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OUT OF THE SHADOWS / ±q¼v¹³
PART 4 / ²Ä 4 ³¡¥÷
--8--
Ever since he'd been old enough to enlist, "Bobcat" Joiner had been in the service, eventually becoming the driver of a series of Comanche attack copters. He flew three Ameris police actions before a close encounter with a surface to air missile tore up his left leg and ended his career with the Marines. Later he flew MedEvac for the UN during the world's war with Galactor, and when the war ended he gathered enough money and spare parts to account for his own bird, and now earned his money flying for hire. Most of his work was routine-- geological surveys or wildlife photography--but every once in a while, he got what he considered "a live one." / ¥Ñ¥L¤w¸g°÷¦Ñ¨Ó¼x¶Ò¦Ü¤µ,"¤s¿ß¤§Ãþ" µ²¦XªÌ´¿¸g¨ì¹L¦bªA°È¤¤,³Ì«á¦¨¬°¤@¨t¦Cªº¬ì°Ò»ô¬öªº§ðÀ» copters ªº¾r¾p­û¡C ¦b©M­n¼½¬M­¸¼uªº¤@­Óªí­±ªº¤@¦¸±µªñªº¬Û·|©MÄ¥¶¤¼¹·´¥Lªº¥ªÃä»L¦Ó¥Bµ²§ô¤F¥Lªº¨Æ·~¤§«e , ¥L­¸¤F¤T­Ó Ameris ĵ¹î¦æ°Ê¡C µy«á¥L¦b¥@¬Éªº¹ï§Ü Galactor ªº¾Ôª§´Á¶¡¬°Áp¦X°ê­¸¤F MedEvac ¡A¦Ó¥B·í¾Ôª§µ²§ô¥L»E¶°¤F¥R¨¬ªº¿ú©M¦h¾lªº³¡¥÷¸ÑÄÀ¥L¦Û¤vªº³¾, ¦Ó¥B²{¦bÁȤF¥Lªº¬°¯²ª÷­¸ ªº¿ú¡C ¥Lªº¤u§@¤j³¡¤À¬O¨Ò¦æ¤½¨Æ-- ¦a½è¾Çªº½Õ¬d©Î³¥¥Í¥Íª«Äá¼v--¦ý¬O¤T¤£¤­®É¡A¥L±o¨ì¤F¥L©Ò¦Ò¼{ªº "¤@­Ó¬¡ªº" ¡C
This client, who went by the name of Michael Aiello, couldn't be more than twenty; with the lean fighting build and hard, knotted hands of an experienced fighter. He arrived wearing desert camos and carrying a case full of what appeared to be sophisticated surveillance equipment. He had a sidearm and boot knife along with a full utility belt, but wasn't carrying the customary long-range firearm that would have completed his combat ensemble. Joiner favored an Uzi himself. / ³o¤@¦ì³q¹L³Á¥i Aiello ªº¦W¦r«È¤á¤£¥i¯à¬O¶W¹L¤G¤Q; »P½Gªº¾Ô°««Ø¥ß©MÃøªº,¥´µ²¤F¤@¦ì´I¦³¸gÅ窺°«¤h¤â¡C ¥L¨ì¹F¬ïµÛ¯îíuªº camos ¦Ó¥B¶Ç¹F¤@­Ó±¡§Î¥Rº¡ªº¦ü¥G¬O½ÆÂøªººÊµø»ö¾¹ªºªF¦è¡C ¥L¦³¤@°¼§ë²yªº¦Ó¥Bªø¹u³s¦P¤@±ø¥R¨¬ªº¤ô¹q®ð¤½¦@³]¬I±a¤l¤@°_¥Î¤M¤Á³Î, ¦ý¬O¨S¦³¦bÄâ±a·|§¹¦¨¥Lªº¾Ô°«¥þÅ骺²ßºDªøµ{ªºªZ¾¹¡C µ²¦XªÌ°¾·R¤F Uzi ¥L¦Û¤v¡C
"So what are you looking for?" the pilot asked. According to his own sources, there was nothing going on in this particular part of the desert. There were two camps to the south, one belonging to Egeresu and one to a French terrorist group, but neither was rumored to be doing anything but training maneuvers. / "¦p¦¹§A¥¿¦b§ä´M¤°»ò"? ­¸¦æ­û°Ý¡C ¨Ì·Ó¥L¦Û¤vªº¨Ó·½,¦³¦b³o­Ó¨Fºzªº¯S§O³¡¥÷¤¤Ä~Äò ªº¨S¨Æ¡C ¦³¹ï¤@­Óªk°ê®£©Æ¥÷¤l¹ÎÅ骺¹ï«n¤è¡AÄÝ©ó Egeresu ©M¤@ªº¤GÅSÀç, ¦ý¬O¨âªÌ¬Ò¤£ªº³QÁÁ¶Ç¥¿¦b¨M¤£°µ°V½mºt²ß¡C
Aiello regarded the pilot. Dark sunshades concealed his eyes. "Need to know?" he asked. / Aiello µø¬°¤F­¸¦æ­û¡C ¶Â·tªº¾B¶§³ÊÁôÂäF¥Lªº²´·ú¡C "»Ý­nª¾¹D"? ¥L°Ý¡C
"Nope. Just wondering." Joiner let it go at that. The less he knew, the less he would tell anyone if questioned. Aiello certainly was paying enough for this. He tilted his head toward the Comanche. "We're ready when you are." / "¤£¡C ¥¿ª½ªºÄ±±o©_©Ç¡C"µ²¦XªÌ¦b¨ºÅý¥¦¥h¡C ¤ñ¸û¤Ö¶q¥Lª¾¹D, ¤ñ¸û¤Ö¶q¦pªG¸ß°Ý¡A¥L±N·|§i¶D¥ô¦ó¤H¡C Aiello ½T©w¦a¬°³o°÷¤ä¥Iªº¡C ¥L¶É±×¤F¹ï©ó¬ì°Ò¤Á¤Hªº¥LÀY¡C "·í§A¬Oªº®É­Ô¡A§Ú­Ì·Ç³Æ¦n " ¡C

The radio played softly in Jun's snack bar, in accompaniment to the quiet hum of traffic outside as Jun wiped tables and checked the bar's stocks in preparation to opening. All was quiet and perfectly ordinary, save for the fact that Ken wasn't there with his newspaper, and Jun's stomach was in knots. That old, familiar, and reliable sensation meant something big was about to happen. Something that would affect her--no, all of them. Only this time they didn't have their bracelets to warn them--that umbilical cord to the ISO had been cut over a year ago, leaving only the radio, television or phone to notify them and call them to action... if they were to be called at all. / ¦¬­µ¾÷¦b¤»¤ë¬X©M¦aª±¤p¦Y°s§a,¦b¦ÛµMªº¦ñÀHª«¤¤¨ì¥æ³qªº¦wÀR¶ä¶äÁn¥~­±·í¤»¤ëÀ¿¤F®à¤l¦Ó¥BÀˬd¤F¹ï¶}©lªº¦b·Ç³Æªº°s§a¦s³f¡C ¥þ³¡¬O¦wÀRªº©M«D±`¥­±`, ±Ï´©¹ï©óªÖ®¦¥H¥Lªº³ø¯È¤£¦b¨º¸Ìªº¨Æ¹ê¡A¦Ó¥B¤»¤ëªº­G¬O¦bµ²¤¤¡C ¨º¦Ñªº¡M¼ô±xªº,¦Ó¥B³Q·N¿×¤jªºªF¦è¥i¾aªº·Pı¥¿­nµo¥Í¡C ±N·|¼vÅT¦oªº¬Y¨Æ--¤£,¥L­Ì¥þ³¡¡C ¥u¦³³o¦¸¥L­Ì¨S¦³¥L­Ìªº¤âÅNĵ§i¥L­Ì-- ¹ï°ê»Ú¼Ð·Ç²Õ´ªº¨º¤@­ÓÂÀ±a¤w¸g³Q´î§C¦b¤@¦~¥H«e¤§¤W, Â÷¶}¥u¦³¦¬­µ¾÷¡A¹qµø©Î¹q¸Ü¹ï¦æ°Ê³qª¾¥L­Ì¦Ó¥B¥´¹q¸Üµ¹¥L­Ì¡C¡C¡C ¦pªG¥L­Ì·|³Q¥þµM¥s°µ¡C
The first sign of trouble had been Ken's restlessness. He'd tried to hide it, but Jun knew better. They had been together far too long for her not to have noticed any change within her family--especially Ken. The enforced inactivity bothered him, and he was having a harder and harder time fending it off. / ³Â·Ðªº²Ä¤@­Ó²Å¸¹¤w¸g¬OªÖ®¦ªº¤£¦wÀR¡C ¥L¦³¸ÕµÛÂÃ¥¦¡A¦ý¬O¤»¤ëª¾¹D§ó¦h¡C ¥L­Ì¤w¸g¤@°_»·¤Óªøªº¬°¦o¤£¨ì¤w¸g¦b¦oªº®a®x¸Ì­±ª`·N¥ô¦óªº§ïÅÜ-- ¤×¨äªÖ®¦¡C ³Q°õ¦æªº¤£¬¡°Ê·ÐÂZ¤F¥L¡A¦Ó¥B¥L¥¿¦b¦³¤@¤ñ¸ûÃøªº©MÁ׶}¥¦ ªº­WÀY¡C
Ryu's most recent phone call finally proved the last straw. As Jun walked toward the stairs to the Snack with a stack of towels, she overheard Ken on the phone. Though muffled, the anger and tension in his voice was unmistakable, and she quietly retreated. A few seconds later she heard a loud bang, as if he had struck out at something, then the swift tread of footsteps up the stairs. Jun picked up her towels again and pulled open the door just as Ken appeared. He looked startled, then smiled and kissed her in greeting. / Ryu's ªº³Ìªñ¹q¸Ü³Ì«áÃÒ©ú¤F³Ì«á¤@®Ú½_¯ó¡C ·í¤»¤ë¹ï©ó¹ï©M¤â¤yªº°ïÅ|¤p¦Yªº¼Ó±è¨«¸ôªº®É­Ô,¦oµL·N¤¤Å¥¨ì¤F¦b¹q¸Ü¤WªºªÖ®¦¡C ÁöµM³ò»q,¥LªºÁn­µ©Á«ã©Mºò±i¬O©úÅ㪺¡A¦Ó¥B¦o¦wÀR¦aºM°h¡C ¤@¨Ç¬í¤§«á¦oÅ¥¨ì¤F¤@­Ó¤jÁnªº¯yµM, ¦n¹³¥L¤w¸g¦b¬Y¨Æ¥´¥X, µM«á¦b¼Ó±è¤W­±ªº¸}¨B¨³³tªº½ñ¡C ¥¿¦pªÖ®¦¥X²{¡A¤»¤ë¦A¤@¦¸¬B°_¦oªº¤â¤y¦Ó¥B©Ô¶}©ñªºªù¡C ¥L¬Ý¾_Åå,µM«á¦b°Ý­Ô¤è­±·L¯º¦Ó¥B§k¤F¦o¡C
"Is something wrong?" she asked. / " ¦³¤ò¯f¬O"? ¦o°Ý¡C
"Hm?" He blinked. "Why?" / "Hm"? ¥L¯w²´¡C "¬°¤°»ò"?
Please, Ken, she thought. Don't start this. "I heard--" / ½Ð,ªÖ®¦,¦o·Q¡C ¤£­n¶}©l³o¡C "§ÚÅ¥¨ì--"
Before she could continue, he took her hand in his and squeezed it affectionately. "There's nothing wrong, but I do need to borrow your car for the afternoon," he said. "Do you mind?" / ¦o¥i¥HÄ~Äò¤§«e¡A¥L±a¤F¦oªº¤â¦b¥Lªº¦Ó¥B¼°·R¦aºò´¤¤F¥¦¡C "¦³¨S¤ò¯f¡A¦ý¬O§Ú½T¹ê»Ý­n¬°¤È«á­É§Aªº¨T¨®",¥L»¡¡C "§A¤¶·N¶Ü"?
"No, but--" He moved quickly and smoothly. Before she could finish, Ken picked her keys off the dresser and vanished. / "¤£,¦ý¬O--"¥L«Ü§Ö¦a¦Ó¥B¥­·Æ¦a²¾°Ê¡C ¦o¥i¥H§¹¦¨¤§«e¡AªÖ®¦¦b¤Æ§©¥x¥~¬D¿ï¦oªºÆ_°Í¨Ã¥B®ø¥¢¡C
Perhaps he's just had enough of convalescence, she thought. This isn't the most exciting place in the world, I know. But the nagging feeling told her otherwise. There was too much purpose in his actions. Only one thing could be happening: Galactor had returned to action, and they were being left out--Ken was being left out. / ¤]³\¥L­è­è¦³¤Fº¥ºÇªº¥R¨¬,¦o·Q¡C ³o¤£¬O¦b¥@¬É¤¤³Ì¥O¤H¿³¾Äªº¦a¤è,§Úª¾¹D¡C ¦ý¬O¼G¥oªº·Pı§_«h§i¶D¤F¦o¡C ¦³¥Lªº¦æ°Ê¤Ó¦h¥Øªº¡C ¥u¦³¤@¥ó¨Æª«¥i¯àµo¥Í: Galactor ¤w¸g¦^¨ì¦æ°Ê¡A¦Ó¥B¥L­Ì¥¿¦b³Q¿òº| --ªÖ®¦¥¿¦b³Q¿òº|¡C
Jun felt a twinge of resentment at that. After all they'd done, after all they'd sacrificed, it wasn't fair. Then again, maybe the ISO was trying to be fair, to give the Team a break. / ¤»¤ë·Pı¤F¦b¨ºªº«è«ë¤@­Ó¤@°}¤@°}µh¡C ²¦³º¥L­Ì¤w¸g°µ,²¦³º¥L­Ì¦³Ä묹,¥¦¤£¬O¤½¥­ªº¡C ¦A¤@¦¸µM«á¡A¤]³\°ê»Ú¼Ð·Ç²Õ´¥¿¦b¹Á¸Õ¬O¤½¥­ªº, µ¹¤p²Õ¥ð®§¡C
No, that won't work. If X returns, who knows more about fighting him than we do? / ¤£¡A¨º±N¤£¤u§@¡C ¦pªG X ¦^ªð, ½Ö¤ñ§Ú­ÌÃö©ó¹ï§Ü¥L¦hª¾¹D?
And how did she feel about it? / ¦Ó¥B¦oı±o¥¦°_¨Ó¦p¦ó?
There was peace now. People threw themselves into rebuilding homes and businesses, which provided openings for new jobs and boosted national economies. The news no longer carried accounts of mass disasters and deaths and monstermechs stomping down cities. And the damage wrought by the Black Hole Plan had scared everyone enough that warring countries had set aside their differences and worked together to rebuild. Although their cooperation would last only as long as their memories, for the first time in history, people were leading quiet, peaceful lives. Natural lives. / ²{¦b¦³©M¥­¡C ¤H­Ì¶i¤J¦A«Ø®a©M¥Í·N¤§¤º¥á¥L­Ì¦Û¤v,´£¨Ñ¶}¤fµ¹·sªº¤u§@¡A¦Ó¥B±À¶i¤F°ê®aªº¸gÀÙ¡C ·s»D¤£¦A¶Ç¹F¤F¤j²³ªº¨aº×©M¦º¤`©M¸ö¤U¨Ó«°¥« ªº monstermechs ªº±b¤á¡C ¦Ó¥B·l®`§Î¦¨ªºÂǵ۶¦⪺¬}­p¹º¤w¸g¨¬°÷ÅåÀ~¨C­Ó¤H¨º§@¾Ô³Q¦³²Õ¦b¤@Ãä¥L­Ìªº¤£¦P¨Ã¥B¤@°_¤u§@¦A«Øªº°ê®a¡C ÁöµM¥L­Ìªº¦X§@¥u±N·|«ùÄò¥u­n¥L­Ìªº°O¾Ð,²Ä¤@¦¸¦b¾ú¥v¤¤¡A¤H¬O»â¾Éªº¦wÀR¡A©M¥­ªº¥Í©R¡C ¦ÛµM¥Í©R¡C
Yet something was missing, and the whole Team felt it. Jinpei still couldn't adjust to being a normal kid in a normal school. Ken paced around the Snack like a caged lion, searching for new ways to dance with death. Even Ryu probably felt something, though it didn't show in his phone calls. If Joe were alive, he'd have been climbing the walls. Even Jun had to admit to herself that she missed the excitement of flying missions. She had kept busy, studied more about photography and journalism, joined a dance group, but she was still restless. / µM¦Ó¬Y¨Æ¤£¨£¡A¦Ó¥B¾ã­Óªº¤p²Õ·Pı¤F¥¦¡C Jinpei ¼@·Ó¤£¥i¥H½Õ¾ã¨ì¦b¤@­Ó®v½d¾Ç®Õ¤¤§@¬°¤@­Ó¥¿±`ªº¤p«Ä¡C ¦b¤p¦Yªº©P³ò³Q¿â¨BªºªÖ®¦³ßÅw¤@°¦³QÃö¶iÅ¢¤ºªº·à¤l, ´M§ä·sªº¤èªkÀHµÛ¦º¤`¸õ»R¡C ¬Æ¦Ü Ryu ¥i¯à·Pı¤F¬Y¨Æ,ÁöµM¥¦¦b¥Lªº¹q¸Ü¤¤¨S¦³Åã¥Ü¡C ¦pªG³ì¬¡µÛ,¥L¦³¤w¸g¬OÃkµnÀð¾À¡C ¬Æ¦Ü¤»¤ë¥²¶·©Ó»{¦o¦Û¤v¦o¿ù¹L¤F­¸ªº¥ô°È¨ë¿E¡C ¦o¤w¸g«O«ù¦£¸Lªº,¾Ç²ß¤FÃö©óÄá¼v©M·s»D·~ªº§ó¦h,°Ñ¥[¤F¤@­Ó¸õ»R¹ÎÅé,¦ý¬O¦o¤´µM¬O¤£¦wÀRªº¡C
They hadn't truly completed their mission. X wasn't dead, and as long as the alien survived, their peace remained endangered. Perhaps what she felt was just an eagerness to get rid of his menace once and for all. / ¥L­Ì¨S¦³¯u¹ê¦a§¹¦¨¥L­Ìªº¥ô°È¡C X ¨S¦³¦º¡A¦Ó¥B¥u­n¥~¹´Ä~Äò¥Í¦s,¥L­Ìªº©M¥­«O«ùÃxÁ{µ´ºØ¡C ¤]³\¤°»ò¦o·Pı¥u¬O¼ö¤ß¶È¦¹¤@¦¸§K°£¥Lªº«Â¯Ù¡C
Jun finished wiping the tables and wandered to the front door, pausing to stare through the clear glass at the traffic outside. / ¤»¤ëÀ¿«ø®à¤l§¹¦Ó¥B¹C¿º¨ì«eªù, ¼È°±¥~­±ªº¥æ³qª`µø¹L³z©ú¬Á¼þ¡C
I knew it was all too good to be true. I knew it wouldn't last forever, yet I'm almost glad. / §Úª¾¹D¡A¥¦¥þ³£¬O¤Ó¦n¦ÓµLªk¬O¯u¹êªº¡C §Úª¾¹D¡A¥¦±N¤£¥Ã»·¦a«ùÄò, µM¦Ó§Ú´X¥G°ª¿³¡C


"Hakase, we have a security leak. A very bad one." / "Hakase,§Ú­Ì¦³¤@­Ó¦w¥þº|¬}¡C «D±`Ãaªº¡C"
Julia, Nambu's top covert agent, regarded Dr. Nambu gravely. Today she was all business: a minimum of makeup on her tight, young face, her chestnut hair drawn up in a tight bun; conservative clothes and shoulder holster covered by a long lab coat to make her blend in with the rest of the staff. She hadn't spoken at all until ten of her subordinates had swept the office for listening devices four times, then swept again. When her announcement finally came, it hit the professor like a slap in the face. / ¯ü²ú¨È,Nambu's ªº°ª¼hÁô½ªªº¥N²z¤H, ÄY­«¦aµø¬°¤F Nambu ³Õ¤h¡C ¤µ¤Ñ¦o¥þ³£¬O¥Í·N: ¦b¦o¤Wªº¤ÆùÛ¤@­Ó³Ì¤p¶qºòºò¦a,¦~»´ªºÁy, ¦oªº³Qµe®ß¦âªºÀY¾v¦b¤@­Óºòªº¤pÄÑ¥]¤¤¤W­±; «O¦uªº¦çªA©M³Q¤@­Óªøªº¹êÅç«Ç²[»\ªºªÓ¥Ö®M¥~­±Âл\»s³y¦oªº²V©M¦b¥Ñ©ó¾­ûªº¨ä¥¦³¡¤À¡C ¦o¤@ÂI¤]¤£Á¿ª½¨ì¦oªºÄݤU¤¤ªº¤Q­Ó¤w¸g¬°Å¥²M±½¿ì¤½«Ç¸Ë¸m¥|¦¸,µM«á¦A¤@¦¸²M±½¡C ·í¦oªº¤½§i³Ì«á¨Óªº®É­Ô, ¥¦¥´±Ð±Â³ßÅwÁyªººQ¡C
"Please explain." / "½Ð¸ÑÄÀ" ¡C
"Every one of your candidates thus far has been eliminated. Hiroshi Miyagi collapsed and was declared dead two days ago. The autopsy revealed nerve toxin in his blood. The body of his girlfriend was found in his apartment, time and cause of death approximately the same. Leah Reynolds was electrocuted in her shower yesterday. At the same time, Jack DeBasi, our Aikido expert and marksman prospect, drove through a guard rail and into a gorge at ninety miles an hour. We found the brake lines on his car had been abraded before the crash. Carlos Torres has disappeared completely and I have people searching for him. All these people had been selected by you as prospects for the Kagaku Ninjatai, in that order. It's obvious that someone knows this, and is leaking the information to your enemies." / "¨C§Aªº­Ô¿ï¤H¨´¤µ¤§¤@¤w¸g³Q°£¥h¡C Hiroshi Miyagi ­Ë¶ò¨Ã¥B¦b¤G¤Ñ¥H«e¬O¤½§iªº¦º¡C Åç«ÍÅã¥Ü¤F¥Lªº¦å¯«¸g¬r¯À¡C ¥Lªº¤kªB¤Íªº¨­Åé¦b¥Lªº¦º¤`¤½´J¡A®É¶¡©M¦]¯À¤¤³Qµo²{¤j¬ù¬Û¦P¡C ¶®¦U³Ìªìªº©d¤l¹p¿Õ¬Q¤Ñ¦b¦oªº°}«B¤¤³Q¥H¹q´È³B¦º¡C ¦P®É¡A³Ç§J DeBasi ¡A§Ú­Ìªº¦X®ð¹D±M®a©M®g¤âµø³¥, ¶}¨®¹L¤@­Ó¦u½ÃÅK¸ô©M¦b¤E¤Q­ù 1 ¤p®É¶i¤J®l¨¦¤§¤º¡C §Ú­Ìµo²{¡A¦b¥Lªº¨T¨®¤Wªº·Ù¨®½u¤w¸g¦b¼Y·´¤§«e³QÀ¿¶Ë¡C ¥d¬¥´µ Torres ¤w¸g§¹¥þ¦a®ø¥¢¡A¦Ó¥B§Ú¦³¤H°w¹ï¥Lªº·j´M¡C ©Ò¦³ªº³o¨Ç¤H¤w¸g¬° Kagaku Ninjatai ³Q§A¿ï¾Ü¦pµø³¥,¥H¨º¶¶§Ç¡C ¥¦¬O©úÅ㪺¡A¬Y¤Hª¾¹D³o, ¦Ó¥B¥¿¦b¹ï§Aªº¼Ä¤Hº|¸ê®Æ¡C"
Dr. Nambu bent his head, slipped off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I feared the group call would be a mistake, and it was a costly one," he said in a strained voice. "Our guard has been lax since Galactor broke apart. Someone has slipped in." Inwardly the professor kicked himself. Ken's "accident," the mysterious messenger; they had both been warning signs of his vulnerability, but he had been just too complacent to heed them. "Galactor may be disbanded, but they were never our only enemy. We must take this attack for what it is. Shut down all nonessential operations and search both G-Town and ISO headquarters from the ground up." / Nambu ³Õ¤hÅs¦±¤F¥LªºÀY, ¨«¶}·Æ­Ë¥Lªº²´Ãè¦Ó¥BÀ¿¤F¥Lªº»ó¤l¾ô¡C "§Ú®`©È¡A¹ÎÅé©I¥s±N·|¬O¤@­Ó¿ù»~¡A¦Ó¥B¥¦¬O¤@­Ó©ù¶Qªº",¥L¦b¤@ºØºò±iªºÁn­µ¤¤»¡¡C "¦Û±q Galactor ¤À§O¦aÂ_±¼¤§«á¡A§Ú­Ìªº¦u½Ã¤w¸g¬OÃPªº¡C ¬Y¤H¤w¸g·Æ­Ë¦b¡C"¦V¤ºªº±Ð±Â¦Û³d¡C ªÖ®¦ªº "·N¥~¨Æ¥ó",¯«¯µªº³ø«HªÌ; ¥L­Ì¨â­Ó¤w¸gĵ§i¥Lªº®zÂI²Å¸¹, ¦ý¬O¥L­è¦n¬O¤Óº¡¨¬¦ÓµLªkª`·N¨ì¥L­Ì¡C "Galactor ¥i¯à³Q¸Ñ´²¡A¦ý¬O¥L­Ì±q¤£¬O§Ú­Ìªº°ß¤@¼Ä¤H¡C §Ú­Ì¤@©w­n¬°¥¦¬O¤°»ò±Ä¨ú³o¤@­Ó§ðÀ»¡C Ãö³¬©Ò¦³ªº«D¥»½èªº¤â³N©M·j´M¨âªÌªº G- ¨Ó¦Û¦a­±ªº«°Âí©M°ê»Ú¼Ð·Ç²Õ´Á`³¡¦b¤W­±¡C"
"Won't that alert the informant?" Julia said. "The moment we break routine, our spy will know something's wrong and back off. If I may, I'd like to organize a discreet search. In the meantime, we ought to halt the project. We don't need to endanger what's left of our prospects. Not to be rude, Hakase, but we're running out of people." "I know, but we can't stop now. It's more important than ever that we get back to fighting shape as soon as possible. As far as the project is concerned, from here I take full responsibility." / "¨º±N¤£´£¿ô³qª¾ªÌ"? ¯ü²ú¨È»¡¡C " ¤ù¨è§Ú­Ì¥´¯}¨Ò¦æ¤½¨Æ, §Ú­Ìªº¶¡¿Ò±Nª¾¹D¦³¤ò¯f¦Ó¥B°h¥X¡C ¦pªG§Ú¥i¯à,§Ú·Q­n²Õ´¤p¤ßªº·j´M¡C ¦b¦¹»Ú¤¤¡A§Ú­ÌÀ³¸Ó°±¤î­pµe¡C §Ú­Ì¤£»Ý­n¦M¤Î§Ú­Ìªºµø³¥³Q¯d¤UªºªF¦è¡C ¤£¬O²Ê¾|µL§ªº,Hakase,¦ý¬O§Ú­Ì¥¿¦b¶]Â÷¤H¡C""§Úª¾¹D¡A¦ý¬O§Ú­Ì²{¦b¤£¯à°±¤î¡C ¥¦´¿¸g¤ñ§Ú­Ì¦^¨ì¾¨§Ö¦a¹ï§Ü§Îª¬§ó­«­n¡C ´N­pµe¨Ó»¡,±q§Ú®³§¹¥þªº³d¥ô³o¸Ì¡C"
Though she gave no outward reaction, for the briefest of seconds, Nambu could sense Julia's doubts. Then her eyes met his and the wall was back in place. / ÁöµM¦o¨Sµ¹¤©¦V¥~ªº¤ÏÀ³¡A¦ý¬O¹ï©ó¬íªº³Ì²µuªº¡A Nambu ¥i¥H·Pı¯ü²ú¨ÈªºÃhºÃ¡C µM«á¦oªº²´·ú¸I¨ì¥Lªº¦Ó¥BÀð¾À¾A·í¦^¨Ó¡C
"To change the subject, we have a recording taken from that call to 911, reporting the accident of Tina McKendricks. I think you'll find this interesting." She pulled a computer disk from her lab coat and held it up. "May I?" / " ¬°¤F­n§ïÅÜ¥DÃD, §Ú­Ì®³¿ý­µ±q¨º¤@­Ó©I¥s¨ì 911,³ø§i¸¦®R McKendricks ªº·N¥~¨Æ¥ó¡C §Ú»{¬°§A±Nµo²{³o¦³½ìªº¡C"¦o©Ô¤F¨Ó¦Û¦oªº¹êÅç«Çªº¤@­Ó¹q¸£ºÏºÐ¤ù¥~®M¨Ã¥B¦V¤W®³µÛ¤F¥¦¡C " ¥i¯à§Ú"?
"If you please." / " ¦pªG§A½Ð".
Pulling up a chair, she sat beside Nambu and slotted the disk in the Professor's desktop system. Quick manipulations of the mouse called up the audio. "I'll play the original recording first, then the version we enhanced." / ©Þ¥X¤@±i´È¤l,¦o¦b Nambu ®ÇÃ䧤¦Ó¥B¯d²Óªøªº¤Õ¤F±Ð±Âªº®à¤W«¬¨t²ÎªººÏºÐ¤ù¡C ¦Ñ¹«ªº§Ö³B²z·Q°_ÁnÀW¡C "§Ú±N­º¥ýª±³Ìªì¤H°O¿ýªº, µM«áª©¥»§Ú­Ì´£°ª".
The connection was terrible. The dispatcher's voice was clear, but the line popped and hissed, obscuring details of the incoming call. / ³s±µ¬O¥i©Èªº¡C µo°eªÌªºÁn­µ¬O²M·¡ªº,¦ý¬O½u¨ú¥X¦Ó¥Bµo¥X¼NÁn,¨Ï¦¬¤J©I¥sªº²Ó¸`³±·t¡C
"911." / "911".
"I'm reporting an automobile accident on the twenty two mile marker of Highway 40, southbound, south of Lawrence." The caller was terse and exact, with the businesslike calm of a paramedic. Though the heavy static reduced most of the caller's voice to a mechanical hiss, something about it tugged hard on the Doctor's nerves. "Looks like a hit and run. There's a woman injured; white female, looks like she's in her early twenties. She has several contusions and broken bones, possibly a concussion, and needs an ambulance. Look for a white Toyota hatchback, Maryland plates, license EAB-237." A burst of static, then the line went dead. / "§Ú¥¿¦b³ø§i¦b²Ä 40 ¤½¸ôªº¤G¤Q¤G­ù§@°O¸¹ªº¤H¤W¨T¨®·N¥~¨Æ¥ó,©¹«nªº,³Ò­Û´µªº«n¤è". ¨Ó¹qªÌ¬O²¼äªº©Mºë½Tªº,ÂÇ¥ÑÂåÀø¤H­ûªº¨Æ°È©Êªº¥­Ã­¡C ÁöµM­«ªºÀR¹qÅý¨Ó¹qªÌªºÁn­µ¤j³¡¤ÀÅܦ¨¤@Án¾÷±ñªº¼NÁn,Ãö©ó¥¦ªº¬Y¨Æ¦bÂå¥Íªº¯«¸g¤W§V¤O¦a¥Î¤O©Ô¡C "¬Ý°_¨Ó¹³¤@­Ó¸I¼²¤@¼Ë¦Ó¥B¶]¡C ¦³¨ü¶Ëªº¤@­Ó¤k¤H; ¥Õ¦âªº¤k©Ê, ¬Ý°_¨Ó¹³¦o¤@¼Ë¦b¦o¸Ì­±¦­ªº¤G¤Q´X·³¡C ¦o¦³¤@¨Ç¼Þ¥´©MÃa±¼ªº°©ÀY, ¥i¯à¦a¤@­Ó¿E°Ê, ¦Ó¥B»Ý­n¤@½ø±ÏÅ@¨®¡C §ä´M¤@­Ó¥Õ¦âªºÂץЫá¶}»\¦¡¨T¨®, °¨¨½ÄõºÐ¤l,±ÂÅv EAB-237 ¡C"ÀR¹qªº¯}µõ,µM«á½u§¹¥þ¦a¥h¡C
"Sir? Sir? Please stay on the line. Sir, are you there?" The recording ended, cutting off the dispatcher's further attempts to contact the caller. / "¥ý¥Í? ¥ý¥Í? ½Ð°±¯d¦b½u¤W¡C ¥ý¥Í,§A¦b¨º¸Ì¶Ü?"¿ý­µµ²§ô, ¨«¶}´î§Cµo°eªÌªº¶i¤@¨Bªº¹Á¸Õ³sµ¸¨Ó¹qªÌ¡C
"This is the enhanced version," Julia said, opening another sound file. "We filtered out the static and amplified the voice a bit." / "³o¬O¥i´£°ªªºª©¥»",¯ü²ú¨È»¡,¥´¶}¥t¥~°·¥þªºÀɮסC "§Ú­Ì¹LÂo¥XÀR¹q¦Ó¥BÂX¤j¤FÁn­µ¤@ÂIÂI" ¡C
This time the call came clearly over the PC's high-fidelity speakers, and Dr. Nambu felt the chill of goose bumps spreading over the backs of his arms and legs. That deep voice was terrifying in its familiarity, though there was a resonance to it that seemed... wrong. / ³o¦¸©I¥s²M·¡¦a¦b­Ó¤H¹q¸£ªº°ª¶Ç¯u©Ê»¡ªÌ¤§¤W³Q´£¥X¡A¦Ó¥B Nambu ³Õ¤h·PıÃZªº´H§N¦b¥Lªº¤â©M»Lªº­I­±¤§¤W¸I¼²¶Ç§G¡C ¨º²`ªº¦ü¥G¡AÁn­µ¥¿¦b¥¦ªº¿Ë±K¤¤ÅåÀ~, ÁöµM¦³¹ï¥¦ªº¤@­Ó¦@»ï¡C¡C¡C ¿ù»~ªº¡C
"It sounds so much like the Condor," Julia said when it finished. "But..." / "¥¦Å¥°_¨Ó³o»ò¦h°_¨Ó¹³¨rÆN¤@¼Ë",·í¥¦§¹¦¨ªº®É­Ô¡A¯ü²ú¨È»¡¡C "¦ý¬O¡C¡C¡C"
"But that's impossible." / " ¦ý¬O¤£¥i¯àªº".
"I'm afraid you're right, Hakase. Here's the voice match we attempted." Julia opened more files to reveal a set of graphs. "This was taken from a radio transmission from the Godphoenix, during a routine patrol on July 12, 2066. Compare it with the new recording." / " ®£©È§A¬O¥¿½Tªº,Hakase¡C ¦b³o¸ÌÁn­µ¦³»P§Ú­Ì¬Û°t¹Á¸Õ¶Ü¡C"¯ü²ú¨È¥´¶}¤F§ó¦hªºÀÉ®×Åã¥Ü¤@²Õ¦±½u¹Ï¡C "³o±q¨Ó¦Û Godphoenix ªº¦¬­µ¾÷¶Ç¿é³Q±a,2066 ¦~¤C¤ë 12 ¤é¦b¨Ò¦æ¤½¨Æ¨µÅÞ´Á¶¡¡C §â¥¦»P·sªº¿ý­µ§@¤ñ¸û¡C"
The marker crawled slowly over each graph as the voices--that of a dead man, then its clever copy--spoke in turn. Two sets of eyes followed the peaks and valleys of the readouts. / §@°O¸¹ªº¤HºCºC¦a¦pÁn­µ¦b¨C­Ó¦±½u¹Ï¤§¤Wª¦¦æ--¦ºªº¨k¤H, µM«á¥¦ªºÁo©ú°Æ¥»--¨Ì¦¸»¡¡C ²´·úªº¤G²Õ¸òÀH¤F®pÅq©M¸ê®Æ¸ÑªRªº¤s¨¦¡C
"The new voice is slightly deeper, something we could credit to aging and injury, but here..." Julia pointed to a ridge on the upper side of the new graph. "There's something artificial in the resonance that we've been unable to reproduce in the lab. It could have been the phone itself, or it could mean that someone was trying to disguise the voice, or to copy it. We suspect the latter, since it appears the caller used some sort of scrambler on the phone to clutter the connection, and Joe is..." / " ·sªºÁn­µ¨Ç·L¤ñ¸û²`, ¬Y¨Æ§Ú­Ì¥i¥H¨ã¦³¨ì¦Ñ¤Æ©M¨ü¶Ë, ¦ý¬O¦b³o¸Ì¡C¡C¡C"¯ü²ú¨È«ü¦V¦b·sªº¦±½u¹Ïªº¤W­±Ãä¤Wªº¤@­Ó¯á¡C " §Ú­Ì¤w¸g¤£¯à°÷¦b¹êÅç«Ç¤¤¦A¥Íªº¦@»ï¤H³yªºªF¦è¥¦À³¸Ó¥i¥H¬O¹q¸Ü¥»¨­,©Î¥¦¥i¥H·N¿×¡A¬Y¤H¥¿¦b¹Á¸Õ°°¸ËÁn­µ, ©Î½Æ¦L¥¦¡C §Ú­ÌÃhºÃ«áªÌ,¦]¬°¬Ý¨Ó¡A¨Ó¹qªÌ¨Ï¥Î¤F¦b¹q¸Ü¤Wªº¶g²vÂZ¶Ã¾¹ªº¤@¨ÇÃþ«¬§Ë¶Ã³s±µ¡A¦Ó¥B³ì¬O¡C¡C¡C"
"Supposed to be dead. Yes." Nambu rubbed his chin, frowning. "Any results on tracing the satellite data?" / "±À·Q¦º¡C ¬Oªº¡C"Nambu À¿¤F¥Lªº¤U¤Ú,½K¬ÜÀY¡C " ¥ô¦óªºµ²ªG¤@°lÂܤH³y½Ã¬P¸ê®Æ"?
Julia shook her head slowly. "It came from a private satellite, but that's all we know. It could also have been entirely fabricated, for the purpose of keeping us distracted for some kind of attack. This could be why our strange benefactor resembles Joe, yet has not tried to contact the rest of the Kagaku Ninjatai: because the Team's identity is still hidden... or because they'd be able to discern a fake better than we could." / ¯ü²ú¨ÈºCºC¦a·nÀY¡C "¥¦¨Ó¦Û¤@®y¨p¤Hªº¤H³y½Ã¬P, ¦ý¬O§Ú­Ìª¾¹Dªº¥þ³¡¡C ¥¦¥i¥H¤]§¹¥þ¦a¤w¸g³Q»s³y,¬°¤F¬°§ðÀ»ªº¤@¨ÇÃþ«¬¨Ï§Ú­Ì«O«ù¤ß·Ð·N¶Ãªº¡C ³o¥i¯à¬O§Ú­Ìªº©_©Ç®¦¤H¬°¤°»ò¬Û¦ü³ì, µM¦Ó¨S¦³¹Á¸Õ³sµ¸ Kagaku Ninjatai ªº¨ä¥¦³¡¤À: ¦]¬°¤p²Õªº¨­¥÷¤´µM³QÂõۡC¡C¡C ©Î¦]¬°¥L­Ì±N·|¯à°÷¿ë§O°²³f¤ñ§Ú­Ì§ó¡C"
"Hmm." Nambu regarded the two charts again, the data on the voice match. At last he sighed. "Conduct the search you've proposed. Use whatever you need. That's all for now." / "Hmm". Nambu ¦A¤@¦¸µø¬°¤F¤G¹Ï¸Ñ,¦bÁn­µ¤ñÁɤWªº¸ê®Æ¡C ³Ì«á¥L¼Û®§¡C "¤Þ¾É§A¤w¸g´£Ä³ªº·j´M¡C ¨Ï¥Î§A»Ý­nµL½×¤°»ò¡C ¨º¹ï²{¦b¬O©Ò¦³ªº¡C"
Julia left. Once the door closed and locked behind her, Nambu unlocked his desk and took out one last file. / ¯ü²ú¨ÈÂ÷¶}¡C ¤@¥¹ªùÃö³¬¦Ó¥BÂê¦b¦o«á­±, Nambu ¶}±Ò¤F¥Lªº®Ñ®à¦Ó¥B¨ú¥X¤@³Ì«á¥Ó½Ð¡C



Ken pulled the white convertible into a parking space reserved for one of the ISO's VIP scientists and stalked through the underground car park. His leg still twinged, but he ignored it. He no longer limped and as far as he was concerned, his injury was healed. Only the lumps inflicted on his pride remained to be dealt with. / ªÖ®¦©Ô¥Õ¦âªº¥iÅÜ´«¤§ª«¶i¤J¤@­Ó°±¨®¦ì¬°°ê»Ú¼Ð·Ç²Õ´ªº¶Q»«¬ì¾Ç®a¦Ó¥B¤§¤@«O¯d®¨®¨¾aªñ¹L¦a¤Uªº°±¨®³õ¡C ¥Lªº»L¼@·Ó twinged,¦ý¬O¥L©¿²¤¤F¥¦¡C ¥L¤£¦A¶_¦æ¡A¦Ó¥B´N¥L¨Ó»¡¡A¥Lªº¨ü¶Ë³Qªv¡¡C ¥u¦³¸~¶ô¦b¥Lªº³Q«O«ù³Q³B²zªº¦Û¶Æ¤W¬I¥H¡C
His ID as an ISO employee got him through the double security gates leading into the offices, and past five receptionists backed with armed guards. Security had tightened since his last visit--another bad sign that increased the tension in his shoulders. Ken moved briskly through the building, keeping a sharp eye out for anyone who might object to the presence of a slightly scruffy looking and decidedly nonscientific twenty-year-old, but the staff hadn't forgotten him. The new guards made a few noises about the "kid," but the old-timers dealt with that quickly enough: the kid was an ISO test pilot and Nambu's Golden Boy and carried top security clearance. / ¥Lªº¨­¥÷ÃÒ¦p¤@¦ì°ê»Ú¼Ð·Ç²Õ´¾­û±o¨ì¤F¥L¸g¹L»â¾Éªº¶i¤J¿ì¤½«Ç¤§¤ºªº¨â­¿¦w¥þªù¡A¦Ó¥B¹L¥hªº¤­­Ó±µ«Ý­û©MªZ¸Ëªº¦u½Ã¦^¡C ¦w¥þ¦Û³Ì«áªº¥L¤§«á¤w¸g°Çºò«ô³X--¼W¥[¤F¥LªºªÓºò±iªº¥t¥~Ãaªº²Å¸¹¡C ªÖ®¦¬¡¼â¦a²¾°Ê¹L«Ø¿vª«,¬°¥i¯à¤Ï¹ï¨Ç·L¤£¾ã»ô¬Ý©M½T©w«D¬ì¾Çªº¤G¤Q·³ªº¥X²{¥ô¦ó¤H§â¤@­Ó¾U§Qªº²´·ú¯d¦b¥~,¦ý¬O¾­û¨S¦³§Ñ°O¥L¡C ·sªº¦u½Ã»s³y¤FÃö©ó "¤p«Ä" ªº¤@¨Ç¾¸­µ¡A¦ý¬O¦Ñ«e½ú«Ü§Ö¦a¨¬°÷³B²z¨º: ¤p«Ä¬O¤@­Ó°ê»Ú¼Ð·Ç²Õ´´ú¸Õ­¸¦æ­û©M Nambu's ªºª÷¨k«Ä©M³Q¹Bªº³»¦y¦w¥þ²M°£¡C
"Kid." My ass, Ken thought. I haven't been a kid for years. / "¤p«Ä". §ÚªºÆj , ªÖ®¦·Q¡C §Ú¨S¦³¬O¤@­Ó¤p«Äªø¹F¼Æ¦~¤§¤[¡C
Dr. Nambu's office was on the forty second floor. The elevator was locked, but Ken's ID allowed him access. When the doors opened to reveal empty halls, Ken's remaining anger dropped away, replaced with concern. Has something happened to him? / Nambu's ³Õ¤h¿ì¤½«Ç¦b¥|¤Q¤G¼Ó¤W¡C ¹q±è³QÂê¡A¦ý¬OªÖ®¦ªº¨­¥÷ÃÒ¤¹³\¥L¦s¨ú¡C ·íªù¥´¶}Åã¥ÜªÅªºªùÆU®É­Ô,ªÖ®¦ªº³Ñ¾l©Á«ã´î¤Ö ,¥HÃö¤ß´À´«¡C ¬Y¨Æµo¥Í¦b¥L¨­¤W¤F¶Ü?
Nambu's receptionist was at his desk. At six foot four and two ninety, a Green Beret retired due to a combat injury, Bob Dellicott also acted as a bodyguard when the Kagaku Ninjatai wasn't around. Meticulously polite and professional, yet not to be challenged, he was one of the few the Team trusted and respected. Ken had last seen him at Joe's funeral. / Nambu's ªº±µ«Ý­û¦b¥Lªº®Ñ®à¡C ¥H¤»§`¥|©M¤G¤E¤Q¡A¤@­Óºñ¦âªº¨©¹p´U¥Ñ©ó¾Ô°«¨ü¶Ë°h¥ð,·í Kagaku Ninjatai ¤£¦bªþªñªº®É­Ô¡AÀj§B Dellicott ¤]¾á¥ô¤@­Ó«OÅß¡C ÄY±K¦a¦³Â§»ªªº©M±M·~, µM¦Ó¤£³Q¬D¾Ô,¥L«Ü¤Öªº³Q«H¿à¦Ó¥B´L·qªº¤p²Õ¬O¤@¡C ªÖ®¦³Ì«á¤w¸g¦b³ìªº¸®Â§¬Ý¨ì¥L¡C
Bob looked up from his computer terminal to meet Ken's eyes. "Good afternoon," he said pleasantly. / Àj§B¬Ý¦b±q²×ÂI¹J¨£ªÖ®¦ªº²´·ú¥L¹q¸£¤W­±¡C " ¤È¦w",¥L´r§Ö¦a»¡¡C
"Hi, Bob. I need to talk to the professor." / "¶Ù¡AÀj§B¡C §Ú»Ý­n©M±Ð±Â»¡¸Ü¡C"
"I'm sorry, but he isn't in his office." / "¹ï¤£°_¡A¦ý¬O¥L¤£¦b¥Lªº¿ì¤½«Ç¤¤" ¡C
The reply was expected, but Ken tensed. "When will he be back?" / µªÂгQ´Á±æ¡A¦ý¬OªÖ®¦©Ôºò¡C "¥L±N¦ó®É¦^¨Ó"?
"He didn't specify." / "¥L¨S¦³°O¸ü" ¡C
Alarm bells went off at that: first the increased security and now this. As Ken's eyes narrowed, the man added, "However, he was expecting you and left this for you." Bob rolled his chair aside and knelt behind his desk. A second later, he produced a sealed envelope from a small safe set in the floor, straightened up and handed it to Ken. "He said you would understand." / ĵ³ø¹a¦b¨ºÃz¬µ: ²Ä¤@ªº¼W¥[¦w¥þ©M²{¦b³o¡C ·íªÖ®¦ªº²´·úÁY¤pªº®É­Ô,¨k¤H¼W¥[,"µM¦Ó¡A¥L¥¿¦b´Á«Ý§A¦Ó¥B¬°§AÂ÷¶}¤F³o" ¡C Àj§B¦b¤@Ãä±²¥Lªº´È¤l©M¦b¥Lªº®Ñ®à«á­±ªº knelt¡C ¬íµy«á¡A¥L¥Í²£¤F¨Ó¦Û¦b¦aªO¤¤³Q³]©wªº¤@­Ó¤pªº«OÀI½cªº¤@­Ó±K«Êªº«H«Ê, §Ëª½¦b¦Ó¥B¤W­±¨ØªAªÖ®¦¡C "¥L»¡¤F§A±N·|¤F¸Ñ" ¡C
Ken broke the seal and slipped out a single sheet of paper. He stared at its contents and everything--all the reasons he had come here, all the resentment--vanished. What took its place wasn't shock, but rather a careful blankness. Slowly Ken folded the sheet and stuck it into a pocket. "Thank you." / ªÖ®¦Â_±¼¤F¦L³¹¦Ó¥B·Æ­Ë¥X¯Èªº³æ¤@±i¡C ¥L¨nµÛ¥¦ªº¤º®e©M¨C¥ó¨Æª«¬Ý-- ¥L¤w¸g¨Ó³o¸Ìªº©Ò¦³²z¥Ñ,©Ò¦³ªº«è«ë--®ø¥¢¡C ¨ú¥N¥¦ªº¤£¬OÅåÀ~, ¦ý¬O¬Û·í¤@­Ó¤p¤ßªºªÅ¥Õ¡C ºCºC¦aªÖ®¦ºPÅ|¤F±i¦Ó¥BªþµÛ¥¦¶i¤@­Ó¤f³U¤§¤º¡C "ÁÂÁ§A" ¡C
"Bad news?" / " Ãa®ø®§"?
"No. Not really. Thanks." / "¤£¯uªº¸¹½X¡C ÁÂÁ¡C"
Once in the hallway, Ken quickened his steps, but was still careful to not make it look like he was in a hurry. After all, he had plenty of time. The scheduled rendezvous would take place in two days. / ¤@¥¹¦b¨«´Y¡AªÖ®¦¥[§Ö¤F¥Lªº¨BÆJ, ¦ý¬O¤´µM¤p¤ß¤£°µ¨ì¬Ý°_¨Ó¹³¥L¤@¼Ë¥^¦£¡C ²¦³º¡A¥L¦³¤F³\¦h®É¶¡¡C ¹w©wªº¬ù·|¦b¤G¤Ñ¤¤±N·|µo¥Í¡C
What remained was to break the news to the Team / ¤°»ò«O«ù¬O¹ï¤p²Õ¥´¯}·s»D


One of the fortunate aspects of adolescence is a certain resilience. Those who survive it tend to bounce back quickly, and Jinpei was, above all, a survivor. / «C¬K´Áªº©¯¹B¤è­±¤§¤@¬O¤@­Ó¯S©wªº¼u©Ê¯à¡C ¨º¨ÇÄ~Äò¥Í¦sªº¤H¥¦®e©ö«Ü§Ö¦a«ì´_, ©M Jinpei ³Ì­«­nªÌ,¬O¤@¦ì¥ÍÁ٪̡C
It was Ryu that knocked him out of his slump. Something--Jinpei didn't know what exactly--had set Ken off. Ryu had arrived only hours earlier; there was a brief discussion behind closed doors, and then Ken had stormed out, borrowed Jun's car and left. A very subdued Ryu went into the bar in the Snack J, to bury his sorrows in one of Jinpei's spicy Club Specials. He was halfway through his snack when he noticed Jinpei's matching mournful expression across the bar. / ¥¦¬O¥Ñ©ó¥Lªº¼É¶^ºVÀ»¤F¥Lªº Ryu ¡C ¬Y¨Æ-- Jinpei ¨S¦³ª¾¹D¤°»ò§¹¥þ--¨«¶}¦³²ÕªÖ®¦¡C Ryu ¤w¸g¨ì¹F¥u¦³¦­¨Ç®É­Ôªº¼Æ¤p®É; ³Ñ¤U¦bÃö³¬ªù«á­±ªºÂ²µu°Q½× , µM«áªÖ®¦¨g«ã©H­ý , ­É¨Óªº¤»¤ë¨T¨®©M¡C «D±`§í¨îªº Ryu ¶i¤J¤p¦Y J ªº°s§a, ®I¸®¦b Jinpei's ªº¨¯»¶­Ñ¼Ö³¡¤§¤@ªº¥L´d¶Ë¯S§Oªº¡C ·í¥Lª`·N¤F Jinpei's »P¾î¹L°s§aªº´dºEªí¹F¬Û°tªº®É­Ô¡A¥L¬O¤¤³~ªº¬ï¶V¥Lªº¤p¦Y¡C
"So what's buggin' you?" he asked, his mouth full. / "¦p¦¹ buggin ¬O¤°»ò'§A"? ¥L°Ý,§¹¥þ¦aªº¥L¼L¡C
Jinpei shook his head. "Nothin'." "Hah. Nothin' he says. C'mon, Jinpei, we've known each other for too long for that. What's the problem?" / Jinpei ·nÀY¡C "Nothin'". "Hah¡C Nothin'¥L»¡¡C C'mon ¡A Jinpei, §Ú­Ì¤w¸g»{ÃÑ©¼¦¹¬°¤Ó¤[¬°¨º¡C °ÝÃD¬O¤°»ò?"
Maybe it was Ryu's hangdog expression, or maybe it was because it had been a long time and Jinpei missed seeing the big, easygoing man around. The story came out: all about his crush on Laura, his success in getting her attention, and the way Laura's hostile friends had put him in a spot. Ryu listened and grunted a lot, and when Jinpei finished, he said, "Y'know, 's not like you at all." / ¤]³\¥¦¬O Ryu's ªº°­°­¯©¯©ªºªí¹F,©Î¦]¬°¥¦¤w¸g¬Oªøªº®É¶¡¡A¦Ó¥B Jinpei ¿ù¹L¦bªþªñ¬Ý¨£¤jªº, ³p»»¦Û¦bªº¨k¤H¡A¤]³\¥¦¬O¡C ¬G¨Æ¥X¨Ó: ©Ò¦³Ãö©ó¦bÅÚ©Ô¡A¥Lªº±o¨ì¦oªºª`·N ªº¦¨¥\©M¤èªk¤Wªº¥LÀ£¸Hªº¨ÆÅÚ©ÔªºÃh¼Ä·NªºªB¤Í¤w¸g§â¥L©ñ¤J¤@­Ó¦aÂI¡C Ryu Å¥¦Ó¥B­ó«Ü¦h¡A¦Ó¥B·í Jinpei §¹¦¨ªº®É­Ô,¥L»¡,"Y'know,'¦b¥þ³¡ªº¤£¹³§A¤@¼Ëªº s".
"What do you mean?" Jinpei frowned. / " §A·N¿×¤°»ò"? Jinpei ½K¬ÜÀY¡C
"I mean, look." Ryu waved what was left of his sandwich for emphasis. "For three years you were sneaking around into enemy bases, beating up big guys with loaded guns, and you're complaining about a couple of junior high varsity football players?" / "§Ú·N¿×,¬Ý". Ryu ´§»R¤F¹ï©ó±j½Õ¥Lªº¤T©úªv³Q¯d¤UªºªF¦è¡C "¤T¦~§A¶i¤J¼Ä¤H°ò¦¤§¤º¬O°½°½°k¨«ªº¦bªþªñ,¥´¦b¤jªº³Ã¥ë¤W­±¥Ñ©ó¸Ë¸ü¥Î¬¶®gÀ»¡A¦Ó¥B§A¥¿¦b©ê«è¦~¤Öªº°ª¤j¾Ç¥Nªí¶¤ªº¤Ò°ü¨¬²y¹B°Ê­û"?
The kid's frown grew deeper. "Yeah, but how can I deal with them without being obvious?" he said resentfully. "Those morons understand only one thing, but I can't just trash them. How could I explain it? 'Well, y'see, I'm an ex-member of a special combat squad, and...' Right." / ¤p«Äªº½K¬ÜÅܱo¤ñ¸û²`¡C "¬Oªº, ¦ý¬O§Ú¦p¦ó¯à³B²z¥L­Ì¨S¦³©úÅã"? ¥L¼««ë¦a»¡¡C "¨º¨Ç§C¯à¥u¤F¸Ñ¤@¥ó¨Æª«¡A¦ý¬O§Ú¤£¯à¶È¶È§ËÃa¥L­Ì¡C §Ú¦p¦ó¥i¥H¸ÑÄÀ¥¦? '«Ü¦n¦a,y'see,§Ú¬O¯S§Oªº¾Ô°«¤p¶¤ªº¤@­Ó«e¥ô¦¨­û,©M¡C¡C¡C'Åv§Q¡C"
Ryu just shrugged. "You're a ninja, right? So be a ninja." / Ryu ­è­èÁqªÓ¡C "§A¬O§ÔªÌ,¹ï¤£¹ï? §ÔªÌ¤]¬O¡C"
Jinpei stopped rinsing out a glass and stared at him. It was so simple, so easy to say. The wheels began to turn. / Jinpei °±¤î¨R¬~¥X¬Á¼þ¦Ó¥B¨nµÛ¥L¬Ý¡C »¡¬O¦p¦¹Â²³æ, ¦p¦¹®e©ö¡C ½ü¤l¶}©lÂà¡C
"You know what?" he said softly. "You're right." / " §Aª¾¹D¤°»ò"? ¥L¬X©M¦a»¡¡C " §A¬O¥¿½Tªº" ¡C
"Of course I'm right." Ryu tucked away the last of his sandwich. "That was great. Could you make me another one?" / " ·íµM§Ú¬O¥¿½Tªº" ¡C Ryu ¤§»·¥´¾îÁ·¤F¥Lªº¤T©úªvªº³Ì«áªÌ¡C "¨º¬O¤j®v¡C §A¥i¥H»s³y§Ú¥t¥~¤@¤@¶Ü?"
"Yeah." Jinpei grinned. "Sure thing. On the house." He turned back to the cutting board, his hands and mind busy. / "¬Oªº". Jinpei ÅS¾¦¦Ó¯º¡C "½T«H¨Æª«¡C ¦b©Ð¤l¤W¡C" ¥L§é¦^¨ì¤ÁµæªO, ¦£¸Lªº¥L¤â©M¤ß¡C

Monday morning, Jinpei went to school and found Laura waiting by his locker, ready to trade her English notes for his Biology notes. He was explaining the latest on an impending quiz when a shadow fell over them: Brad, one of Laura's friends and a linebacker in the Varsity team. / ¬P´Á¤@¦­±á¡A Jinpei ¥h¤W¾Ç¦Ó¥Bµo²{ÅÚ©Ô¥¿¦bÂǵۥLªºÂêÂdµ¥­Ô,¹w³Æ¬°¥Lªº¥Íª«¾Çªþµù¥æ©ö¦oªº­^¤åªþµù¡C ·í¤@­Ó¼v¹³¶^­Ë¥L­Ìªº®É­Ô¡A¥L¥¿¦b¸ÑÄÀ¦b¤@¦¸¹Gªñªº¤p¦Ò¤Wªº³Ìªñ: ¤j¾Çªº¤p²Õ¥¬µÜ¼w¡AÅÚ©ÔªºªB¤Í¤§¤@©M¤@­Ó«á½Ã²y­û¡C
"Scuse me, can I talk to you for a minute?" One meaty hand grabbed the smaller boy's shoulder, spun him around and shoved him across the hall. Jinpei allowed it, knowing how easily he could send Brad's ugly face into the side of a locker. Some of the other kids noticed and stopped, waiting to see blood. Laura watched with wide eyes, but didn't move. / " Scuse §Ú, §Ú¯à»¡¸Ü¶Ü¹ï§A¹ï©ó¤ÀÄÁ"? §ì¨ú¸û¤pªº¨k«ÄªÓ¤@°¦¦×ªº¤â,¦bªþªñ§Ö³t±ÛÂà¥L¦Ó¥B¾î¹L±ÀÀ½¥LªùÆU¡C Jinpei ¤¹³\¤F¥¦, ³Õ¾Çªº¥L¥i¥H°e¥¬µÜ¼wªºÁà­®Áy¶iÂêÂdªºÃä¦a¦h®e©ö¡C ¤@¨Ç¥t¤@­Ó«¡ÄFª`·N¦Ó¥B°±¤î, µ¥­Ô¬Ý¨£¦å¡C ÅÚ©Ô¥H¼eªº²´·ú¬Ý, ¦ý¬O¨S¦³²¾°Ê¡C
They stopped just inside the entrance to the boys' bathroom, a well-known battleground well out of the sight of passersby. Once the door closed, Jinpei jerked his shoulder out from under the bigger boy's hand. "What do you want?" / ¥L­Ì¦b³q©¹¨k«Äªº¯D«Ç¤J¤f¸Ì¶È¶È°±¤î,¤@­Ó²³©Ò¶gª¾ªº¾Ô³õ´é¥XÂ÷ passersby ªºµø¤O¡C ¤@¥¹ªùÃö³¬, Jinpei ¦b¥~µjÅË¥LªºªÓ±q¦b¸û¤jªº¨k«Ä¤â¤§¤U¡C " §A·Q­n¤°»ò"?
"Didn't I tell you to stay the hell away from Laura? Geeks like you are gonna ruin her image." / "§Ú¨S§i¶D§A°±¯d¦aº»»·Â÷ÅÚ©Ô¶Ü? ª±®a¹³§A±N­n·´·À¦oªº¼v¹³¡C"
Jinpei shrugged. "Who are you, her social manager? If she doesn't like me, she can tell me herself." / Jinpei ÁqªÓ¡C "§A¬O½Ö? ¦oªºªÀ·|¸g²z ¦pªG¦o¤£³ßÅw§Ú,¦o¯à§i¶D§Ú¦o¦Û¤v¡C"
"I'm telling you, and I'm telling you nicely. This is your last warning. Go back to the chess club, dweeb, before you get hurt." / "§Ú¥¿¦b§i¶D§A¡A¦Ó¥B§Ú¥¿¦b«Ü¦n¦a§i¶D§A¡C ³o³Ì«á¬O§AªºÄµ§i¡C ¦^¥h¦è¬v¶H´Ñ­Ñ¼Ö³¡¡A dweeb,¦b§A±o¨ì¶Ë®`¤§«e¡C"
"Nice comeback, Brad. You as good with your fists as you are with your threats?" That came out before he could stop it, and Jinpei kicked himself inwardly. He used to be a lot better at being cool and noble. Jun blamed it all on hormones. / "¬ü¦nªº±²¤g­«¨Ó¡A¥¬µÜ¼w¡C §A¦p©M§Aªº®±ÀY¦n³B·í°µ§A¬O¥Ñ©ó§Aªº«Â¯Ù?"¦b¥L¥i¥H°±¤î¥¦¤§«e , ¨º¥X¨Ó¡A¦Ó¥B Jinpei ¦V¤ºªº¦Û³d¡C ¥L¹L¥h¤@ª½«Ü¦h¹ï²D²n·P¨ì¤ñ¸û¦nªº©M¶Q±Ú¡C ¤»¤ë¦b²üº¸»X¤W³d³Æ¤F¥¦¥þ³¡¡C
Brad rose easily to the bait, happy for any excuse to start a fight. "Hey smartmouth, want me to punch your fuckin' head in?" / ¥¬µÜ¼w®e©ö¦a¹ï»ç¤W¤É, §Ö¼ÖªºÅý¥ô¦óªºÂǤf¶}©l¾Ô°«¡C " ¶Ù smartmouth,·Q­n§Ú¥H®±­«À»§Aªº fuckin' ÀY¦b"?
His sneer caused Jinpei's patience to slide another notch. He smiled poisonously. "Go ahead. Knock yourself out." / ¥Lªº§N¯º¾É­P Jinpei's ªº­@©Ê·Æ°Ê¥t¤@­Ó¨è²ª¡C ¥L¦³¬r¦a·L¯º¡C "¥h¦V«e¦a¡C ¦b¥~ºVÀ»§A¦Û¤v¡C"
After a moment of gratifying surprise, Brad's jaw muscles twitched. Jinpei could see the bully's mind working. Hitting the smaller boy in the face wouldn't be cool--marking him up would be too obvious to the teachers once class started. Far better to grab the little geek by the front of the shirt and slam him into the wall a few times. Give him the fear.... / ¦b¤ù¨èªº®®¤H·N¥~¤§«á¡A¥¬µÜ¼wªºÃE¦Ù¦×²r©Ô¡C Jinpei ¥i¥H¬Ý¨£´Û­â®z¤pªÌªº¤ß¤u§@ªº¡C ¸I¼²Áyªº¸û¤p¨k«Ä±N¤£«Ü²D²n-- ¦V¤W¼Ð¥Ü¥L±N·|¹ï¦Ñ®v´¿¸g¤Ó¬O©úÅ㪺³Q¶}©lªº¯Z¯Å¡C ¬Û·í¦nªºÂǵÛŨ­mªº«e­±§ì¨ú¤pª±®a¦Ó¥B²rµMÃö¤W¥L¶iÀð¾À¼Æ®É¥N¤§¤º¡C µ¹¥L®£Äß....
Brad's move was telegraphed long before it came. Jinpei caught his wrist easily, grabbed the back of his meaty upper arm and gave it a twist. The smaller boy's right hand slid easily to the nearest pressure point, found a sensitive nerve cluster and squeezed. / ¦b¥¦¨Ó¤§«e , ¥¬µÜ¼wªº²¾°Ê¤[³Q¥´¹q³ø¡C Jinpei ®e©ö¦a®·®»¤F¥Lªº¤âµÃ,§ì¨ú¤F¥Lªº¦×¤WÁuªº­I­±¦Ó¥Bµ¹¤©¤F¥¦¤@§á¡C ¸û¤pªº¨k«Ä¥k¤â slid ®e©ö¦a¹ï³ÌªñªºÀ£¤OÂI,µo²{±Ó·Pªº¯«¸g¸s¦Ó¥Bºò´¤¡C
"AAAAAAOOOWWWW!" The yelp came out of the big football player before he could stop it. The sound reverberated off the tile walls. / "AAAAAAOOOWWWW"! ¦b¥L¥i¥H°±¤î¥¦¤§«e , ¥s³Û±q¤jªº¨¬²y¹B°Ê­û¥X¨Ó¡C Án­µ¨«¶}¦^ÅT¥Ë¤ùÀð¾À¡C
"People can hear you outside, tough guy," Jinpei said softly in his ear, still smiling. "You don't want anyone to come looking for you, because they'll see this." / "¤H­Ì¯àÅ¥¨ì§A­Ì¥~­±,±jµwªº³Ã¥ë",Jinpei ¬X©M¦a¦b¥Lªº¦Õ¦·¤¤»¡, µM¦Ó·L¯ºªº¡C "¦]¬°¥L­Ì±N¬Ý¨£³o¡A©Ò¥H§A¤£·Q­n¥ô¦ó¤H¨Ó§ä´M§A" ¡C
Brad struggled and a shock of raw pain coursed up his arm. He stopped. "Leggo my arm, motherfucker!" he hissed. "You're gonna break it!" / ¥¬µÜ¼w§V¤O¡A¦Ó¥B¥Íªºµh­W¤@­ÓÅåÀ~¦b¥Lªº¤âÁu¤W­±½Òµ{¡C ¥L°±¤î¡C " Leggo §Úªº¤âÁu,motherfucker"! ¥Lµo¥X¼NÁn¡C "§A±N­n¥´¯}¥¦"!
"All you have to do is hold still." / " ¥þ³¡§A¥²¶·°µ¬O§â´¤¼@·Ó".
He struggled again, lashing out with his foot. Jinpei dodged easily and increased the pressure very slightly. Brad stopped with a nasty grimace. "I'll kick your skinny ass!" / ¥L¦A¤@¦¸§V¤O, Ã@¥´¦b¥~¥H¥Lªº¸}¡C Jinpei ®e©ö¦aÁ׶}¦Ó¥B«D±`¨Ç·L¦a¼W¥[¤FÀ£¤O¡C ¥¬µÜ¼w¥H¤@­Ó¦Ã©ªº­±³¡¬n§á°±¤î¡C "§Ú±N½ð§AªºÁ¡Æj"!
"And spend a whole season on the bench wondering how a little dweeb like me busted your arm in two places?" / " ¦Ó¥B±N¤@­Ó¾ã­Ó©u¸`ªá¦bªø´È¤l¤Wı±o©_©Ç¹³§Ú¤@¼Ëªº¤@¨Ç dweeb ¦p¦ó¦b¤G­Ó¦a¤è¤¤¥b¨­¹³§Aªº¤âÁu"?
The pain drove the message home. Brad froze, deciding that perhaps his pride wasn't worth a lasting injury. Jinpei waited a few more minutes, just so Brad would get the message, then he let go. / µh­W¾r¾p°T®§®a¡C ¥¬µÜ¼w­áµ², ¨M©w¨º¤]³\¥Lªº¦Û¶Æ¤£¬O­È±o¥Ã¤[ªº¨ü¶Ë¡C Jinpei µ¥­Ô¤F¦A¹L´X¤ÀÄÁ,¶È¶È¦]¦¹¥¬µÜ¼w±N·|¦¬¨ì°T®§, µM«á¥LÅý¥h¡C
The big boy stepped back, rubbing his arm and seething, then whirled on Jinpei. So what if the bruises did show--this stringy little geek had gotten lucky once, but he wasn't going to do it again. / ¤jªº¨k«Ä¦V«á¦a½ñ,À¿¥Lªº¤âÁu©M seething,µM«á¦b Jinpei ¤W±ÛÂà¡C ¦p¦¹¤°»ò¦pªG·ï¶Ë°µ¤Fªíºt--³o­Ó½u¤pª±®a¤w¸g±o¨ì©¯¹Bªº¤@¦¸¡A¦ý¬O¥L±N¤£¦A°µ¥¦¡C
The look on Jinpei's face stopped him. It was not what he expected, not the expression of a little chess nerd about to get his head beaten in. It was calm, unthreatened, ready.... / ¦b Jinpei's ªºÁy¤W¯«±¡ªý¤î¤F¥L¡C ¥¦¤£¬O¥L©Ò´Á±æªº, ¤£¤@­Ó¤p¦è¬v¶H´Ñ®Ñ§b¤lªºªí¹F¤j¬ùÅý¥LªºÀY³Q¥´¦b¡C ¥¦¬O¥­Ã­,¤£«Â¯Ù,²{ª÷....
The bell rang. / ¹a»ïÅT¡C
"This isn't over. This is far from over!" Brad hissed, then turned and lumbered out of the room. Jinpei grinned after him, an expression that would've made Joe proud. / "³o¤£µ²§ô¡C ³oÁÙ¨S¦³µ²§ô!"¥¬µÜ¼wµo¥X¼NÁn,µM«áÂà¦Ó¥B¬å¥ï¤ì§÷Â÷©Ð¶¡¡C Jinpei ÅS¾¦¦Ó¯º¦b¥L¤§«á, ªí¹F would've ¨Ï³ìź¶Æ¡C
You got that right. It's only beginning. I'm gonna be your worst nightmare, Brad. / §A±o¨ì¤FÅv§Q¡C ¥¦¥u¬Oªì´Á¡C §Ú±N­n¬O§A³ÌÃaªº¹ÚÆL¡A¥¬µÜ¼w¡C
When Jinpei came out of the boys' room, he found Laura was still waiting, her eyes shining. She'd heard Brad yell, and saw that Jinpei was still in one piece. Jinpei had seen that look before... from Maria-chan a couple of years ago, right after he'd roundhouse-kicked one of her "bodyguards" in the face. Women, he thought. They tell you they're not violent, but it's only because they want somebody else to do the dirty work. / ·í Jinpei ±q¨k«Äªº©Ð¶¡¥X¨Óªº®É­Ô, ¥Lµo²{ÅÚ©Ô¤´µM¬Oµ¥­Ô, ¥ú«Gªº¦o²´·ú¡C ¦o¦³Å¥¨ì¥¬µÜ¼w¤j¥s, ©M¿÷¤l Jinpei ¤´µM¬O¦b¶ô¤¤¡C Jinpei ¥H«e¤w¸g¬Ý¨ì¨º¯«±¡¡C¡C¡C ±qº¿ÄR¨È- chan ¦b¤@¨Ç¼Æ¦~¥H«e, ´N¦b¥L¤§«á¦³¦oªº«á¥ÒªO«á³¡ªº²î«Ç½ðªºÁy "«OÅß"¡C ¤k¤H,¥L·Q¡C ¥L­Ì§i¶D§A¡A¥L­Ì¤£¬O¼É¤Oªº, ¦ý¬O¥¦¥u¦³¬O¦]¬°¥L­Ì·Q­n§O¤H°µ¨õ¦H¦æ¬°¡C
"You oughta be more careful about picking your friends," he told her. / " §A oughta Ãö©óºK§AªºªB¤Í¬O§ó¤p¤ßªº",¥L§i¶D¤F¦o¡C
She didn't hear his irritation. "I thought he would kill you! How did you stop him?" / ¦o¨S¦³Å¥¨ì¥Lªº¨ë¿E¡C "§Ú·Q¤F¥L±N·|±þ§A! §A¦p¦óªý¤î¥L?"
"Just some stuff I learned," he said, shrugging. "The guys at Chess Club hate it when I try it on them, though." / " ¥¿ª½ªº¤@¨Ç¨Æ±¡§Ú¾Ç²ß",¥L»¡,ÁqªÓ¡C "¦ý¬O,·í§Ú¦b¥L­Ì¨­¤W¸Õ¥¦ªº®É­Ô¡A³Ã¥ë¦b¦è¬v¶H´Ñ­Ñ¼Ö³¡¼¨«ë¥¦" ¡C
But when the current girl of his dreams clutched his arm tightly, looked straight into his eyes and smiled, Jinpei's head reeled and all other concerns disappeared. Ah well. There's love for you. / ¦ý¬O¥Lªº¹Ú²{¦bªº¤k«Ä¦ó®Éºòºò¦a§ì¨c¤F¥Lªº¤âÁu, ¶i¤J¥Lªº²´·ú¤§¤º¬Ý°_¨Óª½¦Ó¥B·L¯º,Jinpei's ªºÀY©ó¶b¤W¡A¦Ó¥B©Ò¦³ªº¨ä¥LÃö¤ß®ø¥¢¡C °Ú´é¥X¡C ¬°§A¦³·R¡C

Friday night, and the library at Cambridge University was almost empty. Twenty-one-year-old Eric Getz sat in his usual spot in a secluded corner of the second floor, reading an analysis that he planned to use for his thesis on the most recent world war. It was April and getting close to Finals, and it being his senior year, he was buckling down for the onslaught. / ¬P´Á¤­©]±ß¡A¦Ó¥B¹Ï®ÑÀ]¦b¼C¾ô¤j¾Ç´X¥GªÅ¡C ¤G¤Q¤@·³ªº¦ã¤O§J Getz ¦b¤G¼Óªº¤@­Ó³Q¤ÀÂ÷ªº¨¤¸¨¥L¥­±`ªº¦aÂI¤¤§¤,Ū¥L­pµe¬°¦b³Ìªñªº¥@¬É¾Ôª§¤Wªº¥L½×ÃD¨Ï¥Îªº¤@¶µ¤ÀªR¡C ¥¦¬O¥|¤ë¦Ó¥B¦bµ²§½ªºªþªñ±o¨ì, ©M¥¦§@¬°¥Lªº¸ê²`¦~,¥L¹ï©ó¬ðÀ»¬O®À¦±¤U¨Ó¡C
As a history major, he took a special interest in war tactics. Military strategy and recurring patterns fascinated him, and he had already made several observations that had surprised his professors. Actually he tried to excel in everything he did--he also painted, wrote poetry and had a second degree black belt in Kung fu. His drive and perfectionism hadn't made him the most popular guy around, but the few friends he had--the ones that mattered--were enough. / ¨­¬°¤@­Ó¾ú¥v¥D­×¬ì¥Ø¡A¥L±Ä¨ú¤F¹ï¾Ôª§¾Ô³Nªº¯S§O¿³½ì¡C ­x¨Æµ¦²¤¦Ó¥B¦^¨ì¨å«¬¥O¤H¤J¯«¤F¥L¡A¦Ó¥B¥L¤w¸g§@¤w¸g¨Ï¥Lªº±Ð±Â¦YÅ媺¤@¨ÇÆ[¹î¤F¡C ¹ê»Ú¤W¥L¸ÕµÛ¾Õªø¥L°µªº¨C¥ó¨Æª«--¥L¤]µe, ¼g¤F¸Ö¦Ó¥B¦³¤F Kung fu ªº²Ä¤G«×¶Â¦âªº±a¤l¡C ¥Lªº¾r¨®©M perfectionism ¨S¦³¦bªþªñ¨Ï¥L¦¨¬°³Ì¨üÅwªïªº³Ã¥ë, ¦ý¬O«Ü¤ÖªºªB¤Í¥L¦³--¦³­«¤jÃö«Yªº¤@¨Ç--¬O¥R¨¬¡C
The pager in his shirt pocket vibrated, and he jumped. He wasn't expecting any calls. His professors were done for the day, and Mako wasn't due back from her parents' house until Sunday. Getz pulled the pager out and saw it wasn't a number he knew. / ¥LªºÅ¨­m¤f³Uªº©I¥s¾¹®¶°Ê¡A¦Ó¥B¥L¸õÅD¡C ¥L¨S¦³¦b´Á«Ý¥ô¦óªº©I¥s¡C ¥Lªº±Ð±Â¬°¨º¤Ñ³Q°µ¡A¦Ó¥B Mako ª½¨ì¬P´Á¤é¤£¬O¨Ó¦Û¦oªº¤÷¥À©Ð¤lªº¾A·í­I­±¡C Getz ¦b¥~©Ô©I¥s¾¹¨Ã¥B¬Ý¨£¥¦¤£¬O¤@­Ó¼Æ¦r¥Lª¾¹D¡C
With a sigh, he gathered his books and took the stairs to the main lobby. Near the entrance was a row of payphones. He took one on the end, dialed the number and waited for someone to pick up. / ÂǥѤ@Án¼Û®§¡A¥L»E¶°¤F¥Lªº®Ñ¦Ó¥B±a¤F¹ï¥D­nªº¤jÆU¼Ó±è¡C ¦b¤J¤fªºªþªñ¬O payphones ªº±Æ¡C ¥L¦bµ²§ô¤W±a¤@,¼·¤F¼Æ¦r¦Ó¥Bµ¥­Ô¥L³vº¥«ì´_¡C
An electronic voice gave him an address--a rendezvous. This was also odd, because it was so direct. He hung up and went outside to his car. / ¤@ºØ¹q¤lªºÁn­µµ¹¤©¤F¥L¤@­Ó¦í§}--¤@­Ó¬ù·|¡C ¦]¬°¥¦¬O¦p¦¹ª½±µ¡A©Ò¥H³o¤]¬O©_¼Æªº¡C ¥L±¾Â_¦Ó¥B¥X¥h¨ì¥Lªº¨T¨®¡C
Twenty minutes later Getz arrived at the rendezvous point, a small coffee shop. A feature had just ended at the cinema next door, so the shop was crowded with moviegoers--mostly college students. A man hailed him from a corner booth; a nondescript fellow he'd never seen before. They both ordered espresso and made small talk about the weather until their order arrived. / ¤G¤Q¤ÀÄÁ¤§«á Getz ¹F¦¨¬ù·|ÂI, ¤@®a¤pªº©@°Ø©±¡C ¤@­Ó¯S¼x¦b¹q¼v°|¹j¾À­è­èµ²§ô¡A¦]¦¹¡A°Ó©±À½º¡±`¬Ý¹q¼vªº¤H-- ¤j³¡¥÷¾Ç°|¾Ç¥Í¡C ¤@­Ó¨k¤H±q¤@­Ó¨¤¸¨«F¦V¥LÅw©I; ¤@­Ó²ö¥i¦Wª¬ªº¤H¥L¥H«e±q¥¼¬Ý¨ì¡C ª½¨ì¥L­Ìªº¦¸§Ç¨ì¹F¡A¥L­Ì­Ç³£©R¥O¤F¿@ÁY©@°Ø¦Ó¥B§@¤FÃö©ó¤Ñ®ðªº¤p½Í¸Ü¡C
"It's certainly been a long time," Getz said. "How's the winery?" Wish we'd had the chance to update this code.... / "¥¦½T©w¦a³Q¬Oªøªº®É¶¡",Getz »¡¡C " ¦p¦ó¸²µå°sÆC³y¼t"? §Ú­Ì¦³¦³¤F¾÷·|§ó·s³o¤@­Ó±K½Xªº§Æ±æ....
"Well, you know how it is," said the man. Slight trace of a French accent. "Replanting the old plots takes a lot of time. I'm surprised that we got things accomplished as early as this." / "¶â¡A§Aª¾¹D¥¦¬O¦p¦ó", ¨k¤H»¡¡C »´µø¤@­Óªk°ê¤f­µªº²ª¸ñ¡C "§ïºØªº±¡¸`ªá³\¦h®É¶¡¡C §Ú¬O·P¨ìÅå³Yªº§Ú­Ì¹³³o¤@¼Ëªº¦­¨Ï¨Æª«§¹¦¨ªº¡C"
"Really?" Getz said pleasantly, feeling the first twinges of apprehension. "What have you fixed up so far?" / "¯uªº¶Ü"? Getz ´r§Ö¦a»¡,·Pı²z¸Ñªº²Ä¤@­Ó¤@°}¤@°}µh¡C " §A­×²z¤F¤°»ò¦b¨ì²{¦b¬°¤î¤W­±"?
"I think we'll have the Conservatory rebuilt soon." / "§Ú»{¬°§Ú­Ì±N«Ü§ÖÅý·Å«Ç¦A«Ø³y" ¡C
The young man's stomach jerked into a tight, hard knot. The Conservatory? Why the hell are we discussing this in a public place? He kept his expression neutral. The first thing he had learned while training as a field agent was never to give anything away. Even in this era of peace, you can't be too careful. And dammit, this news meant that the ISO was summoning him. Just what I needed, right before finals. / ¦~»´ªº¨k¤H­G¶i¤J¤@­Óºòªº, Ãøªºµ²¤§¤ºµjÅË¡C ·Å«Ç? ¦aº»¬O¬°¤°»ò§Ú­Ì¦b¤@­Ó¤½¦@³õ©Ò¤¤°Q½×³o? ¥Lºû«ù¥Lªºªí¹F¤¤¥ß¡C ²Ä¤@¥ó¨Æª«¥L¤w¸g¾Ç²ß·í¦p¤@­Ó»â°ì¥N²z¤Hªº°V½m®É­Ô±q¤£¬OÃØ°e¥ô¦ó¨Æ¡C ¬Æ¦Ü¦b©M¥­ªº³o¤@­Ó®É¥N¤¤¡A§A¤£¥i¯à¬O¤Ó¤p¤ßªº¡C ¦Ó¥B¸Ó¦º,³o¤@«h·s»D·N¿×°ê»Ú¼Ð·Ç²Õ´¥¿¦b¥l³ê¥L¡C ¨s³º¤°»ò´N¦bµ²§½¤§«e§Ú»Ý­n¡C
"Well, I'll have to go over and check it out sometime." Getz forced a grin at the man, who hid his mouth behind his coffee mug. / "¶â¡A§Ú±N¥²¶·¬Y¤@­Ó®É¶¡¦b¥~¸Ô²Ó¹î¬Ý¦Ó¥BÀˬd¥¦" ¡C Getz À£­¢¤F¦b¨k¤HªºÅS¾¦¯º,¨k¤HÂäF¦b¥Lªº©@°ØÁy«á­±ªº¥L¼L¡C
After a half hour, they left the shop, parting like old friends. As he drove back to his little townhouse by the park, Getz kept his face neutral--you never know who might be watching. As a matter of fact, he had the stony glare down to such a fine art, it was hard to remember at times to take it off. / ¦b¤@­Ó¤@¥bªº¤p®É¤§«á¡A¥L­ÌÂ÷¶}¤F°Ó©±¡AÂ÷§Oªº¬Û¦ü¦ÑªB¤Í¡C ·í¥L¦V«á¦a¶}¨®¨ì¤½¶éªº¥L¤p¦³¿ú¤Hªº«°¥«¦í¦vªº®É­Ô,Getz «O«ù¥LªºÁy¤¤¥ßªÌ--§A±q¤£ª¾¹D½Ö¥i¯à¬Ý¡C ¨Æ¹ê¤W¡A¥L¹ï¤@ºØ¦p¦¹¦nªºÃÀ³N¦³­±µLªí±¡°{Ä£¥úåP¸¨,§xÃøªº¬O¦³®É°O±o²æ±¼¥¦¡C
When he was only fifteen, one of his uncles had spotted some potential in him and decided to put it to good use. Within the year he was training as a field agent for the ISO. Getz discovered that he loved the romance and responsibility of the work--despite the drudgery and the danger. As with everything he did, he strove to be the best, and he succeeded. Unfortunately, this had attracted the attention of a very powerful man, and three years ago, he had been sent to Utoland for special tests--strength and endurance, knowledge of the martial arts... He wondered what this was about until the results came: he was considered a backup candidate for the Kagaku Ninjatai, to act as a replacement should any member of that team fall. Getz didn't really want the position, but Dr. Kozaburou Nambu was not the kind of man one said no to. / ·í¥L¥u¬O¤Q¤­ªº®É­Ô,¥Lªº¨û¨û¤§¤@¤w¸g¦b¥L¸Ì­±¬Ý¨£¤@¨Ç¼ç¯à¦Ó¥B¨M©w¬¡¥Î¥¦¡C ¦b¨º¦~¤º¥L¥¿¦b¬°°ê»Ú¼Ð·Ç²Õ´±Ð¨|¦p¤@­Ó»â°ì¥N²z¤H¡C Getz µo²{¤F¥L·R®öº©¥v©M¤u§@ªº³d¥ô--¤£¦b¥G­W®t¨Æ©M¦MÀI¡C Ãö©ó¨C¥ó¨Æª«¥L°µ,¥L§V¤O¬O³Ì¦n¡A¦Ó¥B¥L¦¨¥\¡C ¤£©¯¦a¡A³o¤w¸g§l¤Þ«D±`¦³¤Oªº¨k¤Hª`·N¡A¦Ó¥B¦b¤T¦~¥H«e¡A¥L¬°¯S§Oªº´ú¸Õ¤w¸g³Q°e¨ì Utoland--¤O¶q©M§Ô­@, ªZÃÀªºª¾ÃÑ¡C¡C¡C ¥LÃhºÃ¡A³o¬O¤°»òª½¨ìµ²ªG³Q´£¥X: ¥L¬° Kagaku Ninjatai ³Q¦Ò¼{¤@¦ì¹w³Æªº­Ô¿ï¤H, ¾á¥ô¤@­Ó´À´«¸U¤@¥ô¦óªº¨º¤@­Ó¤p²Õªº¦¨­û¸¨¤U¡C Getz ¤£¯uªº·Q­n¦ì¸m¡A¦ý¬O Kozaburou ³Õ¤h Nambu ¤£¬O¨k¤HªºÃþ«¬¤@»¡¨S¦³¨ì¡C
As he packed for the journey he could feel his innards twisting. He had kept up on the news; followed the rumors. Though he was proficient at target shooting and a number of martial arts, he didn't have even a fraction of the actual combat experience of the Kagaku Ninjatai. The Team was a closely-knit group of youngsters who were still grieving over their losses. The person he would replace would be G-2, a man who'd left a reputation a mile long, and no doubt the others would compare the two and find Getz lacking. The road ahead would be a rocky one, providing he didn't get killed first. / ·í¥L¬°®Èµ{¥]¸Ëªº®É­Ô , ¥L¥i¥H·Pı¥Lªº innards §áÂà¡C ¥L¤w¸g¦b·s»D¤W«ùÄò ; ¸òÀH¤FÁÁ¨¥¡C ÁöµM¥L¬Oºë³qªº¦b¥Ø¼Ð®gÀ»©M³\¦hªºªZÃÀ¡A¦ý¬O¥L¤£¬Æ¦Ü¦³ Kagaku Ninjatai ªº¯u¹ê¾Ô°«¸gÅ窺¤@­Ó¤À¼Æ¡C ¤p²Õ¬O¤@ÄY±K¦a-½s´¸sÅ骺¤´µM¥¿¦b¥L­Ìªº·l¥¢¤§¤W´d¶Ëªº¦~«C¤H¡C ¥L±N·|´À´«ªº¤H±N·|¬O G-2,¨k¤H who'd Åý¦WÅA¤@­ùªø, ©M¨S¦³ÃhºÃ¨ä¾lªÌ±N·|¤ñ¸û¨º¤G¦Ó¥Bµo²{ Getz ¯Ê¥Fªº¡C ¹D¸ô¦V«e¦a±N·|¬O¤@­Ó¦h©¥¥Ûªº, ´£¨Ñ¥L­º¥ý¨S¦³±o¨ì±þ¡C
And what about Mako? Sitting in his bureau drawer was a small velvet box with the gold ring he'd planned to present to her as soon as she came home. Now what on earth would he tell her? / ¦Ó¥B Mako «ç»ò¼Ë? ¦b¥Lªº§½©â±P¤¤§¤¬O¤pªº¤ÑÃZµ³©M¥L¤w¸g­pµe§e²{µ¹¦oªºª÷¦â§Ù«üªº²°¤l¤@¥¹¦o¦^®a¡C ²{¦b¤°»ò¦b¦a²y¤W¥L±N·|§i¶D¦o¶Ü?
Of course, he could back out, but Getz dismissed that idea immediately. He never backed out of anything. / ·íµM¡A¥L¥i¥H¥´°h°ó¹ª¡A¦ý¬O Getz ¥ß¨è´¬±ó¤F¨º¤@­Ó·Qªk¡C ¥L±q¤£°h¥X¥ô¦ó¨Æ¡C
When he arrived at the ISO, he spent two days being searched, measured, backgrounded, case-logged and classified. Finally he was ushered to Dr. Nambu's office. The professor stood up when the young man entered the room, and when he reached forward to shake Getz's hand, his expression was cordial, but grim. "Getz," he said. / ·í¥L¹F¦¨°ê»Ú¼Ð·Ç²Õ´ªº®É­Ô,¥L«×¹L¤G¤Ñ³Q·j´M,´ú¶q,­I´º, ±¡§Î¥ï¤ìªº¦Ó¥B¤ÀÃþ¡C ³Ì«á¥L³Q¤Þ¾É¨ì Nambu's ³Õ¤h¿ì¤½«Ç¡C ·í¦~»´ªº¨k¤H¶i¤J¤F©Ð¶¡¡A¦Ó¥B·í¥L¦V«e¦a¨ì¹F´¤ Getz's ¤âªº®É­Ô,¥Lªºªí¹F¬O¿³¾Ä¾¯ªº®É­Ô¡A±Ð±Â¯¸°_¨Ó, ¦ý¬O§N»Åªº¡C "Getz",¥L»¡¡C
"Professor." Even he forgot sometimes that his first name was Eric. The two shook hands and Dr. Nambu motioned for him to sit. "At the risk of sounding ungrateful, I never expected to find myself here," Getz said. / "±Ð±Â". ¬Æ¦Ü¥L¦³®É§Ñ°O¥Lªº¦W¬O¦ã¤O§J¡C ¨º¤G´¤¤â©M³Q¹B°Êªº Nambu ³Õ¤hÅý¥L§¤µÛ¡C " ¦b­·ÀIµoÁnªº§Ñ®¦­t¸q,§Ú±q¤£´Á±æµo²{§Ú¦Û¤v³o¸Ì",Getz »¡¡C
"Hmm." There was a guarded uneasiness to Nambu's expression. / "Hmm". ¦³¹ï Nambu's ªºªí¹F³Q¨¾Å@µÛªº¤£µÎ¾A¡C
"Since I was a low ranking candidate," Getz added. In here two minutes and already you come off as rude. Good going, Getz. / "¦]¬°§Ú¬O¤@­Ó§Cªº±Æ¦W­Ô¿ï¤H",Getz ¸É­z¡C ¦b³o¸Ì¤G¤ÀÄÁ¤¤¦Ó¥B¤w¸g§A²æ¸¨¦p²Ê¾|µL§ªº¡C ¦nªº¥h¡A Getz¡C
"Hmm," the professor said again. "Truth be told, it's not under the most auspicious of circumstances that you're here. The other candidates are dead, all freak accidents we suspect were assassinations." / "Hmm",±Ð±Â¦A¤@¦¸»¡¡C "¨Æ¹ê³Q§i¶D,¥¦¤£¬O¦b§A¦b³o¸ÌªºÀô¹Ò³Ì¦N¥üªº¤§¤U¡C ¨ä¥L­Ô¿ï¤H¦º,§Ú­ÌÃhºÃªº©Ò¦³©_²§ªº·N¥~¨Æ¥ó¬O·t±þ¡C"
"Hence the extensive background check." / " ¼sªxªº­I´º¥Ñ¦¹¦Ó¨ÓÀˬd".
Nambu nodded. "That's standard procedure, but we took extra pains this time. Unfortunately, your indoctrination into the team is going to be a bit rushed, and you should be extremely careful from this point on. Assume that your identity is already known to those outside." / Nambu ÂIÀY¡C "¨º¬O¼Ð·Çªºµ{§Ç¡A¦ý¬O§Ú­Ì³o¦¸±a¤FÃB¥~ªºµh­W¡C ¤£©¯¦a¡A§Aªº±Ð¾É¶i¤J¤p²Õ¤§¤º±N­n¬O³Q¶Ê«Pªº¤@ÂIÂI¡A¦Ó¥B§AÀ³¸Ó±q³oÂI«D±`¦a¬O¤p¤ßªº¦b¤§¤W¡C °²©w§Aªº¨­¥÷¥~­±¤w¸g³Qª¾¹D¨ì¨º¨Ç¡C"
That is not something any agent wants to hear. It's like standing in a forest, knowing that somewhere your enemy is concealed in the trees, and has a bead drawn on the spot between your eyes. All you can do is wait for the shot and hope they miss. "Am I confined to ISO installations?" / ¨º¤£¬O¥ô¦óªºªF¦è¥N²z¤H·Q­nÅ¥¨ì¡C ¥¦¬O¹³¦b´ËªL¤¤¯¸¥ß, ³Õ¾Çªº¨º¬Y³B§Aªº¼Ä¤H¦b¾ð¤¤³QÁôÂÃ, ¦Ó¥Bµe¤@­Ó¯]¤l¦b§Aªº²´·ú¤§¶¡ªº¦aÂI¤W¡C ¥þ³¡§A¯à°µ¬Oµ¥­Ôª`®g¦Ó¥B§Æ±æ¥L­Ì¿ù¹L¡C " §Ú§@¤ë¤l¨ì°ê»Ú¼Ð·Ç²Õ´¦w¸Ë"?
"No. We trust you to rely on your own judgment. You'll be here for a few days, but after that, you are free to return home. Tomorrow you'll meet with Engineer Kamo to choose your weapons and colors. Before you leave, I'll let you know when to come in for introductions and training." / " ¸¹½X§Ú­Ì«H¿à§A¥õ¿à§A¦Û¤vªº§PÂ_¤O¡C §A±N¦b³o¸Ì¼Æ¤Ñ, ¦ý¬O¦b¨º¤§«á,§A¦³ªÅªð¦^®a¡C ©ú¤Ñ§A±N¾D¹J¨ì¤uµ{®v Kamo ¿ï¾Ü§AªºªZ¾¹©MÃC¦â¡C §AÂ÷¶}¤§«e¡A§Ú±NÅý§Aª¾¹D¦ó®É¸Ó¬°¤¶²Ð©M°V½m¶i¨Ó¡C"
He would be known as the Hawk. For his primary weapon, Getz chose something similar to a kusari-gama--a Japanese weapon that was part sickle, part mace and extending chain. He would also carry a handgun, just like the others. For his colors he chose black, dark grey and indigo. They were drab when compared to the others, but the last thing Getz wanted to do was make a bright, clear target out of himself. Or to remind the others of the Condor. He discussed the G-6 vehicle with Kamo--he seemed to do best on small, wheeled vehicles like motorcycles. The old engineer said he'd see what he could come up with. / ¥L±N·|§Y¬OÆN¡C ¹ï©ó¥Lªºªì´ÁªZ¾¹¡A Getz ¿ï¾Ü¹ï kusari ªº¬Û¦üªF¦è-gama--¤@­Ó³¡¥÷ÅI¤M¡A³¡¥÷°vÀYºl¦Ó¥B©µ¦ùÃ쪺¤é¥»ªZ¾¹¡C ¥L¤]±N·|Äâ±a¤@­Ó¤âºj,¶È¶È¹³¨ä¾lªÌ¡C ¹ï©ó¥LªºÃC¦â¥L¿ï¾Ü¶Â¦â¡A¶Â·tªº¦Ç¦â©MÀQ«C¡C ¥L­Ì¬O¤g½Å¦âªº·í»P¨ä¾lªÌ¬Û¸ûªº®É­Ô¡A¦ý¬O³Ì«á¨Æª« Getz ·Q­n°µ¬O¥L¦Û¤v¤F¸Ñ¤@­Ó©ú«Gªº, ²M·¡ªº¥Ø¼Ð¡C ©Î´£¿ô¨rÆNªº¨ä¾lªÌ¡C ¥L¥Î Kamo °Q½× G-6 ¨®½ø--¥L¦ü¥G¦b¹³¼¯¦«¨®¤@¼Ëªº¤p¡M±ÛÂਮ½ø¤W°µ±o³Ì¦n¡C ¦Ñ¤uµ{®v»¡¤F¥L±N·|¬Ý¨£¥L¥i¥Hµo²{ªº¡C
Kamo's lab was one of the few smoking areas left on the installation, so Getz stayed a bit longer than needed for the fittings, chain smoking just to relieve the tension. I really should cut the habit, he thought. It'll probably kill me someday. If I'm lucky. / Kamo's ªº¹êÅç«Ç¬O«Ü¤Öªº©âµÒ¦b¦w¸Ë¤W³Q¯d¤Uªº°Ï°ì¤§¤@¡A¦]¦¹¡A Getz °±¯d¤Fªø©ó¹ï°t¥óªº»Ý­n¤@ÂIÂI¡A¥u¬O©â·Ï´î»´ºò±i ªºÃì¡C §Ú¯uªºÀ³¸Ó´î§C²ßºD,¥L·Q¡C ¥¦±N¥i¯à¦³¤@¤Ñ±þ§Ú¡C ¦pªG§Ú¬O©¯¹Bªº¡C

This is the place, and there's nothing here. / ³o¬O¦a¤è, ¦Ó¥B¦b³o¸Ì¨S¦³ªF¦è¡C
Joe frowned as he scanned the ground below through binoculars. The ancient, decommissioned Comanche hovered over a broad expanse of moonlit sand, empty and unremarkable. These were the exact coordinates where the crowds of men had streamed like lemmings to disappear into the ground, but there was no sign whatsoever that they had even been here. Despite all the interference from the helicopter engines and the jostling that came with every stray breeze, the sensitive instruments Joe had brought with him confirmed his own gut feeling. There was nothing down there but sand and whatever the hell desert creepies were crawling or slithering in it. Yet something was wrong. / ·í¥L¦b§¹¦¨ªºÂù²´±æ»·Ãè¤U­±±½´y¤F¦a­±ªº®É­Ô¡A³ì½K¬ÜÀY¡C »·¥jªº, °h§Ðªº¬ì°Ò¤Á¤H¦b¤ë¥ú·ÓÄ£ªº¨F¤l¤@¤ù¤j½d³òªº¼eÁï°Ï°ì¤§¤W½L±Û,ªÅªº©M¤£¥O¤Hª`¥Øªº¡C ³o¨Ç¬O¹³®È¹«¤@¼Ëªº¤@¤j¸s¨k¤H¤w¸g¬y¥Xªººë½T§¤¼Ð¥h¶i¤J¦a­±¤§¤º®ø¥¢, ¦ý¬O¨S¦³²Å¸¹µL½×¤°»ò¥L­Ì¬Æ¦Ü¤w¸g¦b³o¸Ì¡C ¤£¦b¥G¨Ó¦Ûª½ª@¾÷¤ÞÀº©M¨º­Ó±ÀÀ½ªº©Ò¦³½Ä¬ð¨º±a¨C¤@°g³~ªº·L­·¨Ó,±Ó·Pªº¤u¨ã³ì¤w¸g©M¥L±a½T»{¥L¦Û¤vªº«i®ð·Pı¡C ¦b¨º¸Ì¨S¦³ªF¦è¤U¨Ó¦ý¬O¨F¤l©M¥ô¦óªº¦aº»¯îíuªºª¦µÛ¨«ªº¥¿¦b¥¦¸Ì­±ª¦¦æ©Î³s¨«±a¶]¦a·Æ¡C µM¦Ó¬Y¨Æ¬O¿ù»~ªº¡C
Perhaps they've burrowed further down and are lying low, Joe considered. There aren't many ways to conceal a helicopter, and the noise and turbulence the machine was kicking up doubtless signaled their presence for miles. Yet Joe could find no sign that any structure had existed underground; not even the shift of sand that would have indicated the presence of a vehicle of some sort. It seemed as if all of X's vermin had vanished into a black hole. / ¤]³\¥L­Ì¤w¸g§ó¶i¤@¨B±¸¬}¥Þ¤U¨Ó¨Ã¥B¥¿¦b»¡ÁÀ§CÂI,³ì¦Ò¼{¡C ¨S¦³³\¦h¤èªkÁôÂóQ¬°­ù¦V¥L­Ìªº¥X²{µo°e°T¸¹ªº¤@¬[ª½ª@¾÷ , ©M¾÷¾¹¥¿¦b½ð°_µLºÃªº¾¸­µ©M³ÙÄÛ¡C µM¦Ó³ì¥i¥H¨Sµo²{¥ô¦óªºµ²ºc¤w¸g¦s¦b¦a¤Uªº²Å¸¹; ¤£¨Ï·|«ü¥X¤@¨ÇÃþ«¬ªº¤@½ø¨®½øªº¥X²{¨F¤lªºÅܤƬ۵¥¡C ¥¦¦ü¥G¦n¹³©Ò¦³ªº X's ªº®`ÂΤw¸g¶i¤J¤@­Ó¶Â¦âªº¬}¤§¤º®ø¥¢¡C
The Comanche pilot, one of those stereotypical ex-military misfits with his three-day beard and his mouth working around a long-dead wad of gum, eyed his client curiously, wondering how much longer they would have to hover. Wordlessly Joe waved for him to head further north, and the Comanche began to move. / ¬ì°Ò»ô¬öªº­¸¦æ­û¡A©M¥Lªº¤T¤ÑÄGŽ©M¥Lªº¦b¾ð½¦ªº¤@­Óªø- ¦ºªº¶ñ®Æ©P³ò¤u§@ ªº¼L¨º¨Ç¦Ñ®Mªº«e¥ô­x¨Æ¤£¾A¦X¤§¤@ , ²´ªº¥L«È¤á¦n©_¦a, ı±o©_©Ç¦p¦ó¥[¤ñ¸ûªø¥L­Ì±N·|¥²¶·½L±Û¡C ¨HÀq¦a³ì´§»RÅý¥L»â¾É¶i¤@¨Bªº¥_¤è,¦Ó¥B¬ì°Ò¤Á¤H¶}©l²¾°Ê¡C


It didn't take long for Ken to realize that he was being tailed. / ¥¦¨S¦³¤[®³ÅýªÖ®¦¤F¸Ñ¥L¥¿¦b³Qªþ©ó¨ä«á¡C
Three turns down two minor thoroughfares, and the large white Cadillac was still behind him, lurking behind a compact. Ken could make out the silhouettes of three, maybe four men in the car. / ¤T­Ó±ÛÂàåP¸¨¤G±ø¸û¤pªº³q¸ô,¦Ó¥B¤jªº¥Õ¦â¥d­}©Ô§J¤´µM¦b¥L«á­±,¦b¤@­Ó¤p«¬©Ð¨®«á­±¼çÂáC ªÖ®¦¥i¥H¤F¸Ñ¤Tªº¶Â¦â¥b¨­°¼­±¼v, ¤]³\¨T¨®ªº¥|¦ì¨k¤H¡C
Well, this could get interesting. Ken felt his heart rate pick up slightly, that old, tight feeling he would get just before a battle. He nudged the accelerator on Jun's convertible, and the car responded eagerly, slamming him hard into the bucket seat. / ¦n§a¡A³o¥i¥H¦³½ì¡C ªÖ®¦·Pı¤F²v¨Ç·L¦a³vº¥«ì´_ªº¥L¤ß, ¦Ñªº,ºòºò¦a·Pı¥L´N¦b¤@³õ¾Ôª§¤§«e±N·|¦³¡C ¥L¥Î¨y»´±À¤F¦b¤»¤ëªº¥iÅÜ´«¤§ª«¤Wªº¥[³tªÌ¡A¦Ó¥B¨T¨®¼ö¤ß¦a¦^À³, §V¤O¦a¶i¤J³æ¤HºP´È¤§¤º²rµMÃö¤W¥L¡C
Ken whipped the car down another side road and heard tires screech behind him as the Cadillac did the same. All sense of pretense vanished. Ken let them move closer to see what they would do. The Caddy closed within a carlength of the convertible, but didn't try to overtake him. The pursuers seemed content to let Ken run himself out. / ·í¥d­}©Ô§J°µ¤F¤@¼Ëªº®É­Ô¡AªÖ®¦§â¨T¨®Ã@¥´¤U¨Ó¥t¥~®Çªº¹D¸ô¨Ã¥BÅ¥¨ì½ü­L¦b¥L«á­±ªº¦yÁn³Û¥s¡C ©Ò¦³ªºÂǤf·P®ø¥¢¡C ªÖ®¦Åý¥L­Ì²¾°Ê¤ñ¸û¾aªñªº¬Ý¨£¥L­Ì±N·|°µªº¡C ¤p²°¤l¦b¥iÅÜ´«¤§ª«ªº carlength ¸Ì­±Ãö³¬, ¦ý¬O¨S¦³¸ÕµÛ»°¤W¥L¡C °l»°ªÌ¦ü¥Gº¡¨¬ªºÅýªÖ®¦¦b¥~¶]¥L¦Û¤v¡C
So why are they following me? he thought. Where did they pick up on me? Coming out of the ISO? What do they want--aside from my head on a plate? / ¦p¦¹¥L­Ì¬°¤°»ò¸òÀH§Ú? ¥L·Q¡C ¦b§Ú¨­¤W¥L­Ì¦b­þùسvº¥«ì´_©O? ±q°ê»Ú¼Ð·Ç²Õ´¥X¨Ó? ¥L­Ì·Q­n¤°»ò--¨Ó¦Û¦b¤@­ÓºÐ¤l¤Wªº§ÚÀY®Ç¥Õ?
Had this happened during the war with Galactor, Ken would have stopped the car and met them head-on the moment he realized he was being followed. But now Ken had a cover to maintain. He resigned himself to wait, rolling leisurely at a little above the speed limit and keeping an eye on the rearview mirror in case anyone got impatient. With its top down, the convertible offered full visibility, but also left Ken's back open to a clear shot. / ³o¦b¹ï§Ü Galactor ªº¾Ôª§´Á¶¡µo¥Í¤F,ªÖ®¦·|¥¿­±¦a°±¤î¨T¨®¦Ó¥B¹J¨£¥L­Ì¤ù¨è¥L¤F¸Ñ¤F¥L¥¿¦b³Q¸òÀH¶Ü¡C ¦ý¬O²{¦bªÖ®¦¦³¤F±»Å@ºû«ù¡C ¥LÃ㾤F¥L¦Û¤vµ¥­Ô, ±q®e¦a¥Hµy·L°ª©ó³t«×ºu°Ê­­¨î¡A¦Ó¥Bª`·N rearview ¤Ï¬M¡A¥H¨¾¸U¤@¥ô¦ó¤H¤£­@·Ð¤F¡C »P¥¦ªº³»ºÝåP¸¨,¥iÅÜ´«¤§ª«´£¨Ñ¤F§¹¾ãªº¯à¨£«×, ¦ý¬O¤]¯d¤U¤F¹ï²M·¡ªºª`®gªÖ®¦­I­±¤½¶}¡C
The two cars traveled down a minor highway leading out of Utoland, until the crowded mass of city buildings was replaced by trees and rolling fields. Traffic petered out until there was nothing but the occasional farm truck. / ¤G½ø¨T¨®±½µø¤@±ø»â¥ýÂ÷ Utolandªº¸û¤p¤½¸ô,ª½¨ì«°¥««Ø¿vª«ªº¾ÖÀ½¤j²³³Q¾ð©M±ÛÂà»â°ì´À´«¤F¡C ª½¨ì¦³°¸µMªº¹A³õ¥d¨®¡A¥æ³qÁjºÉ¥X¡C
Suddenly, Ken wrenched the car to the right and slammed down hard on the accelerator. The convertible whipped off the road and plowed through a wire fence before bogging down in the soft, plowed earth. A shadow launched from the car and disappeared into a stand of trees only twenty yards away. Inside the Cadillac, the men started in surprise. The big car roared through the opening Ken had made. From his hiding place, Ken watched as three doors burst open and three big men in suits charged out, carrying machine guns. / ¬ðµM¡AªÖ®¦¦b¥[³tªÌ¤W§V¤O¦a²r§á¤F¹ïÅv§Qªº¨T¨®¦Ó¥B²rµMÃö¤W¤U¨Ó¡C ¥iÅÜ´«¤§ª«¦b¬X³n¤¤°±º¢¤£«e¤§«eÃ@¥´¦b¹D¸ô¥~¦Ó¥B¾î±½¹q½u³òÀð,¥Î²p¯Ñ¥Ð¦a²y¡C ¤@­Ó¼v¹³±q¨T¨®µo®g¦Ó¥B®ø¥¢¶i¤J¾ð¥u¦³¤G¤Q½Xªº¤@­Ó»O¤l¤§»·¤§¤º¡C ¦b¥d­}©Ô§J¸Ì¡A¨k¤H¦b·N¥~¤¤¶}©l¡C ¸g¹L¶}©lªÖ®¦³Q§qªº¤j¨T¨®¤w¸g°µ¡C ±q¥LªºÂè­³B¡A³Q¬Ý¦p¤T®°³QÃzµõªºªù°_¨Ó¶}©ñªºªÖ®¦©M¶D³^ªº¤T¦ì¤jªº¨k¤H«ü±±¥X,Äâ±a¾÷¾¹ºj¡C
Doesn't this seem familiar? / ³o¨S¦ü¥G¼ô±x¶Ü?
Ken reached into a back pocket for his weapons, absently longing for his boomerang. Then he froze, waiting. / ªÖ®¦¬°¥LªºªZ¾¹¶i¤J¤@­Ó«á­±ªº¤f³U¤§¤º¨ì¹F,¤ß¤£¦b²j¦a´÷±æ¥Lªº¦^­¸´Î¡C µM«á¥L­áµ²,µ¥­Ô¡C
Realizing their prey had vanished, the thugs slowed down and stopped. Slowly, guns ready, they turned in a full circle, casing the area carefully. / ¤F¸Ñ¥L­Ìªº³Q±°­¹ªÌ¤w¸g®ø¥¢, ©v±Ð©Ê·t±þ¹Î­û´îºC¦Ó¥B°±¤î¡C ºCºC¦a¡Aºj¹w³Æ, ¥L­Ì¦b¤@­Ó§¹¥þªº¶ê°é¤¤Âà¦V, ¥]¸Ë¤p¤ß¦aªº°Ï°ì¡C
A rustle in the branches above caused all three men to look up. They didn't fire but simply waited. Finally the guns lowered and the men crept slowly, closer to the trees. / ³¡ªù¤W¤èªº¨F¨FÁn¾É­P©Ò¦³ªº¤T¦ì¨k¤H¬Ý¦b¤W­±¡C ¥L­Ì¨S¦³ÂI¿U¦ý¬O¥u¬Oµ¥­Ô¡C ³Ì«áºj­°§C©M¦bºCºC¦a³Qª¦ªº¨k¤H, ¤ñ¸û¾aªñªº¨ì¾ð¡C
The first knife caught the closest gunman in the throat. He fell, gurgling and spraying the high branches with bullets. Leaves and splintered wood rained on the men, who scattered. In the confusion, the second man shielded his face, and a heavy force hit him in the side. A fist caught him in the solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him. He hit the ground hard and lay still. The third managed to swing his gun around and fire a burst at their attacker. / ²Ä¤@¤ä¤M®·®»¤F«|³ïªº³Ì¿Ëªñªººj¤â¡C ¥L¶^¸¨,¬y°Ê¥Bµo¥X¦p­Ë¤ôªºÁn­µ¦Ó¥B¥Î¤l¼u¼QÅx°ªªº³¡ªù¡C ¾ð¸­¦Ó¥B¼A¶}¤ì§÷¦b¨k¤H¨­¤W¤U«B,¨k¤H´²§G¡C ¦b²V¶Ã¤è­±¡A²Ä¤G­Ó¨k¤H¾B½ª¤F¥LªºÁy¡A¦Ó¥B­«ªº¤O¶q¦bÃ䤤¸I¼²¥L¡C ¤@­Ó®±ÀY¦b¤Ó¶§ªº plexus ¤¤®·®»¥L,±q¥LºV­·¡C ¥L¨Ï¦a­±¤j¨ü¥´À»©M¤´µMµ±¡C ²Ä¤T­Ó³]ªk¦bªþªñ·nÂ\¥Lªººj¨Ã¥B¹ï¥L­Ìªº§ðÀ»ªÌÂI¿U¯}µõ¡C
For a moment, Ken found himself exposed. The loose end of his jacket pulled violently as a bullet caught one of the snaps. Fragments of metal spattered. Dammit, he thought. Clumsy, slow... this won't do! He brought his arm back and let fly with another knife. / ¤@·|¨à¡AªÖ®¦µo²{¥L¦Û¤v¼ÉÅSªº¡C ¥Lªº§¨§JÃP´²¨Æª«©Ô²r¯Pªº·í¤@­Ó¤l¼u®·®»¤F¤jÁn¥w½|¤§¤@¡C ª÷Äݪº¸H¤ù²kÂqª«¡C ¸Ó¦º,¥L·Q¡C ²Â©åªº,ºC¦a¡C¡C¡C ³o±N¤£°µ! ¥L§â¥Lªº¤âÁu±a¦^¨Ó¨Ã¥B¥t¤@¤ä¤MÅý»aÃÇ¡C
The blade caught the remaining gunman in the eye, and he shrieked, but held onto his weapon. He spun dizzily, spraying bullets all directions, but Ken was out of sight, sheltered behind the thick trunks of the trees. / ¤M¾W¤Þ°_²´·úªº³Ñ¾lºj¤âª`·N¡A¦Ó¥B¥L¦y¥s, ¦ý¬O«O¦í¥LªºªZ¾¹¡C ¥LÀY©ü²´ªá¦a§Ö³t±ÛÂà,¼QÅx¤l¼u©Ò¦³ªº¤è¦V,¦ý¬OªÖ®¦¶W¥Xµø¤O,¦b¾ðªº«p¾ð·F«á­±§ÈÅ@¡C
A fourth knife thunked into the thug's back, and he fell, gun clattering out of his reach. His chest heaved once, twice, then rattled and he went still. All was silent again in the little field. Stealthily, Ken crept away from the trees, looking around warily. / ¤@¤ä²Ä¥|¤ä¤M¶i¤J©v±Ð©Ê·t±þ¹Î­ûªº­I­±¤§¤º½sĶ¦¸µ{¦¡¡A¦Ó¥B¥L¶^¸¨,¥Î¬¶®gÀ»µo¥X¼M°ÕÁnÂ÷¥Lªº½d³ò¡C ¥Î¤OÁ|°_¤@¦¸ªº¥L¯Ý,¨â¦¸, µM«á¹Ç¹ÇÅT¦Ó¥B¥L¤´µM¥h¡C ¥þ³¡¦b¤p»â°ì¤¤¦A¤@¦¸¨HÀq¡C ·t¦a¸Ì,³Qª¦»·Â÷¾ð,¯d¤ß¦a¥|³B¬Ý¬ÝªºªÖ®¦¡C
Two of the men were dead. Odd, Ken thought. Neither hit should have been fatal. He turned and rushed back to the man he'd sucker punched, but he was too late. The man was already unconscious, his face blue and a foul-smelling foam on his lips. / ¨k¤H¤¤ªº¤G¦ì¦º¡C ©_¼Æªº,ªÖ®¦·Q¡C ¨S¦³¤@­Ó¸I¼²À³¸Ó­n¬O¦º¤`¨Æ¬Gªº¡C ¥L¦V«á¦a¹ï¨k¤HÂà¦V¦Ó¥B¶Ê«P¥L§lºÞ¦³¥H®±­«À»¶Ü¡A¦ý¬O¥L¤Ó±ß¡C ¨k¤H¤w¸gµL·NÃÑ,ÂŦ⪺¥LÁy©M¦b¥Lªº®B¤W»D¥Ç³Wªºªwªj¡C
Ken turned toward the sedan. / ªÖ®¦¹ï©ó¨p®aÃ⨮Âà¦V¡C
Five steps from the car, he heard a high-pitched whine and leaped back. The blast caught him in midair, flipping him awkwardly before he landed on his side. The white sedan vanished in a ball of flame. / ¨Ó¦Û¨T¨®ªº¤­­Ó¨BÆJ,¥L¦V«á¦aÅ¥¨ì¤F¦y¾Uªº©ê«è¦Ó¥B¸õÅD¡C ¯e­·¦b¥bªÅ¤¤¤¤®·®»¥L, ²Â©å¦a¥Î«üÀY¼u¥L¦b¥L¦b¥Lªº¨­Ãä¤Wµn³°¤§«e¡C ¥Õ¦âªº¨p®aÃ⨮¦b¤õµKªº¤@­Ó²y¤¤®ø¥¢¡C
He turned back to the corpses. A look through the wallet of the man who had suicided yielded a couple of business cards. There was no address or number on the card, nothing but the man's name and a familiar demon-head insignia embossed on the card. / ¥L§é¦^¨ì«ÍÅé¡C ¸g¹L¤w¸g¦Û±þªº¨k¤H¥Ö§¨ªº¯«±¡²£¥Í¤F¤@¨Ç¥Í·N¥d¤ù¡C ¦b¥d¤ù¤W¨S¦³¦í§}©Î¼Æ,¨S¨Æ°£¤F¨k¤Hªº¦W¦r©M¤@­Ó¼ô±xªºÅ]°­- ÀYªº¾±³¹¤§¥~¦b¥d¤ù¤W¹¢¥H¯BÀJªá¯¾¡C
Ken took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Is it my imagination, or have these bastards gotten more competent? / ªÖ®¦ºCºC¦a§@¤F²`ªº©I§l¦Ó¥B©ñ¥X¥¦¡C ¥¦¬O§Úªº·Q¹³,©Î³o¨Ç¨p¥Í¤lÅܱo§ó¯à·Fªº¤F¶Ü¶Ü?
Jun's car hadn't been damaged by the explosion of the sedan, but the wire fence had taken its toll on the paint and fenders. What a way to deliver the news, by first bringing home her car in this condition. She would be unhappy enough as it was. / ¤»¤ëªº¨T¨®¨S¦³³Q¨p®aÃ⨮ªºÃz¬µ·l®`¡A¦ý¬O¹q½u³òÀð¤w¸g·f­¼¦bªoº£©M¨¾¿mª«¤Wªº¥¦³q¦æ¶O¡C »¼°e·s»D¤°»ò¤@­Ó¤èªk,³Q­º¥ý±a®a³o¤@ºØ±¡ªpªº¦o¨T¨®¡C ·í¥¦¬Oªº®É­Ô¡A¦o±N·|°÷¤£§Ö¼Öªº¡C
There was a cellular phone in the glove compartment. Ken pulled it out and punched in the number to the operator. If the relay number worked, and the special division was still active after all this time, two ISO reps would arrive in an hour or so. / ¦³¤â®M°Ï¹ºªº¤@­Ó¦æ°Ê¹q¸Ü¡C ªÖ®¦¹ï¾Þ§@ªÌ©Ô¥X¥¦¦Ó¥B¥´¥d¤W¯Z¼Æ¦r¡C ¦pªG±µ´ÀªÌ¼Æ¦r¤u§@¡A¦Ó¥B¯S§Oªº°Ï¤À³o¦¸²¦³º¤´µM¬O¿n·¥ªº,¤G°ê»Ú¼Ð·Ç²Õ´ reps ¦b 1 ¤p®É¥ª¥k¤¤±N·|¨ì¹F¡C

Along their seventh or eighth sweep along the outer edges of the desert site, Joe spotted something--a faint impression, mostly a hunch. On their next pass, the instruments caught the signal: readings from machinery operating underground. Joe leaned forward over his sensor case. Finally! / ¦V«e¥L­Ìªº²Ä¤C©Î²Ä¤K±½°£ªuµÛ¯îíuªº¦ì¸m¥~³¡ªºÃä½t¡A³ì¬Ý¨£¤F¬Y¨Æ--·L®zªº¦L¶H, ¤j³¡¥÷¤@­Ó¦×®p¡C ¦b¥L­Ìªº¤U­Ó³~®|¤W¡A¤u¨ã¤Þ°_¤F«H¸¹: ¨Ó¦Û¾Þ§@¦a¤U ªº¾÷¾¹¾\Ū¡C ³ì¦V«e¦a¦b¥Lªº·PÀ³¾¹±¡§Î¤§¤W­Ê¾a¡C ³Ì«á!
Desert gave way to more rocky terrain, and the copter flew above a canyon with high sandstone walls. The signal grew stronger. "Know of any military installations in the area?" Joe called to the pilot. / ¨Fºzµ¹¤©¤F¨ì¸û¦h©¥¥Ûªº¦a±a¸ô¡A¦Ó¥B copter ¦b©M°ªªº¨F©¥Àð¾Àªº¤@­Ó®l¨¦¤W­±­¸¡C «H¸¹Åܱo¤ñ¸û±j§§¡C "¦b°Ï°ì¤¤ª¾¹D¥ô¦óªº­x¨Æ¦w¸Ë"? ³ì¹ï­¸¦æ­û©I¥s¡C
"Not here," Joiner yelled back. / " ¤£¬O¦b³o¸Ì",µ²¦XªÌ¦V«á¦a¤j¥s¡C
"Move to the left, just a bit." The pilot nodded and brought the chopper over a few feet. All of the sudden, the craft bounced twice as if struck. Swearing, the pilot quickly compensated, then glanced at his passenger and swore again. / "²¾¨ì¥ªÃä, ¥u¬O¤@ÂIÂI". ­¸¦æ­ûÂIÀY¨Ã¥B±a¦b¤@¨Ç¸}¤Wªº¤Áª«¤§¤H¡C ©Ò¦³ªº¬ðµM³£,¦n¹³¥´¡A­¸¾÷¤Ï¼u¨â¦¸¡C µo»},­¸¦æ­û«Ü§Ö¦aÀvÁÙ, µM«áª`µø¥Lªº­¼«È¦Ó¥B¦A¤@¦¸©G½|¡C
The man was gone. / ¨k¤H¤£¨£¤F¡C
Bewildered, Joiner swung the chopper around and scanned the ground for a corpse. The full moon offered plenty of light, but he found nothing but sand and rock. He brought the craft in for two more passes before, mystified, he turned around for home. He'd done all he could, and besides, "Aiello" had made it a point to pay in advance. / ¨Ï, ¤£ª¾©Ò±¹µ²¦XªÌ¦bªþªñ·nÂ\¤Áª«¤§¤H¦Ó¥B¬°«ÍÅé±½´y¤F¦a­±¡C ¤ë¶ê´£¨Ñ¤F³\¦h¥ú¡A¦ý¬O¥L¥uµo²{¨F¤l©M©¥¥Û¡C ¥L¥H«e¬°¥t¥~¤G­Ó³~®|±a­¸¾÷¶i¨Ó,¯«¯¦¤Æ,¥L¬°®a¦^¹LÀY¡C ¥L¤w¸g°µ¥þ³¡¥L¥i¥H,¦Ó¥B¦¹¥~¡A "Aiello" ¤w¸g¨Ï¥¦¦¨¬°ÂI¹w¥ý¤ä¥I¡C

The sounds of machinery grew louder as Joe descended the cliff wall. Before long, he could feel the pulse of the energy beneath his hands. He concentrated on these clues, searching the rock walls for an entrance. At the bottom of the canyon, near a dead river bed, he found one, hidden beneath camouflage netting. / ·í³ì­°¤FÄa±VÀð¾Àªº®É­Ô¡A¾÷¾¹ªºÁn­µÅܱo¤ñ¸û¤jÁn¡C ¤£¤[¡A¥L¥i¥H¦b¥Lªº¤â¤§¤U·Pı¯à·½ªº¯ß»K¡C ¥L±Mª`©ó³o¨Ç½u¯Á,¬°¤@­Ó¤J¤f´M§ä©¥¥ÛÀð¾À¡C ¦b®l¨¦ªº©³³¡¡A¦b¤@±i¦ºªºªe§Éªþªñ¡A¥Lµo²{¤@, ÁôÂ꺦b°°¸Ë¥Îºô®·¤§¤U¡C
There came Joe's first surprise: he had indeed found a secret military installation, but it wasn't Galactor's. / ¨º¸Ì¨Ó³ìªº²Ä¤@­Ó·N¥~: ¥Lªº½T¤w¸gµo²{¤@­Ó¯µ±Kªº­x¨Æ¦w¸Ë¡A¦ý¬O¥¦¤£¬O Galactor's ¡C
Joe got past the netting, found a niche in the canyon wall about two stories above an opening that appeared to be the main entrance, and sat back to watch and wait. Below, men came and went, patrolling. They wore grey uniforms, moved with stealthy, professional efficiency and spoke what sounded like Chinese. Joe recognized them after a moment--they were part of the Tiger force who had fallen during Galactor's attack with the Mecha Dragon years ago. Luckily for the U.N., this formidable group was on their side. / ³ì±o¨ì¤F¹L¥hªº¨º­Ó¥Îºô®·,¦b®l¨¦Àð¾À¦b¤@­Ó¦ü¥G¬O¥D­nªº¤J¤f, ¦Ó¥B³S¤â®ÇÆ[¬Ý¦Ó¥Bµ¥­Ôªº¶}©l¤W­±ªº¤j¬ù¤G­Ó¬G¨Æ¤¤µo²{¤@­Ó¾A·í¦a¤è¡C ¦b¤U­±¡A¨k¤H¨Ó¦Ó¥B¥h,¨µÅÞ¡C ¥L­Ì¬ïµÛ¤F¦Ç¦âªº¨îªA, ¥H¯¦±Kªº, ±M·~ªº®Ä²v²¾°Ê¦Ó¥B»¡¤FÅ¥°_¨Ó¹³µØ»y¤@¼ËªºªF¦è¡C ³ì¿ë»{¥X¤F¥L­Ì¦b¤ù¨è¤§«á--¥L­Ì¬O¦b Galactor's ªº§ðÀ»´Á¶¡¤w¸g¼Æ¦~¥H«e¥H Mecha Às¸¨¤Uªº¦Ñªê¤O¶qªº³¡¥÷¡C ©Ò©¯¹ï©óÁp¦X°ê, ³o±j¤jªº¹ÎÅé¦b¥L­Ìªº¨­Ãä¤W¡C
Well, idiot, you've done it again, he thought, scowling. One rash move, and you blew your ride home. Now what? Either he had a long walk back to civilization, he could stroll into the installation, explain his business and ask if they've seen any Galactor installations around. That would go over well. Or he could call Dr. Rafael and get someone to pick him up. The old man will love that. Talk about a literal goddamn case of "leap before you look...." / ¦n§a,¥Õè,§A¦A¤@¦¸¤w¸g°µ¥¦,¥L·Q,½K¬ÜÀY¡C ¤@¦¸»´²vªº²¾°Ê,¦Ó¥B§A§j§Aªº­¼§¤®a¡C ²{¦b¤°»ò? ©Î¥L§â¤@¦¸ªøªº´²¨B¦³¦^¤å©ú,¥L·|¶i¤J¦w¸Ë¤§¤º¶¢³}, ¸ÑÄÀ¥Lªº¥Í·N¦Ó¥B°Ý¬O§_¥L­Ì¤w¸g¦bªþªñ¬Ý¨ì¥ô¦óªº Galactor ¦w¸Ë¡C ¨º±N·|¸Ô²Ó¹î¬Ý±o¦n¡C ©Î¥L¥i¥H¥´¹q¸Üµ¹ Rafael ³Õ¤h¦Ó¥B±o¨ì¬Y¤H±µ¸ü¥L¡C ¦Ñ¤H±N·R¨º¡C Ãö©ó¤@­Ó¤å¦rªº°Q¹½±¡§Îªº½Í¸Ü "¦b§A«eªº¸õÅD¬Ý...."
Something interrupted this train of thought: a subtle rumbling that emanated from directly below the riverbed. The ground beneath him began to vibrate. The base klaxons went off, echoing from the walls of the canyon in a deafening roar. Men in grey body armor appeared, pouring through openings that suddenly appeared in the canyon walls. Rock panels slid aside and the barrels of 70mm cannons protruded; two of them directly behind Joe's hiding place. Joe moved out of the way and ducked into the shadows. / ¬Y¨Æ¥´Â_¤F·Qªkªº³o¤@¦C¤õ¨®: ¤@­Ó±qª½±µ¦a¦bªe§É¤U­±´²µoªº±Ó·P¶©¶©Án¡C ¦a­±¦b¥L¤§¤U¶}©l®¶°Ê¡C ´c¦Hªº®ð¹Ô³â¥zÃz¬µ,±q¤@Án®¶¦Õ±ýŤªº§q®l¨¦ªºÀð¾ÀÀHÁnªþ©M¡C ¦Ç¦âªº¨­Å鲯¥Òªº¨k¤H¥X²{, ­Ë¹L¶}¤f¬ðµM¦b®l¨¦Àð¾À¤¤¥X²{¡C ©¥¥Û¦b¤@Ãä´OÆ^ªO slid ¡A¦Ó¥B 70 ¤½Âç¤j¯¥ªº±í¥Y¥X; ¥L­Ì¤¤ªº¤G­Óª½±µ¦a¦b³ìªºÂè­³B«á­±¡C ³ì¤è¦¡¾E¥X¦Ó¥B¸ú¶i¼v¹³¡C
From below came a massive explosion, then out of the clouds of sand and smoke, a line of crab-shaped mechs appeared, bristling with claw arms and cannons, which began firing at the walls. Running along the ground beside the mechs, he saw them: the green suits, the old carbines.... / ±q¦b¤U­±¨Ó¤@­ÓÃe¤jªºÃz¬µ, µM«á±q¨F¤l©M·Ï¡A³Q¥X²{ªº¿ÀÃɧΪº mechs ªº¤@±ø½uªº¶³¡A¥H¤ö­è¤òªZ¸Ë©M¤j¯¥, ¶}©l¦VÀð¾À¶}ºj¡C ¦V«e¶]¦b mechs ®ÇÃ䪺¦a­±,¥L¬Ý¨£¥L­Ì: ºñ¦âªº¶D³^,ªº¥d»«ºj....
Galactor at last. / ³Ì«áªº Galactor¡C
The entire canyon erupted in gunfire. The first barrage of Galactor mechs went down under the Tigers' defensive fire. Powdered sandstone fell from the walls in torrents, burying some of the mechs. Metal armor gleamed in spots where all of the stone had been blown away. The crab mechs were pinned in that canyon like the proverbial fish in a barrel, but to Joe's amazement, more kept coming... crawling from their hole in the ground to swarm toward the ground entrance. The mechs were small enough to fit through some of the openings in the walls, and even with the guns barraging them with defensive fire, some were bound to get inside. / ¾ã­Óªº®l¨¦¦bºjÀ»¤¤Ãzµo¡C Galactor mechs ªº²Ä¤@­Ó¼u¹õ¦b¦Ñªêªº¦u¶Õ¤õ¤§¤U¤U¥h¡C ·g¯»©ó¨F©¥¦b©b¬y¤¤±qÀð¾À±¼¤U, ®I¤@¨Ç mechs¡C ª÷ÄÝ»sªº²¯¥Ò¦b©Ò¦³ªº¥ÛÀY¤w¸g³Q§j¨«ªº¦aÂI¤¤°{Ã{¡C ¿ÀÃÉ mechs ³Q¥Î°w§O¦í¦b¨º¤@­Ó®l¨¦¦PÃþ¤¤¤@­Ó±íªº¿Î»y³½¡A¦ý¬O¹ï³ìªºÅå´j¡A§ó¦h«O«ù§Y±N¨Ó¡C¡C¡C ±q¦b¦a­±ªº¥L­Ì¬}ª¦¦æ¹ï©ó¤g¦aªº¤J¤f¸s¶°¡C mechs °÷¤p¨Ó¾A¦X¹LÀð¾Àªº¤@¨Ç¶}¤f¡A¦Ó¥B¬Æ¦Ü¥H¥Î¨¾¿mªº¤õ¼u¹õ¥L­Ì ªººj¡A¤@¨Ç±o¶i¤J¡C
Suddenly, all of the firing stopped, replaced by more ominous sounds from behind the walls. Joe moved again, scrambling from his hiding place into a ruined cannon port twelve feet away. / ¬ðµM¡A©Ò¦³ªº³Q°±¤îªº¶}¤õ³£,±q¦bÀð¾À«á­±³Q¸û´c¥üªºÁn­µ´À´«¡C ³ì¦A¤@¦¸²¾°Ê, ±q¥LªºÂè­³B¨ì¤@´L·´·Àªº¤j¯¥Ãk½t´ä¤f¤Q¤G§`¤§»·¡C
The installation was high tech, with air conditioning and full wiring concealed behind steel reinforced walls. Most of the corridors were too small for the enemy mechs, so the fighting reverted to the foot soldiers. The Tigers were losing, the Galactors mowing them down through sheer force of numbers. Grey-suited men dropped under machine gun fire and lay twitching. Blood pooled on the steel flooring. / ¦w¸Ë¬O°ª¬ì§Þ,ÂÇ¥ÑÁôÂÿû±j¤Æ¤FÀð¾Àªº«á­±³¡¤ÀªºªÅ½Õ©M§¹¾ãªº°t½u¡C ¤j³¡¥÷ªº¨«´Y¹ï¼Ä¤H mechs ¬O¤Ó¤pªº¡A¦]¦¹¡A¾Ô°«¹ï¨B§L«ì´_¡C ¦Ñªê¥¿¦b¥¢¥h, Galactors ¤Â¯ó¥L­ÌåP¸¨¹L¼Æ¦rªºµ´¹ï¤O¶q¡C ¦Ç¦â¾A¦Xªº¨k¤H¦b¾÷Ãöºj¤õ©Mµ±²r©Ô¤§¤U­°§C¡C ¦å¦b¿ûªº¦aªO¤W§iµo¡C
Joe hadn't experienced a true battle since Cross Karakoram. Since Rafael had brought him back, he'd only dealt so much as a sucker punch here, a quick dodge-and-throw there. Now, surrounded by green-suits and dodging a hail of bullets, Joe dove eagerly into battle. Just like old times.... / ³ì¦Û±q¥æ¤eªº Karakoram ¥H«á¨S¦³¸g¾ú¤@³õ¯u¹êªº¾Ôª§¡C ¬JµM Rafael ¤w¸g§â¥L±a¦^¨Ó¡A¥L¥u¦³³o»ò³B²z§ó¥[¦p¤@­Ó§lºÞ¥´¬}¾¹³o¸Ì, ¤@§ÖªºÁ׶}-©M-¦b¨º¸Ì¥á¡C ²{¦b,Âǵۺñ¦â¥]³ò- ¶D³^¦Ó¥BÁ׶}¤l¼uªº¦B¹r¡A³ìÂF¤l¼ö¤ß¦a¶i¤J¾Ôª§¤§¤º¡C ¥u¦³¬Û¦üªºÂ®ɥN....
Only back then, he didn't have the strength to bend a carbine in half or tear a man limb from limb. / µM«á¥u¦³¦V«á¦a¡A¥L¨S¦³¤O¶q§â¤@­Ó¥d»«ºjÅs¦±¦¨¤@¥b©Î¬y²\¨Ó¦Û¥|ªÏªº¨k¤H¥|ªÏ¡C
Joe met the first goon halfway with a side kick in the belly. The Galactor gasped and doubled over and Joe aimed a quick uppercut at his face. The move was smooth, perfect and terrifyingly fast, and should have effectively stunned the man. Only-- / ³ì¥H¸¡ªº®Ç½ð¥b¸ô¦a¹J¨£²Ä¤@­Ó§b¤l¡C Galactor ³Ý®ð¦Ó¥B¥[­¿¦b¦Ó¥B³ì§â¤@­Ó§Öªº¤WÀ»¹ï·Ç¥LªºÁy¤§¤W¡C ²¾°Ê¬O¥­·Æªº,§¹¦¨¦¡©M terrifyingly ÂN§Ù, ¦Ó¥BÀ³¸Ó¦³®Ä¦a¤w¸g¨Ï·w­Ë¨k¤H¡C °ß¤@ªº--
The Galactor's skull exploded like a rotten melon, spattering Joe with blood. The green mask folded in on itself and the headless body dropped to the ground with a wet smack. Joe's hand came back red to the wrist. / Galactor's ªº³QÃz¬µªºÀY»\°©³ßÅw¤@­Ó»GÄꪺ²¢¥Ê,¥Î¦å²kÂqª«³ì¡C ºñ¦âªº°²­±¨ãºPÅ|¦b¥¦¥»¨­¤§¤W¦Ó¥BµLÀYªº¨­Åé¹ï©M¤@ºØÀ㪺­·¨ý¦a­±­°§C¡C ³ìªº¤â¦^¨Ó¬õ¦âªº¨ì¤âµÃ¡C
Shit! / ÁT!
Everything else in the room vanished. Joe stared at his bloody fist, stunned. But I didn't feel it snap. I didn't-- / ¦b³Q®ø¥¢ªº©Ð¶¡¤¤ªº¨ä¥L¨C¥ó¨Æª«¡C ³ì¨nµÛ¥Lªº¦å¸{®±ÀY¬Ý,¨Ï·w­Ë¡C ¦ý¬O§Ú¨S¦³·Pı¥¦«rÂ_¡C §Ú¨S¦³--
"Kill him!" / "±þ¥L"!
Joe looked up barely in time to meet the charge. The men surrounded him. One man clubbed him between the shoulder blades and pain bloomed from the spot. Joe fell back, staggering as the Galactors circled him. / ³ì¬Ý¦b´X¥G¤Î®É¤W­±¹J¨£¶O¥Î¡C ¨k¤H¥]³ò¤F¥L¡C ´Îª¬ªº¦bªÓ¤§¶¡ªº¥L¤@­Ó¨k¤H¸Ë¤M¤ù¡A¦Ó¥Bµh­W±q¦aÂI¶}ªá¡C ³ìºM°h , ·n®Ì±ý­Ëªº·í Galactors ¥]³ò¤F¥L¡C
"Where do you think you're going?" / " §A¦b­þùØ»{¬°§A­n¥h©O"?
Joe moved to the side, ducking another man's punch. As he turned and straightened, a gun butt caught him below the neck. His armor withstood the force of a blow that should have broken his collarbone. / ³ì·h¨ìÃä, Æp¤J¤ô¤¤¥t¤@­Ó¨k¤Hªº¥´¬}¾¹¡C ·í¥LÂà¦V¦Ó¥B§Ëª½ªº®É­Ô,¤@­Óºj·ÏÀY¦b²ä¤l¤U­±®·®»¤F¥L¡C ¥Lªº²¯¥Ò withstood À³¸Ó­n¥´¯}¥LªºÂê°©¥´À»ªº¤O¶q¡C
"Horaaa! What's the matter, punk?" / "Horaaa! «ç»ò¤F,Ãe§J?"
"C'mere. Be a good boy now...." / "C'mere¡C ¦n¨k«Ä²{¦b...."
The jeering voices came back to him, just like the time he was beaten aboard Katse's flagship. They'd kick him and pistol whip him, and then they'd shoot him. As before, the Galactors closed in, laughing, slurring. / ¼J§ËÁn­µ¦^¨ì¥L,¶È¶È¹³¥L·f­¼ Katse's ªººXÄ¥³Q¥´ªº®É¶¡¡C ¥L­Ì±N·|½ð¥L¦Ó¥B¥H¤âÂò®gÀ»Ã@¥L,µM«á¥L­Ì±N·|®gÀ»¥L¡C ·í°µ¦b,¤§«e Galactors Ãö³¬¦b,¯º¡A¯ó²v¦a¬Ý¹L¡C
No! No, not again! / ¤£! ¤£¡A¦A¤@¦¸¤£­n !
With a guttural snarl, Joe grabbed the arm of the closest Galactor and slammed him into the wall. The man's body hit with a sickening crunch, and slid down the steel paneling, trailing blood. Another body followed, smashing into the wall beside the first. / »P³ï­µ§q¥s,³ì§ì¨ú¤F³Ì¾aªñªº Galactor ªº¤âÁu¦Ó¥B²rµMÃö¤W¥L¶iÀð¾À¤§¤º¡C ¨k¤Hªº¨­Åé¥H¥O¤H§@¹Ãªº«r¸H¸I¼²¡A¦Ó¥B slid åP¸¨´OÆ^ªO¡A°lÂÜ¦å ªº¿û¡C ¥t¤@­Ó¨­Åé¸òÀH,¼²¨ì¦b²Ä¤@®ÇÃ䪺Àð¾À¡C
Joe plowed through the men like a berserker, shattering skulls and ribcages, drenching the walls with human remains, and roaring like an animal. Each move was effortless, as if a switch had been turned on, kicking his body into overdrive. Joe's vision tunneled. He saw limbs to be grabbed, heads and torsos to be struck with fists or feet, guns to be dodged, targets to be destroyed. He saw blood spattering all over, running in rivulets down his arms and legs. And above the screams, over and over, Joe heard Dr. Rafael's voice, and his own cocky reply: / ³Q¾î±½¨k¤Hªº³ì³ßÅw¤ñ¸û¨g¼É,¥Î¤HÅé¿òÀe , ©M¹³¤@°¦°Êª«¤@¼Ëªº§qÁn¥´¸HÀY»\°©©M ribcages ¡A·Ã³zÀð¾À¡C ¨C¦¸²¾°Ê¬O®e©öªº,¦n¹³¤@­Ó¶}Ãö¤w¸g³Q¥´¶},½ð¥Lªº¨­Åé¶i¹L³t¸Ë¸m¤§¤º¡C ³ìªºµø³¥«õÀG¹D¡C ¥L¬Ý¨£¥|ªÏ³Q§ì¨ú, ÀY©MÂß·F»P®±ÀY©Î¸}¤@°_¥´,¥Î¬¶®gÀ»³QÁ׶},ºË·Ç³Q¯}Ãa¡C ¥L¬Ý¨£¨ì³B²kÂqª«¡A¦b¤pªe¤¤¶]¤U¨Ó¥Lªº¤â©M»L ªº¦å¡C ¦Ó¥B¦b¦y¥sÁn¤W­±¡A¤@¦A¦a¡A³ìÅ¥¨ì¤F Rafael's ³Õ¤hÁn­µ , ©M¥L¦Û¤vªºÅº¶ÆµªÂÐ:
"You should refrain from revealing your special gifts to the soldiers." / "§AÀ³¸Ó¹ï­x¤H§J¨î¤£­nÅã¥Ü§Aªº¯S§O§ª«" ¡C
"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that." / "®@,§ÚÃö©ó¨º±N¤£·Ð´o".
Finally the onslaught slowed, then stopped. There were no men left. Joe half staggered, half ran down other corridors, finding nothing but corpses and flooring slick with blood. / ³Ì«á´îºCªº¬ðÀ»,µM«á°±¤î¡C ³Ñ¤U¨S¦³¨k¤H¡C ³ì¤@¥bÂÚ¶\,¤@¥b¶]¤U¨Ó¨ä¥Lªº¨«´Y,¥uµo²{¹ï¦å·P¨ì¥ú·Æªº«ÍÅé©M¦aªO¡C
He could hear the distant sounds of the Galactors retreating. Whatever they had come for, they had found. Obviously their mission hadn't been to destroy or they would have simply set bombs throughout the installation and spared the manpower. / ¥L¥i¥HÅ¥¨ì Galactors ºM°hªº»·Án­µ¡C µL½×¥L­Ì¤w¸g¨Ó¤°»ò¬°,¥L­Ì¤w¸gµo²{¡C ©úÅã¦a¥L­Ìªº¥ô°È¤w¸g¨S¦³¬O¯}Ãa¡A§_«h¥L­Ì±N·|¥u¬O¤w¸g¦b¦w¸Ë¦U³B³]©w¬µ¼u¨Ã¥B¼e®¤¤F¤H¤O¡C
Most of the computer equipment was gone, the machinery pried from the walls. When Joe finally discovered what appeared to be base headquarters, he found it in ruins. Loose cables dangled from gaping holes in the walls. Dead guards lay everywhere, but there were no bodies belonging to anyone of rank. Had the commander been apprehended? / ¤j³¡¥÷ªº¹q¸£»ö¾¹¤£¨£¤F,¾÷¾¹±qÀð¾À¥´Å¥¡C ·í³ì³Ì«áµo²{¤F¦ü¥G¬O´c¦HªºÁ`³¡®É­Ô,¥L¦b·´·À¤¤µo²{¥¦¡C ¼eÃPªº¹qÆl±qÁ_»ØÀð¾Àªº¬}¦Q°Ê¡C ¦ºªº¦u½Ã¦U³B©ñ¸m, ¦ý¬O¨S¦³¨­Åé±Æ¦WªºÄÝ©ó¥ô¦ó¤H¡C «ü´§©x³Q²z¸Ñ¤F¶Ü?
So easy... It was so easy for them to do this.... / ¦p¦¹®e©ö¡C¡C¡C ¥L­Ì°µ³o¬O¦p¦¹®e©ö....
Galactor's mission had been successful. And alone, Joe had been completely useless. / Galactor's ªº¥ô°È¤w¸g¬O¦¨¥\ªº¡C ¦Ó¥B©t¿Wªº,³ì¤w¸g§¹¥þ¨S¦³¥Î¡C
Useless! Completely useless! Out of control. / ¨S¦³¥Îªº! §¹¥þ¨S¦³¥Î! ¥¢¥h±±¨î¡C
He brushed at the bloodstains on his clothes, on his hands. He only managed to smear it around. His hair stuck to his face, the back of his neck. Never in his life had he seen such carnage, and he'd only made things worse. Much worse. / ¦b¥Lªº¤â¤W¥L¦b¥Lªº¦çªA¤Wªº¦å¸ñ²¨¨ê¡C ¥L¥u³]ªk¦bªþªñ¶î¥¦¡C ¥LªºÀY¾v¥¿¹ïµÛªþµÛ,¥Lªº²ä¤l­I­±¡C ±q¤£¦b¥Lªº¥Í¬¡¤è­±¬Ý¨ì¥L¦p¦¹ªº¤j±O±þ¡A¦Ó¥B¥L¥u¦³¨Ï¨Æª«§óÁV¡C ¦h§ó§óÃa¡C
Nothing but a fucking menace.... God, Rafael, do you know what you've created? / °£¤F¤@­Ó©Ê¥æ«Â¯Ù¤§¥~ªº¨S¨Æ.... ¤W«Ò¡A Rafael,§Aª¾¹D§A¤w¸g³Ð³yªº¶Ü?
In the ruined headquarters of a now-dead defense squadron, a blood-spattered cyborg dropped to his hands and knees and did a very human thing: He threw up. / ¦b²{¦b- ¦ºªº¨¾½ÃÃM§LÀ窺·´·ÀÁ`³¡¤¤¡A¦å²kÂqª«ªº cyborg ­°§C¨ì¥Lªº¤â©M½¥¦Ó¥B°µ¤F¤@¥ó«D±`¤HÃþªº¨Æª«: ¥L¹Ã¦R¡C


Only months ago, Samantha "Sammie" Pandora had been a cute, precocious, and only slightly spoiled little girl with a bright future. Her father had been an eminent physicist, her mother a scientist making major breakthroughs in the field of cybernetics. Both parents were young, attractive and wealthy. Even if she hadn't inherited a great deal from her parents, her education was financially secure. / ¥u¦³¼Æ­Ó¤ë¥H«e¡AÂÄ°Ò¶ð "Sammie" ¯Z¦hº¸µ^¤w¸g¬O¥i·Rªº¡M¦­¼ô, ¦Ó¥B°ß¤@ªº¨Ç·L¦a¥Î©ú«Gªº¥¼¨Ó¯}Ãa¤p¤k«Ä¡C ¦oªº¤÷¿Ë¤w¸g¬O¤@­ÓÅã»®ªºª«²z¾ÇªÌ,¦oªº¥À¿Ë¤@¦ì¬ì¾Ç®a»s³y¦b´«±±¾Çªº»â°ì¤¤¥D­×¬ð¯}©Êªºµo®i¡C ¨â­Ó¤÷¥À¬O¦~»´ªº¡M§l¤Þ¤Hªº©M´I¦³ªº¡C §Y¨Ï¦o¨S¦³±q¦oªº¤÷¥À±`±`¿ò¶Ç, ¦oªº±Ð¨|°]¬F¦w¤ß¡C
Her parents, if they were still alive, would not recognize her now. Her body had been force-grown to that of a twenty two year old woman. Transmitters of a type unknown to man engraved volumes of technical information in the folds of her swelling brain. The hum of equipment barely obscured the grinding and popping of expanding bones and ligaments. Her body writhed within the growth capsule, as if trying to escape the abuse. / ¦oªº¤÷¥À,¦pªG¥L­Ì¤´µM¬¡µÛ, ²{¦b±N¤£»{ÃѦo¡C ¦oªº¨­Åé¤w¸g¬O¤O¶q¥Íªøªº¨ì¤G¤Q¤G·³¤k¤Hªº¡C ¤@­ÓÃþ«¬¥¼ª¾¼Æªºµo®g¾¹¬°¨è¦oªº¶©°_¸£ºP¼hªº§Þ³N¤Wªº¸ê®ÆÅé¿n°t³Æ¤H¤â¡C »ö¾¹ªº¶ä¶äÁn´X¥G³±·t¨ºÂX±i°©ÀY©Mµ²±a¿i¦Ó¥B¨ú¥X¡C ¦b¥Íªø½¦Ån¸Ì­±ªº¦o¨­Åé writhed, ¦n¹³¹Á¸Õ°k²æÀݥΡC
Sosai X watched her progress with approval. He had wanted a male, but a female was much easier to manipulate. At least this time there would be none of the instability caused by shifting sex, as his last mutant had suffered. Her IQ wouldn't be as high as Katse's had been, but this new leader of Galactor would act as an extension of his will, ensuring his success. He looked forward to turning the duties of command over to her--his current influence over Galactor and its activities taxed him. / Sosai X ¥ÎÃÙ¦¨¬Ý¦oªº¶i¨B¡C ¥L¤w¸g·Q­n¤@­Ó¨k¤H¡A¦ý¬O¤@¦ì¤k©Ê«D±`®e©ö¾ÞÁa¡C ³o¦¸¦Ü¤Ö±N·|¦³¨S¦³¤@­Ó¦bÂǥѧïÅܩʧO³Q¤Þ°_ªº¤£¦w©w,¦p¦P¥Lªº³Ì«á¬ðÅܲ§ºØ¤w¸g¾D¨ü¤@¼Ë¡C ¦oªº IQ ±N¤£¬O¹³ Katse's ¤@¼Ë°ª¬O,¦ý¬O Galactor ªº³o¦ì·sªº»â³S±N·|¾á¥ô¥Lªº·N§Ó©µªø,½T©w¥Lªº¦¨¥\¡C ¥L¬ß±æ¹ï¦o½­Ë«ü¥Oªº³d¥ô--¦b Galactor ©M¥¦ªº¬¡°Ê¤Wªº¥L²{¦bªº¼vÅT¤O½Òµ|¤F¥L¡C
The growth capsule released its burden and the woman's bare feet touched the metal flooring. She stood at an astounding six foot five, with a body halfway between muscular and voluptuous, and a lion's mane of blonde hair that swept back from a high forehead. She stood perfectly still, surveying the chamber with wide eyes as for the first time, the voice of Sosai X rang in her ears instead of her mind. / ¥Íªø½¦Ånµoªí¤F¥¦ªº­t¾á¡A¦Ó¥B¤k¤Hªº¨ª»r¸}¸IIJ¤Fª÷ÄÝ»sªº¦aªO¡C ¦o¦b¥O¤HÅåÀbªº¤»§`¤­¯¸¥ß, ÂǥѤ@­Ó¨­Åé¥b¸ô¦a¦b¦Ù¦×ªº©M¯Ô°g¦×¼¤ªº¤§¶¡, ©M·à¤lªº¦V«á¦a±q¤@­Ó°ªªº«eÃB²M±½ªº¥Õ¦âÀY¾vªºÃO¤ò¡C ¦o§¹¥þ¦a¤´µM¯¸¥ß, ´ú¶q©M¼eªº²´·ú·|ij«Ç·í°µ²Ä¤@¦¸¡A Sosai X ªºÁn­µ¦b¦oªº¦Õ¦·¤¤»ïÅT¥N´À¦oªº¤ß¡C
If Sosai X had been a better judge of human nature, he would have noticed his first and most dangerous mistake. The eyes of the future leader of Galactor were not entirely sane. / °²¦p Sosai X ¬O¤H©Êªº¤@­Ó¸û¦nªºªk©x,¥L´N·|ª`·N¥Lªº²Ä¤@©M³Ì¦MÀIªº¿ù»~¤F¡C Galactor ªº±N¨Ó»â³Sªº²´·ú¤£¬O§¹¥þ¯«´¼°·¥þ¡C

To Be Continued / ¬OÄ~Äòªº

¡m¦^¤W¤@­¶¡n