Tia.
An alarm beeps in Norio’s control sphere. His mecha’s sensors tell him that missiles in the base have locked on.
“You’d really kill me?” he asks.
“I’ve killed before,” says Tia.
“Sundar dies if I die,” says Norio.
Tia’s gaze wavers. “Sundar built your mechas,” she says. “I knew it.”
“Well, he designed them,” says Norio. “I had them built. But yes, it’s his work. His last work, as it turns out. Goodbye.” He waves his hand, and the holo-screen disappears. Goryo’s demon-mecha powers up, plasma cannons emerging, ready for a desperate charge at Aman’s base.
Overriding Norio’s communication systems, a holo-screen pops up in front of his face.
“Let’s talk,” says Aman.
* * *
Goryo, Amabie and Oni dock into the submarine bay. A squadron of grim, rifle-toting Tias escort them out of their mechas. Oni staggers off with a Tia. Norio attempts casual banter, but these Tias do not respond. They wait until Norio and Azusa have taken off their armour-suits, and then frogmarch them through stalactite caverns and metal corridors until they reach Aman’s war room. Three Tias stay in the room, guns casually pointed at Norio and Azusa.
* * *
Norio’s face lights up when he sees Aman, and all the threatening things Aman had planned to say disappear in a barrage of compliments. Aman had quickly looked up appropriate formal bows, but Norio is almost American in his greetings. Thankfully, he stops short of being European. It is only when a Tia tells Norio firmly to shut it, that this effusiveness stops. Norio sits down at the head of the long conference table, three chairs away from Aman, and grins ruefully. Azusa stands beside him, staring coldly at the security Tias.
“I have behaved terribly so far,” Norio says. “From the bottom of my heart, I apologise.”
“Well, I suppose we started it,” says Aman. “Tell us, then. What’s the plan?”
“I want you to come back with me to Tokyo,” says Norio. “There’s a new armour waiting there that’s just your size. It’s like the one Jai Mathur wears – he stole it from you, didn’t he?”
“That was a long time ago,” says Aman. “And I don’t know if I want more armour. I’m no fighter.”
“The armour is just a gift. So you will be safe in the world outside, and will have no reason to hide any more,” says Norio. He stands up, his eyes shining. “I don’t expect you to offer your unique services for nothing. As for whatever you’re building here, whatever you’re planning to do, the Hisatomi zaibatsu has considerable resources that are now at your disposal. Do you build machines here? We specialise in rare metals, you know. Indium, neodymium, gallium, whatever you want. You obviously have all the money you need, but believe me, I have systems. All yours. No obligations.”
“That’s very generous,” says Aman. “But I don’t need to run an industrial empire.”
“Yes, but you do need an offline presence to match—”
“Secondary,” says Aman firmly. “What do you want from me?”
“Many things. But I do not come to you empty-handed. I come to you with hospitals, a fleet, a—”
“Stop,” says Aman.
“No, don’t,” says a voice from the door.
Rowena slides in. “Rowena, go back to your room,” says a Tia behind Azusa. “We’ll talk later.”
“I want to know more about the hospitals,” Rowena says. “I’m sorry for butting in, but I need patients.”
Norio surveys Rowena with great interest. “What do you do?” he asks.
“She’s not a super,” says Aman. “She’s our base doctor, and she’s leaving.”
But Rowena stays where she is.
Norio shuffles a chair closer to Aman and a Tia comes up behind them.
“I’ve noticed bad things happen when you move around,” she says.
Norio waves apologetically and leans closer.
“Do you know how my father died?” he asks.
“Yes,” says Aman. “And I thought you’d refused to work with supers after that.”
“I
An alarm beeps in Norio’s control sphere. His mecha’s sensors tell him that missiles in the base have locked on.
“You’d really kill me?” he asks.
“I’ve killed before,” says Tia.
“Sundar dies if I die,” says Norio.
Tia’s gaze wavers. “Sundar built your mechas,” she says. “I knew it.”
“Well, he designed them,” says Norio. “I had them built. But yes, it’s his work. His last work, as it turns out. Goodbye.” He waves his hand, and the holo-screen disappears. Goryo’s demon-mecha powers up, plasma cannons emerging, ready for a desperate charge at Aman’s base.
Overriding Norio’s communication systems, a holo-screen pops up in front of his face.
“Let’s talk,” says Aman.
* * *
Goryo, Amabie and Oni dock into the submarine bay. A squadron of grim, rifle-toting Tias escort them out of their mechas. Oni staggers off with a Tia. Norio attempts casual banter, but these Tias do not respond. They wait until Norio and Azusa have taken off their armour-suits, and then frogmarch them through stalactite caverns and metal corridors until they reach Aman’s war room. Three Tias stay in the room, guns casually pointed at Norio and Azusa.
* * *
Norio’s face lights up when he sees Aman, and all the threatening things Aman had planned to say disappear in a barrage of compliments. Aman had quickly looked up appropriate formal bows, but Norio is almost American in his greetings. Thankfully, he stops short of being European. It is only when a Tia tells Norio firmly to shut it, that this effusiveness stops. Norio sits down at the head of the long conference table, three chairs away from Aman, and grins ruefully. Azusa stands beside him, staring coldly at the security Tias.
“I have behaved terribly so far,” Norio says. “From the bottom of my heart, I apologise.”
“Well, I suppose we started it,” says Aman. “Tell us, then. What’s the plan?”
“I want you to come back with me to Tokyo,” says Norio. “There’s a new armour waiting there that’s just your size. It’s like the one Jai Mathur wears – he stole it from you, didn’t he?”
“That was a long time ago,” says Aman. “And I don’t know if I want more armour. I’m no fighter.”
“The armour is just a gift. So you will be safe in the world outside, and will have no reason to hide any more,” says Norio. He stands up, his eyes shining. “I don’t expect you to offer your unique services for nothing. As for whatever you’re building here, whatever you’re planning to do, the Hisatomi zaibatsu has considerable resources that are now at your disposal. Do you build machines here? We specialise in rare metals, you know. Indium, neodymium, gallium, whatever you want. You obviously have all the money you need, but believe me, I have systems. All yours. No obligations.”
“That’s very generous,” says Aman. “But I don’t need to run an industrial empire.”
“Yes, but you do need an offline presence to match—”
“Secondary,” says Aman firmly. “What do you want from me?”
“Many things. But I do not come to you empty-handed. I come to you with hospitals, a fleet, a—”
“Stop,” says Aman.
“No, don’t,” says a voice from the door.
Rowena slides in. “Rowena, go back to your room,” says a Tia behind Azusa. “We’ll talk later.”
“I want to know more about the hospitals,” Rowena says. “I’m sorry for butting in, but I need patients.”
Norio surveys Rowena with great interest. “What do you do?” he asks.
“She’s not a super,” says Aman. “She’s our base doctor, and she’s leaving.”
But Rowena stays where she is.
Norio shuffles a chair closer to Aman and a Tia comes up behind them.
“I’ve noticed bad things happen when you move around,” she says.
Norio waves apologetically and leans closer.
“Do you know how my father died?” he asks.
“Yes,” says Aman. “And I thought you’d refused to work with supers after that.”
“I
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