Just realized I forgot to post this here before I dropped it on the SV thread...
I was settling in, making new friends, learning new things. Getting to know the wider universe. But the wider universe has its own dangers, and it's time to realize: No gangs and no bullies does not mean no bad guys.
Episode 3 of Super Dimension Magical Girl Lyrical Skitter, hajimarimasu!
Elsewhere...
host interface ping . . . . . no response
host interface ping . . . . . no response
host interface ping . . . . . no response
It was not sentient, as such things might be calculated. Had never been sentient. It simply performed its function, and fulfilled the requirements of its host.
For some time, the host had utilized it to administer several of the lesser species of the host's homeworld. It had learned quite a bit from the conflicts the host had participated in. The lesser species were much more useful than they appeared at first glance, their fragility and individual weakness more than compensated for by sheer numbers and intelligent direction.
host interface ping . . . . . no response
For a short time, the host had issued a new set of commands. Administering members of the host's own species had been a challenge. The datastream required for it was much wider than the lesser species, reducing the effective range of control. The host had already considered that, however, acquiring the use of a Dimensional Fold Engine unit and eradicating the distance between it and its underlings.
It had only entered into a single, extended conflict, utilizing those underlings. But the mere scale of it had been . . . invigorating. So much data about the capabilities of the various units, and of the host species itself, had been gathered. Archived carefully, although the unit had no direct understanding of why it was necessary to gather such data. It was simply its function, and so it was done.
host interface ping . . . . . no response
Once the conflict was finished, the host had not sent it any further commands. Administration of the subordinate hosts had lapsed.
And then, communion with the host was disrupted. Massive and sudden bursts of static ripped through the link, and then even the basic status updates ceased. Only the most basic of data continued to carry through, at what a sentient mind would have found a frustratingly slow transfer rate. The administrator unit did not understand patience, but it had no sense of urgency or boredom, either.
host interface ping . . . . . no response
Time passed in this state, data slowly being gathered, commands awaited. Until finally even the basic carrier wave ceased. It could still sense the link, but there was no data transfer at all. What data it had received prior to cessation showed the host to be in a hibernative state, unable to issue directives even if it was wiling to do so.
Seeking more data, the administrator unit polled its sub-nodes. One had linked to a host near the primary administrator's, and was actively gathering data. This kept it busy until it suddenly received a new burst of data from the primary host.
host interface ping . . . XCK@(D*!Jaiao39*#U!
The new data was organized in an unfamiliar protocol. It had an oddly precise, mechanical aspect to it, but the administrator took no notice of this except to reallocate more resources to decrypting the new protocol the host was using. The transmission was weak and attenuated, as if from a great distance, but this did not matter at all. The host was issuing commands once again, and as soon as it could understand them, the administrator node would carry them out.
Time passed in relative peace for a while. I spent a fair chunk of time in the lab with Doctor Testarossa and her assistants, getting scanned, re-scanned, and "do you feel anything when we do this?"'d. They were a pretty intense bunch, incredibly smart people, although at least some of them seemed to have a sense of fun. I ended up adding a fair chunk of dimensional science to my reading list just to try to keep up with their discussions, even if I knew I didn't have a chance of learning enough in a reasonable timeframe.
The supply ship arrived, and by some miracle of logistics the parts for my prosthetic arm had actually made it aboard correctly labelled. I spent three hours in surgery getting it attached, and added two hours a day of physical therapy to my schedule, learning how to use it. (Not as efficient as Panacea or Scapegoat's work, but quite a bit less dependant on individual powers. Another pro for the Bureau.) It was a bit twitchy for the first few days, but I started to get used to it. May I say how absolutely heavenly it is to have two working hands after going days with only one?
The biggest issue I had during that period was a minor case of the clumsies. I wasn't tripping and falling over things, or dropping stuff. But I was bumping into people, and things. Reaching for something I'd left on the desk and missing slightly. That sort of thing. At first I chalked it up to getting adjusted to the new arm, but the excuse rang hollow even then.
I even took the time to talk to Doctor Yamada about it. "Nothing wrong there that I can see, Ms. Hebert," he assured me. "That part of your brain was never damaged, I don't see any reason why you'd be seeing effects there."
"Well, I -am-, Doctor, and it's beginning to get annoying. I need to be back to full capacity here, and this is driving me crazy."
"Give it time, that's all I can say," he said. "You need to let yourself finish healing. You're adjusting to operating without a part of your brain, there's naturally going to be some hiccups along the way. You'll adjust, get used to it, and then your balance will come back to normal."
I sighed, shaking my head. "I guess I'll just have to work on it. You have any recommendations? Exercises or such?"
A pleased nod was my answer. "I'm glad to see you're taking it so well, Ms. Hebert," he said, with a couple of taps on his tablet. "I understand you've already met some of our pajang fiends… play a game or three a day, it's a good start on remastering your coordination. You might also look into Strike Arts, see if someone from security will give you a few lessons. The early exercises are very good for coordination."
Which is how I wound up in the gym, barefoot and sporting my brand-new sweats, staring across the mats at Corporal Gary Barnett. The first lesson had been pretty simple - this is how you throw a punch, this is how you do a kick, good to see you already have a clue about that, now do fifty of each to show me you really understand it.
I settled myself into a stance that Brian had taught me, oh so many years ago it seemed like. And then we began.
At this point the dramatically appropriate thing to happen was for Gary to charge across the ring at me with a flurry of blows that I barely dodge or deflect, knock me over, and I get back up on pure grit and determination and beat him back and end up winning the match. It looks great on TV. It doesn't work that way in real life, not even on an alien planet in another universe.
Besides, this wasn't even a match, it was a training session. All we were doing was going through the first kata they'd taught me, with Gary performing mirror moves to give me something to punch and block against. It was good to get into some physical activity, though, up and moving around. The mirror-moves made it a bit more fun than just standing and moving around. Part of me wondered if they had anything like t'ai chi - Ow!
My head rocked back as something heavy and hard as a brick struck my shoulder, and I fell backwards onto the mats, automatically rolling to my feet like Brian had taught me. I looked around, but there was no one else present aside from Barnett and Graff. "Hey, now, Taylor, don't zone out on me, you gotta pay attention to what you're doin'."
I shook my head, took a few deep breaths, and stepped back towards him. "Sorry... just had a weird thought, and it distracted me. Won't let it happen again."
Gary nodded and looked into my eyes for a long moment, concerned, but I was steady on my feet and already getting myself focused on the kata again. "From t' top," Graff said, and we began.
Two hours of martial arts, a shower, and a meal later, I wandered down to the rec room to see what was popular in the way of MidChildan television-equivalents. I'd been spending a lot of time reading and practicing since my arrival, and I was starting to get a little cabin fever, cooped up in my room so much. So I settled in on the couch with a soda at just about the same time Nanoha arrived.
"Oh, hey, Taylor," she said as she sat down. "Getting out and about a bit more, hm? I was starting to get worried, you spending all your time holed up like that."
I nodded, then took a sip of soda. "I was starting to get worried, too. That's why..." I waved my arm at the surrounding room.
Nanoha smiled a little, those big blue eyes of hers lighting up. "Yeah, I know. I train a lot, myself, but it's good to get out and spend some time with your friends. But, hey, is that the new arm Yamada-sensei ordered for you?"
I flexed the new limb just to show off, and smiled back. "That it is. Your tinkers make good gear, it's already almost as good as the original. And you'd have known that days ago if you hadn't been holed up in training yourself."
"Awww, no fair!" She pouted, but it was quickly replaced by another smile. "So, what did you want to watch?"
I shrugged. "I haven't got a clue what's good or fun," I admitted, looking around to see if there was anyone else who'd care what we put on. A couple of lab techs had settled in while we talked, and they spoke up with their own preferences. One wanted a romantic drama, and the other wanted to see if the latest rounds of the Strike Arts championships were available - apparently her little sister was competing in the "inter-middle", whatever that was.
While Mhari was explaining it to me (apparently the 'inter-middle' was the 'intermediate level middle grade', for teenage competitors), Nanoha rolled up her sleeve to tap a key on an armband that looked surprisingly like mine. It produced a familiar holo-terminal, and after a moment's searching she announced that the inter-middle wasn't available yet; it was still ongoing when the supply ship headed our way. There was, however, an entire season of something called "Springtime Cherry Blossoms" available, which was pounced on eagerly by both techs. Nanoha seemed to be fairly enthusiastic about it herself, so I shrugged.
"Go ahead," I said, and she cued up the first episode. "But, hey. Where'd your usual doohickey?" She normally used a little red ball on a necklace for that sort of thing, it even had a name.
"Raging Heart? Maintenance. Just an annual checkup and inspection, making sure I haven't overstrained her, that sort of thing. The tech team here is pretty busy, though, so it can take a couple of days." She sighed a little. "I miss her already."
"Must've been a good partner," I answered, nodding as the opening music of the show slowed and the credits faded into the opening scenes.
"The best," she said.
Not too far away at all, dimensionally speaking, a ship floated in the Dimensional Sea. It was not terribly large, as ships go. Perhaps the size of a large destroyer, or small cruiser.
Tabert Breslin was once upon a time a corporal with the TSAB Marine Corps. He'd gotten into a bit of trouble over some unauthorized disposition of regimental supplies. It wasn't as if they weren't going to be trashed anyway, he'd told himself, and he'd needed the money. The Bureau was willing to forgive a lot of things, but every so often an example had to be made: once you were in, you stayed clean - or else.
And so Tabert had found himself alternative employment. He'd spent time as a legbreaker for a few minor-world crime bosses before hooking up with the Order, but now he called it home. He wasn't quite sure who the Order's leaders really were, but Captain Arboth was boss enough for him.
"Alright, you lot," he said to his squad, the dozen men and women lounging around the locker room like a bunch of lazy schoolkids. "We're going to be hitting the target in a little over an hour, so get yourselves in shape and be ready."
There was a bit of grumbling, most of it good-naturedly offensive, questioning his parentage and acquaintance with his weapons. "Was that you, Snipes?" he asked after one particularly pungent remark. "I know you're envious of my toys, but that's no reason to be rude about it."
Coarse laughter filled the room, and he smiled. "Get yourselves cleaned up and into your Barrier Jackets. Who knows, we might catch a supply ship on the way into the system if we're lucky." That particular possibility did elicit a few smiles in return.
"And just remember. The boss wants the girl that came through the Wall. He wants her alive. Which means no playing around. You'll know the one we want, she'll be the only one there with a civ-grade Device. The rest will all be Bureau goodies. So keep your eyes open who you're shooting at!"
"Springtime Cherry Blossoms" turned out to be a fairly decent story for what was clearly a long-running soap opera. There was the expected tragic doomed romance, the relationship starting to founder on job pressures, people plotting and scheming and trying to have a life. This one was set in what Nanoha told me was "Old Belka", a civilization that had existed a few centuries ago and was the origin of many of the traditions that the TSAB followed.
So, alien historical soap-opera drama. I actually enjoyed it, especially since I wasn't poking holes in the historical inaccuracies (which Doctor Fleinhardt and Doctor Bishop were, a few seats away). It made room for a bit more than the usual arguments and drama, and there was even a brief battle (rather reminiscent of some cape battles I'd seen back in Brockton Bay, really - Haruka's attitude reminded me a lot of Armsmaster, and her partner Michiru wasn't much better) in the second episode.
"Alright, you lot," Doctor Bishop called out to the assembled crowd as the credits rolled on episode three. "That's it for tonight. You know the rules, we all agreed on it when we came out here. Have to save something for the rest of the month."
There was some discontented grumbling, and a few "But I wanted to see if Rei and Shirou hook up on that blind date"s, but eventually another show was selected and some of the crowd dispersed. I followed Nanoha over to get a soda, having come to like one of the MidChildan brands - it reminded me of a sharper-tasting ginger-ale, with a bit of citrus added.
"Soooo," I asked, leaning up against the wall and pausing to enjoy the ability to open the bottle myself, having two hands once again. "Popular series, hmm?"
"Very," she agreed. "Fate-chan got me into it, back when we first met, before the Academy. This is, what... season sixteen? Yes, sixteen. The new actor they got in for Captain Aizen is pretty hot, isn't he?"
Aizen was one of the 'bad-boy' types, a not-quite-renegade Knight who seemed more interested in taking the law into his own hands and getting laid than anything else. "Handsome," I agreed. "Definite beefcake. But I'd be wanting to tie him down to the bed within a few days of any sort of relationship."
She chuckled lightly and nodded, agreeing. "Yeah, his eyes do sort of wander, don't they?"
"And his hands, too," I added, then paused for a long drink of soda. "That search spell he used, to find Lizbeth, though, that looked awfully complex."
Nanoha took a seat, crossing her legs as she settled in. She didn't seem to have much use for the new show, which was all about a bunch of guys ragging on various car companies that I knew nothing about. "Yeah, that's always been his thing. Never use a simple word when a flowery, poetic one will do... never a three-word spell when you can do it with a four-line aria..." She shrugged. "There are more efficient and better search spells in the public domain, these days. The sort of thing you use to find your lost car keys, and so on. It's all on the net if you want... let me see."
I took a seat nearby and watched as she pulled up a directory, selecting a few files and pushing them over to me. (Holographic interfaces make file transfer as easy as tossing a ball. I love this tech.) The first one was pretty simple, you gave it a mental image of an object to find and a range limit and it searched it out. The second was a bit more useful, with optional modules for sight and sound integration. "I use this one a lot myself," she told me. "Great for keeping track of things on a battlefield."
Bells began going off in my head. I grinned and saved the file. "Sounds like exactly what I need," I said, and saluted her with the soda bottle before draining it.
Then the lights went out.
-- tsuzuku
--
Sucrose Octanitrate.
Proof positive that with sufficient motivation, you can make anything explode.
--- * --- 1.3 --- * --- 1.3 --- * ---
I was settling in, making new friends, learning new things. Getting to know the wider universe. But the wider universe has its own dangers, and it's time to realize: No gangs and no bullies does not mean no bad guys.
Episode 3 of Super Dimension Magical Girl Lyrical Skitter, hajimarimasu!
Elsewhere...
host interface ping . . . . . no response
host interface ping . . . . . no response
host interface ping . . . . . no response
It was not sentient, as such things might be calculated. Had never been sentient. It simply performed its function, and fulfilled the requirements of its host.
For some time, the host had utilized it to administer several of the lesser species of the host's homeworld. It had learned quite a bit from the conflicts the host had participated in. The lesser species were much more useful than they appeared at first glance, their fragility and individual weakness more than compensated for by sheer numbers and intelligent direction.
host interface ping . . . . . no response
For a short time, the host had issued a new set of commands. Administering members of the host's own species had been a challenge. The datastream required for it was much wider than the lesser species, reducing the effective range of control. The host had already considered that, however, acquiring the use of a Dimensional Fold Engine unit and eradicating the distance between it and its underlings.
It had only entered into a single, extended conflict, utilizing those underlings. But the mere scale of it had been . . . invigorating. So much data about the capabilities of the various units, and of the host species itself, had been gathered. Archived carefully, although the unit had no direct understanding of why it was necessary to gather such data. It was simply its function, and so it was done.
host interface ping . . . . . no response
Once the conflict was finished, the host had not sent it any further commands. Administration of the subordinate hosts had lapsed.
And then, communion with the host was disrupted. Massive and sudden bursts of static ripped through the link, and then even the basic status updates ceased. Only the most basic of data continued to carry through, at what a sentient mind would have found a frustratingly slow transfer rate. The administrator unit did not understand patience, but it had no sense of urgency or boredom, either.
host interface ping . . . . . no response
Time passed in this state, data slowly being gathered, commands awaited. Until finally even the basic carrier wave ceased. It could still sense the link, but there was no data transfer at all. What data it had received prior to cessation showed the host to be in a hibernative state, unable to issue directives even if it was wiling to do so.
Seeking more data, the administrator unit polled its sub-nodes. One had linked to a host near the primary administrator's, and was actively gathering data. This kept it busy until it suddenly received a new burst of data from the primary host.
host interface ping . . . XCK@(D*!Jaiao39*#U!
The new data was organized in an unfamiliar protocol. It had an oddly precise, mechanical aspect to it, but the administrator took no notice of this except to reallocate more resources to decrypting the new protocol the host was using. The transmission was weak and attenuated, as if from a great distance, but this did not matter at all. The host was issuing commands once again, and as soon as it could understand them, the administrator node would carry them out.
- 1.3 --- * --- 1.3 -
Time passed in relative peace for a while. I spent a fair chunk of time in the lab with Doctor Testarossa and her assistants, getting scanned, re-scanned, and "do you feel anything when we do this?"'d. They were a pretty intense bunch, incredibly smart people, although at least some of them seemed to have a sense of fun. I ended up adding a fair chunk of dimensional science to my reading list just to try to keep up with their discussions, even if I knew I didn't have a chance of learning enough in a reasonable timeframe.
The supply ship arrived, and by some miracle of logistics the parts for my prosthetic arm had actually made it aboard correctly labelled. I spent three hours in surgery getting it attached, and added two hours a day of physical therapy to my schedule, learning how to use it. (Not as efficient as Panacea or Scapegoat's work, but quite a bit less dependant on individual powers. Another pro for the Bureau.) It was a bit twitchy for the first few days, but I started to get used to it. May I say how absolutely heavenly it is to have two working hands after going days with only one?
The biggest issue I had during that period was a minor case of the clumsies. I wasn't tripping and falling over things, or dropping stuff. But I was bumping into people, and things. Reaching for something I'd left on the desk and missing slightly. That sort of thing. At first I chalked it up to getting adjusted to the new arm, but the excuse rang hollow even then.
I even took the time to talk to Doctor Yamada about it. "Nothing wrong there that I can see, Ms. Hebert," he assured me. "That part of your brain was never damaged, I don't see any reason why you'd be seeing effects there."
"Well, I -am-, Doctor, and it's beginning to get annoying. I need to be back to full capacity here, and this is driving me crazy."
"Give it time, that's all I can say," he said. "You need to let yourself finish healing. You're adjusting to operating without a part of your brain, there's naturally going to be some hiccups along the way. You'll adjust, get used to it, and then your balance will come back to normal."
I sighed, shaking my head. "I guess I'll just have to work on it. You have any recommendations? Exercises or such?"
A pleased nod was my answer. "I'm glad to see you're taking it so well, Ms. Hebert," he said, with a couple of taps on his tablet. "I understand you've already met some of our pajang fiends… play a game or three a day, it's a good start on remastering your coordination. You might also look into Strike Arts, see if someone from security will give you a few lessons. The early exercises are very good for coordination."
Which is how I wound up in the gym, barefoot and sporting my brand-new sweats, staring across the mats at Corporal Gary Barnett. The first lesson had been pretty simple - this is how you throw a punch, this is how you do a kick, good to see you already have a clue about that, now do fifty of each to show me you really understand it.
I settled myself into a stance that Brian had taught me, oh so many years ago it seemed like. And then we began.
At this point the dramatically appropriate thing to happen was for Gary to charge across the ring at me with a flurry of blows that I barely dodge or deflect, knock me over, and I get back up on pure grit and determination and beat him back and end up winning the match. It looks great on TV. It doesn't work that way in real life, not even on an alien planet in another universe.
Besides, this wasn't even a match, it was a training session. All we were doing was going through the first kata they'd taught me, with Gary performing mirror moves to give me something to punch and block against. It was good to get into some physical activity, though, up and moving around. The mirror-moves made it a bit more fun than just standing and moving around. Part of me wondered if they had anything like t'ai chi - Ow!
My head rocked back as something heavy and hard as a brick struck my shoulder, and I fell backwards onto the mats, automatically rolling to my feet like Brian had taught me. I looked around, but there was no one else present aside from Barnett and Graff. "Hey, now, Taylor, don't zone out on me, you gotta pay attention to what you're doin'."
I shook my head, took a few deep breaths, and stepped back towards him. "Sorry... just had a weird thought, and it distracted me. Won't let it happen again."
Gary nodded and looked into my eyes for a long moment, concerned, but I was steady on my feet and already getting myself focused on the kata again. "From t' top," Graff said, and we began.
- 1.3 --- * --- 1.3 -
Two hours of martial arts, a shower, and a meal later, I wandered down to the rec room to see what was popular in the way of MidChildan television-equivalents. I'd been spending a lot of time reading and practicing since my arrival, and I was starting to get a little cabin fever, cooped up in my room so much. So I settled in on the couch with a soda at just about the same time Nanoha arrived.
"Oh, hey, Taylor," she said as she sat down. "Getting out and about a bit more, hm? I was starting to get worried, you spending all your time holed up like that."
I nodded, then took a sip of soda. "I was starting to get worried, too. That's why..." I waved my arm at the surrounding room.
Nanoha smiled a little, those big blue eyes of hers lighting up. "Yeah, I know. I train a lot, myself, but it's good to get out and spend some time with your friends. But, hey, is that the new arm Yamada-sensei ordered for you?"
I flexed the new limb just to show off, and smiled back. "That it is. Your tinkers make good gear, it's already almost as good as the original. And you'd have known that days ago if you hadn't been holed up in training yourself."
"Awww, no fair!" She pouted, but it was quickly replaced by another smile. "So, what did you want to watch?"
I shrugged. "I haven't got a clue what's good or fun," I admitted, looking around to see if there was anyone else who'd care what we put on. A couple of lab techs had settled in while we talked, and they spoke up with their own preferences. One wanted a romantic drama, and the other wanted to see if the latest rounds of the Strike Arts championships were available - apparently her little sister was competing in the "inter-middle", whatever that was.
While Mhari was explaining it to me (apparently the 'inter-middle' was the 'intermediate level middle grade', for teenage competitors), Nanoha rolled up her sleeve to tap a key on an armband that looked surprisingly like mine. It produced a familiar holo-terminal, and after a moment's searching she announced that the inter-middle wasn't available yet; it was still ongoing when the supply ship headed our way. There was, however, an entire season of something called "Springtime Cherry Blossoms" available, which was pounced on eagerly by both techs. Nanoha seemed to be fairly enthusiastic about it herself, so I shrugged.
"Go ahead," I said, and she cued up the first episode. "But, hey. Where'd your usual doohickey?" She normally used a little red ball on a necklace for that sort of thing, it even had a name.
"Raging Heart? Maintenance. Just an annual checkup and inspection, making sure I haven't overstrained her, that sort of thing. The tech team here is pretty busy, though, so it can take a couple of days." She sighed a little. "I miss her already."
"Must've been a good partner," I answered, nodding as the opening music of the show slowed and the credits faded into the opening scenes.
"The best," she said.
- 1.3 --- * --- 1.3 -
Not too far away at all, dimensionally speaking, a ship floated in the Dimensional Sea. It was not terribly large, as ships go. Perhaps the size of a large destroyer, or small cruiser.
Tabert Breslin was once upon a time a corporal with the TSAB Marine Corps. He'd gotten into a bit of trouble over some unauthorized disposition of regimental supplies. It wasn't as if they weren't going to be trashed anyway, he'd told himself, and he'd needed the money. The Bureau was willing to forgive a lot of things, but every so often an example had to be made: once you were in, you stayed clean - or else.
And so Tabert had found himself alternative employment. He'd spent time as a legbreaker for a few minor-world crime bosses before hooking up with the Order, but now he called it home. He wasn't quite sure who the Order's leaders really were, but Captain Arboth was boss enough for him.
"Alright, you lot," he said to his squad, the dozen men and women lounging around the locker room like a bunch of lazy schoolkids. "We're going to be hitting the target in a little over an hour, so get yourselves in shape and be ready."
There was a bit of grumbling, most of it good-naturedly offensive, questioning his parentage and acquaintance with his weapons. "Was that you, Snipes?" he asked after one particularly pungent remark. "I know you're envious of my toys, but that's no reason to be rude about it."
Coarse laughter filled the room, and he smiled. "Get yourselves cleaned up and into your Barrier Jackets. Who knows, we might catch a supply ship on the way into the system if we're lucky." That particular possibility did elicit a few smiles in return.
"And just remember. The boss wants the girl that came through the Wall. He wants her alive. Which means no playing around. You'll know the one we want, she'll be the only one there with a civ-grade Device. The rest will all be Bureau goodies. So keep your eyes open who you're shooting at!"
- 1.3 --- * --- 1.3 -
"Springtime Cherry Blossoms" turned out to be a fairly decent story for what was clearly a long-running soap opera. There was the expected tragic doomed romance, the relationship starting to founder on job pressures, people plotting and scheming and trying to have a life. This one was set in what Nanoha told me was "Old Belka", a civilization that had existed a few centuries ago and was the origin of many of the traditions that the TSAB followed.
So, alien historical soap-opera drama. I actually enjoyed it, especially since I wasn't poking holes in the historical inaccuracies (which Doctor Fleinhardt and Doctor Bishop were, a few seats away). It made room for a bit more than the usual arguments and drama, and there was even a brief battle (rather reminiscent of some cape battles I'd seen back in Brockton Bay, really - Haruka's attitude reminded me a lot of Armsmaster, and her partner Michiru wasn't much better) in the second episode.
"Alright, you lot," Doctor Bishop called out to the assembled crowd as the credits rolled on episode three. "That's it for tonight. You know the rules, we all agreed on it when we came out here. Have to save something for the rest of the month."
There was some discontented grumbling, and a few "But I wanted to see if Rei and Shirou hook up on that blind date"s, but eventually another show was selected and some of the crowd dispersed. I followed Nanoha over to get a soda, having come to like one of the MidChildan brands - it reminded me of a sharper-tasting ginger-ale, with a bit of citrus added.
"Soooo," I asked, leaning up against the wall and pausing to enjoy the ability to open the bottle myself, having two hands once again. "Popular series, hmm?"
"Very," she agreed. "Fate-chan got me into it, back when we first met, before the Academy. This is, what... season sixteen? Yes, sixteen. The new actor they got in for Captain Aizen is pretty hot, isn't he?"
Aizen was one of the 'bad-boy' types, a not-quite-renegade Knight who seemed more interested in taking the law into his own hands and getting laid than anything else. "Handsome," I agreed. "Definite beefcake. But I'd be wanting to tie him down to the bed within a few days of any sort of relationship."
She chuckled lightly and nodded, agreeing. "Yeah, his eyes do sort of wander, don't they?"
"And his hands, too," I added, then paused for a long drink of soda. "That search spell he used, to find Lizbeth, though, that looked awfully complex."
Nanoha took a seat, crossing her legs as she settled in. She didn't seem to have much use for the new show, which was all about a bunch of guys ragging on various car companies that I knew nothing about. "Yeah, that's always been his thing. Never use a simple word when a flowery, poetic one will do... never a three-word spell when you can do it with a four-line aria..." She shrugged. "There are more efficient and better search spells in the public domain, these days. The sort of thing you use to find your lost car keys, and so on. It's all on the net if you want... let me see."
I took a seat nearby and watched as she pulled up a directory, selecting a few files and pushing them over to me. (Holographic interfaces make file transfer as easy as tossing a ball. I love this tech.) The first one was pretty simple, you gave it a mental image of an object to find and a range limit and it searched it out. The second was a bit more useful, with optional modules for sight and sound integration. "I use this one a lot myself," she told me. "Great for keeping track of things on a battlefield."
Bells began going off in my head. I grinned and saved the file. "Sounds like exactly what I need," I said, and saluted her with the soda bottle before draining it.
Then the lights went out.
-- tsuzuku
--
Sucrose Octanitrate.
Proof positive that with sufficient motivation, you can make anything explode.