[UF:FI][FanFic] Hammer Time: No More Innocence

[Martin F. Rose]

The Plague of Undocumented Features continues! I think we're setting some
sort of record for the most stories in our arc posted in some span of
time... :)

For those of you confused by the situation, go back and read the Hammer Time
story "A Time To Be Born, A Time To Die" before you start. Come to that,
you'd better review "Justice and Mercy", too, while you're at it. Oh, heck,
just read everything, it's all available at the Eyrie Productions Web site,
http://www.eyrie.net/ :)

And now ... on with the piece.

==========

The small continent of New Avalon slept soundly.
Most of it did, anyway. Like any major city in the Federation, New
Avalon had more than its share of night people and nocturnal activity;
some who worked to make the next day better, safer or easier, others who
knew that what they did could never stand under the light of day, and
even more who couldn't really care either way.
The season of autumn had settled into its place quite readily, and
the colors were magnificent this year. A midday journey through the
forested outskirts of the region provided a wondrous spectacle of green
turning yellow turning orange turning red. A similar sojourn near dusk
would seem to set the whole forest ablaze.
The air was cool, dry and crisp tonight. The weatherman, a plump,
jolly fellow who enjoyed making jokes about the condition of grav-ball
players' teeth, had promised temperatures around ten degrees Celsius
tomorrow, with a twenty percent chance of rain. Families in the city's
suburbs tucked their children into warm beds and made sure they knew
where their raincoats had gone, since any chance of rain at all meant to
expect torrential downpours.
Morgan Lane, arguably the oldest residential street in the greater
New Avalon area, was quite tranquil as well. All the cars of the
Hutchins family were accounted for in their garage at house number 105,
and both of the Roses' vehicles were in theirs, just across the way.
Somehow, all the children of both households were asleep before eleven
o'clock tonight, even though tomorrow was to be the beginning of the
weekend, and the alleged adults followed them to slumber not long after
midnight. A deep calm settled over everything.
Within the house at 108 Morgan Lane, that calm was shattered by a
scream of pure terror.

Smalltime Writers, International
in association with
Eyrie Productions, Unlimited
presents

H A M M E R T I M E :

Tales of a
F U T U R E
I M P E R f E C T

NO MORE INNOCENCE

by Martin "PCHammer" Rose

with Ben "Gryphon" Hutchins as Sir Not-Appearing-In-This-Story

Martin shot upright in his bed with a gasp. Eiko, lying quietly
beside him for a change (her snoring was usually harsh competition for
heavy construction equipment), began to stir.
"nnn ... Diggy, what..?"
With a mutter of "not again," Martin threw off the covers and headed
into the hall, adjusting his pajamas about himself on the fly. As he
headed through the hallway, two other doors opened behind him.
"Wha's up, Daddoo?" Wach'o asked tiredly.
Martin didn't reply. He was already at his destination by the time
the question was completed. He gave the doorknob a quick twist and
pushed it forward, following it into Noriko's room.
Noriko Takaya Rose was sitting up in her bed, gathering the sheets to
her chin, shivering and whimpering softly. Even in the darkness, Martin
could see her warm, brown eyes wide with panic. Just as he'd feared.
Just like before.
She turned to face him, her tiny voice faltering as he stepped
forward. "P--... Papa..."
"I'm here, Little Angel." He sat down on the side of her bed and
offered a comforting hand. She took it hesitantly, then rushed past it,
hugging herself to him as tightly as she could. He folded an arm around
her waist, gently stroking her disheveled auburn hair with the other
hand. "I'm here. Everything's all right."
She tried valiantly not to cry as she buried her head in his
shoulder.
"Diggy?" Abruptly, the subdued illumination of one of the table-
lamps in Noriko's room stung at Martin's eyes.
He looked toward the doorway. There, he found Eiko, Wach'o, Dh'ot
and Yach'o gathered in a small cluster of concern. Eiko's hand was
still on the lightswitch.
"It's okay, Little One. We'll be fine."
Noriko nodded bravely, lifting her head to nod. "Thanks for coming,
Mama."
Eiko smiled. "No trouble -- that's what Moms are for." Bringing her
arms around the W'harnyrs, she guided them back to their rooms, pulling
Noriko's door shut behind her. "Come on, kids. They're going to need
some time alone."
"Is Sis gonna be all right?" Yach'o asked worriedly.
"Yeah, this is, what, the sixth time?" Dh'ot chimed in.
Eiko nodded. "Don't worry. She's a big girl; she's just having
trouble getting used to _how_ big."
"What's that mean?"
Eiko sighed. "I can't explain it right now. Just trust me, or ask
your father sometime. For now, you need your sleep. Wouldn't want to
wake up late tomorrow, and miss your favorite show."
"Wall Street Week!" they all chimed sarcastically.

Most of the conversation was completely missed by the two quiet
figures locked in a tight embrace in Noriko's bedroom.
"Was it...?"
Noriko nodded. Martin could feel her head moving on his shoulder.
"Yes. Th-the same ... as before." She sighed, her breath still
shuddering.
Martin just held her.

Four nights, and two nightmares, ago, Martin had admitted that the
problem probably wasn't going to "go away," and had, instead, sought out
help. Instead of checking with the eminent Dr. Skracchensniph, however,
he sought out a different source of advice.
"Ah, Mr. Rose, I presume," said the educated-sounding voice, still
bearing more than traces of its clipped British public-school
background.
Martin nodded, taking Edison Bell's offered hand. "Thanks for seeing
me on such short notice, Dr. Bell."
"Oh, please. Edison will do. I never really got my doctorate in
anything, anyway." He gestured for a chair. "As one of only two
non-Detians from the WDF's original Earther contingent, I hardly
expected to see you, particularly in light of our basic ideological
differences."
Martin accepted the seat as Edison took his own. "I'll begrudge you
of your worldview when I have the luxury, Edison. Right now, I'm not
about to argue eternity and morality; one of my loved ones is having
troubles, and I need your advice."
Edison's eyebrows rose. "So, this concerns ... Noriko, correct?"
Martin nodded.
"In what way?"
Martin looked around the room, uncertain where to begin. "Well ...
lately, she's been having ... nightmares."
Edison shook his head slowly. "Psychology isn't really my patch --"
"Please, hear me out."
Edison paused. "All right," he conceded, sitting back. "Go on."
Martin sighed deeply. "You're aware of the circumstances behind our
adoption of Noriko, correct?" Edison nodded. "Are you also aware of
Noriko's past history?"
Edison pursed his lips for a moment's thought. "I'm familiar with
her service record and profiles--"
"Have you ever reviewed the log entries for the Righteous Indignation
beginning _after_ the fall of the Wayward Son?"
Edison shook his head. "No, I'm afraid I haven't."
"Good. See that you don't. It wasn't pretty." Martin let his head
sink downward as he spoke. "The day the Indignation returned to UP, and
I saw her ... when she recognized me ... I've never heard such a
horrifying wail in my life. During the time of the Indignation's
mutiny, her life _became_ a nightmare."
Edison narrowed his eyes. "I won't trouble you by asking for
details."
"Thanks." Martin wiped at one eye. "Anyway, just a couple weeks
ago, she woke up with the very same scream as ... that day. The look of
stark terror in her eyes ... it was an hour before she stopped crying."
Edison nodded, with a sad sense of familiarity. "You asked her about
the nightmare?"
"Not that night. A few nights later, she had another one. That
time, I did." He lifted his gaze, locking eyes with the Detian. "What
she described ... was a fever-dream version of her previous life. With
particular emphasis on the abomination that had scarred it beyond
reckoning during the mutiny. She's had two more since then -- identical
to the others."
Edison sighed for a moment, tapping lightly on his terminal
keyboard. Then he removed his spectacles and polished them with a
handkerchief which he pulled from and returned to his top pocket.
After settling the glasses back on his nose and looping the wire
temples around his ears, he looked steadily at Martin and said, "I
believe your daughter's neural matrix is undergoing reresolution."
Martin blinked and sat slightly back. "Again, in Standard?"
"Her mind, if you will, is knitting itself back together."
Martin blanched. "But ... her brain healed itself already, over
twelve years ago. It just came back empty, like an infant's. Granted,
she was an incredibly fast learner--"
"Detian regeneration extends far deeper than that, I'm afraid,"
Edison interrupted. Making mostly random gestures with his hands, as
if trying to describe the shape of a Rubik's snake in ball form as
pantomime, he went on, "If you think of the mind as a construct, a
unique pattern of, of connections and neural linkages and ... and
things like that, and the brain as the, the recording medium on which
the pattern is written, you can have a layman's understanding of what
is happening. Or rather what has been happening for some time. The
subconscious is just making its connection to the old memory patterns
first ... unfortunate, but common in these cases."
Martin nodded, a slow, I-understand-but-I-don't-think-I-like-it nod.
"I see," he said, actually meaning it for a change.
Edison looked over the screen before him, which now contained
Noriko's complete medical history. "About bloody time, too. She must
have a very slow biocycle. Though the other data wouldn't indicate
that to be the case."
"Well, I couldn't blame her if she didn't _want_ her memories back.
She's had a rather harsh life."
"Hm. That could well be part of it. A large degree of the Detian
healing process is controlled by the person's will..." His voice
trailed off, unsure of what to add to that observation, if anything.
Martin gazed at Edison again. It was a peculiar look Edison didn't
see in many people, but no less easy to recognize; a look of complete
helplessness. "Edison, please ... what can I do for her?"
Edison sighed, looking uncharacteristically defeated. "There's
sod-all you can do, I'm afraid. The shock is likely to get only
worse, as her mind attempts to readjust itself from the age of
thirteen to ... six hundred and change, according to this?" He looked
somewhat surprised. "Hang about, that would make her some two
centuries old _before_ taking Omega-2."
Martin looked away. "It's a long story that uses the words 'time
dilation' a lot."
Edison nodded. "I see. Well, I hate to be the one to dash your
hopes, but what you're doing now is about all you can do -- support
her, encourage her, comfort her. She's undergoing a perspective shift
of monumental proportions, and she'll need all the help she can get if
she's to keep sane."

Martin stroked Noriko's hair slowly, planting a gentle kiss on her
forehead. She'd allowed her head to fall from his shoulder to the
middle of his chest.
"Papa..."
"Mm?"
"I ... I'm sorry I'm so much trouble. I don't know..."
He put a hand under her chin, lifting her head to look into her eyes.
"You're never any trouble to me, Little Angel."
She smiled at him, a soft, thankful smile that he couldn't help but
return. "I love you, Papa." She gave him a soft, loving kiss -- the
kiss of a daughter's love for her father.
Martin held her gently, rubbing her between the shoulderblades and
closing his eyes, accepting her affection.
Her hands snaked around him. She returned his gentle massage in
kind, and held her lips to his as she moved her head ever so slightly.
He moved one hand a bit lower on her back.
She tightened her embrace, pulling herself closer to him. She
continued to kiss him, with the love of a dear friend.
His hands were moving slowly on her back, as if molding her tiny form
into shape. He brought his arms close around her, admiring the softness
of her skin under her nightgown.
One of her hands slipped underneath his shirt. It worked its way
slowly around his back, drawing her entire forearm up behind it.
He brought one hand up to her head, gently running it through her
hair. His other hand was following the contour of her spine, up and
down, up and down.
She pressed herself fully against him, bringing the hand under his
shirt around to feel the contour of his chest. She kissed him with the
passion of a lover for her beloved.
He brought a hand to her cheek as she used her entire body to massage
him with a slow rhythm. His other hand followed her back all the way
down to her leg, slipping its fingers under the hem of her gown as it
began its path back upward. They began to fall backward onto her bed,
slowly...
With a sudden gasp, they jumped nearly away from each other. They
stared into each others' eyes with shock and fear.
"Mart--" She stopped. Why did I say that? "...Papa..."
He held her with trembling hands. "Riko..."
They remained so, paralyzed, for a very long time, before collapsing
onto each other again. Noriko choked back sobs as she spoke.
"Oh, Papa ... it was ... it was like ... my dream, only ... I ... oh,
Papa, what's WRONG WITH ME??"
He held her gently as she cried, his hands still trembling.
Tomorrow. He would take her there tomorrow. She has to know. It'll be
easier if she's prepared.
He held her in silence for an hour. When she'd fallen asleep, he
eased her into her bed, returning to Eiko's side.
Tomorrow.

"This is the place." A door swung open into the unlit room. A tall
silhouette moved to one side of the opening, allowing a much smaller one
to pass by it and walk slowly inside. The taller shadow reached to the
side, rapping a knuckle against the inside wall.
The lights flickered to life.
Noriko blinked, adjusting to the luminal change. After a moment, she
began looking slowly around the relatively small room.
The otherwise-stark walls were all but covered with pictures,
paintings, prints and photographs. A smaller plaque hung in one place,
proclaiming someone to be a graduate of something or other. She quickly
discovered that the vast majority of the pictures had something in
common.
She was in them.
She examined one in particular. It was an unusual layout; she was
seated, smiling, on Martin's knee, like a ventriloquist's dummy.
She didn't remember that.
No, wait. She did.
No, she didn't.
Well, she sort of remembered it. It was a long time ago. Maybe...
How long could it have been?
She whirled to face Martin, who was walking toward her. "Papa ...
this is ... a shrine to ME."
He took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. "Not so much _to_ you,
Riko ... as _of_ you." He swept an arm around the room. "These are all
your things."
"I ... don't recognize..."
"You will, Noriko. You will."
She turned her attention to the various items spread on the cabinets
that also lined the walls. Stuffed animals, models of various kinds,
and some more pictures. She picked up a largish blue doll, a stuffed
replica of one of Martin's favorite video-game personalities, Sonic the
Hedgehog. She hugged it happily, then looked behind it.
The photo stabbed at her like a dagger of ice.
She reached forward, taking the small portrait into her hand, and
looked at it more closely. In it, a man with short, dark hair slightly
grayed at the temples, in a military uniform, held a tiny, angelic,
auburn-haired girl in his arms. Her smile beamed like a star.
Noriko's breath faltered.
The girl ... that's ME! And that man -- who...
*...PAPA...*
Something else caught her eye. She took another picture in her other
hand, the doll tucked inside one of her arms. This one had her in it as
well, definitely older than the first picture, but still visibly younger
than even her current physical "age". And there was another girl in the
photo as well. This one was tall and lovely, with long, dark hair done
into a flowing tail behind her head, bound by a wide, yellow ribbon with
a large bow at the top of her head. They were dressed identically, with
tops bearing an unusual pattern in red and white and swimsuit-like
bottoms visible underneath.
*...KAZUMI...SISTER...*
She turned slowly to face Martin, her eyes welling with tears. "I
... I know these ... but I never..."
He put a gentle hand on one shoulder, slowly lifting the Sonic doll
from her grasp with the other. "Those are people from long, long ago,
Noriko. The girl was your partner from when you were in the girls'
military academy. Her name was Kazumi Amano. She was..."
"She was ... like ... a big sister to me," Noriko completed, startled
that she'd actually spoken the words. "And he..."
"The man was General Takaya, a war hero from long ago and far away,
which is where you're from, as well."
She considered the image. "Papa..."
Martin nodded. "That's right, Noriko. He was your _real_ father."
He took the pictures from her hands, replacing them with the doll. She
clutched it tightly as he led her to another corner of the room, which
was occupied by a computer terminal. On top of the terminal's monitor,
however, was a model of a tall, powerful-looking robot.
She looked at it, and spoke a single word. "Gun ... buster."
He smiled sadly at her. "You and Kazumi piloted this robot, Riko.
Together, you were heroes. Now, just sit down here."
Curious, Noriko settled into the seat. Martin tapped the power
switch, and the machine came to life. "Go ahead, Riko. Look around."
A clean, wrapped cybercable was next to the terminal. She opened its
wrapping, extended it, plugged one end into the base of her skull, and
the other into the small jack behind the keyboard. She let her mind
relax into the interface, and watched the screen.
A file list came up. Disorganized-looking. She shrugged. Sort by
date, ascending-date order. Here's something; fairly small, and near
the top. She opened it, and its text quickly filled a window. An email
message.
She scanned it. She giggled.
She opened another. She giggled some more.
"These are love letters, Papa."
Martin nodded. "Check the attributions."
She looked at the header. From nta...@upns.com (Noriko Takaya, Lt.
Cmdr.) ... HER love letters! But to who?
To mfr...@sdf17.wdf.mil (Martin Rose, Ens.)
Her jaw sagged.
She looked back. "Papa ... we were ... in love?"
He smiled back at her. "Very much."
She returned to the display. It's all so strange ... it's like...
"My dream!"
He said nothing.
"Kazumi ... Papa ... Gunbuster ... being in love with you ... these
were all things from my dream!" Her eyes glazed over for a moment, and
another name came to her lips unbidden:
"Bucky."
She quickly set about to search for the name. No match. "Bucky?"
The search prompt stood empty on the screen. Noriko looked at it.
Why is there no Bucky?
Martin reached over her shoulder and pecked at the keyboard.
b u c h a n a n <enter>
A list of matches came up. Noriko began scanning the first file -- a
service record for Captain Buchanan O'Hare, commanding officer of the
WDF Righteous Indignation.
She had the shock of her life.
"I ... _married_..."
Suddenly, without preamble, she remembered.

"Carry me!"
"Aww, c'mon, Noriko!"
"Carry me!" she repeated with childish persistence.
"Oh, all right. You know I'm helpless when you do that thing with
your eyes."
She laughed with delight as she bounded into his arms. She was
nearly as strong as he was, she knew for a fact, and had wiped the floor
with him in hand-to-hand combat many times over ... but that was no
reason to break with tradition. Besides, every girl has a right to
dream.
The door slid open before them, and the newly-married Mr. and Mrs.
O'Hare walked into their temporary love-nest, a magnificently oversized
bedroom, easily ten meters high and three times as wide and long. The
carpeting was thick and soft-looking, the furniture and decoration was
exquisite, the full-height windows were completely draped with
translucent curtainry, and the solitary bed between the two tall windows
was incredibly inviting.
He was no more than halfway across the room when she began dancing
her fingers behind one of his long, furred ears -- a minor detail of his
Rigellian appearance that the humanization process had overlooked over a
century ago. It twitched spastically under her touch, followed by her
new husband toppling over with laughter, throwing them both to the
floor. It was nearly a minute before he could speak again.
"Are you happy now?" he asked with no small amount of sarcasm.
She grinned, taking his face in both hands and kissing him. "Very,"
she said when she'd released him.
He had no reply. Her affection was breath-taking, in the most
literal sense of the word.
She began the arduous task of undressing him. The reason men always
had to wear so many layers of clothing, she decided, was because they
were so much less in control. Well, most of them, anyway. (No, not
now. Don't go down that path now.) His jacket buttons loosened easily,
but she couldn't pull both arms forward at once to remove it. She undid
the cummerbund instead.
Suddenly aware that his wife was performing a task he should have
been taking care of already, he shook his head, standing up and allowing
her to get out from underneath him. He removed the jacket easily,
tossing it over a chair and setting to the difficult task of untying his
necktie. He was still a bit tired from trying to keep up with his bride
on the dance floor at the reception, and the fatigue made his fingers
stiff and difficult to operate.
She rose to her feet and walked slowly to one of the windows, gently
pushing the curtain aside to look outside. Her eyes scanned a
magnificent view of the nearest planet, its shining sphere partially
darkened by its own shadow. The system's star was slowly sinking
underneath its cover as their ship's orbit entered the world's dark
side. It looked peaceful.
A normally-quiet corner of her mind gave her no peace.
["Riko?"]
["Hmm?"]
["Did I ever tell you how beautiful you are?"]
["You tried once, but gave up."]
["Oh, yes. Rather intelligent move on my part, I must say. I just
wanted you to know that hasn't changed."]
She wiped at her cheek as her eyes moistened. Why didn't I tell him?
Him, of all people? Our lives are separated now ... but he deserves to
know. He always loved me ... he'll always love me.
Damn it all, WHY DIDN'T I TELL HIM?
A pair of arms folded around her bosom from behind, squeezing gently.
"Hey," Bucky's voice whispered. "What's wrong?"
She smiled at him, blinking the tears away. "Nothing."
"You know," he responded sternly, "it's easy to see why you were
never an intel agent -- you couldn't tell a lie to save your life."
She sighed, her gaze falling back out into space. The star was now
fully eclipsed by the world below. "I was just ... remembering."
"Old friend?"
She nodded.
"You loved him, didn't you?"
A tear in her eye answered for her.
He wiped it off her cheek. "Don't be sad for the past, Noriko. Be
happy ... for the future." His fingers brushed her face gently. "He'd
want you to be happy, too, wouldn't he?"
She rotated herself in his embrace, meeting his eyes. "I love you,
Bucky."
"And I you, Noriko."
They shared a passionate kiss. She felt his hands trying to work the
clasp at the top of the back of her dress. Stretching her own arms up
and backward, in a pose that anyone else would have assumed to be
painful, she guided his fingers, never releasing her love-hold on his
lips. They continued in that fashion, guiding each other around their
clothing, exchanging pleasures all the while, until there was nothing
whatsoever between them.
And then...

Noriko slowly reached behind her head, gently pulling the cable free.
She stood, walked up to Martin, and looked him directly in the eye.
They locked gazes silently for several long heartbeats.
"All these things ... were my life?"
Martin nodded.
"You never told me." Her voice betrayed her restrained anger.
Martin nodded.
"Why?"
He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He dropped to one knee,
cupped his hands on her shoulders, and, releasing the breath, looked
lovingly at her. He spoke slowly and chose his words with more care
than any he'd ever spoken.
"Noriko ... for as long as you'd been alive, you always fought to
live up to what you believed to be someone's vision of what you should
be. You fought to be a hero worthy of your father's legacy. You fought
to be a warrior worthy of your 'big sister's' respect. You fought to be
a soldier worthy of the Wedge Defense Force's ideals. You..." He
didn't want to say this last bit, but felt it had to be said. "You
fought ... to be a lover ... worthy of me."
He shook his head. "All your life, you were in a constant struggle
to fit into someone else's mold! You had to be something, for someone,
always! You couldn't just ... be. To be respected, admired, loved ...
for who you really were.
"When you were ... old enough for us to tell you that you were
adopted, I wondered whether I should show you this, then. I decided
against it -- because I didn't want the cycle to start all over again,
in the worst way possible -- you, fighting to become worthy ... of
_yourself_."
His gaze fell as he blinked a little water from his eyes. "I was
hoping you could just live your life ... become your own person. But
... I guess that just wasn't to be." He hung his head. "I'm sorry."
There was silence.
A soft hand took Martin's chin, pushing it up. He opened his eyes,
discovering what had to be the most beautiful smile he'd ever seen in
his life.
"Papa," she whispered. "Don't be sad."
She kissed him gently on the cheek, and embraced him warmly. His
arms folded around her in a thankful reply.

A number of enormous units of measure away (the precise figure is of
interest only to cosmologists and astrogators), the Wedge Defense Force
starship Enterprise patrolled the Halstead system of the Federation,
looking for the Halstead Yards. The cleanup of GENOM's old corporate
headquarters at Halstead Station had come off as planned, but some
interesting references had been found in some of the sealed records of
the station's computers. Enterprise had remained in-system to
investigate.
On the bridge, the atmosphere was poised between boredom and
expectation; they hadn't found anything yet, but they knew that when
they did, it was going to be big.
Admiral James T. Kirk turned his chair to face the science station,
and inquired, "Spock, anything?"
The Vulcan scientist peered at his sensors, a faint expression of
irritation on his face. "Nothing. I do not understand this, Admiral.
Surely something the size of the Halstead Yards cannot be hidden in any
conventional sense. A cloaking field of that size would be detectable
in and of itself, and there are no physical objects in this system of
sufficient size to..." He trailed off, turning back to one of the
short-range scanners.
"To?" the admiral inquired curiously. Spock held up a hand for
silence, adjusting the fine tuning on the sensor unit, and there was a
long moment of tense nothing.
"Correction: I have located the yards," he declared momentarily.
"Halstead II has been converted, Admiral. The Yards cover its surface
... I must confess I ignored it in my initial sweep."
Kirk smiled. "Mr. Arness, put us in orbit over Halstead II. I want
a look at those yards."
The recovery operation didn't take long, and presently, Enterprise
was orbiting the planet, an unremarkable class-G world -- essentially a
great spherical rock. Surface details, including the thousands of
square miles of scaffolding and support structures that were the
enormous ground-based shipyards, were clearly visible, and within them,
like insects growing inside a bizarre metallic chrysalis...
"Spock, are those what I think they are?" asked Kirk, a note of
wonder creeping into his voice.
"They are," Spock replied, bending over another scanner. "I read
seven ... no, eight of them." He stood and looked directly at his
captain to report, "All are within four percent of functional, Admiral."
"My God. If they'd finished these..." Kirk turned to face his comm
officer. "Uhura -- get me the Fleet Admiral. He may be interested to
know that we've found eight nearly-functional Executioner-class Star
Destroyers."

Martin sat quietly in the smallish room that was his study, though
small only in a relative sense. The walls were lined, ceiling-to-floor,
with every book he'd managed to keep over the years. After the Wayward
Son's destruction, he'd lost just about all of his personal library; to
remedy that, he'd re-purchased each of the books that were still
available. This left a few holes in his collection, though, since not
all of them were still in print, and there were some price tags even he
wasn't willing to face.
He was taking his time going through C. S. Lewis's Chronicles of
Narnia, presently in the twelfth chapter of _The Silver Chair_, when the
sound of the front door caught his notice. It was followed by graceful
footsteps on the carpeted floors of the house. The gait gave the new
arrival's identity away immediately: Noriko had returned. She'd left a
couple hours ago to speak with a WDF recruiter about her plans after
graduation, which wasn't too far off.
It had been six months since the ordeal of regaining her lost
memories had begun. She suffered through many, many more nightmares
during that time, some even brazenly assaulting her in the middle of the
day, forcing her to withdraw from school for over a month and keeping
the Roses home from the annual Castle Eyrie Christmas party. (Ever wake
up screaming without falling asleep first? Don't try it.) Her normally
quiet demeanor had given way to intense, almost uncontrollable mood
swings in those days; she could break from perfectly calm to a
berserker's rage to a fit of heavy weeping without any visible
provocation. It was, to say the least, distressing to see. He'd feared
for her sanity once before, but that was nothing compared to this.
She'd been slowly returning to her more familiar temperament over the
course of the past month. The conflict within her still came to light
when she spoke to him, though; sometimes she'd call him Marty, sometimes
Papa, and, at still other times, would stop herself from saying one and
switch to the other.
The door swung open as he turned to face it. He was greeted by a
sight he found both comfortingly and heartbreakingly familiar, and, in a
subtle way, rather surprising.
She stepped into the study, wearing a royal-blue uniform jacket and
black skirt, with a high-collared, white sweatshirt-style top
underneath. Her brown eyes shone warmly as she smiled at him, brushing
her hair behind her left ear as she walked toward him.
A thin band of dull scarlet was visible just below her bangs.
"Hello, Marty," she said softly, standing before him and folding her
hands before herself, quietly enjoying the flabbergasted look in his
eyes.
"ahm," he replied, making slow progress on regaining the ability to
think. "Hello, ah, Riko," he managed at last, one finger rising to
point at her right shoulder. "Is ... do those ... rank pins mean what
I..."
She nodded to him, allowing herself a smile. "Yes, they do. I'm
sure you know that Gryph is retiring from the Force sometime next year,
and setting up to reorganize in the wake of that. After reviewing all
the candidates to fill the top naval office, and consulting a bit with
Edison, they decided that I was the ideal candidate. I'm transferring
out of high school and going into a private Academy crash-course ... and
next year, they'll hand me the reins of the whole Navy."
A smile crept onto his face as he tried out the full title. "Grand
Admiral Riko ... oh, my poor baby's growing up so fast."
She chuckled faintly, and they lapsed into a long, reminiscing
silence, looking each other in the eyes, but seeing past them, into each
others' souls.
Wordlessly, Noriko folded herself onto his chair, sitting close
against his side. He hooked an arm around her waist as she moved into
position.
"I take it your retraining starts immediately."
She nodded. "Once I'm in my post, the only person who'll be able to
give me orders is Daver, since he'll be heading TacComm. So there's
going to be a lot to learn, or at least brush up on." Her head gently
came to rest on his shoulder as she released a quiet sigh. "So many
ships, so many lives under my command ... I don't know if I'll ever be
ready for it."
His embrace settled around her, and one hand gently soothed her arm.
"There's nothing to truly prepare anyone for that. And you've proven
many times over that you can command with both duty and conscience ...
you're far more prepared than you're willing to admit."
She hummed a low, pondering note. "Maybe," she admitted at last. "I
suppose it'll be good to be back in the saddle, so to speak, even if it
is aboard the flagship of the Fleet." Her eyes glanced up at him.
"Which reminds me -- our new flagship's going to be one of the
Executioners the Enterprise mission found." She smiled. "Gryphon's
even named it for me ... the Luxion."
"Hmh. Sentimental weenie." He sighed. "So ... we say good-bye yet
again."
She nodded to him.
He looked at her, his eyes glistening sadly. "It's not ... any
easier ... is it?"
"Ssh." She pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him. "I feel the
same way." She sat herself up, straddling his closer leg. Taking his
hands into hers, she kissed them gently, placing them on her hips.
A sudden memory made Martin freeze. Oh, no...
Working the fasteners on the double-breasted uniform jacket took only
a moment; then her arms vanished behind her, and the jacket retreated
from her shoulders. She slipped it past her hands and draped it over
the arm of the chair.
Noriko...
She reached up to the side of her head, tugging at the headband. It
fell from her forehead, passing over her eyes as it became a strip of
limp cloth in her hand. She laid it in a tidy bundle over her jacket.
No ... please, not this again...
Tugging at the collar of her top, she pulled it up over her mouth.
She brought her arms up over her head, closed her eyes, and grabbed at
the opposing shoulders of the blouse.
Martin closed his eyes. He only heard the sound of the blouse
sliding up her body, then falling into a heap on the carpeted floor
nearby. Unlike before, his hands held their positions on her hips, and
did not move.
A hand closed gently around his chin, guiding it slightly up from its
averted position. Soft, warm lips pressed into his. He couldn't help
but respond in kind, and, in a reaction bordering on reflex, his hands
raised, moving onto her back.
Cloth.
His eyes shot open. Cautiously, slowly, he pushed her back, looking
down at her body. A crew-necked T-shirt adorned her, in plain white.
Across her ample bosom a printed slogan fairly shouted at him:

GOTCHA.

He looked back up into her mischievous smile and chuckled softly.
"You little scamp."
She shrugged, once again assuming that angelic face he'd found
himself falling for over and over again through the years. "If there's
one thing I've learned from you, Marty ... it's that you have to be able
to laugh at yourself."
His laughter subsided into a bright smile. Noriko took a breath,
leaned on him, and spoke quietly.
"When I was little ... I mean, _really_ little ... I just about
worshipped my father, you know. He was such a larger-than-life figure.
I always knew I wanted to be just like him ... someone he'd be proud of.
For him, I joined the pilots' school. For him, I decided I had to grow
up ... almost overnight, as it turned out. There's no time for
childhood during a war. Children aren't heroes -- they're casualties."
Martin nodded silently.
"You were right when you said I always tried to make myself what I
thought I should be for someone else. Maybe that's why I fell in love
with you in the first place. The only person you ever wanted me to be
... was me."
"It's the only person I'll ever want you to be."
She smiled, rising to meet his gaze. "And that carried through ...
even when I suddenly was ... someone else. An infant. Something to be
molded into a new image. I could have become anyone for you. But from
you ... I was never forced into anything. My own choices. My own
life."
Martin's face flushed a slight red.
"My father gave me life. But you gave me something he never could
... that he never had a chance to give ... a childhood. And before I
go, I want to make sure I've said one thing..."
She leaned onto him, and his arms folded about her as she held him
close, whispering into his ear.
"I love you, Papa. I've always loved you ... and I'll always love
you."
"And I will always love you," he replied softly, "my Little Angel."

Heads will roll, Martin thought with a very private chuckle. Heads
will definitely roll this day.
It was two days after Noriko's reinstatement ceremony. Possibly the
most elaborate presentation of anything ever given to any member of the
Wedge Defense Force, it had been filled with enough grandeur and pomp as
to make the weddings of Gryphon and MegaZone seem like block parties by
comparison. It had banners and balloons, fly-overs and fireworks, music
by the largest brass band ever assembled in history, and, because there
had to be one, a buffet with an enormous ice sculpture of the ship that
would become the new command center of the Fleet. This time, they had
the foresight to allow a couple days' recovery time between the party
and the start of the tour of duty.
Now, in a spacious observation lounge, the Rose and Hutchins families
were gathered together to privately see Noriko off. All save one rather
glaring omission, that is, which was the reason for Martin's black humor
-- Ben, who had vowed upon the graves of ancestors he wasn't sure even
existed that he would be here, had been waylaid by unexpected
complications in his all-but-sewn-up retirement plans. Vision was going
to be giving some hapless scheduling computer the thirteenth degree
sometime soon.
WDF Grand Admiral Noriko Rose Takaya (Martin had insisted she reclaim
her original surname, and she, in turn, refused to discard his) was
presently giving Leonard, a fine toddler in his own right, an
affectionate hug and kiss, which he dutifully returned. Kaitlyn was
chasing the W'harnyrs around Martin's legs, but their game of tag
quickly led them off in a different direction.
"You gonna come back an' see us soon?" Leonard asked brightly.
She smiled and ruffled his hair. "Of course I will! I'm gonna milk
your Mom for all the baby-sitting money I can get!" She winked at him,
and he laughed at the joke, even though he really didn't get it.
Kei handed little Priss to Martin as she stepped forward and gave
Noriko an embrace. "You take care of yourself, you hear? The galaxy's
a dangerous place -- I should know."
"Yes, Aunt Kei," Noriko sighed in mock exasperation.
Kei bapped her on the shoulder, gave her another quick hug, and
turned to take Priss back from Martin. Eiko stepped forward, putting
her hands on Noriko's shoulders and feeling far older than she would
probably ever look.
She stood speechlessly for a long moment.
Noriko nodded. "I'll miss you, too, Mama."
They embraced, and Eiko stepped back, allowing the final well-wisher
his entry.
Noriko's neck craned nearly as far back as she could force it to look
up into Martin's face. He reached down and lifted her by the waist, and
they held each other tight. He was slightly surprised to find that he
had no tears for the occasion, and decided he must have expended them
all in the fourteen years previous.
Besides, compared to what she'd just gone through, this was a
celebration.
A kiss.
"Good-bye, Little Angel."
"Good-bye, Papa."
That was all they needed.
The tag-playing foursome quickly assembled themselves by Martin,
Eiko, Kei and Len as Noriko took a few steps away, then stopped and
whirled on her heel. Her hand reached up, giving the commpin on her
jacket a gentle tap, and it chirped happily in response.
"Grand Admiral Takaya to Luxion," she announced. "One to beam up."
"Aye, Admiral," came the immediate reply.
As all present saluted their departing heroine, except maybe for
Priss, who lacked the necessary motor control, she was surrounded by a
field of blue, then merged with it, and then ... she was gone.
Relaxing their salute, the small crowd turned to face the immense
viewport on the room's spaceward wall. There, they saw an enormous
wedge of a ship, glistening white and steel gray against the star-
pierced ebon of space -- the WDF Luxion.
"Wish I could see the looks on their faces," Martin smirked.
"You and me both, Marty," Kei confirmed.
As they waited expectantly, and the tag game resumed in earnest,
Martin took a small, folded batch of papers from a breast pocket inside
his jacket. He pried them open, smiling as he examined them in
satisfied silence. This, at least, was something that no amount of
bureaucratic bullshit could take away from Ben: a contract, fully valid
and authorized by then-Admiral Hutchins, Master of the Utopia Planitia
Shipyards, as well as by Martin, Noriko's legal parent.
In her service to the Wedge Defense Force, Martin knew that Noriko
would care for her ship as if it were her own.
If he and Gryph had their way, Martin mused, she may never find out
that that's exactly what it was.
He folded the papers back up and smiled out the viewport as the
Luxion pulled out into open space. He silently repeated the vow he and
Gryphon shared.
We have no idea what Fate has against you, Noriko. Maybe because
you're cuter than she is -- it doesn't really matter. For every wrong
she's done to you, in the past or yet to come, we'll see to it you're
repaid with interest.
Whatever it takes, Little Angel ... we'll make it up to you.
"Diggy?"
He smiled down at his wife. "Mm?"
"What're those papers?"
He considered the Luxion's title, signed into Noriko's possession,
for a silent moment before answering.
"They're a start, Little One," he said somberly. "They're a
start..."