This will most likely be the final element of Part 2. I might add something more before doing a spell check and posting it separately tomorrow.
Enjoy!
**** **** ****
"What would trigger this
sort of thing?" Joan had asked at the end of it.
"Could be
anything," I noted. "What
really launched things in my universe was the use of atomic weapons and how
radiation began to play games with people's DNA."
"That happened here, but
it never caused anything save for the standard radiation sickness cases for
those who were too close to the damned things," Sally noted.
"The Steel Angels,
maybe?" Joan wondered.
I blinked. "Who are the Steel Angels?"
Both girls looked at each
other, and then they smiled, which made me wince.
What the hell was THIS all
about?!
* *
*
Local Date and time: Tuesday 11 May 2011, 12:23 AM JST
Location: Somewhere in Sapporo-shi,
Ishikari-shinkokyoku, Hokkaido, Japan,
"Damn her . .
.!"
The shivering form that had
just appeared in the rolling hills to the west of the downtown core of Japan's
fourth largest city could only snarl as she found herself in a place of solid
blackness all around her. As her eyes
slowly – too slowly for her own desires – adjusted to the dark night around
her, she slowly picked herself up from the soft ground she had dropped a metre
down from her beam-in point to smash into, and then she moved to make a quick
inspection of her body to ensure she didn't endure any wounds from that
fall. After a few minutes, she then
breathed out.
"Safe . . .!"
For now, she knew.
The creature that was coming
after her had warned her that coming back to this time and place would only
result in her death. And the death of
the One that had helped her.
Not that the stupid animated
corpse would really understand that, of course.
A litany of vile curses in
classical Kyotos-accented Yehisrite streamed out from the newcomer's lips as
she brought down the malefactions of all the gods on the heart and soul of that
damned undead bitch – who had a POWER JEWEL of all things; how in God's name
did she acquire something like THAT?! – that had chased her off Sagussa after
she had tried to wipe out those accursed daishi'cha all those years
ago. Taking several minutes to vent out
her continued anger towards the beast that had stopped her from ensuring the
Fifth Republic would NEVER truly rise, the newcomer then relaxed herself as she
took in several deep gulps of air before she crouched down.
Damn!
It had been a sheer miracle
in and of itself that she had been able to nursemaid the ancient warp-sloop she
had stolen to Earth so she could finally deal with the problem that had sent
her hundreds of years back in time in the first place.
Thinking of what had put her
onto this quest, she then moaned.
"My babies . . .!"
Her beloved children.
Dead at the hands of that
woman who had effectively destroyed her life.
Long BEFORE she had ever
known that planet outside the galaxy had ever existed!
The woman who had taken away
her first true love . . .
The woman who had BONDED that
wonderful man to an ONI of all things . . .!
The woman who then came back
and tore that man away from her grasp . . .!
And for WHAT?!
To bring back a dustbowl
of a planet wrecked in a five-century war to LIFE?!
Was it even possible . . .?
Thinking of that, she
shuddered.
No.
It wouldn't happen.
Not this time!
One way or another, the
so-called "grand design" was going to be derailed!
One way or another, her man
was going to be free.
One way or another, those who
hurt her . . .
Who took her babies away from
her . . .
Who killed her people . . .
THEY ALL WOULD PAY!
She then tensed on hearing
the growl of a VERY empty stomach echo through her body.
"Food . . . "
With that, she made her way
towards the glow of city lights to the east . . .
* *
*
Somewhere, a different
dimension,
"You take enormous
risk."
"It's worth
taking."
"To draw HIS wrath on
you? And in HIS chosen domain?!"
A snort. "He really doesn't care for what happens
to mortals. They all – if He is to be
believed – will come to Him eventually, so the 'when' really doesn't
matter!"
"Are you sure?"
That made the Bringer of Balance
pause. "What do you know?"
"He has chosen a mortal
avatar."
A laugh. "The Moroboshi boy? He's nothing deep down. A coward, an idiot and he's enslaved to his
loins. Even his marriage to the Oni
didn't change that!"
"Don't let your current
avatar's inner beliefs influence you."
"It is the truth! How could he accept becoming the 'first
father' of that new race that was planned to arise on His planet without being
enslaved to his loins?"
"And the Daughter of
Gaia? Do you not know of her."
"Feh! Lies!
That thing is no better than a robot . . . "
"You haven't been
looking upon the Earth your avatar now has landed on, have you?"
"There's no
change!"
"Don't be too sure about
that . . . "
* *
*
Local Date and time: Monday 10 May 2011, 7:26 PM MSK
Location: A hidden hill east of Goroda Rjazán',
Rjazanskaja Oblast', Russia,
"Foolish . . . simply
foolish."
An emotionless smirk crossed
Vladímir Tayceško's face.
"And that will destroy
them both in the end . . . "
* *
*
Local Date and time: Tuesday 11 May 2011, 12:29 AM JST
Location: An empty lot in Tomobiki-cho, Nishitokyo-shi,
Tokyo-to, Japan,
The man born Sakurambo Hayao –
known more commonly as "Cherry" these days – perked as a very subtle
flow of disquiet surged into his old body.
As the elderly Jodo-shu monk
stood up from the ground of the abandoned lot located about three blocks from
the Moroboshi home, he turned to gaze at the clear night sky ahead. Personally grateful to the many Avalonians
who had begun using their expertise to start clearing the air pollution that
had accumulated over the Home Islands in the last hundred years – even now,
only fifteen months since the Avalonians had arrived on Earth, the skies over
metropolitan Tokyo were cleaner than he had seen in decades – so he could gaze
upon the stars and try to divine what he had sensed just now from them.
"Darkness . . .
vengeance . . . for what?"
Humming, Cherry moved to
retrieve his cooking pot.
This required further
divination . . .
* *
*
Local Date and time: Monday 10 May 2011, 12:02 PM EDT
Location: H.M.C.S. Haida, Deck 12 Main Hull,
Ship's Central Computer Room,
I had to take a minute to
absorb what I had just read.
When I did, though . . .
Oh, my dear God . . .!
"They're magical gynoids?!"
"They were," Joan
Mercer answered me. Sally had gone off
to fetch some tea for us before we would hit Haida's chief and petty
officer's mess for lunch; even if I was an officer by Canadian military custom,
I had told Brian Gamblin that I didn't mind eating with the lower ranks if the
situation demanded it. "Shortly
after she got her own body, Lady Negako got people to do some research on how
to shift the souls of the Steel Angels into fully organic bodies – while allowing
them to keep their powers – to fulfil a promise she and Major Raeburn had made
to them when they all shut themselves down in 1937 and had their bodies stashed
away to ensure they wouldn't be asked to kill anyone in World War Two. Or afterward." As I nodded, she sighed. "It all got done by last August. Lady Negako was reunited with Miss
Shichinohe, those of the Angels who wanted to go back into being serving
members of the worlds' militaries got their commissions reactivated and they were
back into service and the others were allowed to get on with their
lives." A shake of the head. "None of the one built to represent
Canada in the 'Steel Angel Wars' in the 1920s have come back into service."
"And they're not
persecuted for it?" I asked.
"Of course not,"
Joan stated. "World War Two was bad
enough even with the limited metahuman involvement centred on the War Hawks and
the other groups that were active at the time.
If the Steel Angels had been forced to kill normal people . . . "
I nodded as I took that in,
and then I gazed on the image of one Ayanokoji Hakushi.
This universe's technomage
equivalent to Katsuhito Stingray.
The man who had taken magic
and technology – with a heavy dose of benign necromancy and a few other things
even I had trouble identifying, plus the backing of military forces still
haunted with the images of four years of sheer slaughter in World War Two and a
lot of very radical magical thinkers – to create the Steel Angels.
An honest-to-goodness RACE of
magical
combat gynoids.
Unlike the boomers I had run
into in Megatokyo in 2037 – which could be mass produced within the limits of
the local base-line tech once Genom eliminated Sylia Stingray's father and
"acquired" his patents for their use – the Steel Angels, given their
magical origin, couldn't be made at a whim.
It required materials that weren't available to the common man – or the
common industrial company – which restricted their building to the hands of the
world's various military forces and government-sponsored agencies, backed up by
the advanced magical research teams of local magical ministries. All coordinated by the Academy of Advanced
Sciences, which was based in Japan even if it was a League of Nations-mandated
organisation; so called to ensure that the world "magic" didn't get
out too openly and make the International Conference of Magical Communities
upset at this wild mixing of magical and "muggle" technology.
And given what I had just
read about how these girls came into being . . .
. . . I had to admit that in
so many ways, Ayanokoji was Stingray's superior.
Even more, Ayanokoji enjoyed
a lot better luck than Sylia's dad ever did.
Despite his military backers'
desire to create the perfect soldier that could take over from mere
flesh-and-blood beings that could be poisoned by mustard gas or ripped apart by
machine gun bullets, Ayanokoji Hakushi elected at the start to create girls who
– atop being quite powerful warriors that could easily fight most of MY friends
to a standstill if required – had hearts and souls . . . and the
emotions to express them.
Save in body, they were as
human as one born of a mother's womb.
And in the period of the
Roaring Twenties – with the revulsion against conflict that the mass slaughter
of the "War to End All Wars" had invoked in so many – the Steel
Angels were seen as living symbols of hope and peace in an uncertain age.
Even the so-called
"Steel Angel War" in 1924 really didn't do anything to change that.
After reading the results of
that fight, it was easy for me to conclude.
That "war" was
actually a glorified Olympic Games for gynoids.
Complete with a lot of
cheesecake, too!
Honestly!
Ripping flags off girl's panties
. . .?!
"So they sensed what was
about to come down on Earth in the mid-1930s with the Nazis and the Japanese
militarists," I stated. "When
they realised that war was pretty much inevitable – since such conflicted with
their basic programming to NEVER harm a human being if they could avoid it –
they asked Hiromi's sister and this Raeburn woman to deactivate them all and hide
them in places where they couldn't be found and reactivated to be used as
front-line special troops. Much less
have all the knowledge that went into their creation wiped out given what
Grindelwald and this Tsukuyomi girl was unleashing on the magical side of
things at the same time, right?"
A nod. "Yes."
"Who is this Raeburn
person anyway?"
Joan chuckled. "That's one of our planet's first known
metahuman warriors, Colonel," she said.
"She was the leader of the War Hawks in World War Two."
I gaped at her . . .
* *
*
Local Date and time: Monday 10 May 2011, 12:18 PM EDT
Location: Cooks Mills, north of Canadian Forces Base
Niagara, Welland, Ontario,
"Hey, Laura. Got some coffee?"
Gasping on hearing that
familiar voice from the main door to her personal café, which was located on
the corner of Lyons Creek Road and Doan's Ridge Road before the latter crossed
the creek and entered the base grounds proper, Laura Evans (Captain, Royal
Canadian Artillery, retired) spun around before she smirked on seeing the woman
now standing close to her cashier.
"Dean Raeburn! As I live and
breathe!" the Steel Angel-turned-Avalonian artillery officer-turned-coffee
shop owner and unofficial guardian of all the people working at Canadian Forces
Base Niagara exclaimed before she beckoned the newcomer over to a chair by the
counter. "Your usual, I take
it?"
"Yep," Dean said as
she moved to reach into her jacket to draw out one of her Dutch Masters Honey
Sports cigars . . . and then she stopped as she remembered that smoking indoors
in a public restaurant had been outlawed in Ontario years ago. Health Nazis! the retired air cavalry
pilot and Earth's Jewel Warrior mused to herself as Laura came over with her
preferred cup of Navy brew – with a pinch of sea salt – topped with two creams
and two sugars in a mug.
"Thanks. Noted what's
happened here recently?"
"Ah, yes. Our visitor from another universe. Metahuman sorcerer by the feel of him when he
showed up on the ranges yesterday afternoon," Laura – who, like all Steel
Angels, was an exceptionally beautiful woman, possessing close-cropped curly
red-brown hair and dark brown eyes on a very pretty face – noted as she gave
the other woman a knowing look.
"Currently up in space aboard Haida. Hiromi's people go to him."
"Which is good. Less work for us to deal with."
"True. So what are you doing here anyway?"
"Vlad advised me to keep
an eye on things." A wink. "In his own unique way."
Laura blinked. "Something that interested HIM?!"
"I know. The guy on Haida now got dragged into
our universe thanks to that kid over in Japan who got hold of one of the
Sagussan haijo-ju marks when her soul got yanked from another timeline
with all her friends by a would-be 'master' on Phentax Twelve." As Laura scowled on hearing that – though she
was nodding as she recalled where she had heard about such a person before –
Dean sipped her coffee. "Turns out
our visitor's been busy causing quite big ruckuses in other universes. Typical 'serve the people' type. He's a paramilitary, full colonel, sanctioned
by the U.N. that fights in a team of metas that includes a young goddess Vlad
and I saved some years ago."
The other woman nodded. "Saw something wrong, went to fix
it."
"And that got some
'holier-than-thous' quite pissed off at him.
Had a whole slew of nasties about to make him cash in his dog tags
before Mizuho got him here."
Laura tensed. "Is there a threat?"
A shake of the head. "Nothing clear at the time." A smirk.
"You know how it is with Vlad." As Laura laughed, Dean sighed. "If it was a real threat, he'd tell
me."
The former Steel Angel
nodded. Given what Dean currently
possessed and had be bound since 1889, calling her down on the
head of whatever it was that was out to kill one Douglas Q. Sangnoir – Brian Gamblin
had visited her café on his way in to work and gave her a briefing via a folded
piece of paper; even if Laura was retired from full-time service in the
Regiment of Royal Canadian Artillery and was only seen as a reservist only to
be recalled to duty at time of general mobilisation, deeply-set
"programming" that had been etched with soul-magic in her Angel Heart
when she was first activated back in 1922 still dominated her life – was a
literal case of unleashing an atomic bomb to get rid of a rat infestation. Dean was no Celestial by any shake of the
imagination – the bond between Power Jewel and its chosen Host never went
anywhere close to that type of soul-bond . . . and the Seekers who had created
the Jewels three billion years ago had disappeared from Existence itself, never
being seen again – but she could kill one if required. And had done so several times in World War
Two whenever Axis mystics got a little too out of hand with summoning rituals.
Thank the Creator none of us
were ever active in that time period, Laura then mused.
To actually consort with
THOSE type of disgusting things . . .!
Ugh! No thank you!
"So you're just here to
keep a loose eye on things," Laura noted.
"Yeah."
"I'll get the guest room
ready."
"Thanks . . . "
* *
*
Local Date and time: Monday 10 May 2011, 12:23 PM EDT
Location: H.M.C.S. Haida, Deck 12 Main Hull,
Ship's Central Computer Room,
There are many things about
my visit to Megatokyo in 2037 I hated.
There are many things about
that visit I fondly remembered.
Lisa Vanette's reference to
superheroes, of course.
Given the history of one
Major Deannette A. Raeburn of the Canadian Army . . .
. . . calling her THAT would
probably be seen as quite an insult by the woman.
There was nothing – as she
told friends time and time again during those six dark years that humanity was
exposed to world-wide warfare for the first time – that she had done from the
Battle of Britain to the Battle of the Gates of Nurmengard and the final battle
between her War Hawks and the Übermenschen Gruppe over the waters of Lake
Ontario after VJ Day that she could ever want to view as really heroic.
Certainly, she did nothing to
earn those THREE Victoria Crosses she had been given.
No.
To the very end, Dean Raeburn
saw herself first and foremost as a soldier.
An air cavalry pilot for the
10th Saskatchewan Cavalry Regiment (Air) for the first three years before she
was reassigned by Army HQ to form the 1st Canadian Specialised Warfare Unit –
the War Hawks – with an RCAF Women's Division officer named Flight Officer
Jessica P. Dover (who had been gifted with the power of an honest-to-goodness
Slavic žar-ptíca that didn't mind severing the bonds between mortal avatars
and whatever Celestial-like being was possessing them), a Women's Royal
Canadian Naval Service officer named Second Officer Heather Thompkins (an
arch-mage sorceress who was mostly self-taught born from a normal couple that
was more than willing to fight either the Nazis or Grindelwald), and a Royal
Canadian Mounted Police patrol officer named Staff-Sergeant Martin Larsden (who
had been blessed by a Mi'kmaq shaman after he had saved the fellow's life in
the mid-1930s to make him the perfect hunter of men in civilian life . . . and
by extension, the perfect sniper in warfare).
A soldier – No! Excuse me!
FOUR soldiers! – of the Greatest Generation who gladly volunteered to do
whatever work had to be done to put down evil.
And she was a hero by any
extent of the term.
The Major never liked being
asked to kill people.
She sure as hell didn't like
the idea of using her gift – which came wrapped up in a three billion year old
piece of cosmically-powered crystal that she wore as a necklace around her
neck; influenced by local comic books at the time and a character named
"Captain Marvel," she used her Power Jewel to infuse typical
FISS-type powers for herself when she went into action, ensuring she was also
invulnerable to any sort of magical or psionic attack – and the martial arts
she had learned under Hozan Hirosuke before World War Two to stomp down on
normal soldiers and enemy metahuman warriors alike as a way of delivering a
vicious psychological blow on the Axis.
Hell, that prompted her in
1942 – after she discovered the Nazi's Final Solution after stumbling onto Konzentrationslager
Auschwitz when it was about to kick into high gear – to plan an operation
to take out Hitler and all his cronies in a three-day search-and-assassinate
mission she called "Phoenix Thunder" to bring the war to an end.
Get it done right away and
send the boys home.
Put a stop to all the things
like "strategic bombing" and the like.
Put a human face back on what
was the worst show of inhumanity in human history.
Why the Allied leaders DIDN'T
take her up on that, the Major NEVER understood!
Even with Hitler being allied
with Gellert Grindelwald as Albus Dumbledore's old lover was pursuing his own
maniac vision to unleash the "greater good" for magicals and mundanes
alike, the Major could have pulled it off with literal ease.
All the targets were damned
crunchies, anyway!
It would have been so easy .
. .
Noting that, I had to sigh.
It was easy for me to
understand.
Phoenix Thunder – for all its
wonderful simplicity and its bold vision for a world at peace – was just way too
radical in the eyes of people like Roosevelt and Churchill.
And while she could have
disobeyed, the Major always understood one thing.
She was a soldier.
And thus duty-bound to obey
higher authority.
She had made an oath.
She was honour-bound to keep the oath.
Even if she didn't like some
of the orders she had got.
Even if she and her friends
were ordered to home defence duty for the rest of the war.
Even if she probably cried
when the casualty lists came in every day . . .
Yeah. A real hero.
At least the Canadian Army
leadership let her go in 1954 when she retired.
Thank God for that . . .
* *
*
"Sad reading, isn't
it?" Joan asked.
I smiled. Sally had come back with tea and some light
sandwiches made by Yamaguchi Seina.
"She understood why metas are so feared at times."
"It's like that in your
universe?" Haida's chief intelligence operator wondered.
A nod. "Yeah.
We all strive to make things easy between normals and metahumans and
aliens and all the various artificial intelligences and all that . . . but now
that I think about it, there always has been a little tension there, especially
from normals. My own parents never
really accepted that I was a mutant."
I didn't catch myself in time, but Joan waved it off. "So given this was World War Two – after
millions of people had died – and given how powerful this woman could
potentially be . . . "
"She made an oath on a
Bible when she elected to fly with the Saskatchewans," she said. "'I, Deannette Antonia Raeburn, do swear
that I will well and truly serve Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth the Second, Queen
of Canada, Her Heirs and Successors according to law, in the Canadian Forces
until lawfully released. That I will
resist Her Majesty's Enemies and cause Her Majesty's Peace to be kept and
maintained. And that I will, in all
matters pertaining to my service, faithfully discharge my duty as issued by
lawful authority placed over me in the name of Her Majesty. So help me God.'" Joan smiled.
"Well, it would have been to King George VI when she swore it, but
it's the same idea."
A nod. "A real hero."
"No. A real soldier. One who knew what she could do . . . but also
knew that she was probably the only one who could actually do it." Joan waved to the computer terminal I had
been using to skim through Haida's Tapestry to learn more about the
leader of the War Hawks. "And was
it really her responsibility in the end to shoulder the burden of the whole
damned war by herself? And even if she
did do it, what then? If she went too
far without stopping herself, she would actually make those she was trying to
protect actually FEAR her." As I
gaped at her, she smiled. "C'mon,
you know this! Humans are funny that
way, Colonel. Yeah, the Major could've
put a full stop to World War Two over two years earlier. Why it wasn't allowed?" A shrug.
"I really can't say, Colonel.
Maybe because the hate and fear and anger and ambition that fired off
that war were just too great even for the 'protector of all life' . . . " –
she made finger-quotes on saying that – " . . . to go out and deal with on
her lonesome."
"Too many cooks with
their hands in the broth making too much of a mess," Sally noted before
taking a sandwich slice and nibbling on it.
"And when the mess go too big, everyone had to go in to clean it
up. With their own ideas of doing
it."
I hummed. "Is that why Mizuho isn't a part of the
EDF?"
Both senior NCOs before me
blinked before nodded. "The Inada
girl?" Joan asked. "Of
course. Sure, that Staff of hers can seriously
help her kick anyone's butt if she wanted to do that . . . but she's went through
Hell to get here, Colonel. To force her
to serve with us just wouldn't be right.
She deserves a normal life."
"Besides, if she's
needed, she probably would volunteer to help," Sally added. "Look what she did for you when you got
pulled here, Colonel."
I blinked, and then
sighed. "Right . . . "
* *
*
Local Date and time: Monday 10 May 2011, 12:52 PM EDT
Location: H.M.C.S. Haida, Deck A12 Aft, Flag
Officer's Level,
"Enter!"
"You busy right now,
Hiromi?!"
Hiromi perked on hearing that
voice, and then she smiled. "Come
in, Doug-san!"
The door opened to reveal a
dashing man with strawberry-blonde hair – said hair being a little bit longer
than what would normally be accepted in the noble Army of the United States of
America, but few might notice from a distance and all aboard Haida at
the time wouldn't really care – and very deep blue eyes. He was dressed in Army Class "B"
service uniform, looking quite proper despite the medals and decorations there
not even coming close to reflect his true experiences, but shortcuts had to be
made as the chances of someone who might question the presence of an unknown
civilian aboard the UNEDF flagship at this time were still quite strong. As soon as her ship's current visitor could
determine his proper need and a potential time frame for his eventual return
back – hopefully! – to his home dimension was determined, things would change.
"So how can I help you
in thanks for sparing me from having my brain brutalised by calculus?"
Hiromi then asked as she gazed gratefully at Doug.
The older man perked. "Calculus? What type?"
"I still empathically
don't know, to be frank with you," the reborn emperor of the Latter Hàn
mused as she set aside her books.
"I can use the break for a bit.
Much that I am perversely grateful for being freed from boring lectures,
being forced to study practically on my own does have its downfalls as
well." She then blinked. "You seem very bothered by
something. Did you discover something
bad?"
"No, but I am
concerned," Doug admitted as he sat down beside her, taking a second to
scan over the calculus formulae written there and nodding. "Same as my universe." As Hiromi chuckled, he sighed. "It's about Inada Mizuho. And her friend."
"The Staff of the mad
scientist Gihan, you mean."
"Yeah. How's your sister teaching her how to use
that thing?"
"Trial and error . . .
within reason, Doug-san," she answered.
"One-sama has always been of the opinion that students best learn
from their mistakes. While understanding
that Mizuho-san might get out of control if something happens to make her lose
control of herself, Onê-sama does allow her to explore the Staff's capabilities
on her own. Only giving her the
necessary guidance when she needs it . . . as witness what happened when she
wanted to bring your wife here to join you." As Doug nodded in understanding, the director
of the UNEDF sighed. "It's not a
perfect system, but it does work."
"I could give her some
better training," he then offered.
Her eyebrow arched, and then
she nodded. "True. Well, let's go ask One-sama . . . "
"You need not call for
me, Hiromi. I am here."
Doug screamed out at the
closeness of that voice, spinning around . . .
. . . to find himself staring
face-to-face with a woman in her early twenties who looked like she was
Hiromi's elder sister . . . save for a fuller head of wavy brown hair that was
still cut to a taper at the neck and eyes that were nearly pitch-black up
close. She was also dressed in a black
martial arts gi with a black belt on her waist, said gi having a gold ? kanji written at the end of the
belt.
"ONE-SAMA!"
Hiromi screamed out . . .
* *
*
Local
Date and time: Monday 10 May 2011, 12:55
PM EDT
Location: Cooks Mills, north of Canadian Forces Base
Niagara, Welland, Ontario,
"Damn
. . . she nails EVERYONE with that trick of hers."
"What
was that, Dean?" Laura Evans asked.
Dean
Raeburn smirked. "Private joke,
Laurie . . . "
The
Steel Angel hummed . . .
Enjoy!
**** **** ****
"What would trigger this
sort of thing?" Joan had asked at the end of it.
"Could be
anything," I noted. "What
really launched things in my universe was the use of atomic weapons and how
radiation began to play games with people's DNA."
"That happened here, but
it never caused anything save for the standard radiation sickness cases for
those who were too close to the damned things," Sally noted.
"The Steel Angels,
maybe?" Joan wondered.
I blinked. "Who are the Steel Angels?"
Both girls looked at each
other, and then they smiled, which made me wince.
What the hell was THIS all
about?!
* *
*
Local Date and time: Tuesday 11 May 2011, 12:23 AM JST
Location: Somewhere in Sapporo-shi,
Ishikari-shinkokyoku, Hokkaido, Japan,
"Damn her . .
.!"
The shivering form that had
just appeared in the rolling hills to the west of the downtown core of Japan's
fourth largest city could only snarl as she found herself in a place of solid
blackness all around her. As her eyes
slowly – too slowly for her own desires – adjusted to the dark night around
her, she slowly picked herself up from the soft ground she had dropped a metre
down from her beam-in point to smash into, and then she moved to make a quick
inspection of her body to ensure she didn't endure any wounds from that
fall. After a few minutes, she then
breathed out.
"Safe . . .!"
For now, she knew.
The creature that was coming
after her had warned her that coming back to this time and place would only
result in her death. And the death of
the One that had helped her.
Not that the stupid animated
corpse would really understand that, of course.
A litany of vile curses in
classical Kyotos-accented Yehisrite streamed out from the newcomer's lips as
she brought down the malefactions of all the gods on the heart and soul of that
damned undead bitch – who had a POWER JEWEL of all things; how in God's name
did she acquire something like THAT?! – that had chased her off Sagussa after
she had tried to wipe out those accursed daishi'cha all those years
ago. Taking several minutes to vent out
her continued anger towards the beast that had stopped her from ensuring the
Fifth Republic would NEVER truly rise, the newcomer then relaxed herself as she
took in several deep gulps of air before she crouched down.
Damn!
It had been a sheer miracle
in and of itself that she had been able to nursemaid the ancient warp-sloop she
had stolen to Earth so she could finally deal with the problem that had sent
her hundreds of years back in time in the first place.
Thinking of what had put her
onto this quest, she then moaned.
"My babies . . .!"
Her beloved children.
Dead at the hands of that
woman who had effectively destroyed her life.
Long BEFORE she had ever
known that planet outside the galaxy had ever existed!
The woman who had taken away
her first true love . . .
The woman who had BONDED that
wonderful man to an ONI of all things . . .!
The woman who then came back
and tore that man away from her grasp . . .!
And for WHAT?!
To bring back a dustbowl
of a planet wrecked in a five-century war to LIFE?!
Was it even possible . . .?
Thinking of that, she
shuddered.
No.
It wouldn't happen.
Not this time!
One way or another, the
so-called "grand design" was going to be derailed!
One way or another, her man
was going to be free.
One way or another, those who
hurt her . . .
Who took her babies away from
her . . .
Who killed her people . . .
THEY ALL WOULD PAY!
She then tensed on hearing
the growl of a VERY empty stomach echo through her body.
"Food . . . "
With that, she made her way
towards the glow of city lights to the east . . .
* *
*
Somewhere, a different
dimension,
"You take enormous
risk."
"It's worth
taking."
"To draw HIS wrath on
you? And in HIS chosen domain?!"
A snort. "He really doesn't care for what happens
to mortals. They all – if He is to be
believed – will come to Him eventually, so the 'when' really doesn't
matter!"
"Are you sure?"
That made the Bringer of Balance
pause. "What do you know?"
"He has chosen a mortal
avatar."
A laugh. "The Moroboshi boy? He's nothing deep down. A coward, an idiot and he's enslaved to his
loins. Even his marriage to the Oni
didn't change that!"
"Don't let your current
avatar's inner beliefs influence you."
"It is the truth! How could he accept becoming the 'first
father' of that new race that was planned to arise on His planet without being
enslaved to his loins?"
"And the Daughter of
Gaia? Do you not know of her."
"Feh! Lies!
That thing is no better than a robot . . . "
"You haven't been
looking upon the Earth your avatar now has landed on, have you?"
"There's no
change!"
"Don't be too sure about
that . . . "
* *
*
Local Date and time: Monday 10 May 2011, 7:26 PM MSK
Location: A hidden hill east of Goroda Rjazán',
Rjazanskaja Oblast', Russia,
"Foolish . . . simply
foolish."
An emotionless smirk crossed
Vladímir Tayceško's face.
"And that will destroy
them both in the end . . . "
* *
*
Local Date and time: Tuesday 11 May 2011, 12:29 AM JST
Location: An empty lot in Tomobiki-cho, Nishitokyo-shi,
Tokyo-to, Japan,
The man born Sakurambo Hayao –
known more commonly as "Cherry" these days – perked as a very subtle
flow of disquiet surged into his old body.
As the elderly Jodo-shu monk
stood up from the ground of the abandoned lot located about three blocks from
the Moroboshi home, he turned to gaze at the clear night sky ahead. Personally grateful to the many Avalonians
who had begun using their expertise to start clearing the air pollution that
had accumulated over the Home Islands in the last hundred years – even now,
only fifteen months since the Avalonians had arrived on Earth, the skies over
metropolitan Tokyo were cleaner than he had seen in decades – so he could gaze
upon the stars and try to divine what he had sensed just now from them.
"Darkness . . .
vengeance . . . for what?"
Humming, Cherry moved to
retrieve his cooking pot.
This required further
divination . . .
* *
*
Local Date and time: Monday 10 May 2011, 12:02 PM EDT
Location: H.M.C.S. Haida, Deck 12 Main Hull,
Ship's Central Computer Room,
I had to take a minute to
absorb what I had just read.
When I did, though . . .
Oh, my dear God . . .!
"They're magical gynoids?!"
"They were," Joan
Mercer answered me. Sally had gone off
to fetch some tea for us before we would hit Haida's chief and petty
officer's mess for lunch; even if I was an officer by Canadian military custom,
I had told Brian Gamblin that I didn't mind eating with the lower ranks if the
situation demanded it. "Shortly
after she got her own body, Lady Negako got people to do some research on how
to shift the souls of the Steel Angels into fully organic bodies – while allowing
them to keep their powers – to fulfil a promise she and Major Raeburn had made
to them when they all shut themselves down in 1937 and had their bodies stashed
away to ensure they wouldn't be asked to kill anyone in World War Two. Or afterward." As I nodded, she sighed. "It all got done by last August. Lady Negako was reunited with Miss
Shichinohe, those of the Angels who wanted to go back into being serving
members of the worlds' militaries got their commissions reactivated and they were
back into service and the others were allowed to get on with their
lives." A shake of the head. "None of the one built to represent
Canada in the 'Steel Angel Wars' in the 1920s have come back into service."
"And they're not
persecuted for it?" I asked.
"Of course not,"
Joan stated. "World War Two was bad
enough even with the limited metahuman involvement centred on the War Hawks and
the other groups that were active at the time.
If the Steel Angels had been forced to kill normal people . . . "
I nodded as I took that in,
and then I gazed on the image of one Ayanokoji Hakushi.
This universe's technomage
equivalent to Katsuhito Stingray.
The man who had taken magic
and technology – with a heavy dose of benign necromancy and a few other things
even I had trouble identifying, plus the backing of military forces still
haunted with the images of four years of sheer slaughter in World War Two and a
lot of very radical magical thinkers – to create the Steel Angels.
An honest-to-goodness RACE of
magical
combat gynoids.
Unlike the boomers I had run
into in Megatokyo in 2037 – which could be mass produced within the limits of
the local base-line tech once Genom eliminated Sylia Stingray's father and
"acquired" his patents for their use – the Steel Angels, given their
magical origin, couldn't be made at a whim.
It required materials that weren't available to the common man – or the
common industrial company – which restricted their building to the hands of the
world's various military forces and government-sponsored agencies, backed up by
the advanced magical research teams of local magical ministries. All coordinated by the Academy of Advanced
Sciences, which was based in Japan even if it was a League of Nations-mandated
organisation; so called to ensure that the world "magic" didn't get
out too openly and make the International Conference of Magical Communities
upset at this wild mixing of magical and "muggle" technology.
And given what I had just
read about how these girls came into being . . .
. . . I had to admit that in
so many ways, Ayanokoji was Stingray's superior.
Even more, Ayanokoji enjoyed
a lot better luck than Sylia's dad ever did.
Despite his military backers'
desire to create the perfect soldier that could take over from mere
flesh-and-blood beings that could be poisoned by mustard gas or ripped apart by
machine gun bullets, Ayanokoji Hakushi elected at the start to create girls who
– atop being quite powerful warriors that could easily fight most of MY friends
to a standstill if required – had hearts and souls . . . and the
emotions to express them.
Save in body, they were as
human as one born of a mother's womb.
And in the period of the
Roaring Twenties – with the revulsion against conflict that the mass slaughter
of the "War to End All Wars" had invoked in so many – the Steel
Angels were seen as living symbols of hope and peace in an uncertain age.
Even the so-called
"Steel Angel War" in 1924 really didn't do anything to change that.
After reading the results of
that fight, it was easy for me to conclude.
That "war" was
actually a glorified Olympic Games for gynoids.
Complete with a lot of
cheesecake, too!
Honestly!
Ripping flags off girl's panties
. . .?!
"So they sensed what was
about to come down on Earth in the mid-1930s with the Nazis and the Japanese
militarists," I stated. "When
they realised that war was pretty much inevitable – since such conflicted with
their basic programming to NEVER harm a human being if they could avoid it –
they asked Hiromi's sister and this Raeburn woman to deactivate them all and hide
them in places where they couldn't be found and reactivated to be used as
front-line special troops. Much less
have all the knowledge that went into their creation wiped out given what
Grindelwald and this Tsukuyomi girl was unleashing on the magical side of
things at the same time, right?"
A nod. "Yes."
"Who is this Raeburn
person anyway?"
Joan chuckled. "That's one of our planet's first known
metahuman warriors, Colonel," she said.
"She was the leader of the War Hawks in World War Two."
I gaped at her . . .
* *
*
Local Date and time: Monday 10 May 2011, 12:18 PM EDT
Location: Cooks Mills, north of Canadian Forces Base
Niagara, Welland, Ontario,
"Hey, Laura. Got some coffee?"
Gasping on hearing that
familiar voice from the main door to her personal café, which was located on
the corner of Lyons Creek Road and Doan's Ridge Road before the latter crossed
the creek and entered the base grounds proper, Laura Evans (Captain, Royal
Canadian Artillery, retired) spun around before she smirked on seeing the woman
now standing close to her cashier.
"Dean Raeburn! As I live and
breathe!" the Steel Angel-turned-Avalonian artillery officer-turned-coffee
shop owner and unofficial guardian of all the people working at Canadian Forces
Base Niagara exclaimed before she beckoned the newcomer over to a chair by the
counter. "Your usual, I take
it?"
"Yep," Dean said as
she moved to reach into her jacket to draw out one of her Dutch Masters Honey
Sports cigars . . . and then she stopped as she remembered that smoking indoors
in a public restaurant had been outlawed in Ontario years ago. Health Nazis! the retired air cavalry
pilot and Earth's Jewel Warrior mused to herself as Laura came over with her
preferred cup of Navy brew – with a pinch of sea salt – topped with two creams
and two sugars in a mug.
"Thanks. Noted what's
happened here recently?"
"Ah, yes. Our visitor from another universe. Metahuman sorcerer by the feel of him when he
showed up on the ranges yesterday afternoon," Laura – who, like all Steel
Angels, was an exceptionally beautiful woman, possessing close-cropped curly
red-brown hair and dark brown eyes on a very pretty face – noted as she gave
the other woman a knowing look.
"Currently up in space aboard Haida. Hiromi's people go to him."
"Which is good. Less work for us to deal with."
"True. So what are you doing here anyway?"
"Vlad advised me to keep
an eye on things." A wink. "In his own unique way."
Laura blinked. "Something that interested HIM?!"
"I know. The guy on Haida now got dragged into
our universe thanks to that kid over in Japan who got hold of one of the
Sagussan haijo-ju marks when her soul got yanked from another timeline
with all her friends by a would-be 'master' on Phentax Twelve." As Laura scowled on hearing that – though she
was nodding as she recalled where she had heard about such a person before –
Dean sipped her coffee. "Turns out
our visitor's been busy causing quite big ruckuses in other universes. Typical 'serve the people' type. He's a paramilitary, full colonel, sanctioned
by the U.N. that fights in a team of metas that includes a young goddess Vlad
and I saved some years ago."
The other woman nodded. "Saw something wrong, went to fix
it."
"And that got some
'holier-than-thous' quite pissed off at him.
Had a whole slew of nasties about to make him cash in his dog tags
before Mizuho got him here."
Laura tensed. "Is there a threat?"
A shake of the head. "Nothing clear at the time." A smirk.
"You know how it is with Vlad." As Laura laughed, Dean sighed. "If it was a real threat, he'd tell
me."
The former Steel Angel
nodded. Given what Dean currently
possessed and had be bound since 1889, calling her down on the
head of whatever it was that was out to kill one Douglas Q. Sangnoir – Brian Gamblin
had visited her café on his way in to work and gave her a briefing via a folded
piece of paper; even if Laura was retired from full-time service in the
Regiment of Royal Canadian Artillery and was only seen as a reservist only to
be recalled to duty at time of general mobilisation, deeply-set
"programming" that had been etched with soul-magic in her Angel Heart
when she was first activated back in 1922 still dominated her life – was a
literal case of unleashing an atomic bomb to get rid of a rat infestation. Dean was no Celestial by any shake of the
imagination – the bond between Power Jewel and its chosen Host never went
anywhere close to that type of soul-bond . . . and the Seekers who had created
the Jewels three billion years ago had disappeared from Existence itself, never
being seen again – but she could kill one if required. And had done so several times in World War
Two whenever Axis mystics got a little too out of hand with summoning rituals.
Thank the Creator none of us
were ever active in that time period, Laura then mused.
To actually consort with
THOSE type of disgusting things . . .!
Ugh! No thank you!
"So you're just here to
keep a loose eye on things," Laura noted.
"Yeah."
"I'll get the guest room
ready."
"Thanks . . . "
* *
*
Local Date and time: Monday 10 May 2011, 12:23 PM EDT
Location: H.M.C.S. Haida, Deck 12 Main Hull,
Ship's Central Computer Room,
There are many things about
my visit to Megatokyo in 2037 I hated.
There are many things about
that visit I fondly remembered.
Lisa Vanette's reference to
superheroes, of course.
Given the history of one
Major Deannette A. Raeburn of the Canadian Army . . .
. . . calling her THAT would
probably be seen as quite an insult by the woman.
There was nothing – as she
told friends time and time again during those six dark years that humanity was
exposed to world-wide warfare for the first time – that she had done from the
Battle of Britain to the Battle of the Gates of Nurmengard and the final battle
between her War Hawks and the Übermenschen Gruppe over the waters of Lake
Ontario after VJ Day that she could ever want to view as really heroic.
Certainly, she did nothing to
earn those THREE Victoria Crosses she had been given.
No.
To the very end, Dean Raeburn
saw herself first and foremost as a soldier.
An air cavalry pilot for the
10th Saskatchewan Cavalry Regiment (Air) for the first three years before she
was reassigned by Army HQ to form the 1st Canadian Specialised Warfare Unit –
the War Hawks – with an RCAF Women's Division officer named Flight Officer
Jessica P. Dover (who had been gifted with the power of an honest-to-goodness
Slavic žar-ptíca that didn't mind severing the bonds between mortal avatars
and whatever Celestial-like being was possessing them), a Women's Royal
Canadian Naval Service officer named Second Officer Heather Thompkins (an
arch-mage sorceress who was mostly self-taught born from a normal couple that
was more than willing to fight either the Nazis or Grindelwald), and a Royal
Canadian Mounted Police patrol officer named Staff-Sergeant Martin Larsden (who
had been blessed by a Mi'kmaq shaman after he had saved the fellow's life in
the mid-1930s to make him the perfect hunter of men in civilian life . . . and
by extension, the perfect sniper in warfare).
A soldier – No! Excuse me!
FOUR soldiers! – of the Greatest Generation who gladly volunteered to do
whatever work had to be done to put down evil.
And she was a hero by any
extent of the term.
The Major never liked being
asked to kill people.
She sure as hell didn't like
the idea of using her gift – which came wrapped up in a three billion year old
piece of cosmically-powered crystal that she wore as a necklace around her
neck; influenced by local comic books at the time and a character named
"Captain Marvel," she used her Power Jewel to infuse typical
FISS-type powers for herself when she went into action, ensuring she was also
invulnerable to any sort of magical or psionic attack – and the martial arts
she had learned under Hozan Hirosuke before World War Two to stomp down on
normal soldiers and enemy metahuman warriors alike as a way of delivering a
vicious psychological blow on the Axis.
Hell, that prompted her in
1942 – after she discovered the Nazi's Final Solution after stumbling onto Konzentrationslager
Auschwitz when it was about to kick into high gear – to plan an operation
to take out Hitler and all his cronies in a three-day search-and-assassinate
mission she called "Phoenix Thunder" to bring the war to an end.
Get it done right away and
send the boys home.
Put a stop to all the things
like "strategic bombing" and the like.
Put a human face back on what
was the worst show of inhumanity in human history.
Why the Allied leaders DIDN'T
take her up on that, the Major NEVER understood!
Even with Hitler being allied
with Gellert Grindelwald as Albus Dumbledore's old lover was pursuing his own
maniac vision to unleash the "greater good" for magicals and mundanes
alike, the Major could have pulled it off with literal ease.
All the targets were damned
crunchies, anyway!
It would have been so easy .
. .
Noting that, I had to sigh.
It was easy for me to
understand.
Phoenix Thunder – for all its
wonderful simplicity and its bold vision for a world at peace – was just way too
radical in the eyes of people like Roosevelt and Churchill.
And while she could have
disobeyed, the Major always understood one thing.
She was a soldier.
And thus duty-bound to obey
higher authority.
She had made an oath.
She was honour-bound to keep the oath.
Even if she didn't like some
of the orders she had got.
Even if she and her friends
were ordered to home defence duty for the rest of the war.
Even if she probably cried
when the casualty lists came in every day . . .
Yeah. A real hero.
At least the Canadian Army
leadership let her go in 1954 when she retired.
Thank God for that . . .
* *
*
"Sad reading, isn't
it?" Joan asked.
I smiled. Sally had come back with tea and some light
sandwiches made by Yamaguchi Seina.
"She understood why metas are so feared at times."
"It's like that in your
universe?" Haida's chief intelligence operator wondered.
A nod. "Yeah.
We all strive to make things easy between normals and metahumans and
aliens and all the various artificial intelligences and all that . . . but now
that I think about it, there always has been a little tension there, especially
from normals. My own parents never
really accepted that I was a mutant."
I didn't catch myself in time, but Joan waved it off. "So given this was World War Two – after
millions of people had died – and given how powerful this woman could
potentially be . . . "
"She made an oath on a
Bible when she elected to fly with the Saskatchewans," she said. "'I, Deannette Antonia Raeburn, do swear
that I will well and truly serve Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth the Second, Queen
of Canada, Her Heirs and Successors according to law, in the Canadian Forces
until lawfully released. That I will
resist Her Majesty's Enemies and cause Her Majesty's Peace to be kept and
maintained. And that I will, in all
matters pertaining to my service, faithfully discharge my duty as issued by
lawful authority placed over me in the name of Her Majesty. So help me God.'" Joan smiled.
"Well, it would have been to King George VI when she swore it, but
it's the same idea."
A nod. "A real hero."
"No. A real soldier. One who knew what she could do . . . but also
knew that she was probably the only one who could actually do it." Joan waved to the computer terminal I had
been using to skim through Haida's Tapestry to learn more about the
leader of the War Hawks. "And was
it really her responsibility in the end to shoulder the burden of the whole
damned war by herself? And even if she
did do it, what then? If she went too
far without stopping herself, she would actually make those she was trying to
protect actually FEAR her." As I
gaped at her, she smiled. "C'mon,
you know this! Humans are funny that
way, Colonel. Yeah, the Major could've
put a full stop to World War Two over two years earlier. Why it wasn't allowed?" A shrug.
"I really can't say, Colonel.
Maybe because the hate and fear and anger and ambition that fired off
that war were just too great even for the 'protector of all life' . . . " –
she made finger-quotes on saying that – " . . . to go out and deal with on
her lonesome."
"Too many cooks with
their hands in the broth making too much of a mess," Sally noted before
taking a sandwich slice and nibbling on it.
"And when the mess go too big, everyone had to go in to clean it
up. With their own ideas of doing
it."
I hummed. "Is that why Mizuho isn't a part of the
EDF?"
Both senior NCOs before me
blinked before nodded. "The Inada
girl?" Joan asked. "Of
course. Sure, that Staff of hers can seriously
help her kick anyone's butt if she wanted to do that . . . but she's went through
Hell to get here, Colonel. To force her
to serve with us just wouldn't be right.
She deserves a normal life."
"Besides, if she's
needed, she probably would volunteer to help," Sally added. "Look what she did for you when you got
pulled here, Colonel."
I blinked, and then
sighed. "Right . . . "
* *
*
Local Date and time: Monday 10 May 2011, 12:52 PM EDT
Location: H.M.C.S. Haida, Deck A12 Aft, Flag
Officer's Level,
"Enter!"
"You busy right now,
Hiromi?!"
Hiromi perked on hearing that
voice, and then she smiled. "Come
in, Doug-san!"
The door opened to reveal a
dashing man with strawberry-blonde hair – said hair being a little bit longer
than what would normally be accepted in the noble Army of the United States of
America, but few might notice from a distance and all aboard Haida at
the time wouldn't really care – and very deep blue eyes. He was dressed in Army Class "B"
service uniform, looking quite proper despite the medals and decorations there
not even coming close to reflect his true experiences, but shortcuts had to be
made as the chances of someone who might question the presence of an unknown
civilian aboard the UNEDF flagship at this time were still quite strong. As soon as her ship's current visitor could
determine his proper need and a potential time frame for his eventual return
back – hopefully! – to his home dimension was determined, things would change.
"So how can I help you
in thanks for sparing me from having my brain brutalised by calculus?"
Hiromi then asked as she gazed gratefully at Doug.
The older man perked. "Calculus? What type?"
"I still empathically
don't know, to be frank with you," the reborn emperor of the Latter Hàn
mused as she set aside her books.
"I can use the break for a bit.
Much that I am perversely grateful for being freed from boring lectures,
being forced to study practically on my own does have its downfalls as
well." She then blinked. "You seem very bothered by
something. Did you discover something
bad?"
"No, but I am
concerned," Doug admitted as he sat down beside her, taking a second to
scan over the calculus formulae written there and nodding. "Same as my universe." As Hiromi chuckled, he sighed. "It's about Inada Mizuho. And her friend."
"The Staff of the mad
scientist Gihan, you mean."
"Yeah. How's your sister teaching her how to use
that thing?"
"Trial and error . . .
within reason, Doug-san," she answered.
"One-sama has always been of the opinion that students best learn
from their mistakes. While understanding
that Mizuho-san might get out of control if something happens to make her lose
control of herself, Onê-sama does allow her to explore the Staff's capabilities
on her own. Only giving her the
necessary guidance when she needs it . . . as witness what happened when she
wanted to bring your wife here to join you." As Doug nodded in understanding, the director
of the UNEDF sighed. "It's not a
perfect system, but it does work."
"I could give her some
better training," he then offered.
Her eyebrow arched, and then
she nodded. "True. Well, let's go ask One-sama . . . "
"You need not call for
me, Hiromi. I am here."
Doug screamed out at the
closeness of that voice, spinning around . . .
. . . to find himself staring
face-to-face with a woman in her early twenties who looked like she was
Hiromi's elder sister . . . save for a fuller head of wavy brown hair that was
still cut to a taper at the neck and eyes that were nearly pitch-black up
close. She was also dressed in a black
martial arts gi with a black belt on her waist, said gi having a gold ? kanji written at the end of the
belt.
"ONE-SAMA!"
Hiromi screamed out . . .
* *
*
Local
Date and time: Monday 10 May 2011, 12:55
PM EDT
Location: Cooks Mills, north of Canadian Forces Base
Niagara, Welland, Ontario,
"Damn
. . . she nails EVERYONE with that trick of hers."
"What
was that, Dean?" Laura Evans asked.
Dean
Raeburn smirked. "Private joke,
Laurie . . . "
The
Steel Angel hummed . . .
Canadian lighthouse to U.S. Warship approaching it: "This is a lighthouse. Your call!"