reason why the Knight Sabers have managed to survive is because we work together as a team."
Craig looked at her and raised an eyebrow. "Does that include Priss?"
Sylia's smile was warmer. "She has her own definition of teamwork that I've taken in account in my planning." Her face became serious again. "But I don't need two wildcards on the battlefield. Priss has the luxury of being a known factor to me, but you are an unknown."
"Well, it looks like I'll be limited in what I can do with the weapons you're planning for me."
"I would be lying if that didn't play a part in my design," Sylia admitted.
"So I play long range fire support to begin with."
"That I think would be the best. After you've done that for a while, then we'll start working you in on the front lines."
Craig gave her a little grin. Sylia returned it with a smile of her own. "Any other questions?" she asked him.
"Only to ask if this is where I'm suppose to beat my chest like Captain Macho and act like a three year old because you're not going to let me whomp on boomers up close and personal?"
Sylia blinked as her mind translated his statement into understandable terms. "Would you like to dispute your assigned role?" she asked him.
Craig shook his head. "Nope. But it seems to be part of the sequence that would-be heros are suppose to follow."
"Just remember that this isn't a game," Sylia said calmly. "Here, the boomers are real and will kill you in a heartbeat. We have to make the right decision every single time we put on those hardsuits. If we don't, one of us, some of us, or all of us don't come back."
"I know." Craig was somber now.
Sylia finished the last of her tea. She stood and walked out of the kitchen. Craig followed her out into the living room, his tea mug still in hand. While he claimed a chair and sat, she went over to the window. "GENOM has its tentacles into every part of this city," she said, looking out over into the city. "They tolerate the Knight Sabers because we don't threaten them or their long range plans. Yet if they ever wanted to really come after us, we couldn't stop them."
"Yet you continue to fight them."
"I must. If GENOM is allowed to do whatever it wants, people's lives become nothing more then 'usable resources,' or 'potential revenue.'"
"And the boomers?"
"My father didn't design the boomer to be combat machines. He wanted them to be a help to the human race, not its murderer."
"That's the problem with good ideas," said Craig slowly, staring at the bottom of his now empty mug. "Sooner or later, someone comes along and perverts the idea."
"I don't think my father could have handled what GENOM has done to his work."
"Short of hardwiring Asimov's Laws of Robotics into each and every boomer brain, he couldn't have stop them."
"How do you know that?"
"Because Quincy may be a bastard, but no one ever said he was a stupid bastard." Craig stood. "I have no doubt that Quincy had it set up so he could anything he wanted to do, with or without your father's help. Your father's death just simplified things for GENOM."
"I know." He felt the wall come up between them, the one of personal pain and loss that she let slip out at times. Without saying a word, he know the subject was closed.
Craig took his mug back into the kitchen and returned. "Sylia?' he asked softly. She turned and looked at him. He held out his hand. "You never actually asked me to join the Knight Sabers," he said, "and I never asked if you wanted me as a part of the team. But, since we're both in this up to our necks, we're going to have to work together. Don't think that I have been forced into this."
"What about Ishmael?"
He shrugged. "He just has to be able to outrun me, because if I catch him, he's dead."
Sylia didn't say anything about Ishmael's obvious superior abilities. "And what do you offer?" she asked, playing along with Craig.
"What I offer is someone who's ready to learn, willing to offer a different point of view, even when you don't need one, and able to help you when and where you need it."
Sylia nodded and took his hand and smiled. "Welcome to the Knight Sabers," she said.
"Thank you."
"We'll see how thankful you are after Linna start pushing you harder."
Craig grimaced and released her hand. "You had to remind me of that, didn't you?"
Sylia folded her arms. "Just keeping things in perspective. How's your motorcycle lessons coming along?"
"I can ride at a reasonable speed without falling off, but I'm not in Priss' level. Hell, most fighter pilots aren't at her level. And if I have the sense God gave a Communist, I will never be anywhere near her level. Getting thrown from my bike and bouncing along the highway at a hundred and sixty kilometers an hour isn't my idea of fun."
"I assure you," said Sylia in a soothing tone, "one speed demon is all I can handle."
"Well, Priss' idea of going slow is keeping it under Mach 1. If I'm going to go that fast, I want something more between me and the road then an engine attached to a pair of wheels. That and the fact Priss still thinks I'm secret agent double-O GENOM, makes her teaching a bit along the lines of 'Rev it up and floor it.' I swear that she's trying to kill me sometimes."
"That means she's beginning to warm up to you."
Craig looked at her. "Huh?"
Sylia answered his question with a smile. "What do you have planned for the rest of the day?"
"After lunch, Mackie want me to go down to Raven's Garage and help him overhaul one of the motorslaves. After that, I'm free."
"Good. I'm hosting a dinner for the entire team tonight over at the St. Regis hotel. Dress accordingly."
"Suit and tie?"
"That is usually considered proper dress," replied Sylia archly.
Craig frowned. "What time?"
"Seven o'clock. Mackie will make sure you will get there on time."
"Okay, Boss. Just where am I going to get a suit and tie?"
"There's one in your closet."
"There is? I never noticed."
"What do you mean you never noticed?" asked Sylia, exasperation clear on her face.
"I'm not a big suit wearer. To me, suits are worn at weddings, funerals and job interviews. Wearing one out to dinner is a new experience for me."
Sylia sighed. "What time is Mackie expecting you at Raven's?"
"After lunch."
"Then we'll spend the rest of the morning going over the basics of your hardsuit. "
"Okay, Boss." He smiled, stepped back and motioned towards the door. "After you."
Sylia walked past him. As she did so, Craig asked her, "Is there any chance to install a disk player in my suit?"
Sylia stared up at the ceiling, wondering if Ishmael really did have a sense of humor and was standing somewhere, laughing at her....
**************
Kate Madigan hadn't reached her current position on just her looks. In fact, her intelligence had gotten her farther then her beauty, despite a couple of run-ins with 'over amorous' superiors on her way up. Neither supervisor had taken their rejection well, especially after Madigan had kneed one in the groin in one instance, and raked the other across the face with her nails in another. Once Madigan had reached her current position, both supervisors had lost their jobs and any other benefit the lavender-haired woman could think of. In her own way, she was as ruthless as Brian Mason, but she was less personal about it in most cases.
But, as she stared at the reports on her computer screen, she was fighting the urge not to give into her hate of Brian J. Mason.
Madigan had taken to an instant dislike to Mason from the first time they met. Something about the way he looked at her made her skin crawl. He'd never made any improper advances towards her, about the only thing about him she had been grateful for, but there was something not quite right with him. It had taken several months to realize that Mason was looking out for only Mason. While that wasn't uncommon in the cut-throat world of business, the way Mason acted on it went beyond simple career protection.
The situation with the late Doctor Stingray was such an example. While the official story was the doctor had died in a laboratory explosion, a few rumors had floated around that Mason had helped the scientist to his reward before the blast. These very same rumors also said that Mason had taken great pleasure in removing the last obstacle to GENOM's production of the boomer. She had tried to find out more, but the Chairman had curtly ordered her not to pursue the incident any farther. She had backed off, but since then, she always kept an eye on Mason.
She frowned as the matter of Mason pushed their way into her thoughts. If there was something Katherine Madigan prided herself on, it was her ability to dispassionately analyze a situation and resolved it in a complete and timeless manner. Emotions clouded the judgement, shaded the facts, and influenced the decision in unforseen ways. While that could work in the short run, it could prove disastrous over a longer period of time. It had taken discipline on her part to hone her abilities, but the rewards were well worth it.
Mason, on the other hand, allowed passions to influence him. If someone opposed him, he took it as a personal affront, a threat to his position and power. Instead of being merely an obstacle, the person became someone to be crushed, eliminated in a brutal way with no thought of the consequences. He allowed his ambition to outweigh any other factor, his lust for power diving almost every decision he made. He had been lucky so far, but Madigan knew it wouldn't last.
The intercom on her desk beeped. Shaken out of her thoughts, she stabbed a button. "Yes?"
"Mr. Mason is here to see you," her secretary replied. "He said he has some reports for you."
"Very well," Madigan replied. "Send him in." She closed the report on the computer she had been trying to read and pressed a small button on her intercom. She then picked up a pen and glanced down out the papers on her desk. She heard the office door open, but counted to five before she looked up. "Yes?" she asked in the most neutral tone she could manage.
Mason presented her with several folders. "The Chairman instructed me to have you look over these," He said, his tone haughty as if talking to an subordinate instead of an equal.
Madigan took the reports. "What are they about?" she asked.
"The land purchase in district three is completed and the Chairman wants to make sure there will be no problem with any of the residents when the time comes to start building. The reports cover the people most like to oppose our construction. He would like you to look them over and recommend a course of action with each should the need arise."
"Is there any restrictions?" Madigan asked, glancing through the folders. Unasked was the question, Can I recommend assassination if I have to? It paid to be careful, even inside GENOM Tower.
Mason picked up on the unasked question. "The Chairman told be that there are to be no restrictions in your recommendations." If assassinations are needed, so be it. The way he said that made Madigan look up at him. His expression was disinterested, but there was a gleam in his eye that Madigan read as: If it was up to me, I'd flatten the entire area and every person in it.
"How soon does the Chairman needed it?"
"He would like your recommendations within the next couple of days."
Madigan nodded. "I will do so by Thursday." She decided to change gears. "When is Doctor Ming going to start with reconstructing the Boomer?"
"Sometime next week. By then, the bugs in the new subsystems should be ironed out, and technicians can be reassigned to the rebuilding project if they want to be."
"Isn't what you're proposing, namely bringing this Boomer back on-line, dangerous?"
"He frowned. "In what way?"
"We know nothing about this boomer. Suppose it's a part of a plan to destroy GENOM?"
"And who would have the ability to create such an advanced boomer design?" Mason asked coldly. "No other corporation in the world could have done it. No one inside GENOM could have done it. We need to access the boomer's memories to find out when and where it came from. And we can only do that if the boomer's on-line."
"I don't like it," Madigan said flatly.
Mason waved a hand. "It's not any of your concern."
"If it is a threat to GENOM., then it is my concern."
"It's one boomer, although a very advanced design. It won't have any internal weapons, excess strength, or mental abilities, plus it will be wired with enough explosives to turn it into very small pieces. How much harm could it do?"
Madigan eye's half closed, the only sign she allowed herself to show her displeasure at a subject. She knew Mason was hiding something, but what? "I think once the boomer has been rebuilt, you should also assign a couple of 55C to watch it."
Mason nodded, a short sharp motion, and his eyes took on that cold fury he was well known for. "I said the boomer is my responsibility. Don't tell me how to do my job."
"Does you job include the Knight Sabers?"
His jaw tighten, and inside, Madigan allowed herself a smile. Maybe there is something to that idle talk. "I've noticed a marked increase in the number of recon boomers being used to monitor the Knight Sabers fights. Recon boomers are part of my area of responsibility, as they're considered part of security. Would you like to explain why?"
"I found the lack of data from the recon boomers incomplete. The increased numbers allowed more data to be collected."
"And increases the chances of them being discovered," replied the lavender haired woman cooly. "And if they are, people will be asking question, questions that could embarrass the company."
"They will not be discovered."
"Not yet. But sooner or later, they will be."
"The Chairman authorized the extra boomers."
Madigan frowned. She didn't believe him for a moment, but she wasn't going to let him know that. "I was not told of this," she said.
Mason smiled, a smile that promised pain and horror for someone, somewhere. "He probably though you didn't need to know," he said in a sweet voice.
Madigan restrained the urge to shoot the bastard right then and there. "From now on," she said, giving Mason her best glower, "I want written requisition for any more then the normal number of recon boomers sent out to monitor a battle, and I want them signed by you and on my desk twenty-four hours in advance." Got you.
Mason stared at her for a moment, then nodded. "Very well. You'll have the first forms on your desk within two hours." He turned and walked out of the office.
She waited until the door closed behind him before she leaned back in her chair. "You heard, sir?" she asked the empty room.
"I did," Quincy replied from the intercom. "I did not authorize the use of extra recon boomers, despite Mr. Mason's claims."
"Should I prevent him from continuing to deploy the other boomers?"
Quincy was silent for a moment. "No," he said finally. "The obsession with the Knight Sabers is just a side show. I think Mr. Mason's plans revolve around that boomer that he wants rebuilt."
"Shouldn't we destroy that thing before its rebuilt?"
"No. We allow him to proceed."
Madigan frowned. "I don't understand, Sir."
"It's very simple," Quincy replied. "We allow him to continue his plan, while we watch and wait. When we have discovered what his plan is and who is involved, then we move in. If Mr. Mason has lived out his usefulness, then I do not want to take the chance that a ambitious underling decides to take his place."
"I now understand."
"Good. About those reports Mr. Mason had just given you - I would like your recommendations at your earliest convenience, and I would like to keep any extreme measures you advocate as a last option if at all possible. GENOM cannot afford any hint of exposure, and sometimes the dead scream louder then the living. Please take that into account. Good afternoon."
"Yes sir." Madigan shut off the intercom and stood slowly. She walked over to the large plate glass window that replaced an entire wall of her office and started out across the city. The reports could wait for now, when she was more calm and composed. She didn't think she would have to recommend any severe options - most would and could be paid in what would amount to less money then the cost of a 'rogue' boomer.
Now she had to allow the emotions Mason stirred slip back into her projection of discipline before she continued. She hated wasting the time, but she needed to be at her best, for herself and GENOM....
**************
*It continues,* said Ishmael.
[I still do not like it,] the other intelligence replied.
*All we can do is balance the situation that our opponent has managed to unbalance.*
[The one you have chosen as the Avatar is not please at being given the honor.]
*Would you be, if the situation was reversed? To be truthful, he was never my first choice for this task, but to search for a better candidate would have cost us precious time.*
[He is angry at you.]
*I cannot help that. There is too much at stake to worry about his feelings. We must stop this experiment here, or we will face other, more damaging attempts to disrupt other timelines. If that were to happen, then we would be forced to take a more active role, which would mean -*
[That they would take a more active role. And that could lead to the final conflict that we have worked so hard to avoid.]
*Yes.* there was silence between the two of them, then Ishmael continued. *In many ways, there is much riding on the shoulders of the Avatar.*
[The avatar is still angry at you. He wants to commit physical violence against you.]
*I know. In this case, that is a good thing.*
[What?]
*By focusing his hate on me, he does not use it against those he must ally himself with. He knows the Knight Sabers are not to blame for his placement there. He is also not willing to commit suicide because he wants to kill me first.*
[Has it occurred to him that he cannot kill you?]
*It might have on an intellectual level, but he prefers the emotional reaction.* Ishmael gave the equivalent of a human shrug. *Besides, it's interesting having an Avatar that doesn't worship you as a god, or looks at you in awe. While it's nice the first couple of times, it becomes annoying after that.*
[I guess so.]
*All we can do now is try and delay Largo's rebuilding as much as possible. Time is not an ally of ours. We must give our Avatar as much time as we can so that he is ready.*
[Is that all we can do?]
*That, and the depositing of the promised money in the account of the Knight Saber. Otherwise, that is all we can do.*
[I hope this plan will succeed.]
*As do I.*