"I try never to get involved in my own life. Too much trouble."
- Mr. Garibaldi (to Mr. Endawi) "Babylon 5: Matters of Honor"
* * *
Ed sat in the bridge, shuddering. "If I _EVER_ see that universe again,
I hope someone _shoots_ me."
"It was educational, boss."
"Educational my ASS! I _never_ want to visit the Anime University again.
I'd rather have a Jyusenkyo curse, thank you very much." He shivered. "And
the Professor in the Advanced Sciences Department was the worst... I swear,
if I ever hear that 'Hi, I like you, wanna be my guinea pig?' again, I'll
kill her." He reigned in his emotions with an obvious effort. "And the Home
Economics division was almost as bad. What kind of *idiot* puts Saotome
Akane in charge of a _COOKING_ class?"
"Same one that put Tendo Nabiki and Katherine Madigan in Administration,
b'wana."
"Please, don't remind me," he sighed. "Those two could squeeze yen from
a stone. And not even work up a sweat." He looked at the blue planet
spinning serenely below. "Time to go. Let's rotate."
Behind him, in his private cabin, a tall staff merged with the deckplates
began to glow in an obviously mystical fashion. It had done this before.
It would do it in the future. But this time, and only this time, the glow
began to pulse. Not a good sign. No, not good at all.
* * *
STEEL BREEZE PRODUCTIONS
and
Industrial Might & Logic
Are Proud to Present
L E G I O N ' S Q U E S T
Mi Vida Loco
* * *
"Rotation completed, b'wana. Hmm... this is odd."
"What is is, Min?"
"We didn't emerge near Earth this time. We didn't even come out near the
Solar system."
"Any ideas where we are?"
The ACI nodded. "It's a listed system in the New Galactic Catalog.
Looks habitable. We came out away from the ecliptic plane, apparently." She
frowned. "Scanning.."
Ed nodded and pulled his hat down over his eyes. "Lemme know if you get
anything love.. better yet, let me know if you find out why Twister's spell
sent us here."
"Uh-oh."
He shrank deeper into the captain's seat. "Uh-oh?"
"Emergency, boss. We've got major debris off the port bow, and.. boss!
There's a survivor!"
He shot up straight in his chair. "What?"
"Suited, drifting.. he's running low on consumables, and life support in
his suit is failing." She paused. "There's no one else in the area, aside
from a ship high-tailing it out of the system. If we don't make pickup, no
one will, lover."
He nodded, swearing under his breath. "Go ahead, but use a cable, not a
tractor or a transporter. I don't want to give up anything I don't have
to."
He eyed the wreckage Minerva was imaging on the main screen. "What ever
happened here, they had one HELL of a battle. Somebody really kicked ass in
a major way." He turned back to her. "Deep scans, Min. If there's someone
unfriendly in the area, I want to know about it sooner, rather than later."
* * *
"Wha.. who..?"
"Calm down, friend. And don't try to talk. You're safe, for the time
being." The grey haired man smiled down at him. "You're aboard the private
yacht, Calypso. We found you drifting and unconsious, with almost nothing
left in your suit's tanks. And what looks like the left-overs of a
_serious_ battle floating nearby. We picked you up, and you're in our
sickbay right now, recovering."
"o..our?"
Ed nodded to one side. "I'm sure you'd like to meet my first mate, and
currently your nurse, Minerva." A lovely young woman stepped forward and
swatted Ed over the head.
"And he should be resting, not listening to you blather, boss. I'm the
medic around here, remember?"
The by-now thoroughly confused man on the medi-bed watched as the
grey-haired man rolled his eyes at the woman. *Minerva?* he thought? "I..
I don't understand.."
Minerva came to his side. "Well, at the moment, you don't need to.
You're suffering from oxygen deprivation and death pressure effects. On top
of that, you were shot, although your pressure suit took most of the blow
for you. You need to rest and recouperate. When you're feeling better,
we'll get your personal information, and take you to your family, or
friends, or to wherever you'd like to go after you've fully recovered." She
frowned. "Can you tell us your name?"
"Die.. Dietrich. Dick Dietrich," the patient got out, then slipped into
unconsciousness once again.
Ed looked worriedly at him. "What's wrong, Min?"
"Nothing truly serious, boss.. he's just exhausted, on top of the other
things that he's suffering from. Stress." She smiled. "A little oxygen,
some food, water and rest, a bit of quick-heal on the side and he'll be
okay. 48 hours tops, I'd say."
* * *
"We're WHERE?!"
That agonized scream shook the Calypso and could have been heard light
years away if empty space had been capable of carrying sound.
"Calm down, boss! It's not _that_ bad."
Ed looked at her and dropped his head into his hands and moaned. "Please
tell me you're joking."
"No. Given our guest's name, and the recent transmissions I've been
monitoring from this system, the planet nearby is the world of Dolz, and
we're in the same universe as the.."
"DON'T SAY IT!" he screamed, jerking upright.
"..Lovely Angels," she finished. "We're in the reality of the Flight 005
Conspiracy OAV."
"The Dirty Pair," he whispered. "We're doomed."
* * *
Somewhere, light years away, a red-haired young woman sat up in her bunk
and looked around, confused and angry. "I could have _sworn_ I heard
someone say it.."
* * *
"Why so upset, boss? It's not like they could hurt either of us. You're
too tough.. and I know you'd never let anyone hurt me."
He was knocking back a bottle of Russian vodka as if his life depended on
how fast he could chug it. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand and
started over. "Min.. the Angels are right.. it never IS their fault. Yet
mayhem, disaster and chaos follow them like the Horsemen of the Apocalypse.
They don't even have to be on a mission for things to start going wrong
around them. And that means.. " He stopped, and drew a deep breath.
"..that means they are probably _his_."
The lovely ACI blinked, and her eyes widened slightly. "How is that
possible?"
"You work for me and you can ask that? It wouldn't even surprise me if
they're blood relations of his. He makes Ataru Moroboshi look like a
celibate monk. Their hair and skin color aren't important, he was always
good at faking that. As good as Zeus was said to be."
She nodded. "Truly. You think they are his daughters?"
"Granddaughters, possibly.. or great-granddaughters. The number of
generations doesn't matter.. _that_ bloodline _always_ breeds true." He
winced. "I'm living proof of that. And since the Angels are here, he's
probably nearby, so he can enjoy the fireworks." A hard, angry look crept
into his face. "And I do NOT intend to let that miserable sonafabitch get
his claws back into me. _THAT_ is why I'm so upset."
Minerva looked into his face. "'No one owns me', right?"
"That.. and 'All debts are paid.' He tried to hook me once. And that's
all he gets. Once." He rose from his seat. "We can't leave here until we
find or do whatever it is that Valanna's spell brought us here for, so let's
find it, A.S.A.P." Lifting a hand, he began to quickly tick off points on
his fingers. "First.. we drop our passenger off at the nearest world that
has a 3WA office. I may not want to go near one, but I'll be damned if I'll
be cruel to an innocent bystander just because I've managed to get my OWN
tail in a knot. Second, we start looking for our objective in this reality.
After that.. we'll see."
"It's a plan, boss..."
"I take it you have an objection?" he asked.
"More of an observation. Remember, we're dealing with the Lovely Angels
here. Murphy's Law went into full effect the second we appeared in this
cosmos, and as someone else said, 90% of the bad luck resulting from that
fact is going to focus right on YOU, boss. That means a meeting with the
Angels isn't just likely, it's _inevitable_."
"Oh... now _THERE'S_ a pleasant thought. Thank you EVER so much, Min."
She grinned. "It's my job. And I love my work."
"Why me?" he sighed rhetorically. "All right. Attention to orders.
Since we're near Dolz, crack their local net, grab every byte of data that
looks useful, and find me a nearby planet with a 3WA office that's still
small enough that we won't attract too much attention. I rather doubt a
thlIngan Bird of Prey scoutship is seen very often in these parts, and
getting noticed is the last thing we want until we have enough information
to fit into local society." He paused. "Oh, yeah.. and after that little
joke with the jellyfish and the toast last Wendsday?"
"Yes?"
"I want it all done _yesterday_."
"*groan* Right away, b'wana."
* * *
"Found what you're looking for, boss."
"Yes?" he replied absently.
"The world of Asim. Settled primarily by people of Middle Eastern
descent, some idiot apparently made the error of routing an Arab
colonization ship there without checking to see what other settlers had
already arrived."
Ed snorted. "Let me guess... an Israeli kibbutzim was already set up
there."
She nodded. "So there is a permanant 3WA presence there. Not much, just
an office and a few full-time staffers. No trouble consultant teams.
There's a decent spaceport with regular flights into and out of the system,
and they're tied into the interstellar communications network. We can leave
Mr. Dietrich there with a wad of cash, and the 3WA can take care of the
rest of it. In and out, quick, and the only record of us will be
'mysterious benefactors'. As for his rescue.. well, they can just chalk it
up to UFO's, the Bermuda Triangle, or Ancient Astronauts if they like."
He sighed. "You've been reading Erich Von Daniken again, haven't you?"
"A girl has to have her hobbies, boss. Besides, he's so _funny_! And
Berlitz looks kind of cute with that beard."
He gave Minerva a _look_, then relented. "All right. But be careful.
That stuff rots the brain." He paused. "Is either gold or platinum valuable
here?"
"Yes, but the metal they need for their stardrives is even more so. It's
called vizorium."
"Can you replicate it?"
"No problem. Make a few pounds, and leave it in the vault of a bank on
Dolz in exchange for lifting some galactic currency, right?"
"That works. And it's better than counterfitting. Make it so, girl.
And let's head for Asim." He waved an arm at the wreckage still visible in
the main viewscreen. "Watching all that stuff float out there gives me the
creeps."
***********************************
Personal Log: Entry 47, Year 26.
Min's taking the Calypso to Asim via warp drive instead of hopping
directly in-system with the Irrelevancy drive. Seems Dietrich was a little
more injured than it appeared at first scan. He has a rather nasty case of
decompression sickness (they used to call it 'the Bends' when I was a kid)
on top of traumatic abaryia, and Min wanted to give him an extra day or two
of recovery time.
And I made the mistake of letting her go all out for him. She always
_was_ a sucker for a hero, and so she's been quietly 'improving' his health
without his knowledge. By the time she's done, he'll feel twenty years
younger (and BE that much younger, at least internally).
Reminds me of something the Doctor once said, the last time I ran into
him. (Note: Next time we meet, I _really_ must apologize for ramming into
his TARDIS. *sigh* Serves me right for not looking where I was flying.)
"The hallmark of a sentient being is the ability to use one's
intelligence to apply one's instincts for the BENEFIT OF OTHERS, no matter
if they are of your species or not."
Nice guy, the Doctor. But I digress...
Maybe I've gotten lucky this time around. Maybe Dietrich was the reason
Valanna's spell drew us here. Fates willing, we might be able to leave this
reality just as soon as we get him back with his family again.
Maybe it's just that simple.
Maybe there won't be any trouble here.
And maybe pigs will fly.
End Log Entry 47, Year 26.
***********************************
Old Earth, North American continent.
South-western sector, Sonorran desert.
A small campfire was burning in the night, casting light and shadow
across the sparse vegetation and pushing back the chill of the desert wind.
Sitting crosslegged next to it was a thin young man, native American from
the cast of his face. Oddly enough, he wasn't dressed for the time or the
climate, wearing a white t-shirt, jeans, and a leather motorcycle jacket.
A raven swooped down from the moonlit sky and perched on a nearby
saugwaro cactus. It cawed once, then coughed.
"You're playing with him again, aren't you."
The man smiled. "Why not? He _is_ mine, you know. He said it himself.
The blood runs _strongly_ in him.. and in _them_."
A sardonic cackle came from the raven. "And you wonder why you get in
trouble with our Father. I'm surprised he hasn't skinned you alive and left
you to the sands."
"That's half the fun right there, cousin. Everything fun is at least a
_little_ dangerous. And everything dangerous is at least a little fun." The
man laughed. "You're a fine one to talk.. the Peoples of the Pacific don't
exactly have the fondest memories of you."
"True, true.." The raven clacked his beak a few times. "Just remember,
when I play with them, there isn't all that much they can do about it, aside
from calling for help. This one is more powerful by far. You might want to
remember that, when he gets his hands on you."
"No chance of that, cousin mine."
The raven launched himself into the air, and circled overhead. "If I
recall correctly, that's _exactly_ what you said when you got involved with
that lawyer who'd left the People. And again when you tried playing games
with that rich round eye from New York. And that one even managed to trap
you inside cold iron." It laughed. "If it weren't for your friends.. Heh.
You never learn." He straighted out and flew away. But the wind brought his
voice back one last time.
"This time, any help is going to cost you, Cousin. Remember _that_."
The man smirked. "As if I'd need any." But the raven was long since
gone, unable to hear him. He stood, and scattered the small fire with a
foot, careful to smother the flames.
Smiling in the moonlight, his form began to blur at the edges. Mere
seconds later, a small dust-devil stood in his place, its swirling winds
whipping the desert sands into a frenzy. A piercing howl shivered the
night.
And the desert was empty once more.
* * *
"We're approaching Asim, boss. I need you at the helm."
Ed nodded. "Did you remember to access all the proper port conventions
from Dolz?"
Minerva laughed. "Boss, I may have a flesh and blood body now, thanks to
Valanna, but I'm _still_ a computer. I _never_ forget."
He rolled his eyes. "That isn't what you said when we got in trouble
with Sylia and the Knight Sabers over that collection of Bubblegum Crisis
erotic fiction they found on the logic solid."
"That was an accident, boss! I'd wiped those! I have no idea HOW those
files got back onto that crystal."
"Uh-huh. Riiiiight. Pull the other leg, it's got bells on."
She pouted cutely. "You don't believe me?"
"I _know_ you, girl," he chuckled. "Now, let's get into an approach lane
and see about setting down on Asim. I trust the proper documents are
ready?"
"We're legal now, boss. We're registered out of a freeport out of Nova
Liberia."
"Nice touch," he grinned.
"I thought so." She paused. "We're being hailed."
Ed took the captain's seat as the main screen lit up. A thin young man
materialized on-screen.
"This is Asim approach control. What ship?"
"The private yatch 'Calypso', out of Nova Liberia. I am the
owner-captain, Anthony Edwards." He looked at the younger man seriously. "I
have an injured castaway on board who needs to be placed in touch with the
closest 3WA office for repatriation. I request immediate permission to land
at your spaceport for humanitarian purposes."
The port control officer looked surprised, and leaned off-screen.
Minerva amplified the sound, and they both heard the whisper, "Is that
legal?" Someone whispered back, "Yup. It's in the treaties." The officer
turned back to the screen.
"Please transmit your documents on the standard frequency, and enter
approach orbit Aleph-one. Co-ordinates are being sent... now." There was a
high-pitched squeal, and Minerva signaled him that she had received them.
"Thank you, officer. Co-ordinates received and locked in. Do you have
an estimate on the current wait status?"
The PCO typed at a console for a second. "Are the injuries to your
passenger life threatening?"
"No. He's stable, and any further treatment can take place at his
leisure."
The officer nodded. "Excellent. You're... hmmm... seventh in the
queue, and estimated time of landing is 45 minutes. If there is nothing
further, sir?"
He shook his head. "No, thank you, son."
"Please be ready for customs inspection upon landing. We'll contact the
3WA office and have a representative there to meet you on touchdown. Over
to homing beam, sir."
"Over to homing beam." He waved to Minerva, who closed the connection.
"We ready for an inspection, Min?"
"Not a problem, boss. They won't find anything but what we want them to
find, and I've double-checked their listing of contraband. Aside from our
technology, we don't have anything they want."
"Weapons?"
"Locked down, and masked with solid holograms. We'll look like an
ex-military ship converted to a civilian yacht."
"Good. Then let's go see what Asim is like, love."
* * *
Ed firmly throttled the urge to fall to the ground and begin laughing
hysterically. It simply wouldn't do to be _that_ disrespectful of his
hosts. {Min, the Three Stooges could do a better customs inspection than
this!}
{No argument there, boss.. this crew gives an entirely new meaning to
the phrase 'job-related incompetence'. It's a good thing Captain Solo isn't
here - he could probably smuggle the entire Death Star past these losers.}
His lips twitched upward in a faint smile. {Be nice, pretty lady...
everyone deserves a chance at employment. Even mental defectives like
these.} Hearing footsteps behind him, he stopped worrying about the
inspectors and turned to face the two men who were entering the landing bay.
"Hello!" he smiled. "I'm Captain Edwards, and you are?"
The first man extended a hand. "Ahmad Khelad, Portmaster. And this
gentleman is Hal Ustinov, the head of the local 3WA office."
Ed shook hands all around. "A pleasure to meet you, Portmaster Khelad.
And you, Mr. Ustinov. I have someone who's rather anxious to meet you."
Khelad looked past him to the ship, then groaned. "Allah has deserted
me. It's them."
"Excuse me?" asked Ed, confused.
Ahmad pointed towards the customs inspection team. "My second wife's
youngest brother, Mahmoud, and his cousins Aziz and Ismael." His face fell.
"Please tell me that they have not embarrassed me, Captain Edwards.
_Please_."
Ed blinked a few times. "Oh. Don't feel badly, Portmaster. They've
been most polite, and as for the inspection, they've..." he paused, chewing
his lip and trying to be diplomatic in his phrasing. "They've been most..
enthusiastic about their work."
"Meaning that they at least showed up on time, and not hung over," said
Khelad dryly. He sighed. "I have a choice. I can have a peaceful, happy
family, or I can fire them and return home each night to furious relatives.
What is a man to do?"
"You can pick your friends, you can choose your lovers.. but family
you're stuck with," noted Ustinov.
"Too true, my friend, too true." He glared at his in-laws for a moment,
then turned back. "May we, Captain?" he asked, indicating the Calypso.
"Certainly. It would be my pleasure."
* * *
"Le mauvais gout mene au crime. (Poor taste leads to crime.)"
- Anonymous French proverb.
"Round up the usual suspects."
- Casablanca.
In the Calypso's ready room, Dietrich was waiting for them. He smiled
widely. "Which one of you is the 3WA man?"
Ustinov introduced himself, and they all took a seat. Ed looked around
the table. "Drinks, anyone?"
Hal grinned. "That's hospitality. Scotch, if you have it."
"I do. Single malt, at that. And you, Mr. Khelad? Oh, wait, I forget.
Do you observe the Koran's strictures on the taking of spirits?"
"I'm afraid I do, Captain. But isn't that coffee I smell?" Ahmad licked
his lips. "Jamaican coffee?"
Ed laughed. "A fellow junkie, I see. And yes, it's Jamaican Blue
Mountain." He set a cup in front of the portmaster, who stared at it like a
Christian confronted with the Holy Grail before grabbing it and attempting
to _inhale_ it by main force.
"Allah be praised! It IS Blue Mountain!" Ahmad savored the aroma, and
sighed happily. "I can now die a happy man."
"I wonder if trying to bribe a Portmaster with a pound of Blue can be
considered a crime?"
Ahmad smiled so widely, Ed thought the corners of his mouth would meet at
the back of his neck. "Yes, Captain, it would be a crime.. and would have
to be severely fined, the fine amounting to at least TWO pounds of Blue
Mountain." They all laughed.
"Down to business, I suppose. Mr. Ustinov.."
"Just Hal, if you please."
"Hal, then. I found Richard here floating, wounded and unconscious, in a
debris field off the planet Dolz. From the looks of it, he'd been left for
dead. In point of fact, he pretty much _was_ dead. Damned good thing I
arrived there when I did." Ed paused, and took a sip of his scotch.
"While he's been quite circumspect about what happened, I have learned
that he was involved with a 3WA trouble consultant team who were trying to
rescue his daughter, grand-daughter and son-in-law. Rescue them from whom,
and WHY they needed to be rescued, he wouldn't say, and I didn't push. I
can recognize the 'classified, need-to-know' conditioned-reflex when I see
it, Hal. He wasn't eager to return to Dolz, and seemed equally uneasy with
the thought of traveling to either Dubahl or Zahl, so I assumed those worlds
had something to do with whatever happened."
He shrugged slightly. "So.. Asim was the next closest world with a 3WA
field office, and I brought him here. Hopefully, you can reunite him with
his family, and I can move on."
"Move on? Why?" The 3WA agent was confused. "Don't you realize there
will likely be a reward? And even if there isn't, I'm certain his family
will want to meet the man who saved his life."
Dietrich nodded his agreement. "I still don't understand that myself,
Anthony."
"Dick, I wander for a good reason. What that reason is, is something
personal." He laughed. "I know that sounds like something out of a
particularly bad melodrama, but it's the truth in my case. Besides.. I
rescued you because it was the right thing to do, not because I wanted a
reward."
Dietrich looked uncertain, but didn't press. "If that's the way you
truly want it..."
"It is. And before I forget.." He reached into a shirt pocket and
extracted a sheaf of currency notes. "You're likely going to need a little
walking around money on the way home, so here."
Dietrich looked at the wad of money, surprised. "But that's.. that's.."
"That's money, Dick. Nothing more, nothing less. Useless by itself.
What can you do with it? Eat it? Patch your roof with it? Nope. Money is
only useful when you can use it to help someone." Ed laughed again. "And
don't think you're bankrupting me. Look around you. I _own_ this ship,
free and clear. I could give you ten times this amount out of petty cash
and not even notice it."
Dietrich shrugged, and accepted the money. "I don't know what to say
except for 'Thank you'."
"That'll do it." Ed turned back to Ustinov. "You can take care of this
from here, I hope."
Hal signaled his agreement. "I'll contact the home office, and we'll
have him with his family inside of three weeks. Right now, they're in
protective custody. They've made some enemies."
Ed grinned. "I'd guessed that might be the case, from the destruction of
whatever-it-was where I found him. Someone got a little careless with the
megaweapons, I'd say."
Ustinov thought of the Lovely Angels, and smiled. "I can't comment on
that. But I won't deny it, either." He stood and bowed. "With your
permission, Captain?"
Ed escorted them to the gangplank and waved goodbye. "Take care, Dick.
And do _try_ to avoid getting shot up again.. it's rather hard on your
insurance premiums." He smiled as a taxi picked them up, and turned to
re-enter the ship when a loud klaxon went off.
"BOSS! Your cabin, now!"
He took off at a dead run, followed closely by Khelad. Reaching his
cabin, he was greeted by the sight of the three customs inspectors cringing
away from Minerva and a collection of her scutter-bots. The 'bots were all
carrying shock-prods or pain-sticks and were waving them menacingly at the
trio.
"Just what in the name of Steven Hawkings' wheelchair is going ON HERE?!"
he shouted.
The three spotted Khelad, puffing and wheezing behind him and fell to
their knees, babbling something about being rescued from crazed women and
godless infidels and asserting their complete and utter innocence of
everything. The portmaster just swore bitterly.
"Captain, would you let them up for a moment? I think I know what's
occured."
Ed nodded, confused, and waved the scutters back a foot or two. The
three men sighed in relief - a relief that was short-lived. Because the
portmaster stepped forward and pointed a finger at the chest of the leader.
"Take off your jacket, Mahmoud. Now."
Mahmoud, who had been smiling, suddenly looked fearful. "But _brother_!"
"Don't 'brother' me, Mahmoud. I said take it off. And turn out your
pockets."
The younger man did so slowly, and a small pile of coins and other easily
hidden items from Ed's desk were stacked atop the deck. Khelad picked up
the jacket and shook it. A PADD fell from it to the floor. Ahmad's face
twitched dangerously. "Am I to assume that this man's assistant planted all
these items on you in order to frame you?"
"yesyesyes that's what happened it's all a trap they're trying to frame
us so they can smuggle things into Asim you're so brilliant to see it my
brother we must arrest him and confiscate the ship and see that the woman
marries a suitable young..." the leader of the three babbled gratefully.
"QUIET!" roared Khelad. "Do you take me for as much an idiot as the one
you see in the mirror each morning?! You were trying to steal from this
man, and when you were caught, you tried to blame this lovely young woman!
I. Have. Had. Enough. Of. You. Three!"
Ed stepped forward then. "Calmly, Ahmad. I think I can resolve this.
Your people abide by the law of the Koran, yes?"
The portmaster nodded.
"I've always had respect for that.. the criminal code of the Koran is
most stern, and _quite_ effective. And I'm certain these three will be MOST
interested to know that ALL of the cabins and holds of the Calypso are
monitored on a continuous basis. In short..." he grinned coldly, "Surprise,
surprise, boys... you're on Candid Camera." His grin widened into an
unpleasantly shark-like smile. "I believe the imams will find those
recordings quite informative. And you should be able to relearn how to get
by with only one hand quickly enough. That _is_ the traditional penalty for
a thief, isn't it, Ahmad? The _removal_ of the hand he did the thieving
with?"
The three blanched and began to shiver in fright. Khelad calmed down,
and nodded towards Edward. "You do know something of the Koran, I see." He
looked back towards his quivering relatives. "Do you wish to press
charges?"
"Ohhh.... I dunno. I expect that if they were to resign their positions
in the customs service, effective _immediately_ and agree to NEVER take a
goverment job again, I could probably find it in my heart to forget about
this little peccadilo of theirs."
Mahmoud fell to his knees and began to cry huge crocodile tears, as did
his two accomplices. "Save us, brother, you mustn't let this infidel do
this to us.."
"Shut. Up." hissed the angry portmaster. "If I had my way, the imam
wouldn't cut off your hands, he'd remove your empty _heads_. Either way,
it'd be small loss. The ONLY reason I'm taking Captain Edwards up on his
offer is because I don't want Sadira weeping and moaning about this."
Ed nodded. "I've learned over the years that the quickest road to
domestic hell is by _winning_ an argument with your wife." He turned to
Minerva. "Min? Let's make a nice set of recordings for Ahmad. Several
copies, in fact. I suspect that his in-laws here will be considerably
easier for him to handle if he has something he can hang over their heads."
"I'm on it, b'wana."
Khelad raised an eyebrow. "You have a nasty sense of humor, my friend.
I like that." He grinned. "Allah willing, these idiots won't get into much
more trouble. They won't want to take the chance on Sadira discovering the
truth about them and throwing them out on their thieving rumps. Thank you."
Then he kicked his brother in the afformentioned buttocks. "Strip. All
three of you."
"WHAT?!"
"I said strip. I trust you fools about as far as I can throw you."
A few moments later, Mahmoud, Aziz and Ismael had stripped to their
underwear, and a truly amazing pile of small pilfered items rested on the
deckplates next to their clothing. Ed shook his head in awe.
"I'll give them this much, Ahmad... they may not have much in the way of
brains, but DAMN me, they got sticky fingers."
Khelad sighed again. "They always have. May I take them with me now? I
will send an _honest_ customs team to inspect the ship tomorrow."
"Fine by me." He turned slightly, and held out a hand to Minerva, who
placed a small package in it. "For your troubles, Ahmad. 500 grams of
Jamaican Blue. Try to relax, and drink it in good health."
***********************************
"To deny the possibility, nay, the actual existance of witchcraft and
sorcery is flatly to contradict the revealed word of God."
- William Blackstone, 'Commentaries on the Laws of England'
Francis Goulet stared at the little pink bottle sitting on his desk. All
the advances in science over the past centuries, and the only cure they
could find for his stomache was Pepto Bismol(tm).
"There _is_ a Supreme Being. One who hates me," sighed Goulet. "And
it's name is the Central Computer." He took a long swallow of the pink
fluid, and picked up the file. Wincing, he laid it down again, and touched
the intercom, summoning his secretary.
"Send the Lovely Angels up here right away, Jonathan. There's another
mission for them."
"Sir? I'm afraid they're unavailable at the moment. They're busy with
the training program. They're training that new recruit... the _odd_ one."
"oh." He closed his eyes. "Did they _ever_ manage to break her.. err..
him.. ahh.. oh, hell.. did they ever manage to get the cadet to stop
refering to itself in the third person?"
"They're still trying, sir."
Goulet rubbed his tired eyes, and thought longingly of the soft bed he
wasn't going to get to use unless he could solve this. "Tell them to get
right up here.. and bring the cadet along. She might as well get some more
real life experience. And if worst comes to worst, we'll provide her with a
nice funeral."
Jonathan turned and left to fetch the Lovely Angels, while Goulet folded
his arms on the desk and pillowed his head on them. "Magic," he muttered.
"I _hate_ magic."
* * *
Kei, Yuri, and the only recruit of theirs that had survived their
training stood before Goulet's desk. Goulet looked at them levelly.
"For reasons unknown, the Central Computer has seen fit to assign an
extra, temporary member to the Trouble Consultant team, 'Lovely Angels'.
I'm well aware that you will find this uncomfortable, but those are your
orders." He rattled the papers in his hands. "As you recall, Richard
Dietrich, the person who alerted us to the whole Flight 005 affair was
thought to be dead. Much to my surprise, having read your report, he
recently turned up on the planet Asim, alive and well."
"But that's IMPOSSIBLE!" Kei burst out. "We _saw_ him die."
"Actually, you saw him shot, and drift away into deep space. He was
accidently found by a private craft that entered the area just as you were
leaving in your ship. The captain of the yatch," Goulet checked the papers,
" _Calypso_, picked him up and treated his injuries. Dietrich was then
dropped off at the 3WA field office on Asim. The station chief there, Hal
Ustinov, alerted us immediately."
"So, what does that have to do with US, sir?" asked Yuri curiously.
"The Central Computer has determined that the owner of this ship is
currently traveling under false ID. Further checking has shown that not
only were Dietrich's injuries treated, he's in MUCH better shape than he was
before this entire event took place. Yet no signs of nanite repairs or
genetic surgery were found. He's simply two decades younger, internally.
While the CC has not seen fit to inform me as to how it has reached it's
conclusions, it HAS concluded that the owner of this yatch possesses
technology that could prove _extremely_ dangerous in the hands of anyone
other than the United Galactica and the 3WA."
Kei smacked a fist into the palm of her hand, grinning widely. "And
we're to 'persuade' him to come along willingly. I *like* it."
Goulet raised a hand. "Not so fast. There are some _restrictions_, Kei.
First.. you retrieve the captain alive and _unhurt_. That is of paramount
importance, as the CC insists that we must have his _willing_ cooperation.
Second.. the ship must be UNDAMAGED! The Calypso _must_ be taken intact,
no matter the cost. That part of your orders is inviolable. Third, you are
to attempt to avoid offending.." he looked down at the file again, "Captain
Edwards. I don't care HOW much it hurts, you will treat him with all
respect. The CC wants him in a friendly mood towards us."
"Great," muttered Kei. "Take all the fun out of it, why don'cha."
"That will be quite enough of that out of you, Agent Kei. This is a
mission, NOT an excuse for you to shoot everything in sight."
Kei grumbled something under her breath, and Goulet speared her with a
sharp glance. "I'm old, not deaf. You have your orders." He nodded at the
third trouble consultant, standing quietly behind them. "And you'll be
taking her with you. The CC insists that she'll be needed."
The Lovely Angels both nodded. "No argument there. She's the only cadet
we've trained that's survived." Yuri turned around and offered her hand.
"It's nice to have you back with us, Zen-chan."
* * *
"Zen does not understand this. Why does the CC think Zen is
indispensible?"
Yuri was flipping through the sealed orders as the three headed for the
'Lovely Angel'. "According to this, the CC considers it highly possible
that you've had previous experience with Captain Edwards." She frowned. "No
pictures, no files.. just a verbal description from the Agent In Charge at
Asim, and an identikit mock-up based on that description."
Kei peeked over her shoulder. "Shouldn't be TOO hard to spot - that scar
on his forehead is pretty noticable."
"Zen _still_ does not understand. Zen has never met this person before
that Zen can remember. What does the CC know that Zen does not?" The short
red-head looked mildly confused.
Kei laughed. "Zen, the day you can get the CC to give up the whole
truth, will be the day we don't need trouble consultants any more."
Zen nodded. At that point, a sharp-faced young man in jeans, a white
t-shirt and a black leather motorcycle jacket ran up to them, carrying a
folder in his hand. "You the Lovely Angels team? More information for you,
then. Gotta pic of the person you're tracing, and his probable
destination." He shoved the folder into Kei's hands, then dashed away.
"Who was that?" asked Zen.
"I don't know," replied Kei, opening the folder. "But this info is gonna
be _really_ helpful." She closed it and began to stride faster. "Let's get
to the ship and get going!"
Zen shrugged, and broke into a trot to keep up. "Here Zen goes again.."
* * *
As the Lovely Angels took off, the same young man in the leather jacket
stood outside a small bar near the spaceport. He shielded his eyes and
watched the ship head out-system, a smirk on his face.
"If that doesn't get things started, I don't know what will," he laughed.
"Oh, the FUN this is going to be! The things we'll do, the things we'll
see." Then he turned and entered a small tobacco shop near the bar.
***********************************
"I claim not to have controlled events, but confess plainly that events
have controlled me."
- Abraham Lincoln, _letter to A. G. Hodges, April 4, 1864_
Ten days later, on the planet Asim...
Ed eased back in the chair and sighed happily. "It's good to be the
king.. heheheheh."
Minerva smiled inside his head. {Bribing the owner of a coffee shop with
a 10 kilo sack of Blue Mountain. *virtual headshake* Tsk, tsk. You have NO
shame, boss.}
Ed straightened up, and waved to the waiter. "Another cup, Yusef." {I
know Min, but I just can't help myself. *grin* Besides.. I'd forgotten
just how much an Arabic culture reveres coffee.}
The waiter returned with the coffee, and a small hand-held videophone.
He flipped it open, set it on the table and left.
Ed looked confused, but touched the blinking icon on the small screen.
"Hello?"
The screen brightened with an image of Portmaster Khelad. "Captain
Edwards, I dislike asking you this, as you've helped me so much with my
three inlaws, but I must. To the best of your knowledge, have you done
anything that would have caused you to be wanted by law enforcement agents
anywhere?"
He frowned. "To the best of my knowledge, Ahmad, no, I have not." *At
least in _this_ reality, anyway.* "Is there some problem?"
Khelad nodded. "Officially I do not know of this, you understand, but I
have received an _unofficial_ warning that the 3WA has sent a trouble
consultant team to speak with you. I'm told that they are to attempt to
convince you to come along willingly - but that they WILL bring you to 3WA
headquarters, willing or not."
"Bloody hell." He grimaced. "I figured this would happen, but not so
SOON!"
Khelad looked at him sharply. "If you have done nothing wrong, why is it
that they want you?"
"Ahmad, my friend... if a small, defenseless child walks down a street
in the _unpleasant_ part of town, carrying a large diamond, is that not
tempting fate?"
Khelad nodded. "It is."
"I am of value to certain unscrupulous persons, as is my ship. They seek
to profit from me. The value is such that even goverments feel that the end
justifies the means, and the profit involved is worth the abuse of justice."
"Then you may wish to vacate the cafe, my friend. The 3WA team will be
landing any second, and they will be heading straight for that location, as
my superiors have informed them you frequent it." Khelad paused and looked
around his office in a deliberately absent manner. "Interestingly enough, I
notice you've filed a flight plan. Somehow, in the confusion, it wasn't
mentioned to the TC team. If a person with a properly filed flight plan
were to show up and take off, there wouldn't be any attempts to stop one
until it was much too late to do so safely." He looked off-screen for a
second, and quickly looked back. "They've landed and are disembarking, my
friend. You must GO!" With that, he cut the connection.
Ed rose, throwing a few riyals to the waiter to cover his bill, and
quickly stepped to the exit. *Damnit, I _would_ be on the other side of the
city from the spaceport - and I don't dare to beam back to the ship. Too
many witnesses. That's ALL I'd need.. give the 3WA evidence of working
teleportation. They'd hang on my trail like a leech in order to get their
hands on that sort of tech.*
He walked calmly, knowing that running would simply attract too much
attention. {Min? Were you listening in, as usual?}
{Everything's packed and ready, boss. I started the second the
Portmaster started talking about the 3WA. You _do_ realize which team they
likely sent.}
{I'd have to be three days dead to avoid jumping to the obvious
conclusion, Min. It's us versus the Lovely Angels. And I'm getting a
headache just thinking about it. I'll be at the ship shortly, pretty lady.
I'm taking it slow to avoid notice. Nothing attracts that faster than a
running man in a crowd.}
{Good point, boss. Small problem at this end.. I've been police-taped
off.}
His head snapped up. {Did they board you?!}
{No. There's simply a pair of guards at the entrance to my landing bay,
and yellow police tape across the entrance.} He heard the odd sound she made
when mildly irritated. {You know, we've been to an incredible number of
universes, and _every_ law enforcement organization we've come across uses
that same stupid tape. What IS it with that stuff?}
{Just another of the mysteries of the universe, pretty lady.}
* * *
The Lovely Angels were NOT happy. First the port control officer had
visibly cringed when they mentioned which Trouble Consultant team they were,
then someone used _that_ nickname in their presence. After that, the AIC of
the local station said that the agent he had following Captain Edwards had
been given the slip, but that Edwards MIGHT be at a coffeeshop he'd been
known to frequent over the past two weeks. But they weren't sure. To top
things off, the PCO who'd recognized them had spread the word across the
entire spaceport that the so-called 'Dirty Pair' had arrived, and people
were falling all over themselves and each other, trying desperately to avoid
the visibly irritated duo.
No, the Lovely Angels were not happy.
Kei was rather more vocal about it. "Tell my WHY we have to drive all
the way across the city to pick this guy up. I don't understand why we
simply don't take the 'Lovely Angel' and hover over the coffee shop.
That'll get him to come out!"
Yuri gave her partner a mildly exasperated look. "Asim is a sovereign
planet, Kei. We have to at least LOOK like we're respecting their
sovereignity, or we could cause a diplomatic incident. You know.. like
that little embarrassment with Ukbar?"
Kei grumbled, but assented. Zen looked her way. "Isn't that where you
detroyed an entire city and completely wiped out an entire eco-sphere, if
Zen recalls correctly?" she said in a curious fashion. Kei favored her with
a murderous glare.
"Of course, Zen _could_ be wrong," said Zen nervously. "Zen has been
wrong quite often. Boy, has Zen been wrong on occasion."
The trio extracted a set of airbikes from the hold of their ship, and set
off towards the coffeeshop.
* * *
Fate is often known for it's rather crude sense of humor. The ancient
Terran author Spider Robinson put it best. In one of his novels, he noted
that if you committed a felony, doing so made you a felon. By that same
token, he argued, God was an iron. And that's a hot one.
Not that Mr. Robinson's taste in humor was much better.
If Fate were a person, it would be the sort of person who's addicted to
dribble glasses, whoopee cushions, and those really annoying trick rolls of
untearable toilet paper. Not actually _being_ a person, however, Fate
settles for nasty little cases of people running into each other at the
worst possible time, in the worst possible place. And the harder you tried
to _avoid_ these little meetings Fate chose to arrange, the more inevitable
those meetings became.
Case in point.
* * *
Ed had been keeping to the side streets, avoiding highways and main roads
in the hope of evading any police and/or the expected trouble consultants.
This technique worked excellently for that purpose, but he failed to realize
that other people had similar reasons for staying out of sight.
He'd just rounded a corner, and took a few steps down a minor artery
street when he swore to himself.
"Ha'DIbaH!" *Maybe Khelad WAS right.. perhaps God _has_ abandoned me,*
the thought to himself. Directly in front of him, about 4 blocks down the
street, were Asim's answer to Larry, Darryl and Darryl.
Mahmoud and his two cronies, Aziz and Ismael, were staggering arm in arm
down the street. The building they'd just exited had a sign in arabic
script that took Ed a moment to puzzle out. Then he groaned. *Plums. The
Koran forbids the partaking of many different types of liquor, but it
doesn't say a THING about fermented _plum_ juice. Slivowitz. Plum brandy.
Figures.. leave a loophole, _anywhere_, and someone will take advantage of
it.*
He looked around, and quickly backtracked in order to avoid the drunken
trio. This put him on a major street that had few offshoots. He shrugged,
not having much choice, and headed down it as fast as he could without
attracting undue attention.
This would have been an excellent choice, under other circumstances.
* * *
The Lovely Angels had been informed by the local constabulary that
Captain Edwards had been seen frequenting a local coffee shop, where he
would often play chess with the regulars. The three headed there on their
airbikes, with Kei rather unwillingly obeying the local speed limits.
When they found out that he'd already left, Kei came to what was (for
her) the obvious conclusion.
"We've been ratted out! Someone here told him we were coming!" She shook
the understandably rattled proprieter by the collar, and dropped him into a
chair. "Damn it, someone told him we were coming!"
Yuri tried to calm her down, while Zen carefully brushed off the owner of
the store, and whispered an apology.
"Zen is _very_ sorry about this, sir - Zen's instructors can be very...
irate when things go wrong for them."
The shopkeeper nodded, dazed, while Yuri and Kei questioned the remaining
patrons. Kei's anger only rose when she learned that Captain Edwards had
taken a phonecall at his table, and left immediately thereafter.
"He'll head for his ship. We have to get there before he does!" Kei
exclaimed.
"We've already asked the local police to tape off the ship and hold him
at the gate, Kei.. what more do we need?" asked Yuri.
Kei looked at her partner as if she had lost her senses. "_I_ wouldn't
let that stop me if I were him. Especially with the Keystone Cops that this
jerkwater planet uses for police."
Yuri reluctantly concured. "Let's see if we can't catch him before he
reaches the spaceport. If we're lucky, we might still manage to persuade
him to come along with us willingly."
Zen sighed. "Why does Zen feel this is only going to get worse?" Then
she followed her partners out to the waiting airbikes.
* * *
"Damn," muttered Ed. The street ended in a large public square that was
filled with midmorning shoppers. "I'll never get through this. I'd better
back up a block or two and go around."
He turned right, heading in that direction for a block. This put him on
a four-lane street, but time was passing quickly and he didn't have much
choice. He looked at his chronograph nervously. There was an odd whine
behind him that seemed strangely familiar.
"Hey, you! Stupid! Get out of the way!" shouted a feminine voice.
He stepped to one side just in time to see three women on airbikes shoot
past him, barely missing him. "Damn women drivers!" he retorted. "If you
can't learn how to drive right, you shouldn't drive at all!"
Two of the bikes jerked to a sudden halt, followed more carefully by the
third. They they all turned around to face him.
* * *
Yuri was exceeding the posted speed limit. Not that she wanted to, but
it was the only way to keep up with Kei. Her partner was so eager to make
this bust, _Yuri_ could taste it. *For the first time we have a case where
we WON'T cause a major disaster, and Kei's likely to ruin it because she
wants to lose the lousy name we've picked up over the years.* She didn't
even allow herself to _think_ of those other two words people called them
behind their back... and all too often, to their face.
That was when a pedestrian stepped out into the street a few hundred
meters in front of them. Kei shouted, "Hey, you! Stupid! Get out of the
way!" They shot past him without looking back, until he responded with his
insult about 'woman drivers'. That was the last straw on Kei's back. She
screeched to a halt, and spun around on her bike to face the obnoxious man.
* * *
"IT'S YOU!" came out in three-part harmony.
Zen merely groaned. Even Carl Macek could have told that _this_ was NOT
a good thing.
Ed was thinking pretty much along the same lines. {Min? I suggest you
impersonate me to the tower, take off, and meet me mid-city. It _just_ hit
the fan.}
The ACI eeped quietly. {Decision noted, execution proceeds.} She refused
to bother him further, concluding correctly that he was about to become
_very_ busy in a few seconds.
Kei smiled. *He just dropped right into my lap! Thank you, god!
Something _finally_ went right!* She dismounted her bike and slowly
approached him, holding up her ID folder. "Captain Anthony Edwards, I am
Trouble Consultant Kei, and you are wanted for questioning in regards to the
possession of proscribed technology. This is not an arrest, and we would
prefer that you come willingly." She smiled sweetly. "Of course, if you do
not, then we'll be perfectly _happy_ to subdue you forcibly."
Ed stared back at the happy red-head. "Little girl, if you think you can
take me, you're welcome to try. But Hell's going to host the Winter
Olympics before I let the Central Computer get its conniving circuits on
ANYTHING I own."
Yuri groaned. *Well, there goes Asim. And like always, it won't be _our_
fault, yet everyone will blame us anyway.* She loosened her Electro-Mag in
her holster, and moved in to support her partner, Zen following close
behind. *Maybe we can make this quick and minimize the damages.*
"Please, Captain Edwards, don't make this difficult," she asked. "Can't
you simply come along and answer a few questions? I'm certain the CC
doesn't want anything more than to know where you acquired your ship, and
will be happy to see you on your way once it has a few answers."
He took a step backwards and braced himself. "I'm sorry.. Yuri, isn't
it?" He looked at the redhead behind her. "I'm afraid I don't know your
friend there. But I'm not about to go with you." He raised both fists. "So
you'd best be ready to make a fight of this."
Both women leveled their pistols at him, aiming for his legs. "I don't
think it will come to that, will it Captain?" smiled Kei.
To their surprise, he charged them, shouting at the top of his voice,
"SAOTOME SCHOOL OF ANYTHING GOES MARTIAL ARTS SECRET TECHNIQUE!"
Zen's jaw dropped as, with a mighty leap, Edwards bounded OVER them to
the top of a nearby building and continued to jump from rooftop to rooftop,
heading in the general direction of the spaceport.
Her head turned to follow him in his flight. "Zen does _NOT_ believe
this. Zen does _NOT_ believe this. Zen does _NOT_ believe this," she
whispered to herself. Kei grabbed by the shoulder and shook her.
"What the hell are you whispering about, Zen? We have to follow him!"
Kei said harshly. Zen simply mounted her airbike in a state of confusion and
followed the other two trouble consultants.
* * *
Ed bounced from building to building in traditional Takahashi fashion -
his form would have rated a 9.5 from everyone save Ranma himself, who
probably would have given him an 7. Although Kuno Kodachi might have given
him an 8.
{Where are the Angels, pretty lady? And for that matter.. where are
_you_?}
{Kei, Yuri, and whoever that other red-head is, are about 900 meters
behind you, boss. And they are riding hell for leather after you. Nice
design on those bikes actually, I should pinch the plans. And I'm five
kilometers and closing, boss.. I have you locked. If you can find a spot
where you won't be seen, I can beam you straight aboard.}
Ed took a quick look around. He was currently running across the top of
a largish skyscraper, one that looked like a standard issue office building.
Twisting his head, he tried to spot.. THERE! An ventilation hood for the
building's air conditioning system. He dashed up to it and leapt inside.
sliding through the ventilation shafts. {Try it now, Min.}
He felt the transporter effect take hold, and a fraction of a second
later he was standing on the main transporter pad aboard the Calypso.
"Status, pretty lady?"
"The Angels are trying to close off the building. I think they believe
you to still be inside the AC system. Otherwise, everything's all right for
the moment." She paused suddenly. "Correction.. someone at the spaceport
just saw fit to alert them that I've taken off. Since I used your image on
the screen, they're trying to tell the Angels that you've already escaped,
in hopes of holding down the property damage." She cocked her head to one
side. "And.. yes. The Angels are responding.. Kei is telling the man in
the tower that he's a.. Oh, my!" The ACI blushed. "I'll have to remember
_that_ word. It might prove useful later on."
Ed raised an eyebrow. "Worse than what I called C'thulu?"
Minerva shrugged. "Not _that_ bad. I'd call it.. interesting. Ms.
Kei seems to have something of a temper."
"Oh, now this I've got to hear. But later on. Let's get outsystem NOW,
girl." He stepped off the pad and headed for the bridge. "I want all
non-lethal, ship-disabling weapons brought up to full readiness. If that
man at the port convinces them I really AM up here, they're going to head
for the 'Lovely Angel' and be after us faster than you can say 'there goes
the neighborhood. And I want to be able to stop them without having to kill
them."
* * *
Zen listened in on the conversation Kei was having with the appreciation
of a devoted amature for a true professional. Kei was busy describing the
ancestry, personal and sexual habits, and probable destination after death
of most of the staff at the Asim spaceport. And she was doing so with
enough volume that Zen could hear her despite the fact that they were
currently rushing towards said spaceport at just under 100 kph.
"...and if I have my way, I'll see that NONE of you _ever_ hold a job
higher than pen sweepers on a PIG FARM!" She let out a screech of pure
frustration, and broke the connection with a stab of her finger. By then,
the three has reached the docking bay where the Lovely Angel was currently
residing, so they swooped down, stored the bikes as fast as possible, and
rushed through the liftoff checklist.
"Do you have him, Yuri?" asked Kei.
Yuri nodded, her hands sweeping over the console. "The local tracking
systems have him, but I don't understand what I'm getting. He's headed out
of the Asim system, all right, but his course doesn't make any sense. It
doesn't intersect with ANYTHING. No systems, no deep space stations, no
known ships, _nothing_. He's headed right out into the interglactic void."
Kei growled. "I still can't figure how he got from that building to his
ship without us seeing him. And those idiots at the port were insisting
that he was talking with them and going through take-off proceedures with
them while we were still _chasing_ him, for Eris' sake!" She turned to look
at the other red-head in the ship. "And what's wrong with _you_, Zen?
You've been out of it ever since we ran into Edwards. You look like you
just saw a ghost."
"Zen thinks that perhaps Zen _has_," muttered Zen. "Or at least a shadow
of things past."
Kei frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"Zen will tell you once we are in orbit, Kei. Zen could be wrong, and
doesn't wish to waste time."
Kei frowned further, but didn't push it.
* * *
"We've left them behind, b'wana. Even without using Burroughs Drive,
they'll never be able to catch up with us."
"Thank goodness," said Ed, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.
"Safe all weapons and stand down readiness status." He paused. "But how in
all the hells are we supposed to find out why I'm here? Now that the 3WA is
actively looking for me, my face will likely end up plastered on wanted
posters from one end of the Galaxy to the other."
"Same as always, boss. I disguise you, we enter a system under cloak,
and I jack into the nets and start searching for anything that seems
appropriate, or looks suspicious enough. And while we wait, you find
something entertaining to do."
He looked at her, one eyebrow about to crawl right up into his hairline.
"Correct me if I'm mistaken, Min, but every time we've done that, we've
managed to get involved in local affairs. And the excrement usually hits
the rotorary cooling device shortly thereafter."
She shrugged. "Whatever works. Why break up a winning streak?"
He stared at her for a long moment, then broke up completely. When he
finally managed to get his laughter under control, he nodded. "Why not,
indeed. All right, pretty lady - let's find a hideout and start looking
around."
* * *
The 'Lovely Angel' was in deep space just outside the Asim system,
casting about for any trace of the missing 'Calypso'. Muhgi was at the
controls. This was because Kei and Yuri were busy doing something in the
main cabin that they considered MUCH more important. And a lot of fun, as
well.
"Spill it, Zen-chan.. We SAW your face. You _know_ something about the
guy, don't you?" Kei approached the reluctant cadet slowly, backing her into
a corner. To Zen's discomfort, Yuri was backing Kei up on this, bracketing
her.
"Zen surrenders. Zen will tell all...or at least all that Zen knows.
But can we please sit down and have something to drink? Zen is THIRSTY!"
A few minutes later, they were all sitting down to their favorite drinks,
and Zen was staring at her root beer as if she feared the liquid would leap
from the glass and attack her.
"So?" said Yuri. "Give."
"You heard what Captain Edwards shouted when he charged us, didn't you?"
The Angels both nodded. "So he shouts some ridiculous named attack like
some of the loonier martial artists do, and charges us," said Kei. "Big
deal."
Zen's eyebrows came together. "That was not just ANY attack, that was a
technique from the Saotome School of Anything Goes Martial Arts, Kei. The
Saotome _secret_ technique. Namely, run away and think up a plan for later.
Don't you realize what that means? You should, seeing as Zen has _you_ to
thank for Zen's current condition."
Yuri was the first to put it together. "Saotome.. as in Saotome _Ranma_!"
"Yes," replied Zen. "As in Ranma. And how many people in _this_ reality
are familiar with the anime and manga, 'Ranma 1/2'? There is Zen herself;
there are the two of you, as you MET with Ranma in order to acquire a bucket
of Nyannichuan; and there are Zen's superiors in the 3WA who have studied
Zen's.. ability, and have heard Zen's story. And that is about it."
Kei still looked a little lost. "What's that got to do with it? So he
learned about you, and decided to.. no, wait.. that doesn't fit.."
"Zen has come to the obvious conclusion, Kei, and from the look on Yuri's
face, Zen believes she has too. Captain Edwards isn't from this reality,
anymore than Zen is. Captain Edwards is a cross-time traveler, just like
Zen. And possibly much worse."
Yuri thought about that for a moment. "An author, you mean." From her
tone, it _wasn't_ a question.
Zen nodded. "And Zen is begining to suspect that it might be someone from
Zen's world, an author from the mailing list. Why else would the Central
Computer insist that Zen has had previous experience with Captain Edwards?"
"Good point," agreed Yuri. "Which means no chores for you tonight, Zen.
But LOTS of caffeine. You're going to spend tonight trying to remember
which author it might be, and if he was involved in the war, and what he (or
possibly she, if Team Ranma got to 'em) might have in the way of offensive
and defensive power. Then, after you get a few hours sleep, you're going to
write up a report on Captain Edwards, which we will sign off on and forward
to the CC."
Zen nodded her assent. "Zen is thinking that this is going to be a MUCH
messier case than _anyone_ thought possible."
Kei, who'd been listening to the exchange, looked glum. "I thought this
was going to be the one case where we'd get a break. It's not _fair_.
Everything is starting to go wrong and it's.."
Yuri and Zen chimed in together, "..not our _FAULT_!!" Kei gave them both
an irritated look. "Well, it _isn't_!" she grumbled.
***********************************
Planet Repose.
New Galactic Catalog M99G3/3, Type M ecology.
(Earth normal, Human habitable)
Gravity 0.87 G. Climate ranges from tropical to sub-arctic. Native
animals are Paleocene equivalent, and pose little danger to humans.
Located in a globular cluster just outside the main galactic body, it is
exceptionally remote.
Status: Currently privately owned by Club Galactica as a resort planet.
End of file.
* * *
"Sounds like a nice place, Min."
"But it's a glorified Club Med, boss! A place for media-made frauds and
worthless leeches fat with inherited wealth. Don't you realize that there
will be dozens of papparatzi all over the place?" The ACI was aghast.
"You'll be spotted in seconds."
Ed shook his head. "Min, as all the best ones insist, sometimes the
perfect place to hide is in plain sight. Those annoying little shutterbugs
will be looking for holostars and mega-millionaires. All I have to do is
_give_ them one." He laughed. "They'll be so busy trying to figure out
WHICH incredibly wealthy person I am, they won't even THINK that I might be
someone on the run from the 3WA."
Minerva pursed her lips thoughtfully. "True.. it goes so much against
common sense, it would work. It would be the last thing they expect."
He nodded. "Set course for Repose, and keep me informed. Jump directly
there. No sense in wasting time, since we don't have a passenger on board
that needs to be kept in the dark." A small grin crept over his face. "I
always DID want to be one of the idle rich, pretty lady, even if it's only
for a little while."
She shook her head ruefully. "Boss, sometimes I wonder about you..."
He chuckled. "I never _claimed_ to be sane, Min."
* * *
Kei shook her head in disbelief. "You can't tell me that Edwards will
actually show UP at this place. It's ridiculous."
Yuri frowned slightly. "Actually, it makes sense. It IS the last place
anyone would expect him to head for, and if he has enough cash, it's a
hideout with luxury." She pawed through a folder. "According to this report
by Deitrich, Edwards _did_ claim to be independantly wealthy. And he was
headed in that general direction."
Zen nodded, her eyes red and bleary from too much caffeine and too little
sleep. "Zen has coallated everything the CC has seen fit to send us about
Captain Edwards. Which, admittedly, isn't much, even including the file the
young man gave us before we left headquarters. CC does insist that he does
have a habit of doing the unexpected. And this seems to fit that profile,
in Zen's opinion."
Kei sighed. "You _do_ realize it's a two week trip to Repose. The
damned planet isn't even in the galaxy, really. It's in one of those little
star clouds floating around outside the Milky Way."
"They're called globular clusters, actually," offered Zen helpfully. Kei
merely gave her a nasty look.
"Anyway, it's a LONG trip, so we'd better get underway now," said Yuri.
"Sooner we get started, sooner we'll get there." She looked over at Zen.
"Go get some sleep, Zen. You've earned it."
The short redhead nodded, and staggered off to her bunk, muttering
something about soaking a certain unprintably qualified [CENSORED] [DELETED]
computer in water from a certain Chinese spring...
***********************************
"Money you know will hide many faults."
- Cervantes, _Don Quixote_
"Ready money is Aladdin's lamp."
- Lord Byron, _Don Juan_
Minerva had slipped him into Repose with documents that looked
_carefully_ false, in a specific, calculated manner. The clerk taking
the reservations at the Croessus Hotel looked at them, smiled, nodded
knowingly, and accepted his rather large cash deposit. The concierge bowed
from the waist, and lead him to a mid-level room with a large terraced
balcony that had a lovely mountain view.
Ed smiled, and slipped the grey haired man a thousand credit note. "I'll
be rather busy writing, my friend. And it's a matter of some importance
that what I write, and what I research FOR that writing, not fall into the
hands of the members of the fourth estate. That's the only privacy I
absolutely need. As for the papparatzi.. I don't care about their
cameras, so keeping them at arms's length is all I need in that regard."
The majordomo smiled, and the bill vanished with the skill and speed of a
professional conjuror. "An expensive request, sir, but one I am quite
confident the staff of the Croessus can provide. Am I to assume you will
need a wide-bandwith connection?"
When Ed nodded, the concierge snapped his fingers and a young man
scurried up. Ed watched, interested. When the younger man left, he
addressed the concierge. "And you are?"
"Bailey, sir. Simply ask for Bailey."
"Well, Bailey, I'm not as adept at handling the help as I should be. I
trust you will.. remind me of the proper etiquette."
Bailey turned his head to one side and made an odd face, lips pressed
together. "It takes a certain courage to admit that, sir - a courage rarely
found among today's nouveau riche." He smiled. "I shall endevour to provide
satisfaction, sir."
* * *
A week went by, with Min quietly riffling through Repose's planetary
databanks, while Ed covered for her with random searches that were for his
'writing'. To their surprise, those databanks were much larger than
expected. It seemed that while the rich and famous might want to get away
from it all, they didn't want to get TOO far away.
Unfortunately, despite all of their searches, they seemed to be getting
nowhere at warp speed.
"Damn!" Ed threw a stylus at the wall. "I feel like an idiot.. no, an
idiot fetus! A lemur trying to understand a fusion reactor. What is
_wrong_ here? All the news that's fit to print in this reality at our
fingertips, and I can't find ANYTHING that even remotely feels like the
reason we're here!"
"Calmly, boss. You won't get anywhere throwing a temper tantrum,"
cautioned Minerva. "Perhaps you need a break?" She hmmm'ed quietly to
herself for a moment. "There's an excellent german theme'd restaurant near
the hotel."
"How excellent is excellent?" he asked.
"Five stars by Cordon Bleu standards," replied the ACI.
"That'll do. You're right. We BOTH need to take a break. Get dressed,
pretty lady... I'm taking you out for the night!"
He tapped the intercom button and explained his plans for the night to
Bailey. In less than fifteen minutes, the concierge had arranged a table at
the restaurant, tickets to a local show, and a limo with driver.
Several hours later, they'd both eaten their fill of some truly amazing
gastronomical delights, seen an excellent production of 'My Fair Lady' and
enjoyed a quiet and peacefull walk in the hotel gardens.
"All in all, this was a good night, Min. You're right. I should take
more time to relax."
"You've said that thousands of times, boss.. but you never do."
"Thousands?"
Minerva smirked. "Would you like a playback? At 60 to 1 audio
compression, it should only take about ten hours."
He looked at her, taken aback. "Ahh... no, thank you. I'll take your
word for it on this one."
She smiled and patted his hand. "Good boy."
He looked up at the starry sky in a thoughtful manner. "I wonder how the
Lovely Angels are doing?"
* * *
Kei approached the Lovely Angel's replicator with a large and extremely
heavy wrench in her hand and a wild look in her eyes. "I have had ENOUGH
Boston baked beans with onions and hot dogs. This stupid machine DIES NOW!"
Yuri grabbed her from behind, holding her back. "Do you want to starve?
Or even worse, live for a week on space rations!?"
That thought gave even the livid Kei pause, and Zen came running up, a
PADD in one hand and some computer interface probes in the other. Nanmo was
following close behind her. "Zen can fix this, Kei. Zen is _certain_.
Just give Zen a few hours."
Kei waved the wrench around a few more times, but her heart wasn't really
in it now. The thought of eating space rations from now until the moment
they reached Repose had sapped most of her resolve. Not to mention
nauseating her severely. "I'm just sick and tired of this stupid machine
changing every order I make into _baked beans_!" She whirled and stabbed the
wrench in Zen's direction. "You have six hours. Then this piece of junk is
gonna get recycled, by Electro-mag Incorporated! And you go with it! You
got that?"
Zen set right to work, looking back over her shoulder at Kei. "Zen will
get it right. Trust Zen. She is just as tired of baked beans as you are."
Kei snorted. "Why? It's been changing _your_ orders to Fish and Chips,
British style."
"That is not what Zen said. Zen said she was tired of beans; she did not
say that she was tired of _eating_ beans."
"Huh?" Kei said in a confused manner.
"Zen has been performing _other_ maintinance, Kei. Just ask Yuri."
Yuri nodded, trying to keep from laughing. "Kei.. Zen's been working on
the air ionizers and atmosphere filters."
"Why?"
Yuri shrugged in a rather Gallic fashion, and whispered something in her
partner's ear. Kei proceeded to blush a brilliant carmine. Then she shot a
dirty look at both Yuri and Zen and stomped off to her cabin.
The corners of Zen's mouth twitched slightly. "Beans, beans, good for
your heart. The more you eat..."
Yuri snickered. "Don't _GO_ there, Zen. Remember, Kei has a gun."
"Zen knows, Yuri.. Zen _knows_," Zen-chan giggled back, and returned to
working on the galley replicator with Nanmo.
* * *
"Oh, they're probably just relaxing aboard their ship, boss; resting,
relaxing and preparing to confront us."
"True. You're right.. they're probably taking it easy just like we are.
I do feel sorry for them, though. They'll get here and we'll be gone.
Pity. It's a nice world. I'm enjoying the stay, and I'll hate to cut it
short."
"We still have a week left," smiled Minerva. "They won't arrive before
then. So enjoy the time you have, b'wana."
Ed smiled, and they headed back to the hotel.
* * *
The passenger liner Stellar Queen was famous for treating its passengers
with a level of luxury that hadn't been seen since the days of the lost
Titanic. Luxury that was well paid for, too. A ticket aboard the Stellar
Queen cost as much as some people made in an entire year of hard labor.
Right now, the Stellar Queen was making its scheduled trip to the resort
world of Repose, and the passengers were enjoying themselves immensely. Men
of wealth and power were taking their ease in the club, enjoying brandy and
cigars. A cigarette girl was making the rounds of the club, dressed in the
traditionally skimpy costume (a fashion that would have made even Kei and
Yuri blush) and chanting "Cigars? Cigarettes? Cigars? Cigarettes?"
A young man in a snappy Italian silk suit waved her over. "I'll have a
Presidente, sweet thing." He paid her for the cigar, and pinched her bottom
when she turned to leave. She squealed and hopped straight up, making a
small indignant noise as she rubbed her rump. "Really!" she humphed.
The man smiled, and lit the cigar. His light brown eyes (one would
almost swear they were bronze, or gold) twinkled. "The boy may be young.
He may be stubborn. He may be foolish. But at least he'd got ONE thing
right. It IS good to be the king." He took a deep drag from the cigar and
looked over at the wall clock. "Looks like I'll arrive just in time to see
the Lovely Angels get there." He rubbed his hands together. "This is going
to be SUCH fun. I just love to see the sparks fly!"
***********************************
"If everybody minded their own business, the world would go around a
great deal faster"
- The Duchess, "Through the Looking Glass"
"Talking much about oneself can also be a means to conceal oneself."
- Friedrich Nietzsche
Money can be a more powerful force than most people realize. Too many
people simply assume that the having of money means that you can purchase
things. Nothing could be further from the truth.
Alexis Gilliland said it best...
"Money spent to buy a dinner is different from money spent to buy a
house. Snow thrown as a snowball is different from snow shoveled
laboriously out of the driveway. Money, en masse, acquires singular
properties, as snow, blowing through the air in cold crystalline flakes, may
in time be transmuted to spring floods, or, if the climate is right, to the
ponderous and inexorable glacier."
After a certain point is reached, money acquires a certain hypnotic power
that some people cannot resist. Even when they have what others might
believe is more than enough, they feel a mysterious pull to acquire more and
more.
The problem with this is that money is a form of power. And as Lord
Acton said long ago, "Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely."
It can also make you do _really_ stupid things to try to get your hands
on it.
* * *
{Boss, wake up. We have a visitor}
{snortz.. snarf.. uhh.. huh?}
Somewhere in cyberspace, Minerva put her hands on her hips and gave vent
to a little snort of frustration. {WAKE UP, BOSS!}
Ed shot straight up in bed. {I'M AWAKE I'M AWAKE!}
{Good. Now.. we have a snoop in the hotel room. The maid came in with a
mop, a bucket, cleaning rags - and a very tiny video camera hidden in a
broach.}
He pulled on some jeans and a t-shirt and walked barefoot into the parlor
where the maid was dusting. She spotted him and caroled "Hello, sir!"
He stalked over and crushed the broach with one hand, grabbing her with
the other. "Who do you work for? Jordan? Quincy? Heimdahl? Tal Shiar?
The 3WA?" He shook her by the collar of her maid's uniform. "WHO? Answer
me!" he roared.
The short blond woman gurgled, unable to speak thanks to the violent
shaking. "I-I-I-I.."
{Boss.. she _can't_ talk unless you calm down and stop treating her like
a cheap rag doll. She's probably just a..}
{STAY OUT OF THIS, MIN!} he snapped. He thrust the spurious maid towards
a chair, almost throwing her across the room. "You have two choices. Talk
or die. Choose now."
"I - I bribed the real maid to let me come up to your room. I thought I
could find something to sell to the Galactic Inquirer," the young woman
babbled nervously. "The way the staff of the Croessus has been keeping
reporters away from you, you HAVE to be someone they'd want on page one."
"A lousy _reporter_?! That's what you are?" Ed smacked himself on the
forehead. "I don't believe this.. Of all the things that _could_ have
happened, _I_ get a damned Lois Lane wanna-be!"
"Lois who? Who's that?" asked the faux maid. He speared her with a
furious glance, and stepped over to the desk, reaching for the phone. He
was about to punch the button that connected directly to the concierge's
desk when the woman shouted "Wait!"
"Why should I?" he growled.
"Uhh.. because I deserve a break?"
"_Wrong_ answer, Miss Snoop." He stabbed at the button, and Bailey
answered after the second ring.
"May I help you, sir?" inquired the urbane voice.
"Bailey, you have a small security problem," said Ed. "Specifically, a
maid who took a bribe. I happen to have a reporter in my room whom I caught
searching it for material she could sell to the gossip sheets."
Bailey's voice grew noticably cooler. "It shall be taken care of
promptly, sir. Do you have any _specific_ desires as to HOW it should be
done?"
"If you're suggesting what I think you are, Bailey, no. I don't _believe_
this little thief got anything of importance, and right now, her camera is
busy impersonating a pile of crushed junk. Simply remove her, strip-search
her for anything I might have missed, and do whatever it is you normally do
to snoopy little reporters who intrude."
"Very good, sir."
Ed hung up, and turned back to the young girl. "I'm not always as stupid
as I look, girl. Nobody _could_ be. It had to take a lot of money to get a
maid working _here_ to risk her job. Something a reporter just starting off
in the business wouldn't have. Where'd you get it?" He frowned. "And
what's your name? I can't keep calling you 'girl'."
"Lara," she muttered. "Lara Bartram. And I got the money as an advance
from the local office of the Inquirer. They couldn't find anyone else who
was willing to try to slip past this hotel's security. I was a fairly close
match for the maid I bribed. So they advanced me the cash."
"Too bad for you, Lara. You wanted to be a reporter, and this is how
they're treated on occasion. I suggest you apply to the 3WA academy. You
appear to have the same aptitude for disaster that they seem to look for in
their Trouble Consultant teams." He laughed harshly. "You could even end up
as famous as the Lovely Angels team."
She blanched. "No! Never that! I'll confess. I'll tell the police
everything! Just don't make me join the 3WA!"
About then there was a polite knock on the door, announcing the arrival
of hotel security. Three rather.. striking women came into the room and took
charge of Ms. Bartram. Their leader bowed to Ed.
"We _are_ quite sorry about this, sir. It will NOT happen again."
He eyed the leader of the three. While still pleasant to look upon, she
was a woman whose physique reminded him strongly of Mari from 'Project:
A-ko'.
"Simply make certain she didn't take or copy anything," he sighed. "If
you find anything, destroy it. No need to jail her. Just.. get her out of
here."
"Sir! Yes, sir!" The leader turned swiftly towards the door, her two
assistants frog-marching the would-be reporter with them.
After they left, Minerva re-entered the room. She gazed at him coolly.
"Why?"
"Why what, Min?"
"Why _that_!" she snapped, to his surprise. "Didn't you even LISTEN to
yourself?! We left Heimdahl behind us years ago. Jordan wouldn't spy on
you, he'd show up and challange you to your face. And Quincy? Don't make
me laugh. He couldn't have followed us here, and wouldn't have if he could.
Grudges are bad for business, there's no profit in them. That's his belief.
None of them are here. There wasn't any _need_ to crush that girl the way
you did. Why did you do it? It was totally uncalled for!"
"Because I _felt_ like it, all right? And just where do you get off
questioning my actions OR my motives?" he retorted.
She flinched back as though he'd slapped her. "That's my _job_! I was
_incepted_ for that very purpose. It's the reason I exist! And I can no
more stop living that way than you can stop looking for your family, damn
you!" She spun on one heel, her black skirt twirling around her, and
vanished in a shimmer of light.
He stepped back in surprise and sank into a nearby armchair. "Min?
Minerva? Minerva? Answer me!"
There was only an empty silence.
***********************************
Personal Log: Entry 68, Year 26.
I've behaved like a jackass before. God knows I've done it often enough
to have plenty of practice at it. But this time I fear I've gone much too
far.
I've offended Min.
She's always been there by my side. Loyal, cheerful, uncomplaining,
always faithful. Totally reliable. Dependable. Strong. The perfect
companion. Kasumi Tendo with an attitude.
It's been about 26 years since the day I first met her, there at the New
Avalon spaceport, and I've often seen her angry. But this is the first time
I've ever seen her angry at _me_.
And I don't even understand why I was so upset with that reporter. Min
was right - I _was_ out of line. I could have cheerfully crushed her throat
without a second thought. What is wrong with me?
I'm afraid. Afraid that I'm being subsumed by this reality. Becoming a
part of it. Accepting those axioms and tenets which it is based upon.
That's never really happened to me before. The closest I've ever come to
that happening before was when I first awoke in the reality that Megazone
and Gryphon had created. And that was because that particular reality felt
so much like my home.
For all it's inherent humor, this isn't a peaceful reality. If it was,
there wouldn't be any need for the 3WA. I'd never led a peaceful life...
could that be why I seem to be fitting in so frighteningly well?
And if I am... what _sort_ of character has this reality decided that
I'm best fitted for?
That, as the Bard would say, is the question.
But will I really want to know the answer?
End Log Entry 68, Year 26.
***********************************
Yuri trotted down the companionway towards the cockpit of the 'Lovely
Angel', eager to see the incoming communique from Repose. When she got
there, she found that Zen and Kei had already arrived. Kei had the sheet in
her grip and was grinning widely. She waved it wildly at Yuri, almost
putting out one of Muhgi's eyes.
"Great news!" she crowed. "Those goofballs in the 'Galactic Inquirer'
folded like a bad poker hand. They sent some of their expendable reporter
wanna-be's around to the various hotels on Repose, and one of them found
Edwards!"
Yuri raised an eyebrow. "That actually _worked_?!" she said, astonished.
"That had to be the least likely way of finding someone that I've ever heard
of!"
Kei smirked. "You're just jealous because _I_ thought of it first."
"No," replied Yuri. "I'm still amazed that Goulet actually approved it.
I thought he'd kill that plan just like he killed off your idea of
carpet-bombing Repose in order to force Edwards out of hiding."
"That would have _worked_!" pouted Kei. "There wouldn't have been THAT
many civilian casualties..."
Zen groaned. "Kei, even ONE casualty is too many. Zen thought you
wanted to LOSE the name.."
Both women looked at her and snarled in unison, "Don't SAY it!"
Zen gave them both a nasty look. "Zen is not stupid. She didn't say it,
and didn't plan on saying it. But Zen would STILL like to remind everyone
that Kei is being MUCH too hostile. The Commisioner gave us orders, Kei.
We're to bring in Edwards ALIVE and COOPERATIVE," she pointed out. "Trying
to kill him is not exactly something that will make him feel kindly inclined
towards us OR the 3WA."
"I am NOT being too hostile!" yelled the angry red-head. "I am NOT being
too hostile, I am NOT!" She hammered her fist on the arm of the co-pilot's
seat. To her embarrassment, on the fourth blow, the arm snapped off with a
loud CRACK. Yuri simply pointed at the broken arm-rest, and Kei flushed.
"I'm NOT violent! I'm just.. strong-willed. Forceful. Determined.
That's all." She slapped the fax sheet down on a console and stalked out of
the cockpit.
"She's still pissed that he got away from us so easily," sighed Yuri.
"Sometimes I think she's more concerned with winning than she is with
getting a better reputation."
"She's taking it personally, Yuri," nodded Zen. "But that's what makes
the two of you such a great team. If you didn't take each case as a
personal challenge, Zen doubts that you'd be as successful. It's a part of
what you are. And _who_ you are."
Yuri looked at her gratefully. "Thank you, Zen."
"No problem," shrugged Zen. "Now, let's go have something to eat. Zen
feels like a root-beer float."
"That's funny," giggled Yuri, "you certainly don't _look_ like one."
* * *
The staff of the Croessus tipptoed carefully when they had to use the
hall that passed by Edward's suite. Anyone who could possibly avoid having
to use it, did so. All the lights were off, but they knew he was there. A
maid who hadn't gotten the word had tapped at the door, asking if he wanted
the room cleaned.
His reply was a silver tray thrown so hard, it blasted through the door
and embedded itself six inches deep in the opposite wall. Fortunately, the
maid was uninjured, and Bailey simply added the cost of the tray and the
building repairs to the bill.
He sat alone in the dark room for what seemed like hours, then rose and
made his way down to the concierge's desk.
"Bailey?"
"Yes, sir?" Bailey replied, carefully controlling his voice. As the
concierge of the best hotel on Repose (and therefore, arguably one of the
best in the galaxy) he'd often seen furious people, but he'd thought the
phrase 'black with anger' was simply that, a phrase. He was dimly surprised
to see that in Mr Edwards' case, so much blood had suffused his face, the
skin had turned a deep purplish black. He was reminded of the old term,
'choler'.
"Is there a shooting range anywhere on this world, Bailey?"
The concierge looked at him thoughtfully. "If I might take the liberty,
sir?"
When Ed nodded, Bailey tapped at his keyboard, and a small printer spit
out a curl of paper. "Give them this and inform them I sent you. I'll
summon a driver to take you there. Shall we expect you back anytime soon?"
"Perhaps tonight." Ed turned to go, then stopped and looked back at the
concierge. "Bailey?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Thank you."
* * *
"Will you ever ease the pain tears won't take away?"
- Prisilla S. Asagiri, 2033 AD.
The out of the way building the driver took him to was a low and thickly
constructed one. It vaguely reminded him of the old nazi artillery bunkers
he'd once seen on the cliffs that overlooked the French side of the English
Channel. Showing the paper as Baily had instructed resulted in his being
admitted promptly.
The large square man behind the desk smiled when Ed mentioned Bailey's
name, and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"You wouldn't be here unless Jonathan thought you needed it. And you
look like someone who'd like to take his anger out on something. Any
preferences?"
Ed paused for a long moment. "Can you do an interactive targeting
enviroment?"
"Targets shooting back?" The man cocked his head. "I can. But are you
sure you want that? It isn't the healthiest thing for someone in your state
of mind."
"I'll consider myself duly warned."
"Then sign this waiver."
Ed scribbled a illegible signature on the paper, and was led into a
heavily shielded room. The thick walls were covered with sound absorbing
tiles and shimmered with inertial damping fields. The floor beneath his
feet was similarly re-enforced. A small war could be fought here, and
people standing outside the room would never know it had occured.
"Any choice in targets?" asked the proprietor.
A muscle in Ed's face twitched slightly. "Human, interactive, armed.
Make them look like this." He reached for his wallet and pulled out a small
chip with an embedded hologram.
The square man looked at the image of a gaunt, rail-thin man with an
unkempt mop of bowl-cut hair and a lab coat. He shrugged. "You're paying
for it. What weapon would you like to use?"
"You're supposed to have almost anything, right? Then this one." He
scribbled a name on a desk pad.
The owner nodded again, and a few minutes later, an assistant rolled a
cart into the room with the weapon in question and a large supply of
ammunition.
"Do you want to start now?
Ed paused for a moment. "Do me a favor."
"Yes?"
He dug in his pocket and pulled out a small data crystal. "When you
start up the simulation, play this for me."
The owner and his assistant look at the label, then at him. "You're
paying for it. Your funeral."
* * *
I kept racing down the stormy highway, searching
for the whereabouts of my interrupted dream,
letting all my lies and bitter illusions
blow off my back, with the wind.
We're all just lonely hearts in the big city,
everyone a child lost in love.
Day by day in the big city,
tears only aggravate thoughts that won't rest.
Tonight... "Hurricane"
...I want... "Hurricane"
...to tell you I love you.
Tonight... "Hurricane"
...touch me... "Hurricane"
...like you mean it.
"Touch!" "Give me Touch!"
I cannot share the pain in your heart
with darting words that merely placate.
I want you to tell me what it is
that makes your eyes cloud over.
In the big city, our hearts are all torn and tattered,
and we're tired of dancing around each other at night,
so in the big city's empty days,
we waited anxiously for a little warmth.
Tonight... "Hurricane"
...I want... "Hurricane"
...to tell you I love you.
Tonight... "Hurricane"
...I want... "Hurricane"
...to hold you once more.
"Touch!" "Burning Touch!"
We're all just lonely hearts in the big city,
everyone a child lost in love.
Day by day in the big city,
tears only aggravate thoughts that won't rest.
Tonight... "Hurricane"
...I want... "Hurricane"
...to tell you I love you.
Tonight... "Hurricane"
...I want... "Hurricane"
...to hold you once more.
"Touch!" "Burning Touch!"
"Give Me Touch!"
"Burning Touch!"
* * *
The rolling thunder of the full automatic machine shotgun filled the room
and despite the soundproofed walls and the active counter-sonic projectors,
it leaked into the hallway and down to the front desk where it could be
faintly heard.
The assistant shivered just a little. "You know, I'd _really_ hate to be
the fool in that picture... who_ever_ he is, he's managed to seriously piss
off that guy in there." He shook his head. "Still, the music is nice. She's
a great singer, whoever she is. Wonder if he'd mind my making a dupe of
it."
* * *
His fingers were cramped around the grip of the antique USAS-12 assault
shotgun. Looking like an M-16 rifle that had been overdosing on steroids
and weighing in at 11.5 pounds, it was hell to carry, but it fired 12 gauge
shotgun shells at a fully automatic 360 rounds per minute. Loaded with
buckshot rounds, it was a meat grinder looking for a target.
This one had been converted to a belt-fed model.
Priss's yearning tones went unnoticed in the background as he held the
trigger down, chopping the on-coming men into bloody corpses. If the
computer game 'DOOM' had ever been converted into VR, any player would have
felt right at home in the pools of holographic gore that filled the room.
He failed to notice when the ammo belt ran out, but when the targets
stopped appearing, he looked down at the shotgun to see the empty belt
tangled on the floor near his feet. Throwing the weapon aside, he leaned
over one of the targets, looking it in it's synthetic face.
"Someday. Not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But someday. I have all of
eternity, Smith. And I _will_ find you."
* * *
Paying the owner of the range, he waved to the hotel driver, and they
headed back to the Croessus. He felt less tense, but no more cheerful than
before. The range had allowed him to burn off some stress, but did nothing
for the _source_ of that stress.. the INCREDIBLE moment of stupidity where
he'd snapped at the only real friend he had now.
Bailey greeted him pleasantly, and held up a palm. "Your assistant has
returned, sir. She left word to inform you she'd be waiting for you in your
suite."
"What?!"
The concierge frowned ever so slightly. "I'm sorry, sir. Was she to be
barred from your rooms? I was under the impression that--"
Ed shook his head sharply. "No. I - I simply hadn't expected her back
this soon, Bailey. She and I had a.. difference of opinion, shortly before
my outburst. It's.. surprising to see her return this quickly, after the
harsh words we had." He massaged his temples with his forefingers, sighing
at the tension. "Please call up to my room and inform her I'm on my way up,
won't you?"
"Are you certain, sir?"
"No, as a matter of fact, I'm not. But as another person in my situation
once said.. ''if t'wer done, then t'were well it were done quickly''." A
pained - and painfully false - grin crossed his face. "History may have
handed Mac the short end of the stick, but he was right. Then AND now.
Damn him."
He turned on one heel even before Bailey began reaching for the phone,
headed for the elevator that led to his rooms. Behind him, Bailey shook his
head slowly, and tapped out the number for the room.
* * *
Opening the door to his suite had the leaden feel of the slow walk to a
waiting gallows. The sitting room was empty, but a light was on in the
terrace, illuminating a woman sitting there. He gathered what little
courage he could find within himself and stepped outside.
"Hello, Min."
"Hello, Tony."
The name felt like a stab in the heart. He hadn't heard it in decades.
The last person who'd called him that... he shook himself from head to toe.
"'I'm sorry' are about the most inadequate words I can imagine, but
they're all I can think of, Min."
"Why?"
He didn't pretend to misunderstand. What point would there be to even
attempt dissembling? He looked back at the glass doors that lead back to
the main room. There was just enough light outside to cause them to be
reflective. He nodded towards them.
"Ever wonder why you look the way you do, Minerva?"
"Sometimes. Not often, though. I simply took it as part of my
inception." She waved a hand across the front of her body. "And when
Vallana created this body for me, I think she took my usual manifestation as
the model to go by."
"A person changes a great deal as the years go by, Min.. you know that
as well as I. But I often forget. And I think the person I'm going to
become, the person who had you incepted, forgot something very important."
He paused for a long moment. "No. That's not quite right. He _outgrew_
something that _was_ very important to me, for a time."
Minerva looked at him curiously. "I don't understand."
"Min, you said something earlier. That you were incepted to help me
question myself. I think maybe.." An odd flash of inspiration crossed his
face. "Min, do you have any files on me regarding my earlier life? Files
that _I_ gave you when you were born?"
"Yes, I do," she replied, in a puzzled tone.
"Access all personal records between July 1981 and January 1984."
Her head cocked to one side. "Accessing.." Then her eyes went wide.
"Blocked! Restricted access, encrypted files. Passphrase required."
Ed snorted. "Thought so. I always was a sneaky, back-stabbing.
untrusting little son of a singularity. Seems I didn't even trust myself.
Heh." He scratched thoughtfully at the scar on his forehead with a finger.
"What passphrase would he have used?"
"What passphrase would YOU use? He is you, only older."
He sat there, quietly eyeing the mountain view. Then he abruptly leaned
forward. His voice was calm and determined.
"Minerva? Access all personal records between July 1981 and January
1984. Passphrase... Dark Mirror."
Minerva's eyes slowly widened. "I'm... not certain I understand this.
Why are there police reports in here? And there's a picture of _me_. But
it's dated 1982. How's that possible? And I don't understand some of these
references. What _is_ this, boss?"
*At least we're back to "boss" again. That isn't going to make the rest
of this any easier though,* he thought. "Min? Get into your archives, and
reference the Chaos Computer Club, circa 1980-1990. Try 'Der Spiegel'
magazine, a german publication of the time."
She tipped her head to one side. "The Chaos Computer Club, organized
shortly after the Federal Republic of Germany established a nation-wide data
network through the federally-run phone service. The German postal service,
the Bundestpost, also controlled the nation's phone service and in the early
1980's founded the Datex network to link computers together, and to the then
budding Internet." She paused for breath. "Being essentially a _goverment_
bureaucracy, the service Datex provided was abysmal, and their pricing was
atrocious. After all.. it WAS a goverment-controlled monopoly. The
natural reaction of the first hackers to encounter it was to try to hack
their way in to obtain free service. Several of these hackers banded
together, and the Chaos Computer Club was born."
"Essentially correct, pretty lady.. but there were a few details you
left out."
She nodded. "One member, Hans Heubner, aka _Pengo_, simply didn't have
enough money to satify his computing addiction, and suggested to his friends
Dirk Brezinski and Peter Karl that they attempt to use the new links into
the Internet to break into American and Nato military computers and sell
what they found there to the KGB. With the aid of Marcus Hess, who did the
actual break-ins and Karl 'Harbard' Koch, who acted as the courier to East
Berlin on occasion, they proceeded to do just that. While they were never
actually able to acquire any _military_ secrets, they were able to steal
software in the form of the source code to several operating systems and
many major programs that the Soviet Goverment was otherwise unable to
acquire through legal channels. And they made a nice little bit of cash
while doing it."
She frowned. "The entire event was later known as the 'Cuckoo's Egg'
affair, after the book by Cliff Stoll, who was the first to stumble across
their trail. But what's that got to do with _you_, boss?"
"Min.. those five were running that hack on their own. The rest of the
CCC were bright enough to realize that getting involved with the shadow
world of espionage was about as bright as standing outside of 3WA
headquarters and screaming 'The Dirty Pair are lesbians' at the top of your
lungs. And nearly as dangerous to your health." He winced at the thought,
being reminded of his own current situation. "Anyway, they stayed _well_
away from those five while this was going on. But that didn't help.. they
still ended up with egg on their faces." He shrugged painfully. "The only
hackers in Germany that DIDN'T get tarred by association were those who were
smart enough to go WAY underground, long before those five idiots started
their foolish stunt." He chewed on his lip. "Check 'Der Spiegel' again,
along with other german newsmagazines in that time period."
"What am I looking for?" she asked.
"Look for the hackers known as 'Boris' and 'Natasha'. There won't be
much."
She searched, then nodded. "You're right. Boris and Natasha never
seemed to associate much with other hacker groups, always worked as a team,
and their only connection to the rest of the hacker community, through the
CCC, terminated abruptly." She raised an eyebrow. "It terminated less than
two days after the date that the conference between Markus Hess and the
other four took place. That _can't_ be a coincidence."
"It wasn't. Tasha pretty much ordered me to stay away from those fools."
He grinned lopsidedly. "Surprise."
Minerva's jaw sagged. "You were Boris? YOU were the one hacker they
never identified?"
"One of two, actually.. they never caught Tasha either."
"I don't believe it," she whispered.
"Believe it," he shrugged. "That portrait on my wall? The one of the
female vampire? That was Natasha. She was the first woman I ever really
loved.. and the first one who chose to love me back." His smile grew a
little less crooked.
"But how?!"
"It was the early 1980's, Min.. Bill Wynd had introduced me to computers
back in the days of the mainframe and paper-fed terminal. Then the first
personal machines hit the market. The Altair 8800. The Commodore PET. The
TRS-80. It was like taking a junkie who was desperately trying to control
his habit, and dropping him into an unlimited supply of dope. I went a
little insane there, for a while. I had the equipment and a nasty paranoid
mind while Natasha had the experience and knowledge of how human systems
work, and the skill to manipulate them that can only come from years of
living under a Soviet bureaurocracy. We never crashed a system, though, and
never stole information. We merely entered them because bypassing the
frontline security was something we saw as a challenge. The old 'because
it's there' bit. And Tasha was the one who insisted that we distance
ourselves from the other hackers. She said that they had all the honor of a
Genma Saotome." He winced slightly. "And she was right. When it hit the
fan, they started turning each other in to the authorities to save their own
skins. 'Honor among thieves'.. ha! If it hadn't been so serious, it would
have been laughable. It turned into a race to see who could rat on who
first, with the winner's prize being immunity from prosecution."
Minerva grinned wolfishly. "You _must_ have been a social virgin, boss..
expecting crackers like those to nobly sacrifice themselves to save their
buddies?" She began giggling. "Now, THAT'S comedy!"
Ed gave her a dirty look, but smiled inside. *If she's laughing, then
she's not quite as angry with me now.* "Anyway.. you commented once on how
much Natasha's picture looked like you. It's the other way around, I
suspect. Your initial inception was programmed to look like Natasha."
That statement stopped her laughter cold. She looked at him levelly.
"That couldn't have been an accident."
"No. Tasha was the first love of my life. I _think_ I.. he.. did it
as an attempt to make me feel both trust towards you, and a certain level of
discomfort. When I lost Tasha, it left a lot of things unresolved,
emotionally."
Minerva nodded thoughtfully. "Those first few years you were very
cautious around me, boss. You tried hard not to show it, but I wasn't bound
by human sensory limits. I could tell. Still you tried very hard, and I
appreciated the effort, even if I didn't understand _why_ I put you ill at
ease then. Now that I do, a great many things are much clearer." She
hesitated. "How..?" She coughed and tried again. "How did you lose her?"
He shook his head. "That's a story for another time and place, Min.
Right now, I need to know - are we still at odds with each other?"
"No, boss.. we aren't. But we _will_ be talking about this later." She
looked him squarely in the eyes. "A partnership is just that. Partners.
Trust is what it's all about. We can't function if we don't trust one
another. You aren't who and what you were back then, and I'm not the same
innocent little program I was 26 years ago. We've both changed and grown.
It's time to admit that, and learn to deal with it."
"We can't go back to what we were, can we."
She shook her head. "No. But we _can_ go forward. And that's all for
the best, boss. When you stop learning and growing.. that's when you start
to die inside."
Ed pinched at the bridge of his nose, massaging it. "I just wish growing
and learning could come a _little_ less painfully. I really get tired of
teachers who seem to think the best way to get me to remember something is
to hit me over the head with it."
Minerva laughed, a tinkling waterfall of sound. "If it was easy, it
wouldn't be worth anything."
"Ayup. Uh-huh. Ooooo-kay. I think I'd better get some sleep. You'd better
rest your body too, Min."
She nodded, and vanished. He turned towards the bedroom, and flopped down
on the bed. A few moments later, the calls started coming in to Bailey's
desk.
* * *
"I'm sorry, ma'am.. the guest in suite 905 is snoring." Pause. "I am
_aware_ it sounds like a small jet engine, ma'am, but I assure you it IS a
fellow guest." Pause. "Yes, ma'am. We'll have you moved to another floor
momentarily." Click.
Baily looked toward the ceiling as if for inspiration. Finding none
there, he reached for his console and punched out a number.
"Have I reached SonicTec, Incorporated? Excellent. I'd like you to send
one of your best engineers to the Croesuss Hotel." Pause. "I am aware of
the time, sir. Are you aware of this credit chip number?" Keys clicked as
Bailey slotted the chip and typed in the access code. "Indeed. We'll be
expecting him shortly. Thank you." He disconnected, and smiled faintly.
"Merely another day in the life of a galaxy-class hotel."
* * *
Kei sat in the cockpit of the 'Lovely Angel' and smiled at the darkness
outside the ship. Less than a day to go before they touched down at the only
spaceport Repose had. She planned on making _quite_ certain that Captain
Edward's ship was disabled _before_ she went searching for him.
"I'll rip its damned engines out with my bare hands, it I have to. He's
not getting off that planet without a set of handcuffs!" she muttered to
herself happily. "This is ONE mission that ISN'T going to end in wholesale
destruction. I am going to make sure we'll lose that damned name!"
Zen came sleepily up the passage behind her. "Zen's <yawn> turn on
watch, Kei. Zen relieves you."
Kei grinned and offered her seat to Zen. "Have a quiet watch, Zen. We
should be at Repose soon. Then the fun will begin."
Zen yawned again. "Zen certainly hopes not. If we can do this quietly,
Zen will be quite overjoyed. Trust Zen, Kei. Quiet is good. Peaceful is
good. Boring is good. Zen _knows_."
Kei offered Zen a dangerous smile. "But where's the excitement in that,
Zen? Where's the _fun_?"
Zen grunted slightly as she sat down. "The fun is in NOT wondering when
the next explosion is going to knock Zen arse over teakettle. It's in not
having to stand in front of Goulet to be chewed out for blowing another
planet into spare parts. THAT is where the fun is, Kei."
Kei hmph'ed, and strode briskly down the passage to her cabin.
Zen shrugged. "She asked Zen a question, what did she expect?" Then she
turned to the console, scanned the instrument reading, and once she was
satisfied as to the current status of the ship, she looked around the
cockpit, and back down the passage. Satisfied that she was alone and
unlikely to be interrupted, she cautiously slipped two fingers into the
space between the seat and the flight console, fishing out a sketch pad
covered with drawings of Kei and Yuri.
Setting it on the armrest, she reached up to her 3WA issue battle bikini.
"I know I can do this.. I've taken all the classes, damnit." Taking a deep
breath and steeling herself, she poked a pair of fingers into her cleavage
and fished around for a few embarrassed moments. She finally emerged with a
fistful of Prismacolor pencils in various colors and shades.
Her eyebrows shot up in delighted surprise. "Ice Hot! It _worked_! And
to think that Mr. Gaffney thought Zen would never be able to get it right."
Then she settled down to her favorite guilty pleasure, keeping one cautious
eye on the instruments. Her pencil flew, and another portrait of Kei slowly
began to take shape.
A tiny corner of Zen's mind wondered what would happen to her if the
Angels ever discovered that she was still doing etchi sketches and drawings
of them. That section of her intellect considered the situation calmly and
dispassionately, and came to the quite logical conclusion that, should the
occasion indeed arise, suicide really wasn't all _that_ painful...
* * *
The luxury liner 'Stellar Queen' arrived at Repose a few hours ahead of
schedule, to the mild bemusement of its crew. As the wealthy passengers
disembarked, a young man with a hawk-like nose and high cheekbones flagged
down a waiting cab.
"Where to, sir?" asked the driver, as a redcap loaded his luggage into
the vehicle.
The passenger grinned wickedly. "The Croessus hotel. There's a relative
of mine staying there that I haven't seen for quite a while. I expect he'll
be rather surprised to see me."
The driver nodded. "It's always pleasant when family gets together again
after a long absence, sir." With that, the hovercab sped off towards the
hotel.