DP/UF - Soulsearch REVISED [FanFic]

[Larry Mann]

FILE>> SOULSEARCH
-----------------

Well, the other night I was trying to go to sleep and an idea popped
into my head, and next thing I knew I was making *my* contribution to
the Undocumented Features universe. Funny how these things happen. :)

This story sort of grew out of some recent bad experiences in my
personal life, plus my wanting to do a UF story. Heck, I figured
if Gryph and Zoner could make themselves leaders of an interplanetary
space force, I could make myself J. Random Important Person. (grin)
Just a coincidence, I guess, that telling this story helped me come
to terms with what's happened. Then again, maybe I did it so I
*could*... but I'm rambling now; let's get on with the story.

Besides, after all is said and done: "I've always wanted to do
this." :)

OK, here we go. Enjoy the ride!

- - -

Sanjiyan Enterprises

a division of
M & M PRODUCTIONS

presents

S o u l s e a r c h

An UNDOCUMENTED FEATURES Story

by
Larry Mann

Soulsearch Copyright (c) 1993 Larry Mann

Undocumented Features and related tales Copyright (c) 1991-1993
Ben Hutchins, Brian "MegaZone" Bikowicz, and Rob Mandeville

[Author's note: I would highly recommend listening to the album
"VERY", by Pet Shop Boys, while reading this. IMHO, it is *perfect*.]

"There are those with the ability to alter the
paths of Destiny, and your paths must have crossed."

- Teleute

--------------------------------------------------------------ONE

I'm the one that loves you, I'm the one that cares.
Night comes and I think of you alone.
We changed, love remains, so give me one more chance.
I'll wait another day, until there's nothing.

Stop fighting love.
Baby I just wanna know the reason why.
Stop fighting love, don't say goodbye
And you'll be back in my arms again

I can make it better. I could make it right.
If only you could try and see the light.
Someday, some way, I'm gonna make you see.
That I paid for my mistakes, until there's nothing.

Stop fighting love.
Baby I just wanna know the reason why.
Stop fighting love, don't say goodbye.

Stop fighting love.
When ya gonna tell me, show me you're mine.
Stop fighting love, don't say goodbye
And you'll be back in my arms again.

I let your lust for love excite me.
You took my heart instead, and now there's nothing.
Stop fighting love.
Oh I just wanna know the reason why.
Stop fighting love, don't say goodbye.

Stop fighting love.
Baby there's no reason why.
Stop fighting love, don't say goodbye.
And you'll be back in my arms again.

-- Dokken, "Stop Fighting Love"

PLANET EARTH
JOHN WAYNE INTERPLANETARY SPACEPORT
IRVINE, SOUTH CALIFORNIA
2380 DECEMBER 05, 11:43:00 PST

The trip was pretty uneventful, as far as interplanetary
flights go. Your basic passenger spacelift from Yocha to a
Federation starbase near Deneb to Sol-controlled space. The most
exciting event of the day was watching a security ship verify the
plane's ID before allowing it into Earth's atmosphere. After that it
was just a 30-minute descent into United States airspace and to the
spaceport, and the plane was on its final approach now. Another 30
seconds and the wheels would hit the runway.
Yuri looked out the window at the approaching ground, lost in
thought, as she had been for most of the trip. She had mixed
emotions about taking vacations nowadays. While she was working she
could blot her problems out of her awareness. When she wasn't
working, she couldn't keep that sorrow out of her head. That's why
she'd avoided vacations for the last 90 years or so. But the
circumstances sort of forced one on her this time. Kei had needed to
take a *long* vacation to think some things through after what
happened earlier that year on Tantalus V, and she did just that. For
a month plus. With her partner on vacation, Yuri didn't get much
more than secretarial work at the WWWA. In those days the 3WA liked
to keep its teams together whenever possible. After a while she got
really tired of doing nothing but paper-pushing, so she decided to
tap into the massive reserve of vacation time she'd accumulated over
the last 90 years and take a little weekend trip.
And here she was, on Earth of all places. <Why Earth?> she'd
asked herself. <There's plenty of other good vacation spots, like
Vanir.> Maybe because it was her homeworld? No, *Yocha* was her
homeworld. But, this planet was her *birth* world in the most
literal sense. She'd never really gotten a good look at this world,
either, with the possible exception of the Worcester area. Oh sure,
there'd been all sorts of other visits here over the last couple
centuries, but they were always official business of some sort.
Never any time for sightseeing or relaxing. She kind of wanted to
see the place on more neutral terms. Just a 19-year-old (that's
relative, mind you) Asian girl named Yuri Daniels taking a vacation
on a planet called Earth. No WDF or WWWA insignia, no badges,
nothing like that. Just her.
A sudden bump jolted her out of her thoughts. The plane had
hit the runway. It bounced back into the air for just a moment, then
the wheels planted themselves firmly on the runway once more, and
then Yuri could feel the plane decelerate rapidly as the brakes
kicked in. <Good brakes,> she commented to herself. Some of the
passengers applauded, as mundanes tend to do when a pilot
successfully completes a long-distance flight. Yuri began to feel a
bit lighter as the plane switched its artificial gravity off and
began to depressurize. As it approached the terminal she got busy
zipping her carryon closed so she could get off this plane and into
open air as soon as possible. After 400+ years they *still* hadn't
figured out how to make flying coach an enjoyable experience. (And
prices for First Class were as outrageous as ever.)

20 MINUTES LATER
BAGGAGE CLAIM #1

Unfortunately things seemed to be getting off to a bad start.
Still no sign of her suitcase, or anybody else's bags for that
matter. Yuri and dozens of others were gathered around the still
silent luggage carousel, waiting. This was ridiculous. The 15-
minute wait for one's luggage *should* have gone out with USAir back
in 2025! Finally a man not too far away from Yuri shouted: "Can we
have our bags, PLEASE?!", and several people agreed with his request
with equal volume.
As if on cue, the carousel's alarm horn buzzed and the thing
started moving. Several people looked at the young man (he sounded
young, anyway; it was hard to see him from where Yuri was) who'd
shouted and sent comments along the lines of "Pretty good!" and
"How'd you do that??". Taking advantage of the attention, the man
immediately struck a pose, running his hands through his hair and
saying, in a deep voice: "What can I say? I'm smooth." This brought
laughter and applause from several people, including Yuri. Nothing
like a little comedy to lighten up a situation. And then the bags
began rolling down the ramp.
At first there were no problems. As the bags continued to
emerge from the bowels of the spaceport and make their way to the
luggage carousel, however, it quickly became obvious that, somehow,
somewhere between Yocha and Earth, a gorilla had managed to stow away
in one of the cargo holds on the ship, and had performed the
Masochism Tango on several of the suitcases contained within.
Several cries of exasperation could be heard as people grabbed dented
and otherwise fouled up bags, many of them vowing *never* to fly
Delta Spacelines again! The Delta employees in charge of baggage
claims, seeing the mess which the carousel was throwing up, had
wisely chosen to vacate the area, not interested in fielding
complaints from several angry customers. That would be a *real* big
help (NOT) for Delta's already shitty public image. Then again,
Delta did deserve a ration of crap, so the hell with it.
Gradually the crowd at the carousel began to thin out as
passengers, satisfied or not, retrieved bags and disappeared to
points unknown. Then the flow of bags onto the carousel began to
thin out, and Yuri was getting increasingly nervous as her suitcase
still failed to emerge.
"Where's my BAG?!" a familiar voice shouted toward the black
void where the bags appeared. Yuri looked in the direction of the
voice and saw that it was the same man who had magically (yahright)
gotten the carousel running before. With the crowd gone she now had
a much better view of him. He was tall, about the same height as
Zoner, with long dark brown hair, almost as long as hers, tied in a
ponytail. He was dressed in a shiny black trenchcoat, and Yuri could
see that he wore a dark blue business suit underneath. He looked
like he was in his late twenties or so. In one hand he carried a
black briefcase and in the other a black umbrella. Obviously the guy
liked black. She'd say he was a typical mundane corporate type if it
weren't for that hair of his, and something about his apparent
obsession with black made him stick out, too.
Then he looked at her. She started and looked away; she didn't
want him to think she'd been scoping him out. (Although she had
noted that he looked a lot like Zoner.) She looked around to see if
her bag had emerged while she was checking this guy out. No such
luck. She sighed.
"Excuse me?"
She started. It was him, and that had obviously been directed
at her. Oh damn. She turned in his direction. "Huh?"
He was motioning her to come toward him. Then he motioned to
some of the other people who were still waiting for their bags.
"Listen," he said as they approached. "Maybe if we all yell real
loud the bags'll come out."
Now this was different. Yuri was getting an increasingly
strong feeling that this was no ordinary corporate mundane. And his
request seemed harmless enough. In fact it sounded like fun. <What
the hell,> Yuri shrugged mentally, and joined him and the other
passengers near the opening where the bags came out.
"Okay everybody. On three we all shout 'Where's our bags?!'
Okay?" The small knot of people nodded, some fighting back laughter,
and then he counted: "One, two, three!"
"WHERE'S OUR BAGS?!?!"
Yuri cracked up two-thirds of the way through the shout. So
did the others. She couldn't help it. It was just so funny to see
someone who looked so anal act like a... well, like a Wedge Rat,
frankly. The Rats were the epitome of alternate lifestyles, which
made them so much more fun to be around than mundanes. This person
was no Wedge Rat, but she couldn't call him a mundane, either.
Whether she wanted to admit it to herself or not, she was getting
interested.

5 SECONDS LATER

They all kept trying to decide whether this guy was psychic, or
very lucky, or if this was an incredible coincidence, or what. No
sooner had they shouted than several bags came flying out and landed
in a heap on the carousel.
"Whoa, twice in one day," the guy said to no one in particular.
"Surreal." Then his expression went from surprise to upset. "Ah,
shit!" he groaned as he grabbed the remains of a gray suitcase which
had obviously taken some really strong footsteps from that damned
gorilla. "This was American Tourister, too!" he moaned. That got a
brief laugh from the other passengers (those who knew the reference,
anyway), but brief was all it was, because every suitcase that had
just come out was beaten all to shit. Everyone picked their
respective cases up and filed off to find a Delta employee to lynch.
Everyone, that is, except Yuri, and for her the prognosis was double
plus ungood. She and the man watched as a lime green handle with no
bag attached to it made its way down the conveyor and hit the
carousel with a hollow THUNK. A moment later, the carousel stopped
moving.
"Baah??" was all Yuri could get out.
The man dropped his cases and umbrella, and picked up the
handle, looking at it with an arched eyebrow. Then he turned to
Yuri. "Does dis belong ta you?"
A large bead of sweat ran down Yuri's forehead as she took the
handle from him. She checked the spaceline ID tag on it; yep, that
handle was from her bag. "Looks like it," she sighed, putting her
other hand to her forehead. "Just wonderful. I had most of my
paperwork in that bag."
"Ouch. Not a Good Thing(tm)." The man looked around for a
moment, then looked at the remains of his own suitcase, and then at
Yuri. "Well," he said, clearly displeased with the state of affairs.
"I'd say Delta just signed their death certificate. Wouldn't you?"
"Yes," Yuri agreed tersely, glaring at the handle which once
held her suitcase. "Yes, I'd say so."
"Care to join me in the Hunt for Red Delta Employee?" he said
as he picked up the remains of his bags. "I think we'll have a
better chance of cornering one if we go together."
"I'd love to," Yuri answered, trying to decide whether she
should be angry or laughing her head off. She *had* to get her bag
back or this vacation was going to go to hell right there and then.
More than that, though, she was interested in this guy. He was too
weird to forget about. Here he was, for all outward appearances J.
Random Corp Exec, but making references to things so ancient (by
Human standards, anyway) that most people nowadays would have no idea
what he was talking about. He was not a Wedge Rat; she was certain
of that. So who was he?
She was going to find out. For lack of a better way to put it,
she wanted to get to know him a little better.

--------------------------------------------------------------TWO

EMBASSY SUITES HOTEL
IRVINE, SOUTH CALIFORNIA

30 MINUTES LATER

At the Deneb Starbase, Yuri had changed ships. It turned out
that while the luggage was being transferred, her bag had broken free
of its handle (unknown whether it was mechanical failure on the part
of the bag or on the part of J. Random Delta Employee) and had fallen
off the loader which was bound for her new transport. As a result
Yuri's luggage had stayed on the Starbase. Now obviously someone
took the time to load and unload the suitcase's *handle*. How and
*why* that happened, however, is another matter which only the Delta
Employees could possibly explain, and they're not telling. They're
Deltas; what do you want? Aldous Huxley would be proud. And it's
highly unlikely that Delta will ever want to expose that fact by
going public with these types of problems.
Stupid spaceline.
Anyway, with a little "persuasion" from Yuri and her new
friend, Delta was able to locate the Wandering Suitcase(tm) and
arranged to have it put on the next Deneb-to-Earth shuttle. It would
arrive within 24 hours.
In the meantime, Yuri had very little in the way of
identification. She had planned to rent a car once she got there,
but without her I.D. it would be hard to do. Fortunately, the
businessman she'd just met offered to give her a ride to the Embassy
Suites, where she had a room reserved, on his way back to his office.
"They're going to want a confirmation slip, though," he said as
they drove away from the airport. "They're seriously anal-retentive
in that place, and your passport won't cut it."
"Good grief," Yuri said, exasperated. "How can you work in a
city like this?" She began to wonder why in Goddess' name she'd
decided to stay in this city.
He smiled. "Ancient Chinese Secret." (<*Another* one,> Yuri
thought.) "No, seriously, Irvine sort of has a place in my heart.
Sounds weird, I know, but it does. Ah, here we are," he said as he
stopped his car in front of the hotel. The doorman immediately
stepped forward to open the right door for Yuri, and she stepped out.
Yuri took one look at the place and knew she was about to walk into
Anal Central. Joy.
"Well, thanks. Thanks for everything!" she said.
"No problems," he replied. Then he slapped his forehead. "Oh,
DUH! I never introduced myself, did I?"
"S'okay," Yuri waved him off. "I forgot too. My name's Yuri.
Yuri Daniels."
The man smiled. "I thought you looked familiar. I'm Larry.
Larry Mann." He looked at his watch. "Well, I gotta get moving
before my boss wonders where I am. Listen, if they give you any
trouble here, tell them I sent you, okay?"
"Heh, I'll keep that in mind."
"Maybe I'll see you again sometime?"
"Maybe so. We'll see."
"See you, then!" he said, and accelerated his car back out onto
the main road. A moment later his car was lost among the massive
throng of air and ground traffic charging down the street.
Yuri, to be honest, hadn't wanted it to end that abruptly. She
wanted to spend more time talking to him, to learn more about him.
She'd only had a few minutes at the baggage claim and a few more in
his car. As it was, though, he obviously had a schedule to keep to,
and she needed to get herself into a hotel room. She hoped she would
get another chance to talk to him.

FIVE MINUTES LATER

As he had warned -- and as she'd expected -- the hotel staff
were less than cooperative at first because she did not have her
confirmation slips with her. It didn't matter that she had her
passport and even a WWWA I.D. card as a backup. No confirmation
slip, no key. Yuri figured these people either expected everyone to
behave in a certain way or receive no help, or else they were so damn
stupid that they couldn't deal with people who didn't follow whatever
procedure they were trained to observe. It could also be the fact
that she was dressed in a T-shirt and jeans, and a thin green jacket;
that would certainly reduce her monetary worth in their eyes.
<Christ,> she thought. <There's Deltas and Epsilons all over the
place!>
They had changed gears dramatically, however, when she
mentioned that she was going to call "Mr. Mann" and explain her
situation to him. It was a shot in the dark, of course; he hadn't
given her a phone number. But it worked. Suddenly they were falling
all over each other to track down her reservation on the computers.
Confirmation slip? Who needs a confirmation slip? they said. Your
I.D. alone is more than enough, Miss Daniels. The concierge was full
of apologies and actually offered to personally carry her bags up to
her room when they arrived the next day. (There was only one bag,
actually, but they didn't know that.) Yuri resisted the urge to say
"Cerebus will consider it". She just picked up her room key and
headed for the elevator with a disgusted look on her face. (<Too bad
Kei wasn't here,> she thought later. <She would've enjoyed that.>)
She was quite certain, as the door closed, that she could hear the
concierge's heart pounding from across the lobby.
She didn't recall requesting a luxury suite, but that's what
they had given her. Hmm. Apparently they'd rewritten her itinerary
on the fly a few minutes earlier. Geez, all she'd done was mention
the man's name. Who *was* this guy? She had a million questions in
her head now and she didn't know when (or if) they were going to get
answered. Obviously Mr. Mann was someone very important in the area.
Judging by the way he talked about this city, Yuri wouldn't be
surprised if he lived here as well as worked here. He seemed to have
that kind of attachment to this place. Of course Kei wouldn't be
caught dead in a place like this unless she was on a mission, and
even then she'd stick around only as long as was really necessary.
Gryphon and Zoner and the rest of the gang would never go for it, she
was quite sure. And truth to tell, although she was more comfortable
in high-class establishments than Kei, she wasn't really into it all
that much either. She'd take the Wedge over this place any day.
Still, there *was* a part of her who was getting a real kick
out of co-existing with the Upper Class, even if only for a moment.
She looked out of the big picture window across the city
skyline. The place reminded her of the Mega-Tokyo skyline.
Buildings as far as the eye could see; at least, you *could* see that
if the smog hadn't been blocking your view. Here, however, there was
no air pollution whatsoever. None, and she could see the large snow-
capped mountain range to the north. Very beautiful. Maybe that's
why he liked it here, because it was so clean?
She stretched and yawned. It had been a long flight, and a
long day, and until she could rent a car there wasn't too much she
could do vacation-wise. She supposed she could go down and pester
the concierge to find her a rental car, and he'd most likely get her
one for free. But not now. What she needed now was a catnap -- no
pun intended for those of you who are Kilrathi. An hour or so would
do it. So she ditched her shoes and flopped down on the bed (which
could probably hold 4+ humans), and let her mind wander off into the
void.

------------------------------------------------------------THREE

CORPORATE BUSINESS OFFICES COMPLEX
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, IRVINE

2380 DECEMBER 05; 18:45:00
(APPROXIMATELY 5 HOURS LATER)

R-Type unjacked from his terminal and leaned back in his chair,
thoroughly drained. Once again he was on his way to setting a
personal record for amount of overtime he put in for his department.
He'd been running almost nonstop since yesterday morning, and here it
was almost 7PM on Friday. He'd come in at 8AM on Thursday morning
and found a set of holodiscs waiting for him, along with some plane
tickets and a message that basically said: "Here. Debug this and
take it to New Palnu. NOW." Within 20 minutes he was out the door
again. He was out of John Wayne within the hour and on his way to
New Palnu by way of Deneb, every minute of flight time spent punching
data and algorithms into his laptop. He liked the planet but he
hated the people he had to deal with while representing his
corporation, especially Lord Julius, a man who *never* made sense but
somehow managed to keep a firm grip on the reins of power. How
anything ever got done on that planet was anybody's guess, but it got
done.
It was a long flight but he'd been so wrapped up in his work
that he didn't notice. They'd served two meals on the flight but he
barely touched either of them. By the time he got there, after a
one-stop 12-hour flight (GAH!), the program was debugged and running,
and by the time he'd gotten on the next transport back to Earth a few
hours later, his corporation was a couple hundred thousand credits
richer, and interest rates on New Palnu were headed for an all-time
high.
It didn't stop there, though. He'd put all his energy into
resolving this little issue, which left a day and a half's worth of
backlogged "normal" office work to be done. That, and the followup
report which he had to write and hand to his bosses. Fortunately
he'd taken the precaution of bringing a bunch of the regular work
along. He slept during the flight from New Palnu to Deneb out of
biological necessity, but he had to change planes at Deneb, so he
only had time to slot a DeepSleep(tm) chip and go totally unconscious
for two hours. He had that backlog to work on. Once the new
transport was out of Deneb and the 7-hour return flight to Earth was
underway, he slotted an anti-sleep chip (just in case) and got to
work. Theoretically he would be able to get enough of the work done
so that he could blow out of the office at 5PM with a clean desk.
Unfortunately, Delta succeeded in trashing his luggage. They'd
also managed to trash the thing that he could *least* afford to have
trashed: the holodiscs which contained his New Palnu data. He
discovered this nasty little fact after he got back to work and
opened the remains of his suitcase. "Oh my LORD," he'd moaned.
"Shit. Well, that's what I get for not putting 'em in my carryon.
Duh." And so he had to put in several extra hours reconstructing the
data into something his bosses would accept. When they said "rush
job" they meant it, and they wanted a copy of the program and a
report ASAP. It took 'til 6:45 that night, but he finished the damn
thing, prayed that it was the exact same thing he'd unloaded on New
Palnu, and typed up a mail message to his supervisors which basically
said: "Finished. I'm going to go home and die now. Have a good
weekend."
His brain was thoroughly fried, and his body was probably not
going to function properly for the next 12 hours or so. He used the
keyboard to send the message he'd just typed, not wanting to take the
time to jack back in again. His supervisors were going to have a
pleasant surprise waiting for them in their inboxes tomorrow morning
(or maybe Monday morning, depending on when they checked their mail
next).
"Oi, RT! You still here?"
He leaned back a little farther and craned his head so that he
saw, upside-down, the thin brown-haired woman who'd addressed him,
and who was currently the only other person in the office. "Mm.
Yeah, Sylvia, I finished it." Sylvia wasn't actually Human, although
you'd never know it by looking at her. She was a Type 33/S Replicant
with a sunny personality and a great work ethic. "9AM Thursday to
just now, with 2 hours DeepSleep(tm) in the middle, but I finished
the damned thing."
"Good Lord, are you trying to kill yourself?" Sylvia asked,
shocked. "You're not a Buma, y'know."
"No, but I'm close enough," R-Type said as he slowly got to his
feet and stretched. "Besides, I wanted to finish it tonight so I
could have the weekend to myself."
"You," Sylvia said in a motherly voice, folding her arms.
"Have been working too hard. Go home and get some sleep and leave
the 24-plus-hour work days to me and the rest of the Buma in this
department, okay?"
"Yeah, okay, whatever," he replied. "Have a good weekend,
Syl."
"See ya later, RT."

R-Type made his way out of the business offices area and down
the outside corridor to the central elevator. One floor higher, and
he was walking out into the parking structure (the office was
attached to the parking structure; somebody in UCI's architectural
crew has a strange sense of design) where his aircar waited silently
and patiently. He unlocked the door of the vehicle (which, it should
be mentioned, looked remarkably like an ancient 1984 Oldsmobile
Cutlass), climbed in, sat in the driver's seat for a moment, and
decided he was in no shape to drive.
"Aki? Jilehr? One of you gals awake?"
The electronics on the car's dashboard came alive, an
interesting combination of analog and digital gauges, and a small
display terminal in the exact center of the dashboard printed a
message:

POWER ON.
BATTERY STATUS: 1. 85% CHARGE -- NOMINAL
2. 90% CHARGE -- NOMINAL
ELECTRICAL DIAGNOSTICS: 100% OPERATIONAL
COMP STATUS: ALL COMPONENTS OPERATIONAL
PERSONA 'AKI' ONLINE.
PERSONA 'JILEHR' ON STANDBY._

The screen blanked, and then resolved into the face of a pretty
eyeglassed woman with long dark brown hair. "Afternoon, R-Type," she
said with a smile. Then her expression changed from cheerful to
concerned as she noted his obvious state of fatigue. "Are you
feeling all right?"
"Not really, Aki," he answered, putting a hand over his eyes.
"I just spent the last 36+ hours playing Important Earth Person on
New Palnu. Haven't had a decent night's sleep, except maybe a 2-hour
simulated death experience on the trip back. Not fun."
"Sheesh. Mr. Workaholic is at it again, I see." Her voice had
changed. R-Type didn't need to open his eyes to know that her
glasses had disappeared, replaced by a gold-trimmed black headband
with a large amethyst orb mounted in the center. She now wore a
black cloak instead of a tasteful white business dress.
"Thank you so much for your comforting words, Jilehr," he
croaked sarcastically.
"And I suppose," she continued, arching an eyebrow. "That
you're too tired to do any driving and you want me to take you home."
"That's about right."
"You're not impressing anybody, R-Type. You're Mr. Macho I-
can-do-it Workdude. Why don't you drive?"
"Jilehr, I'd rather talk to Aki right now. Can I talk to Aki?"
"There is no Aki. There is only Zuul."
"Oh, Zuulie you nut, now c'mon!" He paused. "I mean it,
Jilehr."
Jilehr rolled her eyes. "Fine, fine," and then her image
reverted back to that of Aki. "Hello again," she said sweetly.
"Thank you," he replied.
"Certainly. Now would you like to be driven home?"
"Please."
"All right, we're on our way."

Aki's image disappeared, replaced by a text display:

AUTOPILOT ONLINE
DESTINATION SELECTED > 00: HOME
COMPUTING DISTANCE...
CHECKING FUELS AND FLUIDS...

>> CONFIRM: DESTINATION REACHABLE <<

AUTOPILOT ENGAGED..._

With that the aircar's engines roared into life and lifted the
vehicle into the air on a powerful magnetic field. R-Type allowed
himself to just sit back and relax while the car turned and headed
down the access ramps to surface level. A moment later it was out on
Bridge Road and headed for University Drive.
Aki was waiting for the cross air and ground traffic to clear
when R-Type remembered something important. While Aki saw to getting
the car safely out onto the road, R-Type fished around in his
briefcase for the little plastic box which carried his personal
datachips. He pulled one out, checked to make sure it was the one he
wanted, snapped it into the slot in a microsoft plug, and stuck the
plug in the socket behind his right ear. Two seconds later he was
sitting upright, fully alert.
Resting his left hand on the steering wheel and his right foot
on the accelerator, he pressed a small red button underneath the
computer display which read "NORMAL CRUISE". The computer display
confirmed with an AUTOPILOT DISENGAGED message, which was replaced a
second later by Jilehr, a slightly miffed look on her face.
"I thought you said you wanted me to drive you home?!"
"Sorry, sweetie. I just remembered there's something I want to
do before I go home tonight."
Jilehr's nostrils flared. "Whatever," she sighed, and
disappeared again.
R-Type steered his car into the air-traffic left turn lane at
the next intersection. At the next green light he floored the
accelerator and sent the vehicle shooting toward Irvine's central
business district. He checked the condition of his hair and face in
the rearview mirror, hoping he didn't look too rumpled; he wanted to
make a halfway decent impression.

-------------------------------------------------------------FOUR

EMBASSY SUITES HOTEL
A FEW MINUTES EARLIER

(2380 DECEMBER 05, 18:40:45)

Yuri was awake a couple seconds before it actually happened.
She woke up with the kind of weird feeling that a lot of mundanes get
when they come to a few seconds before an earthquake or some similar
natural disaster. They don't know what's about to happen but they
know they're awake for some reason, and they don't like it. Yuri was
no mundane, of course, but that was how she felt. Of course the
audible reinforcement of the feeling was a big help: this came in the
form of a low, rather ominous rumbling noise which seemed to be
coming from overhead. Hotels weren't supposed to make noises like
that. For that matter the ceiling directly over the bed was
definitely *not* supposed to be changing color and bulging
downward...

<< Dokken: "When Heaven Comes Down" >>

The ceiling gave way about two seconds later. Yuri's combat
reflexes brought her to full alertness immediately. She raised her
arms in front of her face to deflect the large chunks of plaster
which crashed down on her, but there was no way to avoid the massive
deluge of water which followed them down, drenching her and literally
throwing her off the bed.
"What the FUCK?!?" she sputtered as she tried to get to her
feet with a torrent of water still gushing out of the ceiling and
keeping her off balance. She could feel pain in her arms and figured
those plaster fragments had left some really neat gashes where they
hit her. Big deal. She was more concerned with avoiding drowning at
the moment. She struggled towards the door and opened it.
The hall wasn't much better. Water was leaking out of every
available ceiling grate and light fixture, and the hall carpet was
already saturated. Yuri could see several understandably
disconcerted (and thoroughly soaked) people making their way down the
corridor toward the fire stairs at the end. She was in Trouble
Consultant mode by this time; she had to check and make sure everyone
was all right, so she started to make her way toward where the people
were running from, intending to see if anyone was stuck and needed
help. She abruptly decided to change her mind, however, when she
noticed part of the hallway ceiling beginning to bulge out in much
the same manner as the ceiling in her room had done. 180 degrees
later, she was on her way to the staircase at a very rapid clip.
About 10 seconds later, the ceiling collapsed, sending what
looked like a miniature tidal wave down the hall. At that time Yuri
was in the process of making sure everyone was running down the
staircase in what passed for an orderly fashion. She was looking
back to see if there was anyone else she'd missed, and was greeted
instead by a waist-high wall of water which plowed straight into her.
Knocked off balance, she tumbled down the metal staircase with a
shriek, crashing into the concrete wall at the midpoint where the
stairs did a 180 and descended to the next level. There was a
sickening cracking noise and Yuri's right side exploded in pain. One
of the people running down the stairs heard her scream and was about
to go see if she was all right, but the flood of water kept him from
going back up the stairs to check. They had to get out; there was no
choice.
Yuri struggled to her feet, coughing, feeling a rib floating in
her right side. "Fuuuck..." she groaned, not caring whether anyone
was around to hear. Gripping the railing as firmly as she could, and
trying to put as much of the pain on the back burner as possible, she
struggled to keep her feet steady as she made her way down the
staircase amid the ongoing water barrage.

R-Type saw the flashing lights a second before he heard the
siren. He pulled the car over so that it was floating directly above
the groundcars that were rapidly pulling over to the roadside to let
the fire engine and paramedic aircar streak past.
"Sheesh, they're in a hurry, aren't they?" he commented.
"Doing 70 on a 45-mile street," Jilehr replied. "Yeah, I'd say
they were in a hurry."
"Wow. Tragedy in Central Irvine. Fun. Hey, check the
dispatch bands and see if you can figure where they're headed."
"Okay," Aki replied. Her eyes shifted as though she were
looking at something offscreen, and then she spoke up. "Well, if
that was Engine 35..."
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure it was."
"Looks like they're headed for Embassy Suites."
"Excuse me?"
"I said, 'They're headed for Embassy Suites.'" Jilehr replied
less than patiently.
"Oh, *joy*," R-Type groaned. "This is gonna make life
interesting. NOT." He hit the accelerator and got the car back up
to speed, pushing the speed limit as far as he could without setting
off the radar guns which sat at every single street corner in the
city.

4 MINUTES LATER

From a distance, the front of the Embassy looked very out of
sorts: a menagerie of police craft, private security vehicles, and
two fire trucks with their respective paramedic units were clustered
around the front steps. No ambulances had appeared on the scene.
R-Type brought his aircar to a stop across the street and
floated there for a moment. "Just great," he fumed. "This is gonna
make getting in there a challenge and a half."
"Um, check me if I'm wrong," Aki spoke up. "But it looks to me
like the company has a pretty big presence over there."
"Yeah. Why not make us look a little more important?" Jilehr
added.
"Hm. Good idea," R-Type nodded. "I *do* still have my monkey-
suit on." He toggled a switch on one of the center panels and
pressed the numbers "01" on an adjacent keypad. Had his aircar been
sitting under a streetlight at the time, an observer would have
noticed its paint job changing color, but it was in a shadow so that
nobody could see anything. A moment later, what looked like another
corporate aircar floated out of the shadows and touched down among
the other vehicles. Nobody objected. Taking a moment to straighten
his hair and his suit, R-Type got out of the car.
"What's going on here?" he asked the first officer he
encountered. The officer, a security guard from his own company, and
a tall, dark-skinned man, turned to face him. Immediately his
wetware identified R-Type as an exec.
"Fire department says something went wrong with a water main on
one of the top floors, sir. Sounds like at least two floors were
completely flooded, and the whole place is a mess."
"Is everyone all right?"
"Don't know, sir. They're checking now."
R-Type glanced toward the entry doors, where water was being
pumped out by several fire hoses and was forming a large lake on the
street and sidewalk. He noted an emergency exit at one side of the
building where several very wet people were being escorted out. They
were being provided with fire blankets, but it was a December
evening, and even South California got cold in wintertime. R-Type
was beginning to shiver a bit himself. He could just imagine what
those poor people were going through--
That's when his attention focused on one particular person who
looked especially out of sorts among the crowd, mainly because she
was obviously in a lot more pain than the others. He put his eyes
into zoom mode and took a closer look. It was her, all right. He
could tell she was very cold and wet, barefoot, and he could already
tell she was in a world of hurt. Shit. Instantly he was in Command
Mode.
"Oi!" he turned to his company's security. "Any fifty-fives
here?"
"Yo," replied the same guard. "I'm a fifty-five. Name's
Thompson. What can I do for you, sir?"
"Come with me! I may need your help."
"Yessir."

<< Depeche Mode: "Blasphemous Rumors" >>

Under these circumstances, the thermal fire blanket simply was
not cutting it for Yuri. She'd been drenched with cold water, and
was now sitting out in the middle of a cold winter night, barefoot
and in clothes which she was certain would have ice crystals forming
on them at any moment. She couldn't stop shivering, and this
certainly didn't help the pain in her ribcage to go away. Oh sure,
the ribs would probably be healed within 24 hours or so, but in the
meantime there was this thing called pain she had to deal with, and
she didn't like it. This was turning out to be one major *SUCK* of a
vacation. She didn't want to start any rumors, but she was quite
certain right now that the Power(s) That Be had a very sick sense of
humor. She was also quite certain that, if she ever died, she would
find him/her/them laughing their asses off. This life was really
fucking funny that way, sometimes.
"Yuri!"
The voice took her attention away from her own problems for a
moment. She recognized it. She turned, and sure enough, it was him.
It was Mr. Mann. He was approaching at a rapid pace, with a
musclebound man in a security uniform right behind him. That uniform
looked familiar to her, but at the moment she was in too much pain to
think about it.
"Are you all right?" he asked as he knelt down in front of her.
It was blatantly obvious she wasn't, but Yuri appreciated the
sentiment.
"No, I am not," she spoke through chattering teeth. "Couple
broken ribs, various cuts and bruises, and it is fucking *freezing*
out here!!"
At that moment a paramedic ran up to them, addressing Mann:
"Please keep back, sir. These patients need medical--" He had been
about to push him away, when the security guard interposed himself
between them.
"Don't touch him," the guard growled, causing the medic to take
a step back.
"That's quite obvious," Mr. Mann addressed the paramedic. He
pressed a couple buttons on his watch and then spoke into it: "Aki,
are there any ambulances on the way yet?"
"Two," a female voice replied. "ETA five minutes."
He paused for a moment, then: "That's not good enough." He
bent down and motioned for Yuri to put her left arm around his
shoulders. She did, wincing from the pain. "I'm taking Miss Daniels
to my company doctor," he said.
"Sir!" the medic protested vehemently. "This woman has several
internal injuries! She needs proper medical care--"
Mann cut him off with a voice that made everyone in proximity
stop to listen. "I am *well* aware of her condition, mister! This
woman is here as a V.I.P. guest of myself and my company, and she
receives *immediate* medical care from *our* facilities while she is
here!"
"Sir, you may be endangering--"
"Thompson!" he said to his guard. Thompson responded by making
himself as large as possible and glaring down at the shorter medic.
"I'd strongly recommend you let Mr. Mann take care of Miss
Daniels himself. Unless of course you want to work somewhere else."
The mention of Mann's name seemed to pull the medic up short.
"Mr... Mann...?" He glanced at Mann, then at Yuri, then at Thompson.
And then he decided that checking on all his other patients was
infinitely more important and hightailed it out of there.
"Thank you, Thompson. I'll take it from here."
"Yessir," Thompson said, and left.
He helped Yuri gingerly over to his car. The car had a
familiar logo on it, but again, Yuri did not feel like thinking about
that now. The passenger door opened automatically as they
approached. "Thank you, Aki," he said. He carefully helped Yuri
down into the passenger's seat, then ran around to the driver's side
and got in. A moment later the car was airborne and headed down the
street, back the way it came.
"Aki, put her on auto and take us home, and turn up the heater.
And turn off the camo while you're at it."
"Will do," the computer answered, and the car began to move on
its own, while he worked the controls of the heating system.
Yuri let out a grateful sigh as a blast of heated air washed
over her body. "Ahhhh... *thank* you."
"Do you need a hospital?" he asked.
"No. This'll all be healed within 24 hours."
"Didn't think so. I figured you wouldn't want to deal with
that whole mess."
"Yeah. I *could* use some painkillers though; this hurts like
a motherfucker." She illustrated her comment with gritted teeth and
tightly closed eyes.
"Okay. I have some painkillers."
Yuri nodded. It occurred to her that she didn't even know
where he was taking her. But in truth, right now she didn't really
give a shit where he was taking her, so long as it was warm and dry.
"Just try to relax," he said. "Even Detians need to sit still
when they're hurt."
"Um," she acknowledged, feeling really tired all of a sudden.
The floating sensation in her ribs was beginning to fade, so the
regeneration had indeed begun. He was right, though: she needed to
stay still for it to really work fast. "Hey," she said. "Who *are*
you, anyway?"
"I told you. Larry Mann. You can call me R-Type, if you
want."
"That's not what I meant."
"Not now, Yuri. Not now. You're in bad shape, and I've got an
anti-sleep chip slotted which will be shutting down shortly. I'm not
gonna be coherent for too much longer. Let's get you taken care of
first, then we can worry about who I am, okay?"
"Uh, yeah." What the hell. She could deal. So he had a
nickname. R-Type. R-Type... where had she heard that name
before...? Well, forget it. He was right: she needed to worry about
herself first. So she tried to relax herself as much as possible and
let R-Type's car carry them onward.
Besides, she *did* still want to get to know him better.

-------------------------------------------------------------FIVE

AMHERST ARCOLOGY
IRVINE, SOUTH CALIFORNIA
2380 DECEMBER 06, 10:13:00

The sensation in her head was that of something soft and warm.
Something next to her was emitting heat; she could feel the warmth
against her naked skin. She enjoyed this. She always enjoyed it.
Or rather him. There was something magical about the whole thing,
about the feel of his body next to hers, about the way he held her
and she him, about all the pleasure they shared, both here and in all
the other things they did in life. She belonged to him, and he to
her. Love for all eternity. It felt so good.
He seemed strangely still, though; it wasn't like him to pass
out like this, even after their wildest lovemaking. She wrapped her
arms around him more tightly, and it seemed as though his body began
to collapse under her grip. What the--?
She became aware of light. Light coming from somewhere, and it
wasn't artificial. And she was alone, clinging very tightly to a
pillow. Shit. Only a damned dream. Shit, shit, shit...
She opened her eyes. The room was bathed in sunlight which
entered from an eastern window. The entire place seemed to be
painted in Basic White. Color came from a wood-simulating desk and
bookcase which rested against the western wall and housed an
impressive workstation and an equally impressive collection of books
and discs. She was lying in a futon with jet-black sheets and
blankets, and a pillow to match. It seemed to just absorb all the
light that hit it. The thing was electric, too. That's where the
heat had been coming from. She could feel the heat against her naked
skin--
Wait a minute. Something vaguely wrong here. She sat up
rapidly and immediately wished she hadn't, as the pain in her side
reasserted itself. It was much quieter than it had been last
evening, however. <Was it last evening?> she wondered. Everything
else had healed completely. Another 12 hours or so would probably do
it.
That, however, was not what concerned her. She yanked the
sheets upward and looked underneath. Yep, she *was* naked. Normally
this would not be a problem; she usually did sleep naked. Trouble
was, she didn't recall taking her clothes off this time. She looked
around. She had no recollection of being brought to this place; the
last thing she remembered was sitting in R-Type's car. She'd lost
consciousness after that. "Great," she muttered. First her luggage
disappears, then she loses her carryon and her shoes when some idiot
decides to play Super Pipe Dream(tm) at the Embassy, and now this.
"What the hell do I do now?"
"Why don't you have some breakfast?" said a male voice. Yuri
jumped and pulled the sheets up so they covered everything but her
head. R-Type was standing in the door, dressed in faded jeans and a
black T-shirt. In one hand he held a skillet which was emitting
sizzling noises and an incredibly delicious smell.
"Morning! Oh yeah, sorry about that," he said, noting Yuri's
situation. "But I figured you'd rather wake up in something warm and
dry." He spoke as if things like this happened every day. "Your
clothes are in the dryer now. Hang on a second." He ran back to the
dining room and set the skillet down on a potholder, then returned to
the bedroom and started digging around in his closet. "Ah, here we
are," he said as he pulled out a black robe with red trim around the
top and handed it to Yuri. "Think this is a little big for you but
it'll do for the next fifteen minutes. Your clothes should be done
by then. Now, care to partake of some incredibly fattening food?"

<< Pet Shop Boys:
"I Wouldn't Normally Do This Kind of Thing" >>

Yuri was momentarily hesitant, as might be expected after
waking up naked in a strange place and being offered food by someone
who was talking to her as if stuff this weird happened every single
day of his life. Shades of Vaughn. But that skillet had, in the
brief time it was in the room, flooded the room with the smell of
cooked bacon. Yuri could feel herself getting fat just from smelling
it. She was also getting extremely hungry, realizing that she hadn't
eaten since around noon yesterday, and right now some bacon and eggs
would taste really good. <Sheesh,> she chided herself. <Why are you
so skittish? He's being nice to you!>
"Sounds good," she said.
"Great! You want me to shut the door?"
"Please," she said, and he closed it and left her alone.
Finding the heat control on the futon, she switched it off. She got
to her feet and stretched very carefully, the recent memory of rib
pain reminding her to take it easy, then slipped the bathrobe on. It
was indeed a few sizes too big, but as he'd said, it would do until
she got her clothes back. She could deal.

SEVERAL MINUTES LATER

One minute there was a platter of steaming bacon and eggs in
front of her, complete with several thick slices of buttered toast
and the obligatory glass of Sunny Delight(tm). All a part of those
nutritious breakfasts they were always advertising in cereal
commercials. (And to that day those commercials were still a
contradiction and a half.) The next minute both plate and glass were
empty.
"Wow," R-Type remarked. "Thought *I* ate fast." He was nearly
finished himself, but this was the first time in recent memory that
someone had finished eating before him.
"Eh heh," Yuri chuckled. "Guess I was a little hungry, huh?"
"Guess so," he agreed. He shoved the last bite of eggs into
his mouth and then started clearing the table. Yuri stood up to help
him and he tried to say "No" but he still had a mouthful of egg. So
for a few seconds he stood there gesticulating and trying
unsuccessfully to swallow. Yuri, for her part, was trying not to
double over laughing. It was, after all, rather rude to double over
laughing while someone was choking to death. It was still damned
funny, though. Fortunately he was able to swallow after a moment and
speak: "No, that's okay. I'll take care of it."
"What a guy," said a female voice from a monitor on the wall.
"Being nice to pretty girls again, are we?"
R-Type adopted a strange accent: "Maximillian, remember. These
are our guests."
"Who's that?" Yuri interjected.
"Ah, just one of my little pet A.I.s. Her name's Jilehr right
now." He indicated a monitor on the wall, on which Yuri could see a
head-and-shoulders image of a brown-haired woman wearing a black
headband and a black cloak.
"Right now?"
"Yeah, she's called Aki when she's not being such a bitch.
Jilehr, why are you being such a bitch?"
"Because I'm *hungry*!" Jilehr snapped.
"I knew I shouldn't have shown her MST the other night," R-Type
commented. "Gypsy's a bad influence."
"This has nothing to do with people or pods," Jilehr
deadpanned. "It has everything to do with hurting."
In unison: "DEEP HURTING! DEEEEEP HURRRTINNNNGGG!!"
"Rock climbing, Crow."
"Sandstorm, Joel."
Yuri was laughing hysterically by this time. She hadn't heard
these jokes in God knew how long.
"I think she likes you, RT."
"Really? I didn't notice."
"By the way, the dryer just shut off. Go get her clothes."
"Yes ma'am," R-Type smirked. "As the bit-- er, *lady*, was
nice enough to inform me, you now have your pants back. If you'll
excuse me for a moment?" And with that he bounded out the front
door.
"Well," said a slightly different voice from the wall. "He
seems to be in good spirits today."
"Huh?" Yuri turned to the monitor and noticed the image had
changed. It was the same woman, but now wearing eyeglasses instead
of a headband, and a white business blouse.
"Hi," she said sweetly. "I'm Aki."
"Um, hello," Yuri said.
"And I'm Jilehr," the other image returned. "Nice to meet
you."
"Um, are there two of you in there?" Yuri asked.
"Sort of. One mind, two personalities," came the answer. "We
switch back and forth depending on the situation," Aki/Jilehr said,
illustrating by switching between her personalities a couple times.
"But we're the same program. R-Type likes his A.I.s to have more
than one personality."
"He's a programmer?"
"More or less," Jilehr answered. "Nowadays he spends most of
his time debugging other people's projects at the company. When he's
not doing that he's writing A.I.s like me."
Well, there was yet another factoid for her brain to chew on.
Now she knew what he did for a living, and obviously that made him
pretty important with whatever company he was working with, if he
could boss people around the way he did. He'd only seemed tough for
that brief moment, though. The rest of the time he was pretty
easygoing. Seemed like she was finding out more and more, but the
pieces still didn't quite fit; she *had* to talk to him when he got
back.
And he wasn't long in coming. He marched into the room
carrying a pile of clothes and chanting: "Pants... pants... ying-
ying-ying-ying-da-pants!" The he stopped, noticed Jilehr giving him
a bad look, mimed grabbing a microphone and said: "Deep hurting!
DEEP HURTING!!"
"Go ahead and sing, panty-waist," Jilehr said. "Soon you're
going to be knee-deep in sand and then it'll be Joel Robinson,
R.I.P."
"Rest in pants?"
Jilehr made a blowing noise, and R-Type feigned a sneezing fit.
Yuri shook her head, putting a hand over her eyes. She *was*
smiling, though. "This is nuts."
"No, I'm nuts," R-Type responded. "She's a computer. But
thanks for the compliment." He fished Yuri's clothes out of the
pile. "Now, would you prefer to change here or in the bathroom?"
"R-Type!" Jilehr admonished.
"Oh, okay, okay..." R-Type sighed.
"Thank you," Yuri said, holding back the urge to laugh again.
"I'll take the bathroom." And she retreated to said location within
the apartment.
"God, that was fun," R-Type commented to no one in particular
after she left. "Somebody who *understands* the jokes! Surreal."
"Not as surreal as Gamera Vs. Zigra," Jilehr offered.
"You're right," R-Type said with a grin on his face.

In the bathroom, Yuri heard them break into song again: "Gamera
is really neat! Gamera is full of meat! We believe in Ga-me-ra!
...spam spam spam SPAM spam spam spam SPAM spam spam spam..."
Sheesh. Was this the same guy she'd met at John Wayne, who'd gotten
her out of that mess at the Embassy? This was getting weirder by the
minute. For a person from the 24th Century he sure had a pretty good
knowledge of MST3k.
Well, whatever was coming next, it definitely wouldn't be
boring.

--------------------------------------------------------------SIX

"I'm sorry. We've got a bad case of the sillies."
- TV's Frank

TWO MINUTES LATER

Yuri was dressed, and could hear them in the middle of Dr.
Forrester and Frank's rendition of that song, when the phone rang.
She left the bathrobe hanging on a hook on the bathroom door and
headed back out. He was apparently on the line with a representative
from Delta, and was being informed that the compensation he'd
requested was available. Not only that, Yuri's bag had arrived on
the early morning flight from Deneb, as promised. Amazing. He said
a polite goodbye and cut the connection, looking very pleased with
himself.
"Heh, guess my little harangue worked, huh?"
"Guess so," Yuri responded.
"Care to join me in retrieving the Wandering Suitcase(tm)?"
"Heh, sure. Y'know, you sure are important around here."
"Yeah," he said, scratching his head. "Guess so. Then again,
you're a pretty big celebrity too, eh? It's really freaky to
actually be having a conversation with the one and only Yuri Daniels.
I know it sounds cliched, but 'I'm a big fan of yours.'"
"You hide it well."
"Inside I'm screaming."
Yuri giggled briefly, then got serious again. "Y'know, you're
a lot different from anybody I've run into in a long time. You
remind me of some of my old friends. I've been meaning to ask you a
lot of questions."
"Yeah, I wouldn't blame you. I'm pretty weird, huh?"
"You sure know a lot of jokes from the 20th Century."
"Yeah, I do, don't I? I was always a big fan of 20th Century
comedy. Nobody around here understands the jokes nowadays, though.
You don't know how good it feels to see someone laugh without having
to explain it to them first."
"Thing is," Yuri said. "I don't know--"
She didn't get any further than that, because the phone rang
again. "Good grief, another call! This is weird," R-Type commented.
He was about to press the RECEIVE button when Aki interjected:
"It's a private channel, R-Type."
"Oh. Okay," he said, picking up an audiophone receiver and
then pressing the RECEIVE button. The monitor did not show a picture
of the caller, only the word "PRIVATE".
"Hello? Yeah? Oh hi, Sylvia. Uh..." He glanced at Jilehr,
watching from another monitor. "Yeah, sorry..." he glanced in Yuri's
direction. "Something's wrong with this monitor." He rapped on the
wall a few times, simulating the pressing of buttons. "Damn! It
ain't working! Oh well, I'll get it fixed Monday. What's up? ...
When?? Oh, brother... What? No, no I can't. No! Sylvia, I'm in
the middle of something else right now. Besides, they know what I
went through this week! ... (sigh) This is ridiculous. Look, can I
just bring it back here? I have comparable equipment here; I'll just
have to convert some of the files afterwards..." He listened again,
then rolled his eyes. "Fine. I gotta buzz by the spaceport, so I'll
be there in about 15 minutes. Have the discs ready."
R-Type hung up the phone, all traces of humor vanished from his
face. "Lovely timing, as usual," he mumbled to no one in particular
as he stormed into the bedroom and grabbed a couple discs from a case
on the computer table. "When will those idiot sysops learn how to
run that mainframe?!" He crammed the discs and a couple other items
into his briefcase and slammed it shut, then headed for the front
door. He didn't look at Yuri, but it was obvious his next sentence
was directed at her: "This'll probably take about 20 minutes. I'll
be back with your bags afterwards."
"Hey, wait a minute! I thought we agreed I was going with
you!"
"NO!" he snapped, making Yuri take a step backward. Then he
caught himself. "Sorry, Yuri. I'm sorry, but I don't want you to go
with me now."
"Why not??"
R-Type started to say something, then stopped. Then he tried
again: "Look, just take a look at my bookcases. I'll try and explain
when I get back, okay?"
And with that he was out the door once again. Yuri watched him
go, visibly perplexed. It was as if a switch had been thrown and all
the previous humor and good cheer had been abruptly silenced, leaving
only the dead-serious corporate executive she'd seen the night before
at the Embassy.
"Is he all right?" Yuri asked Jilehr. Jilehr shrugged and
rolled her eyes.
"Let's just say he's surrounded by assholes. They messed up a
project he's been working on non-stop for the last couple days. Now
he has to repair some of the files again. He can get really mean
when someone screws up his schedules."
"Does he always get like this?"
"That was a lot worse than usual. He usually takes mistakes
like that pretty well, but I guess they really stepped on a nerve
this time. He occasionally has a nuclear outburst or two. Oh, he
just apologized again, by the way."
"Huh?"
"I'm in his car, too. Remember?"
"Oh yeah. Um... tell him I'll take a look at the bookcase."
Aki paused for a moment. "Done."

"Y'know, that was kind of a bonehead move," Jilehr said.
"Yeah, no shit," R-Type said as he swung the car around a
corner, scaring the shit out of several pedestrians below him.
"Think I didn't notice??"
"Calm down," Jilehr replied. "You think it was such a good
idea to just invite her to dig through the bookcases like that?"
"If I wanted to protect something--"
"Exactly my point! You sure you didn't overlook something that
maybe you *should* keep covered up??"
"Jilehr, I know *exactly* what's in those bookcases. This has
gotta happen, okay? I may never get a chance like this again."
"Whatever," Jilehr sighed. "She accepted your apology, BTW."
"Thanks. I just hope I'm not about to commit the most
incredibly huge fuck-up of my entire life."

So he didn't want her around when he got to wherever he worked.
Why would he get so ticked about something like that? Yuri didn't
have enough information to answer that, other than his little
suggestion that she should "take a look at his bookcases". Yuri
shrugged. There wasn't a hell of a lot else she could do other than
sit around waiting for him to show up with her bags. He was doing a
good job of covering every persona type from Coolguy to Dickweed.
In any case, the answers (hopefully) were in the bookcases in
his bedroom.

------------------------------------------------------------SEVEN

<< Jesus Jones: "Who? Where? Why?" >>

The bookcases were most certainly replete with information:
discs and datapads and all kinds of electronic toys which probably
would have made a techno-freak in the 1990s collapse in screaming
orgasms, and several binders which had handwritten labels on them.
Yuri was quite certain she would gain a wealth of information about a
man named R-Type from this collection of material. One of the
datapacks which captured her attention first had "Aki/Jilehr" written
on its side. She pulled it out and looked at the handwritten cover:

MANN SYSTEMS MULTIPERSONA ARTIFICIAL
INTELLIGENCE PROJECTS

PROJECT #AJ-2: Aki/Jilehr

Mann Systems? No, that couldn't be right. Mann Systems was an
ancient corporation. They had come into existence around late 1991
or so. At least that's when the public became aware of them. They'd
invented the BioSculpt(tm) Tank and a few other goodies which GENOM
had gotten their hands on and used to make one hell of a mess for the
WDF. Mann Systems was always a hard company to spot, since it was
small, always low-profile, and overshadowed by GENOM, its primary
customer. And then, about 100 years ago, GENOM had actually
purchased the company and it vanished from existence. Yuri wasn't
sure of the dates; as previously stated, Mann Systems was a small
group. She figured he was using the name because he'd never heard of
the company. Big deal; most of the mundanes in this day and age
probably hadn't heard of it either. Just GENOM. GENOM and Largo and
their knack for consuming and controlling everything that--
She stopped short. One of the older-looking binders caught her
eye. Printed on the spine was a large acronym she knew all too well:

G. E. N. O. M.

GENOM? The binder had that acronym and a logo on it, all right. It
also had "Mann" written on it in faded black ink. Did R-Type have
some kind of connection with GENOM? It would certainly explain why
he had so much clout in this city. It might also explain why he'd
gone to so much effort to keep her from getting close to his
workplace. Showing up at a GENOM facility probably would be
hazardous to her health. The notion that R-Type might be associated
with GENOM was not sitting well with her.
There was something written underneath the acronym, also a bit
faded. She peered at it a little closer:

PROJECT I.C.Z.E.R.

I.C.Z.E.R.?? Waaaait a minute. Something wrong here. She yanked
the binder out of the bookshelf, nearly sending a couple more
cascading down onto the computer monitor. There was no printing of
any kind on the cover, so she opened it and checked out the title
page:

I. C. Z. E. R.

INDIVIDUAL CYBERNETIC ZYGOTE ENHANCEMENT RESEARCH

Final Report: Functionality Analysis
for
Iczer-1

G.E.N.O.M. BIOCYBERNETICS OPERATIONS DIVISION

in conjunction with
MANN SYSTEMS

Ian Astbury, Ph.D.
Nagisa Kano, M.S.
Lawrence Mann
Jennifer "Cobalt" Ochoa, Ph.D.

1991

Yuri arched an eyebrow. A 400-year old GENOM report? She knew
the ICZER project, of course; the whole damn WDF knew the project,
nearly having been hosed by one of its creations, Iczer-2, and saved
by another, Iczer-1, who then explained the project to them. And one
of the designers was "Lawrence Mann"... could "Lawrence" be a formal
name for--?
Forget it. Put it on the back burner. It's 400 years old, for
crying out loud. Probably a gift -- yahright -- from his great
grandfather or something like that. Or maybe he hacked into a GENOM
BioCybe machine and grabbed it for some reason. Maybe because it had
his name on it? Either that or he actually works for GENOM...
For some reason she found herself not wanting to believe that
R-Type might actually work for GENOM. He certainly didn't fit the
profile of a Largo-worshipping corporate exec that she imagined the
entire staff of GENOM to be (except perhaps for those few moments
just now, and when he was pushing everyone around that night, but
that was to help her). Still, she had to consider that possibility
or she might not get any answers. GENOM BioCybe... The logo on his
car, and that guy Thompson's security uniform... a GENOM logo design.
And she noticed the GENOM acronym was indeed printed on several of
the other binders. "Oh brother..." she mumbled. She didn't like
where this was going.
"Something wrong?" Aki asked, and Yuri jumped, having forgotten
that there was an A.I. in the building.
"Uh, no," she replied haltingly. "Nothing."
Maybe he did work for GENOM... Maybe it really didn't matter
who he worked for. He was a nice person, and a gentleman.
She decided to forget the computer table for now. The bookcase
seemed to be a GENOM-free environment, with all kinds of personal
stuff. Checking out the bookcase, she first encountered a rack of
CDs, many of them 20th-Century, which she remembered seeing, and
listening to, in the collections of the Rats. Depeche Mode, Dokken,
Def Leppard, Ozzy Osbourne, R.E.M., Enya... <20th-Century buff?> she
wondered. He had said he was a big fan of 20th-Century comedy. That
could include music, too. She noticed a book whose spine read "WDF:
The Golden Age". She pulled it out and looked at it. All kinds of
pictures and biography about the WDF, featuring her and the rest of
the SDF-17's bridge crew in many of the photos. There was even a
whole chapter devoted to the music and adventures of Card No. 1, the
band they'd put together. So he was into the WDF's history in a
big way.
Books, books, and more books directly below. First came the
books in English: Greg Bear, Stephen King, Isaac Asimov, Frank
Herbert, Piers Anthony... <Make that *major* 20th-Century sci-fi
freak!> Next came a Japanese manga collection which, stacked in two
layers, took up a whole two shelves. She noticed that 9/10 of it was
by the same artist, somebody named Johji Manabe. She pulled one of
the volumes out to look at the artwork, and that's when she noticed
the copyright date: 1989. She pulled out some others: they were all
from 198x and 199x. They showed signs of age, too, as though they'd
been around for quite a while. <Uh? These are originals. Where'd
he get all this stuff?> Below that, a collection of various RPG
books -- she recognized the Shadowrun and Cyberpunk books that Zoner
also had. Ars Magica, MegaTraveller, Champions... Again, all from
199x. <Wait a minute. There is *way* too much 1990s stuff here,>
she thought. <And *all* this stuff is original. No refabrications
or replications.>
This was supposed to be giving her answers. Instead it was
making her ask more questions. <Sheesh. Well, keep at it. Maybe
you'll hit something.>
The name on another book spine was what got her attention:
"Larry Mann". No way. She pulled the book out and looked at the
back cover.
It was an older version of him (mid 30s), wearing a suit
jacket, and with *much* longer hair, draped over his left shoulder in
the style of Kasumi Tendo. She flipped the book over and read the
front cover: "RESURRECTION: A Story of the Perseus Chronicles". The
Perseus Chronicles... she remembered reading these stories during
off hours on the Son, in the early 2000s; the entire series had been
a really big hit in the sci-fi community in those days. Maybe he
collected things that had his name on them? The author of the
Chronicles did have the same name as R-Type, after--
Wait a minute... Wasn't there someone on the Net that Gryphon
and Zoner had talked to for a while, between 1990 and the 2010s...
she and Kei had talked with him a couple times, too. And hadn't he
called himself... "R-Type"...? *That's* where she'd heard that
nickname before... No way, could it be possible--?
<STOP!> she told herself. Time for a Vaughn Check. (It should
have been "Reality Check," of course, but Vaughn was Reality, after
all.) This whole thing was getting *extremely* weird. She felt like
she was falling into a time warp in which a whole bunch of things
from different time periods all existed at the same time. She felt
like she was going back to that year in Worcester, A.D. 1991, going
back to a day when she'd met a tall heavy-set fellow named Brian--
No, don't think about that. Back to reality. You're finding
out about R-Type, remember? Trouble was, the more information she
accessed, the more confused she got. Why couldn't she figure him
out? For a brief moment she wondered if she was going insane after
90 years by herself. Maybe this whole business was one extremely,
horribly vivid, bad fucking dream. She pinched herself and got a
pain message, but the scene did not change.
Fuck.

MEANWHILE...

"I hope you're not planning on staying out too much longer,"
Jilehr spoke with a wary edge to her voice.
"Trust me," R-Type replied, shoving his briefcase into the
trunk of his car, on top of a handleless lime-green suitcase. "I am
on my way back! Soon!"
He got the car in gear and hauled ass out of the University.
And once again, in the back of his mind, he still wondered if he was
committing some sort of singularly huge, and irreversible, fuck-up.
He was taking a big chance, and he knew it.
He could only hope that he wasn't going to lose everything
after this was over.

------------------------------------------------------------EIGHT

"Kore wa nani o shimasu ka?"
- Yuri, a few minutes after her creation

Yuri retreated to the living room carrying a guitar case. It
was with considerable relief that she'd found the thing in his
bedroom. It was about the only thing in the area that wasn't
confusing the hell out of her right now. In the midst of a totally
surreal situation, this object gave her a semi-rational base to work
from. She needed that rationale now, being as confused as she was.
She'd seen some things in there that she felt ought to make sense,
but they didn't. If R-Type were a Detian she could explain some of
what she'd seen quite easily. But he was no Detian; the power of
Omega-2 had never ventured beyond the core staff of the Wayward Son.
Even if he were a Detian, though, there would still be a lot of
unanswered questions, like "What do you know about Iczer-1?", to name
just one.
She realized that this mysterious person who was R-Type could
not possibly be explained by anyone except R-Type himself. (In much
the same way only Vaughn could explain himself, albeit in a way only
he could deal with.) She didn't have many options other than waiting
for him to return and, as he'd promised, explain everything. And she
didn't feel like conversing with his A.I. She'd scanned his room for
something to combat the next moments of boredom that would follow,
and had hit upon this instrument. Awfully convenient that he played
guitar (she'd seen some drum rhythm books in there, too). This could
pass the time.
She wasn't disappointed, either. Setting the case on the
floor, she undid the snaps and opened it, revealing one of the most
beautiful acoustic guitars she'd ever seen. It was a Martin, an old
classic. (Another 20th-Century item, but she quickly deleted that
piece of information from her awareness, changing it to "Somebody in
the Wedge had a guitar like that.") She grasped it by the neck and
lifted it gently out of the case, resting it on her knees. A pick
was stuck under the strings at the tuning end of the neck, and she
worked it free. She plucked each string once and the guitar made the
correct sound each time. R-Type obviously kept this guitar tuned on
a regular basis. She strummed all the strings once and was rewarded
with a rich, beautiful sound. She spent a couple minutes plucking
strings and fretting chords at random, to get a feel for this guitar,
and to get in a playing mood.
She began sifting through the numerous tunes she'd memorized
over the years, looking for something that fit the mood, something
that made her feel better when she was feeling uneasy. Nothing
surfaced right away. There had to be *something* there, she knew.
She dug a little deeper through her memories, searching for a moment
which would help a song rise to the surface.
It wasn't what she had in mind, but she found it:

* * *

WDF WAYWARD SON

SOMETIME DURING THE GOLDEN AGE

The general consensus was that it had been an incredibly Good
Day(tm). The Kilrathi had been trying to lay claim to a system
called Lenorica, a system of worlds which were all lifeless but with
a mineral/ore content that most certainly contained every single
element on the periodic table. Whoever had that system could make a
serious shitload of credits off the mining rights, not mention get
enough alloys and minerals to boost their economy for Goddess knew
how long. And build a Dyson Sphere around the system's Class B9
blue-giant star, and you could harness some major solar power.
The Kilrathi wanted that system to patch up what was currently
a somewhat screwed war machine. Unfortunately for them, the
Salusians wanted it too, for more peaceful reasons (like building a
few new starbases and colonies), and *they* showed up with a very
healthy armada of cruisers. Led by the SDF-17.
Needless to say, the Kilrathi were fucked, but they weren't
going to give up without a fight, so the two armadas went at it just
beyond the orbit of the outermost planet. By the time it was over
the Salusians and the Son had suffered minor casualties, mostly to
their fighter pilots. (They lost a couple cruisers, and a Salusian
craft carrier took a real pounding.) As for the Kilrathi, there was
general consensus that it would be at least 20 years before there was
a functional Salthi or Drakhri fighter anywhere in the Empire, and
there would be no spaceworthy Kilrathi vessels in that sector of
space for awhile, long enough for the Salusians to set up a good
defense network, in any case.
Needless to say, the Son's crew were slightly pleased. Pleased
enough to warrant a, uh, small party or two. Okay, okay, so the Son
was converted into one big dance floor for about 12 hours afterward,
and they invited all the crews from the Salusian armada over. It
depends on what your definition of a small party is, I guess.
Eventually the Salusians retired to their own fleet to make
preparations for starting several mining colonies, and the majority
of the Son's crew retired to their own quieter (more or less) private
get-togethers. The wee hours of the night cycle found some of the
band members of Card No. 1 goofing around in the captain's quarters,
which had been converted into a makeshift studio for the evening:

"Gaah," Yuri said as a rather non-harmonious collection of
sounds spilled out of her acoustic.
"Ulch," Gryphon cringed semi-involuntarily. "That didn't sound
too healthy."
"It's that stupid G7-minor or whatever the hell this damned
chord is," Yuri quipped to no one in particular, glaring at her left
hand as if it belonged to someone else. "You can't go from a D-major
to that thing without tying your fingers in a knot!"
"Sure you can," Zoner cut in. "Watch this." He picked up his
own acoustic and went through a bizarre chord progression that would
have made Jose Feliciano wince. Dmaj to G7-min to Amaj to Fmaj to B-
flat-min and so on and so forth for about 30 seconds, and at a speed
which, had Yuri tried to play it that fast, she probably *would* have
tied her fingers in knots.
Gryphon and Yuri just looked at him while he had his private
little jam, and when he finished they just rested chins in hands and
spoke in unison: "Showoff."
Zoner grinned. "Seriously, Yuri, what you need to do is get
your fingers into position while you're moving your hand across the
frets. Like this:" He played a D-major, then shifted to the G7-
minor at a reduced speed so Yuri could see what he was doing. Yuri
nodded. She reconfigured her hand for a D-major and played it, then
went for the G7 again, but her fingers didn't move until she was in
position for the new chord, and she missed a couple of the strings.
Again, an unharmonious sound came out of the guitar.
"Bleagh," Yuri complained, hanging her head.
"Hmmm," Zoner remarked. "OK, let me show you." He got up and
motioned for her to stand up. She did, and he moved across the room
and sat down on the bed, where she had been, then motioned for her to
sit in front of him, with her back towards him.
"Whassa matter, Yuri?" said a voice in the vicinity of the
drum set. "Don'cha know how ta use yer fing'rs?"
"I know how to use my fingers just *fine*, Kei," Yuri said to
her slightly smashed partner, illustrating by raising her middle
finger.
"Heh, I'll bet," Kei said with a wicked grin, her cheeks
visibly red from the rather high quantity of vodka and assorted other
alcoholic beverages in her system. "Zoner ain't enuff for ya?"
"Kei!" Gryphon said in semi-mock admonishment. "Be nice!"
"Me? Nice? HAH!" She took another swig from the bottle she
was holding. Gryphon just looked at Yuri and shrugged, a sheepish
grin on his face. Yuri rolled her eyes, then returned her attention
to what Zoner was doing. From this position he could reach around
and move her hands into the proper positions on the guitar.
"See," he said, covering her left hand with his own and moving
her fingers through the entire shift. "You gotta move all your
fingers at once for a shift like this one. Kinda like getting a
firing solution on a Salthi, y'know? Everything's gotta be in the
right place when you get there or there's no way you'll hit it.
You're starting to get calluses, by the way." He grinned.
"Heh," Kei spoke up. "Workin' those fingers hard, huh? BWA HA
HA HA--"
Gryphon, Zoner, and Yuri returned her drunken laughing fit with
one that was obviously faked. Then they stopped, and all three mimed
grabbing microphones and chorused: "DEEP HURTING! DEEEP
HURTINNNNGGG!!"
"Heh heh. BLEAGH!" Kei stuck her tongue out at them, then took
another drink.
Gryphon glanced at Zoner with an arched eyebrow. "Y'know, the
Mads said this was gonna be bad, and you know what?"
Gryph, Zoner, and Yuri, in unison: "THEY'RE RIGHT!!"
Kei tried to slink over to Gryphon but managed only an
epileptic wobble. In attempt to grab hold of him she only managed to
latch onto one of the legs of the chair he was seated in. "Whassa
matter, beau'ful? Don'cha like me anymore?"
Gryphon set his guitar down, then leaned down and lifted Kei up
to eye level with him, bringing his face very close to hers, looking
her squarely in her soft brown eyes with his own ice-blue ones. "I
love you very, very much, Kei." He kissed her gently on the lips.
"Now go to sleep or I won't speak to you for the rest of the
evening."
Kei suddenly went limp in his arms and collapsed to the floor.
"Uh?" Gryphon commented. He double-checked; she was indeed
unconscious. Zoner and Yuri were equally surprised.
"How'd you do that?" Zoner asked.
"I don't *know*..." Gryphon said. "I just... *did* it." He
looked at Kei's unconscious form for another moment, then shrugged
and picked up his guitar again. "Oh well."
"Oh well," Zoner and Yuri echoed, and Yuri went back to that
chord progression. She gave it a total of three more tries. The
third shot was the charm, oddly enough, and she was rewarded with a
hug from Zoner when she got it right. Gryphon broke into applause;
it seemed the appropriate thing to do.
"Phoo," Yuri exhaled sharply. "That was fun." Her voice
suggested the exact opposite.
"Okay," Gryphon agreed. "Let's do something easier."
"Better make this the last one, Gryph," Zoner said, stifling a
yawn. "I think Kei's got the right idea."
"Aww..." Gryphon said, a little petulant, but he could hear his
bed calling to him too. "Oh, okay." He thought for a minute, trying
to decide what would be a good 'last song' after all the parties. He
glanced at Yuri sitting on the bed, with Zoner holding onto her, and
the God of Music Selection spoke to him. It wasn't a song he would
usually play as a closer to a night of partying, but this time it
seemed appropriate. He grinned: "Yuri, if you'd care to join me?"
He started playing a song that was really meant to be played on
a keyboard, but Yuri recognized it easily. She loved this song.
Zoner loved it too. "Good choice," he commented to Gryphon.
Yuri immediately set to work playing a gentle acoustic
accompaniment to go with Gryphon's electric, while Zoner just wrapped
his arms around her midriff so as not to interfere with her playing.
Then Gryphon started in with the words, in an appropriately soft
voice:

I want somebody to share, share the rest of my life,
share my innermost thoughts, know my intimate details.
Someone to stand by my side, and give me support,
and in return, she'll get my support.

She will listen to me, when I want to speak
about the world we live in, or life in general.
Though my views may be wrong, they may even be perverted,
she'll hear me out, and she won't easily be converted
to my way of thinking, in fact she'll often disagree,
but at the end of it all, she will understand me, oh...

While Gryphon had fun with the between-stanza solo, Zoner pulled Yuri
closer to him and gave her a gentle kiss on the neck. Somehow she
managed to turn her head and kiss him on the lips without losing her
place in the song. Neat trick if you can manage it. Zoner held her
even closer, and she could feel his warmth against her as the next
stanza approached...

* * *

AMHERST ARCOLOGY

2380 DECEMBER 06

The song was forcing its way out of her now, and she couldn't
stop it. She felt very cold. This was taking her through pain she'd
been trying to avoid all this time, but it was as if her hands were
playing the melody on their own, and her vocal cords operated by
themselves. This little drama was going to play itself out, whether
she liked it or not. And so she sang the song through to its end:

I want somebody who cares for me passionately,
with every thought and with every breath.
Someone who'll help me see things in a different light;
all the things I detest I will almost like.

I don't want to be tied to anyone's strings,
I'm carefully trying to steer clear of those things.
And when I'm asleep, I want somebody who
will put their arms around me and kiss me tenderly...

When lil' things like this make me sick,
in a case like this I'll get away with it. Oh...

Her voice cracked on the last line, and she swallowed hard to
prevent the sob that was welling up, in the process sending a tear
flowing out of each eye. Why the fuck did she have to remember
*that* moment, of all things? Her last attempt at preserving some
sanity was failing. Why had she taken this damn vacation? She
didn't have to deal with all this crap while she was working; she
could shelve it and keep a veneer of professionalism up. It was like
a defense, a shield. She didn't have that now; the environment had
created an atmosphere of confusion which had successfully knocked
down almost all her defenses over the course of the last 24 hours.
And the pain was still waiting there, damnably there, waiting for her
like a Kilrathi in Bloodlust Mode, ready to spring at any moment.
She noticed then, out of the corner of her eye, that the front
door was now open. R-Type had closed it when he left. And now she
became aware of another presence in the room. Shit. Trying to
regain some semblance of composure, she turned around.
He was leaning against the wall which separated the kitchen
from the living room. At his feet sat her suitcase, undamaged except
for the loss of its handle. He held her carryon in his left hand,
still damp from the other night's festivities. She noticed that his
right hand was bandaged now. She wondered how long he'd been
standing there; he was so quiet...

<< Enya: "Exile" >>

"That was pretty good," he said softly. The voice was neither
the fun-loving persona nor the tough businessman; she could feel
something much more pained radiating from him now. It was threatening
to bring her own emotion out, but she bit it back. She had to maintain
control, keep her sanity, keep an air of professionalism, keep this
situation semi-rational... There was only one question she could think
of to manage that:
"What happened to your hand?" she asked as she leaned his
guitar against the beanbag chair adjacent to the couch.
"Your carryon was pretty messed up," he answered. "I was
pulling some stuff out of it to dry it off (hope you don't mind), and
I got cut by the Card. Didn't know it was in there."
"Card?"
R-Type reached (carefully) into one of his front pants pockets,
withdrew what looked like an ace of Hearts and handed it to her. It
was no ordinary ace, of course, what with its Tegnoid(tm) physical
makeup and its ion drive, not to mention monomolecular-sharp edges.
That last fact was definitely not something you wanted to learn about
the hard way, as R-Type unfortunately had.
Yuri just held the Bloody Card(tm) in her hands and stared down
at it. Her eyes kept focusing on the small monogram in one corner:

MZ.

R-Type noticed her lower lip quivering, and began feeling a
strange sense of deja vu that he didn't like. He was always so
scared of fucking up in situations like this, and this time there was
a hell of a lot more at stake than just emotions. Should he say
something? Do something?
"Not yet?" he finally asked, so softly that she barely heard.
"What?"
<God have mercy on me,> he said to himself. To Yuri: "He
still... hasn't come back?"
Bang. A cannonball had hit the last defense wall and it was
weakening. She choked back another sob; she was *not* going to lose
it, goddamn it, not here, not now. She knew how painful it had been
in the early days; she didn't want to experience that again...

* * *

<"So you just followed your feelings, despite Kei's testimony
and the video evidence?">
<"Yes.">
<"Your judgement is better than the rules the WDF supposedly
follow then?">

* * *

<No, goddamn it, get out of my head!> The memory had awakened
of its own accord. Yuri tried to make it go away.

* * *

<"...On top of that, because of your actions, I have lost Kei,
another valued friend. But both of those losses pale in comparison to
the third.">
<"Which is?">
<"I have lost the one person whom I have loved the most...">

* * *

<No! Damn you!> she cursed her brain. <Stop it!!>

* * *

<"...Without trust I cannot share my love.">
<"Zoner... You can't mean that... I love you...">
<"And I loved you. It hurts me more than you could ever know
to do this. But I cannot allow myself to be hurt like this again.
Love is something that I cannot afford to feel. Never.">

* * *

<NO!> she screamed in her mind. She was losing it. Her brain
was replaying the scene and she had no power to stop it. She tried
frantically to place some other image into her awareness, but none of
her normal defenses were there to help her, and that horrible moment
arose over all, continually increasing in size and volume. It was as
if he were screaming those last awful words in her ears: IF I CANNOT
TRUST YOU, I CAN TRUST NO ONE BUT MYSELF. FAREWELL, YURI...
She didn't even realize that she was trembling, her eyes
tightly shut. All her awareness had shifted inward as her brain
continued to loop through the sequence against her will. The last
defense wall was crumbling. If it fell, she knew she would go
insane. She couldn't let that happen; she couldn't lose control.
The only thing that shocked her out of that suicidal loop was
the sensation of something grabbing onto her wrists. Her eyes
snapped open, her awareness snapped back to the present.
Instinctively she tried to pull away, but he had a firm grip on her
wrists and showed no signs of letting go. She yanked harder, nearly
slashing him with the card which she still held in her hands, but he
held on.
"Stop!!" he fairly shouted in his commanding corporate voice.
She stopped. It was as if his voice had paralyzed her. She realized
then how fast her heart was beating, how wide her eyes were, how
badly she was shaking. He just stared at her. She could make out
the little Kiroshi logos on his hazel-brown cyberoptics as they bore
into her own hazel-blue eyes. Those eyes might have been artificial,
but they were still windows to his soul. And she could feel
something emanating from him: pain. She felt it, and she knew it all
too well. Pain which, somehow, was just like her own: the pain of
several lifetimes, of horrible loneliness, of betrayal, of loss. And
especially, of complete and utter helplessness.
On the lower lid of one of his eyes, she could see a drop of
moisture appearing. And then he spoke, his voice carefully modulated
but still twinged with that pain she sensed:
"Please... Let it out."

To start avalanche, pull keystone.

Boom.

---------------------------------------------------------INTERLUDE

[NOTE: During the following song, several images of various times
are going through Yuri's mind: days at Worcester, years of the
Golden Age, the days of the breakup, that scene from _Solitude_.
Use your imagination, dear reader; what do *you* think she's
going through?]

INTERLUDE:: Pet Shop Boys, "Dreaming of the Queen"

Dreaming of the Queen,
visiting for tea.
You and her and I,
and Lady Di.

The Queen said "I'm aghast.
Love never seems to last,
however hard you try."
And Di replied

That there were no more lovers left alive.
No one has survived.
So there were no more lovers left alive
and that's why love has died.

Yes, it's true. Look, it's happened to me and you.

The carriages arrived.
We stood and said goodbye.
Diana dried her eyes,
and looked surprised.

For I was in the nude.
The old Queen disapproved.
But people laughed and asked for autographs.

And there were no more lovers left alive.
No one had survived.
So there were no more lovers left alive
and that's why love had died.

Yes it's true. Look, it's happened to me and you.

I woke up in a sweat, decerbate.

For there were no more lovers left alive
No one had survived
So there were no more lovers left alive
and that's why love had died.

Yes it's true. Look, it's happened to me and you.

-------------------------------------------------------------NINE

Time passed. R-Type couldn't be sure of the time, and he
didn't particularly care about it either. All he cared about right
now was holding onto Yuri. Nothing else mattered.
He had pulled her close and hugged her as tightly as he could.
She had tensed for a moment and tried to pull away, but in the next
instant her last resistance fell, and she had collapsed against him,
huge sobs wracking her body so strongly it looked as though she were
having a seizure. R-Type knew better. He knew the pain that had
been stabbing through her for the past 90-some odd years. And he
*hated* himself for knowing *exactly* why she was in that pain.
The last wall had fallen, and all that pain had come screaming
out, lashing out at her with a horrible vengeance, tearing her apart,
shredding everything that she believed, everything that she had built
over the years as a defense against that horrible moment from her
past. She had worked so hard to keep it suppressed, to keep it
caged. It was a dangerous animal which would interfere with her life
if it were let loose. But the longer it was caged, the more
dangerous it got, the tension building with each passing year. And
now, through a bizarre chain of circumstances only the Power Above
could possibly explain, it had been released. And all hell had
broken loose. She'd lost control of her mind, her body, and her
emotion.
The pain had left her helpless in its grip. Everything was
shunted from her awareness except for the pain, the shame. Here it
was for the whole universe to see now. Her shame.
There was something else, though. Someone was holding her.
There was another soul nearby, from which she could feel that same
pain. There was somebody else out there who felt this way. And he
was embracing her. In her current state she didn't really know who
he was, or why he was holding her.
All she knew was that she didn't want him to stop. Ever.
And he didn't stop. He rocked her back and forth gently. She
could feel his arms wrapped around her, his hands running through her
soft black hair, his voice sending soft soothing noises to her ears.
And she kept hearing the words, whispered, choked with emotion: "Let
it out, Yuri. Let it out."
And she did. He just held her close, felt her clinging to him,
trembling, her sobs shaking both of them. She could feel the
moisture from her eyes soaking his shirt. And he could feel wetness
running down his own cheeks.
Maybe now he could finally atone for what he had done.

<< Simon and Garfunkel: "Bridge Over Troubled Water" >>

After what seemed like both an eternity and an instant, the
flood began to subside, the bulk of its energy expended in that first
horrific blast. Yuri's breathing began to steady, and her grip on R-
Type began to loosen as her body began to relax. He initially took
this as a cue to release her, but when he started to do so she
tightened her grip again, and so he kept his arms wrapped tightly
around her.
A few moments later she had finally gone silent again, her
breathing slow and steady. She felt as though all the life had
drained out of her, leaving her a hollow shell, a huge emptiness.
She felt naked. She also felt strangely relieved.
"Yuri..." R-Type spoke in a whisper.
"Mm?" It was the only sound she could manage.
"I... There's so much I need to tell you. I'm so sorry for
everything I did..." He was clearly having trouble speaking. What
was that bit about being so sorry for something, though? The things
he'd done that day were hardly anything to get so upset over.
"Wh... what do you mean...?"
"I need to tell you... about my life. Some...something I
did... ninety years ago..."
He *did* say "90". She was *quite* certain of that. She
pulled away from him, and for a moment they just looked into each
others' tear-stained eyes. She could sense that pain, that guilt.
And she could sense love.
And she knew in that moment that she could trust him. He was
not faking any of this. In a universe of hate and betrayal, somebody
with a heart had appeared. And he was opening to her.
"Not now, Larry," she whispered. "Just... just hold me." She
fell against him again and once more they were locked together in an
embrace. She heard a small sob escape from him, and she felt his
head leaning against her shoulder. She rested her head against his
shoulder, as one small, final wave of anguish seeped over the jetty.
Goddess knew how long it had been since she'd been held like this.
Goddess knew how long it had been since R-Type had held anyone like
this.
And in silence, the last of the pain was released.
At long last, liberation.

--------------------------------------------------------------TEN

CORONA DEL MAR PUBLIC BEACH
CORONA DEL MAR, SOUTH CALIFORNIA

<< Pet Shop Boys: "To Speak Is A Sin" >>

They sat together at a table which overlooked the small beach
cove which was Corona del Mar. It was one of the smallest, and also
one of the most well-maintained beaches in South California. Being
the middle of a Saturday, the beach was a bit crowded. The overlook
where R-Type and Yuri sat, however, was very quiet, which made it
easier for them to talk.
When she had finally expressed a desire to hear his story, he
had gone to the bedroom and shoved several of the GENOM binders into
a duffel bag, then grabbed a couple other things, and they'd headed
out the door. Thirty minutes later they'd arrived at this place. R-
Type had secured his car and then, after reassuring Aki/Jilehr
repeatedly that he was not going to commit suicide, shut off the
car's internal computer, and left his watch inside the car when he
locked it. He had cut himself off from everyone except Yuri. They
had agreed to tell each other about what they had been through, both
having a strong desire to release their respective stories. R-Type
had agreed to tell his tale first.
His story had begun in 1991. Yes, 1991. And that apparently
made him 409 years old, but he assured her he would explain that. It
was unnerving to Yuri how so many of these stories started in 1991.
Granted that was the Year of the HoloDECstation, but that whole
business had been confined to Worcester, or so she thought. R-Type
was from California, but his life had also been altered. It was as
if that date were the central focus of the entire time continuum
itself. On the other hand it could just be an incredible
coincidence. (The real reason for it all, she would not learn until
several years from then.) In any case, 1991 was when it had started,
with the destruction of Worcester.
People in California, and the nation, were scared shitless
until it was proved that the destruction was a nuclear accident.
That wasn't the weird part, though; R-Type could deal with a nuclear
reactor going bad and torching a city. Suddenly a corporation named
GENOM had appeared, seeking out the "best and brightest" from
colleges all across the nation, and later the world. Most people
didn't know what GENOM was, and in fact the city of Irvine -- a
planned community which was a haven for corporate business --
welcomed the corporation with open arms, much to the chagrin of the
very few anime fans who lived in that city. R-Type, a Computer
Science student at the University of California at Irvine, was one of
those fans.
Those who *were* anime fans, were outright astonished when they
learned that R-Type had signed up to take the aptitude tests that
GENOM was offering, free of charge (if you can believe that) to its
applicants. How could he do such a thing? they had asked. It seemed
like a betrayal. But R-Type, who was on academic probation at the
time, and on the verge of being kicked out of UCI and forsaken by his
already shattered family, saw it as a possible escape from the
horrible mess he was in. He had nothing to lose, and nobody to care
about except himself. And so he took the tests.
48 hours later he was contacted by a GENOM representative, who
wanted to arrange for a physical examination so he could be
considered for an entry-level position after he graduated. R-type
was mildly surprised, given that he had fared so horribly in the math
section of the tests (which was the prime reason he was failing at
UCI). Nevertheless the rep said GENOM was interested in him, and
wanted to consider him. So he submitted to the examination.
Afterwards he was sent back to his dorm with a promise that the
rest of his education (and all his existing debts) would be paid for.
He was told to study his math a little harder. Not one to renege
after being given such an incredible offer, R-Type pulled out his old
Calculus books...
...and found to his utter astonishment that math had suddenly
become an extremely easy thing. He could decipher calculus and trig
problems in an instant, and the mathematical concepts behind computer
science, once so forbidding, became so simple. He was certain that
GENOM had done something to him while he was unconscious during part
of the physical examination. But obviously it was something he
should keep secret: blabbing about it might jeopardize GENOM's offer.
He went sailing back into the ICS (Information and Computer
Science) curriculum, and his GPA shot back up. All of a sudden he
was outdistancing all his classmates in mathematics scores, and he
was solving system design and programming problems with ease. He
began taking extremely intense workloads, as much as six classes at a
time. Everyone was scared that he would burn out (at UCI, having
more than four classes, especially in ICS, was pushing it), but with
the roadblock of math eliminated, his workaholic side was able to
tear up everything they could throw at him with ease. Never once did
he stress out.
By the end of the quarter he was on the Honor List. GENOM
advanced him a considerable sum of cash, with which he paid off his
existing debts and loans, and cleared his snowballing credit cards of
all debt. His graduation date, previously expected to be June 1993,
was moved up to December 1992. The change was that dramatic. When
asked what had caused this sudden change, R-Type always said that he
had taken some intense math tutoring recently. And in a sense that
was true, since his new math coprocessor implant had been like a
private tutor during its first uses.
January 1992 was when he made his first big hit. By that time
he had shown a strong aptitude for working with artificial
intelligence and was paired with UCI researchers in that field.
While working on a computer system which utilized an organic storage
medium, he discovered a way to make the controlling program actually
reconfigure the medium at the molecular level. When he told GENOM
about it, a considerable amount of funds was suddenly advanced his
way; GENOM also sent in some of its crack researchers to help him
work on what he called the "Sanjiyan System". (He liked the name; he
was a fan of 3x3 Eyes.) And together they churned out an application
for synthesizing matter from a single cell, combining the Sanjiyan
architecture with a controlled-environment nanotechnological matter-
reaction chamber. Or, more simply, a BioSculpt(tm) tank. R-Type was
a hero at UCI and at GENOM. It was then that he founded Mann Systems
to market the technology, although he actually gave control of the
company (secretly) to GENOM so he could continue his work; he was no
businessman.
He had to switch to Independent Studies at UCI, because GENOM
suddenly demanded his presence for a 'delicate' project. (They were
officially hiring him part-time, but he was getting a full
researcher's salary.) And he preferred working at GENOM anyway;
classes at UCI were more of a hindrance than anything else. GENOM
had the *real* fancy technology, which he wanted to play with. And
so he was teamed up with three other elite researchers: Ian Astbury,
Nagisa Kano, and Jennifer "Cobalt" Ochoa, who were going to put his
technology to its first major test. Once a week GENOM paid to have
him flown from California to Neo-Worcester, Massachusetts, to work on
their project: the ICZER project.
Using the Sanjiyan, R-Type designed the basic bio-framework for
Iczer-1, while Nagisa customized her personality and Cobalt her body
design. Astbury supervised and approved it all. The codes were
programmed into the Sanjiyan and the zygote injected into the
BioSculpt Tank. Soon Iczer-1 was born. The project was a success,
living up to all their expectations. But not Largo's.
Mid-January, R-Type received notice that Largo wanted to "have
a talk with him". He was scared shitless, but he flew to
Massachusetts right away. He'd seen BGC. He knew what Largo was.
He figured he was in for the worst.

"But he was actually nice to me," he said.
"Huh??" Yuri replied, mildly incredulous.
"It's hard to believe, I know. But..." he hesitated. "I'd
gotten myself on Largo's list of VIPs."

R-Type was informed that Iczer-1 had been destroyed (so
everyone believed at the time), and that Largo had fired Nagisa and
Cobalt and suspended Astbury. But R-Type had been spared, and Largo
explained why:
"I read the report your group submitted very carefully before I
took these actions," he said. "*Your* design work was loyal to the
expectations I'd had for the machine. It went awry when Doctors Kano
and Ochoa began making their modifications to your design, and Doctor
Astbury approved those modifications because he had authority over
you. It was my error to give you so little authority."
"Sir," R-Type said. "Forgive me, but at the time I needed the
input of Doctors Kano and Ochoa." He'd never called them by last
names until then. "I needed their knowledge of genetic engineering
and artificial intelligence; I could not have created Iczer-1 alone."
"Indeed," Largo said. "But you have their knowledge now, do
you not?"
Of course he did. He had his copy of the report. He
practically had the brains of Nagisa and Cobalt sitting on his
bookcase. Then Largo produced a small sheaf of papers.
"Study this carefully, Doctor Mann," he said. (R-Type didn't
even have his B.S. at the time.) "It is a very detailed description
of the type of unit I am looking for in the ICZER project. Doctor
Astbury will remain the official coordinator of the project, but you
will have complete design control of the process itself. Don't
disappoint me."

And he did not. Following the guidelines of the original model
but stripping off most of what Nagisa and Cobalt had added, R-Type
singlehandedly constructed the Sanjiyan Bioplan for the woman who
would be known as Iczer-2. Constructing a weapon of destruction who
was ruthless, obedient, and loyal was a bit easier than assembling an
entire dynamic personality, of course. But he did bow to pressure
from Astbury to at least give her a sense of honor and a few other
things. Iczer-2 emerged from the tanks not long after.
Astbury's name was put on all the reports, and he received all
the official credit for the project (partly because he'd disliked R-
Type, and so he fucked around with the datafiles to give himself more
credit, an action which probably saved R-Type's ass later on). So R-
Type's contribution to the Iczer-2 unit herself went unrecognized,
but he was still recognized for creating the hardware which made the
project possible in the first place. So again, he was a hero. Largo
personally guaranteed him a top research position when he finished
his schooling. His next project was to redesign the BioSculpt Tank:
a Series 101-E Tank had exploded while producing Iczer-2. GENOM
needed a Tank which could handle the stresses generated by such a
being. ICZER could be a valuable weapons system, after all, and it
wouldn't do to have the profits axed by equipment that couldn't
handle production. R-Type got to work on the redesign.
Then GENOM disappeared, in April 1992; Neo-Worcester was
atomized by the Wayward Son, taking GENOM with it as far as anyone
could tell. R-Type had mixed emotions. He knew the WDF had done the
"right thing" by nuking GENOM, but... well, his future had been
there. Now what would he do? Well, he still had the Sanjiyan and
BioSculpt, and Mann Systems had fallen into his hands by default when
GENOM disappeared. When he finished college, graduating with honors,
he went to work for one of the local computer companies, AST
Research, and continued his own work on the Sanjiyan architecture.
He worked until 2036, when he was forced to retire at age 65.
GENOM had resurfaced several years before that, so Largo knew where
he was, and Mann Systems and GENOM had established an alliance to
help bolster each others' revenues. Even with GENOM's technology,
though, the research on the Sanjiyan/BioSculpt architecture wasn't
advancing rapidly enough for R-Type. He had, since this technology
was revealed to him, been trying to find a way to reverse the aging
process. He didn't want to die. But the technology was not quite
there yet.
It would take 15 more years before the combined efforts of
GENOM and several other companies were able to produce the kind of
data he was looking for. It was a very close call. At 79 years of
age and in poor health, R-Type finally got the Sanjiyan to learn how
to reverse the aging process. R-Type, two days before his 80th
birthday, used himself as a test subject for the procedure.
He succeeded. Almost. He came out of the tank on his 80th
birthday, at the biological age of 21. His eyes had failed to
regenerate, though, much to his dismay. But GENOM provided him with
cyberoptics and a full-time job of his choice. He had realized a
dream: gaining a sort of immortality so he could watch the world
change around him.
And change it did. He threw himself into his research,
modifying his Sanjiyan RETRO (REversal of Temporal ROuting) procedure
for use on Type 33/S and similar Buma. And every 80 years, he used
the process on himself, each time reverting to age 21. Trouble was,
with each regeneration he woke up with some new implant, or something
in his body had been augmented or just plain replaced. GENOM was
messing with him, he knew. But the implants were never really
harmful to him as far as he could tell; in fact he enjoyed many of
them. The math coprocessor had been the first, way back in 1991, and
it had been a lifesaver and a half. And hey, if something helped him
work for the company which had made this future possible, he wasn't
going to argue. He was always into cybertech and biotech, and he
knew from experience that he had better relationships with machines
than with people most of the time. The non-machine-oriented Humans
(and even a few Buma) were of course all too happy to let him play
with their stuff and solve their problems. In short, everyone was
fairly happy.
At least, until he was asked to work on Operation
Gotterdammerung.

"Gotterdammerung?" she somehow managed to get it past her
tongue.
"Yeah..." He hesitated. What was coming next was the killer
for him.
"And...?" Yuri prompted him, trying not to push him too hard.
He exhaled. "Sorry, this is the hardest part right here."
"Hey," Yuri returned. "As Bobby once said in Twin Peaks: 'I
will strive to be understanding.'" She knew she was probably going
to be upset after he said whatever it was. But, she figured it'd be
that much worse if 1) he didn't let it out, and 2) she never found
out. He gathered his thoughts for a minute longer, and continued:
"It was 2289," he began. "I was, biologically, 100 years old,
confined to a wheelchair, and due for a regeneration the next year.
I was also one of GENOM's elite biotechs, and Largo specifically
requested my presence, and the presence of my newest BioSculpt Tanks,
the 1001-E Series, on Halstead Station. Largo had already selected
the designs he wanted. Myself and the other technicians just had to
put the pieces together. We constructed two units for the
project..." He paused. Here comes the big whatever-it-was.
"Come on," Yuri said. "Get it over with."
Instead of speaking, he reached into his duffel bag and hauled
out one of the binders, an unmarked one. "Here... see for yourself,"
he croaked. "Nobody's ever seen this except Largo and the people who
worked on the project, and they're all dead except for Largo and me."
Yuri opened the old binder and looked at the cover page:

G. E. N. O. M.

G O T T E R D A M M E R U N G P R O J E C T

FINAL REPORT

Functionality Analysis

Unit 1: Type 33/S Replicant No. GRP-HN1
Name: "Gryphon-2"
Function: Infiltration/Sabotage

Unit 2: Type 55/S Replicant No. SHS-T1
Name: "Shasti"
Function: Infiltration/Sabotage

Nabiki Seino, M.S. Michael Sternbach, Ph.D.
Lawrence Mann, Ph.D. Richard Okuda, M.S.
Christina Scott, M.S. Danielle Houck, Ph.D.

Special Thanks to
MANN SYSTEMS

2289

C L A S S I F I E D
Authorized Personnel Only

Yuri closed the cover slowly. "You?" she asked softly, that
one word speaking volumes.
"Shasti, yes," he replied, relieved now that, for better or for
worse, he'd passed that roadblock. "The Butcher, I set up the
preliminary mind-body frame for, but that was all I really did. Most
of the design was left to the people who were handling information
being fed in from GENOM's spies. The only things I really knew about
Gryphon were what the rest of the galaxy knew about him, and that was
it. I spent most of my time putting Shasti together."

He didn't really like what he was doing, and he didn't mean
working on the Gryphon doppleganger which would shatter the WDF.
He'd been a big fan of Shasti's ever since he read her story in the
Dirty Pair comics in early 1991. He had always wanted to give her
another chance at life. He had done so in writing, with a story
called "Experiment 101-E", but that was just words. With BioSculpt
and Sanjiyan he really *could* give her a new lease on life, but she
had an A.I. routine so complicated that he could never quite figure
it. He needed help.
But when it finally did come, it was not really what he wanted.
Largo wanted the original Shasti created (rather, the LaCombe-
affected Shasti), and he was very specific in his request. R-Type
was less than enthusiastic about it, since he was quite sure he was
creating Shasti to send against the Angels. But he *was* one of
GENOM's elite, with a 300-year history of being there whenever the
corporation needed him. To refuse something now, especially one of
Largo's personal projects, would be bad for his already shitty
health. So the company transported him to Halstead.
He promptly found out that he was also working on the replicant
which would become known as the Butcher of Musashi. He did not like
*that* one bit, but he kept his mouth tightly shut and did his part
to bring the two replicants to life. Remember, he was biologically
100 years old and rather frail. Largo could have offed him in an
instant if he wanted to. And R-Type definitely did not want to risk
death: the galaxy was still changing; there was still so much he
wanted to see. To do that, he had to play the game, no matter how
shitty he thought it to be.
Besides, if he refused, the whole mess still would have
happened. Largo just would have found someone else.
By next year he was regenerated. By next year the SDF-17 was
destroyed, the real Gryphon was a fugitive, relationships were
shattered, and the WDF was scattered across the galaxy, believed
disbanded forever. R-Type's real hand in the destruction was minor,
at best, since he'd hardly dealt with the Butcher's design, and
Shasti's efforts had been found wanting. But it didn't make it any
less painful for him. He also noticed that his memories and
knowledge of Shasti had been suppressed. He later learned Shasti had
been caught and dismantled; without the origin knowledge he could
never rewrite her again.
The next 80 years were a nondescript blank. He worked on
various small GENOM projects from his office on the UCI campus, and
he traveled all over the galaxy. Occasionally he found some time
to see some of the wonders of the galaxy, but he found himself
drifting through life when he was not working. He still didn't want
to die, he knew, but he was having trouble living. He created
Aki/Jilehr as his defense against insanity, a 20th-Century
businesswoman combined with a sorceress with a penchant for 20th-
Century humor, the humor he had grown up with in the 1980s and 90s.
He needed her so he could have someone to talk to who would
understand his jokes and crack the same jokes herself. It was all he
could do to protect himself from the Edge. Five years ago he
regenerated again, received more implants again. And this time it
was bothering him; he wondered how long it would be before they just
replaced his body with a 33/S chassis and finished the job. Some of
his zest for life returned with youth, but he had to bury himself in
his work to avoid that vague depression which haunted him.
And so it was nothing short of incredible when, while returning
from a hellish business trip, he found himself standing next to Yuri,
both of them waiting for their bags. He wasn't the religious type,
but he was quite certain Something Up There had ordained this moment,
for his sake if nothing else. (But probably for both their sakes.)
The core of the Wedge Defense Force was still out there, somewhere.
Maybe now was his chance to, somehow, make up for what he had done.

"I... I really don't know what to say," Yuri said haltingly.
She didn't know how to feel about the man sitting across from her at
that picnic table.
R-Type hesitated, then spoke again: "Why don't you tell me what
we did to you. I know for a fact I'm not the only person who's been
going through hell."

And she did. She had agreed that she would tell her story
after he told his, and so she did. She talked briefly of her life,
beginning in 1991 and up through 2289. That's when she went into
greater detail. She told the story of how the Butcher had destroyed
Gryphon's credibility and turned Kei against him. Yuri had believed
in Ben and helped him escape, and Zoner had reacted by ending their
relationship and resigning. (R-Type thought that part about Zoner
was the stupidest thing he had ever heard, but he said nothing.)
That set up the WDF for annihilation by Largo's new star destroyer.
The Gotterdammerung Project (or at least the Butcher) had done
exactly what Largo had said it would do.
Yuri told the story with what seemed to her a voice
surprisingly devoid of feeling or emotion. It was as if she were
narrating some kind of fairy tale. Most of her emotions had been
forcibly drained out of her earlier that day. All that was left was
a strangely comforting emptiness, a detachment through which she
could speak of what happened.
After the hellstorm which consumed the Son, Yuri and Kei
retreated to the 3WA. Kei periodically left to go hunting for Ben by
herself; she at least had a means to bite back her anguish, misguided
though it was. Yuri had no such luxury. With a throw of a switch
Zoner had offed everything they'd shared since 1991. She didn't hate
him for it; she *couldn't* hate him for it. She loved him too much.
Her 3WA work took her all across the galaxy, of course, and she
and Kei were often met by attractive people. But Yuri never felt for
any of them. Schnick. She still cared for one person. Schnick.
She couldn't *think* of loving anyone else quite the same way.
Schnick. The first wall was up.
Her memories once threatened the successful execution of a
mission, and she and Kei had nearly been killed. It was then that
she made every effort to wall all those emotions as far away as she
possibly could. She built defense after defense to keep all those
feelings dead and buried, escaping into a veneer of professionalism
in much the same way R-Type had buried himself in his own work to
combat the depression he was feeling at the same time.
The trouble was, the emotions did not die, nor would they
remain buried, and with each passing year they grew more dangerous
and difficult to contain. She had thought they would subside. They
did not. She responded by raising more shields, by burying herself
deeper and deeper in her work, her play, *anything* that could keep
her train of thought away from it.
But one thought arose from time to time, one that she knew was
true: he was still out there.

<< Duran Duran: "Ordinary World" >>

"I knew he was still out there, somewhere," Yuri continued. "I
wondered if he ever thought of me."
"Did he?" R-Type asked.
"He *must* have," Yuri said, staring at the surface of the
table. "That's what still hurts the most." She pulled the ace out
of her carryon, which she'd brought with her, and turned it in her
hands. "70 years ago he used this card to save my life. I never
even saw him, but he was there. He's still there, watching me,
looking out for me... Why won't he at least talk to me? Tell me how
he feels?" A tear welled up in her eye and she bit her lip to
control the emotion which was beginning to rematerialize again.
"Maybe... maybe he's afraid," R-Type said. "Maybe he knows he
burned you for no good reason. Maybe he's afraid you've never
forgiven him for that."
"But I *have*!" Yuri cried with a voice that was pleading.
"Damn it, I never hated him for what he did! I *love* him! Why
won't he at least talk to me?!"
R-Type quickly reached out and took her hands in his, carefully
avoiding the Card which she still clutched tightly. "Shh... it's
okay," he said. Yuri looked into his artificial eyes. Even after
she knew all about him, about what he had done, she still trusted
him. He was not a bad person at heart, she could tell. She wondered
what his eyes had looked like when they were still natural. He
reached up and gently wiped the tears away from her eyes. "It's been
90 years. He's got to come back soon. The WDF is coming back,
Gryphon is a free man. We hit you hard but we couldn't stop you.
I'm glad we *didn't* stop you.
"I think Zoner still loves you very much. I think he knows
that he did something exceedingly stupid 90 years ago and he's
kicking himself for it. I think he's trying to decide whether or not
he's... *worthy* of you."
Yuri blinked. That was the same reason Kei had gone away not
long ago. She had to decide, after all the shit she'd put Ben
through, whether she was worthy of him. What if Zoner was thinking
the same thing right now? Was he trying to decide if he was worthy
of *her*? All this time she'd been blaming herself for making the
bad call that caused him to break away from her in 2289. Her lower
lip quivered. Perhaps it *wasn't* all her fault after all?
Suddenly someone kissed her on the cheek. She jumped. R-Type
had appeared next to her, and he had obviously done that.
He looked at her, cocked his head, and spoke like Mr. Data:
"You appeared to need it."
She just stared at him, too confused for words at first. Then
a giggle escaped from her throat. He continued, looking at her from
several angles and acting confused: "Hewwo. Hewwo? Hewwo? Oh yes,
my phone went 'BWIIINNG'..." She couldn't help it now. She was
laughing again.
He grinned. "C'mere," he said, and gave her a big hug. She
returned the embrace just as tightly, and then gave him a quick kiss.
It was wonderful to have someone to trust again.
He moved to look at his watch and found only an unoccupied arm.
"Shit. Left my watch in the car." He glanced at the sky. "Hmm...
getting a little late in the afternoon. You hungry?"
"Yeah, I am, as a matter of fact."
"I know this Italian restaurant with an Irish bar. Kinda high-
class, but the food's great."
Yuri smiled: "Sounds good."

They walked back to his car together, both knowing that the
story was still not completely told. There were some feelings they
had about each other that remained to be dealt with.

-----------------------------------------------------------ELEVEN

One in a million men
change the way you feel.
One in a million men.
Baby, it's up to me.
-- Pet Shop Boys, "One in a Million"

BIRRAPORETTI'S RESTAURANT
SOUTH COAST PLAZA MALL
COSTA MESA, SOUTH CALIFORNIA

ONE HOUR LATER

"This is pretty good stuff," Yuri said of the lasagna they were
chowing down on. Birraporetti's had been famous for its lasagna and
garlic bread platter since the 1990s, and after nearly 400 years they
still hadn't lost their touch. She was certain that after this trip
was over she would have gained several pounds, but she didn't care
because she was having fun. R-Type's connections to GENOM did come
in handy at times; it certainly made getting special treatment
easier. Even with the restaurant as crowded as it was that day, they
were at a table in less than five minutes.
"Yeah," R-Type agreed between bites. "Been coming here off and
on since 1992. They really know what they're doing."
"Y'know, seems like you've hung around this area for most of
your life."
"Yeah, a lot of it," R-Type nodded. "GENOM always let me hang
out here. Always thought that was nice of them. Besides, they like
Irvine too: a planned community where there's laws about the color of
your house and the condition of your lawn. S'great."
"I'd lose my mind," Yuri admitted.
"Ah, just drive to Los Angeles for a couple hours and your
sanity returns."
"So listen, do you like working for GENOM or not? I'm getting
mixed signals from you."
"Well... yeah, overall I do. I mean, they pay my rent and I
get a full range of medical and cybernetic coverage. And I get to
play around with all kinds of high-tech goodies every day, when I'm
not debugging other peoples' screwups."
She could tell something was missing from the equation:
"But...?"
"But," he echoed. "Well, let's face it: 400 years is a hell of
a long time to stay in one place, no matter how much you love your
home and your job. Even if you do travel a lot."
"Looking for a change, huh?"
"Heh, try 'escape'." Yuri wasn't surprised. "Ever since 2289
I've been wanting out. Not out of life, just out of here. I've been
wanting to get out of GENOM but that's not really an option."
"Why not?"
"Well, if I were to quit GENOM I would lose most of my power.
I've built up a really strong power base since I hooked up with them;
makes me pretty influential, as you probably noticed. And well, to
tell you the truth, I kind of get a kick out of watching people
scurry around and do things when I snap my fingers." He paused.
"But... it's not really the power that I'm worried about losing. If
I resign, I might as well sign my death certificate."
"Huh?"
"Technically I don't have any rights to any of my Sanjiyan or
BioSculpt equipment anymore. When GENOM bought all the shares to
Mann Systems I sort of surrendered my exclusive rights to the
technology by default. And that's part of a legal contract so I
can't contest it. I need that technology to regenerate myself every
80 years, and I don't want to take the risk that I'll lose all access
to it by quitting GENOM."
"You afraid of dying?"
"Not dying per se," he answered. "It's not death I'm afraid
of. But if I die, when I come back I won't remember anything from my
last life. If I were to die and be reborn nowadays, I wouldn't
remember one shred of anything that had happened before. I don't
want to lose everything that I've learned in the last 400 years. I
don't want to die because I want to remember how much the world has
changed since I first came into it. I... I don't want to lose what I
am right now. And much as I hate to admit it, I need GENOM to make
sure that doesn't happen."
"There must be some other way," Yuri said. The whole situation
seemed just a bit odd to her. He couldn't possibly be *that*
dependent on GENOM.
"Well, there is, I think," he replied. "Trouble is, Largo
would probably do something unpleasant to my anatomy if he caught me
looking for it. He doesn't like you guys, after all."
"What do you mean? What're you looking for?"
"Omega-2," he said simply, without fanfare of any kind.
"Um, I hate to disappoint you," Yuri said. "But we kind of
made an agreement when we all became Detians: the tech stays with the
WDF and doesn't go anywhere else."
"Oh, I knew that already," he said, sounding unconcerned.
"Otherwise I'd probably be a Detian by now, and so would everyone
else in this room."
"So what are you getting at?"
"Well, to quote Mr. Spock: 'I offer my services as Science
Officer.'"
"You want to hook up with us?"
He shrugged. "I've spent all my years working with Buma
technology and my own biotech experiments. That's great but it gets
kinda single-minded after a while. The WDF has shit like Valkyries
and Cyclones, and all these different kinds of goodies that I'd just
*love* to get a chance to play around with.
"I may be Big VIP GENOM Corporate Executive(tm) on the surface,
and I do enjoy doing that. There is a big part of me that gets a real
kick out of dressing up in a suit and tie and going to high-class
parties and hobnobbing with all kinds of important people. It's my
equivalent of an adrenaline rush.
"But I've regenerated six times now, and each time I get more
metal; next time they're liable to just put me in a 33/S or Bu-55
chassis and be done with it. I don't want to get myself 'borged."
"Getting into a no-win situation, huh?"
"Yeah. But with Omega-2 I could stop worrying about
regenerating myself every 80 years. Growing old is a real pain in
the ass, I've discovered. And I want to get a firm control on things
that are stuck in my body, y'know? I'm sick of being half-Buma.
"Besides, underneath all this, there's what I was in the
beginning: a gweep, an artist. I'm a technical
designer. That's where all my creativity really wants to go. People
like you, like Zoner and Gryphon, like the Wedge Rats in general:
they're the kind of people I'd like to be around in my social world.
They... they're my own kind. *You're* my own kind. And I feel like
I've spent the last 400 years screwing you all over."
"It's not totally your fault, y'know," Yuri said. "I mean, you
were in the projects but it's not like you personally engineered
everything."
"Still feel guilty, though," R-Type sighed.
"So, what else would you do with the WDF?"
Was that an invitation? R-Type continued: "Well, I've been
working on some technical stuff for GENOM, but I think the technology
could be put to better use in the WDF. I've had this Silent Mobius-
type fighter design in my head for a long time; I think the WDF could
have fun with it. And also, there's one really big project I would
dearly love to do, and I can only do it with the WDF."
"What's that?"
"Rebuild Shasti." Yuri was surprised. "Yeah. She was
disassembled on the Son, so I assume all the data was stored
somewhere in a WDF system. GENOM wiped my memory of her, so I would
need the original data to start synthesizing something. Like I said,
I've always wanted to give her another crack at life, and I want to
write her correctly this time, they way she should have been written
in the first place. Heh, I want to make her somebody you and Kei
could deal with on a more normal basis."
"Well, that *would* be interesting," Yuri remarked
thoughtfully. "And you're making a pretty persuasive argument, by
the way. I can see why GENOM values you as a businessman."
"Yeah. Then again, I've had 100 years or so to really think
about this."
"Thing is, I'm not the one you want to ask about hooking up
with the WDF. You'd have to talk to Gryphon, or Lord Fahrvergnugen.
I'd tell you to ask Zoner about it, but, well..." She trailed off.
"You don't need to say it," R-Type nodded his comprehension.
"I understand. But you'll probably see one of them before I do.
Could you put in a word for me?"
"I can do that, but I can't make any promises."
"I didn't expect anything." He smiled. "I just want to be
considered."
She smiled back. "I think we can handle that."

A FEW HOURS LATER

They went out for ice cream afterwards, and toured one of the
local art galleries. They were both nicely dressed that evening, and
Yuri was enjoying the feeling of being a professional businesswoman
in this area of corporate-run cities. She still preferred dancing
clubs and loud parties, but this sort of thing was fun to do once in
a while. R-Type certainly seemed to enjoy it.
She was slightly amazed at herself for the way she had been
conversing with R-Type in the restaurant. She was talking like a
businesswoman, all traces of the emotion which had hounded her
earlier that day were gone. Still there, of course, but surprisingly
quiet. It had never been like this before. She could hear that old
Jesus Jones song ringing in her head: "Who am I? Where am I? Why do
I feel this way?"
And she was enjoying R-Type's company.

Back at his apartment, he'd shown her some of his technical
designs (including that diagram for the fighting vehicle he'd
mentioned: the R-9 "Last Resort" Spinner, something she agreed
*would* be useful), and his art portfolio (lots of anime and manga-
style artwork), and then they sat together for an hour or so, playing
songs, Yuri playing his acoustic while he did some vocals and then
dug out some drumsticks and did rhythms. He was both a good singer
and a good musician.
"I've had a few years to learn things," he said when she
mentioned his skill. "Instruments, vocals, choir, acting... you name
it, I've probably done it sometime in my life.
She was having a lot of fun. It seemed like her emotions had
covered every end of the spectrum today. And she felt so much better
for it. Both R-Type and the environment around him had triggered a
release of painful emotion that had nearly destroyed her, but when
she recovered she felt as if a huge weight had been lifted. The pain
was there but greatly diminished, maybe even gone. R-Type had pulled
her out of the pit she had been digging for herself for the past 90
years, just before it caved in and almost buried her alive. She was
indebted to him.
She had to wonder: was she falling for R-Type?

"Something wrong?" R-Type asked her when she stopped playing.
She didn't answer. Instead she set his guitar down, moved over
to the couch, which he was sitting on, and leaned against his
shoulder. R-Type was a little confused but he put his arm around
her; it seemed the sensible thing to do. "What brought this on?" he
asked.
"I don't know. I'm getting confused again."
"Huh? I thought we'd straightened everything out."
"No no, this is different. I mean, this whole experience is
making me rethink everything I feel."
"How so?" It was his turn to ask questions.
"Ever since I made eye contact with you... I've always felt I
could trust you. Even after all that stuff we talked about today. I
didn't know what to think about what you did, but through it all I
saw a decent person inside. I wasn't afraid of you. I'm not afraid
of you at all."
"Yeah, somewhere there's a decent human being in me."
"It's so strange, though. It's been 90 years since I trusted
anybody, and I always thought I'd never be able to trust until Zoner
came back. But now I'm doing it. I trust you. It's hard for me to
believe it, but... I... (sigh) I think I'm falling for you, Larry."
"Yuri, you've only known me for a day and a half."
"I know, but... somehow it feels longer. Actually it is. We
did talk a long time ago, on IRC..."
"Yeah, I remember, Hazard," he grinned. "You and Deadshot were
quite a pair."
"Yeah," Yuri smiled in recollection. She didn't feel pain when
she dug into the past now. Weird. "You were always funny to talk to
on IRC. It was fun when we all threw MST jokes at each other that
one time. Remember the Sandstorm Wars?"
"Oh wow! Man, I remember that one. 'Sandstorm...
sandstorm...!'"
They both laughed. "It's so strange. Ever since today, I've
felt so much better."
"You had a lot of stress bottled up," R-Type replied. "You had
to release it before it killed you. I just happened to be in the
area, and I convinced you to unload. It's an incredible coincidence
as far as I can tell, that we ran into each other."
"Yeah, but I find myself not wanting to call it a coincidence.
It's like something... ordained it."
"Maybe so... but..." he put his other arm around her, and she
edged closer to him. He *had* been thinking that same thing. "Like
I said, it's only been a day and a half..." Long pause. "But..."
Then he trailed off too, thinking about something. She wondered if
he was thinking the same thing she was. Then he spoke: "Oh hell, let
me just lay it on the line." They disengaged and faced each other,
an arm's length apart. They looked into each others' eyes, and Yuri
knew that he was going to tell her only the truth:
"I love you very much, Yuri. I don't know if I could even
begin to say how much I care about you. I've loved you since before
you even existed in this universe for real. You were always number
one in my book. I always thought you would be such a wonderful
person to spend time with, and you are. And I think Zoner, for all
the mistakes he made, is an incredibly lucky guy.
"I think -- no, I *know* -- Zoner still cares very deeply for
you. And I know for a fact you care just as deeply for him. But
right now you're apart from each other for all the wrong reasons, and
that's not right. If you and I were to start something now, it'd be
like betraying Zoner, not giving him a chance to own up to whatever
he did wrong and start again. He deserves another chance, I think,
and I don't want to stand in his way.
"Yuri, I've been through this before. I've been in
relationships that got started like this; we'd barely known each
other and she was looking for a way out of her pain, and she saw it
in me. Things like that shouldn't happen; I used to think it was an
easy way to get a relationship started, but it's more trouble than
it's worth. It shouldn't happen that way."
They kept looking into each others' eyes. R-Type could see her
confusion. Yuri could see his love: she knew he cared about
her, the same way Zoner cared about her. And she *did* know how
short the time had been. What was missing from the picture?
She decided to take a chance: "Larry?"
"Hm?"
"If I asked you to make love to me, would you?" He could tell
by the look in her eyes that she was deadly serious about this
question. He took a moment before answering:
"Yuri... you have no idea how much I would love to do just
that. Hell, it would be an honor."
"But if I asked, would you?"
"Yes, I would, but a couple conditions would have to be met
first."
"Like?"
"One: you and Zoner get back together and patch things up.
Two: only if Zoner said "OK"; that's real important to me. And
three: you should be absolutely sure you want to do that. That way
nobody does anything stupid that'll cause problems down the road.
"I learned the hard way that if one of the involved parties
doesn't trust another, you're asking for trouble when you talk sex.
It shouldn't be such a pile of emotional bullshit, but we're Human,
so it is. I'd love to do it, yes, but I don't want to get on the
WDF's or Zoner's bad side anymore than I already am because I'm a
GENOM person. I also don't want you to do it just because you want
an escape from pain. You'll regret it afterwards. Trust me, you
will."
Was that upset in her eyes? Regret? Either way, the next
course of action was obvious: he pulled her close and wrapped his
arms around her again, and she did the same. Each reflected that it
had been a very long time since they'd held someone, or been held by
someone. Yuri reflected that it was very rare to find a Human in the
universe who had this kind of understanding. Yuri had encountered
only a very few males, Human or otherwise, who were like this. He
was a very special person indeed, and it was clear to her that, from
what he had just told her, he had only the highest regard for her.
And that earned him her respect forever.
"I love you, R-Type," she whispered in his ear.
"And I love you, Hazard," he whispered back.
They just held each other close, and didn't let go for a long,
long time...

[Author's note: Nothing happened, so BLEAGH! :) ]

-----------------------------------------------------------TWELVE

JOHN WAYNE INTERPLANETARY SPACEPORT
GATE 7

2380 DECEMBER 07

Yuri walked to the huge windows and looked out at the sleek
cruiser which would be taking her off the planet in short order. She
had originally been scheduled to fly a coach-class Delta transport
out that day, but the plans had been changed last night: using his
GENOM influence once again, R-Type had canceled her unused tickets,
and used the refund money and some of his own to purchase a First
Class ticket on a TWA flight. Yuri was going to be traveling in
style, and flying non-stop, on her way back to Yocha.

<< Enya: "On Your Shore" >>

It was nearing 2PM. After awakening that morning, R-Type had
treated her to breakfast, and they'd visited a coffee shop and gone
window-shopping for a couple hours at Fashion Island, a large mall in
the neighboring city of Newport Beach. He bought her some flowers
from one of the numerous cart vendors there, and they took a couple
holophotos of each other using his camera. It was great fun, but it
eventually had to end, and so they'd made their way back to Irvine,
to the spaceport, to the place where it had all begun. Full circle.
She glanced over at R-Type, who was currently engaged in a
discussion with an airport security guard about something. She
reflected on how surreal a weekend it had been. In just a couple
days she'd seen all her carefully built walls knocked down by the
strangest of situations. And she'd met someone from her distant past
who, until now, she'd known only as words on an ancient DEC terminal
back at WPI. She could talk freely about her past now; it had been
90 years since she had even dared to tap into that history. And now
it didn't hurt nearly as much to access that information. R-Type and
his city had gotten to her, forced her to expel all the pain and
grief from her body in one horrific blast. She came out of it much
relieved, and able to deal with that part of her life once again.
And she had made a new friend, someone who loved her the way she
loved Zoner. R-Type had drained all the pain out of her and filled
her with renewed optimism; Zoner *had* to return soon. And in the
process he had unloaded his pain, things that had tormented him for
several years. And after all was said and done, the two of them
still had their friendship, and they knew then that they would always
be the best of friends, and trust was something they could always
share. She loved him, and he loved her. Yuri was very glad for the
opportunity to know him. He was definitely a Wedge Rat at heart.
R-Type had finished his discussion with the guard and was
approaching her. In a few moments the pre-boarding call would be
made. She double-checked to make sure her passes were in order.
"Well, I had them double-check. Your suitcase is definitely in
the cargo bay," R-Type said, grinning.
Yuri giggled. "That's good to hear."
"Oh, before I forget!" He reached into his coat pocket and
produced a holodisc, which he handed to Yuri. She read the label:
"LAST RESORT". "I thought the WDF might want a little inside
information."
"Thanks," Yuri said. "Hope you don't get shot."
"I doubt it," R-Type grinned. "Nobody knows about the R-9
series but me right now."
Yuri giggled again. Then there was a brief silence.
"Well," he said. "Guess this is it, then."
"Yeah, guess so." They had reached that awkward moment, not
unlike a parent saying goodbye to their child at the beginning of
freshman year of college. For all they knew this would be the last
time they ever saw each other again.
They stood there for another moment, and then she took a
tentative step forward. Taking the cue, R-Type reached out, and they
grabbed each other and held on tightly. R-Type brushed her hair
aside and kissed her neck once, gently.
"Gonna miss you," he whispered.
"Yeah, gonna miss you too," Yuri responded. "Thanks for
everything."
"Listen, if anyone gives you any trouble, tell 'em I sent you."
"I'll... I'll keep that in mind," she sniffed.
"TWA Flight 499 non-stop to Yocha is now preboarding,"
announced the flight attendant. "All First Class and special-
assistance passengers may now board the spacecraft."
She gently pulled away from him. Their eyes met, and he was
starting to release her, when she suddenly shot forward and kissed
him squarely on the lips. He was a little startled, but returned the
kiss nonetheless. A minute passed before they disengaged.
"Wow," R-Type remarked. "Hey, maybe I'll see you again
sometime?"
"Maybe so," Yuri smiled. "We'll have to see."
He smiled back. "See you, then. And say hi to Zoner and the
rest of the Rats for me!"
"Will do," Yuri said with a smile, and turned to the flight
attendant with her boarding passes.

She made her way down the access tunnel and into the front of
the plane, where flight attendants directed her to a very spacious
seat in the front of the First Class section. No others filed in
after her; she was going to have the entire section to herself for
the duration of the flight. A few minutes later the coach-level
passengers filed into the plane and made their way to the less roomy
accommodations in the back. A few more minutes of preflight time
passed, and then the attendants closed the entry door. With an
audible hiss, the cabin pressurized, in preparation for the
interplanetary transit.
The plane rolled backwards onto the taxiway, as the captain
went through the standard safety directives and the use of emergency
equipment during space flight. Then the engines came on and the plane
rolled gently to the eastern end of the runway to await launch
authorization. The internal lights flickered briefly and then
brightened as the plane switched from battery power to its main
generators, and Yuri felt herself becoming slightly heavier as the
artificial gravity came on. She looked out the window at the airport
terminal as the plane taxied onto the runway at last. She felt good.
The weight she'd been carrying had been lifted. This city and its
people, anal-retentive though they were, had helped her. She looked
skyward and smiled. Zoner was out there, she knew.
With a mighty roar the plane began to race down the runway.
She let herself be pushed back into the comfortable seat.
Soon she would be home again.

From the roof of the airport's parking structure, R-Type
watched as the TWA spaceliner streaked into the sky. He watched it
go until it was no more than a speck of light in the blue vastness of
the atmosphere. He took a deep breath and let it out, and a smile
grew on his face. He felt better than he had in, literally, a
hundred years. The weight which had been hounding him had been
lifted, and he'd become friends with someone he'd always adored. He
wondered idly what his old anime buddies would say if they knew he'd
passed up a chance with Yuri. Heh, they'd probably scream blue murder.
But they weren't alive anymore, so screw them. He *would* enjoy another
chance (who wouldn't?), but in all honesty he was just glad for the
chance to be a trusted friend. Wherever it went after that wasn't up
to him, and that was the way it should be. Overall, life was not too
bad.
It was time to go home. He turned around, singing an old Pet
Shop Boys tune to himself, and walked back across the concrete, back
to where his car was parked, waiting silently and patiently for his
return.

T H E E N D

Take my hand, I've changed my mind again.
Really, I believed it true,
that all who fell in love were foolish
But I was wrong, I've learned that lesson well.
All the way back home at midnight,
you were sleeping on my shoulder.

Take my hand, don't think of obligations.
Now, right then, your love is liberation

to free in me the trust I never dared.
I always thought the risk too great,
but suddenly I don't hesitate, so

Take my hand, don't think of complications.
Now, right then, your love is liberation.

Liberation.

The night, the stars, our light shone through the dark
All the way back home at midnight,
you were sleeping on my shoulder.

Take my hand, don't think of hesitation
Now, right then, your love is liberation.

Liberation.
-- Pet Shop Boys, "Liberation"

-------------------------------------------------------------------

--- CREDITS & DEDICATIONS:

[NOTE: This should be scrolled through while playing the above song
in the background. (This is the song R-Type was singing, BTW.)]

THE CAST (in order of appearance):

Yuri.................................................Yuri Daniels
R-Type..............................................Lawrence Mann
Sylvia.....................GENOM Corp. Type 33/S Replicant SLV-1A
Aki/Jilehr....................Mann Systems Multipersona A.I #AJ-2
Thompson....................GENOM Corp. Type Bu-55c Buma 556-6011
Gryphon......................................Benjamin D. Hutchins
Zoner...................................Brian "MegaZone" Bikowicz
Kei.................................................Kei J. Morgan

Thanks to the staff and support crews (and the passengers) of John
Wayne Airport for providing the model for John Wayne Spaceport.
Additional thanks to Delta Airlines (I think) and TWA, and to the
Embassy Suites Irvine Hotel. Thanks also to UCI and the city of
Irvine, and to South Coast Plaza and Fashion Island, and to Amherst
Court Apartments for providing the model for Amherst Arcology.

This work of fiction is dedicated to...

...Kei and Yuri, who forever changed my life when I got into anime in
1990.

...Zoner, Gryph, and ReRob, for writing Undocumented Features in the
first place, and for being all-around cool guys.

...Johji Manabe, without whom I would never have discovered my
drawing talent.

...Lord Robin, for being a cool writer and helping some of my
greatest dreams take shape.

...the Pet Shop Boys for writing the entire album "VERY"; it was so
*perfect*. To Don Dokken for being a great vocalist, Depeche Mode
for being a cool band, and to Enya for writing some of the most
beautiful music I have ever heard in my life.

...Danielle and Christina: I realize it wasn't meant to be, but I'll
always love you both, just the same.

...Dad, just for being a really cool guy from Day One.

...Mom, for accepting what I am and where I'm going.

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A FEW EXPLANATIONS:

About the author: R-Type, known to UCI and the IRS as Lawrence R. Mann.
A walking double-standard. Believes in alternative lifestyles and free
sex, and votes Republican. Believes in freedom of artistic expression
and supports institutions where conformity is all the rage. Drives a
1984 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme, and calls it a hotrod. *You* figure
it out.

UCI: University of California, Irvine. Your basic research institute.
Shitty arts program, though. R-Type is about to get a B.A. in Studio
Art from this place (December '93), and he works full-time as a Library
Assistant at the Main Library. It's a good job: free medical coverage
and some other goodies like (hopefully) free email access. Just make
sure you don't mind conforming to the city's Master Plan.

Irvine, California: The ultimate Planned Community(tm). A city which is
essentially owned and operated by a development agency called, appropriately
enough, "The Irvine Company". It's a haven for big corporate business,
and is home to some of the most beautiful building designs in California.
Very high-profile cops and a low crime rate. But if your house is less than
10 years old, the law says you must paint it a certain shade of beige.
I kid you not. (R-Type's car is beige, incidentally.)

Amherst Court: a small apartment complex next to UCI. Rent is outrageous,
at $700 for a studio apartment, but that includes a refrigerator and a
microwave, and it's within walking distance of UCI. I haven't actually
been there, but some of my friends have. Sounds like a nice place...

Embassy Suites: a real hotel, about 5 minutes from John Wayne Airport.
High-class, like the rest of Irvine. 'Nuff said.

The Perseus Chronicles: a real series, most of which currently exists only
in the minds of myself and Ryan Mathews. So far there are about 13 stories
that have been thought of, covering a time period from A.D. 230x to A.D.
12,xxx. (The story I mentioned, "Resurrection", is somewhere around
the 7th story, give or take, and it's set in the year 275x.)

- - -

Comments and suggestions are always appreciated. Send mail to
<lrm...@uci.edu>.

- Larry "R-Type" Mann

--
--------------------------------------v-------------------------------------
R - T y p e <lrm...@uci.edu> | "There are a lot worse things a man
| can do with his time than love
[a.k.a. Larry Mann] | people." -- Ben Hutchins
--------------------------------------^-------------------------------------
[Terran by birth. Pendorian by choice.]
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