[FIC] Did You Ever

[dd]

A/N Prescript:

Beware! Spoilers abound. Moreover, some things that might sound like canon, when taken together with true FMP details, will be my own inventions.

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The air had a bite to it.

A stiff breeze blew across the open expanse, lifting Kaname’s hair like a long blue banner and causing Souske to grasp the colored pamphlets in his hand with a firmer grip.

The Whispered girl looked upward, shielding her eyes with her hand, taking in the great blue sky and the stately white clouds. The scarred boy at her side made continued covert sweeps of the surrounding area out of a sense of habit, even though he and his companion were at an exceeding safe facility.

“Sorry to keep you two waiting,” a stocky man in a grey suit said as he approached, adjusting his dark shades as he put on a well greased smile. “My name is Agent Jackson. No relation to the past President.” He showed his identification first to the cute teenage girl, giving her a quick and hopefully secret look-over. He suppressed a grin as he showed his ID to the young man dressed in an official Mithril uniform, realizing that the young mercenary had easily followed the course of his gaze. “I trust your flight was OK.”

“It was better than the usual,” Kaname said with a touch of acerbity. “I really can't complain, I suppose.” She sighed and reconsidered. “Actually, I think I can. Sergeant Blabbermouth spent much of the last leg talking shop with the other soldiers.” Kaname was referring to additional security personnel who had gotten on board the jet aircraft in the Rheinland-Pfalz region. She frowned. “And having to come overseas... so soon...” That later remark was telling. She still felt terrible, mentally and physically. It was merely a month after her rescue at the hands of United States military units working in conjunction with surviving and resurgent Mithril forces. She should feel a sense of gratitude. Instead, she was experiencing intermittent feelings of annoyance and trepidation.

“The C-40B is a fine aircraft for long journeys,” Soukse added. That designation was given to a military version of the 737-700 Boeing Business Jet. “And it was certainly more comfortable than the other aircraft that we flew.” He went on to list a multitude of aircraft that had been involved in their rescue, pick-up, and delivery to the Karshi-Khanabad air base in southern Uzbekistan, before their subsequent flight to Ramstein Air Base in Germany. “Also, matters are timely, and we owe a debt to those who brought us here.”

“Sousuke....” Kaname was in no mood to be mollified, or contradicted. She clenched her teeth and fists without knowing it. “If I had my paper fan....” She knew that she was on edge. But, she had reason to be, more so than any other woman on earth. “You wouldn't need a ride to the Capitol.” Her infamous past actions; the events associated with her rescue; and the unwanted periods of reflection on those matters had left her am emotional invalid. The only brief respite had been the brief secure phone call that she had been allowed to place to her father and sister in this country, and another call she had placed to Kyouko in Japan.

“I'm a bit confused,” Agent Jackson remarked, making a small joke. “That's not a good thing for someone in my profession.” He was a member of the United States Secret Service. “I thought I had been assigned to protect the two of you against outside threats.” He rubbed his chin, a look of mock seriousness on his weathered face. “It looks like I may need to protect you from one another.” He sighed. “I have a feeling... that once this duty is done... that I'm going to want a transfer to the Treasury division.”

“...” Kaname was speechless at first. Then, she managed a weary smile. “It's just our way.” She leaned against Sousuke. “When you have a good thing going... why stop it....”

“Ah.” Sousuke nodded his head. “Kaname... can I use that statement in the future?” It could serve as a good excuse in many instances.

“No!” Kaname held her nose up and turned her back to her boyfriend. “Definitely not!” She hid a smile. It was nice to see Sousuke ask something in jest. “And I have a witness!” She nodded to Agent Jackson, and then added in a rush: “Wait... you're not really going to transfer now, are you... I was just playing...” She had noted the older man take off his lapel pin, a piece of attire that marked him as a member of the Secret Service.

“Doubtful,” Souske said. “He is a Specialist. His remark about the Treasury Division was merely a joke. He does not look like a man who wishes to invest incidences of minor fraud or spend his time preventing and investigating counterfeit operations.” He watched as the man in question put a different lapel pin on. “When they are on important missions, agents change their pins to something a different shape or color a number of times throughout the day. The frequency increases when they are guarding the President.”

“Very good,” Agent Jackson told Sousuke. “How did you know that little tidbit?” He knew Sousuke's background, at least as much of it had been made known to him by his superiors. No doubt the surprisingly seasoned operative had learned it through contacts in Mithril, the secret organization that was no longer secret after the whole rigamarole in Russia and the South Pacific. Now, that group was looking to find its place in a changing world, just as that world was officially trying to figure out what to do about the Whispered.

“How does that otaku know anything?” Kaname stuck out her lower lip. “Hmmmpppfff. Don't praise him. It will just make him worse.” She reached out and touched Sousuke on his hand briefly, an action clearly at odd with her words. After she then took a moment to straighten his collar, she eyed the American agent critically. “Oh. Wait. That would be just my luck.” She closed her eyes and let out her breath, before explaining her curious remarks. “You carry a gun. You're probably just like him. A Military Maniac. What's a girl to do....” She watched as the man put a hand to his earpiece, listened, and then nodded. Men she had only been partly aware of previously closed in a bit further. They too wore dark gray suits.

“The car is on its way,” Agent Jackon told the two teenagers. “After the President boards the aircraft, we will use his automobile to travel to the Capitol Building.” He chuckled. “Don't worry about me, Miss Chidori. I'm a relatively simple man. The tools of my trade are limited to a SIG Suaer P229....” He patted his chest near one armpit. “...an FN Five-seven... a Remington Model 870 shotgun...an M4 carbine... Uzis... an FN P90....” He exchanged a nod with Sousuke, smiling when he saw Kaname frown. “HKMP5.” Another nod and another frown. “...And a special little pneumatic pistol they just came out with....”

“Really?” Sousuke perked up. His eyes practically shone. “Do you have one with you? May I see it?”

“I'm sorry,” Agent Jackson replied. “If I showed you, I would have to kill you.” It was hard to tell if the was teasing or telling the truth.

“Then by all means show it to him!” Kaname tossed her hair. The wind carried it smack dab onto Sousuke's face. It looked as if he were under attack from a blue octopus before she shook it free. She couldn't help grinning when he saw Sousuke and Agent Jackson look at each other and smile. “Or just give me the name and manufacturer. The big idiot's going to need something for Christmas.” She slipped her arm through Sousuke's. “It's probably the only thing he doesn't have.”

Not long after that exchange, a black car at the head of a secure motorcade entered the grounds of the Joint Base Andrews Naval Air Facility Washington, as Andrew's Air Force Base was now called. The President of the United States was headed abroad for an important international meeting. The group of automobiles and motorcycles headed out towards a large blue and white aircraft that had taxied to a halt.

“Is that Air Force One?” Kaname had learned about the aircraft call-name during her stay in the states.

“Negative,” Sousuke answered, before the secret service agent could. “That Boeing VC-25 is currently aircraft 28000.” He pointed to the five digits making up the plane's tail number.” He left it at that. Kaname had a quizzical look in her eye. “Naturally it is not Air Force One.” Agent Jackson chuckled at that reply. The boy should have added 'yet,' or taken his explanation further.

“What?” Kaname put her hands on her hips, feeling as if she was at the center of some kind of jest, if not the central point of some larger cosmic joke.

“It will be Air Force One,” Agent Jackson answered, beginning to get an understanding of Kaname Chidori's frustration. “As soon as the President steps inside.” He shrugged. “It's a technical designation.”

“I see.” The blue haired girl said. “Thank you for that informative answer.” Kaname sounded very calm. But, she was a volcano ready to blow. No. After all she had been through, she was a super-volcano ready to erupt. If left unchecked, she could bring an end to life on earth. But, despite the strong all-pervasive bond she felt with her scar-faced companion, he was the one life form on earth truly at risk. She tapped her fingers on her pant-suit for a moment, trying hard to resist the urge to strike. She was too exhausted to resist for long. “Jerk.” Kaname kicked Sousuke in the ankle.

When the President had taken to the air, and the remainder of the official procession had headed off to their various staging points, a driver steered a large black car over to where Sousuke and Kaname waited. The Presidential State Car was remarkably at their disposal, a gesture that spoke volumes. Despite feeling as if they might be shrimp headed for a figurative 'barby,' the two foreign youngsters were international heroes, and were a good source of information crucial to the security and well-being a many nations, not simply Japan and the United States of America.

“That is Cadillac One,” Sousuke told Kaname. “I didn't think that anyone but the President used it.” He didn't go into specifics, even though he knew that the limousine was essentially an enlarged Cadillac DTS with a chassis and drive-train derived from the GMC Topkick. The car was fitted with five inches of military grade armor; had run-flat tires; and could seat seven. He watched as the driver opened his door and stepped out. The thin emaciated-looking man removed the American flag and presidential standard present on the hood. He replaced them with Japanese flags.

“Right,” Kaname sniped playfully. “Sure. I'm not that stupid, you know. It can't be Cadillac One, because the President isn't in it. Unless he's in the trunk or the glove compartment.” She folded her hands across her chest. “Moron.”

“He's correct, Miss Chidori.” Agent Jackson open a door for the passengers, as the rest of his team headed off to take their positions. He had frowned a bit before speaking further. An agent doesn't like to think about the leader of the free world being shoved into a trunk or glove box. “It's merely a play on words referring to Aircraft One. We also call it 'The Beast'.” He smirked, knowing he had no business saying what he was about to say. The devil made him do it. “I bet that's what you call your boyfriend. He looks like the.. you know... affectionate type.”

“...” Kaname was at a loss for words again. Sousuke had indeed become more effectionate. He just wasn't anything like Kurz. Oh. Why did she have to make that obvious comparison. She whispered the lanky SRT soldier's name. So many bad things had happened in the past few months.

“He's probably alright,” Sousuke said softly, hearing that name, his heart in his throat. “No one found the body.” He noticed Agent Jackon putting a blank look on his face as he closed the car door. The agent knew the earmarks of a sad and private story when he saw one. “I doubt he would allow himself to die after... uhhh....” Kurz had been shot by Casper, the man who had trained him in sniping and had eventually gone to work for Amalgam.

“After what?” Kaname raised one eyebrow, lowered it, and blushed. “Oh... that....” Someone had told the two of them that Melissa that she and Kurz had finally become intimate, and had done 'it' numerous times in a day on more than one occasion. She couldn't look at Sousuke, her face feeling somewhat warm.

By the time that the car had made its way to Route 495, making the eight mile trip between the air base and Washington D.C., Sousuke placed the pamphlets he was holding down into his lap and pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. It was a page from a magazine that an airman had given him to read , shortly after they had taxied out along a German runway. It had a list of humorous observations. Perhaps some of those might help lighten the mood.

“Did you ever wonder,” Sousuke said to no one in particular. “Why the time of the day with the slowest traffic is called rush hour?” That brought a chuckle from the driver. There were plenty of cars on both sides of the highway.

“No one would wonder that besides you,” Kaname said, taking a compact out of her purse, along with sundry other make-up items. “You're the poster boy for the oxymoron 'Military Intelligence'.” She started touching up her face. “Right, Oxy?” She smiled at her own joke.

“It....” Sousuke closed his mouth. He had made considerable progress towards thinking before speaking. His next words were well thought out, not blurted in a mindless rush. “Did you ever wonder why women can't put on mascara with their mouth closed.” Agent Jackson's eyes sparkled He had noticed something to that effect in the past, but had never really paid it much notice.

“That....” Kaname decided to ignore Sousuke. Without realizing, she had stopped thinking about their missing friend. But, a sense of melancholy remained.

“Did you ever wonder....” That was the driver speaking up as they passed by groups of homes. “...Why in America, we leave cars worth thousands of dollars in the driveway and put useless pieces of junk in the garage.” That observation sat well with his countryman, but went over the heads of the two teenagers. In Japan, there wasn't as much available space as there was in the suburbs they drove past.

“Did you wonder....” Agent Jackson pointed out one of the bullet-proof windows. “...Why they call buildings like that apartments, when they are all stuck together.”

“Hmmppff. I'm not wondering anything,” Kaname said, trying to feel annoyed but failing. A little humor could indeed raise one's spirits at the right moment. Without warning her own spirits plummeted again. “The... the only thing.” She lowered her eyes and set her compact on her knee. “The only thing that I wonder....”

“It will be alright.” Sousuke reached over to squeeze Kaname's free hand. “You'll do fine. The questions will be necessary, but fair. They will not blame you for anything. We did nothing wrong.” He thought a moment. “No one will consider you a freak. Or, at least, they better not.” He put his hand on his body, over the place that one of many weapons was usually concealed. He closed his eyes a moment, willing himself to feel confident and calm. His weapons had been taken from him long before he landed on American soil. Fully clothed, he felt somewhat naked. “We need to do this... for our sakes....”

“And the world's.” Kaname nodded her head. “I know, Sousuke. I know.” The knowing did not seem to cheer her up. In fact, her head hung low now. But, taking a deep breath, she put on a fake smile and sat straight again before another half mile had gone by.

As the car sped along Route 295, approaching the capital city, Sousuke decided to resort to a new strategy. He picked up the pamphlets he had been given by a kindly woman who had greeted them as they debarked from the final flight. Opening the most pertinent one, he began reading. He wished to be educated, certainly. But even more so, he wanted to distract Kaname from her worries.

“I naturally know that Washington D.C. is the capital of this country,” the young operative started. “But I didn't know that eight other cities have served as a meeting place for the nation's Congress and its predecessors, and are therefore considered past capitals themselves.” He saw Agent Jackson nod, confirming that the information was correct.

“I didn't know that either,” the driver admitted.

“Then you're probably lucky,” Kaname said with a sniff.

“Philadelphia... Baltimore... Lancaster... York....” Sousuke strained to read the small print. “Princeton... Annapolis... Trenton....”

“And New York City,” Agent Jackson added. “You've spent time there before, haven't you Miss Chidori?” That was a rhetorical question, of course. The Secret Service stalwart was clever enough to understand Sousuke's intentions. “If time allows, perhaps you could show Sergeant Beast some of your old stomping grounds in the suburbs of that city.” He grinned. “Or some of the best romantic spots.”

“That....” Sousuke felt a need to cough and did so.

“Hmmm-mm-m.” Kaname spun a small jeweled ring around one finger. It was a gift from Sousuke that was more than a friendship ring but less than an engagement ring. “That might be a very good idea....” She had mixed feelings about the time she had stayed in this country. She looked out the car window with a wistful feeling, thinking briefly about her mother.

“Sight-seeing would be good,” Sousuke said in a rush. “The Statue of Liberty, for example.” He composed himself as best he could, seeing that thoughts of romance and intimacy still filled him with a trepidation that battle never did. He focused on his pamphlet for a different reason now. “Or... since we are heading into Washington D.C.... there are many places aside from the Capitol building....”

“I believe you would find the Smithsonian to be interesting, Mr. Sagara.” The driver made that suggestion as Cadillac One passed over the Anacostia River on the Frederick Douglas Memorial Bridge. “Especially the National Air and Space Museum. They have famous aircraft at the main site, and anti-satellite missiles and remotely-piloted vehicles at a companion site near the Washington Dulles International Airport. There's also....” He was interrupted by a loud noise, half and utterance and half a growl.

“A-hemmm.” Kaname stared daggers at the back of the driver's head. The usually unflappable man flinched, making the heavy vehicle swerve ever so slightly. “Tell me more about the Capitol, Sousuke.” That was unheard of, her asking him to get long-winded. But, the last thing she needed was to be dragged through any building that had even a single military item, famous or otherswise.

“But....” Sousuke hesitated only briefly before saying “Certainly. The United States Congress was established upon ratification of the United States Constitution in 1789. It says here that the decision to locate the capital was contentious, and that Alexander Hamilton helped the quarreling parties reach a compromise.”

“That's correct,” Agent Jackson noted. “The federal government agreed to take on war debt incurred during the American Revolutionary War, if the northern states allowed the capital to be built along the Potomac River. As part of the legislation, Philadelphia was chosen as a temporary capital for ten years, until the nation's capital in Washington, D.C. would be ready.”

Following that clarification, Sousuke read aloud, serenading the passengers with numerous historical facts and noteworthy features of the building in question. When he noted that Thomas Jefferson insisted that the legislative structure be called the Capitol, rather than Congress House, and remarked that the word 'Capitol meant 'city on a hill' in Latin and is associated with the Roman temple to Jupiter Optimus Maximus on Capitoline Hill, Kaname berated him, telling him to keep things simple. After retorting that it would be a disservice to the people who had painstakingly produced the informative pamphlet, he quickly complied when she changed the subject and asked the Secret Service Agent if Washington D.C. had something equivalent to Japanese 'love motels.' Sousuke was predictable. Kaname wouldn't have it any other way.

By the time Sousuke had regaled his fellows with facts about the design and construction of the Capitol Building; the partial burning of the building by the British during the War of 1812; and the dramatic expansion of the building that began in 1850, the car had started passing by relatively new security additions that had been prompted by the terrorist attack on New York City. They were nearly at their destination.

“That is a bit ironic,” Sousuke said at one point during his oratory. “The name of the statue crowning the dome was originally 'Freedom Triumphant in War and Peace', officially shortened to the 'Statue of Freedom'.”

“Annnnd....” Kaname checked her make-up one final time as the car headed towards a parking area with a number of waiting agents and government officials.

“Some of the construction was carried out by slaves,” Agent Jackson answered, correctly predicting the mercenary's train of thought, without himself having ever read the pamphlet. “The original plan was to bring in craftsmen from Europe. But, there was a poor response to recruitment efforts. As a result, most of the work force was made of African Americans, freed and slave.” History was one of the agent's hobbies, and history was filled with numerous facts that most people would never come to know.

“I do not like the idea of slaves,” Kaname said. She found the idea repugnant, and not because she had felt like a slave herself when she was the 'guest' of Amalgam. “People or otherwise,” she whispered under her breath. When she heard the word 'slave,' she couldn't help but thinking of 'Arm Slave,' or the more formal designation, Armored Mobile Master-Slave System.

“Kaname,” Sousuke said softly after reading his companion's lips. His memory was filled with missions where Mithril had helped emancipate enslaved people. He also mulled the fact that the nomenclature in question provided another point of irony. In the hands of men and women of good conscience, Arm Slaves had been a tremendous proponent of freedom. Moreover, in some ways, he had felt most free himself, when he was piloting just such a machine. None of that would ever erase the mental scars that his girlfriend carried, however. He took out his folded paper again. “Did you ever wonder why sheep don't shrink when it rains?”

“Huh?” Kaname needed a moment before she saw the purpose of the bizarre question. “Idiot.” She gave Sousuke a quick kiss on the cheek, thankful for his caring actions. “I'll be alright, Sousuke. I can't change the past.” She looked into his eyes, feeling for a brief moment that they were in a private world of their own. “And if I could, I might not have the future that I want.”

“Affirmative.” Sousuke knew what Kaname meant. If anything, his past was filled with more sadness and regret than his girlfriend's was. But, his hopeful view of the future mirrored hers. As long as she was by his side... as long as she still cared about him... he would be content.

After leaving the vehicle, shaking hands with waiting dignitaries, and being handed printed itineraries for the day ahead, Sousuke and Kaname were steered towards a safe entryway that was not available to the general public. Agent Jackson acted independently by calling his immediate superior. After a brief conversation, he informed the group that there would be a minor change in plan. They would be making their way to the main entrance, allowing the two teenaged visitors a chance to see the splendor of the building.

When they had all made themselves inside, and the Secret Service agents had spread out like shepherds guiding sheep, a tour guide was called over to provide well rehearsed commentary. The chipper young woman with a glistening white smile and a perfectly pressed red white and blue vest explained that the Rotunda had a central dome above, a Senate wing to the north, and a House of Representatives wing to the south. When she prattled on, and mentioned the fact that a private underground railroad complex connected the main Capitol with each of the Congressional office buildings in the surrounding complex, Sousuke tensed up momentarily. He had been inside of too many underground facilities, and couldn't help but feel a sense of paranoia in the face of numerous unwanted flashbacks. He took a few deep breaths, realizing where he was. There would be no enemies rushing up from the bottom levels. He managed to listen intently as the tour continued, never once feeling the impulse to rush out and tackle any of the famous statues they were shown. He had done something like that before, and once was more than enough. He thought back to the day that he had tackled a certain high school girl carrying a bust for art class. That same girl, meanwhile, looked more and more like she was a young plant wilting under a sweltering sun.

Kaname had started off feeling somewhat entranced, her growing anxiety stacked neatly inside some mental cupboard. She had stared unabashed at the Apotheosis of Washington, a huge fresco visible through the oculus of the dome, painted by the Italian artist Constantino Brumidi in 1865. The magnificent artwork depicted George Washington becoming a god, draped in royal purple, a rainbow arch at his feet, the goddess Victory to his left, and the goddess Liberty to his right. But, as she turned her attention to the Frieze of American History, a circumferential fresco painted to resemble a carved stone bas-relief, her sense of stress and foreboding returned bit by bit, as each of the senator's aides in the small group began reciting specific rules and regulations. To an observer, they looked like a group of hyenas harassing a lioness.

“Kaname,” Sousuke said. “Did you ever wonder... if 'con' is the opposite of 'pro'.... is Congress the opposite of progress?”

Sousuke had spoken loudly, and his voice had carried. Visitors looked shocked, amused, indifferent. The aides looked as if someone had unzipped his pants and started urinating at their feet. Agent Jackson hid a smile and then reminded the gaggle of paper pushers that Kaname and Sousuke were guests, no matter how certain members of Congress might view them. They were here to offer unique insight and confirm worrisome suspicions, not to be judged and condemned. They had been through a terrible ordeal. It was OK if a couple of protocol points were broken or overlooked.

A sweaty man ran up to Agent Jackson, dabbing at his brow with a monogrammed handkerchief. Everyone was ready. The Vice President was on his way.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen....” Agent Jackson spoke after whistling to get everyone's attention, causing a group of matronly churchwomen to whisper in disapproval. “...Beauties and Beasts....” That of course was directed to Kaname and her beau. “We need to make our way to the Senate chamber now.” He blinked a couple of times before walking off, after one rogue vacationing churchwoman blew him a kiss.

As the group strolled towards a room seating the combined houses of Congress, the chipper tour guide spouted facts about the United States legislature. “The United States Senate is made up of two senators from each state, all of whom serve staggered six year sentences....” She blushed, catching her slip of the tongue. “I mean terms.” She cleared her throat. “I heard that today there will be a joint session of Congress, meaning that the members of both houses will be gathered. Joint sessions are held on special occasions, such as the State of the Union address and presidential inaugurations.”

“Today's proceeding might be better considered a joint meeting rather than a joint session,” one aide added with a flourish of his hand. Before he could say more, a different assistant piped up and gave examples of past joint gatherings that had involved visiting world figures, American military leaders, astronauts, memorial services, national anniversaries, the counting of electoral votes, and the address that George W. Bush gave in response to the September 11 attacks.

“Aside from being a joint... meeting....” Agent Jackson smiled. “...Today's proceedings are also a closed session.” That comment was made to the hovering tour guide, as well as the aides. None of them would be permitted to attend. There would be no unofficial or unnecessary visitors in the balconies overlooking the chamber. “Here we are.” He ushered Sousuke and Kaname into a semi-circular room, with a deep blue carpet, a number of concentric rows of well-oiled desks, and a dais fronted by a long bench. Above the room stood a tiered balcony area, seating a small number of men and women who knew the rules of a closed session and were sworn to keep confidence. That area was kept uncharacteristically dark, such that the identity of the chosen few could be kept from general consumption

“Our guests are here,” the Vice President called out after banging a gavel. Seated at the dias, he was serving as the Presiding Officer. That task that can be undertaken by the Vice President, who is officially the President of the Senate; by the President pro tempore; or by anyone designated by the President pro tempore. Typically a junior senator of the majority party was tapped for that duty. Regardless of whichever person presided, that individual was tasked with maintaining order, recognizing members to speak, and acting as the primary interpreter of the Senate's rules, practices, and presidents. “We will all come to order.” He nodded towards an elderly gentleman, dapper in a suit that had once belonged to his father, second in a line of noted senators. “The Congress recognizes the distinguished gentleman from the state of Kentucky.”

“I thank you, Mr. Vice President.” E. Charles Sinclair, the current Majority whip, went on to address his fellow congressmen, following his salutations with a brief summary on world events and a reminder of the purpose of the day's proceedings. He then went on to introduce Kaname and Sousuke. The former looked like a deer caught in the headlights of an approaching 18-wheeler. Sousuke stood at attention, somehow feeling as if he were under the steely gaze of Commander Mardukas. He fought the crazy urge to polish the name plate on his uniform.

The Vice President spoke again, setting the format for the meeting. He eyed the two Japanese teenagers with a critical and a compassionate eye, wondering how they would fare while facing a group of men and women with strikingly different personalities, agendas, and reputations. Not only would they face the prideful and angst-ridden crowd en mass, they would also meet later with Senators who sat on the Emerging Threats and Capabilities subcommittee, and then with Representatives who sat on the House Armed Services Subcommittee on Terrorism and Unconventional Threats. The two youngsters had a long day ahead of them.

“Mister Sagara,” Renee Mountebank, U.S. Representative from Maine said affably. “Before we get to the most crucial matter at hand, my fellow Congressmen and I would like to clarify matters on the subject of Mithril.” She pushed her glasses further up her nose, looking like an average school marm in an upper class outfit. “I read my share of Tolkein when I was younger. I believe that Gandalf spoke about mithril as if it was wonderful beyond belief. It could be beaten like copper and polished like glass. The Dwarves could make a metal out of it, one that was amazingly light, but harder than tempered steel. As beautiful as silver, it never tarnished or grew dim.” She frowned when she heard people grumbling behind her. There was a point to her poetic rambling. “Should we view your Mithril as something shiny and pure....” She pursed her lips. “... or something that is shiny on the outside but base and corrupt at its core.”

“Why don't we start off with a description of Mithril from the young soldier's point of view,” the honorable Senator Harold Tryptich from Illinois asked. “We can wax philosophical after we fill in the blanks. Since our fellow Senators and Representatives have never come clear on the subject....” He eyed one particular Senator whom he believed to be one of the secret supporters of Mithril. He smiled when the man purposely ignored his gaze. “...I will be an eager listener.” Once a Army Ranger, he gave Sousuke a two-finger salute that earned him his own series of whispers.

After the Vice President politely asked Sousuke for a description of Mithril, he dutifully obliged. “Mithril is a worldwide anti-terrorism group, that received covert aid from many governments, but was not controlled by any country or countries. I can understand why many here today might be concerned. We... excuse me... Mithril... possesses numerous technologies and weapons systems that are far superior to those of any sovereign nation, including the United States of America. Mithril did its best to remain extremely secretive. I do not believe there were ulterior motives involved in that. There is a reason that we could carry out missions that others could not. A reason that goes beyond technical superiority. We were Specialists. Specialists who depended on surgical strikes. Surgical strikes that were carried out with small numbers of men and vehicles. Mithril did not.... does not....” Sousuke felt a sweat drop on the side of his face. The future of Mithril was uncertain. His future was uncertain. The same could be said for Kaname, and for all Whispered.

“Take your time,” the Vice President said in gentlemanly fashion. He correctly surmised that the younger man found it difficult to speak about something he had help keep secret for so long, and might also be confused about the days ahead. Hell, he might even be wondering where his next paycheck would be coming from.

“Mithril lacks the numbers or numerical capacity to fight a war of attrition.” Sousuke said, after turning down an offer for a glass of water. He went on to give pertinent details, including previously sealed information on specific missions. “We may have been secretive,” he added. “But we fought to halt chaos, not to create it, or to benefit from it.” He did not mention Amalgam by name. No doubt there would be questions about that organization, too. “Mithril was created after a nuclear warhead was detonated at the end of the Gulf War. Its purpose was to prevent or halt regional conflicts around the globe....” He looked over the assembled Congressmen. “Without taking sides....”

“Then I suppose we all owe you... and those like you... a debt of great gratitude.” That comment, dripping with sarcasm, came from the chapped and narrow lips of Margaret Arnold, U.S. Representative form Nevada. She held a pen in one hand and spun it slowly like a mini-baton. “Mithril was also involved in protecting the Whispered, were they not? Another secret too few of us knew about.” If she were a bird, her feathers would be ruffled. Secrets were bad, but only when she was not privy to them. “Of course, that was all done out so much goodness from so many hearts, was it not? It was merely a coincidence that the Whispered provided Mithril with a treasure trove of Black Technology.” She didn't trust people who wouldn't choose sides, and her side in particular.

“I....” Sousuke was unable to answer. He was interrupted.

“Mister Vice President, if I may.” A portly man with a combed over hairdo lisped in animated fashion. After he was officially acknowledged, Senator Timothy 'Tiny Tim' Townsend asked an opportunistic question than many of his fellows could easily have asked. “What exactly is Black Technology. Where does it come from. Is it Alien Technology?” He glowered at Beatrice Hurrt, U.S. Representative from New Mexico, who barked a short hyena-like laugh. “The result of human genius far beyond the scale of Leonardo?” He stroked a short well-kept goatee “Or... could it be... something from the future?” Many rumors had made their way back and forth between the wings of the Capitol building. He put his hands on his desk and fanned his fingers, leaning forward eagerly.

“It might be better....” Sousuke stopped in mid-sentence. He was about to say that it would be better for a Whispered to answer. But, he knew that Kaname would be asked for her share of explanations soon enough. “I will answer as best I can.” She had spoken to him about the subject, during days and nights they had shared hospital beds next to one another, in a secret rest house away from the prying eyes of a world that had suddenly become aware of so many shocking secrets simultaneously. “I have been told that Tessa... Captain Teletha Testarossa... believes that Whispered act as some for of terminal to the future.” He saw Senator Townsend smugly wriggle and lean back in his seat. “They somehow receive information from some unknown source or sources. Most of the advanced information seems to be in the fields of Electrical engineering, Computer science, and Material science. I could give examples....” He looked up at the Vice President.”

“Please do so,” the Vice President replied. He frowned a the look of avarice on the face of certain hawks in the crowd.

“Sir,” Sousuke replied smartly, fighting the urge to salute. “Artificial intelligence. Arm Slaves. Paladium Reactors. The Lambda Driver....” He was interrupted again. Many Congressmen spoke up with questions about that mysterious device. When he had satiated their curiosity, Sousuke continued by describing the fabulous garments, weapons, and mechanical devices that he had long since come to take for granted. Each thing he mentioned prompted a flurry of inquiries. One Senator was brazen enough to ask if their foreign visitor had any plans or samples that he would be willing to sell to the Department of Defense.

The gavel sounded. The presiding officer reigned in the questions and instructed Sousuke to return to his discourse about Mithril. There was an agenda to follow and only so many hours in the day. The topics they were to discuss had too many tangents to permit each and every Congressman to run rampant with requests and demands.

“Regarding Mithril....” Sousuke looked over once again to see how Kaname was doing. She seemed calm and collected, but was tapping her index finger against her thumb in a repetitive beat. The wait was wearing on her. She was probably trying to find her own answers again. Maybe this would all help her in the long run. Getting things off of her chest might allow her to finally stop questioning her every past action. “Before the Amalgam onslaught, there were three primary divisions. Research. Intelligence. And Combat. The Research division worked primarily on projects that converted Black Technology into workable devices. The head of Intelligence is Dr. Painrose.” He had been told by surviving members of Mithril's General Council that he should be totally open about everything. It was the only way the organization stood to retain any degree of autonomy. “The Intelligence division handled the types of matters one would expect, regarding intelligence gathering and counterintelligence missions. They were secretive, even within the organization as a whole, and sometimes operated in a dubious fashion.” He knew his next statement would cause a stir. “They used U.S. Intelligence satellites without this nation's knowledge.” There was a loud response to that. Men stood, shouting at Sousuke or at one another. The gavel sounded loudly and the Sergeant at Arms coughed in an exaggerated manner.

“Preposterous!” Robert Dulford, junior Congressman from Florida, tried to stand on his desk, but was restrained by his fellows.

“Why don't we all just stop the drama,” Abigail Freeman sniped. The Representative for the state of Wyoming didn't care if the man was acting as a patriot or was merely grand-standing. For the umpteenth time that day, she regretted that smoking was not allowed in the Capitol. She popped a Tic Tac and spoke in a somewhat slurred voice. “What else could they have done? Send up their own satellite without us knowing and investigating? And... mister Eagle Scout... don't you think that our country has used its own share of dirty tricks in the name of peace, justice, and the American way?” After her response prompted more demonstrative bickering, the Vice President threatened any further disruptions with expulsion for the perpetrators.

Sousuke was shocked by the level of bile expressed by some of the civilized men and women. The man whose name he was about to mention had been pleasant by comparison. “General Mayer Amit... a former Mossad agent... is head of Intelligence. The head of the Combat division is Admiral Voda. Formerly of the United States Navy....” After giving a run down on his own division, Sousuke told what he knew about surviving Council members, he reported all that he knew about Lieutenant Commander Andrei Sergeivich Kalinin. After that, there were no more questions for him. Before sitting, he whispered into Kaname's ear. “You know... I love you....” When those words didn't have their usual effect, he tried a different tack. “Did you ever wonder.... when the police arrest a mime in this country... do they tell him he has the right to remain silent?”

“What?” Kaname's eyes regained their focus. Her breathing became more regular. She stopped trembling.

“I apologize. That was a bit infantile, I suppose.” Sousuke knew very well that an army... like a prizefighter... should not retreat when the opponent is up against the ropes. That was the time to press the attack. “Did you ever wonder... why when something is transported by car, it is called a shipment... but when something is moved by ship, it is called cargo....” He sat down quickly and folded his hands in his lap.

“What!” Kaname's eyes flashed. Color returned to her cheeks. Her reaction had been instinctual. “Sousuke!” Before she could launch into one of her tirades, the Vice Chairman called for her to stand. She did so as calmly as she could. The time had arrived. She had to maintain her composure. It would be difficult, seeing how emotionally labile she had been since her experience with Sophia. “Yes, Mr. Vice President.” It would be a personal victory, if she didn't burst into tears sometime during this session and the ones to follow.

The assembly did not show Kaname any leniency because of her gender. The questions came quickly, pointed and without pause. The Senators and Representatives wanted to know her full history. They listened as she described her life in detail. She knew that they were looking for some kind of clue that might oust the Whispered individuals whose identities were still secret to the world at large, and maybe were secret to some Whispered themselves. She had no doubt that many of the Congressmen were angst-ridden, having lived their entire life in the days of spies and Cold Wars, caught up in the paranoia that gave birth to movies like The Invasion of the Body Snatchers.

“Now... let's get to the heart of the matter....” Senate majority leader Edgar Fromm spoke like an angry father or an exceedingly stern teacher. He stood with one hand grasping his lapel. “You have mentioned that you are Whispered. We know that. It is one of the reasons you are here.” His gaze practically bored into Kaname. “We only have a vague knowledge of what that means.” His voice became richer, with a measured cadence, as if he was about to recite a great epic. “Men readily fear things that they know. The often have a greater fear for things they do not know, and a greatest fear for things they know only in part.” He asked her to tell all that she knew, starting with a simple confirmation.

“Yes, sir.” Kaname looked at one face after another, looking for some small hint of compassion or understanding in the men and women seated in the row nearest her. “The Whispered are all young individuals. They were all created on December 24, 1984.” The word created caused a ripple effect in the crowd, as a number of Congressmen thought of test tube babies, Frankenstein, and gene-splicing. “At precisely 11:50 Greenwich Mean Time.” Dozens of questions were called out at once. Kaname gripped the arms of her chair, near breaking a fingernail.

“I apologize for this pack of lions,” Representative Immelda Martin said. “Believe me... many of them are more like lambs when they are not part of a crowd.” The gray-haired grandmother from the state of Missouri believed the adage about the benefits of honey versus vinegar. But, she also found herself mourning the fact that shit often served better than honey, with flies and with certain politicians. “Can you please explain things further for us... as you no doubt were about to....” She had been strongly tempted to carry her condemnation further by saying it would be better to be created than to be made. A 'made man,' also known as a wiseguy or man of honor, is a man of Italian or Sicilian descent who has been been inducted into Cosa Nostra as a full member. She wondered if any of the gentlemen in this room might have shady ties.

“Affirmative.” Great. Now she was answering like Sousuke. “I mean, certainly. Yes.” Kaname took a deep breath and let it out. “Scientists in the Soviet Union built a secret city by the name of Yamsk 11. The purpose of that city was to produce advanced technology, and the brightest minds of the Eastern Bloc were brought there to works towards that purpose. They put most of their efforts towards creating an Omni-Sphere.”

“Omni-Sphere,” Senator Thomas Cubby from North Dakota chuckled. He was a wise guy of a different sort. “That sounds like something from an Austin Powers movie!” He shook his head. “Or something from a bad pulp novel.” He changed his voice to imitate a narrator from an old radio show, pretending to speak into an imaginary microphone. “Sentence them to the Omni-Spheeeer....”

“....” Kaname bit her lip. In the past, she might have responded to that kind of rude comment with fire and brimstone. Instead, she felt herself shrinking emotionally, almost as if the room were growing larger and larger around her. “I... it... that was the name I have always been told.” She stole a glance at Sousuke. He looked as if he had been carved from ice. She could imagine what he must be feeling at the moment, seeing how she was being pressured. That helped her regain a better sense of self. The two of them had been through many things together. This meeting was little more than a picnic with too many ants, compared to their combines trials and tribulations. Her conscious mind understood that. “The... Omnisphere....” She paused, waiting to see if there would be any further remarks. She didn't wait too long, so that she would not seem to be rubbing someone's nose in it. “...Was designed to be a device that merged mental abilities and technology in order to reach through space and time, allowing its creators to see into the future.” She shivered. “It was also able to control the minds of others.” She knew they would be even more suspicious of her now.

“What about fish,” Senator Aubry Moffet from Vermont blurted abruptly, prompted by his personal quirks that verged on Tourette's Syndrome. “We had heard it had something to do with fish.”

“Fish?” Kaname blinked rapidly, smoothing her hair for a moment without knowing what she was doing.

“Fish,” Senator Moffet said. He put his hands up to his neck like gills, causing more than one Congressman to ask him to stop acting like a cretin. “You know. Dolphins. I had heard that it had something to do with dolphins.”

“Dolphins are not fish,” someone answered. Kaname had expected the speaker to be Sousuke. It was not. It was Representative Arnold. “They are mammals.”

“Don't you dare!” Kaname practically hissed at Sousuke in a sizzling stage whisper. She had seen him open his mouth. “Not a single word.” It turned out that he was simply yawning. Someone else went on to state what she was afraid he might say.

“Some dolphins are indeed fish,” Senator Steven Tackett from Oregon stated. He was an avid sportsman and a trained marine biologist. He didn't consider that juxtaposition to be odd in the slightest. “Dolphinfishes are called dolphins in this country, even though they bear no relation to the mammals of the same name.” Before that smooth barb drew an irritated rebuttal, a sweaty Senator once again showed-off his poor impulse control. “OK. Alright. Dolphins... mammals... whatever.” Senator Moffet rubbed his hands together. “What about the fissssh.”

“The system that the Soviets intended to make use of the Omni-Sphere was labeled TAROS... Transfer and Response Omni-Sphere.” She momentarily experienced flashbacks from the time she had used the TAROS unit aboard the TDD-1 to aid Sousuke in his battle against Gauron. “The TAROS was created by Professor Varov by connecting the brains of thousands of dolphins together.” That brought the loudest response of the day. Incensed herself, Kaname blurted out “Don't blame me. I didn't have anything to do with it. That was before I was born.” She cringed. She sounded petulant. Worse, some of the Congressmen looked at her in a fashion that suggested they sensed weakness. It was never good to bleed in front of sharks or piranhas.

“Did the Soviets intend to create Whispereds with that device,” the Vice President asked, drawing attention to himself momentarily.

“No, Sir.” Kaname poured water from an ice-filled pitcher into a sparkling clean glass. She took a sip before continuing. “I was told otherwise. The machine went out of control. Waves of TAROS particles flowed outward from the secret city. Two types were especially powerful. Iota waves... which are still being produced today... created some kind of mental condition in the people of Yamsk 11... causing them to kill each other and destroy the facility. Luckily, those particles can only travel a relatively short distance before dissipating.” She took another sip, wishing she could hold the cool glass to her forehead or temple areas. “There was also a wave of Tau particles, that were not produced for very lengthy period of time. Those particles spread over the entire world.” That sobering thought touched a sensitive nerve in those members of the audience who were working or had worked to bring about the creation of scalar devices and other types of technology that had the potential to erase life from the planet in the event of a mishap. Few there knew that The United States and its allies had once been working on something similar to TAROS using genetically engineered chimpanzees.

Kaname went on to mention how the Tau particles had no effect on most of mankind. The only people affected were those children born in a three minute interval after 11:50 GMT on that fateful day. She told the Congressmen what Tessa had told her. The other Whispered girl had speculated that every newborn has some type of special and temporary activity in parts of their brains, and that the Tau particles connected those particular infants to the Omni-Sphere because that special activity was still ongoing . After answering a number of pertinent questions, she was then probed about certain particular Whispered. Starting with Kaname Chidori!

“You told us much about your life,” Minority leader Richard Lester from Nebraska said after coughing into a handkerchief. “I applaud you for your honesty, and for sharing things that must have been difficult for you. If you will, we would like to know specifics, now. Specifics about you and your abilities as a Whispered.” He had his own reasons to want to learn what he could. His niece was Whispered.

“Yes, Senator.” Kaname felt as if she might swoon. All of her secret grief and guilt threatened to overwhelm her. Remembering who she had once been, before so many terrible things had befallen her, she stiffened her back and spoke, intending to tell them a sanitized version of the past half year, leaving out the types of thing that had necessitated her receiving therapy. “The first time anything strange happened was in the forests of Siberia. My high school class had been captured by a man named Gauron. I had been taken to a small laboratory for testing, but was rescued by Sousuke.” She gave her beau a quick glance. “Later, it was my turn to save him.” She described how she had begun hearing Whispers when Arbalest was in combat with Codarl. Gauron had understood how to use the Lambda Driver and Sousuke had not. She had evened the playing field. “The Whispers felt like an inrush of knowledge... coming from some faraway place... in many different and unknown voices... sometimes with pictures of words in my head.” They sometimes admitted people who heard voices to psychiatric facilities. That made her feel unduly worried for a moment, imaging that some authorities might feel that locking away Whispereds would solve a problem. But, why should her jittery imagination stop there? The easiest was to get rid of a problem is to get rid of the problem. Enough of that! She pinched herself. “The information is specialized... each Whispered has certain areas of expertise. There is some overlap.”

“And your area of expertise is related to the Lamda Driver?” That was Senator Fromm. There was an unspoken question is his voice: 'If we made it worth your while, would you help us in that regard?'

“Yes... yes, sir....” Kaname tightened her arms against her sides. She realized that she wasn't simply a visitor telling what she knew. She was also a potential tool. Were there unscrupulous men in this nation that my try to use her again, this time for their own greed or good? Should she volunteer all she knew, to prevent some form of renewed captivity? No. She would trust in the law. She would have champions here, if she needed them. “I... I have knowledge in that area. For example... the Fairy Feather... a piece of equipment that can negate a Lamda Driver field... I provided the specifications to Mithril personnel as a gift for Sousuke....” The device had been built by another Whispered and added to the ARX-8. It was a difficult device for Sousuke to use, just as the Lamba Driver had been early on. Nevertheless, at a crucial moment, he had used it to cancel out the L-D fields on Laevatein and Belial simultaneously, to good effect. “In addition....” She listed other information she had, that had yet been put to practical use.

[continued below]

[dd]

“We would like to hear about other Whispered as well,” Senator Fromm stood with his arms behind his back, looking like an aged professor in his well-worn tweed suit. “Those who are still alive... and those who are not.” He looked over at Senator Sinclair from Rhode Island and nodded. He knew that the other man had a list of names that had been compiled. The other Senator handed him a paper printout. “Why don't we start with Miss Teletha Testerossa? Her name has come up in these proceedings on multiple occasions.”

“Yes, Senator.” Kaname took another deep breath and let it out. This was safe ground, so to speak. “Tessa... Captain Testarossa... she's my friend.”

“And a love rival?” That query came from Representative Arnold. She was one of the Congressmen who had gathered some small knowledge of Kaname's and Sousuke's ealiest time together.

“She....” Kaname coughed, and blushed at her reaction. She frowned momentarily, the memory of Tessa wrapped in a towel at Sousuke's apartment in her mind, followed by a montage that included the other woman's confession at the site of Behemoth's demise. “She is my friend. We may have had a common goal, but we didn't let that get in the way of our relationship.” She looked up at the Vice President, hoping he might call out a moratorium on questions about intimate parts of her life. How were they important? She sighed, supplying her own answer silently. Allegiances. Ties. Obligations. Those issues were something that inquiring minds might need to know. Her anxiety levels began peaking again. Voice cracking slightly, she went on to describe Tessa's accomplishments, including the Tuatha De Danaan and its artificial intelligence, DANA.

“Next, tell us about Bunny Morauta.” That was Senator Moffet again, with his penchant for animals. He had managed to get a copy of the list.

“I believe his real name was Bani, sir.” Kaname replied. “He also had knowledge of the Lamda Driver, and helped build Arbalest, the ARX-7.” She held her breath, remembering how that Arm Slave looked, after its defeat at the hands of Leonard's Belial. She couldn't help thinking of Kyouko and the injuries she had suffered on that day. Chasing those unwanted images from her head, she said: “His greatest work involved Al, the artificial intelligence used on that A.S. and the ARX-8 that was created from its wreckage.” She added sadly: “He committed suicide. Some believe it was because he was a pacifist and had created a powerful weapon of death and destruction. I think that he probably could not take the Whispers.” She didn't add the fact that Bani had carried an unrequited love for Tessa. That fact did not need to become a statistic or curiosity on some dusty library shelf.

“Do you ever worry that you might meet the same end?” That question came from a petite woman with a bee-hive hairdo and an apparent addiction to corrective surgery. Representative Kathleen Gambini from New York. One could have easily sliced her accent with a knife or a monomolecular cutter.

“I....” That question caught Kaname off guard. Se had thought about the drawbacks of being Whispered many times. Even in the depths of despair, she had never wanted to kill herself. Even so, she had been willing to die, if her death would avert some great crisis. “No. I have not.” She didn't say 'I have worried plenty about death, however.' Just the same, that message came across, causing many in the room to feel sorry for her.

“Tell us what you know about Sarah Miller,” Senator Sinclair said.

“Sarah was rescued by Sousuke before he met me.” Kaname had been told about the mission. Kurz had pantomimed Sousuke grabbing a helicopter in his M9 and throwing it to the ground. That story had become a legend of sorts aboard the TDD-1. “She helped build the ARX-8 with help from Al, crafting an A.S. that was designed specifically for Sergeant Sagara's strengths and better known habits. She was also the one who actually built the Fairy Feather from my design specifications.” She added additional less noteworthy details about her fellow Whispered. For a moment, she felt good. In a way, she felt as if she were painting Sarah's life and accomplishments in a positive light. That good feeling would leave her soon enough.

“Nami,” Senator Sinclair mentioned. “Last name unknown at this time.” He lowered the papers in his hand, formulating the questions he would ask, and the purpose he had for each question. “What do you know about her?”

“She....” Kaname felt as if she had been struck with a sledgehammer, right between the eyes. She had never met the girl. She had received a Whispered message from her, but knew nothing else about her other than those things that Sousuke had offered. She knew that he had kept some things secret, and still had niggling doubts nibbling at her heart.

Sousuke went stiff. He felt his heart pounding in his chest. Nami had been his friend. If he had decided to say in Namsak or Munamera village instead of looking for Kaname, might he have fallen in love with her? He had indeed found himself growing more and comfortable with his life as an A.S. Gladiator. Another question burned hotter. What future might Nami have had if Sousuke Sagara never crossed her path? He couldn't help but remember the stand off with Kurama, and how the detestable man had murdered Nami right in front of him. He closed his eyes, as a particularly painful old mental wound was torn open. Why hadn't he acted? Why did he let her die? The fact that they would both be dead if he had done what Kurama asked seemed immaterial. He had never been able to tell Kaname the precise details of the Asian girl's death.

“I don't believe that she ever tapped fully into her Whispered abilities,” Kaname continued. “She was good at programming A.S. operating systems, however.” And she had fallen in love with Sousuke. The blue-haired girl had gathered that much from her brief Whispered contact with her. She didn't get the impression that Sousuke had ever returned those feelings. “She was killed by an Amalgam agent.”

“But... even though she was dead as a doorknob... she was able to talk to you... so to speak....” Senator Sinclair narrowed his eyes. He had copies of a transcript that described the testimony taken from various medical personnel who had treated Kaname Chidori after her rescue from Amalgam. Under the influence of drugs, she had spoken about many topics. “Isn't it true that the Whispered can talk to one another telepathically? Isn't it true that they can communicate over long distances? Isn't it also true that they can even resonate with one another for a short time after death?” It was clear that the man was trying to decide whether the girl he was questioning should be viewed as human or monster.

“That's all true....” Kaname rushed to defend herself, feeling as if her every thought or deed might be put under a microscope or be run through some kind of moral litmus test. “But... it's not something we do lightly. If two or more Whispered resonate together too long... they risk getting lost forever.”

“Lost, as in a physical sense?” That question came form the Vice President. “Are their teleportation powers, too?” He had heard many things that he found hard to believe. What was one more?

“No, Mr. Vice President.” Kaname shook her head. A few strands of her hair draped into her empty glass. “If Whispereds resonate too long together, their personalities can merge. They can't be separated again. Like....” She tried to remember the example that Tessa had used aboard the TDD-1. Right. She had been making tea. “Like adding milk to a cup of tea.” She added her next point for obvious reasons. “It's not like Whispereds go around talking behind the back of non-Whispered. We can't read people's minds. We can't make normal people....” She hated using that word, because it made her feel abnormal. “We can't make other people do what we want them to.”

“Of course not.” Once again, that was Representative Arnold, one of the thorns in Kaname's side. The way that she spoke made it sound as if she doubted the Jimdai student, and was suggesting that others should doubt her too.

“Now, let us move on to someone with a much greater role in the conflicts we are hoping to learn more about later in Committee.” Senator Sinclair met Kaname's gaze. “Leonard Testarossa.” He saw the effect that name had upon the girl.

“He....” Kaname tensed up. How she hated Leonard! She still found it hard to swallow that he had been Tessa's brother. “This will take some time....” She began a running discourse on all that she knew about Mr. Silver. She was interrupted on numerous occasion, as members of the assembled bodies tried to ascertain how much of her prior behavior had been voluntary, and how much had been coerced.

“Was he your lover?” That question landed on Kaname's lap like a mortar shell. The person asking, Representative Christine Humber from Alabama, was a very big fan of soap operas. She was also a shrewd examiner, versed in striking at the most vulnerable moments. She blew on her eyeglasses and began rubbing them with a ultra-fine piece of cloth.

“N-No!” Kaname held her hands up and shook her head vehemently. “He wanted to be... he even stole my first kiss....” That was adding a bit too much. She needed to calm down. She would not describe the things that Leonard had done that had been akin to psychic rape. “But... no... I never wanted that.” Her response left no doubt in the hearts of the women present. Some of the men, however, thought less than charitable thoughts. They grilled her in more detail, as if they felt it might prove useful to have her perjure herself. Mercifully, the inquiry suddenly shifted again.

“Sophia. Tell us about her.” Senator Sinclair's voice snapped like a flag in a stiff gust. “Or should I say it?” The description he had previously heard about that woman could have come from the pages of a Stephen King novel. One of the kludgy ones.

Kaname shuddered. It had been bad enough talking about Leonard. But Sophia! The horrible things that she had done after her personality was taken over by that Queen Bitch! “She was a key Whispered. You might even call her a Whisperer, since she could put knowledge into Whispered minds.” Kaname massaged her temples until she became conscious of her action and stopped. “She existed in some kind of crystal-like form... buried in the rubble of Yamsk 11... until Tessa and I found her. Her remaining physical form disappeared when... when she....”

“When she took you over,” Senator Sinclair offered. He gripped his papers so tightly that they crumpled. Was he talking to Kaname Chidori? Could he be chatting with Sophia masquerading as the Japanese girl? Or might he be speaking with some unholy combination of the two? This was not a Witch Hunt as some of his peers might suspect. This was about securing the safety of the United States, if not the world. This was about getting a good grip on a truth that had proven far too elusive.

Almost as if a signal had been given, the questions came in a heavy bombardment again. Kaname looked as if she might want to crawl under the heavy bench she was sitting at, trying to find shelter from the plunging verbal projectiles. When someone asked about the illusion she had been shown while under Sophia's influence, she had to fight back the tears. That was one of the things that he had hoped to leave out! On one particularly dreadful day, she had seen herself shooting and killing both Sousuke and Tessa. It had felt so real. Emotionally crushed, she had flown with Leonard to Merida Island, where Amalgam had built a machine that would make use of one very special Whispered talent.

Sousuke stood up. He faced the men and women in front of him. Kaname fully expected him to launch into some heated defense of her, slinging words much the way he slung bullets. Some of the Congressmen, well aware of his past proclivities, wondered if he might have been able to sneak weapons through security. When the SRT member stuck a hands in his pocket, the Sergeant at Arms motioned for the Capitol police officers present to move into position, even though he doubted that the young mercenary was armed.

“Did you ever wonder,” Sousuke said in a calm voice. “Why no one ever reads the headline, 'psychic wins lottery'?”

There was stunned silence after that question. The Sergeant at Arms motioned with his hand, ordering the security forces to stand down after Sousuke took out his own list.

“Wh-Wh-What?” Seanator Sinclair seemed momentarily baffled. He was by no means alone in that regard. If he was at home with his favorite pipe, that insanely expensive calabash would have fallen from slack lips and scattered Burley tobacco across his polished hardwood floors.

“Did you ever wonder,” Sousuke said again. He looked over at Kaname, hoping she was proud of him, finding a new if somewhat unconventional ay of protecting her. “When companies ship styrofoam... what do they pack it in?”

“That's... Mister Vice President... please.” Senator Sinclair was appalled. The gavel should have struck its base plate numerous times by now. “Mister Sagara should keep silent when he is not being addressed.” He looked particularly miffed when the presiding office failed to reply or act.

“Senator Sinclair,” Sousuke would risk a breech in Senate etiquette. “Did you ever wonder why the drive up Automatic Teller machines in this country have Braille lettering?” No doubt, the same machines used for walk up sites were used for drive-up ones as well. Just the same, the fun was in the asking, not the answering.

“No I have not!” Before Senator Sinclair could say more, Representative Gambini smiled and admitted that she had wondered just that same thing briefly, a couple of days before the meeting. Other audience members chuckled and admitted the same.

“Me too!” Senator Hortense Samuelson from Montana said. “ And I've also wondered why drug stores make the sick and handicapped walk all of the way to the back of the store to get their medicine, while perfectly healthy people can buy cigarettes close to the front door.”

“That....” Senator Sinclair looked like he was about to pinch a loaf where he stood. “Mr. Vice President!” His shrill call was echoed by other Congressmen.

Sousuke Sagara, Sergeant of Mithril, had seen and done things that most people could only dream about. None of those things were half as miraculous as the sea change that had taken place in that honored venue. Members of the United States Congress and United States House of Representatives began calling out “Did you ever” at an increasing rate, while some of their more paranoid comrades began wondering if the laughing legislators were being mentally influenced by strange and ominous mental powers. It wasn't mind control. It was something very simple: a fun and effective way to aggravate and stymy members of the opposing party.

“Did you ever wonder,” a Senator asked. “Why only in this country, we chain the pens in banks to the table, but leave the vaults wide open?”

“Did you ever wonder,” a Representative rushed to call out her zinger before someone stole her thunder. “...Why in this country, people order double cheeseburgers... super-sized fries... and a diet coke?”

“Did you ever wonder,” another Representative asked. “...Why lemon juice is made with artificial flavors, and dish-washing liquid is made with real lemons?”

“Why is the man who invests our money called a broker?” That Senator didn't bother with the 'Did you ever wonder.' Neither did some of his fellows:

“Why isn't there mouse flavored cat food?” “Why do they sterilize the needle used for lethal injections?” “Why didn't Noah just swat those two mosquitoes?” “Why do they call what doctors do 'practice'?” “Why do we drive on parkways and park in driveways?” “Why are there Interstates in Hawaii?” “Why do they lock the doors at gas stations? Are they afraid somebody might clean them?” “If flying is so safe, why do they call part of the airport a terminal?” “Why is the word 'abbreviation' so long?” “If buttered toast always lands buttered side down... and cats always land on their feet... what would happen if you tied a buttered piece of toast on the back of a cat and dropped it?”

That last question stopped the rush of questions. The room went dead quiet. Someone actually dropped a pin on her desk, and the noise was heard by those nearest to her.

“Finally!” Senator Sinclair spoke too soon. In fact, tit was his colicky exclamation that prompted his adversaries to renew the tomfoolery.

“Mister Sagara,” Representative Martin was feeling a bit mischievous. “Did you ever wonder why brassiere is singular, while panties is plural?”

“Uhhh-hh-h....” Sousuke could help but utter his famous utterance. Kaname managed a smile, knowing how that inquiry must have Sousuke twisted like a pretzel, especially since she was sitting by his side. She might ask him that same question again at some opportune moment.

“Mister Sagara....” That was someone with an entirely different motive, using precedent to pull the Mithril operative into the game. “If fire fighters fight fire... and crime fighters fight crime....” There was a pregnant pause. “What do freedom fighters fight....”

“....” Sousuke scowled. He knew that the Congressman was merely making a play with words, but he still felt as if Freedom Fighters past and present were being insulted. He felt vindicated when someone waved in the direction of that particular Senator and asked “Did you ever wonder why people who know the least know it the loudest?”

Not caring if he might draw the ire of his superiors, Agent Jackson spoke, offering a fellow Specialist some back-up. “Did you ever wonder... if olive oil come from olives... what does baby oil come from?” Nearly the entire audience groaned, for various reasons. Once again, despite the actions of Senators Sinclair and his cronies to bring order back to the proceedings, the avalanche of playful questions began sliding down the figurative mountain again.

WHAM WHAM WHAMM WHAMM WHAMM WHAMMM WHAMMM WHAMMM

The gavel struck so fiercely, that the head came flying off. The speeding projectile skittered down along the ornate carpet. Everyone turned to look at the Vice President. They were certain he was about to fly off the handle himself. Who might be chastised? Who might be censored? Who might be sanctioned? Senator Sinclair was beaming.

“Geez,” the Vice President said. “What does it take for a man to get a question in edgewise?” He nodded to Sousuke, realized why the young man had said what he had, anl marveling at the unexpected result of the young man's ploy. He fought a grin, seeing the look on Senator Sinclair's face. The man looked like he had used Tabasco Sauce instead of Vaseline! “Mister Sagara.... Miss Chidori... did you ever wonder why, in this country, hot dogs come in packages of ten and hot dog buns come in packages of eight?”

A low level of mumbling and muttering filled the chamber. Sousuke said “I remember that the same question was asked in the movie Bulletproof Monk.” He flinched when Kaname pinched him. He ignored her. “The nameless monk in the movie told the young hero that he would finally reach enlightenment when he could answer that question.” He sighed. That movie always left him with mixed feelings. There were fun parts, but the choreography was poor compared to such films as Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon and The Matrix, and there was way too much sappy dialogue.

“What did he finally answer?” The Vice President had never seen that movie, even though he was a fan of Chow Yun-Fat.

“He said 'So, I figured it out, why hot dogs come in packages of ten and hot dog buns come in packages of eight'.” Sousuke almost snorted. “' See, the thing is, life doesn't always work out according to plan so be happy with what you've got, because you can always get a hot dog'.” He folded his arms across his chest. “It was a stupid answer. It would have been better if he said something simple like 'Sometimes you just want a hot dog'.” He fought the sudden urge to ask why the food in question had the name it did.

“I see,” the Vice President said. He decided to avoid watching the film in the future. “By any chance... do you happen to know the correct answer?” He didn't expect that the young Sergeant would, but there was no harm in asking. Someone in the Senate chamber room would be able to educate them all if Sergeant Sagara could not..

“Affirmative!” Sousuke had been present when Melissa told Kurz the answer, after the young marksmen had been complaining about a shortage of buns aboard De Danaan. He wouldn't answer the way that she had, however. The members of this august assembly would not be happy if every second or third word had four letters. “Each type of manufacturer has its own interests. The same things goes for various types of military equipment that is not interchangeable. For example....”

“Sousss-kayyy....” Kaname held one hand as if she were clutching a paper fan.

“I apologize!” Sousuke resumed his explanation. “Hot dog manufacturers prefer to have packages that weigh exactly one pound. It is easier to measure, sell, and store product in that way. Even if there are six hotdogs packaged or four, the weight should be the same. Bakers are not worried about weight. They are concerned with pan size. There must be maximum efficiency with their pans and with the ovens they are cooked in. As a result, the bakers prefer multiples of three and four, which have the added benefit of better package configurations. Ten buns could only be shipped in a single row of ten or two rows of five. That would make the product more vulnerable to damage.” He thought a moment. “I would suppose that the mismatch continues because people will meekly submit to things if they have no one to fight for their cause.” That addition came in subconscious response to the earlier dig made at Freedom Fighters.

“It's really no big deal,” Senator Frank Simmons of Wisconsin claimed. The Oscar Mayer division of Kraft Foods had its headquarters in his state. “Oscar Meyer receives more than fifty thousand consumer letters per year. Less than a dozen writers mention the bun hot dog mismatch.”

“No, Sousuke.” Kaname spoke up. Whether or not Sousuke might have some military analogy that contradicted the Senator, she wanted to nip things in the bud. She was a true believer in 'preventive medicine.'

“Kaname?” Sousuke raised one eyebrow.

“Nevermind,” Kaname replied. “Just don't.” She added in a snippy voice that only her companion could hear: “And don't ask 'just don't what, Kaname'.”

Sousuke kept his mouth shut. Understanding war was one thing. Understanding Whispereds was more difficult. Understanding women might be the most difficult challenge of all. He was surprised when Kaname abruptly wrapped her arms around him and gave him a fierce hug, not caring who might be watching. His girlfriend was very grateful for the assistance he offered her in his equally inscrutable Sousuke way.

“I trust we will not have new subcommittees forming to research the plight of the American consumer,” the Vice President said only partly in jest. “Before we resume our proceeding, I would like to thank Sergeant Sagara for his fine answer. I would also like to praise Miss Chidori for her strength and perseverance under adverse conditions.” He was clearly referring to her meeting with the Congress, not her efforts against Amalgam. “I think we all owe them both a polite round of applause.”

Many of the men and women present stood and followed the Vice President's suggestion. A minority found different ways to signal their displeasure.

“Thank you, Sousuke.” Kaname looked at the scar-faced young man with a look of love and gratitude in her eyes. His strength would help her get through this. At that moment, she could forgive him anything. Well, almost anything.

“Kaname,” Sousuke said, barely audible above the clapping of hands. He had begun to work on his sense of humor. He had also begun to banter with Kaname at times, instead of silently suffering her mood swings. “Did you ever wonder....”

“Sousuke!!!”


END

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A/N postscript:

I am heavily indebted to Wikipedia. Many of the facts in this story were found there and some of my words echo theirs. Big time props are also owed to Google. I also owe a debt to a series of silly papers that were posted around the coffee nook at work.

[HELLFIRE]

...and you're indebted to me for a new mouse scrollwheel

Tip Top as always dd, so jumping back into FMP! full spate as well?




Regards

[dd]

The will is strong, but the body's weak. No... scratch that... the will is weak, too. But, there's still a tiny bit of fire burning down there, too. So every once in a while I'll try to toss something off. This was the first truly new piece in a while, and it was prompted by something I saw at work. I saw something else interesting while surfing the web, and want to use it in a multi-parter....

I just wish the canon story hadn't taken such a long dark descent. But, that makes it interesting in its own way, I guess.

[HELLFIRE]

I just wish the canon story hadn't taken such a long dark descent. But, that makes it interesting in its own way, I guess.

In a way, I'm happy for the somewhat darker undertones to the story as the
world situation around that time almost called for stories to have a dark undertone.

Happy Times? Let me remind you of the root beer scene with Quark and Garak.
THAT'S how I feel about your Happy Times




Regards