The Return
A Ranma Sailor Moon fic thingy.
By
Naturally, I own neither Sailor Moon nor Ranma. So here's the disclaimer
Ranma 1/2 and its characters and settings belong to Rumiko Takahashi, Shogakukan, Kitty, and Viz Video. Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon belongs to Naoko Takeuchi, Koudansha, TV Asahi, and Toei Douga, and DIC.
Previous chapters and other works can be found at my fanfiction website.
http://jtemple.florestica.com/
Temporary Backup Site.
Other website
C&C as always is wanted.
Chapter 30 Reconcile and Refine Part 2
With grey walls that curved up
to make the ceiling, long unadorned tables, and bare concrete floors, the room
was plain, utilitarian. Most of those in the room wore grey and green uniforms.
Even the succubae were more muted given that mode of dress.
. However, at one of the
tables a figure in gold drew all eyes towards her. Even shedding her armor only
mitigated things. Minako still wore a
gold bodysuit trimmed in silver and blue. Crescent moon marks adorned her
collar and the breezy short blue skirt she had on over the bodysuit. Around
Minako, demons sat at a table covered in
a befuddling array of cleaning chemicals tools,
and parts and pieces from their weapons.
"Dreams?" Minako
slowly blinked. She was staring at one large bottle of oil. Its name had something to do with whales. A
glass of water was in front of her. Appreciating the sentiment, she had taken a
few sips.
Her hair was done in the expected
twin ponytails, though thankfully they were a bit shorter than how the
Princess, and Ranma, wore them. Her shoes were also plain flats which were more
comfortable, especially after the hits her shins and ankles got during
training. The demons seemed to have an aversion towards fighting fair.
"You were very close to
Sere- to Usagi," Nariko innocently said as she checked the edge to her
katana. The demoness frowned at a couple places; she then placed it on the
table and picked up Venus' gold-accented broadsword.
"Ah," Minako
chuckled and ran a hand through her hair and placed it against her brow. It was
dry as usual. Even the succubae would sweat if they worked hard enough.
Nariko looked up from the
Crystal Wink Venus sword. A small file, a set of drifts and pins, a couple
picks, an oil cloth, some steel, brass, and fiber brushes, some cleaning pads,
and a couple bottles of cleaning oils were laid out in front her.
Minako looked at the bottles
and blinked. The names were strange. Hoppe's 9 Lubricating oil and the Rem-Oil
were normal. She could understand the gun oils, but the neatsfoot, chronometer,
arctic sperm-whale, and
She watched the succubus
inspect her sword paying particular care to the edges and where the tang of the
blade went into the hilt. Minako looked over and saw Akane cleaning one of her
sidearms. The list of cleaners and lubricants was smaller but no less strange.
Half of them seemed to be automotive. A big bottle of automatic transmission
fluid was prominent, while a tub of bearing grease also sat on the table.
Minako found the green Ballistol bottle reassuringly normal, if rather
Germanic.
At least firearms was
mentioned among the long list of supposed materials and the protecting,
penetrating, lubricating, preserving cleaner could remedy. The most egregious
example was the big bottle containing a sloshing red, mint-smelling liquid
simply called: Marvel Mystery Oil. There was even a spray-bottle of blue window
cleaner.
She would have accused the
succubae of some sort of elaborate hoax or sabotage, save they were using the
bizarre chemicals to maintain their weapons, along with the Senshi's. "Okay... what's with the
Akane looked up from the
oversized pistol she was cleaning.
"Like a normal gun oil but thick, evaporates slowly. Good for keeping out rust if your weapon's
gonna get wet, especially if they're hot
and steaming. Name came from the
"Ahh," Minako put the can back down. She felt some
relief at the normality of that. At
least it was not as bad as she feared the whale-oil or the mystery oil would be. Her eyes went back to the table. This time on the two swords laying on tautly
spread, power blue cleaning clothes. Of course, one was hers, the other was
Nariko's
Minako was wary of the demon
blade. Glowing a sullen, irritable red, the katana acted as a power channel.
Each hit shocked Minako and then sapped her, leaving the golden Senshi a bit
hollow. Sparring was bad enough, she did not relish the idea of a full fight.
Minako saw that Akane had her
own collection of little tools and picks, including a bunch of brushes and jags
that fit onto the end of a cleaning rod for her gun's barrel. The two demons
busied themselves with their work.
Minako resumed her wait, she
had become good at waiting.
"Any interesting
dreams?" Nariko repeated.
"You're acting like...
like I could see what she was seeing."
Nariko tilted her head. She
tapped the hilt of the sword and flipped it over. "Yes."
"That's a huge invasion
of privacy," Minako's voice rose but she pulled her arms in and crossed
them under her chest.
Reaching out, Nariko put her
hand over Minako's. "It's okay. I just thought you might want to talk
about. Your Mistress and our mother are getting quite close..."
Minako blinked.
Nariko mentally noted, the
blonde's lack of reaction to the use of the word "mistress".
"Not to mention Pluto
driving you further away from your Mistress," Akane stated. Her gun's
barrel went into the slide. She put it over the frame slid the slide back,
snapped it forward, and set the forward retaining pin into place with a loud
click.
"Well..." Minako
looked down at her hands. She rotated her wrist watching the light reflect off
the golden bracers. She could hear the demon doing a function check as she
manipulated the weapon's pieces and did a safety and dry fire check.
"Well, they're dreams.... her dreams. She escapes."
"Better than
nightmares," Nariko said brightly. She looked to Akane and smiled softly.
"She had those,
sometimes," Minako admitted.
"But she wasn't
alone." Nariko looked down at Venus' sword.
"What was her
escape?" Akane asked leaning over the table. "She's got enemies and
responsibilities here, did she imagine someone strong fighting them off for
her? Maybe she fantasized that she was better, that she really was the
queen?"
Minako shook her head.
"It wasn't like that. The differences. She was... well we were there, the
Inner Senshi, plus Naru. That made six of us. We were still Senshi, but
Serenity, Serenity the First, was alive, and lived with her sister DarkStar.
And Pluto was there... she's our... handler giving missions."
"And with Mother taking
the mantle of Sailor Earth it's already obsolete," Nariko noted.
"The blonde bunny dreamed
our mother was her aunt?" Akane dryly asked as she loaded one of the
magazines with massive 500 S&W cartridges. Unlike many modern magazines these
consisted of a single slim stack. The cartridges were such that a thicker
higher capacity double stack was out of the question. Even a single row of
cases made for a hefty, if relatively thin, grip. "Huh. Well after today,
that doesn't seem too odd."
"No," Nariko looked
up. "Queen Serenity was not her mother. Usagi was just Sailor Moon. Being the
princess, that's what she was escaping from."
Minako nodded. "That and
the violence. It was like the old days, our friendship could bring us together.
Even Ami was good. But instead of being lost and unsure we knew we were part of
a magical kingdom, we had a benevolent, if teasing mentor to help us.
"Serenity bore the weight
of the Moon, DarkStar bore the weight of the Earth, and Usagi... Usagi was free
to grow." Minako released her arms and patted the hilt of her sword.
She looked up and saw the
pensive, distant looks the three demons were giving her. "What? Surely
you've had dreams, little escapes. Your mother for-"
Akane cut her off.
"Mother didn't have dreams like that."
"Not after she stopped
living in denial," Nariko added force entering her voice.
Minako felt as if the pressure
in the room had gone up. Unlike Rei's outbursts this far more focused,
contained and tempered. You're lying, Minako thought. Do you
even realize? Or do you just idolize
your mother and think there's nothing she can't do? Minako caught Nariko's
eye.
The demon turned to the
golden-Senshi and smiled. Some of the joy even touched her eyes. "Do you
think you'll miss them?" Nariko sweetly asked.
"Miss them?" Minako blinked trying to regain her train of
thought.
"Ah," the demoness
nodded. "You intend to continue sleeping with your Mistress. Is that what you want?"
Minako felt herself blushing,
and hoped that her cheeks were turning red. Sometimes she was worried about her
skin shifting to a more golden hue when stressed.
"I don't know if Pluto
will let you do that. I think she's got her own ideas," Akane teased.
"Yes, she does,"
Minako's voice was flat. "Your mother too."
"Is there something you
need to talk about?" Nariko put her hand on Minako's and gave a little
squeeze. "What about you in all this?"
"Well..." Minako
looked away from Nariko's deep red eyes. She knew that among demons it was a
faux pas, a sign of weakness, a lack of trust. Minako did not care.
A bit of disapproval crossed
Nariko's face, but she tried to look sympathetic. "In all the rush to get
their Princess back, do you feel you were pushed to the side?"
"That the others cared
more about getting Usagi back?"
"Did they blame
you?" Nariko's voice lowered.
Minako shook her head.
"If not the villain,
maybe something worse.... something that can't be blamed."
Keeping her head down, Minako laughed. "Like a tool? A thing of no will of it's own? Pitied and pushed to the side. It's not the lightbulb's fault it burns
out. You just get a new one." There was a harsh, clipped edge to Minako's
flat tone.
"You're okay, your friends do care about you," Nariko
assured.
Minako nodded, evenly
mechanically.
"You were forced, you
became someone else and you tried to do what you thought was best. Maybe it was
wrong, but you tried." Akane added her own hand. "We understand.
This time Minako's silent nod
was more halting.
Nariko gave a little smile.
"It's okay, we can talk about it later." She glanced at the door.
Minako saw that Akane had also
tensed and the blonde herself could feel a bit of a... connection. Her concerns
were cut off when Makoto entered the room followed by a delicate-looking small
blue-haired demoness and a taller, more broad shouldered demon with shorter
black hair.
Both demons wore their combat
armor as did Makoto. Her patinaed copper plating and skirt segments bore a few
gentle scorches and her brown hair was frayed at the ends and pulled into a
messy, lopsided ponytail. Wobbly, Makoto made it to the table and slumped down
while propping her head with her hands, which were contained by fairly thick
gauntlets and armored gloves.
"You okay?" Minako
asked.
"Sure. I'm
unstoppable!" Makoto gave a strained laugh and snapped her armored fingers
causing a flare of sparks.
"Really?" Minako
turned to Nabiki. Studying the demon she could see the Kevlar sections of her
armor had been pushed aside and part of the chest piece had even been dented a bit.
The jammer antennas were also bent out of shape and there was some faint,
fading discoloration to the demon's left cheek.
Sophie stood off to the side
and gave a slow nod. "Well, yes."
Pulling up a chair, Nabiki
shoehorned herself between Akane and Nariko and gave each sister a hug before
settling down and drawing her knives. She flipped open the blades and gingerly
set both on the table.
Looking at the collection of
cleaning chemicals Sophie chuckled lightly. Company armorers were notorious for
keeping stashes of the more... esoteric products. This was in spite of most
weapons only needing a cleaning solvent, a bit of lubricant and a bit of
grease.
She looked over and saw the
brunette boggle at the vast collection of bizarre chemicals, especially the
historical and automotive ones. Makoto blinked as she watched Nabiki hunt
between the bottles like a sommelier looking for the
proper vintage.
Minako also eyed Nabiki's
knives and saw that their rich, dense wood grips were marred by little
scratches and the ruddy gleaming metal of the blades seemed to look almost
sullen. The blonde could swear she could see a couple sparks dance across the
surface as Nabiki started cleaning the blades.
"Unstoppable?"
"Miss Kino is fair in
hand to hand and flexible with her powers," Sophie explained. She looked
at the table, hesitated, then took a seat. She nodded to Nariko with a smile.
Returning the gesture, Nariko
reached out and put an arm around the woman.
Minako crossed her arms.
"I'm a magical girl made out of enchanted metal with a silver crystal
sword that can kill eldritch queens."
Makoto looked between the
crystal wink sword and Nariko's understated plainly elegant katana. The
brunette blinked. "You tried sword-fighting her? She's cut a combat cyborg
in half!" Makoto looked to Nariko who gave a tiny smile.
"Well, what did you
do?"
Smirking, Makoto cracked her
knuckles. "I just charged my fists and gave her a shock whenever she tried
to stab me."
Nabiki gave a little pout
"Really? That's it? And
her exploding icicles? The fire? The eye beams?"
"It's not like I could
use any of my real attacks." Makoto shrugged. "I'm like a head taller
than her. So with the blades the reach is..." She coughed and looked at
Nabiki. "Okay fine. You're a scary little demon and I figured the best way
to keep you off was to clock you whenever you got too close."
Nabiki nodded.
"Commitment is important."
Looking between Makoto and the
demons, Minako forced a sigh. Her brunette friend was jittery and seemed
charged up, while the succubae, especially Nabiki, were relaxed, almost like
predators lounging after a fruitful hunt. "So I should have actually tried
to gut Nariko then?"
Nariko's little, almost
challenging, smile returned.
"Don't be cute,"
Nabiki stated, picking up a bottle of light gun oil and dabbing some on a
cloth.
"That's your job,
eh?" Akane smirked.
The young-looking demoness
gave a big dimpled smile and tilted her head so the tresses framing her bangs
fell swished across her face. "Whatever do you mean, Oneechan?" she
asked checking the hinge on one of her weighted foot-long bladed folding
knives.
Akane laughed. "You are cuter, now."
Nariko caught her mate's eye
and gave a demure cough.
Staring into her mate's deep
red eyes, Akane whimpered and lowered her head. "Sorry. Least mother being
turned all cute's not my fault."
Nabiki raised an eyebrow then
nodded.
"You're just being a good
sister," Nariko said her voice merry but stern.
Minako turned and saw that
Makoto bore a similar expression.
"Family issues, best not
to get involved," Sophie stated.
"And how are you?"
Nariko reached out to black-haired agent.
Sophie took the offered hand.
"I'm holding on. Mother... the Captain she's great." She gave a
smile.
"And your sisters?"
"They're good,"
Sophie looked down. "Morgan's quiet but sweet. Morrison's still worried
about her first name and... you know."
Nariko nodded. She knew she
was lucky to have a human family that understood. She could not imagine what
Morrison was going though, especially since she would be completely
unrecognizable to them.
"Does Morgan bring
Svetlana into bed?" Akane gave the hilt of Nariko's sword a playful
caress.
"What?" Sophie
blinked. "No. That'd get in the way."
"Svetlana? One of the
Russians?" Minako asked.
"I think she's the
sniper, the first one to try to kill... us." Makoto flexed her hands and
wondered what the demons were doing. "You don't.... have the body
right?"
"No, Morgan ate
her." Sophie wanted to roll her eyes, but decorum kept her from doing it.
However, her stomach did tingle a bit at the idea of Mother presenting a fresh
meal to them, to her daughters. She could just smell the blood and meat and
feel the flickering life energy.
Nariko gave her cousin's hand
a squeeze and turned to the Senshi. "Svetlana is the name Morgan gave her
gun. Like how Misa-chan named her weapon Sasha."
"Ah." Makoto
recalled in memory. "Morgan killed her with that gun right?"
"Her first with it."
Nariko nodded.
"I see." Makoto
shivered slightly. It was morbid, but she could understand a sniper naming her
gun after a "worthy opponent",
"And what do you call
your weapon?" Minako asked the elder sister.
Nariko released her hand from
Sophie and ran a finger down the spine of the blade until it reached Akane's
hand. "She doesn't have a name yet. Master Nishina said it will come in
time, and be obvious."
"He said that about
mine," Nabiki said before she tilted her head. "I thought he was just
being lazy and didn't want to come up with a name himself."
"Nabiki!" Nariko
scolded.
Minako then saw the other
demons reacting similarly and focused her own attention at the door. For a
moment, she wondered if it would be Rei or Usagi and Pluto. Then the doors
slammed open.
Eyes wide and grinning madly,
Rei stepped into the room. She was in civilian mode and had transformed out of
her armor. Seeing her teammates her pace quickened and she marched directly to
their table. She snaked past a handful agents and a couple tables without
slowing down.
Minako saw the expected
demonic escort and noted that Misako bore the same gleefully mad expression as
the priestess. The platinum haired succubus at her side was more reserved but
was still quite confident and looked almost smug with herself. Minako looked
around the table and got a similar vibe from the rest of their
"trainers".
Rei looked at the full table
for a second then grabbed the nearest chair and swing it around. She eyed the
Senshi still in their metallic uniforms. "So, how badly did you two get
mangled?"
"I'm unstoppable,"
Makoto repeated.
"I reformed," Minako
added.
Rei's brow furrowed at the
potential meanings of the blonde's statement. "Right. Right." She
laughed and tapped the table causing a couple sparks to flare up. "Well,
I'm doing great. Turns out I can keep pace with the craziest of you lot,"
she smirked at the demons.
Misako's big grin shifted into
a thoughtful little frown. She caught Ukyou's attention, but the platinum
blonde succubus just shook her head. Misako pouted.
"What do you think
the..." Rei glanced at Minako. "The Queen is up to? She's still off
training with Puu and the creepy German demon."
Sophie straightened her
posture and glared at the Pattern Silver. Her attention fell onto Rei and
she... pushed. She could feel her presence, her will pressing out. The other demons,
her cousins, smiled with Misako giving a toothy grin.
Glancing at Sophie, Rei
coughed and turned back to her teammates.
Specialist Agent Sophie
Addison knew, even being a demon, she was far weaker than the pyrokinetic
magical girl, but she was a Company Agent, a member of the Fifth Non Human Task
Force, and the unstable little blowhard had badmouthed her mother.
"Probably getting used to
being outside of.... her... of the armor." Makoto delicately stated hoping
she avoided upsetting Minako or the demons.
"Whatever, it's something
she's gotta learn," Rei stated. "Sorry Mina... uh Moon, but you
turning into armor for your um... mother. Gah!" She shook her head.
"Sorry, you just had to make an awkward charade even more confusing."
"It was an experiment, it
didn't work out." Minako hissed crossing her arms. "I tried something
new."
"Yeah... yeah. I hope
Captain Jarvis isn't trying something new. Not after what she and DarkStar did
earlier. All while Puu watched," Rei grumbled.
"You mean what Jarvis and
the Queen did to DarkStar," Makoto clarified.
"I'm sure Auntie Eve's
just proctoring while they fight each other," Ukyou explained.
Misako brightened. "Yes
and then the winner will be rewarded with delicious heart and liver."
"You're joking,"
Makoto said, almost pleadingly.
The orange-haired demon huffed
in exasperation. "Of course, if I really thought they'd be fighting to the
death I wouldn't be in here with you all."
"Right, you wouldn't want
to miss the show," Rei dryly stated.
"That's right new
friend!" Misako slapped her on the back. "You're learning, now if we
could only do something about your hairstyle."
Rei exhaled. She paused and
cleared her mind and did not say the first thing that popped into her head.
"What's wrong with my hair?" she slowly asked. "You said you
loved it."
"The color, not the style
and well… your friends are starting to outpace you."
Looking at Makoto's sloppy
ponytail and Minako's golden odangos Rei snorted.
"Don't pretend you don't
see it. Why do you think your queen spent so much time playing with my Mother's
hair? Weren't you jealous of her?" Misako lowered her voice. "You
don't want to be left behind?"
Rei shook her head. "My
hair's fine."
"Oh yes, it really is a
very nice start. Wonderful color," Misako agreed.
Nabiki snickered. "You're
having too much fun, Sis."
"What? I helped you with
your hair," Misako said.
"Right, where's the
Princess?" Rei demanded cutting through the demonic banter. "Why
isn't her training over with?"
Sophie tapped her headset. As
she listened, a smile bloomed across her face. "Of course mother."
She said into her headset as she got to her feet. "Yes, Miss Hino, the
training is over for now." She savored the young woman's confusion and
slight fear for a moment.
"Then where is she?"
Rei asked.
Sophie's joy momentarily
dimmed. "I'm afraid you'll have to ask Miss Meiou."
She nodded to Nariko and the rest of her cousins.
Rei exchanged a glance with
the other Senshi. "What?"
"Miss Meiou decided to
take Serenity straight to the showers after training," Sophie calmly
stated before turning on her heel and leaving the room to rendezvous with her
mother and sisters.
Seeing both Rei and Minako
fume at that Makoto blinked.
Misako snickered and gave a
cocky smirk. "Really now?"
"Now, now Misa-chan. No
need to be suggestive, I'm sure Puu is just taking care of her queen,"
Nariko said with just a hint of an edge to her voice.
Nabiki and Akane snickered.
Ukyou raised an eyebrow but nodded; her elder sister's sarcasm was expected,
especially when annoyed
Nariko turned to the Senshi
and smiled. "I'm sure Puu wouldn't mind the help. If you hurry you won't
miss out." She returned to inspecting her katana. "Or you could stay
here."
Outside the mess hall, Sophie
was already down the corridor when her nose twitched at familiar scents. Taking
a different turn at a junction she found herself in the garage.
Lounging at one end of the
concrete room were four Company agents. One had a serene-stern face and
brunette hair cut into a pageboy. Next to her was a thin man with short black
hair and olive green eyes. Particularly watchful, he immediately spotted
Sophie, while the two other agents both with buzzed down dark brown hair and
short solid builds were a touch slower. The one on the left had dark brown eyes
and a narrow face while the other had guarded hazel eyes and a sharp chin and
almost hawkish nose..
Seeing Sophie, the green eyed
agent smiled and scooted over on the ribbed plastic crate he was sitting on.
"How's the Fifth? Been enjoying the glamorous life of babysitting?"
Agent Gabriel Smith asked.
"Fortunately, I was
working with Miss Kino." The demon nodded to her former commanding
officer. "Ma'am."
Lieutenant Kasumi Tendo
returned the gesture. "Please take a seat," she said with a slight
smile.
"Sorry, Ma'am but I've got
a meeting with Mother-" Sophie's cheeks turned slightly red in what for a
succubus was an embarrassed flush. "With Captain Jarvis."
"Our little demon is
growing up," Agent Steven Deschain noted, his pale blue eyes glancing up
from the nitrate chemistry text he was reading.
"Quiet you!" Sophie
hissed her tail straightening out behind her. Looming, she paused then laughed.
Gabriel and Steven joined in with Kasumi's smile growing.
The fourth man Agent Dom
Whipple frowned slightly, his dark brown eyes tracking the demonic agent.
"You should spend more
time with us, LT, uh with your sisters, that is." Sophie noted, while
glancing at Whipple her... replacement.
Between Alexia's brood, the
Assembly, the combat cyborgs and various other critters every team had needed
replacements. Many replacements. Of the five strike teams, all had casualties
and KIAs. Her old team Red was down to half of its starting members. Lieutenant
Patterson's Green team was in a similar situation. Like Red they had one dead a
member and one transferred over to the Fifth: Morrison.
Kasumi exhaled. "As a
matter of fact Agent Addison, I'm planning to spend my upcoming twelve hour
pass shopping with my sisters. No doubt they'll find some ghastly dress that I'll
look gorgeous in." The officer theatrically sighed. "What about your
sisters?"
"Clothes shopping? With
those two?" Sophie broke into laughter. "Oh, I've gotta see that...
I'm not even sure they really have civilian clothes."
"Though there have been some...
interesting uniforms too. Perhaps Major Saotome can arrange for you to get a
more... Senshi-like Uniform," Kasumi said her voice perfectly deadpan.
Sophie blinked and for a moment
imagined herself with hooves, a long pleated silk skirt, and twin braids. She
visible winced. "No. No... This skirt is bad enough."
"Really? The camera
footage made Red look darling," Kasumi shook her head with exaggerated
slowness. "And to think we used to date, turns out she really was too
young for me…"
Still poking her Kevlar
sheathed armor plate skirt, Sophie turned to Whipple. "Hey Dom, how you
finding Red Team? Fitting in?"
"Doesn't have the
ambiance of Blue, but Red team exists," Dom shrugged. Functionally Blue
team ceased to exist as a team with Ramirez killed in action and later on
losing their Lieutenant Speirs. The remaining two members Whipple and Stockton
were wounded and subsequently transferred to other teams as they recovered.
"Fitting in just
fine," Gabriel assured slapping Dom on the back. "Rounding out nicely
as our team's requisite woman."
"My someone's feeling
comfortable with his seniority," Kasumi noted.
"Patterson's Green Team
doesn't have a woman," Deschain pointed out.
"Ma'am" Gabriel
stated.
"Glad to see that you're
back on the active roster," Sophie
added.
Dom's right leg unconsciously
bent a bit at the knee and he shifted his shoulder. His armor had stopped most of the shrapnel
but some had gotten through. "Just puncture wounds, good thing we had plenty of blood." He rubbed the back of his neck; his palm
going over the far edge of the scar tissue from the above his shoulder.
"Got lucky. Could have had my knee blown out. Imagine how long the recovery
would have been then?" He asked
eyeing the demon.
Wincing a bit, Sophie nodded.
She had been wounded worse, and was up and ready for duty in far less
time. But at the cost of changing her species and family. "Yeah, well don't think you can take it easy under
the LT here. She'll work you into the
ground."
Dom's expression brightened. "Right."
"Is that a favorable
comparison to Captain Jarvis?" Kasumi asked. "My, my."
Feeling his confidence mixed
with mourning, Sophie found herself giving a bittersweet smile. With her
transfer and
Gold was reorganized after
their officer Lieutenant Richard and his aide Platt were charged, and later
convicted, on treason. After being restaffed, they lost
However, Orange Team had fared
the worst, being wiped out in an ambush fighting the Russian mercenaries. Of
the team-lead officers who started out the
Bearing the same expression
Sophie nodded again to Lieutenant Tendo.
Kasumi was experienced with
succubus body language, but more importantly she knew Sophie. "It's okay.
We know the job's hard. It's what we signed on to do. Death is part of the
deal... you of all people should know that."
Sophie nodded; she knew that
the constant operational tempo had yielded about fifty casualties, if one did
not count those wounded in multiple engagements or Pattern D's who seemed to
attract damage. That still left nearly two dozen agents, officers, pilots, and
undercover operatives, killed in action.
Men and women who left behind
families who would never know how or why they died only that they were never
coming back. Sophie also knew that the only reason she was not part of that KIA
list was because she had agreed to become a demon.
After studying her former
subordinate, Kasumi's smile returned. "At least you're not blaming
yourself. That's good."
"That's it?" Sophie
asked her tail drooping slightly.
"What else is there?"
Kasumi's expression hardened and her hand went to her dog tags.
"It's nice that you're
helping take the load off babysitting," Gabriel smirked.
"These Pattern Silvers
aren't the same as the brood," Deschain said.
"Yeah, following around
Red is always a blast. I ever tell you the time me, her, and
"Yes, several times.
Especially the part where the Colonel stops and has a beer with you
three," Whipple sighed. "Shame about
"Shame about
Ramirez," Gabriel replied.
Whipple grunted in thanks..
Her horns tingling, Sophie
caught Kasumi's eye and nodded. "Well, I should go and report to
Mother."
"Agent, give the Captain
my best." Kasumi ordered,
***************
Roughly between
Intended to serve as a place
for medical evacuation helicopters to land and to stage forest firefighter
crews, it had a couple of basic support shacks, plowing equipment, and access
to many of the trails and roads in the area.
Several vehicles had already
parked around the helipad and many of the buildings were in use. The location
was designed as a prepositioning area and was the closest to the breakthrough
point.
One of the CH-146 helicopters
spooled up its engines and began to take off. Strapped into a seat, Major
Wellwood Ellis Sifton ran a hand through his buzzed-short hair and looked at
the map on his tablet. It was typical of this part of
The area of interest was in Addington
Highlands a sprawling township of
over a thousand square kilometers and hardly twenty-five hundred people. A
contour plot overlaid the map showing the results of scanner sweeps with the
more powerful helicopter borne equipment. It looked like a topographical map of
rolling hills dominated by a narrow cliff-like mesa in the center.
The Major sighed and looked
out the open door as the wind rushed past him. Trees and water flashed below
him as the helicopter closed in on the breakthrough point. He shared the troop
compartment with three other soldiers. Two were on the radios while one, who
was not under his command, sat with her back to him and looked out the opposite
door.
"Lieutenant Hill reports
that the roadblocks are secure," Corporal Green said. Her voice came in
over their headsets which dampened the engine noise and reduced the need to
shout, somewhat.
Sifton nodded. The map was
clear, the nearest paved road was ten kilometers away, but there was a trail
that ran pretty close. "Right. Has Sergeant MacDowell reported?"
"Yes, Sir. So far no
vehicle or... other tracks," Sergeant Brummet reported.
"Good," Sifton gave
a relieved nod. Sergeant Billy MacDowell and his team had been ordered to check
the trail for any signs of recent traffic.
"If something got
through, they may not have used that trail to leave," the demon stated.
Her voice resonant in spite of the electronic distortion and rotor noise.
"That's not my only
concern." From earlier reports, Sifton knew the trail was too small for trucks
and cars to pass, but it looked like ATVs and motor bikes would be able to use
it. There were already plans to widen the trail; Sifton knew the higher ups
would want to truck in plenty of heavy equipment to the Site.
The demon turned around to
face him. Her deep purple eyes studied the officer for a moment. "Ah, a
witness." Ranma nodded. "Troubling that."
"Any advice on how to
deal with that?" the major asked, feeling slight distaste. Intimidating average
citizens into shutting up did not appeal to him. At least the "brisk"
interrogation methods were reserved for
the enemy, what comfort that was, and
then there was the Fifth's... dietary concerns.
The succubus shrugged.
"Not my area. Check for recording devices and all that. Though the longer
time passes the more chance someone'll upload anything strange."
He nodded. Video footage was
the worst way to get outed. He recalled an operation in
"Colonel Edwards or Sis-
Captain Jarvis are the ones to talk to. The way they say it you've got two
options. It's either crappy footage and you can have someone dismiss it out of
hand, or if it's too good you can have someone come out and claim it's viral
marketing."
"Really?" Brummet
skeptically asked.
Sifton shared his
subordinate's feelings. He doubted you could pass off a botched firefight as a
movie, not when there was a shot-up dorm and a lecture-hall leveled by a
improvised bomb.
"I know; it's cold and
crazy." Ranma nodded at their expressions. "It helps if it looks
outlandish, and then release your own footage 'proving' it's a fake. Course the
key part is to make sure no one's got any hard evidence," the demon
shrugged. "Not my thing, really."
The helicopter banked and as
the clearing came into view the crew compartment hushed. Though the noise of
the engines and the pilot and co-pilot ensured there was nothing even close to
silence. Sifton saw the demon's pensive, focused expression and noted that the
pilots had also taken a wide curve around the Site itself.
Oblong and the size of a
smallish farm, the marshy clearing was half a square kilometer and covered with
lumps of dry land.
Stepping behind the
door-mounted Dillon Aero minigun, Sifton jumped off followed by the demon and
the two JTF2 soldiers. Slinging their FAL's over their shoulders, each hefted a
large plastic equipment crate and carried them two handed. The Major noticed
that Ranma followed behind two, and kept a careful eye about her.
Stepping onto the ground she
seemed to brighten for a moment, as if the dirt and grass itself was a
pick-me-up; the ground itself seemed to lighten as if a break in the clouds
just opened up. Then, inhaling deeply, she looked towards the Site. Her face
clouded and her eyes hardened.
Seeing that her tail was held
out long and straight behind her, Sifton expected the demon to have good
situational awareness, but he did note that she constantly looked to the
eastern side of the clearing.
Walking east, they crossed a
bit of marshy terrain and met up with Sergeant MacDowell who had had his squad
dig into the back side of a hill that faced the Site. Scanners were up and
pointed towards the blackened spot of ground at the edge of the clearing. Other
pieces of equipment were also unpacked and pointed in the same direction.
Sifton saw the demon put her
arm to the bow-like collection of sheathed antennas on her chest. He could
almost feel a slight vibration as she activated her personal jammer.
"Sergeant. Status?" Sifton asked, giving a nod as he crouched next to
the squad behind the somewhat excavated hillside.
"Sir, the situation....
it's weird." MacDowell returned the gesture and motioned towards the Site,
which lay down the opposite side of the hill less than hundred and fifty meters
away.
Ranma gave a little smile at
the lack of saluting. She had also crouched down and studied the Site with
narrowed eyes. Her nostrils flared as she sniffed the air.
Sifton caught her expression
with a shrug. His attention returned to the broad-shouldered very muscular
trooper next to him. "Weird? You'll have to narrow it down, boy."
"Whole place is wrong.
We're not picking up anything new, but the mercs are right," MacDowell
nodded at the demon. "Something bad broke through here." The sergeant
looked over to his support team with a somewhat relieved smile.
A bit down the line of cover,
Corporal Jon Jones had the 87mm recoilless rifles at hand while Corporal
Bishop, carried the pack full of High Explosive Dual Purpose shells with a
couple unpacked and ready for loading.
Sergeant Billy MacDowell's
team was trained to specialize in reconnaissance. That meant they got first
crack at the mercenaries' fancy and balky electronics. However, the large man
had found some of WIC's advice quite agreeable and made sure his men were
qualified for the Carl Gustav recoilless rifle and that the section had at
least one signed out at all times.
He had also volunteered to
have the furniture on his team's C2A1's modified to allow rails and other
equipment mounted on. Which allowed for the subsequent volunteering that
allowed M203 40mm grenade launchers to be mounted under the barrels of their
7.56 NATO firing FALs.
He was a fan of reconnaissance
in force, and on days like this his men's griping about the weight of their
equipment seemed most worth it.
The fall air was crisp, but
there was a sharp, almost decaying undertone to the air. Sifton frowned.
"You kept a quarantine?"
MacDowell raised an eyebrow.
"Sir, my men only got as close as Lieutenant Hill ordered. We let the
drones do over-flight."
Feeling his men's unease,
Sifton translated that into: "We obeyed the letter of the order as far as
you'll know and kept our Carl G trained on that stupid burned stump the whole
time."
Sifton looked over and caught
the demon's eye. Her tail had begun to curl near the tip and her wings were
pulled in close. The Albertan had grown up on a ranch and found the body
language familiar enough. "Something really did break through here?"
Ranma blinked. She inhaled and
shook her head. "No, if it did your men would already be shooting, but
something did happen here." Her eyes caught the Site: a roughly circular
patch of burned grass, burnt trees and dried dirt. "Maybe a breakthrough
would have been better."
Major Sifton resumed looking
at the Site. It was a bare hundred and fifty meters away. There were no birds,
no insects, no animals. No sight or sound, but the helicopters could account
for that. With a greasy, queasy feeling the major realized he was glad for
that. The idea of being in this clearing alone without the helicopters and
their guns and rockets, without their noise, without his men... all alone
filled him with dread.
"How small have the men
been split up?" he asked MacDowell.
"Assault groups,
sir." MacDowell nodded in understanding. "I wanted to keep us in
section size, but the LT overruled.
"Good. No one splits up
into fire teams unless combat requires it, and don't ever split up alone."
He then clicked on his radio and repeated the order to Lieutenant Hanna Hill.
"Yes, I agree two groups
of four will cover the trail faster than one group of eight," Sifton
sighed. "But you're not sitting out in a bog staring at a little patch of
burnt ground feeling like you're about to be invaded. Keep your men together as
much as possible." He clicked off the transmit button.
The demon gave an approving
nod.
Setting up another bit of
scanning equipment, Sergeant Brummet glanced at Corporal Lily Green. Being two
troopers, they were a fire team, half
of an assault group, that had been detached from another section. Lilly shrugged
and powered on the equipment. There were worse places to get stuck.
Sifton conferred with
MacDowell for a bit and looked at the updated sensor feed form one of the
Sergeant's men. There was nothing new. The Site was... wrong, but at least it
did not seem active. He moved back to the demon who would have seemed fixated
on the ashen spot if she had not kept occasionally looking to the sides, back,
and above. "This isn't quite your thing is it Red?"
The demoness tilted her head.
"Oh?" she asked with a hint of irritation.
"No offense intended, but
you're normally called in when something goes wrong. You told me you don't do
cover-ups, and I'm guessing you don't do over-watch or recon. Though I can't
blame you for getting tweaked out here."
Sifton turned back to the
Site. "I don't have your fancy powers and even I'm getting tweaked out
here." He turned to MacDowell and each of the men (and women) in his
section. "Good work, Sergeant, you have a strong team to keep it together
alone out here."
Ranma waited for the MacDowell
and his troops to awkwardly take the praise. Corporals Jones and Bishop, the
recoilless rifle team seemed particularly embarrassed. Once the major had
returned to giving her his partial attention, while keeping the bulk on the
Site, the scanner feed, and his radio, Ranma cleared her throat.
"You're right." She
shrugged. "I don't really do that other stuff. I've been branching out
into training, but my main job is to kill whatever stupid things've decided to
cause trouble."
"A trigger-puller, eh?
Ranma glanced down at her
single SSP. The massive fifty caliber handgun was slung in a great holster
strapped to her right hip that was longer than the Kevlar-sheathed plates of
her skirt armor.
"Metaphorically,"
Sifton explained; he knew Red tended to rarely use firearms. Apparently, at the
distances she normally worked at her innate powers were more than suitable.
The demoness chuckled. She
flexed a black gloved hand. "Yeah, I suppose that's right."
Sifton nodded. He then turned
away to check in on his radio. When he turned back the demon was still
pensively looking out into the distance.
"Questions?" he
asked.
She gave a slight smile.
"I suppose you're not the only ones getting training today."
Sifton recalled the
conversation the demon had with Colonel Edwards before leaving. "Being
groomed for command then?"
The demoness shrugged.
"The Fifth Non
Human," Sifton stated. The wind picked up and some of the taller weeds
began to wave across the clearing. He looked at her and realized how young the
woman actually was. Despite her demeanor, she could not have been older than a
"It is my brood,"
Ranma shrugged. "It's my responsibility."
Looking at his troops, Sifton
nodded.
"Which is more than just
trigger-pulling."
"Command does that."
Sifton glanced at a display screen. The... effect of the Site seemed contained.
"Have you started budgets and procurement paperwork yet?"
"Only a bit..." The
redhead sighed. "It's scary to realize how expensive all this stuff
is," she said sweeping her arms to encompass the helicopters, equipment,
and weapons.
Sifton simply nodded. Even the
black areas of JTF2 and the Canadian Special Operations Forces Command newly
entrusted with defending the Dominion against other-worldly threats were nickel
and dimed. The hard part was not getting approval to do operations, but
justifying the expenses after the fact.
"You won't do the actual
billing?" Sifton asked.
"Hmm?" Ranma
blinked.
"The bills you guys send
us."
The demon gave a tiny wince
but quickly regained her composure. "Ah, no. I don't do that. It'll just
be the internal budget. The rest-" She shrugged. "That's above my
pay-grade."
Sifton nodded. At least the
demon gave no excuses: there was no defense or explaining away the cost of the
Company's services, or even that they were a mercenary army operating on
Canadian soil.
The clearing grew quiet as the
wind picked up in gusts and bursts. "Though I do agree with the Colonel's
and the Commander's push to bring you guys in on this," Ranma admitted.
Looking at the Site, Sifton
recalled the comments about artillery and fighter bomber support.
"Yeah."
"At least things aren't
too bad here. And you did coordinate with the 425TH Tactical."
Sifton nodded. CFB Bagotville
was about 700km away. And the combat radius for an CF18 was only 540km.
However, if things were dire enough that the Canadians needed to bomb
themselves, the jet could simply land at an
He turned from the succubus to
the Site. It was easy to calculate the threat escalation ladder. After the
fighter-bombers came progressively heavier payloads until... well until Colonel
Stillwater's comments about
The officer exhaled. He turned
to see the demon's pensive expression grow more concerned and thoughtful.
The demon glared at the Site.
Her stomach lurched but she made her decision. "I'd like to try my Sailor
Earth getup."
"The... uniform you wore
before we left?" Sifton delicately asked.
Ranma gave a slightly
embarrassed nod. "Yeah... that one."
***************
Eve stepped into the
observation room with all three of her daughters at her heel. Major Saotome
looked up with a smile. She knew they were coming. In a room such as this it
would be hard to miss, though much of the take was encrypted and sent to their
A Facility downtown. "Please, come in," Nodoka stated to her... elder
daughter.
The room was a cinderblock box
with some monitors bolted to the walls while several sat on the few metal
tables that also held workstations and some radio equipment. Feed from several
of the cameras and microphones that were spread throughout the training base
were being displayed. One of the technicians, a small woman with mousy brown
hair, was watching the access gates and perimeter detectors. Another, a fidgeting
man with a shaved head and russet-colored skin, was on over-watch duty. While
the last, a taller blonde-haired woman, was observing the Pattern Silvers.
Scanner data was fed into supplemental windows that complemented the video and
auditory take.
The blocky core to a Wasserfall long range pattern scanner sat
in one corner of the room with one antennea array taking up half of a wall
while thick cables sprouted from the top of the device connecting it to a
larger array that had been mounted on the roof of an adjacent building.
There was a Thiel grade
inter-dim jammer at work. Concealed by the same dark green steel plate box as
the Wasserfal, the jammer looked much the same as the rest of the equipment.
Its control pannel was slightly different, but it could easilly pass as a
battery backup or even a generator.
To human eyes at least. For
demons and others sensitive to such things the vibrations it produced were
different than those of a scanner, and set Eve's teeth on edge and made her
horns tingle. She knew that this was only one of several devices, another was
secured in a guarded power vault that had been constructed to company specifications.
As the demons entered, Morgan
angled her immense rifle to clear the doorway then kept it angled down towards
the floor. Thus, while she held to Rule Number Two, her gun did fire a 25mm
grenade which would cause some damage
no matter where it was pointed. Albeit shrapnel would be far less damaging than
a direct hit. However, she also held to Rule Number Three and kept her finger
indexed alongside the frame well outside the trigger guard.
Eve and Morrison simply kept
their sidearms holstered and in Morrison's case her 17mm Pug was slung over her
left shoulder muzzle facing down. Sophie slipped next to her mother and gave
the taller demoness a quick but heartfelt hug.
Morrison unclipped a portable
scanner from her uniform's harness. It was a larger version of the Kaskade
series normally worn by members of the 5th.
It was actually identical to
the model used by analysts such as Jarred Dirac, who Morrison handed the device
to. He had a laptop out and was making notes on the recordings he had made
earlier in the day. He had expected to record Miss Tsukino and later the other
Pattern Silvers using their powers. Being able to track the activation and
ascension of a new Senshi was something else entirely.
"What do you think of
today's training?" Nodoka asked, stepping towards the blonde demoness. The
room was large enough to hold eight people comfortably, and that was before the
machinery and equipment was brought in, though that was about it.
Eve glanced at the security
monitors then back to Nodoka. "Well, given what preceded it..."
Worry clouding her face,
Nodoka exhaled. "That is an issue, but let's talk capabilities. I didn't
expect the symbiotic armor to be discarded so easily."
Eve raised an eyebrow.
"Yes, I know. It would
seem that Miss Meiou has been pushing Miss Tsukino more. That's not what I'm
asking about. How was she today?"
"How is the leader of this new team my daughter's got herself tangled up
with?" Eve mentally translated. "She has potential. It's
interesting; Miss Tsukino has an odd type of stubbornness. For big things she
won't ever give up, but the little things... she'll let them slide."
"Big things are made out
of little things. You screw up on the small stuff the whole thing will
fail." Doctor Nodoka Saotome scoffed in the way only an engineer could.
Materials science was all about precision and process. For her, a little
screw-up meant that someone's armor, arms or ammunition could fail, and that
would get people, the wrong people, killed.
"Yes Ma'am," Eve
agreed. "Basically, she's willing to die for what she believes in, but
she's less willing to wake up early and work her ass off for what she believes
in."
"And my daughter, your
sister, has decided to become... closer with her?"
Eve pulled back her lips and
gave a toothy smile that did not reach her eyes. "Ranma is an excellent
motivator and a demanding teacher."
Nodoka nodded, reassured
slightly. "So, how did you fare as her teacher?"
"You didn't watch?"
Eve asked.
The scientist gave a slight
smile. "Your impression?"
"She's afraid of failure,
afraid of what she did. I don't think she wants to disappoint her friends, or
Ranma."
"And the Pattern readings?"
"We'll have to see what
Morrison picked up," Eve said as she stepped over to give her daughter a
hug.
The green-haired succubus
smiled and leaned back.
Looking over Dirac's shoulder,
Nodoka gave a thoughtful murmur. Miss Tsukino was the Pattern Silver. Every other Senshi was... degraded in some way.
Even going from Sailor DarkStar to Sailor Earth was a mere refinement for her
daughter.
Eve looked back. "You're
concerned about the timing too?"
"Miss Meiou was content
to leave Miss Tsukino concealed inside a golden golem, until we get probed by
an exo-dimensional force, and then she abandons that plan. I can see her
adjusting her plans in light of a new threat, but I am concerned with how much
Miss Meiou knows, and her intentions." Nodoka frowned. "At least
Sailor Earth has caught her by surprise."
"There is that. Miss
Meiou was most agreeable with our plans. Although...." Eve shook her head
and then glanced at the data Dirac had downloaded from Morrison's scanner.
"She seemed to just go along with today's makeover fun."
Nodoka nodded, seemingly
distracted by her thoughts.
Eve turned; she could feel the
other woman's state, see her apprehension. The succubus hesitated then cleared
her throat. "Mother? Is this... Earth situation that bad?"
Leaning to the side, Nodoka
saw Eve's tail was hanging limply. "Oh Eve," she stepped forward and
put her arms around Eve and the blonde's daughters. Morgan shifted her rifle
before giving a bit of a purr.
"Mother?" Eve
repeated as she nuzzled the older woman.
Nodoka looked at the taller
woman and patted her on the head. "No, it's not just Sailor Earth. It's
not Miss Meiou and the recon sweep either."
Eve held her tongue. Silence
was often easier, and allowed her to concentrate on the other woman's emotions.
"I know about Miss
RedStorm, Dear." Nodoka said chidingly. "The Colonel briefed me,
before Ranma, which I'm not sure I agree with."
"BlackSky then?" Eve
asked, eying the monitoring crew.
"Yes, I do wonder what
she has planned." Nodoka's voice hardened. "Everyone wants something
from Ranma." She sighed.
Eve shivered at that.
"You would make-" the blonde paused. "You should talk to
BlackSky then. One matriarch to another."
Nodoka pondered the slip of
the tongue. "Is everything okay with you? You did have to let Ranma... go
today."
"Her going off to train
with JTF2 will be good for her."
Nodoka tilted her head.
"She needs to expand her
command experience." Eve stated. "That's not what you meant is
it?"
"You're not just talking about
Major Sifton are you?"
"She can handle Miss
Tsukino. We shouldn't be the only ones worried that we've got in over our
heads."
Nodoka shook her head
slightly.
"If she has... feelings
for Miss Tsukino, then she should explore them, before she gets hurt." Eve
returned to look at the monitors. Specifically, the camera recording Usagi and
Kiri. After Ranma had left Usagi had changed to her Serenity form. She sat on a
metal stool under the shower as Kiri washed her long silver hair. Kiri then turned off the water and took a
comb and started combing out the long wet hair.
Nodoka exhaled. "You
believe that?"
"It's Ranma's choice, but
if Miss Tsukino hurts her, we will take care of her," Eve gave her
daughters a squeeze. She continued to watch the feed. Maya had turned on the
audio channel; Kiri was lecturing, giving an after-action debriefing.
Nodoka nodded.
"What about BlackSky?
Sending another one of her granddaughters is a strong signal," Eve
reminded as Morrison and Morgan snaked out of their mother's embrace.
"But not a clear
one," Nodoka frowned. "Miss RedStorm was born on earth, and is a
Company contractor."
"That is a message. I'm
sure... grandmother has plenty of heirs that she could have sent from her
Homeplane empire. However speculation only gets us so far."
"Yes." Seeing Eve's
pensive expression, Nodoka gave her another hug. "We could always be
proactive about this."
Eve turned to face the
monitors and Nodoka followed. They looked at the screen displaying the mess
hall, the Senshi, and the rest of the brood.
Looking at her granddaughters,
Nodoka gave a little sigh.
"You should spend more
time with them," Eve added. Again
she looked to the monitors. Still
sitting on her stool, Usagi was now wearing a white towel over her torso, and Kiri
had finished drying off her hair. Obviously enjoying herself, the serene,
younger looking, green haired woman
began styling the Queen's silver hair.
Once the large twin odangos with their long
ponytails were in place, Kiri presented Usagi
with a mirror, the Queen smiled and
hugged Kiri. Then the two left the room
and the monitor was switched to a different camera to continue tracking.
"We just had that day off
together," Nodoka stated. Her eyes went to Serenity and Kiri. She paused,
remembering sitting next to Miss Tsukino on the bed. "You're right. I'll
do my best."
Eve nodded. "That is all
we can do." She turned to her own daughters and gave a smile.
"But I can do more,"
Nodoka said a bit sharply. "You're right; we need to know more about BlackSky's
plans. I should talk with her," the scientist paused. "I can do
that."
"And the Commander, the
Colonel?" Eve asked.
"I can present my case to
them, they understand the risks. Colonel Edwards has met BlackSky." Nodoka
gave Eve another hug. "My daughter... my daughters, you have enough
complications in your lives. But..." her eyes flickered to the monitor.
"But what is one more."
Eve purred. "Is it that
simple?"
"BlackSky cares for her
long lost granddaughter. She wants to make sure she is loved and taken care of.
I can show her that I'm fulfilling my duties."
***************
Major Sifton took MacDowell's
offered binoculars and studied the burned stumps and logs from the Site. He
briefly wondered about the cause of the burning at the breach location, and how
long it would take to get a robot to go over and take soil samples. "That
uniform. It's... cute. May I ask why?"
"Nicely put." Ranma
chuckled. She flexed her tail. "I think, I'm more... in tune with my
powers, I've got a stronger feeling of connection with things." The demon
shrugged. "I just activated them today. This is the first chance in the
field."
"More sensitive
then?" Handing the binoculars back, Sifton nodded. "Are you sure you
want to see this thing with stronger senses?"
"No," the demon
immediately replied. "But... I should try anyway."
Sifton kept his expression
neutral. He felt in over his head, but at least so did these mercenaries, and
looking at the Site did not reassure him. They needed more information on what
had happened here. "Do it."
"Let's see if I can do
this without the whole song and dance," Ranma said as she swayed her hips.
Whispering to herself, she tapped her forehead and a bright green glow began to
emanate from the spot. It flashed over, spreading rapidly across her body.
Obscured in green light, her gray-green armored vest began to shift while her
pleated Kevlar-sheathed plate skirting began to flow down.
Brightening from red into a
shiny pink, her hair parted down the middle, wrapped around the large horns on
either side of her head, and began to braid itself into twin ponytails. The
dark green jammer "bow" shrank and turned into a tiny crimson silk
bow that moved from the center of her chest to above her left breast.
A matching red bow blossomed
at the base of her spine, and ribbons spiraled out from it to encase and
conceal her tail. Heavy boots transmuted over into dainty silver hooves with
red leather spats adorned with golden crescent moons.
Her height shrank down as the
green glow diminished revealing a dainty looking demoness with a delicate
youthful face. She had cute little green bows on her braids, pointed ears, and
claws. Her eyes had gone from purple to turquoise with a purple rim around her
now silted pupils.
Softly smiling with her pink
lips, she gave a little bow which dipped her hips in something like a curtsy.
The maneuver was enhanced by the long blue skirt to her modestly demure blue
and green-trimmed seifuku. Rising back up to her diminutive height, she shook
her coiled tail back and forth as it began to spiral in on itself.
She looked at herself and gave
a smirk. "I do make a pretty lunar demon," Sailor Earth said to
herself.
"It makes sense that
you'd be like them... the others I mean." Sifton noted that the demon's
jewelry was not quite the same as before. She still had the tiara and earrings,
but the choker was absent leaving her neck bare.
"Yes Major." The
demoness' expression became more reserved. "It's a true shame I didn't see
that earlier."
Lilly Green turned to Brummet who just
shrugged. "What?" he quietly asked after another prodding. "We
saw her change outta that getup before we left."
"Yeah, but this isn't
exactly the place to go around dressed for high tea with the queen," Green
replied as she adjusted the power supply for the scanner Brummet had lugged
over from the helicopter.
"Well?" Sifton
asked, echoing his subordinate's concerns. "Do you have a deeper
connection in this form?"
Facing the Site, Earth nodded.
Her senses expanded out and she could feel the buzzing of life in the clearing
as the energies vibrated against her horns. The rich almost peaty smell of the
ground rose up to meet her nose and clashed with the crisp smell of the newly
turning leaves, the strong sharp odors of the troopers, and the flat scents of
their equipment. However, pulsing beneath it all was the rank, almost wrong
scent and... presence of the Site.
Feeling light headed, she
realized that starting out as Earth in the company of the Senshi and her brood
was a wise move. As powerful as the connections were, they were at least
familiar and known quantities.
She blinked and nodded.
"Yeah, I've... well I can feel more, and it's just.... wrong. It's like a
spill. A bit of their reality leaked into ours."
Sifton watched as the little
demon seemed to drink in the air, and angle her head as if she could get better
reception by tilting those giant buns on her head. "Is it still
leaking?"
"I don't think so."
The demoness looked down at her swaying braids.
Sifton raised an eyebrow.
The blonde and pink haired
demoness tugged at one of the ponytails. She looked down at the green bow at
the end and nodded to herself. "I'm gonna try something." Her eyes
closed and the emerald set in her gold tiara glowed and was matched by twin
pairs of bows on her braids.
Her eyes opened and for a
moment her silted pupils widened in shock
"Red?" Sifton asked,
noting that his men were watching with interest and... caution.
Staring at the site and
turning her head, Earth's lip quivered, "Oh those bastards... ruining my
home."
Watching the demon tilt her
head, Sifton could almost catch sight bits of green flecks that moved from the
green bow at the bottom of each braids to the green bows at the top. He noted
that the braids went straight into large horn-like buns on either side of her
head. "They're related to your horns?" he asked. "Like... adding
a longer antennae to a radio receiver?"
"My Dear Major, that's
exactly what they are." Earth smiled. Looking back at the site, her
expression soured. She then turned her attention from the burned stumps and
grass back to the shallow muddy trench she stood in. Her silver hooves were
already covered in grime and splashes of dirt were on her red spats and the hem
of her dress.
"You keep upping your
sensitivity... here of all places?"
The little demoness nodded.
"The hole was small and only open for an instant but... the other side...
a taint spilled through and has soured this place." Irritation flashed and
she looked down. "The dirt itself rejects the intrusion."
"Are we safe? Are our
scanners right? Did anything get through?"
"I don't feel... here. If
something got through it's gone. Everything in the clearing is from this
world." Her tail curling into a tighter coil, she nodded. "But I
would adhere to the quarantine protocols. And watching from here would be no
fun." A silver-tipped claw tapped her chin.
Sifton and his men watched as
the little demon pulled up her skirt a little bit and knelt down on her knees.
Her long skirt fanned out a bit, exposing the green hose above the spats to her
hooves. Twin braids fell to the ground and seemed to sparkle with a green
light. Her tail also went limp and curled onto the ground. Spreading her little
silver wings, she bent forward and planted her long, white-gloved hands onto
the muddy dirt.
"What are you
doing?"
"I can feel. I'm seeing
what I can do," Earth said as she closed her eyes.
"Sir?" MacDowell
asked.
"Let her be," Sifton
ordered but he still motioned for Jones and Bishop to be ready with their Carl
Gustav and that Green and Brummet were off their line but still had their
rifles ready.
Heat pulsed out from the
demon's hands and tiny licks of green and violet flames poked out from the wet
ground. Like a billows she breathed in and out in deep steady breaths.
Major Sifton then saw that
snaking lines of heat were coming from the demon's braids, tail, and knees.
Wherever she contacted the ground the... whatever spread from. Steam began to
puff up and was replaced by lines of running water as the ground started to
dry.
The breathing deepened
becoming labored as the wall of the hill started to gently heat and dry. Then,
weeping water, the dirt began to pulse. With each breath the wall in front of
them rose a few centimeters. It was slow, plodding work, and made slower each time
the rising was stopped when the wall sank back down as the layers compacted.
Even the sandbags MacDowell's section had emplaced shrank and hardened becoming
something like bricks or rocks in the growing wall.
Gasping, the demoness let out
a quick almost maniacal giggle and then resumed her steady breathing, though
this time bearing a broad, smug grin.
"Damn, this is...
somethin' else,eh?" Brummet noted.
Green raised an eyebrow.
"Four of us with shovels could outpace her," she flatly stated.
"Pretty though."
Sifton had to move his men
back and prod them to keep them from watching the slow but steady growth. It
was after the second rotation of men and fifth minute the he noticed Corporal
Green's comment. He looked down and saw green shoots spreading around the
kneeling demoness.
Unlike the slow steady work on
the now waist-high and lengthening wall, the green grass quickly spread out
popping up in the rich moist earth and growing into thick carpet-like turf as
they watched.
"It's magic, damn
magic," Bishop muttered as he glanced back at the manicured lawn that was
growing into place.
"You were okay with their
super strength and fireballs?" Jones reminded.
"That's not...
this..." Bishop exhaled and rested the tube of the Carlo on the upper surface of the wall.
Crenellations with firing ports were even starting to slowly, slowly rise into
place.
Sifton shifted his feet as the
first shoots met his boots. He gave a slightly embarrassed shuffle. The growth
might be unnaturally fast, but it still took time to fill in. "Damn... can
all of you do this?"
"You have to have a...
" Earth paused to breathe a few times. "A connection to life and...
the planet." She resumed her work and the wall finished forming. It had
stopped rising and instead had thickened and lengthened, forming a gentle arc
that was waist-high on one side and a bare hand height on the side facing the
Site. The ends curled in to give positions to protect against flanking and the
ground on the inside was gently stepped with thick soft grass and sections that
could serve as seats in a pinch.
Sifton noted with some relief
that the "upgrades" were limited in area and hardly got more than
five meters from where the demoness knelt. He keyed into his radio to update
his, and her, status.
Letting her labored breath
calm down, Earth drew back in her magic and the fires dampened and she rose
back to her hooves. Now her spats, gloves, and skirt were spotless. Opening her
eyes, she bowed her head to Sifton and then gave a deeper bow at the waist to
the rest of the Canadian troopers. "How's this for a start, Major?"
she asked with a playful smirk.
"It's something,"
Sifton shook his head the position was almost... livable. Though once the trail
in was opened up proper buildings and concrete could be poured in. Sifton
frowned, fully realizing that the Site would have to be watched and guarded
from this point forward.
The diminutive succubus then
blinked and looked at the miniature park she had created. "Oh wow,"
she gave a few deep breaths and blinked again at her heart-rate. It was still
elevated. "How long?"
"Call it ten
minutes," MacDowell stated looking at his watch. "And demons can do
this?"
Sailor Earth sat down on one
of the "seats". She could just see the Site from her vantage point.
Worry crossed her face. " Mako-chan could do it, she's got power over
plants... for moving the dirt... maybe if she were on her world. Though if
that's true then Usagi could move moon rocks." She crossed her legs and
her right hoof nervously kicked at the knee.
Major Sifton sat down next to
her and placed his hand on her knees. "This really is something amazing
you did."
"I just feel a...
connection you know? Like this is my world, it's like how I can feel my
family." Earth exhaled. "Sorry."
Sifton gave a quick laugh.
"Compared to that," he pointed to the Site. "This is a little
bit of
Giving a silly smile, the
demoness shook her head. The glow on her green bows faded and she blinked a few
times. Her face drew more serious. "Wow, now I know why our horns are
normally so small." She stretched her neck.
Sifton handed her a canteen.
"How you feeling?"
After taking a long drink from
the canteen, the demon gave a flat expression at odds with her adorable accoutrements.
"Like I laid some sod right after digging out a hill and laying a
foundation." She flexed her fingers. "Least my hands aren't aching.
Sweet of you to ask." She chuckled and gave Sifton a peck on the cheek
before standing back up.
***************
Sitting on a bench in
However, her attention was
primarily on the large building on the opposite side of the canal. The target
was a beige, roughly twenty story building consisting of three rectangular
blocks. There were two towering blocks anchoring either end of a longer and
shorter mid-section.. Even stranger the whole thing seemed to be on stilts.
There was even a road that went under the center of the complex.
It was barricaded and closed.
Which showed that the Canadians had some sense at least. On the other hand,
there were several boats tied up on the canal right next to the building
itself.
She ran a hand though her
short pixie-cut hair. The sun was high and the air was cool. The fence around
the building was short and there were hardly any guards posted outside. She
extended her senses and hit an immense vibrating wall.
Looking at the Major-General
George R Pearkes building, the combat-cyborg nodded slightly. There was another
example of them being sensible. It seemed that inter-dim jammers were required
around these parts. Though having such a device was a target in and of itself.
Trying her systems, Shest ran
a diagnostic. She was careful to limit her output. Not for fear of attracting
the mercenaries, she was over five hundred kilometers away from
A few seconds after she had
completed her scan her companion cleared his throat. "You know there's a
mall right across the street from it?" He was a large man with a strong
chin and brutish features. This was enhanced by the hideous grey-green plaid
suit with big shoulders and a wide paisley tie. His hair was dark and greased
and hung in a long mop that showed more evidence of combing and care than
should be possible given the result.
The whole ensemble hurt to
look at and to Shest's eyes was even more horrible for how it actually matched.
The grid of the plaid lines was not fully orthogonal and would cause distorted
patterns. The whorls and dots on his tie were disturbingly suggestive. Even the
mint-green pin stripes on his cream shirt seemed to bend and double back.
Looking at the hired-gun,
Shest suppressed a shiver. Many would say this was man who did not know how to
dress himself. Shest knew nothing could be further from the truth. Mal de Veste
was a man who knew exactly what he was doing when he got up in the morning and
picked out his wardrobe.
"Why? You want to do some
shopping before we go? Maybe see if we can pick the item up in the appliance
section?" Shest asked. "They don't sell those things next to toasters
you know."
"Well no. Just
you..." Mal gestured to the long white sweater and loose pants Shest wore
over her red and grey bodysuit.
"Do not dare to criticize
my fashion sense," Shest stated, her cheeks reddening slightly. There was
a sliver of embarrassment as she had to admit she had dressed more for ease of
ditching her street-clothes than anything else.
Mal was nonplused. "Ah. Don't
have time anyway. Just wanted to make sure you had no problems with the
natives..."
"Yes, they speak your
language here," Shest eyed the man. He had a large alligator-skin
briefcase on his knees. Which was, depressingly, the least garish part of his
ensemble.
"My language?" Mal
asked without a trace of French in his accent. He rolled his shoulders and
adjusted the fit of the shoulder holster for his VZ 52. One advantage of a
custom tailored suit was allowances for such things.
If anything to Shest's ear his
clipped English sounded a bit more Germanic than anything else. However the
man's pseudonym was obvious enough. "Yes, your language."
"Please, this provincial
backwoods gutter-snipe of a pidgin is..." de Veste shook his head. "I
suppose it could be worse. If these were
Frenchmen then they would be under the English Queen... unacceptable. Besides,
right here we're not even in
"That is not part of our
mission."
"Our mission." Mal
grunted. "We are each part of a smaller whole. Brick by brick we will complete
our mission. Good thing too. The call has gone out and they rise." He
looked down at his gold ring with its shining stone. "Have you prepared
for what is coming?"
Like most of her comrades,
Shest was a lapsed communist. She was still more than wary of religion,
especially, as it unfortunately turned out, of those who worshiped something
that just might be real.
She looked at his face her
brow furrowed in confusion. Like always, his eyes were hidden behind smoked
aviator style glasses. "Are you trying to convert me?"
"Well, I have some
literature." He tapped his briefcase then sadly shook his head. "But
no, finding the right altar would take too long. I guess
"That's not what I
meant." Shest groaned. "I've really got no interest in your
god."
"Ah, but I'm sure she has
an interest in you." Mal leered. "Reciprocity would only be polite.
Your powers... seeing the unseen, ghosting through the walls of reality."
He undid the clasps of his briefcase. "Maybe I should make our case to
you."
"We have a mission.
Galina will be told of this."
"Yes, yes, I wouldn't
respect you if you didn't" Mal dismissively waved his hand. He cleared his
throat and met Shest's skeptical gaze. "Have you ever suspected that
reality is merely a front? That it is nothing more than a creaky, poorly-built
facade. Surely you must have glimpsed the inner workings of the world? Beings
of vast power beyond ours, the pillars and gears and machinery that keeps
things spatially and temporally discreet... and discrete. The universe is a
rusting machine that is grinding itself apart, spitting out parts."
"And you want me to sign
on with the goddess that is going to fix all that?"
"Hah!" Mal shook his
head. "Oh my no... we're all doomed. Those above us have no more ability
to escape their fate than those below us. But we do have a chance for revenge,
and that is what I offer." The brutish man leaned back and lifted the lid
to his briefcase a couple centimeters. "You have been wronged, your
comrades have been wronged. Yes, the world is unfair, the universe is an
uncaring mess but you can still get your pound of flesh."
"No, just no." Shest
slammed her fist onto the briefcase forcing it shut. She returned his gaze and
fought the urge to rip his glasses off and throw them into the canal.
"You're really bad at this whole recruiting thing are you?"
"My god is an eldritch
abomination beyond space and time," the assassin said with all sincerity.
He opened the briefcase a bit more and took a few baseball sized rounded cubes
out. Dark grey and green, he fiddled with the recessed dials on the top of each
before slipping them into his now bulging coat pockets. He then took a leather
shoulder strap out of the briefcase and clipped it to the sides.
Shest suppressed a groan.
"See previous."
"Right, right." Mal
de Veste closed the latches on his briefcase and glanced at his watch.
Shest glanced at the clock on
her heads up display. "We still have time. Or do you propose another
revision to the plan?"
"We can get a head
start," Mal stood and smoothed his coat.
Shest got to her feet and
followed Mal towards the canal. "Mal, don't improvise. If you screw this
up Galina will not be happy."
Mal looked down at the shorter
woman. "I think that's a bit of an understatement." He looked across
the park then back to the target building. "No, if someone screws up on
this, Mademoiselle A'deen will be most creative with her displeasure."
"This has enough
risk." Shaking her head, Shest had reached the path on the far edge of the
canal and leaned on the railing. "I can't believe there's not a better
place. This is their national military headquarters."
"Where else? Mademoiselle
A'deen doesn't want us to raid a mercenary base, or attack those demons. That
leaves the few the Canadians have on proving grounds, labs, or that factory
they're starting up. All of which are on military bases, with infantry, tanks,
and helicopters."
"Yes, I know what
soldiers are. I've been raiding NATO bases since before you started worshiping
gibbering gods."
The man glanced down at the
shorter woman.
"And I'm aware of the
irony that this is the less defended location." She eyed the building
again. The defense in depth was nonexistent, parts of the building butted right
up against the sidewalk.
Mal tapped his chin. "I
suppose we could knock over 24
"No, we're not attacking
the Prime Minister. This is bad enough. At least we know the vast majority of
the people inside won't be armed."
"Exactly. Outside of
battle soldiers tend to be disarmed." Mal smirked. "Thus is dirty
secret of military bases. Consider your own experiences. How often did your
superiors lock up the men's ammunition."
"I hardly think
Mal laughed.
"Not that your research
is wrong," Shest sighed. She had done much the same, at least the West
Germans, back when they existed, would have some semblance of defense on their
rear-bases. "I'd say the West is soft but-"
"Your comrades do much
the same. And I know you have found this situation useful in the past."
Reluctantly, Shest nodded.
"Right, there was this one time we got onto a cruiser... the damn fools
only carried one loaded magazine." She laughed, saw the pattern on his
coat shift, blinked, then looked away.
Mal lifted his nose. "The
British have a saying, lock a Tommy in a room with nothing save for two bowling
balls overnight. In the morning you will find he has lost one and broken the
other."
"Right." Shest's
urge to rip his glasses off and toss them in the water grew. "What's your
point?" she asked as they turned south and began walking towards the
"My point is that the
neo-aristocratic bureaucratic class does not trust the common man. Though the
cultist in me does not find their position terribly disagreeable. After all
this classism will be quite useful for us." He paused and waited for the
intersection to clear before they could cross to the bridge.
Shest shivered, at least the
brute was not directly spouting Marxist theory. "Yeah, yeah, get past the
door, get to the subbasement. Secure the room." Shest narrowed her eyes.
"Just don't improvise. Once they discover us, and they will discover who
we are, it's a matter of when not if we have to make sure we get out before
they run it all the way up the flagpole."
Stopping on their ascent of
the stairs that connected the lane to the bridge, Mal chuckled. "Is that
your real concern? You've had your own... flashes of improvisation."
"Yes, pardon me for being
more afraid of cannibalistic demons than I am of Canadians."
"If I recall a good chunk
of them are Canadian."
Reaching the top Shest looked
around the tree-filled city. They were hardly ten meters higher up but the wind
was sharper here, and the traffic over the bridge was faster. They stuck to the
sidewalk and began to cross.
"And as you said small
arms. Unless you screw up royally, worst I'll face is some 223 caliber. It's
not like they'll bring in heavy weapons. And hitting a small, mobile,
supernatural target with anything bigger? Not happening," Shest assured.
That was their advantage, they were too heavily armored for small arms, and too
mobile to be pinned down by heavy arms.
They paused on the mid-span of
the bridge. Ostensibly, this was for her to call back to base and to see if
there was any chatter from the city's emergency bands. At the same time Mal...
she looked over and saw the man staring off to the North up the length of the
canal. Though his smoky sunglasses, she could just make out a shining glint
coming from his eyes.
Turning back to look at the
water, and her heads up display, Shest's fingers twitched. This close to the
target her Deep Diver was blocked, but she had other abilities. Normally, she
would be better contained but the stresses had been piling. In addition to the
parade of death and failure she had been exiled to playing nursemaid and
evac...
Now, now she was stuck on a
milk run with an arrogant French cultist who was trying to convert her to his
crackpot religion and laughing at the demons. Shest allowed a tiny smile, at
least her heartbeat had not risen. She was a combat cyborg, and no matter how
ugly his suit was a blade could still pierce it.
Her hand twitched and she knew
just a bit more motion could release one of her knives. Another motion and she
could risk some of her onboard power and burn a whole through him.
As if hearing something
distant Mal's head slowly tilted to one side.
Shest flexed her fingers; she knew
she had not made a sound. She knew her hand had not gone near the man. Worry
crossed her mind at the possibilities, but Galina knew of Mal, and she would
not be so unwise to bring a reader into their midst.... that is... Shest pushed
her doubts aside and instead tensed herself.
"Ah," he eventually said. "When
Galina first hired me for this mission I was... curious. And while my own
professionalism stays my hand..." Mal made a show of putting his briefcase
onto the ground and clasping the bridge's guardrail with both hands.
He shifted his weight slightly
and grew more irritated . "It does not prevent me from defending myself.
So, please continue. If you are going to ruin this mission, I'd rather you do
it here where my escape will be easier."
"Though I'll confess I
did spend a fair time preparing for this mission and it would be a shame to
waste my efforts," he admitted hefting the briefcase and slinging it over
his shoulder.
"Fine." Shest flexed
her fingers stepped back from the guard rail. "Let's get to work."
"After you," Mal
curtly gestured forward with his arm.
The two resumed their walk and
crossed the bridge. Reaching the eastern shore the two looked to their left and
saw the southern side of the National Defence Headquarters' principal building.
The bridge ran right up against the building and the sidewalk connected
directly to a second story entryway.
The glass doors were set back
from the street under the overhang of the building and behind a fence
consisting of thick metal bars. A gateway in the fence in front of the doors
was open.
A couple of short boxy
concrete bollards rose out of the sidewalk. Bearing no decoration, the stubby
constructs had one purpose: to prevent a vehicle from being able to jump the
sidewalk and crash into the building.
Chained to one of the bollards
were a pair of newspaper dispensers. Mal went up to them and made a show of
deciding between the
As she waited, Shest glanced
through the doors. The security setup was the same as the last couple of times:
tall heavy front desk, no less than four soldiers at least two of whom carried
carbines, metal detectors, and another set of glass doors behind them.
She turned her attention back
to the street. In and of itself, the room would be easy enough to crack, but it
could not be breached quietly. They would be stuck on the wrong end of the
building and have to fight their way down to their true objective.
Tapping her foot, Shest heard
a slam of plastic on plastic and turned back to Mal. Shockingly, he had gone
for the cheap, free actually, independent rag. She eyed the newspaper somewhat
approvingly. At least the ink was not staining Mal's slab-like hands. She
looked at the dispenser itself. Not only did it cost less, being free, but the
dispenser itself was a bit cheaper, and the plastic door was at a slight angle,
easier to jam.
"Anything good?" she
asked, as they briskly continued their eastward walk. She noticed his coat
pocket was less bulky than before and hoped that his tradecraft had held up.
"There's an art showing.
Hmm... oh lovely, Socialist Realism," Mal sarcastically snorted.
Despite herself, Shest found
herself nodding in agreement. "Ah yes. Skillful but unimaginative."
The sidewalk descended as the road lowered from bridge height to street level.
They were on the thin side of the building and quickly walked past its width.
"Finally, some
taste," Mal looked behind him at the retreating building. Now to their
left was a sunken green space with trees and a set of curving concrete benches.
The metal fencing had followed at their side cutting across stairwells and
concrete walls. This indicated that the encirclement was not part of the
original, and more open, design. However, the age of the fence indicated that it
was not a recent addition either.
They reached the intersection
of Laurier and Nicholas. Instead of waiting at the crosswalk they simply turned
north, continuing their circumnavigation of the NDHQ's block. At the corner was
another bit of greenery with grass and a few small bushy trees in boxy
planters. On the way, Mal stopped and used one of the pots to brace his shoe.
After bending down to adjust his loafer he stood back up, his pockets a bit
lighter.
They walked north until they
got to the main entrance. Next to the road was a parallel driveway long enough
to hold a couple busses. Behind that was a boxy security checkpoint. The
driveway alongside it was the same avenue that ran underneath the building.
Shest turned and could see the canal and
The alleyway itself was
blocked with raised barriers on either side of the checkpoint. A parking lot
was to the right side of the squat concrete building while the green space they
had passed earlier lay on the left.
Neither gave this area much
pause. They had already dismissed it as too open and too defensible. Presuming
they took out the guard building, that still left a good twenty meters of open
ground to cover before the headquarters building itself.
The pair soon got to the
corner of Nicholas and the
Walking under the elevated
Two stories tall, the bus
station was a rounded glass growth that clung to the North-eastern tip of the
NDHQ. Going through the lower story Mal paused to throw something out before
the two went up the stairs to the upper level and out the doors to Eastern side
of the
Like the abutment of the
Walking away from the bus
stop, Mal glanced at his watch. Putting something that looked like the
ear-bulbs to a music player on, he looked over to a spot where the building's
wall retreated from the fencing. In the middle of the inset area was a plain
metal door. Thick and with hinges and locks on the inside the door was for
service use only. The matching gate in the fencing was chained shut.
Shest gave the gate a glance and looked at the
timer on her heads up display. She then rechecked the settings on her breathing
system and her low light support displays. A moment later, Mal adjusted the
shoulder strap on his case, nodded, and put his hands at his sides. The two
waited and soon the sounds of screeching cars came from the South. Twenty
seconds later screaming came from the bus station.
Shest caught a glimpse of
panicked people running out the doors and bits of strangely shimmering smoke.
Then Mal gave another nod and she turned back to the target. She only caught a
glimpse of the grayish green smoke that began to billow out of the bus station.
Blades flicked into her hands
and she sliced through the gate's chains and lock in one blow. Eyeing the
alleyway, she tore the gate open and cut though the door. Behind her, Mal faced
the street and stepped backwards. His right hand was already into his coat
while his left went to his belt.
Digging into the doorframe she
wrenched it open. Her feet dug into the sidewalk as the servos in her arms
pulled and warped the door and tore it from the bolts holding it to the frame.
By now the alarms were going off
in earnest. Part of Shest noted that they were at least a few in the distance.
The door came suddenly free, and Shest pulled back on her power to keep it from
slamming open. She could hear shouting on the other side of the door. There was
no shooting, but that could mean the defenders were being patient.
"Clear!" Shest
shouted.
Mal spun on his heel and
sidestepped so he stood to one side of the door. He broke leather and in one
hand was the heavy slab-like frame of his VZ 52 while the other held a small
matte grey cylinder that had been clipped to his belt. Using a free thumb from
his gun hand Mal pulled the pin, held it for a couple seconds, and gave a curt
nod.
Shest pulled the door open a
bit and Mal lobbed the grenade into the brightly light corridor within. The
grenade bounced off a wall and hit the ground. There was some frightened
shouting and then loud, obnoxious pop.
Smoke billowed out, pushing
past the small gap formed by Shest holding the edge of the door. With diffusion
pressure like that, she knew how bad it had to be inside. The cyborg inhaled,
and once again pulled the door open, this time a bit further.
Pulling a fresh grenade, Mal
slipped through the doorway.
The heavy gun barked twice.
The sound would be deafening in the enclosed space; Mal's hot-loaded 7.62x25mm
Tokarev cartridges would push a ninety grain soft tip racing out at over
seventeen thousand feet per second.
Pushing into the corridor,
Shest knew it would only get worse. They had trained, they had practiced, and
the sight before her was still shocking. The entire corridor was filled with
grey and green smoke that hung in the air.
Shifting patterns seemed to
emerge and disperse. The haze would shift in density and suddenly a drunkenly
leaning wall would sidle into view. Even the corners between the ceiling and
the walls would meander about.
Shest felt a pulsing pressure
against her ears and her nose itched with irritation. The true layout of the
corridor flashed onto her heads up display, revealing a wide hallway that was
used for storage and connecting a stairwell to another hallway and a steam
room.
The whole thing drew in the
senses, led them around the corner, then shot them in the back. Switching to
her burner and setting the torch onto a longer beam, she took a covering
position behind and to the side of Mal.
She almost bumped into him. He
was in his element, and paid no mind to the smoke's irritation. If anything he
reveled in its presence, and it reciprocated. The multi-hued smoke shifted with
his motions helping conceal and mask his presence. Which, considering his
sartorial display, was a blessing
After firing a tight beam of
fire at a soldier who tried to edge around a corner behind them, Shest gave a
giddy, gibbering chuckle. It only made sense. Of course de Veste's smoke bombs
would be plaid. Why would they be anything else?
***************
Looking at the Site, Sailor
Earth rolled her shoulders. She sighed and tapped the gem on her tiara. There
was a green flash that blossomed out then began to turn purple.
Sifton watched the
transformation. He noted that his men, especially Sergeant Brummet and Corporal
Green seemed almost complacent with a demon changing from a delicate, demure
figure in blue and white silk with braided pink-blonde hair and a coiled ribbon
tail into an almost predatory figure in green-grey Kevlar and composite plate
armor with deep red hair and purple eyes.
Ranma adjusted her neck as her
hair unwound itself revealing her twin pairs of horns. The set on the side
blackened and curled while the pair on her forehead were tiny and had also
turned black losing their gilt coating when her tiara vanished. She blinked a
couple times and checked her holster.
Idly wondering where her
weapon went when she was in that other form... as well as the rest of her kit,
Sifton noted that the demon seemed a bit more relieved without her more
heightened powers. Though she did step on the grass with a slight frown. The
major assumed that it was because, unlike her hooves, the boots she now wore
insulated her feet.
Crossing the grassy steps, she
walked over the length of the wall. A hand ran over the crenellated top of the
compacted and reinforced earthworks. Her tail twitched and she gave a low
whistle.
The recoilless rifle team
shifted their gun tube when the demon passed them. Sifton caught up and fell
into step next to her. "What is this?" he tapped the wall. The lush
green turf seemed out of place with the more drab and dry vegetation of the
rest of the clearing.
"Well, I got a new
magical dress so new powers are expected... I'm not sure really." The
demon's confidence waned. "I do have a greater connection to the
Earth."
"Right, from that Moon
Queen," Sifton shrugged.
"Yeah, I guess she'd be
able to reshape the Moon," Ranma tapped her chin. "Could be how
Serenity made the palace and all the bunkers up there."
"There's a palace on the
moon?"
"Yup."
Sifton sighed. "Right,
and the Americans have been keeping it a secret since the Apollo
missions?" he sarcastically asked.
"Maybe." The demon
shrugged. "But I doubt it. They landed nowhere near it. In any case it was
just one city and the thing was blasted to bits at the end of the war, but the
deep bunkers are still there."
Corporal Green shook her head.
"You know that sounds
insane," Sifton said.
"Tell me about it, I'm a
magical girl demon who remembers the damn palace and I only half believe in the
damn thing." Ranma glanced up into the sky.
Sifton checked his radio. It
was Lieutenant Hill. "Yes? Calm down, what's your status?" Hearing
Lieutenant Hanna's exited tones the officer's face turned ashen. "Bombs?
Repeat those descriptions." As his subordinated talked, the bottom fell
out of Sifton's stomach The timing alone... "Shit. Right we'll
redeploy."
The demon tilted her head.
"Has someone tried to cross the perimeter?"
"No." Sifton gave a
glance to the weak-spot. "At least something's going right. Thirty minutes
ago there was an attack at the National Defence Headquarters," Sifton said
as he motioned to Sergeant MacDowell. "The bastards are still in there,
apparently fighting in the basement."
"Non Human?" Ranma
asked as she tapped onto her own radio. "How many?" She frowned and
talked with Company dispatch and was then bounced to Colonel Edwards.
"Not quite human, and
two." Sifton shook his head and ordered MacDowell to organize a pull out
with the helicopters. "They looked human, at first it was treated as a
crazy terrorist thing, especially with the bombs outside, but once images of
were sent out our boys at Dwyer Hill recognized your robotic friends," the
officer explained his tone clipped and a bit detached.
Purple eyes The demon swore.
"The Russians? How many?"
"Just one, but she's got
that big guy, the cultist with her." Sifton looked up from his display
pad. "Now you tell me Miss Saotome, why the hell are your enemies
attacking my country's military HQ?"
After talking with Colonel
Edwards, Ranma shook her head. "I don't know. Jacob, the Colonel, doesn't
seem to have much extra information. The enemy seems contained...which
is..." The demoness frowned.
"All kinds of
wrong," Sifton pointed Corporal Jon Jones and Corporal Bishop out to
MacDowell. It was a snap decision but he wanted some heavy mobile weaponry with
him. Hill could rearrange her heavy equipment to keep an eye on the Site.
"From the reports on these... women, they'd be able to tear through any
small arms."
"With just one? I think
you've got more than enough pissed off Canadians to keep them contained,
especially with the jammer. But if they really wanted to escape they'd have made
a bigger mess... well maybe they did." Her tail swished back and forth.
"Do you have a description on which of the Russians it was?"
"Sir? Brummet asked as he
stowed his scanner's display panel into the body of the device and locked the
outside of the crate. The device would be able to operate autonomously and
broadcast its readings until the batteries ran out
"We just got word. Half
an hour ago there was an attack on the NDHQ. So far, just two active shooters,
which, given that they're still alive, should tell you the problem they are.
The situation's pretty confused and it took the brass this long to realize
something spooky might be up. The whole situation stinks and I want to be ready
for whatever these freaks try to pull. I'm peeling most of us back. Lieutenant
Hill will maintain a small over-watch team here while the rest of us redeploy
to Dwyer Hill. Once at base we'll get an update on the situation, figure out
available resources, and given our luck have to deploy." Sifton explained.
Standing a bit off to the side,
Ranma watched the soldiers' expressions. There was a bit of disbelief. They had
just been told that there was an attack on their capital, and even worse, one
that seemed insultingly small. But after sitting out in the mud observing a weak-spot
in reality, they were now faced with the real possibility of deploying in
downtown
"Which of the
Numbers?" Ranma asked again as the equipment was quickly boxed up and the
JTF2 troops made an orderly retreat back to the helicopters at MacDowell's
orders.
"I don't know.
Description wasn't reliable." Sifton rubbed his forehead. "Who the
hell attacks a military HQ like this?"
Ranma stopped before pulling
herself onto the helicopter. "They do."
"But as a team. Not
babysitting one cultist." Sifton said as he sat down. "And they're
mercenaries, assassins, they're hired to kill that blonde girl. What does going
up to
"With just one cyborg?
Could be a feint. Cause a high priority target, split up the forces guarding
the target," Ranma shrugged as the Griffon's rotors spooled up.
"And yet you seem to be
coming along," Sifton noted.
The demon narrowed her eyes.
"They brought the cultist." She flatly stated. "They've been
keeping Mal de Veste in reserve. And this time they deploy him?" Ranma
shook her head. "No. This isn't just a diversion."
End Chapter 30
I'd like to thank my pre-readers. They read through my most egregious mistakes so you don't have to. J St C Patrick, Pale Wolf, DGC, Wray, Kevin Hammel, and Ikarus.