Untitled Liz

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Untitled Liz

by Liz

Rated: Unrated

Summary: A Galaxy Rangers/Blade Runner fusion which takes place during the latter half of the 21st century. The war between the League of Planets and the Crown has been waged for the past fifty-three years. It is only through the creation and implementation of the SuperTroopers -- genetically bred for excellence in combat -- that the League of Planets has managed to persevere. Now, the tide of the war is beginning to turn...

---

A Galaxy Rangers/Blade Runner fusion
Prologue: Home...
 

The planet loomed majestically. Observing the huge blue marble from his viewport, Gooseman reflected that it was good to see his home planet again, even if it might be the last time he would ever see this sight.

"Can't take your eyes off it, can you?" Darkstar murmured softly as she came up behind him.

He shook his head in reply, not even surprised at her sudden appearance. He had had to develope near superhuman senses when it came down to it. In his line of work, everything made the difference between life and death. Fighting and killing had never been a pleasant fact of life, but as a SuperTrooper, Gooseman understood that it was all he'd been built to experience. For a long time, he'd believed that it was all he'd ever need in his life, and he became very, very good at the experience.

"Penny for your thoughts, Shane."

Gooseman smiled his sad little smile. "It's good to be home again."

"Mmm. I think you have something more serious in mind than homesickness."

He turned to face her, his smile widening. "I never could pull the wool over your eyes, could I?"

She waited silently, not rising to his baiting.

Pretty soon, he sighed inwardly and turned away from her. "There's no other way to find the answers," he said softly. "We have to come here, where it all began."

"We're not questioning your decision, Shane," Darkstar told him. "We all know that Nagata's the only one who holds the key to everything." She put a hand to his shoulder and squeezed gently. "What are you so afraid of? We all want the same thing, after all."

"Not 'Ray." He sighed again, this time in frustration. "All he wants to do is to kill him. He's given up on a chance at living. He just wants to have his little revenge." Unspoken was the thought that Gooseman had made a grave error at allowing Stingray to join them. At first, it'd seemed to be a good idea to have him. Stingray was one of the most experienced 'Troopers in the field. Gooseman had nearly jumped at the chance to accept 'Ray into their group. Within a short time, however, the younger 'Trooper began to have serious doubts as to the wisdom inherent in his decision. 'Ray was an excellent fighter, true; but he was also arrogant, quick to anger, and downright vicious. Equally clear was the fact that 'Ray had no qualms at all with ignoring Gooseman's orders and doing what he pleased. It took every ounce of wit and will to keep the remains of their group from disintegrating due to the petty infighting that went on almost every day.

Darkstar gave him a sympathetic smile. "Just a while longer," she whispered. "Hang on for just a while longer, Shane. Then we'll have all the years we want to make things work for us."

Gooseman couldn't hide the grateful smile that came to his lips. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to hide it from her at all. He turned to look at her, taking in her exotic visage as if it were life-giving water to his soul. For some reason, he couldn't think of the proper words to say. Not even the ones he wanted more than ever to tell her.

* * * * *

Part 1: Hunter

   =  Like a soul without a mind
       In a body without a heart
       I'm missing every part
          ("Unfinished Sympathy"; Massive Attack)
 

Foxx stepped out from behind the plasteel crates and faced the two before him. The man glared at him with eyes fit to kill, his fists clenched tight. Just looking at him told Foxx that he'd have his hands full dealing with this one.

The woman whirled in surprise, obviously not expecting that she'd be tailed here. Her hands made a short, sudden movement toward her jacket pocket, but stopped before reaching in. Probably had a hold-out pistol in there somewhere.

"Grace Meredith, I have a contract to bring you back to Earth to answer the charges of gun-running, and aiding and abetting known criminals operating against the laws set by the League of Planets." It wasn't a good speech to give, especially considering that the two in front of him weren't in the mood to listen. Still, there'd be a legal hell to pay if he didn't identify his intentions before making the collar. "Come quietly or you'll be in bigger trouble than you already are."

The man took a step forward, prompting Foxx to draw his gun. Meredith grabbed hold of her companion's arm, and he stopped.

"How did you find me on this planet?" she asked, voice shaking.

Foxx allowed himself a tight-lipped smile. "I'm good at what I do."

The man growled deep in his throat; it was a sound not unlike one an angry and suspicious dog would make. "You're one of those damn Hunters, aren't you?" He took another step forward.

Meredith snapped a shocked look at him. She paled. "Oh, god..."

Foxx gazed at him steadily. "Disappear. I have no contract for your collar."

The man didn't seem to hear and continued to advance. Meredith whispered something; a name. The man made a swift chopping motion with his hand, and she fell silent. All throughout, he kept his eyes glued on Foxx's. The Hunter lifted his gun to bear on him.

"Don't walk into a loaded gun, friend," he muttered softly. "I have no business with you," he said, louder. "Don't make me shoot you."

Meredith's companion grinned; it was an unnerving sight. "Oh, no, little Hunter. I'm afraid you're dead wrong on that score," he said, and ran toward him at full tilt.

Foxx kept his gun trained on him as the man got closer. When he was a mere four feet away, he fired.

The bullet ripped through the face of the oncoming attacker with enough force to knock him off his feet. He landed on the ground with a loud thump.

Foxx lowered the gun, feeling sorry for the poor bastard. Stupid! he mentally shouted. What good did that do you? Nobody's of any use to anyone when they're dea... His train of thought derailed suddenly when the body twitched and began to glow.

Foxx's eyes widened, and he took a step backwards. He shot a look at Meredith, and saw her standing over the body protectively, with a smile on her lips.

"I'd say you're the one in big trouble now, Hunter," she said, reaching into her jacket pocket.

Without a word, Foxx brought up his gun to bear on her. Instinctively, she ducked, giving him the moment he needed to bolt back behind the crates. He heard her cursing as he ran in between the stacked crates and the heavy loading machines, but he knew she wouldn't come running after him right away. She'd let the SuperTrooper handle him.

He berated himself for not spotting the man as a 'Trooper earlier before. His was not the type of business that allowed for mistakes of that kind. He should've known better. Now, he had not only a nervous and armed woman after him, but he'd also have to handle a fully-armoured and extremely ticked off SuperTrooper as well.

Stupid, he sneered inwardly, this time directing it at himself. Getting a bit too careless for this line of work.

He turned the corner and sank to one knee as he tried to calm his breathing after that short but swift run. Eyes and ears straining to warn him of any impending dangers, he unloaded the ammunition clip from his gun; normal bullets wouldn't do him an ounce of good against a SuperTrooper. Reaching into his jacket, he brought out and loaded the gun with a clip of standard Hunting rounds. That done, he paused again, took a deep breath and started moving.

He ran in the general direction of the exit. If nothing else, he figured he'd need some space to take care of the 'Trooper properly without bringing any harm to Meredith. There were too many chances of ambush or misidentification indoors.

A sound, little more than the scrape of booted feet on metal, alerted him to someone's presence nearby. He paused, leaning back against a tower of plasteel crates, trying like crazy to hear another sound. He heard it again, farther away, and by the sound of it, somewhere upwards. He threw a glance up but saw nothing except the roof, steel rafters, a gantry, and the winch.

He narrowed his eyes. Control room, is it? he thought. Even as he looked up, he heard the sound of the warehouse doors sliding shut, and the locks clicking into place. Whoever was in the control room had effectively cut off his escape.

Foxx began to move again; no sense in becoming a stationary target for a 'Trooper out for the kill. This time, he moved toward the control room. He'd seen some stairs climbing up to a gantry that led to the control room earlier on as he did a quick look-around before confronting the pair.

As he finally arrived within sight of the room, all the lights in the warehouse dimmed and finally died out. Gripping his gun tighter still, he hid as best he could while waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Carefully, he drew silent breaths, straining to hear anything.

"You do realise," a voice said from somewhere behind him, "that you're not going to come out of this alive."

Foxx stiffened and almost stopped breathing. His heart was beating so fast and so loudly, he wondered if anybody else could hear it. Gripping his gun with suddenly clammy hands, he slowly turned his head to look behind him.

He saw nothing but the flat dull gray of industrial plasteel containers. He blinked, at once relieved and confused.

"Hunter, Hunter, run away," came the voice again. It sounded as if it were coming from behind the crates. "Poor little Hunter's now the prey," the 'Trooper went on in a sing-song voice.

Foxx prayed silently that the 'Trooper didn't know just how close he really was. He daren't move for fear of making a sound that would betray his hiding place. His throat felt dry but for some irrational reason he fought the urge to swallow. He could hear the 'Trooper moving silently between the crates, and could imagine him straining his own senses as well in an effort to sniff out his target.

Then, all sound of movement ceased. For what seemed like an eternity, Foxx was frozen in place, desperately trying to figure out what was going on on the other side of the plasteel.

I can't stay here for too long, he told himself. Have to take a risk and keep moving. Still, he hesitated. What if he's still there...?

"Done hiding out?" the 'Trooper murmured, his breath tickling the Hunter's ear.

Immediate panic set off the already tensed muscles, propelling the Hunter from the spot and up the crates in an instant. He pulled himself up onto the top of the plasteel tower as the 'Trooper roared and tried to grab his scrabbling feet. At the summit, Foxx leapt from crate to crate, trying to put some distance between him and the 'Trooper. It was a tricky business to do in the dark, to say the least, but he saw some hope as he came up to the mesh gantry that eventually led to the control room where he presumed Meredith was. He hefted himself up onto it and paused long enough to look over his shoulder.

The 'Trooper was bounding catlike over the same crates he had, and was almost upon the Hunter when he turned and fired.

Loud thunder roared and echoed throughout the warehouse as Foxx felt the sudden jolt of the 'smart' round exploding from the barrel of his gun. The 'Trooper seemed to jerk in mid-air and landed in an awkward heap.

"No!" Meredith's voice screamed from somewhere in the darkness.

All of a sudden, the lights came back on, blinding him. Resisting the urge to screw his eyes shut, Foxx brought a hand up to shade his eyes from the glare. He got unsteadily to his feet and started to make his way but fell back in fright when the impact of metal on metal shot sparks upwards just before him. He squinted and saw two arms, glistening metal limbs, seemingly sprout out from the gantry and grab at his feet.

"Shit!" he bit out as he scrambled backwards. He lifted his gun, aimed and squeezed the trigger.

A sudden shot rang out, but not from his gun. Meredith was running towards them, firing her own weapon. Foxx gritted his teeth, starting to get angry. There wasn't any way he could find cover up on the gantry, so he rolled sideways into empty space.

He crashed onto the crates that waited some 2 metres below him, wincing in pain as his body hit the tough alloy. His impact rocked the entire tower, causing it -- and him -- to tumble onto the ground, the gun dropping from his hand.

He blacked out for a moment, coming to slowly amid broken containment crates and the heap of oranges that had been in them moments before. Even as he blinked the haze from his vision, he felt the soft trickling of sticky juice down his face. He grimaced, shaking his head.

Metallic feet came into his field of vision. This, more than anything, brought him to sobriety. He jerked himself up.

The 'Trooper stood impassively in front of him, ankle deep in crushed oranges. He seemed to be waiting.

Foxx's eyes darted about, trying to find his gun.

"Looking for that pea-shooter of yours?" The 'Trooper nodded to his left.

Foxx glanced in the direction indicated and saw his gun resting temptingly out of his immediate reach. He licked his lips nervously, tasting blood and juice.

"Won't do you any good, Hunter," the gleaming metal man said softly. "Gracie?" he called out.

"I'm here," Meredith replied.

"Get the car ready. I'll be done in a minute." He looked down at himself.

There was a bullet wound on the right side of his chest. The fact that the wound was visible told Foxx all he needed to know; the 'Trooper was as good as dead. It was only a matter of time before the nanites in his body killed him.

Foxx got to his feet slowly, eyeing the SuperTrooper all the while. "You should've disappeared when I told you to," he said.

The 'Trooper smiled, the effect strange on his metal features. "And let you take Gracie? I think not, Hunter."

"What's she to you? Just a human girl who should've known better than to get involved with a gene-engineered murderer." He swayed, but managed to balance himself.

"Funny," the 'Trooper mused. "You don't seem to mind when us 'murderers' are out there on the front lines keeping the League safe from Crown occupation." He grimaced and bent over, clutching at his gut.

Foxx took his chance and dove for his gun. As his hand closed on to the butt, he heard a voice cry out a warning, then the thunder of gunfire.

A bullet impacted into the fruit beside him, spraying juice all over his face. Reflexively, he lifted the gun and returned fire.

Meredith screamed as the bullet hit. Staggering backwards, she hit the gantry rail, and fell to the ground.

"GRACIE!" the 'Trooper screamed. Turning, he bellowed and charged.

It was over in less than a second.

* * * * *

The doors slid shut quietly. He found himself wishing he'd been able to slam them shut instead. He paused for a moment before slowly unbuckling the shoulder holster that held his gun and ammunition pack.

It hadn't been a good day at all. After he'd felled the 'Trooper, he went to check on Meredith despite all common sense. He found her, or rather, what was left of her. The specialised 'smart' round had passed cleanly through her, but after her impact with the ground what remained wasn't a pretty sight at all. Foxx had seen what the rounds could do to normal human flesh, but this was the first time he'd been the one responsible for burying the bullet. He was barely able to keep from purging his stomache contents onto the floor. He barely remembered being slightly thankful that he hadn't packed any of the Hi-Ex rounds for this trip.

The local authorities arrived in less than five minutes of his call. The detectives had not been happy to find the mess, but refrained from making too many loud comments in front of him, at least. The elite Hunter units weren't very popular with regular police departments since Hunters mostly operated like the mercenary bounty hunters, but no other unit outside of the Terran Armed Forces was as extensively trained, equipped and prepared to deal with the dangerous SuperTroopers as they were. Popular or not, sooner or later, everyone would need their services.

He had gone to the precinct as ordered and reported his side of the story. Legal and administrative measures took up most of the hours. It had been a great relief when he was finally allowed to go back to his rented room for the rest of the day.

Foxx moved almost mechanically towards the sleeping room, shedding his jacket and shirt as he went. He almost dumped them onto the bed before he remembered that they'd need to be cleaned first. Ringing for the service droid, he undressed and collected the rest of his orange-stained clothes.

The sound of a small buzzer alerted him to the imminent arrival of the service droid. A small panel on the wall of the kitchenette whooshed open and the three-foot tall mag-levved contraption appeared.

"How may I help you?" it asked politely.

He handed the clothes to the droid. "Wash them."

The droid accepted the bundle and with a "Have a nice day" comment, retreated into the panel and disappeared. It'd be back in less than an hour with his clothes.

He needed a shower. A long one.

He turned on the water jets to the highest setting, wincing as the hot water stabbed at his body. Gradually decreasing the pressure until he found it tolerable, he then tried to relax under the stream of water. It didn't work. He kept seeing them; Meredith screaming as she fell the 10 metres to the ground, the 'Trooper charging at him head-on with eyes that cried out in grief.

That was the worst part of all, he decided. The 'Trooper hadn't charged him out of rage or fear. He'd done it because he wanted to die with her.

His fists clenched tightly, driving his fingernails into the palms of his hands. I called him a murderer, he thought. I'm no better...

"You have an incoming call," the room computer chimed. He ignored it.

A moment later, he heard the vid-com activate, and the message played itself out.

"Zach? I don't have time to bother wondering if you're really there or not," her voice said, sounding as annoyed and as disgusted as she had been when he saw her last. "I just called to tell you that the payment's come through, and that I'm taking the kids to Vela with me. I figured that since they're on holiday, it wouldn't be fair to keep leeching off of mom's kindness." She chuckled a bit at that, and he couldn't help smiling a little. His mother-in-law loved having Zach and Jessie around all the time.

"We'll be on Vela for some time." There was a pause, then she went on, "They were wondering how come you never called. Zach, they're your kids. They haven't heard from you in more than half a year. What happened to that 'I'll love you both no matter what' speech you gave them before you left, huh?"

He could picture her face, angry and concerned at the same time. Except...

"Anyway, we'll be leaving Earth tomorrow. If you can take your mind off your job for a few minutes, call. You can get our number from mom."

There was silence for a moment before the computer chimed, "End of message."

Foxx shut his eyes.

... except that the concern in her eyes was imagined. She stopped worrying years ago.

With a hiss, he pounded his fists into the wall of the shower stall, oblivious to the physical pain. He called up their images in his mind's eye, wanting to see them as they had been three years ago.

But the images blurred, until all he could see were their bodies on the ground, himself standing over them with a smoking gun in his hand. Their sightless eyes staring up at him in untold grief and pain...

He inhaled sharply, teeth bared in an almost feral snarl. It was harder this time to keep the tears from coming.
 
 

The incessant chime coming from the vid-com console woke him up. He ignored the noise for as long as he could, hoping that whoever it was would think that he wasn't in and hang up.

"Incoming message," the computer told him. "Priority one."

He frowned, then got up grumpily.

"Put it through," he muttered, seating himself in front of the console.

The chiming stopped, and the monitor blinked on. Message source: Olymph, was displayed on the screen. Caller ID: Miles, A.

Foxx sat up straighter. This is interesting...

The screen lit up, and the visage of Hunter Audra Miles appeared, looking as cool and professional as always.

"Late night, Foxx?" she asked, taking in his red-eyed expression.

"Tough day. Now that we've got that little bit of small talk out of the way..."

She smiled crookedly. "We got some business for you, Earthside," she said. "Big one, too."

Foxx shook his head. "And you've come all the way here from Earth for me?" he asked, sceptically.

"You're not the only Class A Hunter Walsh is calling in," she told him.

He raised an eyebrow. "Walsh's orders, huh?"

Miles nodded.

Foxx sighed. "I'll finish up here and get back to Earth as soon as I can."

"No need to worry about that. I've handled all the red tape regarding your... successful kill yesterday."

He shook his head again, amused. "Either Walsh really wants the Class A's back fast, or you're a nicer person than I'd always thought you were."

"I'm nicer than you think, Foxx," she returned coolly. "I'm down in the waiting hall. Get yourself ready and we'll be off planet in a couple of hours."

He nodded, and terminated communications. He wondered what it was that had prompted Walsh to call the Class Alpha Hunters back to Earth. The last time that happened, it was to handle the 'Trooper riots over at their training base in Russia, he remembered. Despite himself, he shuddered. Three Alphas dead, one more crippled for life, and six Betas had to retire due to extensive injuries. Not a good tally on any day. Foxx himself had been there, three years ago. He and his partner were among the fortunate ones, having lived through the experience with slight injuries. Miles, an up and coming Beta, had racked up the most kills, although the fact that two of her partners had been among the casualties soured what would have been touted as an auspicious day for her career advancement.

A week after the funerals, though, Foxx, Miles and Daley (Foxx's Beta teammate) had been called into Walsh's office, whereupon he congratulated them on their promotion to the Class Alpha ranks. Neither one of them celebrated the occasion.

Foxx sighed and got up to pack his things.
 
 

Miles was waiting patiently, comfortably seated in one of the large gel chairs. She looked up as Foxx entered the waiting hall, carrying his bags. Rising to her feet in one graceful motion, she came up to him and said, "You take a long time to pack for someone who brought so little."

"Pleasant as ever," he observed. He gave her a wry smile. "The bill...?"

She frowned. "I already took care of the police paperwork for you. Why should I have to pay your bills?"

He laughed. "Let's go. I paid for the room up front, anyway."

She leaned over and took one of his bags from his grip, and motioned him to follow her. They went out into the carpark where she had a rented flier resting. Foxx shook his head as he saw the car.

"Taking advantage of Hunter privileges, I see," he commented as they loaded his stuff in the trunk. "Isn't this car a little too much for your budget?"

She grinned. "Live a little, Foxx."

"Who's driving?"

"Who do you think?"

He shrugged -- Ask a stupid question... -- and got into the passenger side. Miles had acquired a deep passion for cars over the years. Somehow, looking at her, Foxx found it hard to imagine how she could be so... unexpected.

Miles had been a raw recruit when he first met her. Fresh out of training, and green in every sense of the word. Still, her tenacity and spunk spoke volumes about her. After having read her background files, Foxx was even more amazed with her. Before joining the Hunters, she'd been, of all things, a university student, spending her days studying and worrying about exams and scholarships. She'd graduated with Honours, and had a good job lined up in one of the major research corps that was contracted by the League government.

Less than a year after her graduation, however, she'd signed up for training in the Hunter unit. When Foxx had asked her why, she simply replied, "My fiance got killed."

Considering her background, it was no surprise that the veteran Hunters had her pegged to be the next to be shipped out in a body bag. Some of the more cynical ones had a small betting pool going on: which rookie would be the first to buy it. Miles was the overwhelming choice. To Foxx's amusement, Miles not only survived her assignments, her results and efficiency on the job clearly surpassed most of the experienced Hunters'. She excelled in her work.

"What're you thinking about?" she asked, her voice snapping his mind back to the present.

"Nothing," he mumbled.

A raised eyebrow, nothing more. She let the question drop; she'd known him long enough to recognise when to leave him alone.

Carefully, she brought the car to a hovering altitude of 200 metres above the ground before gunning the propulsion. Stabilisers whined as they kicked in, inertial dampers lessening the impact of the g forces on the occupants of the car.

Foxx grunted. She still drived like a maniac. "So what is this 'big job' Walsh has lined up for us?" he asked.

"Any details I know are sketchy, at best. From what I understand, a company of 'Troopers deserted their posts some time ago. We got a report that they'd been spotted in the Hymoon system five days ago. They'd hijacked a starship and jumped into hyper before the authorities there could barricade the system."

Foxx listened silently, gazing out the window. There weren't that many other cars besides theirs, not at this altitude. He glanced downward and saw the lights of the Olymphan city below.

"Then, four days ago Walsh got this message from none other than WolfDen's president himself. Seems the old man's been getting a bit more paranoid than usual. He's convinced that the 'Troopers are out to get him." Miles shook her head in amusement.

He appreciated the irony. The creator of the SuperTroopers, god of bio-engineering, the man who claimed to be able to make man better than nature ever could; and yet here was Dr. Owen Nagata, apparently afraid of his own creations.

Just goes to show, he thought, that being god doesn't necessarily mean you're treated like one.

It was a popular joke among the Hunters that the old man believed that he was doing his duty for mankind by manufacturing these super-soldiers to protect the League from the Crown.

There's nothing funnier nowadays than a paranoid delusional who's convinced he has to be paranoid and delusional for the sake of the human race.

"Must be something to his claim if Walsh is calling all of us back," Foxx commented.

Miles nodded.

"Then, this could be nothing more than a babysitting gig?"

She shrugged. "I doubt it. Maybe. I don't know."

Foxx snorted. "Yeah, right. You know more than you're letting on, Hunter Miles."

She shrugged again. "Parker's out of the loop," she told him.

He looked surprised. "Parker?" he repeated. "What happened?"

"Collared herself a rogue 'Trooper, then got shot in the head by his buddies."

He frowned. "How'd they get the drop on her?"

"That's the weird part. She said she'd done a scan before going in and that the 'Trooper was the only one in the building."

"She's speaking, then? How is she doing?"

"She's not exactly talking; not with her own voice at any rate. Still, she's not doing too bad. The docs have got her plugged up to the neural safety nets while her body's healing nicely. Good thing the bullet didn't damage too much of the brain tissue." Miles was silent for a moment. "She's going to need some major cranial reconstruction, though."

Foxx was silent for a while. "How long has she been in the hospital, then?"

"Been about a week already," she replied. "Walsh was pretty ticked off when he got the news."

He grinned, though there wasn't much humour in it. If he knew Walsh, 'ticked off' was putting it a tad too mildly. "What about Daley and Afsan?"

"They're back in HQ. Not very happy about all this, though. Poor saps are supposed to be on vacation by now." Miles paused, keeping her eyes on her driving. "How are Zach and Jessie doing?" she asked.

Foxx didn't reply, and after a moment, Miles sighed.

"Christ, Foxx," she muttered. "Don't tell me you haven't even seen them."

"Don't start, all right?" he snapped.

"How can I not?" she retorted. "It's been close to a year. What do you think this silence is going to achieve? Do you want them to think you're dead, or something?"

He turned away. "It'd be easier..."

"On whom? Them, or you?" She ignored his glare. "Christ," she muttered one more time for good measure.

"Keep out of it," he told her flatly.

She turned to look at him, a strange expression on her face. He turned away from her again. A sad look flashed in Miles' eyes, unnoticed by him as he gazed out the window. The silence lasted for a long time.

Finally, she said softly, "You're killing yourself, you know."

He smiled bitterly, and closed his eyes.

* * * * *

Part 2: Earth

   =  With eyes of blood
       And bitter blue
       How I feel for you
          ("Like Suicide"; Soundgarden)
 

The gleaming lights of Alpolis could be seen even from orbit. It was a sight that was most often described as 'magical' if the observer were to look at it at night. As the starship descended from the upper layers of the atmosphere, and the pressure steadily increased outside the carbon-steel barrier that separated the passengers from frigid sky, the lights shimmered and blinked, like stars in their own right.

It was said that every Earth-born human, no matter how jaded, yearned for nothing more than to be able to catch sight of the lights of Alpolis from above. It was a sign that the traveller had returned, giving himself (or herself) to the embracing arms of Mother Earth.

From his seat in the passenger starship, Foxx quietly obeserved the view outside. He felt the relief of coming home, even if it was to an empty home. He'd lived in this city for as long as he was a Hunter, and knew it like he knew the back of his hand.

"Quite a sight, isn't it?" Miles commented beside him.

He nodded. "It's good to be home."

She gave him a funny look.

"What?" he asked.

Miles shook her head. "I just didn't really picture you to be the sentimental type," she said, grinning.

He smiled wryly. "Neither did I, to tell you the truth." He sighed in relief to himself. It looked like she'd finally dropped hassling him about his family matters. They had driven in silence all the way to the Olymphan Starport, and halfway through their insterstellar flight. Miles had been the first one to break the silence and she'd done it with a lewd joke she'd heard from the mechanics back at HQ.

*****

There were rumours floating around the HQ regarding Miles. Depending on what you heard, she was either a former assassin lying low, a SuperTrooper in disguise, or just a plainly lucky and bafflingly talented ex-student.

Foxx never knew what to expect from her (besides the cliched 'expect the unexpected'). In the end, he left all the speculating to the other Hunters; those who had the time, the inclination and the imagination to handle that kind of thing. He'd learnt to accept whomever he worked with while asking as little questions about their backgrounds as he possibly could. After all, most of the Hunters he knew liked nothing more than to be able to leave their past dead and buried.

'The greater the chances of dying... That's where you'll find them,' had been the tried and true way of describing the people who made it their lives to kill SuperTroopers. Foxx had once, foolishly, thought of it as romantic. He'd been a kid, then. Wide-eyed and inexperienced.
 
 

He remembered...

A dark night, not as stormy, but still as wet, and they were drunk. They had finished their first hunt as partners, and it had gone well for them. With the reward safely credited to their accounts, they'd both treated each other to a victory feast.

He remembered. They had been sitting on the hood of the hovercar, unheedful of the rain, passing between them a bottle of fast-disappearing old-fashioned tequila. With the alcohol loosening his tongue, he'd finally asked her what he -- in his normally more sober moments -- would never do. And she'd said...

"I wasn't a killer, you know. I never started out that way. I loved life. I wanted my happy ending, and for a while, it looked like I was going to get it."

"Then what?"

"Then they came and they killed him. My happy ending. Took him away from me, and left me behind for dead or worse. Only I didn't die." She'd laughed at that. Softly at first, then uncontrollably. "He'd always said I was probably too stubborn to die. God help me, he turned out to be right. I wanted to forget, but you never can, you know?"

He knew.

"So I decided that I wanted to die."

Just like him. Just like half the other Hunters who roamed the hallways and the consoles of headquarters. Nothing very remarkable.

But she'd said it to him with no tears, no uncertainties. He knew she meant it, and she probably still did.

*****

Miles brought the car in for a touchdown in the unit's parking lot. Unlike the car she'd rented on Olymph, this one was a standard enforcer's vehicle, lightly armoured and built for maneouvering between the closely packed buildings of Alpolis. It had been waiting for them at the pickup area when they had disembarked at the starport.

As the two exited the car, the Chief Mechanic, Dzeladdin, sauntered over, chewing on his trademark toothpick.

"Geez, Miles," he muttered. "Take it easy on the landings, next time. My boys keep having to fix the levitators every time you bring a car in."

"At least it means you'll be earning your paycheck," she replied easily. "Look who I sucked up while in space." She hitched a thumb over in Foxx's direction.

Dzeladdin grinned when he saw the other Hunter. "Good to see you again. I heard you had some trouble while up in Olymph."

Foxx smiled and nodded.

The mechanic shrugged, unfazed by Foxx's silence. "Walsh has been yelling for you two for days now. Better get your rears into his office now before he chews me out for delaying you," Dzeladdin said, waving mechanics over to take their car in. He paused, then turned to the two. "There's been a lot of talk floating around here lately, what with the Class Alphas being called in..." He trailed off, looking at them speculatively.

"We'll let you in the know once we find out ourselves, Dzeladdin," Miles told him with a glare.

The mechanic nodded, but he looked unconvinced. "Sure."

As they started to walk away, Foxx turned to him. "Listen. My stuff's still in the trunk. Could you send it up to the lockers?"

The man made a face. "They should pay me extra for playing porter," he grumbled.

The Hunter chuckled. "Thanks." Despite his bitching, Dzeladdin was a reliable man.

They reached the chief's office in good time, considering one of the elevators was out of order again. Walsh was busy under a mountain of paperwork, but looked up as they entered. "Took you long enough," he rumbled.

"Sorry, boss," Miles answered. "But the Olymphan police wanted to hang onto this guy a bit longer. It took a lot more than an order from the Terran security to get them to let go of him."

Walsh grunted, and turned to Foxx. "Messy situation you got yourself into," he said. "The TAF's security division wasn't very happy when they learned about what had happened to Meredith. They've been raising hell over it since the news reached here."

"Sorry, sir. Unavoidable circumstances."

"I know. It always is." With a sigh, he reached for the comm unit on his desk. "Siti, no calls or visitors. If it's anything important, just reroute them to Q-Ball for me."

"Yes, sir," his secretary replied.

Walsh pressed a button on his console, and his entire office dimmed as the windows darkened and tinted.

Foxx hid a grin. It was a theatrical sort of feel to the whole process, and it always reminded him of one of those spy vids he'd watched as a kid. They sat.

"Five weeks ago, five STs flew the coop," Walsh began. "They hijacked a heavy scoutship at the Jade-Wokev line and jumped into hyper before the authorities could stop them."

An image of the scoutship appeared before their eyes as Walsh spoke. Foxx leaned back in his chair, listening, as Miles stayed carefully neutral.

"Two days later, Goran Interplanetary Patrol units found the ship free-floating near the borders of the Empty Zone. It was empty, but within Goran space itself, they found three bodies floating. Seems they'd all been ejected into vacuum with no protective suits. Well, all but one.

"The Gorans notified Terran Armed Forces once they found out the connection between the scoutship and the renegades. The survivor claimed that his ship, a light freighter," and its image shone beside the scoutship, "had been taken over by four individuals, all matching the descriptions of the renegades that jumped Jade-Wokev."

"Four?" Foxx asked.

Walsh nodded. "I'll get to that bit in detail later." He went on, "We think the STs who stole the craft went into the Empty Zone to lose their trail. We've sent our investigators and contacts to check up on the freighter."

"Any luck?"

He nodded. "It took three weeks of careful digging, but the ship turned up on Tortuna. Unfortunately, it was piloted by a Pedulont trader. She claimed to have taken command of the freighter two weeks before, after purchasing it through a middleman. We have no leads on the middleman at all."

It was not a surprising thing, actually. The Empty Zone was the best place to go if you wanted to disappear from the face of the universe. As it was, they had been lucky to find the stolen craft at all.

"So we have no idea where the 'Troopers went?" Miles asked.

"None."

"What about the one that was missing during the second hijacking?"

Walsh shrugged. "For a while, we'd heard and seen nothing on him at all." He called up a file picture of the 'Trooper in question. He looked, for all intents and purposes, normal. His face was just like any other you'd expect to find on the streets every day. A wolf in human skin.

"Six days ago, we sent Parker out to WolfDen to do a routine data transfer, as well as supervise the tests on the new line of STs. She sent back a message saying that she'd found a possible rogue working inside WolfDen."

Miles and Foxx exchanged glances. She shook her head, a faint smile on her face. "Well, if I were a runaway 'Trooper, I guess WolfDen would be the last place people'd expect to find me."

"So then, the 'Trooper that Parker bagged that night...," Foxx began to say.

Walsh nodded.

"But Parker got gunned."

"Correct. And we still don't know who did it."

"Her scan records?"

"They don't show a thing," Walsh replied. "The area was clear when she made the scan, and it was still showing the all clear by the time her backup arrived. The damnedest thing, though, is that whoever it was who shot her called in the medics by uplinking her scanner to her car's comm unit."

Both Hunters managed to limit their reactions to a mere exchange of glances once more.

"Seriously?" Foxx said.

Walsh nodded. "Arrogant bastard also left behind a note." He waved a bagged piece of paper in front of their eyes.

In neat and even handwriting were the words, 'Sorry about this.'

"Oh, my," Miles breathed. "A penitent would-be killer."

"We got a sighting of the remaining rogues in the Hymoon system six days ago, then almost immediately after updating WolfDen about the case, we got a call from Nagata, personally requesting that we put highest priority on this particular case."

Walsh banished the images, replacing them with new ones showing the faces of the remaning rogues. "These are the ones we've got left." He isolated a picture showing a white-haired 'Trooper, wearing some kind of shades. "This one's called Stingray. He's a 5th gen, 'Trooper First Class, and probably the most dangerous. The psych reports show him to be an unstable character. We think he's probably the one who blew the traders out the airlock. WolfDen's psychs say he's more than capable of doing that."

The picture shifted and a woman's face seemed to stare curiously at them. Unlike Stingray's this one was more exotic. Her face was more fine-boned, her hair an interesting striped black and white, somehow giving her an almost gentle look. "Darkstar. 5th gen, 'Trooper First Class. Nothing remarkable about her on record, except that she excelled in close combat."

Once more the picture changed. It was another 'Trooper woman. Her face showed a remarkable similarity to Darkstar's. Where Darkstar was gentle, though, this one seemed almost malevolant. Piercing eyes glared at each of them like a predator's.

"Chimera, 5th gen. 'Trooper First Class, covert operations. She's from the same genetic batch as Darkstar's, by the way. Her accomplishments are a mile long. Infiltrations specialist, information hacker. They say she's about as good as The Shadow, if not better."

Miles had an unbelieving look on her face.

Finally, Walsh called up the last one. This one was the most difficult to gauge. He had the classic 'hero' look to him. Short blond hair, bright green eyes, chiseled looks. He looked like he had more in common with vid stars than with SuperTroopers.

"Pretty," Miles commented.

"And also the leader of the rogues. This is Shane Gooseman. One of the last from the 6th generation SuperTrooper batches. Before going rogue, he was the model 'Trooper. Outstanding achievements in the field of battle, no psych imbalances, almost perfect control of bio-defenses."

"So why would he go rogue?" Foxx asked.

Walsh gave a shrug. "No one knows. In any event, your job is to stop them all; no exceptions." He handed them a small black case, hardly bigger than a fist. "Take this. The datachip inside has got all the relevant records we currently have on the rogues, which isn't much. I want the two of you to go to WolfDen and get every ounce of data about the STs from their main databanks," he said.

"Why can't we just get the data through our link here?" Miles asked, as Foxx pocketed the chipcase.

"Because for some reason, Nagata has a personal interest in this case. He's got the files under the heaviest protection available, and unfortunately for us, we don't have the... authorisation to look at it. As yet." He leaned back. "Nagata's asked to meet all the Hunters being assigned to this case. I've already sent Daley and Afsan to WolfDen to do tests on the employees, but I doubt they'll find anything. As for you two," he looked pointedly at them, "you go meet the President of WolfDen as soon as you get there."

* * * * *

Part 3: Wolfden

   =  I want the power without the grace
          ("Feed"; Skunk Anansie)
 

Foxx had never seen the view of the city from 647 floors up but he'd always imagined it to be something akin to looking out of a porthole from a returning starship. In many ways, it was the same. It was very anticlimactic.

Miles came to stand beside him. "The whole city looks different from this angle."

Now that she'd mentioned it, it was true. Something about this place, this room, threw a new twist in an old, almost familiar sight.

Miles smiled wryly. "Welcome to God's window," she whispered.

"It is impressive, isn't it?" Nagata's voice broke in. As one, the two Hunters turned to face the President of WolfDen.

Owen Nagata was a Terran, born and bred. Everything about him -- the way he dressed, talked, walked; even the way he stood -- screamed of good family breeding. Of warm down beds, and the luxury of real meat whenever and however he wanted it. Of good schools and pretigious colleges. Booksmarts and business savvy.

He didn't look his sixty-odd years. The lines on his face were few, his carriage noble and unyielding. His hair, although shock white and looked like it had come from a magazine issue of "Einstein's Most Favourite Hairdos", was not an uncommon sight in a world of people -- and other beings -- bearing scalps of any conceivable colour and shape in creation. Only Nagata's eyes told of what he saw, and told of how weary he was. The artificial leg he bore told silent stories of the things that he'd been through.

"What do you think, Hunter Foxx?" he asked.

"It's not bad," Foxx replied.

Nagata looked faintly annoyed at his answer, but it lasted only a moment before the look was replaced by odd amusement. "Ah, I see. Perhaps you are just the type who isn't interested in wasting time on something as paltry as a view from a window."

The insult was there and not very hidden, but Foxx ignored it easily. He looked neutrally at Nagata. After a moment of silence, the old man asked them to sit.

It was an old tactic among Miles and Foxx whenever they worked together. One would be designated the 'nice guy' of the two, while the other played the uncaring grunt. Miles held the former post, almost by default. They'd found it to be a reliable technique. An overly simplified divide and conquer.

Get them to trust one over the other. Play two different types of people to accentuate the niceness, and exagerate the unrefined. Whether they realise it or not, Foxx thought, everyone will choose a side. All the easier for us.

"I thank you two for coming here so expediently," Nagata said as he himself sat behind his huge mahogany desk. "I trust you have been given a preliminary briefing at your headquarters?"

"Yes, we have," Miles replied. "However, we are severely lacking in relevant information regarding the rogue SuperTroopers. We are hoping that the oversight would be corrected here in WolfDen."

Nagata smiled, ever the gracious host. "Of course, Hunter Miles." He pressed a button on his console. To his secretary, he said, "One of the Hunters has need to access the main databanks. Please make sure that security allows him in."

Foxx hid a smile. So the old man prefers to talk with the nice guy. Fair enough. He got up. "If you'll excuse me, I'll be on my way."

Nagata nodded, and watched as the Hunter left.

"Thank you for being so understanding, President Nagata," Miles said, though she could barely hide the sarcasm in her voice.

Nagata turned to her. "Perhaps now we can dispense with the theatrics, Hunter. You look to be someone with a good, knowledgable background in the study of life. Am I correct?"

"Any answer I give you wouldn't matter at all," she said, keeping her face straight. "I have a feeling you already know more about my partner and I than our bosses do back in headquarters."

"True. I must say that I find it curious that one who held such a high regard and passion for life would actually stoop to becoming a member of the Hunters."

"I had my reasons," Miles said, conscious of her own growing irritation.

"Might I ask what they were?" Nagata probed.

"You may, but I wouldn't give you an answer."

He raised a white eyebrow. "You are a strange woman, Hunter Miles. You had a brilliant life ahead of you. Looking at your records, I'd venture that you would have had a very good chance of being offered a position here in WolfDen."

"I'm honoured you think so well of me, Dr. Nagata."

"And yet," he went on, "you threw it all away, and became a hired killer." He shook his head. "You have wasted your talents."

Miles cracked a humourless smile. "I've found newer talents to depend on, Doctor."

"Killing."

"It's a living," she said, with a careless shrug.

Nagata snorted, though there was a coldly amused glint in his eyes. "Ah, yes. The old Hunter adage, wasn't it?" He settled back comfortably in his chair. "A brotherhood of mercenaries working under the banner of the public."

"I wouldn't call it a brotherhood, unless you were making a comment on my hidden masculinity," Miles said, not bothering to point out the obvious similarities between the Hunters and the SuperTroopers to him.

Nagata sighed, and changed the subject. "How much did your chief -- Walsh, was it? -- tell you about this case?"

"All that we currently know is that there are four SuperTroopers gone rogue, and that they may or may not be on Earth right now." Miles paused, then continued, "And that you, President Nagata, for some reason hold a great deal of interest in this particular group of rogues."

Nagata said, "I hold a great deal of interest in every SuperTrooper ever made in WolfDen, Hunter Miles."

I'll take your word on it, Miles said silently. "But this is the first time you have ever personally requested our services. Might I ask why?"

"The answer is simple enough," Nagata said. "They plan to kill me."

"Other rogue 'Troopers have planned to kill you before," Miles said. "What makes these rogues different? What makes you so sure that they are after you at all?"

Nagata drew in a long breath. "I am both life and death to the SuperTroopers, Hunter Miles. The main purpose of their existences is to fight; to defend our League against the threat of the Crown forces. Our work here focuses on nothing more or less than developing and producing the ultimate defenders. The perfect warriors."

In other words, Miles thought, you're churning out gene-engineered fighting machines, born and bred to kill and kill. And you even have the gall to call us the killers.

Nagata smiled almost bitterly. "Do you see this?" He pointed to his own artificial leg. "One of my creations did this to me. He was the prototype for the 3rd generation SuperTrooper. I watched over him and raised him like my own son, and yet, when he was old enough to understand what he could do, he didn't even hesitate to take my leg off."

"I do recall that the 3rd gens were always slightly unstable," Miles said. "More prone to violence."

The old man nodded sadly. "Our techniques had not been perfected at that time."

"But, even knowing how dangerous they were, you continued manufacturing them."

Nagata glared. "The League was pushed to the very brink of defeat, Hunter Miles. The Crown forces occupied two thirds of the known region, and were pushing to overrun us here in Sol. We needed every available fighter we could get." He turned his chair to face the window. "I admit that the 3rd generation was imperfect. But we have learnt from them, and now our new line of SuperTroopers speaks much for that experience."

"You are referring, of course, to your 6th generation SuperTroopers?"

"Yes."

Miles decided not to point out that the leader of the rogue group Nagata was so interested in was a 6th generation 'Trooper himself. Instead, she asked again, "So why are you so certain that these 'Troopers are coming for you?"

"We are very good at what we do here, Hunter Miles. Our SuperTroopers were bred to fight and destroy the things most threatening to their existence. That is the reason why they fight so fiercely in the war against the Crown.

"However, even the Queen of the Crown is a lesser danger to them when compared to the threat I represent."

Miles raised an eyebrow. Not that the old man could see it.

"No other creature in the League and beyond knows how to destroy -- completely -- a SuperTrooper... except me. That's why they will, inevitably, come to me."

Ain't life a bitch? Miles caught herself thinking. Aloud, she said, "If what you say is true, then why don't they come gunning for us?"

Nagata cocked his head to one side, smiling condescendingly. "Because, Hunter Miles, your methods of putting down these rogues are too ineffective."

This time, Miles' irritation flared into full anger. With an effort, she forced it down. "It is a point of pride in our units that we take down all the 'Troopers we find; and we do our job well, Doctor. I am very curious to know how it is that you can describe our efforts as 'ineffective'."

"I can and I do because your way is too simple. Yes, you 'take down' the rogue SuperTroopers, but you can only do it one at a time, and with great risk to yourself. I'm told that your Hunter units has the greatest mortality rates among all the security divisions. What you know about the SuperTroopers, your weapons, your methods, your tactics... all admirable, but inadequate to properly rate you as a significant threat to the SuperTroopers. I, however, am the only being alive who knows the SuperTroopers inside and out. To put it plainly, I know what makes them tick."

"And by that, you also mean to imply that you know what would make them stop ticking."

"Exactly." Nagata turned away again. "Please do what you can to stop them, Hunter."

Miles made no move to leave, though she understood his dismissal. She had one more question to ask. "Why does this group frighten you so much?"

Nagata made no arguments to her choice of words. Perhaps he was frightened by his creations, or perhaps he just didn't care what she thought. "Look to the one who leads them, Hunter. You will find nothing that is more dangerous than a killer who wants to stop killing."

*****

There was nobody waiting for him when he arrived at the data retrieval units. Protocol had it that he was supposed to have some corporation personnel watch over him as he made the data transfer. Though he had waited a bit, it had looked as though no one was going to come at all.

So much for WolfDen hospitality, he mused, and made for the nearest console.

Foxx sat down at the chair, taking out the little case from his pocket. Taking out the datachip, he was about to put it into the slot when a voice spoke up from behind him, "I sincerely hope you know what you're doing, sir."

Swivelling the chair around, he saw a tall woman, looking distinctive with her 'oriental' features and her green eyes. While he suspected that her hair, which had a red-brown hue to it, might be dyed, he got the feeling that her eyes were the real thing. He couldn't recall ever seeing eyes so green before.

"Well?" she went on, quietly amused at his staring.

He got to his feet and stood before her. "My name is Zachary Foxx. I'm from the Hunter units in section 8."

"That's very interesting, Hunter. Might I ask what you were doing in front of this data console?"

He hid an irritated frown. "Gathering data, evidently," he replied. "If you'll excuse me..." He turned to the console again.

"Only selected personnel are permitted to enter the databases," she told him.

"I am a Hunter," he replied.

"I'm so happy for you," she returned, unfazed, "but I think you've mentioned that before. I'm sorry," she continued, "but I'm afraid I can't allow you to access our files without proper clearance."

This time, he did allow the frown to show. "I do have clearance."

She raised an eyebrow. "I wasn't notified of anything regarding this matter," she said, finally showing something more than a cursory interest. "Who did you say issued this clearance?"

I didn't, but since you asked... "Nagata."

She kept her face carefully neutral, but nodded. "I see." She paused, as if looking him over. Suddenly, she held out her hand. "My name is Niko."

Her grip was surprisingly strong for someone with her slight build. "A pleasure," he muttered.

This got him a smile from her, as if she knew better. "I'm from the Psi Division. I handle everything that has anything to do with the mental development of our children here."

"'Children'?" he repeated slowly, not quite believing his ears.

"Yes, children." She frowned. "Do you have a problem with that, Hunter?"

He was silent a moment, but shrugged casually. If that's how they want to look at it; fine... "No, ma'am; no problems at all."

"I understand you're the one who was responsible for taking down the 'Trooper on Olymph."

He nodded, but turned to the console. "If you'll excuse me," he said. "I have some work to do..."

"You still can't access the databases," she told him. "However, I could retrieve the files you need for you."

"Please," he said, curtly. He was beginning to get a headache, and it didn't help his temper very much.

With a little smile, she settled into the chair. "Which files will you need?"

He handed her the datachip. "I'll want the files regarding the SuperTroopers listed in this chip."

Taking it, she slotted the chip into the data transfer receptacle. Almost immediately, the monitor lit up with the words, Non-Corp. datachip detected.

She typed something in. The monitor blinked and said, Enter userchip.

She plugged her Corp. userchip into another slot, and typed again something that Foxx couldn't see. In a moment, the monitor brought up a list of the files requested. Medical files, psych profiles, combat records... everything was there.

"Do you want specific files, or should I just download every one into the chip?" she asked.

"Everything." Then, just in case, he added, "Please."

She smiled wryly. "A Hunter with manners," she mused. "This is a day for firsts."

Foxx threw her a glance, but said nothing.

As the downloading commenced, she turned in her chair to face him. "If I may ask, how long have you been a Hunter?"

"Five years. Maybe a bit longer than that," he replied, watching the monitor.

"Are you good at your job?"

He gave her another brief look. "Better than some, worse than others." He allowed himself a crooked smile. "I suppose I'm good enough at it to have made it this far."

Her gaze was direct and almost piercing, as if she could look into his eyes even when he wasn't looking back at her. "Have you ever taken a human down by mistake?"

He felt himself go cold as a mental picture of Meredith flashed in his mind's eye. All of a sudden, he didn't like standing so close to this confusing woman, but he resisted the urge to move away. "No," he said, looking even more intently at the screen. "Not by mistake."

There was a slight change to her now. He didn't know if it was her stance, or the way she seemed to draw back from him, but he recognised the fact that something in what he'd said had, in some way, affected her. She lost that smug and confident mask for a moment, and turned away from him.

"I'm sorry," she said, softly.

"What?" he asked, but she just shook her head.

"Nothing. Just thinking out loud." She busied herself with the console one last time, then extracted the datachip from its slot when the downloads were finished. "Here you go," she said, handing it to him.

"Thanks," he said, and turned to go.

"Hunter."

He stopped just in front of the doors. Looking over his shoulder, he saw that she was standing now, mere feet away from him. She was looking at him in a decidedly different manner than when he'd first introduced himself to her. He wasn't sure if he felt comfortable with the change or not.

"Good luck," she told him, and he thought it strange to hear the sincerity in her words.

"Never say that to a Hunter," he returned, smiling now. "People with good luck don't have to be Hunters at all."

She grinned slightly, if a little sheepishly. "I hope you find what you're looking for, then."

He nodded, and left.

 

He found Afsan in the corridors of the ground floor. The thin Egyptian was blatantly pulling at one of his cigarettes right underneath a stern-looking 'No Smoking' holo. With a small grin, Foxx went up to him.

Afsan nodded him a greeting. "Salaam, Foxx. I see Miles finally managed to drag you all the way back to Earth."

"Wouldn't miss this for anything," Foxx replied. "Aren't you pushing your luck a bit too far, Afsan? If Walsh finds out about this again, he'll have your hide."

"What's he going to do? Cancel my vacation?" Afsan grimaced, but put out his cigarette after one last long drag. "Ah, but this -- as you Westerners would say so eloquently -- sucks."

Foxx leaned against one of the walls. "I understand you were planning on going to Titan for your vacation."

Afsan grunted. "Promised my daughter I'd take her there since two years ago. Now she's there with my wife, and not exactly feeling very happy about her daddy having to stay back and work."

It was hard not to feel sympathy for the man, but Foxx had nothing to say that wasn't obvious. Class Alpha Hunters were scarce, and getting scarcer. Few Betas had the proper experience or contacts to deal with high priority cases like this. It had been understood that when HQ called an Alpha in for duty, that Alpha had better damned well answer but quick.

Afsan let out a gruff laugh. "What the hell... This is what we signed for."

Foxx raised an eyebrow. It wasn't like Afsan to swear. Still, he could understand the cause of the man's ire.

"How're the interviews going along?" he asked.

The Egyptian shrugged. "Slow. Daley and I have already managed to finish with most of the lower level employees. It's the upper execs we're having trouble dealing with."

"Why's that?"

"Nobody likes the idea, you know? Nobody sane wants to waste time on these painful things, and the psych tests aren't that much fun, either. Besides, the execs here are... protected from this sort of thing. They've got to volunteer."

"Fat chance of that happening, of course," Foxx said.

"Hm," Afsan agreed. "Too bad the 2058 won't let us put them on gene testing. That'd make our work a lot easier." He sighed. "Oh, well. It's a dirty job, but at least we're getting paid for it."

"It's nice to hear such good cheer from you for once, Beanstalk," Miles' voice said.

Afsan grinned widely. "Salaam, Miles! How's my favourite Hunter doing?"

"Salaam, Afsan, and I'm doing fine." She glanced at the holosign above, then back at him. When she saw the remains of his cigarette lying next to his feet, she sighed. "Christ, Afsan. Smoking in a no-smoking area, and littering?"

Afsan endeavoured to look innocent, but didn't quite carry it off.

"Quit trying, man," Foxx told him.

"Heh, I'll never make it to Bollywood," Afsan chuckled. "How did your meeting with the old man go?" he asked Miles.

Miles snorted. "As well as we'd all expect it to go."

Afsan looked sympathetic. He was about to speak when his comm unit buzzed. Pulling it out of his jacket, he turned away for a moment to use it.

Foxx leaned closer to Miles. "What'd he say?"

She shook her head. "Only implied that we'd better be on our toes for this one. The old man's afraid."

"Did he say why?" Foxx asked softly.

"He only said to look out for the leader, Gooseman. This is definitely not going to be a routine assignment, partner," she said, glancing at him.

"I know." They both leaned against the wall, idly watching and listening as WolfDen employees passed by with curious looks in their direction. "Everything's going to be fine," he said, without believing.

She laughed. "Don't quit your day job," she told him. "You'll never make it anywhere else out there."

* * * * *

Part 4: Supertrooper

   =  Rain falls in real time
       And rain fell through the night
       No dress rehearsals, this is our life
          ("Ahead by a Century"; Tragically Hip)
 

It was raining again.

Gooseman didn't like rain, not in such large quantites every single day. He had been trained to ignore unfriendly conditions while in battle, he'd seen so many different climates during his years of fighting in the borderworlds, but nothing had really prepared him for so much precipitation in one single place. He felt that there was something fundamentally wrong in having rainfall everyday without fail in a city as huge and as advanced as Alpolis.

Furthermore, Alpolis was a dark place. There were very few days in the year when natural sunlight would penetrate the clouds and the pollution to actually illuminate the lower levels of the city. Artificial light reigned supreme here.

Gooseman missed the sun.

He prided himself in his adaptability, his malleability; the knack he had for adapting to any situation and any change in his surroundings. It was a SuperTrooper hallmark, after all. But there was something cloying and oppressive about this place. He felt as though there were invisible bars around him, that there were eyes watching him even when he knew for a fact that there weren't. It was like a prison to a being who had spent more than half his life among the stars.

He'd found it unexpectedly hard to fit in here -- not that he could ever 'fit in' with humans. Still, he wondered how the inhabitants of this city could stand living like this day in and day out. Despite himself, he found that he was beginning to feel a sense of admiration for them.

He heard the creaking of the floorboards behind him, followed by a low curse. Gooseman grinned to himself and said, "Better learn to watch where you're stepping, 'Ray. A Plago in platform shoes could've walked a lot quieter than you."

"Do me a favour and die, will you, runt?"

Gooseman turned to face his fellow SuperTrooper, ignoring the other's barb. Stingray was, to his displeasure, alone. "Where's Chimera?" he demanded.

Stingray scowled like thunder. "What am I, her keeper?" he sneered, but went on to reply, "She's still hanging around the damned leisure sector."

Gooseman shook his head, irritated, but amused. He found it odd that a 'Trooper of Chimera's level of experience would actually stop to gawk and gape at the various 'recreational' activities in the leisure sector like a kid seeing the world for the first time.

Then again, he thought to himself, this is the first time any of us has ever been able to see Earth like this. Before he'd become a rogue, Gooseman had only known Earth as the planet on which he'd been created, and moulded. This was the first time any of them had ever had the opportunity to roam like this.

Darkstar entered the room, frowning. "It looks like our free time is coming to a close," she said.

"Hunters?" Gooseman asked.

She nodded. "Nagata's finally got his team ready."

Gooseman nodded. "We'll wait until Chimera gets here." He went over to her, then leaned in close. "Did you manage to get a look at our hunters?" he whispered.

She shook her head. "No, not really." She gave him a look, then added, "I think you'd be very interested in hearing about one of them in particular, though."

Puzzled, but patient, Gooseman nodded. "Now, if Chimera would be so good as to show her face, we can begin."

The words had barely left his mouth when Chimera stepped into the room. "Ask and ye shall receive, Gooseman," she said softly.

Gooseman hid a smile. He'd done right in choosing Chimera to join. She wasn't as difficult to deal with as Stingray, although even he would be hard-pressed to say that she followed his every command willingly. Still, he felt confident with his plans as long as Chimera and Darkstar were with him. He looked to each member of his group first before turning to Darkstar. "Okay, 'Star," he said. "What've you got?"

"I spoke to my friend in WolfDen," Darkstar began. "Nagata had two pairs of Hunters visit him today. The first pair came in the early morning. They were in the old man's office for a while."

"Any idea on what they talked about?"

"Besides the obvious?" she asked, smiling wryly. "No."

Gooseman felt slightly disappointed, but he'd been expecting it. "Go on."

"The two Hunters left the office, then began to set up equipment in one of the building's interviewing chambers. They've been screening WolfDen employees ever since."

"What about the other two?" Gooseman asked when Darkstar paused a moment.

"They came in the late afternoon, spoke to Nagata, downloaded some stuff from the main databanks, then left."

Chimera spoke up, "It's safe to assume that the second pair will be the ones coming after us first."

Gooseman nodded. "The interviews being done must be to flush out any more possible infiltrators among the WolfDen employees; maybe even to find out if any of them know anything about us." He looked at Darkstar. "Is there any chance of your friend being found out?"

She shook her head. "No. She's safe."

"Okay. In any case, I think we can ignore the first pair of Hunters for a while. It'll take them time to finish up their work in the WolfDen building itself."

"So that leaves us with the other jolly pair," 'Ray commented. Turning to Darkstar, he asked, "What did they look like?"

"A man and a woman," Darkstar replied. "I'm afraid I don't know much about the woman. She's about my height, average weight, and has blonde hair." She looked apologetic for a moment, then went on. "My friend couldn't really get anything else since she hadn't exactly seen the woman with her own eyes. We might be able to find out a bit more if we ask the right people, though."

Gooseman frowned. "See to it," he told her. "What about the man?"

To his surprise, Darkstar smiled. "Him, I can tell you more about. His name's Zachary Foxx. He's probably slightly smaller than you," she indicated the blond SuperTrooper, "brown hair and baby blues. From what my friend had heard, he's been around the Hunter units for quite a while."

Chimera shook her head. "Zachary Foxx...," she muttered. "The name sounds familiar."

"It should," Darkstar said. "He's the one who did the recent Olymph 'Trooper in."

The other 'Trooper frowned, then nodded slowly. "Yeah. I remember him now. I saw his face on one of the newsvids a couple of days ago."

"That's probably the only useful thing you've learnt from the idiot vid, Chimera," 'Ray sneered.

Chimera growled, but refrained from replying.

"They'll probably take a day or two to go through all the files they downloaded from WolfDen," Darkstar continued, more from a desire to distract the two older 'Troopers from arguing than anything else. "So, we have a day's grace at least."

"Chimera?" Gooseman asked softly.

She gave a last glare at Stingray, who all but ignored it, and replied. "I found out where Sawyer's staying. Get this, he's not in the WolfDen executive blocks at all."

"Where is he, then?"

"Sawyer lives in one of those old places in Sector 25; a real dump of an area."

"What?" Stingray snorted. "No swanky apartment?"

Darkstar asked, "Isn't Sector 25 one of those areas that's supposed to be scrapped and rebuilt over?"

Chimera nodded and allowed herself a smile. "I guess Sawyer's lucky that the bureaucratic procedures here take so damn long, otherwise he'd be out of a home. At any rate, it seems that he and Nagata don't quite agree on certain things, so he likes to stay as far as possible from the old man while still being able to qualify as a WolfDen exec."

"Then Gunnar's trip into WolfDen main itself was for nothing," Gooseman muttered.

"Nice call, Gooseman." Stingray snickered.

Ignoring his colleague, Gooseman turned his attention back to Chimera. "What are the conditions like in Sector 25?"

She shrugged. "There's virtually nothing there that can pose a danger to us. It's just a lot of old abandoned buildings, slums, and lots of transients. They won't bother us."

He nodded, mulling it over. "Sawyer himself?" he asked. "Tell me about him."

Chimera leaned back, her eyes drawing shut, then replied, "Idealistic, but very bitter. According to my sources, he had really believed all the good hype about the SuperTrooper program once. He'd been Nagata's golden boy some fifteen years back. Had a permanent residence in the executive blocks -- just one level below Nagata's, in fact. He hung around the old man a lot. There was talk that Nagata was planning on leaving everything to Sawyer once he kicked the bucket."

"Sounds like the perfect kind of life," Stingray commented. "What happened?"

"I don't know," Chimera admitted. "There've been a lot of rumours and speculation, but nothing concrete. What is known, however," she went on, "was that nine years ago, Sawyer suddenly vanished from all good society. They say it was a kidnapping. WolfDen got the entire enforcement subdiv to launch a search for him, but nothing turned up.

"Two weeks later, Sawyer reappeared, a little worn but otherwise unharmed. They say he was a changed man after that two week disappearance. The word around WolfDen main is that he and Nagata got into the mother of all disagreements shortly after his return. Sawyer left the executive blocks a few days after that and got himself that place in Sector 25. He's rarely seen with Nagata anymore, and he does all his work at home; he's hasn't set foot in WolfDen main ever since."

"Interesting," Darkstar muttered. "Did Sawyer ever say what happened to him during the two weeks he was gone?"

Chimera shook her head. "No. He never said a word about it."

Stingray suddenly laughed, breaking the sombre atmosphere of the room. "Well, that's just fine, ain't it?" he snickered. "Looks like our 'one hope' is nothing but useless meat!"

Gooseman frowned. "Let her finish, 'Ray."

The older SuperTrooper ignored him. "Why the hell are you so worried about Sawyer, anyway? We just need to get to Nagata and finish him. Simple!"

Gooseman, with a somewhat visible effort, reined in his own retort. "It's not so simple as that, 'Ray. We need to get to Nagata, true; but we're not going to kill him."

Stingray laughed even harder. "And you think Sawyer's going to get you to the old guy? They're barely even on speaking terms! Weren't you listening at all, runt?"

"Stingray...," Darkstar began before Gooseman cut her off.

"Let him say what he wants to say, Darkstar." He turned to Stingray and waited.

The senior 'Trooper shook his head. "I don't believe this. We have a golden opportunity to eliminate Nagata once and for all, and all you're worried about is some piddling geneticist?" He glared at Gooseman. "You actually believe that stuff you said before, about getting more life? Is that it?"

"Yes."

The casual way in which Gooseman replied only seemed to make Stingray angrier. He gritted his teeth, looking more feral by the minute. "Then you're deluded!" he shouted. "There's no way we can live any more than the time they've given us!"

"You don't know that," Gooseman said.

"Yes, I do! And so would you, if you'd only look for the answers in the right places!" Stingray retorted. "This plan of yours is stupid. Nothing but a wild goose chase," he added, not even amused at his own pun.

"And what would you have us do, 'Ray?" Gooseman asked, softly. "Kill Nagata. How? And if -- by some miracle -- we do just that, what next? Just lie down and wait to die?"

"At least that would be preferable to wasting what's left of our existences chasing after fairy tales! More life," he snorted, then turned to the others. "What about you two? Do you believe in what he says?"

"No," Chimera replied, hardly batting an eyelid. "But then I don't really know if it's true or not. If it is, then all the better. If not, well..." She shrugged casually again. "At least I'll be able to get in range to the old man and let him know just how much I appreciate him." Chimera smiled, and there was nothing remotely nice about her expression.

Stingray sneered and looked to Darkstar. "And you?"

She was silent for a long while, glancing at both Stingray and Gooseman before finally replying, "Yes. I believe him."

Stingray threw his hands up in disgust. "Go ahead, then. Follow him. You'll just wind up losing what's left of your own pathetic lives." He straightened and made his way out the door.

There was silence as the SuperTrooper's footsteps gradually faded away, muffled by the increasing distance between them.

Finally, long after Stingray had gone, Gooseman faced Chimera. "Why didn't you go with him?"

"I had no reason to follow him," she replied.

"But you don't believe in what I said," he pointed out.

"Is that supposed to be important?" she asked in return. "You have my loyalty, Gooseman; you don't need my faith."

He looked at her sadly, but nodded. "I understand." Drawing himself up, he took a deep breath and held it for a moment. "Tell me about Sawyer's work."

*****

He found Stingray two hours later, up on the roof of the old tri-D cinema. The older SuperTrooper stood boldly at the very edge of the roof, seemingly careless about the rain and the dangerous drop just in front of him.

Gooseman approached him carefully, but was unsurprised when he heard Stingray call his name.

"What do you want with me now, runt?" he asked, not even bothering to look at him.

Gooseman stood where he was, just shy of five feet from the other. If he had the inclination to, he reflected later on, he had the perfect opportunity to put Stingray away for good.

"Are you sure this is what you want, 'Ray?" he asked.

Stingray chuckled. "What are you so upset about? I'm out of your hair for good. You can go your way, I'll go mine. And you have Darkstar all to yourself now," he added a moment later.

"Stingray..."

"Tell me, Gooseman," he interrupted, "just how are you going to convince Sawyer to help you? I mean, I hardly think he's going to do it out of the kindness of his heart, after all."

"Sawyer's different, 'Ray. He's not like the others."

"Oh, and I suppose you'd know, wouldn't you?" Stingray asked snidely. "He's no different from the rest of them. You only hope that he's different."

"He practically raised me," Gooseman insisted.

"And you think that entitles you to his help?" Stingray said incredulously. He shook his head. "You're even more deluded than I thought."

They were silent for several minutes. Finally, Gooseman asked, "What are you going to do, 'Ray?"

"I'll do what I set out to do."

"Kill him."

"Yes. Do you remember what our instructors used to say?"

Gooseman nodded, though Stingray couldn't see it. "'The completion of a mission is your purpose in life. Everything else is a poor second,'" he thought aloud.

"Exactly," Stingray replied, and Gooseman was surprised to hear the faint ring of approval in his voice. "I may hate Nagata and WolfDen for making me the way I am, but, in the end, I am what I am," Stingray mused. "He'll only have himself to blame."

"You'll be a murderer," Gooseman said.

"No, I'll be their murderer. You still don't understand, do you?"

"No, I don't." He shook his head, helplessly. He didn't like this feeling at all. It went against everything that he'd been raised to feel.

He paused at the thought. All that I'd been raised to feel... All that I'd been taught to do. He looked down at himself, and thought, Whatever I am, whatever I've done, I can't excuse it all. I had no idea that I had a choice.

And quite suddenly, he began to understand. He didn't like what it meant.

Stingray nodded, even though Gooseman hadn't said a word. Smiling lightly, he began to walk away, but paused a moment. "Runt."

It took a second for Gooseman to realise that he'd spoken. "What is it?"

"For what it's worth, good luck." And with that, he vanished into the night.

* * * * *

Part 5: Pause

   =  In this place it seems like such a shame
       Though it all looks different now
       I know it's still the same
          ("Something I Can Never Have"; Nine Inch Nails)
 

Foxx rubbed his eyes as he leaned back into his chair. He had no great love for computers, even if he did understand the need for them. Personally, he felt that he would have been a lot happier if he could have just gone out into the streets and hoofed it, digging up the information by himself. Sitting in front of a screen for hours on end grated on his nerves, making him wish again and again for something more physical to do.

Still, he knew, even then, that aimless digging for clues and leads would have been a waste of time. Despite his personal opinion, a great deal of his work required him to use the high technology that he found so distasteful.

He moved back further into his chair, trying to distance himself from the screen as much as he could. The combat files on the SuperTrooper, Chimera, filled the entire monitor, keeping a firm hold on his attention, overriding even the urge he felt to look away for a moment. He scrolled the page up a little, going back to read a previous entry of the SuperTrooper's exploits on the field of battle.

He remembered the cold shock that had momentarily enveloped him hours earlier when he had been reading about Stingray's own combat files. For a long while, he'd gone through the records in awed horror, hoping that the entries there were simply exagerated stories. Later, he reluctantly realised that it was an empty thing to hope for. SuperTroopers never boasted vainly, especially about their abilities. They had no reason to. Nobody doubted their superiority in battle.

"Don't rub your eyes," Miles told him as she placed his coffee mug on his desk. "You'll just make them feel worse."

"Tell me something I don't know," he muttered, and reached for the hot beverage. "Thanks," he said, lifting the mug to his lips.

"Next time, you get the drinks." She looked at the monitor, and shook her head in concerned disbelief. "God, just look at that. What the hell was WolfDen thinking when they made those?"

Foxx said nothing, carefully swirling the hot coffee in his mouth before swallowing it. The heat burnt his mouth, but did much in helping him keep awake. He understood the cause of Miles' anxiety.

They had returned to HQ after saying their farewells and good lucks to Afsan at WolfDen. Walsh had had them called up to his office immediately to find out what it was that Nagata had said to them. After that, they had descended into HQ's main dataconsoles and went through repeated viewings of Parker's scan data and the security footage during her failed collar. Then they began sifting through all the files that Foxx had procured from WolfDen. What they saw did not mollify any of them in the least.

"Look at this one," Miles went on, bringing up Stingray's file and highlighting several of the entries there. "'Optical blasts of varying degrees of severity'," she read aloud. Then, calling up Chimera's; "'Limited abilities of mind control'. And this Darkstar character... 'Ability to blind an opponent at will'." She shook her head again. "This is definitely not good news for our side."

"Understatement." Foxx drew a deep breath. "I've never seen anything like this before. No 'Trooper I've ever gone up against has ever showed these kinds of...," he paused, trying to find an appropriate word, "abilities before." He ran a hand through his hair. "Why the hell didn't WolfDen notify us about this? How come the tests we did on those newborn batches didn't show them having all these abilities?"

"Maybe they didn't have any special abilities when they were being made, but they surfaced later on during their training stages, or in the field. Or maybe the tests were doctored in some way." Miles snorted. "I wouldn't be surprised if that last bit were true. Corp. secrets are to be held within the Corp. after all. You know that as well as I," she said.

"Then why did Nagata allow these files to be downloaded at all?"

"I guess because now it's his rear end that's at direct risk," Miles replied, though even she didn't look too convinced at this line of reasoning. She shrugged and went on, "We shouldn't be surprised at all that the 'Troopers have these things, you know. With abilities like these, you can bet that the TAF's going to snap up every single 'Trooper and put them in the front lines. The Terran Armed Forces is happy and so are all us little people, and WolfDen makes a ton of money in the process. In the end, I guess it all just boils down to commerce."

Foxx smirked humourlessly. "Which, of course, leaves us to wonder why the TAF never bothered to let our subdivision know about this at all. Abilities like these can hardly go about unnoticed."

Miles was quiet. Then: "That point's not ours to put home. All we can do is to notify Walsh about this and let him take the next step." She sighed and transferred her gaze back to the monitor. "The only saving grace here is that Gooseman looks to be the only 'Trooper who seems normal."

"As normal as a SuperTrooper can be, you mean?"

She grinned for a moment before the serious expression returned. "Still..."

"What?"

"Nagata specified Gooseman as the main danger," she reminded him. "And in spite of what people think, the old man's never paranoid without a reason." She paused. "What are the files we have on Gooseman?"

Foxx called them up. "The usual: concept, medical, psych, combat records. But nothing on them says anything about him having any kind of extra abilities like the others."

Miles nodded, leaning back into her chair. She shut her eyes, seemingly deep in thought.

Foxx watched her silently for a moment. "Hey," he said finally, "you're beat. Why don't you go home and get some rest?"

Miles cracked open an eyelid. "Speak for yourself, Foxx," she muttered. "You look even worse than a Circadian forest roach on a sugar buzz."

Despite himself, he laughed. "Always with the compliments..." He smiled gently at her. "Let's call it a night, all right? I'm feeling tired, too."

"Damn it, Foxx," she groaned as she got to her feet. "I hate it when you treat me like a kid."

He turned off the console. "You need a ride back?" he asked.

She indicated a negative. "I can make it back on my own. Besides, I've got a brief stop along the way."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Trade secret," she said, in reply to his unspoken question.
 
 

Foxx stepped out of the elevator and headed straight for the nurses' desk. At this hour, there were only a few nurses working the station on that floor, and the two manning the desk looked inquiringly at him as he approached.

"Good evening," he greeted.

"I'm afraid visiting hours are over, sir," the younger nurse told him. "You'll have to come back tomorrow."

"I'm from the Hunter division," he told them. "I'd like to see the Hunter who was brought in some days ago."

They glanced at each other, then indicated the way to Parker's room. "That way, sir, but she's still recovering."

He nodded. "I won't take long."

Parker's body lay in an almost serene fashion, swathed in metres of delicate bandages and thick blankets. She was motionless except for the steady rise and fall of her chest. She was hooked up to what looked like several miles of tubes and cables, each one connected to some ungodly machine and device. For a moment, it almost looked as though she had sprouted metal tentacles from various parts of her body. To Foxx's discomfort, he noticed the cranial headset immediately upon entering the room. It covered more than half of her head, and had the most number of tentacular attachments out of all the devices in the room. It was an obscene sight; Parker looked like she had been transformed into a modern day gorgon in recovery.

He couldn't help feeling pity as he saw her. This was a clear contrast to Parker's usual fluidity of motion. The sight of her head, shaved, plated and so inhuman, almost made him leave at once. Clamping down on that reaction, he forced himself to go over to her bed.

After a moment, he took her hand and murmured, "You look like hell, Orlanda."

"Zach?" a synthesised voice responded. "Is that you?"

It didn't sound a bit like her, but it was Orlanda Parker who spoke through the transmitters. The console beside her bed showed a slight increase in brain activity, but otherwise, there were no other changes.

Foxx managed a smile, and pulled up a chair. "I'm right here. How've you been, kiddo?"

"I can't see, I can't move, and I think I'm hungry," she replied. "Otherwise, I'm fine."

"You seem to hear me okay."

"They hooked up a receiver to this bloody thing so I could at least pick up what they try to tell me about what's going on." A tinny snort was emitted from the speakers. "No eyes, though. I can't even watch the vids like this."

He almost laughed. "I leave Earth for a week and look at you...," he said, shaking his head.

"I was thorough!" she exclaimed. "I scanned and didn't get anything other than the guy I was after..."

"I know," he interrupted. "I went through the security vids and the scan records." Quietly, he told her of what he and Miles had found out earlier that evening. It was a strange business, he reflected. The thought of SuperTroopers possibly having the abilities to fool the police scanners like that was discomforting, to say the least.

Evidently, Parker had been thinking along the same lines, for she said, "I don't like this shit, Zach. What's WolfDen up to with this latest bunch of 'Troopers? As if their bio-defences didn't make them dangerous enough, now we got this to add to our problems."

Foxx smiled again, mirthlessly. "Protecting the League, Hunter Parker," he said, remembering Miles' reply earlier. "That's worth any price, isn't it?"

"That bull may work in the election bids, but not on me."

"I know." He sighed and leaned back, trying to relax a little.

They were silent for a while.

"Zach...?"

"What is it?"

"You're hunting the rogues now, right?" There wasn't any need to specify which rogues she was referring to.

He nodded, then remembered that she couldn't see it. "Yeah."

"Can you handle it?"

He smiled crookedly. "Piece of cake," he assured her. "Miles is with me on this one."

"Miles?" She sounded surprised. "Is she here now?"

"No."

Parker was quiet for a minute or two. Then, "I wish I was out there to back you up."

"Hey, I've got Miles the Golden Kid with me," he quipped. "Don't worry about a thing."

"She's been in the Hunters longer than I have and you're still treating her like a rookie sometimes...," her synthesised voice muttered in a surprisingly good imitation of amusement. In a more serious tone, she said, "I miss working with you, you know."

"Yeah," he said softly.

"Take care of yourself. This one's going to be a real killer."

"I'll be all right," he assured her. Hesitantly, he got to his feet. "Listen, I can't stay for long. I have to get going."

If there was ever a time when a synthesised voice could sound disappointed, it would be now. "You sure?" she asked, plaintively. "It's boring having to lie down all day."

He laughed out loud, this time. "Hang in there, Orlanda. It's just for a while longer until the doctors get the replacement tissues to grow on their own." He paused. "Tell you what: I'll treat you to a good lunch when you're back on your feet."

"It'd better be a good lunch," she grumbled. "You already owe me a breakfast from two months ago."

He shook his head. "Quit living in the past, Orlanda."

"Good one, coming from you."

He sobered, remembering Aliza's message.

Parker was immediately abashed. "I'm sorry, Zach. I didn't mean for it to come out that way."

He took her hand again, but held it awkwardly for a moment before letting go. "I know."

*****

Decrepit. That seemed to be the only way to nicely sum the building up.

Chimera almost smiled at that.

It stood in ominous silence, looming over the remainder of the block with its sombre, plain design. The walls, long stripped of their protective coatings, were now veritable breeding grounds for all sorts of building fungi. Most of the windows looked to be closed, sealed, or boarded up. It wasn't the tallest building around, being only twelve storeys in height, but it seemed to hold its own agianst the others in some strange, unexplainable way.

It's somehow hard to imagine WolfDen's chief genetic designer as a tenant there, Chimera mused. Leaving WolfDen's executive apartment blocks and being reduced to living in a place like this, it's no wonder Sawyer's wife took their kid and blasted off for Luna without him. Aloud, she said, "There's nothing fancy in there we have to worry about. I did a rudimentary scan and took a quick check the other day. All I found were a couple of old security cameras here and there."

Darkstar frowned slightly. "This is too inviting, Chimera," she muttered.

The older 'Trooper leaned back against the wall. "I know. But... Gooseman's orders and all, we still have to get in there whether there is a surprise security feature lying in wait somewhere..."

"... or just nothing else?" Darkstar finished for her.

Chimera nodded. At Darkstar's soft sigh, she took a good, long look at her companion. "What's wrong?"

"I can't wait for this to end," Darkstar replied.

Chimera snorted. "It'll end when it ends, 'Star. Don't get impatient."

The younger shook her head. "I'm not. I just want it to finish."

Chimera gave a slow hiss, a sound Darkstar readily recognised as an indication of faint disapproval. "You're getting soft, 'Star. All these weeks of playing human's beginning to wear you out."

"I've been playing human for as long as you have, Chimera," Darkstar retorted sharply, "so what makes you more of a SuperTrooper now than me?"

Baring her teeth in a mockery of a smile, Chimera said, "Because I've been keeping in practice, little sister."

"What does that mean?"

"Exactly what it means," Chimera replied. "Being a SuperTrooper and not pretending to be anything less."

Darkstar, quiet for several moments, looked to her comrade with an unreadable expression. "You sounded like 'Ray," she finally said.

"Heh," Chimera chuckled. "If you weren't my beloved sibling, I'd have taken that comparison as a deadly insult."

Darkstar didn't look so amused. "You don't really believe what 'Ray thinks, do you?"

Chimera shrugged. "Who cares? I'm here, aren't I?"

"There's more to this than just being here, Chimera," Darkstar started to say when the other 'Trooper waved her to silence. "What?" she whispered.

Indicating to an approaching vehicle out on the streets, Chimera stepped back to press further into the shadows, watching it like a hawk. Darkstar followed her example almost instantly.

"Sawyer?" Darkstar asked softly.

Chimera nodded.

They watched quietly as a private vehicle pulled up alongside the building opposite them. Moments later, the door opened and a man got out, holding a breifcase over his head and stooping to avoid getting too wet from the ever-present rain. As he shuffled slowly toward the front entrance, Darkstar moved stealthily from her place to cross the street, pausing when she reached the walls of the building. Most of the lights in that part of the city were out and maintenance was definitely not a high priority around there, so she had plenty of handy dark niches to secret herself into.

Sawyer stopped at the doors for a bit, muttering and groping with his briefcase. He seemed to be oblivious to her presence. As he fumbled with his keycards, she was able to catch a glimpse of his face.

He looked older than she'd thought he'd be. His full head of white hair and a demeanour of utter weariness made him seem more venerable than a man his age should normally be. Still, from what she had seen of his movements, his body was not quite as frail as his appearance suggested. He didn't move like he was in excellent shape, but he was fit.

Not that he could ever be a match for any of us, she thought. She gave one quick glance to Chimera, who remained unseen and unmoving across the street, then made her move.

"Max Sawyer," Darkstar said, stepping out from the shadows.

Sawyer froze and slowly turned around. He took a good, long look at his sudden companion before finally giving her a nod.

"I've been waiting a long time to meet you," Darkstar went on, coming closer.

He smiled briefly. "I'm sure you have," he said.

"You know who I am?"

He shook his head. "I know what you are," he corrected. "And anyone can easily guess what it is you've been wanting to see me about." He tilted his head slightly to one side, a tiny gesture of curiousity. "I don't like inviting strangers to my home."

The SuperTrooper couldn't help allowing herself a little bit of amusement. "Darkstar," she introduced herself.

"Hardly a common name," he remarked, turning to the locked doors once more.

"It's what they call me," she said dismissively, "and I have no reason to dislike the name."

She could hear him chuckle briefly as he opened the entrance to the old building. "I'm sure they have good reason to give it to you in the first place. Maybe you'll tell me the story behind the name, afterwards." Turning to her, her bowed slightly. "My home is yours," he said, gesturing her inside.

Returning his bow, she strode in.

As the echoes of their footseps slowly faded, Chimera pulled away from her hiding place and walked down the soaked and empty streets.

* * * * *

Part 6: Curiousity

    =  Someone tried to tell me something
        Don't let the world bring you down
        Nothing will do me in before I do myself
        So save it for your own and the ones you can help
            ("Blow Up The Outside World"; Soundgarden)
 

The Scalpel's Edge was an odd, subdued-looking bar sitting right at the edges of the recreation sector. Modestly sized, it attracted its share of the bar-roving crowd. The people who frequented the Scalpel's Edge -- or at least, most of those who spent their money there -- were well-to-do. They were the hardworking executives who needed a way to unwind after a stressed day at their offices. These were the most visible patrons, with their smart-looking suits and briefcases of the highest quality artificial leather. Miles paid them little attention.

The Hunter walked quickly into the establishment, pausing long enough to brush away some of the rain from her long overcoat, and made her way to a small corner table, currently occupied by two men who looked nothing like the executive sort. They studied her closely as she approached. One of them sighed.

"You're not going to cause us any trouble like you did last time, are you?" he asked wearily.

Miles smiled disarmingly.

"Wait here," he said a moment later, getting to his feet. Leaving her with his friend, he disappeared into the crowd.

She sat and waited in silence. It didn't take very long for another man to join them.

"Good evening, Hunter Miles," he greeted. "What can this humble doctor do for you this time?"

She inclined a head toward the man seated beside her.

Doc Hartford chuckled and, with a gesture, dismissed him. Once the man was out of earshot, he said, "I don't get why you're so suspicious of everyone."

"Everyone here, you mean," Miles said. "I know better than to talk business in front of your friends."

Doc feigned a look of disappointment. "I'm crushed! I assure you, we take pride in keeping secrets here."

"Until someone's willing to pay you enough," she said drily.

He shrugged. "Business is business. Speaking of which, what brings you to my office at this time of night?"

Miles leaned forward. "A week ago, one of our people got gunned down in a warehouse out in the 28th sector."

Doc nodded. "How is Hunter Parker, by the way?"

"Alive," she replied, belatedly remembering that she'd been meaning to visit the woman for several days now. "I expect you've already heard more than a few choice details about the incident."

"Well," Doc said, actually managing to look modest, "that goes without saying. Anything in particular you're thinking of?"

Force of habit had Miles wait a bit before replying, throwing her gaze around to make sure no one was listening in. For a moment, she wondered why she even bothered since she was pretty sure that Doc had the whole place bugged anyway. "Our police scanners caught no trace of the SuperTrooper who got Parker."

"That is surprising, isn't it," he remarked, pokerfaced.

"No useable clues of any kind, either," she went on. Other than a small note of apology.

He waited.

"You've got eyes and ears in the strangest places. I was wondering if any of your friends in the 28th's gangs might have heard something about it." The corners of her mouth twisted upwards in a faint smile. "Of course, we are willing to pay you well enough if the information is good."

"I've got no doubts about that," he said. "You Hunters may be a little too dour and serious for your own collective good sometimes, but at least you tend to keep your promises." He turned away slightly and activated the privacy field.

A shimmering holographic veil immediately enveloped the table, effectively cutting them off from the rest of the bar. The privacy veil depicted an underwater vista of deep blue and turquoise. The pseudo-texture of the water was presented with amazing detail, complete with the occasional refractions of light beams streaming in from the imaginary ocean surface and swirling bubbles. Hidden speakers even carried to their ears a distant, muffled rumble of the underwater currents. Doc hadn't bothered to add in fish and other sea life, which Miles was slightly grateful for. She once found that having schools of marine creatures swim past in front of her nose was too distracting for her tastes. She kept having to quash the urge to swat the things away.

"Nice?" Doc asked, noting her study of the veil.

She nodded. "What happened to your older design -- that blood thing?"

He chuckled. "I only use that when I feel like having a bit of fun with my clients. For tonight, though, I'm going for the soothing and romantic feel," he added, winking.

Miles recalled the first time she dealt under the veil with Doc when he was in one of his playful moods and silently gave thanks that he was being partially serious this time. Being surrounded by pulsing red arterial walls and fast-flowing blood corpuscles was infinitely worse than fish.

"Now, I might have something interesting for you regarding the incident you mentioned," Doc said, drawing her mind back to the business at hand.

"I'm listening."

"One of my associates may have some reliably good firsthand knowledge about Parker's case," he said.

Miles blinked. "A witness?" she hazarded, and Doc nodded. Once again, she felt the stab of uncertainty. As far as she could see, the scan records had shown no indication of any witnesses at the scene. To have SuperTroopers foil the police scanners was disturbing and inconvenient, but somewhat excusable given the type of work they do and the rate of mutations they undergo every time their biodefenses activated. After all, it could be possible that the rogues lifted a few choice things from the military during their escape and put together some kind of personal cloaking device. Miles was even reluctantly willing to concede the possibility that newer generations of SuperTroopers might somehow sport some kind of biodefensive response which kept them safe from being spied upon. She found it highly unlikely that Doc's source was a SuperTrooper, though. "This associate of yours...," she said slowly, "... where was he while Parker and the SuperTrooper were having it out? Inside the building itself?"

Doc paused a moment, then replied, "He was within the building confines, but not very close to the action." The look on his face showed that he had a pretty good idea about the thoughts that were racing around in Miles' head.

"He saw everything?" she asked.

Again, Doc nodded.

Grimly, she went on. "What did he see?"

"Parker tracked a SuperTrooper to the warehouse and shot him. She searched the body after it'd reverted. Unfortunately, she then got shot by someone else while she wasn't paying attention," he said simply, watching her closely.

Miles' eyebrows beetled closer. "That's all?" she asked. "Did he catch a glimpse of the shooter, or anything else?"

The man shook his head. "It was dark," he told her, a small, wry smile twisting his mouth.

She hid a sigh. "What else then, after Parker was down?"

"The shooter searched Parker's body, then the dead SuperTrooper's. Fiddled with something from Parker's body, then left."

Searched and maybe took -- or left -- something, sent for the medics through Parker's scanner, and then exited the scene..., Miles thought. "That doesn't tell me anything new, Doc," she said.

He agreed, but added, "The story doesn't end there, though."

She cocked her head to one side, indicating that he continue, but he held up a hand.

"This one's going to cost you a little extra," he said.

She frowned. "How much extra?"

"A couple of favours," he replied.

"What kind of favours?"

"First, whatever I tell you, you won't bring my associate in for his part in what's to come."

She felt a tiny bit of dread emerge at his tone of voice. She had a bad feeling that she knew where this was headed. This time, she allowed her exasperation to show slightly. "Don't tell me he tampered with the scene...," she sighed. When Doc said nothing, she growled, "God damn it, Doc, what the hell was he thinking? I've got every right to shoot him for doing a stupid thing like that."

"Exactly why I'm asking that you lay off him." He sounded very amused at her reaction. Seeing her increasing ire, he quickly said, "Look, Miles, he's just a young kid who didn't know better. Leave him to me and I can make sure it never happens again."

She inwardly seethed, but it took a bit of time before she finally saw his point. Even if his methods of dealing with the person in question were probably more easygoing and less terminal than hers, Doc would keep his end of the bargain. Besides, despite her anger, she was curious to hear what it was that Doc had to offer. Taking a slow breath, she nodded. "What else?"

Doc seemed to relax slightly. "The second one will be named later. I may need your help in some other matter at a future date, and I want to know if I can collect when I need to."

This was exactly the kind of thing that Miles personally disliked. She may not have been the most experienced of Hunters, but even in her greener days, she knew better than to promise unnamed favours to people like Doc. He and his people had a tendency to deal with activities that skirted the edges of legality, and they often crossed the line altogether. It seemed that Doc was not going to make this night an easy one for her. And I thought that SuperTroopers were big enough trouble...

"Don't worry," he said, reassuringly, "I won't ask you to do anything that'll jeopardize your job. I like you too much to be putting you in that kind of risk."

"I'm flattered," Miles said, but found that his smile did not really put her at ease. Still, faced with the choice, she relented. "All right," she said reluctantly.

Doc put out a hand and Miles took it with only a slight hesitation on her part. "This is a surprise," she remarked, trying to put aside her uneasiness. "I didn't think you'd be the type of person who seals a deal with a handshake."

"I only do it to people I trust," he said with an oily smoothness that had so far never failed to put Miles on guard.

"Now I'm really flattered. So tell me about what it is about Parker's Troopers that merits all this good will."

Doc sat back. "There was an item in the dead SuperTrooper's possession that the shooter left behind. Without mincing words, my associate went over after the shooter had left and took it for himself."

Just as she thought; but it wouldn't do her any good to get angry now. "You have the item now, don't you?" she asked.

"Yeah. He decided to give it to me for safekeeping after he suffered an... attack of conscience," the hacker said by way of explanation, but the self-amused look in his eyes suggested that Doc himself had something to do with the sudden repentance of his associate.

"What is it?" she asked.

He pulled out a little case and opened it for her to see. Inside, a small, black datachip gleamed from within the holographic illumination. Miles looked at Doc in askance and he nodded. She took the chip out of the case and turned it over. It was badly damaged; most of its outer shell was either caved in or gone, and she doubted that the contents of the chip itself fared any better.

"That's how he found it," Doc told her as she examined it.

"We're not going to get much from this," Miles said. She frowned suddenly as she caught sight of a small, dark logo on one side of the chip. It was hard to see, and needed to be angled against the light, but it was unmistakable: WolfDen Corp.

"These things are tough," said Doc in reply to her concerned remark, "especially datachips from WolfDen itself. I'm sure your people will be able to recover a few interesting things from that."

Doc was an innately good actor. Nothing in his voice or his body language broadcasted anything, but then, Miles had just enough experience in dealing with him to trust her hunches. She locked eyes with his good-natured gaze. "You've seen what's in it."

"Like you said, you won't be able to get much from the chip," he went on, "but there's a good chance that a few things in there remained intact."

We certainly hope so. Miles looked contemplative. "Why did the 'Trooper leave this there, though...?" she wondered.

Doc's expression remained easy, though he did raise a well-tended eyebrow a tiny notch. "Miles, how sure are you that the shooter was a SuperTrooper?"

The Hunter kept her puzzlement carefully hidden. "Why do you ask?"

"I'm curious."

She took a deep breath. "We're reasonably sure that a SuperTrooper did it. There aren't many non-Troopers we know of who'd want to shoot Parker."

"Then you're not really buying into the idea of sympathisers within the city helping the SuperTroopers...?"

Miles shrugged. "Oh, we know that there are a few who'd help them on their way, but those people mostly stay in the background. They know they've got too much to lose if they're caught." She watched Doc closely as she talked. He was listening, but something in his manner suggested that he already knew what she was going to say. When she asked him to elaborate on the reasons for his curiousity, though, he waved it aside and abruptly changed the subject. Knowing the limits of her influence on Doc just like she knew her limits on Foxx, she grudgingly let it slide. Still, she filed the matter in the back of her mind and made a mental note to look into it. After all, she wanted to know why Doc was 'curious' enough to lead her into that line of questioning in the first place.

She grunted. Putting the chip back into its case, she asked, "Anything else?"

"About Parker's shooting? Nothing much after that. My associate heard the police sirens coming close and hightailed it out of the warehouse after taking the chip. End of story. I will keep a lookout for anything that might catch your fancy."

Miles pocketed the case. "I'd appreciate that."

"All right." He smiled. "Now that we're done, how about some refreshments?"

She shook her head. "I don't drink while I'm at work."

"You're done for the day, aren't you?" She nodded. "So what's the harm in a little drink? Come on," he insisted. "It's on the house."

She raised an eyebrow and he frowned slightly.

"Now, don't look at me like that, Miles. I have been known to give a few things away for free from time to time," he muttered.

"Nothing you do is for free, Doc," she said, "and I actually prefer to keep it that way."

He sighed wistfully. "You're a cold lady when you have to be." Flashing her a wide grin, he added, "It's just one of those charming mannerisms of yours that drive me crazy."

"Good night, Doc," she said, getting to her feet. Neither Doc nor the veil gave any resistance to her exit.

*****

He found a note on the windscreen of his car, held there by the wet, rain-drenched surface. Glancing at its contents, he looked up and spotted her watching him from her seat at a little sheltered outdoor bar across the street. She waved. He took the note off the car and made his way over.

Niko was smiling as she took in his wet and bedraggled appearance. "Apparently, being a Hunter doesn't necessarily mean having the sense to carry an umbrella when you're out walking in the rain," she remarked.

"How long were you waiting?" he asked, taking the place beside her.

"I was about to leave the hospital when I saw you come in. Just thought it'd be nice to have a little chat with you later," she replied. "Visiting a friend?"

He nodded. The automatic bartender came over and took his order, producing his drink within moments. Niko waved his hand away as he made to pay for it and deposited her own card for the robot to scan. "What do you want to talk about?" he asked when the bartender, having deducted the cost of his drink from her card, trundled off.

She shrugged. "I was thinking that it'd be nice to find out a bit more about the man behind the 'mean Hunter' facade."

He favoured her with a steady look that said volumes and she laughed softly. "Now, don't be suspicious, Hunter. I'm not forcing you to say anything. I'm just curious."

"What should you be so curious about?"

"Opposing views, of course," she replied. "I work for the largest and most prominent manufacturer of genetically modified super soldiers who keep the League of Planets safe from being overrun by the Queen of the Crown. You, on the other hand..."

"... make a career out of taking down said soldiers?" he finished flatly, his eyes narrowed.

"An admittedly impolite way of putting it, but yes."

"That's a pretty heavy-handed way of describing our jobs." Especially mine, he thought.

"That's the common view that we at WolfDen usually subscribe to," she said, "and it's precisely why I wanted to talk to you. I'm sure that you've got your own views about this subject."

Do I ever... "Digging for dirt?" he asked.

She looked slightly insulted by that. "Certainly not. Look, I'm not twisting your arm or anything, Hunter Foxx. If you don't want to talk about that, okay. If you don't even want to say anything at all, it's fine with me."

He put up his hands in a vaguely defensive gesture. "Okay, okay. I didn't mean to get your hackles up."

She nodded, apparently mollified, but went on. "If you want to leave, I'm not going to stop you. I have to warn you, though...," she leaned in closer, "... if you're about to walk out on me like that, I'm going to have to insist that you pay me back for that drink."

He chuckled, unable to help himself. "God forbid," he muttered. He picked up the glass and finally took a mouthful. Almost immediately, he felt a rush of warmth as the strong beverage made its way down. He carefully put the glass back on the table.

Niko watched him. "So, does that mean we are going to have a nice, decent conversation?" she asked with humour in her voice.

The corners of his mouth twitched slightly upwards at that. "As nice and decent a conversation as two people from the Hunters and WolfDen are ever going to have with each other, I suppose. Where would you suggest we start from?"

She looked pleased. "Well, how do you feel about SuperTroopers?" she asked.

He gave a noncommittal kind of shrug, hardly surprised at her question.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"On the whole, I guess I have nothing against them," he said.

"I sense a 'but' lurking around that statement somewhere..."

"... until they break the law," he went on. "I don't go out looking for trouble against SuperTroopers who don't make any."

"You don't seem to like them much, in any case," she remarked.

"Not... really," he admitted slowly. "I don't hate them, if that's what you were wondering." He looked at her. "How about you, then?"

"Me?" She laughed. "I like the SuperTroopers."

He made a wry face. "That's a typical WolfDen answer."

"It's not just because I happen to work in WoflDen," she said. "I find them challenging. Interesting people to be around with."

Remembering Miles' account of her talk with Nagata, Foxx found her sincerity a little amazing but for some reason, he couldn't dispute it. She doesn't just like the 'Troopers they make there, he realised, studying her face and recalling the way she spoke. She cares about them.

"You've got a surprised look on your face," she stated.

"There are a lot of people in WolfDen who'd be surprised to hear you speak that way," he retorted. "You're a rarity. Hell, even your company's profiles refer to the 'Troopers as 'products of engineering'."

She smiled sadly. "I won't deny that. But you were asking about me; how I felt. My opinions aren't in the majority, unfortunately, but then I'm not the only one who feels like this, as well."

"You sympathise."

"You could say that. I've been working with two generations of SuperTroopers already. They first come to me when they're three months out of the tubes, and by the time they reach their first year, they're taken to the training facilities. After that, they're sent out to fight." She took a slow, quiet breath. "That's hardly the kind of life anyone would want for themselves. It's hard not to feel for them."

"Why?" he countered. "They're only doing what they're made for."

Niko didn't take any offense at his remark. Instead, she said, "Yes, they are. But as for me, working with the young 'Troopers... Well, it's very eye-opening. I wish things didn't have to be the way they are all the time. Despite what most people tend to think about SuperTroopers, they're so much like us, I guess you could say that it's scary."

Foxx thought about biodefenses and then of the files he had read about the rogues earlier that day. He wondered just how common such unmentioned offensive abilities were among the SuperTroopers. "It's even scarier when you think about how much unlike us they can be," he muttered.

"Do you mean their biodefenses?" she asked, catching him by surprise. He didn't think that she'd have heard his comment. After a little pause, he nodded. She said, "The biodefenses don't function too differently from any normal human immune system... in principle. Some of us even like to call it a superhuman immune system."

"When that immune system is under control and applied correctly, I wouldn't argue your point," Foxx said. "But there are reports about unstable biodefenses. Cases of the activated biodefenses scavenging every molecule within range of the SuperTrooper who activated it. You might have seen what the results of that kind of superhuman response are like from some of WolfDen's files."

"That only happens in extreme cases," she said quietly.

And these can be extreme times. Especially out there, where the fighting is. He looked at her closely but decided not to press the point. "Just how effective are the biodefenses?" he asked, taking a slight detour of subject. "Say... if the SuperTrooper was properly trained, and he had enough skill and experience with handling them."

She gave a little shrug. "I'm not an authority on what the biodefenses can or can't be capable of, but I suppose that the possibilities are endless. I imagine it'll also depend on how creative the 'Trooper is."

"You seen the biodefenses in action before?"

She nodded. "But only in simulated combat a couple of times. We were giving a small demonstration to some TAF officers about the biodefensive capabilities," she explained.

He nodded. "When was this?"

"Slightly more than two years ago," she replied.

"So that was with the new batch of sixth generation 'Troopers," he said.

"That's right." She looked away for a moment. "I wonder how they feel when they change like that."

"I wouldn't know. Why don't you ask them?" he suggested.

She finally picked up her own glass, but held it both her hands instead of taking a drink. "I did ask for a while after that demonstration. I never got an answer."

"Why's that?" Now he was curious.

"I don't know. None of the SuperTroopers wanted to say anything. It was like some deep, playground secret that only certain people were allowed to know." The expression on her face was sad, yet tinged with a bit of amusement. "Or like a secret club that said 'SuperTroopers Only'."

'No Normals Allowed', he thought, looking at her. They change from one form to another... One element to another... He suddenly wondered why he himself had never asked about it before. How would that feel? "How involved are you with the SuperTroopers here?" he asked, after a brief silence.

"How do you mean?"

"Do you see every single 'Trooper before they get sent to the training bases?"

She shook her head. "Hardly. I'm not the only working in the psi division, after all." She grinned. "There're plenty of others like me out there in the world, you know."

"And does psi division here get to see every 'Trooper that's made?"

Again, she shook her head. "WolfDen's got branches all over the system. A good portion of the batches we make here are sent out to those others." She gave him a look. "That's hardly a big secret, you know."

"Just making sure," he said.

She leaned in. "So, I didn't give anything of interest away?" she whispered jokingly.

"You've worked with the first batch of the sixth gen 'Troopers?" he asked.

If she was put out that he didn't reciprocate in a similar bantering tone, she didn't show it. She nodded. "And also with the final two batches of the fifth generation SuperTroopers."

"Generally, how well developed are the 'Troopers when you first see them?"

"You've done the tests on pre-born batches before, right?" He replied an affirmative. "Well you already know just how developed they are before they're even out of the tubes. By the time I get to see them..."

"...at three months old..."

"At three months old," she agreed, "they're physically comparable to an average four or five year old human child. A lot smarter than the average five year-old, though." She smiled again. "Some would say that they're smarter then than the average adult human being, as well. By the time they leave for training," she went on, "they're about equivalent to a twelve year-old human in terms of physical build."

He remembered the weeks of studying he'd had to do about SuperTroopers before qualifying to become a Hunter. What Niko had recounted agreed with the information he'd digested years ago from those huge collections of files.

"Do you see them again once their training's done?"

"Not usually. A couple of them do return to WolfDen main here, but only to oversee the physical and combative development of the newer batches. Most of them get shipped straight out to the front lines."

"Do they change much after the training?" he wondered aloud.

"Of course they do," she replied, but somehow managed to make it sound not so patronising an answer. "If anything, they're even more secretive about themselves."

"Mmm." He sighed silently to himself.

"My turn to ask the questions now," she announced.

"Go right ahead."

"All right." She paused, thinking. "Why are you with the Hunters?"

"It's work," he said simply. He felt slightly amused at her puzzled look. "I didn't join because of some life philosophy or for revenge."

"Hmm. Are you saying that most other Hunters are around for those reasons?"

"Some are," he said softly, thinking of Miles.

"And the rest?"

"For the glamour, the romantic image, and maybe the chance to play the role of a misunderstood hero."

"Were those your reasons?" she asked.

"Before I came into the Hunter units, yes," he admitted, somewhat embarrassed at voicing aloud the memory. "Those kinds of ideas don't last very long in this day and age. Things happened and changed, and before I knew it, I needed to be somewhere. The Hunters were... convenient at the time."

Niko was watching him closely and he downed the remainder of his drink to avoid having to meet her piercing stare. A vague sense of discomfort seemed to take hold of him and once again, just like in WolfDen, he felt the urge to move away from her. As if she noticed his unease, her gaze seemed to soften. "Are they still convenient now?" she asked him.
 
 

I decided that I wanted to die.

That was what Miles had told him a long time ago. He understood what she meant; no mean feat since he had been feeling the same way. Since that rainy night, there was an unspoken agreement between the two. This understanding was just one of the main reasons why he found working with her to be so effortless compared to the others.

After all, just because they were suicidal didn't mean that they were willing to kill themselves. Better to let someone else do it and concern themselves only with being in the right place at the right time to catch the opportunity.
 
 

"Hunter?" she called softly, jerking his mind back to the present. Her eyes, though gentle, were still very unsettling. They caught the flash of lights from the bar's sign and seemed to glow; he had a fleeting impression that those green orbs held an all-seeing element about them.

He blinked, looked down quickly and gave a small cough in an effort to dispel his sudden rush of memory. "S-sorry," he murmured, trying not to stammer. "I was just thinking of something else." He inhaled slowly, feeling slightly remorseful that his glass was already empty. "What were you saying earlier?"

Her voice was coaxing. "Do you like it there?"

Foxx thought about it, using the silence to steady his thoughts. "It's comfortable for me there," he said finally. Then, with a twitch of his lips that might have passed as a smile, he added, "Like I said: I needed to be somewhere and that was the only place that would take me in after..." He broke off abruptly, chagrined at his near slip. "I'm babbling." He sighed, looking at the empty glass as if it could point out what he should say next.

Niko shook her head. "That's all right," she told him. "Would you like another one?" She gestured towards the remains of his drink.

"No." He placed it on the table. "I think that one was a little too strong for me." He wondered at that. He was never much of a drinker, but he usually had a better tolerance for alcohol than this.

"You should take it easy, Hunter," Niko said. "You look like you haven't been sleeping well."

He grunted. Maybe I am just feeling a little tired..., he thought. Just as he was thinking of excusing himself, Niko finished off her own drink and pulled out a different, smaller card from her jacket pocket. She held it out to him.

The look on his face must have been comical, because she broke out laughing a moment later. "Just take it," she told him. He did so.

It was a simple thing, with her name and a string of numbers written on it.

"In case you feel the need to pick my brain about WolfDen later on," she said in reply to his unspoken question. "Or if you just want to have someone buy you a drink."

He stared at her as she stood and lifted her umbrella, the card still held in his hand. He was still staring when she started walking away into the rainy night.

Talk about one strange lady.

Niko paused, then turned around to wave goodnight. The smile on her face made Foxx think that she was enjoying a private joke at his expense.

* * * * *

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