Tempest

"Well, I got what I wanted," Christine smiled wearily as she popped the seals on the battlesuit. As usual, Dr. Boston extended his hand to help her out, and much to his amazement she accepted.

"You look tired, Chris," he commented, looking her over.

"Drained is more like it."

"You did the right thing."

"Huh? Oh, that. It was just instinct. If I'd thought about it, I don't know if I'd have warned them or not. Maybe it will help settle things, though... I don't need to fight GENOM and the Knight Sabers both; this is troublesome enough as it stands."

"Perhaps you should consider joining forces."

"After I tried to kill them? I think not."

He shrugged. "Whatever. This is your expertise, not mine. I just thought that they would make a useful ally."

"Possibly. Just because we aren't trying to kill each other doesn't mean we're the best of friends. I still don't think they care for me much.

"What a waste," Linna lamented as they changed back to normal clothes. "All that trouble and we didn't even get anything out of it."

"Didn't we?" Sylia asked. "We no longer have to worry with the mercenary, at least for now, and GENOM lost their reactor prototype."

"And all the plans for it," Nene added. "According to their records the only copy of those designs was in that computer."

"And we got to kick a little ass while we were at it," interjected Priss, actually smiling for once.

"Also, we got our first glimpse of the new thirty-four CX Boomer," continued Sylia.

"Those are going to be real trouble when they start producing them in numbers, Sylia," Linna pointed out worriedly.

"I know. At least we may have set them back a while."

"I hope so."

Fifteen minutes later, Sylia sat at the hardsuit/computer access terminal. She looked up at the sound of the pneumatic doors opening, and say Nene quietly enter.

"So," she asked, "What did we get?"

"Most of it," Nene responded dejectedly. "We'll never be able to use it, though."

Sylia nodded. "I'll take a look at it anyway, but I suspected that might be the case. Still, we had to try."

"If this project was so secret, how did we find out about it?"

"Need-to-know, Nene," Sylia scowled, though the worried look Nene had seen so often lately never left her eyes, "You know better than to ask questions like that."

"Sorry. Well, I have some things to do, so I'd better go."

"Of course," Sylia paused as Nene turned to leave. "You did well tonight, Nene."

"Thanks."

Getting on her scooter, Nene decided not to go straight home for a change. The night air was cool and comforting, and it soothed her restless heart. As she rode around the streets, she considered the recent events in her life. Stopping at a park, or at least as close to a park as Megatokyo could manage, she just started walking through the trees.

"Why are you so angry?" she asked herself. "What, truly, has changed?" Looking down at her cybernetic hand, which even she could not tell from the real one, she had to admit that there was not really that much difference. Still, the knowledge that it WAS artificial--that it was not a part of her--smoldered in her heart like an ember that would not die, waiting to start a new flame. Did having an artificial hand make her less human? She knew about the seventy-percent law... and it disturbed her. Was this the first step toward becoming a Boomer? She shuddered at the thought.

Tonight, for the first time, she had really felt the fire of her anger, and it had hurt her. Never before had she reveled in violence; never before had she desired to cause pain. She had heard the ice in her own voice when they confronted the mercenary, and she had taken pleasure in it. Now, the knowledge brought her only pain.

"You did well tonight, Nene," Sylia's voice echoed in her mind. Was anger the cost of victory? Did true success require the sacrifice of peace?

"No!" her spirit rebelled at the thought, but still the question haunted her. Images of the moment that she was wounded, the sting of pain, the satisfaction of destroying a boomer... the sensations flooded her mind, and she could not shut them out.

Many hours passed before she found her way home, and even then her sleep was consumed with nightmares.

Christine, too, was facing new questions. For the first time in her life, she had seen something which she had always known that which was business to her was personal to others. For three years, she had spent her life hunting down people for money that she didn't need, deriving her pleasure from the challenge of the hunt and the trial of combat. Most of the time, they had been people who had deserved death. Often, the death she brought was less than they deserved. This, however, was not always the case.

In the past, her victims had never come back to haunt her. Usually, she never even saw them. She found herself regretting her tap into the Knight Sabers' communications this night. Their scrambling had been good... almost indecipherable, but she had managed to decode a few words. One of them was a name.

Nene.

It had not taken much effort to assign an identity to that name. She had determined in their first encounter that the one she had wounded was their electronics specialist, and once she eliminated those who lacked the ability, she had found the information she sought. Immediately, she wished she hadn't looked.

"Why did I have to hurt the young one?" she asked herself desperately, looking at the bio on the screen in front of her. The comments on her police file were glowing; her personality evaluation spoke of youthful innocence and vitality. The voice she had heard this night held none of those. "Dear Lord, what have I done?"

"An attack of conscience, Chris?" a soft, familiar voice sounded from the doorway. James. Angered by his choice of words, she wanted to strike at him, but she found she lacked the will to do so. Turning to face him, she saw only concern in his eyes. Almost unwillingly, she nodded.

"Please forgive me for saying this, but this had to happen eventually. You aren't hardened enough for the job you do, thankfully."

"It's not that...," she protested, indicating the screen. "She's just a child."

"Is she? You are scarcely older than her yourself."

"But she's... such an innocent!"

"And she reminds you of yourself... before."

Christine hesitated. "Yes," she whispered.

"And you would never willingly push anyone to what you have become."

Christine froze. "You... know?"

"That you long for a normal life? An escape from your anger? Chris, I could never have not known. I remember when you were the innocent child, before the accident, before the hatred. I remember the pain when your life fell apart around you. I wanted to help you... but you wouldn't let me."

A tear formed in her eye, "I know. I'm sorry."

He put his arms around her. "I love you, Chris. I've never said it, but it's always been true."

Crying softly, she held him close. He sat with her long into the night.

Priss clicked on the television, and the late, late news was on. "Well, let's see what they have to say about our little adventure earlier." Several minutes of weather and stock-market reports passed, then they came around to the real news.

"Earlier tonight, a fiery explosion consumed a GENOM research facility just outside of Megatokyo. The blaze, which began at approximately eleven o'clock, completely destroyed the complex, an alternative-energy research station. GENOM claims that the fire was caused by a power spike in one of the laboratories, but eyewitnesses report that several armored figures were visible on the roof shortly after the fires broke out. Could this be the work of the elusive Knight Sabers, or is it possibly a retaliation strike for the assaut on the Stevenson estate last week? AD Police officials declined to comment on the situation, saying only that an investigation is underway."

"Well, look like we're going to get blamed for this one. GENOM claims it was an alternative-energy research facility this time."

"That's closer to the truth than they usually get," Linna laughed. "Besides, we already get blamed for everything that happens in this city. I don't think anyone believes it anymore, or else the AD Police would be after us."

"Good thing we have an inside contact."

"That's for certain. I'm worried about her, though. She seems... different."

"Angry?"

"Yes, but more than that... she was very cold tonight."

"She'll get over it."

"You haven't yet."

Alone in the databank room, Sylia studied the reactor designs, looking for ways to fill in the gaps. The reactor itself was all there, but the coolant system was mostly absent, and the demands upon it would be very high. It seemed that Nene was right... the system was uselss to them.

"Nene..." she whispered as her thoughts turned to the young woman who had made this possible. Images flashed through her mind at lightning speed, sights and sounds to match. There was no mistaking the cold hatred in Nene's voice when they had confronted Miss Stevenson. The anger had been visible in battle, as well. Quite possibly, it had saved them once, as Nene's aggression surprised the Boomers. Still, Sylia was concerend about the reckless manner of Nene's attacks; on more than one occasion she had completely neglected her own defense, unnecessarily. Tonight it had been successful, but tomorrow it could be fatal. Clearly, this was a matter that needed to be addressed.

Pulling up another file, Sylia examined the readouts. Nene's hardsuit was crammed with electronic warfare and communications gear, so much so that even the power of her suit's arm-laser had been reduced from standard to accommodate. It might be possible to increase the level of armor, but more than a slight increase would impair her movement and was unacceptable.

"Perhaps if..." she thought, remembering an experiment she'd been working on for a few months. Copying the file for modification, she smiled slightly, "It just might work."

"James," Christine asked as she looked through the files she had downloaded the previous night.

"Yes?" he responded, walking over to the terminal.

"Take a look at this," she said, indicating the blueprints that she had just pulled up on the screen.

James whistled. "Tech data on the new GENOM modular weapons mount system... that could prove useful."

"This is one of the two major innovations of the 34-CX Boomer class. It allows them to mount several different combinations of weapons for different missions, all interchangeable in a matter of minutes, and all without altering the basic structure of the boomer."

"So you can't tell them apart until you're actually fighting them. Impressive."

"Frighteningly so," Christine frowned. "This is going to present a real challenge for us. It won't be so easy to tell what's coming anymore."

"How long until the new type goes into general production?"

"Not long enough."

Smiling slightly, Sylia looked over Nene's newly modified hardsuit. In appearance it was almost identical to its predecessor, but the new version was significantly improved. A new, experimental shell material helped its performance against all forms of physical attack with only a minor mass gain, and boosting the strength-enhancers in the limbs would more than compensate. The energy-deflection qualities were slightly reduced, but given Nene's new tendency toward close-in fighting, Sylia considered that an acceptable trade-off. Still, another layer of the energy-reflective coating might be worth the additional weight; she would have to consider it.

Another new feature was the redesigned threat-detection array and warning system. Where the old hardsuit helmet had employed a highly complex directional warning, combat experience had found that it gave too much information to be useful--even she herself had developed a tendency to ignore it. The new version was both simpler and more sensitive. Three distinct warnings were given: physical attack, incoming gunfire, and incoming missile. A mental command could bring up more specific data if needed.

The major deficiency of this suit was still in the area of weaponry. Nene's laser was really too small to do real damage to a boomer's armor, but there was simply no room inside the shell for a larger one. Even if the space could be found, the electronics of the armor used up most of the reactor's power.

Therein lay the difficulty; Nene's hardsuit was not designed for direct combat. From the time she had signed on with the Knight Sabers, she had always shied from battle, and her suit reflected that. Packed as tightly as possible with electronics, it had little room for anything else. Seeing the need for some weapon, simply to provide defense, Sylia had squeezed in the reduced-power laser, but an upgrade was out of the question.

One possible solution had occurred to her. If another member of the team could handle part of Nene's responsibilities, it would free up space and power for a larger weapon. Unfortunately, none of the others was qualified to do any of the tasks which could be reassigned. Even Sylia herself could not adequately handle all of them, and certainly not in addition to her own work.

This realization had brought Sylia to a new respect for Nene. The youngest of the Knight Sabers possessed a remarkable intelligence and an amazing affinity for computer systems. She was indeed an invaluable asset, and had proven herself so many times over. Also, Sylia cared for her especially among her "family". Her youthful exuberance took some of the weight out of Sylia's responsibilities and helped her to appreciate life sometimes. When the temptation to put away all her emotions was strong, it was usually Nene who would save her.

With those thoughts, Sylia resolved that she would solve this problem. She would not see Nene harmed again; she would not fail her again. She would find a way of this she was certain.

Christine was alone. While not exactly unusual in and of itself, this fact seemed particularly apparent to her, in a way that it had not in years. The solitude was almost tangible; it felt as if it had crept up on her and wrapped itself around her like an old, familiar blanket.

There was once a time when she would have liked this feeling. She had always been prone t o dark moods, though much less so before her parents had died, and over the years she had come to savor them. It was at times like these when they came... alone, in an unlit bedroom, where she had nothing to do but think.

Introspection was sometimes pleasant for her. There were certainly things about her that she liked; she had drive, determination, and intelligence; she was confident in her own abilities, and she had enjoyed her work over the years. At other times, though, it was painful. Dark memories haunted her; the death of her parents had seared her heart, scarring her. She knew that she could be cold, and cruel. She had visions of her own death, lying in the remains of her shattered armor and wondering if she had wasted her life. This time, it was the latter case.

The questions came again; "Why do I do this?" she asked herself. The old familiar answer came, but now it rang hollow. The voice of the young Knight Saber replaced it, accusing her. Her own words followed, "Dear Lord, what have I done?" Darkness closed in around her, threatening to consume her. She started to scream...

...and sat bolt upright in her bed. Breathing heavily, she gasped, "It was only a dream... only a dream..." After taking a few minutes to calm her breathing, she tapped the bedside intercom, "James?"

"Yes, Chris?" came the response.

"Good, he's awake," she thought, then asked, "Can we talk for a few minutes?"

"Anytime you like."

"Thanks."

It took several hours, but eventually she went back to sleep. As she prepared herself for bed, she began to realize that perhaps she cared for the doctor more than she had thought. Plenty of time for that in the morning, though, she decided, drifting off to sleep.

She awoke with a start--the alarm had been triggered! Looking out the window, she couldn't see anything suspicious, but she ran down towards the garage anyway. Just as she entered the last hallway, the door was blown inward, the blast wave throwing her backwards against the wall. Climbing to her feet, she sprinted to the now ruined chamber.

"JAMES!" she screamed, seeing him collapsed against one of the walls. Running to him as quickly as she could manage through the debris, she knelt beside him. Seeing that she had come, he struggled to sit up. His eyes were glazed, and blood trickled from his mouth as he opened it to speak.

"Chris... I love you... I always have. Never forget."

"No, James... I love you... they can't take you away, too!" she cried in desperation.

"I... love... you," he managed, then slumped forward into her arms. Looking at him, she immediately knew she could not save him. Holding his hand in hers, she just sat there and wept.