Nene was suspicious.
This was a common state of mind for her, though usually it a friendly sort of suspicion, directed at friends or coworkers who she thought might harbor a secret
she'd like to know. It didn't really matter what the secret was, or if she could DO anything with it; she just liked knowing. That was what had
driven her to become one of the top hackers in the world. If it was known by somebody, chances were Nene Romanova could find out whatever it was. And she
liked it that way.
But not this time. And that was frustrating her to no end.
What made it worse was that it was *Sylia* who was keeping the secret! The leader of the Knight Sabres, who trusted Nene with her life on a daily basis,
wasn't sharing this one.
The problem was simple, on the face of it. It had started with an innocent -- or so Nene had thought -- question.
"Sylia," Nene asked quietly, as a newly-joined Sabre bounded away on her first mission for the Knight Sabres, "how do you know who to trust? I
mean... any of these could be a spy for GEN-- I mean, for Crey. But you're just inviting them to join up with us, having me upgrade their suits, giving
them access to the Riot Force base... and we don't know half of them!" Nene frowned. "Some of them aren't even people we knew back, uh,
then. You know what I mean."
Sylia nodded, the light reflecting off her facebowl. "I do, Nene. And I understand your concern. But I know what I'm doing."
"But HOW?" Nene persisted. "The only restriction I see you placing on them is that they have a hero license, and you KNOW how easy it is to do
THAT!" She snorted. "You have better background checks for your employees at the Silky Doll."
"I'm sorry, Nene," Sylia said. "You'll just have to trust me."
Well, Nene thought, I *do* trust her... but maybe I should see what I can find out anyway. After all, she nodded to herself, if I *can't* figure it out,
then it's gotta be safe -- but if I can, then Sylia will need to be more careful!
Pleased with her rationalization, Nene made her farewells and headed off to go to work.
* * * * *
"Are you sure this isn't too, um, revealing?" A young woman stood uncomfortably in the doorway to a fitting room, worried eyes fixed on Sylia
even as her hands kept the drapes in a concealing position. A flash of bare leg and shoulder peeked out. Sylia smiled reassuringly and approached.
"You certainly have nothing to worry about, if you don't mind me saying so," she said. "However, if you're uncomfortable in it, then it
won't have the right effect. And the effect is what it's all about, isn't it?"
The woman giggled lightly. "I - I guess so."
"Perhaps a slightly longer cut is in order," Sylia mused, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "I can have it ready in one hour. Will that be
acceptable?"
"Oh, thank you so much. I love it, I do, it's just...."
"Shh. Don't worry about it." The gentle orchestral music in the background swelled briefly, signaling the entry of another customer. Sylia
glanced at the door, then returned to the customer at hand.
"I'll have the alterations made immediately," she said. "You are welcome to relax in the lounge, if you'd prefer to wait. Or shall we
set an appointment for another fitting?"
"I'll come back," the woman said from behind the curtain, where a zipper could be heard. "One hour, you said?"
"I may not be available myself," Sylia noted, "but I'll make sure that it's ready for you, and any of my associates will be glad to
assist you."
"Thank you!" The woman emerged, cheeks flushed from lingering nervousness and embarassment, and laughed. "You're the best!"
Sylia smiled at her. "You're too kind." She took the sheer, slinky garment and carefully placed it in a bag, jotting quick notes on the label
before handing it off to one of her assistants. The customer left. Sylia blew a sigh and shook her head, squared her shoulders, and crossed the large,
richly-appointed and elegantly-furnished room to where the new customer -- a young, determined-looking, brown-haired woman -- sat, ramrod-stiff, in a deeply
cushioned highback chair, a cup of tea steaming gently at her elbow.
"Miss Stingray, I'm sorry to intrude," she said as Sylia approached. "I felt it necessary to come down in person, to apologize." She
stood and regarded Sylia steadily. "We've had some unforeseen changes arise, and I'm afraid your shipment will not be ready as originally
scheduled."
Sylia raised an eyebrow. "Oh? That will complicate matters. I have several... new developments, that were counting on those items being ready."
"I know, and I am truly sorry."
Sylia waved a hand. "Don't worry about it, I'll make do." She eyed the other woman. "Are these changes permanent, do you think? Will
I need to make other arrangements to get these materials?"
A worried expression, quickly smoothed over. "I'm... not sure. I can guarantee you at least one more delivery. Beyond that, I can't say.
Things are in flux at the moment, and nobody is quite certain when it will return to normal." She paused and frowned. "In fact, a ... new product
line appears to be in development. I don't know when I'll have details, or if it's even something you'll be interested in. They're
keeping it very quiet."
Sylia nodded. "Well, then. When can I expect that delivery?"
"The day after tomorrow, earlier if possible. I'll handle it personally."
"Very good." Sylia cocked her head slightly and smiled at the other woman. "And what about your personal project? Will it be ready for
display soon?"
This time it was a fierce, prideful grin. "Oh, yes. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised. In fact..." and here she leaned forward
conspiratorially. "In fact, I'd be extremely grateful if you, Miss Stingray, would allow me to put it on display with your organization.
Anonymously, of course. There are certain proprieties to be observed, after all."
Sylia returned the grin. "I do believe, Miss Chang, that I can arrange that." She shrugged. "My... business partners will have to be in the
loop, of course, but you can rely on their discretion."
A sharp glance. "You are certain?"
Sylia nodded. "Oh yes. You may trust these as you do me. My junior associates, well, that's up to you. But my partners can best be of service if
they know." Sylia's lips quirked in a wry smile. "One of them, in fact, would know soon enough whether we told her or not. She's...
persistent, like that."
"I'll keep that in mind." She bent and retrieved a briefcase from beside her seat. "A pleasure doing business with you, as usual.
I'll send that shipment by special courier, as soon as it's ready."
* * * * *
Irene Chang gave a friendly wave to Scott, the security guard, and the two faceless Power Tanks flanking the doors to her department. Scott nodded and smiled
-- "Afternoon, Miss Wong," -- and one of the tanks returned the wave listlessly. She carded through the doors with a double beep and continued on to
her workstation, dropping heavily into her swivel chair and blowing a deep sigh.
"Long day, huh, Irene?" Norman, an older man with thinning grey hair and thick glasses, and the sort of coworker that could be counted on to do
their job, do it well, and do nothing else -- ambitionless, in one sense; harmless, in another -- raised his head above the partition seperating their desks.
"It will be," she responded. "Especially if we don't get that efficiency factor up."
"Paul had some thoughts on that," the older man said, frowning. "I don't think I agree, but he's stubborn. And without Dr. Smythe
around to rein him in..." He shrugged. "Well, you know how he is."
Irene nodded. Paul was easily the most stubborn, opinionated, and antagonistic member of the team. He respected no authority save his own; the former project
lead, Robin Smythe, had kept him in check through a frenzied application of her own indomitable will and threats to Paul's paycheck, often both in the same
hour. But Paul was *also* a genius, and regularly had blinding flashes of insight that solved problems the whole team had been stumped on. If he got on the
right track... Irene didn't want to think about it. "Does he have numbers to back him up?"
"Not yet. He's running a simulation now." Norman frowned. "He shut down your simulation to get his own running." He shrugged.
"I told him it was a bad idea, but...."
She nodded absently as she called up her task list and began making notes. The project map appeared before her in the holographic display, a number of items
flashing red or yellow, several glowing steady green, and one blinking a furious purple -- her aborted simulation run, complaining to the world at large that
it hadn't been treated fairly.
This, Irene thought, is going to be damn tricky to pull off. Out loud, she said, "How far along is he on his test model?"
"Forty percent, as of an hour ago."
Damn! Irene kept her face calm through sheer will. "Excellent! He might be on the right track after all...." And damn him to Hell if he is, she
finished silently.
Norman frowned and shook his head. "No, no, we went over this last week, remember? You and Dr. Smythe ran the tests... this approach suffers from matrix
degeneration starting at seventy percent utilization, and just gets worse after! Paul's insisting it'll work, but it's the same method you tested.
He didn't change a thing!"
Irene winced to herself. It hadn't been her best work, but Robin was -- had been, by now -- the smartest project lead she'd worked under, and Irene
had had no time to prepare. Her sabotage had been quick, dirty, and strictly one-shot; if Paul was running the same model again with no changes...
... well, he'd get the same results Irene herself had several months ago: a fully-programmable replicant brain with no degradation at high usage levels.
The current crop was flawed; among other things, they tended to break down, sometimes catastrophically, when subjected to heavy load -- such as engram
implantation. Irene knew she was walking a fine line, but as long as nothing better came along the corporation would continue the project, even with the
flaws, since the product represented such a leap ahead of current technology in many ways.
As far as she knew, Irene was the only one who knew that the flaws were intentional... and she needed to keep it that way.
She spared a glance for Norman, who peered at her with a worried expression. The older man didn't like things being out of the ordinary; he was capable
and competent but did not react well to changes. She smiled at him. "I'm sure Paul must have changed SOMETHING, Norm. He's not stupid, he's
just... difficult. He probably just didn't want to explain himself. You know, just in case it doesn't work out."
Norman nodded slowly. "Yes... yes, you're probably right."
"I'm sure I am," she replied. "Tell you what. I'll go see how he's doing. Meanwhile, we've got the analysis back on that
latest batch, and someone needs to go through it and see if there's anything useful. Why don't you work on that?"
Norman nodded again. "Right. I'll just go do that." He sat back down and in short order was absorbed in a ream of documentation that, had it
been printed, would have been as thick as a phone book. Irene left him muttering to himself and headed for the testing chamber.
* * * * *
"Don't try to stop me, Wong," Paul warned as Irene entered the dark testing room. It was octoganal in shape, with a central area behind thick
transparent armor, currently retracted; ringing that were control panels and readouts, with four equidistant workstations lining the outer walls. The room was
bathed in a cold blue light as a complicated hologram writhed and twisted in the air in the center of the room.
"I wasn't coming to stop you, Paul," Irene replied, keeping firm rein on her temper. It paid off as Paul relaxed infinitesimally.
"Well, alright then," he grumbled. "That old coot kept butting in, I figured you were here for more of the same." He glanced at her, eyes
narrowed in suspicion. "So what brings you down?"
"You aborted my run. I wanted to know why."
Paul glowered at her. "Your run was a waste of time and resources. Physical enhancements can come later; right now the real priority is getting a useful
brain for these things."
"Dr. Smythe authorized my run personally. I filled out the proper requisitions and scheduled the time."
"Well, she's not here any more, is she?" Paul snorted. "You know what your problem is, Wong?" He glanced at the hologram and tapped
a few keys, causing no noticeable change, though he nodded to himself in satisfaction. "Your problem is that you dont have any vision. All you see is
your little piece of the pie." He glared at the hologram, a fierce pride that startled her with its vehemence. "You don't see the *potential*
here."
"And you do, is that it?"
He laughed. "Get off your high horse. I see more than you, yeah. Both of us see more than that old coot hiding behind his terminal." He spun and
raised a finger. "And you see more than I gave you credit for."
Irene took a step back, startled. "What do you mean?"
A snort. "Don't play innocent, Wong. I'm willing to ignore your little... trick. Seeing as how it's going to catapult me to project lead,
that is." He smirked at her. "Nice try, by the way. I'd never have thought you were ambitious enough to make a move yourself, but you did.
I'd congratulate you, but as usual, you didn't have the guts to finish the move, to go to the logical conclusion." He cocked his head.
"Why? Afraid of the responsibility? Hopkins himself would have made you project lead, if not department head, had you given him a working replicant
brain."
Irene went white. "How... how did you --?"
Paul waved a hand. "It was easy, once I started working on the brain model. Let's face it, that was a pretty ugly hack. I'm surprised Robin
fell for it herself, but she always had a soft spot for you." He grinned again. "I think I'll keep you around when I'm in charge. You do
good work, even if you don't have the imagination."
A cheerful ding from the terminal interrupted the tableau. Paul glanced at it, then smiled again. He looked at Irene. "Beautiful, isn't it? But
then, you've seen it before."
Irene looked past him, at the now-completed holographic representation of a replicant brain matrix. It spun slowly in place, complete down to the last detail.
At the bottom of the projection field readouts scrolled by, indicating a stable memory implant had taken place. Simulated brain activity was increasing, and
as she watched it shot past the previous benchmark and came to rest in the upper nineties. And stayed there.
"I'll give you until tomorrow to think about it," Paul said as he dumped the simulation to a data module and wiped the test system clean.
"And I've already trashed the original sources, before you get any ideas," he added. "Your only chance is to support my claim on the
discovery, or resign. You can take me to lunch tomorrow and give me your answer."
Whistling cheerfully to himself, Paul brushed past Irene and left, pausing only long enough to flick off the lights on his way out.
* * * * *
"Nice choice," Paul stated the following day as they were led to their table. The high booths, lush greenery, and trickling waterfall all served as
visual and auditory screens; except for the live band playing at the far end, they might have been alone in the restaurant once they were seated.
Irene leaned forward as soon as they had placed their orders. "Paul, listen. You wanted to know why I hadn't turned in my research -- yes, MY
research, damn you -- myself?" She fixed him with a steely glare. "It's because I"m not an idiot."
"Care to explain that? Or is this where you try to change my mind with a sob story of some sort, about how Crey's business practices mean it
shouldn't have power like this, or something equally lame?" He regarded her steadily. "I'd figured you were smarter than that. You're
already in deep, babe, bit late to be growing a sense of moral outrage now, isn't it?"
She rolled her eyes. "I'm not stupid, Paul, thank you. But you're being dumb. Think, man! What happens if you give that model, or even a
working prototype, to our department head?"
"Jackpot time!"
"No, dummy! You go into involuntary retirement, the department head gets a promotion, and Norm and I get shuffled into the new regime." She sat
back and crossed her arms. "For a genius, you're pretty dumb."
He frowned at her, his eyebrows coming together in thought. "You may have a point..." he began, and paused as their orders arrived. When the
waitress had gone, he continued. "Even if you're right, though, that doesn't stop me from jumping past Smithers and going right to Hopkins
himself."
"Who'll have your head turned inside out to make sure you're not hiding something from him." She nodded. "Good plan. Glad you're
such a smart guy, Paul; I'd have gotten myself in trouble for sure if you weren't along to handle things."
"Watch it, Wong. You don't have anything to bargain with right now. I could just tell them about the sabotage. Sure, it's not as big a win for
me, but it's more stable. I'm not greedy."
Irene blinked and paled. "I... hadn't thought of that," she said in a small, quiet voice. "What... what do you think we should do
then?"
She watched him smirk at her use of 'we', and smiled to herself. Gotcha.
"Well, 'we' should finish lunch first," he said triumphantly. "And then... I think we can safely blame the sabotage on Robin.
She's gone anyway, nobody will know the difference. Except for us." He patted his shirt pocket confidentially. "And I'll just hang on to
the proof as insurance for your good behavior."
"Well..." she said slowly, as if reluctant.
"I'll even make you my assistant," he said. "Once I've got project lead, I'll need someone I can ... trust."
"And I suppose you've got a dozen copies of that stashed all over by now, all set to expose me if I ever cross you?" she asked, watching his face
carefully. There! A fast, hidden flicker; if she hadn't been waiting for it, expecting it, she'd never have caught it.
The idiot only had the one copy!
"That's right," Paul said smoothly, and she had to admire the steadiness in his voice. "So, we have a deal?"
"I guess I don't have much of a choice," she admitted grudgingly, fiddling with her ring.
"No need to be so down about it," Paul said. "I'll make sure you get a fair cut."
"Pardon me, sir." Irene and Paul looked up, then up some more. A large man dressed in a severe black suit, wearing sunglasses and a radio in one
ear, stood at their booth.
"Shit!" Paul exclaimed. He tried to scoot back, but a hand like a vice clamped onto his shoulder and stopped him in place. The agent dug around in
his jacket and produced a phone, which he handed to Irene. She nodded and stood, stopping only long enough to dip two fingers into Paul's shirt pocket and
withdraw the data module.
"I=Irene?!" Paul stammered. "What's going on here?" Irene ignored him and left the room. Paul's next shout was cut short by the
crackle of a stungun. "CREY SECURITY!" she heard the agent bellow. "EVERYONE STAY BACK!"
The phone rang. Irene opened it as she stepped out into the bright sunshine.
"Did you get it?"
Irene sighed. "Yes, Reika."
A warm chuckle. "Did I not tell you that sometimes the direct way is best?"
"Yes, you did. I'll keep it in mind next time."
"I can't save you every time, you know."
Irene looked out over the city and took her time responding. "I have friends here, now. They'll help me."
"Well... we'll see." Her sister's voice turned businesslike. "Make sure you send back that field test data."
Irene nodded, even though Reika couldn't see her. "Don't worry, I'll make sure it gets a good workout."
"Be well, sister."
"I love you too. Bye!"
She closed the phone and turned it over, admiring the Chang Group logo worked in to the smooth plastic. Then she yanked off the antenna and tossed both pieces
into a nearby ashtray, where it landed amidst used cigarette butts and chewing gum. A momment later the phone burst into bright, smokeless flame, burning to
ashes in seconds.
* * * * *
The phone rang. Nene finished zapping the last monster and jotted a quick note to the developers -- her suit did not shoot lightning bolts out of the chest
area, and she was going to be very upset at SOMEONE if that particular feature made it into the release version -- then tapped a few keys to shut down the
audio stream. Then she picked up the call.
"This is Nene."
"Miss Romanova, your special order is ready."
"Hi, Sylia!" Nene giggled. "What time?"
"Seven, if possible."
"I'll be there."
* * * * *
That night, Silicon Sabre and Net Sabre stood side-by-side on top of one of the taller remnants in the Boomtown zone, watching a group of Council dispute
territory with Clockwork. The Council appeared to be winning, but from their vantage point the Sabres could see a group of Clocks assembling a larger version
of themselves in preparation for a counterattack.
"So what are we doing, Sylia?" Nene said.
"Welcoming a new member."
"Again?" Nene chuckled. "Well, who is she?"
"You'll see."
Hidden behind her facebowl, Nene stuck her tongue out at Sylia. Then she frowned. Her suits sensors were picking up something, but whatever it was was faint
and hard to pin down. If she wasn't so intimately familiar with every aspect of her suit's systems, she'd have chalked it up to air currents or
sensor twitch.
"Sylia!" she hissed on their shared channel. "I think there's something out there..."
"You can come out now," Sylia said over the external speakers by way of response -- and, Nene noted in shock, without the voice modulator. For a
moment, there was no response.
Then a patch of air five feet from them shimmered and parted like a curtain, revealing a black suit of armor much like a Sabre suit, with faintly-glowing green
traces forming intricate patterns on the legs and chest.
"Well," the newcomer said in a tone of mild disgust, "that's one system we'll need to upgrade."
"What's going on here?" Nene said, also switching to external speakers (though she left her voxmod on).
Sylia surprised her yet again, by reaching up and unlocking, then removing, her helmet. She stood and regarded the black-and-green suit calmly.
With what might have been a chuckle, the newcomer reached up and undid her catches -- Nene noted that the helmet attached very differnetly than the standard
Sabre method -- and removed her own helmet, revealing a young woman who was more on the cute side of the scale than the pretty one. She had thick brown hair,
wide eyes, and a wry grin.
"Well, Miss Stingray, what do you think?" The newcomer spun in place lightly, showing off her armor.
"It's very much like what you described, but there are significant differences as well."
"Excuse me?" Nene put in. "What. Is going. On?"
Sylia turned to face her. "You asked me not that long ago how I knew who we could and could not trust when new Sabres showed up."
Nene nodded.
Sylia indicated the newcomer. "She is how."
Nene looked between them for a moment. "I *knew* you had a secret, Sylia! I just knew it!" She turned. "Well, then. Hi! I'm Nene!
Nene Romanova." She removed her helmet and struck a pose. "Ta da!"
"Nene, may I introduce miss Irene Chang, our ally and a researcher with Crey's biotech division."
"WHAAAT?"
Irene chuckled and raised a hand. "Guilty as charged, I'm afraid." She ran a hand through her hair. "How do you stand being cooped up in
a helmet all the time? I've only had mine on for half an hour and already I need a shower." She wrinkled her nose. "Anyway. Yes. I work for
Crey. I'm one of the scientists working on .. the Scimitar project."
Nene frowned at her, and Irene hurriedly continued.
"I've been sabotaging it from within for months now, ever since I was assigned and found out what they're up to." She shivered.
"It's... not good. You see the ones that, by Crey's definition, fail. The rogues. I see them *all*." She sighed and looked at the ground.
"Anyway. It wasn't hard figuring out who a couple of you were -- no offense, but if you'd wanted to stay hidden you wouldn't have used the
same names as -- oh, never mind, I'm getting sidetracked. What I meant to say is, I've been feeding Sylia lists of known Scimitars since I first made
contact with her. That, Nene, is how she knows who to trust."
"So, wait," Nene said slowly. "You're telling me that ... *you* made us?"
Irene shook her head. "No, no! Not you -- not the Original Four, as we call them. You. Whatever." She smiled. "I came on board shortly
after that whole debacle. I know *how* you were made, but we can't replicate it perfectly. Hence all the," and here she winced,
"failures."
"Irene has long wanted to take a more active role," Sylia put in. "I suspect that there have been recent developments making that a more
attractive option?"
Irene nodded. "You're sharp. Yes. Simply put, I don't know how much longer I can keep doing this. Sooner or later, I'm going to get
caught." She grimaced. "Sooner, if yesterday was any indication." At their puzzled looks, she waved a hand. "Internal corporate
politics, don't worry about it. Point is, I may need to leave Crey soon... and if -- no, when -- I do that, I'll need protection." Her face grew
hard and grim. "I'd rather stay here than return home, as well. Here I can at least exact some small bit of revenge."
Nene's eyes widened. "Chang! The Chang Group!" She grew thoughtful. "I thought the whole family had died..."
Irene shook her head. "Not quite... but close enough." She indicated her armor. "This is the prototype of a suit meant to compete with the
Crey Tank line. We were, um, inspired, you could say, by how well you ladies handle yourselves against them. This, the 'Genki', or Dark Devil, is the
stealth model. Aside from being the only one ready for field-testing, it's also the best choice for the position I find myself in."
Nene nodded. "You're really going out on a limb, here."
"Yes. But Sylia has convinced me I can trust you, and ... not to put too fine a point on it, but it should be obvious you can trust me." She smiled
wryly. "After all, if I were going to, I could have turned you, Sylia, Priss, and Linna in already."
Nene gasped, while Sylia merely nodded.
"So that's my story. Please don't spread it about, Nene; I'm uncomfortable enough with the Original Four knowing, I don't need others
knowing as well. Not if I'm to do any good, or survive." She chuckled. "Crey has eyes and ears everywhere, it's said."
"Not in the Sabres."
"Yeah!"
"Which is why I'm here. Oh! I almost forgot." Irene produced two data chips and handed them to Sylia. "One is the usual list, updated as
of yesterday afternoon. The other..." She grew pensive. "The other I hope you never have to use. Just promise me you will destroy it before you
let it leave your hands?"
Sylia nodded firmly. "I promise."
"Well then!" Irene struggled back into her helmet. "You two care to show me the ropes before I have to, ugh, go back to work tomorrow?"
Nene grinned. "Sounds like a plan!"
--sofaspud
--"Listening to your kid is the audio equivalent of a Salvador Dali painting, Spud." --OpMegs
This was a common state of mind for her, though usually it a friendly sort of suspicion, directed at friends or coworkers who she thought might harbor a secret
she'd like to know. It didn't really matter what the secret was, or if she could DO anything with it; she just liked knowing. That was what had
driven her to become one of the top hackers in the world. If it was known by somebody, chances were Nene Romanova could find out whatever it was. And she
liked it that way.
But not this time. And that was frustrating her to no end.
What made it worse was that it was *Sylia* who was keeping the secret! The leader of the Knight Sabres, who trusted Nene with her life on a daily basis,
wasn't sharing this one.
The problem was simple, on the face of it. It had started with an innocent -- or so Nene had thought -- question.
"Sylia," Nene asked quietly, as a newly-joined Sabre bounded away on her first mission for the Knight Sabres, "how do you know who to trust? I
mean... any of these could be a spy for GEN-- I mean, for Crey. But you're just inviting them to join up with us, having me upgrade their suits, giving
them access to the Riot Force base... and we don't know half of them!" Nene frowned. "Some of them aren't even people we knew back, uh,
then. You know what I mean."
Sylia nodded, the light reflecting off her facebowl. "I do, Nene. And I understand your concern. But I know what I'm doing."
"But HOW?" Nene persisted. "The only restriction I see you placing on them is that they have a hero license, and you KNOW how easy it is to do
THAT!" She snorted. "You have better background checks for your employees at the Silky Doll."
"I'm sorry, Nene," Sylia said. "You'll just have to trust me."
Well, Nene thought, I *do* trust her... but maybe I should see what I can find out anyway. After all, she nodded to herself, if I *can't* figure it out,
then it's gotta be safe -- but if I can, then Sylia will need to be more careful!
Pleased with her rationalization, Nene made her farewells and headed off to go to work.
* * * * *
"Are you sure this isn't too, um, revealing?" A young woman stood uncomfortably in the doorway to a fitting room, worried eyes fixed on Sylia
even as her hands kept the drapes in a concealing position. A flash of bare leg and shoulder peeked out. Sylia smiled reassuringly and approached.
"You certainly have nothing to worry about, if you don't mind me saying so," she said. "However, if you're uncomfortable in it, then it
won't have the right effect. And the effect is what it's all about, isn't it?"
The woman giggled lightly. "I - I guess so."
"Perhaps a slightly longer cut is in order," Sylia mused, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "I can have it ready in one hour. Will that be
acceptable?"
"Oh, thank you so much. I love it, I do, it's just...."
"Shh. Don't worry about it." The gentle orchestral music in the background swelled briefly, signaling the entry of another customer. Sylia
glanced at the door, then returned to the customer at hand.
"I'll have the alterations made immediately," she said. "You are welcome to relax in the lounge, if you'd prefer to wait. Or shall we
set an appointment for another fitting?"
"I'll come back," the woman said from behind the curtain, where a zipper could be heard. "One hour, you said?"
"I may not be available myself," Sylia noted, "but I'll make sure that it's ready for you, and any of my associates will be glad to
assist you."
"Thank you!" The woman emerged, cheeks flushed from lingering nervousness and embarassment, and laughed. "You're the best!"
Sylia smiled at her. "You're too kind." She took the sheer, slinky garment and carefully placed it in a bag, jotting quick notes on the label
before handing it off to one of her assistants. The customer left. Sylia blew a sigh and shook her head, squared her shoulders, and crossed the large,
richly-appointed and elegantly-furnished room to where the new customer -- a young, determined-looking, brown-haired woman -- sat, ramrod-stiff, in a deeply
cushioned highback chair, a cup of tea steaming gently at her elbow.
"Miss Stingray, I'm sorry to intrude," she said as Sylia approached. "I felt it necessary to come down in person, to apologize." She
stood and regarded Sylia steadily. "We've had some unforeseen changes arise, and I'm afraid your shipment will not be ready as originally
scheduled."
Sylia raised an eyebrow. "Oh? That will complicate matters. I have several... new developments, that were counting on those items being ready."
"I know, and I am truly sorry."
Sylia waved a hand. "Don't worry about it, I'll make do." She eyed the other woman. "Are these changes permanent, do you think? Will
I need to make other arrangements to get these materials?"
A worried expression, quickly smoothed over. "I'm... not sure. I can guarantee you at least one more delivery. Beyond that, I can't say.
Things are in flux at the moment, and nobody is quite certain when it will return to normal." She paused and frowned. "In fact, a ... new product
line appears to be in development. I don't know when I'll have details, or if it's even something you'll be interested in. They're
keeping it very quiet."
Sylia nodded. "Well, then. When can I expect that delivery?"
"The day after tomorrow, earlier if possible. I'll handle it personally."
"Very good." Sylia cocked her head slightly and smiled at the other woman. "And what about your personal project? Will it be ready for
display soon?"
This time it was a fierce, prideful grin. "Oh, yes. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised. In fact..." and here she leaned forward
conspiratorially. "In fact, I'd be extremely grateful if you, Miss Stingray, would allow me to put it on display with your organization.
Anonymously, of course. There are certain proprieties to be observed, after all."
Sylia returned the grin. "I do believe, Miss Chang, that I can arrange that." She shrugged. "My... business partners will have to be in the
loop, of course, but you can rely on their discretion."
A sharp glance. "You are certain?"
Sylia nodded. "Oh yes. You may trust these as you do me. My junior associates, well, that's up to you. But my partners can best be of service if
they know." Sylia's lips quirked in a wry smile. "One of them, in fact, would know soon enough whether we told her or not. She's...
persistent, like that."
"I'll keep that in mind." She bent and retrieved a briefcase from beside her seat. "A pleasure doing business with you, as usual.
I'll send that shipment by special courier, as soon as it's ready."
* * * * *
Irene Chang gave a friendly wave to Scott, the security guard, and the two faceless Power Tanks flanking the doors to her department. Scott nodded and smiled
-- "Afternoon, Miss Wong," -- and one of the tanks returned the wave listlessly. She carded through the doors with a double beep and continued on to
her workstation, dropping heavily into her swivel chair and blowing a deep sigh.
"Long day, huh, Irene?" Norman, an older man with thinning grey hair and thick glasses, and the sort of coworker that could be counted on to do
their job, do it well, and do nothing else -- ambitionless, in one sense; harmless, in another -- raised his head above the partition seperating their desks.
"It will be," she responded. "Especially if we don't get that efficiency factor up."
"Paul had some thoughts on that," the older man said, frowning. "I don't think I agree, but he's stubborn. And without Dr. Smythe
around to rein him in..." He shrugged. "Well, you know how he is."
Irene nodded. Paul was easily the most stubborn, opinionated, and antagonistic member of the team. He respected no authority save his own; the former project
lead, Robin Smythe, had kept him in check through a frenzied application of her own indomitable will and threats to Paul's paycheck, often both in the same
hour. But Paul was *also* a genius, and regularly had blinding flashes of insight that solved problems the whole team had been stumped on. If he got on the
right track... Irene didn't want to think about it. "Does he have numbers to back him up?"
"Not yet. He's running a simulation now." Norman frowned. "He shut down your simulation to get his own running." He shrugged.
"I told him it was a bad idea, but...."
She nodded absently as she called up her task list and began making notes. The project map appeared before her in the holographic display, a number of items
flashing red or yellow, several glowing steady green, and one blinking a furious purple -- her aborted simulation run, complaining to the world at large that
it hadn't been treated fairly.
This, Irene thought, is going to be damn tricky to pull off. Out loud, she said, "How far along is he on his test model?"
"Forty percent, as of an hour ago."
Damn! Irene kept her face calm through sheer will. "Excellent! He might be on the right track after all...." And damn him to Hell if he is, she
finished silently.
Norman frowned and shook his head. "No, no, we went over this last week, remember? You and Dr. Smythe ran the tests... this approach suffers from matrix
degeneration starting at seventy percent utilization, and just gets worse after! Paul's insisting it'll work, but it's the same method you tested.
He didn't change a thing!"
Irene winced to herself. It hadn't been her best work, but Robin was -- had been, by now -- the smartest project lead she'd worked under, and Irene
had had no time to prepare. Her sabotage had been quick, dirty, and strictly one-shot; if Paul was running the same model again with no changes...
... well, he'd get the same results Irene herself had several months ago: a fully-programmable replicant brain with no degradation at high usage levels.
The current crop was flawed; among other things, they tended to break down, sometimes catastrophically, when subjected to heavy load -- such as engram
implantation. Irene knew she was walking a fine line, but as long as nothing better came along the corporation would continue the project, even with the
flaws, since the product represented such a leap ahead of current technology in many ways.
As far as she knew, Irene was the only one who knew that the flaws were intentional... and she needed to keep it that way.
She spared a glance for Norman, who peered at her with a worried expression. The older man didn't like things being out of the ordinary; he was capable
and competent but did not react well to changes. She smiled at him. "I'm sure Paul must have changed SOMETHING, Norm. He's not stupid, he's
just... difficult. He probably just didn't want to explain himself. You know, just in case it doesn't work out."
Norman nodded slowly. "Yes... yes, you're probably right."
"I'm sure I am," she replied. "Tell you what. I'll go see how he's doing. Meanwhile, we've got the analysis back on that
latest batch, and someone needs to go through it and see if there's anything useful. Why don't you work on that?"
Norman nodded again. "Right. I'll just go do that." He sat back down and in short order was absorbed in a ream of documentation that, had it
been printed, would have been as thick as a phone book. Irene left him muttering to himself and headed for the testing chamber.
* * * * *
"Don't try to stop me, Wong," Paul warned as Irene entered the dark testing room. It was octoganal in shape, with a central area behind thick
transparent armor, currently retracted; ringing that were control panels and readouts, with four equidistant workstations lining the outer walls. The room was
bathed in a cold blue light as a complicated hologram writhed and twisted in the air in the center of the room.
"I wasn't coming to stop you, Paul," Irene replied, keeping firm rein on her temper. It paid off as Paul relaxed infinitesimally.
"Well, alright then," he grumbled. "That old coot kept butting in, I figured you were here for more of the same." He glanced at her, eyes
narrowed in suspicion. "So what brings you down?"
"You aborted my run. I wanted to know why."
Paul glowered at her. "Your run was a waste of time and resources. Physical enhancements can come later; right now the real priority is getting a useful
brain for these things."
"Dr. Smythe authorized my run personally. I filled out the proper requisitions and scheduled the time."
"Well, she's not here any more, is she?" Paul snorted. "You know what your problem is, Wong?" He glanced at the hologram and tapped
a few keys, causing no noticeable change, though he nodded to himself in satisfaction. "Your problem is that you dont have any vision. All you see is
your little piece of the pie." He glared at the hologram, a fierce pride that startled her with its vehemence. "You don't see the *potential*
here."
"And you do, is that it?"
He laughed. "Get off your high horse. I see more than you, yeah. Both of us see more than that old coot hiding behind his terminal." He spun and
raised a finger. "And you see more than I gave you credit for."
Irene took a step back, startled. "What do you mean?"
A snort. "Don't play innocent, Wong. I'm willing to ignore your little... trick. Seeing as how it's going to catapult me to project lead,
that is." He smirked at her. "Nice try, by the way. I'd never have thought you were ambitious enough to make a move yourself, but you did.
I'd congratulate you, but as usual, you didn't have the guts to finish the move, to go to the logical conclusion." He cocked his head.
"Why? Afraid of the responsibility? Hopkins himself would have made you project lead, if not department head, had you given him a working replicant
brain."
Irene went white. "How... how did you --?"
Paul waved a hand. "It was easy, once I started working on the brain model. Let's face it, that was a pretty ugly hack. I'm surprised Robin
fell for it herself, but she always had a soft spot for you." He grinned again. "I think I'll keep you around when I'm in charge. You do
good work, even if you don't have the imagination."
A cheerful ding from the terminal interrupted the tableau. Paul glanced at it, then smiled again. He looked at Irene. "Beautiful, isn't it? But
then, you've seen it before."
Irene looked past him, at the now-completed holographic representation of a replicant brain matrix. It spun slowly in place, complete down to the last detail.
At the bottom of the projection field readouts scrolled by, indicating a stable memory implant had taken place. Simulated brain activity was increasing, and
as she watched it shot past the previous benchmark and came to rest in the upper nineties. And stayed there.
"I'll give you until tomorrow to think about it," Paul said as he dumped the simulation to a data module and wiped the test system clean.
"And I've already trashed the original sources, before you get any ideas," he added. "Your only chance is to support my claim on the
discovery, or resign. You can take me to lunch tomorrow and give me your answer."
Whistling cheerfully to himself, Paul brushed past Irene and left, pausing only long enough to flick off the lights on his way out.
* * * * *
"Nice choice," Paul stated the following day as they were led to their table. The high booths, lush greenery, and trickling waterfall all served as
visual and auditory screens; except for the live band playing at the far end, they might have been alone in the restaurant once they were seated.
Irene leaned forward as soon as they had placed their orders. "Paul, listen. You wanted to know why I hadn't turned in my research -- yes, MY
research, damn you -- myself?" She fixed him with a steely glare. "It's because I"m not an idiot."
"Care to explain that? Or is this where you try to change my mind with a sob story of some sort, about how Crey's business practices mean it
shouldn't have power like this, or something equally lame?" He regarded her steadily. "I'd figured you were smarter than that. You're
already in deep, babe, bit late to be growing a sense of moral outrage now, isn't it?"
She rolled her eyes. "I'm not stupid, Paul, thank you. But you're being dumb. Think, man! What happens if you give that model, or even a
working prototype, to our department head?"
"Jackpot time!"
"No, dummy! You go into involuntary retirement, the department head gets a promotion, and Norm and I get shuffled into the new regime." She sat
back and crossed her arms. "For a genius, you're pretty dumb."
He frowned at her, his eyebrows coming together in thought. "You may have a point..." he began, and paused as their orders arrived. When the
waitress had gone, he continued. "Even if you're right, though, that doesn't stop me from jumping past Smithers and going right to Hopkins
himself."
"Who'll have your head turned inside out to make sure you're not hiding something from him." She nodded. "Good plan. Glad you're
such a smart guy, Paul; I'd have gotten myself in trouble for sure if you weren't along to handle things."
"Watch it, Wong. You don't have anything to bargain with right now. I could just tell them about the sabotage. Sure, it's not as big a win for
me, but it's more stable. I'm not greedy."
Irene blinked and paled. "I... hadn't thought of that," she said in a small, quiet voice. "What... what do you think we should do
then?"
She watched him smirk at her use of 'we', and smiled to herself. Gotcha.
"Well, 'we' should finish lunch first," he said triumphantly. "And then... I think we can safely blame the sabotage on Robin.
She's gone anyway, nobody will know the difference. Except for us." He patted his shirt pocket confidentially. "And I'll just hang on to
the proof as insurance for your good behavior."
"Well..." she said slowly, as if reluctant.
"I'll even make you my assistant," he said. "Once I've got project lead, I'll need someone I can ... trust."
"And I suppose you've got a dozen copies of that stashed all over by now, all set to expose me if I ever cross you?" she asked, watching his face
carefully. There! A fast, hidden flicker; if she hadn't been waiting for it, expecting it, she'd never have caught it.
The idiot only had the one copy!
"That's right," Paul said smoothly, and she had to admire the steadiness in his voice. "So, we have a deal?"
"I guess I don't have much of a choice," she admitted grudgingly, fiddling with her ring.
"No need to be so down about it," Paul said. "I'll make sure you get a fair cut."
"Pardon me, sir." Irene and Paul looked up, then up some more. A large man dressed in a severe black suit, wearing sunglasses and a radio in one
ear, stood at their booth.
"Shit!" Paul exclaimed. He tried to scoot back, but a hand like a vice clamped onto his shoulder and stopped him in place. The agent dug around in
his jacket and produced a phone, which he handed to Irene. She nodded and stood, stopping only long enough to dip two fingers into Paul's shirt pocket and
withdraw the data module.
"I=Irene?!" Paul stammered. "What's going on here?" Irene ignored him and left the room. Paul's next shout was cut short by the
crackle of a stungun. "CREY SECURITY!" she heard the agent bellow. "EVERYONE STAY BACK!"
The phone rang. Irene opened it as she stepped out into the bright sunshine.
"Did you get it?"
Irene sighed. "Yes, Reika."
A warm chuckle. "Did I not tell you that sometimes the direct way is best?"
"Yes, you did. I'll keep it in mind next time."
"I can't save you every time, you know."
Irene looked out over the city and took her time responding. "I have friends here, now. They'll help me."
"Well... we'll see." Her sister's voice turned businesslike. "Make sure you send back that field test data."
Irene nodded, even though Reika couldn't see her. "Don't worry, I'll make sure it gets a good workout."
"Be well, sister."
"I love you too. Bye!"
She closed the phone and turned it over, admiring the Chang Group logo worked in to the smooth plastic. Then she yanked off the antenna and tossed both pieces
into a nearby ashtray, where it landed amidst used cigarette butts and chewing gum. A momment later the phone burst into bright, smokeless flame, burning to
ashes in seconds.
* * * * *
The phone rang. Nene finished zapping the last monster and jotted a quick note to the developers -- her suit did not shoot lightning bolts out of the chest
area, and she was going to be very upset at SOMEONE if that particular feature made it into the release version -- then tapped a few keys to shut down the
audio stream. Then she picked up the call.
"This is Nene."
"Miss Romanova, your special order is ready."
"Hi, Sylia!" Nene giggled. "What time?"
"Seven, if possible."
"I'll be there."
* * * * *
That night, Silicon Sabre and Net Sabre stood side-by-side on top of one of the taller remnants in the Boomtown zone, watching a group of Council dispute
territory with Clockwork. The Council appeared to be winning, but from their vantage point the Sabres could see a group of Clocks assembling a larger version
of themselves in preparation for a counterattack.
"So what are we doing, Sylia?" Nene said.
"Welcoming a new member."
"Again?" Nene chuckled. "Well, who is she?"
"You'll see."
Hidden behind her facebowl, Nene stuck her tongue out at Sylia. Then she frowned. Her suits sensors were picking up something, but whatever it was was faint
and hard to pin down. If she wasn't so intimately familiar with every aspect of her suit's systems, she'd have chalked it up to air currents or
sensor twitch.
"Sylia!" she hissed on their shared channel. "I think there's something out there..."
"You can come out now," Sylia said over the external speakers by way of response -- and, Nene noted in shock, without the voice modulator. For a
moment, there was no response.
Then a patch of air five feet from them shimmered and parted like a curtain, revealing a black suit of armor much like a Sabre suit, with faintly-glowing green
traces forming intricate patterns on the legs and chest.
"Well," the newcomer said in a tone of mild disgust, "that's one system we'll need to upgrade."
"What's going on here?" Nene said, also switching to external speakers (though she left her voxmod on).
Sylia surprised her yet again, by reaching up and unlocking, then removing, her helmet. She stood and regarded the black-and-green suit calmly.
With what might have been a chuckle, the newcomer reached up and undid her catches -- Nene noted that the helmet attached very differnetly than the standard
Sabre method -- and removed her own helmet, revealing a young woman who was more on the cute side of the scale than the pretty one. She had thick brown hair,
wide eyes, and a wry grin.
"Well, Miss Stingray, what do you think?" The newcomer spun in place lightly, showing off her armor.
"It's very much like what you described, but there are significant differences as well."
"Excuse me?" Nene put in. "What. Is going. On?"
Sylia turned to face her. "You asked me not that long ago how I knew who we could and could not trust when new Sabres showed up."
Nene nodded.
Sylia indicated the newcomer. "She is how."
Nene looked between them for a moment. "I *knew* you had a secret, Sylia! I just knew it!" She turned. "Well, then. Hi! I'm Nene!
Nene Romanova." She removed her helmet and struck a pose. "Ta da!"
"Nene, may I introduce miss Irene Chang, our ally and a researcher with Crey's biotech division."
"WHAAAT?"
Irene chuckled and raised a hand. "Guilty as charged, I'm afraid." She ran a hand through her hair. "How do you stand being cooped up in
a helmet all the time? I've only had mine on for half an hour and already I need a shower." She wrinkled her nose. "Anyway. Yes. I work for
Crey. I'm one of the scientists working on .. the Scimitar project."
Nene frowned at her, and Irene hurriedly continued.
"I've been sabotaging it from within for months now, ever since I was assigned and found out what they're up to." She shivered.
"It's... not good. You see the ones that, by Crey's definition, fail. The rogues. I see them *all*." She sighed and looked at the ground.
"Anyway. It wasn't hard figuring out who a couple of you were -- no offense, but if you'd wanted to stay hidden you wouldn't have used the
same names as -- oh, never mind, I'm getting sidetracked. What I meant to say is, I've been feeding Sylia lists of known Scimitars since I first made
contact with her. That, Nene, is how she knows who to trust."
"So, wait," Nene said slowly. "You're telling me that ... *you* made us?"
Irene shook her head. "No, no! Not you -- not the Original Four, as we call them. You. Whatever." She smiled. "I came on board shortly
after that whole debacle. I know *how* you were made, but we can't replicate it perfectly. Hence all the," and here she winced,
"failures."
"Irene has long wanted to take a more active role," Sylia put in. "I suspect that there have been recent developments making that a more
attractive option?"
Irene nodded. "You're sharp. Yes. Simply put, I don't know how much longer I can keep doing this. Sooner or later, I'm going to get
caught." She grimaced. "Sooner, if yesterday was any indication." At their puzzled looks, she waved a hand. "Internal corporate
politics, don't worry about it. Point is, I may need to leave Crey soon... and if -- no, when -- I do that, I'll need protection." Her face grew
hard and grim. "I'd rather stay here than return home, as well. Here I can at least exact some small bit of revenge."
Nene's eyes widened. "Chang! The Chang Group!" She grew thoughtful. "I thought the whole family had died..."
Irene shook her head. "Not quite... but close enough." She indicated her armor. "This is the prototype of a suit meant to compete with the
Crey Tank line. We were, um, inspired, you could say, by how well you ladies handle yourselves against them. This, the 'Genki', or Dark Devil, is the
stealth model. Aside from being the only one ready for field-testing, it's also the best choice for the position I find myself in."
Nene nodded. "You're really going out on a limb, here."
"Yes. But Sylia has convinced me I can trust you, and ... not to put too fine a point on it, but it should be obvious you can trust me." She smiled
wryly. "After all, if I were going to, I could have turned you, Sylia, Priss, and Linna in already."
Nene gasped, while Sylia merely nodded.
"So that's my story. Please don't spread it about, Nene; I'm uncomfortable enough with the Original Four knowing, I don't need others
knowing as well. Not if I'm to do any good, or survive." She chuckled. "Crey has eyes and ears everywhere, it's said."
"Not in the Sabres."
"Yeah!"
"Which is why I'm here. Oh! I almost forgot." Irene produced two data chips and handed them to Sylia. "One is the usual list, updated as
of yesterday afternoon. The other..." She grew pensive. "The other I hope you never have to use. Just promise me you will destroy it before you
let it leave your hands?"
Sylia nodded firmly. "I promise."
"Well then!" Irene struggled back into her helmet. "You two care to show me the ropes before I have to, ugh, go back to work tomorrow?"
Nene grinned. "Sounds like a plan!"
--sofaspud
--"Listening to your kid is the audio equivalent of a Salvador Dali painting, Spud." --OpMegs