$Woohoo! Finally, I find out what happens?
Standard Disclaimer: Dirty Pair created by Hideki Sonoda and Haruka
Takachiho. Iria: Zeiram belongs to Crowd, Bandai Visual, Mitsubishi Corp.,
Banpresto and US Manga Corps. I don't own the right to any of the Dirty Pair
or Iria: Zeiram, the Animation characters.
Xxxxxxxxxxx
General Miguel Fuentes grunted in annoyance as he stood outside the door of
what any casual observer would call a palatial mansion. As befitting a
mansion, it stood on a sprawling estate whose size was more suitable for
farming enough food to feed hundreds rather than for personal use.
Technically it wasn't his. It was owned by the Danube planetary government,
and was to be used only by the Supreme Commander of System Defense, which
was an elaborate way of saying 'the guy in charge of maintaining the
planet's orbital defenses'. It was a rank Miguel had held for the last
fifteen years, and would be until the day he died, which was
$, coincidentally enough, tomorrow.
hopefully many
decades away.
The elaborate and expensive 'perks' accompanying the rank hadn't always been
like this. Forty years ago, when Miguel first entered the officers' corps,
the SCSD had a slightly larger than standard military house and a permanent
staff of three. But that was before the Great Expansion. Before YSC decided
to make their primary headquarters on Danube. Since then the entire planet's
economy had expanded some one thousand times, and was continuing to grow as
YSC did. Danube had gone from an unknown backwater world that no one knew
existed to one of the most important centers of commerce in the galaxy, and
it was all thanks to YSC.
The same thing that happened to the economy happened to the military. It had
grown exponentially, swelling in size and allowing young up and comers like
Miguel to shoot through the newly expanded ranks like a Sarram Missile
streaking through the atmosphere. His rise to power ended when he became the
SCSD upon the previous one's retirement.
$Wonder if there were any suspicious curcumstances involved in the
retirement.
Now Miguel led a life of, while not idle wealth, one of impressive resources
at his fingertips. One of his favorites was the expanded staff that came
with the position of SCSD, including twenty people assigned to the mansion's
grounds. They took care of all his everyday needs.
$What about the every OTHER day needs? Private harem, anyone?
There wasn't a thing he
had to do, other than chew his food.
$One presumes YSC keeps him around to do something.
That staff was also the source of Miguel's irritation as he waited
impatiently on the doorstep. Someone was supposed to have opened the door
for him when he approached, like they always did. There was always a guard
stationed at the inside of the door to screen guests and admit Miguel when
he returned from whatever drew him away from his home. Instead, for the
first time since attaining his position, no one was there to admit him. Sgt.
Hooper should still have been on door duty tonight, if he recalled
correctly. She was really going to be reprimanded for her lax attitude
regarding one of the few duties assigned to her. Discipline had to be
maintained, after all.
$Someone needs a spanking.
It was especially odd since Hooper had been there to usher the general out
when the emergency meeting had been called. The meeting had not taken long,
only two hours, and most of it was just YSC claiming there was a possibility
Zeiram might strike at one of the orbital platforms. Let him. With the over
three hundred highly trained military personnel on board, they would make
short work of him, assuming he wasn't blown out of space on his approach.
But Miguel had to go through the motions of considering the entity a serious
threat, if for no other reason than to make YSC happy. Only a complete idiot
dealt casually with the source of money for the people who signed his
paychecks. Ignoring YSC's concerns might result in them ignoring their
donations to the military, and that wouldn't do at all.
After placing a few calls to the commander of the platform, Miguel was
satisfied the matter of Zeiram was well in hand and returned to his home for
a night of relaxation, only to be left waiting on his doorstep. Now
thoroughly agitated, he deigned to open the door himself and walked inside,
intent on tracking down Sgt. Hooper and tearing her a new asshole before her
demotion to private second class.
$Sheesh, it's much easier to get another woman than to try to make new
holes in the old ones.
She'd spend the rest of her career
cleaning latrines. That was one thing the military had kept as a holdover to
the old days: plenty of latrines to clean as punishment for dereliction of
duty.
$Lots of walls to scrape down and slap on quarter inch coats of anti
corrosion paint, too.
There was a noise from further up the hallway, emanating from the open
archway that led to the mansion's living room. Perhaps that was where Hooper
was hiding. Maybe with one of the male members of the staff. She was a
striking woman, and Miguel paid little enough attention to the relationships
the house staff had with one another. Were that the case, there would be two
demotions forthcoming.
"Sgt. Hooper, is that yo-" Miguel's authoritative voice was suddenly
silenced as he turned the corner and entered the room. Sgt. Hooper was not
present, nor was she having a tryst with the chef. Instead there was a man
seated in Miguel's favorite chair, sipping what appeared to be brandy from
the general's private stock. The ebony face was instantly familiar to
Miguel, having seen holograms of it less than an hour ago: Anton Scorphious.
$Ah, Doctor Scorphious, you have penetrated my lair, doubtlessly in an
attempt to secure my aid in your crusade against your brother. Well,
good luck with that. Bye. *runs*
By all rights that should have been enough to consume all of Miguel's
attention, but there was something else in the room that made Anton as
irrelevant as gum on the bottom of the SCSD's boot. No hologram did Zeiram
justice. The huge monstrosity stood at Anton's right, like a giant butler
waiting for instructions, though odds were they would be of dismembering
guests, rather than hanging up their jackets.
$And the butler always turns out to be crooked, too.
Anton opened his mouth, but Miguel didn't wait for whatever declaration the
madman intended to give. While Miguel had a sidearm and knew how to use it,
Zeiram was close enough to move between any shots and Anton, and the general
had no delusions about being able to injure the monster with such an
insignificant weapon. Flight was the only option.
Miguel turned and ran down the hall, hoping to make it outside. God willing,
his driver, Sgt. Donatello, hadn't returned the vehicle to the garage. If he
could make it to the car he could flee and call upon a thousand ground
troops to crush Zeiram once and for all.
As the door came into sight, Miguel saw the back of a familiar form next to
it. Sgt. Hooper had finally put in an appearance. His anger at her
forgotten, the SDSC called out, "Open the door and run, Sergeant! There's-"
For the second time in the evening, Miguel found his command die off. Sgt.
Hooper had turned at the sound of his voice, or at least the thing that was
in the sergeant's uniform. While it was humanoid in shape, and approximately
the same height and weight as Hooper, it was hardly human. Green mottled
flesh, three yellowed eyes, and an 'O' shaped mouth that seemed to lack a
discernable jaw, though it was ringed with sharp teeth, dominated its face.
$The eyes and teeth were actually the only new addition, considering the
Sergeant's usual duties.
<snip>
The guard at the gatepost looked up at the approaching vehicle. It was a
heavily armored troop carrier, an unusual sight at the time of night. He
activated his logpad to see if there was an arrival that he had missed on
his first read through of it at the start of his shift.
He had just punched up the data display when the gatehouse computer chimed.
The guard displayed it, reading the top priority message that had just come
>from headquarters. The general of the SCSD himself had authorized additional
troops to be transported to one of the orbital platforms. The approaching
vehicle had already sent its authorization code to the gatehouse, confirming
it was the expected arrival.
The guard opened the gates and saluted crisply at the vehicle, just catching
a glimpse of the general himself in the passenger's side. Once the vehicle
was out of sight, he returned to his duties, wishing in envy he was the
general of SCSD. Now there was a cushy job that required nothing more than
sitting on one's thumbs and rubber stamping anything that came across a
desk. It sure as hell was better than sitting in a guardhouse in the dead of
night with nothing to do other than watch the stars twinkle.
$Heh. That's an excellent little passage. Nicely ironic.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"Damn it, Bob! Can't you go faster?" Kei complained.
$Two spaces before you.
"I can go a little faster for a few minutes, burn out our primary engines,
and then take six days to finish the trip," he shot back.
Kei cursed and slammed her fist on the control panel.
$The Creeper spiraled out of control into the sun.
"Take it easy," Mikael soothed, placing a hand on her shoulder. "She's my
mom, you know. I'm worried about her too. But she can take care of herself."
"Killgore's going to kill her, though. I just know it!" Kei spat.
"She can handle herself against anyone," Mikael said, though now his voice
carried a hint of concern.
"Speaking of Killgore, that does raise a good question concerning you,
Mikael," Yuri said. "We'll try to keep it from happening, but plans tend to
go to hell once the shooting starts. If push comes to shove, are you willing
to kill your father to protect your mother?"
Kei stared at Yuri, horrified "You idiot! He wasn't' supposed to know
$horrified. "
that!"
"Oh, crap," Yuri slapped her hand to her forehead.
$Yuri said, slapping her
"There wasn't a problem until just now." Even Bob's digital voice was
acerbic.
<snip>
"You know, if you keep pacing like that, you're going to wear a hole through
the deck plating, and then our air will get sucked out and we'll implode,"
Killgore said.
$Others have commented on the
implode/explode/vacuum-sucks-your-guts-out-your-ass-so-fast-it-looks-like-you're-a-rocket-with-a-brown-exhaust-plume
debate.
<snip>
Anger was replaced by bewilderment. "What?"
"I'm not bullshitting you," Killgore insisted in what was obviously sincere
tones.
$Of which I'm sure he's a master. Of course, the reader knows that he
really is, thanks to the consistent trail of clues you've scattered
through this story. Good job.
"All my life, breaking up with you was the only thing I've ever
really regretted."
$Well, that and the three week bender where I woke up at the end married
to Britany Spear's cloned head in a jar.
"And getting together with you was the only thing I've ever really
regretted," she said testily.
"I'm being serious," Killgore said, all but pleading with her. "I'll admit,
I was young and made a lot of mistakes. I was stupid and didn't appreciate
what we had. I'll be perfectly honest, I wasn't even that bothered by the
break up at the time. I thought it would be just like every other
relationship I had and move on. But it was never the same. Not with any
woman I've been with ever since. Not the women like you. Not the ones that
were the complete opposite of you, and everything in-between. I never felt
anything for them like I did for you.
$Aww. Cross would be crying right now.
"Every time I look back on when we were together, I realize it was the best
relationship I ever had. And you were the best partner I ever had, in every
<snip>
He opened a line to the commander of the orbital platform. Luckily, Springer
had the foresight to designate Killgore an official 'advisor' from YSC,
which gave him nearly as much pull as the commander himself. "This is
Killgore. The woman that has been traveling with me has become a threat to
the ship. I need one... no, two squads of your best men to go down to the
guest suite and eliminate her with extreme prejudice. Regard her as a Class
1 threat. Get confirmation on the kill, meaning I want a body that can be
ID'd.
$Yeah, I agree with some of the others that this seemed a little
unrealistic. DNA works wonders, so as long as they don't use a
phosphorous grenade or a high powered laser or some sort of plasma,
there'd be SOMETHING left.
Outside of that, do whatever it takes to get the job done. YSC will
<snip>
Tosh rolled his eyes. "This is such a waste. All of this manpower for one
chick that doesn't even know we're coming, even if she his armed."
$Yeah, it is kinda a waste. Two squads to die needlessly as they
attempt to kill a main character who's only possible death is either old
age, a tragic disease, or Zeiram himself?
"And with any luck, will already be unconscious by the time we hit the
room."
"You're having Control pump it full of somna gas?"
"I prefer unconscious targets to conscious ones that can shoot at me,
$Poor guy, he's got too much sense to be cannon fodder.
<snip>
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Iria stopped crawling through the tight confines of the ventilation shaft as
she heard the first explosion, followed by the second one a moment later,
behind her. Even with the distance she had put between herself and the room,
she could still feel heat from the fireball consume the room that lay
$consuming
several minutes of crawling behind her.
Having already stopped, Iria peered at the rectangular yellow object she
held in her hand. It was slender but twice as long as her palm, with a small
video screen in the middle.
$PDAs haven't died yet.
"And you wonder why I still don't trust you." It
was a lucky thing she had put the bug on her ex-husband's uniform when she
<snip>
Milgrew closed the hanger doors and began flooding the hanger with oxygen.
He turned from the gauges and began talking directly to his companion. "I
hear he's not that bad. Not like General Ransom or Admiral Mawbango. Those
are some serious ball busters."
Kwon laughed "I heard 'The Maw' eats at least one cadet per graduating class
just to keep them on their toes."
$That's just survival training. It's good to see that Dr. Lecter's
feild guide to survival is still widely read.
"Sacrifices must be made," Milgrew quipped at one of the more infamous
phrases the Admiral had made during the course of her career.
$Of course, he was referring to summoning a Great Old One as a tactical WMD.
<snip>
The mini-computer found the proper setting and jacked into the system. With
the late SCSD's pass codes,
$Yeah, we all knew that was going to happen.
it was a simple matter to bypass the security
settings and seize control of the system. While the bridge crew would
<snip>
Iria's breath filled her ears as the rebreather covered her face. She had
donned it just in time as the now familiar hiss of somna gas filled the
ventilation shaft she was crawling through.. She had to admit, it was an odd
tactic the military had employed, trying to use the same trick twice.
$Two spaces before to.
Perhaps it meant there was an idiot in charge. In Iria's experience,
contrary to popular belief, most members high up in the military echelon
tended to be smart, since dumb leaders tended to die before they moved very
high up in the chain of command, either through personal stupidity or their
army being crushed by a not dumb foe. But occasionally one rose to
prominence due to connections or luck, and to the best of Iria's knowledge,
the Danube military had never been involved in any actual combat. Their
inexperience could be showing.
That they pumped gas into her shaft meant they knew her location. Since
fighting in the tight confines of a ventilation system was not her idea of a
good time, she would have to emerge into the platform proper. She'd have to
move quickly, before her foes learned their trick hadn't worked and they
tried something a little more fatal, like sending a thousand pounds of an
$Try 'thousand pound automated...'
automated shaft cleaning unit down her tunnel to flatten her.
<snip>
Two more steps brought the figure into view. Again Iria didn't hesitate as
she snapped off a single shot at the figure before her mind processed what
she was seeing, giving her body a chance to react. What she saw froze her in
place, right down to her trigger finger. While the source of the noise was
shaped like a human, that was where the similarities ended. It was a true
monstrosity, with lumpy pustules, like exterior tumors, running the length
of its pink skin. Its head was worse, a rounded dome with four yellow
pupiless eyes that weren't even remotely symmetrical. On the ends of its
hands were long claws that were shaped like miniature tusks, thick enough to
gore their way through five centimeters of steel. Looking at the abomination
made her want to vomit. Nature couldn't have created this beast. There was
only one thing in the universe that could give birth to something that was
so hideously wrong.
$This just begs for a tasteless celebrity joke.
Despite Iria's shot hitting the creature in its chest, it seemed largely
<snip>
Some of the gore splattered on Iria's armor, decorating it in pink and green
vital fluids and producing a foul odor that only made her want to retch
more. Iria shut out both the smell and the mess. It was nothing compared to
a job she had out on the agricultural world of Fledyon. At one point she was
forced to hide out in a fertilizer silo, meaning she was buried up to her
neck in animal dung for two days. It marked the last time she accepted a job
involving farmers of any kind.
$although she did emerge with extremely soft, supple skin. Killgore had
loved it, and couldn't stop touching her and licking her, at least until
she told him what she'd been doing.
Kicking the body to the side, Iria reloaded her pistol. The presence of the
creature changed the situation drastically. Eradicating Zeiram took
precedence over everything else, including hunting down Killgore. Her
ex-husband would just have to live with being second on her 'to kill' list.
$Killgore: This is why our marriage didn't work. She's too single
minded of a career girl, she always neglected me.
Iria reinventoried her weapons. Tracking down Zeiram wouldn't be difficult.
All she had to do was follow the trail of destruction he'd leave behind. It
<snip>
Springer forced the issue. "We have to assume worst case scenario. I took
the liberty of having your emergency shuttle prepped for this possibility.
We'll go off planet until this matter sorts itself out."
Surprisingly, Slapatcha shook his head. It was a faint gesture, lacking his
usual command confidence. one that came from giving orders that affected
$One
billions of lives every day. "No, we'll be staying."
"That's foolish." For a reprimand, it lacked any feeling of reproach behind
it. It was a simple statement, along the lines of something like 'water is
wet.'
"Not really," Slapatcha contended. "This is my headquarters. The throne of
my power. Everything of importance is right here, including the center of
our satellite intelligence gathering and control. There are a thousand
different projects that are so sensitive, we didn't dare host them anywhere
else. There is nowhere in the galaxy, not even our number two headquarters
in Remont, that we could relocate to that wouldn't take years to reconstruct
what we have here. And even if we could, Anton would just blow that planet
out from under us as well. There's no point in running."
$He's dead now, nothing to do but roll him over and bury him.
Springer noted his voice was taken on a panicked edge, but she said nothing.
Slapatcha continued. "And then there's the slicer with our information.
Without our satellites to suppress it, he'll go to the 3WA, and once they're
involved, it's all over. And even if I somehow manage to beat the charges,
YSC will be ruined. I'm too old to start over again. No, here is where I'll
make my stand. If Danube falls, so do I."
A brief shrug was Springer's response. "Fine. Going down with the ship is a
decision many captains have done over the centuries. It's laudable in many
ways. But I have no intention of remaining here. This is your life's work,
not mine."
The muscles on Slapatcha's face twitched in anger. "You're the one that was
supposed to prevent this from happening. It's your responsibility that
events have made it this far."
Springer's voice was neutral. "I told you from the start there were no
guarantees where your brother and Zeiram were involved, and that you should
have destroyed the Argus materials before Anton stole them from you. Had you
done what I recommended, we would not be in this predicament. But now we
are, and retreating is the best option available."
"There will be no retreat!" Slapatcha shouted, punctuating each word with a
fist on the table. "We will stay here to the bitter end! You forget, I'm in
charge here! You work for me, and you'll do what I say!"
Springer squared her shoulders, facing Slapatcha in open defiance. "Hardly.
I have never worked for you. I have always worked for myself. It just turned
out that our goals intersected with one another. Now they don't. I will be
leaving now."
"No, you won't." Slapatcha's hand moved to a button located at the edge of
his desk and pushed it. Instantly, he was surrounded by a shimmering energy
shield. A second later, from below and above his desk, a translucent
$Delete 'a' in front of translucent.
plasti-armor slammed into place, sealing him off in every direction. From
<snip>
He rose from his desk, walking around the edge to stand next to the body.
Emotionless eyes looked down at the melted form.
"Actually, I am, now," he said in a flat voice. "Congratulations on
discovering why I'm called Springer."
$Okay, I knew he was going to die and not her, but I didn't see that one
coming.
Moving away from the body that once housed her mind, Springer went back to
the desk and used its comlink to order the emergency shuttle to prepare for
departure. Losing the old body was inconvenient. She had rather liked it,
and it was female, but using Slapatcha's would have its advantages, at least
in the near future.
$Like standing up to pee.
And he had brown eyes. It was always annoying when
<snip>
To be on the safe side, Anton double checked the coordinates and ran another
diagnostic on the mass driver while the projectile loaded. Once more
everything indicated it was in readiness. To delay the firing further was
pointless. The future was about to begin.
Anton pressed the button. Even behind several inches of metal alloy, he
heard the rush of air from the mass driver's tube as oxygen was hurled into
space along with the projectile.
$Why was oxygen hurled into space.
Hands trembling in trepidation and delight,
Anton's eyes remained fixed to the weapon's readout as it tracked the
projectile's course through the short distance in space between the platform
and the atmosphere. Nothing impeded the projectile's progress as it entered
the atmosphere, gaining speed from gravity in addition to the velocity that
it had started with courtesy of the mass driver. Even Anton was slightly
$There's an extra line in there.
astonished at how quickly the projectile cut through the atmosphere and into
the planet's surface below, shattering tons of rock as it was forced deep
into the earth. A quick glance at the readout transmitted from the Argus
Projectile indicated it reached far beyond its minimum depth for
effectiveness before the bedrock of the planet finally forced the sphere to
stop. The instant it stopped moving downward, it released its liquid payload
into the rock. And just like that, a planet died.
It was almost anti-climatic.
"Success!" Anton cried. Given the planet's mass, it had a little under an
hour's time before the core became unstable and made a rather spectacular
explosion that would tear the celestial body apart. The detonation would
destroy the orbital platform as well when chunks of the planet were hurled
about. A part of Anton wondered if all of the planet would be hurled into
deep space, or if some would remain where it was, forming an asteroid belt
that would circle endlessly in the path Danube used to occupy.
$Actually, I don't think 'belt' would be appropriate. More like cluster.
It mattered little. The first step to galactic revolution and the salvation
of humanity's collective soul had been taken.
$Not to mention his first sentance in his final dramatic monlogue.
Now all that was left was to
steal the mass driver, fly away from the platform, and deliver his ultimatum
to the galaxy. He had no doubt there would be resistance at first, but once
it became evident he would annihilate anyone that dared to continue
embracing those soulless corporate entities, they would change their minds
soon enough.
$That's true.
And once their eyes were opened and they understood what
freedom from those amoral alliances would bring, they would embrace the
deliverance Anton would bestow upon them. Truth was obvious to those who
were smart enough to realize it.
Anton walked down to where Zeiram waited patiently. He smiled in
satisfaction as he stood next to the towering giant. "You'll have to help
move the mass driver to the hoversled. We're only going to be taking the
main unit and leaving the barrel behind. It'll be easy enough to replace
later on. It's the magnetic-gravity balancer and the precision components in
the main unit that are damn near impossible to come by."
A sound from the open doorway alerted Anton to the presence of another. He
turned and saw a woman dressed in a black body suit and covered in white
armor standing in the aperture. A long double-barreled pistol was in her
grip, and some sort of brightly colored substance was smeared on her chest.
$War paint.
It took Anton a second to place her face. "Oh yes. I vaguely remember you
>from the files we received when we first obtained the Zeiram cell samples.
You got lucky and actually managed to disable him, with the Myce military
helping you. What was your name again?"
"IR...I...A," Zeiram's voice boomed, dragging out the final vowel like a
long sigh.
Anton looked at Zeiram in confusion. While it was known the creature
understood languages, and been theoretically capable of speech, it had never
spoken before, nor shown any desire to. Anton assumed it simply had nothing
to say.
$Until now, obviously. And Anton should step back.
Anton shrugged off the odd behavior. He turned to Iria. "I don't care if
you're functioning as some corporate stooge or are here for personal
reasons, you're in the way of progress, and are about to be run over by it.
If you're so eager to die, far be it from me to deny you your wishes. Kill
her," he ordered Zeiram.
Zeiram remained motionless.
"I said kill her," Anton said more forcefully this time.
Zeiram's head turned, tilting downward, bringing the brim with the white
face lower. Both the cyclopean red eye in Zeiram's trunklike head and the
white face embedded in the edge of his 'hat' pierced Anton with their
$Two spaces after in.
mutual stare.
It was then a moment of epiphany struck Anton, something he had never
$I don't think you need 'moment of'.
realized until this moment. Something that chilled him to the core, making
him forget even his galactic campaign.
Zeiram wasn't under his control.
Zeiram had never been under his control.
$Well DUH. Everyone saw that one coming.
Zeiram had just been playing along, most likely because Anton had been
helping Zeiram kill many others humans, just like a Zeiramoid would, save
$other humans
that Anton had far more intelligence and was subsequently more useful. He
was content to allow Anton the illusion of control so long as it meant he
could kill massive numbers of humans. But now, Zeiram had obtained a device
capable of eradicating entire planets, and had proof it worked. He would not
be content to allow Anton to choose worlds that would disable YSC or its
fellow corporations. He would want to destroy planets with the largest
populations because, well, because it was what Zeiram did.
The moment of understanding flashed in an instant, just as quickly as the
white head left its housing, lashing out and burying its teeth into Anton's
unprotected neck. It ripped out his jugular and a healthy amount of flesh
around it. Pain that even his genius intellect had never guessed existed
shot through Anton. His hand went reflexively to the wound as the white head
retreated back into its housing. Anton fell to the ground, blood pouring
through his fingers like a hole in a dam. Awareness left his body.
$Yep, yep.
His life followed seconds later.
<snip>
Not surprisingly, the gunfire stopped for a moment. Then it restarted in
another direction. Iria cautiously poked her head around the corner in time
to see the remaining two soldiers collapse from laser beams striking them in
the chest. Iria turned to see that Zeiram had grabbed one of the soldiers,
ripped him in half, then appropriated the man's laser rifle for his own
personal use.
$I picture Zeiram using him as a hand puppet, the little soldier's arms
still firing the rifle with zeiram's hand jammed up in the cavity where
his guts used to be.
Iria took advantage of the distraction the soldiers had provided by firing
both pistols at Zeiram. Small chunks of flesh flew off the monster's body as
each shell slammed home. Iria was glad she had chosen piercing rounds rather
than standards or explosives, given the damage they were inflicting.
Zeiram's reaction was to roar in pain, then pick up the torso of the man he
had ripped in half. She thought he was going to use the corpse for a shield,
but then learned otherwise as Zeiram activated one of the grenades on the
soldier's belt and threw the torso at her. Iria had just enough time to
curse and hurl herself as flat before the explosives went off around her.
The air was filled with smoke from the grenades. Zeiram paused, lacking
anything to shoot at for the moment. Then came a small flurry of miniature
propellers that burst forth from the cloud and flew toward Zeiram. Unable to
dodge them all, he brought his arms together in front of his neck and white
face. The propellers he couldn't dodge struck him, detonating on impact.
Green ichor flowed from new wounds on his chest, arms, and legs, taxing his
regeneration to its upper limit.
$Delete upper.
The smoke at the far side of the room cleared. Iria stood there as proud and
defiant as a statue. Blood flowed from a dozen cuts from her unprotected
portions. Luckily for her, the soldier's grenades were low yield stunners
and shrapnel rather than high explosives. Powerful explosives rarely worked
out well on space borne vehicles for both the person being throw at and the
one doing the throwing. The shrapnel had bit into nearly every inch of her
body, but none had hit a vital area thanks to her armor.
$Kinda waiting for Kei and Yuri to show up.
Rage and anger pumped adrenaline through Iria's veins, allowing her to
ignore the pain that was coming in from every part of her body. She drew a
glove from one of her pouches. She hit a button on it, stiffening the
material, revealing it to have a metallic hide that was as hard as the armor
she wore. A number of knuckle spikes lined the exterior as she donned the
gauntlet. She then pulled her whip sword out with her other hand, flicking
it so it went from its flexible whip state to become a rigid sharp-edged
weapon.
"Let's take this up close and personal, shall we? Just like old times."
Zeiram issued a low growl. He reached overhead, behind his back. Iria waited
as he pulled out from his body an object that appeared to be sword, one that
was the length of his torso.
$He pulled his spine out as a sword? That's pretty badass. Shinji,
Tenchi, and countless other anime males need some zeiram cell infusions,
and maybe they'll grow some spines that strong.
It was organic-looking, and had a number of
wicked edges and curves along its surface. If any of the curves dug in,
Zeiram's superior strength could probably gut Iria with only a flick of the
wrist.
"Even your bones can be used to kill, huh?" Iria asked.
The monster merely repeated her name, as it had done before.
"Let's do it." Iria beckoned him with her finger.
Zeiram charged forward sword raised behind it so it could deliver a blow
powerful enough to cut her in half with a single swing.
Iria drew back her sword with one hand, then formed a fist with her gauntlet
as she aimed it in Zeiram's direction. The knuckle spikes shot out, all four
of them impacting Zeiram in his unprotected torso. He paused in his run,
looking down at the tiny pieces of metal that stuck out of his chest. While
they had penetrated his skin, they had done little more than cosmetic
damage. Then he noticed the tiny wires attached to each of the spikes. Wires
that led to Iria's gauntlet. He roared out in anger.
"Sucker." Iria touched a stud on a box like device attached to her belt.
The device was connected to her gauntlet by a wire so slender it was nearly
invisible to the naked eye, just like the wires protruding from the knuckles
spikes. Five hundred thousand amps shot through the box and into Zeiram,
causing it to scream in inhuman pain. The power pack's charge was instantly
used up, but it did its job as Zeiram's weapon fell from its limp fingers
and it fell to his knees on the ground, motionless from the damage caused to
most of its internal organs.
$It's going to take white phosphorous to finish it, though.
Iria discarded the now useless powerpack and gauntlet. She kept hold of her
sword, though, and brought in back in similar manner to how Zeiram had done
with his seconds before. "Now you're dead!" she screamed as she charged
toward the beast, intent on running her blade through both his faces.
The bounty hunter had covered only half the distance between herself and the
monster when she felt something sting the back of her neck. She paused in
her charge and brought her hand behind her neck, coming away with a small
dart. Since she was facing Zeiram, it was impossible for the shot to have
come from it. Iria turned around even as a wave of dizziness overcame her
and she fell to her knees.
Iria spotted the shooter as she collapsed on her stomach. "You bastard," she
slurred out, feeling as though she had emptied several bottles of Johnny
Walker Fuchsia in the span of ten minutes.
$Johnny Walker Fuchsia Lable.
"I guess I am," Killgore agreed as he came out of hiding. He discarded the
dart gun and pulled his plasma canon from his shoulder, holding it at the
ready. Slowly he walked forward, taking his time as he kept the gun aimed at
Iria. "I have to hand it to you, frying him from the inside was a good way
to take him down."
Iria limply lay on her stomach, having just enough control over her muscles
to stare as evilly at her ex-husband as she ever had at Zeiram. Couldn't he
at least have had the decency to let her destroy the monster before killing
her?
$Not as dramatic.
Killgore stood over her, muzzle pointed at her face. "Don't feel
embarrassed, Sunshine. It's not like it's the first time you've been lying
on your stomach for me. As I recall, it was one of the more (word deleted to appease your ISP) positions
$More *****? or ****ier?
you used to fancy."
"Go to hell," she slurred, wishing with all her might she could move just
enough to kill him. Why hadn't she the sense to rig some kind of pulse
detonator, so that if she died, she could have taken her killer with her?
$Those usually don't work out well for the badguys, so I'd be hesitant
to use one.
"Someday, probably, but not today." The gun swiveled away from Iria and
pointed at Zeiram. Before her muddled mind could process what was going on,
it flashed three times. Iria watched in confusion as a trio of large holes
formed in Zeiram's chest, knocking him flat and causing him to bellow out in
further pain.
"Had to make sure he's disabled. I'd rather not put my faith in just a bit
of electricity," Killgore offered in explanation as he stepped over Iria's
fallen form and approached the fallen creature.
Words wouldn't come to Iria. Not from the drug coursing through her body,
but because of Killgore's actions. Why drug her if he was going to kill
Zeiram anyway? It made no sense. He bore no personal grudge against the
creature. He should have been content to let her kill the monster, then kill
her himself and claim he had dispatched Zeiram and claim the reward. No one
would have been able to refute his story.
"Don't die on me yet," Killgore said enigmatically to the monster. He slung
his cannon over his shoulder and pulled out a cylindrical object that
resembled a high-tech syringe with a computer display on the side to monitor
the contents. It was then Iria understood what was happening.
Killgore bent down, attached the syringe to the open wound, and waited a
second. He then pulled back, looking at the computer display at the side.
"Good." He put the item back in his belt, pulled the cannon from his
shoulder once again, then pulled the trigger three times right into the
trunk where Zeiram's cyclopean red eye was located. The shots blew the trunk
completely apart, severing the mushroom-shaped top from the rest of the
body.
"That takes care of that." Killgore turned from the remains and walked over
$HAH! Yeah, right.
to Iria once more. He patted the syringe at his side. "As you might have
guessed, this was the little bonus me and the late Dane were talking about.
Zeiram's cells are going to make me wealthier than even I dreamed possible."
"He can't be controlled," Iria insisted.
Killgore shrugged. "It isn't going to stop people from believing they can,
though, and as long as they are willing to pay through the nose for it, who
am I to complain?"
"You've never changed," Iria growled. As she did so, she became aware of the
fact her thoughts were less hazy and her muscles slowly seemed to be coming
around. If she could keep Killgore distracted long enough she might have a
chance to turn the tables on him. All she needed was time.
All traces of humor left Killgore suddenly as looked sadly down upon his
ex-wife. "You know, this is the hardest thing I've ever done. I don't want
to kill you, Iria. I really don't. But I can't see any other way around it."
"I could reconsider your earlier offer," Iria suggested.
$Though the answer would still be the same, she thought.
Killgore shook his head. "Nice try, but you meant what you said, and I don't
blame you. I guess I didn't do much to earn your trust. I was serious,
though. If you had accepted, I would have worked around all these problems.
Hell, I probably would have turned my back on getting the Zeiram cells."
"Spoken like a true romantic," Iria slurred deliberately. Much of her muscle
control had returned, and the rate of it was increasing. Another minute, and
she might be able to take him. If his guard was down.
"It is for me. I know I can't lie about this anymore. You can see I'm
telling the truth, can't you?"
"Yes," Iria admitted. The fact he was stalling on pulling the trigger was
proof enough of that. For just a moment, she wondered what life would have
been like had he proved a more honest person, and she a little less hot
headed, at least when it came to him. That was the problem when passion
mixed with betrayal. Some things could never be forgiven, and even lying to
oneself was an impossibility.
Killgore suddenly became less pensive and hefted the gun up. He aimed right
at Iria's face. "The drug should be wearing off any second now. I know
you've been faking how much its affecting you. You're too good to expect
anything less. I've been trying to figure some way out for both of us, but
nothing's coming to mind."
"Can I say one last thing?" she asked.
The gun never wavered. "Go ahead."
Iria looked upon him with fondness, the first since their meeting each other
once again. "I really did love you once. That's why I hope you'll believe me
when I say your life depends upon this: look out behind you."
$Bah, that old trick? ThatAAAAAHHHH.
Killgore turned, trying to bring his gun up to fire, but the now flying disc
that had been attached to the top of Zeiram's head was too close. All
Killgore could do was keep his rifle between it and the dozens of tentacles
that had sprouted from the underside of the discus shaped part of the
monster.
"God, you're hard to kill!" Killgore shouted as he kept the tentacles at
bay. He could see them squeezing around the cannon, but they lacked the
strength to crumple the metal. Obviously this remaining part of Zeiram
wasn't anywhere near as powerful as the main body. It would be easy to kill,
if he could get the barrel of his weapon aimed in the right spot.
Killgore continued fending off the tentacles, trying to formulate a plan. If
he could keep it back with one arm, he could free his sidearm and fire into
its underside. Surely that was weaker than the exterior part. Or maybe stuff
a grenade in it. Or he could-
A blade emerged from his chest, piercing his heart as it drove through his
body, killing him instantly.
$Or, as instantly as a heart would ever does, with really takes around
20-60 seconds for even unconsciousness, unless it results in a massive
blood hemmorage.
"You're right. There is no way out for both of us." Iria said, saddened by
the necessity of the action. She didn't let her sorrow slow her down as she
pulled the blade out and brought it back to impale Zeiram the same way she
had her ex-husband.
Zeiram flew out of the sword's range, abandoning its grip on the weapon and
flying backward. Iria was quick to pick up the abandoned plasma cannon and
tried lifting it. The weapon was terribly heavy, and she was still weakened
by the drug. She aimed it as best as she could and fired.
<snip>
The action momentarily confused Iria. This was the exact same tactic it had
tried during their climatic battle in the Stardust Desert, an attack she had
overcome. Worse for it, it had let its head out to attack her, leaving it
vulnerable. She had already proved she could concentrate enough to ignore
the euphoric effect of the absorption attack, so why was it intent on trying
it again?
And then the answer occurred to her. When YSC had secured the Zeiram cells,
they had been salvaged from the fight on Myce, not in the desert where the
body had been burned to ashes. This Zeiram was unaware that she had defeated
him in this manner before.
For the first time since learning of Zeiram's resurrection, Iria truly felt
she had the upper hand. By now the tentacles had wrapped themselves around
everything below her breasts,
$Wooo! Hot tentacle lovin'!
but there was one weapon left at her disposal,
the exact same one that had administered Zeiram's deathblow before. She
reached back in her hair for her concealed bead knife....
....And discovered it wasn't there. She felt through her hair for it, but it
was gone, probably falling out somewhere during her many battles on the
platform. Now panic overwhelmed her. The cannon was out of reach, she
couldn't force her way past the tentacles to get any of her belt weapons,
and she could feel the wrist the monster had clamped in its teeth
threatening to break under its pressure.
Iria tried punching the white head with her free hand, but her blows were
ineffectual. Then she was in too much pain to think as her wrist finally
snapped. The creature released its grip, allowing Iria to bring the injured
limb out of the fray. But now the head was rearing back, and even if she
managed to get her uninjured hand between it and her throat, it would only
be a matter of time before it broke that one, then she'd be finished.
The head coiled upward like a snake, preparing to descend again, even as
Iria felt more of her body drawn further into Zeiram. Now it was a race
against time, either death by absorption or by having her throat ripped out.
She wagered the head would win, though she'd go down fighting to the very
last instant, like Gren had.
$And, of course, the last instant is when the others arrive. Because
this battle was Iria's, after all.
Then Iria saw a flash of movement from behind the white head as something
came into view from over the top of Zeiram. A feminine battle cry reached
the bounty hunter's ears as the point of a blade suddenly appeared through
the mouth of the white head of Zeiram. It couldn't cry out, and instead just
writhed in agony as the blade traveled down the length of the neck, all the
way down into the creature's brim.
$Uh, just to nitpick, it usually works the other way, like it did in the
anime. The head is on a long, flexible neck/stalk thing. Starting at
the base and ripping out works because the neck is stretched straight as
the blade travels until it splits the head and emerges. Starting at the
head and going backwards doesn't work because the neck collapses and
coils.
All but severed in two, Zeiram gurgled
one last death rattle, then fell limply to the ground. Almost instantly the
skin withered like a weed pulled from the ground and left under the sun for
a day. Iria recognized the sign immediately, having administered such a blow
once before.
Zeiram was really and truly dead. This time for good.
Breathing a sigh of relief at the destruction of her foe, and that she would
live to see another sunrise, Iria looked up into the face of her savior.
"Geez, I leave you alone for a day, and look at the trouble you get into,"
Kei jokingly reproached.
"I had to shoot my way through a whole battle station before fighting
Zeiram, you know," Iria quipped, despite the pain in her wrist, in her
entire body. It was good to see Kei, and not just because she had saved
Iria's life.
Kei brandished the weapon she had used to finish off Zeiram. A bead knife.
The one a young Kei had lifted off Iria on Daojawan during what felt like a
million years ago. The troubleshooter waved it teasingly before Iria. "Now
aren't you glad you let me keep this?"
$Iria: Not really, the only reason I was in trouble was because you
stole that one in the first place.
"You could have shot him," Iria contended as Kei helped lift her out from
under Zeiram's remains.
"The shot might have gone through and hit you. Hand-to-hand was the only way
to make sure you didn't get hurt. Besides, I know that's the way you took
him out last time. I thought it would be cool if I did it the same way."
$Yeah. Cool.
They hefted the disc of the monster off Iria at last. As the bounty hunter's
body came into view, Kei managed a better look at her injuries. She winced
in sympathetic pain. "Does it hurt?"
"Now that you mention it, yes. Yes it hurts a lot." Iria paused a moment to
look at Zeiram's remains. "But it was worth it. It was definitely worth it."
$Better than sex, because the feeling lasts longer.
>From her position at the door, guarding them from any sneak attacks, Yuri
called out, "I hate to break up the mutual admiration society meeting, but
Mikael informs me that the planet below us is undergoing a bout of intense
volcanic activity, which is a sure sign Argus was delivered before we got
here. If we don't get off the platform now, we're going to go up along with
the planet, which will be any minute now."
"Shit!" Kei cursed. "I can't believe of all the stupid luck."
"What is it?" Iria asked. " Do you have friends down there?"
$Extra space after ".
""No, that's not it," Yuri said.
"We're going to get blamed for another planet getting destroyed!" Kei
completed her partner's line of thinking, one they had engaged in far too
often for their liking.
$They really leave their mark on the galaxy.
Bob's computerized image suddenly appeared on Iria's wrist communicator.
"Unless you want to blow up with the planet, I suggest you get a move on.
It's getting really bad down there."
"Let's move it!" Kei cried out as the trio of women headed for the nearest
exit as fast as they could.
Xxxxxxxxxxxx
It was only ten minutes later that the Kreeper V flew out of the orbital
$Creeper
platform's docking bay, the one it had shot its way into. By the time it
cleared the bay, the destruction of Danube could be seen easily from orbit.
Bright red lines indicated where the planet was coming apart at its tectonic
plates. Sensing the imminent destruction, Bob hit the Kreeper V's
afterburners, more intent on removing themselves from immediate orbit and
risking overheating the ship's primary engines rather than playing it safe
and being blown up.
The group was in such a hurry, they failed to notice the one-person snub
fighter that left the docking bay just as they began heading into deep
space. The fighter ignited its own afterburners, fleeing the platform just
as quickly as they did.
$One wonders where Springer is.
Two minutes later, the planet Danube exploded. A sizable section of one of
the plates, about half the size of one of its five continents, struck the
platform, destroying it instantly.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"I told you we were going to burn out the primary engines," Yuri said in a
singsong voice.
"Better than getting vaped with the planet," Kei countered.
"But we're going to be stuck in deep space for at least five days before we
make it back to Xyphos 13."
"We have enough food," Iria assured them as Mikael tended her wounds.
"YV-Rations." Mikael made a face at the prospect of eating the only food
stored on the ship.
"I like them," Kei insisted.
"They look like bugs," Yuri said, her face matching Mikael's.
$I'd eat them.
"But they taste like good bugs," Kei countered.
"The first time I met Kei, she ate my entire stock of them," Iria said, able
to laugh without discomfort thanks to the painkillers her son had loaded her
with.
Kei shrugged. "Hey, I was a street orphan. Sifting through a restaurants
garbage was my idea of fine dining."
"So that's where your awful taste in food comes from," Yuri said.
"I got a perfectly fine taste in food."
$Bicker. Tort. Retort. Good times.
"I doubt if you can taste much of anything considering how drunk you usually
get at any meal."
"You're just jealous because I have a tolerance, unlike you, Miss 'Three
Cooler Yuri' ."
$Extra spaces before the period.
"Three Cooler?" Mikael asked.
"It's a nickname she picked up at some of the office parties. It's because
she gets drunk on just three wine coolers," Kei teased.
$Yuri: Just drunk enough to let that cute office boy talk me into his
bed. So there.
"Better than being known as 'Kei the Kegger'," Yuri teased back.
"I did outdo myself that time," Kei said proudly.
$Extra space.
"Sounds like we'll have a lot of stories to share on the long trip back,"
Mikael said.
Iria considered that. "Speaking of which, since we are going to be in here
several days, and this ship is designed for no more than two people, we're
going to have to do things in shifts, including using the sleeping
compartment."
Kei and Mikael looked at each other. As one they said, "We'll be on the same
shift."
Iria shot them a level look. "I think not."
Mikael said, "Oh, so you think I'd be better off sleeping with Yuri?"
"I have no objections," Yuri smiled warmly at him.
"Well I do," Kei said frostily.
Iria looked at everyone reproachfully. "The choice is obvious. The best way
to keep problems from arising is if Mikael sleeps at the same time I do."
Mikael rolled his eyes. "No way!"
Iria looked hurt. "You used to sleep in bed with me all the time."
"When I was three!"
"I really don't mind sleeping with Mikael," Kei insisted.
"Which is the problem," Yuri pointed out. "Everyone will have to use the
sheets and it's not like they can be washed."
"Who said we'd need the bed for that?" Kei whispered under her breath.
Iria crossed her arms defiantly. "There is no way you two are sleeping in
the same bed under my roof at this time."
Mikael sounded as exasperated as a child can be with their parent as he
contended, "You know, Kei and I are mature enough to have a platonic
relationship."
"Yeah," Kei said in agreement.
"Kei?" Yuri asked.
"Yes?"
"Do you know what platonic means?"
"Ah, no."
$I expected a line more like "That's the kind of hot contentental
quaking and explosion Danube just went through, right? Oh, yeah, we're
going to be totaly platonic."
"I knew it," Yuri said defiantly.
$defiantly seems an odd choice.
Iria gave her son speculative glare, "Just because you can say the word
doesn't mean you can actually have anything to do with it."
The argument continued on for several hours.
$Then they all ended up sleeping with each other. But that's for the
omake. This so totally needs an omake.
Xxxxxxxxxxx
<snip>
Adelpha knew she wasn't capable of saving a planet, it was going to take
everything she had to save her skin. She waited until the others left, and
was about to head to the docking bay, when she recalled something the big
man had said. Taking a chance, she raced into the room, found what she had
been looking for, and ran out again, getting to the fighter and taking off
just in time.
Leaving the fighter on auto-pilot, Adelpha removed the object from her
pocket and looked it over. The small cylinder with these 'Zeiram cells' was
the key to making Adelpha rich. It was only a matter of finding someone
interested in them and selling them, then she'd be set for life.
$Because Zeiram can never truly be killed. Thank god for regen. Wonder
if Springer could take him over?
It seemed every cloud really did have a silver lining.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
[Endnotes]
Wow! It's finished. Who would have thought it would take, oh, what was it?
Five years or so to finish this story.
$Yeah, this rocks. I'm so glad I made it back in time to catch the last
chapters. This always was one of my favorite continuing adventures.
Sorry it took me so long, but I kept
at it until what you have here is the end. Thanks to all those who stuck
with it to the end. I really appreciate it.
$Excellent story, of course. Hell, I don't have much to say here at the
end. I enjoyed it, of course. The ending was good, a little formulaic,
but it's what you do with it, and you did many fun things. Funny in the
right spots, kinda sad in the right spots, and lots of action. This
would make a great movie. Heheh. All things considered, I think you're
one of the best authors out there for writing endings because, you know,
you actually get some practice writing them. I would like to see more,
of course. I kinda expect an omake or some other sort of silly epilogue
to really cap it off, but you've been working on this for a long time
and I could see you not wanting to do any more to it for a good while.
What's next on the menu?
-Nugar
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