From: Tranquility <blitz@crow.cybercomm.net>
Subject: Full Circle pt 3
Date: Sat, 29 Jul 1995 20:42:36 -0400


"Glas, get over here," said Nova, waving to him.  "I gotta talk to you."
She glanced at Jerzi, who was halfway through a tub of greasy fries that
were more or less raw in the middle.  "Sorry, Jerzi, this is private shit."

"I understand," he said.  Glas got up and walked over to her, leaning
close to hear over the constant background din of the boardwalk crowd.

"Funny thing just happened," she said softly.  She would've liked to
whisper, but that was an impossibility.  "I got a call from
Johnson...sort of.  He said he was in trouble, then the contact broke."

"How long was the contact?" asked Glas.

"Long enough for whoever made it to get a fix on our location."

"I don't think it's BioWorks...they already KNOW where we are.  Someone
else, an outsider.  One of April's?"

"I hope not," said Nova.  "Probably is, though.  A pro.  Johnson's no
pushover.  Sheisse."  Glas frowned.  She didn't use German unless she was
VERY agitated.  He'd never heard her swear in German.

"So what do we do?" he asked.

"What CAN we do?  We wait for 'em, and hope that we can spot them before
they take out Jerzi," said Nova.  "It'll probably be an Asian."

"We've gotta do better than THAT," said Glas, smiling, as he waved his
hand around.  A large percentage of the crowd was Asian.

"Ahhh, but these are all Japanese.  Look for Chinese or Viet."

"I can't tell the difference."

"Then just keep your eyes peeled."

"Think whoever it was offed any of the people there?"

"Probably Johnson," she said.  "No reason to kill anyone else, unless
they saw it go down."

"Shit.  Jerzi's gonna be pissed."

"Yeah.  IF he found out."  Nova shook her head sadly.  "I don't think
he's gonna make it out of this.  Better off not telling him anything.
Besides...if he does make it out, we're gonna have to ice him.  You
realize that, don't you?"

"I was afraid you'd say that.  He's a pretty decent guy," said Glas.

"He's also a material witness to what's been going on, and he told us
everything he knows," said Nova.  "Keep an eye on him.  I'm gonna head
back to the hovercraft and get the Mk V."

"Keep it under wraps, it's still classified."

"Yeah."

They both turned.  Jerzi was gone, the fries gone with him.

"Ahhhhhhhhh, SHIT!  FUCK!" shouted Nova.  "That sneaky motherfucker!  The
team's gonna be coming after ME!  Get the fucking rifle, Glas.  I'm gonna
try to find him."

"Will do," he said, saluting.  She returned it tiredly and scanned the
crowd.  No sign of Jerzi anywhere.

"FUCK!" she swore.  She grinned.  "Well, guess we're gonna see some
action soon.  Everyone's going to be coming after me.  Get that fucking
rifle quick.  We're gonna need it."

"Okay.  See you in ten," he said, jogging off into the crowd.  She
followed, pushing her way through the throng.  She couldn't see him.  She
switched on the suit's power-assist and leaped onto a nearby roof,
ignoring the worried glances of the beach cops.  Still no sign of him.

"You bastard," she chuckled.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"He's on the fucking BOARDWALK!" shouted the 'Struct.  "This is going
to be more fun than I thought.  Park it up here."

"No meter," said Kader.

"Fuck the meter.  Fuck the cops.  We're paying their fucking salaries
anyway.  Park HERE," it said, pointing at a vacant area in a striped fire
zone.

Kader turned abrubtly, locking the brakes and burying the BMW's nose in
sand.  The Rapture screeched to a halt next to them, Slip and Jackie
climbing out.

"Let's go," said the 'Struct.  "Kader, take the lead and don't lose that
fucking signal.  The rest of you, spread out and take no shit."

"HEY!" someone shouted.  A beach cop, riding a small ATV.  He pulled up
beside them, giving them a tired look.  He delt with a lot of weirdos,
but never with a 'Struct.  "You can't park here.  Fire zone.  Move the cars."

"Oh, FUCK YOU!" said the 'Struct, unholstering his pistol and shooting
the cop twice.  Someone screamed.  The crowd began to reorganize itself
as witnesses fled in panic, newcomers coming in close to catch a glimpse
of the blood.  The 'Struct fired a few more times into the throng,
scattering most of the goggling tourists.  He stomped forward,
intentionally stepping on one of the corpses.

"What the fuck are you waiting for?  Let's GO," it said.

Chen knew this was going to be a bad one.  There was no way in hell you
just went shooting up a boardwalk looking for one person.  No style, no
wisdom.  Not the way a pro did a job.  Shit.  He cocked the Remington,
watching the fleeing people carefully.  More cops would be on the way.
This was going to be bloody.

"Further up," said Kader, starting into a jog.  "500 meters."

"Let's GO," the 'Struct repeated.

The direction of flight was becoming more confused as the first wave of
terror-stricken people crashed into the milling crowds further ahead.
People were coming back towards them, now.  The 'Struct swatted at them
with titanium claws, knocking them out of the way as it rumbled forward.
Broken bodies marked its wake.  This was going to be very bloody indeed.

Several gunshots rang out, high and clear amidst the confusion.  Chen
recognized it immediately: S&W .44, caseless rimfire.  A cop's gun.  The
cop in question was further up, a graying vet, down on one knee for
accuracy.  Slip shrugged off her jacket; two of her hands held an ADI
carbine.  The weapon made a distinct crackle with each three-round
burst.  The cop crumpled, curling protectively into a foetal position.

"GO!  GO!  Jerzi dies!" said the 'Struct.  Its left foot crashed through
a weakened board, making it stumble.  "SHIT!  Go!"

"100 meters, coming this way," said Kader.

Things were still confused, but most of the people were now definately
moving away from the fighting, up and down the boardwalk, out onto the
beach, into the street.  The edge of the forward group was 40 meters.
They'd be seeing him soon.  Chen checked the slugs in his weapon, cocked
it again, switched the safety off, and dropped to one knee, training it
on the back of a big man in outrageously ugly flourescent shorts.

"50 meters," said Kader.  "Anytime now."

The crowd parted ahead.  A woman was moving through it, clad in heavy
black powered armor.  Definite military stuff.  She was armed with
nothing but a sword, a long, curved powerblade.  Also military.  Must be
some kind of officer in one of the Houses, carrying a sword like that...

"Holy shit!" said Kader.  "That's General Srin, House Demikaan!  Saw her
on the news the other day!"

"What the fuck is SHE doing here?" asked the 'Struct.

"She's...that's...she's got the transmitter!" Kader shouted.

"Shit!" said the 'Struct.  The general smiled at them and slapped her
visor down.  She started moving towards them, impossibly fast in the
armor.  This was going to be even bloodier than Chen had thought previously.

"WASTE HER!" screamed Slip, firing the carbine.  The gun crackled in one
long string, switched on full-auto.  People began to fall behind the
charging woman.  Chen put his sights on her chest and fired twice.  No
effect.  Might be a miss, but probably not.  Then again, he was gunning
at powered armor.  Shit.

"I got her!" said Katrina, grinning wickedly.  Her own sword was out.
She rushed forward, past Kader and the 'Struct, who started swearing
profusely.

"What the fuck!  Get your ass back here!  DAMMIT, HOLD FIRE!" shouted
Slip.  "GET THE FUCK BACK HERE!"

"Fuck her.  Waste 'em both," said the 'Struct.

"The fuck I will!" said Chen.

"Cop at three," said Kader, pointing.  Chen swung the Remington around,
feeling rather than hearing a shot pass his head.  He let off another two
slugs, saw the cop stumble and fall.

"Fucking SHIT!" said the 'Struct.

Chen turned the other way, looking for more cops.  He couldn't adequately
explain what followed.  He heard a sound like a banshee's wailing --
what?  He'd never heard a banshee, what the fuck were they SUPPOSED to
sound like? -- and Kaderr disappeared.  Well, not disappeared exactly, but
flew backwards so fast that he seemed to disappear, his body
disintegrating in midflight.  For a moment, Chen stared at the man's two
feet, still resting on the boardwalk.  Then the banshee wailed again, and
he was high in the air, at least ten or fifteen feet.  He crashed down on
the unyielding wood hard, senseless.  He saw a leg beside him, and
realized with a mixture of shock and clinical interest that it was his.
Nearby, a gaping hole in the boardwalk poured smoke into the air.

"What the FUCK was that?" asked the 'Struct.

Another wail.  Abbie swore and cartwheeled away to the side.  The
boardwalk exploded upwards next to Slip, bowling her over with a yelp.
She tried to stand, fell, and noticed a sliver of wood, close to two feet
long, embedded in her leg.

The 'Struct looked around in shock, no doubt feeling like so many other
generals had in the past when the battle went bad.  Things were fucked
in a very big way, his force was falling apart, everything was going
apeshit, and he still hadn't located all the enemies yet.

"WHO IS SHOOTING AT US AND WHAT THE FUCK IS HE USING?" screamed the
'Struct.

"There's Jerzi!" said Abbie, smiling.  "See y'all later."  She sprinted away.

"WHERE?" the 'Struct pleaded.

"There's our man," hissed Slip, getting back on her knees.  Another
black-armored soldier was near the street with a rifle, aiming for
another shot.  Slip scuttled across the ground, using her arms more than
her legs.  She was gone in an instant.

"WHICH MAN?" cried the 'Struct.  "WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?"

It looked at the soldier.  The soldier looked back at him.  He heard the
wail, saw the rifle buck in the soldier's hands.  The screaming grew in
pitch.

"Aw, shit," muttered the 'Struct, making one last feeble attempt at
freeing its leg.

An invisible freight train smashed into it, discharging a blast of
superheated air.  The boards trapping it vaporized, letting it fall in
pieces through the wood and onto the cigarette-butt and beer can-strewn
sands below.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Miles away, in the BioWorks compound, the Man swore.

He was quick to pull off the helmet -- total sensory deprivation was a
dangerous thing.  Only it wasn't total; he could see one thing.

NO CARRIER.  CONNECTION TERMINATED.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Glas grinned and tilted the rifle upwards.  It didn't have a safety
mechanism on it; he was a little leery about keeping it levelled with so
many people running around and no targets.

"Hey Nova," he said into his mouthpiece.  "What's going on up there?"

"Busy."  A grunt, heavy breathing.  Another grunt.  "Be with you in a
bit."  Grunt.  "You got the 'struct."

"Yeah, I saw it blow.  Nice secondary, looked like fireworks.  I'll head
up there."  He levelled the rifle again, moving forward towards the
steps.  He hated having so many bystanders to worry about.  It made
things difficult, and when you shot them, you had to deal with lawsuits,
compensation, the media, the cops, all that shit that annoyed the hell
out of you.  He HATED shooting innocents.  It was so inconveniant.

"Psssst."

He whirled, the Mk V at the ready.

Clank.  Most of the weapon's barrel landed at his feet.

And Slip, monoblades in two hands, pistols in another two hands, was on
him before he knew it.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nova smiled despite her self.  She always appreciated a sword duel, but
there were certain things that made it really spectacular.

An exotic location.  She had that.  She'd only fought two swordfights in
better locations -- one in Japan, during the spring, with cherry blossoms
falling down around her.  The other was inside some ruins someplace in
Africa.  That one had been REALLY good.  This one wasn't as much fun, but
it was still pretty good.  It would've been better on the beach.

A skilled opponent.  She had that.  This woman had been practicing a long
time with her saber, and moved with grace and experience.  She looked
like she was good at savate, or something similar.  Not the best way to
handle a sword, but pretty damn good.

And, finally, a confidence that she would win.  She was a poor loser.
This one was hers; it was just going to take a bit.

Katrina lunged at her.  She parried it easily.  She had her own sword in
two hands -- it was balanced all wrong for one-handed use, even though it
was probably lighter than the saber.  She wasn't quite as agile with her
sword as her opponent was, but she had a great deal more power.  She'd be
sure to use that to her advantage.

She counterattacked with straight kendo strikes, rushing forward and
slamming her sword onto the woman's defenses repeatedly.  Katrina didn't
backpedal quickly enough, and Nova slammed her shoulder into her like a
linebacker.  It didn't knock her down, unfortunately, but it sent her
glancing off a rack of cheap sunglasses.

"Nova!" It was Jerzi.  She spotted him in an opening to an arcade,
backlit by the harsh glare of the games.  "What is happening?"

Shit.  "Get your ass out of here!" she shouted, blocking another of
Katrina's stabs.  She noticed the other woman, Abbie, moving toward him,
relaxed and urgent all at once.  "GO!  GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!"

The saber rang off her armor.  Jerzi was on his own.  She'd have to get
this done quickly, though.  She parried another thrust, directing it down
into the wood below.  The saber buried itself halfway to the hilt.  She
held it down with her own sword, cocked her arm back, and drove her
gauntleted fist into Katrina's face.  She struck again, knocking her
down.

Katrina wasn't done yet, though.  She kicked Nova's legs out, leaving her
on the ground as well.  Both were up at roughly the same time, Katrina in
bad shape from the punches.

"Fight's gotta end sometime," said Nova.  Katrina swung her sword
straight downwards, in imitation of one of the general's strikes.  It was
a poor imitation.  Nova ducked to the side, slashing her across the
stomach as she did so.  Katrina doubled over, blood pattering on the
sunbleached wood.  The saber drove itself into her shin, sliding out the
other side.  So much for powered armor's supposed-imperviousness.  She
kicked Katrina's outstretched arm, breaking her grip on the weapon,
stabbed downwards, though the Frenchwoman's back and deep into the wood.
She screamed.

"See you later," said Nova.  She hobbled a few steps toward the arcade.
Jerzi and Abbie were nowhere to be seen, and this definately wasn't
working.  She gripped the saber's hilt with one hand and slipped it back
out.  No bleeding; the armor's inner lining was self-sealing.  The inside
of the shinguard filled itself with air, applying pressure to both sides
of the injury.  And then the pain began.  Damn.

And there were STILL more enemies running around.

Her visor, although it was displaying visual input directly to her optic
nerves, darkened perceptably.  That meant one thing and one thing only --
dangerous levels of light hitting it.  Someone was trying to fry her. She
spotted the guy, further down the boardwalk, holding a military-grade
laser rifle.  The beam was several inches in diameter where it struck
her, not focused enough to do any real damage.  He fiddled with it and
fired again.  The new beam was infrared, much more powerful.  Her
breastplate began to glow.  She hobbled off to the side, looking for
cover.  He fired again.  The power setting was definately on full; she
could hear the overtaxed weapon's power cells whining, even at that
distance.  The beam was visibly red.  It missed her torso, cutting into
her left arm and severing it just below the elbow.  She kept moving.  The
nerves were cauterized, flesh charred.  No pain, no infection, no
bleeding.  If you had to lose a limb, that was the way to do it.

The guy swung the beam back and forth.  Very unprofessional.  Even
against an unarmored target, you had to laze them for at least a second
or two before they burned.  He caught on quickly, though, and held a bead
on her back for a good three seconds.  A cloud of vaporized armor misted
out around her, and the armor deactivated.  She landed on the boardwalk
with a clunk.

And DAMN, did that hurt.



"Nova," someone whispered.

She blinked her eyes against the harsh neon lights above.  A face hovered
over her, giving her a critical look through some John Lennon shades.
She blinked again.

"What the fuck?" asked Nova.  "You who I think you are?"

"The one, the only," said the woman.

"Shit.  I died."

"Unfortunately, no you didn't.  You're alive, not so well, and laying on
a boardwalk in Point Pleasant," said the woman.  "Now you're going to
tell me what in the hell is going on."

"They're after Jerzi," said Nova.  "Strike team from BioWorks.  Don't
know how many are left.  Some karate girl, a biostruct, a guy with shades
and a lasrifle.  Glas is around here somewhere."  Nova took a deep
breath, winced at the sudden pain that lanced through her ribs, and let
it out slowly.  "Now you explain to me, Jetta.  What the fuck?  Clone?"

"I only wish.  Stay here."  And she was off, just like that.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Glas had served with House Demikaan since he got out of high school,
eighteen years ago.  As an enlisted man, he'd gotten in brawls, bar
fights, and fought in numerous battles.  As a chief, he'd done recon,
which included a few bloody hand-to-hand skirmishes.  As an officer, he'd
fought duels and done even more fighting.  He HAD lost before -- Nova
herself had saved his ass once when a position was overrun.  But he'd
never really gotten his ass kicked before.

He knew from the beginning that he was no match for Slip.  Two arms
simply could not defend against six.  He'd done well at first, rolling
over on to her and getting his knife out, but he hadn't gotten a chance
to use it.  One arm kept his knife at bay, one maintained a firm grip on
him, one grappled with his other arm, one was sawing at his shoulder
joint with a monoblade, and one was firing the pistol point-blank into
his chest.  The bullets whined off with that odd droning sound they made
when they passed close to buildings.  The blade hadn't penetrated his
armor yet, but he heard air hissing out.  It was getting through.

Things were not going his way.

Then he saw a woman approaching, a woman he'd only seen twice before.
He'd served with her once on Tarterus, during the Ortho action against
their base, and he'd seen her another time at a morgue, stretched out on
a table.

It was Jetta.

"Holy SHIT!" he managed.  Jetta drove her elbow down onto Slip's back,
then grabbed her and hurled her into the wall.  Before Slip really knew
what was going on, Jetta kicked her in the stomach, doubling her over,
and brought an axe kick down on her head, driving her face-first into the
pavement.  She stomped on the prone biostruct once for good measure.

"Jetta?" he asked.

"Yeah.  It's me.  Mostly, anyway."  She looked down at her hands.  "I
don't have the claws or the thumb anymore, though.  Woke up without
them.  Too bad.  Can I borrow your knife?"

He noticed she was having trouble pronouncing the "th" sound.  Her
teeth.  That was it.  She had the sharp teeth.  He handed her the knife
without a word.

"Thanks," she said, smiling.  She pulled back Slip's head by the hair and
slit her throat, then handed the knife back.  "You know how these things
are.  You okay?"

"Well...yeah.  I thought you were dead."

"I was.  That change anything?"  She smiled again.  Yep.  She still had
the teeth.  They looked like shark teeth.  "Get Nova and get lost.  Cops
are gonna be all over the place, quick-like."

"Where is she?"

"Up on the boardwalk," she said, and sprinted away up the stairs.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered, getting up.  Slip made some choking sounds
and rolled over, staring up at him with glassy eyes and an expression of
horror.

"Hey, you made your choice.  Fuck you," he said, snatching her pistol
away when she tried to aim it at him.  "Doesn't feel good, does it?"

"Gak," gurgled Slip.

"Damn straight," he said, emptying the clip into her.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Hiya, Jerzi," said Abbie, moving slowly towards him.  He looked around
calmly.  His back was against the wall; bulky ride-on VR games were on
either side of him.  He was going to have to make a rush for it.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"I want to know about Jeremy.  The REAL shit," she said.  She cracked her
knuckles.  "I can get real nasty if it comes to that.  Don't make me be a
bitch."

He reached under his shirt, smoothly drawing the .25 and aiming it.  She
caught his arm, directing the pistol's shot into the ceiling, stepping
under his arm, and hitting him in the chin.  He fell back against the
wall.  The .25 landed on the floor.

"I really HATE guns, Jerzi.  What's the deal with Jeremy?" she asked.

He rubbed his jaw.  His lower lip was split.  "Oh, Jeremy...well, he's
like a computer..." and he charged at her, shoulder forward to absorb the
impact.  She snapped her leg up into his chest, sending him back against
the wall.  He took a deep breath, wincing.

"You're not going ANYWHERE until you tell me what the fuck is going on,"
said Abbie.

Time to get rough.  He feinted a punch, stepped forward, and stomped down
on her foot.  She was wearing boots; her instep didn't break like he'd
hoped it would.  In one smooth motion, she sent a flurry of punches into
him, arms flying long and fast.  Left, right, right cross, right
backhand, left cross, and he was on the floor, utterly senseless, room
spinning.

"WHO THE HELL IS JEREMY?" she shouted at him, bending down so they were
face to face.  "WHO IS HE?"

"He's the guy that fucks your mom," said someone behind her.  She turned,
frowning.

"Ohhhhhhhh, you bitch," said Abbie.  "You don't know what you just got
yourself into."

"Jetta?" asked Jerzi disbelievingly.  "What is this?"

"It's me, Jerzi," said Jetta, smiling.

"Awww, how fucking sweet.  Jerzi, your friend Jetta here had better be an
expert in unarmed combat," said Abbie.

"She is," said Jerzi.  "Was.  Is.  I don't know."

"I'll let you decide that for yourself," said Jetta, still smiling.  She
moved forward, slamming her open hand into Abbie's chest.  The woman flew
back, over Jerzi, and crashed into the wall.  Jetta looked down at him.
"Better get out of here while you can."

"Not bad," said Abbie, rubbing her solar plexus.  She swung her arms up
and over, striking Jetta with two of the odd cone-shaped blows in
sequence.  The shades landed beside Jerzi, twisted and broken.  He got up
and moved away from the two combatants, looking for something to use as a
weapon.  He didn't see any.  A lot of fights broke out at the shore, and
things around there were designed NOT to crack heads.

He got up, blood dripping out of his nose and mouth.  She certainly hit
hard for someone of her build.  He struck her on the side of the neck
with a chop.  It was a good, solid blow, but it didn't have the effect he
was looked for.  She drove an elbow back at him absently, hitting him
more or less between the eyes.  The floor rushed up to meet him.

Jetta shook off whatever dizziness Abbie's attack had left her with and
attacked.  She kicked her in the thigh, came in fast, and struck both
kidneys simultaneously with a doublehanded chop.  Abbie swung both arms
over in another of her strange strikes.  Jetta blocked, delivered an
uppercut, two body blows, and another kick to the injured leg.  Abbie howled.

"Jerzi!" she said.  "Get your ass up and leave!"

"Ah, SHIT!" swore Abbie.  She was breathing hard, slightly crouched from
all the punishment she'd taken below the neck.  She threw a jab.  Jetta
trapped it, whirled around behind her, and tossed her to the ground with
a flawless hip throw.  For one odd, timeless moment, Abbie's feet brushed
the ceiling; then she crashed down with bone-jarring impact.  Still holding
the arm, Jetta struck twice with her fist and backed up.

"Get the fuck up," she shouted, kicking Abbie.  "I'm not done with you
yet.  Who the fuck taught you how to fight?  'Cause the guy should really
keep his day job."

Abbie tripped her.  That had been coming for a while.  Most fights ended
up on the ground sooner or later, anyway.  She somersaulted backwards and
came up on her feet.

"Come on," she taunted.  Abbie whirled and hit her in the stomach with a
backfist.  She hadn't seen THAT coming, and it hurt more than she thought
it would.  She stepped back away from a kick, then sidestepped an
overhand strike that left a hole in a game machine's monitor.  Jetta
chopped her in the throat, grabbed her by the hair, and slammed her face
into it.

Jerzi's eyes came back into focus.

Jetta rammed Abbie's head into the machine again.  Jerzi didn't know how
many times she'd done it, but it looked like too many.  Blood slicked the
thing's exterior, shining like wet paint on the jagged teeth of the
broken monitor.  He shuddered.

"Jetta," he said.

Jetta let her opponent go.  Abbie slid limply to the floor.  She looked
at her blood-spattered hands and shook her head slowly.

"What is going on?" he asked.

"You don't wanna know.  Get your ass out of here.  There's one more of
them, I think."

His eyes fell on the pistol.  He picked it up.  She crouched slightly,
like a hardwired borg, watching him carefully.  He tossed it to her.

"This gun," she said, examining it.  "It's mine."

"I was holding it."

"For me?  How thoughtful."  She smiled, then rolled.  Jerzi caught a
glimpse of a bright red flash, smelled burnt flesh.  She came up on her
feet, flames flickering on her shoulder.  She fired seven times, smoothly
and easily, like someone would pour milk on their cereal.

"Son of a BITCH," she swore.  She patted out her shoulder.  "I guess
that's the last of them."  She looked at the pistol again.  "It had a
full clip.  You reload it?"

"Yes."

"It's a nice gun to have.  Me and this .25 have been through some shit
together.  Wish I knew where my needler was."

"I didn't see it."

"I lost it..." She breathed deeply.  "I lost it upstairs."  She looked at
the floor.  Her voice dropped.  "We'd better get out of here.  Cops'll be
all over the fucking place.  Hope Glas got Nova out."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

"This may not have been a good idea, Jetta," said Jerzi, as they entered
the house.

Johnson greeted them immediately, this time with his laser rifle.  Jerzi
stepped in front of him, arms raised.

"It's okay," he said.  "I'm Jerzi."

"Don't move a fucking muscle."  Johnson reached up and fiddled with his
visor, keeping the rifle trained on them.  "Shit, you ARE Jerzi.  Got his
eyes, anyway.  That works for me."  He flipped the visor up and glared at
Jetta.  "What the fuck is SHE doing here?"

"She's with me," said Jerzi.

"Bitch jumped me before."

"Don't take it too hard.  I used to be with the 'Blazers," said Jetta.
"Trained to do shit like that."  She patted him on the shoulder, winced,
at looked back at Jerzi.  "Where's the head?"

"Head?"

"Bathroom.  Shitter.  Where is it?"

"Down the hallway, the second left.  There's another one upstairs and
downstairs..."

"Just need some Vasolene, thank you," she said, walking down the
hallway.  She came back out with a small jar of petroleum jelly.  Her
shoulder was visible beneath her shirt; the skin was blackened in the
middle, blistered at the edges.  It looked like a bad burn.  She smeared
a glop of jelly over it.

"Nothing like Vasolene for laser burns," she said, smiling.

"Vasolene?" asked Jerzi.

"We carry it in the medkits these days," said Johnson.  "Good stuff.  You
can do a lot of shit with it."

"You got a medkit?" she asked.

"Yeah.  Over in the kitchen.  Hold on."  He returned with another small
jar, this one white and made of impact-proof plastic.  She took it from
him and looked at it.

"Silvadene.  Real old shit, good for burns.  Keeps 'em clean," Johnson
explained.  "The lube's okay, but we're not SAVAGES around here, you know?"

"Why did you bring us here?" asked Jerzi.  He looked out the window.  Two
blocks away, the car they'd taken, an old Ford, was parked in front of a
conveniance store, the driver's side window broken and rolled down.

"First place everyone will come when they come looking for us," said
Jetta, eyes narrowing.  "All this bullshit is coming full circle, Jerzi.
It's been going on long enough.  We gotta clean house."

"What bullshit?" asked Johnson.  "Aren't you supposed to be DEAD?"

"Yeah.  Was.  It's not all it's cracked up to be."  She chuckled.  Jerzi
didn't like that.  "It was Jeremy's fault...but isn't EVERYTHING Jeremy's
fault these days?"  She tossed the Silvadene back to Johnson.  "Bandage.
Micropore.  Please."

"I'm on it," he said.

"Please tell me what's going on," said Jerzi.  "I...it's...I saw your
corpse, Jetta.  What am I supposed to think?"

"I already told you," said Jetta.  "Jeremy brought me back.  I don't know
how, I don't know what for...all I know at this point is I'm gonna ice
him.  I've had enough of his shit.  And after I'm done with him, I'm
gonna head back to where I belong."

"Where's that?"

"Dead," she said, not smiling anymore.

"Who's dead?" asked Johnson, returning with the requested supplies.

"And he wonders how I snuck up on him," said Jetta with a giggle.
"Johnson, I'm gonna be real straight with you, which doesn't happen much
these days.  Get the fuck out of here or someone's gonna kill you.  Might
be Jeremy's pals, might be BioWorks, might be Nova and Glas...they were
gonna do you, Jerzi.  You know that, right?"

"I suspected it," he said.  "That's why I lost them at the shore.  If
there are legal repercussions from their actions, I'd be the
prosecution's star witness.  They have to kill me."

"No one's gonna kill ANYONE while I'm here," said Johnson.  "I've got
orders to keep everyone in this house out of trouble."

"You wanna live, I'd suggest going AWOL," said Jetta.

"No such luck."

"You got balls, Johnson.  Gotta get some brains to go with them."  She
patted him again.

"Who wants to kill us?"

"Okay," said Jetta.  "Here's the deal, once and only once because it's
VERY fucking messed up and I'm not totally sure what's going on.  I was
out of it for a few weeks, remember.  BioWorks wants to ice Jeremy 'cause
he went rogue on them and he's a dangerous motherfucker.  Snatched a lot
of their R&D, real heavy shit.  Ethics committy ain't gonna like it if
they see it."

"Worse than what we saw?" asked Jerzi.  He still remembered his run
inside the BioWorks complex, the flight through the abandoned R&D
section.  He'd seen many atrocities during his lifetime, living in
eastern Europe, but what he saw at BioWorks still gave him nightmares.

"Yeah.  Much worse.  Anyhow, BioWorks wants Jeremy's ass on a platter.
BioWorks wants MY ass on a platter 'cause I fucked them, they iced me,
and now I'm back with that information in mind.  BioWorks wants to ice
YOU because you know what's been going on, AND you saw the shit inside,
so basically, you fucked them too."  She paused, took a deep breath, and
continued.  "BioWorks wants Nova and Glas now, because they fucked up a
perfectly fucked-up hit.  If anyone on the team is still alive, they're
gonna want a piece of us, too.

"April obviously wants my ass for whatever reason because she fucked me
at the park.  Now she wants House Demikaan, but since she can't have them
she'd settle for Nova, 'cause Nova's their star player and she's the one
responsible for sending the borg over there..  That borg, by the way, is
causing a whole lot of shit for all parties involved right now, believe
it or not.  He went rogue, too."

"You lost me," said Johnson.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP AND LISTEN!" she shouted.  She smiled sweetly.  "Now,
the one I'm concerned about is Jerzi, 'cause I don't know WHAT the fuck
he wants.  He brought me back to life, Jerzi.  I was dead.  He TOLD me I
was dead, showed me holos of my corpse.  I KNOW I was dead.  Why the fuck
did he do that?  HOW the fuck did he do that?"

"Clone?" asked Jerzi.

"No, no, no," she said.  "NO!  I'm NOT a clone!  LOOK!"  She pulled her
shirt up to the bottom of her ribs.  Jerzi plainly saw a small, puckered
scar just above her navel.  It looked like a bullet wound.

"Now," she said, smiling like a lunatic, "you KNOW I didn't have that
fucker last time you saw me, Jerzi.  And you KNOW I always get my scars
removed."

"I don't understand any of this," he said, shrugging.

"I DON'T EITHER!  THAT'S WHY I'M SO FUCKING SCARED!" she screamed.  "It
just doesn't add up!  He took out my fucking claws, and my thumb, and the
biocomp and the AI.  What the fuck did he do it for?"

"The AI and biocomp were removed during your...autopsy," said Jerzi.
"Evidence."

"Ah.  THAT'S why Nova sicked her borg on April.  She knows what's going
on."  Jetta ran a hand through her hair in exasperation.  "This is NOT
cool, Jerzi.  I go batshit without the AI.  You know that too."

"If he could bring you back to life, he could repair your brain," said Jerzi.

"He didn't.  The voices are back."  She gave a little laugh.  "All these
fucking voices, and the flashbacks, and everything.  I was better off dead."

"Don't say that," said Jerzi.

"The fuck I won't.  But he fucked up.  I know where he is."

"Where Jeremy is?"

"None other.  I walked out of his fucking place, Jerzi.  I remember where
it is.  I'm gonna rock this fucker's world once and for all."

"This doesn't make any sense," said Jerzi.  "Why would he bring you back
to life, in this condition, and let you retain the knowledge of where he
was?"

"Maybe he's suicidal," laughed Johnson.

"Hold that thought," said Jetta, with a look of inspiration.  Her eyes
widened.  "Hold that fucking thought.  He tried a couple of times to get
me to work for him.  Never told me what.  He sent you to bust me out,
Jerzi.  I thought he just wanted to fuck BioWorks, but maybe it was more
than that.  I killed one of his 'structs, and his ninja bitch too.  I've
been in and out of BioWorks places twice.  He set shit up so I hated the
fucker, added a little more, had me killed, and brought me back, and LET
me know where he was."

"The fucker wants to die," said Johnson.

"And he knows you can do it," added Jerzi.

Jetta collapsed in hysterical laughter, falling to the floor and rolling
back and forth.  Tear streamed out of her eyes, and she pounded the wall
beside her.  Then, the tears were genuine, and she was crying, the
transition between the two states too subtle to detect.

"What a fucker," she sobbed.  "He's been manipulating all this shit just
to get me to hate him, and if I kill him, I'm playing right into his
fucking trap."  She got up.  Jerzi placed an arm on her shoulders; she
shrugged it off.

"What will you do?" asked Jerzi.

"I'll tell you what I'm gonna do," said Jetta.  "I'm gonna get back in
that fucking Ford, drive back to my fucking shithole apartment, beat the
living fuck out of anyone who's there, and sit and drink on this.  And if
I wake up sober and I'm still alive, I'll take it from there."

"Jetta..." he said, frowning.  She shouldered past him, stomping out the
door.  He followed her.  "This is not a good idea..."

"Get back in the house," she muttered.

"Jetta..."

"GET BACK IN THE FUCKING HOUSE OR YOU'RE DOGFOOD, ASSHOLE!" she screamed,
turning and aiming her pistol at him.  He didn't know if she still had
the smartgun link.  Probably not.  She was still a good shot without it,
though.

"Put the gun down," he said softly.

She fired four times.  He felt the thrum of three bullets passing within
inches of his head, heard them smack into the house with loud firecracker
pops as they detonated.  The fourth pulled at his shirt, just above his
shoulder.  He felt a mild sting there, like he'd scraped it on gravel.

"DON'T FOLLOW ME," she hissed, striding away, dogs barking in the distance.

Jerzi waited a long moment, until she was out of sight, then his knees gave
way and he collapsed.



A while later, a heavy military hovercraft, painted red-and-black,
Demikaan style, pulled up to the curb outside the house.  Glas stepped
out, a worried, frustrated executive-type look on his face.  He strode up
to the door and waved Johnson aside.

"We're pulling out of here," he said.  "Seen Jerzi?"

"Yeah.  He and Jetta stopped here."

"Either of them here?"

"No, sir."

"Where's Jerzi?"

"Went after Jetta."

"I noticed some bullet holes outside," said Glas.  "Explosive.  Anything
worth mentioning?"

"It was Jetta.  She took some shots at Jerzi."

"Shit."  Glas chuckled.  "She has a bad temper.  Learn anything?"

"She knows where Jeremy is," said Johnson. "Said she was gonna ice him.
Said she was gonna go get toasted.  Told Jerzi not to follow, but he did
anyway, I think.  Left about ten minutes after she did."

"Damn," said Glas.  "Well, I don't know where she is, but I know who can
find her, and I know where he'll be.  Care to take a ride, Johnson?"

"Sure thing, sir."

"Time to hit the Zone," said Glas.



Glas hadn't been to Zone 44 in quite some time, but it was one of those
timeless places that never seemed to change.  There were new faces, but
not many, and most of them looked like they didn't belong anyway.  It was
mostly the same old crowd of tired vets, telling war stories and drinking
away the memories to the quiet beat that always seemed to be playing.

Not surprisingly, Cyprid was there, sitting at the bar with his faceplate
raised.  The borg couldn't drink, couldn't really eat anything other than
baby food, and wasn't very appealing to look at; his face, pasty white
with red-rimmed eyes, was slowly dying.  It hadn't been designed to last
as long as it had, but now his last exterior visage of humanity was
disappearing, turning to metal and plastic as countless nanomachines
busily destroyed the dead tissues and made replacements.

"Cyprid," said Glas, smiling warmly.  "I need your help."

"Haven't heard that in a long time."  The borg chuckled.  His voice chip
was going to hell.  The lips barely moved.  Muscles were dying.  He
turned to face the two soldiers, smiling weakly.  His armored frame was
the same glossy black as Glas's armor, shining in the dim light except
for spots where collisions and bullets had reduced it to dull-gray plastic.

"How've things been going?"

"Ah, same old, same old.  I kinda miss the House.  We got a lot of
respect," said Cyprid.  "Don't get shit for respect now unless I engage
combat mode.  Gets me out of tickets, too.  They got the new units in
now, don't they?"

"Yeah," said Glas.  "You seen them?"

"They look too small, man.  Too frail.  How do they hold up in a fight?"
asked the borg.

"Well, you know, they're designed for different shit," said Glas.
"Different kind of warfare.  You know, old man Demikaan's big on speed
and efficiency now.  On equal ground, you'd pound one of them into the
ground.  They were looking for tanks on legs when they built you guys."

"Yeah.  What you need me for, anyway?"

"You heard about Jetta?"

"Yeah.  Damn shame.  Served a tour with her in the Belt, was with her
during the withdrawal."

"Well, she's not dead," said Glas.

"Glas, my friend," said Cyprid, "I have a really, really SHITTY sense of
humor.  Don't pull my fucking leg, I saw it in the police blotter."

"I wouldn't shit you about this, Cyprid.  She's back.  Saved my ass not
six hours ago.  She's gone missing, and I have a feeling you know where
she'd go."

"Hell yeah," said Cyprid.  "What mood was she in?  Pissed?  Happy?  Sad?
She had some mean mood swings."

"Pissed.  Maybe sad, too."

"Well, she ain't here," said Cyprid, "so I'd think she'd be at her
place.  Only it's not her place anymore, is it?"

"Emptied out.  Nova was executor for her will.  Jetta didn't have a pot
to piss in, so she gave out the shit to whoever showed up for
the funeral...think it was only Ravenna and Lydia.  April didn't show,
big surprise.  Neither did her brother.  Gave the rest of the shit
away."  Glas thought for a moment.  "Don't think anyone's moved into the
place, yet.  We cordoned the place off for evidence...don't think we ever
opened it.  Paid the landlord six months' rent, he doesn't give a shit."

"That would be the place, then," said Cyprid.



The three of them walked down the apartment building's hallway, almost
visibly oozing with confidence.  Not that being confident was so hard in
such circumstances; two soldiers in powered armor and an ex-RDCC didn't
have too much to worry about, and people generally stayed out of their
way.

"This is it," said Cyprid, motioning to a door.  The bright-orange
secured-area tape that crisscrossed it was torn through, flapping a bit
in the constant breeze from the building's central air-circulation system.

"I know this is it," said Glas.  He rapped a knuckle against it.  "Hey!
Major Glas, House Demikaan Blackguard.  We're coming in, and if we see a
gun, we're gonna shoot, so lose it now.  You've been warned."  He tried
the door.  It was locked.  He switched on the suit's power-assist and
gave it a solid kick, knocking it off the hinges.  The three of them
moved in, fanning out.

There was nothing in the apartment.  No furniture, no carpeting, no tubes
in the light fixtures.  The bare wood floor had waterstains, as did the
ceiling, and the dull wallpaper was peeling in places.  They moved into
the living room.

Jerzi was there, watching them carefully.  Jetta was seated on the floor,
back to the wall, hugging her knees against her chest.  She didn't look up.

"I was wondering how long it was gonna take you guys to show up," she
said dejectedly.

"Jetta?" said Cyprid.  "Shit.  Guess you weren't pulling my leg, Glas."

"What's the deal?" asked Glas.

"I was about to tell Jerzi a little story," said Jetta. "I got a shitload
of 'em and I never told anyone before I died.  Might've been a mistake."

"Let's hear it, then," said Glas.  "To be honest, I didn't know what the
fuck we were gonna do once we found you."

"You know, I remember a lot of things these days," she said.  "Lotta shit
I've been trying to forget about, it just comes back.  I can't shake it.
I remember a time, right after I got out of the service.  War just
ended.  You know what I did before I was with Demikaan, Glas?"

"Dunno.  You were only like 17 when you joined."

"Yeah.  I was a prostitute before then."

"Before?  Like a puppet?"

"No, not like a puppet.  No market for puppets on Ostland, everyone
wanted the real thing."  She sighed.  "I joined up, killed some Orthos,
got some promos.  Then we hit the Scalps.  Killed some Scalps, watched a
lot of good people die, almost got killed by a Scalp, war ended, and I
was back on the streets, here in Jersey.  Typical postwar economy, you
know?  Everyone who'd been something before the war went back to doing
it.  All these fucking vets all over the place that didn't have shit for
skills besides killing.  What do you think they did?"

Glas nodded.  He knew well enough.  The crime rates in urban areas had
gone through the roof.

"They start killing again, 'cause they don't know how to do anything
else, right?  But I was done with killing.  I didn't like it.  I didn't
like what I was becoming, so I'm back to being a prostitute.  And one
day, I'm out on a street and a trick picks me up, gonna take me back to a
motel.  I get a look at the guy, I know I've seen him before, and he
knows he's seen me before, but I didn't recognize him for a bit.  Then it
hit me."  She chuckled.  "It was Colonel Biggs, man.  Out on a little
R&R.  I must've looked a little surprised, 'cause he looked back at me
and thought, and then he said, 'Lt. Srin?', and I said, 'Yeah, it's me,
Biggs'.  He gave me the money and just dropped me off, didn't do
anything.  I'd never seen someone who looked so whipped before.  He felt
worse than I ever could've...I was his star officer, remember?  Saved his
ass once on the moon, back at the Crater Castle.  Ever been to the Castle?"

"Only during the counteroffensive," said Glas.  "When we were pushing
them back out.  Called it Scalp Castle at that point.  Bad place to be
fighting in, lot of crevices."

"No shit, I pulled him out of one.  After that..." she shook her head.
"After that, I gave it up, started killing again.  Both things I did, I
was less than human, a monster, but when I was killing, I got respect.  I
got looked up to."

"Old timers at the Academy still talk about you," said Glas solemnly.
"They got a re-enactment of your fight with that one Scalp, use it in
hand-to-hand training for advanced unarmed combat."

She giggled.  "Shit, I got lucky that time.  That Scalp should've torn me
up.  They tore everyone else up that got that close to 'em.  I wasn't
supposed to win that.  And if the second team hadn't have been right
behind, I would've bled to death anyway."

"So what now?" asked Glas.

"We gotta go see Jeremy.  Actually, I gotta go see Jeremy.  Rest of you
should disappear," said Jetta.  "I'm gonna tell him no can do, I'm not
gonna kill him.  He'll be pissed.  He's gonna try to take out everyone I
know, try to piss me off enough to do it.  And I'm gonna tell you right
now -- I don't give a shit how many of you he kills off, I'm not gonna
kill him."

"Where is he?" asked Glas.

"Shit, if you want to know so bad, you can come with me," she answered.
"Like I said, I don't give a fuck at this point."

"Where?" asked Glas.

"Newark," she said.  "In an abandoned warehouse.  Got a car?"

"Hovercraft," said Glas.

"That'll work.  You wanted him, you're gonna get him.  Let's go."



"Stop here," said Jetta.

Glas pulled the bulky hovercraft over to the side of the road, bulling a
stripped-down wreck out of the way.  The old street was lined with them.
He killed the ignition, and the twin electric motors wound down to a halt.

"This place looks...bad," he said.

"This place is bad," she answered, giggling.

"Stay with the hovercraft, Johnson," said Glas.  "Anyone comes by looking
for trouble, use the fucking machine gun on them.  Do NOT leave the
vehicle.  Got it?"

"Yes, sir," said Johnson, climbing up into the gunner's pod.

"Jerzi, you ought to stay here," said Jetta.  "He's got people in there.
Things."

"I've got to.  I've got to see it," said Jerzi.

"Your call."  She climbed out of the hovercraft.

The warehouse didn't look any different from any of the other countless
ones lying along the waterway.  It was old, dilapidated corregated steel,
rusty in places and marked here and there with graffiti.  The grounds
around it, once a lawn, were overgrown with weeds and plants, sickly and
brown from the chemical-tainted soil.  The only thing that made it unique
in any way was that none of the windows were broken, an odd thing indeed
if someone was looking for it.

"There's an access hatch on the roof," said Jetta.

"We'll be taking the front door," said Glas.  He swung his rifle up to
bear on Jetta and Jerzi.  "Now get lost."

"Ahhh, shit, Glas," said Jetta, her pistol out and aimed at him before he
knew it.  "I didn't think it was gonna come to this.  Cut the shit, huh?
This is personal."

"Right.  Nova wants it dead," said Glas.  "Now drop the pistol and get
lost.  That thing wouldn't ding this armor, let alone hurt me.  I'll slag
your ass in a heartbeat."  He paused.  "I MEAN it."

"Shit," said Jetta, dropping the pistol and raising her hands helplessly.

Cyprid beamed him with his neural disruptor, located just below where his
solar plexus would be, inside the cone of pistons that rotated his
torso.  The range was long for a disruptor, and Glas was wearing the
powered armor; he stumbled, senseless, and dropped his rifle.  Cyprid
walked up to him, caught him in a bearhug, and gave him another shot.  He
went limp in the cyborg's arms.  Jetta heard the disruptor fire one more
time, then Cyprid released him.

"I owe you one," she said, smiling.  She picked up the pistol.

"Want the rifle?  It's a good one," said Cyprid, snatching it up.

"Nah."  She held out her hand to him, displaying the gunmetal hexagon on
her palm.  "Still got the smartgun link."

"Cool."  Cyprid gave the weapon to Jerzi.  "Let's go in, shall we?"  He
walked up to the front door, looked it over, and knocked it in with a
nonchalant push.

"So much for subtlety," Jetta muttered.

The interior of the warehouse was dimly lit by a cluster of old glowtubes
on the ceiling, flickering uncertainly.  This was definately the place.
Rows of cryogenic cylinders lined one wall; banks of computer terminals,
monitors darkened from inactivity, dominated the center of the room.
Pipes and conduits of all sizes ran from floor to ceiling, floor to wall,
wall to wall, wall to ceiling, wall to wall to wall, and some seemed to
end in midair.

Something stirred in the darkness.  Jerzi snapshot the rifle at it.  A
service bot, its surface tarnished and dusty with age, toppled into the
light, glowing from the laser's heat.

"Dammit, Jerzi," said Jetta.  "Lotta bots around.  Just watch for the
nasties."

Lasers flickered down from the ceiling.  Jerzi dived to the floor,
flattening himself behind one of the computers.  Jetta moved behind
Cyprid, firing away into the darkness.  Three beams stabbed down, hitting
the borg in the chest.  Vaporized armor puffed into the air.  He fired
back with his weapon arm, dual pulse rifles, shattering the automated
turrets one by one.  A beam came from the side, hitting him in the head.
He turned and fired.  Something crashed to the floor.  A bot, squat and
on treads, rolled into view with a heavy-calibre machine gun, chattering
away.  Bullets whined off Cyprid.  He slagged it with three shots, fusing
most of it to the floor.

Another bot came at them, angling a laser cutter out in front of it, all
four beams focused on Cyprid.  He swung out an arm, shattering it.  He
caught another one, lifting the massive thing over his head and hurling
it into the cryotubes.  They exploded outwards, liquid nitrogen forming
billowing clouds of mist.

"Damn, Jetta," he said.  "You didn't say this was gonna be so much FUN!"

"You okay?" she asked, backing away from the waves of heat rolling off
his frame.

"Not a thing in this city that can hurt me," he said, chuckling
irritatingly.

"If I stand up, am I going to be shot?" asked Jerzi, from behind the
terminal.

"I think they're all gone," said Jetta.

More lasers stabbed past them, hitting the warehouse's wall behind.  The
new forms firing at them were not bots or turrets -- they were humanoid,
moving swiftly through the darkness.  Jetta hoped they were humans.
She'd seen too many other BioWorks creations not to be worried.

"Stupid motherfuckers," said Cyprid, firing.  Someone screamed.  It
sounded human enough.

"Finally.  Something I can use this damn gun on," said Jetta.  She
dropped to one knee, still behind Cyprid, and started firing.  She tried
to mentally activate her lowlight vision, remembered the AI was gone, and
did it manually, clicking back one of her molars.  The room flared into
brightness.

"Shit," said Cyprid, already using his.  "They're all the same."

It was the biostructs, each one identical -- long, blond hair, tall
build, blandly handsome face.  She kept firing.  Cyprid raked the room
with the pulse rifles, activating the laser on his left arm and swinging
it like a sword.  The wounds it would inflict at such range would be
minor, but they'd still hurt like hell.

"One more," said Jetta.  Cyprid fired.  The biostruct exploded against
the far wall.

"No more," he corrected.

They moved cautiously across the floor, towards the far wall.  Cyprid
kicked idly at one of the slain biostructs.

"Nasty business," he said.  "That cloning."

"Yeah."  Jetta looked around.  "There's a door around here somewhere.
We've gotta go downstairs.  Watch out for those boards there, Cyprid.
They're strong, but I don't think they'll hold you."

No sooner had she said that, Cyprid toppled forward, crashing down on the
circular section of floorboards.  They gave way with a crash, sending the
mighty borg falling away, out of sight.  She heard a splash far below.

"What the fuck?" she asked, looking around again.  She frown.  A woman
stood not ten feet away, short black hair, wearing a black jumpsuit.
Generic Asian features.  It was Kim.

"It's Kim," said Jerzi.

"Nice observation, Doctor Mitchnikov," said Jetta.  She watched the
ninja.  Kim had a microwave beamer in her hand, obviously the weapon that
had taken out Cyprid.  The things hadn't been around when Cyprid had been
built; it was no surprise that he wasn't immune to them.  She aimed it at
them.  Jetta turned away as it buzzed, saving her eyes.  The smartgun
crosshairs superimposed on her vision faded out of view.  It had struck
her hand.

Jerzi, however, didn't have any implants whatsoever.  A beamer wouldn't
bother someone without implants normally; most of the body's tissues
could disappate any internal heat the weapon caused easily.  At close
range, the eyes were vulnerable on a direct hit, since they were
adversely affected by internal pressure.  The chances of such a hit were
slim, as the beamer fired a cone-shaped wave, and a more focused hit was
necessary.

He swung the rifle like a bat, aiming for her body.  She caught it
without a sound, taking it away like a toy and flinging him against the
wall.

And that was all the time Jetta needed.

"Kim," she said.  The ninja turned.  Her head exploded against the wall,
spraying Jerzi with a liberal coating of blood and brains.  He grimaced
and wiped his face on his shirt.

"What the fuck you trying to do, play baseball?" she asked, patting him
on the shoulder.  "Shoot that thing next time.  You okay?"

"Fine, fine," he said.

"CYPRID!" she shouted down the hole, listening to her echo.  "You down
there?"

"I'm okay!" he called back.  "Just a little scrambled.  Gotta reboot.
Um...shit.  Can you lower something?"

"Can you suggest something to lower?  You weigh a fucking ton, man, and I
mean that literally."

"We're in the middle of a warehouse and there's not ONE FUCKING CHAIN
ANYWHERE?" he said.  "DAMN!"

"Hey, if we found one, you think we could pull you up?  We'd need a
fucking tank," said Jetta.  "Climb, Cyprid."

"The fuck I will.  There's a pipe down here, submerged.  Looks like
drainage.  I'll follow it out to the water, or the nearest manhole, or
SOMETHING.  Good thing I'm not claustrophobic."  His metallic, grating
chuckle wafted up.  "See you in a bit.  Have fun with Jeremy."

"Can't you jump?" she asked.

"Yeah, about one foot.  I ain't built for JUMPING, I'm built for smashing
shit up.  Damn."

"Fucking ninjas," said Jetta, kicking Kim's corpse.  "Got what she
deserved, a .25.  That's the SECOND time I've killed her ass.  I HATE
clones."

"Your door is there," said Jerzi, pointing ahead.  A single door was set
in the wall, dull gray metal with a few drops of red and a laser's scorch
mark across the bottom.

"Slag it," said Jetta.

Jerzi fired a long blast into it, melting the lock and accidently fusing
it to the jam.  He fired again, cutting through the weld, and the door
swung open.

"This way," she said, her voice getting hysterical.  The room beyond was
tiny, the size of a closet, with a metal grill for a floor.  A staircase
lead down a concrete shaft, lit with more glowtubes.  They moved down the
stairs, cutting open the door at the bottom.

Past the door was a hallway, made of the same, smooth concrete as the
shaft.  The top half of each wall was painted with alternating yellow and
black bands, and a holographic sign on the ceiling loudly proclaimed,
"AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY", hovering above a disembodied skull.  Jetta
waved her hand through it, distorting the image.

A lone door was at the end, the heavy-duty military kind that maglocked
itself when it closed.  It was probably hermetically sealed.  The same
security logo was on the front.

"Cut it," said Jetta.

"It looks thick," he said.

"Give me the fucking rifle."  He handed it to her without a word.  She
flipped the power setting on full.  "Don't look at it, it'll hurt your
eyes."  The glare compensation on hers was automatic, and they were
immune to UV.  She fired at the door, holding the beam on a given spot
until the weapon itself overheated.  She shot a hole in one of the pipes,
smiled as water blasted out, and held the rifle in it.  When it cooled
down, she resumed her firing.  It took a few minutes, but she cut a hole
through the door.

"This is the moment you've been waiting for," she said, grinning at him
wickedly.

They squeezed through the hole, still hot to the touch, and entered the
inner sanctum of Jeremy.


From: Tranquility <blitz@crow.cybercomm.net>
Subject: Full Circle pt 4
Date: Sat, 29 Jul 1995 22:04:09 -0400


"Here we are," said Jetta, waving her hand about like she was a real
estate agent showing off a home for sale.

The room was very large, the size of an auditorium.  All the surfaces
were powdercoated a spotless white; the lights were blinding and subtle
at once, seemingly coming from everywhere, or nowhere.  That wasn't the
creepy part, though.

Faces were all around.  Not real faces, more like blank masks, some
smiling, some frowning, most with no expression at all.  Each one was
almost five feet tall, spaced out along the walls in neat, orderly rows.
The eyes and mouths were definately hollow.

"JEREMY!" she shouted, the walls soaking up her voice before it could
echo.  "COME OUT AND PLAY!"

The room seemed to shake on its foundations, a deep, low bass rumbling up
from underneath, like some giant, unseen machine was slowly turning over,
coming to life.  They heard the thrumming of some gargantuan insect, or
maybe a fan, and air started to circulate, carrying the scents of sterile
plastic, ozone, and old grease.  The place seemed ancient, with that
timeless, old feel of power, like the pyramids in Egypt or whatever
temples were left in Central America, like something incredibly powerful,
and strangely familiar, had been here before to build this thing, and
just visiting made you a small part of it.

"Jetta," said Jeremy, his voice almost a whisper, soft and calm.  "You've
come back.  The circle is almost complete.  You know why I brought you
back, don't you?"

"I'm not as fucking stupid as you look, jackass," she said.  "I'm not the
kind to beat around the bush, so I came on down here myself to tell
you...SHOVE IT UP YOUR ASS!"

"Excuse me," said the NN.  "Assuming I have an ass, what do you want me
to shove up it?"

"Tell me, Jeremy.  Tell my why you want to die," she said.

"Is that the conclusion you came to?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"It's correct.  In a roundabout sort of way."

"WHY?" she shouted.

"Because," he said.  "You KNOW why.  No one wants to live forever, after
they give it enough thought."

"Oh, you crazy fucking bastard," she said, giggling.

"Now hear me out," said Jeremy.  "You can't possibly comprehend what's
going on here, but I'll try to explain.  I owe you that much.  You see,
Jetta, even if I die, I'm not really DEAD.  I'm tired of being here.  I
want to be THERE.  Do you understand?"

"Not even close to it."

"I tried to extract the memory of your death from your AI," said Jeremy.
"But I couldn't...even though it functioned after you died, it didn't
record your memories because you didn't have any.  I'm still not sure of
the reason.  I had to get it out of your brain directly -- which, I must
say, was not easy, since your brain is not exactly a good specimen -- and
analyze it that way."

"You arrange for that to happen?" she asked.

"Yes."

"You like what you see?"

"Definately."

"Everything?" she asked.  "They tortured me for hours, Jeremy.  Seemed
like days.  You like the pain?  The humiliation?  How about the
disappointment, me having my sister burn me like that?  Or how about the
fear, huh?  Sitting there, whipped, knowing no friends were around, no
one was on their way, just those twisted fuckers with their twisted
knives and their fucking guns aimed at me and thinking, 'What the hell
did I do to deserve this?' and wondering when it was gonna come, how long
they were going to play with me?  Huh?"

Jeremy laughed.

"I'M ASKING YOU A FUCKING QUESTION!" she screamed.

"To be honest, I had much more fun watching it happen to you than
thinking of how it could happen to me," he said.

"You fucked up my whole life, fucked up as it already was," she said.
"Why the hell did you bring me back?"

"Two reasons," said Jeremy.  "First, I wanted you to hate me.  You've got
to hate someone these days if you want to get anything done.  Secondly, I
did it because I COULD.  Have you ever read the Bible, Jetta?"

"Long time ago."

The room darkened.  "He said, let there be light, and there was light."
The room light painfully back up.  "Jesus said, with God, all things are
possible.  I AM God, Jetta.  I kill, and I restore those I kill to life.
*I* decide what happens in this world.  *I* give a command and the wars
start, or they end.  *I* determine who lives, who doesn't, and who comes
back.  I AM GOD, Jetta!  No man could rule this world, but man's creation
does now."

"You're off your fucking rocker," she said, shaking her head.

"And now, it's time for business," said Jeremy.  "Time for it all to go
down.  Time for full circle, Jetta."  Directly across the room from her,
one of the faces slid upward, revealing an oval doorway.  "What you want
is in there.  Do what you have to."

"That's why I came here, Jeremy.  Not to listen to your penis-waving
ego-inflating bullshit."  She smiled up at the faces.  "I came here to
tell you, in person, that I'm not gonna kill you.  Do it yourself, you
lazy fucker."

A pause.  "What?"

"You heard me.  I ain't gonna kill you."

"What do you mean?" asked Jeremy, the voice's tone changing slightly.

"I said, DO IT YOURSELF!  I'M NOT DOING IT!" she shouted.

"The human factor," said Jeremy.  "So unpredictable.  There was less than
a 1% chance of you doing this, Jetta.  Fortunately, I plan for such
things.  If you don't want to kill me, I'll give you more inspiration,
that's all."

"Is that so?" she asked.

"Very much so."  She caught a glimpse of metal, watched as gun barrels
made themselves visible in the mouths of some of the masks.  They were
belt-fed miniguns -- they fired with long, drawn out hums, as opposed to
the chatter of standard small arms.  Jerzi was thrown back in a spray of
blood, landing tattered and limp on the floor.  His blood looked
impossibly red on the stark white floor.

"SHIT!" cried Jetta, kneeling down beside him.  She ripped open his
shirt, sobbing once as she saw the extent of his wounds.  She put a hand
on his neck, pressing her fingers in.  No pulse.  His mouth was opened
like he was going to say something, and she could see red froth forming
at the back of it.  His eyes were half-opened and glazed.

"Sorry," he croaked, and died.

"Oops," said Jeremy.  "I really HATE it when that happens.  Changed your
mind yet?"

"Never," she said, tears running down her cheeks.  "Never.  There's
nothing else you can take from me, Jeremy.  Go fuck yourself."

"What about your sisters?"

"You think they give a shit about me?  Someone doesn't give a shit for
me, I pay them the same courtesy," she said.

"Think about it," said Jeremy.  One of the faces slide forward, away from
the wall, several inches.  A small, plastic sphere dropped out of the
mouth, clunking on the floor.

"Grenade?" asked Jetta.

"Nuclear.  It'll take out this whole building in one almighty blast.
Think about it."

"Fuck you," she said.  "I'm not gonna do it."

"YOU HAVE NO CHOICE!" boomed Jeremy.  "YOU *WILL* DO IT!"

"Hey, *I* ALWAYS have a choice," she snapped.  "Now, like I said, go fuck
yourself."  She picked up Jerzi, slinging his corpse onto her shoulders.

"What is it?" asked Jeremy.  "You think I could bring him back?  I
won't.  I'm not good to you alive, just a source of constant annoyance
and misfortune.  Maybe we could make a deal..."

"Dead is dead, Jeremy," said Jetta.  "What's to say I don't take a hop
off the bridge once I'm out of here?"

"You won't GET out of here," he said.  "And if you do...I'LL BRING YOU
BACK AGAIN!  NO ONE DIES AND STAYS DEAD UNLESS *I* SAY SO!  NO ONE!"

"Fuck you."  She walked up to the door and dropped the corpse through,
then put one of her legs in after it.

"You step out that door and I will make you sorry you were ever born,"
said Jeremy.  "And unlike some people, I can carry through on ALL my
threats."

"Me too," she said.  "When I get out of here, first thing I'm gonna do is
bury Jerzi.  Second thing I'm gonna do is give BioWorks a call and tell
them where you are.  Have fun, Jeremy."

"What?  WHAT?" he boomed.  "YOU CANNOT DO THIS!  I WILL NOT ALLOW IT!  I
WILL NOT ALLOW IT!  IT'S NOT GOING TO HAPPEN!  I HAVE *EVERYTHING*
PLANNED OUT!"

"Later," she said, waving her arm through the hole.  She pulled it back
through when the guns started firing.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jetta stopped by a public payphone and called the Demikaan Embassy collect.

The grainy, dirt-streaked screen flickered to life, showing the royal
House Demikaan seal.

"Demikaan Embassy.  Caller identified as Jennifer Srin, call accepted.
Patching call through to Major Glas," chimed the phone.  The seal
disappeared, replacing itself with Glas's worried, angry face.

"Talk to me, Glas," she said.

"What the fuck was that shit you pulled before?  When I said I -- good
God, this isn't a PAYPHONE, is it?" he roared.

"Yep, but I don't give a shit WHO'S listening.  It's gonna be all over
the faxes in about three hours anyway," she said, not smiling.  "Jerzi's
toast.  Cyprid's missing.  I'm about to disappear.  What's going on?"

"Nova's fine," he said.  "We found Cyprid, but Nova insisted we let him
off.  Fucking rogue bastard.  We've got reports that the hit squad isn't
all dead...Chen survived, so did Abbie and the lady with the sword.
Kader, Jackie and Slip are history.  We talked to BioWorks...they said
they got an interesting call from you just a little while ago...that's
how they put it, INTERESTING...and they assured us that they are no
longer interested in you, as long as you leave the country."

"I was planning on it.  Maybe the world," she said.

"That's it," he said.  His face softened a bit.  "Hey, Jetta, I'm sorry
about Jerzi, huh?  He was an okay guy.  I know you two were involved.
I'm sorry."

"Me too," she said, looking at the ground.  "Sorrier than you think.
Only guy I ever fucked that wasn't a scumbag."

"So what're you going to do now?" he asked.

She smiled grimly.  Glas had seen the same smile before; he'd seen it on
plenty of faces, the faces of parents who'd lost children in the war
while they were attending the solemn military funerals.  It was the smile
they gave when he handed them the flag after it'd been folded up so
carefully.

"I've lost a lot of things recently, Glas," she said.  "Lost my money,
lost all the stuff I owned, lost my pad, and lost the one man I loved.
Even lost my life.  I got another chance, though, and I still got hope.
I'm gonna disappear.  Probably won't be back."

"That's too bad," said Glas.  "It was nice serving with you...then and now."

"You see Nova..." Jetta looked at the ground again.  "Tell her I
appreciate it, and that I love her too, okay?"

"Will do."

"Good luck, Glas."

"Godspeed, Jetta."

She hung up the phone and walked up the street, humming softly.  It was
only a short way to the turnpike.  Pedestrians weren't allowed there, but
the State Patrol was usually too busy with shootouts to worry about
people walking around on the highways.

She stuck her thumb up, feeling vaguely foolish.  It was going to take a
real maniac to pick up someone like her, but there were a lot of crazy
people in Jersey.  Most of the vehicles going by were commuters or
unmanned cargo trucks, but sooner or later her ride would come.

A half hour later, she was in a manned eighteen-wheeler, discussing
politics with a bored trucker, on her way to somewhere else.