Tempest

Linna's death left us all stunned. We had known all along that something like that might happen, but there is no preparing for such a loss.

Priss simply couldn't handle it. She felt responsible, and the pain drained away all of her will to fight. Truthfully, I think it took away her will to live.

The war did not stop for us to mourn, though. It raged on, consuming larger and larger segments of the megalopolis, taking more lives with each passing day. With our hope fading, and our spirits low, we returned to the battle.

The leadership of the Knight Sabers was the worst job Christine could imagine. She had never desired it, and now that it was hers she wanted it even less. The burden of responsibility for those under her command was heavier than she could ever have thought, especially in such a desperate hour. The fact that her small band of three was the sole hope for the survival of MegaTokyo made it even more difficult.

How could they fight, she wondered. Nene, for all her improved skill, was no warrior. Mackie was little better due to lack of training.

Mackie... how could she lead the youth into battle? How could she make decisions with his life on the line? She had no experience in command, and the enormity of the task she was faced with overwhelmed her.

Walking through the darkened hallways of the Sabers' headquarters, she found her way into the hardsuit storage chamber. There, before her, were the symbols of the two who had gone before. Sylia, who had been the perfect leader if there could ever be such a thing. She had the resolve, the courage, and even the compassion necessary for the job. Her fantastic intelligence gave rise to tactical superiority, and her drive gave them a common goal. Yet, she had been crippled, and could command no more. The job had passed on.

Christine's eyes wandered to the dark blue hardsuit next to Sylia's silver one. Priss. Thrust, as Christine herself was being, into the leadership role against her desires, she had nevertheless done well. The strain was too much for her, though, and when Linna had fallen, Priss finally snapped. "She is so much like me," Christine thought. "Is that to be my fate as well?"

Truthfully, Christine could not blame with her predecessor. Nobody blamed Priss for Linna's death, but she nevertheless felt that it was her fault. Christine desperately hoped that she would never know that feeling herself. The nightmares were bad enough... to live them would be more than she could bear.

Finally, her gaze travelled to the active suits, and her own jet-black armor. Scarcely visible in the dim room except for two silver stripes at the shoulders, it seemed more like a haunting shadow, a reminder of the trials ahead. She would have to don that suit again soon, and then the test would begin.

He had always expected to truly join the Knight Sabers someday. Almost from the beginning he had helped them in any way he could--driving the truck, flying the KnightWing--just to be a part of this group. He had anticipated this being a happy day for him, but now the memories of such hope left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. He had ascended, but only with the fall of another.

He had probably known Linna least of them all, but still he was in shock from her death. He had considered them invincible; they had been through so much that it seemed nothing could harm them. Linna's death had been a crushing blow to his naivete. Now, he would have to fight, as all of them did, for his very survival.

A shiver passed through his body at such thoughts, and he realized that he was not as ready for this as he had once believed.

Priss was not one to listen to the music of others--she preferred her own. Still, there were times when it simply would not come, and she kept a small stack of discs for when she needed them. She needed them now.

Selecting one, a single song only, she slipped it into the machine and lay down on the bed. It began quietly, then slowly built up volume and speed until the driving beat began to lift even her overburdened soul. Then the words started.

The first part of the verse spoke of death, and with it came the heartache. Nevertheless, she had chosen this one for a reason, and it soon began to speak to her.

Priss began to cry, something else that she was not known for. More than the guilt, more than the anger, more than anything else, she just felt the pain. She had lost a friend--one of precious few--again.

Perhaps that was why she had chosen this song. Vision had lost a sister, and had yet risen above. The words came from the soul, and Priss could hold on to what they said to her. And yet... she almost felt as if they were being spoken by someone else altogether.

The song played on for a while, finally fading out. Slowly picking herself up from the bed, Priss sighed wearily. Maybe she really did want to live, after all. Certainly Linna would have wanted her to.

Sylia keyed in the final instruction sequence which would begin construction of the improved hardsuits, shut down the computer, and left the databank room. If anyone had been there to witness, she would have seemed almost ghostly in her movements. Certainly she felt dead inside. She was weary, physically as well as emotionally. The act of completing the hardsuit modifications had taken all of her willpower in a time when even she was tempted to give in, and now that it was done she felt as though she were an empty shell, with all the life drained out.

The Knight Sabers needed for her to be strong, more than ever, but she was no longer sure that she could. She had lost a part of her soul when Linna died, and the emptiness overwhelmed her. Even Priss, for all her heroic tenacity, had been broken this time... how could she hope to stand?

She did not know... but even as she drifted toward despair she knew that she would not fall. Somehow, she managed to hold on through each trial, and she would do so again. Even if it killed her.

Despair. Add another to the list of new emotions Nene had been introduced to over the past two months. Anger, hatred, and sorrow had taken their turn with her, and she had withstood the assault. She was stronger now.

Still, she worried. Without Linna and Priss, the Knight Sabers were a weak fighting force, at best; by contrast, the boomers grew stronger with each passing day. Struggling to hold on to a fragile hope, she found that it was slowly slipping from her grasp.

Why had Priss deserted them in their hour of need? How could she just walk away? Nene wanted to be angry, wanted to lash out... and found that she could not. Nevertheless, she felt betrayed... no, abandoned.

Looking at a picture on the wall, she was drawn to a happier time--a time when Sylia was whole, and so was she. A time when she could laugh at Priss's cynicism, instead of seeing the truth in it. A time when Linna would tease her for her innocence and her romantic notions. Tears came to her eyes... where had that time gone?

Sylia was crippled. Priss had walked away, unable to deal with the pain. She herself had lost her hand, and with it her innocence. Linna... was gone. Forever. Of the original Knight Sabers, only she remained to carry on the battle. Still, she would fight, she determined. To the end, one way or the other.

Christine sighed as she looked over the computer map of MegaTokyo. Red flags littered the projection, marking the boomers' most recent gains in territory. Thousands of lives had already been lost, and the carnage was not likely to end soon.

"They don't seem to have any weak points," she commented.

"Agreed," Sylia nodded. "We must find one, though. We lack the power to attack where they are strong."

"Tell me about it," Christine muttered, wondering if it was in fact a lost cause. Still, a stubborn voice inside her refused to concede, to admit defeat. She had never given up in her life, and she did not want to start then. Glancing over the map, her eyes lit on a segment of the frontier.

"What about there?" she pointed.

Sylia checked the coordinates and fed them into the computer. The city disappeared, replaced by a close-up view of the immediate area. Red lines marked the boomers' advance, which looked to be very rapid for the small forces present.

"They're being careless," Christine observed. "Not securing territory the way the other groups are."

"Indeed," Sylia affirmed. "A quick strike might force them to relinquish some of that unsecured domain."

Christine nodded. "Exactly. There are probably still people alive there, too. Let's hit them while we can."

"Knight Sabers, sanjo!" Christine shouted, falling back on the familiar battlecry. Resurgent doubts in her ability to lead crowded her mind, but as she threw herself into the midst of battle she was able to force them back. "Jamming?" she prompted.

"Active," Nene responded. "Twelve boomers... will take them about 20 seconds to burn through."

"Right. Choose your shots carefully--hit the thirty-fours first."

"Right with you," Mackie responded as he fired his arm cannon at one of the newer boomers. An exact copy of the weapon in Priss's now-unused hardsuit, it was more than adequate to the task, destroying the cyberdroid in a single shot. "One down."

"Make that two," Christine corrected as her pulse cannon claimed another of the mechanical soldiers. "We've got them disoriented--strike fast!"

Nene checked the timer on her ECM systems and charged at a nearby boomer. Levelling her laser at it, she fired several shots. It turned to face her and opened fire, but she had already gone to the air. Falling behind the machine, she turned and buried her laser in the back of its neck. Sparks flew when she fired, and it fell.

"Three seconds..." she counted off as she prepared to deactivate the jammers. "Two... one... now!" A warning chime sounded in her helmet, indicating that the boomers had adapted to her countermeasures, and she shut them down.

"Ok, watch yourselves," Christine cautioned. "Now it gets rough."

It was an accurate assessment. Where their adversaries had been disoriented before, unable to mount a resistance, they now began to fight back with distinctly inhuman savagery. Christine was the farthest forward of the Knight Sabers, and immediately she was in danger of being overwhelmed by the surge of boomers.

"Hang on, Christine, I'm coming!" Mackie called out, seeing her falling back in the face of the tide. Charging toward her, he picked out a boomer near the apex of the counterstrike. Firing two HEAP rounds, he smiled as the target exploded brilliantly.

The boomers were momentarily stunned by the explosion in their midst, and their advance was slowed. It was just enough, as Christine levelled her pulse cannon and dealt a crushing blow to a second target. Bringing up her other arm, she fired an energy web at the two boomers which still dared to press her, and then used her jump unit to leap clear.

Nene had her difficulties, too, but she was holding her own by sheer force of will. Refusing to back down, she quickly downed two boomers; one fell to the scrambler, and the other to her arm laser. "Seven down."

"We've got them now! Don't let them escape!"

"Escape?" Nene thought, then realized that the boomers were indeed turning to flee. "Why are they running? They still have us outnumbered!"

"Right," Mackie responded to Christine's order and tagged another 34-CX with the cannon. Boomer parts rained on the battlefield as the cyberdroid exploded more violently than usual. "Got the artillery unit!" he shouted with a grin. He was beginning to enjoy this.

"So you did," Christine answered as she triggered her jump unit and soared above the routed boomers. Firing her second web, she smiled as the boomers tried to fight their way free. It was a futile effort, and in a few short moments the battle was done.

"Good job. If I'm right, there should be still be people alive around here. Let's get them out."

"Right!" Nene and Mackie agreed.

The evacuation of the area proceeded quickly, mainly because there were not very many people to evacuate. Still, Christine was glad to have saved some, at least for a time.

When they arrived back at their headquarters, though, the appraisal of the overall situation was sobering. In the time it had taken them to rescue a few, hundreds of others had died throughout the city. Slowly but unceasingly, the AD Police were forced to relinquish more territory to the boomers, and there was little hope of stopping the flood.

The boomers had learned, Sylia realized. Where once they had been simple, ragtag bands, they now behaved more like true battle units. They had closed the gaps in their deployment, improved the distribution of units across the frontier, and the precision with which they struck was frightening.

She had underestimated their ability to adapt, she realized. Or had she? If these things were happening all over the world...

Smiling slightly for the first time in weeks, she went to talk to Nene. Perhaps they could put an end to this after all.