Should Old Acquaintance Be Forgot
Chapter 11

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[Standard Disclaimer] I don't own the right to any of the Dirty Pair or
Iria: Zeiram, the Animation characters.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Got your toothbrush packed?" Cross asked.

"Yeah, Mom. I packed clean underwear too," Killgore said through the pen in
his mouth as he finished inventorying the items that he would take with him
to YSC headquarters on Danube. The list was small, since it was only a
system away from their current position orbiting above the pleasure moon of
Xyphos 13. The moon was the nearest inhabited planetoid to Danube, without
actually being in the system of the same name.

Cross's expression went from lighthearted to serious. "How long do you think
you'll be?"

Killgore shrugged. "It's hard to say. I want to see Springer personally, and
given the circumstances, I wouldn't be surprised if she's near the president
himself, which means it might take a while to get in touch with her. Depends
on how long her leash is."

Cross nodded his head almost imperceptibly. "Yes, with the Holcomb fiasco
over with, Scorphius only needs one more thing before he becomes a real
threat."

"Which give me a strong bargaining posture, eh? Killgore winked
conspiratorially at his personal assassin.

"Yes, be a dear and bring us an additional incentive bonus, would you?"
Cross placed a hand to his chin in thought. "There was something else I was
going to mention to you, but I can't seem to remember it."

"There you are, godammit!"

"Ah, yes, that would be what I forgot," Cross said whimsically.

Killgore looked over Cross' shoulder and shot a concealed frown at his
ex-wife as she stormed over to him. "When did she get on board?" he
whispered low enough so that the woman wouldn't hear.

"A little while ago. I tried talking her out of it, but she was insistent...
insistent to the point that we would have had to shoot her down in order to
keep her off. I was tempted."

Before Killgore could respond, Iria was standing in front of him, hands on
her hips in open anger. "I was looking all over for you. The morons on this
ship don't have a clue on how to give directions."

"The ship isn't that big," Killgore pointed out. "Anyway, why are you here,
Sunshine?"

She glared at the appellation. "Well, Lance, I heard you were going to YSC
headquarters. I want you to take me along."

Killgore clapped his hands together with enthusiastic glee. "It'll be like a
second honeymoon."

Iria refused to rise to the bait. "I'm dead serious. I just want to talk to
someone in charge and get some answers. That's all."

"Hmm. I remember you regaling me with tales of the last time you went to
some company's headquarters and demanded answers. I hate to break this to
you, but YSC is not some penny-ante operation like Tedan Tippendai. You
can't just barge in, shoot a handful of guards, and threaten to drop the VP
out a sixty floor window."

"I did drop him out window. I just didn't let him hit the ground," Iria
corrected.

"The point is, you try to come on with the thug tactics, and you'll end up
dead before you get one floor up. It's the most secure facility they have.
It makes Holcomb look like a mom and pop liquor store when it comes to
protecting the place."

"I'll behave," Iria promised.

"No way. I'm in a hurry, so I'm going alone," Killgore said it in a manner
that let her know he regarded the discussion over.

Much to his surprise, Iria shrugged. "Okay, I'll just have Kei and Yuri take
me there. And since they'll be there, and they are 3WA troubleshooters,
they'll probably ask more intensive questions than I would. And they'll
expect answers since they have the authority to do so, and I'm sure they'll
mention how your actions in particular made them suspicious. So which do you
think your employers would prefer; me asking the questions or them?"

"Good point," Killgore admitted grudgingly. "Fine, you can go along if
you're willing to leave immediately."

"Right now would be fine."

With the matter resolved, Killgore unleashed his most charming smile at her.
"It'll take a couple of hours to get to Danube. Since we don't have anything
to do while we're flying, why don't we entertain ourselves the way we used
to on those long space voyages back when we were married?"

Iria casually pulled a knife from her belt and began cleaning her nails with
it.

"Idle chatter it is." The smile disappeared, but it took much longer for the
knife to do the same. Killgore anticipated a long trip in store for him.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Night had fallen on Myce. The weather was a touch on the sultry side, but
the skies were clear and wind non-existent. It was the sort of night that
was made for lazing about outdoors while drinking one's favorite beverage.

But for the young slicer named Mikael, it could have been raining hard
enough to drown a fish and he wouldn't have noticed. He was busying himself
with completing the final test run on his computers. All the hardware and
software passed their final check, and he heaved a sigh of relief. While he
was tense with what about to come, excitement was the emotion that ruled his
heart.

His mother and Kei had given him an interesting challenge. Slicing into
YSC's system to see if he could dig up any information on Zeiram and
discover their true goal concerning the monstrosity was something only the
greatest of slicers would even consider attempting. Everyone knew the
intersystem megacorps had the most difficult systems to crack given the
security measures placed on their networks. Luckily, the job wasn't
impossible. Far from it, actually. The system itself was easy to connect to.
Like most corporations its size, YSC had to maintain contact with all of its
vast holdings in one way or another through the vast intersystem computer
networks in order to make sure operations were being handled efficiently.
That need to survey accurate information readily meant sacrificing the
security of sealed stand alone systems, thereby making their information net
easy to access.

Of course, YSC was painfully aware of this vulnerability, and had developed
security features so complex that while accessing the system was easy,
penetrating it was nearly impossible. But their system was like any
complicated structure, and had weak points. Only an expert slicer of
Mikael's caliber could possibly discern where those weaknesses were located
and enter the soft insides of the system. Though even accomplishing that was
not enough, since there were many other security features inside the system
as well as out. But once inside, Mikael could dig in deep and discover their
secrets, hopefully before he was discovered by the internal security
programs.

Given the importance of the request from his mother and Kei, Mikael invested
all of his time and energy into accomplishing their goal. That meant digging
up specific information from the underground slicer community and others
attempts to break into YSC had netted. Much to Mikael's concern, he
discovered that a number of slicers, most of them talented (though not as
good as him. he told himself), ended up having their brains fried when they
were caught inside the system. Technically, no one using intersystem
networks was supposed to have aggressive attack programs that would
lobotomize slicers, but they still existed. It was part of the chances one
took when trying to go where they didn't belong, and the element of risk
tended to excite slicers, who were breaking the rules themselves.

Luckily, Mikael's investigation turned up several potentially good
possibilities for initial penetration into the system. A slicer by the
handle of Lemon Drop had discovered a permanent access port into the system
through a backdoor some YSC programmer had made. It wasn't a large scale
operation, just some low-level fertilizer business on a world that was in
the later stages of colonizing, but if the backdoor was as good as she
claimed, he had a reliable way in that would save him days of trying to find
one of his own. It had taken a good bit of wheedling, money, and sharing of
very valuable information Mikael had dug up on his own before she gave him
access to the backdoor, since there was a reasonable chance they would
discover his information raid and it would be permanently sealed if such
occurred.

With the door opened, Mikael had turned to the hardware matter. He brought
everything he owned into play, anticipating this to be the biggest score of
his life. Most of his money went into hardware, but state of the art was
necessary for one of his skills, just like his mother never skimped on
weaponry when it came time to her line of work. He was talented enough to
make plenty of money, and had a set up that most slicers would envy.

There were still reservations. When he had originally looked over his
equipment, Mikael worried that it might not be enough for something this
big. The only way to increase his own 'firepower' at that point was to
combine forces with another slicer. Mikael called in a few markers from a
local talent named 'Smoothie' (including a promise to hook him up with a
girl from the 'Touch of Heaven' bordello) before his compatriot agreed to
link their systems together. With their combined systems, Mikael would be
able to really speed or power through YSC's network in a way he had never
been able to before.

Since all of the systems checked out, Mikael went to a monitor and activated
its viewscreen. The picture flared to life. Mikael winced as it showed a
very large close up of Smoothie's face. Seeing his temporary partner, Mikael
was reminded of when Kei had jokingly confessed she had expected Mikael to
be an out-of-shape, geeky nerd who would become panicky when confronted with
someone as attractive as Kei. It wasn't the first time Mikael had heard
such, and it always irritated him that women would automatically assume he
was like that when hearing his profession before actually meeting him.
Regrettably, Mikael had to admit there was some validity in the stereotype
when looking at the ill-named Smoothie. He was near morbidly obese in
weight, rumpled, unkempt, laughed far too hard at his own jokes, and looked
like he considered bathing an option rather than a necessity. It was slicers
like him that gave ones like Mikael an unwarranted reputation.

Seeing Smoothie in such a state prodded Mikael into action. "Remember, you
promised me you'd clean yourself up before going out with Michelle." Getting
the attractive prostitute to agree to go out with the slicer (without being
paid for it) hadn't been easy. It had taken a lot of cajoling (and an
agreement for Mikael to go out with her on a real date as well) to make her
acquiesce. And upon seeing a picture of Smoothie, she had forced Mikael to
make the other slicer agree to certain terms.

The rotund man rolled his eyes. "Okay, I'll go to that stylist you
mentioned."

"And you won't pick your nose like you're doing now," Mikael said.

Smoothie's eyes widened and he retracted the digit. "Sorry. Nervous habit.
You really think she'll have sex with me? It's been a long while. Way too
long."

"As long as you make yourself presentable. She has a thing against
sloppiness. It doesn't matter how handsome you are if you aren't tidy." On
the upside, Michelle was the type that really enjoyed her work, and upon
getting her to agree to go out on a date with Smoothie, it was assumed sex
was part of the package. As long as his partner could keep his act together,
the slicer would have the fun night he wanted.

With the assurance of 'payment' being secured, Mikael switched to the more
urgent matter. "Everything up and running on your end?" It seemed to be
according to Mikael's connections, but it never hurt to have someone onsite
double-check.

Smoothie flashed him a thumbs up. "It's all under your control. I won't be
heading in with you, but I can keep an eye open on the outside. Oh yeah,
also, if an emergency comes up and we need more computing power, I have some
local backdoors open and can access the city's network. I can seize control
for about five minutes or so if we need the boost, so I can only do it in an
emergency."

"You're a true talent." And it wasn't far from the truth. According to
Smoothie, he had made it a goal to have ways to slice into every single
public system in the city, and had succeeded. He joked that he could have
every politician and policeman start working for the sanitation department
for a week before they'd figure out something was wrong. If he said he could
tap into the city's system and use it to boost their own, it was the truth.

Mikael took a deep breath. It was pointless to waste any more time. There
was nothing further he could do to ensure his safety, and others were
waiting for him to come through. It took only minutes for him to hook up the
input switches to the cybernetic headjack in the back of his neck. That
would link his brain up to his computer system and allow his mind to travel
the electronic highways that had been created by an interlinked galaxy.

There was one last thing to do before allowing his mind to enter the system
and begin its mission to slice away the information he needed. Mikael picked
up an injector filled with a greenish fluid. Pheryl Gel was an invention
that had been created under questionable circumstances. Despite the
notorious history (supposedly involving nearly five hundred deaths in its
experimental stages) the gel worked effectively, enable the user's mind to
more easily process the huge amounts of information that could be gained
while hooked up to the cyberealm. It was like an ambrosia to slicers
everywhere, giving them the ability to improve their abilities by nearly
three times. Of course, like most things, there was a major drawback. While
not addictive (most users experienced migraines after the effects wore off)
its increase in mental information capacity meant a decrease in one's motor
systems. It cut down sensitivity to the point of where it felt like the user
was wearing a thick rubber suit. While hooked up to a computer, one's
awareness of their body was limited anyway, losing control of one's physical
form was still an unpleasant feeling. That was one of the reasons Mikael
used the gel sparingly.

But it was needed this time. Speed was of the essence, perhaps more than
even stealth. No matter how quietly he moved through YSC's system,
eventually he would trip some sort of security system, the law of averages
dictated it, that meant he had to get the information fast and get out
before they nailed him and deep fried his brain.

As the drug made its way through his body, Mikael opened his mind up fully
to his hardware and seized control of it, allowing a portion of his
consciousness to 'go' elsewhere.

Diving into a computer mentally was an impossible thing to describe. It
wasn't anything the physical senses could understand because none of them
came into play. The human mind was incapable of defining what an electronic
environment was like, at least into words. It was more like a combination of
imagination and sensations, which the brain could process at subconscious
levels and give to the conscious mind the ability to act and react as it
meshed itself into flows of data. Only fully electronic entities, like Bob,
could probably function in it and interpret things better. Of course, the
price for that was an inability to have physical form in the real world.

Now suitably calm, Mikael allowed his mind to follow the path already laid
out before him. As fast as the information could arrive, Mikael found
himself at the backdoor Lemon Drop had pointed out to him. There was only
one way to see if she was telling the truth, or if he'd be kicked out
immediately, and that was to access it and let his mind 'wander' inside. So
he did so.

And just like that he was there. It was definitely YSC's system, and he was
inside, their strongest barrier breached without effort. But that was the
easy part. Now that he was inside, he would have to track down the
information he was looking for, and it could be literally be anywhere in the
thousands of systems that made up YSC's network. Worse, there would be
plenty of countermeasures along every step of the way. Still, that was what
slicing was all about. Sifting through systems to dig up information before
you were caught, and YSC represented the largest playground Mikael had ever
had the opportunity to frolic in.

The slicer felt a thrill run down his spine as he used all the resources at
his disposal to search for the information he needed to find.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"He has the last component to Argus! You told me he wouldn't get it!"

The woman known only as Springer even to her employer --who happened to be
the man who was speaking to her-- turned away from the wall she had been
staring at and shot him her standard, cold stare. "I told you it was wiser
to destroy the samples and thereby guarantee your brother not getting his
hands on it. You could have manufactured them later, once your brother is
taken care of."

Slapatcha Scorphius, president of Yurenex-Solvar Corporation, shifted
uncomfortably in his chair. The lavish chambers of his office (which was the
size of a small home) in the large complex that formed the headquarters of
the interstellar company, made him seem small and feel alone, despite the
fact he was surrounded by nearly ten thousand people that would obey his
every wish. "That would have been extremely expensive. The raw material for
the process alone would be astronomical."

"It would be cheaper than what he's going to do to your company once he gets
his hands on a mass driver," Springer said. Still her voice lacked any
emotion. All she did was state inescapable facts.

Slapatcha pounded his fist on his handmade Shimikas Wood desk. It was one of
only four known to exist, given the rarity of the wood since the destruction
of the tree's planet nearly a thousand years earlier. "You said those
mercenaries you hired would take care of the matter."

"I said they were the best money could buy," Springer corrected. "I did not
guarantee success. Against an unknown variable like Zeiram, combined with
the inside knowledge, genius, and insanity of your brother, there are no
guarantees. Their combination of skills make them very deadly and almost as
unpredictable. If they were easy to kill, they'd already be dead."

Slapatcha repeated the fist thumping. "How can he evade us? We have
resources no one else in the universe has! He should have been eliminated an
hour after we learned he was still alive!"

Springer began pacing. "Your brother had been planing this betrayal for
years without anyone else's knowledge. He is proactive, while you are
reactive. He is small, fast, and powerful, if only on a small scale, while
YSC is ultimately large and clumsy. It is an inevitability given your
tremendous size. Since he worked for you, he knows your weak points, your
vulnerabilities, and how to best exploit them. Eventually we will catch up
to him. He cannot avoid us forever. The only question is how much damage he
can inflict in the interim."

"A damn lot now that he found out about Argus!" Slapatcha ran his hands over
his short, curly hair.

"Yes, how unfortunate he found the plans on that liner of yours he hit.
Before he was just a nuisance taking out small operations. Now he's a major
threat."

Slapatcha shoulders slumped in hopelessness. "All he needs is a mass driver
now. They might not be common, but there are still way too many of them for
us to cover all of them in the galaxy. He's won."

Springer stopped pacing. "No. On the contrary, given his mental state and
pathological hatred of your company, we can be certain that Anton will only
use a mass driver that is owned by YSC."

Hope gleamed in Slapatcha eyes. "You're certain?"

"Yes," Spring confirmed.

Slapatcha spoke into a voice unit that sat on the edge of his desk. "Give me
the exact number of mass drivers currently owned by YSC."

A second later, holographic projectors moved from their concealed positions
around the room and displayed the information in large blue characters that
hung in the air. A voice repeated the information for those not interested
in the effort to read it. "Currently YSC owns four. These are their current
locations." A map of the galaxy hung off to the side, breaking down into
four separate maps and pinpointing the exact location of each.

Slapatcha considered the matter. "Good, they're all isolated mining
operations It'll be a logistics nightmare, but I'm convinced we can get
major firepower around all of them. He'll probably go for the closest, since
he'll be in a hurry, so we'll prioritize reinforcing that one, followed by
the rest in order."

Springer observed the display, then held up a warning finger. "Something is
not right. Have the computer list all the mass drivers that have ever been
built by YSC."

The request made Slapatcha stare at her curiously. "I don't think we
actually make them. We just commission their construction through someone
else. The market isn't that large for them." He requested the information,
and the computer returned his predicted results.

Springer continued staring at the projection. "List all the mass drivers YSC
has ever owned."

The company's president did so. Three of them were listed as having broken
down and scrapped, another had been destroyed in a mining accident, and
there was one other.

Springer nodded at the last one. "That's it. That's the one he'll go after.
The one you donated to this planet's government. There's no way he'll pass
up the opportunity to use the mass driver poised above your very own head to
destroy you. It would be ironic justice in his eyes."

For a moment, Slapatcha said nothing. Then a soft chuckle escaped his lips.
The chuckle became a chortle. Eventually it devolved into full blown
laughter. Springer remained where she was, waiting patiently until the
laughter died down.

Through his giggles, the president of YSC finally got out. "We can only pray
he does. That mass driver is on one of the military's orbital platforms.
It's designed to repel a planetary invasion. It has enough firepower to blow
a half dozen battleships apart and still have guns to spare. Even if he
could get past the exterior defenses, there are three hundred men on board.
Not the rank and file security people or bumbling mercenaries you've been
hiring, but highly trained military personnel. They'll tear him to pieces in
minutes. And, since Danube's government needs us to keep their world from
becoming the backwater flyspeck it was before we came here, we can warn them
about what to expect in Zeiram. They'll keep their mouths shut, since what's
bad for us is fatal for them. If Anton is stupid enough to come here, it'll
all be over for him, not us."

"I hope you're right." While Springer's voice carried no emotion, the doubt
in the statement was obvious.

Slapatcha amusement died. "I'm not so convinced he'll strike here. He's not
suicidal. I'll alert the military's overlord that Zeiram will be arriving,
but then I'm going ahead and moving our own forces into position to prevent
him from grabbing one of the other mass drivers."

That met with a nod from Springer, who placed a hand to her chin. "Killgore
will be arriving soon. I'll reroute him to the orbital platform."

Slapatcha shook his head sadly. "What do you think he can do that all of
those military personnel can't?"

"Think on his own," Springer said flatly.

Before Slapatcha could respond to that, a beeping emanated from a
communicator, similar to Iria's, that was attached to Springer's wrist. She
brought it up to her face and said, "Report."

"We have a trace on someone that sliced into the system. This guy's a real
talent. Backtracking shows he slipped right in and plowed through everything
we had. We were actually lucky that we spotted him when we did, he's that
good. He got in deep. Real deep. He looked into a lot of places he shouldn't
have, so we're going to have to take measures immediately. I just need to
know if you want to recruit or neutralize. I recommend recruitment. It would
behoove us to make his talents our own."

"Download the info to me." A smaller holographic projector sprang to life
from the wrist unit. Springer  pored over the data as it was sent to her,
processing it at what should have been inhuman speeds. Suddenly, she
snapped, "Wait! Go back fifty lines." She reread the information, then
turned away. She spoke mostly to herself as she said, "Myce? That was where
Zeiram hit during his previous incursion. Tedan Tippendai was headquartered
there, and... and that damned 3WA agent was just there!"

The curse caught Slapatcha attention. Springer was showing emotion. She
never showed emotion. And it seemed to have centered on Myce. No, it was
when she recalled the 3WA agent's presence there. That was what had
triggered the outburst. How very... interesting. Springer was one of the few
things in Scorphius' life that was an enigma. Despite all the power at his
command, he knew nothing about her, other than she was the absolute best at
her job and always accomplished his goals. This Zeiram matter was the one
time she had, if not failed, at least been delayed in resolving things. And
in her defense, it was Anton who she was dealing with. Insane or not, he was
a Scorphius, and they were a breed apart. And then there was Zeiram, which
was nearly an irresistible force. She could be afforded some slack in this
matter. At least for now.

While Slapatcha considered things, Springer continued giving orders. "Listen
to me. Don't brainfry him. Let him keep roaming around. I want him
stationary. I need confirmation on his death. Bring in every agent we have
on Myce. Send them all the intel and give the codephrase, 'It's time for the
chimney sweep to dust.'."

"Understood." The communicator went silent.

Slapatcha looked at her curiously. "Chimney Sweep?"

Springer turned to him. "It means the agents are to eliminate the target
with extreme prejudice and at any cost. They can sacrifice their cover and
any amount of collateral damage is acceptable."

"I see." That was fine with Slapatcha. Myce had been unimportant since the
fall of Tedan Tippendai. They could afford to sacrifice whatever positions
their people had attained there. It would be no great loss, and they could
be relocated at minimal cost.

Satisfied things were well in hand for the first time in months, Slapatcha
Scorphius leaned back in his chair and relaxed.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

It was deep in the heart of night, closer to an approaching dawn than
anything else, in a run down section of the capital city of Myce that two
people met for the first time in their lives. One was a woman, ordinary in
appearance in every way. The other was a man, slightly older, with a touch
of gray at his temples. Aside from that he appeared every bit as commonplace
as the woman. They met in front of an apartment building, identical in shape
and form to the others on either side of it, save for the touches of
graffiti decorating its edifice. The collage of artwork from the many
artists that regarded the buildings as their personal canvases gave
personality to the soulless, pragmatic design the buildings had been based
on.

The woman spoke first. "Chimney Sweep?"

The man nodded. "Call me Ishmael."

"That's clich�."

"I figured it best we don't know each other's everyday names. Culpable
deniability is always a necessity in our line of work."

The woman shot him a tired look. "Fine. It's Bianca, then. Seniority
designates you quarterback. Where are the others?"

"There are only two that are stationed around this section of the planet.
Luckily Perez, whose normal base of operations is in Luchon, happened to
have been sent to Myce on company business and is on his way via car.
Unfortunately Vyory, who's normally stationed here, was out on some kind of
isolated community thing his corporation saw fit to send its employees to.
Supposedly the isolation is to promote teamwork."

Bianca's lip curled. "I had to go on one of those once. Being forced into
the middle of nowhere surrounded by annoying coworkers promoted my desire to
kill them all."

Ishmael nodded in sympathy. "In any case, it'll take him a while to find
transportation out here, so he cannot be relied upon. Perez is coming, but
we're in a hurry."

"This is the target's building?"

Ishmael nodded. "Upon arriving, I scouted out the location. I tapped into
the power feed and followed the flows. There's only one apartment that's
drawing enough juice to be operating a computer system capable of
penetrating our employers defenses. It's located on this side, third floor,
two windows from the left."

Bianca looked up and mentally marked the dull orange glow that peeked
through the room's single window. "Escape routes?"

"Door on the front, one on the East side of the building, and a rear exit.
However, from his door there's only one way of going down, and we'll be
going up those stairs. He'll be trapped with no means of escape."

"I'm not wild about hitting him with only the two of us." Bianca's admitted.

Ishmael appeared unconcerned. "I looked around the interior. Even if he was
a front man for someone, they don't have any resources here. We'll hit it
together, though it shouldn't matter one way or another. It's probably just
some small time slicer that sneaked into the wrong place at the wrong time.
I doubt there'll be much in the-"

It was at that moment a quintet of young toughs came from further up the
street and approached the couple. The group had the same predatory smell
that all such people, who wandered about in packs in similar lower class
areas on every planet in the galaxy, emanated.

One of them, the leader of the pack, acted as spokesman and moved forward.
The other members of the group responded by encircling the pair, cutting off
any avenues of escape. "Well, well, well. It looks like you aren't from
around here. Did you get los-"

The rest of the question went unasked as the man and woman drew energy
pistols from their jacket pockets and without hesitation, fired upon the
gang. The spokesman was hit first, a hole left in his chest right where his
heart was. More flashes filled the air with quick, deadly precision. Only
one of the men had time to realize what was happening and draw back before
he died with the rest of his comrades.

Ishmael kept his gun in hand, though placed it behind his body so it wasn't
displayed so openly. "As I was saying, I doubt there'll be much in the way
of problems. I think command just wants to make sure the information wasn't
forwarded to someone else. I'm a fair slicer myself, so I should be able to
determine if it was leaked, and if so, backtrack it to the source and
eliminate that as well."

The woman nodded. "Good. Let's get going."

The pair stepped over the spokesman's body as casually as if it was a large
crack in the sidewalk and entered the apartment building, heading straight
for their destination.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Mikael could scarcely accept what his senses were telling him as he
continued to sift through the information, recording everything he was
coming across. It was impossible, yet according to YSC's network, it was
real. Of course, it was all just computer information, and could be
falsified, but he knew it wasn't. YSC would never create such a widespread
fabrication in their own system. Not when it was verified from so many
different sources. If it was some sort of high level scam, perhaps, but it
had taken all of his abilities to get in this far. No, Mikael had stumbled
on what might be one of the best kept secrets of the century.

While his mother and Kei had asked him to retrieve information on Zeiram
from YSC's database, there was no way they could have guessed his path would
lead him to this. Worse, they couldn't possibly know what they had gotten
into. They would have warned him, or more likely, gone for help from just
about anyone, if they had learned the truth.

What was almost as amazing as the actual information was that he had never
heard the vaguest hint of it anywhere, and this was the sort of thing that
if anyone knew about it, rumors would have spread everywhere. YSC must have
gone to unbelievable lengths to keep it quiet, though the secret itself
would have helped in tracking down those that had knowledge of it.

And now Mikael, knew.

He had leave the system and warn his mother and Kei. Due to the nature of
the problem, sending them the information directly to them was impossible.
They would never receive it, and it could be used to track Mikael's
location. He would have to deliver it to them personally. It was the only
way to make them understand what they had really gotten themselves into.

Then an idea occurred to him. While Mikael knew he needed to get out of the
system before his presence was discovered, before it was too late, he
decided to use YSC against itself by tapping into their information network
and see if he could find anything recent on his mother and Kei.

He tapped into the communications logs and hacked into their own search
programs to find any relevant information. Nothing came up that he didn't
already know. Then he widened the search, in case they were using codenames
instead of the actual names. He began searching for information in the
regions of space they had been. YSC wouldn't codename those. At least Mikael
didn't think so.

His fears were groundless as this time the search worked. He began looking
over the list of hits, his eyes settling on one in particular pertaining to
Myce. It had been prioritized and sent out...

....Since he had hacked into the system.

They were on to him. Mikael was sure of it, and they had contacted people on
Myce to eliminate him. He didn't know why they hadn't fried his head
instead, but he did not want to give them the opportunity to change their
minds. He forcefully extracted his consciousness from the system before they
realized he knew they had spotted him. It was painful to instantly cut
himself off the massive amount of information pouring into his expanded
awareness. Actually, it was the moral equivalent of grabbing an eyeball and
yanking it out of its socket, but the pain was transitory since it was
virtual, and infinitely better than having one's brain lobotomized.

Mikael spared the idea no more thought. He hit the emergency extraction and
screamed in pain at the violent shutdown of his awareness. Apparently Pheryl
didn't do anything for forms of mental trauma. He simply lay back in his
seat, counting the seconds and waiting for the pain to diminish so he could
think clearly once again.

Smoothie's face appeared in the monitor. "Heyyo, what happened? If they
lobotomized you, I'm grabbing all of your stuff."

Mikael's voice was surprisingly hoarse. 1"I'm not lobotomized. I did an
emergency extract."

Smoothie winced. "I had to do that once. I'd rather pull out a tooth."

"It's starting to fade." Just a little, but it was starting to. Mikael kept
telling himself it was all in his head. Of course that was where the brain
was located, and it was what interpreted information. If it thought there
was pain, then you felt the pain, whether it physically existed or not.

It appeared Smoothie was about to say something else when he turned, as
though something in the room had caught his attention. "Hold on."

"I'm not going anywhere." Mikael thought the pain was going away. It was
hard to tell when there was so much of it. He tried concentrating, hoping to
cut through the haze. There was a measure of success as the slicer
remembered exactly why he had pulled out so quickly. "Smoothie, wait.
There's something I need to tell you."

Then he heard it. Growing up with a bounty hunter as one's mother meant
becoming familiar with all sorts of firearms and weaponry, including the
telltale signature of an energy pistol being fired at close range.

"Shit!" Mikael cut the connections to Smoothie's equipment. He swore again.
He should have fried Smoothie's system before cutting the link. If the
person on the other side was the least bit computer literate, they could
read Smoothie's logs and track Mikael down.

His situation was compromised. Sparing a thought for poor Smoothie and the
date he was never going to have, Mikael tried getting up, and nearly fell to
the floor. He began using every curse his mother had ever uttered. He had
forgotten the effects the Pheryl had on his body. He forced himself to rise
to his feet, feeling like the air was as thick as molasses.

At least his mind wasn't similarly impeded. There wasn't time to fool
around. Mikael pulled the disks containing all the information he had copied
from YSC and went to his emergency cache. It was a trick his mother had
hammered into him that had become a habit by now. It was hidden inside an
oversized surge protector that, if one looked closely they would realize,
was totally redundant with what was already hooked up to the system. Of
course, no one would look at it closely, which was why Mikael had chosen
that to hide it in. He pulled out his emergency account card, a second one
with a false name, several fake travel ID's, and a reclamation ticket to a
small storage unit he had outside of town. It was unlikely he would need the
last since his plan was to get off planet as soon as possible, but it was
better to have it and not use it than to need it and not have it.

That was all he was taking him. There was only one more thing to do. Mikael
looked sadly at his computer equipment. He had planned for this possibility
as well. It had taken him the better part of two years and a ton of money to
set it up to his liking, but his base of operations had been compromised,
and he wasn't taking any chances on the people that were after him getting
their hands on possibly sensitive material. Most of his important programs
were backed up elsewhere, but saying goodbye to the actual hardware was
outright painful.

He thought of the women that needed this information. That was what was
important. His mother had always said, "Items you value more than your life
are traps," and while he liked his system, he could part with it a lot more
easily than the people he cared about.

Course decided, he flipped open a panel on the side, hit a six digit code,
pausing two seconds, then hit two last numbers. He then flipped the panel
back down and headed out the door. He didn't want to be present as his
system wiped out its memory. To be sure no information could be salvaged,
the instant the program was finished, a magnetic charge set up next to the
memory unit would go off, ensuring what was gone remained beyond any chance
of being brought back from the dead.

Clumsily, Mikael began walking down the stairs as fast as he could, while
trying to keep from slipping and breaking his legs before his flight had
begun.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ishmael went over to the still active computer system as Bianca confirmed
the kill. Not that he thought the overweight man was still alive. Energy
blasts to his stomach and head had left holes in him that nothing human
could survive, but every 'T' had to be crossed, and no one would accuse
either of them of slacking off.

He sat down, and was delighted to see the system was active for use. He
wouldn't even have to bother slicing in to find passwords.

Bianca walked over. "What do you have?"

Ishmael held up a warning finger. "Patience." He hooked his cyberjack from
his neck and into the system and began to sift through the information.
"Damn!"

"What?"

"This was only a relay point. Someone else was the actual slicer."

Bianca paled. "What do we do?"

"I have his real location. And his face." Ishmael pulled out his
communication's pad and hit a button. His call was answered immediately.
"Perez. What's your current location?"

"Grid Five, Section Nine, Road S. Seven. I'll be there in less than five
minutes."

"Negative. New locale and target." He transmitted the address and Mikael's
picture.

"Received and understood. Will commence dusting upon confirmation of the
target. Out."

The communicator went dead. Ishmael left it upon on the desk where it would
be easily accessible. Then he looked to Bianca. "Don't waste time here. Back
up Perez. I'll quarterback from here and see if there's anything useful I
can dig up. I'll forward anything I find to you."

Bianca nodded in agreement and headed out as fast as she could, leaving the
door open as she raced away.

xxxxxxxxxxx

The minutes it took Mikael to leave his building and walk to his hovercycle
had been the longest in his life. It took ten times as long as it should
have, though he was pleased to note that the more he walked, the easier he
seemed to move. Toward the final steps he thought he was almost up to
normal.

The cycle was his second favorite, his first having been blown apart be a
rocket courtesy of 'Castrated' Kincaid', though the bitterness of losing his
favorite had been blunted by the enjoyable time spent with Kei. A grin
spread across his features as he remembered their bedroom antics. In fact,
she was lingering in his mind a great deal more than any normal weekend
stand should have. While she might not have been a professional, like many
of the girls he had grown used to, she was unquestionably talented. And
talking with her had been nice as well. He found himself wanting a chance to
get to know her more, even if his mother had pretty much raised her like she
had Mikael. It wasn't as though that meant anything to him. Kei had left his
mother's guardianship before he was born. It wasn't like they were related,
except maybe in his mother's mind. He hoped Kei didn't feel the way his
mother did, though. That would make things awkward. Mikael wasn't anybody's
little brother, and had no intention of becoming such, especially not to a
hot number like Kei. She might have been older, but that just meant she had
been around long enough to know what she wanted. He found it appealing,
actually. There were a lot of things found appealing about her.

He would be meeting her again soon enough. Mikael figured it would take him
a half hour to get to the spaceport, buy a ticket, and take off. He'd settle
for the nearest destination, then hop on a different ship, losing any
pursuers. He might change a third time, just to be safe. Before too long he
would rendezvous with the women, then they could decide their next course of
action.

Mikael started the hovercycle. It didn't explode, which was a good sign. He
really should have thought to check beforehand in case they had already
located him and wanted his death to look like an accident. But they hadn't,
and now he was leaving town before YSC's goons caught up.

Mikael started down the streets, taking the quickest way to the spaceport he
could think of. He decided to travel slowly, not wanting to draw attention
to himself. Even at this time of night, people traveled the streets of Myce,
especially in the area of town he lived in. There was a great deal of
nocturnal traffic, many of the denizens preferring to conduct their business
when there were fewer people around. He wouldn't stand out in that respect.
As far as anyone that saw him knew, he was a simply traveling through, like
so many others.

The journey strained Mikael's senses as paranoia gripped him. Every shadow
contained a menace and every movement that caught his eye held death. His
eyes were riveted to every person that he came across, no matter how
inconspicuous they might appear. Twice he passed by other hovercyclists,
giving them a wary eye, and they doing the same in return to his attention.

It was that tension that saved his life. A car turned a corner from ahead
and on to his street. It was traveling fast, not that uncommon a sight.
Despite that, Mikael was watching it intently when the vehicle suddenly sped
up and shifted slightly, bearing right toward him.

Mikael barely had time to react. He hit the drive selector, pushing the
bottom thrusters to their maximum, and kicking the cycle up in the air.
Unfortunately, there wasn't enough time to clear the height of the car,
though as he went past it did have the effect of blowing out the car's side
window, sending sharp slivers of glass toward the driver.

The top of the car caught the edge of the cycle, forcing it downward so it
absorbed the full impact of the collision. The force smashed in the front
portion of the cycle and severed most of its power couplings, transforming
it into a thousand pounds of dead weight. The vehicle was sent rotating top
over bottom. Mikael released his hold on the cycle and kicked off from it to
keep it from landing on him. Despite his actions, the rear end of the
spinning cycle nearly clipped him in the head before he sailed clear. It
landed hard on its side, bits and pieces of the chassis buckling under the
impact.

The cycle wasn't the only thing to hit the ground hard. Mikael, not being
very athletic, landed poorly and one of his legs twisting back underneath
him. A cry of pain slipped out, the agony driving away the last vestiges of
the Pheryl.

The car suffered a similar, if less dramatic, fate. The impact, combined
with the driver trying to shield his face from flying bits of jagged glass,
sent the vehicle out of control. Its tires spun noisily as it screeched
across the pavement, over the sidewalk, and rammed front first into a wall,
crumpling the vehicle. The impact jerked the driver forward, his head
ramming into the steering wheel and nearly knocking him unconscious.

Slowly Mikael stood up, wincing as agony shot up through his knee. His
threshold of pain had never been especially high, and with the Pheryl purged
from his system, he felt the entirety of the agony in all of its wondrous
glory. It was a sprain, which was better than a break, though not by much. A
glance at the remains of his cycle showed yet another one of his favored
toys would have to be put to rest as well. And that it wouldn't be providing
him a means of escape.

The slicer turned to the wreckage of the car, hoping the driver had ended up
as broken as the cycle. Again Mikael noted his luck was proving
exceptionally bad tonight as he watched the driver starting to climb out of
the shattered remnants of the window on his side. As his assailant pulled
himself from the wreckage, Mikael noted that once the assassin was halfway
out of the vehicle, exposed and physically unable to defend himself, it
would have been an ideal time to shoot him. At least for someone with a gun
that could aim straight. Since Mikael was neither of those things, it was
time to flee and hope the driver's legs were in as bad a shape as his own.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Perez saw the young man limp out of sight down an alleyway sandwiched
between two buildings. He went for his pistol, only to discover it had
fallen out of his shoulder holster in the crash. He pulled out his
communicator, the motion causing a fire to ignite in his chest and making
him pause for a moment. Each breath felt like someone was sticking a knife
into his lungs, but he ignored the pain as best as he could and stuck his
head back in the car, trying to locate the firearm. For just a moment, his
vision swam and he could barely remain upright. He knew he shouldn't have
skimped on his car's safety features, but given his line of work, a car
crash was the last way he thought he would die.

"Yes?" Ishmael's voice cut through the haze, rousing Perez from his
grogginess.

Shaking his head clear, Perez said, "He's here on," he looked around until
he spotted the nearest street marker. "Exetor between Fourth and Fifth. I am
in pursuit, but am having problems." That was something of an understatement
as his vision swam in and out again.

"What sort of problems?"

"I was in pursuit and collided with his cycle. I think I have a concussion,
and my chest feels like an ape has been jumping up an down on it. And I lost
my..." he trailed off as he spotted the sidearm lying on the bottom of
pedals. "Nevermind. I have relocated my primary weapon. He's injured too.
Limping badly, so he can't get far fast."

"Activate your field transmitter so Bianca can locate you."

Reluctantly, Perez did so. He didn't like giving off a signal that anyone
with a tracker, adjusted to right frequency, could pinpoint his location. It
was a touch irrational, since no one around there knew who he was or wanted
him dead, but the need to maintain a low profile was deeply ingrained into
his character thanks to his training.

For a moment, everything cleared, and he raced down the alleyway to catch up
to the target. With any luck, he could waste the slicer and receive medical
attention in the next hour.

Perez stopped in front of the alleyway and was surprised to spot his target
near the end. The alley wasn't that long. The slicer's injury must have been
bad for him not to have already left the alley. Slowly he raised his arm up
and drew a bead on the youth. Mikael had been looking over his shoulder
though, and seeing the gun leveled at him, ducked behind a dumpster just as
a shot went sailing past where he had been a moment ago.

Perez scowled. The dumpster was one of the heavy duty kind, built to have
the trash superheated into ashes when the garbage people came up. It could
withstand anything short of an explosive. That meant he'd have to close with
the target, and that meant traveling up the length of the alleyway with no
form of cover between him and the target. Of course, if the slicer was
armed, he should have been returning fire by now.

The chance had to be taken. Risks were an integral part to Perez's line of
work. He began walking down the alleyway, keeping the dumpster in his line
of sight and his gun aimed at it as he offered to the slicer, "If you come
out, I won't shoot you. You have information we need." A lie of course. They
wanted the information to die with him. Ishmael could discover if any had
been leaked out, and they'd clean up any other messes this sliver might have
left.

Perez's vision swam again. He staggered against the alley wall, muttering a
curse under his breath.

It was at that moment Mikael chanced to poke his head around the corner and
saw the man slumped against the wall, in obvious bad shape. For a moment, he
considered charging the injured assassin, but then thought better of it.
Distance, not confrontation, was what he wanted at this point. Pinned down
and having no other choice, Mikael ran for it.

Perez saw the fleeing youth through the world that danced around him. He was
able to orient himself enough to bring the gun up and snap off several
shots, but none came close to hitting him. Staggering like a drunkard,
Perez, made his way to the end of the alley, hoping the youth hadn't ducked
out of sight. If he had, the odds of finding him again were slim.

As the assassin staggered to the end of the alley, he spotted Mikael heading
toward a large public building standing a bit away from the others around
it. A train station! That was bad. If he got on one of those, he could be
anywhere in the city, or if he took a direct express to another city go to
ground. It could take years to dig him up, and Perez's employers were not
the patient sort.

A car pulled up next to him. Behind the wheel, he saw a woman he didn't
recognize. Even with his head swimming, she was close enough to shoot, so he
raised his gun, the stopped abruptly as she said, "It looks like it was hard
to dust your chimney."

Perez holstered the gun. Then on a whim he activated his tracker and saw it
beep in the direction of the woman. Confirming her identity, he informed
her. "The target ran into the train station. We have to get him fast. I'm
pretty beat, so it's probably going to be on your shoulders."

The woman cursed and activated her own communicator and informed Ishamael of
the situation.

Ishmael said, "Wait a minute. I think I found something of interest here."
There was a pause. "Yes, this guy hacked into most of the public service
systems, including trains at that station. I don't have visuals, but I can
track any purchases the target makes and where his destination will be."

"That'll have to do." She parked the car where it was and exited the
vehicle. She indicated Perez should follow as best as he could, and the pair
headed for the train terminal.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

Mikael's head was a blur as he tried thinking his way out of his
predicament. The train terminal was crowded, as he thought it would be. In
this area of town, many of the destitute and homeless tended to hang out in
the environmentally controlled public place. Supposedly it was illegal and
the authorities were supposed to chase away any loiterers, but the actual
enforcement of the law was in the more upscale places in the city. As long
as they didn't cause problems or mess the place up too badly, they were
unofficially allowed to stay.

They weren't the only ones present. The terminal was near a number of bars,
and some patrons chose to sleep off the effects of their drink before
heading home. Others really were travelers, taking the cheaper late trains,
while others still were arriving in the city for the same reasons.

Mikael considered the situation. He could contact the management personnel
and inform them that a killer was on his way. They would contact the
authorities and hopefully they would arrive in time. Doing that meant Mikael
would have to explain everything, and the law didn't respond well to
self-admitted slicers. Worse, since Smoothie's death was involved, it would
keep Mikael under police supervision for weeks, and he needed to get his
information to his mother and Kei immediately.

Mikael considered simply taking an express and getting the hell out of town,
but he had problems with that. They had found him in the first place through
Smoothie's computer, and Mikael knew he had sliced his way into the train
system. Smoothie had once bragged that on a whim, he had randomized the
ticket purchases of all the commuters so that they would get on the wrong
train and end up anywhere but their destination. He had caused such chaos it
had even made the evening news. Mikael could probably buy a ticket using one
of his fake identities, but if they figured out where he was going anyway
and got on the same train he did, he'd be cornered with no hope of escape.

He was still trying to decide the best course of action when a tall,
somewhat unattractive woman in a sedate, yet tasteful dress, walked up to
him. "Mikael, what a surprise to see you down here!"

The slicer recognized her immediately. Yoshiko Kumagara worked for Madame
Fortuna as a 'talent scout', meaning she spent time hanging around bus and
train terminals, keeping an eye open for young, attractive girls arriving
from the more rural regions of Myce that were looking to move into the big
city. Primarily she looked for runaways who had no idea of what they were
doing and only arrived with the clothes on their backs. When Yoshiko spotted
one, she would offer to help them before other less savory types got their
hooks into them.

If they accepted, she would help them get a temporary roof over their head
and access to basic necessities-- all the while covertly evaluating them. If
they met the Madame's criteria, she would offer them a potential job working
for her. Even if they turned her down or didn't work out, she still saw to
it they had a chance to get on their feet with a basic job and somewhere
they could afford to stay. She was connected enough to secure them such
things, and the girls that ended up settling in the city almost always felt
indebted to her for helping them in their time of need, and they would go
out of their way to help her if they could. It made her one of the most
connected people in the city.

Mikael also didn't want to get her involved. Yoshiko might have been able to
fend off small fry that hung out in this section of town, but she wasn't up
to dealing with a professional killer, injured or not.

"You'd better leave me be," he warned.

Yoshiko examined him with a critical eye. "You're in trouble. I'd better
contact the Madame. She'd have my tits if anything happened to you."

Mikael shook his head, keeping a close eye out for the man chasing him. "I
don't want to get her involved. This isn't some small time street gang or
pissed off boyfriend. I've got professionals on my tail, and they'll do
anything to kill me."

"I'm going to help," Yoshiko said firmly.

Having lived the majority of his life around women, many of them
strong-willed, had taught Mikael a rare talent most men didn't have:
recognizing when they dug their heels wouldn't back off. She wasn't going to
leave him be, that meant putting her in a situation of minimal risk. And he
could use her help, it was true.

It was then the first vestiges of a plan formed in his mind.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

Perez and Bianca entered the terminal at the same time, eyes scanning every
occupant in the place.

Bianca said, "You've seen him up close. You'll probably spot him before me."

Their communicator suddenly beeped. Bianca answered it while Perez kept
looking around.

"He just bought a ticket for the express to Markotta," Ishmael informed
them. "It leaves in three minutes. I'm buying tickets for you right now.
Pick them up at the gate and hurry before he escapes."

Bianca grabbed Perez's arm and all but pulled him toward the gate. As they
picked up their tickets, keeping their eyes open looking around, Ishmael
called again.

"The train's computer records his ticket as being punched and an occupant
having gotten on."

They both turned and looked around until they spotted the train in question.
Bianca said, "It's in our line of sight. There's no chance he can double
back on us.

"But there is a chance it'll take off without us. One minute," Perez warned.

They pair picked up their tickets and ran to the express train, Perez nearly
passing out on the way. Trying to keep him aware, Bianca said, "It's a small
train. Only four cars. We'll find him quickly and corner him. We'll escort
him off in Markotta, then find some out of the way place to kill him."

Perez could only grunt a response as tears welled in his eyes from the pain
in his chest.

The pair made it just in time as the doors hissed shut behind them, locking
them in for the ride. They boarded the train and moved to the passenger
compartments. All of them were open seats, making it easy to see all of the
occupants all at once.

They moved through the first two cars quickly, nearly running. It was easy
to do since there were less than a dozen passengers per car. At the third
car they paused, checked the lavatories, which were empty, and continued to
the rear.

"He's not here!" Perez said as the train began to pull out of the terminal.

"Is there anywhere besides the lavatories he could have hidden?"

"I don't think so."

They heard a woman three seats in front of them snort, then cough. For just
a moment, Perez thought she was laughing at them, then pushed the thought
from his mind. They had to find the target.

"Shit!" Bianca cursed.

Perez looked at her, then realized she was looking out the rear window of
the train as it left the station. Perez did the same as impossibly, their
target waved mockingly at them from the terminal.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Mikael knew he shouldn't do it, but he couldn't help himself. There really
wasn't any risk involved. The express was automated, and wouldn't stop for
anything other than obstructions or damage to the tracks. Any emergencies,
and the passenger would just have to wait until they arrived at their
destination. The waiver was right on the ticket about riding at one's own
risk. He hoped their bosses at YSC were waiting to execute them when they
arrived. Hell, another train was already arriving. Myce Central always
bragged about their trains arriving on time, and it was that punctuality
that had enabled he and Yoshiko to get him out of his situation.

They couldn't even blow out the windows given how fortified they were,
unless they had explosives with them. And judging by how enraged the pair
were, they knew they were finished, too. Mikael watched in amusement as one
of them pulled out a communicator and began talking quickly in it. The woman
babbled into it, and just as the pair reached the edge of his vision, their
anger disappeared and they waved back. Happily.

That was odd. It could have been a gesture of respect, but he doubted it,
especially given how angry they were moments before. He hoped they hadn't
discovered Yoshiko's presence and were planning to use her as leverage
against him. He hadn't been enthusiastic about including her in his plans,
but he needed someone to physically board the train in order for his trick
to work. There was no way they could figure out it was her on their own, and
she was too smart to shoot her mouth off.

Mikael was still wondering what was going on when a voice directly behind
him caught his attention. It was a man having a conversation, though the
slicer could only hear one side of it. He turned to see the man was speaking
into a communicator, obviously having just gotten off the recently arrived
train. The conversation had caught Mikael's attention for some reason, but
he couldn't quite put a finger on why.

Finally the man said, "Yes, he's standing right in front of me. You want to
talk to him?" The response was apparently an affirmative, since the man
handed Mikael the communicator.

Despite the sinking feeling in his gut, Mikael accepted it. "Yes?"

It was a woman's voice, "It's your friends who you just ditched on the
train. Very clever."

Mikael knew he should hang up and run for it, but instinct told him it was
too late for that. He really shouldn't have stuck around to taunt them that
way.

She continued. "It was almost clever enough, but you must have the worst
timing of anyone I have ever met. The gentleman behind you is named Vyory,
though it's not his real name. He was the last member of the team assigned
to kill you, but wasn't able to rendezvous with us since he was out of
town... until now. It really sucks to be you. I know you can't see us, so
I'll let you know we're waving good bye to you as well." The communicator
went dead.

Mikael turned to see Vyory was standing several feet behind him, out of easy
reach, but not so far that the slicer could somehow escape. A hand was in
his pocket, and there seemed to be a pointed object in it, aimed right at
Mikael.

The slicer's eyes darted around, trying to find some means of escape. He was
about to give up hope when potential salvation entered the terminal. A
couple of policemen were walking around, apparently on routine patrol, given
their relaxed state.

Vyory spotted them at the same time. Unlike Mikael, he appeared unconcerned
about their presence. "I wouldn't do that if I were you. Calling out to them
might inconvenience me, but it won't do you any good. I promise you'll be
the first one I shoot if you cry out. Now why don't we leave the terminal
and find a nice quiet out of the way place where we can talk?"

"You mean shoot me without anyone interfering," Mikael said bitterly.

"Maybe. But it'll keep you alive that much longer if we have to walk outside
instead of me shooting you here and now. You're a smart boy. Maybe you'll be
able to figure a way out of your predicament between here and there. I won't
even make you walk fast. What do you say?"

The way the gun in the man's pocket shifted slightly meant he was preparing
to shoot Mikael. There was no choice. He was more concerned with having a
chance to save his own skin rather than taking this man down with him. The
slicer headed toward the exit to the terminal, the man following keeping a
minimum safe distance between them, but now allowing anything to come close
enough to cutting off the line of fire. Mikael took his time, hoping
someone, anyone, might notice the suspicious nature of the man and interject
themselves. But nothing happened, and they exited the terminal without
incident.

"To the left," Vyory ordered, pulling the gun out and waving it in the
direction of the closest side street. Apparently he wasn't going to waste
any time, Mikael noted. Death was coming soon, and he couldn't think of a
way out of it.

Mikael began to panic. He wasn't used to life and death situations like
this. He was slicer with a love of fast cycles and women, not someone who
could win a fight or dodge a laser pointed right at him. He was useless in
situations like this.

They stopped halfway down the alley. The assassin made Mikael turn to face
him, signaling this was the end of their journey.

Mikael made one last desperate pleas. "I have valuable things I can give you
in exchange for my life."

The man shook his head. "Forget it, kid. I'm not a mercenary. I'm a
professional."

There was a zip through the air, and the sound of an impact of a solid
object striking something soft.  Mikael was stunned to see a gout of blood
shoot out from Vyory's throat, nearly splashing on him. In the blink of an
eye, a hole appeared in Vyory's forehead as well. The man fell face-forward
onto the ground, unmoving.

Mikael was still trying to figure out what had happened when a shadowy
figure moved up from the mouth of the alleyway. A rough male voice said,
"Sorry about the wait. I had to angle my shots so the wads didn't punch
through him and hit you."

The figure stepped out of the shadows and into the dull light. He was old,
probably in his late fifties, with a number of scars and more gray than
black in his hair and triangular beard. His clothing was plain, though well
worn. It was rumpled, as though he didn't care about his appearance, though
the cat-like grace with which he moved said he took much greater care of the
shape his body was in. In his hand he wielded a long barreled pistol, which
Mikael recognized as a darter, an accurate weapon that was preferred for
silent, messy kills.

The man ran a hand through his hair, the hunter's beads in them clicking
together. "Geez, kid, you're as bad as your Mom about getting into trouble.
And here I thought you had better sense than her."

"Fujikuro!" Mikael could have kissed the man, and would have, except that
would have earned him a couple of wads in the head and throat as well.

The bounty hunter remained wary. "Anymore of them around?"

"Two on an express train heading for Markotta. I think there's another one
at Smoothie's place. I can give you directions."

The bounty hunter bent down and began rifling through the dead man's
pockets. "This one was a pro. How'd you get mixed up with so many of them?"

"A favor for mom."

Fujikuro looked at him incredulously. "She knows better than to put you in
any real danger."

"It turned out it was way bigger than even she guessed," Mikael explained,
which was the truth. Whenever Iria had her son help, it was always under the
assumption he was never at risk. Had she known what she was really getting
into, she'd have probably ordered him to go to ground and not surface until
the matter had been put to rest. She would feel guilty enough once she found
out how close he had come to being killed.

Fujikuro pulled out a small blinking cylinder. After examining it for a
moment, he pulled out a small box like device from one of his own pockets.
He turned a dial on it, adjusting it several times, then smiled. "Great.
They're wearing transmitters. It'll be easier to run them down with this.
There's only one more in the area."

Once Mikael had a chance to calm down, he was able to think rationally.
There were a few unexplained questions concerning Fujikuro. "How did you
know I was in trouble?"

"A little bird told me. Geez, this guy had no cash on him. Wonder if I
should try raiding his credit cards?" Fujikuro said mostly to himself.

It took Mikael a moment to figure out what had probably happened. Yoshiko
had called Madame Fortuna, who had  in turn called Fujikuro in to help him.
"I bet you didn't charge the little bird for your services."

The bounty hunter scowled at him. "Yeah, I probably ought to bill you."

Since Madame Fortuna had gone out of her way to save his life, Mikael
decided to return the favor. "You know, you ought to think about marrying
her. She's definitely ready, and you're not getting any youn-" Mikael found
having a pistol pointed at oneself was a definite conversation killer.

"I could always say I arrived too late," Fujikuro warned.

Mikael laughed nervously. Not that he thought the ornery bounty hunter would
kill him. Wound maybe, but not kill.

Fujikuro finished inspecting the body and stood up, prepared to head toward
the end of the alley. "I'd better take you to the 'Touch of Heaven' so you
can hide. Then I'll finish off the rest of these guys."

Mikael shook his head. "Take me to the nearest spaceport."

That made Fujikuro laugh. "I ain't a taxi service."

"Mom's in trouble. I have to get this information to her."

Fujikuro's shoulders slumped in defeat. Mikael noted that despite
appearances, he must be getting soft. A couple of years ago, he would have
feigned not caring about Iria's fate.

"You going to need me to go along?" the bounty hunter asked.

"No. Once I get to there, Kei can inform the 3WA and put the matter in their
hands."

That caused Fujikuro to tense up. "Kei? 'Little red-haired just as reckless
as Iria who grew up into one of the Dirty Pair,' Kei?"

The description of Kei irked Mikael. "Kei the girl my mom knew, yeah. That
one."

"If those two are back together, I doubt much will be left at ground level
wherever they go," Fujikuro mumbled under his breath. "Fine, I'll get you to
the spaceport. I'd tell you to keep them out of trouble, but I ain't one for
wishing for the moon. Just try to help keep the alive."

"Deal. Now let's get going."

Mikael and Fujikuro headed for the nearest spaceport, Mikael counting the
seconds. This time he would travel under an assumed name in order to get
close enough to personally deliver the message to the women, then...

.... then there'd be hell to pay.

Xxxxxxxx

[END Chapter]










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