All this talk of Chizu-san reaches deeply into Machiko's spirit, reaches her heart. It smoothes over anger and stirs other thoughts, other feelings. "How could you know all this?" she asks. "How could you know so much of what my parents felt?"
"I have always been near," Sashi-san says. "And I have walked a similar path. Chizu-san
's
path."
"How . . . ? How is that possible?"
Sashi-san says, "The embryo Chizu-san surrendered became my child. My adopted child, you might say. And yet my natural child. A child I nurtured, a child to whom I gave life. It is this child that you seek."
Machiko shakes her head. "I seek no child."
"Like you, he is no longer a child." Sashi-san smiles sadly. "I named him Liam. The name is said by some to come from the French, meaning to tie or bind. I feel a very strong connection to Chizu-san, though we have never met. That is why I chose the name. I also saw him as a bridge between norm and meta, all that Okido-san would like to bind together. That is another reason I chose the name."
This minor revelation speaks subtly, not about Liam or programs of exchange, but about the woman speaking the words, her nature, her beliefs. Machiko cannot help feeling affected, yet she says, softly, "Why do you say that I seek
Liam?"
"Because he is the one." Pain rises clearly in Sashi-san's eyes. She brushes at the tears, but seems unable to quiet the pain. "You must please try to understand, Machiko. Life can be very hard for a norm in Tir Tairngire. We are mostly elves and many hold prejudice against any who are not elves. Liam has suffered much, perhaps in ways you could understand only with great difficulty. You have always drawn strength from your warrior Ways and the vast extended family of Nagato Combine. Liam had only me and his hermetic texts. His thaumaturgical studies seemed only to add to his feelings of isolation. He found answers in these studies for the prejudices of others. He came to believe that the root cause for his suffering was not mere racism, but the harm that norms for so many years have been doing to the earth. That he was seen not simply as a norm, but as a representative of the race that has ravaged the environment. As one of the great defilers. By the time he reached the age of majority he became quite fanatical in this belief. It has guided him ever since."
"How has it guided him? Toward what goal?"
"The white octagram is his symbol, Machiko. To him, it represents death and rebirth. Liam believes that in order for the earth to be reborn, the great defilers must die. All norms, all metas who serve norms or have relationships with norms."
"Would this not include most of the earth's population?" Faintly, Sashi-san nods. "He uses the name Gamma." Machiko draws a deep breath. The garden now seems very silent and still. "Are you aware that Gamma is believed to be the name of a former member of Alamos 20K? That Gamma is reputed to be an anti-meta terrorist?"
Faintly, Sashi-san nods her head, and once more the pain in her eyes swells like agony. "Yes," she whispers. "Yes, I know. Liam resents elves for what he suffered as a child. But he blames everyone."
"Does he also blame Nagato Combine?"
"Of course," Sashi-san says. "Liam knows the truth of his origin. And he knows of my relations with Nagato Combine. And he is not so great a fool as to imagine that a coincidence." Sashi-san pauses, brushing at her eyes, then seems to exert herself to say, "The persons you detained, members of White Octagon, they may be Liam's pawns. Mere tools of his mystic formulae. I say this because they do not seem to understand as small a thing as the significance of the name he uses."
"The name Gamma has some special significance?"
"It is not drawn from physics. It derives, I believe, from the gammadion, an ancient mystic symbol resembling a swastika. It represents the solstices and equinoxes, the four cardinal directions, the four basic elements, and the four divine guardians of the world."
Machiko is unsure whether she herself understands the importance of this. "Do you mean that Gamma, Liam, views himself as a divine guardian?"
"A guardian, certainly. An avenger."
"Where might we find him?"
"Wherever the earth is most grievously wounded. That is where he will be."
By noon, Machiko stands in the transparex-paneled office beside the Nagato Operations Center on Sub-level B of Nagato Tower. She and Colonel Satomi and a handful of Security Service executives watch as a digital records analyst conducts a computer-augmented evaluation.
The first set of digipics comes from a chip-carrier provided by Sashi-san; the second set from video records of the mage conducting the attack at the Chrysanthemum Palace Hotel.
"It is highly likely," the analyst concludes, "that the individual from Machiko-san's digipics, identified as Gamma, is the mage who launched the attack."
"Numerically, how certain is this?" asks Colonel Satomi. "The evaluation software assigns an eighty-seven likelihood. I prefer a more generalized rating of between eighty and ninety percent certainly."
Machiko asks, "You are able to make this determination even though the security cam record from the hotel does not show the mage's face?"
The analyst bows, and says, "We use very sophisticated algorithms to conduct comparative evaluations, Machiko-san. These algorithms take into account a variety of biodynamic factors such as anatomical structure and its influence on physical motion. A person's face may be easily modified, or, as in this case, largely concealed. How a person walks, however, is not so easily disguised. An analysis of this type is not as precise as one might obtain from genetics, or even fingerprints, but it is generally able to provide a reliable indication. It would perhaps be more precise to say that the mage from the hotel record moves in a manner highly consistent with the individual, called Gamma, in the digipics you have provided."
"It appears then that we have confirmation that Gamma did indeed execute the hotel attack," says Colonel Satomi, turning to Machiko. "Where did you obtain these digipics of Gamma?"
"Unfortunately," Machiko replies, "I am prevented from divulging that information."
Colonel Satomi appears briefly surprised, but does not pursue the point. He would naturally assume that since Machiko reports only to the Chairman of Nagato Combine she must have been instructed by the Chairman to keep her source private. In this particular case, Machiko encourages that assumption because she cannot imagine Honjowara
-sama
ever desiring the truth be made plain.
The shocks of her morning with Sashi-san reverberate still through her insides. She feels emotionally traumatized, as though the fabric of her world has been rent, her most basic assumptions torn away.
Is Sashi-san truly her genetic mother? Could her true genetic father be not an elf, but a norm, the Chairman of Nagato Combine? Is it even conceivable that her own surrogate parents, her true parents, could be the genetic parents of Gamma? And the program of exchange—she can barely formulate a question—how could such a thing exist? It boggles the mind. It challenges not merely her spirit but her very capacity for understanding.
Intellectually, she knows she must accept all this as true, that she has Honjowara
-sama's
assurance that Sashi would speak only truth, but emotionally the adjustment has not even begun. The truths Sashi has spoken go so far beyond anything previously known that Machiko feels only awe and amazement and an acute sense of incredulity. She must have time to sort it all out, to consider the implications for her life, her relations with her parents, and with Sashi-san, and with Honjowara
-sama
himself.
But now there is no time.
Before the noon hour is done, an armed SDF courier arrives with the data-storage modules from the SDF's pair of twin-engine Mistral sensor aircraft. At Machiko's request, these aircraft have completed over-flights of the two regions in the New York-New Jersey megaplex, where, as Sashi-san said, "the earth is most grievously wounded." The first region is a portion of the Newark sprawl known as Sector 13, said to be the result of some massive metaphysical catastrophe. The second region is located along Long Island's northern shoreline, a portion known as the Slag Heap, a toxic waste dump further poisoned shortly after the Awakening by the crash of a military transport carrying an eclectic mixture of toxic materials.
Security Service analysts upload data from the Mistral modules to the Security Service security mainframe. They soon project a detailed map on a wall-sized display screen. Color-coded indicators appear on the screen to identify the presence and location of sources of heat and light radiation.
"These are from artificial sources?" Colonel Satomi asks.
The analysts confirm it.
Both of the toxic regions appear to be sparsely inhabited. That is not especially surprising because the numbers of poor inhabiting the plex are legion. Rarely does a week pass without a story in the media about some SINless indigent found dead among the waste containers, or in the tunnels or passage of some abandoned property. Stories that would rouse even the most granite of hearts to compassionate feelings.
"How long might an unprotected individual survive in such places?" Machiko asks.
The chief of the Nagato Corp medical division is consulted. He states, via telecom, "I have seen nothing to indicate that an unprotected human or metahuman could not survive a short-term exposure to the toxins reputed to be present in these two regions. However, to date, there have been no comprehensive studies of the hazards to biological organisms present in these areas, and I am under the impression that such hazards are not limited to strictly mundane chemical and/or radiological hazards."
"Do you suggest that there may be hazards of a metaphysical nature?" asks Colonel Satomi.
"That is precisely what I suggest."
But the point is irrelevant. It is clear to Machiko what must be done. The swords at her back and waist make it clear. A lifetime of duty and loyalty make it clear. She may come in time to question the principles of those she serves, she may come to make inquiries and to weigh all answers with care, but that time is not now.
Now she must remain focused, if only out of loyalty to herself, to the Way, and to the spirit of the ancient warriors who have guided her throughout her life.
"We must seek Gamma regardless of the risk."
Colonel Satomi concurs.
By five p.m., a pair of task forces are prepared, briefed, and ready. Ground units are ordered to staging zones. Machiko dispatches Gongoro and a team of GSG to monitor and support the SDF force that will sweep through the wastes of Newark's Sector 13. Machiko herself will join a team waiting to link with the forces already converging on the Slag Heap.
At twenty minutes past five, Colonel Satomi turns to a telecom and contacts his opposite numbers at the various corps responsible for police services in the plex.
"We are launching proprietary anti-terrorist operations," he tells them. "Please advise your forces to remain clear of these areas."
It is more a warning than a request. Satomi does not ask permission for the sweeps and his opposites merely acknowledge that the message is understood. This is the protocol.
Corporations in the New York region do not generally interfere with the mass movements of other corps' forces to neutral territory. That would be a prescription for intercorporate warfare. It could lead too easily to the unfortunate consequences of misconceptions. Told that Nagato SDF is on the move. Lone Star and the other police service corps will almost certainly stand back and merely monitor events. Any legal issues that may arise can be handled later, negotiated by lawyers, once the guns have been put away and relative calm is restored.
On the aeropad atop Nagato Tower, Machiko mounts a waiting Hughes Stallion helo marked for the SDF. The helo immediately lifts off. Machiko distributes digipics of Gamma to her team of five GSG and reaffirms the central message of the mission briefing. "He must absolutely be taken alive."
Gamma is a mage. He did not himself penetrate the Nagato computer network. He did not himself send messages to Zurich banks. If he is the force behind the attempt to acquire Nagato debt and bring the corp to ruin, he commands others with expertise in business and computers and these persons must absolutely be apprehended. They must be stopped, and Gamma may be the only means of finding them. He must be captured and compelled to reveal the totality of his plans, everything he knows.
The SDF helo slices across northern Queens, skirting
LaGuardia Airport, then cleaves a path down the center of Long Island, over Nassau and then Suffolk County airspaces, then swings north toward the shoreline.
The SDF pilot shouts over the commlink, "
Command
signals
ready!
Initiate
Black
Typhoon
!"
Machiko nods in acknowledgment. She signals her team to prepare for combat. The helo's lone ork crewman yanks open the side door to the main cabin and swings an M107 Stoner-Ares heavy machine gun into position.
A moment more and aircraft appear from the east, a flight of SDF helos accompanied by a twin-engine Commander VTOL gunship and a pair of attack choppers.
Then, the region of the Slag Heap comes into visual range.
According to Machiko's maps, it is centered around an abandoned village once known as Kings Park. The terrain at dusk grows vague with curling mists, obscured in places by swirling clouds like miniature whirlwinds, but the larger details are plain. Whole blocks of houses lie in ruins. Debris clogs the ruptured pavement of the streets. Festering pools of noxious liquids boil and simmer and steam beneath carpets of twisted vines and gnarled trees and the rotting sentinels of ancient wooden utility poles.