Dies irae, dies illa
  Solvet saeclum in favilla
    Teste David cum Sibylla.
Quantus tremor est futurus
  Quando judex est venturus
    Cuncta stricte discussurus.

                              The day of wrath, that day
                                shall dissolve the world in ashes,
                                  as foretold by David and the Sibyl.
                              What trembling there will be,
                                when the judge shall come
                                  to weigh everything strictly.

   - text and translation, from the Requiem Mass

   The front door at 108 Morgan Lane rapped smartly three times.
   Eiko smiled instantly and snatched up the small towel hanging from
the oven door handle.  "Coming!" she called, drying her hands quickly
and slipping the towel back into its place.  She made a wholly
unnecessary dash across the short distance from the kitchen to the
front door; it only made a few seconds' difference, but the sharp
knock (as opposed to the doorbell) told her with fair certainty who
was waiting, and ribbing her visitor on the subject of patience was
one of her great joys in life.
   "Hiya," Kei smiled as the door pulled open, stepping onto the mat
inside to push it shut again and stomp a bit of slush from her boots.
   "Keiiii," Eiko grinned, grabbing her neighbor in a tight hug.
   Kei, for her part, wheezed under Eiko's attention, and then gasped
the air back into her lungs once released.  "Hoo!  Gotta remember to
wear armor or something when I stop by here.  Hope I didn't pull you
away from anything important."
   Eiko just smiled and waved a dismissive hand.  "Dinner can tend to
itself for a couple minutes.  I've always got time for my favorite
apprentice in the arts of domestication.  We'll wear you down yet."
   "Hah!" the taller woman laughed grandly, striking a defiant pose.
"You'll never break me!  I'm too damn stubborn to be a hausfrau."
   Eiko tsked.  "Denial is the first stage."
   "Maybe, but I can't move on to the next until I've perfected it."
Kei looked around.  "Hey, 's'that good-for-nothing husband of yours
around?"
   "I think so.  He had some company from over at your place earlier,
but I haven't heard him leave, that's for sure."  Eiko turned,
absently scanned the vacant living room, then snapped her fingers and
spun back toward the staircase.  "Of course, silly of me.  I keep
forgetting we have this thing."
   Kei watched Eiko stroll past her, to the wall next to the front
closet.  "Which thing?"
   "This."  Eiko tapped lightly on the wall with her fingertip, twice
in rapid succession, and an area roughly the size of a
12-inch-diagonal television screen mounted on its side faded from the
color of the wall paint to a deep black.  On it appeared a
multi-layered vertical diagram, with two bright spots on the layer
just below the top, and another three layers below those.
   Kei's eyebrows rose.  "Hey, an occupancy scanner!  We've considered
getting one of those, but there's just something natural about yelling
up the stairs.  Plus, in our house this sort of borders on voyeurism."
   Eiko gently tapped the layer occupied by the single dot; the
diagram vanished, replaced instantly by that level's floorplan, with
the dot perfectly stationary in one of the rooms.  "We've had ours for
a while, but I've only ever thought to use it back when the W'harnyrs
were still around.  Those kids were -everywhere-.  Anyway, here he is,
right in the studio.  Third basement, second door on the left after
you're off the stairs.  He's alone, and not going anywhere, from the
looks of it.  He's been in that spot for..."  She peered at a number
on the screen.  "...thirty-six minutes.  Probably sitting at the
keyboard, if I know him at all."
   Kei chuckled.  "I'm sure you're right.  Anyway, I've gotta finish
thanking him for reining me in last week."  Then she sighed, pulling
off her coat and dropping it across the back of the sofa.  "I was all
set to screw up everything beyond all reason and he stepped in with a
solution that was as goofy as it was infuriating.  Worst part is, it's
probably the best thing he could've done."
   Eiko nodded, hugging Kei again and favoring her with a sad smile.
"I'm sorry, Kei.  I truly am."
   This time, Kei hugged her back.  "I know.  Everyone is.  But
thanks.  Knowing you're all still here for us ... means a lot."
   After a quiet moment, Kei carefully extracted herself from Eiko's
embrace.  "Well, I'd better go track him down.  I know that little
piece of data can't have been any more pleasant for him than it was
for me," she noted as she took her first steps down the stairs.
   Eiko nodded, moving solemnly toward the kitchen.  "It wasn't.  Not
the sort of thing you'd want to see once, let alone twice.  Good
luck."
   "Thanks," Kei responded automatically, took three more steps, and
then froze in place.  Her head turned back toward where Eiko had been,
but she was already gone -- only the echo of what she said rang
through Kei's mind.
   'Twice'?


      /* Chris Tilton "Forever Rachel" _Project Majestic Mix_ */


                         Wrong Side of the Ocean
                           in association with
                     Smalltime Writers, International
                                 presents
                     a tale of Undocumented Features


                         H A M M E R T I M E :

                      D A Y S O F T H U N D E R


                                DIES IRAE
                              (Day of Rage)

                        by Martin "PCHammer" Rose


	/* McVaffe "Megaman: Cutman Sonata" OverClocked Remix
		      (remix.overclocked.org) */

   Kei opened the studio door and was instantly greeted by music, some
sort of slow, modest solo piano piece she didn't immediately
recognize.  Not a peppy and cheerful tune, but it sounded like it
could have been a bit bouncier were the tempo doubled or so.  The
arrangement was simple, and yet grew toward elegance as it went on;
possibly something Kate had worked on, Kei mused with a smile.
   She let herself in as silently as she could manage and settled into
one of the rolling chairs near the keyboard, behind where Martin was,
playing with his eyes closed.  The tip of his quiet smile confirmed
Kei's earlier theory; this was definitely one of Kate's pieces, or at
least her arrangement.  He and Kaitlyn had always been exceedingly
fond of each other, and he was the only person with whom Kate could
speak normally without stuttering, aside from her own father.  If Kei
could ever begrudge him anything, she'd long since decided, that would
be it.
   Of course, that was out of the question.  So she just sat and
listened as he eased Kate's little piano piece to its conclusion, held
the last chord for a long moment, and then turned and faced her.
   "Hello, Kei," he smiled.
   "Hi yourself," Kei grinned, rolling forward and pulling him into a
hug.  "That was one of Kate's, wasn't it?"
   He nodded with a broad grin.  "Years ago.  I think she was all of
seven or eight, starting to move out of just playing by rote and
playing things by ear.  Her style was only starting to develop."
   "And it still shows, even now."
   "Sure does.  Anyway, I wanted to see how she'd deal with something
completey out of genre for her, so I played her one of the old
three-voice chiptunes from the pioneering days of videogaming."
   Kei gave him a cheerfully annoyed look.  "It always comes down to
that with you."
   "Where better to start than the classics?  Anyway, I played her the
tune -- all square and sawtooth waves with cheap white-noise
percussion, but the composition was solid -- and told her to play it.
Which she did, straight and bouncy, just like in the game only with a
piano.  Then I told her to take it home, come back in a couple days,
and show me something different with the same tune."
   "Which was that."
   He nodded again.  "We called it the Cutman Sonata.  It's a bit
short for a proper piano sonata, but she took it into that style."  He
chuckled, looking back at the keyboard.  "It'd be neat to hear what
she'd do with the other themes now that she's got so many styles under
her belt.  The Magnetman theme from the third game might come out
sounding like something from a spaghetti Western..."
   His reverie came to a halt when he realized Kei had taken his hand,
clasping it in both of her own.  He looked back at her and was
surprised to see her brown eyes favoring him with the most serious
expression he'd seen on her face since moving here.
   "Marty," she said intensely, knitting her fingers together, "I need
to thank you."
   He smiled softly.  "You already have."
   "I know."  Her eyes didn't leave his for an instant.  "But when I
thought about it, I realized I didn't thank you enough ... I -can't-
thank you enough.  You saved me from doing something to Kate that I
had no right.  God, her life was already so badly fucked up, and I
would've only compounded that.  And then I spat in your face because
you did what had to be done."
   Martin sighed, bringing his other hand up to surround one of Kei's
in return.  "Must be my day for dealing with that, I guess.  Kait and
Utena were over earlier -- I almost forgot I'd told Utena we'd have to
talk about what happened later."
   Kei's lips curled with a wry chuckle.  "Figures.  Yeah, that kid's
really something.  And to hear her tell, it's a damn good thing you
were here to play Neighborhood Conscience.  You're probably the only
person I know who -wouldn't- have given that asshole what he
deserved."
   To Kei's silent astonishment, the smile melted away from Martin's
face as his eyes fell away from hers, losing focus off to one side.
   "Yes," he murmured, "I suppose you would think that.  Not like I've
ever..."
   Leaning in a little closer, Kei reached up with one hand, laying it
gently on the side of his face, and brought his eyes back to hers.
She peered intently at him, and instantly identified what was behind
them.
   Because if anyone knew what that sort of regret looked like, it was
Kei.
   But it wasn't alone.  Kei never thought of herself as any great
reader of emotions, but there was definitely something more behind it,
something deeper.  The look, the sadness that had appeared in his eyes
was a familiar echo.  Her lips and a hushed breath formed the name
before she was truly consciously aware of it.
   "Noriko," she whispered, and suddenly, what Eiko had accidentally
blurted just a few minutes ago made terrible, perfect sense.  "My
God..."
   His eyes began to mist over, but Kei's firm hand kept him from
looking away.  His mouth fumbled briefly for words, but gave up with a
frustrated scowl after only a few moments' effort.
   "All this time," Kei breathed, "and we never knew ... God, to think
I've been calling you the Superego Who Walks."
   He loosed a weak chuckle at that, shaking his head slightly.  "Old
habits die hard," he croaked, "and the need-to-know rule is the oldest
habit I have.  I never gave you any ... any reason to think
otherwise."
   They remained still and watched each other in silence for a while.
It was Martin who broke that silence.
   "So, I guess this means you want the whole story."
   "Not particularly," Kei replied, finally moving her hand back to
clasp his.  "But you need to tell it, and you need me to listen."
   He nodded, bowed his head for a moment, took a calming breath, and
began.

   The mess in question really started all the way back in 2288, with
the fall of the Wedge Defense Force and everything -that- entailed.
Which version of our side of that are you most familiar with?
   ("The founding of your group?  The movie, I suppose.  I know I've
sat through that with Kate at least a dozen times.  Never sat down to
check the duty logs or anything.")
   Well, that gives you a bit of groundwork so I don't have to repeat
tons of backstory you already know.  I'd feel stupid telling it to
-you-, anyway.  I was a co-producer and story consultant for the show
and everything related, so I had plenty of script input and near-final
say in what went in and what stayed out.  Most of the details are as
close to reality as would fit in broadcast time.  I also saw to it a
few details weren't included, because frankly, the galaxy doesn't need
to see our dirty laundry.
   So the first order of business is to fill in a couple of those
details.  Specifically concerning the mutiny aboard the Righteous
Indignation, and about Noriko herself.
   In the show, Captain O'Hare was killed and the bridge was overrun
while his wife, Executive Officer Takaya, was off overseeing some
maintenance matters.  She managed to collect a couple of the
engineering staff and a stray medtech, and together they fended off
the storm while it lasted.  Once it had blown over, she led the three
survivors as they patched the ship back into working condition and
headed back to the all-but-deserted home base at Utopia Planitia.
   ("Right.  I take it reality wasn't quite so tidy.")
   Hardly so.  Noriko, in fact, was right there on the bridge when
they killed the Captain.  She put up what struggle she could, but
being the only loyal survivor of the bridge crew left her pretty much
at their mercy.  They kept her morale down by bringing in other
loyalists, executing them while she was forced to watch.  And by
... well, you should know there's no pretty way to say it.  By raping
her.  Repeatedly.  She was handed off to no fewer than fourteen of
them, by her own account.
   ("jesus.")
   The combination of loss and abuse left her a basket case, numbed
and emotionless, with her sanity a ragged mess underneath a cold
veneer that was frightening enough by itself.  When the mutineers
finally abandoned ship in a booby-trapped shuttle and the three
survivors found her, she let her training take over, going into a sort
of military command fugue state -- she gave orders to assess damage,
assigned interim repairs, logged the incident, and returned to home
base for further instructions, willfully oblivious to the fact that
there was noone to give them.
   That's the state I found her in when the Indignation arrived.  None
of the others could connect with her on a level that could coax her
out of it, and that was the first thing I ended up doing.  Seeing her
like that, acting like a cute little robot, just twisted my stomach
into a knot -- I had no idea what to do, but a gentle touch was all it
took to let her know it was time to wake up.  She'd been looking
straight at me for a while, but then she finally -saw- me, and
something inside her clicked, finally reconnecting everything from the
previous weeks with reality.  And then...
   ...and then she cried.
   It was the most terrible sound.  She just ... just pushed her face
into my chest and let out the most awful, gut-wrenching wail, the most
... it broke my heart like nothing else ever will.  I just put my arms
around her and held her tight; she clung to me, just collapsed in my
embrace, and she screamed, and screamed, and screamed, and -screamed-.
It was ... I'm sorry, it's been almost a hundred thirty years and I
still can't think about it without getting worked up...
   ("Shh.  I know.  I remember back when, back in the old days.
Wolfgang all but set you two up for your first blind date.  After the
Son left port, you were passing love letters by email just about every
day for years, even long after the Indignation launched.")
   Yeah.  I fell in love with her the moment I saw her -- how could I
not?  Hell, we probably would've married back in the Golden Age if we
weren't separated.  But still, we hadn't spoken, hadn't so much as
mailed in a century or so at the time of the fall.  When she arrived
at UP, I didn't even know she'd been married.  All I knew, the moment
I saw her again, was that I loved her as much as the day we parted.
   And that if I found whoever did this to her, there would be Hell to
pay.
   ("Damn right.")
   Once we left UP to take that first mission at Funkotron, any
further thought on the matter was shelved.  The group name and mission
were a whim, I'll admit, but it seemed the best thing to do with what
we had.  I think the record pretty much bears out that it was a good
choice, but still, whenever things settled down enough -- and that
took quite a bit, even when there was nothing going on outside the
ship there was always something to tend to inside -- it was time to
start that old worrying again.
   Noriko insisted she was fine, and one good day-long cry was all
that she'd needed to get the whole thing out of her system.  Seemed
like a stretch to me, but hey, I'm no psychoanalyst.  The only signs I
had that anything was wrong under the hood was just how strongly she
came on to me whenever she saw the opportunity.  Still, I just chalked
it up to grief and rebound; you know, married for a hundred years or
so, you kind of get used to having someone around.
   So I was both right and wrong at the same time.

   It was 2314, about mid-May.  It'd been roughly six years since I'd
presented Eiko with her engagement ring, but we hadn't set a date.
The closest we could come was "once this big cosmic mess settles down
a bit," and there was no sign of -that- happening anytime soon.  If
anything, it was getting worse with alarming regularity.  Noriko would
still move in for a nice long cuddle-and-neck every so often, and
frankly, I was surprised -- I'd half-expected her to either go
ballistic or quit the team entirely, but she was just proceeding in a
calm, status-quo fashion.  Not that Eiko felt any better about it.
   Anyway, we were presently between cases, with everything that
entailed.  There was a total of three people on the bridge of the
Indignation at the time; myself, in the command chair, Noriko,
flitting from station to station coordinating diagnostics, and
Blaster, at the comm console in the back.  I think the Tarawa only had
two people on their bridge, and everyone else was scattered around
both ships, taking care of whatever detail work and upkeep needed
doing, or just a bit of unwinding.  Normally I'd've found a game to
pass the time in Tech Lounge One, but we'd already had one call that
day that dragged me out of there.  And I was a bit grumpy 'cause
they'd changed their mind by the time I was on the bridge.  That
happened more often than you'd think, but it was still annoying.
   So there I was in the command chair, more from bloody-mindedness
than any actual need to tend the post, doing what I could to help
Noriko with her manic switch-flipping when the next call came in.
Blaster answered it with his usual panache.
   "Hey hey, Blaster's blastin' at'cha from Thunder Force HQ on the
bridge of the Righteous Indignation.  You need bad guys busted, you
got the right number.  Say the word and our good Cap'n is yours for
the askin'.  What can we do ya for?"
   The woman on the other end of the line had to laugh before she
could respond.  "Hi, Blaster.  I'm afraid I do need to talk to your
Fearless Leader.  Is he around?"
   I spun in my seat with a smile that made Noriko quirk an eyebrow in
my direction, but I didn't particularly care.  The voice on the line
was both familiar and welcome.  "She got a video link?" I asked,
probably a bit more eagerly than I meant it to be.
   Blaster just smiled and nodded, confirming the look he saw in my
eyes.  "You got it, sweet thing."  No, no, he said that to the phone.
"Switchin' to visual now."
   I turned around just in time for the image to come up on the main
viewscreen, and discovered my hunch was dead on -- there was Yuri,
bigger'n life and lovely as ever.
   ("Heh.  You and your crushes.")
   Yeah, but I'm too obvious to make them secret.  We'd always been on
good terms, at least I thought so, and I hadn't seen her in person
since the Big Collapse.  You know there weren't all that many of us
with published phone numbers at the time, so she'd call every
not-often-enough just to chat, and hearing from her was always nice.
   ("You thought right, by the way.  Just for future reference.")
   That's good to know.  Of course, the best I could do for the
occasion was to just kind'a twiddle my fingers and say, "Hi, Yuri,"
while Noriko hopped over behind me and waved like a fool.
   Yuri, at least, greeted the situation with the appropriate
enthusiasm level.  "Hammer, hi!  How've you been?  Hey, is that--
Noriko, wow!  My goddess, it's been forever!  How's every big and
little thing?"
   Noriko just grinned back at her and propped up her arms on the back
of my chair.  "Given how often we're in the news, you're likely more
qualified to answer that question than us."
   "Unless you're counting the number of gals claiming to carry my
love-child," I threw in.  "Danilia's been collecting every issue of
the Galactic Enquirer, Interstellar Examiner and
I-can't-even-NAME-them-all tabloid with me on the cover."
   "And they're all just jealous," Noriko pointed out indignantly.  "I
saw him first."
   Yuri laughed.  "The price of fame, I guess.  Hey, I saw the item
about you guys busting that smuggling ring.  Good job, guys."
   "Thanks," I nodded.  "Though as I'm sure you're aware, we owe all
our victories to our dedicated crack team of experts."
   Noriko turned to me and folded an arm around my shoulder from
behind.  "Am I a crack expert?"
   "Yes, Little Angel," I told her, "you're our expert at cracking
other ships' hulls."
   At about this point I noticed Yuri's smile fade just a bit.  "I
take it this isn't strictly a social call," I said, so she wouldn't
have to.
   Yuri sighed and shook her head slowly, letting her smile fall away
entirely.  "Sorry, Hammer," she said, "I'm afraid you're right.  The
fact that I'm an acquaintance means I've been chosen as liaison
between Thunder Force and the 3WA.  We've lost a team, and we need
your help."
   That pretty much settled the matter for me.  "You've got it," I
told her with a nod, and Yuri laid out the basics.

   Turns out the 3WA responded to a call a couple days earlier from a
system out in the Triangle of Happiness.  You know the place --
Cardassians on one side, Kilrathi on the other, the UG pretending to
hold its own edge, the occasional Romulan joyrider to keep things
interesting, a few hapless populated worlds ... and the Righteous
Indignation's old beat, ironically enough.
   For once, the problem had nothing to do with any sort of aggressive
push by either of the two empires involved, or even the Elasi pirates
-- they were all busy elsewhere, and besides, that would have called
for a plea to the UG Fleet, ineffectual though that may have been.
The problem was a fledgeling crime syndicate that had taken root in
the power vacuum left behind.  They'd kept themselves to the level of
a regular nuisance until late, you know, just low-grade black market
smuggling, bookkeeping, protection rackets, stuff like that.  No turf
wars or anything nasty like that.
   Recently, though, word on the street was they'd had some new
management pushed on them, and their almost benign status had been
upgraded accordingly.  They'd graduated to gangland-style executions,
mortal fighting clubs and tournaments, hard narcotics pushing and the
like; now they were a genuine public threat.  The new bosses weren't
camera-shy in the least, but actually bringing them -in-, dead or
alive, was the problem, and, well, that was where the 3WA came in.
   They'd assigned team 936, the Jade Vipers, don't know if you'd ever
met 'em yourself -- a Praxian, Jina T'Kel, and a Salusian, Tannara
Shelkonan, both veterans with a history of successful syndicate cases.
They hadn't been anticipating any significant difficulty; Shelkonan
even arranged a date before she left, for the weekend after the
assignment started.  It was just another day at the office for them.
   That is, until they'd lost contact.

   Yuri finished her quick recap with a sigh.  "And that's about
everything we've got, Hammer.  Their final communique indicated they
were following a lead to Ceruleus III, an old industrial world near
the UG and Kilrathi borders that's been mostly converted to a
combination warehouse and shipping center.  That's where we got their
ship's last long-range transponder signal, and haven't been able to
raise it since.  I think it goes without saying that we suspect foul
play."
   I nodded to her, doing what I could to hide the fact that Noriko's
arm had suddenly tightened around me at the mention of the planet's
name, locking me into my chair while her small hand clawed at my
shirt.  "We'll do what we can, Yuri.  One way or the other, Thunder
Force will get to the bottom of this."
   Yuri nodded with a faint smile.  "Thank you.  And just so you know,
that sounds really hokey."
   I gave her my best 'hurt' look.  "I thought it was dramatic."
   "Melodramatic, maybe.  I'd better get moving -- got my own job to
do, you know, even when Kei's out."
   I may have been dense, but I knew what -that- meant.  "Again?"
   "Again.  Take care, Hammer."
   "You too, Yuri.  You too."
   The minute the transmission was off, I turned my attention to more
important things, like getting Noriko to ease up on the Martian Death
Grip.  I laid a hand over hers, and before I could say or ask
anything, I felt her face push right into the crook of my neck, and
her other arm wrapped as far around me as it could go.  Her next
breath came out as a muffled shudder, and I could feel her shaking,
ever so faintly.
   If she was trying to set off my protective instincts, she could
chalk that up as a huge success.  I clasped her hand in mine and gave
her what I could of a cuddle, which pretty much consisted of rubbing
my cheek on the side of her head.  After a few minutes of this, she
seemed to have calmed a bit, and I keyed up the intercom to both ships
and did my best announcer-guy voice, though not quite as snappy as
usual, which made it a sort of tired-announcer-guy, I guess.
   "All right, folks, look sharp.  Next job's lined up and waiting,
from the 3WA no less, and it sounds like another zinger.  Fiske,
coordinate with Blaster, he's got the jump point and what we know so
far.  Thom, I'll be expecting whatever you can dig up about the locale
and situation for the powwow.  Everyone else, chop chop.  Briefing in
thirty, usual place.  Fold in thirty after that.  Yes, it's that
urgent.  Hammer out."
   With that taken care of, I returned my attention to Noriko.  After
another couple minutes in that awkward-yet-affectionate position, she
pulled her head up, gave me a kiss, and then ran from the bridge,
leaving just myself and Blaster.
   Once she was good and gone, Blaster let out a low whistle.  "Man,
somethin' about that place spooks the Skipper like nothin' I ever seen
before."
   All I could really do was nod and grunt an affirmative.  And
resolve to find out what.

   "Ouch."
   Martin paused.  "Need anything?"
   Kei shook her head.  "No, I'm fine.  It's just that the way you do
everyone so perfect makes my head hurt.  Yuri's voice coming from your
mouth is more than a little weird."
   He noddeed, conceding the point.  "Mm.  Sorry, I just think it's
important to really understanding the story."
   "Oh, I'm not arguing that.  Just don't get offended if I have to
close my eyes.  It might be easier to take as a radio play."
   "Fair enough.  Anyway, let's skip a dull half-hour of waiting and
worrying and cut to the chase."

   The briefing went quickly, as always.  Part of it was a recap of
what Yuri'd already told me, for the benefit of the rest of the team.
Thom Masterson had his ear to the ground at all times, and turned up a
lot of nuances of regional politics and intrigue, including a ream of
useful data on the MO of the mob we were after and
current-as-he-could-find street layouts for Ceruleus III.  Given
another ten minutes and the exact location of the Jade Viper he
could've probably laid out a full insert-and-assault plan.  He was
very handy to have around.
   It also became obvious during the briefing that Noriko wasn't the
only one with an adverse reaction to the location.  I noticed a lot of
worried looks exchanged between Hanson, Korren and Nadia, and each of
them casting an equally worried look at Noriko.  She didn't
acknowledge any of them -- she just locked her attention to Thom's
data, gripped the table, bit her lip and stayed as still as she could.
Again, if she was trying to make me worry for her she was doing a
magnificent job.
   Thom gave me the traditional nod to signal the end of his
presentation, and I stood up.  "That's what we've got so far, people.
Once we're on-site, we have full license from the local governments
and the 3WA to act at our own discretion.  First priority is to locate
and rescue the Jade Vipers, if possible.  Once that's done, we finish
the job they started, with their help if that rescue in the first part
was a go.  'Course, combining the two objectives would be fine, too.
Any questions?"
   The moment I got that out, Noriko made a peculiar sound like
choking on the words "excuse me" and fled the room like a colt in a
thunderstorm, holding her hand over her mouth.  Everyone just stared
after her for a minute or so before I went on.
   "None?  Good, because I've got a doozy.  Nadia, Korren, Hanson --
what -is- it about this place that has you four on edge?"
   The three of them looked around at each other, and then Korren
cleared his throat.  "Well, ahm, I'm sure you're aware that this
general region used to be our old haunt, back in the day.  Crescent
Station, a hollowed-out, metal-rich asteroid that served as a base for
both ourselves and the converted Arcadian skyship, the Delphinus, was
right over there by the UG edge of the Triangle.  Our two ships used
to patrol and fight together.  Captain Shannon was a fun guy, and he
kept a good--"
   "The point, please."  That was Rose, one of the Tarawa's crew.
Usually a fairly patient woman, but Korren was starting to ramble.
   It was Nadia who spoke next, starting with a heavy sigh and
fidgeting with her hands as she spoke.  "On the day the WDF fell, our
two ships had been sent off in different directions from our usual
patrol route to deal with seperate incidents.  The Delphinus headed
back to Crescent Station to deal with a sudden heavy attack there; we
lost contact with them almost immediately and never heard from them
again.  Not that we could do much about it, since we had an ambush of
our own to deal with ... at Ceruleus III.  That's where the whole
thing went down.  For us, that's where it all fell apart."
   I looked from Nadia, to Hanson, to Korren ... and then to Noriko's
empty chair.
   Yeah, I could see why she'd have reservations about going back.
Talk about hitting close to home.
   "Ah, yes," I told them.  "Well, that gives me something to deal
with before the mission, I guess.  But we're still going through with
it.  Our personal traumas don't put that 3WA team in any less peril.
'Sides, I promised Yuri we'd clear this up -- no way I'm backing away
from that."
   "Fishing for favors?"  Rafael, another of the Tarawa's crew,
offered that one with a sardonic smirk.
   "Keeping a promise to a friend," I said as matter-of-factly as
ever.  I'd've made some snippy comment about feeling besmirched, but I
didn't care at the moment.
   I noticed that Thom had taken the moment's respite to ask Nadia
about something, but kept his voice low so as not to draw attention.
It looked like the question rankled her a bit, actually.
   Ignoring that, I forged ahead while walking toward the door.
"Fiske, you're in charge for the duration.  I think the rest of you
know what to do.  Fold in thirty, people, we've got lives on the line.
I'll be on the bridge by then."
   There was a bit of a murmur behind the door after I left, but I
didn't care enough to listen.  From what I'd seen so far, the Jade
Vipers weren't the only ones with a big, big problem.

   There were exactly three places aboard the ship that I knew to look
for her.  Naturally, my brain took the perverse angle and followed
them in reverse-likelihood order.  First was the primary observation
deck -- the last place we were together before the Collapse was an
observation deck.  Not finding her there, I went to her quarters,
since, well, you know.  Familiar surroundings and all that, but she
wasn't there either.  So, having exhausted both of those options, I
went to the place I probably should've gone first.
   My quarters.
   There she was, sitting on my bed, her hands folded and pressed
between her knees.  Her uniform jacket was sprawled on the floor, and
the rest of her outfit was in serious disarray.  Her face was pale and
her eyes hollow, with dark circles underneath them -- she looked like
she'd managed to lose about three nights' sleep.  That was probably
due to the fact that she'd lost her last meal in my john.  She didn't
even look up when I was standing in front of her, just kept staring
vacantly at the floor, but I couldn't leave her like that.  I sat down
next to her, eased an arm around her...

/* Nobuo Uematsu "Eyes On Me" _Final Fantasy 8 Piano Collections_ */

   ...and she tackled me.  I'd've never thought she had that kind of
energy in her from what I saw, but the moment my hand touched her
shoulder she had me flat on my back on the bed, and hung right over me
on all fours, one hand planted on each shoulder, with a strange glint
in her eyes that ... I didn't know -what- to make of it.
   I just lay there, too stunned to do or say much of anything ... I
think I was genuinely afraid of her, of what might have been flashing
behind those brown eyes.  My heart was pounding in my throat, and she
moved in closer, slipping her hands down onto the bed, her nose almost
touching mine.  I couldn't help but smell the still-lingering sick on
her breath, but getting away from the stink meant moving out from
under her, which was out of the question.  And if she wanted to scare
me even more, what she said next won the prize.
   "You're mine," she hissed.  "They won't take you from me again."
   I'd've asked her what she meant by that, but the words would've had
to have been pried from the back of her throat, because she plopped
down onto me and for the next three minutes did everything in her
power to drive me out of my mind.  Fortunately, that lingering smell
on her breath kept me at least slightly aware.  But still, when she
finally relented to catch her second wind, we were both panting.
   "Riko," I gasped, "we have to get back.  We fold in ten minutes."
   "You know I only need five," she purred, and started to move in
again.
   "Noriko, -please-!"  That managed to hold her back, at least.  I'd
wanted to say something about how it was neither the time nor the
place, or maybe mention the engagement ring on my left hand, or ask
-how- I'd know she only needed five minutes, or point out how
incredibly terrifying it was seeing her like this, but you'll have to
excuse me if my heart wasn't in it.  All I had to lean on was the
mission.
   She just sighed and laid her head on my chest, starting to curl up
on top of me.  I wrapped an arm around her to keep her in place, and
then pushed back up to a sitting position, which left her sprawled
partly across my lap, and we stayed that way in silence for a minute.
One thing was obvious to me -- there was no way she could go into the
field like this.
   "If Thom's put you in one of the drop teams," I told her, "I'm
replacing you with Mandy."
   Again, she sprang into motion so fast I had no idea what she was
doing until she'd done it.  One minute she was cuddled up on my side,
the next she was straddling my legs and hissing into my face with the
lapels of my jumpsuit in her fists.
   "The hell you are!" she snarled.  "I'm not letting you out of my
sight!"
   Anger, at least, I could deal with levelly.  "I've never seen you
this unstable, Noriko.  I can't let you leave the ship in this state."
   "I'm FINE."
   "Like Hell.  Noriko, look at yourself!  Look!"  I took her by the
shoulders and pushed her back, and she let go of my shirt and stared
at her hands.  "Fifteen minutes ago you were running for your life.
Three minutes ago you were -seducing- me!  And look at you now!"  I
shook my head.  "I'm sorry, Riko, but I told you, I can't--"
   "NO!"  She grabbed me again, her eyes full of sudden panic.  "I
can't, I WON'T let you go alone!  Wherever you go, I go with you!
Please!  PLEASE!"
   It was bad enough I've always had a soft spot for her, and that
spot only got softer while we were apart that hundred-some years.  But
pleading like that practically made it a liquid, and she just dove
right into it head-first.
   "All right," I heard myself say, and was immediately rewarded by a
beaming smile and a kiss of gratitude-and-then-some.
   She only let go of me for as long as it took to straighten herself
up, and after that only when we were back on the bridge.

   We arrived well outside the Ceruleus III orbital zone, and were
immediately hailed by the regional flagship for a quick situational
update.  The 3WA central HQ hadn't been kept completely up-to-date
with the goings-on, but the missing bits were the sorts of details the
Jade Vipers would be filling in on the after-action report.  The most
notable detail was that the Vipers hadn't made that final planetfall
alone, but had carried a military platoon with them in their ship.
The fleet knew the rough location of the drop, but even the ship's
nearspace transponder was out, so they had no idea if it was still in
the same place.  They'd've written the ship off as shot down, except
there'd been no sign of either anti-air fire or an actual crash.
   Thom was all over every shred of data they could supply.  Within
five minutes he'd assembled ten of us into a dropship and we were en
route; there was no spaceborne threat, nor an airborne one, come to
that.  All the problems were on the ground.  I could see that he, too,
was reluctant to bring Riko along as one of the ten, but he also had a
peculiarly green pallor about him that made me wonder if Riko wasn't
the only one who'd been driving the porcelain bus recently.  It wasn't
until days later that I found out it was his natural reaction to
learning what'd happened to her during the mutiny.
   ("Marty, your ability to make wholly inappropriate metaphors is
uncanny.")
   What can I say, it's a gift.
   The first order of business was to get in under the planet's
ionosphere, which was unusually heavy and turbulent and made pinpoint
scanning and weak signal detection impossible from space.  There were
three signal sources to scan: the ship's transponder, assuming it was
still in some sort of operational condition, and each of the Vipers'
dermal implants.
   Once we'd stabilized from reentry to normal flight, the receiver
lit up quite obligingly.  And, naturally, we had three distinct
locations to deal with, which were fairly well-separated.  Thom
relayed the zone coordinates back to the flagship via laser pulse, and
they supplied him with a map, slightly out-of-date from what we
already had, and some building schematics.  Within a few minutes he
had the whole operation mapped.  Like I said -- very handy to have
around.
   He paired us off into three teams.  Since the ship would be of
little use to anyone, particularly the syndicate, Rose and Thorn were
sent off to give it a good technical once-over, and maybe see why the
long-range transponder wasn't working.  The other two teams, myself
with Noriko and Thom with Eiko, would each go after one of the implant
signals.  Dani and Noa would be standing by in their battloids, with
Tom and Asuma as support crew.
   I suppose it's worth pointing out that this arrangement was a bit
of a tough sell with Eiko, who didn't trust Noriko alone with me one
little bit.  Justifiably, perhaps, and to a greater degree than even
she would've suspected at the time.  But I didn't have to do any of
the selling, since it was Thom's idea; in the end, she had to agree
that since the TCs themselves would likely be at least guarded, having
one heavy hitter for each was the best use of resources.
   By that time, we'd touched down.  Each of the three teams went
their seperate ways, some more grudgingly than others.  Like the Jade
Vipers themselves, we weren't expecting anything out of the ordinary.
And, also like the Jade Vipers, we were in for some rude awakenings.

   The first group to reach their target was the ever-popular
husband-wife team of Rose and Thorn.  They came across very little
resistance, nothing they couldn't sneak past or subdue with a minimum
of fuss.  There was only one bored-looking guy watching the Viper,
armed but far from dangerous.  They guessed a coin flip didn't go his
way and he got stuck with the dull job, so, being sympathetic by
nature, they did what they could to make it interesting for him before
putting his lights out.
   That's pretty much where the expected gave way to the inexplicable.
Once they were inside and trying to access the logs, they found the
ship's systems had somehow been put into a total lockdown.
   ("Total?  -Total- total?")
   Absolutely and completely total.  Everything but the core console
was offline.  They had no link so any cyber ops were out of the
question, no way to call for backup, even the shipboard CI was down so
they were stranded the minute they touched the dirt.  Sitting ducks.
   ("Damn.  No way they would do that to themselves.  And no band of
random jackasses could do it to them, either.")
   Yeah, that little detail worried the hell out of Rose and Thorn
once they figured it out.  You know that can only be restarted at the
console, though it can be initiated remotely in case of an emergency
-- but only by either the TCs themselves or someone with
Commander-level clearance, since WDF security ranks were always valid
in 3WA systems.  But nobody from the Force would ever pull the rug out
from under a Trouble Consultant team like that.
   ...That is, nobody -loyal- to the Force.
   ("God.  Just keeps getting better and better, doesn't it?")
   Oh, the best is yet to come.
   Rose radioed their findings to the rest of us, and she and Thorn
got back to the job of trying to get the ship back online, hopefully
to determine, at the very least, who'd shut it down to begin with.

   Noriko and I, on the other hand, were having a great deal of fun.
Provided that when you say "having fun", you actually mean "running
into people who want to kill you".
   I remember we were paused for a moment, nearing the bottom of a
long stairwell.  We'd either lost or picked off anyone who'd been
chasing us so far, and were presently working our way down a series of
sub-basements in what used to be a factory management center.  Our job
had become a lot easier after we'd stopped on a particularly noisy
floor, and ended up demolishing what Noriko guessed to be their
security relay center.  Her theory rang true so far, as the goons
suddenly stopped finding us while we started finding them.
   All told, I had to hand it to her; she really knew how to clamp
down on her problems.  Once we were in the thick of it, she was the
picture of professionalism.  A much better-looking picture than you
usually get, but that's my bias showing again.  There was no fear in
her eyes, not so much as a pause or flinch as we hurried through the
compound.  Her jaw was set and her aim was true -- every shot from her
gun was dead-on.  After hearing about that peculiarity with the Viper,
we agreed that "playing nice" was a luxury this situation didn't
warrant.
   "How you holding out, Riko?" I asked her.
   She glanced at the side of her pistol, still panting to catch her
breath.  "Down to a third," she told me.  "And it's my last clip."
   That wasn't the question I was really asking, but I pretended it
was.  "We can grab another from the next goon we drop."
   She shook her head.  "They're all using either DL-44s or
slug-throwers.  This is an E-Mag 112.  Power clips aren't compatible,
particularly not with bullets."  With a smirk, she added, "I know
you're not a gun geek, but try to keep up."
   I'll admit I earned that, so I just nodded.  "Mm.  Well, guess we
pick weapons off the next batch, then.  Or you could just let me do
the brunt of the work."
   For that, she favored me with a fierce smile and a playful, "As
if."  Then her smile gave way to a more serious look, and she
straightened herself.  "How much farther?"
   "Four more floors, maybe five," I told her.  I could see the
remaining TC's signal in my head, still a ways beneath us.  Apparently
someone had a more traditional sense of what should be done with
captives, since it felt a bit like storming a dungeon.
   Riko nodded and started to head down the next flight, but I caught
her with a hand on her shoulder before she was two steps down.
   "Not yet," I said to her questioning look.  "I can hear 'em down
there, maybe a half-dozen -- they're getting edgy, spooked by the lack
of radio contact.  If we try to punch through we'll lose the hostage.
I go first, scope 'em out, maybe do some thinning.  Stay at least a
floor above 'til I give the word."
   She gave me a worried look for a moment, then squeezed my hand with
a smile.  "Don't be long," she whispered.  "Come back to me."
   I touched her cheek, told her, "I always do," and then vaulted the
railing to drop the remaining distance to the bottom level.  I was so
tense that the light tap when I touched down felt more like a sonic
boom.
   This is the part that's always so nerve-wracking for me.  My senses
were heightened by my conversion, so I can hear just about all noises,
including my own.  Of course, I sometimes forget that the rest of
humanity hasn't been enhanced to match, so I get the creeping feeling
that every little thing I do is making enough noise to give me away.
It raises my blood pressure, keeps the hairs on the back of my neck
standing straight up and probably turns them gray as well, but
accomplishes little else.
   Anyway, my lower guess for the number of floors turned out to be
right, technically, but the absolute bottom level was double-tall.
They had a huge latticework of hissing, thrumming, chattering pipes
and catwalks taking up the space of what would've been floor above the
bottom.  I chose the high road for my recon sweep, but didn't stick to
it very strictly; I'd duck out through the pipes whenever I found an
opening, to get a more thorough view of the main floor.
   The density of the pipes turned out to be useful in itself.  My
guess for the number of guards patrolling the zone turned out to be
about half of the actual count -- the sudden radio blackout probably
prompted the smarter goons from the levels above to concentrate their
efforts around the prisoner.  They tended to stay in pairs and stay on
the main level, but there were two or three who decided to make solo
patrols of the catwalks.  Naturally, they all ended up out cold and
lashed to the pipes, out of sight.  I also got the drop on a pair
patrolling the main floor.  None of 'em ever saw what hit 'em.
   That left seven, about as many as I'd initially guessed, all
grouped around an armored door with Consultant T'Kel's implant signal
behind it.  I was about to head back and hash out a plan when I felt
another loner tiptoeing their way along the catwalk, someone a lot
lighter on their feet than any of the others so far.  I settled back
into a particularly dark grotto of pipework and waited.  Soon enough,
my pursuer came into view, stalking me like a jungle cat with her gun
at the ready.  My grotto was so dark that she didn't even know I was
there until I reached out and grabbed her from behind, one hand over
her mouth and the other on her waist, pulled her into the darkness,
and hissed into her ear,
   "I told you to wait."
   I let my hand off Noriko's mouth and drew her in a little closer,
since her uniform wasn't quite as dark as my costume.  She managed to
turn herself to face me and whisper back,
   "You told me to stay one floor up."
   I just gave her an exasperated sigh.  "Well, I was going back to
get you anyway.  My estimate was low, but I've taken out not quite
half of 'em.  There's seven left, all hanging by T'Kel's cell,
probably highly suspicious by now.  Once we take any of them we'll
have to act fast to finish the job, and I doubt any two will be very
far from the others.  If we ... um, Riko, are you listening?"
   I paused in my recap to finally notice that Noriko'd hooked her
arms up behind my shoulders and pulled herself up, draping herself
down the front of me.  She was so close that every breath I took was
second-hand from her.
   "As always," she purred, "you have my unnnndivided attention."
   "Great," I muttered, practically putting the words directly into
her mouth, "'cause now I forgot what I was saying."
   She chuckled softly.  "Well, let's give you something to think
about."
   What she did got me thinking, all right; thinking about how strange
it was to be making out in the middle of a mission.  Not unpleasant by
any means, but also not my idea of an ideal venue.  Still, like
before, thinking about stopping this once it's started is one thing;
actually convincing your body to stop, now, that's another matter
entirely.
   Fortunately, the threetone of an incoming call -- piped directly
into Noriko's ear and my head -- startled us enough to break the
spell.  Riko slipped down a little to rest her head on me while I
spoke directly to the commlink.
   "Hammer here, go ahead."
   "Chief Thunder here."  That was our field name for Thom, since he
was almost always the one in charge.  "We've found our objective,
Consultant Shelkonan, and what looks like most of the squad."
   "Dead or alive?"
   "Dead.  Very dead.  All of them, save a squadman who didn't last
long enough to evac."
   "I see."
   "You don't want to."
   "...Explain."
   "They messed her up really bad.  Bruises all over, a handful of
broken bones, left wrist completely smashed.  Multiple firearm wounds,
a couple look like they were point-blank.  Blade wounds, both slash
and stab.  Clothes are nearly gone, looks like ... looks like they had
some fun with her before finishing her.  Possibly after, hard to say."
   If I'd entertained any further thoughts of going easy on the
targets before, they were gone now.  Noriko was giving me the death
grip again, and I rocked her close and stroked her hair to try to calm
her down.  "Understood.  How's your little helper taking it?"
   "Doing okay, considering.  First time she's seen anything this
vicious, particularly firsthand.  We'll rendezvous with you as soon--"
   "Scratch that.  Get back to the dropship.  Or better yet, look for
whatever they use for a spaceport or a hangar around here.  If they
have any means of escape, eliminate it.  T'Kel is alive, we're about
to make the save.  Stay sharp -- this isn't over yet, but once we have
T'Kel it'll wrap up pretty damn quick.  Hammer out."
   The call did the trick, putting the fire back in me to get the job
done and see it through to the finish.  I grabbed up Noriko, gave
-her- a toe-curling kiss for a change, and set her down on her feet.
Even in the darkness of our little hidey-hole, I could see her eyes
shining with a fire that matched my own.
   "C'mon, Little Angel -- let's get dangerous."

   I was right about the remaining guards.  They were spooked bad by
the isolation, sticking close to what they figured was their only
bargaining chip.  They were hoping for safety in numbers, but as far
as Noriko and I were concerned they just made for a nicely-clustered
set of targets.  I think two of 'em actually wet themselves when I
gave 'em the Intro Du Jour, but they didn't last long enough for me to
ask about it, and I sure wasn't about to check their pants.  Five
shots from Riko's E-Mag and a classic double skull-knock later, it was
just the two of us.
   ("So?")
   So, what?
   ("So what was it?")
   What was what?
   (Kei gave him a one-handed thwap.  "The intro, you dip.")
   Oh.  Um ... "I am the hand of fate closing about you," I think.  I
get kind of punchy when I'm on a roll.  It looked a lot better than it
sounds now.  We found a switch box around a corner -- unguarded, go
fig -- and Riko messed with the lights to help the effect.  You
should'a seen their faces, they had -no- idea what was going on.
Anyway.
   Once the lights were back on, I readied myself in front of the door
and announced my intent.  "Consultant T'Kel!  If you can hear me,
please move away from the door!"
   The sight of the implant signal backing away brought a smile to my
face -- she was both alive and awake -- but I had to amend my previous
statement.
   "Uh, to the side, please."  The signal complied.  "Perfect, thank
you."
   Now that she was out of the door-blast zone, and with my renewed
sense of purpose making me oddly flamboyant, I took a spinning
skip-step forward and slammed the door with my fist.  The frame
buckled, the hinges snapped completely, and the door itself nearly
folded in half and sailed into the room, hitting the far wall with a
loud BANG.
   With that out of the way, literally, I stepped slightly inside and
reached a hand into the blackness.  "It's all right," I said, using my
best Calming Voice.  "They're gone.  You're safe now."
   "I may be," the new, rather husky voice replied, "but thanks to
you, my foes are not."
   ("Wait.  This was the Praxian, right?")
   Yeah, that's about when I realized that I may have made a small
error in protocol.
   ("No kidding.  That sort of gallantry is likely to get you boxed in
the chops.")
   Mm-hm.  Which is why I was both pleasantly surprised and slightly
startled when she actually took my hand and let me lead her out of her
cell.
   Out in the light, we all got our first real looks at each other.
Jina T'Kel was actually quite short for a Praxian woman, but at
six-foot-four she was still head and shoulders above Noriko.  Her
complexion was fair, again odd for her race, her hair was dark,
straight and short, and she was lean, not thin.  Her eyes, bright
green, were set with a defiance that seemed ready to wrestle a roomful
of bears to the ground.  And she was looking me over with a rather
disarming smile that earned her a glare from Riko.
   "So," Jina began after another moment of sizing up, "you seem to
have me at a disadvantage.  Although I feel I -should- know who you
are..."
   That felt like a good time to slap myself on the head, so I did.
"D'oh!  I'm sorry, that was rude of me.  Allow me to introduce
ourselves, Miss T'Kel.  This is my teammate, Noriko Takaya,
sharpshooter extraordinaire and executive officer of the Righteous
Indignation."  Noriko nodded coolly.  "I, of course, am the Terror
That Flaps in the Night.  We're with Thunder Force, and we'll be your
rescuers this evening.  If you need anything, just ask."
   Jina's eyes lit up, and her smile broadened just a bit -- seems
we'd stumbled onto another closet fan.  "Thunder Force, that's right!
I recognize the insignia on her jacket now.  Well, and your costume,
of course."
   I straightened up, gave my cape the ol' dramatic furl and put on my
Big Confident Smile.  "It is distinctive, isn't it?"
   "Indeed.  Not many would dress that way willingly."  That deflated
me pretty quick, and the combination of the comeback and the look on
my face just about killed poor Noriko.  Kind of like what it's doing
for you.  It's okay, I'll wait.
   Ready?
   ("--Hee hee heh heh.  Yeah, okay.  I'm set, I'm good.")
   "Fashion complaints aside," Jina went on, still smiling, "thank
you.  Though that's about as much gratitude as I can spare for the
moment."  Her smile give way to a truly ferocious frown as she added,
"There are, as my coworkers would put it, bigger fish to fry."
   I nodded.  "Another of our search teams found ... what was left of
Consultant Shelkonan.  I'm sorry."
   "Do not fear for me," she replied, finally releasing my hand -- I
hadn't even noticed that she didn't let go until then.  She went over
to one of the guards' bodies and carefully pried the blaster from his
cold fingers.  "Fear for the bastard who took my partner's dignity,
and then her life ... and for the monsters who cheered him on."  She
rubbed a bit of dust off the top edge of the gun, and her look turned
thoughtful.
   "Nor should you fear, sweet Tan," I heard her whisper.  "Your
vengeance will be swift."  Then she got on with the serious business
of looting the bodies for usable weapons, and Noriko knelt down beside
her to help -- that fifth shot had been her last.

   Keeping a few thugs alive turned out to be a good idea after all,
since it gave us someone to shake down for directions more specific
than "up".  After our interrogations, we chucked 'em into a few other
empty rooms for later retrieval and got Thom on the horn again for an
update.  This time, for Jina's benefit, I held the comm session out
loud.
   They'd followed through on my earlier suggestion, and hit paydirt.
Since the complex they were using for their base was between owners at
the time, and the whole world itself was pretty lacking for cops --
why bother when there's almost nobody but security drones around
anyway? -- they were keeping all their ships parked at a loading port.
It only took Dani and Noa a minute or so to render their small fleet,
maybe a couple dozen ships, into lots of little pieces.
   I let him know T'Kel was safe, we knew where the big cheese was
stashing himself, and final cleanup was underway.  He offered again to
help, but I declined again, and he knew full well why.  Our dropship
and the Jade Viper were the nearest escape routes, and any remaining
hostiles would probably make a go at them.
   So he headed back to set up guard duty, and I rounded up my two
partners, now decked out like walking arsenals from all the stuff
they'd snagged, and marched off for the showdown.

   The building they were using for their HQ and bunker was a
completely unnecessary twenty-story office high-rise in the center of
the compound, probably only there because the outfit that built the
complex in the first place thought they'd actually have their suits
spending some time there.  The automated security at ground level and
the primary pathways would have been a mild hindrance at best, if it
weren't double-hosed; once by the syndicate to take over in the first
place, and again by us to get at them.  Thom's CI, Friday, had
everything that was machine-controlled eating out of her hand before
we were in the front door.  Technically, you shouldn't be able to bolt
down all the fire exits and the elevator at the same time, but she did
it, and left exactly one stairwell for both entry and escape, unless
you felt like trying to jump through one of the reinforced windows.
   We went in and did our stuff.  While Noriko covered the stairs,
Jina and I made a quick and methodical sweep of each level.  Anyone we
found, we took down.  Anyone we missed, Noriko took down when they
tried to make a break for it.  Then pause to disarm the victims,
reload, discard the empties, and on to the next level.  A group of
about ten tried to force their way past Riko when we were on the ninth
floor, but by the time I got back to help, she'd dropped every one of
'em.
   We were on the 17th floor, doing the scavenge-and-reload thing,
when the comm signal went off again.  I answered it, aloud again,
watching T'Kel and Riko work.
   "Hammer, go ahead."
   "Thorn here."
   "What's the word?"
   "Success.  The Viper's main computer is back online.  Haven't
rebooted the CI yet, just in case it was trojan-horsed.  We're doing a
system sweep as we speak, another ten minutes and it'll be done."
Jina looked genuinely relieved to hear that.
   "Groovy.  Anything relevant in the logs?"
   "We believe so.  Friday's already cross-referencing the access
clearance.  The backup database isn't indexed for this sort of thing
like the active one would--"
   "Got it."  The new voice to horn in was Thom's.
   "Chief, wait your turn."
   "Can't, Hammer, we've got a match ... oh man, this is bad."
   I tried to glare at him through the audio link, but I don't think
it worked.  "I'm listening."
   "Thorn was right about the traitor angle.  An old Wedge clearance
code shut down the Jade Viper.  It belongs to ... Commander Tarken
Zeraal, Zardon, Knight of the Eternal Order.  Last assigned post
... oh my God."
   "Let me guess: command staff, WDF Righteous Indignation."  It was
an easy guess; I was sure no other duty assignment would cause that
sort of reaction.
   And there was also the fact that Noriko turned as pale as death the
moment his name was mentioned.
   Almost as if you'd flipped a switch, her usual calm grace had
vanished.  A blaster she'd just picked up fell from her trembling
hands and clattered to the floor.  Her voice escaped in a small
whimper, and she unsteadily forced herself to stand.  She looked to
me, and ... dear God, her eyes.  There was terror in her eyes, pure,
unmitigated terror that hit me like a knife to the heart.
   Because I recognized it instantly.
   She took one step towards me, then a second, and then she stumbled.
I dashed forward and was wrapped around her before she'd even sunk to
her knees, lifting her completely off her feet and holding her tight
as she shivered -- literally shivered in my arms.  In those first
moments, when she was trying to walk toward me, my mind was a storm of
emotion ... but once I'd caught her, once I was holding her, the inner
chaos was gone, replaced with a keen, clear focus.  Her terror had
touched me at the core, and filled me with a new purpose.
   At about this point I became aware that Thom's voice was still
yammering away on the line, something about getting to where we were
as fast as possible.
   "Negative," I told him.  It took a remarkable effort to keep from
snapping at him.  "Finish bringing the Viper back up.  When everything
is secure, proceed with cleanup.  Then -- only then -- will you come
to assist.  Understood?"  He started to say something which I didn't
listen to at all.  "Good.  Hammer OUT."
   With that dealt with, I gave Noriko a kiss on the forehead, and
then one on the lips.  Then I gently set her back on her feet, into
the arms of Consultant T'Kel, who was watching us with the most
astonished look on her face.  Jina gathered her in like a mother would
gather her child, and just gaped up at me ... Utena was looking at me
much the same way when I hauled Mike off, so I think she's got a fair
idea of what Jina was gawking at.
   "Guard her," was all I said before I turned and marched for the
stairwell.
   Behind me, I heard her voice call, "Wait!  Where are you going?"
   "To finish this," I told her, and threw myself up the stairs.
   More from a sense of completeness than anything else, I stopped at
the 18th and 19th floors.  As I'd suspected, both were completely
empty, and the noise coming from above confirmed that our man had
figured out the end was near and called in everyone he could for one
last stand.
   Which suited me fine.  I was in the mood for it.

/* Nobuo Uematsu "Scene VII" _Final Fantasy Symphonic Suite_ */

   I went into the 20th floor the same way I did Jina's cell, except
without announcing myself first.  The flying steel door crushed two of
the guards outright and took down six more.  The ones nearest to the
doorway on either side were too startled to react afterward, which was
their last mistake.  I didn't even hear the snap of their necks as I
flung them around; everyone else was screaming and shooting.  With one
dead goon in each hand to shield myself, I charged a line of incoming
grunts and tore into them like I've never done before or since.
   The details of the next several minutes aren't all that clear to
me, and I doubt they were at the time, either.  I was running on some
sort of autopilot, like a cheering spectator in my own mind -- it's
all just sound-bites and moments of sensation now.  Little things you
remember, like the sound a man makes when he hits a wall so hard that
his bones shatter from the impact.  The way a steel door bites into
the air when you throw it like a frisbee, and the look of surprise on
the guy who it just cut in two.  The smell of blood and vomit mingling
together on the floor, the noise that mixture makes when you walk over
it, or the strange cracked whimper of a disarmed man when you make him
stop pleading for his life by ending it.  I'm sure you know how that
feels.
   ("All too well, Marty.  All too well...")
   It was only a matter of minutes before I found myself standing in a
huge, posh office.  There used to be big, solid oak doors behind me,
but I'd demolished them.  The carpet used to be a corporate-logo
pattern of royal and sky blue, and the walls covered with polished
wood paneling, but those were all riddled with blaster holes and
tarnished with red by now.  My costume had seen better days, too; cape
tattered and holed, rips in the jacket and slacks, splashes of red
staining from the waist down, and I think my right arm was still
dripping someone else's blood.
   There was one other man left standing in the room.  He was behind a
massive oak desk with the window a ways behind him, his right hand
gripping one of those Corellian blasters and pointing it at me.  He
was tall compared to most, dark-haired, broad-shouldered and rugged,
with a strong jawline and a classic Zardon nose.  He was wearing a
tailored casual suit, black jacket and slacks, no tie, and he even
still wore his Wedge Defense Force rank pin on the jacket, albeit
upside-down.
   Yeah, this was the guy.
   "Tarken Zeraal," I growled, pointing at him.
   "Indeed I am," he replied.  "And you would be the one called the
Hammer, of course.  Can't go ten minutes without seeing something
about you and your jolly band of refugees."
   "End of the line, jackass."  Okay, so I wasn't in the proper
Pre-Fight Banter mindset.  That's something Tarken picked up right
off.
   "What, that's it?  Just call me a name, end of taunt?  What about
the rest of your routine?  No rattling off my list of crimes?  No
appeal to my better nature?  No berating me for betraying the Wedge?
Not so much as one of your 'I am the Terror' lines?  Hardly in keeping
with your motif."
   He was doing a great job of annoying me.  He had a peculiar way of
making a Zardon accent actually sound snooty, which is quite an
accomplishment.  "There's only one thing I'm here to settle."
   To that, he nodded.  "Ah, yes, of course, your first mate.  Shame
about Commander Takaya, but, well, she was always the darling of the
crew.  I suppose everyone aboard wanted her for their own, to some
degree.  A happy coincidence for us that she'd survived that initial
thinning-out stage."
   "Happy ... coincidence."  He must've -loved- the look on my face,
because he just kept right on going.
   "Why, yes!  Like I said, everyone on board wanted her.  I mean, how
could I just sit next to such a lovely, fiery thing for so many years
and not be smitten?  Isn't possible, really, something had to give,
and it turned out to be her in the end."
   I was so furious I couldn't speak.  But I guess even that wasn't
good enough for him.
   "Curious thing about that, though.  You'd think, every time we took
her to the Ready Room, that her first thought would be of the captain,
her late husband.  But every time, her eyes would close, and she would
call out for someone else entirely ... You wouldn't know who 'Marty'
is, by any chance?"
   That's when my swords jumped out, and I just started walking
forward.
   "Ah.  I guess that answers that," he said casually, and fired his
first shot.  And then his second, and third, and fourth.
   I didn't have to pause, didn't even have to think.  My arms moved
on their own, swatting every shot away.  He'd backed up almost to the
window by the time I was at the desk; I reared back my right leg and
gave it a hard punt that nearly cracked it in two and sent it sailing
over him.  He ducked down and covered his head as it crashed through
the window, showering him with thick shards of shattered glass, blown
onto him by the sudden rush of cold wind.
   He raised his gun for one more shot, but by then I was so close
that I just swung my right sword at him, cutting off half his gun, his
thumb and two fingers.  He yelped in pain and tried to jump over to
the side, maybe to try to get around me, but he slipped on the window
fragments, lost his balance, cut his hand catching himself, tried to
push himself away from -that-, and ended up stumbling backward out of
control.
   I stepped to the edge of the floor to see him falling, tumbling
end-over-end, some peculiar Zardon curse on his lips.
   And immediately decided, no, that wouldn't do at all.
   His face bore a look of remarkable surprise, once I pulled in my
swords and fired a grappling-line at him.  The claw snapped at him,
scraping shallow cuts in his flesh as it snared him by the belt just
to the left of the buckle.  I jerked him to a stop and just let him
hang there for a minute, twisting in the wind and thumping against the
windows.  Then, with a hard, fast pull, I reeled him in and caught him
by a fistful of shirt, holding him over the ledge.
   We just stared at each other in silence while I watched him sweat.
   "So," he stammered at last after a hard swallow, "I take it you're,
ah ... debating whether to drop me again?"
   I just glared at him, and then watched his eyes widen in panic as a
slow, terrible smile spread across my face.
   "Don't be absurd," I grinned, stepping backward with his toes still
a foot or so from the floor.  "Why would I do something like that?
After all, you're a Detian, a ranking Wedge Defense Force officer, a
decorated Knight of the Eternal Order even."  Now well away from the
window, I released his shirt and let him drop.
   And then caught him again by the throat before his feet could hit
the floor.
   "A fall from this height," I resumed, "would not kill you.  And
whatever pain it brought could never hurt you enough.  No, Mr. Zeraal,
this calls for a more ... -personal- touch."  I straightened his
jacket, patted his cheek twice, and then slapped him hard across the
face.  He gagged as a couple of his teeth came loose and fell toward
the back of his throat, so I waited for him to quiet down before
continuing.
   "I am Noriko Takaya's personal angel of vengeance."  His eyes were
wide with terror now, which filled me with incredible glee.  "I am
here to see that her suffering is returned to you a thousandfold.  And
my only prayer is that God will grant your soul no more mercy than YOU
SHOWED HER."
   And with that, I began in earnest.

   Martin paused for a break in his narrative, closing his eyes and
taking several breaths.  He was surprised at how much the story still
affected him; even after nearly a century, his hands still trembled
with the aftershocks of the released rage.
   He opened his eyes after hearing Kei attempt to start speaking, and
then clear her throat.
   "So," she said, "you, ah ... you killed him then, I take it."
   He shook his head.  "No, no ... not just then.  The way I killed
him wasn't so much a single act as a process."  He looked down at his
knees.  "A long, intricate process.  What he and his lot did had
completely torn up poor Noriko inside ... so I decided tearing -him-
up was the proper course.  And not psychologically.  The one thing I
wanted, more than anything else, was to see him suffer and hear him
scream."
   Kei was still clasping his hand, knuckles white from her grip,
watching him in silence, offering her support and silently urging him
on.  He regarded her for a moment before he spoke again.

   I know you understand this sort of anger, this rage.  You may even
be able to comprehend its depth.  But I must confess that even I was
amazed at how ... how easily, how -fluently-, I was able to translate
that into action.  It can be almost enlightening that the number of
ways to make a man suffer is so vast, so ... well, that can keep you
occupied for weeks, -years- at a time, but I somehow managed to limit
myself to two hours.  Well, okay, I probably would have kept going for
much longer if it weren't for extenuating circumstances.
   I heard a small noise off to one side, slightly behind me.  Zeraal
had just come around again -- this sort of agony can render you
unconscious whether you want to be or not, and he passed out several
times during my mutilation; I just slapped him in the face until he
woke up so I could start again -- and I was getting ready to start
dislocating his vertebrae one at a time.  I'd already broken all the
longer bones, ground the broken bits together inside him, twisted or
bent the joints well past their limits, or just used him as a punching
bag while trying to think up the next phase of torture.
   Anyway, I turned to look toward the noise, and discovered that I
had an audience.
   It wasn't a large group, but it was four more people than I'd been
expecting.  Thom had apparently finished with the base cleanup and
came to see why we hadn't reported back.  Or maybe he'd heard from
Jina T'Kel and came to see why we weren't at the dropship.  Eiko was
there, too, looking rather pale with one hand loosely clutched over
her mouth.  I got the feeling that was just a recovery pose from
having them both clapped over it, so that her dry heaves wouldn't be
audible.  So was Jina, with a look that somehow managed to mix fear,
revulsion and fascination into a single coherent expression.  And
leaning on her...
   The moment my eyes met Noriko's, she was the only thing I saw.
   She pushed away from Jina and walked forward.  Not the
uncoordinated, terrified stumble that she'd had when I'd left on my
rampage; her gait was graceful, but timid, uncertain on completely
different levels.  I was frozen in place as she stepped forward,
glided in close, brushed my cape back with one hand, and then
... eased her arms around me and hugged tight around my waist.
   She buried her head in my side and sobbed.
   I turned back to Tarken with one last hateful snarl on my lips --
he was just dangling in front of me, arms and legs as limp as a
marionette's.  I punched my right hand into his rib cage, grabbed his
still-beating heart, and crushed it.  The way his eyes bulged in pain
and terror gave me immense satisfaction at a job well done.  So, to
make sure it was permanent, I finished him the only way I knew that
would make it stick with a Detian: I pulled his head off and threw it
and the body in opposite directions.
   With that done, I returned my attention where it belonged.  My
hands and arms were coated with Zeraal's blood -- I veritably stank of
the man's innards -- but neither Noriko nor I cared.  My arms folded
around her, smearing his blood all over her as I drew her in closer.
I stroked her hair, planted a kiss on the top of her head, and watched
her.
   She loosed one last sob, and then leaned her head back to look back
up at me.  That perfectly angelic face was spottled with red from my
jacket, but was otherwise unmarred.  That left the two most important
aspects alone to hold my attention: the streams of tears from her
brown eyes, and the quiet, beaming smile on her lips.  We gazed at
each other for a very long moment, and then she whispered two words:
   "Thank you."
   And with that, she relaxed herself completely, falling asleep in my
arms within a minute.

   "...God.  That's quite a story."
   "Yes.  Unfortunately, it hasn't reached its low point quite yet."
   Kei may have had something to say, but it suddenly refused to come
out.

   By this point, Batwing's autopilot was smart enough to make its own
way though reentry if I summoned it, so a sufficiently-strong signal
to the Indignation was all it took to call down my ride.  By the time
it arrived, Noriko's sleep had become quite sound; with her in my lap,
I flew back up to the Indignation.
   The bay was already busy when I touched down, with what was left of
the crew piling into one of the shuttles.  I already knew why -- even
while I was waiting for Batwing to show up, Thom was already on the
horn with pretty much everyone, giving an after-action summary to the
local forces and the 3WA.  The formal debriefing had already been
arranged, and Chief Goulet and Yuri would be on hand for it, to offer
their commendations, as well as their condolences to T'Kel, who seemed
to be coping all right.  I figured, at the least, the regional
governments would offer a couple days' paid downtime for the lot of
us, and everyone else was more than welcome to take them up on it.
   The last thing I wanted to do was talk to anyone about anything.
Of course, as long as Pearson was on board, I rarely got what I
wanted.  He just marched right up to me, my costume a mess, covered in
another man's blood, and Noriko sleeping in my arms.  I half expected
him to salute.  Good thing for him he didn't.
   "Request permission to remain aboard, Marty," he said, quietly so
as not to draw the others' attention.
   I -wanted- to just growl "I'm not your mommy" and push past him,
but I decided to meet his formality head-on.  "Reason for request?"
   "I've just got a feeling it might be a good idea."
   -My- feelings consisted primarily of picking him up by the back of
his coat and throwing him into the shuttle, or at least telling him he
was being needlessly paranoid, since there were no medical emergencies
imminent for another few days.  But just looking down at him told me
he wasn't going to take a "no".
   "Fine," I sighed.  "Go tell Hanson you're staying behind and return
to Sickbay.  I'll call if we need you."
   I was kind of hoping he'd just do what I told him, but he just
stuck there in front of me.  "I think maybe I should at least
accompany--"
   "GO.  TELL.  HANSON."
   I think I overdid it a bit on that one, because he actually backed
off a couple steps before recovering his composure, which
understandably turned rather sour.  "Yes sir, telling the Hanson,
sir," he grumbled, and went over to the waiting shuttle to do that.
   After seeing everyone off, and glaring at Doc to make him stop
tailing me, I carried Noriko to her cabin and tucked her into bed.  I
just stood there watching her for a good while, watching her breathe
and turn ever so lightly, listening to her murmur in what sounded like
a fitful dream.  When she started to toss, I just laid a hand on her
bloodstained cheek, and she calmed instantly.
   It was almost a half-hour later before I forced myself to leave and
clean the hell up.
   The minute I was alone, I was stumbling through the halls, paying
no attention to where I was going.  It's amazing that I made it to my
room, and once there I just dumped myself on the floor and lay there
curled up for a while.  Watching over Noriko had just been delaying
the inevitable, the one thing I couldn't do -- coming to terms with
myself, and with the sudden, new-found terror I'd unearthed deep
within.
   Thunder Force as a whole, and by implication I personally, was
absolved of any possible wrongdoing at the debriefing.  I may have
missed it -- it was still underway, actually -- but I'd been to enough
of them to know how it went.  Everything we did during a mission was
what we felt had to be done, and our actions were ceremoniously
rubberstamped after the fact, as trying to prosecute -us- was
basically asking to become the most-reviled government in known space.
I know we did everything within our power to earn, and to not abuse,
that level of faith and trust.
   But right there, lying on the floor, I felt like I'd just pissed on
everything.  Their trust, my beliefs, the team's loyalty
... everything.  Even the blood of that rat-bastard was an accusation
that burned on my hands.  And I was too damn numb for tears.
   I don't know how long I was lying there, but eventually I pushed
myself up.  I could've just transformed myself clean, but that felt
like cheating.  I tore off my costume, started up the shower, and
scrubbed.  I scrubbed myself raw, desperately trying to get the blood
out, out of my fingernails, out of my hair, out of my mind.  I got two
out of three, I think.
   I eventually gave up on that, shut off the water and dried off.  I
had my bathrobe on when I left the bathroom, headed for my bedroom to
make some sort of futile attempt to sleep.
   Except I found Noriko on the way, sitting on the couch, clean and
perfect, her hair still damp, and wearing a lacy pink silk robe.
   She looked up, caught me by the eyes, and I froze.  The look in her
eyes ... it was the same as earlier that day, in the bedroom right
behind her that suddenly seemed miles away.  Only stronger, more
... more intense, more determined, more -desperate-.  She was begging
me for ... I wish I could say.  For some answer, some solution,
something that I had no clue how to provide.  I couldn't move,
couldn't speak, couldn't think.  All I could do was stand and watch
her, with her mind and heart awhirl behind those beautiful brown eyes.
   It didn't take long for her patience to run out, and she leapt to
her feet with a spark of rage in her eye and marched toward me, her
robe absently flying open from the movement...
   At this point I was so terrified that I actually took a step back,
for all the good that did me.  She grabbed me by my robe and pulled me
around, then used it to throw me to the floor and tore it from me in
the process.  I hardly knew what was happening when I was on my back
on the carpet, no robe, no nothing.
   I barely had a moment to notice that before she landed on me, her
own robe discarded, her legs straddling my stomach, her hands slapping
on my chest.  Her fingers slid up to curl over my shoulders when she
leaned over me, and her nails dug into my flesh as a smile I can only
... only describe as feral spread across her lips.  There was a
passion in her eyes, more like a hunger, maybe, but it wasn't ... it
wasn't ... wasn't love.  Not love.
   Madness.
   Before that moment, I'd never let myself accept that her dismissals
and explanations were too pat, that she was actually, with no
hysterics, no theatrics, just in her own quiet way, going insane
before my eyes.
   Right then, well, it was too late.  I was shaking so hard that I
couldn't even lift my arms to hold her.
   "You're mine," she hissed, my blood seeping under her fingernails,
her smile turning more ferocious, almost to a grimace, by the moment.
"You've always been mine.  You'll always be mine.  Always.  Always.
Always..."
   She dropped onto me, and with one desperate kiss, stripped away my
last defense -- any will I may have had to resist.
   And then...

   ...well...



/* Nobuo Uematsu "The Oath" _Fithos Lusec Wecos Vinosec_ */



   "She raped you," Kei whispered.
   The word elicited a visible wince from Martin, already staring
ashamedly away from Kei's warm eyes.  A moment of silence that seemed
to stretch eternally fell over both of them; Kei knew there was
nothing more for her to say, so she just remained as she was,
supportive and close, watching Martin's eyes squeeze tight, a trickle
of water escaping from the corner, while his body inflated and
deflated with his breath.  Eventually, he managed to speak, but he
still couldn't look up at her.
   "I wondered," he croaked, "even while it was still happening ... I
wondered just how this could happen.  To me.  To -me-!  It's not, not
possible, it's not.  I can ... I can lift -tons-, Kei.  I can outrun
cars, pick them up and throw them like toys, I, I can crush steel in
my hands, I can break a man in two, I -did- break a man in two, I
crumpled him up like a sheet of paper and it was -easy- damn it, it
was so -easy-..."
   "But against her," Kei said softly, "you're powerless."
   Martin's ramble stopped abruptly, and he just scraped his teeth
against his lower lip, an old reflex he'd developed to keep from
actually biting it.  He nodded mutely and hugged Kei a little tighter,
not too much, but enough to let her know he was glad she was there.
She returned the gesture, planted a light kiss on his forehead, and
then let his face bury itself in her shoulder.
   Their silence returned for a time, until Martin made an odd
realization, raised his head to look at her, and asked:
   "When did you move into my lap?"
   Kei smiled.  "While you were reading Doc the riot act.  I'm not
Mrs. Sensitive, but I've seen enough emotional breakdowns to know when
one's coming."
   He smiled right back.  She could see he was trying to make it
mischievous, but all he could manage at the moment was grateful, which
was fine, too.  "A fella could get used to this."
   "That's what I'm counting on," she replied with a wink and a
playful kiss on the tip of his nose.  The playful demeanor, however,
fell away instantly afterward.  "But seriously, now I see why you
always look so weirded out when I honestly come on to you.  God,
that's a nasty piece of baggage to carry around.  I hope that bit of
advice you gave Kate that night was one you've already used yourself."
   He nodded.  "I have ... I know how hard this is, so I can relate to
Kait better than I hope she'll ever know.  This was back when Eiko was
still dealing with anger management and blame issues, so we had to
break it to her carefully so she wouldn't go ballistic."
   "That must've been one hell of a tightrope walk."
   "Yeah, well, what came right after that helped her keep a
perspective on it."
   Kei blinked at him, and sighed.  "God, does the fun -ever- stop?"
   He shook his head, and took a slow, preparatory breath.

   I remember waking up maybe an hour or two after leaving the
bathroom, after experiencing varying stages of partial consciousness,
denial and silent acceptance of some of the most vicious verbal and
physical abuse I'd ever seen, interspersed with troubled blackness.
The entire experience was so surreal, such a freakish swirl of
pleasure and pain, that I had a hard time even connecting with it as
my first time.  Hell, for a minute I was just lying on the floor
wondering if I'd just had the most vivid and disturbing erotic dream
of my life.
   At least, until I reached up to rub my shoulder and came up with
blood on my hand.
   That woke me up in a hurry.  I damn near slammed myself on the
ceiling just jumping to my feet, and then rushed around my room in a
panic.  My robe was there on the floor, but not hers, and I figured
that wherever her robe had gone was where she took it.  It took a
tremendous force of will to calm myself down and figure out what to do
next, because the last image in my head was of my best friend, naked
and completely insane, doing something so unlike her that I couldn't
even begin to imagine what she'd do next.  Calm, calm, deep breaths,
try to think.
   First order of business: location.
   "Hannibal."
   The wall terminal sprang to life, and poor Hannibal damn near
dropped his cigar.  "HOly--!!  Cripes, boss, get some pants--!"
   "HANNIBAL."  I slammed a good dent in the wall with my open palm.
"FIND NORIKO."
   "--Right, the Skipper.  Only two other life signs on the ship are
the one in Sickbay, and the other in the Ship's Armory, deck 15."
   My head was still a mess, so piecing together what that might
entail was more work than it would be otherwise.  "Right, dammit,
armory, armory," I mumbled, and then the connection registered, so I
added, "oh no oh dear GOD NO!"
   Hannibal probably wanted to ask what was going on, or to remind me
to get some pants on, but I was out the door, transformed and
screaming at full boost down the hall before he had the time.  I
lifted a page from Eiko's playbook and ignored the lift, instead
dropping down one of the access shafts we kept open for just such
emergencies.  Well, not specifically for that -type- of emergency, but
whatever works.
   Forty-five eternal, agonizing seconds later, I finally arrived.  I
transformed again, back into my costume without really thinking about
it.  The door started to whisk open for me, but never got the chance,
because my flying kick snapped it completely off its track.  It
landed, with me standing on top of it, with a loud slap of metal on
metal.
   The armory hadn't been moved from its original location back during
acting WDF duty; surprisingly, much of its contents were still intact
from the mutiny.  The mutineers had long since quietly removed and
concealed everything they'd needed, and the loyalists never really had
the chance to get there and stock up once the shooting started, so the
inventory was basically untouched.  There were some new additions and
replacements to keep up with the state of the art of warfare, pretty
much all there by Masterson's recommendation -- that was another area
where I deferred to his expertise, which worked as well for all of us
as, well, everywhere else I gave him free rein.
   So it was a pretty well-stocked arsenal, with every piece of
anti-transport, anti-armor, anti-aircraft and anti-personnel weapon we
could load or carry into it.  Just thinking of the place made my head
spin with all the things Noriko could have done.
   And once the initial noise of my arrival settled, it was silent as
a tomb and nearly as dark.  Cliche', but that's where my head was at
the moment.
   Somehow, I managed to scrape together a tiny pittance of sense as I
stood there wondering whether I even dared to begin searching, for
fear of what I might discover.  I only had to stop panicking for a
minute -- a Herculean task in itself -- and close my eyes.
   There was one tiny, Noriko-shaped heat source, all the way at the
back wall, in the corner.
   I let out the breath I didn't know I'd been holding as a sigh of
relief, and reminded myself that it wasn't over yet.  She didn't seem
to be moving, but if I paid the sort of attention I was paying back
while we were freeing T'Kel I could still hear her breath.  I moved
silently, glancing down each aisle as I passed.  I don't know why,
probably some morbid fascination to see if I could spot what she might
have considered using.  At long last, I reached the back wall, and
turned toward where I knew she was...
   Noriko was sitting on the floor in the dim light, her back against
one wall, her shoulder and head leaning against the other.  She was
still wearing the pink silk robe, but hadn't bothered to close it; it
covered her arms and her back, and maybe a bit of her sides, but
that's it.  One arm was propped up on her knee, her hand dangling limp
at the wrist, while the other was obscured against the wall.  Her hair
was dull and mussed, and her bangs hung over her face as she stared
down between her legs.
   I couldn't see her eyes.
   There was a small collection of weapons next to her, arranged
surprisingly neatly.  She'd managed to gather up quite a variety from
our stores and captures: a classic Corellian blaster, an E-Mag, a
deactivated laser cutter, a Colt .45, a shoulder-mounted beam cannon,
a plasma grenade, a spindle of monofilament wire, and a few others.
My imagination regarding how she'd use each of those was running
absolutely wild, and stealth had moved somewhere around the bottom of
the list of things on my mind when I finally got my feet moving again.
Her head lifted slightly at the sound of my hurried footsteps, but
only slightly.
   I still couldn't see her eyes.
   It took forever to reach her even at a fast walk, just from the
size of the room, but eventually, there I was, only a few feet away
from her, with just one thought on my mind:
   Okay, genius, -now- what?
   Noriko didn't look up at me, but she didn't have to, because just
about then her entire body began to shake.  Faintly at first, but
slowly building, until she was bouncing from the shoulders on up.  Her
lips spread out, showing her teeth in a broad, mirthless grin, and she
made a sound like a stuttering wheeze that eventually became quiet,
deranged laughter.  One final laugh was cut off by a wrenching sob,
and she slumped forward, slapping her face against her knees.
   It would've been nice if I could move at that point, but it just
wasn't happening.
   She sat herself up again anyway, then tucked her tiny feet under
herself, rocked forward onto them, and stood with one swift, smooth,
simple motion.  She snatched the E-Mag with one hand on the way up,
and just held it limp at her side in a loose grip.  And there she
stood, her moment of quickness and grace completed and replaced by a
weariness that you could feel just from looking at her.
   Still, she stared at the floor -- at my feet, now -- and her eyes
remained hidden from me.
   I managed to lift my hands a bit, to try to start to gesture in
hopes of coaxing out a few words, but even that failed.  Which worked
out fine, since she broke the silence anyway, and even if she weren't
almost totally naked she'd've still had my undivided attention.
   "I've discovered," she said quietly, with a humorless smile on her
face, "that being a Detian presents some unique problems."  The hand
with the E-Mag made a sweeping gesture toward the small array of
weapons she'd gathered as she spoke.  "Particularly when you're just
so damn tired of it all.
   "See," she went on, speaking calmly, lazily lifting the gun hand a
bit to regard it, "most people can just pick up something simple, like
this, or the blaster, or even that Colt over there.  They put it to
the side of their head, or maybe in their mouth, pointed at the roof.
Pull the trigger, and that's it.  No more worries ... no more
problems.  Hell, if they're feeling dramatic they could just put a
shot through their own heart, fade away nice and slow with a dramatic
speech and everything."  She breathed deep and let it all out in one
long sigh.
   "But not us.  A simple bullet-hole won't fix it for us.  Oh, a head
wound might do it, but it'd have to be administered juuuust right.
Off by even a little, and no matter the pain you've caused yourself,
you'll wake up.  It'll take a while, but it'll all be back the way it
was soon enough.  Heh.  You already knew that, didn't you?"
   I still couldn't talk, but I nodded, and even though she wasn't
looking up at me, my body language let her know I did.
   "I thought so.  That's why you finished by taking Zeraal's head
off.  That's the one sure way, short of being totally vaporized or
something of that magnitude."  She chuckled, a dry, cracking sound
that ricocheted off the stark walls.  "Detians have to plan for this
sort of thing.
   "The shoulder cannon could do it," she went on, pointing with the
E-Mag.  "But the barrel's too long.  I can't have the business end on
me and trip the switch at the same time.  But even if I could trigger
it, maybe by smacking it against something to hit all the buttons at
once, I still have the ship to think about.  Just because I'm leaving
doesn't mean I should make a mess, particularly not a hull-breaching
one."
   Her aim shifted over a bit.  "The same goes for the grenades.  I'd
have to go to a reinforced chamber before setting it off, maybe the
brig.  The plasma grenade wouldn't leave any residue that might
possibly regenerate, so that'd be the safest course, but if anything
went wrong -- if I dropped it or something -- then, well, maybe lose a
leg, an arm, big deal.  Again, no permanent solution.
   "Which leaves the last option.  The wire could do it.  Surprising,
even for a complex problem like mine, how simple the solution can be
sometimes.  Just wrap a coil around my neck, hold both ends tight,
encased in those special filament holders of course, wouldn't do to
lop my own fingers off ... one good pull will draw it clean through.
Not even much of an effort; just straighten my arms and it's done.
   "And that," she said with a sort of finality, "brings me to my last
problem.  After all this work and thought, I've finally come up with
the perfect solution, so close to freedom..."
   She finally firmed up her grip on the E-Mag, and raised it up to
point vaguely toward herself, and I could see her problem immediately.
   Her hand was shaking so hard that she was more likely to put a
pulse through the ceiling than her head.

/* Trptcox "To Zanarkand Once Again" OverClocked Remix
(remix.overclocked.org) */

   "...and then this has to happen."  She lowered the gun and tried to
cradle it in her opposite hand, but it was still trembling, and her
voice was starting to match.  "I can't ... I can't thread the wire
like this.  The only thing I could cut right now is my own hands.  So
close, only to be betrayed.  Betrayed by my own two hands.  They won't
let me go ... they won't let me go.  They won't.  Let.  Me.  GO!!"
   With that final shriek, she spun and slammed her gun-hand against
the wall as hard as she could.  The loud cracking noise that came from
that wasn't metallic, so I knew it wasn't the E-Mag that had just
broken.  Her shoulders began shaking again, but this time I knew the
sound she was making wasn't laughter, not even the chuckle of madness
from only a few minutes before.
   "let me go," she whimpered through her tears, while the gun dropped
from her bloodied, useless fingers and clattered on the deck.  "just
let me go..."
   Confronted by her rage, I was paralyzed.  Against her insanity, I
was struck dumb.  But the moment I heard her crying ... I was beside
her, holding her, in a heartbeat.
   I guess some things never change.
   So I held her, rocked her slowly, smoothed her hair, whispered
those little not-quite words that you say when you have no idea what
to say, and she just sobbed into my jacket, gripping it with her good
hand, staining it with the other.  We stayed like that for a while,
until she managed to steady her voice enough to talk again.
   "Say it," she croaked.
   Well, that completely baffled me.  "Tell me what to say," I
whispered.
   "Just say it," she moaned.  "Say that you hate me."
   That struck me dumb all over again.
   "Come on!  Say it!"  Her voice gained strength as she pulled down
on my coat, and finally looked up at me.  There was blood and tears
mixed on her face -- she'd managed to try to wipe her eyes with the
broken hand -- and a look of pure, blind panic in her eyes.  "Tell me
you hate me!  I have to hear it!"
   My lips moved a bit, but still, no words came.
   "Come ON!"  She tried to shake me, but only shook herself instead,
beating her whole body against me.  "Don't you see?  It's the only
way!  They have to hear it before they'll let me go!"
   Now, in addition to be terribly frightened, I was also completely
confused, and I let my face tell her so.
   "M-my hands," she whimpered, holding them up, one whole, one
twisted.  "My hands know.  They won't let me go until they know I
won't be, won't be missed.  Never leave loose ends behind, no regrets,
no mourners.  Make a clean break, clean, clean, no loose ends.  They
know.  My hands know."
   She grabbed my coat and turned her eyes up to me again, wide and
desperate, helpless, pleading.  "Please!  PLEASE!  You hate me!  I
know you hate me!  Say you hate me!  Please!  You have to!"  Tears
were welling up in her eyes again, her voice straining into a shriek.
"You HAVE to!  After what I did you HAVE TO!  Come ON!  I hate MYSELF
for DOING THAT to you!  I HATE myself!  I'm a GODDAMN MONSTER who
FORCED my BEST GODDAMN FRIEND in the WHOLE GODDAMN GALAXY to FUCK ME
like a TEN CRED WHORE!  I KNEW you'd NEVER STOP ME and you DIDN'T and
I, I, now I *HATE* MYSELF!  I DESERVE TO *DIE*!  I HAVE TO *DIE*!  BUT
I CAN'T, I can't-- *I CAN'T DIE UNLESS YOU SAY I CAN!!*"
   I think you know what my eyes said to -that- plan.
   "*COME ON!!*" She slammed herself on me again.  "*COME ON, C--*..."
   At last, her scream broke and she collapsed against me, crying with
long, loud, heartbreakingly familiar wails.  I responded in the exact
same way, too -- I dropped to my knees, held her tight, and rocked and
cried right along with her.
   It took a long, long time, but the sobs eventually fell into
silence, and we remained there, she lolling to and fro like a little
rag doll in my arms as I kept her close.  Finally, I made up my mind
and loosened my embrace just a bit, so she could draw back and look at
me.  My voice was so shot I had to clear my throat three times before
I could talk.
   "Noriko," I told her, "I'm sorry."
   Now it was her turn to look confused.
   "But ... I can't say that."
   She took a breath, preparing to beg for my rebuke again, but I cut
her off.  "No, Noriko.  Hear me out.  Please."  She looked uncertain
for a moment, but quickly made up her mind and watched me intently.
   Yeah, no pressure.
   "Even if I did say that, I know your hands still wouldn't let you
go.  If they can tell that I needed to talk to you again, they'd have
to know when I'm lying.  And I would be.
   "Noriko, look at me.  Look."  She was starting to turn away, but I
had to see her eyes while I said this.  "You know the truth as well as
I do.  I love you.  I've always loved you.  I'll always love you.
Nothing can change that.  Nothing that anyone does to us, nothing that
we do to each other, will ever change that."
   Her tears were flowing again, but she still bravely kept her focus
on me.  "You wanted my permission to die.  I'm afraid I can't give
that.  I can't, I won't, dictate your life.  All I know is, I want it
to go on, because I couldn't bear to see it end."
   I reached up, gently cupped her face in my hands, and kissed her
tenderly.  My final words came in a whisper.
   "I can't be your reason to die.  But please, Little Angel ... if
I'm anything to you ... let me be your reason to -live-."
   Her entire body trembled as she stood there, just inches away,
gazing at me like there was nothing else that would ever matter.  I
waited ... my heartbeat hammered in my ears, and I waited ... and
somehow, through the tears, through the pain, through the blood,
through the despair, through the madness...
   ...she smiled at me.
   "marty," she whimpered, "please help me."
   I gathered her in again, scooping her up off her feet and into my
arms.
   "I will, Little Angel.  I promise."

   "I was on my way to the lift, and Sickbay from there, when Doc
rounded a corner at a full run and damn near crashed into me.  I guess
Hannibal decided the situation called for a little backup.  You
should've seen the look on his face."
   "I can imagine.  He's almost bigger on the melodrama than you."
   "Yup ... but somehow, all he said about it was, 'I don't know and I
don't wanna know.'  Even Pearson can show a little professionalism
from time to time.  He had his kit with him, so right there he was
able to get Riko's hand straightened out so it'd heal right.  From
there I took her back to her cabin, got her cleaned up, and put her to
bed again.  Then, I called Nadia."
   Kei blinked at him.  "Why the hell would you call your -engineer-
for something like this?"
   Martin shrugged.  "I needed someone close to both of us.  You
remember that comically catastrophic first contact with Verne's World;
that's when Nadia and her friend Jean became my first foster kids,
after a fashion, and Noriko helped as best she could from where she
was.  Anyway, once Nadia got past her initial reaction to everything
that happened, she helped me sort through what needed to happen next,
and we managed to get a discreet recommendation for a psychiatrist."
   A small light seemed to go on above Kei's head, and she snapped her
fingers with realization.  "So -that's- why you knew
Dr. Skracchensniph from before!  He helped you with Noriko back then."
   Martin smiled, licked his fingertip, and touched it to Kei's
forehead.  "You get a gold star.  Turns out Masterson was way ahead of
me on this front as well, and already had a list of candidates with
Skracchy at the top.  Though I'll admit that besides extensively
counselling Riko, he also saw me a couple times."
   Kei chuckled.  "Wow.  Mr. Stability sitting on a shrink's couch.  I
think I'd pay money to see that."
   "Thanks, but I already forked out for that ticket.  Ol' Skracchy's
ain't cheap, but he's great at his job.  His rep as the best damn
psychiatrist in the galaxy is well-earned."
   Kei nodded.  "I suppose the whole needing-therapy thing helped
mitigate Eiko's urge to rip the poor girl into little pieces."
   "Hmh.  Yeah ... even Eiko can show a little sympathy when the
object of her rage is provably broken.  We, that is, Nadia and I,
still made her promise to keep her distance for a while and not press
the issue, which she did.  Even Eiko knew enough not to cross Nadia."
   "Didn't want to get assaulted by an endless barrage of tech
pranks?"
   "Well, there's that, plus her cabin had a space-side window."
   "Ah.  That'd do it."
   "Mm."  Martin nodded quietly, and he and Kei let the silence that
descended on them linger for a while, since it proved to be a
comfortable, and in Martin's case comforting, one.
   "You know," Kei finally said, in a softly playful voice, "a gal
could get used to this, too."
   "I should hope so," Martin replied with a wry smile.  "I'd hate to
think Riko does it from any sense of obligation."
   Kei's immediate response was a quizzical look, followed by a vagely
disturbed one.  "And now that I think about it, -this- little wrinkle
puts an entirely new and unpleasant spin on the whole you-and-her
thing."
   "Which is why I try not to think about it too hard," Martin
responded, attempting to put on a sagely air.  "I just know what I
know.  What I told her then is still true now; that trumps everything.
And her smile -- the fact that she -can- smile -- is all the proof I
need that love, beauty and miracles are real.  Especially miracles."
   "So you and Eiko haven't given up yet, either?"
   Martin shook his head, still smiling.
   "Damn.  That was supposed to be my emergency ploy.  Well, I'll take
what I can get."
   "We get what we got," he nodded as they settled together.  "And
Kei?"
   "Mm?"
   "Thanks."
   "No prob.  After what you did for me, 's'the least I can do for
you."

/* Nobuo Uematsu "Melodies of Life / Final Fantasy" _Final Fantasy 9
Original Soundtrack_ */

   Eiko emerged from the kitchen to glance at the occupancy map again.
Sure enough, two signals still in the studio, practically on top of
each other.
   She snickered to herself.  Well, fifteen more minutes, that's all
the quiet time they get before the dinner bell.  Then they're out of
there one way or another.
   She made ready for that by tabbing the volume on the dinner chime
up to 11, switched it over to the Pants-Wetting Buzzer sound, and
returned to her meal preparations with an adorable little cackle.