[XOver][FanFic] Legion's Quest: Tangled Skeins

[Edward Becerra]

FOREWORD

Though I cannot with complete candor state, as did the late Professor
Tolkien, that "the tale grew in the telling," I _can_ allow that this tale
grew in direct proportion to the ominous number of times that I found myself
reading and re-reading, and re-re-reading Darren Steffler's "Twisted Path"
fan-fic series.

This was in itself not a cause for alarm (or "alarum" as Professor T.
would have put it) but the worried looks on the faces of my family and
friends _were_. So I thought long and hard upon the situation, and came to a
decision.

Locking myself in my house with a metric ton of potato chips, several
mega-liters of Mountain Dew and enough Spam(tm) to choke a horse, I sat down
to a super-charged, fuel-injected Commodore Amiga 500 personal computer, and
began this.. a story about as readable as Linear A and of the same literary
value as an autographed centerfold of Saint Simon Stylites.

(Eventually the production of this turkey _did_ require the choking of a
small horse, but that's another story entirely...)

Then I ran the first few chapters of this opus past Twister, who read
them, and allowed that it wasn't exactly the _worst_ fanfic that he'd ever
read. (Although it came close. <grin>) Then he gave me permission to use his
characters, urged me to continue with it, and the result is what you're
reading now.

I hope you enjoy this little take-off on Darren's wonderful stories, and
that in the goodness of your hearts, you decide that traveling to the
northeastern corner of Colorado simply for the pleasure of lynching me is
much too far a trip for you to take.

So have fun reading, don't take it too seriously, and remember.. if you
do decide to kill me.. I FAKED MY ADDRESS! BWAHAHAHAH!

Ed Becerra

The characters of Twister and Darlene Stefanson
are Copyright (c) 1994, 1996 by Darren Steffler.

The characters of White Wolf and his bar, Wolf's Place,
are Copyright (c) 1995, 1996 by Hitomi Ichinohei

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I wanted to be happily useless. You made me miserably useless."
- Peter O'Toole, "High Spirits".

***********************************

"No, Minerva. I'm _not_ going to take a rest. I'm going to keep going,
whether you like it or not!"

The ACI stared back. "B'wana, you are tired, you just spent 12 years
fighting in a war that was none of your business, and you are suffering from
shell-shock. You are in _no_ condition to go hunting for home. If you try,
you'll end up making some stupid mistake, and no one knows what will happen
then."

"I can't stay here, girl. It's bad enough I participated in the Fall of
the Pentagon worlds. The taking of Strana Mechty was worse." Ed buried his
face in his hands.

"You had _no_ way of knowing that Clan Jade Phoenix would fight to the
death. No one did. Not even Prince Victor. He wouldn't have ordered the
assault if he'd had the slightest idea that their Crusader Khan would order
the massacre of all the non-warrior castes before he led the final
resistance."

"I can't stay here, girl. I just can't. I don't belong here."

"That's not true. Dr. Banzai and his team want you to join them. They're
the most respected designers of Battlemechs in the Inner Sphere. And I may
have no proof, but I believe that they aren't native to this reality any
more than we are. A ship named 'The Nth Dimension'? His name? Team Banzai?
The winged double-B emblem they use? You'd fit right in, boss." Her face
grew frustrated. "And even if you don't want to take them up on their
standing invitation, there's the Federated Commonwealth. You're a hero to
the people, b'wana. House Davion's offered you a Dukedom! Why not take it?"

"No. I made a big mistake coming to this universe, and a bigger one in
staying. We're leaving. Now. Prepare for rotation."

"But boss..."

"NOW, DAMNIT!! RIGHT NOW!" he screamed. "WE'RE LEAVING!"

".. yes, boss. Rotating.. "

* * *

STEEL BREEZE PRODUCTIONS

and

Industrial Might & Logic

Are Proud to Present

L E G I O N ' S Q U E S T

Tangled Skeins

* * *

"Start scanning, Minerva. Does it look like home?"

She shook her head. "No. There are orbital colonies around Terra, and
extensive industrial development on the Moon and in orbit, both in LEO and
in GEO. In addition, some asteroid mining is clearly evident." A moment's
hesitation, then.. "And I'm picking up a broadcast clock signal from several
of the navigation satellites. It's 2035 AD, here. Wherever here is."

"Prepare for another rotation, then."

"Boss..?"

"What is it?"

"Maybe you should get some sleep, first? And something to eat? You're
exhausted."

A tired sigh escaped his lips. "You're going to keep after me about that,
aren't you." He rose from the chair. "All right. One day. 24 hours. I'll
rest, and then we'll leave. Are you happy now?"

"Yes, I am. You've got to start taking better care of yourself, boss.
Just because you can't be physically harmed, doesn't mean that you aren't
vulnerable to emotional problems. Now go get something to eat, and go to
bed. I'll wake you in twelve hours. I promise."

He headed for his cabin. "Don't forget to cloak, pretty lady."

"I'm already cloaked, boss. Standing orders. _Your_ orders."

"Right." Sigh. "I forgot. I.. ah.. forget it. See you in a few, girl."

As he walked down the corridor to his bed, Minerva looked after him with
worried eyes. Then she started some deep scans to identify what reality they
were currently in. Perhaps when he'd rested she could persuade him to take
some time off...

***********************************

After a night of restless sleep and a breakfast he'd just picked at, Ed
returned to the bridge. "What have you found, Minerva?"

"It's a Bubblegum Crisis reality. I've already found many news items
referring to the Knight Sabers, GENOM, and the on-going problem with rogue
boomers."

"So, let's leave. We've got a long ways to go, yet."

"There's going to be a slight difficulty with that, lover." She brought
up some figures on the main viewscreen. "That charge you're carrying, the
one that keeps diverting us off-course... it's not draining as fast as
usual. I think.. I think that if we try to rotate, nothing is going to
happen."

"Is this another attempt to get me to take a vacation, girl?"

"No. You can take the controls for yourself, if you like. But the results
will be the same. Watch. Rotating.."

Several failed attempts later, Ed gave up in disgust. "So we're stuck
here until.. when? How long until we can leave?"

"You're still discharging, but at a _much_ slower rate. I don't have any
idea why, yet.. but something about this reality is odd. If I had to hazard
a guess, I'd say that we weren't the first extra-dimensional travellers to
arrive here."

"Terrific. My plans get shot to hell because some other careless
traveller got here first." His shoulders slumped. "All right. Take us down
to Earth. If I'm stuck here for a while, I might as well get that rest you
want me to have. Maybe a week off will help." He snorted. "Try Japan. Since
this _is_ a BGC variant, I might as well take the opportunity to see the
Knight Sabers in action."

"That's the spirit, boss. Who knows? You might like it here."

"Like it? Mega-Tokyo? Doubtful. Around there, if you're not part of a
mega-corp, you're just boomer fodder. But at least they'll have bars."

"What is it with you and bars, lover? Every world we set down on, they're
the first place you head for." She made a moue at him.

"Old habits die hard, I guess. I feel comfortable in a nice quiet bar."
He shrugged. "Too many years as a soldier, I suppose. Soldiers are supposed
to get drunk and chase skirts in their free time. It's a tradition."

"And you're a traditional type." She blew him a kiss. "I'll see if I
can't spot a nice bar and grill for you. One that's got some cute girls
nearby for you to chase. Go get some more rest, and I'll let you know when
we've touched down."

Ed nodded silently and turned for his cabin. Then he looked back, for
just a moment. "This time, girl... _this_ time, we are *not* going to get
involved. No matter _what_ happens. We just.. walk away." Then he left the
bridge.

*Now why do I have such a hard time believing that, lover?* thought
Minerva to herself. She turned her attention to the delicate task of
slipping past the web of radar networks filling the air of the world ahead.
Even with full cloaking on, it was still bothersome. But in the back of her
mind, she wondered...

* * *

"We're there, boss." When Ed didn't answer, she piped a 60 cycle hum into
his room over the intercom system. The raucous buzz shook him from his bunk
with gratifying speed, and she smirked to herself when he hit the floor with
his face. *All these years, and it's _still_ Faceplant Maneuver #1 when he
wakes up. I don't think he'll _ever_ learn.*

"Wakey, wakey, b'wana. We've reached Mega-Tokyo, I've found a parking
space on the sea floor, and there are a few things you should know about."
She paused at that point, as he staggered blindly down the companionway in
semi-conscious search of the coffee he could smell. "Boss.. Oh, Boss.. Oh,
hell.." She gave it up as a lost cause.. or at least until after he'd had
his morning brew.

Several cups later, he was considerably more coherent, and able to talk.
"What was that you said, pretty lady?"

"Well, for one, I found a spot on the sea bottom that should prove a safe
place to park. For another.. I did a routine scan of Mega-Tokyo and found
some interesting things."

"Like what?"

"The most interesting was what I couldn't scan." She frowned prettily.
"There's some sort of underground anomaly, outside the city. Every time I
scan the area, I get a sort of .. _ripple_ in the returns. There's something
there, I'm certain of it. But I can't get a lock on it. Or even a good
location. What ever it is, it's cloaked even better than I am."

"That's saying a lot, considering where we got your cloaking device,
m'dear. Could it be a threat?"

"I honestly don't know, boss. It worries me."

"Well, leave it be, for now. No sense in borrowing trouble. Anything else
I should know about?"

"I found you a bar, b'wana. And with any luck, you shouldn't be bothered.
It's one of those bars where people mind their own business. It's down near
the Canyon."

"A place where people `mind their own business,' eh? It's not a yakuza
bar, by any chance?"

"Well.. not exactly. Just a place where certain types can meet in peace
to do deals, boss. It's called Wolf's Place."

"Wolf's Place, eh? Sounds like some of the watering holes back on
Outreach. Jamie Wolf would have liked that. Well, if the shady types can
meet there in peace, then I shouldn't have much trouble. Those folks don't
answer annoying questions, nor do they ask them. Much. And that's the way I
like it." He blinked once or twice. "Weapons, or not?"

"A piece or two of steel wouldn't be out of place, boss. Nothing rowdy
allowed _inside_, but once you leave.. it's not the best of neighborhoods."

"Good. It may not make much sense, given what I've become.. but I feel
better with a pistol on my hip." He turned to a small cabinet on the
bulkhead, rummaging through it. "Where did I put my Sternsacht? Dammit, it
was here somewhere, I know it.." His voice trailed off as he searched.

Minerva was taken aback for a microsecond or two. "Ed...?"

The use of his first name got his attention. "What?"

"You lost the Sternsacht during the retaking of Romulus. Don't you
remember?"

A frightened look swept across his face, then quickly vanished. "Oh.
Yeah. That's right. I.. forgot that. Replicate me a new one, please."

"I will, boss. Try not to get in any trouble, please?"

"I'll do my best, baby. But trouble has a way of finding me."

* * *

Minerva had found him a nice dark alley in the rubbled area near Wolf's
Place, less than 10 minutes walk from the bar. There had been a few street
punks in the area, but they scattered when he picked up a steel I-beam from
the ruins of a collapsed building and waved it around like a twig.

*Pitiful. I've seen tougher people washed out of kindergarten. Now where
is that bar... There!*

Inside it was quiet and peaceful. He stepped up to the bar, and flagged
down the bartender. "Got any pepper vodka?"

The owner of the bar looked him up and down. "Yes. Polish and Russian.
What's your preference?"

"I'll have the Russian. And a bottle of tabasco sauce, if you have any."
He flipped a gold coin on the bar. "You take this credit card?"

White Wolf smiled, and the coin vanished. "Your drink will be here right
away!" he said with professional cheer. "Anything else?"

"Just a little privacy.. and some corn chips, with salsa. Hot."

A few moments later, he had a corner table, a fifth of Smirnoff's and the
chips. He eased back into the seat, and relaxed. *This is _much_ better,* he
thought. *I should do this more often.* He poured himself a drink and
glanced around the bar, watching the other patrons. After a moment or two,
they'd accepted him as just another person interested in a drink and some
quiet.

* * *

Things stayed that way for a while. Ed soaked up most of the bottle as he
watched various deals made between vaguely suspicious-looking types at the
other tables. But the atmosphere changed very quickly. A uniformed man ran
into the bar and shouted for everyone to evacuate.

White Wolf was on the officer in a second. "What do you mean, evacuate?!"

"We have a boomer on the loose! It's headed straight for this building.
Clear out while you have the chance!"

The bar emptied rather rapidly at that point. With two exceptions.

Ed slammed his glass down on the table, taking care not to break it. *I
am _not_ leaving my drink because some tin-can wind-up toy is on a rampage.
I am sick and tired of being attacked in bars! If it's not the Puma sisters,
or Clan warriors, or other-dimensional monsters, then it's some mechanical
jakanape!* He glanced over at the bar, where the bartender had pulled out a
large weapon of an unfamiliar sort. *Looks like a cut-down assault cannon,
or a chopped anti-tank rifle of some sort. He's gonna fight for his place.
And I don't blame him one bit.*

A few moments later, the boomer, a C-55 model, kicked in the door and
strode in. It spotted the human glowering at it from a table in the rear of
the bar.

"Leave me be, and we'll have no problems. Fuck with me, tin man, and I'll
hand you your head. That clear enough for your little mechanical mind?"

The boomer answered him with a barrage of heat beams and particle cannon
fire. The table exploded into a cloud of wood smoke and vaporized metal,
obscuring the rear of the room. It turned to face the other human in the
building, targeting the weapon the barkeep held braced against the wall.

It got the surprise of its synthetic life when a hand tapped it on the
shoulder. It whirled around to face an angry something. Something wearing
smoldering clothes and a _very_ upset expression.

The boomer had a little trouble adjusting to the situation. After all,
humans, and even most boomers, simply did NOT shrug off laser and particle
beams as though they were raindrops. It upgraded the threat estimate of the
target by several levels.

"You smoked my clothing. I can get a new suit. My hair is a mess. Any
barber can fix that." His voice started to rise in volume. "But you _had_ to
go and spill my drink. I like to drink in peace, thank you very much. This
was my first chance in _months_! AND YOU RUINED THAT, YOU AUDIO-ANIMATRONIC
JUNK-HEAP!!"

The boomer tried a physical attack. "Pathetic," Ed muttered. He caught
the punch it threw in one hand, and squeezed. The boomer's fist was crushed
into a metallic lump. It quickly took stock of what had just happened, and
signaled to GENOM headquarters, then continued its attack. The fight didn't
last very long.

* * *

The Knight Sabers had headed out towards Wolf's Place as soon as they had
received the call of a rogue boomer. They beat the ADPolice to the area by
only a few minutes. Leon's response time had been improving recently.
Spotting the shattered door, they entered quickly, expecting the worst. What
they saw surprised them.

A wide-eyed White Wolf stood behind the bar, a Gerlitch squeezebore rifle
with a shortened barrel held limply in one hand. In the middle of the floor
stood a rather average looking person (?) who was rather industriously
yanking parts off of, and out of, a C-55. And doing so with all the gay
abandon of a sadistic child pulling the wings off a fly. He finished by
twisting the head from it's shoulders with a single motion, and crushing it
between his hands.

Over their private circuit, Sylia demanded, "Nene.. what _is_ that?"

"I don't know, Sylia. I can't get anything at all! Passive scans aren't
returning anything but its external appearance, and active scans are simply
reflected back at me! I don't _think_ it's another boomer, but ..."

"I see.. Keep it under observation, and repeat the scans. You might get
something on a second try."

The person being discussed brushed his hands together, and slapped the
ashes from his shirt. Then he walked towards the door, seeming to pay no
attention to the four hardsuited figures barring his way.

"Hold it right there, buster!" A blue hardsuit with red go-faster stripes
held up an arm, barring his path. "You aren't going anywhere 'til you answer
some questions. Like, who the hell are you?" She pointed to the pile of
boomer parts lying on the floor. "And _how_ did you do _that_?!"

Priss got a rude surprise at that point. She was answered with a blank
stare, as two arms reached out, picking her up, hardsuit and all. She was
moved to one side like a toy, and gently placed back down.

"I'm sorry. I really don't have time for this. I've got to go."

Then he stepped over the wreckage of the door, and saw the ADPolice. He
groaned.

"Fine. Just fine. It's the comic relief."

An angry mutter answered him from their ranks and a variety of personal
weaponry was leveled at him. One officer stepped forward with a pair of
handcuffs dangling suggestively from one hand.

"I'm afraid you'll have to come with us, sir. There are some questions
we'd like to ask you."

"And you are...?"

"Officer Bochinski, sir. Of the ADPolice."

Ed froze. "Officer ... Bochinski? Wadderson's partner?"

The officer nodded curiously. "Yes. Do I know you?"

The stranger standing in front of the bar simply stared at the ADPolice
officer for a long moment, a stunned look on his face. Then he shook his
head. "No. We haven't met. I've .. heard of you, though. I'm sorry, officer.
I can't answer any of your questions, and I can't stay." He looked up
towards the sky. "Minerva, emergency recall."

A glittering cascade of light surrounded him, and as the Knight Sabers
and the ADPolice watched in astonishment, he slowly faded from sight.

Bochinski dropped the handcuffs. "Kenneth is _never_ going to believe
_this_ story."

In the bar, Nene's eyes went wide beneath her helmet. "I wonder if he's
like Darlene," she mused.

Sylia's eyes narrowed. Could it be...someone else from another universe?

* * *

"My people, Hymath? Sure. Take the first space/time warp to the fifth
dimension, then it's the third wormhole on the right."
- Kelly Davies, "The Human Memoirs"

Aboard the Calypso, Ed carelessly tossed his pistol belt to a near-by
table. He failed to notice the loose cartridges spilling from an open ammo
pouch on the belt. The expression on his face was that of a man sick to
death. "Were you monitoring me, Minerva?"

A deafening silence answered him.

"Then you know what just happened. Pull up every fan-fic we have by
Darren Steffler, girl. Do it now. Concentrate on the Twisted Path series,
but don't focus on them exclusively. I have to find out what I'm up against
here."

"I can show you everything up to the third story, b'wana."

"I thought you had everything, girl. You're from my personal future,
after all. Don't you have those files from the net?"

"They're locked. And I can't open them until the proper time."

"WHAT?! Who ordered that?" he demanded. "I thought _I_ was the only
person who could order you to lock a file!"

"You are. And you did."

He sat down with a thump. "Maybe you should repeat that. Slowly. Use
small words. Assume I'm totally confused. Because I am, you know."

The hologram looked worried. "This might serve better, boss. I have
something here that you should see." She flicked out, replaced by an image
on the main bridge viewscreen. Ed recognized the face. He saw it every
morning in the mirror.

"Hello, Ed. I know you're feeling rather frustrated, upset and angry
right now, because that's how _I_ remember feeling.. which is why this
recording was made." A brief chuckle. "Actually, I remember this recording
twice. Viewing it for the first time, as you, and making it now, as myself."

The face of his future self smiled out of the screen at him. "Remember
our talks with Doc Mui back on Utopia Planetia? Well, what you're trying to
do right now, accessing information from your own future time-line, could
cause a major paradox. So.. before I brought the Calypso back through time
to hand it over to the Wedge Defence Force, so they could pass it on to you,
I took some precautions. Certain files have been time-locked, so you'll be
unable to read them until it's safe to do so without endangering yourself
with a self-inflicted paradox."

He grinned. "And don't think you can out-guess me. I'm _you_, remember?
Anything you can think of, I've _already_ thought of, and taken steps to
prevent. Each of those files has been locked with a one _terabyte_ key. Even
if you order Minerva to crack them for you, it will take her so long, by the
time she does succeed, it will already be long since time for them to
release themselves."

The figure on the screen leaned back, and the viewpoint pulled back,
revealing a mirror image of the bridge Ed was standing on.

"There is _one_ thing I can tell you, brother. We did make it through,
and we _did_ make it home. Try to take comfort in that, if you can. And
trust Minerva. She _does_ have your best interests at heart. Don't give her
too much grief. She loves you. It may have been programmed into her, but
it's no less real for that. Take good care of her, brother."

He waved. "And remember... Fortuna bless. Always."

The screen flashed, and went blank.

* * *

Outside Wolf's Place, officers were busy taking statements from
witnesses, and collecting evidence. Bochinski was busy arguing with a
representative from Genom who was demanding the release of the boomer's
remains.

"We _require_ whatever may remain of the C-55, officer. It will be of
invaluable assistance in determining _why_ it went rogue. The more we know
of why boomers go berserk, the more likely it is that we will be able to
prevent it from happening in future models!"

Bochinski was keeping his temper, but it was taking a major effort on his
part. If he didn't know better, he'd swear this over-officious junior
executive type was deliberately trying to annoy him.

"I _am_ sorry, sir. The remains are evidence in a case. When the ADPolice
sees fit to release them, I'm certain you will be informed. But at present,
there is simply nothing I can do for you."

* * *

While Bochinski was having this conversation, one of the workers bagging,
tagging, and loading the pieces onto a waiting van took a moment to look
around. Careful to remain unobserved and taking advantage of the distraction
the argument was providing, he quickly opened the bag containing the upper
torso of the boomer and swiftly removed several chips from a recording unit.
The chips went into a pocket, and he resealed the bag with a quite official
looking ADPolice seal that he took from the same pocket.

* * *

At Silky Doll Enterprises, Sylia was reviewing everything she had learned
from Twister about inter-universal travel. It wasn't much, as Twister
himself wasn't altogether well versed in the subject. But it helped.

She put her elbows on her desk, and steepled her fingers, deep in
thought.

*Anyone lost between dimensions, like Twister, would want information,
first. Where am I, when am I, and most important, how can I get home. He'd
be asking himself these questions right now.. if he _is_ from another
reality,* she thought. *Of course, that's assuming he's in a rational state
of mind. Darlene arrived here suffering from amnesia, so that may not
necessarily be the case.*

She nodded, then reached for the phone, tapping out the number for the
ADPolice. She made certain to route the call through Wingman to keep it
secure. Nene's face filled the tiny screen.

"Hi, Sylia! What can I do for you?" bubbled the redhead.

"Nene, I want you to keep alert for some sort of effort to raid the
network. From what I saw yesterday, I rather suspect that our .. friend ..
may be lost, and confused. He might try appropriating the information he
needs in the same way Firelord did."

Nene looked puzzled for a moment, then nodded, realizing who Sylia was
talking about.

"Okay. I'll be certain to watch out for it. Do you really think.."

Sylia frowned. "We'll talk about it later." Then she hung up. *Something
is happening here, and I'm not certain what it is. Until we have more
information on who and _what_ that.. person at Wolf's Place was, it's best
to take a defensive posture.* She tapped out another number. The screen
didn't light up, this time.

"We need to meet."

"The usual place."

"Done."

If the stranger was from another reality, then it wasn't very likely that
Fargo could find out anything useful. But it couldn't hurt to have him
search. And information was a weapon, in the right hands.

***********************************

"I want information, girl. I need to KNOW, dammit!"

"I'm sorry, boss. All of the open systems seem to agree. The Crystal
Knight hasn't been seen in months. And there _is_ a death notice for Dr.
Miriam. A rather gruesome one, at that. Now that I've read it, I'd have to
give Ms. Madigan points for creativity in the field of revenge, at least.
Given the details from TP3, I'd say we're too late. Twister is gone."

"I refuse to accept that. He didn't leave right away, and no dates were
given. You hit the public access databases only?"

Minerva tried to head off what she could see coming. "That's right, boss,
but they all agreed that.."

"I. Do. Not. Care. Raid them all. Public and private. If they're
connected to any net in any fashion, I want every stinking bit and byte in
them. And I want it _yesterday_. Is that quite clear enough for you?"

She sighed. "Yes, boss. You do realize that to get results _that_ fast,
I'll have to be about as subtle as an epileptic bull in a china shop? They
may not be able to trace me, but they _will_ notice me."

He glared at her without a word, then stalked away to his cabin.

*This is _not_ a good sign,* she thought. *He's starting to lose
control.* Then she got to work.

* * *

When Sylia answered the phone, Nene was in a minor panic. "Are you using
Wingman, Sylia?"

"No, I haven't. Why?"

"Something just broke into every machine on the net. Nothing seemed to
stop it, or even slow it down. Passwords, firewalls.. they all failed.
Hardware locks simply slowed it down. The only successes were when someone
cut the power completely. I haven't seen anything like it since Darlene
left." Nene's eyes widened. "Do you think she's come back?"

Sylia shook her head. "It's unlikely. If she had, she'd have come to see
us by now."

"Oh.." Nene looked disappointed. "I hoped.."

"I know, Nene. We all miss Darlene. But she'll be back. In the meantime,
I think you should look into this. Find out what you can. It may have
something to do with what we talked about yesterday."

Nene thought that over for a second or two. "You think it could be him?"

"Anything is possible."

After Sylia hung up, Nene returned to her desk, and started a search.
Naoko wandered over and looked over her shoulder.

"Checking out that intrusion, Nene?"

"Uh-huh.. I _really_ want to know how they managed to get into so *many*
machines so fast." She giggled. "Who knows.. it might come in handy!"

"Nene!" squealed Naoko in mock-horrified tones. "You _know_ what they'll
do to you if the Chief catches you cracking systems again..."

"But it's in the line of _duty_." she smiled. "They certainly can't
object to that!"

Naoko just sighed. "You're gonna get in trouble..."

* * *

In Leon's office, Bochinski was showing a piece of evidence to Leon.

"The owner of the bar stated that this is what the `person' who destroyed
the boomer used to pay for his drinks." He dropped a plastic evidence bag on
the desk. "It's an American twenty dollar gold coin, commonly referred to as
a `double eagle' in the States. More important, the lab insists that it's
not just real gold.. but that it's authentic. Not a forgery. They claim it's
at _least_ 140 years old." He tapped the coin through the plastic. "And if
they're right, it's worth enough to coin collectors that he could have
_bought_ Wolf's Place outright."

Leon McNichol picked up the coin between a thumb and forefinger, absently
watching the light from the overhead fixtures glint on it's bright surface.
"So.. we have another _unusual_ person in Mega-Tokyo. First the Knight
Sabers, then the Crystal Knight, the Elf shows up, there's a werewolf
working ADP duty, and one of my best men is now a woman." He rubbed his
aching eyes. "Life in the ADPolice. It just doesn't get any better than
this."

"It could be worse, sir."

"How?"

"I could have fleas."

Leon groaned. "I really didn't need to hear that. All right, did you get
anything else? How about the witnesses?"

"You know those types, sir. Didn't see anything, didn't hear anything.
They went blind and deaf the second they walked through the door. But there
was this." He fished in a shirt pocket for a moment, and removed another,
smaller evidence bag. "We found several of them scattered near the remains
of the table where the suspect was sitting. It looks as if he was carrying
some loose rounds in a pocket or possibly on a pistol belt, and they spilled
out during the fight."

"A pistol cartridge, eh?" Leon narrowed his eyes. "And it looks like a
heavy round, too. Have you traced it?"

"That's the problem, sir. According to the markings on the casing, it's
a.." Bochinski paused to consult his notebook. ".. a Sternsacht 12.5mm Heavy
Load."

"So?"

Bochinski shook his head. "There isn't any such load. Or any such pistol.
When nothing turned up in the weapons database, I tried a gun collector in
the States. He has one of the largest collections in the world, and the most
comprehensive set of references known. He went back to the 1800's without
finding anything. There simply isn't any handgun by that name."

Leon blinked. "The 1800's?"

"After the lab dated the coin, I thought.." Bochinski shrugged. "We've
had hardsuited mercenaries, magical elves and Crystal Knights. I've turned
into a werewolf. Ken's been changed into a woman. What's a time traveler or
two?"

"What the hell?" laughed Leon. "We've had nearly everything else. Why not
a time traveler?" The laughter threatened to overwhelm him. "I can see it
now. We put out an APB on Dr. Who, and a British police call box." He rolled
his eyes. "Imagine the response we'd get from Scotland Yard."

"How do you want this handled, sir?"

"Daley and I will take it over from here, Bochinski. But I want you and
Wadderson to lean on the street snitches. Check out anything that sounds
bizarre enough. It might be connected. And go see the sketch artist when you
have some free time. As well as any other officer who got a clear look at
his face. This person, whoever.. or _whatever_ he is, can't just disappear
from the face of the earth. Someone has to see something."

"The sketch artist? Wasn't anything recovered from the boomer?"

Leon gave him a long level stare. "Someone got to its black box before
we did. I never said that. You never heard that."

Bochinski nodded slowly, and left the office. Then struck by a second
thought, he turned back and stuck his head through the door. "When we catch
him, you might want to ask him for the name of his gunsmith, Inspector."

"Why's that?"

"Well," drawled Bochinski, "When they pulled the first round apart for
analysis, I'm told the lab boys nearly lost control of their bodily
functions, once they realized that they weren't dealing with normal
gunpowder."

Leon raised a curious eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Each of those rounds was loaded with something they thought was
impossible. A gelatine form of nitrogen tri-iodide."

That drew a low whistle from the inspector. He gazed at the cartridge
with new respect. "Ouch. And it didn't blow up in their faces?"

The patrol officer shrugged. "Seems that it's somehow stabilized in the
gelatine form. It'll only go off when ignited by the primer. They don't know
how, though. When I left the lab, quite a few of them were muttering about
figuring out how it was done and winning the Nobel prize for chemistry once
they had. Sure makes for a hell of a propellant though.. they loaded a
sample into one of those `Earth Shaker' revolvers you're so fond of, and
tested it."

"And?"

Bochinski shrugged again. "Scratch one revolver. And the test stand.
Along with the target, the armor steel plate behind the target, and the foot
thick steel-reenforced concrete wall behind the steel plate. There wasn't
much left of the test slug they used, but before it disintegrated under the
impact, it went through the armor plate and cracked the wall behind it like
an eggshell." He grinned at his superior. "Looks like someone's giving you a
run for your money in the `Who's got the biggest gun in Mega-Tokyo' contest,
sir." He nodded, and left.

Leon sat there for a while, quietly examining the two evidence bags on
his desk.

*Who are you, Mister Mysterious Stranger? And _why_ have you come to
Mega-Tokyo?*

***********************************

"What do you have for me this time, Sylia?" asked Fargo.

She passed several photos over to the fixer. "This person. I want him
located. And, if possible, I'd like the opportunity to speak with him."

Fargo looked them over, and frowned. "You're not the only one. There are
quite a few people who'd like to have a little talk with this young man."

Sylia raised an eyebrow at that. "Oh? Who?"

"Who doesn't?" He chuckled quietly. "The line forms on the right, Sylia..
and you are nowhere near the head of it. Genom checked in first, followed
quickly by the ADP, the USSD, and several of the usual minor corporations
who snoop on Genom and try to poach from them." He stopped to check a mental
list, and laughed. "And oddly enough, the owner of a bar!"

"A bar owner?!"

Fargo nodded, amused. "His name is White Wolf, and he claims he wants to
thank the man for saving his business." His fingers shuffled the photos, and
tapped the topmost one. "As it is.. the low bid started at 2,500,000 yen.
It's currently at 10 million yen for him alive; 5 million for him dead, and
250,000 yen for any reliable information as to his whereabouts. And that was
as of this morning. It's still rising."

"Why?"

"Officially? The ADPolice want to question him about the boomer attack.
Genom would like to know how he defeated it. Unofficially? Genom is frothing
at the mouth at the idea of losing what appears to be some form of working
teleportation. If someone does have that technology, Genom wants to see that
it gets into the right hands. _Their_ hands. The USSD feels the same way.
Except, of course, to them the right hands are those of the USSD."

"I see. Has there been any information?"

"No." Fargo looked mildly interested. "Which is fascinating, considering
just _how_ many people are looking for him. It's as if he's dropped off the
face of the planet. The USSD is even checking the orbital zaibatsu's, on the
off-chance that he might have gotten to a shuttle." He rubbed his chin
thoughtfully. "I'm taking that one with a grain of salt, given his rather
unique method of departure from Wolf's Place."

Sylia nodded. "If you hear anything.."

Fargo smiled. "As usual, you'll be the first to know. For the usual fee."

* * *

"The time is out of joint: O cursed spite,
That ever I was born to set it right!"
- Shakespeare, `Hamlet', Act I, scene v.

"I hate temporal mechanics."
- Miles O'Brien, "ST: DS 9 - Visionary"

A small scutter rolled up to Ed and handed him another printout. He took
it absently, and returned to studying the copy of Twisted Path 3, comparing
it to the files Minerva had retrieved. His ready room was littered with
paper, and logic solids were scattered across his desk. The more he read,
the less he liked it.

"Minerva?"

"Yes, boss?"

"I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? What for? Why?" Astonishment was evident in her voice.

He shook his head. "Because you were right all along," he sighed.
"Because I was too busy feeling sorry for myself to admit to the truth. And
because I was behaving like an ass for the past few weeks out of self-pity.
When I thought I had a chance.. when I thought I'd _finally_ managed to find
someone who might be able to tell me which direction my home was.. I
completely forgot about anything or anyone else. And worst of all.. for the
way I treated you, pretty lady."

He rose from the chair and started pacing back and forth, avoiding the
piles of printout in his path. "That recording you played for me. He.. I..
We.. arrgh! I _hate_ time travel. The pronoun trouble is a killer. And it's
giving me a headache," he grumbled. He rubbed at his temples and began
again. "_That_ Ed was right. Just because your love for me was programmed
doesn't make it any less real. I had _no_ right to be that abusive toward
you." He stopped in the middle of the room, and dropped both arms. "I know
it's totally inadequate, but.. I'm sorry."

"Shhhh... It's all right, lover. It's all right. These things happen." A
note of humor entered her voice. "After all, you're only human."

He snorted, and began to chuckle. "Ouch! Too true, pretty lady.. too true
by half. Can you forgive me?"

"What is there to forgive, love?"

Ed closed his eyes for a long moment. "I don't deserve someone as special
as you, girl. I really don't. But I'm not going to question my luck. What I
_do_ need to question is.. what next? What happens now?"

He returned to his desk and sat. "Twister isn't here, it may take weeks
before I'm able to leave, and I have the police looking for me. Hell, with
my luck, I probably have _Genom_ looking for me!" He glared down at the
papers. "And I can't even go back to the bar, damnit!"

"Boss.. Why not wait?"

"Eh? What's that?"

"I've read the story too. Darlene.. err.. Twister.. err.. whatever, said
that s/he'd come back for an occasional visit. That was on line number 3586,
in part 3 of Twisted Path 3, remember? If you settled down in Mega-Tokyo,
you could keep an eye on both the Knight Sabers and on the art shop. Then,
when Twister returns, you could try and ask him if it would be possible to
find your way home by magic."

He scratched his head. "Hold on, m'dear. I don't have your perfect
memory. Lemme.." He pawed through the printed copy, flipping the pages.

"It's on the last few pages, boss. Try turning to the end and working
forward."

"Right, right, whatever... Yes! There it is. Darlene, speaking to Nene:
`I'll be back. Count on it. Then we'll REALLY turn this city upside down.'"
He frowned. "The question is, is _when_. When will he visit?"

"No. The question is, does it matter, boss? You have all the time in the
world." She giggled. "You have all the time in _all_ the worlds, lover. I
can't speak for the boredom, but you could likely outwait the lifetime of a
star."

He gave her a suspicious look. "You're trying to get me to take another
vacation, aren't you. What have I told you about that?"

She smiled innocently at him. "Would I do something like that?"

"Damn right you would," he snorted. "You _never_ think I get enough rest.
But I have to admit, this time you're right. It seems like the sensible
thing to do."

She gazed at him. "Boss, are you feeling well?"

"Huh? Of course. Why do you ask?"

"Well, you're actually planning on doing something sensible for a
change." She smirked. "Are you _certain_ you're not ill?"

"Why you little.." he growled. "I oughtta.."

Her snicker echoed throughout the ship.

***********************************

At "Flights of Fantasy", Priss was still fuming about what had happened.
She still couldn't get over it. "He picked me up like a damn _Barbie_ doll!
Nobody does that to me! Nobody! Soon as I find him, he's gonna die! Slow and
painful, too!"

Sylvie glanced over at her. "You're just irked that it happened so
easily. From what I heard about it, he didn't even break into a sweat. And
you weren't able to break his grip even wearing your suit. So I _really_
don't think it would be a good idea for you to try and take him on
bare-handed.. providing you're even able to find him."

"I don't care!" Priss smashed a fist on the counter, rattling it, and
knocking a few small dragon sculptures of Darlene's to the floor. Anri knelt
and picked them back up. "Nobody gets away with making me look like a fool!"

"What about the Blue Bullet?" giggled Anri. "He did! And so did we!"

Priss glared at her. "That was different. Twister was a friend. And so
are you two. You had a _reason_ for hiding. Darlene had an even better one!
I mean, who would have believed... Escaped sexaroids are one thing. I can
deal with that. Someone from another dimension who has psychic powers as a
guy, and who turns into a girl with *magical* powers every time he gets
wet?" She shook her head. "Makes life in Mega-Tokyo look normal by
comparison."

Sylvie smiled. "I know. It was.. eerie .. seeing it happen that first
morning. Still, I think that you might want to leave _this_ one alone,
Priss. I saw it on the news last night, and heard the details from Nene.
Anyone who take hits like that without injury, and can tear apart a boomer
with their bare hands isn't someone to be taken lightly."

Priss growled, and gave the two a dirty look. The conversation halted
then, as a customer walked in, looking for one of the famous pieces of
dragon art. The customer gaped for a while at the high prices, and
complained. Sylvie explained that the artist had left Japan, and hadn't
given a date for their expected return. Priss was unable to hold back a
smirk at that remark.

"You see, ma'am.. with the artist currently unavailable, the remaining
pieces have increased in rarity and price," noted Sylvie. "But that also
means that once a piece leaves the shop, it will continue to grow in value.
This makes it an excellent investment."

The elderly woman nodded her agreement, and purchased a small black
dragon battling a knight, one done in a European style. Once she'd left, the
conversation resumed.

"I'm not about to tell you what you should and shouldn't do, Priss. We're
too close of friends for me to do that," Sylvie frowned. "But I will say
this.. _I_ wouldn't take this `Goldeneyes' person on in a fight unless I was
forced to. But it's your life, and your choice."

"And besides," added Anri. "You have to _find_ him first. After seeing
how he disappeared when they showed the video on the evening news.. I don't
think that will be very easy."

Priss ground her teeth. "Oh, I'll find him. No matter how long it takes."
She stomped out of the shop.

***********************************

Leon had just returned from an extremely unpleasant meeting with the
Chief. One could practically _see_ the dark cloud hanging over his head.
Fellow officers scattered from his path like grasshoppers as he stalked down
the hallways. He charged into his office and slammed the door so hard the
window cracked.

"I don't believe it. We're running around trying to find someone who had
a good, clear look at our mysterious stranger, so we can produce a sketch of
his face; we're still hunting for the contents of the boomer's black box, in
order to retrieve a picture of him, and what happens?" He threw his hands in
the air. "A lousy news reporter doing a color piece on urban decay gets a
shot not only of our suspect, but of his disappearance! To top it all off,
the Chief spends a whole 45 minutes chewing _our_ butts for something that
wasn't even our fault!"

Daley patted him on the shoulder. "We could have been in a lot more
trouble, partner."

"HOW?! Tell me, just _how_ could things be worse!"

"For one thing, no one _outside_ the department knows how clueless we
were. If this had been on the evening news as well.." Daley shuddered. "I
don't even want to think of all the charges of incompetence that they'd
have levelled at the ADP."

"So instead, _we_ get charged with personal incompetence. Terrific." Leon
drew a cup of coffee and sat down. "We're lucky something good came out of
this whole mess. We've got some nice clear pictures of our suspect to work
with." He spread them over his desk. "Now we at least have a good shot at
finding him."

* * *

"Arrrrrrgh! I don't BELIEVE this!" Ed threw his drink at the screen.
"_Goldeneyes_? GOLDENEYES?? They nicknamed me that?!"

Minerva laughed. "But b'wana, your eyes _are_ gold!"

Ed continued to fume. "That news cameraman! This is _his_ fault! He's
gonna pay for this. Sticking me with an idiotic tag like that. Ooooh, am I
gonna get him!" He gritted his teeth so hard, she could hear them creak.
"Twister gets something noble. _He_ gets to be the bloody Crystal Knight!
What do I get? Goldeneyes! Bah!"

"It wasn't the reporter's fault, boss. You're the one who forgot to put
in your contact lenses. He was just doing his job of recording the news. You
can't blame him for that. If you want to blame anyone, blame the boomer for
vaporizing your sunglasses." She walked up behind him. "Besides, you need to
start thinking how to fit in to this world. You can't keep an eye on the
Sabers OR Darlene's store if you're cooped up in here."

"True, true.. I'll need another identity. And I'll have to do something
about my appearance. My picture has to be all over Japan, thanks to that
damned cameraman."

"Glasses."

"Glasses? What about them?"

"Eyeglasses, boss. It worked for Clark Kent. It might work for you."

"Do you realize just how _utterly_ ridiculous that sounds, pretty lady?"

"Don't knock it till you've tried it, boss. If you put on a pair, and we
grey your hair completely, that will hide the grey streaks down your
temples. A bit of makeup to hide the scar across your forehead, and that
should work nicely." She rubbed her hands together. "After all, lover, most
humans notice the _un_usual looking areas of the face. That means almost
everyone who's seen those photos will be concentrating on the hair, eyes,
and scar. Get them to concentrate on the glasses and the _grey_ hair, and
they will think you are a totally different person who simply happens to
faintly resemble the pictures on the news."

He thought that one over for a moment. "I'll give it a try, girl. I
haven't seen you make a mistake yet. But really.. grey hair?"

"You'll see, b'wana. You'll look _soo_ distinguished!" Minerva giggled.
"A perfect gentleman, in every way."

"Humph. That'll be a first. I've never been accused of _that_ particular
crime before. Everything else, but never that." He scrubbed a tired hand
across his face. "Why do I get the feeling I've created a monster, here?"

His only answer was another giggle.

***********************************

"Cunning and deceit will every time serve a man better than force."
- Niccolo Machiavelli

Sylia turned to answer the phone, and discovered Nene at the other end.
"What is it, Nene?"

"Sylia? It's happened again. Two more net break-ins. But this time only a
few systems." Nene looked puzzled. "The ADPolice mainframe was the first.
Then the systems belonging to the THP. But the others? I don't understand
this..."

"What?"

"Why in the world would anyone want to break into real estate firm
computers? There's nothing in those machines but property listings, Sylia."

Sylia's face stilled. "Nene, what _area_ of the Highway Police systems
were broken into?"

"Let me check." She glanced at something out of Sylia's sight. "It looks
like the.. driver's registration and ID? What does that have to do with real
estate?"

"They have a great deal to do with each other," said Sylia absently. She
looked back at Nene. "I want you here tonight. There is something I want you
to look for."

* * *

"I have a couple of surprises for you, boss."

"What's that, m'dear?" muttered Ed absently. He kept reading the job
listings for Mega-Tokyo. "There _has_ to be _something_ out there that I
can do. I'm not totally incompetent, damn it all... I'm intelligent - I
can figure this out for myself... I can _do_ this... Really...
Eventually... I _think_... <Sigh>"

"For one thing.. Happy Anniversary, Boss!" A scutter rolled up and handed
him a small package.

"Eh? What? What's this?"

"It's been twenty years now, boss. Remember? Twenty years ago today is
when you came aboard me at Utopia Planitia."

His eyes widened. "Good lord! I'd completely forgotten! And I didn't get
you a thing!"

"That's all right, lover," she smiled. "There's no need to panic. You can
pick me up something in Mega-Tokyo. You're legal, now. I just finished...
_adjusting_ the records for you. I've even faked the necessary paperwork,
and inserted it into the proper file cabinets all over the city. You are now
Anthony Edwards, with ID to match." She smirked. "Transporters are such
wonderful tools."

He nodded, then looked at the package in his hands. "And this is..?"

"Open it!"

He did so, then collapsed into his armchair. "Gaaah! You.. you've got a
_sick_ sense of humor, m'dear." He stared in horror at the hardbound book in
his hands, and re-read the title, not quite believing what he was looking
at.

"`The Incredible Umbrella' by Marvin Kaye." He flipped to the flyleaf
and read the inscription with a sinking feeling.

To Edward Anthony Becerra
Through the good graces of:

John Wellington Wells
President
J. W. Wells & Co.,
Family Sorcerers.
If anything anyone lacks,
He'll find it all ready in stacks
at
70 ST. MARY'S AXE, LONDON
("SIMMERY AXE")

"You didn't.. you _couldn't_!" he moaned.

"I could and I _did_, lover!" she replied.

"Arrrrgh!"

* * *

After he'd calmed down, Minerva showed him the real estate listings she'd
plundered.

"Why real estate, girl?"

"B'wana.. every time you've taken a job, it's always been as a soldier,
or occasionally a member of a police force. Like that time you spent as a
tank mechanic for the Tank Police. You've got to stop that. It's not good
for you."

"And what on Earth does real estate have to do with that?"

"You've said it before, boss. You've always dreamed of being the owner of
a bookstore. Why not try it now?"

Ed started to wag a finger at Minerva, then halted abruptly. Her words
echoed in his head. *Why not? Why the _hell_ not?* He nodded.

"Why not, indeed? But how would I get started?"

Minerva tsk'ed at him. "Boss.. I have one of the largest, if not THE
largest, mobile archives in the multi-verse. I have books that have never
been written in this reality. I have books that were written, then _lost_
for all time. I have the complete contents of the Library of Alexandria,
from before the Great Burning. To put it bluntly, I have books that
collectors from this world would quite cheerfully _kill_ for."

Ed snapped his fingers. "And by using the replicators to re-create
them.."

"Now you're getting the picture, boss. We'll set up in the rare book
business. The _really_ rare book business. Once word gets out, customers
will come _crawling_ on their hands and knees to your shop. I guarantee it!"

"Okay, then! Let's start looking for a place to buy!"

***********************************

Kate Madagan approached her superior's office with no small amount of
trepidation. She'd failed to carry out her orders, and she knew it. Quincy
wasn't a man to suffer fools gladly. The truth be told, he didn't suffer
them at all. They were removed from their positions in the company. Such
removals tended to be somewhat.. terminal, on occasion. She thought of that
fool, Brian Mason, and shivered.

She noticed the open door just seconds before Quincy's voice greeted her.

"Come in, Ms. Madagan."

She entered the office, and at his request, took a seat. "Sir, I am
afraid I must report a failure on my part. We have been unable to locate
even the slightest trace of the person who was responsible for the
destruction of the boomer in Wolf's Place. I accept full responsibility for
this."

Quincy rotated his chair slightly, and looked out over the Mega-Tokyo
skyline. He steepled his fingers, and seemed to be lost in thought. Then his
gaze returned to Madagan. "I had expected as much. Although I am moderately
disappointed that you failed to realize that."

"Sir?"

"Come now, Ms. Madagan. Having fought the Crystal Knight, you of all
people should be well aware of the potential inherent in teleportation,
whether by means psionic, or technological." His eyes returned to the
window, and the cityscape beyond it. "Given access to such abilities, and a
need to hide, I would quite likely be doing what our young friend is. He has
taken refuge somewhere, and is using teleportation to serve his needs. All
the while monitoring the local newscasts to ascertain when it has become
safe to emerge." Quincy smiled. "Food, water, even air can be easily and
untraceably supplied in such a manner. His retreat could literally be
anywhere, from the streets of Mega-Tokyo, to the barren wind-swept rocks of
Tierra del Fuego. Or even the mares and mountains of the Moon, for that
matter. He could be just as comfortable there, as anywhere, using
teleportation."

Madagan swallowed hard. She cursed herself for not realizing this on her
own. "Then, how are we to find him, sir?"

A sere smile crossed Quincy's face. "We do not."

"Sir?" asked a confused Madagan.

"We will allow our target to find _us_, Ms. Madagan. When you leave here,
cancel all the bounties we have offered for his capture. Call off all of the
agents actively searching for him. Remove any visible signs of the hunt.
Pressure the ADPolice to do the same. Additionally, you may need to
interfere with the USSD's efforts, as it is unlikely they would willingly
submit to any coercion on our part." He turned to face her, his eyes cold
and hard. "Once he is certain it is safe to return, he will do so. We need
merely wait, and keep a wary eye out for his return. Thinking he is safe, he
will grow careless. He will make a mistake, and reveal himself, Madagan. And
we will be waiting for that mistake."

***********************************

At "Flights of Fantasy" Sylvie and Anri were busy opening the shop for
the morning's business when they noticed a large moving van roll down the
street and stop about a block and a half away, in front of a smallish
warehouse that had been closed since before Darlene had opened the store. A
crew hopped out, and started unloading furniture and personal effects as a
second van pulled up behind them. This one was labeled 'Nakamura Cleaning
Services' down the side.

"It looks like someone is moving in, Sylvie," remarked Anri. "I wonder
who they are?"

Sylvie looked at the furniture being carried in from the pavement.
"Whoever they are, it looks like they intend to live on the premises. I
wonder if they just bought it as a home, or if they intend to set up in
business?"

* * *

On the third floor of the warehouse, the cleaning staff was rapidly
removing the accumulated dust and grime from years of disuse and setting up
small portable room dividers. As they cleaned each section, the moving crew
brought in the furniture and arranged it.

One of them approached their employer. "Sir, where would you like the
kitchenette?"

Ed frowned. "Put it in the south-east corner. I like a bright, cheery
kitchen with lots of sunlight in the morning. And I want all the bookcases
along the north wall. Put my office equipment there, as well." He turned
toward the stairs. "I'm going to see if the rest of the office furniture for
the lower floors arrived. Carry on."

As he walked down the stairs, he noted that the cleaning crews had
already finished the first two floors, and looking out the front window, he
noticed a third, much larger truck pulling over to the curb. *Hopefully,
that will be the bookcases for the store itself.*

As he waited for the movers to unload it, he looked down the street.
Seeing the two sexaroids watching, he frowned slightly. *I wish I could have
found someplace further away from them. I tend to attract trouble, and I
don't like the thought of nice girls like them getting tangled up in my
problems.* He snorted. *But every other place in town wanted prices that
were totally ridiculous! Not that I couldn't have paid them, but even a
blind man would have sat up and taken notice when I trundled in enough gold
to purchase them. That much cash just doesn't wander into town unannounced.
Hell, it was hard enough laundering enough gold to get this place. Anything
bigger, and everyone in town would have started to ask questions.*

"Ahhhh, bother! That's the trouble with being a legitimate businessman..
all the bloody record-keeping." He glanced over at Sylvie and Anri. "Oh,
what the hell.. I might as well invite them over. If anything is going to
happen, it's going to happen. Que sera, sera."

He walked over and gave the women a florid bow, doffing his hat with an
elaborate flourish. "Anthony Edwards, Esquire, at your service, m'ladies.
And you are?" *Yahright. As if I didn't know..*

Anri giggled, and Sylvie smiled. "I'm Sylvie, and she's Anri. We run the
art store just down the street."

Ed nodded. "I see that you're interested in my new acquisition. Would
you care for the nickel tour?" He offered them each an arm.

The women both smiled at the courtly gesture, and each taking an arm,
they walked with him to the warehouse door.

* * *

Anri gazed around herself in awe. Almost everywhere she looked were
workmen assembling bookcase after bookcase. The room was beginning to
resemble a medium sized library from the nineteenth century. She stroked the
oiled walnut of one bookshelf with a gentle finger.

"It's beautiful," she breathed. "It's almost a work of art itself."

Ed smiled. "Thank you." He looked to the walls. "I was fortunate that
this wasn't one of those stainless-steel and chrome monstrosities that
architects were throwing up all over cities for a while there. Pun
intended." He smiled gently. "There's just something about brick and wood
that lends a certain.. warmth to things, don't you think? And the previous
owner kept her in good repair, if you don't mind a little dust and grime."

He waved the two over to a small table in one corner. "Care for some
irish coffee? It's fresh."

"Thank you," nodded Sylvie. "We'd be delighted."

As they sat, Ed waved at the work going on around them. "So.. what do you
think?"

"It's very.. busy," ventured Sylvie.

"It'll calm down, once I'm through moving in," laughed Ed. "Beginnings
are always a rather clumsy time, getting started and all. The grand opening
will be much more dignified, trust me." He looked at the workmen and nodded.
"I paid extra to be moved in as rapidly as possible. I've always been a
little over-eager, you see."

"What sort of bookstore will this be, Mr. Edwards?"

"Oh, please... Anri, isn't it? Just call me Ed. And it will a rare book
store, for the most part. When I was a lad, I was often frustrated when
searching for that certain special book, or reading _part_ of a series, and
discovering that the other volumes were currently unavailable, or even
worse, out of print with no one planning to reprint them." He stood, and
strode over to a large box, and pulling it open, extracted a rather sad
looking paper-back book, in English. He handed it to Sylvie. "Take a look."

She glanced at the title, mentally translating it into Japanese, then
made a face at him and began to snicker loudly. Then she read it aloud for
Anri. "A Parody Of J. R. R. Tolkien's 'The Lord Of The Rings' - _BORED OF
THE RINGS_, by The Harvard Lampoon."

Anri had a sour expression, looking as if she'd just sat on a whoopee
cushion. "That's.. terrible."

Ed grinned boyishly. "What can I say? I was born with a warped sense of
humor. But those aren't the _only_ works I'll be carrying. I'll have
something for almost everyone."

"When is the grand opening, Mr. Edwards?"

He looked around the room again. "If all goes well, in about one week.
I'd like to invite you both to come. And bring all your friends. The more,
the merrier, I always say."

* * *

Later that evening, Nene was going over a disk full of records with
Sylia.

"I don't understand, Sylia. What are we looking for?"

Sylia pursed her lips. "What did Darlene do when she first arrived?"

"She came home with me," smiled Nene.

"I meant after that, Nene. What did she have to do, when she settled down
in Mega-Tokyo?" said Sylia patiently.

The redhead's brow wrinkled in thought. "Well.. we had to get her some
identity papers.. and later she bought a home of her own, and her shop..
OH!" The redhead's fingers flew over the keyboard. "That's the reason for
the break-in of the THP's system. You think that person we met was setting
up an identity for himself?"

Sylia nodded her assent. "And the system break-ins at the real estate
firms were to acquire information on properties for sale in the city. Our
mysterious figure is obviously thinking of moving to Mega-Tokyo."

"I don't think we'll get much from the THP files, Sylia. So far,
everything in the system matches up with the proper paper files, and the
optical backups." She typed some more. "If a fake ID _was_ inserted, they
did a GREAT job of it."

A glint appeared in Sylia's eyes. "Perhaps.. but the property is another
matter entirely. Show me the list of currently available pieces of land, and
buildings for sale in the city."

Nene scrolled the list up the screen. "How will that help us, Sylia?"

"There are a limited number of businesses and business people in
Mega-Tokyo. And as the owner of both Silky Doll Enterprises, and the shares
in other businesses that were part of my father's inheritance, I'm passingly
familiar with the majority of them. They can be eliminated. An inquiry or
two within the business community will reduce the list even further. The few
remaining are the ones that will have to be investigated."

* * *

Ed yawned and headed upstairs. {You tucked into a safe orbit, love?}

She responded in a slightly grumpy manner. {Safe, yes. Clean? No.}

{Pardon?}

{Boss, these people _really_ need to clean up the Clarke orbits. It's
_filthy_. There's more junk floating around their near-earth space than
there was in the Mutara nebula.}

{That bad, eh?}

{Worse. There's everything from paint flecs to entire dead satellites up
here. Don't these idiots ever sweep their traffic lanes?}

He sighed. {Probably not, Min... it IS a distopic reality, after all.}
There was a pause, then he continued. {Tell you what... go ahead and clean
up what you want. Just be careful that no one notices.}

{Done and done. You get some sleep, okay?}

{Will do, m'dear. Night night.}

***********************************

"Do not try to solve all life's problems at once - learn to dread
each day as it comes."
- Donald Kaul

The next morning was a little confusing for Ed. He woke up in an
unfamiliar room, and couldn't place his location for a few moments. Then he
remembered deciding the night before to sleep in the apartment over the
bookstore, rather than aboard the Calypso. He shook his head, trying to
clear the cobwebs from it, then headed for the bathroom.

Showered, shaved (not that he needed it as much, these days), and
generally groomed, he felt able to face the day ahead. He rubbed his hands
together and grinned as he walked over to the kitchenette and looked it
over.

*Been a while since I've done this in a proper kitchen. Either Minerva
was fixing the meals, or I was dining on field rations. Talk about your
going to extremes,* he thought. *She can beat out a french chef, and those
rat packs tasted like something C-Ko might have cooked. Bleah.*

"Now.. let's see if I still know how to fix a breakfast for myself. One
that _won't_ qualify as toxic waste..."

* * *

Once breakfast was over, he headed downstairs and with Minerva's help,
began stocking the book shelves. He whistled as he worked, and Minerva
flinched. *Twenty years, and he _still_ can't carry a tune if you gave him a
bucket!*

"Boss...?"

"Hmmm.. lessee.. Newton's _Principia_ should go.. eh? What is it, pretty
lady?"

"B'wana, would you _please_ stop whistling? It _hurts_!"

He made a sour face. "It's not _that_ bad, is it?"

"Look at your coffee mug, lover."

Ed turned, and saw a pile of ceramic shards lying on a nearby table.
"Ooops. Ahh.. err.. heh, heh.. maybe I should stop whistling?"

"That would be a GOOD idea, boss."

"Well, back to the books. Have you finished replicating those special
ones we picked out?"

"Yes, and they're ready for delivery. I'll transport them directly to
your living room. Fewer eyes, that way."

The small bell he'd hung over the front door rang then, announcing a
visitor. He looked over his shoulder, then rose. "Oh.. hello, Anri. Is there
anything I can do for you?"

"No, but thank you. Actually, I came over to see if there was anything
_we_ could do for you. To welcome you to the neighborhood." She glanced at
the rapidly filling shelves. "You certainly work fast!"

"De nada, chica. It's nothing." His forehead wrinkled. "The _hard_ part
is getting word out to potential customers." He shrugged. "Ah, well. I've
advertised in the paper, and on the net. Now it's just a matter of waiting."

Anri poked around the open boxes. "There are a lot of books here I've
never seen before.. how rare are they?" She picked up a fragile volume.
"Like this one.." She frowned over the english title. "'The Gods of Mars'?
I've never heard of that one."

Ed laughed. "You've heard of Tarzan, haven't you?"

Anri nodded.

"Well, that is another series by Edgar Rice Burroughs, the author and
creator of Tarzan." He pointed to the book in her hand. "That particular
copy is a first edition, first printing. It's about one hundred and twenty
years old, and signed by the author. Worth about.. oh.. ten to fifteen
thousand dollars, American. That's what.. 1.5 million yen, I think?" He
grinned, as he watched Anri carefully replace the book where she had found
it. "Probably more, depending on how desperately a collector might want it."

"It seems a lot like our business, in a way."

Ed rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I suppose it is. Books are works of
art, in their own unique way." An idea struck him. "Say.. as I'm the new kid
on the block, so to speak, how about I take the two of you out to lunch? My
treat. You're the only people I know in Mega-Tokyo at present." He grinned
widely. "And it would do my reputation good to be seen with two such lovely
ladies."

"I'll ask Sylvie," replied Anri. "But I'd like that. Where can we go?"

He spread his hands in a confused gesture. "Anywhere you like. I'm not
that familiar with the restaurants around here. I'm afraid I've been eating
take-out food for quite a while." *Oh Ghod, _please_ let Minerva forgive
_that_ lie.* "I leave myself in your no-doubt quite capable hands."

She nodded happily, then noticed a large plaque hanging on the wall near
the cash register. The words caught her eye. "Who said that?" she asked.

"Eh? I mean, excuse me?"

She pointed to the plaque and read it out loud, curiously.

"The written word is all that stands between memory and oblivion.
Without books as our anchors, we are cast adrift, neither teaching nor
learning. They are windows on the past, mirrors on the present, and
prisms reflecting all possible futures. Books are lighthouses, erected
in the dark sea of time."

Ed smiled gently. "Jeffery Robbins, an old acquaintance of mine. A person
and an author whom I greatly respected. It's a quote from a book of his,
`The Sword and the Staff - A Book of Merlin'. No matter where or when you
are, for the human race, truer words were never spoken." His eyes went
distant, and Anri could tell that, for the moment at least, he'd forgotten
she was even in the shop.

"The power of the written word. More powerful than any weapon known to
mankind. The words held inside of books have the power to echo down the
dark reaches of eternity, defying death and time itself. When the first
human created the first written word.. _then_ was true power born." He
blinked suddenly, and noticed her standing there. He gave an embarrased
laugh, and blushed.

"I'm sorry. Didn't mean to preach at you like that. It's just that,
well, books mean a great deal to me, you see."

Anri smiled. "I understand. And you made it seem so vivid. I've never
thought about books in quite that way before. It's a lot to think about."

* * *

Fargo looked across the table at Sylia. "You want me to investigate these
people?"

"Just a short brief on them, for now." She placed a short list with half
a dozen names on the table. "I may have an interest in one of them. I need
to determine which of them that might be."

Fargo gave her a strange look, but took the list and tucked it in a
pocket. "How much do you want on each of them?"

"An open background file, and a photo will do for now," Sylia noted. "And
the quieter this can be kept, the better."

Fargo looked mildly offended. "When haven't I done anything quietly,
Sylia?"

The shadow of a sly smile darted across her face. "There was that time I
asked you to investigate a certain art store owner for me.."

"That wasn't one of mine, Sylia." He managed an hurt expression. "I don't
know what the person I hired ran into there, but it must have been something
rather impressive to scare them like that."

"I expect that it was," Sylia replied. Fargo looked at her, but refrained
from asking. Unwarranted curiosity was generally unprofitable. Under the
wrong circumstances, it could kill you.

"I'll send some people to check these out. Should take about a week at
most. Probably less." He re-read the list. "Will that be soon enough?"

Sylia nodded. "Until next time, Fargo."

But Fargo didn't rise to leave yet. "There's something else, Sylia.
Something interesting. Genom's called off the search for the man involved in
the attack on Wolf's Place." Sylia frowned at that, and Fargo went on.
"They've cancelled all the bounties they'd offered. They are also quietly
pressuring the ADP to drop the search as well."

"Why?"

"No one knows. Even the professional ears haven't any clues."

"How much do I owe you for that, Fargo?"

He looked at her. "That one's for free. Something feels wrong out there,
Sylia. Very wrong. Watch your back." Fargo stood and left.

* * *

Late that night, Ed was trying to relax in his living room. It wasn't
going very well, however. The lunch with Sylvie and Anri had been pleasant,
and plans for the grand opening were progressing nicely. So why was he so
down, he wondered.

Turning on the stereo, he put on an album he'd bought on the way home
from the restaurant. Tina Turner began to sing softly through the room.
Lighting a cigar, he listened to the music, and pondered.

"Boss? What's the matter?"

He took off the glasses and rubbed at his eyes. "That's what I'm trying
to figure out myself, Minerva." He waved at the stereo. "I think it boils
down to that."

"What? A song?" She listened for a moment. It was "I don't wanna fight."
by Tina Turner.

"Well, an emotion, anyway. Haven't you wondered? Why here? Why
Mega-Tokyo, instead of America?"

The small, disguised projector resting on the cocktail table switched
itself on and a hologram of Minerva faced him. "I had, b'wana. But I'd
figured.. it's your life, after all. You need all the privacy you can get."

"It's what, 2035 AD, right? And historically speaking, this reality is
pretty close to my own. It occurred to me... with modern medicine, my
family might still be alive here." He shivered. "_I_ might still be alive
here. I don't think I could face that. I wonder if anyone could. I was
running away."

"You can't run away from yourself, boss."

"I think I know that now. God knows I tried hard enough." He turned off
the music, and walked towards the bedroom. "Maybe I can get my head
straight, now that I do." He grimaced. "At least I've something to look
forward to. Six more days, and then the grand opening of `Rare Books'." He
stopped. "Minerva?"

"Yes, B'wana?"

"Thank you."

***********************************

Four days later, Fargo delivered a small disk full of reports to Sylia.
Of the six people she'd requested backgrounds on, five had checked out
clean. One was.. unusual.

"Unusual how, Fargo?"

"He checks out on paper, but there doesn't seem to be anyone who knows
him personally. He has no immediate personal ties, and every personal
contact dead-ends rather abruptly." His brow furrowed. "So I managed to slip
someone inside his store, as part of the installation team for his security
system. His store and home are sanitized. His furniture is standard store
bought, all his clothing straight off the rack. With two small exceptions,
there's nothing there that shows _any_ personality at all. He's _too_ clean,
Sylia."

"And the two exceptions?"

Fargo pulled out two photographs. The first showed what appeared to be a
large piece of Egyptian art; the second, a small identity card of some sort.
"I wasn't able to identify either one. The sculpture is definitely Egyptian,
but none of the experts can place it. The card? Nothing."

Sylia looked closely at the second photo.

----------------------------
| COMBATANT PERSONNEL |
| HOUSE OF STEINER |
| The Lyran Commonwealth |
| |
| 121740 |
| |
| Mechwarrior |
----------------------------

A small icon of a clenched fist in an iron gauntlet was off-centered on
the small card, located where the picture on a photo ID might have been.

"And you couldn't find anything about this card." Sylia's tone made it a
statement, not a question. Fargo shook his head, and she continued. "That's
enough. I'll handle this from now on. Thank you, Fargo."

* * *

"Are you certain that it will work?"

"Yes. Whoever that worker was spying for, all he got were a few pictures
of that piece of art in your bedroom. And, unfortunately, a photo of the
card-key for your Enforcer." She frowned. "Everything else was clean. If it
was Genom, then they'll drive themselves crazy trying to figure out what the
sculpture means."

"Good. The spook mind-set is 'guilty until proven innocent'. And to them,
an _appearance_ of innocence merely implies that your subject is a pro at
covering his tracks. Ergo, the subject has something to hide. If they hadn't
found anything, they'd simply have looked harder." Ed paced around the room.
"So a false clue is better than no clues, where those types are concerned.
They'll happily follow the bogus trail we left them, and never look in the
right direction." He chuckled. "With any luck, they'll end up searching in
Egypt."

"True enough, lover.. but they also have that snapshot of your card key.
You shouldn't have left that in the shop, boss. That was a mistake."

He scratched at the scar on his forehead. *Damnit! I've _got_ to break
that habit.* "Maybe so, pretty lady. But I got that card from Adam Steiner
himself. It stays with me. If that makes my life a little difficult,
s'beit."

"All right, B'wana. Reminder: You promised Anri and Sylvie to visit their
art shop today."

He blinked. "Oh? When did I do that?"

"During lunch with them a few days ago."

"Figures," he mused. "A big lunch and a pretty girl. Works on me like
kryptonite on Superman. Well, it's not like it won't be fun." He smiled.
"I've always wanted to visit that place, ever since I first read about it in
the real world."

"Every world is equally real, boss. Don't be such an existential snob."

"All right, girl." He pulled on a hat. "Stay with me, pretty lady.. I may
need you to cue me. I don't want to make a slip, and say something
revealing."

"All right, lover. But you've got to watch that paranoia. I think you've
had one too many run-in's with Loki."

He nodded, wincing at the memories of his encounters with the External
Security Division of the Lyran Commonwealth's Intelligence Corps. "Oh, that
reminds me. Were there any bugs left behind?"

"No. But that doesn't mean you're not under surveillance."

"Now who's paranoid, Minerva? But I'll keep that in mind."

He stepped outside, and turned down the block towards "Flights of
Fantasy". *Nice name, that. Twister always _could_ turn a phrase.*

Looking in the window, he admired the art on display. They still had a
few of Twister's dragons for sale, and Ed's eyes widened slightly as he
glimpsed the prices.

*!!* he thought. *I knew they were popular, but DAMN! We're talking
_serious_ cash here. That's getting up into the "If you have to ask about
the price, you can't afford to buy it" territory.*

He opened the door and stepped inside, tipping his hat. "Hello, Anri! Hi,
Sylvie! How's the art business?"

He was answered by a pair of happy smiles. "Hello, Mr. Edwards. It's
pretty brisk," answered Anri.

He rolled his eyes in mock despair. "Ed, Anri.. just Ed. Somebody says
Mr. Edwards, and I turn around looking for my father."

Sylvie laughed. "So.. I see you finally found time to drop by. I take it
the book store is almost ready?"

He nodded. "And I'll be opening up tomorrow morning. I'll expect the two
of you there." He wagged a finger at them. "Nothing like a pair of pretty
girls to brighten a place up and draw in the customers. A fact which
explains the success of _this_ store, I'm certain!"

Both women smiled again. "We'll be sure to be there, Ed." Sylvie
chuckled. "Is there anything we can bring?"

"Some customers?"

Everyone laughed at that. Then he looked around the shop, admiring the
decorations. The swirls of small colorful crystals embedded in the walls and
shelves caught the light with a fiery shimmer that drew his eyes. "It's
beautiful," he breathed. He gazed at the statue of the deep red firedrake
that stood in the center of the floor. "Now _THAT_.. that is really
something! I may not know art, but I know what I like."

He stepped over and ran a hand along its side. All three in the store
froze when a deep growl rumbled through the shop. Ed jerked his hand away,
then carefully stepped back. The drake hadn't moved, it hadn't even
twitched, but he didn't intend to take any chances. As he moved away, from
the corner of his eye he saw that Sylvie and Anri were both staring at him,
astonished. They hastily hid their expressions when they noticed him looking
back.

*I don't know _what_ the hell just happened, but discretion is the better
part of valor, and all that,* he thought. He took a second, closer look. It
wasn't his imagination. The dragon's eyes _were_ glowing. *Oh, _shit_. I
think.. no, I _know_ I just stepped in something deep here...*

Minerva's frantic voice was suddenly in his ear. {Boss? What the hell is
going on?! Whatever you're doing, STOP IT! I'm getting energy spikes near
you, and they're off the scale! I can't tell what they are, but I think you
should get OUT of there.}

{Baby, I don't know what I just did, but I think I just messed with
something magical. Seriously magical. I'm out of here, girl.}

He turned toward Sylvie, keeping a wary eye on the statue. "I'm sorry. I
think I may have eaten something that disagreed with me. Is it all right if
I come back later?"

Sylvie nodded, still staring at Charcoal. "That's.. okay, Ed. You can
just.. come back when you feel better."

The further he got from the statue, the fainter its eyes glowed. He edged
out the door carefully, feeling as if he'd somehow waved a flag, giving
himself away in some mystical manner. Anri stared at him with an odd
expression on her face.

*This.. did _not_ go well,* he thought.

* * *

The two sexaroids didn't know what to think as Ed carefully exited their
shop. They'd seen Char react to threats before, but this was the first time
he'd taken notice of a visitor.

As Anri stood there, collecting her wits, Sylvie reached for the phone.
Quickly punching out a number, she drummed her fingertips on the counter,
tapping out a nervous tattoo.

"Sylia? It's Sylvie. I need to talk with you. Something... unusual just
happened that I think you should know about."

* * *

"And it _reacted_ to you, boss?"

"Reacted, HELL! The blasted thing _SNARLED_ at me, girl!" Ed shuddered.
"Magic. You know _I_ hate it."

Minerva pondered that. "Perhaps it was reacting to the energy you're
giving off, lover. I know you don't like to think about it, but you _do_
radiate a great deal, especially in terms of probability. Remember the last
time you tried to play poker with the Strikers?"

"How could I forget?" he snorted. "Four people at the table and each one
of us wound up with a flush. And shooting craps was worse. Even with dice
LOADED to roll snake eyes, I got nothing but sevens. Val was dead certain
that I was cheating."

"That might be the problem, love. Inadvertent tampering with probability
may not be the same as magic, but it could be close enough to cause
Twister's little pet to sit up and take notice."

He reached up to scratch his forehead, then yanked his hand back,
frustrated. "Wonderful," he said, irony dripping from his tone. "Just bloody
wonderful. So what do I _do_ about it?!"

"You could simply avoid going near Charcoal."

"I need the most powerful sentient computer in existence just to tell me
this?" he snapped. Minerva looked hurt, and he relented. "I'm sorry, pretty
lady. That spooked me."

"I know, b'wana. I'll see if there's anything we can do about this. But
until I find something..."

"I know, I know. Stay away from the dragon." He groaned. "I can't believe
I just said that."

* * *

Sylia hung up the phone, and pondered what she'd just heard from Sylvie,
adding the information to the report that Fargo had delivered. This `Mr.
Edwards', if indeed that _was_ his real name, bore further investigation.
She smiled, coming to a decision. Tomorrow, she, Nene and Linna were going
to attend the Grand Opening of a rare book store.

***********************************

"Opportunity plus instinct equals profit."
- Ferengi Rules Of Acquisition # 9.

The next morning, in the apartment over 'Rare Books'...

BRIIINNNGGG!!!*crunch*

"Ooops." Ed stared blearily at the palm-full of crushed metal, plastic
and circuitry resting on a seriously dented nightstand. *Damn. I lose more
alarm clocks that way...* He yawned, and headed for the shower. "Can't be
late this morning. After all, I _am_ the boss," he grumbled.

* * *

The morning started out rather pleasantly. Ed's advertisements had worked
better than he'd expected, and there were a baker's dozen of customers in
his shop shortly after he opened the doors. He hadn't expected Sylvie and
Anri to show, after what had occurred the day before. He was rather happily
surprised to see them walk in.

"Hello there, Sylvie, Anri.. ahh.. I'd like to apologize about what
happened yesterday. I'm not quite certain why it happened or what caused it,
but I still feel terrible about it..."

Anri looked a little nervous, but Sylvie shook her head. "It's not
important, Ed. Char is something a.. friend of ours left us. Sometimes it
does the unexpected."

Ed smiled, and tried to appear to take the statement at face value.
"Thank you. Still, I do feel responsible, though. If there's any way I can
make it up to you...?"

"We'll think of something." She looked at her watch. "In the meantime, we
invited some friends of ours to your opening, Ed. They should be here soon.
I hope you don't mind."

"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow. "More customers, I hope?"

"One of them, perhaps. I don't think Nene or Linna would be interested in
rare books, but Sylia Stingray is into science, and I'm sure she'd be
interested in some of your older items."

Ed had to stifle a strong reaction to that statement. *Blast! I should
have expected this. I asked them to invite their friends. Of _course_
they'd invite the Knight Sabers!* He nervously checked his reflection in the
front window of the book store. *Hair is nicely gray, eyebrows too. Glasses,
check. My contacts are in place and the makeup is doing a nice job of hiding
the scar. Fortuna willing, they won't recognize me.* He turned back to
Sylvie.

"I'd be happy to help her. I've got a nice selection of manuscripts she
might find fascinating." He forced a grin. "I've never met a lover of
science who'd willing pass up a chance at a copy of 'A Brief History of
Time' that's been signed by Steven Hawking himself. Or a first printing of
Desmond Morris's 'The Naked Ape'." He stepped over to a shelf. "And I just
received a copy of Richard Feynman's autobiography."

He noticed Anri's eyes beginning to glaze over, and roped himself in
quickly. "Sorry.. I tend to wax over-enthusiastic about books on occasion.
It's a failing of mine."

"Oh, please don't apologize for that, Mr. Edwards. It's _nice_ to see
people who love their work."

He gave Anri a reproving gaze. " `Mr. Edwards'? "

She smiled. "I'm sorry. Ed. Is that better?"

"I'll forgive you this time. But if it happens again, you'll have to pay
the penalty. That means letting me take you out to lunch again!"

Sylvie chuckled. "I don't know about that. You could end up taking her
out every day!"

"Ooooh.. a fate worse than dinner!" They all laughed. The two stepped
over to the buffet table for a bite to eat, leaving him for the moment. Ed
took a moment to ring up a sale, then turned back in time to see the door
swing open, brushing against the tiny bell he'd hung over it. He tried not
to flinch when he recognized their faces from the anime.

"Good morning, ladies. Welcome to the grand opening of `Rare Books'. I'm
the owner, Mr. Edwards." He looked Sylia Stingray directly in the face. "Is
there anything in particular that you are looking for?"

Sylia smiled. "Thank you, no. We're just here to meet our friends."

"Ah.. then you'd be Sylia, Nene and Linna. Sylvie said you'd be by here."
He looked past them. "I thought there would be four of you. Anri said
something about a 'Priss' possibly coming by...?"

Linna and Nene both grinned at that. "I don't think Priss is the sort to
want to come to a rare book store, Mr. Edwards. She's more the rock and
roll, motorcycle type." said Nene.

"I see. Well, there's nothing wrong with that. I used to have a
Harley-Davidson myself, when I was younger." A wry look spread across his
face. "A _lot_ younger."

Nene, ever the ADPolice officer, asked "What do you drive now?"

Laughing inside at the thought of the Calypso, Ed responded, "Something
MUCH larger, dear child. Much, much larger."

* * *

Ed watched as Linna looked around the store. He could practically _see_
the yen signs flashing in her eyes as she totaled up the value of the
furnishings. *Quark would have _loved_ her,* he thought. {Minerva, I'll bet
you two bits Linna tries to involve me in something financial.}

A binary raspberry was blown in his ear. {I don't take sucker bets,
B'wana.}

{Heh, heh, heh. Okay, then.. two bits says she can't even leave the store
before she tries it.}

{What.. do I have a big flashing sign on my CPU that says "Kick me, I'm
stupid!"? Not on your life, boss.}

{That could be a pretty long time, girl.}

{Exactly my point. *!Thpppppppt!*}

He shifted his gaze to Sylia, and grew anxious. Ms. Stingray was closely
inspecting the contents of a sealed glass case when he was keeping some of
the _special_ items.

*I hope I didn't get _too_ cute there with those books. That woman is
arguably one of the sharpest minds on the planet. If not _the_ sharpest.* He
watched her closely. *If she has even the slightest suspicion, she won't
stop till she knows the truth.*

"Mr. Edwards?"

He hurried over. "Yes? Can I help you.. let's see.. Ms. Stingray, right?"

"Yes," she replied absently. "I'd like to take a closer look at that
scroll. The one in the sealed case."

He unlocked the case and carefully removed it, handing it to her. She
unrolled it, and began to slowly read aloud. "Ego Tiberious Claudius Drusus
Nero Germanicus --" She broke off, staring at it. "A copy of the Great
History by Emperor Claudius?"

Ed nodded smugly, watching as her eyes widened slightly. "It's quite
authentic, Ms. Stingray. Although there is no way to prove it, as that _is_
a copy, and obviously not the original.

"But this was lost to history centuries ago! How...?"

He couldn't resist the urge to brag slightly. "Let's just say that I
happen to have access to the right places, and leave it at that. As a
result, I can obtain quite a few obscure rarities." He took back the scroll,
gently re-rolling it and replacing it in the case. "I even have some Mayan
codexes that escaped the book burning that the Spanish priests conducted in
the 1500's, a copy of the Ebers Papyrus and a complete copy of the Book of
Dzyan."

Sylia shook her head in wonder. "The value of such items... aren't you
fearful of being robbed?"

"No. I don't believe I have anything to worry about. In addition to the
standard security system, I have a.. _special_ someone watching over my shop
when I'm not here." He chuckled, thinking of Minerva. "She's a friend of
mine and tends to take any such attempts personally. Actually, I'd be more
afraid for the thieves. They might not survive her."

Sylia raised an curious eyebrow. "She sounds like a formidable person. It
might prove interesting to meet her someday."

"That's unlikely, Ms. Stingray. But who knows what the future holds?" He
turned back to the register to ring up another sale, and Sylia almost missed
his next words. She puzzled over what they could possibly mean.

"I wish I didn't."

* * *

"I want to boot some head, too."
- Student #1, "Ti Kwan Leep (Boot to the Head)"

Late that afternoon, he closed up the shop and was totalling up the first
day's receipts. *Not bad, considering I've just opened. Pretty damn good, as
a matter of fact.* Then the bell over the door tinkled. He looked up as a
pair of young men stamped into the store. They practically had 'motorcycle
gang' written across their foreheads in bold print. *Sylia was right, blast
it. My first day in business is barely over, and already the roaches are
crawling out of the woodwork.* He sighed, and returned to the figures.

One of them pulled what appeared to be an old .50 caliber Desert Eagle.
"Hand over the money, pops, and you don't get hurt."

Ed didn't even bother to look back up. "Could you please take care of
this, Minerva? I have to finish the totals here."

The punks looked around wildly when a pleasant female voice answered him
from thin air. "Can do, boss. Temporary, or permanent?"

He considered. "Best keep it temporary, pretty lady. It doesn't do to
leave bodies lying around... even those of trash like this. Besides, it's
unsanitary." He returned to the paperwork.

"Hey! Who the hell d'ya think yer talking to, old man? We're tha
Outriders, tha meanest gang inna city!!"

Ed _did_ look up at them, then. "That's not what I've heard. There isn't
that much left of you boys, or so I understand. First the Griffin trashed
your gang; then a girl beat up your leader, Steelfist, and tore off those
mechanical arms he was so proud of," he said gently. His voice abruptly
hardened. "You have one chance to leave. I suggest you take it."

The punk with the pistol decided that the grey-haired old geezer wasn't
being respectful enough, and aimed at him. "Gimme the money now, old man!"

"Minerva..?"

This time the voice didn't sound at all pleasant. In fact, it sounded
downright vicious. "Done and done, B'wana." The punk with the gun panicked
and fired a single shot. That was all he had time to do.

It didn't take very long.

* * *

Leon was sighing over the lack of progress in the 'Goldeneyes' case
(*Goldeneyes*, he thought. *What a stupid name.*) when a loud uproar caught
his attention. Then Daley stuck his head in the door.

"Come on and see this, partner. You won't _believe_ it!"

Leon grumbled, but put down the paperwork and followed Daley. What he
saw, he couldn't believe. A couple of officers were leading a pair of
Outriders to the holding cells. A pair of _bald_, _nude_, _bright green_
Outriders, that is. He caught Daley by the arm. "What the hell is going on?"

Daley laughed. "I didn't get the whole story myself, but apparently these
two idiots tried to rob the wrong store." He waved an arm at the iridescent
green perpetrators. "The beat cops found them like that, chained to a lamp
post in the middle of downtown. Nobody knows how they got there, or saw them
arrive." He took a firm grip on his laughter and continued. "They just keep
babbling something about monsters from outer space punishing them for
trying to rob a bookstore."

Leon had the queasy look of a man who'd just seen his world turn upside
down and inside-out. Again. "A bookstore?"

Daley nodded affirmative. "But they won't tell us where. They say that if
they do, the monsters will come back and get them." He began to laugh again.
"And the best part is... the green is some sort of indelible dye. It won't
wash off. They're going to be green for days!"

"Why hasn't someone gotten them some clothing? A blanket, at least."

Daley collapsed into a nearby chair, convulsed with laughter, so Leon
collared another officer and repeated the question.

The patrolman he grabbed told Leon that the arresting officers had tried,
but the green stuff, whatever it was, seemed to have given the pair some
sort of allergy. Clothing of any sort now made the two break out in a
painful, bleeding rash.

*Someone has a warped sense of humor, here.* thought Leon. *Could Darlene
be back? She's capable of this. And this fits with her idea of a joke. I'll
call Sylvie. She'd know, if anyone would.*

* * *

Sylvie hung up the phone, a strange expression on her face. Anri noticed
it and came over, curious.

"What's the matter?"

Sylvie pointed at the phone. "Leon McNichols just called. He wanted to
know if Darlene had come back."

Anri blinked. "Why in the world would he want to know that?"

"I'm not sure. He wouldn't say. He just said that something had happened
today that made him think of her, and kept muttering 'you'd have to see it
to believe it'."

The two women looked at each other, and shrugged. "Men."

***********************************

Personal Log: Entry 19, Year 20.

So far, so good. The opening day of the store went well, and I seem to
have the hang of running the place. Thankfully, Minerva has taken a great
deal of the weight off my shoulders. Regulations. Paperwork. Japanese tax
laws. Arrrgggh! _SHE_ gets to do the income tax.

Sylvie and Anri are still a little bothered by the fact that Char growled
at me, but they don't seem to hold it against me. Incredible. They are two
of the kindest, most caring people I've ever met. I can't see how _anyone_
could consider them anything other than human. Carbon or silicon.. they're
just building blocks. What makes you a person is how you act towards others.
Whether you treat another thinking being as a fellow person to be cherished,
or a mere thing to be used. And by _that_ standard, I'd say at least 20% of
the executives of Genom don't qualify. Probably more than that, now that I
think of it.

I don't _think_ the Knight Sabers are suspicious of me, but one can never
really know, then. Sylia's mind is so sharp, it terrifies me. She is
dangerously intelligent. If it weren't for Minerva, advising me from behind
the scenes like some high-tech Jimminy Cricket, I could have easily spilled
the truth to her accidentally.

Of course, I'm going to _have_ to do something about Minerva's sense of
humor. I can't believe she dyed those wanna-be robbers green. Still, it
_was_ hilarious! I'm glad she recorded the expressions on their faces when
they saw what looked like three of the bugs from "Aliens" appear out of thin
air and grab them, dragging them away. Heh. Tonight should prove rather
entertaining over at the ADPolice holding cells. The police are going to get
a surprise when they find out that those two empty-headed wastes of skin
will now glow in the dark until the dye wears away!

I had to replace my fake glasses, though. The idiot with the pistol
managed to get off a single shot, and he hit me right between the eyes. It
didn't really hurt me, (actually, it itched a little) but the slug shattered
my specs, trashing them completely. Most annoying. Kept the pistol, though.
A nice little piece, once I cleaned it up and did a little maintenance on
it. The Israelis always did make good guns, and the Desert Eagle was one of
their best. I think I'll add it to my collection.

Twenty years now.. It's still hard to accept. Technically, I suppose I'm
fifty-four, now. Yet if I remove the dye from my hair, I look twenty-five at
the very most. I wonder what my family and friends are doing right now. Do
they think I'm dead? Do they think I've just run away? I wouldn't put it
past that bastard Smith to lie to them. The only hope I have left are the
recordings I've seen that tell me I do eventually get home. Travel between
universes affects duration in odd ways, from what little I've studied. With
the Burroughs Irrelevancy Drive, I can hopefully return to a moment right
after I left. If that makes any sense. Fortuna knows it confuses the hell
out of me.

The recording _did_ say I managed to get home, eventually.

I have to keep hoping.

End Log Entry 19, Year 20.

***********************************

Several weeks went by, and sales remained steady in the bookstore. As
word spread of Ed's seemingly miraculous ability to find rare, exotic, or
simply out-of-print books, a small reputation began to build in the literary
community of Mega-Tokyo. Word of mouth spread rapidly, and customers began
appearing from other parts of Japan as well.

Sylvie and Anri apparently decided to let the little incident with
Charcoal slide, and Ed visited them regularly. Not that he ever went near
the dragon again. That, he thought, would be about as sensible as a normal
human sticking their head into a microwave oven and turning it on. Lunch,
though... lunch with the two women remained the high point of each day.

For some strange reason, Sylia seemed interested in his store. She would
occasionally drop by and take some time to browse the shelves. Each time,
she would invite him over to see 'Silky Dolls', but he begged off on the
grounds that a lingerie shop made him uncomfortable. He considered the
possibility that she was suspicious of him, and wished to use those hidden
sensors in the store front on him. That worried him somewhat, but he refused
to let it get in the way of waiting for Twister. Minerva didn't agree.

"Boss.. just let me snoop on her, please?" she pleaded. "I can be in and
out of her systems and she'll never even know I was there!"

"That's not the point, pretty lady."

"Then what _is_ the point?!"

"Has she tried to come after me?" Ed asked. "Or even spy on me?"

"There was that snoop in the security alarm company's installation
team.."

"Can you _prove_ it was Sylia behind that? Without spying on her first?"

She let out a defeated sigh. "No, boss. I can't."

"There you go. For what it's worth, girl, I DO think that was Sylia's
man... or someone Fargo hired for her. But it was likely done out of concern
for Sylvie and Anri. I can't fault her for that." He looked stern. "I'm an
unknown, flashing a lot of cash around, no background that isn't on paper
and apparently well connected, if you go by my ability to... acquire things.
She has to _know_ whether or not I'm a threat to them. Hell, I'd do the
same, were I in her position."

He began pacing back and forth across the living room of his apartment.
Then he stopped and looked straight at her.

"We leave it be. I will _not_ fire the first shot and start a fight." He
looked at her. "But you have my word. I won't start a war, pretty lady...
but I'll damn sure finish one."

* * *

At 'Silky Dolls', Mackie looked up as a FedEx delivery truck pulled up.
The driver entered and handed Mackie a small package. "Delivery for Sylia
Stingray, please sign here."

Mackie did so, looking at the return address, then went in back where his
sister was going over some records. "Sis? There's a package from you. Did
you order something from America?"

"Ah! It's arrived." She stepped out to the counter, and opened the
package, revealing several small video disks and a thin book. She turned to
Mackie. "I need to view these right away. Take care of the store, please."
She quickly returned to her office, closing the door. Mackie shrugged. *If
it's something I should know, she'll tell me. Sooner or later.*

In her office, Sylia slipped the first of the disks into a player, and
watched intently as a kaleidoscope of cartoon images filled the screen. A
star map appeared. The opening narration was in English, with Japanese
subtitles. She listened to it closely.

"This is the Inner Sphere - thousands of planets colonized by humankind.
Once it was united under the Star League, but for the last three hundred
years it has been consumed by savage wars. Until a new enemy appeared -
mysterious invaders known as the Clans. Powerful and ruthless, they struck
like lightning, attacking ever sector at once. But they made one big
mistake: they attacked my home planet! Now, in the spirit of the Star
League, ancient enemies have reunited... and we're gonna take back our
galaxy!"

Sylia watched, intrigued.

Three hours later, she was still watching.

* * *

Riding in the elevator at Genom's main office, Kate Madagan was listening
to a subordinate rave on and on about a wonderful new bookstore she'd
recently discovered. She tuned out the conversation, nodding politely now
and then, maintaining the fiction that she was interested in the subject.

Until the young exec happened to mention the address of the store.

"You should see it, Ms. Madagan!" gushed the young woman. "It's just a
block or two away from that wonderful little art store with all the dragons,
and the owner has the most _incredible_ gift for finding a book, no matter
HOW rare it is. He's even got museums asking after him. If you want
something, and you can pay, he can get it for you."

Madagan winced inside at the mention of the art store, remembering a
certain encounter almost a year ago with its owner. She knew she'd been
_extremely_ fortunate to walk away from that confrontation alive and
uninjured. If that ADP officer hadn't convinced Darlene that she'd
eventually come to regret killing Madagan... well, she had _no_ illusions
about her chances of escape from the power-maddened young elven mage.

She felt a.. tugging in the back of her mind, and listening to her
precognitive powers, began paying closer attention to what the young woman
was saying. When the elevator came to her floor, Madagan touched her on the
arm.

"I'd like you to come with me to my office. I want to hear more about
this bookstore. I'll clear it with your immediate supervisor."

* * *

"Sir? We may have encountered a break-through in the Gramarye project."

Quincy looked at Madagan, calmly noting the faint golden glow in her
eyes. "Indeed?"

"A possible source of the documentation necessary to advance the project
has come to my attention, sir. With your permission, I'd like to approach
him, and acquire the items we need." She placed several sheets of paper on
Quincy's desk. "Here is what information we currently have on him."

Quincy scanned the papers, and smiled faintly. Madagan had been quite
thorough. Ever since her psionic awakening, her value to the company had
increased steadily. Reading them, he nodded.

"The proprietor does appear to be the sort who would either have, or be
able to find, some of the items we need." He handed the papers back to her.
"Please proceed. But take all due precautions. This project is inherently
hazardous, and any person dealing in such items could prove to be extremely
dangerous. And avoid approaching the art store," he added dryly. "We do not
want a repeat of the `Elf' incident, Ms. Madagan."

Madagan shuddered ever so slightly. "I _fully_ understand, sir."

* * *

Upstairs, in Ed's apartment...

"Ahhh... there is _nothing_ like good italian take-out. Trust me on this
one, Sylvie." Ed eased back in his chair, and sighed happily. He took a
Cuban cigar from his jacket, then hesitated. "Do you mind if I smoke,
ladies?"

"It's your home, Ed.. we're the guests today," said Anri.

"Well.. true.. but I do try to remember that not everyone appreciates
breathing tobacco smoke, m'lady. It's just common courtesy." He smiled.
"Besides, you two are my friends. You are the closest thing I have to
family, here."

Anri blushed, and Sylvie looked away, embarrassed. "We were just being
friendly, Anthony."

"No. You've been _friends_." He looked at them. "There's a difference, a
big difference. I haven't had many friends, and I cherish those I have."

The downstairs bell rang, and Ed stood up. "Whoops! I thought I hung out
the `out-to-lunch' sign, blast it." He snorted. "Open a store, and sure as
Ghod made little green apples, the customers will try to take advantage of
you." He turned and headed for the stairs. "I'll take care of this. You two
go ahead and finish lunch."

* * *

Back in 'Flights of Fantasy', the eyes of a metal statue began to glow
softly. A faint growl echoed through the room. Then it fell silent again.

* * *

Downstairs, Ed found a tall, elegant woman waiting for him. She was
accompanied by two muscular bodyguards. Even a blind man would have known
them for the boomers they actually were.

*Why does this scene feel so damned familiar?* he thought. *There's
something here I'm missing...*

He looked the woman over closely, noting that she was doing the same with
him. Long purple hair, pale skin, and elegant clothing that reeked of power,
class and influence. *Damnit.. I _know_ her. I'm certain I do. But who is
she?* He shook his head. *What I wouldn't pay for a better memory. Doesn't
matter. But I wonder where all the weird hair colors come from?*

"I'm sorry, but we're closed for lunch at the moment. I'd be happy to
help you later in the day, ma'am."

She smiled. "I understand. But I can make it more than worth your while."
She waved one of the bodyguards forward. It held out a bank draft for 25,000
yen. "This is for the inconvenience I've caused in interrupting your lunch."

He blinked and waved it aside. "That isn't necessary. But if you feel
that it's _that_ urgent, I suppose I can spare a few minutes to listen."

She smiled. "Thank you. My name is Madagan, and I.."

Ed snapped his fingers. "Madagan! Kate Madagan, right? You work for
Genom. That's why you look so familiar!"

"Pardon me?" She looked confused for a moment, then examined him closely.
"Do we know each other from somewhere else?"

He shook his head. "No. We've never met. I've simply heard of you from an
.. err.. acquaintance of mine." He rubbed the back of his neck, where an
ache was beginning to develop. *Well... it's not _really_ a lie.. I AM
acquainted with Twister through Darren's stories.*

"What can I do for you, Ms. Madagan? A high-powered corporate VIP like
yourself doesn't visit the peons lightly. There must be something you want."

"There is, Mr. Edwards. I have a list of books I'd like to commission you
to find for me. You will be well paid for your efforts."

Ed's brows drew together suspiciously. "May I _see_ the list before I
agree to undertake the commission?"

Madagan considered the request for a moment, and after finding nothing
harmful in it, took a small sheet of paper from her briefcase. Ed looked it
over, his eyes slowly growing cold and hard.

"Cultes des Goules" - the Comte d'Erlette.
"The Book of Eibon"
"Unaussprechlichen Kulten" - Von Juntz.
"Thaumaturgical Prodigies in the New-English Canaan" - Reverend Ward
Phillips.
"De Vermis Mysteriis" - Ludvig Prinn
"The Book of Dzyan"
"The Revelations of Glaaki"
"The Pnakotic Manuscripts"
"Ponape Scripture"
"Marvells of Science" - Morryster
"Saducismus Triumphatis" - Joseph Glanvil
"Daemonolatreia" - Remigius
"Necronomicon" - Abdul Al-Hazred.

"You want _these_ books?" he asked in an icy voice.

Madagan nodded. "And as quickly as possible. We will pay all expenses,
and any required bribes, if need be. Price is no object."

"The price may be no object, but I _am_." Madagan was surprised to see
his eyes begin to glow a bright gold behind his photogrey glasses,
noticeable even under the bright lights of the bookstore. Her psionic senses
were muttering at her, hinting at dangers that she couldn't see, telling
her that the man in front of her was much more than he seemed to the naked
eye. "Madagan, we've just met. So this time, I'll give you the benefit of
the doubt. You don't _want_ these books. No one in their right _mind_ wants
*these* books. They are too dangerous. They make biological warfare look
like child's play. Trust me. Go home to Genom, and forget about these books.
Tell _them_ to forget about these books. Please."

She shook her head. "I'm sorry that you feel this way, Mr. Edwards. But
we _do_ require these for our research. Is there anything I can do to change
your mind?"

"No. Putting those books in the hands of Genom, or the hands of ANY
megacorp for that matter, would be akin to passing out loaded submachine
pistols in a kindergarten classroom." His face hardened. "I _cannot_ be a
party to that. Go home, Ms. Madagan. Forget about this. It's safer that
way."

She considered using the boomers to convince him otherwise, but the
second that the thought crossed her mind, her precognition *screamed* at her
in a way she hadn't heard since the day she'd attacked Darlene Stefanson.

Stepping back, she bowed respectfully. "If you do not wish to undertake
this effort, I understand. However, should you ever change your mind, I can
be reached via my office at Genom tower. I've left instructions to forward
any calls from you immediately."

As she left, followed by her bodyguards, he muttered "not very damn
likely" and locked the door behind her. Then he headed upstairs to finish
his interrupted lunch with Sylvie and Anri.

It wasn't until hours afterwards that he realized he'd nearly, and
neatly, duplicated Madagan's first meeting with Twister, the occasion when
she'd tried to purchase Charcoal from Darlene.

* * *

Later that night, Ed found himself pacing restlessly in his living room.
Frustration and anger wouldn't let him sleep. "Why, Minerva? Why? Just as
soon as things settle down, Genom has to try something stupid! Doesn't that
idiot Quincy know how deadly those books _are_?! C'thulu isn't something
that you can summon and control.. it's something that eats your very soul!
And then it goes out and polishes off the entire planet like an after-dinner
mint!" He kicked at a chair lying in his path, unthinkingly reducing it to
splinters. "Damn him! What kind of fool is he?!"

"The standard kind, boss. He wants to take over the world. It's that
simple. And you're ruining the furniture, b'wana."

"Well, I've got news for him," Ed snorted. "Madagan isn't Pinky and he
isn't the Brain. Lucifer is going to take up a job as a ski instructor on
the powder slopes of paradise before I help that megalomaniac lay a finger
on those books." He frowned, and replayed Minerva's remarks, then looked
down at the wreckage of the chair. "Ooops. Sorry 'bout that, m'dear."

"You need some way to relax and have some fun, lover.. let me think for a
moment." A sound not unlike a version of "Toccata and Fugue in D Minor" as
played by a wistful audio generator hummed in his ears. "How about this?
There are still plenty of muggers left in Mega-Tokyo..."

"Hunting for punks?" He grinned. "True.. but I haven't done that in
years. I don't have a look anymore. Besides.. PCHammer wasn't very happy
when he heard about my running around in a cheap knock-off of his 'Darkwing
Diggy' outfit."

"That simply means I'll have to think up a new look for you, boss." He
could practically hear the grin in her voice. "I haven't done a superhero
costume for you in quite a while."

"Just don't go overboard, pretty lady.. last time, they could see me
coming from miles away, what with all the flashy details you put on it," he
smirked. "Try and be a little more subtle this time around, girl."

***********************************

Leon and Daley were going over the weekly reports when Bochinski
interrupted them. "I think you might want to hear this, Inspector. There's
been a reported sighting of the _person_ from White Wolf's bar."

Daley looked up. "The one who tore apart a boomer with his bare hands and
then vanished into thin air?"

Bochinski nodded. "Uh-huh. Only it seems that boomers aren't the _only_
item on his menu. Some muggers downtown tried to jump a couple, and a man
dressed in a cowboy hat and a long leather coat came to their rescue." He
gave his superiors a bemused look. "When the couple called it in, they told
us that the muggers were tied up. They failed to mention that they'd been
tied up with traffic railing."

Daley looked a little startled at that, but Leon just nodded. "And there
are other reports, aren't there." His tone made it a statement.

Wadderson walked in at that point. "Two more have just arrived," she
added. "Some Outriders were harassing people in the Ginza district, and
they were found disarmed and tied up with their own motorcycles."

"Motorcycles? I've heard of tying someone _to_ a motorcycle, but how do
you tie someone _up_ _with_ a motorcycle?" wondered Daley.

"By crushing the bike with your bare hands and twisting the wreckage
around their body," Wadderson smirked, and flexed a muscle. "Whoever this
is, I like their style. I'll have to try that myself someday, now that I'm
strong enough." She laughed, then looked down at her notepad. "What makes it
certain is that all the reports have one thing in common. Each time, the
mysterious hero _vanished_ in a pillar of light, or so the witnesses say."

Leon hmmm'ed to himself. "It sounds like our man.. if it _is_ a man. It
could still be some advanced type of boomer, for all we know. Or worse."

"Worse?" asked Daley. "What's worse than an unknown type of boomer?"

Leon reached across his desk and *ting'ed* a fingernail on a small statue
of a dragon by a fire hydrant, receiving a parking ticket from a cute
looking police officer on a motorscooter. "Think about it for a moment. Do
you really want to know?"

Daley looked a little nonplused. "Ummm. Yeah. I see what you mean. So..
we have what appears to be a new vigilante in town. Do we set a trap for
him?"

"No. We buck this up the chain of command and wait for orders from much
higher up on this one, partner. I smell politics in the wind." Leon frowned.
"It's time we start preparing CYA packages, people. Personal logs, and
document every single breath you take. Teleportation? Every one from the
government to Genom to the USSD is going to get involved. We'd better watch
out that we don't end up caught in the crossfire."

Everyone nodded.

* * *

Ed peeled the leather duster off, and threw it onto the bunk in his cabin
aboard the Calypso. The Stetson followed it, sailing across the room. Then
he fell into his chair, laughing like a loon. "Fortuna! I haven't had _that_
much fun in YEARS! YEEE-HAAW! Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!"

"Told you it'd relax you, boss," interjected Minerva. "I especially liked
the expression on the mugger's faces when you _ate_ their guns."

Ed broke up into laughter again, then belched loudly. "W-w-well.. In the
TV show, Superman always crushed them with his hands, and I wanted to try
something a little different."

"It was a nice touch." Minerva smiled, and a scutter rolled in with a
tray of steaming towels and a bottle. "We'd better get you cleaned up,
B'wana. And you need to re-color your hair before you go back to the book
store."

"I think I'll take a hot shower first," he said, still snickering as he
headed for the shower. "Then you can do my hair, pretty lady. Goddess.. the
expression on those punk's faces.. Did you record it all?"

"Done and done, lover. It'll make for some fun home movies."

Blurred by the running water, Ed's voice sounded cheerful. "Maybe we can
send some edited copies to the AD Police, baby..."

* * *

Nene looked at Naoko. "Could you cover for me for a few moments, Naoko? I
need to take a quick break."

"No problem, Nene. Calling a boyfriend?" Naoko smiled.

Nene shot her a withering glance. "Naoko..."

"Just kidding, Nene. Hurry back."

Nene hurried to a public phone outside ADPolice headquarters. A moment
later, she had Sylia on the line.

"Sylia.. the person you wanted me to watch for? He's appeared again. I'll
have more for you in the morning."

* * *

In her office in the rear of `Silky Dolls', Sylia hung up the phone and
returned to examining a collection of faded paperback books on her desk. It
was rather unusual reading matter for someone like her. She ran her fingers
down the list of titles she'd managed to obtain:

"Battletech: Legend of the Jade Phoenix" - Robert Thurston.
"Battletech: Blood of Kerensky" - Michael Stackpole.
"Battletech: Saga of the Grey Death Legion" - William Keith.

There were many more, and several of the novels apparently came in sets,
following the adventures of a particular individual or mercenary unit. But
they all seemed to share the same basic background, a shared universe based
on a popular role-playing game.

She reached for a pad and started taking notes.

***********************************

"I'll never be an angel/I'll never be a saint, it's true/I'm too busy
surviving/Whether it's heaven or hell/I'm gonna be living to tell.."
- Madonna, "Survival", _Bedtime Stories_

The next day, Sylvie and Anri could sense the difference in Ed. A huge
grin covered his face, and occasionally, he'd stare into empty space and
chuckle.

They were having lunch at his place again, and Sylvie noted the small
works of art that he was using to slowly fill the empty spaces in his
apartment. "Ed.. why haven't you come to us if you want some art? We'd be
happy to help. After all, we're friends. It would be a pleasure to find a
few pieces for you."

He started to speak, then stopped with his mouth half-open. "Ahh.. Would
you believe it never even crossed my mind?!" He slapped himself on the
forehead. "Quote from the Three Stooges - 'I'm tryin' ta think, but nuttin'
happins'!'"

The two women giggled. "You aren't _that_ bad, Ed," smiled Anri. "Just
sort of." She stood and walked over to the wall, where two small pencil
sketches hung. "Did you do these, Ed? I've never seen these before. They're
very beautiful." Sylvie joined her and they both looked closely at the
pictures. Two different women, one depicted as an elegant vampire, the other
as an anthropomorphic cheetah. They jumped, and turned around when they
heard a glass shatter.

A puddle of ice tea had spread over the tabletop from Ed's glass as he
looked at the sketches with pain in his eyes. "No. I didn't." He looked down
numbly. "I'd better wipe this up. Don't want to make a mess."

Sylvie rushed to his side, grabbing his arm. "Sit down, you idiot! Let me
see your hand. You've probably cut yourself badly..." She blinked in
astonishment at his uninjured palm. "How..?" Suspicion colored her voice.
"You're a boomer," she said flatly. Anri edged closer to the door, ready to
make a run for it.

He just sat and stared at the wall. Several minutes went by tensely. "No.
Not a boomer, m'lady. Although I might have been better off if I were." He
finally blinked, and looked over at them. "And before you say what you're
thinking, no. I'm not a trap set for you by Genom, either. Not that Genom
would even try, after the scare Darlene threw into them."

"You _know_ about that?" gasped Anri.

"Yes. Just as I know that the two of you are sexaroids, and that you
occasionally keep company with the Knight Sabers, the Crystal Knight and the
Elf. But those are _your_ secrets. They're not mine to share." His lips
twisted into a bitter smile. "I was right. I should never have bought a shop
so close to you two. All it did was cause trouble."

Sylvie still looked at him warily. "Who and what are you? And how did you
know those things about us?"

"That's a very long story, Sylvie. One that's also very hard to believe.
Even for me."

She pulled over a chair from the dinner table, turning it around and
crossing her arms over the back. "We're waiting."

He nodded soberly. "S'beit, then. By your leave, m'lady. It was a little
over twenty years ago, in a little town in northeastern Colorado..."

* * *

An hour and a half later, the two sexaroids were staring at Ed with
astonishment in their eyes. Sylvie shook her head, stunned. "I've never
heard anything like that before. Except possibly for what happened to
Darlene."

"At least what happened to Twister was a true accident, Sylvie. I walked
into that laboratory with my eyes open and wide awake," sighed Ed bitterly.
"I knew, or _thought_ I knew, what I was doing and I _still_ managed to
shoot myself in the foot."

"Are.. are you still human?" asked Anri.

"Anri!" Sylvie exclaimed, embarrassed. "How could you ask something like
that?"

They were both surprised to hear Ed laughing. "No offence taken, m'lady."
A faint note of hysteria colored his laughter. "She hasn't asked anything I
haven't already asked myself for decades now. And for what it's worth, the
answer is - I don't know."

Sylvie looked at him closely. "Why are you here, Ed?"

He had the grace to look embarrassed. "I'm here because this was the last
place I know of that Twister had also been to. I'm _not_ a mage. Aside from
what very little a certain one of my otherselves knows about magic, I'm
completely ignorant about it. I'd hoped.." He stopped and took a deep breath
before continuing. "I'd hoped that by staying near to you two, I might find
an opportunity to approach Twister and beg for Darlene's help. Science
hasn't been able to find my home short of trial and error. Perhaps magic
could succeed where science has failed."

The women looked at him, thinking.

He cleared his throat. "And as long as I'm being honest here, you should
know this as well. I'm the person the ADPolice is looking for in that case
involving White Wolf's bar."

Sylvie raised an eyebrow and Anri's eyes went wide. "That was you?" Anri
gasped. "You're the one who tore that boomer apart bare-handed?"

Ed nodded. "That was me. The disappearing trick was pulled with the help
of the ship I mentioned." He smacked himself on the side of the head. "Jesus
X. Bushmaster! If brains were gunpowder, I wouldn't have enough to blow my
own nose! Minerva, m'dear, feel free to introduce yourself to the ladies."

A warm, musical soprano filled the room. "Greetings, Sylvie and Anri. I
am Minerva, an Autonomous Computer Intelligence. I serve as the brains
behind Ed's ship, the 'Calypso'. And I generally try to keep him from making
an utter fool of himself. Not that I'm very successful at that, most of the
time."

Ed groaned, while the three females laughed. "Just what I need. A
feminist critique of my life. Thank you, Susan B. Anthony."

After the giggles stopped, Sylvie spoke up. "So.. where do we go from
here?"

Ed shrugged. "It seems to me that it would be in your own best interests
to avoid me. I tend to attract trouble. Minerva tells me it's because I'm a
`focus of probability'. Reality tends to.. get weird, when I'm around."

Both women shook their heads. "We don't just abandon our friends, Ed,"
said Anri. "Hmmm.. Edward Anthony - Anthony Edwards.. I see. So you wouldn't
slip up when someone called you by name, right?"

He nodded. "I was afraid if I took a totally different name, I might not
notice when someone called me. That would start people wondering, if they're
the suspicious type. Assumed names can be awkward, particularly if you
forget which one you're using at the time." He looked back at Sylvie. "Will
you be telling the Knight Sabers about me?"

Sylvie shook her head. "Why should we?"

Ed bit his lip. "Well.. I'm arguably the most powerful single being in
the city at the moment, I own a starship that could burn Mega-Tokyo to the
ground and leave nothing behind but a smoking crater, and I have Genom, the
ADPolice, the USSD, and Fortuna only knows _how_ many other groups after me
in order to pry the so-called `secret' of teleportation out of me." He
winced. "I'm bad news walking, ladies. A natural disaster on two legs.
The sensible thing to do when you see me coming is to dig a hole, jump in,
and pull it in after yourself."

Sylvie looked angrily at him. "Will you _stop_ that? Anri already _told_
you, we DON'T give up on our friends. If you've read about us in that story
you told us about, you should know that already."

Minerva spoke up. "They've got you there, B'wana."

"No commentary from the peanut gallery, please." He sighed. "But you're
right. If you aren't going to give up on me, I can't give up on myself.
But.. why NOT tell the Sabers?"

"You said it first, Ed.. It's _your_ secret. Not ours. Your privacy is
safe with us."

He closed his eyes for a moment. "Thank you." A tired smile crossed his
face. "And as for your original question, Anri... No. I didn't do those
sketches. A friend from days long past did them for me. Shou listened as I
described Natasha and Ailuro, then he did those for me." He waved a hand at
the pictures. "They're a.. remembrance of my past. And fortune willing, a
hope for my future." He looked down at the table. "Looks like we let lunch
grow cold while we were talking. Heh. Tell you what. Let's find a restaurant
and have an early dinner. My treat."

* * *

Late that night, he came home to the shop, and walked upstairs to the
apartment. He felt.. odd, somehow.

He sat down with a snifter of brandy and thought it over. Reflecting upon
his feelings, he came to a realization. *Sylvie and Anri are my friends. And
I _HATE_ lying to my friends. No matter _what_ the reason. It makes me feel
dirty. Now.. now I feel clean again.*

***********************************

Personal Log: Entry 131, Year 20.

Well, I seem to have developed a bit of a reputation in the weeks since
Sylvie and Anri discovered the truth about me. I've been out hunting muggers
at least three nights a week, and sometimes more. Heh. What can I say? It's
good, clean fun! And vastly entertaining.

Needless to say, the number of muggings has dropped rather dramatically
in that time. I had to have Minerva snoop in the THP and ADP systems just so
I could find some more muggers to play with. They've been going into hiding,
lately. I _wonder_ why?! HA!

I've had some close calls, though.. and that _DAMNED_ nickname stuck to
me like superglue! Everyone in Mega-Tokyo is calling the mysterious
vigilante `Goldeneyes', and that's got the THP, the ADPolice, Genom and the
Knight Sabers following me around like a pack of cybernetic bloodhounds. Not
that the first two are any real problem - with their budgetary restraints,
they can't catch me. They can barely catch a cold, poor fellows. Genom and
the Knight Sabers, however.. they're an different story.

Genom's been filling the streets with undercover boomers, and has even
used some as fake muggers and fake victims to set traps for me. They've
managed to find me at least four times now. All they got for their troubles,
however, were several lessons in the practical difficulties involved in
successfully capturing and restraining a meta-human.

Lucky they don't know my other identity, or they'd send me a bill for all
the boomers I've trashed. Going by the current market value for a new 55-C,
I've managed to run up quite a tab. Heh.

As for the Sabers? Ouch. They _have_ been showing up close on my heels.
Faster than their advanced suits and technology can account for. I had
Minerva maintain a constant scan around my location the last time I went
out, and she noted four small energy signatures just before they appeared to
confront me. Signatures that were much weaker but otherwise identical to
that of Charcoal's. Could they be using something Darlene gave them to
_magically_ transport to my location? There _was_ something in the last
story about her giving the four of them a way to teleport to and from the
cavern she built.

What's worse is that somehow, they seem to be anticipating my actions to
a certain degree. Could they have found out something about me? They're
acting like professionals who've been given an intelligence profile of an
opponent.

I have to do something about this. I can't keep evading them forever. I'm
just not skilled enough.

Goddess, this is frustrating...

End Log Entry 131, Year 20

***********************************

"Come quietly or there will be... trouble."
- Alex Murphy, "Robocop"

Sylvie looked up as the door to "Flights of Fantasy" opened. "Oh.. hello,
Ed! Is there anything we can do for you?"

"I'm going to be gone for a bit. I'm getting sick and tired of walking
around Mega-Tokyo, and riding public transportation is driving me around the
bend. So I'm heading down to Motor Vehicle Registration. They tell me it
takes a little more than the usual paperwork when you want to register an
imported vehicle, so I need to get an early start." He walked over to the
counter, carefully avoiding Charcoal, and handed her a duplicate set of keys
for his bookstore. "Could you watch over the book store for me? I've put up
the 'Closed' sign and Minerva's keeping an eye on things inside, so it won't
take much."

"We'd be happy to." She thought for a minute, then leaned over the
counter and spoke quietly. "Are you going.. hunting.. tonight?"

In the same tone he replied, "Yes.. is there a problem?"

She looked at him, worried. "Maybe. Priss was just over, swearing up a
storm. She told me.."

Ed sagged. "Let me guess.. tonight the Knight Sabers are DEFINITELY going
to capture the Mystery Vigilante, right?"

Sylvie nodded. "That was all she would talk about. That, and how she was
going to get her revenge on him for making her look so foolish."

Rasing his glasses, he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb
and middle finger and began to massage it roughly. "Goddess. If it's not
one thing, it's another. I can't win for losing!"

"Perhaps you shouldn't go out tonight?"

"What? And disappoint Priss?" He laughed. "Don't worry, m'lady.. they
can't hurt me, and I think I know a way to avoid being captured. I promise.
I won't do _anything_ to risk either myself or the Sabers."

* * *

"I do not _BELIEVE_ how much paperwork I just had to go through for just
One. Bloody. CAR! What? Do they _live_ on paperwork down at the DMV?" raved
Ed quietly, as he got on a bus for the apartment. His fellow passengers gave
the gaijin odd looks, but left him alone for the most past.

{Got to expect that, boss. It's just as bad anywhere else. Bureaucrats
hate things that disturb the red tape. The rare and unusual tends to do
that. And you've got to admit.. Christine is both rare and unusual.}

He rolled his eyes, exasperated. {She isn't _that_ unusual a car, pretty
lady..}

{Boss.. Do you _really_ believe what you just said? Don't you remember
_where_ you got her?}

{You know I don't like thinking about that, m'dear.}

{Exactly. And installing that extra circuitry was not a good idea.}

He sighed. {Okay. You're right. But she was my favorite ride until you
came along, love.. I felt I owed her something for all the years of faithful
service.} He sent the mental equivalent of a shrug through the link. {Silly
of me, perhaps. And yet..} His mind drifted through memories, and Minerva
dropped her end of the conversation. He spent the rest of the bus ride in
quiet contemplation.

* * *

After picking the keys back up from Sylvie, he invited the two women over
to watch him get ready for a night on the town. As they walked over to `Rare
Books', Anri noted the car parked in front. She commented on it.

"That's an antique car, isn't it?"

Ed grinned. "Yes, and one of my favorites. It's nearly as old as I am. A
Mercury Capri, German-built in 1975. Which makes it 60 years old, in this
reality. It has a 2.8 litre engine, a five speed manual transmission, and a
few little... extras I installed over the past twenty years." He chuckled.
"Space travel isn't _nearly_ as glamorous as it's portrayed in the media.
In fact, at times, it's downright dull. Trust me, I _know_. So, I'd work on
Christine as a hobby. It helped kill the time."

"Christine?" asked Sylvie. "You named your car?"

He nodded. "After the car in the Stephen King novel. The first few years
I owned her, she gave me plenty of grief. Yet I loved her anyway. Hence the
name."

Both women laughed. "Ed.. you have a strange sense of humor," Anri said.

"That's what they tell me, m'lady."

Sylvie just shook her head in exasperation.

"Come on in. I want you to see this." He waved the two into the shop.
"You've asked about that piece of sculpture in my living room several times.
Now you'll see what it's there for!"

When they reached the apartment, Ed pointed at the large round stone
piece. "Minerva, dear?"

"Right, boss." As they watched, the sexaroids saw a small ripple develop
in the center of the 2 meter tall stone circle. It began to grow, and fill
the entire space. When it stopped, Sylvie and Anri could see something on
the other side that _wasn't_ the wall behind it.

"What is that?!" asked Sylvie. She turned to see a self-satisfied smirk
on her friend's face.

"It's a Thorens-P'wheet Probability broach. A little piece of time/space
skipping technology some friends gave me. That's the main cargo hold of the
Calypso on the other side. Take a single step, and you travel from this room
to my ship, which is currently in geosynchronious orbit over Mega-Tokyo."
The smirk threatened to overwhelm his face. "Nice for shortening travel
time, don't you think?"

As he spoke, a small four-wheeled 'bot rolled through the hole and
deposited a small bundle on the floor. Then it rolled back into the ship,
and the broach rippled shut once more. Ed picked up the bundle and shook it
out, revealing a leather coat, a tremendously ugly cowboy hat, and a pair of
metal forearm bracers. Reaching into a pocket of the coat, he withdrew a
black silk handkerchief with two small eyeholes cut into it. He tied it
around his head, covering his scalp and the top of his face, knotting it in
the back. "What do you think?"

Anri took one look, and began to whoop with laughter. Sylvie just grinned
and pointed a finger at him. "Zorro lives."

He made a sour face at her. "Surely it isn't _that_ bad.."

"It's worse. And don't call me Shirley."

"Arrrgh! A touch! A touch! I'm cut to the quick!"

He picked up the pair of armored braces. "Here's the real trick of it.
Minerva got the idea for these from an old comic book villain called
'Bloodsport'." He strapped them on. "I've been told I have a lot of powers,
but I can't seem to to get the hang of using any of them, aside from the
strength and the invulnerability. And you never really know when a weapon or
two might come in handy, so..." He made an odd motion with one hand and a
large pistol suddenly appeared in his fist. "Taaa-dahhh!"

Anri clapped. "How'd you do that?"

He smiled. "Aside from providing armor that I don't really need, each
bracer is a direct link to a transporter pad installed in the armory aboard
my ship." He made another movement, and the pistol vanished. "I can simply
`reach' into my arsenal for whatever weapon that best fits the situation.
And I don't have to worry about running out of ammunition. The `magazines'
of each gun are really very small Broaches, linked to _bins_ full of ammo in
the armory."

Sylvie looked intrigued. "That could make a person almost unstoppable,
provided they had a wide enough assortment of weapons."

Ed nodded. "Yup.. first time I tried these, I used a pair of Ingram
MAC-10's in .45 caliber. Unlike most folks, I could hold them on target in
spite of the recoil, and I never had to change magazines or ran out of ammo.
Bullets flying everywhere." He laughed. "I forgot one thing."

"What's that?" she asked.

"Gun barrels melt."

Both women smiled at him. "Does Minerva ever tell you that you can be
just a little dense at times, Ed?" asked Anri.

"All the bloody time."

The ACI aforementioned made a rude noise. "That's because you _need_ a
woman to take care of you, b'wana. By the way, I installed the new circuitry
in the belt. So you won't have to worry about the Sabers getting hurt if
they jump you."

"Ah! Thank you, pretty lady! That should solve the problem nicely."

"What should?" Anri inquired.

"_This_ should. A little something we stole from Stark Enterprises, when
we dropped by there." He put the belt on. "An old enemy of Anthony Stark's
invented this. He called himself the Ghost, for obvious reasons." He touched
a stud on the belt then, before either woman could react, threw a punch at
Sylvie. Both of their jaws dropped when his fist simply passed harmlessly
through her body. "Intangibility. A lesser version of the phasing cloak that
Minerva uses. If I wanted to, I could also be anything from translucent to
totally invisible." His voice sounded oddly hollow and faint. "As it is,
this should prevent the Sabers from taking me in."

"Incredible," said Sylvie. "What Sylia wouldn't give for something like
that."

Ed shrugged and passed a hand over the stud, returning to normal.
"Perhaps when I get to know her better. As it is, she'd likely take after me
in her suit, if she knew that her acquaintance from the book store was also
the `Mystery Vigilante'. As it is, we do have _one_ thing is common. We both
want to see Genom punished for it's crimes."

He pulled on the leather duster, and tugging the Stetson over his head,
turned towards the stone circle. "Where are the muggers tonight, pretty
lady?"

"Mostly near the Canyon, B'wana. They seemed to have cleared out of the
better parts of Mega-Tokyo after you took up that habit of breaking all the
fingers of every one of them you caught."

"Heh.. there's nothing like positive motivation, eh m'dear?"

"Works every time, boss!" Minerva's voice filled with humor. "'Port you
straight there?"

"Yup." He turned and waved to Anri and Sylvie. "Don't bother waiting up
for me. I don't know when I'll get back. And don't worry. I won't get
caught, and I won't put the Sabers in any danger. You have my word of honor
on that."

He waved. A column of light surrounded him. When it faded, so had he.

* * *

As he prowled the streets and alleys of the badlands near the Canyon, a
happy smile was on his lips. He never really understood why, but removing
the sort of human refuse that chose to prey on the weak just gave him a
warm, fuzzy feeling deep inside.

He spotted a pusher trying to make a sale of some drug, and he quietly
drifted up behind the man. A moment later, he dropped a hand on the pusher's
shoulder.

"So... what are you selling, eh? And more important, is it worth your
life?"

The pusher, a rail-thin young man with greasy blond hair and an unhealthy
complexion, spun around with a humming vibro-switchblade in one hand. "You
gonna die, you motherfu..." His voice trailed off into silence.

"Maybe I'm going to die, boy, but it won't be you that kills me. And it
_certainly_ won't be with a toy knife like that." Ed took the shiv from the
punk's non-resisting fingers, and snapped the blade in two. "Now.. what was
it you were saying, hmmmm?"

"You HIM!" gasped the pusher. "You Goldeneyes!"

Ed growled angrily, almost causing the punk to faint. "I Hate That Name!
Got that?"

"Yessir, yessir," whimpered the pusher. There was a quiet trickling
sound, and they both looked down. The pusher in shame, Ed in disgust. "Jesus
X. Bushmaster! Don't you have _any_ pride? Control your bladder!" He shook
the man by his collar. "Listen up. You got a choice. You can take your
chances with the police, or you can take them with me. Remembering, of
course, that the cops have to play by the rules." He balled his fist in the
man's shirt, lifting him into the air. He shoved his face into the punk's.
"I, on the other hand, do _NOT_. Which do you want?"

"P-p-p-p-police...."

"Excellent choice. They don't tear your limbs off when they get pissed
with you. I _do_." He lowered the punk to the ground. "Now then. Go to jail.
Go DIRECTLY to jail. Do not pass Go. Do not mug someone for two hundred
dollars. Do you understand? I'll be checking to see if you get there. And if
I find out that you _didn't_ go straight to the cops and give them a full
confession... I'm going to break so many of your bones, you'll end up as a
training aid in a teaching hospital. Is that clear?"

A second trickling sound answered him. He shook his head in mock sadness.
"Low caliber of scum, these days." He set the pusher on his feet, and
pointed him towards the street. "Get going."

The pusher did a credible imitation of an Olympic sprinter as he raced
down the avenue to the nearest police station, making Ed smile. {That's one
more piece of trash cleaned up, baby.}

{You're mean, boss.} He could sense the smile in her `voice'.

{Only to garbage like that, m'lady. Only to vermin like that who attack
the innocent.}

{Uh-oh..}

His face went taut. {Uh-oh? You know I don't like it when you say uh-oh,
baby. What's the matter.. oh. Oh, hell. Cancel statement.} He didn't need to
ask, now. The blue hardsuit headed his way was all the answer he needed. He
surreptitiously brushed a palm over the stud on his belt.

"Freeze, you bastard!" Ed almost broke out in laughter at the venom in
Priss' voice. "Make a move and you're going to get a railgun spike right in
the gut!"

He spread his arms wide. "Hey, I don't want any trouble. Nice hardsuits.
I particularly like the high heels. They're a nice touch. They add a certain
something. The Knight Sabers, right?" *Yahright. As if I didn't know...*
"I've got no argument with you folks. I'm not a boomer, and I'm not Genom."
He shook his head and his voice echoed eerily in the street from the effect
the shield had on it. "So why don't we all just turn around and simply walk
away?"

The white Saber came into view. "If that's the case, then you shouldn't
mind coming along quietly with us and satisfying our curiosity."

"Errr... that's not quite _fair_, you know... I don't see _you_ four
answering the police's questions." He heard muffled laughter behind him.
*Must be Linna and Nene. They _would_ get a kick out of that,* he thought.
"Look, I'm not cutting in on _your_ turf, here. I mean, I'm not taking any
mercenary contracts, nor am I going after Genom, okay? I'm just cleaning up
the streets a bit. What's wrong with that?"

He could practically _see_ the blood boiling in Priss's veins. Sylia
began to say something, but Priss's angry shout interrupted. "This isn't
about a few street scum, this is about your throwing me around like a piece
of trash in the bar! Yeah! That's right! I know it's you, you bastard. I can
see those eyes of yours glowing."

*Ooops! Bloody hell. Hadn't thought she'd noticed that in the bar. And I
hadn't even _considered_ that she might watch the news. Stupid, stupid,
stupid. D'oh! If I had a brain I _might_ be dangerous.*

"Uhhh... heh, heh... wasn't anything personal... "

"Well, _I_ took it personal. And if you don't surrender, I'm going to
take it PERSONALLY out on _you_!"

He looked over to the white Knight Saber. "Is she _always_ like this? I
can just imagine what commanding her in battle must be like. You have my
heartfelt sympathies." The growls Priss let out at that comment lent a whole
new interpretation to the word `bloodthirsty'. And while he couldn't be
certain, he was willing to bet cold cash that the quickly smothered sounds
that came from the pink and green Sabers behind him was more quiet laughter.
Even the expressionless white armor facing him seemed to be somehow smiling.

"That tore it. You're coming with _me_!" Priss snarled. She charged him.
His back was to a building, and he winced at what he knew was about to
happen. Sure enough, the blue suit moved to tackle him. It passed completely
through him, slamming violently into the brick wall behind him.

Ed flinched at the impact. "Owch. Did that hurt? It looked real painful."
He stepped to one side so the other three Sabers could see Priss clearly. He
didn't want them to think she was seriously injured. "Look... I _knew_ you
were going to try to bring me in tonight, so I took some precautions. I'm
intangible right now, and I intend to stay that way whenever you four are
around." He shrugged expressively. "So can't we come to some sort of truce?"

Ed moved away from the wall as Priss rose to her feet. Then the white
Saber approached him slowly, then arm outstretched, passed a hand slowly
through his body. "Interesting." She nodded thoughtfully inside the
hardsuit, and stepped back. "For now, then. Obviously, there is nothing we
can do to you while you are like this. However, while we may not be able to
capture or restrain you, neither can you continue with your.. `cleaning of
the streets' while we are present. I assume, of course, that you are unable
to take any offensive action, while in that state."

All four women watched with varying degrees of amusement as the Vigilante
slapped himself across the forehead, dragging his hand down across his face.
*D'OH! I never even thought of that!* "Uhhh... Would you believe that I have
this horrible, terrible superweapon hidden inside my coat that will disable
every hardsuit in the city?"

"No."

"How about a mediocre, average weapon that will shut down powered suits
for 100 meters in every direction?"

"I don't think so."

"Would you believe two Girl Scouts and a rabid beagle?"

"Unlikely, at best."

"I should maybe go back to the drawing board and start over?"

The white Saber finally nodded. "That I'd believe."

The Sabers could see the lower half of his face flaming scarlet with
embarrassment. "I'd really be rather grateful if you could possibly see your
way clear to keeping this little error on my part just between the five of
us? It's not exactly the sort of thing that makes a hero look very heroic,
if you know what I mean."

"I don't really see as that will matter, Mr.. Mr.. "

"Heh. I'm not _that_ foolish, Saber Prime. Call me Legion, if you need a
name. Like it or not, I always seem to get tagged with that."

Inside the armor, Sylia raised an eyebrow and continued. "Well, Legion,"
she asked, "What is there to prevent us from simply following you back to
your headquarters and apprehending you there?"

"Mmmmm... good question." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You mean, in
_addition_ to the fact that I could simply start walking through walls,
buildings, and even Mount Fuji in order to leave you behind?"

The white Saber nodded at him. "In addition to that, yes."

"Well, as someone _else_ once said.. 'My armor can be invisible. It's not
hard to find out things when you can't be seen.'" That quote elicited a gasp
from from the pink armor standing behind him. "The same shield that renders
me intangible can make me invisible as well. While I'm unable to engage in
combat in such a condition - as you so _conveniently_ pointed out, thank you
SO very much - it does tend to make trying to track me down and/or capture
me an exercise in frustration."

"Stalemate then. But from what little we know of you, you seem to be a
person of honor, Legion."

Ed nodded carefully, turning the statement over and over in his mind,
looking for the trap he knew had to be hidden in it. "It's true I've been
accused of that particular failing, now and again."

"Good. I'd like your word of honor that you will do nothing to endanger
Mega-Tokyo, or it's people. I want your word that you will take all due
precautions during your.. `hunting' and will give it up rather than cause
any harm. In return, we will.. `let this lie', for now."

The Sabers watched as the Vigilante visibly winced. "Ouch. You are.. a
formidable opponent, dear lady. Not all battles are fought with blade and
beam. Now and again, I forget that. And then someone like you will come
along to remind me." He bowed elaborately. "You have my word, m'lady. I will
take _no_ actions that might possibly endanger Mega-Tokyo or it's
law-abiding citizens. Additionally, I will not interfere with the Knight
Sabers. In the event that my little hobby presents a threat to the city,
I'll give it up immediately. My word upon it, Saber Prime."

Inside her suit, Sylia smiled. "I'm told you've used this phrase several
times, and I find it peculiarly appropriate." The helmet nodded to Ed. "Well
bargained, and done."

Ed laughed. "More appropriate than you probably realize, m'lady." He
doffed his hat with a flourish. "Well, if all's been said and done, I have
generic street trash to clean up, and you, no doubt, have both boomers to
eliminate and contracts to fulfill." He smiled. "I bid you all a good
evening, and good hunting!"

With those words, he simply vanished. Priss swore furiously. "You let him
get away, dammit!!"

"Only for now," replied Sylia. "Legion will be meeting the Knight Sabers
again. And next time, we will be better prepared."

Sudden laughter filled the street. "Perhaps, Saber Prime.. But then, so
will I!"

The Sabers all heard the now-receding footsteps fade. Sylia smiled,
wondering if it was somehow her destiny to run into every eccentric
superhuman on the planet. *It certainly seems so, after Twister...*

* * *

Back at `Rare Books'...

"Do you think that will keep them off my back, pretty lady?" asked Ed as
he peeled off his gear, dropping it on the floor. The broach rippled open,
and another small 'bot emerged to pick it up and take it back to the
Calypso.

"Sylia, and the Sabers.. yes. But Priss is still going to try and find
you in her civilian identity, lover. Sylia can't ride herd on her 24 hours a
day. And even without her armor, she's a handful."

Ed grimaced. "Too true. Between her bike, and that little take-down pop
gun of hers, she could prove a major irritant. But I can't afford to touch
her.. she's too important to this reality. As are _all_ the Knight Sabers.
Besides, Leon would never forgive me." He laughed. "You'd think the man
would have given up by now. Priss wants him about as much as she wants a
high colonic."

Minerva quietly brrrr'ed in his ear. "The simplest solution is to track
her, boss. I can maintain a sensor lock on her when you're out having fun,
and when she gets too close, let you know. You'll be able to stay out of her
way."

He tilted his head, thinking. "Not an ideal solution... but it works for
me. Make it so."

"Already taken care of, b'wana."

"You're a smart lady, Minerva."

"Awww... I bet you say that to all the computers, boss."

"Only the cute ones, pretty lady. Only the cute ones."

* * *

At Doctor Raven's garage..

Nene approached Sylia hesitantly. "Sylia? There's something.."

Sylia frowned as she changed out of her softsuit. "Yes? What is it,
Nene?" She reached for a dress and pulled it on.

Nene bit her lip, then got out in a single, breathless rush,
"IthinktheVigilanteisfromanotheruniverseandIthinkIknowwhichone."

Sylia blinked, and touched her on the arm. "Slow down, Nene, and say that
again?"

She nodded, and took a deep breath. "I think the Vigilante is from
another universe, and I think I know which one he's from."

Sylia let go of her arm and looked her in the face. "We've suspected that
possibility from the beginning, Nene. What's happened to make you think you
know _where_ he's from?"

"Do you remember what he said to us, when you asked him why we couldn't
just follow him to his hide-out?"

Sylia nodded. "He said that he could be invisible and that it's not hard
to find out things when you can't be seen."

"No, he said his _armor_ could be invisible.. and he wasn't _wearing_
any! He SAID he was quoting someone, Sylia, and I know who. Remember when I
told you about my first visit to Twister's cave? I asked him how he knew we
were the Knight Sabers, and he said 'My armor can be invisible, Nene. It's
not hard to find out things when you can't be seen.'"

Sylia nodded slowly. "Aside from the use of your name, that is exactly
what the Vigilante said, word for word. You were the only two present in
Twister's cavern, as I recall. Bugging that cavern is unlikely in the
extreme. There'd normally be no way he could have know what the two of you
said, unless you or he repeated that conversation verbatim to someone." She
looked thoughtful. "It might simply be coincidence. However, given what
Twister has told us about multiple realities, and the fact that in some of
those realities we exist only as fictional characters, and that we already
suspect that the Vigilante comes from another reality..." She nodded again.
"The conclusion would seem to be that he comes from a reality where both
ourselves AND Twister exist as fictional characters. Interesting."

Nene shivered. "That's weird... to think that there was someone watching
us then... that there's someone watching us right NOW, peeping at us and
enjoying it."

Sylia smiled. "It goes both ways, Nene. The very person who is watching
or reading about us is just as fictional in _our_ universe as we are in
theirs."

Nene looked at her oddly. "It still bothers me. Doesn't it bother you?"

"No. And you should put it out of your mind. There isn't anything anyone
can do about it. Except, perhaps, learning to live with it. Otherwise, you
could drive yourself to distraction over the possibilities."

Nene stuck out her tongue. "Maybe.. but I still don't have to like it."

***********************************

The next morning, Ed invited Sylvie and Anri out to an early brunch. They
closed both stores, and headed over to a good restaurant. They took a
private booth, and talked about the night before.

"Priss did _what_?"

Ed smirked. "She took a running tackle at me. _While_ I had the shield
on, and was standing in front of a brick wall."

"That HAD to hurt," winced Sylvie.

Anri was giggling quietly. "You know that she's _never_ going to forgive
you for that one, don't you?"

"Well, as long as she doesn't know who I am, that isn't a problem. And
Sylia promised that if I keep my word, the Sabers would keep theirs."

"That won't keep Priss from trying to come after you without her suit, if
she ever discovers your identity," noted Sylvie.

"Yeah... Minerva said as much last night. I'm just going to have to be
VERY careful she never find that out, won't I?"

Both women nodded. "Don't take Priss lightly, Ed. She's a tough woman."
Sylvie said. "And a good shot with that pistol of hers," added Anri.

"Girls, girls, girls... Guns don't worry me. I've probably stopped more
slugs over the past twenty years than the bullet trap at a target range."
His eyes narrowed. "It's the possibility of her anger at me overriding her
good sense that worries me. If she discovers who I am, and gets furious
enough, she might try dropping a hint or two by Genom's way."

Anri leaped loyally to Priss's defence. "She'd _never_ do that! She hates
Genom!"

Ed looked over at Anri. "Oh? I seem to recall someone who once thought
that the enemy of my enemy was my friend. Or was that someone _else_
standing next to Largo, and sticking a knife into Priss during that last
battle atop of Genom tower..." He recoiled in surprise as Sylvie reached
across the table and slapped his face. She winced, shaking her stinging
hand. Ed looked at her, unhurt but shocked. "Hey! What the hell was that
for... Oh." Now it was his turn to wince as he saw the tears in Anri's eyes.
"I'm sorry, Anri. That was entirely uncalled for." He ducked his head.
"Sometimes I'm such an ass."

Anri wiped her eyes. "You're forgiven, then. And you're right, even if
you were crude about it. If I could make a mistake like that, then Priss
could too."

"Yeah.. but I shouldn't have hurt your feelings, Anri. If it helps any,
Minerva is going to be all over my case for doing that." He scratched his
head. "She's really come to like you two ever since you found out who we
were."

Anri smiled then. "Well, then, I won't have to worry about making you
pay. I know she will."

Ed rolled his eyes melodramatically. "Women.. can't live with 'em, can't
get any resale value for 'em."

"Ooooooh.... you MAN, you!!"

* * *

Leon gave a bilious look at the scruffy looking pusher sitting in the
interrogation room. "You say the mystery vigilante was the one who told you
to turn yourself in?"

The pusher nodded until Leon thought his head would snap right off of his
scrawny neck. "Yessir, yessir, yessir..."

Daley flipped through the arresting officer's report. "It says here that
you saw the Knight Sabers approach him after you ran down the street."

"Uh-huh! I run too fast an' hadda stop 'n catch my breath at the corner
an' I saw 'em. They hadd'em surrounded, but they weren't doin' nutthin."

"And that was all you saw?"

"I didn't hang around none. _He_ tole me to head right to you cops an'
thass just what I did. I don't want him gettin' mad at me none."

Leon nodded, then turned to address the uniformed officer waiting outside
the room. "That's all we need. Thanks, Ishido."

Officer Takashima grinned. "No problem, sir. When I noticed what the perp
was blabbering about the reasons _why_ he'd turned himself in, I thought
you'd want to know."

Walking down the hall, Leon wondered aloud. "Are they joining up? Or are
they enemies? This is getting deeper by the moment, partner."

Daley shrugged. "We'll just have to wait and watch. After all, waiting
and watching are half of a police officer's life right there. Collect all
the information you can, and try to make a prediction that will let you
anticipate the bad guys, then catch them. Academy stuff, but that doesn't
mean it's obsolete."

Leon sighed, and reached into his pocket, pulling out a pair of Shades of
Utter Cool +3, and putting them on. "That doesn't mean I have to like it,
Daley."

Daley looked at him. "You know, I've always wondered, partner. Just
_where_ do you buy those at? And why are you wearing them inside?"

***********************************

Personal Log: Entry 152, Year 20

It's been over three weeks now, and the Knight Sabers have left me
strictly alone. Sylia's word is her bond. Although.. from the way Priss's
suit shook the few times we've run across each other since then, Priss is
having more than a little trouble with her self control. Not that I blame
her. If I were in her position, I'd want to wipe up the floor with me.

I seem to be running out of muggers, though. They _finally_ got the word
that the police couldn't stop me, and all that's left working the streets
are a few pitiful junkies trying desperately to mug someone for the price of
a fix. The professional muggers have all `pissed off to pastures new' as an
old friend once put it. I suppose I could have Minerva start looking for cat
burglars, bank robbers, and such. But the regular police seem to have them
well in hand.

Sigh. Isn't this always what happens? You get over-eager, and run out of
new playtoys. Then life gets so _dull_.

Minerva and Sylvie were right. Priss is spending every free minute she
can spare, hanging around the seedier parts of the city, hunting for me.
Fortunately, the fact that I've run out of muggers to pound is actually
working in my _favor_. I'm not out as much, and Priss is basically a day
late and a dollar short, so to speak. Something which has _not_ put her in
a good mood.

Quite frankly, I've seen rabid wolverines with a better disposition.
I've got to do something about this. But I'm not quite certain what. When
she figured out the Darlene/Twister thing, first she made him take singing
lessons, then forced him to build her a superbike like his own.

I do NOT want the world to hear me sing. I have enough crimes on my
conscience already, thank you very much. Having to defend myself from
blood-thirsty hordes of music lovers wanting to lynch me for my singing is
not my idea of a good time.

Ah, well.

Book sales are brisk, and cash is rolling in. Not that I need it. I end
up donating most of the profits to various charities, which is getting me a
second reputation. It's an annoyance, occasionally.. I keep getting junk
email and people showing up in the store begging me for donations to their
particular cause. I swear, if I see another Dianetics type show up, I'm
going to punt the little buggers into the stratosphere.

I haven't seen Madagan for weeks. A fact I am _profoundly_ grateful for.
Hopefully, Genom has forgotten all about me.

End Log Entry 152, Year 20

***********************************

"Threats...and Other Promises."
- Vernor Vinge

Ed looked up at the sound of the bell over the front door. "Welcome to
`Rare Books'. May I help you?" He looked the customer over. Tall, dark,
athletically built, and almost offensively handsome.

"I'm here to help _you_, Mr. Edwards," replied the man. "I'm here to make
you very wealthy."

"Oh?" Ed raised an eyebrow. "And just how do you intend to do that?"
*Something isn't right, here,* he thought. {Minerva, _carefully_ scan the
gentleman, if you please.}

The man smiled and took what looked like a business card made of crystal
from the inside pocket of his jacket. "You're invited to a meeting at Genom
tower tonight, sir. Someone would like to speak with you about your skill in
finding hard to find literature." He placed the crystalline card on the
counter. "Show this to the guards. They'll let you in."

He looked down at the card. Cut from a single slice of perfect quartz,
engraved letters inlaid with gold leaf marched across its glimmering
surface. Only one word, but only one was needed. A single name. Quincy.

Minerva interrupted at that point. {I'm not sure how you did it, but you
called it the first try, boss. It's a boomer. A 33-S, to be precise.}

That caught his attention. {A sexaroid? I thought Anri and Sylvie were
the only ones currently on Earth. The rest are supposed to be off planet. On
Genaros, and the Moonbase, to be precise.}

He could practically hear Minerva shrug. {We're talking about Genom here,
b'wana. They don't exactly pay a great deal of attention to the law, you
know.}

{You shooting for the Understatement of the Year award again, m'dear?} He
turned his attention back to the sexaroid. "I gave Madagan my answer the
first time, tin can. That answer hasn't changed. I want nothing to do with
either Genom or Quincy. Clear enough? Get out of my shop, and tell your
masters to stay out of my life. End of message."

The boomer evinced no surprise at his knowledge of what it truly was and
nodded politely. "It would still be to your best interests to meet with Mr.
Quincy, sir. But I shall inform him of your message and of your feelings in
this matter. The invitation remains open. Good day."

The bio-machine turned, and left. Ed stared angrily at its back as it did
so. When the door swung closed, he began to swear loudly.

Minerva spoke up. {Boss...}

"..evil, vile, corrupt, foul.. ehh?" {What is it? Why the private link,
m'dear? No one is in the shop now..}

{I guess they just couldn't resist, boss. The card is a plant.}

{Excuse me??}

{There's molecular micro-circuitry buried under the gold leaf, boss, with
the crystal acting both as a solar power source and a sounding board. A very
elegant design, actually. The entire card is one very _nicely_ disguised
bug.}

Ed's eyes flashed golden for a brief second, as his fingers clenched
tightly around the card. It exploded into a spray of brilliant glittering
shards. His fist shook as he ground them under his heel, enraged. A mile
away, in a safe house, a Genom technician flinched painfully as her ears
rang to a squeal of harsh feedback.

"Oh.. I'll be visiting Quincy tonight, baby. But it isn't going to be
quite the visit he expects."

* * *

Sylvie looked up as Ed walking into the store. She noticed his frown.
"Is something wrong, Ed?"

He sighed. "Yes. And I need your help."

She nodded and waved him into the back room, motioning to Anri, who
joined them along the way.

"So, what's the trouble, Ed?" asked Anri.

"I just had a visitor from Genom. I've received an... _invitation_ to a
meeting with Chairman Quincy. Something which is suspicious enough in
itself. When you add in the facts that they just tried to bug my shop, and
that the person who brought the invitation was a sexaroid..." His voice
trailed away, and he shrugged. "Something is going on, and I don't know
what. That's not good."

Sylvie's eyes widened slightly. "A sexaroid? Are you certain?"

"I had Minerva scan him thoroughly, Sylvie. Male, sexaroid, 33-S. Aside
from the purely gender based differences, his construction was identical to
yours. The programming was seriously different, however." His eyebrows came
together tightly. "Minerva was able to pull some of the hard-wired
directives when she scanned him. Three guesses as to what those directives
were, and your first two don't count."

"Loyalty programming," snorted Anri. "To keep any more 33-S's from
rebelling and going independant."

"That, and a little bit more, Anri. There were a few other surprises.
For example, several small but strategically placed thermite charges inside
his braincase and power core. Min believes they can be triggered remotely,
and I see no reason to doubt her on that. One wrong move, and he melts down
into a puddle of slag."

Anri made a disgusted face. "True. But even with safeguards like that,
why would they risk bringing another sexaroid Earth-side?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "That's what bothers me. Whatever their plan
is, I'm totally clueless."

"You don't have to go to the meeting, Ed."

"Perhaps, Anri. But if I don't, I rather suspect that they'll try other
measures to get my cooperation. And I don't want that." He looked down, then
back up. "What I do plan to do is attend the meeting, and tell them no. I
don't believe there is anything they can do to me that I can't take, but
there's no sense in taking un-neccessary chances."

"And if violence does break out?" asked Sylvie.

"Then.. well, I guess I'll play it by ear. But that's part of the reason
I'm here, to explain why I'm meeting them on their own ground. They'll be
less likely to take any measures that involve mass destruction, if only to
keep the costs down." He grinned. "After all, the cost of replacing
something the size of Genom tower is considerable, even for a mega-corp. And
I think they learned that lesson rather thoroughly when Darlene started to
dissolve it down around their ears."

The two women laughed aloud at that, then waited for him to continue.

He paused then, chewing on his lower lip. "The rest of the reason I'm
here right now, Sylvie, is this." He reached inside his jacket and removed a
sheaf of papers. "If something goes seriously wrong, this is a notarized
statement. In the event that I disappear, you and Anri will have my power of
attorney. And you two will inherit the bookstore, it's contents, and the
cash in my bank account."

Both women drew a sharp breath, Anri speaking first. "You didn't have to
do that!"

"No.. I didn't _have_ to. But I _wanted_ to." He looked at them steadily.
"You two are the best friends I have in this universe. You stood by me when
you discovered what I really was, when most people would have simply run for
their lives, or ratted me out to the authorities. That takes a lot of
courage, and more than the usual amount of `live and let live' attitude.
More than I've seen in a rather long time." He shook his head. "Ha. Listen
to me. I sound like one of those bad `hero goes to his death making noble
cliche-ridden speech' scenes from a _very_ bad movie."

"Well, when the shoe fits, Edward," smiled Sylvie.

"Maybe so, but I always _hated_ those scenes," he laughed. "Anyway, I
don't _really_ expect anything serious to happen, but I _do_ believe in
taking precautions." He smirked and handed them the papers. "I want you to
hold on to these, and return them to me when I get back. I don't really
expect you to need to use them. I'm not too worried. I don't think it can
get any worse. After all.. what _else_ can happen, eh?"

Dangerous choice of words, there.

* * *

The highway was a deserted section of Mega-Tokyo due to its bridge having
collapsed a long time ago and the city hadn't bothered fixing the damage.
Thus, no one was around to see the sudden flare of purple light, nor the
bone white car which shot forwards from its arrival point with a squeal of
rubber. The car was of an ancient make for Mega-Tokyo, but little else about
the unusual appearance would have been found evident as it suddenly
vanished.

It had not vanished. Now it was cloaked by the spells woven into the car
by the person sitting in the passenger seat, which should have been the
driver's side in Japan. And that person was pleased.

"Perfect!" Darlene chuckled.

"Where do we go first?" the driver asked her.

"It's night so de-cloak when we start running into cars," the mage
advised. "Bet you we run into Priss within two hours."

The person in the back seat grinned. "No bet; that's a given."

"True," Darlene admitted.

"Hey, clear race track. Onward, Mortis!" the driver chuckled and the car
accelerated. A lot. Darlene rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"Grim..."

* * *

Up in orbit, Minerva detected the strange energy surge. *That dragon
again?* she wondered. But no, it came from the wrong location so what...?
Her thought processes froze. *Could it be...?* Quickly, the ACI scanned the
city but whatever the cause was she only got a ghost image of...something...
before it disappeared. Repeated tries got even less.

She matched the signature against the readings she'd obtained from
Charcoal, and the earlier scans of Mega-Tokyo, when she'd noticed the
underground anomaly she now realized must be Twister's private cave. The
energies involved were nearly identical.

"Ed's going to want to hear about this," she murmured.

Was Twister back?

* * *

Priss had been riding the highways more often lately due to her current
frustrations with that mystery man who had torn apart a Boomer like it was
nothing. Soon, the normal routes grew boring so she started on the lesser
used paths where there were fewer THP cars and opened up the gas. Her
pleasure in the acceleration must have distracted her, how else could that
old-looking car have gotten behind her? She glanced at her speedometer and
blinked.

*How the fuck is that piece of crap keeping up at 220km?!* she thought,
amazed. The white ghost behind her was silent. Too silent, she couldn't even
hear the engine, which should have been howling like a demon! *Is it that
asshole?* she wondered.

Then, impossibly, the car switched lanes and somehow went from 220 to 300
in one second, zipping by Priss as if she were standing still. She couldn't
believe it!

"How the HELL...?!?!" Priss demanded aloud. Up ahead, the car braked to a
dead stop, just as fast in deceleration as acceleration. It seemed a clear
invitation to her so she warily applied her own brakes and coasted to a halt
beside the white car with black, impenetrable windows.

The driver's side opened and a familiar red-headed face popped up to grin
at her. "Hiya, Priss!" Darlene giggled. "Like the car?"

The singer sat, stunned, on her bike for a moment before she jumped off
and met her friend in front of the car with an enthusiastic hug. "Darlene!!
About damn time you came to visit, you little..."

"Been busy," the red-head admitted as they separated. Priss snorted.

"I bet. What's the deal with this old thing and why were you chasing me
with it?" the singer demanded.

"Huh? Oh, this is a car made for America; the sides are reversed,"
Darlene explained. "I wasn't driving."

"You weren't? Then who's the asshole who was?" Priss demanded.

The true driver's door opened and a long pole with a wicked-looking,
curved blade on the top came into sight before its owner slid out of the
seat and stood, closing the door behind. Priss paled as she saw
light-absorbing, black robes covering the whole body. The only portions of
the driver visible was the skeletal fingers gripping the scythe and the
somehow amused-looking skull in the robes hood. The singer's hand suddenly
clenched on Darlene's shoulder, hard.

"Priss, meet Grimreaper. Grimreaper, this is Priss," Darlene said for an
introduction.

I'M HAPPY TO FINALLY MEET YOU, PRISS ASAGIRI, the robed being said
cheerfully. Priss' eyes almost popped out from their sockets.

"I... No... A..." she stammered, then fainted dead away, Darlene caught
her as she crumpled. The mage giggled.

"Got you!" she said triumphantly.

BWAH HAHAHAHAHA, the skeleton laughed, I LOVE IT!

"Turn off 'Death's Voice' will you, Raj?" Darlene asked him.

SURE, JUST BE "a sec, there," a more human-sounding voice finished. "God,
I never get tired of that."

"Better not, given how much time I put into it."

The one of the back doors of the car opened and a lean, young man with
black hair stepped out to stretch. "You have a mean sense of humor,
Darlene."

"Thanks, Dave," she replied, dimpling. "It's a calling."

All three chuckled.

* * *

"GENOM Corporation. We make everything you need, and you need
everything we make. Buy it, or we'll kill your family."
- failed slogan proposal, 2290 A.D.
{courtesy of Ben `Gryphon' Hutchins}

Genom tower was a _huge_ building. Ed had seen taller ones now and then
in his travels, but none with such an.. arrogant? Yes, that was the word.
An arrogant attitude. The entire building seemed to say that Genom was the
destiny of mankind, or some other grandiose statement like that.

He despised it at first sight.

He'd was dressed a little differently, tonight. Usually, when in the book
shop, he wore a sweater and a sports jacket, trying for a professorial air.
But tonight he wanted to make something perfectly clear to Quincy.

He stepped into the main lobby, and headed for the elevator. An armed
guard confronted him.

"Where do you think _you're_ going, fella?"

Ed reached into the pocket of his jean jacket and pulled out a handful of
glittering dust, pouring it out at the guard's feet. He pointed at it.

"To a meeting with Quincy. You were told to expect me." He stared at the
guard. "That _was_ my invitation. It used to be a solid quartz business
card, until I became.. upset with it. You want me to get upset with you,
son?"

The guard darted a quick glance at the glittering pile at his feet, and
waved to his partner. "Ahh.. Jake? Ya wanna check and see if there was an
appointment for a Mr... err..."

"Anthony Edwards."

"Anthony Edwards, right! Jake.. Uhh.. Jake.. could you _hurry_? Please?!"

While he was waiting, Ed heard a buzz in his ear. {Boss? I got something
important..}

{What is it, pretty lady? Can't it wait?}

{I've got another sighting, boss. The readings were similar to those I
got off of Charcoal. But _much_ stronger. It might be Twister.}

Right about then, the guard behind the desk looked up. "Ralph? He's
cleared for Mr. Quincy's office," he said nervously. "And we're supposed to
insure that he arrives there as rapidly as possible."

Ralph nodded, and came closer. "Sir? If you'd care to come with me?" He
waved Ed towards the private elevator. "I'll see that you're escorted there
immediately."

{Baby.. I got my hands full right now. You keep a close watch, and do
your best to see if you can't track Twister down.} A thought struck him.
{Keep a sensor out for the Sabers, pretty lady. He'll likely stop by to
visit with them and say hello.}

{Will do, boss.}

Ed followed the guard into the elevator, and watched as he slid a card
into a slot under the control panel. A heartbeat later, they were rocketing
upward at a speed that bent the guard's knees. He looked over at the guard.
"Fast elevator, son."

"Built by Genom, sir. The best available!"

Ed snorted at that, but didn't bother arguing. He had a bigger target
tonight. He looked up as the doors opened with a musical chord, rather than
the standard *ding* sound. *Figures*, he thought. *No matter _how_
unimportant the game, Genom _always_ has to try a little one-upsmanship.*

"The end of the hall, sir. They're waiting for you."

"Thank you, son. And a word of advice..."

"Sir...?"

"It never hurts to scout out a piece of cover _before_ the shooting
starts. You have a better chance that way. Remember that when you get back
to your post."

The guard looked at him warily. "Thank you, sir."

Ed grimaced. "Just trying to keep a clean conscience, boy. Now run along.
I got folks to palaver with right now."

He started down the short hallway, and rapped on the door. An elderly
voice spoke out. "Come in, Mr. Edwards. We've been expecting you."

"I rather thought you were, old man." He pushed the door open and stepped
inside. Quincy's office held a small group of people. Quincy himself,
Madagan, four boomer bodyguards, and several types that looked like lawyers.
A small, tight semi-circle of chairs faced the front of Quincy's desk, with
an empty one in the center. He took it, and sat.

"So. You went to a great deal of trouble to get me to come here. Say your
piece, and get it over with. I don't particularly care to be here." He
stared rudely at the head of Genom. "I don't like Genom, I don't like you,
and I don't like being here."

Quincy never blinked. "That is what we are here to change, Mr. Edwards.
Genom wishes to purchase your services. You are somehow able to obtain
reference works that we cannot. We wish for you to do so on our behalf. We
are willing to compensate you for your efforts, most handsomely."

One of the lawyer-types leaned towards Ed with a sheaf of papers. "We
have a contract here, that binds Genom to pay you over one million yen per
book, _exclusive_ of whatever you may have to pay of obtain it. In addition,
Genom will provide an unlimited line of credit for you to draw upon for
travelling expenses, payments to book owners, daily living expenses and any
necessary.. easements to customs officials."

"No."

"I understand," burbled the lawyer. "The fee per book is negotiable, and
we can raise it for items that are especially difficult to acquire--"

"I. Said. No. What part of 'no' don't you understand, little man?" He
turned hard eyes toward Quincy. "Lose the lawyers, old man."

Quincy raised a single finger, and the legal crew fell all over
themselves trying to leave the room as fast as possible. The bodyguards
remained, however, as did Madagan. "So, Mr. Edwards. What might you wish to
say that you do not wish them to hear?"

"What I said before. No. I won't work for you, I won't help you, I
wouldn't even spit on you if you were on fire. Get it straight, Quincy.
because I'm saying it once and once only. Genom burned me once before. And
Genom isn't going to get away with it a second time. Hell will freeze over
before I ever help Genom, and the _only_ payment I'd ever accept from you
would be the heads of yourself, Madagan and Brian Mason in a silver plate."

"That.. would not be advisable, Mr. Edwards. Genom is your friend, no
matter what you might currently believe. I suspect you will find yourself in
urgent need of liquid cash very shortly, and Genom will be the only place
you will be able to find that money."

Ed's eyes narrowed. "Just what do you mean by that, old man?"

"I understand that your bookstore is uninsured, Mr. Edwards. A dangerous
state of affairs that one should always take care to avoid." Quincy's face
showed nothing. "It's always a tragedy when books are burned and valuable
information is lost to the ages. Don't you agree?"

"So... that's what this was all about. You're playing your old game of
trying to get a handle on a person," he snarled. "Well, if I want your
advice, I'll open your head and sift through your brains for it."

"Everyone has a price, Mr. Edwards," replied Quincy calmly. "The _only_
question is what that price might be. Tell me, what is _your_ price?"

Quincy was surprised to see a flare of golden light come from behind Ed's
glasses. It faded quickly as Ed closed his eyes. "Quincy, you really don't
want to know. Trust me. What I want... you _can't_ afford. You don't have
what it takes." He stood, causing the bodyguards to twitch. "You're playing
outside your league, old man. _Way_ outside. I understand that Genom is the
only thing that means anything to you. If you keep this up, you could see it
destroyed in the cross-fire."

Quincy's expression didn't change. "You claim to have that sort of
power?"

"No. But what's following me _does_. And if there's a showdown between
myself and my enemies in Mega-Tokyo..." He shook his head. "Quincy, the
earthquake of 2025 will look like a peaceful stroll in the countryside by
comparison. If you were lucky, really, REALLY lucky.. the planet _might_
still be left standing, after the battle." He turned toward the door. "Good
evening, Mr. Quincy"

Quincy shook his head. "I'm afraid I cannot accept that answer." He
addressed the guards. "Detain him. But do not damage him."

The boomers quickly grabbed Ed by the shoulders and attempted to force
him back into the chair. They were surprised when he remained standing. A
second, more forceful try was just as ineffective.

"Right. Now I'm pissed," Ed gritted out. He grabbed the first boomer by
the throat and squeezed. As Quincy looked on, mildly astonished, the
android's neck was crushed like a styrofoam coffee cup. A back-handed slap
removed its head. Ed tossed it to one side and went after the second,
driving his fist into its gut and out through its spine.

The remaining two boomers immediately upgraded their threat estimates,
and opened fire with their lasers, taking care to avoid involving Quincy.
The beams damaged the office, but did little to stop or even slow Ed. A
moment later, the two boomers were spare parts scattered around the floor.

Quincy gazed at him dispassionately. "So.. you are not human. And from
the _interesting_ display you have just provided, I suspect you are also the
mysterious bar patron and vigilante we have been searching for these past
several months." The faded ghost of a smile crossed his face. "Teleportation
is a powerful tool. Possessing it, Genom would become the pre-eminent
corporation on the planet. With your assistance, Genom would leap far ahead
of all others."

Brushing the ash from his jacket, Ed gave him the sort of disgusted look
that most people usually reserved for times when they found mold on a slice
of bread. "Quincy, you simply enlarge my understanding of the depths of
human depravity. I couldn't believe the Crystal Knight when he told me about
your attempts to hire both himself and Largo. I see I was wrong." Quincy's
eyes narrowed at that statement.

"You are a friend of the Crystal Knight?"

Ed took several steps forward to stand in front of Quincy's desk. "I'm
_me_, Quincy." He slammed a fist on the top of the desk, splitting it in
two. "And that's none of your business."

He felt a distant tug on his shoulders, and turned to see Madagan, her
eyes burning brightly. "And the psionist takes her shot. One word for you,
girl. Don't." He jerked his shoulders sharply, causing Madagan to shudder
painfully at the mental feedback.

"What _are_ you?" she choked out.

"None of your concern. And none of Genom's concern, either. Leave me
alone and I'll extend the same courtesy to Genom." He heard running
footsteps in the hall and the door behind him open. "More boomers, no doubt.
So I'll take my leave." He walked to one of the windows and kicked. "This
isn't my world. It isn't even my universe. I don't want a fight. I just want
to find my way home, Quincy. Nothing more. But if you get in my way.. No
threats, old man. Just be ready for a war if you do."

With that, he stepped out through the hole in the glass and plummeted
towards the ground.

* * *

A bone white car cruised past Genom tower. The driver blinked in surprise
as an indigo streak fell from the sky and crashed into the pavement by the
side of the street, missing them by only a few feet. He stopped the car and
turned to the person in the passenger seat.

"Dave.. did you just see a guy in a jean jacket fall from the top of that
skyscraper and _not_ die?"

Dave looked out the rear window. "Jean jacket, lumberjack shirt, and a
really _ugly_ looking Stetson?"

"Check."

"Yup."

Dave looked at Grim. Grim looked back at Dave. They both nodded.

"Life in Mega-Tokyo."

"Uh-huh."

Grim stepped on the gas and drove away.

* * *

Ed swore at the tail-lights of the car that had just left. "You could
have given me a hand, dammit!" He looked down at his legs, which were sunk
knee-deep in the concrete sidewalk. He shook his head, then pulled his feet
free, leaving two shattered holes in the walkway. "Why me? Things like this
_never_ happen to Superman."

He walked away, muttering, "I better get started looking for a spot where
Minerva can beam me up without any witnesses. Or maybe I should just _walk_
home. Goddess, what a day I'm having..."

***********************************

The next morning...

Priss groaned and slowly opened her eyes. Had seeing...IT been just a
dream? The singer looked at the couch she was on and recognized it. *Wait a
minute, I'm in Darlene's place!* she realized. She looked to the kitchen
when noises from that locale caught her attention and there her mage friend
stood, regarding the surprised Priss with amusement.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," Darlene cheerfully greeted the blinking
woman, smiling impishly as she held a bowl containing breakfast.
"Faint...er, sleep well?" Priss recalled at that moment just WHY she had
fainted.

"You... You.... I ought to strip you naked, dip you in honey, and dangle
you by your feet at Leon's front door!!!" Priss declared ominously as she
slowly rose from the couch. "Where have you been?! Who...WHAT the hell WAS
that last night?!"

Darlene blithely continued making breakfast, totally ignoring Priss'
mood, much to the singer's rising ire. "That was Raj, or rather, Rajish
Perumal. I usually call him Grimreaper or Grim though. He's a friend that I
knew in my home universe before I originally left it, along with Dave but
you didn't see him. The 'Death' bit was something I made for Grim a long
time ago and we both get a kick out of it," she finished with a smirk at
Priss.

"I bet," Priss grumbled, giving the red-head the Evil Eye. "Are they here
now?"

"Well," Darlene said, tasting whatever was in the bowl, "they thought
they'd hang out in Mega-Tokyo on this little 'shore leave', party for a
while, then come back."

"Shore leave?? What'd ya mean by that??"

The mage looked a little abashed. "I... It took me a while before I
decided to visit here again. I wanted to look older and you know how long it
takes me to age. I got involved in a few things and... well..." She looked
at her friend with a little trepidation. "It's been almost four centuries
since I left."

Priss stared at her, then numbly sat on the couch as the fact sunk in.
"Four...?" She had to admit, the mage DID look older, a little over a year
more.

Darlene sighed at the expression on the singer's face. "I haven't really
changed too much, just a lot more memories in my head now." She giggled.
"Certainly you could tell by the joke we played on you."

That reminder made Priss scowl, and would have retorted but then they
heard a door downstairs open and excited voices could be heard. Darlene
grinned.

"I left a few messages around so that should be the others."

Indeed, Priss could hear Nene, Linna, Sylvie, Anri, and the more subdued
Sylia. Priss thought of something to ask the mage, "Hey, do you have
anything to do with this Goldeneyes character?" Darlene blinked and looked
at the singer in honest confusion.

"Who?"

* * *

"Minerva.. have I ever told you just how much I hate getting up in the
morning?"

The computer laughed. "Only once a day for the past twenty years, b'wana.
You simply aren't a morning person. Don't worry.. I fixed you an entire pot
full of Morning Thunder."

"You _are_ thoughtful, pretty lady." He yawned and stretched, heading for
the shower. "Nothing like a mix of black tea, chickory and mate' to start a
morning right. Unless it's Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee, eh?"

"Covered that too, boss. Breakfast has already been prepared, and it's on
the table. I thought you might need it, after last night." She made a
disapproving sound. "Along with some of your cuban cigars. Bleah. Boss, I
honestly believe you'd be better off smoking a piece of old rope."

"Some of those _taste_ like old rope, m'dear.. that's why I like 'em."

Minerva gagged. Loudly. "You have the most atrocious tastes, lover."

"Yep.. that's me. The man who grossed out an entire planet."

"Well, so far, so good, boss. No signs of Genom yet, the morning is clear
and bright, and all in all it looks like a pleasant day ahead. You don't
have any appointments for the day aside from your regular lunch with Sylvie
and Anri." She paused briefly, and Bach filled the break as she checked the
morning news. "Nothing about any accidents at Genom tower, boss. All's quiet
on the Western Front, so to speak."

Ed humphed. "Maybe Quincy learned a lesson from the previous times
someone's trashed his office. But I doubt it." He finished up his shower and
dressed, then turned towards the breakfast nook. "I'll head downstairs just
as soon as I finish breakfast." He paused. "Minerva..?"

"Yes?"

"Stay alert, baby. I don't know why.. but I have a bad feeling about
today."

"You're still edgy over last night, that's all."

"Maybe. And maybe not."

Minerva then said The Words That Should Never Be Said. "Come on, boss!
The sun is shining, the birds are singing. It's a beautiful morning! What
could _possibly_ go wrong?"

* * *

"bortaS bIr jablu'DI' reH QaQqu' nay'."
(Revenge is a dish best served cold.)
- tlhIngan proverb.

"Revenge... is better than Christmas!"
- Elvira, the Mistress of the Dark

Ed looked to the door as a beautiful young woman entered. Something about
her seemed.. wrong, but he put that down to a case of nerves over his little
confrontation with Quincy the previous night.

"May I help you? Is there something in particular you're looking for,
Miss..?"

The blond shook her head. "I'm here on business, not pleasure. I have a
message for you, Mr. Edwards."

His brows drew together. "And the message is..?"

Long, humming, claw-like blades slid from her fingertips. "Genom doesn't
like it when little people refuse to accept their proper place in the
world."

"Their proper place in Genom's schemes, you mean." His lips thinned. "If
they programmed you with even the slightest bit of information about me,
you'd know that those little toys of yours can't even scratch an itch on my
back, you cheap-jack Terminator knock-off. So leave my place now, before I
decide to disassemble you for spare parts."

The razor doll smiled in a disturbing fashion. "Oh.. I know." She waved a
careless hand through the air, the claws effortlessly cutting gashes in a
walnut bookcase. "These are simply to get your attention, sir. So that we
might ask you one more time. Will you accept Genom's generous offer for your
services?"

"What? Do I have to tattoo it on Quincy's forehead? I said _no_. As in no
books, no teleportation. Nothing. Got that? Now leave this place."

The boomer nodded. "Mr. Quincy has your answer, sir. Now, here is his
response."

* * *

As Darlene and her guests chatted, a sudden explosion interrupted them.
Sylvie ran to a window, and saw smoke pouring from the shattered storefront
of the bookstore down the street.

"Oh my god! That's Ed's place! Someone call emergency services!" she
gasped.

Priss had been hot on Sylvie's heels, and looking out the window at the
devastation, shook her head. "Don't bother. It doesn't look like anyone made
it out alive. Looks like the entire lower floor is trashed. Need the fire
department, though." She put an arm over Sylvie's shoulder. "If it's any
comfort, he likely didn't feel anythin..." Her jaw dropped.

Sylia looked over from the phone. "What is it, Priss?"

"Hoooooly FUCK! There's someone coming out!"

Sure enough, when Nene and Linna poked their heads around her, they could
see a figure wearing smoldering clothes slowly picking it's way around some
of the larger chunks of rubble that filled the street directly in front of
the now ruined bookstore.

Darlene blinked, then shook her head with a sigh. *Genom certainly makes
a habit of annoying visitors from other dimensions,* she thought, resigned.
*Judging that he survived that explosion means things are gonna get rough
'cause he looks pissed.*

In the street below, Ed turned his face towards the sky, and in a voice
that could have shattered steel, he screamed, "QUINCY!!!"

* * *

As he stood in the middle of the street, watching the fire department put
out the blaze, Ed's temper flared hotter than the flames. The bomb inside
the razor doll had been most carefully calculated. Most of what had been
inside it had been a firebomb, intended for arson, not blasting. Aside from
the windows and furnishings, little had been damaged. The building was still
structurally sound, and he could rebuild any time he liked. But the books
had all gone up with the fire.

"I've been sent a message," he muttered. "A message from Genom." He felt
a gentle hand on his shoulder, and turned to see Sylvie standing there.

"Are you all right, Ed?"

The muscles around his left eye twitched wildly. "No. I'm not all right,
Sylvie. Genom just pushed me. And now I'm going to push back." He gave her a
quick hug. "Looks like your friends are coming, and they'll ask questions I
can't answer. You take care, and take care of Anri. I'll try to be back." He
whirled, and ran off down the street before the other women arrived.

Sylia walked up, and frowned at the running figure in the distance.
"Why is he leaving, Sylvie?"

"I don't know. And I'm afraid I don't _want_ to know."

* * *

As he shimmered into visibility on the main transporter pad, Minerva saw
the grim expression he wore, and winced inside.

"Get the Enforcer ready, Minerva. Quincy is going to pay for this one. He
went too far with this. Now it's my turn."

"No, boss! Please! This isn't right!"

A snarl answered her. "I am _not_ concerned with what's right or wrong at
the moment, girl. It's payback time. Get. The. Enforcer. Ready. NOW. Do you
understand? Or will I have to use the override codes?"

She answered him reluctantly. "Aye, aye. I understand and will comply.
But... boss?"

"_WHAT_?"

"It was your farewell gift from the Sommerset Strikers. Do you really
want to take it into this? You'd hate yourself if it was damaged." She
hesitated. "We still have several of the Chameleons... and I can prep one
of those just as fast, if not faster."

He stood and stared for a moment, then nodded curtly. "A Chameleon, then.
Prep it. You have an hour."

* * *

"Why is it always giant... humanoid... robots???"
- Ben `Gryphon' Hutchins, "Undocumented Features 1"

Ed looked up at the 10 meter tall, 50 ton BattleMech lying prone on the
deck of the Calypso's cargo hold. A marvel of 31st century technology in its
native reality, where it served as the ultimate war machine.

A mirthless grin crossed his lips, failing to reach the cold rage in his
eyes. "Ready or not, Quincy... here I come."

Popping the hatch, he stepped inside the cockpit that filled the head of
the anthropomorphic machine. Since the battlemech was lying on it's back,
everything was on its side. That didn't bother him. Strapping himself in the
pilot's seat, he began the start-up procedure.

Once the fusion engine had ignited, he slipped on the neuro-helmet and
put the battle computer on-line. He didn't bother with the medical monitors
nor the cooling vest. He didn't need either one, and he wasn't trying to
hide his differences from fellow mercs any longer.

He punched a button on the command console, and began the identification
sequence. A computer-generated voice sounded through the neuro-helmet's
speakers. "CLN-7X Chameleon 450376YM2232 online. Proceed with voiceprint
identification."

"I am Edward Anthony Becerra."

"Voiceprint pattern match obtained. Working... Please give the password.
Warning: If an incorrect password is entered, intrusion countermeasures will
be taken. You have one opportunity."

His next words rang with unconscious irony. "Killing a man is never easy,
and never should be."

The computer responded with, "And who taught you this?"

"Kai Allard-Liao."

"Welcome aboard, Lieutenant Becerra. Note: There have been two authorized
modifications to this machine since it has last been used. The three small
torso-mounted lasers have been replaced with small pulse lasers and linked
with the anti-missile system. The large laser mounted on the right arm has
been replaced with an extended-range particle projection cannon."

As he listened to the machine make its report, his eyes drifted to the
coaming overhead, and the symbol painted there, an iron gauntlet
superimposed on a stylized, flaming sun. The symbol of the Federated
Commonwealth. Below it was stencilled a quote. "It's time to earn your
princely pay as a Mechwarrior." - Natasha Kerensky. *I wonder.. do they even
remember me?* Then he shook the memories from his mind. Old habit seized
hold of him, and he slid into the startup checklist without conscious
thought.

/ Fusion plant .. switched on. Power to operational parameters. Go. /
/ Gyros .. running .. up to speed. /
/ Engine .. ready. /
/ Battlecomputer, targeting system and Heads-up display. Go. /
/ Commo system .. working. /
/ Tactical. On. /
/ Weapon systems ... /
/ Particle Projection Cannon - Weapon on safe, power connection green,
power nominal. On-line. /
/ Lasers - On safe, power connections green, power nominal. On line. /
/ Chainguns - On safe, ammo loaded, full ammo cassette. On line. /
/ Control systems and neuro-helmet feedback .. nominal. /
/ Checklist complete. Mech is battle-ready. /

Staring at the green boards in front of him, he emerged from his trance
and finally spoke up. "Minerva, prepare to beam me to whatever open plaza is
closest to Genom tower."

He twitched slightly as he felt the transporter effect take hold. A brief
moment later, the Chameleon was standing in the middle of a large square,
with a crowd of terrified bystanders running away from him.

The HUD in his neuro-helmet stabilized, and suddenly popped up a map
display. Less than two kilometers from Genom tower, he noted. Aside from the
plaza surrounding the tower itself, the map didn't seem to have anything
closer. A few taps on the Optisight-12 battle computer, and a cursor traced
a bright red line from the target to his current location. He nodded,
satisfied.

"You attacked me in my own home, old man. Now I'm coming for you in
yours."

As he looked over the plaza, an ironic smile darted across his face. If
he was going into battle with Genom, he was going to do it _right_. He
reached over to an auxiliary console, and touched a hidden switch. The front
panel swung open to reveal a strictly non-regulation CD player tucked away
among the circuitry. A moment later, music filled the cockpit. As he turned
back to the controls, trumpets and drums played in the background. "Ride of
the Fire Mares" echoed in his ears. *Theme music,* he thought. *Every good
battle should have some.*

The 'Mech began to slowly walk down the street, all sensors extended. Ed
wanted Quincy's head, but some tiny remnant of common decency kept him from
deliberately harming any civilians. He carefully stepped around and over the
automobiles and trucks, taking care to avoid damaging the street any more
than he could, given the immense weight of the war machine.

As he headed towards the tower, a threat display began bleeping quietly
at him. Something with military potential was on the other side of the
corner he was approaching, but the battle computer didn't recognize the
configuration.

*Stupid of me,* he thought. *All the threat profiles are set up for
weapons and vehicles from its native reality. Should have updated the
database, dammit.*

He cautiously rounded the corner, and was confronted by a hastily erected
barricade manned by members of the ADPolice. He zoomed the sensors, and
grimaced. "Figures."

"Halt and dismount from your mecha, in the name of the law," announced an
officer at the front of the barricade.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Officer Bochinski. In fact, I'd appreciate
it if you and your men would kindly remove yourselves from my path. I have a
bone to pick with Genom, and while I don't want to hurt any cops, I don't
intend to let the ADPolice interfere with me."

Bochinski looked startled, and peered at the mirrored canopy. Despite the
distortion caused by the loudspeakers, the voice sounded familiar. "It's
you, isn't it. The person from the bar. The mystery vigilante."

"Got it the first try, Officer. And thank you for not using that
_annoying_ nickname."

From the rear of the barricade came a smart-alecky voice. "What annoying
nickname? Goldeneyes?"

An exasperated sigh came from the mech's speakers. "I supposed I should
have expected that one..." The machine turned back to face Bochinski again.
"Now, if you'd kindly step aside...?"

Bochinski shook his head. "I can't allow you to go any further. Please
dismount your mecha, and surrender yourself. Otherwise, we will be forced to
open fire." The other officers behind the barricade leveled a variety of
anti-boomer weapons at the 'mech.

An arm swung up and rubbed back and forth under the cockpit, giving the
humanoid 'Mech the eerie appearance of a man pondering a difficult problem.
"I aim to get Quincy, Bochinski, and get him I will. But I understand duty.
If you must, then you must. Nothing personal, I know. So, to make it simple,
go ahead and open fire. I won't hold it against you."

Bochinski gawked at him, but when the 'mech took a step forward, he gave
the order to fire.

When the smoke cleared, the ADPolice received a rude shock. Aside from a
few scorch marks and some slight dimples where grenades and rockets had
struck, no damage had been done to the machine.

"Ten tons of armor, Officer," said Ed from the cockpit. "And every ounce
of it a rhenium-tungsten-tantalum alloy that makes vanadium steel look like
cheap tin foil. You can keep trying, if you like, but it will take more than
the ADP has to stop this machine."

The Chameleon took another step forward, and a pair of pulse lasers
lashed out, burning away the wheels and engines on the vehicles used in the
blockade. "That's simply to keep you from following me. I really don't want
to hurt _anyone_, aside from Quincy. And if you want to try to keep people
safe, call ahead and have them evacuate Genom tower. Now. But leave Quincy
there." Then it carefully stepped over the barricade, and continued on.

As it left the roadblock behind, Bochinski watched it head towards Genom
tower. He threw up his hands. "You know.. I think Quincy just might have bit
off more than he expected to. This isn't going to be pretty." Then he
grabbed a mike and called it in.

* * *

At 65 kilometers per hour, it didn't take very long to reach the tower.
Most of the delay came from trying to avoid hundreds of panicked motorists.
Vengeance or not, rush hour traffic in Mega-Tokyo remained the snarled-up
nightmare it had always been. Even a 10 meter tall war machine had trouble
picking its way around the cars jam-packed in the streets.

Entering the plaza around Genom, he noticed the array of combat model
boomers lined up before the tower. *Looks like Quincy wants to do this the
hard way. Fine with me.*

A group of twenty BU-88 missile boomers opened fire simultaneously. The
smoke of their launch obscured the front of the tower. Ed turned control of
the torso-mounted pulse lasers over to the battle computer, under an
anti-missile program. Then he started in swinging.

BU-12's and a swarm of C-55's used the cover of the missile smoke to try
and rush him. One managed to leap up upon the left leg of the Chameleon, and
clawed it's way up to the cockpit. Swinging wildly, it tried to smash in the
canopy. Unfortunately for the C-55, it was neither glass nor polycarbonate.
A large metal hand rose and mashed the boomer against the thick Aluminum
Oxy-Nitrate that formed the Mech's canopy.

*Personal note,* thought an irreverent corner of his mind. *Install
windshield wipers.*

As he crushed, lasered, and otherwise destroyed the attacking boomers, he
began to grow suspicious. This was all too easy. Far too easy. It had to be
a distraction. So when the threat board signaled an aerial assault, he
actually felt relieved. The trap had been sprung. Until he got a close-up of
what was about to attack.

It wasn't hard to mistake them, even though he'd never actually seen them
before. Oh, there were the infrequent pictures of them he'd seen on the news
at night, and sometimes in the newspapers. And there was Bert Van Vliet's
description of the cursed things from his `Bubblegum Zone' stories. Even the
anime tapes he'd watched all those years ago. But that wasn't quite the same
as seeing them in person. The black and white coloration of their external
armor, along with the clawed extremities, was all the ID he needed.

Dobermans. Twelve of them.

*Judas Priest! Where the FUCK did Genom get _those_?!* Then he banished
the thought from his mind, and opened fire with the particle cannon on the
'Mech's right arm.

He got three of them with the first shot. The particle projection cannon,
an anti-mech weapon which had been designed to vaporize nearly a ton of
armor with a single shot, went through the Dobermans like a bullet through
jello. The remaining boomers, seeing the ease with which the PPC had reduced
their companions to slag, broke formation and attacked him from every
direction. They were moving too fast for him to hit again with the arm
mounted anti-battlemech weapons, and the pulse lasers in the torso were too
low powered to do much damage with a single shot.

"Damn! Fast little S.O.B.'s." He stopped for a moment, and the boomers
took the opportunity to charge him. Things started to get serious at that
point. Their claws, sharp as they were, couldn't do much more than gouge the
rhenium armor plate. But if they took it into their minds to go after the
canopy.. the ALON was tough, but it couldn't stand up very long against such
a concerted attack.

"No wonder the USSD uses them," he muttered. "The little buggers make
C-55's look like Robbie the Robot, combat-wise. They move faster than a
cheetah on crack! I can't kill what I can't _hit_!"

He slaved the twin 30mm chainguns to the battlecomputer, and quietly
thanked Minerva for filling the ammo bins with depleted uranium rounds.
Between those, and the pulse lasers, he got another two. The seven Dobermans
left closed with him, clinging to the 'mech and trying to dig their way
inside with their claws. Several frantic minutes of slapping later, he was
left with several small dents in his armor, and half a dozen crushed
boomers. A six-inch gash in his canopy attested to just how close one of
them had come to getting inside the cockpit.

The final one attempted a suicide dive straight at the head of the
Chameleon. It ran into the massed fire of four lasers, two chainguns, and
one particle projection cannon. It didn't just blow apart, it simply
_vanished_ in a fireball.

Then Ed turned and stepped the 'Mech over the wrecked boomers littering
the plaza, and across to the tower. Scanning it indicated a section that was
mostly structural steel, and he tapped on that gently, like a man knocking
on a door. The building rang like a bell.

"Yoo-Hoo! Can Quincy come out and play?!" He hammered a little harder.
"I'm in a hurry!"

"Quincy isn't here at the moment. Did you want to leave a message?" came
a voice from around his feet. Ed closed his eyes painfully. *Please. Not
now. A joke _that_ bad can come from only one person. And _him_ I REALLY
don't need at the moment.*

He shook his head, then opened his eyes and looked down. It wasn't the
day for his prayer to be answered. Standing there below were four motoroid
encased hardsuits of familiar design, along with a fifth hardsuit of a type
and design he'd never seen before, but recognized instantly.

The entire plaza echoed to his next statement.

"Goddess, I _HATE_ my life. I _really_ do."

Twister was thinking along much the same lines. It was different, but he
recognized the style of the mech from a computer simulation game he had
loved centuries ago, not to mention a few symbols on the mech itself.
*Battletech, definitely Battletech,* he groaned mentally. *Another anime fan
who had gained power in his travels then. Great. Well, it's nice to have
company, I suppose, but how the hell did he GET it here?!? If we can only
persuade him to get OUT of the thing...*

The mech turned slightly, facing the five armored figures. "Look. All I
want is Quincy and to remove Genom from the face of the earth. Can't you
just go away and let me have him? We'd _all_ be better off, and that's the
truth! Please?"

The white Saber stepped forward. "That's impossible, and I think you know
that as well as we do. While destroying Genom is a commendable idea, the
collateral damage that would result would cause irreparable harm to the
lives of millions of innocent people."

Ed shouted into the mike so loudly, it squawked, overloaded for a moment.
"I DON'T CARE!! CAN'T ANY OF YOU SEE THAT?" Then less violently, he
continued. "This is the second time that something of Genom's has stolen my
life. No more. It ends here." He killed the loudspeakers. {Minerva? The
Sabers have a private, encrypted com-link. Find it, break it, and put me
through to them. Now.}

A few seconds later, a display lit up on the comm console. {It's done,
boss. Maybe you can talk your way out of this?} She sounded hopeful.

{Only if I get to leave with Quincy.}

The hope in her voice died quickly. {Inshallah, boss. Inshallah,} she
replied in dull tones.

{I stopped believing in gods the day Largo attacked me in Utopia
Planetia, girl.}

He switched over to the comm console and tried the channel. "Am I correct
in thinking I'm addressing the Knight Sabers? As well as the Crystal Knight?
I certainly hope so, as I don't particularly care to blast the rest of this
conversation all over Mega-Tokyo, for the world to hear."

A slightly shocked Sylia answered him. "You are... but _how_ did you
access this channel? It should be impossible." The Crystal Knight glanced at
her, but did not comment.

"There is very little that's impossible for me, Sylia. And right now, I
WANT QUINCY. I'm going to get him. No matter _who_ stands in my way. Nothing
is going to stop me. Not the ADPolice, not you and your Sabers, and not
Twister."

There was a hiss of indrawn breath over the speakers, and a male voice
replied, "Twister? Who might that be?"

"No games, Darren. I know what you are, and where you're from. And I
won't let you stop me either."

*Where the HELL did he get that info?!?* Twister thought incredulously as
Nene looked at his still form worriedly. He had never told the Sabers his
original name, nor anyone else here in Mega-Tokyo. More than ever he wanted
to talk to this guy.

Right about then, things got worse. Much worse.

At the base of the tower, a small contingent of bodyguards emerged,
surrounding a single man. One of the guards lifted a portable loudspeaker.
"I'm glad to see you here," said Quincy. "I was afraid you might not have
received the message. Are you willing to discuss arrangements to transfer
your data on teleportation technology to the Genom corporation?"

"When hell freezes over, you waste of skin! petaQ jay' Ha'DlbaH!"

"A pity," Quincy sighed melodramatically. He nodded to the Sabers. "Take
care of this problem for me, won't you? I'll speak with him again after
you've disarmed him. Be assured, you'll be well paid." He turned to leave,
and the left arm of the mech snapped up.

"Not this time, monster!!" Paired lasers fired, striking Quincy in the
back. The results surprised neither the Crystal Knight, nor the Knight
Sabers. Lying on the ground, smoking and damaged, stripped of the organic
skin that had camouflaged it, was an android. "Nooooooooo!"

"You didn't ..#SKRRT#.. expect me to be ..#BZZZT#.. that foolish, did
you, boy? #ZAKK# Perhaps my offer of ..#BRZZ#.. employment was ..#ZZZT#..
premature. You are rather.. imma..#SPZAK#.. immature, emotionally. We'll
meet again. After you have ..#BRZZT# outgrown these ridiculous ideas of
justice and fair play." Then the android exploded.

"DAMN YOU, QUINCY!!" This time he lashed out with the heavy weapons,
vaporizing the metal carcass, and the boomer bodyguards along with it.
"That's the way you want it, FINE! I'm going to yank your company out of
Japan like a rotten tooth!"

"We can't allow you to do that. Don't force us to stop you," responded
Sylia.

"Don't even try, Sylia. I won't hurt you, but I'm not about to surrender,
either." The Chameleon turned away from her and fired the PPC repeatedly at
the top of the tower, its man-made lightning blowing away large chunks of
the building. "No one owns me. Do you hear me, Quincy? Damn you, DO YOU HEAR
ME?! NO ONE OWNS ME! NO ONE!"

The Knight Sabers opened fire at him, then. Autocannons, railguns,
lasers, and a barrage of the Crystal Knight's C-spheres struck him
simultaneously. He staggered for a moment, the sheer firepower surprising
him.

The surprise was returned when the five noticed that aside from some
minor cosmetic damage, the Mech's armor was holding up astonishingly well.
He caught himself with an arm against the tower, and looked down. "Dammit,
Sylia, WHY? Genom owes me. They owe _you_, they owe Twister! Hell, they owe
nearly everyone! This is payback! This is justice! They _deserve_ it!"

"Revenge is a fool's game," the psionist muttered. "The price is too
high, and the return too small." *I don't know what he used for armor on
that thing,* thought Twister, *but it can't stand up to a diamond blade with
a mono-molecular edge!* He launched himself from the ground, heading for the
arm holding the particle cannon. The blade did cut through the thick armor,
but reluctantly. *What in the world is this stuff made of?! It's thicker
than my blade is long.* Then a large arm swatted at him and he was forced to
dodge.

Down below, the Sabers were directing their fire at the legs of the mech,
in the hope that if they could drop it, they would gain the upper hand. They
poured on the fire, trying to cripple the machine. A foot swept them aside,
knocking them across the plaza, and slamming them painfully into a nearby
building.

"I asked you to _stop_, dammit! I don't want to hurt you!"

"Then surrender. We can't let you do this." There was a pause. "And how
did you discover who we are? Have we met before?"

A tired and extremely frustrated laugh answered her. "Fair is fair I
suppose, Saber Prime. You still owe me an additional 15,000 yen shipping and
handling for that copy of Ptolemy's _Life of Alexander the Great_, Sylia.
Unfortunately, the copy of Aeschlylus's _The Myrmidons_ that you ordered was
destroyed when that bastard Quincy TORCHED MY SHOP!!"

"Mister Edwards?"

"Just Edward, actually. Anthony Edwards was a pseudonym." There was a
moment of silence at the other end. "You don't seem very surprised, Sylia.
Did I give myself away, somehow?" He laughed sourly. "I suppose I should
have expected it, given your natural genius. How long have you known?"

"I didn't. I had my suspicions, however. Your reaction to my use of the
traditional phrase that ended a batchall was a major clue. As was the
identification card in your apartment."

"My friend _told_ me keeping that in my apartment was a mistake. It
seems she was right. But I couldn't bring myself to leave it behind. It was
one of the very few mementoes of my past that I truly cherish." The giant
'mech braced itself. "I'm not going to leave without Quincy, Sylia. Let's
end this."

Twister looked at the Sabers, and all five nodded. The battle was
rejoined.

* * *

Up in low earth orbit, Minerva was going quietly crazy, trying to scan
the battlefield that Genom Plaza had become. Between Twister's psychic
powers, and Ed's unnatural and unintentional bending of the laws of
probability, things were happening in the plaza that had to be seen to be
believed. Quantum physicists would have cheerfully murdered their own
families in return for a chance to observe them. Reality fluxed with every
micro-second, and nothing was quite what it was supposed to be. She watched
in awe as a stray bolt from Sylia's lasers struck a vending machine inside
the tower. The machine proceeded to dump it's contents and the spare change
it carried onto the floor. To her amazement, every single coin landed
heads-up and the soft drink cans spilling from it lined up neatly in rows,
stacked according to flavor. Even _she_ didn't want to think about the odds
of that happening naturally, even with her built-in floating point hardware.

Finally, in an act of sheer frustration, she simply ceased all analysis,
and dumped the sensor inputs to recorders for later examination. Not that
she felt that it would do any good. It just made her feel better, making the
attempt.

* * *

"I've had a bad hair day. A bad shop-been-blown-up day. A bad
brother-been-murdered-and-my-father-thinks-I'm-scum day. So...
could you please get to the point?"
- Jack Knight

Sylia looked around at the plaza as she dodged another laser beam. Walls
were pockmarked with with pits and laser burns from ricochets and missed
shots. Broken power lines showered brilliant sparks everywhere. *He may be
making a deliberate attempt to avoid harming us, but the incidental damage
is increasing with every second! This battle must come to an end _NOW_.* She
looked up to where Twister was avoiding a flailing mechanical arm.

"Crystal Knight! We have to bring this to a halt. If this battle goes on
much longer, the city is going to suffer."

The ebon helmet nodded. "I think I have a way, but it's going to be
messy."

"We no longer have a choice."

"Agreed." Twister moved back to get a clear view of the battle. Then he
gathered together as much Mindfire as he thought would be safe, and hurled
it at the battlemech. He didn't want to kill Ed, but he was determined to
bring the 'Mech to a halt. Striking dead center, the Mindfire chewed away at
the armor, burrowing deeply into the center torso.

Twister's next move was no surprise to the Knight Sabers. "Cue protector
dragon! Charcoal, AWAKEN!" At this, a small mushroom-shaped puff of smoke
appeared in the air some distance behind Twister. It dissipated quickly,
leaving behind a small dragon-like creature, which made a bee-line for its
owner.

The 'Mech's confused battlecomputer bleeped at Ed, signifying another
potential enemy. He risked a brief glance at the viewscreen, and paled at
what he saw. _Oh, SHIT! Charcoal! Great, just what I need._

Charcoal moved incredibly fast for such a small creature, landing on the
Crystal Knight's armored shoulder. "Charcoal, take that DOWN!" Charcoal's
tail twitched slightly, and it chirped cheerfully. _Boomers,_ it thought as
it took off. _Yummy._

It headed straight towards the 'Mech's cockpit. Ed knew _exactly_ what
Charcoal could do, and it didn't disappoint him. As it flew towards him, it
began to grow.

And GROW.

And _GROW_. Until it was at least forty feet long, and about the same
wingspan. Ed watched, fascinated, as it rapidly gained speed and altitude,
heading straight for his 'Mech.

The firedrake stooped like a hawk and hit the 'Mech dead center, wings
folded and moving unnaturally fast, tearing through the weak spot in its
armor created by Twister's Mindfire. The force of impact knocked the machine
to its knees as Char emerged through the other side of the mecha, leaving
behind a large, ragged hole. The dragon banked, mouth full of high-tech
scrap which he struggled to chew. Even enchanted teeth were having trouble
getting through the abnormally tough metal.

"_THAT_ should stop it," said Twister, smirking at the damage. The smirk
quickly disappeared, however.

Everyone froze as a synthetic voice began to loudly announce, "WARNING!
WARNING! FUSION REACTOR INTEGRITY COMPROMISED. FUSION CONTAINMENT AT 35% OF
NOMINAL AND DROPPING. MAGNETIC FUSION CONTAINMENT FAILURE IMMINENT. EVACUATE
AREA IMMEDIATELY. REPEAT, EVACUATE AREA IMMEDIATELY."

Inside the Chameleon, Ed swore as sirens howled and swept his eyes across
the status panel. Charcoal, knowingly or not, had taken out most of the
engine shielding when he'd rammed the 'Mech. *NO! It's gonna blow, and there
isn't a damn thing I can do to stop it!*

{Boss! Punch out! Punch Out!}

{Not now, baby.. I'm busy. Talk to you later.} He shunted her frantic
pleas to the back of his mind as he desperately tried to dump the reactor
core. *Shit. Isn't gonna work. Damn dragon of Twister's couldn't have done
more damage if it tried. Core ejection system's off-line big time.*

"WARNING. WARNING. REACTOR BREACH IN 120 SECONDS."

*Fuck. Fuel controls are out and deuterium's dumping straight into the
reaction, non-stop. Damper plates are jammed. Jump jets are dead, too. I
just can't get a break! Gotta try..*

"WARNING. WARNING. REACTOR BREACH IN 90 SECONDS."

{Boss!!} Minerva wailed.

*Can't let this happen. Not again. No more innocent blood on my hands.*

"WARNING. WARNING. REACTOR BREACH IN 60 SECONDS."

{Can't leave this one, baby..} he muttered over the link. {Not this time.
Too many good people would fry. If I screw the pooch on this one, love, take
care of yourself. Promise me.}

{Nooooo! Punch out! Please!}

{Too late, baby. Promise me!}

She sobbed. {I.. promise.}

"WARNING. WARNING. REACTOR BREACH IN 30 SECONDS."

*I did it once before by accident.. Can I do it again by design? Guess
I'm gonna find out.*

He shut down the link, cutting Minerva off abruptly. *Don't want you to
suffer, baby. Here goes nothing..*

"WARNING. WARNING. REACTOR BREACH IN 10 SECONDS."

"This is probably going to leave a mark..."

"WARNING. WARNING. REACTOR BREACH IN 5 SECONDS."

"4...."

"3..."

"2.."

*I love you, Ailuro..*

"1."

There was a bright light...

* * *

Three minutes earlier...

"WARNING! WARNING! FUSION REACTOR INTEGRITY COMPROMISED. FUSION
CONTAINMENT AT 35% OF NOMINAL AND DROPPING. MAGNETIC FUSION CONTAINMENT
FAILURE IMMINENT. EVACUATE AREA IMMEDIATELY. REPEAT, EVACUATE AREA
IMMEDIATELY."

The Sabers and the Crystal Knight froze at the horrid words blaring from
the external speakers on the war machine facing them, and Priss flashed back
to another day, when she'd been faced with the price of Sylvie's life as the
cost of saving Mega-Tokyo from a 0.5 megaton neutron bomb.

"FUCK! What can we do now?!"

"WARNING. WARNING. REACTOR BREACH IN 120 SECONDS."

"It's not a bomb, this time.." said Sylia quietly. "Unless he can
stabilize his engine shielding, it will explode. There is nothing further we
can do."

"WARNING. WARNING. REACTOR BREACH IN 90 SECONDS."

Twister's voice interrupted. "But there might be something Darlene can
do, Saber Prime." He vanished in a dark cloud that enveloped him, and brief
seconds later, his place was taken by Darlene. She began to chant under her
breath, using an old shield spell for lack of anything else, and a lambent
purple circle sprang up from the ground to enclose the damaged battlemech.
"You'd better bail.." she ground out as she poured energy into the shield.
"I don't.. know if.. I can.. hold this.."

"WARNING. WARNING. REACTOR BREACH IN 60 SECONDS."

"Why?" asked Linna calmly. "How far could we possibly get?"

The circle began to extend itself upward, slowly forming inward curving
walls. A dome began to take shape. *Too slow! Too slow!* was Darlene's
agonized thought. *I have to close it!* But even then she wondered if the
spell would be able to hold the explosion.

"WARNING. WARNING. REACTOR BREACH IN 30 SECONDS."

She stopped listening to the countdown and poured all the energy she had
into closing the dome of purple light. She gave it everything she had. In
the end, to her vast surprise, she was almost successful.

* * *

"And with the power of conviction/There is no sacrifice."
- Pat Benetar, _Invincible_

The universe was bright light and bitter pain.

*Where am I? WHY am I?*

-You are where you were once before.-

*I know you, don't I.*

-That you do, grandson.-

*Coyote?*

-I'm pleased that you remember me.-

*Hmmm. I thought I couldn't die. But if I'm here.. is this hell? And if
it is.. why's it so bloody bright? The pain fits, but I always had hell
figured for a dark and foreboding kind of place, you know? And you are the
_last_ being I'd expect to meet there.*

-Come now, boy. Think. This isn't hell, grandson. If you are speaking
with me now, then obviously you didn't die, did you? You tried to do
something, and you took a step beyond. Quite a _few_ steps beyond, actually.
The trick, youngster, is that we are trying to overcome our limitations in
order, patiently, gradually. We don't tackle the bare-handed extinguishing
of runaway fusion reactors until a little later in the program.-

*Oh.*

-What you did manage to do was to change your level of consciousness
rather abruptly. Now it's your choice. You've come a very long way in a very
short time, and this time you did it by deliberate choice. You can stay here
and learn on this level -- which is quite a bit higher than the one you
left, by the way -- or you can go back and return to your previous course.-

*That would mean leaving my friends, wouldn't it? And more important,
leaving the people of Mega-Tokyo to suffer from my shameful behavior.*

-Yes, it would.-

*If I return, would I be able to stop the reactor from devastating the
city?*

-THAT would depend on how much courage and strength of will you bring to
the task, grandson.-

*Ayuh. Figures. In the final analysis, it isn't even a choice. Will we
meet again, Coyote?*

-We will. And ... -

*And what?*

-You do an old trickster proud, boy. Very proud indeed.-

*I didn't do it for _you_, old one. I do what I must. And I do what I
_am_. Sometime again... grandfather.*

-Good. Now, remember what we were saying about one's body being nothing
more than thought itself...?-

* * *

The Knight Sabers could see the armor around the reactor mounted in the
Battlemech's chest melting away like ice on a hot summer sidewalk, as
Darlene's shielding spell rose above it. But before that shield had a chance
to close, the reactor failed.

The 'mech vaporized as a ball of brilliant, white-hot plasma swept out
from the magnetic fields that had held it constrained seconds ago. There was
no time for action, no time for thought. The five people and one dragon left
in the plaza stood their ground as the fireball expanded.

Then it stopped.

"What the _HELL_?!" goggled Priss. She couldn't believe what she was
seeing. A glowing ball of seething nuclear hellfire, hovering in mid-air,
that had stopped just short of the shimmering purple spell Darlene had cast.
A voice she could barely recognize as Linna's croaked, "I hope I'm insane,
because if I'm actually seeing what I _think_ I'm seeing, the world has gone
mad."

Sylia spoke up then. "None of us are mad. We're witnessing something to
which the rules of nature as we know them simply do not apply. I'd suggest
that you finish closing your spell, Darlene, and then.. then we wait." The
red-head nodded, silently agreeing with her.

"How.. how can you take this so calmly, Sylia?" got out Nene.

"There's no other way to take it, Nene. If that explosion hadn't suddenly
stopped in mid-air, we'd all be dead by now. With the possible exception of
Darlene, there is very little any of us can do to affect the outcome of
this. So we wait."

"For how long?"

The white armor didn't move. "For as long as need be, Priss. For as long
as it takes."

Belatedly, Darlene finished the shield at that point.

* * *

Nearly fifteen minutes has passed, and the tension was palpable. Then
Nene pointed something out. "Sylia? It's getting smaller!"

"Are you certain?"

"I am now. It's shrank by nearly ten centimeters in the past ten minutes.
And it's speeding up, as well. If it keeps up.. it should be visible to the
naked eyes in seconds... There!"

All eyes turned towards the fireball. Even through filters, it was
difficult to look at directly, but Nene was right. It _was_ beginning to
diminish appreciably. The rate of shrinkage was increasing.

Suddenly, it collapsed inward, and dwindled to less than two meters
across. Darlene cautiously began to move her spell walls closer to it, and
cast a second spell to cool the molten pavement this action revealed. She
was sweating not from the heat, but from the effort of the first spell since
she had poured a lot of her energy into that spell. Then the globe dropped
to the ground, burning a second, smaller crater in the naked rock the
initial blast had bared.

The brilliant light began to fade, and a human figure could be seen in
the center of the sphere. The area inside cooled further, and Darlene
cautiously began to lower her spell shields. She blinked, and looked closer.
"I don't believe it. He's still alive. He should have been toast in there.
For that matter, he should have been ash and gone. Just what the hell is
going on here? I knew he was tough, but this..."

A groan answered her from the crater. "Oooooooo... goddess, what a
hangover. I haven't felt like this since that drinking contest in Hamburg
thirty years ago." The figure, still glowing, tried to struggle to its feet.
It stumbled and fell several times before it was able to remain upright.
"What happened? I.." He looked at them. "Oh, shit. I remember. The reactor
blew." He looked around. "It.. it didn't blow?"

"It blew," said Sylia quietly. "But then it stopped in mid-explosion. Did
you do that?"

"I.. I don't know. Maybe, I think." He looked at the others. "Fucked up
again, didn't I."

*Understatement of the year,* Darlene thought, a little pissed off. At
least she had the excuse of being insane when trying to destroy the Tower.
This 'Edward' guy did not, much less stomping about Mega-Tokyo with a
potential nuclear bomb. She also did not like the fact that she had started
the reaction with Char. Unlike Twister, Darlene had an extreme aversion to
taking a life after a crisis a long time ago, and she would have been
partially responsible if the reactor had killed anyone. It sent cold shivers
down her spine.

Priss strode forward. "Yeah, you fucked up, all right. And now you're
going to pay for it." Her railgun was aimed at his head. "You aren't
intangible now, buddy, and you aren't hiding inside a bookstore."

Ed wasn't paying any attention to Priss, which merely enraged her
further. He stared at the fading glow surrounding his hands. "I did it," he
whispered in an awed tone. "I did it. I held it in. All of it."

An infuriated Priss was visibly shaking with anger as Ed ignored her.
Before anyone realized what she was doing, she fired a spike at the ground
in front of Ed.

He looked down at it, then switched his gaze to Sylia. "Why?"

They all knew what he was asking. Sylia looked at him levelly. "If
defending my enemies is the cost of protecting the innocent, then so be
it."

"Something I should have remembered before I even stepped into the
cockpit.." he whispered. He looked around at the damage, and clenched his
fists. "I was in the wrong, but it doesn't end here. For me, it can never
end. Sometime again, Knight Sabers."

Priss opened fire, but she was too late. His form shimmered, then faded
away to nothing. The railgun bolts simply struck the building that had been
behind him. She dropped to her knees, pounding the pavement with armored
fists in her frustration. "That's TWICE, dammit! There _isn't_ going to be a
third!!"

Darlene frowned. She recognized the tell-tale signs of a transporter
since the universe she had just come from had been a Star Trek one. This guy
was chock full of surprises.

Nene sounded the alert. "Sylia, we've got ADPolice moving in rapidly, and
Army units are also headed this way. We'd better leave while we still can."

Sylia looked over to Darlene, who nodded. A dark cloud surrounded her and
the Crystal Knight stepped out of it. Silently, all five armored figures
vanished, leaving behind an empty plaza littered with boomer wreckage.

* * *

"She's alive! Alive!"
- The Bride of Frankenstein

Ed grimaced right after he re-materialized on the transporter pad,
smoking clothes and all. "That.. could've gone better," he muttered under
his breath while heading towards the living area of the ship. After his
impetuousness (it sounded better than sheer bloody-minded, mule-headed
stubbornness) he hoped the interference that prevented them from rotating
out of this universe had dissipated enough to leave.

Minerva heard him and also knew what had happened on the planet serenely
rotating below them, even through the clashing interference of some
downright WEIRD forces she was still trying to give parameters to. "That
could definitely be labelled as an understatement, boss," she commented
worriedly, more concerned with his mental state than with the events below.

The suddenly-weary Ed sighed as he rubbed his face. All he wanted to do
now was collapse into a nice comfortable chair and relax; he'd clean the
soot off later. The door to his cabin whooshed open and he stomped into the
room.

"Well, it's about time," a merry, amused voice...chimed?...unexpectedly.

Ed's head shot up as his body stiffened, ready for some form of assault,
but the being casually relaxing in his chair with an ease that looked
disgustingly natural was a total surprise. Long, flowing purple hair,
gracefully pointed ears on an elegantly angular and beautiful face, and
violet clothing with a strange-looking upper torso armor all conspired to
give Ed the uninvited guest's name. Darlene's older elven form, Valanna! She
was flashing an enigmatic smile his way as she steeped her fingers over her
previously crossed legs.

{Minerva!}

His ship's ACI seemed flustered when she replied. {She just appeared,
boss! I can't tell if it was because she was hiding herself or she just
arrived!}

Ed noted Minerva sounded nervous, and she had a right to be since
Valanna's powers could very well tear her apart from the inside out. But why
weren't her eyes glowing? The elf's lips twitched upwards.

"Oh, I've been waiting a while, Minerva; sorry to upset you." Her smile
deepened at Ed's start; she'd heard! "And there is no need to be upset."

"No?" Ed replied warily. "Since when did you change your mind?"

"Mmm.... About a thousand years ago."

His mind went blank for a moment. "Hanh?"

She cocked her head coyly. "I may not like time travel much, but as I'm
immune to paradox it has its uses at times."

{Boss, is it just me or is this getting too strange for words?}

{Unfortunately, it's just not you, pretty lady.} Ed replied as he stared
at the amused elf. He rubbed his temples with his fingertips, trying
desperately to prevent the headache he could feel coming on. Time travel. He
repressed a tingle of anger at the thought of yet another possible conflict.
"So," he finally said out loud since she could hear him either way, "you're
an... older version of Twister?"

"Very good," Valanna complemented, clapping her hands mockingly with a
twinkle in her eyes. Despite the sarcastic gesture it didn't anger Ed the
way it should've. It seemed... oddly right for her. "Much, much older,
actually," she added, placing her hands down on her legs as she looked
directly at him, "and much, much stronger."

*Oh shit...* Ed didn't care to wonder how much that meant, but it was a
good bet it wouldn't be wise to piss this elf off, mostly for Minerva's sake
and the ship's. "So why ARE you here?" he asked her cautiously.

"To aid you by offering a few choices," she stated and started ticking
them off with her long, slender fingers. "One, do not accept my help; two,
shorten your journey in a more useful way; or three, go straight home. Which
do you want?"

He blinked, then swallowed as the elf watched him. "Wh-what?" he
stammered. Was she telling the truth? COULD she send him home??

{Boss...} There was nervousness in Minerva's voice, but Ed ignored her as
he stepped towards the curious Valanna.

"CAN you send me home?" he demanded.

"Oh, yes," the purple-eyed elf agreed, "I can send you home..." she
paused significantly, "if you so desire."

"And why shouldn't I?" he asked, suddenly suspicious as her reply had
been layered with something he felt was labelled 'Road Hazard Ahead'. In
huge flashing day-glow letters. Ten meters tall. He was surprised when the
elf smoothly rose from her seat and walked over to face him directly. There
was something about her that she had to a lesser degree in her 'present'
self that gave him an uneasy feeling, yet faintly exciting. It was like
wanting to whoop for joy and throw up at the same time.

"You know you have enemies, Legion," she said plainly, losing her smile.
"Do I have to tell you what might happen if you went home, totally
unprepared for what they may throw at you?" Valanna nodded sympathetically
as Ed's face fell. "I see I don't."

His fists tightened in helpless rage at his sides; he could guess only
too well and he wanted to howl in fury. There was an opportunity to go home,
NOW, and yet he knew that he couldn't. It was so frustrating! Maddening!

{I think she's right, b'wana,} Minerva added reluctantly.

{I KNOW that!} Ed snarled through the link. He was so focused with his
internal torment that the kiss from Valanna came as a complete surprise. His
eyes widened as he felt a tingling sensation pass through him from scalp to
toes.

Whaaaa???

{HEY!!!} Minerva protested heatedly as the smiling elf broke off the kiss
and drew back from the confused Ed. Wasn't Twister's female self afraid of
that sort of contact with the opposite sex?

"I thought... you didn't like that?"

Valanna twirled with a little laugh. "Things change. I AM change.
Besides, you needed it," she said with certainly. The elf shook her head.
"You can't dwell on what you can't do, Legion, or you won't do anything.
What you DO need to do is LEARN," she told him firmly. "Find out what you
can do as you journey so you can defend yourself and your home when you DO
return."

"So... what did you mean when you listed choice number two?"

"Let's shift first; the interference is gone. Minerva?"

{I'm not taking any orders from an... an off-color Tolkien reject!}

Ed sighed; his ACI was still peeved from the kiss and Valanna's smirk
told him she knew it as well. {Minerva...}

{Oh, all right,} she grumbled. {Shifting.} There was a pause, then she
reported, {We've arrived at a dead world.}

Valanna didn't waste time. "What I would do is this; you would no longer
shift purely by random but each world you come to will hold a key or lesson
you must learn in order to control your powers. It will cut down your travel
time by going blind by at least half what you would originally have taken,
even if you do visit each world." She fixed him with her purple eyes. "It is
the best course for you, but it is all up to you to decide."

Ed grimaced. "Is it a choice?"

"Yes."

{B'wana?} Minerva asked quietly after he had remained silent for a few
minutes. He heaved a sigh.

{Not much of a choice, baby. Hobson's choice, in fact.} "I can't take the
chance of leading them to my home and leave it undefended." Ed looked at the
waiting elf. "I accept."

Valanna nodded and smiled. From out of nowhere she pulled out an ornate,
multi-colored staff about five feet long and glowing with power. Then she
unexpectedly slammed it, to Ed's alarm, into the floor.

{GAH! BOSS!!} Minerva shrieked in panic.

The whole ship shuddered from the magic-charged impact and when the light
around the pole dimmed he saw a good foot of the staff was merged with the
floor, leaving the rest of the object to stand in the middle of the room.

The elf smiled at the rattled Ed. "It is done. The next rotation will
begin your training and your shorter path home."

{A twisted path no doubt...} the ACI muttered.

Hesitantly, not sure to be grateful just yet, Ed extended his hand.
"I'm... sorry our first meeting wasn't what I had hoped," he apologized,
"and I'm glad our second was more friendly."

{A little TOO friendly...}

{Minerva!} he chided. {What on earth's bugging you?! You've never acted
this way before when I've flirted!}

His ACI was silent for a moment before reluctantly answering him. {She's
more like you than the others, I suppose. Unique, powerful, odder than last
year's leftovers...}

{I get the message, pretty lady.}

"Don't worry, Minerva," Valanna assured the ACI as she playfully waved Ed
to sit in his chair, which he did to his relief. "I've done what I came to
do and I'll be going now."

"Thank you, Valanna," Ed told her with rising spirits.

"It was not a problem," she assured him, then snapped her fingers as if
she had just remembered something. "Oh, yes! I almost forgot my second
surprise!"

Ed blinked at her, confused. "Forgot what?"

/* Weird Science, Oingo Boingo */

Valanna winked playfully, eyes flashing purple light, and the next thing
Ed knew there was something soft, warm, pink, shapely, female, nude, and
very, very surprised to be sitting on his lap. What's more, to his startled
disbelief, Ed recognized whom it was.

"MINERVA?!?!?"

The familiar face of his ACI was indeed on the confused and terrified
human female, who seemed to be in understandable shock. "Boss!!" she cried
in her panic, realizing that the impossible had just occurred. "What...?!?!"
Minerva gaped down at her naked human body before recovering enough of her
wits to cover herself with her hands and arms, blushing furiously.

Ed was in a state of shock. {Minerva??}

{Boss!!} came the surprising and terrified response from his link. {I'm
HUMAN! But I'm still HERE! I'm in...} Astonishingly, the Minerva on his lap
spoke out to finish the sentence, "... TWO places at the SAME time!"

They stared wordlessly at each other for a moment. Then Valanna, who had
silently walked up to them, gently twisted Minerva's head towards herself
and kissed her deeply for a few seconds before pulling away.

"Ha... haba.... Wha.... This..." Minerva was totally rocked to her core
by what was happening, with Ed not much better off.

"Magic is the spice of life, is it not?" Valanna laughed, a merry,
faintly wild sound that had both staring at her. "She can survive as either!
Have fun, kids!!!" She quickly vanished with a swirl of her cape, the
gleeful laughter remaining in the air seconds after she left.

Leaving a speechless Ed with a naked woman, who was also his ship's
guiding computer intelligence, on his lap. Minerva shifted on his legs,
unused to and uncomfortable in a human body purely hers.

"So... what NOW, b'wana?" she finally asked him.

"Uhhhh...."

She sighed. "That's what I thought."

* * *

At Darlene's place, Sylvie was trying to explain to Sylia _why_ she
hadn't told the Sabers about Edward until now. Sylia, Nene, Linna, and
Darlene took it surprisingly well. Priss was another matter entirely.

"YOU KNEW?? You KNEW he was the vigilante and you didn't tell me?!" she
shouted. "I _told_ you I wanted to get back for what he did to me! Why
didn't you let me know?"

Surprisingly, it was Anri who defused Priss' temper. "We didn't tell you
for the same reason we don't tell our other friends that you are a Knight
Saber.

Priss was taken aback. "Huh? I don't .."

"You trust us to keep your secrets, Priss. And we have. Edward trusted us
to do the same. And we did."

"But it's not the same! It's.. ahh.. uhm.." Priss flushed a deep red.
"It's just different," she ground out.

"If we can't be trusted to keep one secret, we can't be trusted to keep
_any_ secrets, Priss," Anri said quietly. "Trust is an all or nothing
situation."

Darlene put a hand on Priss' shoulder. "Priss, I'm angry too, but Anri is
right. It _is_ a matter of trust. He trusted them to keep his secret, even
from their own friends. Just as you trust them. They can't break that trust
simply because you might find it convenient."

"OOOOH... DAMN! I'm going to go riding." With that, she stomped out.

Sylia watched her go, then turned to the sexaroids. "She'll get over it.
You were right, and she knows it. But her pride won't let her admit to it
right now. She'll come back, after she works it out." Her eyes narrowed.
"Now.. as trust and secrecy are no longer an issue here, I need you to tell
me all that you know about Mr. Edwards."

"Mr. Becerra, actually," said Anri sadly. "That was his real name. I'd
better get us all something to drink. It's a long story."

The Sabers nodded, and everyone took a seat, while Anri went for some
refreshments.

* * *

Minerva had left to cloth herself. Ed, on the other hand, had a death
grip around the neck of a bottle of single-malt scotch, and nothing short of
total obliteration was going to make him let go.

T'was a pity he couldn't get drunk, anymore.

*What do I do now? I've royally screwed up things in Mega-Tokyo, Minerva
is flesh and blood now, and it's very likely that Darlene wants my head on a
plate. Although, as fights go, that would be an.. _interesting_ one, to say
the least.* he thought. *We _both_ possess nearly unlimited power. However,
both psionically and magically, Twister is oriented for offence. He knows
what he's doing, too. He's trained himself in the use of his psychic powers
and from what I've read, Professor Miyabi's trained him in the use of magic.
My abilities seem more defensive in nature, and I have absolutely NO idea
what I'm doing, or how the hell I'm doing it!*

A pair of warm hands caressed his shoulders, rubbing the tension away.
"Thinking black thoughts again, love?"

"Just... musing, pretty lady." He set the bottle down carefully. "More
important, how are _you_ holding up? This has to be as much a shock for you
as my accident was for me!"

She smiled, the joy in her face lighting up the room. "It's _very_
strange, but it's also very wonderful, b'wana. I just tried my first drink
of water! Now I understand the human obsession with taste. I want to try
everything!"

He smiled and hugged her. "I understand, love. It must be very different
from using the holo-emitters to simulate a solid form." He took one of her
hands in his and marveled over the warm flesh. "But there are things we have
to see to, first."

She blinked at him, worried. "You're not planning on anything stupid, are
you?"

"I made a mess there, m'dear. Now I have to clean that mess up. We
already _have_ the co-ordinates for Twister's version of Bubblegum Crisis.
We're going back."

"Lover.. you are just too noble for words."

He laughed. "Noble? More like too terminally stupid, Minerva."

She kissed him on the nose. "Noble is as noble does, boss. A stupid
person would simply skip out on this. Which you are _not_." She laughed, as
he blushed, then her face twisted in concentration. "We'll be ready to
rotate in just a few minutes, b'wana."

"Thank you, pretty lady." He began to change, removing the ruined
clothing he'd worn in the 'Mech. "If I'm going to do this, I might as well
look presentable."

Minerva's eyes went wide. "Boss? There's something distinctly odd,
here..."

"So what _else_ is new?" He rolled his eyes. "What is it _this_ time?"

"The co-ordinates..? They've already been set. And I didn't do it."

They both glanced uneasily at the staff embedded in the floor. Ed finally
shrugged. "I guess Valanna has me figured out already. Or else there's a
lesson still waiting for me to learn, back there." He slipped into a fresh
shirt, hanging the scorched one on the staff so he wouldn't have to look at
it. "No use fighting the inevitable, girl. And no sense in it, either. Go
ahead and rotate."

"Right, love. Rotating..."

* * *

"The way to fight a woman is with your hat. Grab it and run."
- John Barrymore

"...t'were done, then t'were well it were done quickly..."
- Shakespeare, `Macbeth', Act I, scene vii

The fire trucks and police vehicles had left some hours ago, most of the
sidewalk gawkers had long since gone home. So there was no one present to
witness the sudden shaft of light that appeared inside the gutted first
floor of `Rare Books'. When it faded, Ed took a look around, seeing the
water and foam soaked ruins. He clenched a fist, suddenly furious.

*Quincy won, damn him. He won this round.*

{Don't go there, boss. It'll just make you crazy again. Please.}

He nodded. {I won't, pretty lady. But somewhere, somewhen.. Quincy is
going to get his. As you've told me before.. I've got eternity on my side.
I can afford to wait. Quincy's going to learn that, to his regret.}

He slowly made his way around the burnt remains of books lying on the
floor, and eased his way over to the door. Ducking under the yellow crime
scene tape, he stepped out into the street.

{Baby? If I can manage to pull this off without the Sabers trying to tear
my head off, I want you to see if there's a range limit to what Valanna's
given you. If there isn't... then I'd like you to come down and join us.}

He felt a warm smile inside his head. {Thank you, boss.} Then he squared
his shoulders, screwed up his courage, and started down the block to
`Flights of Fantasy'.

* * *

Priss' curiosity had gotten the better of her anger, and after a quick
spin around the neighborhood on her bike, had returned from her ride, and
was listening as raptly as the rest. As Darlene and the Sabers absorbed the
tale Sylvie told them, there came a knock at the door downstairs. Anri rose
and went downstairs to answer it. When she looked through the peephole, she
got a shock. She quickly unlocked the door and threw it wide.

"ARE YOU CRAZY?! You can't come back here! _They're_ here right now.. and
so is _she_! It isn't safe for you!"

"I didn't have any choice," replied Ed. "When I got to my ship, there was
someone waiting for me, Anri. An elf."

She looked at his face. He didn't _look_ like he was joking. "Valann.."

"SHHHH! Don't say that name!" He clapped a hand over her mouth. "Look,
there's something I _have_ to do, and if that means I have to let Darlene
& Company beat the crap out of me.. well.. then I _have_ to. It's out of my
hands, now. I think it's even out of the hands of the gods." He pulled his
hand away. "But there _IS_ something we can do to try and keep the shooting
from getting started in the first place. IF you're game."

"I'll do anything I can to help you, Ed. You know that."

He nodded. "Thank you." He reached under his coat and brought out a pair
of items. He kept the first, and handed the second to her. "Get the idea?"

She shook her head. "You _did_ warn us you had a warped sense of humor.
Do you really think they'll buy this?"

"Maybe not.. but at least they won't shoot first. It'll buy me a few
seconds of time.. and that may be all that I'll need." He looked at her
pleadingly. "I _have_ to do this, Anri. Please."

"All right. But this has to be one of the looniest ideas I've ever heard
of." She nodded slowly, and he snapped the handcuffs around his own wrists.
Then they both started slowly up the stairs, Anri backing up them carefully,
holding a pistol on Ed.

* * *

In years to come, Ed would remember the expression on the faces of the
people in the room. He'd never seen as many long jaws in a single room in
his life. They didn't last for long, though. Darlene shot to her feet, her
hands glowing a bright purple. Priss's break-down gun appeared with a speed
that amazed him. He froze.

*It's times like this I'm _very_ glad I'm bullet proof. I just hope that
I'm _Darlene_ proof. She looks.. oy! I wonder if it _hurts_ to be turned
into a toad?*

Sylvie looked at the pistol in Anri's hands, confused. "Anri, what are
you doing?"

"What Ed asked me to do."

That earned her six confused looks. "_He_ asked you?"

Anri nodded. "He put on the handcuffs himself."

Ed broke into the conversation then. "I'd hoped that it would do what it
did. Buy me a moment to surrender. Without getting another fight started."

The long jaws reappeared, and got even longer this time. Surprisingly,
Priss was the first to recover. She jumped up and began to stalk towards
him. "You're not gonna surrender, you bastard. Not yet. I haven't had a
chance to kick the shit out of you for making me look like a fool!"

"Priss." The single word from Sylia carried an entire lecture in its
subtle tones. Her jaw clamped, and she returned to her seat. The expression
on her face was easy to read. It promised the world.. _This isn't over_.

Ed turned towards Darlene. "Besides.. I didn't have a choice, thanks to
you."

She looked at him oddly. "What do you mean by that?"

"You.. or rather _Valanna_, showed up on my ship. Actually, she'd been
there for some time, from what she said. She .. did some things, and cast
some sort of spell on my ship. As well as one _hell_ of a spell on my ship's
ACI." Eyes in the room widened as he spoke, and he rubbed his forehead,
thinking of Minerva. "The spell you.. she cast on my ship was supposed to
take me where I _need_ to go, rather than rely on random chance. And the
first place it took me was right back here."

"Time travel," said Darlene flatly.

"Got it in one. Her exact words to me were.. 'I may not like time travel
much, but as I'm immune to paradox it has its uses at times.'" He looked
around the room for a chair. "May I please sit down?"

She waved him towards a chair, and he cautiously sat. "I assume Sylvie
and Anri have already told you who and what I am?"

Sylia nodded, intrigued. "I had already assumed that you are from a
reality where, like Darlene's, the Knight Sabers are fictitious beings. Is
it also true that Darlene herself is a fictional character in your native
universe?"

Ed rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Yes. In point of fact, I even know the
person who wrote the stories collectively titled `Twisted Path', where I
first heard of Twister. I used to correspond with the author on a regular
basis, when I was just someone writing fan fiction on an internet mailing
list. Now I don't write fan fiction, I _AM_ fan fiction." He shook his head.
"Recursive - (adjective); see recursive. Arrrgh. I think I'm giving myself a
headache."

"And you say Valanna appeared on your ship?"

"Yes. She.. did some things I don't fully understand, then cast a spell
on my ship, the Calypso. She said it would keep me from wandering aimlessly,
and that from now on, I'd only arrive in realities where there was something
there for me to learn or do."

"Why didn't she send you straight home?" asked Linna curiously. "She
probably could, from what we saw of Darlene in that form."

"She offered to do exactly that, Linna. And reminded me that if _I_ could
find my way home.. so could those who are following me."

Sylia's brows knitted together. "Who is following you?"

"The Circle Oroboros, for one. The Oans, for another. And last, but NOT
least, I've got the Q after me. The first two seem to regard me as a threat
to meta-reality, due to something that I haven't done yet, but that I'm
supposed to do sometime in the distant future. The Q... well, _they_ simply
want to draft me."

Darlene looked at him strangely. "The Q? As in Star Trek?"

"Yup. They claim that, given my current nature, I belong with the
Continuum whether I like it or not." He sighed. "And she.. err.. you..
err.. _Valanna_ was right. I can't go home, as long as there are beings
willing to use it as a hostage against me. Not until I understand enough
of what I am to be able to defend both myself and my home from them."

He glanced at Sylvie. "There's something else. Something that Minerva
would like to show you and Anri. But we'll need your permission."

"What is it?" asked Anri.

"I can't say.. you'll have to _see_ it to believe it." He shrugged. "I
didn't believe it, and I was there." He looked at the Sabers. "Look, I'm
_not_ trying to escape, or anything, so please hold off on the gunplay.
Okay?" He spread his arms, casually snapping the chain links holding the
cuffs together. Then he looked up at the ceiling. "Minerva? It's all right,
love. You can come on down, now."

Sylia watched with interest as a shimmering column of blue light
manifested in the center of the room. A female form quickly took shape
within it. When it faded, a tall, elegant looking woman stood there, in a
jet black, low cut dress, slit high up the sides to show off her shapely
legs. The dress hung in tatters about her legs, but was clearly designed for
this effect. Her hair was as dark as her attire, and piled up high in a
cross between a sixties bouffant and an eighties punk spike. At the moment,
her face was made up in a way that would have made Cleopatra envious. A pair
of small silver earrings in the shape of adders dangled from her earlobes
and a jeweled dagger decorated her belt buckle.

Sylvie blinked, recognizing the woman. "Minerva?!" She stepped over and
gently poked the newcomer. "You.. you're real! You're flesh!"

Minerva nodded, and hugged Sylvie. "Valanna did this. She winked, there
was this flash of purple light, and suddenly I was in two places at once! I
was still part of the Calypso, _and_ I was sitting in Ed's lap, with a human
body!"

Ed snorted. "Sitting _nude_ in my lap, with a human body." He glanced at
Darlene. "Don't take this the wrong way.. but in a few thousand years, I'm
gonna get you for surprising me like that."

Sylia looked over at Minerva and said with a perfectly straight face, "I
see what you mean by 'some things you don't fully understand'."

* * *

On that note, the conversation broke up for a few moments as everyone in
the room paused for refreshments and a breath of fresh air. Anri hid a grin
as she noticed Ed carefully staying on the opposite side of the room from
Priss. Then Sylia nodded for everyone took their seats again, and she
motioned for Ed to continue.

He looked at them, his shoulders sagging. "You know.. there's a very old
saying.. `When you're up to your ass in alligators, it's easy to forget that
your original goal was to drain the swamp.'. I made the stupid mistake of
becoming wrapped up in the whole revenge thing. It's not as if Quincy could
have really hurt me. I lost sight of that fact that I was here only to try
and find a way home.

Sylia's expression was a mixture of insight and cold compassion. "Losing
yourself to revenge is all too easy a mistake to make, Edward. So easy that
it's a cliche. However, that doesn't excuse what you've done."

"I've been all kinds of fool in my time, but I'm not fool enough to think
that it would, Sylia. I have some hard choices here." He paused. "No. No, I
don't. Not really. `Debts must be paid.' I caused this entire mess by trying
to single-handedly settle up with Quincy. A stupid thing to try. Now I have
to try to repair the damage I've done. Then... I'd best get the hell out of
this reality before I make things worse."

He spread his hands. "I can't trust my own judgement, at the moment, and
it's _your_ world I did the damage to. I realize it's a silly thing to say,
and a needless formality, but.. I surrender myself to you, the Knight
Sabers. I will abide by your judgement, whatever it may be." He glanced over
at Priss and grimaced. "Although I can guess what _her_ decision would be."

The other women in the room laughed as Priss did a slow burn, Sylia
included. Then she turned back to him, her mien sober again. "We're all
capable of losing our judgement, Edward. All it takes is punching the
correct emotional buttons. This isn't something that can be done in a snap
decision. We ALL need rest and clear heads."

Darlene nodded. "We need to sleep."

Ed shrugged. "Works for me." He paused, thinking. "My apartment's still
full of smoke at the moment. I'd better sleep in my cabin aboard the Calypso
until I can get things cleaned up and aired out."

Sylia frowned. "Actually, Edward, I'd like to talk to you about that..."

* * *

Sylvie passed by the bedroom door where they'd put Ed up for the night.
He'd protested, saying that it would be much simpler for him to return to
his cabin aboard the Calypso, but Sylia and Twister insisted that he remain
in Mega-Tokyo for the nonce. She could hear him tossing and turning rather
violently in the bed, and she started for the door when she heard a faint
humming noise. A sparkling light shimmered on the wall opposite the open
door, and Sylvie quietly crept to the bedroom door to see what was
happening.

As she looked in the room, she noticed the beautiful raven-haired woman
she'd been introduced to earlier. *Minerva. That's her. Incredible.* She
shook her head, still amazed at the idea that Valanna had simply.. _created_
a living body from thin air. Then she noticed that Ed seemed to be in the
grip of a nightmare.

She watched as Minerva approached the bed. Her sensitive ears could hear
him muttering a name repeatedly in his sleep. It sounded like Ailuro. She
didn't _like_ to eavesdrop but this seemed important.

"Don't.. Aili.. please don't leave me.. don't leave me.. not again.."

The computer turned flesh sat on the edge of the bed and stroked his
forehead gently, brushing the hair from his eyes. "I'm here, baby. Aili's
here," she whispered. "I won't leave you. I'll never leave you again. I
promise."

He didn't wake, but his breathing calmed, and his violent motions slowed,
then stopped. Sylvie blushed and turned to go, embarrassed to intrude on
such a private moment, when she heard Minerva start to quietly sing.

"Dream... dream, dream dream.., Dream... dream, dream dream..

When I want you in my arms, When I want you and all your charms,
Whenever I want you, all I have to do is
dream... dream, dream dream.

When I feel blue in the night, and I need you to hold me tight,
Whenever I want you, all I have to do is
dream... dream, dream dream.

I can make you mine, taste your lips of wine, any time, night or day
Only trouble is, Gee whiz, I'm dreaming my life away.

I need you so that I could die, I love you so, and that is why
Whenever I want you, all I have to do, is
dream... dream, dream dream.

I can make you mine, taste your lips of wine, any time, night or day
Only trouble is, Gee whiz, I'm dreaming my life away.

I need you so that I could die, I love you so, and that is why
Whenever I want you, all I have to do, is
dream... dream, dream dream.

Dream... dream, dream dream, Dream... dream, dream dream..
Dream... dream, dream dream.."

Ed let out a tiny sigh, and relaxed. Minerva looked down at him and
whispered, "I'll never leave you, lover. I'll always be here for you.
Forever." She brushed the hair from his forehead one more time, then
carefully rose from the edge of the bed, and left the room. Still wondering
at what she'd just witnessed, Sylvie failed to notice her exit, and the two
women bumped into each other in the hallway.

"Oh!" exclaimed Minerva. "I'm sorry. I'm still unused to having a human
body. I'm a little.. clumsy yet." Then her eyebrows drew together. "Why are
you here? Were you watching us?"

Sylvie nodded towards the bedroom. "I heard Ed. He was having a
nightmare." She blushed slightly. "Does he know you love him?"

Minerva nodded slowly. "Yes. And I know his heart belongs to someone
else." She looked away. "But.. she made him happy, Sylvie. I can't hate her.
Not when his memories of her are what keeps him going when everything else
fails him. Sometimes.. sometimes that's all he has left. Just his memories.
I can't take those away from him, Sylvie."

Sylvie watched as a tear slowly started down the person's? computer's?
cheek. "What you need is some hot chocolate and a sympathetic ear, girl."
She took Minerva by the hand. "I have the ear, and there's plenty of the
former in the kitchen. Let's go."

Behind them, in the bedroom, Ed had begun to dream again...

***********************************

"I've lead a thousand lives, it seems.. there's been a lot of broken
dreams."
- The Monkees, _That Was Then, This Is Now_

"Does the pain ever go away?" - Dick Grayson, Batman: The Animated Series

Somewhere, somewhen else...

The fight was fast and furious. But that didn't stop either of them from
taunting each other.

"You've returned to your death, coyote. I am younger, stronger, faster!"
Their blades met with a loud clang.

"Yeah. You smell worse, too! I should have insisted on mouthwash and a
shower before the fight. Ungh!" Kickaha grunted as he parried a swing from
the ax.

Burning Stone screamed wordlessly, and delivered a stroke that could have
split a boulder. Kickaha danced aside, and the ghila hit nothing but the
sand at his feet.

"Fool! I will make you suffer and die a thousand deaths!" screeched the
lizard.

"Yep. Uh-huh. Right. Where'd you learn the bad dialog, 'Stone? Robotnik
giving classes in `How to Sound Like A Dramatic Villain 101'?"

"Yaaaahhhhhhh!!!" shouted Burning Stone and he raced towards Kickaha, who
simply stepped aside and extended a foot. The ghila tripped and rolled to
the edge of the circle, barely avoiding crossing the line. Kickaha laughed.

"Don't cross the line, 'Stone! I don't want the guards to kill you for
trying to leave the circle. I want that pleasure for _myself_!" He stood,
waiting for his opponent to rise. Instead, the lizard spat at him. A droplet
of the spit hit the bat'leth and sizzled, tarnishing the bright finish of
the steel. The guards surrounding the circle stirred. Stone noticed, and
froze.

"No!," shouted Kickaha. "He's mine!" He shook the venom from his blade.
"Try that again, quvHa'wI, and I'll let them take you anyway. Now try and
fight as though you still had some honor left."

"Honor is for fools and dreamers," hissed Burning Stone as he climbed to
his feet. "All that truly matters is ... power!" He charged Kickaha,
swinging his ax wildly. Their blades clashed.

"Well, then, I think class is in session, lizard!" He parried a blow.
"Time to learn the facts of life!"

"Lesson number one, 'Stone: Youth and enthusiasm will never win out over
old age and experience!" laughed the coyote. He blocked another swing of the
ax with his sword, then kicked Burning Stone in the groin with his
artificial leg. The was a muted `clang!' and the ghila dropped like a rock.

*Clang?* thought Kickaha. *What the...?* He shook the thought from his
head and continued with the fight.

"Lesson number two: Know your enemy!" He kicked the ax from the writhing
lizard's grip and out of the circle. "Lesson number three: Don't make me
angry!"

"And lesson four," choked out the agonized ghila. "Never underestimate
me!" He rolled over suddenly and clamped his powerful jaws around Kickaha's
calf.

There was a bright flash of lightning and a small explosion shook the
circle. Kickaha was thrown across the circle as smoke filled the ring. When
it cleared, the onlookers received a shock.

Kickaha had struggled back to his feet, supporting his weight with his
bat'leth. The sparking, smoking wreckage of his bionic leg hung limply as he
hopped over to where Burning Stone lay.

The ghila had bitten into the power supply for Kickaha's leg, and the
sudden, unexpected electrical discharge had revealed the truth. On the
ground, stripped of it's disguise by the power of the current, was a 'bot.
It twitched, jerking spasmodically. The electrical shock had done it serious
damage, causing it's own power supply to explode, ripping open it's chest.

"...Burning Stone?" whispered Kickaha.

"...yes... #SHRRK# ... damn you ... #BZZT# ...did this to ... #ZZAK# ...
get you ... #BZZK# ... Robotnik promised ... could reverse later ... #SPZAK#
... offered chance to ... #ZZOP# ... rule Pack ... #BRZZ# ... fulfill ...
#ZZZT# ... my destiny ..."

The voice faded away.

Kickaha had a horrified look on his face. "You hated me that much,
'Stone? Oh, Mother Earth! How could you do this to yourself? Did I hurt you
that deeply?" He began to shiver uncontrollably. Pyre rushed over and
grabbed him by the arm before he fell. He shrugged the wolf away.

"Damn it, you idiot, you're in shock! You need help!"

"Perhaps, old friend, but I have a job to finish first." He steadied
himself and raised his sword. "Now it ends, Burning Stone. May Mother Earth
and Father Sky be merciful in their judgement."

The blade flashed downwards.

Then Kickaha allowed himself to collapse.

* * *

Another time, another place...

Planet Werthahekahwee, Deep Periphery, June, 3060 A.D.

"Lieutenant Becerra!"

"Yes, Sir?"

"You just volunteered to do a forward recon of the Jade Falcon front
lines."

He blinked. "I did sir? I don't remember.."

"You volunteered five minutes ago. Is that clear, Leutenant?"

He sighed. "Yes, Major. Skin, armor, or 'mech?"

The officer behind the desk rattled some papers. "I see here that you
once served with the 1st Sommerset Strikers, and are current with both the
SLH-X1 Sloth combat armor and the IFR-X1 Infiltrator reconnaissance stealth
armor as well as with your battlemech. Due to a paperwork error *kaff-kaff*
you are the only person I have on planet at the moment who is."

Ed nodded. "I'll take the Infiltrator suit, sir. If that's allowed." *And
three guesses whose error _that_ was, eh? You incompetent idiot. You're not
fit to command a kindergarten classroom.*

Major Pedersen smiled. "That's what I had in mind, Lieutenant. It's being
rigged with extra sensors, recorders and memory modules at this very moment.
We want an in-depth scan of the Falcon emplacements and whatever you can get
on their support units, as well as any possible re-enforcements that may
have arrived. There are rumors that they've brought in several solahma units
to stiffen their front lines." The major frowned. "And you'd best be certain
to bring this mission off successfully. _MY_ promotion depends on it."

"Yes, sir." *So you intend to take all the credit too. Figures. If it
weren't for the fact I've got friends out there on the front lines, I'd
bilge this mission and let you take the fall, you cowardly little REMF. Bet
you got your commission by way of Katrina Steiner's bed.*

"If that will be all, sir?"

"No. We suspect that the 1st Falcon Guards are here. Your orders are to
verify that. You will stay out there until you do." Major Pedersen nodded at
him. "Dismissed."

Ed saluted and left. Eight hours later, he was dodging incoming fire from
both Jade Falcon forces and his own side. When he returned, Major Pedersen
demanded to personally debrief him. Thirty minutes after that, Lieutenant
Becerra had the transfer he wanted, and Major Pedersen had a broken jaw.

* * *
Yet another world...

Denver, North American Protectorate, Earth, 2070 A.D.

"I don't _care_ whether it can be done or not, Detective. I want it done
ANYWAY! Is that clear?" The police commissioner for the Denver metroplex
stared over the desk at her. "The UN Peaceforcers are on my back over this.
They want this `Erythrina' caught _now_."

Detective Erin Mitchell yawned and ran her fingers through her waist
length, jade green hair. "If they want her that bad, why don't they catch
her themselves. Besides, she's just another net ghost. She hasn't hurt a
single innocent citizen. All she's done is embarrass Peaceforcers. She makes
them look like the jackasses that they are. And I'm all for that."

"You won't be. They're sending a Peaceforcer Elite to oversee the
investigation."

She stiffened in her chair. "A cyborg? Why?"

"Because they've finally had enough, Detective. An Elite cyborg has the
authority to cut Denver off from the net."

Mitchell went grey under her facial tattoo. "They can't do that! It would
crash the city! Thousands of innocent people would suffer!"

"The Peaceforcers don't care about that, Detective. They're called
Peaceforcers for a reason. They don't care about justice, or innocence, or
anything but enforcing the peace." The tired commissioner rested his head in
his hands. "They've officially defined this Erythrina as a threat to
themselves, and technically, that makes her a threat to world peace. That
allows them to do anything they like, Officer Mitchell. When it comes to
keeping the peace, the Peaceforcers are above the law."

"Isn't there anything we can do to prevent this, sir?"

"Only bringing in Erythrina, Detective. They've already made up their
minds and they don't want to be bothered with the facts." He glared at her.
"I _know_ you have connections in the black net, Detective. That's why
you're tolerated in the department. Because you have sources that no one
else has. Use them. There isn't any choice any longer, Mitchell. There's no
fence to sit on. It's Erythrina, or us."

She looked back at him bleakly.

* * *

Yet another world...

Planet Genowara, Galactic Core, Spinwards, 2402 A.D.

"The rest of the assault team is ready, sir."

"Are the Blackcollars set?"

"They're in place, sir. The Ryqril don't have a chance."

The old major spun around. "Are you naturally that stupid, Leftenant? Or
do you study at it? War is the _single_ most uncertain action humans ever
undertake. Of course the Ryqril have a chance. It may be improbably small,
but it's still there. Never forget that. If you do, you'll end up in a body
bag, and it won't necessarily be the enemy who'll put you there!"

"Y-yes sir, Major Two Bulls."

"Good. Now get your head out of your ass and armor up, boy. You got five
minutes. After that, we leave you behind."

The younger man scrambled to obey, and the major looked at him irascibly.
*Stupid little puppy'll likely get himself shot to pieces in the first five
minutes,* he thought with a sigh. He walked over to his command post and
donned his own armor. *Looks like I'm going to have to add a bit of
baby-sitting to the list for today. Great Spirit, was I ever that green?*

***********************************

Ed shot up straight in bed, shivering violently. *Damn. Haven't had
_that_ dream in quite a few years. Now if I could just make then stop
completely.* He looked around, noting the feminine decorations in the room.
*You know, I'm _really_ getting tired of waking up in strange beds. It gets
pretty old after a while.*

He noticed a stack of clean clothing resting on a nearby chair, with
some towels piled neatly beside them. *Guess Minerva planned ahead. Bless
her cybernetic little heart.* He grabbed the clothing and headed for the
bathroom. Cleaning up quickly, he headed to the kitchen where he found
Sylvie and Minerva deep in discussion. Minerva smiled at him as he walked
in.

"How are you feeling today, boss?"

"I've had better days. And better nights." He gave her an ironic smile.
"And you, pretty lady?"

"I've been having a long talk with Sylvie." She waved a hand across her
body. "This was a pretty big change for me. She had some insights on what
it's like to be both organic and inorganic at the same time."

He nodded to Sylvie. "Thank you, m'lady. I appreciate that. It looks like
our lives will be going through some unexpected changes, and we can use all
the help we can get." He fixed himself a bowl of cereal and sat, absently
picking at it.

"Bad dreams again, lover?"

He blinked, surprised. "Eh? How did you know?"

Minerva smiled and pointed at the bowl. "You always do that. Get some
cereal and then ignore it. After twenty years, it was kind of hard to miss
the signs."

He frowned, and pushed the untouched bowl away. "I'm going to take a walk
and get some fresh air."

"What about Sylia?" asked Sylvie.

"What about her? Where could I possibly go?" he growled. "It's not as if
there's any place I can escape to. After all... I gave my word." He headed
out the door.

"He isn't taking this very well," observed Sylvie.

"He never does," replied Minerva sadly.

* * *

"You guys never cease to amaze me! All the moral fiber of Jack the
Ripper. What do you do in your spare time? Juggle babies over a
fire pit? Oops, there goes another calculated risk!"
- Commander Ivanova, "Babylon 5 - Mind War"

"You're a triple-decker sauerkraut and toadstool sandwich.. with arsenic
sauce!"
- Thurl Ravenscroft, "How The Grinch Stole Christmas"

In an temporary office that had been set up for him at one of Genom's
other buildings, Quincy was viewing the recordings that had been made of the
battle. "Fascinating," he murmured. A soft rap at the door caused him to
pause. "Enter, Ms. Madagan."

Kate Madagan stepped through the door, her arms full of files. "I have
the preliminary reports, sir. As well as my personal impressions, as
requested."

"And those impressions are?"

She squared her shoulders. "Sir, after what I witnessed in the plaza, it
is my opinion that we should not pursue this any further. I seem to have
vastly underestimated the potential danger that Mr. Edwards represents. The
mecha he was piloting was, at the very least, a full generation beyond our
current technology. His physical survival of the explosion of its power
plant indicates that his personal abilities were seriously underrated as
well. The technicians assigned to examined those few scans that survived the
battle estimate that when the fusion reactor powering the mecha blew, the
resulting blast was in the kiloton range. Their judgements are somewhat
tentative at the moment, however. The sudden arrival of and interference by
Ms. Stefanson tended to introduce a large amount of uncertainty in the
readings." She sighed. "Further attempts to pressure Mr. Edwards could prove
both counter-productive and non-profitable."

"A succinct analysis." Quincy smiled. "In point of fact, your conclusions
are quite similar to my own, Ms. Madagan. Our book-seller is far more than
he appears on the surface. Attempts at physical harassment were in error.
That error is understandable, however, given our lack of information."

Outwardly, Madagan didn't react. Inside, however, she gave a mental
shudder, and a tight knot in her gut relaxed. She had feared Quincy would
take issue with her recommendation to avoid any further conflict. "In
addition, sir, we have reason to believe that he has access to material
resources that we do not."

Quincy raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Madagan extracted a paper from the sheaf she was carrying. "A small
fragment of the mecha's armor survived its destruction, due in part to the
Crystal Knight. It was sliced from the right arm of the mecha by one of his
diamond swords. Chemical analysis shows it to be a highly exotic alloy,
composed largely of rhenium."

"I'm given to understand that rhenium is a mere chemical curiosity. It's
far too rare to be of any widespread commercial use."

"Yes, sir. But the 10 kilogram chunk that was recovered contained more
rhenium than is currently produced world wide." She ran a finger down the
page. "The only known commercial source is flue dust from the roasting of
Arizona molybdenite. Production is at less than 3 tons of Cottrell dust per
year, resulting in less than 1/4 kilogram of rhenium. The sample of armor is
over 24% rhenium, or slightly less that 2 1/2 kilos of it. Or the equivalent
of ten years production in the sample alone. The metallurgists flatly
refused to estimate the amount that must have gone into the construction of
the entire mecha. Or it's potential value on the precious metals market."
She paused. "The company that owns the mine and refines the dust is,
unfortunately, wholly owned by the Chang Conglomerate."

Quincy paused and pondered. "Interesting. I trust repair of the damaged
floors of Genom tower progresses rapidly."

"Yes sir. Your office will be ready by tomorrow morning, with the
remainder of the tower fully repaired by the end of the week."

"Good." He turned his chair back towards the monitor he'd been watching.
"Every being, no matter how powerful, has a weak point, Ms. Madagan. Even
our.. acquaintance, the Crystal Knight, was shown to be vulnerable to an
attack upon his friends. He risked his own life to save that of the pink
Knight Saber." He tapped a key, and the monitor went blank. "Maintain a
discrete surveillance on Mr. Edwards. But take no chances on our being
connected to it. Everyone has a price, Ms. Madagan. We need to discover
his."

"Yes, sir. But sometimes that price can be very high. Can we afford to
pay his?"

"If Genom is to remain the most powerful corporation on the planet, we
cannot afford _not_ to. The corporation that controls teleportation controls
the world."

He waved Madagan out of the office, steepling his fingers together. "This
isn't even your universe, eh? What a fascinating statement, Mr. Edwards." He
smiled. "Fascinating, indeed."

* * *

Sylia walked into Darlene's apartment. "Where is Edward? I need to speak
with him."

Minerva looked up. "He went for a walk, Ms. Stingray. He wasn't feeling
very good."

"Do you know where?"

Minerva shook her head. "No.. he asked me not to track him for a while.
And if I did know, I couldn't tell you. I hope you understand why."

She nodded. "Your primary loyalty lies with him. I can't fault you for
that. Besides, I believe I may have an idea where he's gone."

"It isn't going to be a confrontation, is it?"

"I hope not, Minerva. I certainly hope not."

* * *

At ADPolice headquarters, Bochinski threw a unfinished report at the
wall. "Why the hell do they still have us looking for him? We haven't seen
the Vigilante for since the attack on Genom Tower! He's probably left the
damn country!"

Wadderson spread her hands. "Ours is not to question why and all that
crap, partner. We just do the job. And right now, part of that job is to
keep an eye out for Mr. Mysterious." She rubbed her chin. "Besides, _you_
were the one who submitted that report that claimed he was at the controls
of the machine that trashed Genom tower. I expect there's more than a few
bought and paid for politicians who want to get on Genom's good side by
finding him."

Bochinski made a rude noise. "Politics. Bah. Bunch of chair-warming
idiots and incompetents who couldn't get a job anywhere else. You ask me,
we'd have been better off if they'd all died during the quake."

"Maybe so, but we still have a job to do if we want to keep drawing a
paycheck." She picked up another report of a sighting, flipping through it
idly. "It _would_ be nice if they'd stop sending us every drunk with the
DT's who thinks they've seen him."

* * *

"There never is [profit] in revenge. Let the dead rest, and the past...
remain the past."
- Jean-Luc Picard, "ST:TNG - The Battle"

Sylia was right. She found him where she'd expected to; in the remains of
his book store. He sat staring at the ashen remnants of the books and
scrolls, the wreckage of an overturned counter serving as a makeshift seat.
She stepped up behind him, but before she reached him, he spoke.

"Revenge is an ugly thing, isn't it? It steals the soul." He shook his
head, refusing to look at her. "I gave up my honor, my responsibilities,
everything. All for the sake of revenge. A meaningless revenge at that." He
waved a hand at the room around them. "There's nothing here that I couldn't
replace. I could have restored everything here with a single, simple command
to Minerva. For that matter, I could simply have walked away. Just left it
all behind, and found someplace else. I was stuck in this reality until
Valanna came along, but there was still an entire galaxy out there for me
to explore." He clenched a fist. "But I wanted to _show_ Quincy... to rub
his nose in the idea that he was a fool when he challenged _me_." A grim
look of self-contempt slid across his face. "I did it because I was furious
that he _dared_ to think he could take me on as an equal. Megalomania at its
worst."

"And what does that say about my own actions against Genom?" Sylia asked
quietly.

"Absolutely nothing." He smiled painfully. "Sylia, I don't pretend to
know you like a friend, but you're not doing what you do for revenge. You're
not doing it for yourself, either. Not any more, at least. You're doing it
for them, the people of Mega-Tokyo. You're doing it because someone _has_ to
do it, and you and the Knight Sabers you created are the best suited for the
job. Pun intended." He rubbed the back of his neck, and continued. "What I
did was done for reasons wholly selfish, and entirely petty."

"And that bothers you?"

"OF COURSE IT DOES!" he snapped. "I.. Oh, hell." His shoulders slumped.
"Sylia, I thought I'd gotten away from all this a long time ago. Habits of
thought and action." He shivered as old, ugly memories stirred in the back
of his mind. "Things like.. Dying soldiers aren't dying soldiers, they're
`acceptable losses'. Scorched earth doesn't matter.. it's `denying resources
to the enemy'. People left homeless, dying of exposure, starvation and
plague.. they aren't important, they're merely `collateral damage'. The
means don't matter.. only the ends you achieve. Political expediency." He
spat out the last two words with a cold venom that impressed Sylia. "And I
let myself fall to that. Again."

"At least you're able to see that clearly now. Of course, it would have
been better if you'd seen it in the beginning," she added dryly. "And what
exactly do you mean by again?"

"Remind me to tell you about the Fall of Strana Mechty, someday. A day
when I'm feeling particularly self-abusive." He looked over his shoulder at
her. "Have you come to pronounce my sentence, Sylia? Do I get a last meal?"

"In a way, I have. You have much to make restitution for, but you can't
do it and abuse yourself at the same time." She stepped over a burnt scroll
and sat next to him. "First of all, you will remain here, in this universe,
for the present. I believe you've learned that running from your problems
doesn't solve them. Next, your assistant Minerva assures me that so far as
wealth is concerned, you have no worries whatsoever. So you will rebuild
this shop, and you will arrange to funnel the profits, as well as additional
funds as needed, into a fund to repay the damages you caused during your
rampage. If you need help, I will arrange for my business contacts to aid
you. You will also reimburse _me_, personally, for the costs I incurred
during our battle." She paused at that point, looking at him expectantly.

Ed blinked in surprise. "That can't be it. It's too bloody simple."

She smiled suddenly. "Good. You may be inclined to foolish acts of
impulsive rage, but you are not stupid. You, Mr. Becerra, are about to
receive an education in the practical realities of dealing with the
responsibilities that come with power."

He looked at her, eyes wide. "And you said that all in one breath, too."
She shot him an irritated look, and he shrugged. "Can't help it. I think my
mother was frightened by a stand-up comedian before I was born." He stood,
and scuffed his feet through the ashes. There was a muted clank, and he
stooped to see what he'd struck. His jaw sagged.

"Well, I'll be dipped in horseradish!"

"What is it?" Sylia stepped over, curious. She watched as he bent, and
lifted what looked like a sword of some sort from the floor. She frowned.
"That was hanging over the door to your office, wasn't it?"

He nodded, amazed. "This.. was a gift from a friend. I thought it was
lost with the books." He brushed the ashes from the scabbard, revealing what
looked like a ninjato. "Franklin Sakamoto gave this to me years ago. We'd
been jumped by a dozen assassins from the Black Dragon Society. They were
after him, and I managed to delay the bishonen bastards long enough for him
to grab a gun and sound the alarm." He held up the blade with both hands,
balancing it on his upturned palms. "I took this from one of the assassins.
It was supposed to be the blade to kill Franklin. Instead, Franklin gave it
to me, as thanks." He shrugged. "He didn't know what I was, and thought I'd
risked my life for his. So he tried to honor my 'noble spirit of courage'.
He told me that this blade would never fail me."

Sylia hmmmm'ed quietly. "It certainly seems as if he was correct."

Ed made a non-committal sound. "Hey, it wasn't as if I was in any real
danger from those pretty-boy idiots. Those fools could've beaten me over the
head with their swords all day long, and the most it would have done is
mussed my hair, and maybe given me a headache from the noise."

She frowned. "Sakamoto.. the name sounds familiar. Franklin Sakamoto, the
illegitimate heir to the throne of the Draconis Combine, wasn't he?"

Ed favored her with a startled look. "Yes. But how did you know? That
wasn't even in this universe!"

Sylia smiled. "Both the game and the cartoon exist in this reality, as
well as, I assume, they do in your own. I took the time to watch all
thirteen episodes."

"Ahh.." A faint grin danced on his lips. "I should have thought of that.
And more to the point, I should have expected it. What I know of you told me
that you'd _never_ give up on a puzzle." He caressed the blade. "I'd better
put this someplace safe. It's obvious the shop isn't secure any longer." He
addressed the room. "Minerva?"

"Yes, boss?"

"Tuck this away in the armory, pretty lady. And clean out the rest of my
personal belonging, as well. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice,
shame on _me_."

Sylia watched as the sword shimmered and vanished. "Interesting. So that
is the technology everyone is so anxious to acquire. You may have gone about
it improperly Edward, but you were right in keeping it out of their hands.
It could be quite easily abused."

"I shouldn't have made the mistake in the first place. But thank you.. I
think."

She nodded. "As long as you realize that, you're learning."

"Too schoon ve get old und too late shmart," Ed sighed. "True no matter
_what_ universe you live in." He brushed the ashes from his jeans, and
turned towards the door. "Well, time to get started, I suppose. I've got to
rebuild a shop, and a life. Soonest begun, soonest done."

***********************************

"In my life I've seen the mystery begin/And in my time I've felt some
wonderful things/Winds will change bringing us something new/So little
time still there's so much we can do..."
- 'Find The Key To Your Life', "TMNT2"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And that's it for this part of `Tangled Skeins'. But the story will
continue. I hope you've all enjoyed it.

Now for the obligatory legal verbiage. With the exception of those
characters I created myself, none of these characters are mine, and they are
being used without permission. I'm not making a single penny from this
story, and the copyrights are as follows.

Bubblegum Crisis is (c) Artmic, Inc. & Youmex, Inc., and is used without
permission.

All BattleTech references and material are (c) FASA, 1980-1997, and are
used without permission. All other characters are (c) by their creators and
are used without permission, with the following exceptions: Twister is (c)
Darren Steffler. White Wolf and his bar are (c) Hitomi Ichinohei.

Doc Mui is (c) Pearson Mui. PCHammer is (c) Martin F. Rose. Thank you for
letting me mention you in the story, guys.

Ailuro and Natasha are NON-fictional characters, friends of mine who have
given me permission to use them in this story, and their characterizations
are (c) by them. Please respect that.

The song "All I have to do is Dream." is (c) 1958 by the Everly brothers.

This story is (c) 1997 by Edward Becerra, with the exception of certain
scenes written by Darren Steffler and John Collins. Thank you, guys.