Now that I have your attention....
Some time ago, while reading Twisted Path, I got this WEIRD idea.
In an attempt to get it out of my head, I talked it over with Kevin Eav.
Instead, he _encouraged_ me! So I went to others, including Twister, who
told me to go ahead with it!
Go figure, eh?
And what you are about to read is the result. This is this first
part of the draft I'm working on currently with the generous help of
Twister, Hitomi Ichinohei and the reading of this bomb by Jeanne Hedge.
(I'm not worthy, I'm not worthy! <grin>)
So here's the fist part. ALL comments and critisism are welcom,
even those that tell me that the story sucks.. as long as you tell me
_WHY_ you think it sucks. That way, I can try to fix it.
Hope you're willing to read it, and comment on it.
Ed Becerra
"Dreamers may die, but the dream is eternal..."
============================================================================
FOREWORD
Though I cannot with complete candor state, as did the late Professor
Tolkien, that "the tale grew in the telling," I _can_ allow that this tale
grew in direct proportion to the ominous number of times that I found myself
reading and re-reading, and re-re-reading Darren Steffler's "Twisted Path"
fan-fic series.
This was in itself not a cause for alarm (or "alarum" as Professor T.
would have put it) but the worried looks on the faces of my family and
friends _were_. So I thought long and hard upon the situation, and came to a
decision.
Locking myself in my house with a metric ton of potato chips, several
mega-litres of Mountain Dew and enough Spam(tm) to choke a horse, I sat down
to a super-charged, fuel-injected Commodore Amiga 500 personal computer, and
began this.. a story about as readable as Linear A and of the same literary
value as an autographed centerfold of Saint Simon Stylites.
(Eventually the production of this turkey _did_ require the choking of a
small horse, but that's another story entirely...)
I hope you like this little take-off on Darren's wonderful stories, and
that in the goodness of your hearts, you decide that traveling to the
northeastern corner of Colorado simply for the pleasure of lynching me is
much too far a trip for you to take.
So have fun reading, don't take it too seriously, and remember.. if you
do decide to kill me.. I FAKED MY ADDRESS! BWAHAHAHAH!
Ed Becerra
The characters of Twister and Darlene Stefanson
are Copyright (c) 1994, 1996 by Darren Steffler.
The characters of White Wolf and his bar, Wolf's Place,
are Copyright (c) 1995, 1996 by Hitomi Ichinohei
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I wanted to be happily useless. You made me miserably useless."
- Peter O'Toole, "High Spirits".
***********************************
"No, Minerva. I'm _not_ going to take a rest. I'm going to keep going,
whether you like it or not!"
The ACI stared back.. "B'wana, you are tired, you just spent 12 years
fighting in a war that was none of your business, and you are suffering from
shell-shock. You are in _no_ condition to go hunting for home. If you try,
you'll end up making some stupid mistake, and no one knows what will happen
then."
"I can't stay here, girl. It's bad enough I participated in the Fall of
the Pentagon worlds. The taking of Strana Mechty was worse." Ed buried his
face in his hands.
"You had _no_ way of knowing that Clan Jade Phoenix would fight to the
death. No one did. Not even Prince Victor. He wouldn't have ordered the
assault if he'd had the slightest idea that their Crusader Khan would order
the massacre of all the non-warrior castes before he led the final
resistance."
"I can't stay here, girl. I just can't. I don't belong here."
"That's not true. Dr. Banzai and his team want you to join them. They're
the most respected designers of Battlemechs in the Inner Sphere. And I may
have no proof, but I believe that they aren't native to this reality any
more than we are. A ship named 'The Nth Dimension'? His name? Team Banzai?
The double-B emblem they use? You'd fit right in, boss." Her face grew
frustrated. "And even if you don't want to take them up on their standing
invitation, there's the Federated Commonwealth. You're a hero to the people,
b'wana. House Davion's offered you a Dukedom! Why not take it?"
"No. I made a big mistake coming to this universe, and a bigger one in
staying. We're leaving. Now. Prepare for rotation."
"But boss..."
"NOW, DAMNIT!! RIGHT NOW!" he screamed. "WE'RE LEAVING!"
".. yes, boss. Rotating.. "
* * *
STEEL BREEZE PRODUCTIONS
and
Industrial Might & Logic
Are Proud to Present
L E G I O N ' S Q U E S T
Tangled Skeins
* * *
"Start scanning, Minerva. Does it look like home?"
She shook her head. "No. There are orbital colonies around Terra, and
extensive industrial development on the Moon and in orbit, both in LEO and
in GEO. In addition, some asteroid mining is clearly evident." A moment's
hesitation, then.. "And I'm picking up a broadcast clock signal from several
of the navigation satellites. It's 2035 AD, here. Wherever here is."
"Prepare for another rotation, then."
"Boss..?"
"What is it?"
"Maybe you should get some sleep, first? And something to eat? You're
exhausted."
A tired sigh escaped his lips. "You're going to keep after me about that,
aren't you." He rose from the chair. "All right. One day. 24 hours. I'll
rest, and then we'll leave. Are you happy now?"
"Yes, I am. You've got to start taking better care of yourself, boss.
Just because you can't be physically harmed, doesn't mean that you aren't
vulnerable to emotional problems. Now go get something to eat, and go to
bed. I'll wake you in twelve hours. I promise."
He headed for his cabin. "Don't forget to cloak, pretty lady."
"I'm already cloaked, boss. Standing orders. _Your_ orders."
"Right." Sigh. "I forgot. I.. ah.. forget it. See you in a few, girl."
As he walked down the corridor to his bed, Minerva looked after him with
worried eyes. Then she started some deep scans to identify what reality they
were currently in. Perhaps when he'd rested she could persuade him to take
some time off...
***********************************
After a night of restless sleep and a breakfast he'd just picked at, Ed
returned to the bridge. "What have you found, Minerva?"
"It's a Bubblegum Crisis reality. I've already found many news items
referring to the Knight Sabers, GENOM, and the on-going problem with rogue
bumas."
"So, let's leave. We've got a long ways to go, yet."
"There's going to be a slight difficulty with that, lover." She brought
up some figures on the main viewscreen. "That charge you're carrying, the
one that keeps diverting us off-course... it's not draining as fast as
usual. I think.. I think that if we try to rotate, nothing is going to
happen."
"Is this an attempt to get me to take a vacation, girl?"
"No. You can take the controls for yourself, if you like. But the results
will be the same. Watch. Rotating.."
Several tries later, Ed gave up in disgust. "So we're stuck here until..
when? How long until we can leave?"
"You're still discharging, but at a _much_ slower rate. I don't have any
idea why, yet.. but something about this reality is odd. If I had to hazard
a guess, I'd say that we weren't the first extra-dimensional travellers to
arrive here."
"Terrific. My plans get shot to hell because some other careless
traveller got here first." His shoulders slumped. "All right. Take us down
to Earth. If I'm stuck here for a while, I might as well get that rest you
want me to have. Maybe a week off will help." He snorted. "Try Japan. Since
this _is_ a BGC variant, I might as well take the opportunity to see the
Knight Sabers in action."
"That's the spirit, boss. Who knows? You might like it here."
"Like it? Mega-Tokyo? Doubtful. But at least they'll have bars."
"What is it with you and bars, lover? Every world we set down on, they're
the first place you head for." She made a moue at him.
"Old habits die hard, I guess. I feel comfortable in a nice quiet bar."
He shrugged. "Too many years as a soldier, I suppose. Soldiers are supposed
to get drunk and chase skirts in their free time. It's a tradition."
"And you're a traditional type." She blew him a kiss. "I'll see if I
can't spot a nice bar and grill for you. One that's got some cute girls
nearby for you to chase. Go get some more rest, and I'll let you know when
we've touched down."
Ed nodded silently and turned for his cabin. Then he looked back, for
just a moment. "This time, girl... _this_ time, we are *not* going to get
involved. No matter _what_ happens. We just.. walk away." Then he left the
bridge.
*Now why do I have such a hard time believing that, lover?* thought
Minerva to herself. She turned her attention to the delicate task of
slipping past the web of radar networks filling the air of the world ahead.
Even with full cloaking on, it was still bothersome. But in the back of her
mind, she wondered...
* * *
"We're there, boss." When Ed didn't answer, she piped a 60 cycle hum into
his room over the intercom system. The raucous buzz shook him from his bunk
with gratifying speed, and she smirked to herself when he hit the floor with
his face. *All these years, and it's _still_ Faceplant Maneuver #1 when he
wakes up. I don't think he'll _ever_ learn.*
"Wakey, wakey, b'wana. We've reached Mega-Tokyo, I've found a parking
space on the sea floor, and there are a few things you should know about."
She paused at that point, as he staggered blindly down the companionway in
semi-conscious search of the coffee he could smell. "Boss.. Oh, Boss.. Oh,
hell.." She gave it up as a lost cause.. or at least until after he'd had
his morning brew.
Several cups later, he was considerably more coherent, and able to talk.
"What was that you said, pretty lady?"
"Well, for one, I found a spot on the sea bottom that should prove a safe
place to park. For another.. I did a routine scan of Mega-Tokyo and found
some interesting things."
"Like what?"
"The most interesting was what I couldn't scan." She frowned prettily.
"There's some sort of underground anomaly, outside the city. Every time I
scan the area, I get a sort of .. _ripple_ in the returns. There's something
there, I'm certain of it. But I can't get a lock on it. Or even a good
location. What ever it is, it's cloaked even better than I am."
"That's saying a lot, considering where we got your cloaking device,
m'dear. Could it be a threat?"
"I honestly don't know, boss. It worries me."
"Well, leave it be, for now. No sense in borrowing trouble. Anything else
I should know about?"
"I found you a bar, b'wana. And with any luck, you shouldn't be bothered.
It's one of those bars where people mind their own business. It's down near
the Canyon."
"A place where people `mind their own business,' eh? It's not a yakuza
bar, by any chance?"
"Well.. not exactly. Just a place where certain types can meet in peace
to do deals, boss. It's called Wolf's Place."
"Wolf's Place, eh? Sounds like some of the watering holes back on
Outreach. Jamie Wolf would have liked that. Well, if the shady types can
meet there in peace, then I shouldn't have much trouble. Those folks don't
answer annoying questions, nor do they ask them. Much. And that's the way I
like it." He blinked once or twice. "Weapons, or not?"
"A piece or two of steel wouldn't be out of place, boss. Nothing rowdy
allowed _inside_, but once you leave.. it's not the best of neighborhoods."
"Good. It may not make much sense, given what I've become.. but I feel
better with a pistol on my hip." He turned to a small cabinet on the
bulkhead, rummaging through it. "Where did I put my Sternsacht? Dammit, it
was here somewhere, I know it.." His voice trailed off as he searched.
Minerva was taken aback for a microsecond or two. "Ed...?"
The use of his first name got his attention. "What?"
"You lost the Sternsacht during the retaking of Romulus. Don't you
remember?"
A frightened look swept across his face, then quickly vanished. "Oh.
Yeah. That's right. I.. forgot that. Replicate me a new one, please."
"I will, boss. Try not to get in any trouble, please?"
"I'll do my best, baby. But trouble has a way of finding me."
***********************************
Minerva had found him a nice dark alley in the rubbled area near Wolf's
Place, less than 10 minutes walk from the bar. There had been a few street
punks in the area, but they scattered when he picked up a steel I-beam from
the ruins of a collapsed building and waved it around like a twig.
*Pitiful. I've seen tougher people washed out of kindergarten. Now where is
that bar... There!*
Inside it was quiet and peaceful. He stepped up to the bar, and flagged
down the bartender. "Got any pepper vodka?"
The owner of the bar looked him up and down. "Yes. Polish and Russian.
What's your preference?"
"I'll have the Russian. And a bottle of tobasco sauce, if you have any."
He flipped a gold coin on the bar. "You take this credit card?"
White Wolf smiled, and the coin vanished. "Your drink will be here right
away!" he said with professional cheer. "Anything else?"
"Just a little privacy.. and some corn chips, with salsa. Hot."
A few moments later, he had a corner table, a fifth of Smirnoff's and the
chips. He eased back into the seat, and relaxed. *This is _much_ better,* he
thought. *I should do this more often.* He poured himself a drink and
glanced around the bar, watching the other patrons. After a moment or two,
they'd accepted him as just another person interested in a drink and some
quiet.
* * *
Things stayed that way for a while. Ed soaked up most of the bottle as he
watched various deals made between vaguely suspicious-looking types at the
other tables. But the atmosphere changed very quickly. A uniformed man ran
into the bar and shouted for everyone to evacuate.
White Wolf was on the officer in a second. "What do you mean, evacuate?!"
"We have a boomer on the loose! It's headed straight for this building.
Clear out while you have the chance!"
The bar emptied rather rapidly at that point. With two exceptions.
Ed slammed his glass down on the table, taking care not to break it. *I
am _not_ leaving my drink because some tin-can wind-up toy is on a rampage.
I am sick and tired of being attacked in bars! If it's not the Puma sisters,
then it's some mechanical jakanape!* He glanced over at the bar, where White
Wolf had pulled out a large weapon of an unfamiliar sort. *Looks like a cut
down assault cannon, or a chopped anti-tank rifle of some sort. He's gonna
fight for his place. And I don't blame him a bit.*
A few moments later, the buma, a C-55 model, kicked in the door and
strode in. It spotted the human glowering at it from a table in the rear of
the bar.
"Leave me be, and we'll have no problems. Fuck with me, tin man, and I'll
hand you your head. That clear enough for your little mechanical mind?"
The boomer answered him with a barrage of heat beams and particle cannon
fire. The table exploded into a cloud of smoke and vaporized metal,
obscuring the rear of the room. It turned to face the other human in the
building, targeting the weapon the barkeep held braced against the wall.
It got the surprise of its synthetic life when a hand tapped it on the
shoulder. It whirled around to face a angry something. Something wearing
smoldering clothes and a _very_ upset expression.
The Boomer had a little trouble adjusting to the situation. After all,
humans, and even most Buma, simply did NOT shrug off laser and particle
beams as though they were raindrops. It upgraded the threat estimate of the
target by several levels.
"You smoked my clothing. I can get a new suit. My hair is a mess. Any
barber can fix that." His voice started to rise in volume. "But you _had_ to
go and spill my drink. I like to drink in peace, thank you very much. This
was my first chance in _months_! AND YOU RUINED THAT, YOU AUDIO-ANIMATRONIC
JUNK-HEAP!!"
The buma tried a physical attack. "Pathetic," Ed muttered. He caught the
punch the buma threw in one hand, and squeezed. Its fist was crushed into a
metallic lump. The buma quickly took stock of what had just happened, and
signaled to GENOM headquarters, then continued its attack. The fight didn't
last very long.
* * *
The Knight Sabers had headed out towards Wolf's Place as soon as they had
received the call of a rogue boomer. They beat the ADPolice to the area by
only a few minutes. Leon's response time had been improving recently.
Spotting the shattered door, they entered quickly, expecting the worst. What
they saw surprised them.
A wide-eyed White Wolf stood behind the bar, a Zeus Heavy Rifle held
limply in one hand. In the middle of the floor stood a rather average
looking person (?) who was rather industriously yanking parts off of, and
out of, a C-55. And doing so with all the gay abandon of a sadistic child
pulling the wings off a fly. He finished by twisting the head from it's
shoulders with a single motion, and crushing it between his hands.
Over their private circuit, Sylia demanded, "Nene.. what _is_ that?"
"I don't know, Sylia. I can't get anything at all! Passive scans aren't
returning anything but its external appearance, and active scans are simple
reflected back at me! I don't _think_ it's another boomer, but ..."
"I see.. Keep it under observation, and repeat the scans. You might get
something on a second try."
The person being discussed brushed his hands together, and slapped the
ashes from his shirt. Then he walked towards the door, seeming to pay no
attention to the four hardsuited figures barring his way.
"Hold it right there, buster!" A blue hardsuit with red go-faster stripes
held up an arm. "You aren't going anywhere 'til you answer some questions.
Like, who the hell are you?" She pointed to the pile of buma parts lying on
the floor. "And _how_ did you do _that_?!"
Priss got a rude surprise at that point. She was answered with a blank
stare, as two arms reached out, picking her up, hardsuit and all. She was
moved to one side like a toy, and gently placed back down.
"I'm sorry. I really don't have time for this. I've got to go."
Then he stepped over the wreckage of the door, and saw the ADPolice. He
groaned.
"Fine. Just fine. It's the comic relief."
An angry mutter answered him from their ranks and a variety of personal
weaponry was leveled at him. One officer stepped forward with a pair of
handcuffs dangling suggestively from one hand.
"I'm afraid you'll have to come with us, sir. There are some questions
we'd like to ask you."
"And you are...?"
"Officer Bochinski, sir. Of the ADPolice."
Ed froze. "Officer ... Bochinski? Wadderson's partner?"
The officer nodded slowly. "Yes. Do I know you?"
The stranger standing in front of the bar simply stared at the ADPolice
officer for a long moment, a stunned look on his face. Then he shook his
head. "No. We haven't met. I've .. heard of you, though. I'm sorry, officer.
I can't answer any of your questions, and I can't stay." He looked up
towards the sky. "Minerva, emergency recall."
A glittering cascade of light surrounded him, and as the Knight Sabers
and the ADPolice watched in astonishment, he slowly faded from sight.
Bochinski dropped the handcuffs. "Kenneth is _never_ going to believe
_this_ story."
In the bar, Nene's eyes went wide beneath her helmet. "I wonder if he's
like Darlene," she mused.
Sylia's eyes narrowed. Could it be...someone else from another universe?
***********************************
"My people.. ? Take the first space/time warp to the fifth dimension,
then it's the third wormhole on the right."
- Kelly Davies, "The Human Memoirs"
Aboard the Calypso, Ed carelessly tossed his pistol belt to a near-by
table. The expression on his face was that of a man sick to death. "Were you
monitoring me, Minerva?"
A deafening silence answered him.
"Then you know what just happened. Pull up every fan-fic we have by
Darren Steffler, girl. Do it now. Concentrate on the Twisted Path series,
but don't focus on them exclusively. I have to find out what I'm up against
here."
"I can show you everything up to the third story, b'wana."
"I thought you had everything, girl. You're from my personal future,
after all. Don't you have those files from the net?"
"They're locked. And I can't open them until the proper time."
"WHAT?! Who ordered that?" he demanded. "I thought _I_ was the only
person who could order you to lock a file!"
"You are. And you did."
He sat down with a thump. "Maybe you should repeat that. Slowly. Use
small words. Assume I'm totally confused. Because I am, you know."
The hologram looked worried. "This might serve better, boss. I have
something here that you should see." She flicked out, replaced by an image
on the main bridge viewscreen. Ed recognized the face. He saw it every
morning in the mirror.
"Hello, Ed. I know you're feeling rather frustrated, upset and angry
right now, because that's how _I_ remember feeling.. which is why this
recording was made." A brief chuckle. "Actually, I remember this recording
twice. Viewing it for the first time, as you, and making it now, as myself."
The face of his future self smiled out of the screen at him. "Remember
our talks with Doc Mui back on Utopia Planetia? Well, what you're trying to
do right now, accessing information from your own future time-line, could
cause a major paradox. So.. before I brought the Calypso back through time
to hand it over to the Wedge Defence Force, so they could pass it on to you,
I took some precautions. Certain files have been time-locked, so you'll be
unable to read them until it's safe to do so without endangering yourself
with a self-inflicted paradox."
He grinned. "And don't think you can out-guess me. I'm _you_, remember?
Anything you can think of, I've _already_ thought of, and taken steps to
prevent. Each of those files has been locked with a one _terabyte_ key. Even
if you order Minerva to crack them for you, it will take her so long, by the
time she does succeed, it will already be long since time for them to
release themselves."
The figure on the screen leaned back, and the viewpoint pulled back,
revealing a mirror image of the bridge Ed was standing on.
"There is _one_ thing I can tell you, brother. We did make it through,
and we _did_ make it home. Try to take comfort in that, if you can. And
trust Minerva. She _does_ have your best interests at heart. Don't give her
too much grief. She loves you. It may have been programmed into her, but
it's no less real for that. Take good care of her, brother."
He waved. "And remember... Fortuna bless. Always."
The screen flashed, and went blank.
***********************************
Outside Wolf's Place, officers were busy taking statements from
witnesses, and collecting evidence. Bochinski was busy arguing with a
representative from Genom who was demanding the release of the boomer's
remains.
"We _require_ whatever may remain of the C-55, officer. It will be of
invaluable assistance in determining _why_ it went rogue. The more we know
of why boomers go berserk, the more likely it is that we will be able to
prevent it from happening in future models!"
Bochinski was keeping his temper, but it was taking a major effort on his
part. If he didn't know better, he'd swear this over-officious junior
executive type was deliberately trying to annoy him.
"I _am_ sorry, sir. The remains are evidence in a case. When the ADPolice
sees fit to release them, I'm certain you will be informed. But at present,
there is simply nothing I can do for you."
* * *
While Bochinski was having this conversation, one of the workers bagging,
tagging, and loading the pieces onto a waiting van took a moment to look
around. Careful to remain unobserved and taking advantage of the distraction
the argument was providing, he quickly opened the bag containing the upper
torso of the boomer and swiftly removed several chips from a recording unit.
The chips went into a pocket, and he resealed the bag with an quite official
looking ADPolice seal that he took from the same pocket.
***********************************
At Silky Doll Enterprises, Sylia was reviewing everything she had learned
from Twister about inter-universal travel. It wasn't much, as Twister
himself wasn't altogether well versed in the subject. But it helped.
She put her elbows on her desk, and steepled her fingers, deep in
thought.
*Anyone lost between dimensions, like Twister, would want information,
first. Where am I, when am I, and most important, how can I get home. He'd
be asking himself these questions right now.. if he _is_ from another
reality,* she thought. *Of course, that's assuming he's in a rational state
of mind. Darlene arrived here suffering from amnesia, so that may not
necessarily be the case.*
She nodded, then reached for the phone, tapping out the number for the
ADPolice. She made certain to route the call through Wingman to keep it
secure. Nene's face filled the tiny screen.
"Hi, Sylia! What can I do for you?" bubbled the redhead.
"Nene, I want you to keep alert for some sort of effort to raid the
network. From what I saw yesterday, I rather suspect that our .. friend ..
may be lost, and confused. He might try appropriating the information he
needs in the same way Firelord did."
Nene looked puzzled for a moment, then nodded, realizing who Sylia was
talking about.
"Okay. I'll be certain to watch out for it. Do you really think.."
Sylia frowned. "We'll talk about it later." Then she hung up. *Something
is happening here, and I'm not certain what it is. Until we have more
information on who and _what_ that.. person at Wolf's Place was, it's best
to take a defensive posture.* She tapped out another number. The screen
didn't light up, this time.
"We need to meet."
"The usual place."
"Done."
If the stranger was from another reality, then it wasn't very likely that
Fargo could find out anything useful. But it couldn't hurt to have him
search. And information was a weapon, in the right hands.
***********************************
"I want information, girl. I need to KNOW, dammit!"
"I'm sorry, boss. All of the open systems seem to agree. The Crystal
Knight hasn't been seen in months. And there _is_ a death notice for Dr.
Miriam. A rather gruesome one, at that. Now that I've read it, I'd have to
give Ms. Madigan points for creativity in the field of revenge, at least.
Given the details from TP3, I'd say we're too late. Twister is gone."
"I refuse to accept that. He didn't leave right away, and no dates were
given. You hit the public access databases only?"
Minerva tried to head off what she could see coming. "That's right, boss,
but they all agreed that.."
"I. Do. Not. Care. Raid them all. Public and private. If they're
connected to any net in any fashion, I want every stinking bit and byte in
them. And I want it _yesterday_. Is that quite clear enough for you?"
She sighed. "Yes, boss. You do realize that to get results _that_ fast,
I'll have to be about as subtle as a epileptic bull in a china shop? They
may not be able to trace me, but they _will_ notice me."
He glared at her without a word, then stalked away to his cabin.
*This is _not_ a good sign,* she thought. *He's starting to lose
control.* Then she got to work.
***********************************
When Sylia answered the phone, Nene was in a minor panic. "Are you using
Wingman, Sylia?"
"No, I haven't. Why?"
"Something just broke into every machine on the net. Nothing seemed to
stop it, or even slow it down. Passwords, firewalls.. they all failed.
Hardware locks simply slowed it down. The only successes were when someone
cut the power completely. I haven't seen anything like it since Darlene
left." Nene's eyes widened. "Do you think she's come back?"
Sylia shook her head. "It's unlikely. If she had, she'd have come to see
us by now."
"Oh.." Nene looked disappointed. "I hoped.."
"I know, Nene. We all miss Darlene. But she'll be back. In the meantime,
I think you should look into this. Find out what you can. It may have
something to do with what we talked about yesterday."
Nene thought that over for a second or two. "You think it could be him?"
"Anything is possible."
After Sylia hung up, Nene returned to her desk, and started a search.
Naoko wandered over and looked over her shoulder.
"Checking out that intrusion, Nene?"
"Uh-huh.. I _really_ want to know how they managed to get into so *many*
machines so fast." She giggled. "Who knows.. it might come in handy!"
"Nene!" squealed Naoko in mock-horrified tones. "You _know_ what they'll
do to you if the Chief catches you cracking systems again..."
"But it's in the line of _duty_." she smiled. "They certainly can't
object to that!"
Naoko just sighed. "You're gonna get in trouble..."
* * *
In Leon's office, Bochinski was showing a piece of evidence to Leon.
"The owner of the bar stated that this is what the `person' who destroyed
the boomer used to pay for his drinks." He dropped a plastic evidence bag on
the desk. "It's an American twenty dollar gold coin, commonly referred to as
a `double eagle' in the States. More important, the lab insists that it's
not just real gold.. but that it's authentic. Not a forgery. They claim it's
at _least_ 140 years old." He tapped the coin through the plastic. "And if
they're right, it's worth enough to coin collectors that he could have
_bought_ Wolf's Place outright."
Leon McNichol picked up the coin between a thumb and forefinger, absently
watching the light from the overhead fixtures glint on it's bright surface.
"So.. we have another _unusual_ person in Mega-Tokyo. First the Knight
Sabers, then the Crystal Knight, the Elf shows up, there's a werewolf
working ADP duty, and one of my best men is now a woman." He rubbed his
aching eyes. "Life in the ADPolice. It just doesn't get any better than
this."
"It could be worse, sir."
"How?"
"I could have fleas."
Leon groaned. "I really didn't need to hear that. All right, did you get
anything else? How about the witnesses?"
"You know those types, sir. Didn't see anything, didn't hear anything.
They turned blind and deaf the second they walked through the door. But
there was this." He fished in a shirt pocket for a moment, and removed
another, smaller evidence bag. "We found it near the remains of the table
where the suspect was sitting."
"A pistol cartridge, eh?" Leon narrowed his eyes. "Have you traced it?"
"That's the problem, sir. According to the markings on the casing, it's
a.." Bochinski paused to consult his notebook. ".. a Sternsacht 12.5mm Heavy
Load."
"So?"
Bochinski shook his head. "There isn't any such load. Or any such pistol.
When nothing turned up in the weapons database, I tried a gun collector in
the States. He has one of the largest collections in the world, and the most
comprehensive set of references known. He went back to the 1800's without
finding anything. There simply isn't any handgun by that name."
Leon blinked. "The 1800's?"
"After the lab dated the coin, I thought.." Bochinski shrugged. "We've
had hardsuited mercenaries, magical elves and Crystal Knights. I've turned
into a werewolf. Ken's been changed into a woman. What's a time traveler or
two?"
"What the hell?" laughed Leon. "We've had nearly everything else. Why not
a time traveler?" The laughter threatened to overwhelm him. "I can see it
now. We put out an APB on Dr. Who, and a British police call box." He rolled
his eyes. "Imagine the response we'd get from Scotland Yard."
"How do you want this handled, sir?"
"Daley and I will take it over from here, Bochinski. But I want you and
Wadderson to lean on the street snitches. Check out anything that sounds
bizarre enough. It might be connected. And go see the sketch artist when you
have some free time. As well as any other officer who got a clear look at
his face. This person, whoever.. or _whatever_ he is, can't just disappear
from the face of the earth. Someone has to see something."
"The sketch artist? Wasn't anything recovered from the boomer?"
Leon gave him a long level stare. "Someone got to its black box before
we did. I never said that. You never heard that."
Bochinski nodded slowly, and left the office. Leon sat there for a while,
quietly examining the two evidence bags on his desk.
*Who are you, Mister Mysterious Stranger? And _why_ have you come to
Mega-Tokyo?*
***********************************
"What do you have for me this time, Sylia?" asked Fargo.
She passed several photos over to the fixer. "This person. I want him
located. And, if possible, I'd like the opportunity to speak with him."
Fargo looked them over, and frowned. "You're not the only one. There are
quite a few people who'd like to have a little talk with this young man."
Sylia raised an eyebrow at that. "Oh? Who?"
"Who doesn't?" He chuckled quietly. "The line forms on the right, Sylia..
and you are nowhere near the head of it. Genom checked in first, followed
quickly by the ADP, the USSD, and several of the usual minor corporations
who snoop on Genom and try to poach from them." He stopped to check a mental
list, and laughed. "And oddly enough, the owner of a bar!"
"A bar owner?!"
Fargo nodded, amused. "His name is White Wolf, and he claims he wants to
thank the man for saving his business." His fingers shuffled the photos, and
tapped the topmost one. "As it is.. the low bid started at 250,000 yen. It's
currently at 1 million yen for him alive; 500,000 for him dead, and 25,000
yen for any reliable information as to his whereabouts. And that was as of
this morning. It's still rising."
"Why?"
"Officially? The ADPolice want to question him about the boomer attack.
Genom would like to know how he defeated it. Unofficially? Genom is frothing
at the mouth at the idea of losing what appears to be some form of working
teleportation. If someone does have that technology, Genom wants to see that
it gets into the right hands. _Their_ hands. The USSD feels the same way.
Except, of course, to them the right hands are those of the USSD."
"I see. Has there been any information?"
"No." Fargo looked mildly interested. "Which is fascinating, considering
just _how_ many people are looking for him. It's as if he's dropped off the
face of the planet. The USSD is even checking the orbital zaibatsu's, on the
off-chance that he might have gotten to a shuttle." He rubbed his chin
thoughtfully. "I'm taking that one with a grain of salt, given his rather
unique departure of from Wolf's Place."
Sylia nodded. "If you hear anything.."
Fargo smiled. "As usual, you'll be the first to know. For the usual fee."
* * *
"The time is out of joint: O cursed spite,
That ever I was born to set it right!"
- Hamlet, "Hamlet"
"I hate temporal mechanics."
- Miles O'Brien, "Visionary"
A small scutter rolled up to Ed and handed him another printout. He took
it absently, and returned to studying the copy of Twisted Path 3, comparing
it to the files Minerva had retrieved. His ready room was littered with
paper, and logic solids were scattered across his desk. The more he read,
the less he liked it.
"Minerva?"
"Yes, boss?"
"I'm sorry."
"You're sorry? What for? Why?" Astonishment was evident in her voice.
He shook his head. "Because you were right all along," he sighed.
"Because I was too busy feeling sorry for myself to admit to the truth. And
because I was behaving like an ass for the past few weeks out of self-pity.
When I thought I had a chance.. when I thought I'd _finally_ managed to find
someone who might be able to tell me which direction my home was.. I
completely forgot about anything or anyone else. And worst of all.. for the
way I treated you, pretty lady."
He rose from the chair and started pacing back and forth, avoiding the
piles of printout in his path. "That recording you played for me. He.. I..
We.. arrgh! I _hate_ time travel. The pronoun trouble is a killer. And it's
giving me a headache," he grumbled. He rubbed at his temples and began
again. "_That_ Ed was right. Just because your love for me was programmed
doesn't make it any less real. I had _no_ right to be that abusive toward
you. " He stopped in the middle of the room, and dropped both arms. "I know
it's totally inadequate, but.. I'm sorry."
"Shhhh... It's all right, lover. It's all right. These things happen." A
note of humor entered her voice. "After all, you're only human."
He snorted, and began to chuckle. "Ouch! Too true, pretty lady.. too true
by half. Can you forgive me?"
"What is there to forgive, love?"
Ed closed his eyes for a long moment. "I don't deserve someone as special
as you, girl. I really don't. But I'm not going to question my luck. What I
_do_ need to question is.. what next? What happens now?"
He returned to his desk and sat. "Twister isn't here, it may take weeks
before I'm able to leave, and I have the police looking for me. Hell, with
my luck, I probably have _Genom_ looking for me!" He glared down at the
papers. "And I can't even go back to the bar, damnit!"
"Boss.. Why not wait?"
"Eh? What's that?"
"I've read the story too. Darlene.. err.. Twister.. err.. whatever, said
that s/he'd come back for an occasional visit. That was on line number 3586,
in part 3 of TP3, remember? If you settled down in Mega-Tokyo, you could
keep an eye on both the Knight Sabers and on the art shop. Then, when
Twister returns, you could try and ask him if it would be possible to find
your way home by magic."
He scratched his head. "Hold on, m'dear. I don't have your perfect
memory. Lemme.." He pawed through the printed copy, flipping the pages.
"It's on the last few pages, boss. Try turning to the end and working
forward."
"Right, right, whatever... Yes! There it is. Darlene, speaking to Nene:
`I'll be back. Count on it. Then we'll REALLY turn this city upside down.'"
He frowned. "The question is, is _when_. When will he visit?"
"No. The question is, does it matter, boss? You have all the time in the
world." She giggled. "You have all the time in _all_ the worlds, lover. I
can't speak for the boredom, but you could likely outwait the lifetime of a
star."
He gave her a suspicious look. "You're trying to get me to take another
vacation, aren't you. What have I told you about that?"
She smiled innocently at him. "Would I do something like that?"
"Damn right you would," he snorted. "You _never_ think I get enough rest.
But I have to admit, this time you're right. It seems like the sensible
thing to do."
She gazed at him. "Boss, are you feeling well?"
"Huh? Of course. Why do you ask?"
"Well, you're actually planning on doing something sensible for a
change." She smirked. "Are you _certain_ you're not ill?"
"Why you little.." he growled. "I oughtta.."
Her snicker echoed throughout the ship.
***********************************
At "Flights of Fantasy", Priss was still fuming about what had happened.
She still couldn't get over it. "He picked me up like a damn _Barbie_ doll!
Nobody does that to me! Nobody! Soon as I find him, he's gonna die! Slow and
painful, too!"
Sylvie glanced over at her. "You're just irked that it happened so
easily. From what I heard about it, he didn't even break into a sweat. And
you weren't able to break his grip even wearing your suit. So I _really_
don't think it would be a good idea for you to try and take him on
bare-handed.. providing you're even able to find him."
"I don't care!" Priss smashed a fist on the counter, rattling it, and
knocking a few small dragon sculptures of Darlene's to the floor. Anri knelt
and picked them back up. "Nobody gets away with making me look like a fool!"
"What about the Blue Bullet?" giggled Anri. "He did! And so did we!"
Priss glared at her. "That was different. Twister was a friend. And so
are you two. You had a _reason_ for hiding. Darlene had an even better one!
I mean, who would have believed... Escaped sexaroids are one thing. I can
deal with that. Someone from another dimension who has psychic powers as a
guy, and who turns into a girl with *magic* powers every time he gets wet?"
She shook her head. "Makes life in Mega-Tokyo look normal by comparison."
Sylvie smiled. "I know. It was.. eerie .. seeing it happen that first
morning. Still, I think that you might want to leave _this_ one alone,
Priss. I saw it on the news last night, and heard the details from Nene.
Anyone who take hits like that without injury, and can tear apart a boomer
with their bare hands isn't someone to be taken lightly."
Priss growled, and gave the two a dirty look. The conversation halted
then, as a customer walked in, looking for one of the famous pieces of
dragon art. The customer gaped for a while at the high prices, and
complained. Sylvie explained that the artist had left Japan, and hadn't given
a date for their expected return. Priss was unable to hold back a smirk at
that remark.
"You see, ma'am.. with the artist currently unavailable, the remaining
pieces have increased in rarity and price," noted Sylvia. "But that also
means that once a piece leaves the shop, it will continue to grow in value.
This makes it an excellent investment."
The elderly woman nodded her agreement, and purchased a small black
dragon battling a knight, one done in a European style. Once she'd left, the
conversation resumed.
"I'm not about to tell you what you should and shouldn't do, Priss. We're
too close of friends for me to do that," Sylvie frowned. "But I will say
this.. _I_ wouldn't take this `Goldeneyes' person on in a fight unless I was
forced to. But it's your life, and your choice."
"And besides," added Anri. "You have to _find_ him first. After seeing
how he disappeared when they showed the video on the evening news.. I don't
think that will be very easy."
Priss ground her teeth. "Oh, I'll find him. No matter how long it takes."
She stomped out of the shop.
***********************************
Leon had just returned from am extremely unpleasant meeting with the
Chief. One could practically _see_ the dark cloud hanging over his head.
Fellow officers scattered from his path like grasshoppers as he stalked down
the hallways. He charged into his office and slammed the door so hard the
window cracked.
"I don't believe it. We're running around trying to find someone who had
a good, clear look at our mysterious stranger, so we can produce a sketch of
his face; we're still hunting for the contents of the boomer's black box, in
order to retrieve a picture of him, and what happens?" He threw his hands in
the air. "A lousy news reporter doing a color piece on urban decay gets a
shot not only of our suspect, but of his disappearance! To top it all off,
the Chief spends a whole 45 minutes chewing _our_ butts for something that
wasn't even our fault!"
Daley patted him on the shoulder. "We could have been in a lot more
trouble, partner."
"HOW?! Tell me, just _how_ could things be worse!"
"For one thing, no one _outside_ the department knows how clueless we
were. If this had been on the evening news as well.." Daley shuddered. "I
don't even want to think of all the charges of incompetence that they'd
have levelled at the ADP."
"So instead, _we_ get charged with personal incompetence. Terrific." Leon
drew a cup of coffee and sat down. "We're lucky something good came out of
this whole mess. We've got some nice clear pictures of our suspect to work
with." He spread them over his desk. "Now we at least have a good shot at
finding him."
* * *
"Arrrrrrgh! I don't BELIEVE this!" Ed threw his drink at the screen.
"_Goldeneyes_? GOLDENEYES?? They nicknamed me that?!"
Minerva laughed. "But b'wana, your eyes _are_ gold!"
Ed continued to fume. "That news cameraman! This is _his_ fault! He's
gonna pay for this. Sticking me with an idiotic tag like that. Ooooh, am I
gonna get him!" He gritted his teeth so hard, she could hear them creak.
"Twister gets something noble. _He_ gets to be the bloody Crystal Knight!
What do I get? Goldeneyes! Bah!"
"It wasn't the reporter's fault, boss. You're the one who forgot to put
in your contact lenses. He was just doing his job of recording the news. You
can't blame him for that. If you want to blame anyone, blame the boomer for
vaporizing your sunglasses." She walked up behind him. "Besides, you need to
start thinking how to fit in to this world. You can't keep an eye on the
Sabers OR Darlene's store if you're cooped up in here."
"True, true.. I'll need another identity. And I'll have to do something
about my appearance. My picture has to be all over Japan, thanks to that
damned cameraman."
"Glasses."
"Glasses? What about them?"
"Eyeglasses, boss. It worked for Clark Kent. It might work for you."
"Do you realize just how _utterly_ ridiculous that sounds, pretty lady?"
"Don't knock it till you've tried it, boss. If you put on a pair, and we
grey your hair completely, that will hide the grey streaks down your
temples. A bit of makeup to hide the scar across your forehead, and that
should work nicely." She rubbed her hands together. "After all, lover, most
humans notice the _un_usual looking areas of the face. That means almost
everyone who's seen those photos will be concentrating on the hair, eyes,
and scar. Get them to concentrate on the glasses and the _grey_ hair, and
they will think you are a totally different person who simply happens to
faintly resemble the pictures on the news."
He thought that one over for a moment. "I'll give it a try, girl. I
haven't seen you make a mistake yet. But really.. grey hair?"
"You'll see, b'wana. You'll look _soo_ distinguished!" Minerva giggled.
"A perfect gentleman, in every way."
"Humph. That'll be a first. I've never been accused of _that_ particular
crime before. Everything else, but never that." He scrubbed a tired hand
across his face. "Why do I get the feeling I've created a monster, here?"
His only answer was another giggle.
***********************************
"Cunning and deceit will every time serve a man better than force."
- Niccolo Machiavelli
Sylia turned to answer the phone, and discovered Nene at the other end.
"What is it, Nene?"
"Sylia? It's happened again. Two more net break-ins. But this time only a
few systems." Nene looked puzzled. "The ADPolice mainframe was the first.
Then the systems belonging to the THP. But the others? I don't understand
this..."
"What?"
"Why in the world would anyone want to break into real estate firm
computers? There's nothing in those machines but property listings, Sylia."
Sylia's face stilled. "Nene, what _area_ of the Highway Police systems
were broken into?"
"Let me check." She glanced at something out of Sylia's sight. "It looks
like the.. driver's registration and ID? What does that have to do with real
estate?"
"They have a great deal to do with each other," said Sylia absently. She
looked back at Nene. "I want you here tonight. There is something I want you
to look for."
* * *
"I have a couple of surprises for you, boss"
"What's that, m'dear?" muttered Ed. He kept reading the job listings for
Mega-Tokyo. "There _has_ to be _something_ out there that I can do. I'm not
totally incompetent, damn it all..."
"For one thing.. Happy Anniversary, Boss!" A scutter rolled up and handed
him a small package.
"Eh? What? What's this?"
"It's been twenty years now, boss. Remember? Twenty years ago today is
when you came aboard me at Utopia Planitia."
His eyes widened. "Good lord! I'd completely forgotten! And I didn't get
you a thing!"
"That's all right, lover," she smiled. "There's no need to panic. You can
pick me up something in Mega-Tokyo. You're legal, now. I just finished...
_adjusting_ the records for you. I've even faked the necessary paperwork,
and inserted it into the proper file cabinets all over the city. You are now
Anthony Edwards, with ID to match." She smirked. "Transporters are such
wonderful tools."
He nodded, then looked at the package in his hands. "And this is..?"
"Open it!"
He did so, then collapsed into his armchair. "Gaaah! You.. you've got a
_sick_ sense of humor, m'dear." He stared in horror at the hardbound book in
his hands, and re-read the title, not quite believing what he was looking
at.
"`The Incredible Umbrella' by Marvin Kaye." He flipped to the flyleaf
and read the inscription with a sinking feeling.
To Edward Anthony Becerra
Through the good graces of:
John Wellington Wells
President
J. W. Wells & Co.,
Family Sorcerers.
If anything anyone lacks,
He'll find it all ready in stacks
at
70 ST. MARY'S AXE, LONDON
("SIMMERY AXE")
"You didn't.. you _couldn't_!" he moaned.
"I could and I _did_, lover!" she replied.
"Arrrrgh!"
* * *
After he'd calmed down, Minerva showed him the real estate listings she'd
plundered.
"Why real estate, girl?"
"B'wana.. every time you've taken a job, it's always been as a soldier,
or occasionally a member of a police force. Like that time you spent as a
tank mechanic for the Tank Police. You've got to stop that."
"And what does real estate have to do with that?"
"You've said it before, boss. You've always dreamed of being the owner of
a bookstore. Why not try it now?"
Ed started to wag a finger at Minerva, then halted abruptly. Her words
echoed in his head. *Why not? Why the _hell_ not?* He nodded.
"Why not, indeed? But how would I get started?"
Minerva tsk'ed at him. "Boss.. I have one of the largest, if not THE
largest, mobile archives in the multi-verse. I have books that have never
been written in this reality. I have books that were written, then _lost_
for all time. I have the complete contents of the Library of Alexandria,
from before the Great Burning. To put it bluntly, I have books that
collectors from this world would quite cheerfully _kill_ for."
Ed snapped his fingers. "And by using the replicators to re-create
them.."
"Now you're getting the picture, boss. We'll set up in the rare book
business. The _really_ rare book business. Once word gets out, customers
will come _crawling_ on their hands and knees to your shop. I guarantee it!"
"Okay, then! Let's start looking for a place to buy!"
***********************************
Kate Madagan approached her superior's office with no small amount of
trepidation. She'd failed to carry out her orders, and she knew it. Quincy
wasn't a man to suffer fools gladly. The truth be told, he didn't suffer
them at all. They were removed from their positions in the company. Such
removals tended to be somewhat.. terminal, on occasion. She thought of that
fool, Brian Mason, and shivered.
She noticed the open door just seconds before Quincy's voice greeted her.
"Come in, Ms. Madagan."
She entered the office, and at his request, took a seat. "Sir, I am
afraid I must report a failure on my part. We have been unable to locate
even the slightest trace of the person who was responsible for the
destruction of the boomer in Wolf's Place. I accept full responsibility for
this."
Quincy rotated his chair slightly, and looked out over the Mega-Tokyo
skyline. He steepled his fingers, and seemed to be lost in thought. Then his
gaze returned to Madagan. "I had expected as much. Although I am moderately
disappointed that you failed to realize that."
"Sir?"
"Come now, Ms. Madagan. Having fought the Crystal Knight, you of all
people should be well aware of the potential inherent in teleportation,
whether by means psionic, or technological." His eyes returned to the
window, and the cityscape beyond it. "Given access to such abilities, and a
need to hide, I would quite likely be doing what our young friend is. He has
taken refuge somewhere, and is using teleportation to serve his needs. All
the while monitoring the local newscasts to ascertain when it has become
safe to emerge." Quincy smiled. "Food, water, even air can be easily and
untraceably supplied in such a manner. His retreat could literally be
anywhere, from the streets of Mega-Tokyo, to the barren wind-swept rocks of
Tierra del Fuego. Or even the mares and mountains of the Moon, for that
matter. He could be just as comfortable there, as anywhere, using
teleportation."
Madagan swallowed hard. She cursed herself for not realizing this on her
own. "Then, how are we to find him, sir?"
A sere smile crossed Quincy's face. "We do not."
"Sir?" asked a confused Madagan.
"We will allow our target to find _us_, Ms. Madagan. When you leave here,
cancel all the bounties we have offered for his capture. Call off all of the
agents actively searching for him. Remove any visible signs of the hunt.
Pressure the ADPolice to do the same. Additionally, you may need to
interfere with the USSD's efforts, as it is unlikely they would willingly
submit to any coercion on our part." He turned to face her, his eyes cold
and hard. "Once he is certain it is safe to return, he will do so. We need
merely wait, and keep a wary eye out for his return. Thinking he is safe, he
will grow careless. He will make a mistake, and reveal himself, Madagan. And
we will be waiting for that mistake."
***********************************