CHAPTER 2 - A Dockside Story
Despite all the weird, wacky and downright dangerous stuff Ian had...
*discovered* when his travels took him to the twisted universe from the
mind of Douglas Adams, the one thing he was glad of, was the organism
called the Babel fish.
It was a small leech-like creature, that fit snugly into a person's ear.
It fed on not the brainwaves of its host, but that of those emanating from
others. It then excreted a brainwave pattern similar to that it had taken
in, in a form that its host could understand. The upshot of all this, was
that Ian could understand any language spoken to him.
Sometimes Ian wondered exactly how far the thing worked. Judging by what
he remembered from Douglas Adams's book, the translation should only have
worked one way, and only if the person was present. But through live
experimentation in worlds that had adopted a native language other than his
own, he found that not only could he understand those near him, but they
automatically understood him, no matter what language he spoke. Seemingly,
everyone he talked to thought he replied in their native language, which
made for some awkward encounters. Plus, he could even understand foreign
transmissions. Maybe brainwaves were somehow caught in recording media, or
something. In fact, the strangest thing was, he could even understand
talking computers, things that didn't have anything organic in them at all.
The only limitation to the Babel fish that Ian could find was that it
hadn't helped his reading skill any; Japanese was still a funny set of
squiggles to him.
This somewhat *small* limitation had in the past caused, and was
currently causing, problems. Directions for example. Since Ian couldn't
read the various streetsigns, or decipher any sort of map, he usually took
to asking directions from passers-by. Said passer-by had a tendency to
look at him strangely, point at a nearby sign, and then walk off without a
word.
To put it in a nutshell, it was annoying.
However, he eventually managed to find out which direction the docks
were, where, hopefully, he'd find some sort of disused warehouse where he
could spend the night. If some deranged plot-making mad scientist hadn't
decided to use it as his base first.
He also managed to figure out a few things of where he was. As always
seemed to be the case in these futuristic cities where most of the social
interaction had disappeared, at least, any social interaction not found
indoors (pubs, nightclubs, motels, etc.), he'd found a newspaper in the
side of the road. With help from it and a Japanese dictionary he'd picked
up a few months ago, he discovered the date. Or at least the year. 2032.
Somehow, he'd have thought that things wouldn't have changed as much as
they already have. However, it *did* confirm his worst fear.
/Yep, this is Manga, alright. Nothing else would have Japanese as
native, and a futuristic city called MegaTokyo. Which, of course, means...
first portal I see, I'm outta here!/
So far, though, despite his initial encounter which what had appeared to
be the ADPolice force - /sounds familiar... now where have I heard that
before.../ - it had been a pretty quiet day. He just hoped it'd stay that
way.
He didn't know it yet, but like so many times before, he was going to
regret ever thinking that.
--**************--
Nene was puzzled, perplexed, and very worried. It wasn't often that had
happened. As soon as Fraser had filed the report into the central
database, Nene had gotten access to it and given herself a copy to read.
Things started getting weird when she called up the database to search
for "Ian Robinson". She got a big negative. Trying "Robinson" brought up
53 alternatives, but when she limited the search parameters to allow only
those who were aged under 35, it brought it down to just 12 records.
Adding the parameter "above 17" brought it down to 2. And finally, adding
the parameter "male" narrowed it down to just zero possibilities. /Damn./
Well then, it was obvious that it was a false name. From the report,
`Ian' had delivered no ID, so there was no way to tell *what* his real name
was. It was highly probable that he didn't *have* any identification; the
usual tactic was to forge anything needed, and then just hack the records
at ADP.
Some of the other parts of the report gave her pause too. She wished
she'd been the one to interrogate the guy; Fraser didn't really have much
patience for what he didn't understand, and it showed in his report. But
then again, she was just a data entry clerk. She smiled; *this* data entry
clerk was also Queen of the Net. Unofficially, of course.
Matter Transportation, huh? If scientists were that close to it, Nene
doubted that such a young kid like this `Ian' guy would have had access to
it. On his own, as he claimed. Besides, Sylia would have heard of it.
/That's an idea..../ Nene resolved to ask her about the transportation
sciences later.
It was a sign of Fraser's annoyance at the time that all he'd put down
for the guy's address was "Japan". It would have appeared that `Ian'
lucked out in his investigation. If `Ian' was everything he claimed to be,
she would... she'd... why, she'd attend Linna's exercise classes for an
entire month. And go on a diet.
After a few minutes more scrutinising, she decided to take a break. /A
chocolate cake would be nice,/ she thought.
A few moments after she left, her computer silently alerted the fact of
someone outside hacking into the ADP databases. Nene's hidden tripwires
were designed to inform *her* when hacking was done; it wasn't standard ADP
security. But since Nene wasn't there, the warning went unnoticed. And
after about a minute, the infiltration stopped, shutting down the alarm in
the process.
--**************--
Nene wasn't the only one interested in Ian's report. Far from it. It
was well known that ADP had computer security to rival an egg. At least
when it was compared to any of the many corporations that were based in
MegaTokyo.
News travelled fast. It was particularly known for its ability to travel
faster than light in some cases. Bad news sometimes travelled even faster.
The kind of bad news that had just been transferred happened to be bad for
Ian, and in Ian's experience, that was the fastest kind of all.
"Matter Transference, you say?" Quincy was a rather imposing man. Not
really because of his physical figure. Or maybe partly because of it. He
was a middle-aged man, with greying hair, dressed in a white suit. There
was something about the way he composed himself that was... unnerving.
Perhaps it was because he was the CEO of the biggest corporation in
MegaTokyo. A corporation that had, behind its legal and above-board
facade, been responsible for many boomer attacks on MegaTokyo. And also
had its fingers in as many pies as you could name. A megaconglomerate, is
the term given. Many said that Genom was the driving force behind the
government of MegaTokyo. They weren't far wrong. But they were perhaps
out by a continent or two.
However, some explanation is probably required about these "boomers".
Boomers were basically an artificial construct made in humanoid appearance.
Essentially, they were androids. Genom, the corporation in question, was
the major supplier of combat boomers. These types of boomers generally
looked human right up to the point when they pulled off their skin and went
completely berserk. ADP was primarily set up to deal with the numerous
boomer outbreaks in MegaTokyo, but due to a lack of funding, they weren't
having a great deal of success with the task.
There is a little part of the story of how Genom stole the knowledge of
creating boomers from the scientist, Dr Katsuhito Stingray, and how they
warped his legacy into the military scheme it was now; and a little part
how Dr Stingray's daughter, Sylia, set up the vigilante group, the Knight
Sabers, to bring down Genom and their twisted ideals. But that isn't
important right now. What was important, was that Quincy was the CEO of
Genom, and he had recently been informed of Ian's ADPolice report. The
words "Matter Transportation" had a tendency to cause certain corporation
search engines to go berserk.
For those who haven't worked it out yet, this is *bad*.
"Yes. He claimed to be an inventor working on his own. According to a
separate report filed by the officer who was on duty that night, there may
be some truth to his claims." Kate Madigan was a very high-level personal
aide to Quincy. She had earned a great deal of trust and respect from the
old man, and unlike many of her peers, had no personal ambitions in regard
to replacing Quincy in any respect. At least, not in the cut-throat way
her colleagues envisioned.
Quincy smiled. This could be interesting. Genom was always on the
lookout for raw talent. "But?"
"His given name doesn't appear on any record in either the ADPolice or
government archives. Apparently, he produced no identification, and the
only thing we have is a physical description and some awkward shots of him
on the security camera."
The CEO raised an eyebrow. "Awkward?"
"For some reason, the cameras never got a good shot of him. Even when he
was interrogated, his back was to the camera the whole time. He must have
known about them. There's no way someone can avoid that many security
cameras so successfully. They'd have to have known their exact positions.
That, or have been extremely lucky."
/...and I don't believe in luck,/ finished Quincy for her silently. Hmm.
This wasn't very good news. It might mean that this `inventor' was working
for someone high up. Very high, if all his records could have successfully
been wiped. That was, of course, if he had given his real name.
It was all so complicated. A high-up agent would have had a decent cover
story that would have had passed computer analysis. At the very least,
they would travel with forged ID. And generally, agents didn't appear from
nowhere inside an ADP jail. "Have you checked if there were any important
prisoners in the station at the time?"
"Yes. The ADP have been having more trouble with boomers than actual
criminals, and as such, they only had minor offenders inside that night."
Most perplexing. Well, perhaps this `inventor' would be worth observing.
"Keep him under surveillance."
Madigan bowed, and then turned to leave.
"Wait." Quincy smiled. "Keep him alive. He may be useful."
"Do you expect there to be an attempt on his life?"
"Just observe him. But make sure he's alive when I decide to have him
brought in."
--**************--
"So this is the stuff?"
Max and his gang had followed their employer to an out-of-the-way
construction facility. Last Max had heard, this building had been fully
operational, making car parts. Now, it seemed pretty deserted, with
production halted midway. It seemed that their new friend Chronos had been
busy.
Kyle was up and walking, thankfully. Chronos had merely stunned him.
/So why couldn't he do that to Carl,/ thought Max angrily.
The silhouette turned from a worktable to face him. "Yes," it said, in
that modulated voice of Chronos's. Strange, that. Both the figure and the
voice were heavily disguised. It was even more effective than one of those
suits those Knight Sabers wore; you couldn't really tell if the guy was
male or female. Nor how well armed he was. They already had an inkling of
that anyways.
Max took a closer look at the suit on the table. It was rather bulky;
nothing like his figure at all on the outside. It was like one of those
archaic 20th Century space-suits, except more massive. He looked at
Chronos. A sweep of shadow gestured him to try it on.
It took a bit of getting used to, but once all the pieces were in place,
they snapped together and began to hum. Last, was the round, domed helmet,
with the small slit that served as the visual array. He placed it on,
and....
It was one of the most liberating experiences of his life. He felt
stronger, faster, more capable than ever before. A Head-Up-Display to the
sides of his viewscreen gave him targeting and terrain information, while a
single thought changed it to show system status. The view seemed to be a
little restricted, but it served well enough. He lifted up the rifle that
accompanied the suit and swung it around easily. Then, he selected a car
chassis as a target, and opened fire.
The results weren't as good as he'd expected. The rifle vibrated in his
hands like a berserk horse, the recoils sending many of his shots wide.
Those that *did* hit the target though, soon left it a smoking wreck,
swinging on only one of the four chains that had held it up. Another few
shots brought it down with a crash. Max tried to fire off another few
shots, but discovered that the rifle no longer responded. In fact, it felt
fairly warm, even through the insulation in the suit.
Chronos turned towards him. "I apologise for the... imprecise nature of
your firearms. I was pressed for time, and had to make do with the Mk I
plans. Watch out for the plasma rifle overheating as well. I'm afraid you
can only use short bursts, before it gets too hot to work. Then you have
to wait for it to cool down. However, this should be sufficient for now.
Perhaps when you come back, I'll have a couple of Mk II's ready."
The rest of Max's friends were already clambering into their own suits
after the impressive display. Max watched them for a moment, before facing
Chronos again. "You got any idea where this target of yours is?" His
voice came out very deep, in almost a monotone. Obviously, a voice
modulator was also part of the package.
The shadow shrugged. "It's been a long time. I have no idea where my
enemy could be. However, you'll find an accurate description in the
databanks. And the Chronotrooper targeting array is already set up to
recognise him. How you deal with him, is up to you. Eliminate him,
capture him, bring him to me, dead or alive. I care not, only that he is
out of the way."
Behind the helmet, Max smiled. /If I bring in this character, maybe we
can catch Chronos with his guard down. For what he did to Carl, he'll
die./
"Is it agreed, then?" asked Chronos.
"Yeah. We'll do your job."
--**************--
It was nine o'clock. The sun had just gone down below the horizon, and
the sky was darkening at a fast rate. Ian had just found the docks, and
was now impatiently searching for some warehouse he could camp in.
Something told him that he would be better off if he could get inside.
This didn't look like the type of city where you could expect to live
through a night of sleeping rough.
Actually, Ian didn't figure on getting much sleep. He'd checked his
stopwatch earlier, and worked out he'd arrived around eleven o'clock at
night. Earlier, Ian had synchronised his watch to the local time with the
help of a passer-by; he had only two hours to wait until a portal opened.
And there was little hope that Chronos hadn't been busy. /He's probably
searching for me right now,/ Ian thought dismally.
Ian wasn't in much of a mood for a fight. He was tired, exhausted even.
Even his impromptu dreamless `slumber' had done nothing for his state of
health. He felt as worn-out then as he was now; his exhaustion then had
been the main reason he'd been unconscious for so long.
One of the problems with the portals was that it left Ian vulnerable to
severe jetlag. In one world, it could be early morning. A leap later, and
he might find it's late afternoon. Or vice versa.
However, getting out of a world like this was a greater priority than
having a good night's sleep.
Ian stopped suddenly, and glanced around. He was *sure* he was being
watched. It wasn't Chronos; if it had been him, he would have shown
himself far earlier. He *hoped* it was a good guy. And then he hoped that
they knew that *he* was a good guy. Convincing them that usually took
quite a while. Or a short battle with Chronos. Ian knew which one *he*
preferred.
With a shrug, Ian started back on his search for a somewhat comfortable
building in which to spend the night. Maybe he was so tired, that he was
imagining things. Maybe not. At the very least, he still had his pistol.
A few seconds after, the boomer followed.
--**************--
The targeting reticle flared red as it touched the brown-haired young man
in the dark leather jacket. Stats and information on the target flashed up
in a green box at the bottom-right hand corner of his vision. Max couldn't
believe his luck. Vernon had been the first to spot him, alerting the
others on their personal communicators. Already, they had their target in
sight. All that was needed now, was to take him.
Admittedly, this type of ambush took a little getting used to. Max's
gang weren't used to all this hitech weaponry, or being so spread out.
Generally, most of their ambushes had been two groups converging on both
sides of an alleyway.
Louis came on the communicator. "Max, I'm gonna see if I can take him
without bruising him. Maybe we'll get more if we don't bring in damaged
goods."
Well, it was worth a shot. Might as well see what this character was
made of. "Go ahead, Louis."
--**************--
Someone was coming. That was for sure, now. Ian could hear the heavy
footsteps approaching. Slowly, Ian reached inside his jacket, hand closing
on the handle of his pistol....
"Hold it." A single deep and modulated voice. /Oh shit..../
Ian leapt to one side, rolling as he hit the ground, bringing the gun
round to bear all in one smooth movement.
Then he realised he hadn't been fired upon yet.
A Chronotrooper stepped out of the shadows of one of the warehouses,
levelling its plasma rifle at him. "You are Ian Robinson?"
Nervousness tended to make Ian sarcastic. "Nope. I only look like him."
"We've been hired to take you in. What do you think about that?"
"Did Chronos tell you about all the *others*?"
"Others?"
Ian smiled evilly. "Never mind," he said cheerfully.
The Chronotrooper shouldered its weapon, and moved into a more
threatening posture. "I don't think I need this. You look like someone I
could take easily." The helmet moved slightly as it glanced at Ian's
weapon. "We've already seen what bullets do to these suits."
"Oh, so Chronos *hasn't* told you about the others then. Think you know
everything about that suit you're wearing?"
The suit took a step towards him. "I think you're bluffing."
"Hang on," replied Ian, "before you charge me, tell me something. Are
you some gang that Chronos picked off the street?"
A couple of shots later had the suddenly charging Chronotrooper on the
floor, looking down at its cracked leg armour. "Guess so," quipped Ian.
And then all hell broke loose.
--**************--
/SHIT,/ Ian almost yelled, as he dove behind a stack of gas canisters.
A couple of plasma bolts slammed into them, causing metal to sizzle and
singeing a couple of his hairs, but most were way off mark. After a few
seconds of fire, the sounds died off as the rifles began to overheat, and
everyone watched to see what was left.
Ian spent his first uninterrupted second blessing his quick reflexes, and
then the second second in quiet shock as he realised exactly what his cover
was composed of, and that the bolts had crashed into his aforementioned
cover. The third second was spent silently thanking specific deities that
the barrels hadn't been full.
As soon as Ian caught his breath, he got into a crouch position. And
then he raced for another bit of cover.
--**************--
When Louis went down, the feeling of invulnerability disappeared from
every one of the gang. Then, they all opened fire. Louis was still alive,
but whatever that guy was carrying, it had blasted a hole through the suit,
severely damaging Louis's leg.
However, they still hadn't gotten used to the way the rifle recoiled, so
most never had chance of hitting the guy. The sheer amount of firepower
more than made up for it, and had their target diving for cover.
After a while, heat began to pour from the rifles, and the automatic
cut-off stopped all fire. They watched to see what would come out of there
alive. A single barrel, blackened from the fire, swayed and then toppled
over with a bang.
Vernon was the first to spot Ian running out from behind the oil drums.
The guy was coming straight towards the building he was on; it would be an
easy shot, despite the uselessness of the plasma rifle as a sniper's
weapon. Vernon aimed, and tightened his finger on the trigger. He watched
as Ian got closer, waiting for just the right moment....
Cold metal brushed Vernon's neck as something punched through his helmet
as easily as a Mack truck through a roadblock. It tightened.
Vernon screamed.
--**************--
Those who had begun to fire upon the fleeing Ian stopped immediately.
Even Ian himself stopped in his tracks. On top of the building he had been
rushing to, some sort of mechanical android was crushing the life out of a
Chronotrooper. The modulated voice of the suit made the screams take on a
whole new dimension.
The boomer turned its head to face Ian. Its eyes glowed with an evil red
glint.
Ian fled. The other way.
--**************--
Vernon's screams echoed across the communicators. For a moment, all the
others could do was look on as their friend was held by the neck, clutching
at the boomer's arm. Unlike Ian, they knew exactly what they were facing.
They opened fire on the boomer. And then the boomer opened fire on them.
Unnoticed, an helicopter circled the area high above, watching the laser
display in the dock district.
--**************--
"Ah, Nene, you're just in time."
Sylia motioned the young woman in quickly, and shut the door behind her.
"We just intercepted an ADP transmission. Seems there's some sort of
confrontation going on in the dock district. We're going to check it out.
Linna should be here in a couple of minutes, and Priss is already in the
KnightWing."
Nene sighed. She'd had to leave work late, but she had been hoping to
ask Sylia what she knew about this transportation stuff that the guy they'd
let go earlier had used as an excuse. Instead, it looked like she'd have
to come along to check out yet another disturbance. It was strange,
though. Boomer activity had been down for quite a while lately. Well, all
good things had to come to an end.
"Okay," Nene replied. "I'll meet you on the launch pad."
--**************--
"Why now?" Ian asked no one in particular as he ran from the firefight.
People, much less Chronotroopers, had no business being that well armed.
A glance at his watch confirmed it; he had over one and a half hours to
keep away from the enemy behind him; he hoped to get as far away from them
as possible before they wised up and started chasing him again.
All of a sudden, he ran out of pier. He realised he hadn't been paying
attention on where he was going, focusing more on what he was running away
*from*, rather than where he was running *to*. /Well, guess I better back
up a..../
"Got you." The voice was deep. And modulated.
He had already half-turned when he noticed the large silhouette at the
other end of the jetty. Nervously, he backed away until he felt the end
of the pier underneath his feet.
"Uh," he said wittily. The shadow brought to bear a large weapon, which
Ian recognised as the Mk I plasma rifle, standard armament for the
Chronotrooper. Not very good at hitting a target, but powerful enough to
rip armour to shreds. Ian was wearing a brown leather jacket, hanging
open. Underneath it, was a white T-shirt. Under that, Ian was wearing
nothing.
It occurred to Ian that he wasn't going to get very far saying witty
things like `uh' or `er', so he took one more step back, and dropped out of
view as plasma bolts blazed overhead.
Cold water hit him like hammer on an anvil.
--**************--
End Chapter 2
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