[FIC] Gang and Girl Visit Hinata: Havoc Ensues (part six)
Posted: Sun Dec 14, 2003 8:07 pm
Sara had sought Sousuke out. Hiding behind a large potted tree, she watched the interrogation of Haitani and Shirai. It was pretty cool. She had been rooting for the alligator at first, but she realized that the information those losers had might help her Daddy and Mr. Kurz.
Things had taken longer than she wanted. She had to fight the urge to break something. Anything. Finally, those two babbling idiots had given in. Hands on her hips, she had walked up to Sousuke and glared at him until he took notice of her.
“Hey. You really ARE a soldier, aren’t you. Not just some LOSER like Keitaro. Right?”
“I do not consider myself a loser. It is not very practical. In my business, losing often means dying.” Sara appreciated his manner of address. He didn’t talk all sweet and condescending, as if she were just some stupid little brat. He wasn’t trying to impress anyone. He just said what was on his mind. COOL…just like her Daddy… “Of, course, if you asked Miss Chidori, she might tell you something different.”
“I don’t care what SHE thinks. She’s kinda creepy!!! One minute she seems all friendly. Then she gets this look on her face. She’s even worse than Naru.” Sara shuddered. “You don’t have to stay with her. I changed Daddies. You could stay here. Mutsumi likes you. Shinobu has a crush on you. Maybe they can add a new character.”
“Your sentiments are appreciated. But, Miss Chidori is my assignment, and my friend. She thinks that she is working on me…that may be true. But, I am also working on her. Regardless, there is no place for me here. As you correctly pointed out, I am a soldier. I take it you have something you wish to report? It does you credit that you step forward while Mr. Sakata and Miss Konno pursue other priorities.”
“They don’t think there’s any hurry. That…girl…thinks she likes my Daddy, but she didn’t say anything. She’s too busy looking to start some trouble. That rich loser is busy trying to get Naru and Keitaro together. That’s OK. Naru won’t have a crush on my Daddy anymore!” Sara stomped her foot and knocked a painted urn off of its pedestal.
Sousuke could see the concern in Sara’s eyes when she mentioned Professor Noriyasu. He and Sgt. Weber must be in some kind of danger. He doubted they were captured---the other two escapees would have been certain to mention that. They must be on some kind of mission. Likely, they located something related to Gauron’s scheme.
“Did Professor Noriyasu or Sgt. Weber give Mr. Sakata or Miss Konno a message to pass along to me or Sgt. Major Mao?” Sousuke squatted down, putting himself more on a level with Sara. He handed her the cheapest piece of pottery within reach.
C-R-A-S-H, tinkle tinkle tinkle. “Yes, and one for Haruka.” Sousuke could tell that Sara’s feelings for Miss Urashima were clearly mixed. “She’s supposed to remember Bangladesh, whatever that means. It’s a really really stupid word.” She held out another hand, tapping her foot. Sousuke handed her a ceramic ashtray. CRASH, bounce bounce. “I can’t rember too much. I’m just a little kid. Mr. Kurz said to mention Arm Slaves. He said one looked special, whatever that means. I think he was too busy looking at Kitsune’s butt to do much thinking!!!” Her look gave her opinion of that choice.
“Did Sgt. Weber mention the number of Arm Slaves?”
“Yes. Three. I think.” Sara changed subject for a moment. “If we are going to fight, do I get to use a gun? You showed Shinobu how to use guns.” Her look was very hopeful.
“I a sorry, but you cannot. I must be responsible. I cannot walk into another anime setting and just give anyone a weapon. Besides, this battle will test everyone’s resolve. They should each use whatever they are most adept with. Are there things that prove particularly effective against Keitaro?”
Sara looked disappointed at first, but then cheered up immeasurably. “Yes, there are. But I better make sure. After dinner, I will try things. I will find out what works best!." Soususke considered whether or not he should warn Keitaro. The look on Sara’s face had been rather demonic. But, everyone had his or her task to pursue. He had trained Shinobu. In his own way, Keitaro could train Sara.
“What else did Professor Noriyasu or Sgt. Weber say that you can remember?”
Snap. C-R-A-S-H. Skitter bounce clatter. That had been a figurine, repaired once or twice before with glue and tape. “They said there was a big underground base. A lot of soldiers. Some doors in the ceiling. Helicopters. Electricity. Mr. Kurz said there was a whole lotta shit!” She had said the last part rather loudly. Naru dropped a glass, a shocked look on her face. Sara stuck out her tongue in return…it was her job to break things.
“Did they say what they were going to do?” After waiting a few moments in dead silence, Sousuke realized the problem. “I have run out of things to break. I will get you some later.”
“OK. It’s a promise.” She hooked her finger together with Sousuke. “MY Daddy said they were going to sabo…sabo…uh…sabo…”
“Sabotage.”
“Yes, that word. They were going to do that to whatever they could, then come back.” Sara thought a moment. “Do you think you could teach me sabotage?” She tried her best to smile sweetly.
Sousuke shook his head. “There is no need. You seem to be a natural talent….”
***********************************************************
The unknown evil-doers had been too busy to hear the commotion down the tunnel. Seta and Kurz had a clear indication why when they reached the entranceway to the huge underground facility.
Small fires were scattered everywhere. Large banks of machinery and controls showed intermittent electrical arcing, accompanied by showers of sparks. Injured men struggled mightily to pull themselves back to their feet. The less fortunate lay still, surrounded by pools and streaks of their own blood. Wary soldiers and technicians peeked out from cover. Two late model Soviet Arm Slaves walked about the enclosure, their red lights illuminated the floor walls, and ceiling. Their gatling guns were still smoking. Each had an impressive collection of char marks.
Cocooned in an extensive expanse of metal scaffolding, a large and oddly colored Arm Slave waited patiently. Sceientists and machinists were heading back up the stairs and elevators, intent on resuming the last minute construction and adjustments. Welders’ torches began to light up, like a swarm of giant fireflies. Large power cables crossed the floor in every direction. Huge generators and turbines were humming steadily. Forklifts and front end loaders hauled ammunition and hydraulic fluid.
That enormous machine, the centerpiece to the facilities, was still in the process of being painted. Groups of men in full body suits---their faces hidden behind oxygen masks---moved up and down a series of ropes, spray-painting the monstrosity. Bright colors were being used. A repeating theme involved three eyes clustered together. Skirmishes broke out when painters sprayed machinists, or welders scorched riveters. Prolonged imbroglios were mediated by sharpshooters in towers present in each corner of the open area.
Something obviously did not belong in this picture. Hundreds…no, thousands of small mechanical turtles covered the floor; the tops of consoles; the remnants of spread-eagled corpses; and every conceivable nook and cranny. Some where still showing an insectile persistence---they were twitching or crawling after ‘death.’ Curious scientists picked intact examples up. Some lost fingers when self-destruct mechanisms finished the job the defenders had started.
The periphery of the room held other items worth notice. Two small helipads were present. Each held a small civilan-model helicopter modified to carry significant amounts of rockets and gun pods. Fuel trucks were parked away from all sources of flame and electricity. Crates held unknown contents. Doors no doubt led to barracks, eating facilities, and armories.
Seta and Kurz had already worked on their plan of action after sketching diagrams in the dirt of the tunnel floor. They would sabotage what they could, then make their escape. Kurz would head for the rear of the enclosure, looking to hijack one of the operational armslaves. Seta would first clear a path of soldiers and technicians for Kurz, then focus on destroying important looking structures and machinery. He had his eyes on the nearest fuel truck.
Earlier, they had taken care of last minute planning. They had also taken time to search their souls and make personal requests.
“I was correct in my earlier assessment of you---you were indeed a model, once. I will now venture a guess that you are more than a simple soldier. I would guess that you are in it for the long term---but, your blood does not sing along with the hymns of battle. I would further venture that you are adept and dedicated, but not a killer or brute at heart. Am I right in my assumptions?”
“Yes.” Kurz had long since quit trying to figure out Seta. His martial skills were phenomenal, but they paled in comparison to his powers of observation. “I am a mercenary through and through. I certainly enjoy money---and I wouldn’t mind impressing the babes---but I am in it for the excitement, not for the opportunity to deal death and destruction. I need to feel that I am making a difference."
“I see. That was the way that Haruka and I were once. I liked to explore, and had no aversion to fighting. Haruka liked to fight, and tolerated my exploring for a while. We ended up assisting groups that were in areas I was exploring. We spent a few days here and there aiding Lotar Eilat in Israel…Ypovrixion Kastrofon in Greece…and Fuerzas Especiales de Ejercito de Chile. We were convinced to briefly lend our talents to the SAS and U.S. Rangers on occasion. Most of our work, however, was done with the Knights Of Atlantis.” Seta’s eyes were distant as he sifted through a stack of old memories.
“Mercenary unit?”
“You could call it that. We were all adventurers with a talent for warfare, or soldiers with a love of discovery. Sometimes we didn’t know which we were. If there was a dig site somewhere, we were there to provide expertise and protection. It was a good life, while the organization lasted. Our emblem was a pickaxe and sword crossed. I fell too far in love with the former. Haruka, the latter. I had been too obsessed with ancient history to realize that she had left long before she walked away.”
Kurz remained respectfully silent while Seta considered what might have been.
“How are your martial arts skills? Are you good at stealth infiltration?” Seta returned to the business at hand.
“I’m poor to fair at the former. Pretty good at the latter. Marksmanship is my top talent.” Kurz knew better than to falsely represent himself.
“And, you are an Arm Slave pilot like your younger comrade?” Seta smiled, certain he already knew the answer.
“Yes. I am very skilled at that as well.”
“Well, I’ve always considered coincidence to be a pleasant bedfellow. Add good fortune, and it’s a hell of a nice menage a tois!” Seta looked as if he had nary a care in the world. His cheerful confidence went a long way towards making Kurz feel calm and in control of his own destiny. “We stumble across a situation where an Arm Slave pilot would be mana from Heaven,. We find ourselves faced with an arrangement just crying out for a a prime martial artist. We have both.” He thumbed his nose. “I truly feel sorry for those guys.”
Kurz couldn’t help laughing.
Seta went abruptly serious. His eyes were intense, his jaw clenched. “I need to ask you a large favor, Kurz.” Kurz somehow knew that Seta was not big on asking for assistance. This must be something very important. “If you make it out of here…and I don’t…I want your word that you will help Sara find a good home.”
Kurz was taken aback. His devil-may-care confidence bottomed out. “I promise. I will do what I can. Should I ask Haruka first?”
“Yes. I hate to impose. I want better things for her…and perhaps with her. But there is no one I trust more. If she should refuse on her own behalf, Sara might still do well at the Hinata Apartments, as long as she can be with the girls she knows now. Beyond that, I will leave things up to your good judgement.” That was quite an imposition in itself. Now Kurz needed to do more than find Sara a home if Seta died…he also had to find some good judgement!
“I will do what I can. In return, should I wipe out riding this wave, I would like you to pass along word to Sousuke and Melissa..” Kurz looked very serious.
“Certainly. What should I tell them?” Seta was already smiling.
“For Sousuke? Sousuke old pal, I have a geas to place on you, and I know you ALWAYS carry out your duty. I want you to score with Melissa. It will do you a world of good, and it would serve her right! When you do, be sure to call out another girl’s name. Yeh, that about sounds right.”
“And for Sgt, major Mao?” Seta’s grin threatened to crack his face in two.
“Hmmm. I think I ought throw one in for Kaname. Kaname, I’m sorry about what I made Sousuke promise. Be sure you DON’T tell her any more than that. Oh yeh!”
“These people are your friends?” It was a rhetorical question. If they both survived, Seta would be certain to ask for stories about Kurz, Sousuke, and Melissa.
“Yeh. That’s their problem, not mine. Let’s see…what message can I leave for Melissa? OK. Kiss my cold and dead ass!!!. That ought to do it. No, wait, it needs a little something more. NO COMEBACKS!!!. Kurz jumped up with glee, punching the air. “I’m feeling A LOT better now.”
Seta shook his head in mock concern. “And the safety of the world rests in the hand of Mithril? God save us all!!!” They both laughed.
Both men synchronized their watches. They double-checked their plan. A few moments were spent in making peace with their maker.
Seta tapped Kurz’ shoulder.
It was time to go.
************************************************************
This definitely was NOT Motoko’s day. A pervert had fondled her down on the street. Another stranger had caused her to doubt herself again. Both of those…those…those men were guests of the Hinata Apartments. Against her wishes!
To be stopped in midswing by Keitaro. Again. Shudder….
And to be stopped by a t-…t-…by Tama. Again. Prolonged shudder…
She wasn’t totally useless, however. At least, not yet. There was something that needed to be done. The others were so irresponsible, they hadn’t even noticed! It was time to head to the kitchen. She was in no mood to help set the table. Especially if Keitaro would be there.
Shinobu was right where she had expected her to be, adding a few extra ingredients to a boiling pot. She didn’t look any different. But her manner had changed. And there was a gun on the cutting board! “Shinobu, we need to talk!” Motoko would act stern, that would be a certain way to make Shinobu buckle under pressure and cave in.
“Sure, Motoko. I’m not certain that I can help you with your problem, but you know I will always do the best I can….” Shinobu stopped stirring long enough to smile at her friend. She then resumed working on the stew.
“Urrrrhhh. Not about me, Shinobu. About YOU!” Motoko’s hand gripped her sword hilt in frustration. “You have been spending way to much time with that Sagara fellow.” Any time would be too much time! “I do NOT trust his intentions. I am certain he has not been a good influence on you.”
Shinobu had a strong suspicion that her new found assetiveness and self-confidence might leave her when Sousuke did. But, she was a strong believer in an old cliché: make hay while the sun shines…. "No. There’s a battle coming Motoko. We will all have a part to play. I want to be able to make a difference. I don’t just want to hide in my room or under your skirt. Maybe you should worry more about YOUR troubles. You’ll probably have a bigger role than me….”
Motoko had been struck twice. First by the shock of Shinobu’s reaction. Second by the truth of her own deficiency. That would have been enough to halt her in her tracks. Motoko thought of a different cliché: bad things come in threes…
“Oooo-oo-ooo.” Was there a more disgusting and dreadful noise in the whole world?
Tama flew in the room. She hovered, and waved to Shinobu. Then, with a big smile, she zeroed in on Motoko,
“T-t-turtle!” Motoko’s face went pale. “Why here. Why now?” She backed up against the center table, knocking a neat line of spice containers onto the floor.
“Motoko! I can’t believe that you have faced ghosts and demons, but turn to jelly at the sight of Tama!” Shinobu shook her head. “Maybe you need to spend some time with Sousuke.”
“Never! I can’t help it. I’m not in control of my own phobias. I have nightmares just knowing that its under the same roof.” Motoko drew her sword and began swatting ineffectively at the flying turtle.
Tama landed on Motoko’s chest. “Oooo-oo-ooo.”
“AAAHHH!!! You icky…slimey…revolting…horrible…reptilian…TORTOISE. She summoned up reserves of courage, grabbed Tama, and threw her. “NO. Now I reek of turtle!”
Perhaps bad things come in fours.
Sousuke was standing in the kitchen doorway. He had seen the entire exchange with Tama. Motoko was angry when she realized just what kind of weakness he had witnessed. He spoke before she could yell “Get OUT!”
“There is never a shame with having a weakness. Many weaknesses can be overcome. Some can be turned into strengths….” Sousuke was interrupted by an irate Motoko.
“I have no desire…or need…to hear what a man has to say!” the swordswoman spat out.
“I see. It is not a problem. I will leave you with an interesting point to ponder, then. You profess to be afraid of turtles. Yet, your hair comb is made of tortoise shell.” Motoko’s hand went to her hair. She looked stricken. “Even more curious is the fact that your sword hilt has inlays of polished loggerhead carapace. Strange that you did not realize that.” There was something that Sousuke needed to teach Motoko. But, before he lifted her up, she needed to fall all the way to the bottom.
The sword fell to the floor, bouncing and sliding. Motoko put her hand to her mouth. She ran quickly from the room.
“Shinobu….” Whatever Sousuke was about to say was drowned out by a loud yell. Sousuke had been preoccupied with Motoko and her problem. He hadn’t heard Su’s approach. An arm wrapped tightly around his throat was his reward.
Su’s plan to play with Sousuke quickly evaporated. Something more important caught her attention. “Tama. There you are, you naughty turtle. You ate my curry popcorn. You must pay the price!” She used Sousuke’s head as a springboard, somersaulting and plucking Tama from the air. “Shinobu, do you still have some water boiling. We have company tonight. We should make turtle stew!”
“Su…you CAN’T…Tama’s our friend. She’d probably make everyone sick, too. Right Sousuke?” Shinobu sounded torn. Part of her wanted to reach out and grab Tama from Su’s hand. Part of her wanted to slap Su silly. Part of her wanted Sousuke to come to the rescue.
“Actually, Shinobu, that last part is incorrect. Quite the opposite, if you believe in Chinese medicine. Suppon---snapping turtle meat---has long been considered to be a rejuvenate of male stamina. It is proposed to be even more useful to a woman---improving the circulation, smoothing the complexion, causing beauty to radiate out from her skin.” Sousuke was oblivious to the shocked look on Shinobu’s face.
“Oooh. Complexion sounds yummy!”
“Amino acids are the building blocks for protein. Turtle meat contains many essential amino acids. It is also a good source of calcium for growing bones and teeth. The iron it contains would benefit anyone with anemia. And, I should mention the rich content of vitamin E and vitamin B2. So, I hope you realize that turtle meat will not make someone sick.” Souske looked pleased. He had remembered something he had learned from watching educational televison.
“Sousuke. How could you!” Shinobu looked as if she were heartbroken.
“I really really like you, Sousuke. I have decided that I will marry you when I get older. Would you like to see my adult form? Naked?” Su jumped on Sousuke, wrapping her arms around his neck. She jumped down. “First, I must fight my final battle with Tama.”
Sousuke’s first move was a thing of reflex. He checked the door. Kaname had not overheard anything about Su, marriage, or the adult Su being naked. “I am afraid you are mistaken, Su…”
“You do not want to see me naked?” Su looked cheerful just the same.
“No. That’s not it. I…” Souske would not be able to finish his sentence.
“Oh. So you DO want to see me naked. You are such a naughty boy. I cannot wait to tell the others!” Su did a pirouette, clapping her hands. Tama---not the brightest of creatures---continued to circumnavigate the kitchen. Shinobu’s eyes were spinning again.
“No. That is not it either. I was simply going to remind you that Tama is your comrade. People do not go around eating their friends. It leads to too many misunderstandings. Also, to the Hindus, turtles are one of many sacred creations of god which must be respected and protected. Vishnu, in his second life, was reincarnated into the form of a turtle. Killing and eating a turtle would be doing the same thing to god.” Sousuke wiped his brow. That ought to do it.
“Friends are supposed to share…” Su began. “What I want Tama to share with me is herself. And, we of Molmol are not Hindu. Vishnu sounds mighty tasty!” Su started leaping about the room, trying to snag Tama.
“There is also another reason you should not harm the turtle. You would be a terrorist.” Sousuke tried to sound stern. All he did was pique Su’s curiosity.
“What is a terrorist? Is it fun?”
“No, a terrorist is not fun. It is someone who kidnaps, shoots, blows up, or otherwise ruins the day of one or many people. It is my job---my organization’s job---to stop terrorists.” Sousuke couldn’t tell if his message had sunk in.
“Oh…” Su said in a contemplative manner.
Sousuke rushed to finish making his point. “In Greece, people are trying to protect the Loggerhead sea turtle. The Zakynthian Ecological Movement has had its members harassed, its supporters shot, and their offices set on fire. Terrorist bombs have blown up buildings, injuring women and children. The environmentalists are the victims, even though some politicians treat them as if they are the villains. The true villains are the terrorists.” It had been a cogent argument. Su was a bright young girl. No doubt she would realize the error of her ways. “Do you understand now why you shouldn’t be in such a rush to harm Tama?”
Su looked deep in thought. Then, her face brightened up. “Villain sounds like fun!” With that, she scampered out of the room.
Sousuke stood in shock. Had he just made things worse?
He could hear Su’s footsteps running down the hallway. Suddenly she stopped. “Kaname, did you know that your boyfriend wants to see me naked?” There were then running footsteps going in BOTH directions.
THAT would makes things worse.
************************************************************
Seta went in first. It was almost as if he had literally vanished from view. Kurz checked his watch. He was to give him five minutes. If Seta hadn’t taken out the near guard tower and provided Kurz with a weapon in the allotted time, he was to be considered dead or captured. Kurz would then need to proceed accordingly.
Three minutes passed. A shower of small pebbles fell from above. That was the signal. Kurz stepped out from the tunnel, exposing himself momentarily. A rifle fell. He caught it, and the two clips that fell next. DAMN! It was heavy. A Russian SVN-98 anti-material sniper rifle. Not exactly what he was hoping for. Unwieldy. Only five shots per magazine. But, it was 12.7mm. The rounds could penetrate bricks, thick wood, and the like. Beggars can’t be choosers.
Kurz saw a quick flash of black. Three technicians who had been behind a nearby control panel disappeared from view. SHIT! That guy is GOOD! Professor, my ass…. Now that the technicians couldn’t raise the alarm, Kurz stepped out and ran low to crouch behind their work station. The position would suffice. He had an excellent view of two of the towers. A quick sprint, and he would have an equally good view of the third. It was his turn to excel. He did.
The first sentry was enjoying a smoke, his back turned to Kurz. The corpse was pushed forward by the impact, its hand letting go of the cigarette. Before it hit the floor, a second bullet sped towards the opposite tower. That guard had been focused on the activity below him. His vigilance was not an effective shield. A small spray of blood and skull fragments shocked the man next to him. His ticket to oblivion arrived sone thereafter.
Movement caught Kurz’ eye. A target of opportunity. Yes! The pilot of one of the Arm slaves had opened the hatch, intent on supervising the reloading of the near spent gatling gun. He had a more pressing concern that he was unaware of. His lifeless body fell limply to the ground, dragged a few feet by a swerving forklift. Hope there are no other damn AS jockies nearby!
Kurz caught a quick glimpse of Seta, heading for the doors on the near side wall. No doubt he was going to make a run at the suspected armory. Godspeed, man. Things were starting to get exciting. A claxon started sounding. Non-combatants were ducking for cover. Soldiers began looking for the intruder. The buttoned-up Arm Slave began to disengage itself from the loading mechanism.
Time to earn his paycheck! Kurz ran behind a line of small generators, looking for a glimpse of the final surviving tower guards. A shot ricocheted off a cooling fin, sending metal shavings into his left eye. SHIT! That smarts!!!. He’d been spotted. The tower guard---the shot had come from above. He heard the chug chug chug chug of a heavy machine gun. There was at least one more opponent in that tower. Sparks flew off the generator. There was a puff of smoke and an acrid smell. This was going to be tricky.
Kurz said a quick prayer. There were times when he just had to roll the dice and see what would happen. This was one such time. He and Seta had made good use of surprise, but that window of opportunity was now nailed shut. There would be soldiers heading in his direction, setting up a defensive perimeter, and moving to flush him out. Just as he was about to raise his rifle and search for a target, the clatter of a submachinegun rang out from behind him.
He was still living. The shots rattled off the railing of the guard tower. It had to be Seta. He could not spare even a fraction of a second to check. Bracing the barrel of his rifle on the casework of the nearest generator, Kurz scanned a moment then locked on to an obstructed target above. He could see an arm and the rear half of a rifle sticking out from behind a wooden support post. His two shots penetrated the post and the guard behind it. One down.. He put in a fresh clip.
Did Seta have a good view of the man with the machinegun? He spared a quick glance behind him. Seta shouted “Ten feet from the left front corner, four feet back from the edge.” Soon thereafter, the black clad professor took off running towards the middle of the room. He would get the attention of the main force, serving as a diversion for Kurz. Another window of opportunity. First things first…I hope the floor of that tower is wood! Kurz pumped three spaced shots into the general area Seta had flagged for him. The gunner had been targeting Seta, but Kurz could see a trail of tracers jerk upward erratically, moments before the gun went silent. Fingers crossed.
Gunfire was being exchanged in two directions. Seta was still alive and kicking. Movement caught Kurz’ eye. A re-supply trolley was heading quickly for cover. Feeling naked, he dropped the heavy rifle and made a bee-line for the trolley from the blindside. A small number of shots were fired in his direction, but he managed to grab onto a handle on the trolley without being hit. This sure beats running….
There was a series of closely spaced explosions in the middle of the facilities. Hopefully those were charges planted by Seta. Would these guys be willing to use grenades or small rockets inside their own facility? Never put anything past black-hearted bastards. Just keep moving and hope for the best.
The driver of the trolley caught a glimpse of Kurz. He took one hand off the wheel, drew his sidearm, and swung it towards Kurz. The Mithril soldier grabbed the other man’s wrist just as the trolley inadvertently ran over a pile of inactivated mechatamas. The resulting lurch caused the man to lose his balance and drop his gun. Kurz was tossed roughly to the ground. He picked up the pistol, a Stechkin revolver. MOVE!!!
The next few minutes felt like hours. He was shot at. He returned fire. The ammunition for the revolver was quickly depleted, but he borrowed a PP-90M1 submachinegun with helical magazine from a turtle-covered body. Making his way between large crates, barrels of solvent, and huge bins of metal braces, Kurz reached his destination: A patchwork stairway led up to some deckwork. From there, he could jump into the Arm Slave’s open hatch. Assuming he could reach the deck in one piece…
Taking the first few steps up the stairway, Kurz was driven back down by a hail of bullets. To damn exposed! If he were Sousuke, he could just charge up the stairs, and make it untouched. Lucky S.O.B. He could hear orders being shouted. A large number of footsteps were headed in his direction. He was not in the mood to socialize. He had no other choice. Firing at the first bunch of soldiers foolish enough to run blindly out from behind a wall of crates, he sprinted for the stairs.
There was a whining noise. All too familiar. “HOLY SHIT!!!” He jumped behind a large stack of barrels just as the bottom half of the stairway disintegrated. Damn! The other Arm Slave pilot finally got his head out of his ass…. The whining returned. Kurz moved just as the barrels of solvent sprang towards the ceiling, their perforated sides gushing fluid. Can’t keep this up much longer. That had been much too close.
In the distance, a diesel engine roared to life. Kurz had a brief glimpse of a fuel truck headed towards the walking Arm Slave. Left with no choice, the AS pilot opened fire, sending a huge fireball mushrooming upward moments before the truck would have rammed his craft. NOW!!! Gotta move while everyone’s blinded or distracted.
Kurz saw a telescoping aluminum ladder hanging on the outer wall of a makeshift carpenter’s workshop. Lady luck was smiling down on him again. Seeing no soldiers nearby, he broke cover, grabbed the ladder, and dragged it to the Arm Slave. In a matter of moments, he was sitting in the pilot’s seat, the hatch closing with a satisfying Kachunk The fireball was dying down. If he had been noticed, the game might soon be over. Listening to the building roar of his AS power plant, he ran through a quick series of systems checks. SHIT! The gatling gun was near spent. Wait. No. There was a sizeable reserve supply.
Lights flashed on the instrument panel. A chiming noise sounded. A Mechanical sounding voice spoke in Russian. The Arm Slave was ready to rock. As soon as he moved, he’d be a target. That’s OK. Not as if it would be the first time!. He had ten tons of metal backing him up now. Ten tons of metal and one mean multi-barreled Motherf@cker.
“LET’S DANCE!!!” Kurz shouted. Moving his arms and legs, he set the metal monstrosity in motion. Three steps and a great bounding leap. Airborme, he cut loose with the gatling gun. Flashes ran up the front of the other Arm Slave. Pieces of metal flew off in all directions, but the pilot managed to step and slide out of the glowing torrent of projectiles. Kurz released the trigger mechanism, not wanting to exhaust his ammunition in one crazed assault. He kept his craft moving. Return fire jolted his Arm Slave, setting warning lights flashing. This would be a battle of attrition.
Duck. Slide. FIRE!!! Jump. Roll. Sidestep. FIRE!!! Shudder. Fall. Pull up again. FIRE!!! Charge, push aside the other gatling gun, FIRE POINT BLANK!!! Step back quickly as the other Arm Slave brews up. Look for secondary targets. Chase down the fleeing and firing soldiers. Tear this place apart!
Kurz was busy disabling machinery with his AS’s anti-armor dagger when the com system kicked in. Someone had found his frequency. “Kashim? Is that you, Kashim. I certainly miss you.” A loud and deranged laugh. “But, were you raised in a barn, Kashim? Where are your manners? I am SO very hurt that you snuck in here uninvited.” Damn. Double Damn!!! Gauron. Kurz wouldn’t bother replying.
As fate would have it, Kurz was watching the large and unusual Arm Slave when it sprang to life. Crouching technicians, workers, and armorers were thrown to the ground as scaffolding crumbled and was pushed aside. Steam obscured the metal beast for a moment as a large metal gantry retracted, knocking more laborers to their death.
“I can’t tell you just how much I’ve looked forward to this, Kashim. I have so few close friends. Soon, I will have one less. And tomorrow, at the break of dawn, I shall extend the same courtesy to that blue-haired girl and everyone else at that Apartment building. I wish you could be there to see it!”
Kurz let loose with the gatling gun. He need not have bothered. A glowing nimbus of light deflected the projectiles and blew all remaining scaffolding far across the enclosure.
“Goodbye, Kashim.” The eerie light expanded outward, quickly reaching Kurz’s Arm Slave. The concussion was staggering. Kurz felt himself flying backward. He blacked out upon impact.
************************************************************
End of part six.
Things had taken longer than she wanted. She had to fight the urge to break something. Anything. Finally, those two babbling idiots had given in. Hands on her hips, she had walked up to Sousuke and glared at him until he took notice of her.
“Hey. You really ARE a soldier, aren’t you. Not just some LOSER like Keitaro. Right?”
“I do not consider myself a loser. It is not very practical. In my business, losing often means dying.” Sara appreciated his manner of address. He didn’t talk all sweet and condescending, as if she were just some stupid little brat. He wasn’t trying to impress anyone. He just said what was on his mind. COOL…just like her Daddy… “Of, course, if you asked Miss Chidori, she might tell you something different.”
“I don’t care what SHE thinks. She’s kinda creepy!!! One minute she seems all friendly. Then she gets this look on her face. She’s even worse than Naru.” Sara shuddered. “You don’t have to stay with her. I changed Daddies. You could stay here. Mutsumi likes you. Shinobu has a crush on you. Maybe they can add a new character.”
“Your sentiments are appreciated. But, Miss Chidori is my assignment, and my friend. She thinks that she is working on me…that may be true. But, I am also working on her. Regardless, there is no place for me here. As you correctly pointed out, I am a soldier. I take it you have something you wish to report? It does you credit that you step forward while Mr. Sakata and Miss Konno pursue other priorities.”
“They don’t think there’s any hurry. That…girl…thinks she likes my Daddy, but she didn’t say anything. She’s too busy looking to start some trouble. That rich loser is busy trying to get Naru and Keitaro together. That’s OK. Naru won’t have a crush on my Daddy anymore!” Sara stomped her foot and knocked a painted urn off of its pedestal.
Sousuke could see the concern in Sara’s eyes when she mentioned Professor Noriyasu. He and Sgt. Weber must be in some kind of danger. He doubted they were captured---the other two escapees would have been certain to mention that. They must be on some kind of mission. Likely, they located something related to Gauron’s scheme.
“Did Professor Noriyasu or Sgt. Weber give Mr. Sakata or Miss Konno a message to pass along to me or Sgt. Major Mao?” Sousuke squatted down, putting himself more on a level with Sara. He handed her the cheapest piece of pottery within reach.
C-R-A-S-H, tinkle tinkle tinkle. “Yes, and one for Haruka.” Sousuke could tell that Sara’s feelings for Miss Urashima were clearly mixed. “She’s supposed to remember Bangladesh, whatever that means. It’s a really really stupid word.” She held out another hand, tapping her foot. Sousuke handed her a ceramic ashtray. CRASH, bounce bounce. “I can’t rember too much. I’m just a little kid. Mr. Kurz said to mention Arm Slaves. He said one looked special, whatever that means. I think he was too busy looking at Kitsune’s butt to do much thinking!!!” Her look gave her opinion of that choice.
“Did Sgt. Weber mention the number of Arm Slaves?”
“Yes. Three. I think.” Sara changed subject for a moment. “If we are going to fight, do I get to use a gun? You showed Shinobu how to use guns.” Her look was very hopeful.
“I a sorry, but you cannot. I must be responsible. I cannot walk into another anime setting and just give anyone a weapon. Besides, this battle will test everyone’s resolve. They should each use whatever they are most adept with. Are there things that prove particularly effective against Keitaro?”
Sara looked disappointed at first, but then cheered up immeasurably. “Yes, there are. But I better make sure. After dinner, I will try things. I will find out what works best!." Soususke considered whether or not he should warn Keitaro. The look on Sara’s face had been rather demonic. But, everyone had his or her task to pursue. He had trained Shinobu. In his own way, Keitaro could train Sara.
“What else did Professor Noriyasu or Sgt. Weber say that you can remember?”
Snap. C-R-A-S-H. Skitter bounce clatter. That had been a figurine, repaired once or twice before with glue and tape. “They said there was a big underground base. A lot of soldiers. Some doors in the ceiling. Helicopters. Electricity. Mr. Kurz said there was a whole lotta shit!” She had said the last part rather loudly. Naru dropped a glass, a shocked look on her face. Sara stuck out her tongue in return…it was her job to break things.
“Did they say what they were going to do?” After waiting a few moments in dead silence, Sousuke realized the problem. “I have run out of things to break. I will get you some later.”
“OK. It’s a promise.” She hooked her finger together with Sousuke. “MY Daddy said they were going to sabo…sabo…uh…sabo…”
“Sabotage.”
“Yes, that word. They were going to do that to whatever they could, then come back.” Sara thought a moment. “Do you think you could teach me sabotage?” She tried her best to smile sweetly.
Sousuke shook his head. “There is no need. You seem to be a natural talent….”
***********************************************************
The unknown evil-doers had been too busy to hear the commotion down the tunnel. Seta and Kurz had a clear indication why when they reached the entranceway to the huge underground facility.
Small fires were scattered everywhere. Large banks of machinery and controls showed intermittent electrical arcing, accompanied by showers of sparks. Injured men struggled mightily to pull themselves back to their feet. The less fortunate lay still, surrounded by pools and streaks of their own blood. Wary soldiers and technicians peeked out from cover. Two late model Soviet Arm Slaves walked about the enclosure, their red lights illuminated the floor walls, and ceiling. Their gatling guns were still smoking. Each had an impressive collection of char marks.
Cocooned in an extensive expanse of metal scaffolding, a large and oddly colored Arm Slave waited patiently. Sceientists and machinists were heading back up the stairs and elevators, intent on resuming the last minute construction and adjustments. Welders’ torches began to light up, like a swarm of giant fireflies. Large power cables crossed the floor in every direction. Huge generators and turbines were humming steadily. Forklifts and front end loaders hauled ammunition and hydraulic fluid.
That enormous machine, the centerpiece to the facilities, was still in the process of being painted. Groups of men in full body suits---their faces hidden behind oxygen masks---moved up and down a series of ropes, spray-painting the monstrosity. Bright colors were being used. A repeating theme involved three eyes clustered together. Skirmishes broke out when painters sprayed machinists, or welders scorched riveters. Prolonged imbroglios were mediated by sharpshooters in towers present in each corner of the open area.
Something obviously did not belong in this picture. Hundreds…no, thousands of small mechanical turtles covered the floor; the tops of consoles; the remnants of spread-eagled corpses; and every conceivable nook and cranny. Some where still showing an insectile persistence---they were twitching or crawling after ‘death.’ Curious scientists picked intact examples up. Some lost fingers when self-destruct mechanisms finished the job the defenders had started.
The periphery of the room held other items worth notice. Two small helipads were present. Each held a small civilan-model helicopter modified to carry significant amounts of rockets and gun pods. Fuel trucks were parked away from all sources of flame and electricity. Crates held unknown contents. Doors no doubt led to barracks, eating facilities, and armories.
Seta and Kurz had already worked on their plan of action after sketching diagrams in the dirt of the tunnel floor. They would sabotage what they could, then make their escape. Kurz would head for the rear of the enclosure, looking to hijack one of the operational armslaves. Seta would first clear a path of soldiers and technicians for Kurz, then focus on destroying important looking structures and machinery. He had his eyes on the nearest fuel truck.
Earlier, they had taken care of last minute planning. They had also taken time to search their souls and make personal requests.
“I was correct in my earlier assessment of you---you were indeed a model, once. I will now venture a guess that you are more than a simple soldier. I would guess that you are in it for the long term---but, your blood does not sing along with the hymns of battle. I would further venture that you are adept and dedicated, but not a killer or brute at heart. Am I right in my assumptions?”
“Yes.” Kurz had long since quit trying to figure out Seta. His martial skills were phenomenal, but they paled in comparison to his powers of observation. “I am a mercenary through and through. I certainly enjoy money---and I wouldn’t mind impressing the babes---but I am in it for the excitement, not for the opportunity to deal death and destruction. I need to feel that I am making a difference."
“I see. That was the way that Haruka and I were once. I liked to explore, and had no aversion to fighting. Haruka liked to fight, and tolerated my exploring for a while. We ended up assisting groups that were in areas I was exploring. We spent a few days here and there aiding Lotar Eilat in Israel…Ypovrixion Kastrofon in Greece…and Fuerzas Especiales de Ejercito de Chile. We were convinced to briefly lend our talents to the SAS and U.S. Rangers on occasion. Most of our work, however, was done with the Knights Of Atlantis.” Seta’s eyes were distant as he sifted through a stack of old memories.
“Mercenary unit?”
“You could call it that. We were all adventurers with a talent for warfare, or soldiers with a love of discovery. Sometimes we didn’t know which we were. If there was a dig site somewhere, we were there to provide expertise and protection. It was a good life, while the organization lasted. Our emblem was a pickaxe and sword crossed. I fell too far in love with the former. Haruka, the latter. I had been too obsessed with ancient history to realize that she had left long before she walked away.”
Kurz remained respectfully silent while Seta considered what might have been.
“How are your martial arts skills? Are you good at stealth infiltration?” Seta returned to the business at hand.
“I’m poor to fair at the former. Pretty good at the latter. Marksmanship is my top talent.” Kurz knew better than to falsely represent himself.
“And, you are an Arm Slave pilot like your younger comrade?” Seta smiled, certain he already knew the answer.
“Yes. I am very skilled at that as well.”
“Well, I’ve always considered coincidence to be a pleasant bedfellow. Add good fortune, and it’s a hell of a nice menage a tois!” Seta looked as if he had nary a care in the world. His cheerful confidence went a long way towards making Kurz feel calm and in control of his own destiny. “We stumble across a situation where an Arm Slave pilot would be mana from Heaven,. We find ourselves faced with an arrangement just crying out for a a prime martial artist. We have both.” He thumbed his nose. “I truly feel sorry for those guys.”
Kurz couldn’t help laughing.
Seta went abruptly serious. His eyes were intense, his jaw clenched. “I need to ask you a large favor, Kurz.” Kurz somehow knew that Seta was not big on asking for assistance. This must be something very important. “If you make it out of here…and I don’t…I want your word that you will help Sara find a good home.”
Kurz was taken aback. His devil-may-care confidence bottomed out. “I promise. I will do what I can. Should I ask Haruka first?”
“Yes. I hate to impose. I want better things for her…and perhaps with her. But there is no one I trust more. If she should refuse on her own behalf, Sara might still do well at the Hinata Apartments, as long as she can be with the girls she knows now. Beyond that, I will leave things up to your good judgement.” That was quite an imposition in itself. Now Kurz needed to do more than find Sara a home if Seta died…he also had to find some good judgement!
“I will do what I can. In return, should I wipe out riding this wave, I would like you to pass along word to Sousuke and Melissa..” Kurz looked very serious.
“Certainly. What should I tell them?” Seta was already smiling.
“For Sousuke? Sousuke old pal, I have a geas to place on you, and I know you ALWAYS carry out your duty. I want you to score with Melissa. It will do you a world of good, and it would serve her right! When you do, be sure to call out another girl’s name. Yeh, that about sounds right.”
“And for Sgt, major Mao?” Seta’s grin threatened to crack his face in two.
“Hmmm. I think I ought throw one in for Kaname. Kaname, I’m sorry about what I made Sousuke promise. Be sure you DON’T tell her any more than that. Oh yeh!”
“These people are your friends?” It was a rhetorical question. If they both survived, Seta would be certain to ask for stories about Kurz, Sousuke, and Melissa.
“Yeh. That’s their problem, not mine. Let’s see…what message can I leave for Melissa? OK. Kiss my cold and dead ass!!!. That ought to do it. No, wait, it needs a little something more. NO COMEBACKS!!!. Kurz jumped up with glee, punching the air. “I’m feeling A LOT better now.”
Seta shook his head in mock concern. “And the safety of the world rests in the hand of Mithril? God save us all!!!” They both laughed.
Both men synchronized their watches. They double-checked their plan. A few moments were spent in making peace with their maker.
Seta tapped Kurz’ shoulder.
It was time to go.
************************************************************
This definitely was NOT Motoko’s day. A pervert had fondled her down on the street. Another stranger had caused her to doubt herself again. Both of those…those…those men were guests of the Hinata Apartments. Against her wishes!
To be stopped in midswing by Keitaro. Again. Shudder….
And to be stopped by a t-…t-…by Tama. Again. Prolonged shudder…
She wasn’t totally useless, however. At least, not yet. There was something that needed to be done. The others were so irresponsible, they hadn’t even noticed! It was time to head to the kitchen. She was in no mood to help set the table. Especially if Keitaro would be there.
Shinobu was right where she had expected her to be, adding a few extra ingredients to a boiling pot. She didn’t look any different. But her manner had changed. And there was a gun on the cutting board! “Shinobu, we need to talk!” Motoko would act stern, that would be a certain way to make Shinobu buckle under pressure and cave in.
“Sure, Motoko. I’m not certain that I can help you with your problem, but you know I will always do the best I can….” Shinobu stopped stirring long enough to smile at her friend. She then resumed working on the stew.
“Urrrrhhh. Not about me, Shinobu. About YOU!” Motoko’s hand gripped her sword hilt in frustration. “You have been spending way to much time with that Sagara fellow.” Any time would be too much time! “I do NOT trust his intentions. I am certain he has not been a good influence on you.”
Shinobu had a strong suspicion that her new found assetiveness and self-confidence might leave her when Sousuke did. But, she was a strong believer in an old cliché: make hay while the sun shines…. "No. There’s a battle coming Motoko. We will all have a part to play. I want to be able to make a difference. I don’t just want to hide in my room or under your skirt. Maybe you should worry more about YOUR troubles. You’ll probably have a bigger role than me….”
Motoko had been struck twice. First by the shock of Shinobu’s reaction. Second by the truth of her own deficiency. That would have been enough to halt her in her tracks. Motoko thought of a different cliché: bad things come in threes…
“Oooo-oo-ooo.” Was there a more disgusting and dreadful noise in the whole world?
Tama flew in the room. She hovered, and waved to Shinobu. Then, with a big smile, she zeroed in on Motoko,
“T-t-turtle!” Motoko’s face went pale. “Why here. Why now?” She backed up against the center table, knocking a neat line of spice containers onto the floor.
“Motoko! I can’t believe that you have faced ghosts and demons, but turn to jelly at the sight of Tama!” Shinobu shook her head. “Maybe you need to spend some time with Sousuke.”
“Never! I can’t help it. I’m not in control of my own phobias. I have nightmares just knowing that its under the same roof.” Motoko drew her sword and began swatting ineffectively at the flying turtle.
Tama landed on Motoko’s chest. “Oooo-oo-ooo.”
“AAAHHH!!! You icky…slimey…revolting…horrible…reptilian…TORTOISE. She summoned up reserves of courage, grabbed Tama, and threw her. “NO. Now I reek of turtle!”
Perhaps bad things come in fours.
Sousuke was standing in the kitchen doorway. He had seen the entire exchange with Tama. Motoko was angry when she realized just what kind of weakness he had witnessed. He spoke before she could yell “Get OUT!”
“There is never a shame with having a weakness. Many weaknesses can be overcome. Some can be turned into strengths….” Sousuke was interrupted by an irate Motoko.
“I have no desire…or need…to hear what a man has to say!” the swordswoman spat out.
“I see. It is not a problem. I will leave you with an interesting point to ponder, then. You profess to be afraid of turtles. Yet, your hair comb is made of tortoise shell.” Motoko’s hand went to her hair. She looked stricken. “Even more curious is the fact that your sword hilt has inlays of polished loggerhead carapace. Strange that you did not realize that.” There was something that Sousuke needed to teach Motoko. But, before he lifted her up, she needed to fall all the way to the bottom.
The sword fell to the floor, bouncing and sliding. Motoko put her hand to her mouth. She ran quickly from the room.
“Shinobu….” Whatever Sousuke was about to say was drowned out by a loud yell. Sousuke had been preoccupied with Motoko and her problem. He hadn’t heard Su’s approach. An arm wrapped tightly around his throat was his reward.
Su’s plan to play with Sousuke quickly evaporated. Something more important caught her attention. “Tama. There you are, you naughty turtle. You ate my curry popcorn. You must pay the price!” She used Sousuke’s head as a springboard, somersaulting and plucking Tama from the air. “Shinobu, do you still have some water boiling. We have company tonight. We should make turtle stew!”
“Su…you CAN’T…Tama’s our friend. She’d probably make everyone sick, too. Right Sousuke?” Shinobu sounded torn. Part of her wanted to reach out and grab Tama from Su’s hand. Part of her wanted to slap Su silly. Part of her wanted Sousuke to come to the rescue.
“Actually, Shinobu, that last part is incorrect. Quite the opposite, if you believe in Chinese medicine. Suppon---snapping turtle meat---has long been considered to be a rejuvenate of male stamina. It is proposed to be even more useful to a woman---improving the circulation, smoothing the complexion, causing beauty to radiate out from her skin.” Sousuke was oblivious to the shocked look on Shinobu’s face.
“Oooh. Complexion sounds yummy!”
“Amino acids are the building blocks for protein. Turtle meat contains many essential amino acids. It is also a good source of calcium for growing bones and teeth. The iron it contains would benefit anyone with anemia. And, I should mention the rich content of vitamin E and vitamin B2. So, I hope you realize that turtle meat will not make someone sick.” Souske looked pleased. He had remembered something he had learned from watching educational televison.
“Sousuke. How could you!” Shinobu looked as if she were heartbroken.
“I really really like you, Sousuke. I have decided that I will marry you when I get older. Would you like to see my adult form? Naked?” Su jumped on Sousuke, wrapping her arms around his neck. She jumped down. “First, I must fight my final battle with Tama.”
Sousuke’s first move was a thing of reflex. He checked the door. Kaname had not overheard anything about Su, marriage, or the adult Su being naked. “I am afraid you are mistaken, Su…”
“You do not want to see me naked?” Su looked cheerful just the same.
“No. That’s not it. I…” Souske would not be able to finish his sentence.
“Oh. So you DO want to see me naked. You are such a naughty boy. I cannot wait to tell the others!” Su did a pirouette, clapping her hands. Tama---not the brightest of creatures---continued to circumnavigate the kitchen. Shinobu’s eyes were spinning again.
“No. That is not it either. I was simply going to remind you that Tama is your comrade. People do not go around eating their friends. It leads to too many misunderstandings. Also, to the Hindus, turtles are one of many sacred creations of god which must be respected and protected. Vishnu, in his second life, was reincarnated into the form of a turtle. Killing and eating a turtle would be doing the same thing to god.” Sousuke wiped his brow. That ought to do it.
“Friends are supposed to share…” Su began. “What I want Tama to share with me is herself. And, we of Molmol are not Hindu. Vishnu sounds mighty tasty!” Su started leaping about the room, trying to snag Tama.
“There is also another reason you should not harm the turtle. You would be a terrorist.” Sousuke tried to sound stern. All he did was pique Su’s curiosity.
“What is a terrorist? Is it fun?”
“No, a terrorist is not fun. It is someone who kidnaps, shoots, blows up, or otherwise ruins the day of one or many people. It is my job---my organization’s job---to stop terrorists.” Sousuke couldn’t tell if his message had sunk in.
“Oh…” Su said in a contemplative manner.
Sousuke rushed to finish making his point. “In Greece, people are trying to protect the Loggerhead sea turtle. The Zakynthian Ecological Movement has had its members harassed, its supporters shot, and their offices set on fire. Terrorist bombs have blown up buildings, injuring women and children. The environmentalists are the victims, even though some politicians treat them as if they are the villains. The true villains are the terrorists.” It had been a cogent argument. Su was a bright young girl. No doubt she would realize the error of her ways. “Do you understand now why you shouldn’t be in such a rush to harm Tama?”
Su looked deep in thought. Then, her face brightened up. “Villain sounds like fun!” With that, she scampered out of the room.
Sousuke stood in shock. Had he just made things worse?
He could hear Su’s footsteps running down the hallway. Suddenly she stopped. “Kaname, did you know that your boyfriend wants to see me naked?” There were then running footsteps going in BOTH directions.
THAT would makes things worse.
************************************************************
Seta went in first. It was almost as if he had literally vanished from view. Kurz checked his watch. He was to give him five minutes. If Seta hadn’t taken out the near guard tower and provided Kurz with a weapon in the allotted time, he was to be considered dead or captured. Kurz would then need to proceed accordingly.
Three minutes passed. A shower of small pebbles fell from above. That was the signal. Kurz stepped out from the tunnel, exposing himself momentarily. A rifle fell. He caught it, and the two clips that fell next. DAMN! It was heavy. A Russian SVN-98 anti-material sniper rifle. Not exactly what he was hoping for. Unwieldy. Only five shots per magazine. But, it was 12.7mm. The rounds could penetrate bricks, thick wood, and the like. Beggars can’t be choosers.
Kurz saw a quick flash of black. Three technicians who had been behind a nearby control panel disappeared from view. SHIT! That guy is GOOD! Professor, my ass…. Now that the technicians couldn’t raise the alarm, Kurz stepped out and ran low to crouch behind their work station. The position would suffice. He had an excellent view of two of the towers. A quick sprint, and he would have an equally good view of the third. It was his turn to excel. He did.
The first sentry was enjoying a smoke, his back turned to Kurz. The corpse was pushed forward by the impact, its hand letting go of the cigarette. Before it hit the floor, a second bullet sped towards the opposite tower. That guard had been focused on the activity below him. His vigilance was not an effective shield. A small spray of blood and skull fragments shocked the man next to him. His ticket to oblivion arrived sone thereafter.
Movement caught Kurz’ eye. A target of opportunity. Yes! The pilot of one of the Arm slaves had opened the hatch, intent on supervising the reloading of the near spent gatling gun. He had a more pressing concern that he was unaware of. His lifeless body fell limply to the ground, dragged a few feet by a swerving forklift. Hope there are no other damn AS jockies nearby!
Kurz caught a quick glimpse of Seta, heading for the doors on the near side wall. No doubt he was going to make a run at the suspected armory. Godspeed, man. Things were starting to get exciting. A claxon started sounding. Non-combatants were ducking for cover. Soldiers began looking for the intruder. The buttoned-up Arm Slave began to disengage itself from the loading mechanism.
Time to earn his paycheck! Kurz ran behind a line of small generators, looking for a glimpse of the final surviving tower guards. A shot ricocheted off a cooling fin, sending metal shavings into his left eye. SHIT! That smarts!!!. He’d been spotted. The tower guard---the shot had come from above. He heard the chug chug chug chug of a heavy machine gun. There was at least one more opponent in that tower. Sparks flew off the generator. There was a puff of smoke and an acrid smell. This was going to be tricky.
Kurz said a quick prayer. There were times when he just had to roll the dice and see what would happen. This was one such time. He and Seta had made good use of surprise, but that window of opportunity was now nailed shut. There would be soldiers heading in his direction, setting up a defensive perimeter, and moving to flush him out. Just as he was about to raise his rifle and search for a target, the clatter of a submachinegun rang out from behind him.
He was still living. The shots rattled off the railing of the guard tower. It had to be Seta. He could not spare even a fraction of a second to check. Bracing the barrel of his rifle on the casework of the nearest generator, Kurz scanned a moment then locked on to an obstructed target above. He could see an arm and the rear half of a rifle sticking out from behind a wooden support post. His two shots penetrated the post and the guard behind it. One down.. He put in a fresh clip.
Did Seta have a good view of the man with the machinegun? He spared a quick glance behind him. Seta shouted “Ten feet from the left front corner, four feet back from the edge.” Soon thereafter, the black clad professor took off running towards the middle of the room. He would get the attention of the main force, serving as a diversion for Kurz. Another window of opportunity. First things first…I hope the floor of that tower is wood! Kurz pumped three spaced shots into the general area Seta had flagged for him. The gunner had been targeting Seta, but Kurz could see a trail of tracers jerk upward erratically, moments before the gun went silent. Fingers crossed.
Gunfire was being exchanged in two directions. Seta was still alive and kicking. Movement caught Kurz’ eye. A re-supply trolley was heading quickly for cover. Feeling naked, he dropped the heavy rifle and made a bee-line for the trolley from the blindside. A small number of shots were fired in his direction, but he managed to grab onto a handle on the trolley without being hit. This sure beats running….
There was a series of closely spaced explosions in the middle of the facilities. Hopefully those were charges planted by Seta. Would these guys be willing to use grenades or small rockets inside their own facility? Never put anything past black-hearted bastards. Just keep moving and hope for the best.
The driver of the trolley caught a glimpse of Kurz. He took one hand off the wheel, drew his sidearm, and swung it towards Kurz. The Mithril soldier grabbed the other man’s wrist just as the trolley inadvertently ran over a pile of inactivated mechatamas. The resulting lurch caused the man to lose his balance and drop his gun. Kurz was tossed roughly to the ground. He picked up the pistol, a Stechkin revolver. MOVE!!!
The next few minutes felt like hours. He was shot at. He returned fire. The ammunition for the revolver was quickly depleted, but he borrowed a PP-90M1 submachinegun with helical magazine from a turtle-covered body. Making his way between large crates, barrels of solvent, and huge bins of metal braces, Kurz reached his destination: A patchwork stairway led up to some deckwork. From there, he could jump into the Arm Slave’s open hatch. Assuming he could reach the deck in one piece…
Taking the first few steps up the stairway, Kurz was driven back down by a hail of bullets. To damn exposed! If he were Sousuke, he could just charge up the stairs, and make it untouched. Lucky S.O.B. He could hear orders being shouted. A large number of footsteps were headed in his direction. He was not in the mood to socialize. He had no other choice. Firing at the first bunch of soldiers foolish enough to run blindly out from behind a wall of crates, he sprinted for the stairs.
There was a whining noise. All too familiar. “HOLY SHIT!!!” He jumped behind a large stack of barrels just as the bottom half of the stairway disintegrated. Damn! The other Arm Slave pilot finally got his head out of his ass…. The whining returned. Kurz moved just as the barrels of solvent sprang towards the ceiling, their perforated sides gushing fluid. Can’t keep this up much longer. That had been much too close.
In the distance, a diesel engine roared to life. Kurz had a brief glimpse of a fuel truck headed towards the walking Arm Slave. Left with no choice, the AS pilot opened fire, sending a huge fireball mushrooming upward moments before the truck would have rammed his craft. NOW!!! Gotta move while everyone’s blinded or distracted.
Kurz saw a telescoping aluminum ladder hanging on the outer wall of a makeshift carpenter’s workshop. Lady luck was smiling down on him again. Seeing no soldiers nearby, he broke cover, grabbed the ladder, and dragged it to the Arm Slave. In a matter of moments, he was sitting in the pilot’s seat, the hatch closing with a satisfying Kachunk The fireball was dying down. If he had been noticed, the game might soon be over. Listening to the building roar of his AS power plant, he ran through a quick series of systems checks. SHIT! The gatling gun was near spent. Wait. No. There was a sizeable reserve supply.
Lights flashed on the instrument panel. A chiming noise sounded. A Mechanical sounding voice spoke in Russian. The Arm Slave was ready to rock. As soon as he moved, he’d be a target. That’s OK. Not as if it would be the first time!. He had ten tons of metal backing him up now. Ten tons of metal and one mean multi-barreled Motherf@cker.
“LET’S DANCE!!!” Kurz shouted. Moving his arms and legs, he set the metal monstrosity in motion. Three steps and a great bounding leap. Airborme, he cut loose with the gatling gun. Flashes ran up the front of the other Arm Slave. Pieces of metal flew off in all directions, but the pilot managed to step and slide out of the glowing torrent of projectiles. Kurz released the trigger mechanism, not wanting to exhaust his ammunition in one crazed assault. He kept his craft moving. Return fire jolted his Arm Slave, setting warning lights flashing. This would be a battle of attrition.
Duck. Slide. FIRE!!! Jump. Roll. Sidestep. FIRE!!! Shudder. Fall. Pull up again. FIRE!!! Charge, push aside the other gatling gun, FIRE POINT BLANK!!! Step back quickly as the other Arm Slave brews up. Look for secondary targets. Chase down the fleeing and firing soldiers. Tear this place apart!
Kurz was busy disabling machinery with his AS’s anti-armor dagger when the com system kicked in. Someone had found his frequency. “Kashim? Is that you, Kashim. I certainly miss you.” A loud and deranged laugh. “But, were you raised in a barn, Kashim? Where are your manners? I am SO very hurt that you snuck in here uninvited.” Damn. Double Damn!!! Gauron. Kurz wouldn’t bother replying.
As fate would have it, Kurz was watching the large and unusual Arm Slave when it sprang to life. Crouching technicians, workers, and armorers were thrown to the ground as scaffolding crumbled and was pushed aside. Steam obscured the metal beast for a moment as a large metal gantry retracted, knocking more laborers to their death.
“I can’t tell you just how much I’ve looked forward to this, Kashim. I have so few close friends. Soon, I will have one less. And tomorrow, at the break of dawn, I shall extend the same courtesy to that blue-haired girl and everyone else at that Apartment building. I wish you could be there to see it!”
Kurz let loose with the gatling gun. He need not have bothered. A glowing nimbus of light deflected the projectiles and blew all remaining scaffolding far across the enclosure.
“Goodbye, Kashim.” The eerie light expanded outward, quickly reaching Kurz’s Arm Slave. The concussion was staggering. Kurz felt himself flying backward. He blacked out upon impact.
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End of part six.
