Tempest

Moving quickly down the darkened corridor, the young nurse suppressed a shudder of fear. You shouldn't be doing this, she told herself. They'll catch you, and you'll end up like her... or worse. Even that terrifying thought, though, only served to drive her onward. Could there be anything worse than what this young woman was being subjected to? I'm supposed to be helping people, not acting as party to their psychological torture. Since signing on with her present employer, what chance she might have had to do any real good in the world had vanished, she thought... but she could still help this one.

She knew the path by heart, having walked it hundreds of times over the past few months. Down this corridor, turn right, third door on the left. It looked innocuous enough from the outside, a block of research labs each exactly like the others. This door, though... this one was an exception, and held a secret she had been instructed to guard with her life.

It was time to let that secret out. It would be the death of her if she was caught, but she probably deserved that after allowing this to go on all this time. No, she had stood idly by for too long, caring for the body while allowing the soul and mind to suffer.

Pausing in front of the door, she pulled out the small keycard she had... acquired... from one of the guards. It had not been an easy thing to remove it from his person, and she had given up more of herself than she would have liked, but was it such a great sacrifice in light of what she had to do here? She could not think of herself at such a time. Besides, the die was cast... she had come this far, and there would be no turning back once she opened the door.

The keycard reader beeped softly as the lights cycled from red to green. She drew a deep breath as the door hissed open, and then stepped inside. If they suspected anything, she would find out...

Silence.

No, not quite silence. There was the ever-present hum of the diagnostic equipment next to the table where the young prisoner lay. She did not know the girl's name; she had asked once, and been told to mind her own business. She knew her face, though. She knew her raven hair and cold blue eyes, and knew the same soulless expression she had seen there too many times. She wondered, and yet feared to learn, what thoughts lay behind those eyes, at once empty and piercing to her core.

The girl was asleep, drugged so that she could not attempt escape. No... the bonds prevented her escape. The drugs were to make it more difficult for anyone to do what she was about to attempt. For anyone else, it might well not be possible... but the one who administered the sleeping medication knew better than any how to counter it. Anxiously, she took the syringe from her pocket and removed the needle guard. Finding the right place in the darkness took a few moments; there was only one small area of the girl's monitoring suit where the needle could penetrate without damaging the circuitry. She had to be careful; one mistake would certainly set off alarms and bring the guards down on her head.

Got it! Injecting the contents of the syringe into the young prisoner's arm, she stepped back and waited for it to take effect. Only a few seconds passed before those blue eyes snapped open, glancing wildly around the room before locking their gaze onto her. Surprise, anger, fear... the emotions flashed across the prisoner's expression as they held eye contact for a few seconds, and she started to open her mouth.

"Sssshhh!" the nurse hissed before anything could be said. "I'm going to get you out of here, but you have to cooperate with me, do you understand?" The prisoner looked confused for a minute, then nodded silently. "Good. Now stay still. I'm going to release the bindings. Don't move until I tell you it's okay." Another nod. Thankfully, the raven-haired girl seemed reasonable; her cooperation would be critical to her escape.

I wonder if she recognizes me? the nurse thought. Does she remember my part in all this? If she knew--if she remembered--she might well attack once freed from her bonds. Wouldn't I, if faced with someone who had contributed to such torture? What reason does she have to trust me? With trembling hands, she entered in the commands to release the metal bindings which held the girl down. Finally, it was done, and she stepped back.

The girl sat up slowly and unsteadily, leaning on one arm to hold herself up, while resting her forehead on her palm in an effort to clear the mental fog caused by the sleeping medication. After a few seconds, she finally looked up at her would-be rescuer. "Why?" she whispered softly.

"...I'll explain later," the nurse answered softly. "We shouldn't talk much here. We'll attract attention." Taking the girl's hand to help her up, she whispered, "You can lean on me if you need to, but if you think you can walk we'll be faster." A nod, and a hand placed on her shoulder for balance, was the only response. "Come on. This way."

The two of them moved as quickly as they could manage, and yet it seemed tortuously slow to her. She had learned as much as she could about the guard patrols, and chosen her time for this carefully; most of the guards, like everyone else in the city, were out celebrating the oncoming New Year, and they were running on a skeleton crew. Even so, the guards that were here would be alert, and she would not be able to put up a fight if they were caught. She glanced at her charge, who seemed to be regaining strength and steadiness with each step. If they made it just a little farther, she might even be able to manage on their own.

Just a little farther, she told herself again. Down one more corridor, and then one flight of stairs, and there was an exit. It would normally be locked, but the guards' keycards should open it. Then the girl would be gone, and she would need concern herself only with her own undetected escape.

They had made it to the stairwell when she heard the shout. Her treachery had been discovered, and the guards would be coming. She felt the pressure of the young woman's weight leave her shoulder, and she turned to see an expression torn between panic and resolve. She had to buy this person some time, no matter what it cost her. Clasping one hand between her own, she pressed the keycard into the girl's palm. "Go!" she hissed. "Down the stairs, turn right, there's an exit. Once you get outside, the holiday crowds will cover your escape. Good luck!" The other hesitated. "Go! I know places I can hide, but if they find you with me..."

A nod, and then the girl stepped into the stairwell. Carefully, the nurse closed the door behind her, listening to the uneven footfalls on their way down the stairs. It was enough; the prisoner was away. As she turned back toward the hall, though, she saw the guards coming... and knew that she herself would not be so lucky.

Sitting alone in her darkened apartment, a young woman desperately tried to ignore the world around her. Sounds of celebration crashed in from all sides as Megatokyo's denizens vented another year of repressed tensions, heralding the new annum as if something might actually change. Rumbling bass from a neighbor's stereo rattled the walls as dancing footsteps shook the floor beneath; the jubilant cries of drunken revelers crashed in on her solitude, taunting her with the joy and freedom she would never again know.

Outside her confining walls, people were happy, and Nene Romanova hated them for it.

Any cause for celebration in her life had been long since destroyed, crushed to powder under the oppressive heel of GENOM and scattered on the wind. So much had been lost since that accursed night two years before.

Linna's death had only been the beginning. Priss had walked away, for good this time. The Knight Sabers were finished; even if suitable replacements could be found, the emotional loss was simply too much to overcome. She and Sylia had carried on their private war on subtler battlefields, but ultimately even that had come to little.

Boomer terrorism, she remembered bitterly, had only grown worse after their fall. Without the persistent thorn of the Knight Sabers providing a check on their more ruthless activities, GENOM found the seeming coincidence of the rogue cyberdroid an effective tool for removing resistance to their objectives. AD Police had found itself frequently in the line of fire, including one incident where ADP Headquarters itself had been the target. Nene had lost friends in those battles... the chief, Daley, and others. Worst of all had been Naoko, who had died in her arms, the second of her close friends to fall. Mounting losses, and the repeated exoneration of the megacorp in the incidents, had embittered the entire force. Unappreciated and overmatched, many ADP officers scarcely knew why they bothered to fight anymore. Of late, Nene had found herself understanding them.

She was weary of the struggle; the constant battle to salvage a little of the world she had known and loved was a drain upon her spirit, and she could not fight forever. GENOM had won, and all the stupid, foolish celebrations in the world could not possibly change that fact.

A soft tapping at the door, barely audible over the surrounding cacophany, caught her attention. Could they not see that she wanted to be left alone? She ignored it, hoping that it would go away, but another knock soon followed. Still she sat, not wanting to be disturbed, until a third and much louder knock brought her to her feet. Angry at the intrusion, she trudged over to the door, unbolted it, and violently jerked it open. The sight that greeted her there, though, froze the spiteful greeting on her lips.

The young woman who stood before her could once have been called beautiful. A black, silver-marked skintight full-body suit adorned her dancer's frame, granting her the appearance of a finely honed weapon. Eyes of ice, deep blue and bitterly cold, bored straight into Nene's soul. Raven-black hair offset unnaturally pale skin, and her familiar features were hardened into an emotionless mask. Her presence was almost ethereal, a ghost of the past given earthly form, and Nene stumbled backward in shock.

"L-Linna," she stammered. "You... you're dead..."

"I was dead," the apparition answered, stepping through the open doorway. "They didn't have the decency to leave me that way."

Sylia stood perfectly still, scarcely moving even to breathe as she tried to assimilate Nene's rapid-fire stream of words over the phone. Were it coming from any other source, she might think this a joke, but even in her more mischievous younger days, Nene would never have made light of something such as this. Even if she had been the type to do that, her manner alone would have convinced Sylia of the deadly serious nature of the situation...

...and deadly, she thought, might be the operative word. "I'm on my way, Nene," she answered, her tone commanding. "Don't tell her anything until I get there." She listened a moment longer, as Neneacknowledged her instruction, then set the phone down on its cradle and leaned heavily against the wall as the full weight of what she had just heard washed over her.

Linna was alive.

A certain mental numbness seemed to obstruct her thoughts as she tried to process this realization, and for several long moments she sat there considering. How had this been done, and why? Someone, most likely someone within GENOM, had gone to the trouble to revive Linna after two years; this was not a simple task. Furthermore, it demanded that preparations had been made at the point of--and probably before--Linna's death. A scheme of this magnitude would not be undertaken lightly, even by their megacorporate nemesis. If indeed Linna had been revived, it had been done for a reason, and the possible nature of that reason disturbed her deeply.

Rising from her seat, she began to turn the situation over in her mind. She needed to reclaim her clarity of thought; Holmes would chastise her for theorizing before she had collected all the evidence, and at this point she had only Nene's judgement to tell her that this was not simply an elaborate deception. An S-series cyberdroid would make an effective double, and with enough work it might even be possible to deceive Nene's experienced senses. There were technical obstacles to be overcome there, as well... but could it truly be more difficult than reviving the dead? There were no impossibilities to eliminate, only improbabilities. She needed more information.

Even if Linna had returned to them, there was another question to be answered. Was this a trap? Quite possibly it was, but why would such a snare be laid after so long? The Knight Sabers had been inactive for almost two years, and her current efforts were far too minor to attract or merit such attention. On the other hand, what other reason could there be? Assuming, then, that it was a trap, how could it be thwarted? She refused to leave Nene for the wolves, regardless; she had lost one of her own, and that was one too many. Then, there was the matter of Linna herself. If she was truly alive, Sylia had an obligation to her as well.

Resolution pressed her into action. She selected two firearms, both for their concealment value; an automatic handgun went in a shoulder holster, and a single shot hold-out tucked into the loose sleeve of her coat. It was less protection than she might like, but with all the police out on the streets for the holiday, she could scarcely carry more without asking for difficulty. An attache case full of various electronics would provide any other equipment she might need without raising too much suspicion; aside from that, she would have only her wits to assist her. Taking a moment to steel herself against what unpleasant surprises might be in store, she checked the electronic locks on her apartment and set out into the night. She would have to be quick; if this was indeed a trap, Nene was in immediate danger. If not... she would know soon enough.

Nene shifted uncomfortably in her chair, not really knowing how to act. There before her was a friend she had believed lost for two years, a friend she would have given everything she had to see again, and she could not talk to her. What would she say, even if she had not been forbidden it? What could she say? Did she really, truly believe that this was in fact Linna?

It was difficult. A healthy degree of skepticism was something that as an investigator she had learned to maintain. Logic solved mysteries, where emotion only compounded them. All her instincts as a police officer and a hacker rebelled at the very idea that this could be true, and still... she did believe.

If Linna needed anything, it was comfort and reassurance. Her eyes, at first piercing and cold, now seemed frightened, even haunted. What has she been through...? Nene wondered, unable to imagine what could affect the seemingly irrepressible Linna so. She wanted to say something, do something to help, but what comfort could she offer? She had no words for something like this; any gestures she might make seemed dwarfed by the magnitude of her friend's apparent pain.

A sharp, sudden knock at the door broke the spell over them, and Nene quickly rose to answer it. Checking the peephole to verify the caller's identity, she sighed softly with relief before unbolting and opening the door for Sylia.

Linna looked up, uncertainty replacing a momentary panic in her eyes, and her voice was scarcely above a whisper when she spoke. "Hello, Sylia."

Sylia glanced down at a small scanner in her hand before meeting Linna's gaze, and she held that contact for several long moments. "So. It is you, after all," she answered noncommittally.

A pained look crossed Linna's face at the evident distrust. "Yeah, it's me," she sighed. "I... suppose I have a story to tell."

Sylia nodded, again glancing at the scanner before slipping it into a pocket. "Yes, I would say that you do." She took a seat opposite Linna, setting her attache case on the coffee table and opening it up. Inside was an assortment of electronic devices; she checked the readouts on two of them, then closed the case again. Finally she settled back in her chair as Nene took a seat closer to Linna.

Once they were settled, Linna took a deep breath, clasping her hands. She looked down at the floor, then closed her eyes, and finally after a few seconds she raised her head to meet Sylia's gaze. "I don't remember anything past mid-December... I guess that's about when I died. I don't really remember that at all, but they talked about it a lot in the lab." She paused, wringing her hands together, then continued with a heavy sigh. "They did experiments on me. They..." her voice broke. "...I can't talk about that. I just can't. I don't want to remember it." Her eyes grew distant for a moment, then seemed to focus again. "They said they were going to control me... program me. They--" she stopped again, shaking her head vehemently. "...I fought them... it hurt, but I couldn't let them win."

Nene bit down on her lip, trying not to react, trying to suppress the compassion she felt building up within her. She needed to listen to this. She needed to hear it with her mind, not her heart. Even as she told herself this, though, the sight of Linna unable to compose herself and the broken, horrified whispers of that voice cut to her heart, and she could not deny what she was feeling. Reaching out, she took Linna's hands between her own.

Linna looked up at her then, and seemed to steady herself a bit. "...thanks, Nene," she said softly.

Nene only nodded, fixing her eyes on their clasped hands, partly to reassure herself that this touch was real, and partly to avoid looking at the disapproval she knew Sylia would show her for this gesture. She knew she was supposed to be dispassionate, but she just couldn't. Not now.

Silence fell upon them again, and several minutes passed before Linna spoke again. "...I don't know how long they had me there. A lot of it is fuzzy... I know they kept me drugged a lot, but not always. Sometimes they wanted me to feel what they did to me. They wanted to hurt me. Today... today someone decided to let me go. One of the medical staff." She shook her head. "I... I don't know why. I asked her... but the guards came before she could explain. She told me she could escape, made me leave her. I... I don't think she did. There wasn't time. I'm not sure. I know they didn't follow me, though. You taught me too well for that."

Sylia nodded slowly. "I see. You do understand that it is difficult for us to trust you. After two years--"

"Two years?" Linna interrupted, stunned. "I've been..." she shook her head, voice shaky with disbelief. "...it's been two years?"

Sylia nodded silently, and Nene was relieved at the hints of conflict she saw behind those previously cold eyes. If even Sylia was having trouble keeping her emotions in check, then she felt less guilty about not controlling her own. For herself, she was convinced. Somehow Linna had come back to them.

"Two years," Linna echoed, and her haunted, desperate tone stole any joy out of Nene's heart. Linna was back, indeed... but she was wounded, more deeply than Nene knew how to heal. Tears streamed down the dancer's cheeks, and she sighed heavily. "I have nothing. No home, no job, no life... they took it all away from me." She released her hands from each other then, clenching them tightly as Nene drew back from her. "...they took it all away. Sylia, you have to trust me. You have to let me back in." The words came out in a rush, fueled by an emotion darker and more impassioned than the pain that had preceded it. "Run whatever tests you have to on me. Do whatever you must. It can't be any worse than what they've already done. I... I can't let them get away with this. I need this. I want back in."

Sylia drew a deep breath of her own, seeming to wrestle with her own response before finally she sighed. "Very well. Come with us, and we will see what can be done."

It seemed to Linna that an eternity had passed in sightless void when the car's motion finally stopped. "Are we there yet?" she asked dryly.

"Indeed," Sylia's voice answered as the engine shut off. "I do apologize for the blindfold and the roundabout route, but our new headquarters must remain secure until certain aspects of your story can be confirmed."

Linna gave a wry smile. Sylia, at least, was still Sylia. No... even Sylia was not quite this paranoid before. Not with her own, at least. ...but does she consider me one of her own anymore? "I understand. Let's just get this over with."

"Of course." The front car door opened, and she heard the sound of shoes--with heels; those would be Sylia's, Nene had been wearing casual clothes--on pavement. Besides, she was fully alert now, and she had enough martial arts skill to sense Nene's presence sitting only a foot to her right in the back seat. It was nice to have that awareness back, she thought, though she hated having to rely on it. The door next to her opened then, and she held out her hand for Sylia to help her stand up. Once she was out of the car, she heard Nene open her door and get out as well.

Still blindfolded, she was led across the pavement to a door; they had parked in a garage, she observed. This could be 633, then, but somehow she doubted it. Sylia had mentioned a new headquarters. Or was that just to throw me off?. Next came a flight of stairs, which proved to be difficult, even with her exceptional balance. Without the handrail it would have been nearly impossible; as it was, she had to take them one step at a time, painfully slowly. She gritted her teeth impatiently, wanting to get it over with so she could have her sight back.

Finally, they reached the top of the stairs. Another door was opened for her, and she was greeted by a welcome surge of warm air. She had not quite realized how cold she had been outdoors in the skinsuit until she felt the comfort of heated rooms again. The change was so sudden that she did not realize that her blindfold was being removed until her sight came back to her in a flood of light.

She squeezed her eyes shut with a surprised yelp, then opened them just a slit--and realized she had overreacted. In truth, the light in this room was fairly dim. She took a few steps forward, looking around the entry corridor. The decor was familiar, in that it looked somewhat similar to Sylia's apartment at 633, but it was different as well. Darker, she thought... and more plain.

It took her a moment longer to realize why. Sylia's old apartment had large expanses of glass to let in the light from outside, whether it be the sunlight of day or the neon intensity of District 3 by night. Here there were no windows that she could see, and it left the place with something of a dreary feel by comparison. "Kinda dark, isn't it? I mean, compared to your old place..."

Sylia nodded, seeming to take note of the response. "In this room, anyway. The living area here is interior to the building, a consequence of my having used the prime space for more... practical concerns." The Knight Sabers' smiled thinly, an expression Linna had come to associate with a certain degree of irony. "If you will excuse me a moment, I need to prepare some equipment. Nene, could you find Linna something else to wear? I will need to examine that bodysuit as well."

What could she want to look at that for...? Linna asked herself, then turned a little pale with realization. It would have been nothing for them to sew a microtransmitter into the fabric, and she might have led her captors right to her friends! "...you don't think they're tracking me, do you?" she asked anxiously.

"No," Sylia answered, allowing herself a slight smile. "I was careful of that."

Of course, Linna thought, wondering why she had bothered to ask. Sylia always thought of such things, right? I mean, hadn't she always been the paranoid one? But then, considering what had happened to her, maybe she should still be worrying... even Sylia wasn't perfect, was she?

Nene's reaction, though, was one of curious amusement. "So that's what you keep in that case! I've wondered..."

Sylia turned a sharp look on Nene, the type that discouraged further inquiry. "Among other things. Now, if you would...?"

Nene grinned, motioning for Linna to follow her. "Sure, sure. Come on, I'm sure we can find you something that fits..."

Linna nodded, following behind. There was still something that seemed vaguely surreal about the whole situation to her. Maybe it was being treated so coolly by someone she had finally come to view as a friend. In a way, it was like being back to day one, and she felt that she hardly knew Sylia any better than Sylia trusted her. Still, there was nothing to be done for it but to carry on as well as she could. At least Nene seemed to be something like her former self... though she clearly had changed as well.

They found their way to Sylia's bedroom, where Nene seemed to take a sort of mischievous pleasure in going through her closets. "I'm surprised she let us come back here," she told Linna with a conspiratorial grin. "You know how she has to be so secret about anything." Linna favored her with a small smile, but her mind was too occupied with weightier matters to really appreciate the amusement value of the situation.

Nene seemed to recognize this, and her smile faded a little. "...don't worry, things will work out," she told her. Picking through the clothes hanging in the closet, she finally handed a couple of selections to Linna. "There, those should do all right until we can get you something your size."

Linna smiled weakly, accepting the chosen garments. "Thanks, Nene." For a moment, she hesitated, glancing around nervously. "Umm... should I just change in here, or...?

Nene giggled. "Don't worry, it's just us. Mackie's gone off to Europe for college."

Linna laughed a little at that, actually smiling for a moment. Turning around, she prompted, "In that case, could you help me with that zipper back there? I don't think they wanted me to take this off, and there's some kind of clasp holding it that I can't get to."

Nene nodded, finding the hidden catch at the top and releasing it, and Linna slipped out of the one-piece outfit, kicking it aside in disgust. Turning back toward Nene, she picked up the panties that had been chosen for her and was stepping into them when Nene gasped.

"What?" she questioned, suddenly self-conscious. She had changed clothes in front of Nene enough times before, what could possibly--?

"...your stomach," Nene indicated, her voice hushed, and Linna looked down at the jagged scar that stretched completely across her abdomen. "That's..."

Linna shivered violently. "I... try not to look at that." Closing her eyes, she let out a deep sigh. "There's really no getting away from it, though, is there? It's always there to remind me." Several moments of silence passed before she opened her eyes, looking up at Nene again. "Nene... how did I...?" She hesitated, then shook her head. "Never mind. I don't want to know."

Nene winced sympathetically at the reaction she had provoked. "Linna..." Reaching out, she drew her friend into a tight embrace. "I'm sorry."

Linna held her like that for a moment, not quite sure what to say, or how to react. "...it's not your fault, Nene. It's not anybody's fault, though I'm sure Priss tries to blame herself for it."

"Yeah, Priss..." Nene whispered, her voice trailing off into silence.

Linna's heart seemed to stop for a minute; something in Nene's tone worried her as much as anything she had heard at all. Had something happened? "What is it, Nene?"

Nene hesitated. "...I'll tell you later. I'm sure Sylia's waiting for us, and once we get this over with, I'll be able to say more."

Linna nodded sadly. More distrust... even from Nene. Or was it simply that Nene would afraid Sylia would overhear her saying things she shouldn't? Yes, that was probably it. With a heavy sigh, she answered, "All right, I understand. But I will want you to tell me later..."

When that was done, they found Sylia waiting for them in the living room. She glanced appraisingly at Linna, then at Nene, who gave her a slight nod in response. Linna frowned slightly at the sense of being "talked" about behind her back, but by this point she was resigned to it.

Sylia turned back in Linna's direction, seeming to study her for a moment longer before speaking. "The equipment is prepared. I will be performing a base physical scan, looking for implants or cybernetics; also, I will be scanning your central nervous system in detail, to locate any damage caused by the trauma of your death and revival."

"Or GENOM tampering," Linna added darkly. "You may as well say it, Sylia. I'm as worried about it as you are, you know. Probably more, since it's my head they claimed to be messing around with."

Sylia nodded slightly, a wry smile crossing her face. "As you say," she conceded. "Are you ready?"

Linna nodded, and the three of them made their way down the hall to a heavy security door. Sylia placed her palm flat against the scanner, then spoke, "Stingray, Sylia. Identicode one-one-alpha. Hand and voiceprint verification."

Crimson light washed over her hand for a few seconds, then faded. "Identity confirmed," the computer responded in synthesized monotone. "Access granted." Sylia removed her hand from the scanner, and the door opened to reveal a small but very well-equipped medlab.

"If you will lie down over there," Sylia indicated the diagnostics table, which was surrounded by several pieces of automated scanning equipment, "we will get started. I'll be in the next room monitoring the readings."

Linna nodded her assent, suppressing the shudder that came over her then. Her memories of what had been done to her in the laboratory were mercifully vague, but she could scarcely look at such equipment again without being reminded of it. Suddenly she found herself less certain that she really wanted to know what had been done to her. No. I have to do this, she told herself. I have to know. And Sylia won't let me back in if I don't, and then where would I go? She tried not to think about the possibility that if the scans came out badly, that she might not go anywhere. If Sylia determined that she was a danger to what remained of the organization, she had no doubt that the threat would be removed. Permanently.

It was a risk she had to take. As Sylia left through the door they had entered, she sat down on the edge of the table, then lay back as the scanning device moved into place above her. "...so, Nene," she said, trying to sound casual. "...what does this thing do, anyway?"

Nene dropped into a nearby chair. "Pretty much what she said it does. I've had it used on me before... she had to map my nervous system to make the transceptors in my hardsuit work. It's one thing to try and monitor motor control functions with standard equipment, but the computer interfaces had to be custom-built. It takes a while, and looks kinda weird, but it's painless." She smiled a bit more. "I'll do the best I can to keep you entertained."

"You were going to tell me what happened to Priss."

"Right to the point, huh?" Nene leaned back in her chair, and her smile faded. "You see... that's just it. She walked out of here right after you died, and we haven't heard from her since..."

Sylia frowned slightly as she looked over the readings. The preliminary scan showed a general lack of implanted hardware, which was a good sign. She had almost expected to find at least one homing beacon, but it seemed Linna's captors had not truly considered the possibility that she might escape. The bodysuit she had been wearing had monitoring devices woven throughout the fabric, but it relied on a small transmitter not unlike those used in the measuring suits she employed in the Knight Sabers' training facility, and its range was only about fifty meters. There had also been a time-delayed homing beacon sewn into the suit's fabric, now disabled. It had not been anything unusual; such devices were used in prisons the world over, which perhaps said something about the conditions in which Linna had been kept.

The neural scans proved to be less mundane. Linna had evidently undergone extensive reconstruction of her nervous system to account for the trauma of her death and rebirth. This was a concern; if indeed GENOM had tampered with her mind, it would be entirely possible to hide such alteration amidst the rebuilt nerves. On the other hand, Linna's brainwave readings were within acceptable tolerances of the baseline she had established during the construction of her most recent hardsuit, which indicated a general lack of such alteration. Still, Sylia made a note to keep her under close observation at all times; she could ill afford to make a mistake on this count.

Degradation in overall function was negligible, from what she could determine... and Linna certainly seemed like herself, except for the emotional changes that would be expected from an ordeal like that which she had described. From what she could tell, Linna's reflexes and motor control would be acceptably close to the exceptional qualities which made her ideal for her role in the Knight Sabers. That at least would not be a concern.

As she set the neural scans aside, the second set of readings came through. Again there were few surprises... large segments of Linna's internal organs were constructed from cloned tissue. This had also been expected, considering the severity of wounds which had been inflicted upon Linna at the point of her death. She was otherwise healthy; however barbaric her treatment might have been, she had been kept adequately nourished and protected from bacterial and viral infections. Furthermore, though Linna had not indicated that she had been allowed any sort of exercise, it was clear that her captors had gone to some length to ensure that she suffered little loss of muscle mass or bone density. If her reflexes were up to speed--something which could only be verified by testing--she would be perfectly capable of combat operations.

She let the system run a while longer, recording data to form a baseline for Linna's records, then finally shut it down. More testing would be needed to determine the extent of damage to Linna's nervous response, especially under combat conditions, but that could wait. For all that Sylia could tell, Linna was everything she claimed to be, and her mental function seemed on the whole free of alteration. At last, she allowed herself a slight smile. Linna was, it seemed, alive and returned to them. Implausible, perhaps... yet it was somehow true. For a moment, she even allowed herself to entertain the wildly optimistic thought that the Knight Sabers might be able to resume normal operations.

If that was to be, however, it would not be soon. She needed more time to observe Linna before she could place that degree of trust in her prodigal child, and besides that, there was much work to be done. New technologies would have to be integrated into their operations, and new tactics would have to be developed. A degree of retraining would be necessary for all of them, to shake off two years of rust from their combat skills. Before any of that could even begin, though, there was one more uncertainty to be dealt with. Finding her would not be difficult, she thought... but it would be up to Linna to bring her back into the fold.

It was the next evening, and Linna drew the trenchcoat more tightly around herself as she slipped through the crowded doorway. Two years had changed the place, she thought. Once, Hot Legs had been the regular stage of Priss and the Replicants, pulsing with life and the rebellious spirit of youth; now, it was a haven for drug pushers, addicts, prostitutes, and various other cast-off debris of society. A thick, acrid smoke hung in the air, heavy with the scents of various illegal substances. Pale, lifeless forms drifted around the bar, the fire gone out of their eyes. Even with Priss' history with this place, it was not the sort of environment in which Linna would have expected to find her. With what she had been told, though, she somehow knew that this is where Priss would be.

She was not wrong. The former rock singer was at the bar, downing what looked to be her fourth shot of some poison or another. She was less than a shadow of her old self; her long, brown hair fell in unkempt, unwashed tangles over her shoulders, her biker leathers were tattered and torn, and her face looked even worse. Priss had always been a fighter, and a collection of bruises combined with a nasty scar along her cheekbone to show that one thing, at least, had not changed. A small crowd clustered around the once-popular performer. Some offered her encouragement; others spoke in whispers about how far she had fallen. Linna found herself torn between fury and sympathy at the sight.

Gathering her confidence, she pushed her way through the congregation and took the next seat at the bar. Gazing at her old friend, she whispered, "You look as dead as I was."

"What the hell d'you know?" Priss lashed back viciously, not bothering to look up from her glass.

"Forgotten me already?" Linna's voice was bitter, and she gestured at the quartet of empty shot glasses on the bar in front of Priss. "Or is that the point of this exercise?"

Priss started violently, her hands balling into fists as she slid off the barstool. "Nobody talks t'me like that," she growled. "You want a fight, you got--"

She stopped in mid-sentence as she finally looked up, her eyes wide in shock and recognition. There, in a trenchcoat and poorly-fitting combat fatigues, was a ghost of her past. "Linna?" she asked in disbelief.

Linna's anger melted off, replaced by a rising surge of compassion. "Yeah. It's me."

Priss staggered, taking a step back. "Can't be. I... I saw you die. We buried you."

Linna nodded. "Yeah. But someone thought I was more valuable alive."

"Impossible. You're a boomer copy... or a clone... or..." Priss glanced at her discarded glasses. "Or I'm ha... hallucinating. Yeah, thassit. Maybe I jus' need a little more of this stuff, and Sylvie'll come back, too." Amused with her deduction, she reached for the bottle to pour herself another drink. "Go bother someone else. I don' believe in ghosts."

Linna's backhanded blow laid Priss across the bar. "Get a hold of yourself!" she screamed, grabbing the singer by her shoulders and lifting her to her feet. Woah, Linna... calm down. Low profile and all that, she reminded herself, then pulled Priss close and hissed at her, "Is this what I died for? So you could drink yourself into oblivion?"

"Linna... I..." Priss stammered, trying to collect herself, rubbing at the darkening skin of her cheek where Linna had struck her. She shook her head, seemingly trying to clear her mind, and blinked back tears. "I can't... I want to believe, but I can't. The dead don't come back."

Linna drew a deep breath, trying to calm herself. Would she be doing any better if she were in Priss' position at this point? Probably not. "Look... Priss. I can prove it to you, but you have to come with me. Get out of this hellhole."

Priss wavered for a moment. "This's gotta be a trap," she slurred.

Linna sighed. The crowd was gathering again, having dispersed a bit at her sudden show of violence. There would be trouble if they didn't get out of here quickly, she thought, and while she was perfectly capable of holding her own in a bar fight, she was trying not to attract attention. "What have you got to lose, Priss?" she asked gently, offering her shoulder for support.

Priss seemed to consider that a moment, then finally accepted, leaning heavily on her. "...you win. The hell... why not?"

"Let's go, then," Linna answered, drawing some money from her left pocket and tossing it to the bartender. Priss was more drunk than she had realized, and she practically had to carry her up the stairs to get out. Once they were outside, away from the crowd, she whispered, "The others are waiting for you, you know. It'll be just like old times. We're back in business."