| From: | "Paul J. Adam" <shadowtk@********.DEMON.CO.UK> |
|---|---|
| Subject: | New Instructor |
| Date: | Wed, 11 Feb 1998 23:38:28 +0000 |
>>>>>[TO: Induction Team, D J H Coppinger
Warm up the surgery suite, we've got a warm body coming through. Van
Holde took the deal.
+++++begin video
[A hospital corridor, and a guarded room: Lynch shows his ID to the
plainclothes guard at the door, who admits him.
Inside, Ronin lies in the small room's only bed: he still looks sick and
pale, an IV running into his right arm and his left ending a few inches
below the shoulder. He glares at Lynch as the SIGA agent enters]
Lynch: Matthew Van Holde. I admit, this isn't somewhere I ever thought
we'd meet.
Ronin: Frag you.
L: Yeah, right, sure. Lilith already does, she doesn't leave me energy
for you, and you're not my my type anyway.
R: Slow day at the office? Come to gloat, Fed?
L: You have the same problem I do. Even with cybereyes, your tear ducts
still overflow sometimes.
R: Yeah, beta grade, they minimise adjustments... How the hell did you
know that?
L: I have my sources. You're on suicide watch, as if you couldn't guess.
R: Do you watch when they bring in the bedpan, too?
L: I suppose someone does. I just get the edited reports, though.
R: So I'm not as fragging... ah forget it, think what the hell you like.
L: I think you took a job for a neat, tidy kidnap, and it turned into a
bloodbath, despite what you wanted. I think you're like me in some
ways; you're a killer, but you're not a murderer, and that's an
important difference to you. If I didn't think that I wouldn't be
here.
R: Yeah. Well? You selling something?
L: Hard work, long hours, pulled muscles, bruises...
R: Same as my usual day, then. What do you want me to do?
L: You're a criminal, you got caught, you've got to be seen to be
punished. Fine. I say we can punish you by confining you to base, say
at the urban-warfare centre here in Fort Lewis. You're permanent Red
Team for the trainees. Your cyber's active for exercises, out of
working hours you're basically Article Fifteened.
Wires disabled, no booze, no leaving the base, no guests in your
room, regular kit marshalling and room searches, no simsense, trideo
or reading matter not "of demonstrable educational or religious
merit." Get the picture?
R: Prison, except instead of sewing mailbags...
L: You run around an urban-combat trainer 'killing' Metroplex Guardsmen,
Marines and Army troops with simuslugs. And the food here's better
than jail. Oh, yeah, means you get a new arm out of it, you're gonna
need it.
It eases off with time. Nothing formal, but you do good work, and you
find your room doesn't get tossed so often or so hard, the
restrictors get lifted on your trideo, the other Red Teamers start
inviting you to the NCO Club for a few beers. Screw up and the hammer
comes back down hard.
R: You could try selling it a little better. You know, dwell less on the
negative side?
L: It is what it is. You take it, you're letting yourself in for some
hard times. First few months, you'll wish you'd chosen prison.
R: Voice of experience, Lynch?
L: No, haven't been exactly where you are myself, but you're not the
first to get this offer. Done some prison time, though, and I hated
it.
R: Well, tempting as it is to spend twenty years in the Hole or have a
ride on the electric chair, I'll take your deal. Do you fake my
death? And do Achilles know and approve?
L: You're already comatose, according to the press, you just died
without regaining consciousness. Achilles will let us have you, as
long as you behave. Screw up, and lots of people will have an
interest in killing you, maybe the means to do it as well. Still want
the deal?
R: Sure. How bad can it be?
L: You survived Renraku training, didn't you? This won't be as bad.
Welcome to the team, Matt.
+++++end video
Let's hope this works out. Should do, he's got a decent rep, even if he
and I don't exactly get on.]<<<<<
-- 1Lt J R W Lynch <23:38:53/02-11-59>
Strategic Intelligence Gathering Agency
