Disclaimer:
August 26, 2007 -- Northern Washington DC -- A Seemingly Abandoned
Industrial Estate
“For crying out loud, Sean, can't you keep the damage down?
These things are a pain to rebuild.”
In the year since Gabe had been reunited with Cori and had gotten
to know Sean, the trio had become a common sight together.
While Cori watched over the combat tests between Sean and the Red
Type battle armors, Gabe was the one fixing the armors before joining
Cori to look over the test footage more closely and analyze the results.
It had been interesting, to say the least, in what had resulted:
Gabe would inevitably try to introduce something new to see how
it worked, not only helping to push the limits of the Red Type armors,
but also to keep Sean on his toes.
Needless to say, more often than not those tests meant a lot of
work for Gabe. Case in
point: the wrecked remains
of the Red Type battle armor that Gabe had been controlling via remote,
which he was now standing over and shaking his head.
The torso of the armor, which housed the cockpit, was bisected
vertically by Guyver US, courtesy of his vibrational swords -- an
instant death for the pilot, had there been one.
The legs were still standing, in spite of significant damage to
the armor and chassis, but the rest of the exo-armor was on the floor,
leaving a trail of exposed wiring and littering the area with armor
fragments and smaller components.
“It's not my fault the Red Type armors weren't meant to fight
someone like me,” Guyver US’s mechanically-distorted voice replied.
A moment later, there was a sound of displaced air as the
bio-armor retracted, and Sean came over to stand beside Gabe.
“Still, though, it was a nice workout.”
“Like you even broke a sweat,” Gabe muttered.
“Hell, these things were never meant for military application.
They're supposed to be a next-generation space suit for NASA.
Repurposing them for combat duty...”
His voice trailed off.
“I know Carter and Dr. Drake need every bit of firepower they can
get, but the hydraulics and armor alone limit the overall
effectiveness.” He knelt
down to pick up one of the armor fragments.
“This is supposed to be good enough for a tank, Sean, and you
sliced right through it like a hot knife through butter.”
“The Zoanoids won't be able to do that.
These tests are really unfair for you and the Red armors.
We knew that going in.”
Sean knelt down beside Gabe, glancing for a moment at the
observation control booth where Cori was gathering all the data before
looking back at Gabe again.
“By the way, there's something I've been meaning to ask you.”
“Fire away.”
Sean paused for a moment, then dove right in.
“Why do you call Cori 'Sis' all the time?”
Gabe glanced over at Sean.
“She told you about my parents, right?
What happened to them?”
“Drunk driver hit them head-on.
Killed them both instantly.”
“Right.” Gabe tossed
the armor fragment over towards the still-standing legs of the
exo-armor. “When that
happened, Marcus and Cori became the closest thing to family I had left.
Marcus essentially became a second father.”
He looked back at the booth where Cori was hard at work.
“Of course, that meant that Cori was adopted as my annoying
little sister.”
“I heard that!” came Cori's voice over the intercom.
“Now you've done it,” Sean said wryly, though there was a bit of
a grin on his face.
“That's all right,” Gabe replied.
“She'll forgive me as soon as I make a batch of my lasagna.
She knows who makes the best on base, and it ain't the military
cooks here.”
“Very funny. You
still owe me that recipe, you know.”
“Not my fault you keep forgetting to ask me about it, Sis.
Besides, you kept disappearing for months at a time.
You really need to quit doing that.
Otherwise I'm not doing my job as your adopted big brother.”
“Save it. Get up
here, both of you. We've got
data to crunch.”
A couple of minutes later, the trio sat in the observation booth
while Cori replayed the battle footage for them.
The battle was just as lopsided as Sean's earlier words had
proclaimed: forty-two
seconds had passed from start to finish, with Guyver US making use of
his vibrational swords and infrared laser orb, as well as a few solid
kicks and punches that actually put some dents in the Red exo-armor's
armor panels. Finally, the
top half of the exo-armor was severed through the cockpit with a solid
hit from the vibrational swords, and Guyver US had delivered one last
roundhouse kick to knock the torso and arms off the rest of the body.
“Sean does have a point, Gabe,” Cori finally said.
“These tests aren't fair, even with all the effort you've put
into trying to make it more of a challenge.
What we really need is to test these things against some Zoanoids
and let the Red Types duke it out with them.”
“Good luck trying to convince Carter of that,” Sean said.
“I think he plans to hold tight and stockpile as much as he can
before making his move.
There's something to be said for making preparations.”
“There is that,” Gabe finally admitted, leaning back in his
chair. “And I know this
testing is flawed, at least in gauging the performance of the exo-armor
itself. But it does give us
some insights into just how powerful the Guyver unit is, when
activated.” He frowned a
little bit. “It doesn't mean
I have to like it, but there's only so much that can be done right now,
at least with the available technology.”
Cori saw Gabe's expression suddenly grow thoughtful.
“What are you thinking of?”
Gabe glanced up.
“Umm, just thinking of possibilities.”
From General Carter's office, both the general and Dr. Drake were
observing the same footage, as well as listening in on the trio's
conversation. “He's wrecked
seven Red Type armors in testing,” Carter commented.
“I think we're going to have to begin with the alternative.
We can't afford to keep rebuilding the exo-armors like this.”
“Agreed.” Dr. Drake
leaned back in his chair.
“Though I have to admit, Gabriel's done some things I had never
originally considered. His
work with these tests are why I've already begun drafting a new battle
armor design: the Blue Type.
Hopefully with some of the engineering advancements I've been
keeping track of, it will boost the armor's efficiency in combat.”
“Fair enough.” Carter
looked at the screen closely.
“Kelso's deep in thought.
Thinking of perhaps the next modification to the Red Type?”
“I don't think so,” Dr. Drake disagreed, gazing at the screen as
well. “He's not happy about
what he's seen the Guyver to be capable of, and he knows he hasn't seen
everything that Sean's unit is capable of doing.”
He grew quiet for a moment.
“I'll talk with him later, pick his brain and let him know that
further Red Type testing against Sean is off-limits for the time being.”
========================================================================================
August 26, 2007 – 10:17pm
It’s been a little over a year since Sean and Cori arrived, and I’ve
spent the vast majority of the time available with them:
learning about Cori’s research in more detail, seeing just what
Sean is capable of with the Guyver unit, and generally making up for
lost time. In many ways,
it’s been fantastic: Cori
really is the closest to family I have left now, and I feel a lot better
knowing that she’s safe.
I should consider myself fortunate that we were given the
go-ahead to try out the Red Type Battle Armor against Sean, just to get
an idea of how capable it would be, but I have the feeling that
eventually our good fortune will run out.
The test earlier today is only adding further confirmation to
what I already knew going in:
the Red Types will have their hands full with Zoanoids and the
occasional Hyper-Zoanoid.
They have no chance at all against a Guyver, and try as I might, the
technology we currently have on hand isn’t enough.
Cori knows something’s on my mind – as my adopted “kid sister”,
she’s been around me long enough to read the signs.
But there’s got to be something better than this.
Mobility is a necessity; but mobility means trading away armor
and protection, making it more vulnerable to brute force when it gets
hit. So mobility also
requires speed. If there was
a way to heighten response time, and find an alternative means of
defense... something to think about.
========================================================================================
The next day...
“Dr. Drake wants to see you, Gabe.
He said to buzz you right in.”
Gabe stopped, looking back at the lab's receptionist.
Lacey Hamilton had been at the ACTF base from the beginning, and
more often than not was the one who made sure the techs didn't let
themselves go for too long without certain necessities like food, drink
and the like. She was an
absolute dear, and everybody made a point of treating her as best they
could. And Gabe was
suspicious that Lacey, who was close to his own age, had a bit of a
crush on him. “Don't suppose
he told you what this is about, did he?” he asked.
“I’m afraid not.”
“Fair enough. Thanks,
Lace. I'll drop my stuff off
at my office. Go ahead and
let him know I'll be there in a second.”
Even as Gabe turned to head towards his office, he saw Lacey
blush at the nickname. From
what he could tell, he was the only one that Lacey allowed to call her
that. Smiling to himself, he
unlocked the door to his office with his passcard and left his satchel
on his ever-cluttered desk, then headed back out, the door locking
behind him as it shut. A
moment later, Lacey buzzed him into Dr. Drake's office, where the good
doctor was waiting. “What's
up, doc?”
“Grab a seat, Gabe.”
Dr. Drake leaned back in his chair as Gabe moved to sit down across the
desk from him. “The general
and I watched your latest test.”
“It wasn't much of a test.
Sean's slicing and dicing the Red Types up like a professional
chef.”
“So we noticed.” Dr.
Drake sighed. “The general
is running with an alternative testing plan, one that should be fairer
to the Red Type and its abilities.
So, no more Red Type testing with Sean for the time being.”
“Freaking out about the damage, is he?”
“You've been through seven exo-armors in the last year, Gabe.”
“One,” Gabe corrected.
“I've just rebuilt it six times, and was about to start on the
seventh.”
“Don't bother.
General Carter already had the remains carted out to be melted down and
recycled.” Dr. Drake leaned
forward. “As it is, Sean and
Cori are getting a new handler to replace Atkins, so they're going to be
pretty busy for the next little while.”
“Anyone I know?”
“Doubtful. Jason
O'Connor is his name. FBI
affiliation. He lost his new
wife and most all of his family on X-Day, and he spent several months
recovering. Atkins brought
him in, and General Carter has been getting O'Connor up to speed.
Today's the day the general is going to introduce them and get
them together.”
“Fun.” Gabe shrugged
after a moment. “I hope this
isn't Carter trying to keep me out of helping Cori with her research.”
“That's up to the general to decide.”
Dr. Drake leaned back again, studying Gabe intently.
“That said, I want your thoughts on it all:
Sean and his capabilities, the armor, all of it.”
“We'd better hope we can develop much bigger guns, and can use
them much faster. The Red
Types won't stand a chance against the Guyver unit, so we'd better hope
Chronos doesn't have any of their own, or discover the means to repair
the one Crane activated in Utah.
The best I've been able to do is refine certain elements of the
Red Type design.”
“You made them more modular, I noticed.
Some of those components you used in previous tests were
inspired, even if they didn't work out quite as expected.”
“Yeah.” Gabe sighed
softly. “Doc, the Red Types
are just too slow. They
might be able to do the job against Chronos and their standard type
Zoanoids, but they aren't going to cut it against the stronger types.
They're too bulky, too slow to react.”
“And that's what got you flustered yesterday.”
Dr. Drake smiled. “I
saw the expression on your face.
Out with it.”
Gabe frowned. “You
can't compete against Guyvers, flat-out.
You're looking at problems trying to deal with anything stronger
than the typical basic Zoanoid types that Chronos has cooked up.
The anti-Zoanoid rifles are okay, but it's still leaving the
stronger Zoanoid types to contend with, never mind the Zoalords
themselves. We have to look
at other options.”
“I'm working on a prototype design for a Blue Type battle armor,
but the technology needs to catch up.
They'll be faster and more responsive than the Red Types, if all
goes well.”
“That isn't enough.
Making them faster and more mobile is fine and good, but there's got to
be a way to do it without shelling out millions for a battle armor.”
Dr. Drake studied the younger man intently.
“Go on.”
Gabe was quiet for a moment.
“I'm not ready to say yet, Doc.
I don't know that it'll even work, to be honest.
It's certainly not going to have the protection of a Red Type.
Probably wind up on par with Chronos' standard Zoanoids in
durability, if I can work it right.
As it is, I need to figure out just what sort of specific
function it should entail.”
He looked up at Dr. Drake.
“Give me some time to see what I can put together.
More than likely, it's not going to work, but I have some vague
ideas I want to test out.”
Dr. Drake nodded.
“Fair enough, Gabe. Work on
it and see what you can come up with.”
========================================================================================
February 19, 2008 – 11:47pm
I’ve been through six different preliminary design sketches for
my idea over the last six months, and every time I keep running into the
same brick wall. Too many
trade-offs to get what I’m aiming for, and lack of the technology to
make it functional.
I’ve tried to take what I’ve learned from the Red Type design and
Doc’s Blue Type prototype design and use those as benchmarks, but it’s
always the same: minimal, if
not a complete lack of armor, to give the suit the mobility and speed it
needs. Adding any
significant armor slows everything down, and the simulations alone don’t
justify taking the design sketches from preliminary into any attempt at
fabrication. Never mind the
fact that what we do have for fabrication is set solely to the Red Type
at present, and waiting for the Blue Type prototype to be given the nod
before switching over to it.
The crux of the problem is that there’s no way to plan for what
Chronos can put into the field.
About the only configuration worth a damn is to build towards a
stealth-based functionality, but there’s no way to really do that with
an exo-armor – at least, not with the technology on hand.
That might change if we could regain access to the DARPA or ARL
servers and get better fabrication facilities, but even then I don’t
know. Granted, even the Red
Types are light-years beyond what DARPA and others have put forward for
a powered exoskeleton, but it needs to be smaller, more compact.
If Moore’s law holds true, we should be able to see something in
the next two to four years that would be closer to what I envision.
But right now... back to the drawing board.
========================================================================================
Grumbling to himself, Gabe finished writing up his latest journal
entry and leaned back in his chair, shaking his head slowly.
Dealing with the standard Chronos Zoanoid types weren't the
problem; he knew the Red Types could handle themselves, after hearing
about several tests that had been conducted courtesy of Carter's
alternative plan: kidnap
known Zoanoids and pit them against the Red Types.
Those who did manage to survive the Red Types were quickly dealt
with by Guyver US. The
problem was the more powerful Zoanoids, and while the ACTF didn't have
much data on them, there was just enough to know that they would be a
serious issue.
Standing up, he made his way out of the office and the lab
complex, heading for his favorite spot on base aside from his personal
quarters: a refurbished
warehouse that had been set up for teaching urban combat to ACTF troops.
It served a secondary purpose as well:
it doubled as the perfect running ground for Gabe to practice his
parkour skills. And frankly,
a good run was exactly what he needed to clear his head.
He paused halfway there,
however, at the sight of one of the bulletin boards, where a new notice
had been posted:
TO: All
ACTF Personnel
FROM:
General Carter
SUBJECT:
Training for Personnel
Effective immediately, all ACTF personnel are
required to submit a training regimen, including self-defense classes.
Preparations for our mobilization are proceeding apace, and
everyone should be ready to do their part.
Refer to your ACTF accounts for emails regarding specifics.
You’ve gotta be shittin’ me,
Gabe thought to himself.
Next he’ll want me training the ACTF for parkour.
Shaking his head, he made his way on to the warehouse to begin
his run.
Nearly an hour later, Gabe returned to his quarters, glancing at
the clock: 10:42pm.
With a sigh, he plopped down onto his bed, reaching over to get
his laptop and flip it open.
Logging into his ACTF account, Gabe perused the new message again, this
time with an expanded list of self-defense classes.
Thankfully, parkour wasn't on the list for him to teach.
The list, however, was interesting:
aikido, karate, kickboxing, Krav Maga, tai chi--
He paused for a moment, then clicked on the link for tai chi.
It certainly looked interesting.
Tai chi (or t’ai chi ch’uan, as he quickly learned the full name)
seemed right up his alley:
an internalized martial art that focused on defense and benefits to
health. He glanced down at
the training times, noting them, then closed the laptop.
It was time to get some rest before the start of a new day.
April 23, 2008 -- Two months
later
With a muffled whoosh, Gabe hit the training mat, gasping
for breath and inwardly cursing himself.
His sparring partner had come at him, and Gabe's reactions were
slow and plodding, as if he wanted to be anywhere but in this room at
his moment. It was something
that his instructor had noticed for some time now; two months in, and
Gabe still appeared to be intimidated by physical force.
“Kelso, you can't be afraid of what's coming at you.”
David Chang was the forty-two year old tai chi instructor for
Gabe's class, and was now standing over him, offering a hand to the
younger man. “Being afraid
gives your opponent every advantage over you.”
He stepped back. “Get
up, and try again.”
“I'm just not used to this,” Gabe admitted, wincing a bit as he
stood up. “Normally I just
outran the bullies.”
“That speaks for your endurance, if nothing else.”
Chang smiled faintly.
“No one is an expert at any martial art after their first few practices.
It's going to take time.
Just be patient.”
The training continued, and at the end of the ninety-minute
session, Chang called a halt, letting the class know the next training
session time and what they would be practicing.
“Kelso?” he ended, “my office.”
There were the assorted snickers and some heckling from the rest
of the class as they filed out, leaving Gabe to grab his towel before
heading to Chang's office.
“What's up?'
“Take a seat, Gabe.”
Chang gestured to a nearby chair as he sat down at his desk.
“You're not the only one who's having difficulties with all of
this. The other trainers are
having similar concerns as well from some of the base personnel.”
“I've heard some of the complaints,” Gabe admitted as he sat
down. “A lot of them aren't
used to that sort of physical exertion.”
“All the more reason to get everyone in shape,” Chang replied.
“But right now, I want to focus on you.
Training isn't meant to hurt you here.”
“It's complicated.”
“Enlighten me.”
Gabe paused for a few moments.
“When I was a kid, I was pretty much what you see now.
I had a fair number of kids that bullied me.
The only reason it stopped was because I got very good at
outrunning them, and they decided it was a waste of time, so they moved
on to other targets: other
guys that couldn't, or wouldn't, defend themselves.
That just made it all the worse, because surviving that bullying
wasn't enough for me. When
they started on other people--”
He broke off suddenly, then shrugged as he stared off into space.
“I don't like bullies, Dave.
I don't have any use for them.”
“Hence the computer hacking.”
Chang nodded slowly.
“I read your file.”
“Then that should tell you everything,” Gabe replied.
He looked back at Chang.
“Dave, I understand wanting people to defend themselves, but I'm
worried that it might go too far.”
Chang leaned back in his chair.
“Go on.”
“I... I don't want to lose myself.
I'm not a strong man.
I understand the value of strength--”
“--and yet you'd prefer not to hurt anyone.”
Chang was quiet for a moment before continuing.
“You have compassion, Gabe, and that's a good trait to have.
So long as you keep in mind that this training is to defend
yourself, rather than go out and try to be a hot-shot like some people
have in class, you'll be fine.
You just need to relax.
Don't stress yourself out.
Take it slow and steady.”
Gabe nodded. “Fair
enough.” He stood up after a
moment from the chair. “I
need to get back to work.
I've got a lot to do, between making certain the Red Types are
certifiable and working on a potential prototype for Dr. Drake for a
second armor.” He headed for
the door, but paused, turning back to face Chang.
“I'll be back for the next practice session.
Promise.”
The next evening...
“Miss me?”
Gabe stood at the door to Cori's and Sean's quarters, a large
casserole dish in hand. It
was Lasagna Night, and even though the three of them didn't get to spend
as much time together as before, they still found ways to meet up and
hang out together.
“I missed the lasagna more.”
Cori snatched the dish out of Gabe's hands with a smirk.
“Come on in. Sean
will be here in a few minutes -- tonight's the aikido class, and he's
been teaching it.”
“Yeah, I noticed that when the bulletin came out a couple of
months ago.” Gabe stepped
inside, moving to sit down in one of the chairs.
“I considered it briefly in passing, but opted for something
else.”
“Yeah. How's the tai
chi going?”
“I still keep getting hit.
I do better with the meditative aspects, at least.”
“You'll be fine.”
Cori set the dish down on the table.
“Dave Chang's a good guy, from what I've heard.”
She looked up at Gabe.
“How's things going in the lab with Dr. Drake?”
“Busy. The Red Type
design is finalized, and it's in production now.
He's working up a Blue Type design, and I've been helping him
some with it.”
“And your own work?”
Gabe paused, looking up at Cori.
“What work?”
“Come on, Gabe. I
knowyou. You've been
dissatisfied with the entire battle armor concept ever since the testing
with Sean's Guyver unit, and I'm not stupid.
How's your design?”
“Non-existent.” Gabe
leaned back. “Eight months,
down the proverbial drain.
The technology just isn't here yet.
We'll be lucky for the Red and Blue Types to hold their own
against Zoanoids, but I don't like the idea of thinking we're the only
ones with a Guyver on our side.”
“Chronos doesn't have one, Gabe.”
“Not after Sean took out Arlen Crane, no.
But if Chronos manages to find more, I cringe to think of how
quickly the tide might turn.”
At that moment, the door opened up and Sean stepped in.
“Hello, beautiful,” he said, moving over to give Cori a kiss
before turning towards Gabe.
“Hey, Gabe. Chang says
you're working out better than most so far.”
“I'm still getting hit, Sean.
Isn’t that supposed to be a cardinal sin?”
Sean chuckled quietly.
“Yeah, but David's still raving over you.
He and I talked some earlier today.”
He glanced between Cori and Gabe.
“Something going on?”
“Gabe's still frustrated over the Red Type testing.”
“Eight months and you're still on that?”
Sean shook his head.
“And here I thought Cori was the only one of us with that sort of
persistence.” He winced
then, as a well-aimed elbow caught his ribs.
“Ow! That was meant
as a compliment, Cori.”
“Keep it up, Sean.”
Cori sighed theatrically.
“What's a girl to do?”
“I'm staying out of this one,” Gabe said, raising his hands.
“Besides, I'm pretty hungry.
Let's eat.”
June 8, 2009 -- Nearly
fourteen months later
“Okay, let's talk shop for a moment.”
Dr. Drake sat at the head of the table, with different scientists
and engineers seated around the perimeter.
Lacey Hamilton was seated off to the side, playing the role of
stenographer. It was one of
the six-month update meetings, where the technical group got together to
assess where they stood and how much additional mobilization was
required before General Carter gave the go-ahead for the ACTF to begin
retaking America.
Gabe was seated next to Cori, leaning back in his chair as
several of the groups gave their reports.
He wasn't exactly happy to be in this meeting, despite
understanding the necessity of the updates.
Carter was starting to get anxious about how time-consuming the
preparations were, given that is was closing in on three years since
X-Day. Aside from one
incident where the Pillars of Heaven in Washington DC was attacked by
some unknown force, things had been quiet, and it was reaching a point
where humanity was becoming acclimated to their Chronos overlords.
His musings were interrupted as Dr. Drake looked towards Cori.
“Cori, how's the studies on the Guyver unit proceeding?”
“Fair enough, all things considered,” Cori replied.
“Gabe's been helping me with some of the work during his free
time, so that's been a bonus.
That said, the technology is honestly well beyond us.
Sean's said that the unit is composed of organic and inorganic
components – at least, that was what he learned from his ex-girlfriend
after Chronos LA, since that's what Fulton Balcus's scientists had told
him in her presence. But we
think Chronos may have been wrong.”
Dr. Drake leaned back in his chair.
“Keep going.”
“Sir, the best we can determine is that the Guyver unit is
organic. Even the metallic
and crystalline components of the bio-armor have an organic basis.
That said, the Guyver unit is the biggest gun we have.”
Dr. Drake glanced over at Gabe.
“And you concur with Cori's analysis?”
“There's no other way to explain it,” Gabe admitted.
“But yes, I agree.”
“And the Red Types?
How is that progressing?”
This was another thing that Gabe hated; four months earlier, Dr.
Drake had placed Gabe in charge of the Red Type armors while he focused
more on the Blue Type armor design.
He hadn't liked dealing with all the logistics, but he also
realized that Dr. Drake was leaning on him more, especially with work
progressing on the Blue Types.
He sighed, pushing the thoughts away to focus on the moment.
“We have two hundred Red Types in service, and we're working on
tripling that number within the next year.
No more refinements on the design, just getting them built as
quickly as possible.” He
shrugged after a moment.
“We're averaging five a week, and that's mostly because of watching our
energy consumption so that any Chronos satellites don't pick us up.
There's talk of finding a way to better insulate the heat and
keep it from showing, which is something we're waiting on right now –
once that's handled, we can ramp up production some more...”
Dr. Drake caught the way Gabe's voice trailed off.
“More logistical problems on your end?”
“What? Oh no.”
Gabe shook his head.
“I was just thinking, if we can get the production ramped up and you
finalize the Blue Type design, perhaps we could shift production over to
the Blue Type and get it going as well.
I can't give you an estimate for how many Blue Types we can get
ready, though, not without getting the plans and refitting the assembly
line for the new production model.”
Dr. Drake nodded after a moment.
“Blue Type will be finalized within the next two to three months.
The insulation should be done within four weeks, as I've been
told.” He paused for a
moment. “The plans for both
the Red and Blue Types will need to be uploaded for dissemination,
however. There's resistance
movements in several major cities that are growing, and they have
manufacturing capabilities that will allow us to accelerate production
on the battle armors. It'll
also save us time trying to transport the armors out of Washington.
“To that end,” he continued, looking around at everyone, “I'm
shifting assignments around:
Scott Matthew will take over battle armor production.
Gabe, I'll want you to put together the best encryption and
decryption protocols you can for the data transfers.
You have two weeks to get it done.”
“Understood,” Gabe said, leaning back.
The glance he gave Cori caused her to smile and shake her head.
She knew just how much of a relief it would be for him to
relinquish that headache.
========================================================================================
June 8, 2009 – 10:13pm
Free at last!
If there’s one thing I’ve hated, it was dealing with the
logistical nightmare that was the Red Type armor production.
Being at the head of something so time-consuming was not
something I expected when Doc saddled me with it back in February.
I know he wanted to push me some and see what I could do, but
what it did do was keep me from pursuing the work I’ve spent most of the
last three years trying to do -- collaborate with Cori on the analysis
of Sean’s Guyver unit.
I don’t know why upper management has been so keen to keep me away from
that, especially given my previous working relationship with Cori and
Marcus both; for that matter, Cori doesn’t understand it either.
But she’s made the best of things.
So have I, for that matter.
Maybe Carter and the rest don’t think my background is enough to
warrant continued collaboration.
Who knows? This is
upper management, after all:
for all the talk of how I sometimes can’t see the forest for the trees,
it’s amazing how rarely they stop to consider the trees that make up
their vaunted forest.
Doc gave me two weeks to get the encryption/decryption protocols
put together for the Red and Blue Type armor production.
Even odds, I’ll be done with it inside ten days.
If nothing else, it’ll give me a chance to focus more on the
Guyver analysis with Cori, and go from there.
I could use some time catching up with Cori’s theoretical work
and see if I can ground some of it in practical application.
========================================================================================
June 22, 2009 – Two weeks
later
“Here you go, Doc.”
Dr. Drake looked up to see Gabe standing in the doorway to his
office. “The schematics for
the Red and Blue Types?”
“Yeah, and it's got some of the best encryption I could put
together. Probably take a
while for the serious computer types to crack it, even with the best
computers going brute-force on it.”
Gabe approached the desk, setting down several flash drives.
“Easy to conceal on your person, for whoever's getting sent out
into the world to do it. I
imagine Carter will approve.”
“Yes, I imagine he will.
He's been very busy the last few years, trying to bring in anyone
he can that will further help the cause.”
Dr. Drake looked up at Gabe.
“Definitely not what you had expected to be doing, is it?”
“Building weapons and performing data encryption for the remnants
of the military-industrial complex?”
Gabe shook his head.
“Can't say it is, no. I'd
rather be spending more time trying to work out the specifics of the
Guyver unit and Creator technology with Cori.”
He paused in mid-movement to sit down, spying out a sketched
drawing on Dr. Drake's desk.
“What's that?”
Dr. Drake managed to look slightly guilty as Gabe leaned forward
to look more closely at the illustration.
“Just an idle flight of fancy--”
“Wolf Series?” Gabe
looked closer at some of the specifics that were outlined in the
illustration. “You're going
to need more power than what you had proposed for either the Red or Blue
types for this, Doc. How
long before you think it'll be ready to enter production?”
“Probably another six to eight months,” Dr. Drake replied.
“General Carter wants to have several different battle armor
models ready. There's
another one as well, but I've not even put together a preliminary design
sketch for it.” He leaned
back in his chair, studying the younger man for a moment.
“You've been getting more fit, I see.
Those self-defense classes are paying off.”
“And you're changing the subject.”
“I'm your immediate superior.
I'm allowed.”
Gabe chuckled faintly, moving to sit down.
“Fair enough,” he allowed.
“Yeah, Chang's got me on a pretty solid regimen with the tai chi,
and my parkour is complementing things pretty well.
Why do you ask?”
“Just making certain one of my best technicians is okay.”
Dr. Drake thought for a moment.
“Between you and me, I think Carter intends to strike within the
next year or so. I'm going
to be leaning a bit on you, because I want you to help get things ready.
You'll be working with Scott Matthew to get everything ready,
make sure the mechanics have everything working properly on the assembly
line. After that, I'll
probably have you working up the Wolf Series, if it gets ready enough
for production, but we'll probably still be testing out the bugs on it
before Carter decides to strike at Chronos.”
Gabe sighed, but nodded his assent after a moment.
“You realize I'm still going to coordinate some with Cori when it
comes to the Guyver and the ideas for how that technology works.”
“I wouldn't expect anything less of you, Gabe.”
July 4, 2010 – A year later
The time had finally come.
Moving from one Red Type to the next, Gabe hooked up some
diagnostic instruments into a few data ports within the cockpit and
paused to collect readings, before unplugging them again and pressing
the talk button on his portable radio.
“Red Unit 187, cleared,” he said, moving again to the next Red
Type.
“Copy that, Gabe,” came Dr. Drake's voice from the radio a
moment later. “You're
almost done.”
It was 5:37am in the morning, but Gabe had made certain to sleep
extra the day before. Be
prepared, he thought wryly, recalling the Boy Scout motto in spite
of the fact that he'd never actually been a Boy Scout.
He had known that this was going to be a long night, ever since
Dr. Drake had tipped him off three days earlier that General Carter was
finally making his move.
Trying to be Bill Pullman's presidential character from
Independence Day, help inspire the troops, he thought to himself
as he moved down the final row of Red Types.
They certainly are going to need it.
Thankfully, Dr. Drake had let Gabe sleep most of the day away,
and as much of a night owl as Gabe was, it worked out quite well.
Thankfully, there was no sense hyping himself up on caffeine to
try and keep himself awake.
The last thing he needed was to be too jittery and misread a diagnostic.
The Red Type exo-pilots would have enough to worry about, without
a sudden system or mechanical glitch because the technicians missed
something.
He heard the pilots coming out from where they'd changed, all
suited up, as he hooked up the diagnostics to the last Red Type.
He checked the readings, frowned for a moment, then thumbed his
radio. “Doc, can you confirm
my readings? I don’t like
the variance I'm seeing here.
I think it's from the modifications O'Connor wanted.”
“Checking.”
Dr. Drake was silent for several moments, then came back on.
“Looks like you can fix it with the tools on hand, Gabe.
You've got ten minutes.”
“Won't need more than five, Doc.
I got this.” Gabe
moved over to grab one of the toolkits, and came back, kneeling down and
making the needed fix.
“I thought you already had these ready to go.”
Gabe glanced up to see Jason O'Connor standing behind him, suited
up and ready to go. “A
couple of the readings were off.
I think it was something in the modifications you wanted,” he
replied, looking back to finish his work.
“Nothing I can't get done in a couple of minutes, though.
Don't worry, you won't miss the party.”
“I'd better not.”
Gabe chuckled quietly, and finished tightening a couple of bolts
within the Red Type armor, then closed up the toolkit and moved back to
check the diagnostics again.
He thumbed the radio after a moment.
“Red Unit 200, cleared. That's
all of 'em, Doc.”
“Bring it on in, Gabe.
Good work.”
Gabe closed the toolkit up, and detached the diagnostics from the
exo-armor cockpit, then turned around.
“All set.” He started
to move, then stopped, turning back around as a quartet of techs came up
to support Jason as he climbed into Red Unit 200.
“Jason?”
“Yeah?”
“Make sure Sean doesn't do anything too crazy out there, okay?”
Jason laughed. “Like
I can control him.”
“I heard that, Gabe.”
Sean came around at that moment, dressed normally.
He had no need to change, not with the Guyver unit.
“Cori already mothered me most of an hour ago.”
“I'll be nice and not tell her you said that.”
Gabe grinned. “Good
luck out there, both of you.”
Gabe headed back to replace the toolkit where he'd gotten it,
then made his way upstairs to the control/observation deck, where Dr.
Drake was waiting with General Carter.
“Everything checks out.
They're ready.”
“T minus fifteen minutes,” came a voice over the
loudspeakers.
“You did well, son,” General Carter said after a moment.
“We're sending out five squadrons of twenty-five Red Types, and
the rest of the military hardware is prepped and ready.”
He paused. “Shame the
Blue Types aren't ready yet.”
“Issues with the assembly line here,” Dr. Drake said.
“We couldn't get everything together in time to begin fabrication
of the Blue Types. Scott's
working on another project for me right now, as it is, and once we start
freeing up other industrial areas in the United States, we can get the
Blue Types up and running, and even start on the Teal Wolf Series.
We'll be in better shape soon.”
“What's done is done.”
General Carter looked over at Dr. Drake.
“You and your team should get some rest.
We'll handle things from here.”
Dr. Drake nodded assent, then gestured for Gabe to follow.
Once they were outside, he looked over at Gabe.
“What are you planning?”
“Gonna sit with Cori.
She's gonna worry non-stop until Sean gets back, so I want to be on
hand. If nothing else, she
and I can talk some shop and keep our minds busy.”
Gabe stretched out his arms.
“If everything’s good, I’m gonna head over now and sit with her.”
“Good idea. She could
use a means to get her mind off of things.”
A few minutes later, Gabe was at the door to Cori's and Sean's
room, knocking on the door.
The door opened and Cori peeked out.
“I thought you'd be in bed by now,” she said as she stepped back,
opening the door to allow Gabe inside.
“Nah, can't sleep.
Besides, I was asleep all day yesterday and then up all night getting
the Red Types ready. I've
still got a few hours left before I revert back to my original pumpkin
form.” Gabe stepped inside.
“Besides, I figured perhaps I should stick close by.”
Cori smiled faintly.
“You really are like a big brother sometimes, Gabe.”
She gave him a hug, then moved to sit down in one of the chairs.
“Take a load off. If
you've been up all night, I can imagine you want to relax.”
“Thanks.” Gabe sat
down in another chair, leaning back and relaxing for the first time
since he'd woken up the previous evening.
“If nothing else, I thought I could try and give you another dose
in grounding your theories with more practicality.”
Cori laughed. “Some
of your theories are just as outlandish at times, Gabe, so don’t start
with that.” She leaned back
in her chair. “Okay, let’s
talk shop...”
A little more than three hours later, the news came in to a
number of cheers throughout the base:
Washington, DC was officially liberated, and Chronos had fled.
========================================================================================
July 4, 2010 – 12:29pm
The news came through about three hours ago:
Washington DC is now a free zone, the first in the nation.
The Zoanoids have fled, most of them heading west towards
Pennsylvania and West Virginia.
The last few hours have been one big party here on base, and once
Sean got back from the battle, I knew my job as “big brother” was done.
Sean and Cori will certainly want their alone time, and I’m not
about to begrudge them that.
Already, Carter’s sent out scouts throughout the city:
checking out the lay of the land and wanting to move things out
to a more visible locale. I
heard mention of repurposing the Pentagon for a new headquarters, but
nothing official on that front.
Let them take all the time they need.
Once they’re back and sound the all-clear, those of us who have
been lacking in seeing the sun for the last several years will finally
get a taste of fresh air and sunlight.
That will be a welcome change for most everyone – myself
included.
Today’s victory is that first, small step for man; the giant leap
for mankind will only happen the moment we end the Chronos threat once
and for all. For all those
we’ve lost – friends, family, loved ones – this is a war to make sure
those who have died did not do so in vain.
Washington DC is only the beginning.
For all we’ve managed to do, we still have a country to liberate,
and a world beyond that.
Time to get my nose back to the proverbial grindstone.
========================================================================================
July 18, 2010 – Two weeks
later
After a few days of cleaning up the Pentagon, Dr. Drake's
research and development center began moving over to the new facilities.
Gabe spent nearly a week moving everything over with the rest of
the technicians, and got his new office assigned to him.
It had been interesting to get a few new plants up and running to
start production on the Red and Blue Type armors in the area surrounding
Washington, DC, and the first convoys had already been prepared for more
Red Types to move to the Pennsylvania-West Virginia state line, where a
Chronos Zoanoid army was massing to prepare for an attack on Washington.
A faint tremor shook the ground, and Gabe looked up, curious.
Washington, DC wasn't exactly known for any seismic events, and
it felt like it hadn't come from too far away.
He stood up, leaving his office and heading towards the main
entrance.
Several people were running towards the entrance as well, and
Gabe caught sight of Lacey Hamilton among them.
“Lacey! What's going
on?”
“Gabe!” Lacey turned
back, eyes wide. “Come on,
you have to see this! It's
another Guyver, but... huge!”
Gabe recalled hearing something mentioned by Sean about other
Guyvers, apparently from Japan.
It reminded him of the conversation Dr. Drake had with him, back
when X-Day had occurred, nearly five years previously.
Doc said something about Japan... the Japanese branches of
Chronos was operating at heightened levels because of something.
Maybe this is what he was talking about?
He broke into a run, stopping at the doors to see the Gigantic
Guyver standing outside, with General Carter standing before him and a
number of ACTF troops massed around the figure, their weapons pointed at
the much larger Guyver.
“Holy shit,” he breathed, his own eyes widening at the sight.
Not like Sean's unit... upgrade, perhaps?
How is it possible?
Then he saw Guyver US arrive, and a few moments passed before the
troops lowered their weapons.
Whatever was going on, it seemed peaceful enough.
Guyver US's armor deactivated a few moments later to reveal Sean.
Then the Gigantic armor detached, disappearing into its cocoon to
reveal a normal, human-sized Guyver, who then disengaged his armor to
reveal his human form.
For fuck's sake, he's just a kid!
Gabe shook his head, then backed away as General Carter led the
group back towards the entrance.
He started heading back to his office, still pondering over what
he'd seen. If nothing else,
the ACTF's odds had just jumped upwards in dealing with Chronos,
assuming that the Japanese Guyver that had just arrived would be willing
to ally with the ACTF.
An hour or so later, Dr. Drake stopped by.
“You saw the Japanese Guyver?”
“Big one, I saw. I
admit, I'm curious about how that happened.
Some sort of upgrade, I imagine, but how it happened is beyond
me.”
“He apparently bonded with the control medal of a Relic in Japan
while he and another Japanese Guyver battled several Chronos Zoalords,
and the Relic wound up destroyed.
The bonding, however, allowed the control medal to cocoon around
Mr. Fukamachi and protect him, and it subsequently created a bio-armor
upgrade.”
“Mr. Fukamachi...”
Gabe paused for a moment, frowning.
“You mean the Japanese kid?”
“Yes, and just like everyone else, you'll extend Sho every
courtesy. He speaks good
English, thankfully.”
“That won't be a problem, Doc.
Just...” Gabe shook
his head. “Just really young
to be carrying that sort of burden.”
“So is Sean, when you come right down to it.
The thing is, they've both had several years to adjust to it.”
Dr. Drake smiled. “I
think you'll find him remarkably well-adjusted.”
He started to slip out, then turned back.
“Almost forgot: Sho
defeated the Chronos army massing in Pennsylvania.
General Carter wants the convoys prepped again, this time for New
York. It's time we started
liberating the rest of America.”
Gabe sighed quietly.
“I'll get on it,” he muttered.
“God, I hate the logistics.”
July 28, 2010 – A week and a
half later
For the first time in a little more than five years, Gabe was
finally able to walk under the sun freely, without too much concern.
No more pasty white skin, he thought to himself as he made
his way towards a view of the Washington Monument.
I'll be able to get all the sun I could ever want.
Not that I could right now, with the leathers on.
At that moment, the flip-phone he was carrying went off, the
ringtone a signature communicator chirping from the original Star
Trek TV series from the 1960s.
Cori had laughed so hard when she first heard Gabe's ringtone.
“Just like you,” she'd teased a couple of days before.
“You're such a geek.”
Don't I know it? Gabe thought to himself as he pulled out
the phone and flipped it open.
“Kelso.”
“Thirty minutes to curfew, Gabe,” came Dr. Drake's voice.
“Yes, Dad,” Gabe muttered sarcastically as he took one final look
at the Washington Monument before turning and heading back towards a
black Ducati 1198 with red and white trim that he'd gotten just a couple
of weeks before. The helmet
was hanging on the left handgrip, right where he'd left it just a couple
of minutes before. “I'll be
in shortly – just taking a quick look at the monuments before coming
in.”
“And I imagine you’re having too much fun with that motorcycle
of yours, no doubt.”
“Damn straight!” Gabe
laughed. “I've driven SUVs
and the like long enough, Doc.
The bike is my way of being a rebel.
Don't worry, though.
I'll be back inside twenty minutes.
Kelso out.”
Snapping the phone shut, he replaced it to his waistband and
climbed onto the Ducati. He
grabbed the helmet, sliding it over his head, and then produced the
keys, revving the motor as he turned it on.
Lowering the visor, he checked his mirrors before pulling out
onto the street, headlights coming on as he started off.
Thankfully, Dr. Drake had given him the day off for this little
excursion, but the day was almost over.
Dusk was coming on, the reds and purples blending into the
growing night sky.
He'd have invited Cori and Sean to come along, but they'd wanted
the day to themselves. Gabe
didn't blame them. Having
time away from base, even if only for a little while, was a refreshing
change of pace after five years of hiding in a subterranean Cold War-era
base.
Fifteen minutes later, he was pulling into parking lot at the
ACTF base at the Pentagon, flashing his ID for the guards so he could
come in, and parked the Ducati before heading into the base proper.
========================================================================================
July 28, 2010 – 8:06pm
New York’s been officially free of Chronos control for a week
now. Not only were we able
to slip in the Red Types and the first batch of the Blue Types without
being detected, but then to launch another sneak attack on Chronos and
get the help of New York’s own resistance movement the way we did...
we’ve been damned fortunate that they didn’t think to expect the same
tactic a second time. With
the ACTF now having a presence in New York City, many of the resistance
fighters are up and volunteering to join the ACTF and swell the ranks.
Already, Baxter Enterprises has volunteered their fabrication
plants to get the Red and Blue Types more quickly mass-produced, as well
as working on helping speed up Doc’s timetable on the Wolf Series.
It’s nice to see a semblance of the old American spirit finally
rearing its head again. This
is one sleeping giant who slept for far longer than it should have.
Between liberating Washington and New York, not to mention the
Fukamachi kid wiping the floor with the Chronos forces that had massed
at the Pennsylvania-West Virginia border, the ACTF seems to be on a
roll. Two and a half weeks
since going live, and it’s hard to imagine we haven’t galvanized
people’s hopes for the first time in nearly four years.
We’ve given people something to believe in again.
All we can do is hope that we can keep the ball rolling, and keep
Chronos on the defensive.
========================================================================================
July 29, 2010
A sudden klaxon alarm blared throughout the base, jolting Gabe
awake several hours later.
He looked over at his clock, reading the time.
3:48am.
What
the fuck?
He got up, grabbing clothes and getting himself dressed while
powering up his laptop and waiting for it to sync up with the base's
computer network. Whatever
it was, it was enough to scramble all the military personnel, that much
was certain. Finally, he sat
down, picking up his laptop and setting it on his lap as the main screen
came up, and he typed in his login and password.
At that moment, he heard a thunderous explosion, and looked up as
dust rained down in different spots around his room.
“What the hell…”
He set the laptop on his bedside table, standing up again to head
for the door. He opened it
to look outside, and then stepped out.
The civilians were supposed to stay in their rooms – for their
protection, General Carter had said – but someone had to make sure the
R&D labs were still safe.
He started heading down the hall, and heard another, smaller
explosion a few moments later.
It wasn’t as violent, but it did sound like someone punching a
hole through the concrete-reinforced floor, and it was closer.
He began to run at that point, rounding the corner into another
corridor. He was heading
towards Sean and Cori’s room, he knew, and that bothered him for some
reason. It bothered him even
more that now he could hear laser fire and more coming from ahead.
A telltale whine, and suddenly he heard multiple pressure cannon
blasts.
Please don’t tell me that
Japanese kid turned on us!
He was running faster now, around another bend – just in time to
see a flash of red pound on the door to Cori’s and Sean’s room and
enter. Then the screams, and
another blast – from within the room!
Goddamn it, no!
He hit the wall, using it to make himself turn more quickly as he
dashed into the room, only to look up and see a red four-armed figure
that looked eerily like a Guyver rising up and quickly fleeing the scene
through the air. Horrified,
he could only look up, and suddenly he had to give voice to a rage he’d
not felt in years, not since Utah and the sight of Marcus Edwards’
cairn.
“CORI!”
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