Leon tried to blink, and failure brutally woke him.
He instantly regretted it. Brilliant white light screamed into the eye forced open by callused soft fingers. “Priss!” Leon barked, struggling up against the weight on him.
Priss clicked off the pen-light and sat back on Leon's bed, letting the fully clothed Leon sit up from lying on top of the covers and rub his eye furiously. “Finally!” she said with a trace of a frown. “I was wondering if you had gone into a coma!”
“Ugh,” Leon growled. “I wish.” He paused in dealing with his eye to squint at the clock by the bed. “Argh! Priss! You just had to wake me now, didn't you? You know I've got to get some sleep before my shift.”
“Aw,” Priss' voice oozed mock sincerity. “Is Leon tired?” She shook her head at him and snorted. “You're overdoing the angst about the last couple of days and just need to focus on something else for a bit.” She shook her head at him and her expression softened.
Priss lazily eased down to lie on her side, the beginnings of a smile touching her lips. “I'm sure,” she said relaxing into a throaty laugh, “that something will occur to you.”
Abandoning his eye, Leon lay back and stared at the ceiling. “They never let go,” he said quietly.
The muted noise of night-time Mega-Tokyo settled on the room.
Leon sat up to find Priss leaning her head against her fist and frowning at him, her face otherwise unreadable.
“Um,” he said eloquently.
Priss rolled to her feet. “C'mon,” she said, dragging Leon off the bed.
“Priss!”
She pushed Leon out to the main room. “You need to get out.”
“Oh! C'mon!” Leon protested.
“Out!” Priss demanded, shoving Leon's boots at him and pulling on her own.
Shaking his head, Leon started pulling on his own boots and muttered, “You just have to win this one, don't you?”
Lips relaxing from being pressed into a line, a grin briefly ghosted across Priss' face. “Damn straight,” she muttered back.
Leon snorted. “Is there anywhere,” he finished with his boots and stood up, “I'm going out to?”
Zipping up her jacket, Priss shook her head. “Just see if you can keep up,” she grinned.
Leon found himself grinning back. “Try me.”
“Whoo!” Leon shakily said later as they dismounted their bikes and pulled off their gear. “I thought we were done for back there!”
Priss shook her hair free from her helmet and grinned like a shark. “Afraid you were gonna fall off?”
Leon looked back at the narrow trail they had followed. It curved out of sight against the sheer slopes of the Canyon, the deep trench formed in the Great Kanto 'Quake of 2025. Scraggly scrub and grasses dotted the Canyon's walls in spots where their roots anchored themselves in the rocks, relieving the otherwise monotonous stone that stretched dozens of meters above and below the trail. Thicker brush around the ledge that held Leon and Priss and their bikes hid the patchy light from crudely rigged lights from the floor of the Canyon, and the bright lights of Mega-Tokyo were visible only as an indistinct glow at top of the cliffs.
“I thought I was going to go flying!” Leon exclaimed, then he poked his head over the side of the ledge and glanced down into the Canyon's gloom. “And landing down there would be a bitch!”
With a faint click from the switch, the light from Priss' bike went out and plunged the ledge into darkness.
With a start, Leon stepped back from the edge. “Whoa! Priss!”
“What's the matter? Too dark for you?” Priss asked, then snorted at Leon's grumble. “You know, you can take the shades off sometimes, Leon baby.” She spread her jacket on the ground and leaned back against the cooling stone. “Now, c'mon over here.”
Pocketing his shades, Leon picked his way over to Priss and sat down beside her. He put his arm around her shoulder and she shifted to lean against him.
“Now isn't this better than brooding in a dark apartment?”
“What?” Leon replied. “I'm supposed to brood in the pitch black outdoors instead?” He added, getting an elbow in his ribs in return.
“Dolt,” Priss muttered, smiling. “The view is much better here.”
“I can't see much from here.” Another elbow jabbed his ribs.
Priss pointed at the sky. “Look up.”
A moment later, Leon spoke again. “Huh. I didn't think there was anywhere in Mega-Tokyo where you could see stars.”
“Special, isn't it?”
“I thought there were supposed to be more.”
“Around here you take what you can get.”
“Ain't that the truth.”
They stared at the slice of sky for a moment.
“That bunch,” Leon said, raising his hand and pointing south, “looks familiar.”
Priss followed his gesture and snorted. “Well, duh, that's the one some movie company uses as its logo.”
“Huh. Which one?”
“Like I care,” Priss waved dismissively.
“Right,” Leon's mouth settled into a knowing grin for a second.
Priss' elbow jabbed his ribs. “Stop grinning like that!”
“I'm not grinning,” Leon denied.
Another jab. “Yes, you are. You always grin like that.”
“So? It's not like anyone can see that right now.”
“It's the principle!”
Leon waited, and decided that Priss was feeling mellow when no additional jab arrived.
“I haven't been here in years,” Priss muttered, just loud enough for Leon to make out her words.
“How'd you find out about this place anyway? I could have sworn there wasn't anything here.”
Priss was silent for a moment. “Ah,” she said, at last, “a friend showed me.”
“Oh,” Leon nodded. “This was a hang-out.” The following jab failed to surprise him.
Priss grumbled, “If you keep this up you're going to be black and blue all over.” She thought about that. “And I don't mean that stupid new uniform you've got.”
“Ah,” Leon dismissed that, waving an unseen hand in the darkness. “I'll just have to say that it's an old war injury.”
He got another jab.
“Dolt,” Priss said warmly.
Reaching over to rub his side, a thought struck Leon. “Say, when did you get back? I thought the Replicants were still on tour.”
“We are,” Priss said. “But our next gig isn't until the day after tomorrow. That gave me enough time to drive here and back.”
“Huh,” grunted Leon. “So you're going back on stage with no warmup? You're that good?”
Priss snorted a laugh. “You know I'm good.”
“I know you're better than good.”
“Now you're getting corny.”
“Heh. Yeah.”
They watched the sky for a moment, where man-made lights appeared to drift between the stars.
A moment later, Leon spoke again. “It's quiet here,” he said, frowning.
Priss let out a peal of laughter and bent forward to slap her knees, not caring about the shots that hit Leon's legs instead. “You sound pissed!” she managed at last.
Leon grunted.
“What's that?” Priss snickered, leaning back. “Did you have a Hollywood moment there? ‘Yeah, too quiet.’ ” She giggled into her hand.
Leon laced his hands behind his head.
“Ah, c'mere you big lug.” Priss shifted, and Leon slipped an arm over her shoulder.
Leon spoke again after a moment. “It doesn't seem natural to run into something like that in Mega-Tokyo.”
“It's around. You just have to know where to find it. Or when.” Priss shifted. “Take some time off and catch my next show. You'll hear nothing after that, too.”
Leon nodded. “Except for the ringing in my ears, yeah,” he laughed and grinned, getting another jab that was rather lighter than the previous ones due to Priss' current position.
“Hah! Keep that up and I'll give you a ringing in your ears,” Priss growled playfully.
“Heh. Nah, I think I've… had enough of that this week.” Leon said, his voice losing energy as he spoke.
Priss tightened her grip on him. “Oh, knock it off!” she snarled. “What's with you? I've never seen you so mopey before.”
“I am not mopey!” Leon shot back.
Priss smirked. “That's better.”
“Ohhh.” Leon palmed his face. “Damn you.” He said without heat and made a rude gesture, invisible in the dark.
“Did you just give me the bird? You did, didn't you?”
“That's not all I'll give you.” Leon growled.
“Ooh, baby. Talk dirty to me,” Priss said in a sultry voice. She pause for a moment, then started snickering about the same time Leon did.
“I think that was a tie,” Leon said, at last, relaxing against the wall of the Canyon.
“I guess,” Priss agreed. “I'm still ahead, though.”
“Hah! In your dreams!” Leon laughed, starting a round of banter.
At length, Leon asked, “So how is the tour going?”
“Pretty good,” Priss told him. “I've been running into people here and there that've moved out of the Tokyo area since the 'quake, and catching up with them. Noriko's been having a blast, and keeping Kai from wandering off, and Yuu… has been Yuu.”
“Is your drummer still?…”
“Yeah,” Priss grinned. “Although I think we've finally started to get him used to the idea that you exist.”
“Heh,” Leon laughed. “That makes me feel so existential.”
“Yeah. Give us another month or two and I think we'll have him at the point where he won't melt down when when he meets you again.”
Leon chuckled. “I swear there are mannequin boomers that are smarter than that guy.”
Priss nodded. “They have higher standards for mannequins.”
“Harsh,” smirked Leon. “Oh, yeah. Speaking of running into people, you'll never guess who's back in town.”
“Who?”
“Guess!”
“Mmm. Rumpelstiltskin?”
Leon didn't miss a beat. “Besides him.”
“I've got no idea then.”
“I'll give you a hint; she has a camera.”
“Camera? Hmmm.… That kind of rings a bell. Buuuttt! I'm drawing a blank.”
“The chief's— the old chief's niece. Lisa.”
“Lisa? Blond? Shorter than Nene?”
Leon nodded in the dark. “Yup.”
“Huh.”
“And word has it that she's already getting Nene spun up.”
“Good for her! Nene's getting lazy with all the desk work she does.”
Leon snorted. “Not so much any more. She's made favorable impression with the line troops, and her transfer means she gets out a lot more.”
“How does her transfer get her out more? And what favorable impression?”
“She's doing front-line forensics. As soon as the battle's over she's supposed to start checking black-boxes and stuff, so she'll be right behind the line when things are hot. Plus there's the whole thing about running the jammers during multi-boomer incidents.”
“So not too diff—” Priss cut herself off. “Heh, what about the favorable impression.”
Leon didn't miss a beat. “There was a side incident at some office complex, with a bunch of maintenance boomers. She had a couple of our junior guys with her, including two ex-military types, and came up with a win when they got surrounded. Didn't you hear about this?”
Priss grumbled. “No! Did she get hurt?”
Leon tightened his arm around her shoulder and gave her a quick summary. “Minor stuff, really,” he added.
“That idiot!” said Priss. “I let her out of my sight for one.…”
The cop rubbed his jaw, making a faint scratchy noise as his hand ran over the day-old stubble. “She's got Lisa hanging out with her right now. I'm willing to bet she can keep an eye on her. Not to mention Naoko; her usual partner in crime.”
Priss stared at his faint outline in the dark. “Hmm. Maybe,” she allowed.
“Fair enough.” Leon shrugged. “But before I forget again, Lisa's uncle, the old chief, is getting out of the hospital and she wants to hold a welcome home party for him. Care to come with me for that?”
Taking a moment to run one hand through her hair, Priss again stared at Leon. Finally, she grinned, “Why, Leon McNichol, are you asking me to be a party date?”
Leon rolled that thought around for a moment. “Yeah, I think I am.”
“Well.” Priss suddenly grinned, her teeth flashing briefly in the dark. “It's a date, then.” She hauled herself to her feet. “C'mon, tall, dark and moody, let's get you back to bed for a while before you go have to go to work.”
Priss stood, silhouetted against the night sky as she faced Leon, who looked up at her just as one of the numerous aircraft passed right behind her head and lent a touch of luminosity to her hair. To his dark adjusted eyes, it was a flare suggesting a halo and wings, and Leon smiled in spite of himself.
“Bed?” he asked, standing up. “So I finally can get some sleep?”
“Who said anything about sleep?”
Cleaning and maintenance boomers worked their way through the dark rooms and halls of the shopping mall, preparing it for the next business day. As they worked, they kept in touch with a manager box set up in a maintenance area of the shopping center, who organized their activity to prepare the center with great efficiency.
In the manager box, information flowed in from the radio connection, through digital circuitry to the synthetic nerves that formed the brain of the manager. The manager thought about the information, made decisions and passed information back to the digital circuitry.
And deep in the manager's brain, synthetic nerves that in normal boomers were separated by additional circuitry, made connections.…
A stream of text flowed out to the digital circuitry, which ran it through software updated only a few days before. Mechanically, the software noted that the text met certain criteria, and routed it over the Internet instead of to the boomers to whom the brain had addressed it.
In between organizing the boomers in the center as though nothing were amiss, the brain continued nattering away with that odd text.
The odd stream of text passed through copper and optical fiber following a tortuous route. At its destination, the receiver checked the address of its origin, and started a program that sent more signals to a larger number of locations.
Minutes later, a construction boomer recharging at a base station topped off its batteries. That task complete, it disconnected from the base station and walked to the edge of the flooring it and its fellow boomers had laid down hours earlier. It spent a moment staring out at the glitter of Mega-Tokyo at night.
Then it jumped out of the building.
Lights flashing and sirens blaring, the Roadchaser raced through the night-time streets and urgent voices flashed over the radio.
“Construction boomer running east on 88th street.”
“Got it, Heita. I've got Sadae and Sam ahead of you. You should be able to cut it off in a moment.”
The boomer turned and sprinted between some buildings.
“Better get us some more cars, Mary. The boomer just started cutting between buildings.”
“Damn. You got a smart one?”
“Looks like.”
The Roadchaser reached the end of the block and took a sharp turn, two tires barely touching the road. And again at the end of the next block.
“It's headed toward a shopping mall.”
“Got it. Heita, I've got another four cars headed to your location.”
The boomer ran to a door marked “Authorized Personnel Only” and tore it open.
“Got a correction for you, Mary. It's headed into the mall.”
The Roadchaser squealed to a stop in the nearly empty parking lot, and the two troopers jumped for the trunk as two more Roadchasers tore into the lot to join them.
Five armed and armored troopers ran into the building as one stayed behind to man the radio.
A moment passed, and the night lights in the complex went out. And a bit later, and after much gun-fire, four troops were making their way out helping carry their bleeding fifth man toward the growing crowd of Roadchasers.
Several of the late arrivals went in to secure the now inert construction boomer.
“So, in short, it was one of the uncommon ones that doesn't have any obvious signs of what set him off,” Daley said glumly as he closed the report and set it back on Naoko's desk.
Naoko shrugged, and slid her workstation's keyboard under the desk so she could stretch out a bit without having to get up. “That's what it looks like,” she shrugged.
“Well,” the red-headed cop stood from where he'd been half seated on the corner of Naoko's desk. “If nobody turns up anything in forensics, make a note to have Nene take a look at this when she gets back.”
Naoko nodded. “Okay,” she said, and turned to her workstation for a moment. “Although that assumes there's something to find,” she said absently while typing.
“If there's anything findable, our pro should find it.” Daley noted. He ignored the tread of heavy boots in the corridor and continued. “And even so, that new henchman of Nene's is starting to pick up some tricks himself, so have him check it, too.”
The boots stopped just outside the open door. “Henchman?” Leffler said with a snort. “That's a rather presumptive term now, isn't it?” He grinned, and shifted the box he carried under one arm to get a better grip on it. In his other hand, he gripped a power screw-driver and had it resting against his shoulder so the shaft pointed up.
Daley turned, and smirked at the patrolman. “What? You have a better word?”
Leffler puffed himself up. “I, sir, am a henchthing, which is a much higher calling.”
Naoko grinned and Daley gave the heavy-set man a chuckle. “I stand corrected,” he admitted, then added, “So what's with the hardware you've got there?” He nodded at the box.
Hefting the box under his arm again, Leffler replied, “It's a new bit of kit that we're likely to deal with in the field. I thought I'd open it up and see what makes it tick. Word has it that it's kind of flaky.”
Naoko frowned at Leffler. “Don't you normally work with software?”
Nodding cheerfully, Leffler replied. “Yup! I figure that making the box aware that I have no skill with a power tool, but am willing to use it, will intimidate it into doing what we want.” He grinned, then looked down and spoke to the box. “Come little box, you have an appointment with Mr. Screwdriver.” His finger twitched against the screwdriver's trigger, making it spin up for a few seconds, and he laughed maniacally as he did so.
Daley laughed and shook his head. “You've been working here too long; you're starting to fit in.”
“Now there's a frightening thought.” Leffler shook his head. “So what was it you were saying about me while I wasn't here? Nothing good I hope.”
Daley laughed again as Naoko rolled her eyes at the banter. “Just that we've got a little task for you; a patrol last night caught a rogue, and we haven't found what set him off yet.”
“I see.” Leffler hefted the box under his arm. “Does that take priority over this?” he said, jerking his chin toward the box.
“Anything based on an incident always takes priority.”
Leffler nodded. “Okie-dokie. Let me put down this stuff and I'll get right on it.”
Daley sent him on his way, and Leffler waved vaguely to Daley and Naoko as he resumed clumping down the hall.
The small door into Raven's garage opened, back-lighting the door's opener and letting gray daylight briefly brighten the garage.
“Sylia!” Nene sang, stepping in and leaning on a cane. She let the door shut behind her. “Dr. Raven!”
As the echos fell away, silence, broken only by irregular dripping and the hum of fluorescent light, answered Nene.
“Hmph,” she muttered, and limped into the garage.
She had wandered through much of the Knight Sabers' restricted area—calling out for Sylia or Dr. Raven several times—before giving up. Idly, she went over to the work area and hefted a helmet one of the other Sabers with her good hand. It was lighter than her own “front line” AD. P. helmet that she had used recently, but so much stronger. Sighing at the inequity of the equipment she used in each job she held the helmet up to the level of her face.
“Alas, poor…” Nene began quietly, and trailed off as she noticed an erratic glow reflected off the corridor wall leading to a small data room. She set down the helmet and hobbled forward, moving more slowly as her ankle protested at the extended use.
“Sylia!” chirped Nene as she swung through the doorway into the work room to stand beside the taller woman.
Sylia jumped with a gasp and shudder and turned to face Nene. “Nene!” she admonished raggedly. “Don't do that!” Nene dissolved into breathless giggles and fell against the door-frame next to her.
“Hehe, ow, heh. Oh, oh, this is priceless!” Nene managed, gasping, then giggled again.
Smiling wanly, Sylia chuckled along with her. “Yes, yes, you win.”
Giggles trailing off, but still breathing deeply, Nene dabbed tears from her eyes. “Ohh, I'm sorry,” she apologized. “I don't think I've ever gotten you like that before.” She grinned at Sylia, who smiled back at her. “You looked like you saw a ghost.”
Sylia's smile twisted. “So,” Sylia began, “how are you feeling, now?”
“Eh. I'm okay, now. Mostly it's the bandages getting in the way and the whole getting tired fast thing. I'm glad it's only cloudy today, I would hate to have tried to walk over here if it were raining or something. I mean, can you imagine how awkward it would be to use an umbrella and a cane when you've got bandaged up hands?” Nene held up her lightly bandaged hands and wiggled her fingers.
“I expect it would be difficult,” Sylia agreed, smiling faintly.
Nene nodded. “So do I!”
Sylia's weak smile continued for a few more seconds, then she pushed herself to her feet and waved Nene into the room. “Where are my manners? Come in, come in and have a seat.” She cleared the spare chair of a shaky pile of papers and other loose items, unobtrusively making a hand available to Nene as the latter eased into the seat.
“Have you heard from Mackie lately?” Sylia asked.
Nene brightened. “Oh yes.” She giggled, “He sounded kind of stressed when he called.”
“Some of that is, doubtless, due to his upcoming travel next week.”
“Oh, I'm sure,” agreed Nene. “I was just, kind of.…” She looked down at her bandaged hands.
Traces of a smile flickered across Sylia's face and vanished just as quickly. “He may hover, a bit.”
Nene scowled, and looked back up at Sylia. “He'd better not, I'm hardly a child that needs to be—” She caught herself, and her brows rose as concern took the place of irritation. “Sylia? What's wrong, you look—”
“I'm sure that he hardly thinks of you as a child.” Sylia said, with traces of humor in her voice.
“Sylia!” Nene flushed.
“But if you're not convinced, there are ways you can get him to prove that.” Sylia said, and paused for a second. “I'd rather leave it at that, if you don't mind, considering this is my not so little anymore brother we're talking about here.”
Nene protested again. “Sylia!”
“Yes, Nene, I'd love to help you here, but I'm afraid in this case you'll have to ask Priss for ways to a man's heart.”
Letting out an explosion of air, and with hair and face a matching red, Nene managed to weakly ask, “You mean other than through the stomach and up under the rib-cage?”
“Yes, quite. Though I'm sure that would otherwise be her first thought.”
“Heh, yeah.” Nene let out another shaky breath, then frowned again as Sylia drummed her fingers against each other.
Sylia crossed her legs and clasped her hands over her knee. Continuing to frown for a second, Nene tilted her head at this and suddenly her expression brightened. “You're quitting smoking!”
Sylia's brows rose almost to her hair. “I—” she started.
“Don't worry about it, Sylia, I won't draw any attention to it,” Nene assured Sylia. Letting out a small laugh, Nene continued, “For a moment I was worried you were overdoing stimtabs and I'd have ground you. This is much better for you though. Good for you, and I'll keep everyone from hassling you about it.”
“I— I— What?” sputtered a flustered Sylia.
Nene grinned at her. “You've got the nicotine withdrawal jitters, and there's no cigarette, um, residue.” She patted Sylia's hand. “I'm happy for you, Sylia, don't worry about it.”
Gathering her composure, Sylia allowed herself to respond. “Thank you,” she said.
“So what made you decide to start that now?” Nene asked, then hastily added, “Not that you need to tell me.”
Sylia shook her head. “No, it's fine.” She looked away for a second. “It's mostly work related. I've been having to do without when around certain people.”
“You've got a client who's rabidly anti-smoking?” Nene nodded sympathetically. “Yeah, I can see how that would make a mess.
“Still,” Nene continued, “however you got started, congratulations on following through.”
Sylia nodded, and offered a small smile. “You'll still allow me the occasional lapse?”
“Oh, sure, sure!” Nene reassured her happily. “We never had this conversation.”
“What conversation?”
“Heh heh, yeah,” agreed Nene, basking in a relaxed lull in the conversation for a moment. “But to get back on track,” she said shortly, diverting from the line of questioning, “I wanted to talk to you about that boomer group I ran into the other day.” She nodded at the workstation. “I've already copied everything over to our system, but I think it's going to take a bit longer than I thought to more than scratch the surface in analyzing it.”
Sylia raised one eyebrow. “Oh?”
“You see,” Nene said, “that boomer group is turning out to be stranger than I thought.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well,…” Nene began, then frowned thoughtfully. “I admit I've only started to analyze the network data dump, but even at a glance it looks nothing like any boomer to boomer messaging that I've ever seen. The oddest specific thing I can see is that the data mostly looks like one great big multi-lingual glob of text. Changing languages in mid-word, which is just bizarre, and the ruby markup has layers of ruby markup.”
Sylia nodded. “I agree. I'm sure you'll work it out though.”
Nene's expression lifted a little. “Thanks.” Then she added, “Have you seen anything else like that?”
Sylia shook her head. “I haven't heard of anything like that before today.”
“Oh,” Nene said, a little glumly.
“You'll have answers, soon enough.”
Nene looked doubtfully at Sylia. “You're sure?”
“I'm absolutely certain.”
“Heh. I wish I had your confidence.”
Sylia just smiled, and glanced at her watch.
Catching the motion, Nene sighed. “I'm not making you late for anything, am I?”
Reassuring her, Sylia kept up her smile. “Not at all, though we are running out of time to dawdle.”
“Well, I won't take more of your time then.” Nene smiled back. “Help me up?” she asked, holding out a hand.
Sylia helped Nene to her feet, and the two stepped into the hall. “I'll walk you out,” Sylia offered, “it's on my way.”
“Okay,” agreed Nene. “Say, Sylia, you'll never guess who's back in town.”
“You mean besides Lisa Vanette?” Sylia asked, then chuckled as Nene's face fell.
“Mou,” Nene pouted. “You're no fun.”
Hesitantly, as they reached the elevator, Nene then added, “Do you think that'll be a problem? I mean—” Nene waved her head and a hand frantically “—she hasn't said anything.”
Sylia shook her head. “She'd be hard pressed to get into as much trouble as last time.”
“Heh, yeah,” Nene began, “It's just.…”
Sylia nodded as they stepped into the elevator. “Perhaps we can let this go for now. It'll take some time from now before we're all on the same page, won't it?”
Nene nodded.
“And perhaps she'll need to talk to me, too,” Sylia added as the doors closed on them.
Next to the elevator, the door to the stairwell opened and Sylia, dressed in a completely different outfit, stepped into the hallway. Looking around briefly, she made her way to the small terminal room where the warmth from the previous occupants still lingered on the chairs.
Not bothering to take a seat, Sylia searched quickly through the stacks on the desk and took a slim folder. She then looked longingly over at a pack of cigarettes sitting between a now abandoned cup of coffee and the monitor. Shaking off the moment, she pulled out the wand of Pluto.
A moment later, the room was empty again.
“This is just too convenient.”
“Ms. Madigan?”
The executive was taller than Kate, and they were in his office, yet her body language gave the impression that she loomed over him. The other occupants of the room—Roy, Clyde and a muscular woman wearing sunglasses like Clyde and all three of them in suits—hung back near the walls and mostly ignored the tension. Although Roy allowed himself a faint smirk.
Kate scowled as she jabbed a finger at the display. “AD. Police just handed over the rogue boomer?” Her voice descended into furious sarcasm. “Really?”
“I— I can assure y—”
Kate cut off the executive's speech with a sharp gesture. “Spare me.”
She glared at him a second longer, then stole the lone chair in the room. Leaning back in the chair, she steepled her fingers and resumed glowering at him. The only sound around them the clacking of her fingernails as she drummed her fingers against themselves.
“You realize,” she continued at last, “that because of that we're going to have to provide solid results to them. Because of the actions of a certain individual several years ago and all the setbacks that followed. Genom does not accept any further setbacks, particularly from within.
“So,” Kate continued harshly, “Have you found anything?”
The executive swallowed heavily, and his hands twitched toward his collar, but stilled and dropped awkwardly. “N— n— ah, very little, Ms. Madigan. Ah,” he cleared his throat, “it's, um, all— a few l— leads.”
“Leads,” Kate's expression remained stony.
He nodded. “Yes, Ms. Madigan. I— It's all, we have to follow them i— internally to get anywhere. A— and just how it was m— made to burn out—”
Kate arched one eyebrow. “Made to burn out.” She took a deep breath, still staring stonily. “Where does that little guess come from?”
“The p— police records showed they found s— signs of modification be—”
“So Genom still doesn't have anything to show for clumsily drawing attention to itself,” Kate practically snarled. “Very well, get on with following your ‘leads,’ and I want all 'i's dotted and 't's crossed, but I will see this lead to someone.” She waved the executive out of the room, and he practically scrambled to escape.
As the executive moved toward the door, Roy gestured to Clyde, who dutifully pushed off the wall and followed the executive out of the room.
As the door closed behind the two, Kate stood and walked over to the two standing by the wall. “Thoughts, Mr. Wilkins.”
“That was appallingly clumsy.”
Kate glared at him, although that washed off without effect.
“I'm disappointed to find that our unknown opponent seems to be practically taunting his opponents,” Roy continued. “I mean, the police found modification signs? In as little time as they had their hands on our unfortunate trooper? What a sad thing the ‘kinder, gentler’ Genom has become that we can't even have careful opponents.”
“Is that all you have to say for yourself?” Kate demanded, leading the small group out of the office.
“Mmm. That and everyone seems to be excessively rushing on this. Perhaps Genom needs to assign more plodding personnel to complement the floor show. Unless, of course, micro-management is not a danger.”
“I see,” Kate said, irritated at having that suspicion confirmed. “Very well, send me a list of two— no, three managers whose strength is following procedure. I'll take it from there.”
Roy nodded. “As you wish.”
“What about your part of the investigation?” Kate asked.
“That would be another component of that ‘appallingly clumsy’ I mentioned, at least in part,” Roy replied, then paused as they entered the more private section near Kate's office.
After the door closed behind them, Roy continued. “The physical evidence we have makes it easy to tell when the tampering occurred. Unfortunately, while our opponent was clumsy there, he was unusually sophisticated in other ways. For instance, electronic records are all clean, and all physical evidence outside of the boomer in question is non-existent.
“Of course,” Roy added, “that's only counting as far as my people got. I'm having them be thorough.”
“Good,” said Kate, who then paused by the door to her office. “Mr. Wilkins, I also want your team to look into who authorized recovering that boomer from the AD. Police. Again, be thorough. Genom is better off without those who would draw outside attention.”
Roy smiled wolfishly. “Ms. Madigan, eliminating insiders would be my pleasure.”
Kate returned the cold smile and entered her office.
As the silent member of their trio made to follow Kate, Roy held her back for a second. “Susan,” he said mildly.
“Yes, sir?” the disguised boomer said.
“I think it's time for an update to the zero report. After your shift is over, send me your data, highlighting changes in routine since the transfer.”
“Yes, sir.”
“How do you find your current assignment?” Roy asked, tilting his head slightly.
Susan processed that for a moment. “Ms. Madigan is easy to work with, sir.”
“Very good, carry on then,” Roy concluded, then left as Susan turned to follow Kate.
Leon smacked a fist against the door-frame leading to their ammunition supply. “I don't believe this!” He snarled tightly.
Daley shook his head. “What? You haven't been checking each round yourself?”
“What is this? Do I have to micro-manage everything?” Leon broke off from glaring into the storage locker to look skeptically at Daley.
Smirking, Daley returned a theatrical sigh. “Sadly, yes.
“Didn't you used to spend all of your time here?” Daley added after a second as Leon barked a not quite laugh and glared again into the supply room.
“Hardly.” Leon said, more calmly. “And I wasn't the only one that got a shift here.” He looked back at Daley.
“This has been one of those unwanted assignments. I'm not surprised that it got sloppy treatment.”
Leon snarled again. “For gear that could save their lives? That's not just sloppy. And who signed off on this, anyway?”
Daley smiled, exposing teeth, although his smile didn't reach his eyes. “I can make a little list for you.”
“Let me guess, we won't miss anyone on it, will we?”
“Very likely not.”
Leon turned back to look into the supply room again. “Yeah, send them to me. But that still doesn't help with this as is now.”
Daley shrugged. “We can keep looking, but I don't think we're going to find much here. This has probably been building up since the last time we faced anything tougher than a Yakuza boomer-thug.”
“Five years?” Leon said, dryly.
“…I hope not. And on a related subject, I'll see about getting resupply pushed through quickly.”
Leon snorted. “Like that ever happens.”
“They do surprise us that way sometimes.” Spotting motion out of the corner of his eye, Daley turned his head to glance down the corridor. “Ah!” he said, spotting one of their veteran support personnel approaching. “Perhaps someone else can shed some light on the situation here.”
“Hmmm?” Leon half grunted.
“Hi, Dave.” Daley waved.
“Yo.” Dave Smith returned his greeting.
“Dave.” Leon said neutrally.
Dave looked at the two of them and glanced at where they were. “What's up?”
Leon rattled a pair of shells in his hand. “Not our supply list, that's for certain.”
“Oooh, yeah.” Dave admitted. “That.”
Leon's face darkened and he ground his teeth. “You knew about this?” He paused as something occurred to him and continued less forcefully. “And what are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be off shift now?”
“I'm covering a half-shift for Frank.”
Daley allowed a trace of a grin on his face to contrast with Leon's scowl. “You do a lot of that. You really should spend less time at work and more at home.”
Dave rubbed the back of his neck. “Eh. Kids are not cheap. Someday they'll graduate and leave, but until then.…”
“You've got mostly girls, right?” Daley asked.
“Yeah.”
Leon snorted. “Well, there's your problem. And again, what did you mean by ‘that?’ ”
Dave straightened up. “Whenever you guys went out on a raid, you remember you'd come back with open cases of ammo? Yeah, well, this is where we'd put the leftovers. And when things were busy and we had high volume resupply, it was easier to just grab a new case rather than sort through this stuff. So then things settled down, and we didn't need as much of a supply, and, well, this counts on the inventory. So, yeah, that mess is most of our inventory. The bean counters should approve more when this runs low, but, yeah.”
Staring icily at Dave, Leon practically growled. “There are duds in here.” He held up a shell for Dave, showing the scratches where it had been struck by a firing pin and failed to fire. He didn't bother to go into how it could have gone off a random, arbitrary amount of time later.
“Really? Crap.”
Daley hummed affirmatively from where he had crouched to look into an open box of loose ammo. “There's a layer of shells that fit your description on top, then most everything below that has all the marks of having been—” Daley cut himself off and dug under the loose ammo in the box. “Oh, hello, what's this?”
Dave sagged as the numbers registered. “…oh, crap.”
Leon stared incredulously at Dave. “That's all you have to say for yourself?” he snapped.
“Easy boss. I knew how it was supposed to be organized, but I haven't been in here myself in a long time.”
Daley stood up straight again. “Well, that's getting fixed.” He held up a dented can in his gloved hands, handling it to show it was empty. “And it's worse; some of the ammo has been replaced with junk.”
Leon snarled outright. “You need more hours? Okay, you get to run inventory here. Grab a bunch of guys and get this mess straightened out.”
Dave fled, and Leon spent a moment clenching a fist before slamming it against the door-frame. He let a slow breath out through his nose.
“Well,” Daley said, “that's going to cut our personnel list.” He brushed off his hands and dropped the dented can in an evidence bag.
“You think?” Leon glared at Daley. He then waved that off and turned to lean back against the door-frame.
Crossing his arms, Leon spoke with less of an edge in his voice. “Ah, that's probably for the best, actually.”
Daley raised an eyebrow. “You expect things to go smoothly then?”
Leon snorted. “Not hardly. But we've got too many people who are just here to pick up chicks.”
“Which kind? Real chicks or marshmallow peeps?”
“You think they can tell the difference?”
Daley stripped off his gloves and held a finger up to his chin in thought. “Mmm. Probably not.” Then he became serious. “Still, that's going to leave us awfully short-handed for a while. And if things fall where I suspect they will, the front lines could be very sparse.”
“They're better sparse and stable than with people who don't belong there. You've seen the reports on that boomer chase on the highway, right? How many guys broke and messed up the defensive formations?”
Daley nodded. “Yes, that could have gone better. I say that's more a matter of training has been too watered down lately, though.” He suppressed a sigh at how they were always reacting to circumstances; first the big draw-down after the investigations of Genom started in '33, then the brief resurgence after the mess with fusion reactor which went right back to being a joke a few months later.
“Weeding them out through training or investigation; either way, something has to be done. The front lines are supposed to be a line, not a free for all. If they're not going to hold, they should be somewhere else.”
“I've already had some resignation requests dropped on my desk,” Daley admitted. “But I've directed them at the new psychologist. Maybe we can transfer them to do some damage control on the gaps that cleaning up this—” he gestured at the mess in the storage locker “—is going to create.”
Leon shook his head and lead the way out, letting Daley lock it behind them. They started walking towards file storage. “A shrink. Right. This will not end well.”
Daley raised an eyebrow. “Have you even met the guy?”
“I've run into enough. There's a reason we didn't have any shrinks when you joined.
“Did you ever take a look at the files on Billy Fanword?” Leon asked.
Daley looked thoughtful and tapped his chin again. “Billy, hmm. I think I recall the name, but I don't recall the specifics at the moment.”
“The guy who got rebuilt as an armored boomeroid? He had a shrink assigned to him, and from what the investigation found later, she's the one who drove him off the deep end. None of the others we had before then were any better, either. It's like all the worst nut-cases become shrinks and try to drag everyone down to their level.”
“And you've dealt with all of these disgraces to their profession? Then you've had your bolts tightened by inept mechanics. It explains so much.”
Leon stopped walking and growled. “Daley.…”
“You'll have to meet with him then. Since you have expert experience with such twisted individuals, you'll have to let the rest of us know if this is another one.”
Leon glared at him for a moment, then relented. “Fine.”
Daley nodded. “Good. And at this point, I'll leave you to deal with the file room yourself.” He smirked. “I know that you'd like to pull someone in there to help take the edge off your frustration, but I'll have to decline; I think your girlfriend suspects me.”
Leon allowed a small smile. “She doesn't have to; she has informants.”
“Now there's a scary thought,” Daley said in mock fright and headed off.
Entering the file room, Leon found the section he was looking for and started flipping through the hard-copy of old case files, focussing on the cases that had happened simultaneously.
He was scowling at page when he was interrupted.
“Ah, McNichol, there you are.” Chief Kobayashi said as stepped up beside him.
Leon whipped his head around. “Chief!” He frowned again. “I didn't hear you come in.”
“That's alright, it happens.” She gave Leon a moment to set the files aside. “Do you remember what we discussed yesterday?”
“Yeah, and Daley—that's Superintendent Wong—has already started on an audit of our supply situation.” Leon went on to summarize the situation they had found in the supply room.
Chief Kobayashi nodded. “Proactive, I like that. Should I take it that you're giving me Mr. Wong to follow up on this personnel audit?”
“He'd be my first choice for this, but I'm going to actually run it past him first,” Leon admitted.
“Very well,” Chief Kobayashi accepted. “I'll also need input from you on who are the most trustworthy people in support. Once they've met with Mr. Tibert—” she said, referring to the new psychologist “—they'll.… Is something wrong?” Chief Kobayashi frowned at the expression on Leon's face.
“A shrink? C'mon Chief! That never ends well. Shrinks are always people who got the job to treat themselves, and they trash the careers of anyone who's more stable than they are, which is almost everyone.…” Leon ran out of steam as the frigid expression on Chief Kobayashi's face registered.
“I see,” she said, almost hissing. “You haven't even met the man and you're already attacking him? You'd do better to hold yourself to the same standards you're so vehement about. Or, if you'd like to give me the impression you have other reasons to avoid him, you can keep going.”
“Have you seen the record of shrinks around here, Chief?” Leon snapped. “They've almost done as much damage themselves as the boomers and mercs we face. More in some cases, or did the Fanword case get ‘lost?’ ”
“No, it has not.” She leaned forward, somehow projecting an impression of looming over the much taller Leon. “But neither is Mr. Tibert any of his predecessors.
“Now, are you ready to drop this childish tantrum and act at least somewhat professionally? Or are you going to continue to try to be just like the ones behind the supply problem?” The Chief leaned back against a filing cabinet and crossed her arms.
Leon blanched. “That was low, Chief.”
Tapping one foot, Chief Kobayashi waited.
“Fine,” Leon relented. “I'll give him a chance.”
“Fair enough,” Chief Kobayashi allowed. She relaxed from her stiff posture. “Now, as I was saying, I'm going to have everyone at least meet Mr. Tibert, so I'll want your input on who you'd start with… after yourself, of course.” She allowed a trace of a smirk on her face.
Leon's expression soured. “I brought that on myself, didn't I?” he muttered, then got down to business.
“Lisa! Come in.”
“Hi Nene!” Lisa smiled as she entered Nene's apartment. She let Nene take her umbrella and set down everything else to slip off her rain-jacket and shoes, gratefully accepting Nene's offer of warm slippers.
“I see it's finally started raining out there,” Nene found a spot to hang the umbrella to dry.
Lisa nodded. “It started just before I got indoors,” she smiled ruefully. “Oh!” she spoke, stepping over to where Nene was still trying to hang up the umbrella. She took it from Nene's clumsy, bandaged hands. “You don't have to do that! Stop messing up your hands!”
“Yes, mom,” Nene smiled.
Lisa stuck out her tongue, the giggled.
They settled into Nene's apartment, Lisa waiving Nene's concern about the mess she hadn't been able to clean up. “I don't care about that. I'm here to see you, not your stuff.” She made Nene sit and filled a pair of bowls of ice cream for them.
“Mmm,” Nene hummed in thanks and took a spoonful. “This is good, thanks!”
“You're welcome.”
Nene took another spoonful and smiled. “It's good enough that I'm tempted to forgive you for that crack about pictures.” Another spoonful. “Okay, you're forgiven.”
Lisa's shoulders shook and her eyes crinkled. “Thanks,” she said dryly.
“So…” they began simultaneously.
Laughing, Lisa waved for Nene to go first.
“You wrote that you're moving back here. How's that working out?”
“Eh. So so; my aunt and uncle are letting me stay with them for a bit, but I've got a few places to check out already lined up. In fact, I'll be spending tomorrow looking around. Or at least part of it. I think auntie needs a hand while uncle adjusts to recovering at their home. He's kind of a workaholic and isn't dealing well with being idle.
“And there's getting some wheels, too,” Lisa added, smiling with a bit of color touching her cheeks. “This intrepid girl reporter can't keep trying to get around on a just a bicycle; there's too many stories in too many places out there.”
“Heh, yeah. You'll have to let me know when you find a place; I'll help you move in.” Nene reddened as Lisa looked at the bandages covering Nene's hands. “Or maybe I can provide moral support?
“So what were you going to say?” Nene added quickly, tucking her legs up on the couch.
Lisa toyed with her spoon for a second, working to get the last drops of ice cream out of the bowl. “I still remember what she said that night,” she began slowly, still looking down into the bowl.
Nene eyes widened and her heart seemed to pound harder as she went motionless.
“About how things could go wrong if they weren't all… kept balanced. And she sounded so wise.
“And then all sorts of stuff about corporate involvement in the killsat strikes in '33 and about Genom and then the other big megacorps and they got fined and broken up, and things got so much better around here, and.…”
“You didn't write much that year,” Nene noted quietly.
Lisa let a burst of air escape her lips. “Yeah,” she agreed, still looking down. “I didn't write much then.
“But the very top people in all those companies kept not getting investigated, and right when it looked like they were, political scandals, everywhere. The Soviet Union and China imploded. I lay awake all night after that waiting for a killsat strike from orbit to vaporize the whole campus.…”
“I didn't get much sleep then, either,” Nene offered. “I don't think anyone did.”
“Yeah. And all of that was kind of what she was talking about, wasn't it? About needing to keep things in check?” Lisa looked up, and met Nene's gaze.
Nene nodded slowly. “Yeah, I think so.
“You've been bottling this up a long time, haven't you?” Nene added.
Lisa smiled weakly. “Eh, not really. I spazzed out for a couple of weeks back then.… I'm not sure how I managed to pass my classes that semester. But I got it out then. It's just,” her smile faded, “talking about it, you know, kind of brings it back.”
“You never wrote about any of this,” Nene said.
Lisa turned red. “I couldn't find the words then! Me, an aspiring journalist, and I couldn't find the words!”
She took a deep breath. “That, and it's too much tied up with, you know, other stuff.”
Nene nodded.
“So. Now, I think I see how she was right, and how she was wrong. You can't ignore the fallout when you're dealing with something… bad, but you can't just keep… hitting the snooze button either.”
Nene's lips twitched. “I think you need to work on your metaphors a bit more.”
Lisa laughed. “Yeah, probably.”
She became serious again. “After all that, though, I can't sit on the sidelines.” Nene's eyes widened. “I don't think I need to put on a suit of armor and go charging at windmills, but I couldn't live with myself if I didn't do what I could. I mean, I'm only a reporter, but whatever I can do working with people, I need to do it.”
“Lisa,” Nene whispered.
“Please, Nene.”
“I— I'll see what I can do.”