Well, see, we already have two Knight Sabers - and it occurred to me that it would be hilarious if they lived in the same timeline.
Of course, that would also require...
The only warning Sylia Stingray had was when the warning light at the corner of her screen flashed red. Only a split second later - far more quickly than anything should have been able to work past the depth of hidden lab's sensors - the door opened.
Later, checking the records, she would find that her guest in fact hadn't come that distance - instead, he seemed to simply step into existence at the same time he appeared in the camera's field of view just outside the very door she saw him open.
By the time he stepped through she had the details cataloged: about a hundred and eighty centimeters, eighty to ninety kilos, caucasian, glasses, dark hair, long, sandals worn with socks, gray trousers with cargo pockets, gray protective vest with more pockets, dark green cloak covering shoulders and down to the floor, hands slightly spread before him, with the palms towards her.
It was a deliberately nonthreatening gesture, and she allowed the singing tension in her body to ease slightly. There were rather too many questions she felt a need to ask him, but since he had the initiative anyway she decided to leave the next move in his hands until she had more information.
He crossed most of the distance to the workbench she was standing by, then bowed politely. "Miss Stingray." He pronounced it as a native speaker of English would, rather than the Japanese approximation she had been hearing all her life. "My personal identity is irrelevant, but I have, for some time, been retained as an agent by a party with vested interests in the well-being of society and humanity as a whole. In the course of my activities, a late friend passed into my keeping an item of considerable value but limited use to myself, and charged me with seeing it delivered to the care of one who might use it both wisely and to good effect."
"What sort of item," she asked, slowly, "and, why me?"
"Because you, and your three friends, need help. As for what, well, it's many things, among them weapon, defense, and artificial intelligence." He reached - slowly and carefully - into one of his pockets, and withdrew therefrom a perfectly ordinary jewelry box, which he then stepped forwards to place on the work surface in front of her. "Its - her - name, is-" and the short phrase that followed was in no language she recognized.
Sylia blinked, "What?" then recoiled as she realized that he seemed to have vanished into thin air in the split-second her vision of him was occluded.
A quick check of the security system produced no sign of him, so, with a sigh, she turned to the thing he had left for her. Several minutes of intensive scrutiny with a variety of instruments failed to reveal any bioweapon, toxin, or nano-agent before she sighed and broke down and reached over to open it.
Inside was only a transparent red sphere, perhaps two centimeters across, on a perfectly ordinary golden chain.
Yes, Sylia, not Nene. Whatever else she may be, one must keep in mind that the previous owner posessed an extremely practical turn of mind, which just doesn't strike me as being up the computer goddess's alley.
Ja, -n
===============================================
"Puripuri puripuri... Bang!"
Of course, that would also require...
The only warning Sylia Stingray had was when the warning light at the corner of her screen flashed red. Only a split second later - far more quickly than anything should have been able to work past the depth of hidden lab's sensors - the door opened.
Later, checking the records, she would find that her guest in fact hadn't come that distance - instead, he seemed to simply step into existence at the same time he appeared in the camera's field of view just outside the very door she saw him open.
By the time he stepped through she had the details cataloged: about a hundred and eighty centimeters, eighty to ninety kilos, caucasian, glasses, dark hair, long, sandals worn with socks, gray trousers with cargo pockets, gray protective vest with more pockets, dark green cloak covering shoulders and down to the floor, hands slightly spread before him, with the palms towards her.
It was a deliberately nonthreatening gesture, and she allowed the singing tension in her body to ease slightly. There were rather too many questions she felt a need to ask him, but since he had the initiative anyway she decided to leave the next move in his hands until she had more information.
He crossed most of the distance to the workbench she was standing by, then bowed politely. "Miss Stingray." He pronounced it as a native speaker of English would, rather than the Japanese approximation she had been hearing all her life. "My personal identity is irrelevant, but I have, for some time, been retained as an agent by a party with vested interests in the well-being of society and humanity as a whole. In the course of my activities, a late friend passed into my keeping an item of considerable value but limited use to myself, and charged me with seeing it delivered to the care of one who might use it both wisely and to good effect."
"What sort of item," she asked, slowly, "and, why me?"
"Because you, and your three friends, need help. As for what, well, it's many things, among them weapon, defense, and artificial intelligence." He reached - slowly and carefully - into one of his pockets, and withdrew therefrom a perfectly ordinary jewelry box, which he then stepped forwards to place on the work surface in front of her. "Its - her - name, is-" and the short phrase that followed was in no language she recognized.
Sylia blinked, "What?" then recoiled as she realized that he seemed to have vanished into thin air in the split-second her vision of him was occluded.
A quick check of the security system produced no sign of him, so, with a sigh, she turned to the thing he had left for her. Several minutes of intensive scrutiny with a variety of instruments failed to reveal any bioweapon, toxin, or nano-agent before she sighed and broke down and reached over to open it.
Inside was only a transparent red sphere, perhaps two centimeters across, on a perfectly ordinary golden chain.
Yes, Sylia, not Nene. Whatever else she may be, one must keep in mind that the previous owner posessed an extremely practical turn of mind, which just doesn't strike me as being up the computer goddess's alley.
Ja, -n
===============================================
"Puripuri puripuri... Bang!"