View source for 2023-05-26: Broken Mirror - Yuliana's Assault

*'''Log:''' Broken Mirror - Yuliana's Assault
*'''Cast:''' [[Character :: Yuliana Kafim]], [[Character :: :Puru-1]] (NPCing Dr. Murasame)
*'''Where:''' The Garuda
*'''Date:''' 2023-05-26 (OOCly 2023-05-27)
*'''Summary''': ''After seeing Leina reaching out in the Banshee, Yuliana takes another chance on her -- and removes her consent from the equation in the process. Sneaking aboard the flying fortress Garuda on the heels of Banagher's capture, she sneaks through, murdering a guard and making it look as if he did it to himself. But when she reaches Dr. Murasame's office, he finds her, and Yuliana rapidly loses the upper hand despite holding him at knifepoint. She isn't able to force him to exchange his life for Leina's... or for any of the lives she cares about only as an afterthought to her and Banagher. Instead, he talks ''her'' into revealing the weaknesses in their security, and releases her as a token of respect... not to her, but to the ''Doctor'' Kafim he admires so much. The data Yuliana steals isn't everything she brings back, and her insight isn't all she leaves with Murasame, either. (CW: Murder, drugs, indoctrination, allusions of self-harm/torture)''
----

[[Category:Logs]]
[[Category:Phase 1, Turn 3]]

 <Pose Tracker> Yuliana Kafim has posed.
<poem>

        OST: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hxDZYi0li88 Starsailor - Way To Fall

        Yuliana doesn't exchange a word with her fellow Celestial Being agent; that's the nature of the dead drop. When she retrieves the duffel bag from the switchbox, dressed as an electrician, it matches the bags she's already carrying. No one notices an extra one, as she checks the wiring and makes her exit. The overalls are baggy enough that no one notices a little extra weight, coiled around her belly. She has enough sitting there that it's difficult to tell.

        She opens it up, once she's safely back at the Castle, crouched in the atrium. "Bingo," she grins, all too savage. "The latest in adaptive camouflage... shit, this is better than the kit we had back at base. Soon as the seamstress fixes it up..."

        Wen, leaning over beside her, grins. "Aww, ours wasn't ''so'' bad, Captain! Remember that time Mr. Huynh walked ''right'' past us when we didn't realise he was still asleep in there?"

        Yuliana laughs. "Oh yeah, that was ''priceless!'' The ''look'' on his face when he realised--!" ''She's'' having a good time about it all.

        "Right?! Like, 'agggh, I'm dead!!'" Wen can't stop giggling, either, scrabbling at her throat in some terrible pantomime. That they're laughing about murdering a man is, perhaps, best not addressed so directly.

        But this is, certainly, equipment to murder a man.

        Most like one who isn't already dead.

        ...---...

        "Come on, man, ''tell'' me you've got something good for me," Yuliana whines, draping over the back of Parminder's chair. He sways back in it, and she yelps, "--agh!!"

        "Chyeah, I warned you about clearance, Captain," he grins, turning his head and not quite managing to look past his magnificent mane of orange hair. "Anyway, the worm, right? Got it right here." He rifles through a deeply disorganised 'IN' tray on his desk. Under a yellow rubber duck, he finds a data stick, and holds it up in two fingers. The fact that this is in no way an 'IN' document is raised by neither of them.

        Yuliana snatches it up, and peers at it. "What's your parameters?" She asks; she's not the kindest woman to technology, but even she knows these things have a trick.

        Parminder wriggles his fingers, and laces his hands behind his head. "Plug it into something logged into a profile -- one with network access to the system -- and wait ten seconds. Make sure to dismount it properly instead of yanking it so my program doesn't get hitched up. Don't worry," he says, with a loose shrug of his elbows, not seeing Yuliana about to speak but ''knowing'' she's going to, "it'll clear the mounting access from the log as soon as the physical connection's cleared. No one will know it was there!"

        Yuliana frowns. "And you're ''sure'' it only needs ten seconds?"

        "Oh, ''please,''" he grins, all too loose. "I already overestimated the count to account for your impatience, Captain. Ten seconds! Trust me!"

        "Are you saying you idiot-proofed --"

        Parminder cracks open an eye, glancing sidelong at Yuliana's pout. "I'm ''obviously'' saying I idiot-proofed the extremely complicated custom malware I cooked up to keep tabs on the secret horror boat. Like, my delivery method is ''crazy'' violent and ''crazy'' unstable. Don't reckon you've noticed?"

        Yuliana grabs his chair and yoinks it out by its fancy little rollers to yell at him ''properly.'' "YOU--!!"

        He grins, and points to one of those hands grasping his chair so tightly -- the one still holding that data stick. "Oh, yeah," he adds, without a care in the world, "I reinforced the stick casing, too. You know. In case you decide to lob it at a wall."

        "Oh my GOD, shut UP, I hate you," Yuliana grouses, as she untenses her arm and pretends she wasn't about to do just that.

        "Nah and nah to that," Parminder somehow isn't at all worried about his personal safety, in this interaction.

        He's perfectly safe, of course, and she'll keep his tools of the trade safe too.

        ...---...

        "Yes, my love. I'm certain. Now is the time to move. Worry not, I'll take care... oh, kiss me, though I'm sure to return."

        There's no guesses for who sees her ''last,'' before she leaves the Castle.

        Elisa even packs her a ''lunch.''

        ...---...

        And lunch comes much in handy, as Yuliana tracks her prey: an Anksha, flying from the nest. The heat detection in her visor lets her know it's running hot enough for her to not stand out, thermally speaking. Whatever ''battle'' it's up to is none of her concern -- but once she gets an opportunity to slip in, she latches the magnetic claws installed in her gloves and her boots onto the side of its broad, heeled foot. Her camouflage will fool the visual sensors, and save her from a human's first glance to boot, so it's just a matter of slipping out through the hangar once it lands.

        The trip up is miserable, obviously; cockpits are internal and not external for a ''reason.''

        But she's not afraid of heights, any more.

        ...---...

        Zoom in on the Garuda -- inside that ever-flying hull. There, slinking about:

        Yuliana's catsuit seems so much more ''literal,'' thanks to the stiff hollowed fans at either side of her head, so ''much'' like a cat's ears. The suit is skintight, save for its pockets, but all her round edges are flattened against her -- the armour beneath the outer layer is optimised for movement, but it ''does'' protect her. There's nowhere to hide her tentacles, but they, too, are strapped in that adaptive fabric, modified gloves about their claw-jaws, coverings over their crests. A lightly-tinted visor over her eyes protects her from assault from bright lights and flashbangs, complete with a thermal vision overlay on a switch toggle; the mask pulled up over her nose obscures the rest of her face, but for her unpainted lips. There's a small circular point in the centre of that visor, obscured by a dozen other small details across it. ''That'' hole leads to a pinprick camera, recording a Yuliana's-eye view of everything.

        A gun is strapped to her hip -- a knife strapped to the inside of her thigh -- she has lengths of garrote wire stored in the hem of her gloves, several syringes at her belt, a satchel holding gags and zip-ties. Some strange-looking capsules live in another pocket; a blowgun sits at her opposite hip beside a flask of chloroform -- and there, a set of modern lockpicks, ''including'' heat warper. There is another knife. (And a third one in her boot.) There's no mistaking what she's here for. Anyone who saw her would know.

        And that's the trick.

        Because her adaptive camouflage not only adjusts its colour to the background around her -- it does so in such a way as to fool AI detection algorithms. Security cameras have come a long way; no one person could be expected to monitor this entire ship. These days, anything which the program identifies as ''out of the ordinary'' is flagged for immediate human review. Normally, it's a very good system, but every good system has its share of counter-attacks. Of course, spending so much effort on fooling the ''systems'' means she has to worry more about the people proximal to her, but...

        Well. That's what the tools are for.


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Puru-1 has posed.
<poem>

The Garuda is abuzz with activity in the aftermath of the mission, the hangar is emptier with so many Ankshas destroyed, and some of the security force with a greater sense of camaraderie than others are in mourning.

Those who don't remember someone's name until after they survived a few combat missions are in a more celebratory mood.

Thus there's a stark contrast of mood between those who are playing cards and drinking off duty or playing games on their phones and datapad.

Yuliana, a veteran soldier, can read it pretty well on the faces of everyone she sneaks past.  Those off duty and on.  Of the security forces on, some are somber, and some are chatty, but one would have difficulty describing them as ALERT.

It doesn't take long for Yuliana to find the testing area, after all, it's a section of the hangar moving into the aft wing of the ship that's marked by a mobile suit she knows not far outside of it.

No.  Not the Banshee.

A dark violet and pink Qubeley, mostly wrecked from the scars of Dublin.  When she met Elpeo, it was not in much use, having been mauled by an unplanned atmospheric reentry.  Certainly, however, she knew about that child's soldier suit, whether she saw it first hand or not.

It sits in state, a colorful tomb for someone whose age had barely entered double digits when she passed.  Empty.  Hollow now even of that which she left behind.

In order to enter into the testing area, it requires a key card.  Handily, the security forces authorized to go into the testing area are marked by a subtly different coloring in their armor that might niggle at Yuliana's mind as wondering if they're Gryps era ex-Titans in disguise.

THESE guards are more alert, and there's a sense of separation from the rest of the MS complement.  A pair of them watch the main entrance.  And there's a pair of them patrolling at an idle gait.

This might be a waiting game, until the inevitable happens with one of the patrolling pairs. "Hey, gotta take a leak.  Only be a minute, I'll catch up." His partner doesn't seem to be having it, "No way man, you know what happened last time we were caught breaking protocol.  Be more than a reprimand."

The first dude grumbles, "Shit, dude, it freaks me out for you to just be standing there watching if you're not going yourself.  At least wait outside."

The restroom is off to the side of the AFT edge of the hangar. One inside...  the other waiting just outside of the door.

An opportunity?


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Yuliana Kafim has posed.
<poem>

        It sure is a party, out here. Or a corpse party! Toss a coin. Yuliana doesn't mind which one it is, except to note that it makes ''her'' job easier, slinking from the shadows of mobile suits to crates filled with supplies, pressed up against the wall to keep her silhouette from tripping sensors.

        Sneaking through ''that'' section, relatively speaking, is easy. For ''her,'' anyway. No doubt there are plenty of veterans playing cards to vent off their relief at getting through that last fight, and any one of them would be a match for someone who hadn't been doing this professionally for too many years. Unfortunately for ''them,'' Yuliana was ''very'' good at what she did for the REA.

        (Eventually. She did have to learn on the job. It didn't kill ''her,'' so she's stronger, now.)

        Through to the testing area --

        Even before she enters, she can see the Qubeley. Behind her visor, her green eyes narrow. She recognises it. Colourful as a child's toy... her lips part, in a silent sneer.

        She doesn't have time to dwell on that, though, because -- ''obviously,'' it's keycard access. It wouldn't surprise her if these soldiers were ex-Titans; they're certainly sharp enough to have had that much experience, judging by their discipline. Yuliana crouches by a supply crate, listening to the guards' chatter.

        The barest peek around the corner of the crate tells her everything she needs to know. Aside from being a killer, Yuliana is an engineer; she can think in degrees. She can look at a soldier's line of sight and calculate the point at which things become indistinct, and motion matters more than form. There's that one guard, waiting for his partner... if it were just a matter of sneaking ''past'' him, this would be simple.

        But she needs that keycard.

        Safely hidden behind the crate again, Yuliana lifts her knuckles... and raps against the side, one-two-three. It's a quiet noise; it would be hard to pick up, in the bathroom. As for the guard outside, he ''might'' have imagined it. Or ''did'' he? What if one of the weapons in this crate got activated by mistake? ''Whose head is on the line if the whole thing gets wrecked?!''


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Puru-1 has posed.
<poem>

An airplane this large in flight is very loud.  There are sounds of machinery working at all times, the various interconnected systems are designed for power, not quiet and comfort.

This is not a civilian transport plane after all.

The moment that sound occurs, the Guard looks up, and rather than draw his assault rifle, he slowly slips out his sidearm.

He stands very still for a while, and his thought process is quite clear.  Was that one of the various aircraft noises, someone being clumsy in the hangar...?  Or?

His expression unreadable, his duty is clear however, security protocol says buddy system at all times, but his buddy is in the restroom.  Weighing the choice of forcing him out of there so they can do it right or...

Eventually, the soft cadence of his footsteps draw near.  Yuli will see a combat knife has joined the pistol, as he holds both at once. By his grip on it near the gun it's clear he prefers the versatility at close quarters.

Closer.  Closer.

He's not tunnel visioned precisely, his eyes sweep around, clearing one way and then another.  Then comes the moment he decides it's finally nothing, and slowly starts to slide his knife back into the sheath on the vest of his armor.

His gun soon following, as he starts back the way he came.


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Yuliana Kafim has posed.
<poem>

        Yuliana goes by the sounds; she knows better than to peek. (Anything she can see, ''they'' can see.) The sound of a gun being drawn -- not terribly ''heavy,'' so it's got to be a handgun. Footsteps... and finally, the sound of a sheathing knife, the rustle of a holster.

        ''That's'' when she leans out.

        Remember the blowgun?

        It wasn't just a comedy addition. With a longer range than a knife, darts are ''far'' quieter than a bullet -- and one puff sends a dart full of sedating toxin right into his retreating neck. It's fast-acting enough that he oughtn't get much time to protest the insect's sting it will ''feel'' like.


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Puru-1 has posed.
<poem>

There's a moment's pause, where the man jolts, and reaches back as if he were going to swat an insect.

That swat immediately goes a little wild, as he stumbles in confusion. "I don-"

He doesn't finish the sentence, as his gait fails him, and he topples to the ground.

There's not many belongings on him, but if one checks the pouch closest to his namebadge. (They're Photo ID in a format difficult to forge, for face checks.)

She will find the keycard there.  Look closer though.  There's a wadded up piece of paper in the same pocket.  Open it up, and there's a number of codes on it, down the line, left top to bottom, then upper right ending about a third of the way down.

The simplest way to interpret it is that one doesn't just need a card, but a code that changes frequently.  Fortunately...

...  this man didn't adapt that well to memorizing it every time they changed it, and left it behind.

There's a flush inside the restroom, marking that Yuliana has time, perhaps, not too much time.  It all comes down to whether the man is one who washes his hands or not.


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Yuliana Kafim has posed.
<poem>

        Yuliana darts out to catch him before he can hit the ground; he'll make less noise, that way. Luckily, she's used to stripping important things from people quickly -- and ''adding'' items to their person, which is a skill one needs remarkably often in the blackmail business. Pretty similar skillset.

        There's the keycard -- there are the key''codes.'' She'll take both of them, before she stuffs the man in the crate with all those armaments. One last, quick adjustment has her hiding the dart, pulling up his sleeve, and slipping a syringe into the vein of his arm. It will fall out, but that's fine. The impression is all that matters.

        Obviously, it's full of drugs. This guy clearly snuck off to do some drugs while he had a minute free. Too ''many'' drugs, perhaps. Tragic, really.

        Yuliana doesn't have time to tut-tut over this deeply tragic situation, because she has to escape before his partner realises he's been abandoned. Escape to -- well, the quickest avenue is ''into'' the testing centre.

        A dead kid won't mind if she hides in her coffin, right?

        Right.


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Puru-1 has posed.
<poem>

The other man does come out of the restroom eventually, after the squeak of an airplane sink turning off occurs.

The door slides open and- "Okay-" He seems surprised by him not being there, "Fuck man, what was all the fuss about if you're just gonna ditch me?"

Muttering, he doesn't seem to think anything about it.  Instead wandering off to try and find him.

Fortunately that path takes him at cross purposes from Yuliana.  And soon enough she finds an entrance to the walled of testing area whose security is more lax.  It was likely more of an emergency exit, or alternate route of entry in the case of a crisis.

A swipe of the card, and choosing the last code on the right will get her in.  There is thankfully no biometrics necessary.

(Would the air ventilation system be an option?  Almost certainly, but given Yuliana's body type that carries far too many risks.)

Inside the testing area there are more guards, but they're mostly milling about near a brig, which almost certainly bears one Banagher Links.  Princess Mineva Lao Zabi will of course, have better accommodations.  Prettier bird cages are always required for such dignitaries.

There are also various figures in lab coats working consoles, and analyzing data.  Yuliana will likely not be taken aback by the fact that the women all have short brown hair and glasses.

This is common for such men to have preferences.

The testing area itself she'll spy immediately has beam shielding, and various equipment for certain 'basic' Psycommu tests, but the equipment seems quite advanced, even by the standards of the Institute.

There are things Dr. Devi would have likely killed for to have had budgeted to her.

It is attached to a locker room from that to a peculiar area, a half open dome to a pool of water which is eerily still given the plane, it must be on some gyroscopic mechanism.

If she looks closer, she'll see that the dome can likely fully close, and given her time at the Institute, she will understand it is a sensory deprivation tank or perhaps, if one were to be less charitable, an 'isolation' tank.

There are booths to monitor it, which are empty right now, and within are computers that are currently in sleep mode.

The locker room is also attached to the brig which, likely serves as a dormitory area for the test subjects.

If she searches around long enough, she will find her way to a simple, unassuming side room.  And inside is...

...  the most barren office Yuliana has ever seen.  Metallic bolted metal furniture, of a desk and chairs.  No decorations, no books.  There is absolutely NOTHING here save the cabinet attached to the desk.

It is of course locked.

Persistence or brute force will open it, leading to hard copies of various files.  The largest file is on 'Puru-1/Specimen LP0', but there are newer ones on 'Aumerei' and 'Treasure Chest'.  Look below a false bottom, and one will find more files.

'Alexis Kerib.' 'Martha Vist Carbine' 'Alberto Vist.' 'Banagher Links' 'Mineva Lao Zabi' 'RX-03 Model Gundam Unicorn: Phenex.' 'Anti.'

There's also flash drives and mini-discs of so much surveillance footage and data.  There is no obvious way to play them in this room, which indicates he brings the means with him when he must review them.

Then beneath all the files...

'#258-1A'

While the files are neat, a lot of information is in some form of Japanese shorthand, but she's familiar with such things from her time in intelligence.  All it will take is enough time to decode it.


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Yuliana Kafim has posed.
<poem>

        Oh, Wen was always the agent of choice for air vents. You'd think being a cyborg would make it more difficult, but they can make internals ''real'' light, these days.

        She ''does'' spy the brig. Her eyes narrow. Banagher... the boy will be in there. ''He's'' the reason this was the right time to strike, after all.

        But he's a Key himself; it's Yuliana's callous assessment that they won't kill him until they've found the Box. Anyway, ''he'' won't assent to rescue until Leina is free. He'll just have to suffer their delicate ministrations until then. (His other piece, as well.)

        She does pause for a moment, though. The camera at her visor captures the brig's approach a lingering instant longer than is strictly necessary -- before she moves on.

        Of course, she thinks, slinking along a wall, the scientists have all been hired to a particular standard. Of ''course.'' And the standards of their equipment... if she were a less disciplined woman, she'd whistle. She sneaks through the locker room, noting which ones ''haven't'' been padlocked, and finds that pool of water.

        Her lips curl up, exposing one too many teeth. Her legs tense with the phantom pain of cramps long since faded. Yes, she recognises an isolation tank when she sees one. No, she has no desire to linger here too long.

        On to the office, then. It's ''terribly'' boring, which tells her that the subjects make appearances, here. (The bolted-down furniture is an obvious sign.) It means she doesn't have to waste much time finding what's ''important,'' though.

        She brought lockpicks with her -- she knows how to use them. If the lock is too stern to be defeated, she has one more trick up her sleeve: one of those lock picks can be lit up, hot enough to melt through steel. ''Obviously'' Yuliana has fire up her sleeve. Fire is, in fact, kind of her ''thing.'' One way or another, it's not long before she gets it open, and --

        Ah. Files.

        Yuliana turns the pages, pausing just long enough between flicks to be sure that the camera in her visor is capturing the details. Of course, she goes through LP0's file, first; once she's done with ''that'' one, she flicks through Auremei and Treasure Chest's files, a shade more quickly and carelessly. Still, it's a very good camera -- it ought to pick most things up.

        That's not the ''only'' file in here, though. She grabs a handful of those flashdrives, tucking them into her pocket, and pulls out the other files from the false bottom she naturally looks for. Her camera captures what it can, as she shuffles through them. As she gets to --

        Yuliana clamps her teeth down on each other, when she pulls out ''her'' file. Underneath her mask, her face is tense. She hesitates, for a moment... and opens it up, too, flicking through it just the same.

        She doesn't bother to stop and try and read it properly. There's no time. She'll review the footage and decode it later; this is obviously encoded in shorthand.

        A horrible feeling settles in the pit of her stomach, though, as she remembers Leina repeating her own trigger phrases back to her, from the mouths of Vist's scientists.

        What are they scheming..?


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Puru-1 has posed.
<poem>

What are they scheming indeed?

Yuliana will hear a click at the door soon enough, giving her some time to act.  And not long a balding man on the older side of middle aged walks into the room.  He's sporting spectacles, and a lab coat.

There is debate whether Doctors who wear such things still are egoists, but for him at least, appearances do matter.

His coat is clean and pressed, and his glasses are unsmeared as if he meticulously cleans them.  A fastidious man.  At the doorway however, he pauses to look at the frame.

Then at the floor in turn.  What does he see?

"Aumerei must have been snooping, of course." He mutters to himself, as he adjusts his glasses, "I'll have to check the security footage later."

Whatever approach Yuliana takes to hiding, he moves over to his desk.  Of course, he looks UNDER it first.

What other place is there in the room to hide, when he's detected some kind of security breach?


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Yuliana Kafim has posed.
<poem>

        Simple: ''behind'' the door.

        There really ''aren't'' any good options here -- with the room as barren as it is, there's nowhere to hide. ... aside from the desk, of course. Why ''that's'' a bad choice is made immediately clear by the doctor, as he goes to look under it first thing.

        Luckily, Yuliana's adaptive camouflage is pretty good at helping her to blend in, even if humans can see through it easier than computers can. She's depending on that much to let her escape notice long enough to creep up behind him, quietly drawing one of her many knives. And as he straightens up from leaning down to check under the desk --

        Her tentacles wrap tightly about him, trapping his hands at his sides. The wonder of having two extra limbs is that it leaves her ''hands'' free -- one claps over his mouth, as the other brings a knife to his throat. She doesn't fillet him like a fish then and there, though, because --

        "Sh-sh-sh-shh," Yuliana hushes him, as she drags him out of view of the open door. Her own voice is quiet, tilting her face up to speak into his ear. "If this is your office... you'll be Dr. Murasame, mm? It's been ''quite'' difficult to build a profile on you... but you couldn't hide ''everything.''"

        It would be intimate, really, if not for the knife, and the way she's coiled about him just a little -- too -- ''tightly.'' "I think you and I can have an ''excellent'' working relationship," she murmurs, "don't you? You're going to do a few things for me, and then you'll go on to live a ''long,'' fulfilling life. You're feeling cooperative, aren't you..?" She's far too sweet about it, considering the implicit alternative.


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Puru-1 has posed.
<poem>

The man's reaction to being touched is to try and shout out at first, but that is swiftly silenced by tentacles and hands and the knife at his throat is what finally stills his squirming

What she receives at her question, is a nod.  Then, another nod.

He doesn't make any sudden movements, but then he gestures to his mouth with just a finger. Once she releases his mouth, he speaks in thickly accented Mandarin, "Two fifty eight one-A, here.  Remarkable.  If I'd known Doctor Kafim were so interested in my work, I would have gladly corresponded."

He notes, seeming quite unruffled by the prospect of the knife at his throat, "I suppose she decided to allow this as a form of independent recreation time.  This is the sort of challenge you enjoy." He speculates aloud.

Clearing his throat, he moves on, "Now then, what is your objective here? My files? Surely not your obsession with Puru-1?"

He then seems to second guess that, "After she rejected your overtures I would have thought Doctor Kafim would act to discourage that behavior.  That being your objective would inconvenience her so much that it beggars belief."


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Yuliana Kafim has posed.
<poem>

        "Don't scream," Yuliana reminds him, sultry-sweet, before she lowers her hand. The implication, again, she leaves unspoken, even as the first thing she does with that free hand is reach over to push the door shut.

        Her knife is still ''right'' there.

        He'll surely hear the sound of air hissing through her teeth, just the same, as he immediately starts talking about her like that. "It's ''Yuliana,''" she corrects him, her good humour dropping from her voice. "Yuliana Kafim. And you'll not ''speak'' of my wife in such a disrespectful way. She is not simply -- letting me out to ''play!''" A jagged little spike of emotion stabs into the end of that line, anyway.

        "No, you wretched little worm -- you're going to pack Leina up with all your notes on what you've done, send her away, and fail to retrieve her. You'll put your other little hostages on the transport, just the same -- including the 3G girl you just acquired." So... she's heard about that. It ''did'' all happen over the streets of Dakar. Yuliana goes on, reassuring: "I'm not an unreasonable woman, so I won't demand you give up your Key... but you ''will'' decline to introduce Banagher to those tanks of yours."

        (Of course, taking away all their hostages leaves the Garuda entirely open to a second assault, but never mind that. She's being ''quite'' generous.)

        "And I assure you, such a thing won't ''inconvenience'' my Elisa," she insists, an edge of sharpness in her words again. "I have her ''complete'' support."


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Puru-1 has posed.
<poem>

At her correction, he is momentarily disquieted, but then he simply responds to her jagged spike of emotion calmly. "Disrespect?  Hardly.  I have nothing but respect for Doctor Kafim and her research into Kaiju.  Unfortunately she stopped publishing her work, but that is understandable."

He smiles at that moment, "How she lured you away from Div, a masterwork really.  Nothing but respect."

She outlines her demands though, and his brow furrows, "This is about Puru-1 after all." He actually seems surprised, "Did the reaction between the RX-0 Unit 2's Psycoframe and Doctor Kafim's invention alter your sense of perspective on the matter?"

Still, he abandons speculation, to say, "You must truly be attached to her, just as you were the extracorporeal entity within the RX-0 Unit 3.  Still, to go to all this trouble to obtain what you regard as a glorified 'plushie.'"

The man dares to turn at the neck fractionally, to look at her in the reflection of his glasses. "How could this do anything BUT inconvenience her?  All that time, all those resources, you'll be diverting her away from her valuable work for ''this''?"

There is this clucking of his tongue in the moment, "To deprogram her, all of them, traditionally would be the work of months, unless you brought the RX-0 Unit 2 and the Mu Escort Type with you.  Are you certain that would be wise?  To bring both machines this close to Doctor Kafim's work?"

He posits to her, "So many risks of further reactions." He trails off, allowing Yuliana to come to the proper conclusion. "You truly haven't thought this through, what an inconvenience it would be to her.  It is as Div said, your self-absorption is unmatched as a result of your 'condition'."


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Yuliana Kafim has posed.
<poem>

        "Lured me...? ... don't talk like that!" Yuliana shakes her head -- more a thing he'll feel than see, in their present configuration. "That's my ''wife!''" Not her --

        Though, she ''is'' a Doctor.

        And she hisses when he lapses into frank speculation: "That's not relevant!" Even when he returns to the facts --

        "That's not... how it is," Yuliana insists, on the trouble she's going to, and when he turns his head just so he'll catch the way her gaze has diverted, glancing aside. Rookie mistake, really. Never take your eyes off the hostage.

        So he's getting under her skin, then.

        Their valuable work...

        "You're making a lot of assumptions," Yuliana spits out. "Stupid of you. You think Leina will want anything to do with me, after this? You think that gaggle of guardians around her will let me within a ''kilometre'' of the girl? ''Obviously'' I'm palming them off onto someone else. Even if --"

        She shouldn't entertain it, and she knows that, by the hitch in her speech. But her lips twist, under her mask, and she keeps going: "-- even ''if'' the Psychoframe reacted with our Voidframe just through idle proximity, it wouldn't ''be'' our problem." Hers ''and'' Elisa's; they're ''partners,'' to hear her say it.


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Puru-1 has posed.
<poem>

Understanding her distraction, it's the moment he turns his head more.  And now, now it's more than a mere reflection.  He's looking her in the eye right now, even if its out of the corner of one of his own.

And she can see it, the look.  That look of so many scientists at the Institute.  ''Vivisecting'' her with his eyes.  There is that hunger.

"Stupid of me?  Foolish of you.  Your attachment to her blinds you to the truth, if you'd bothered to make even the most token effort at a psychiatric profile.  The chances of her giving up on you are slim to none.  It took so little effort to get her to submit to Extracorporeal entity LP0.  Because she cannot let go of the past."

That stare continues to be piercing, "You think she looks at you and sees you as any different from Elpeo Puru?  You are, ''the same'' in her eyes.  A 'designer' Cyber Newtype, in need of rescue.  It is why she excuses your continual transgressions against her, and the people she is attached to."

There is a soft chuckle, "Because you are a 'product of your environment'.  How limited and banal a perspective.  You and I both know better-  you are a predator, Yuliana."

If her grip has slackened at all, he dares to turn around, otherwise he simply keeps staring at her, "It is what earns you the attention of that extradimensional entity Puru-1 has made contact with, is it not?"

His tone then suddenly takes a sharp, imperious contrast to his more mild, analytical tone before, "Puru-1 echoes the words, but she truly doesn't know.  It is not her ''nature''.  So tell me Yuliana, what truly drives the Wolf?"


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Yuliana Kafim has posed.
<poem>

        Yuliana's the one with a knife to his throat, but it's Doctor Murasame making all the incisions. Surely ''he'' can see it on her face, behind that visor and mask -- even now she's lost her pupils to those endless green eyes of hers. Her eyes widen, just so; her lips press tight against each other.

        She feels so much ''smaller'' than him, facing down an expression like that, and feels wretched that her heart clutches so. Her silence in the face of his taunts and accusations -- that she's ''foolish,'' that she hasn't done the proper ''profiling,'' that Leina broke so ''easily'' -- is its own answer, really.

        "I don't... I was already..." Rescued; she doesn't need any ''more'' rescue. But Murasame is one step ahead of her denials, and he slips so easily into the same space ''she's'' occupying.

        Metaphorically. Literally, they're both very much in the same space. A little less than they were a moment prior, though -- because when Murasame insists they ''both'' know better, insists she's a ''predator,'' those tendrils snaking from her back slacken enough for him to be able to pivot his orientation. Yuliana starts, head jerking as she realises she's lost her grip -- only to grasp his shoulder, as if to claim it right again. "Her name is ''Rita,'' you son of a --" she starts, with hot anger, only for the look in his eyes to choke the anger in her throat.

        ''That'' stab is obvious. Her lips part; she gasps, ragged and raw, and beneath that tinted shade her brow knits above her widened eyes. Her Bowie knife falls to the floor, as she grasps at the side of her head, instead. "That won't ''work!''" She insists -- yelps, more than anything, the pain evident in her anger. "Elya ''fixed me!'' You can't ''tell'' me what to do!"


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Puru-1 has posed.
<poem>

As she grasps his shoulder, Murasame calmly looks at her wrist as if he were dealing with a particularly unruly experiment and 'managing' it.

Clucking his tongue again, "You misunderstand.  Allow me to put it in layman's terms since this is so very upsetting with you."

He gives her a prolonged look, "She has made contact with the being that has her-"

He repeats that to himself as if he finds that amusing, the concept that a being from another reality, "-her 'eye' upon you.  Long, long before that incident at the mining facility.  In fact, Doctor Kafim is aware of it.  I do not think you truly understood where her knowledge came from when she spoke of 'Emptiness' with you."

How long did he keep her in that chair to learn all of this about Yuliana, about Elisa? To create a file that thick over them?

As she insists to him that his command won't work, angry, and agonized, he tells her, "It's not intended to do anything, but remind you of what you are.  I would not presume to order around Doctor Kafim's favored experiment.  I have far too much respect for her to believe she made the amateur error you keep insisting she has made."

He looks briefly thoughtful, "Fascinating though, you still think that entity is Rita Bernal.  Tell me Yuliana, you've heard of Full Frontal, the so-called Ghost of Char, haven't you?  Do you know WHY he exists?  It is the nature of Psycoframe.  A piece of the Sazabi was all they required."

He lets that hang for some time, "And now we have Char Aznable dueling with him in the streets of Dakar.  Do you understand?  The entity within the RX-0 Unicorn Model 3, is only a copy imprinted upon the Psycoframe."

He leans forward at the neck every so subtly as he tells her, "The real Rita Bernal died two years ago, of suicide, to create that copy."

He lets that hang for some time...

"Truly Doctor Kafim must be very indulgent of you to allow you to risk yourself chasing a forgery, little better than the clones Div tried to make of you."


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Yuliana Kafim has posed.
<poem>

        If he could see the skin beneath her suit, it would be scarred. Surely he knows, though. Even if Cyber-Newtypes from the '80s weren't... notoriously unstable, ports ''do'' tend to leave a mark.

        "Huh?" Yuliana echoes, every part the upset layman, as Murasame says that Leina ''knew.'' "She... she has seen Her?" The emphasis on the word is plain. More disbelieving still, she echoes? "... Elisa... knew? No -- no, she would say so," she insists, shaking her head.

        Elisa has always been honest with her. Hasn't she?

        And the realisation of just what it took to get all this out of Leina -- well, give Yuliana a shred of credit. It ''does'' hurt. She can imagine exactly... what it was like.

        (She was the one in chairs so much like it, so frequently. She remembers Pham's hand clutching her wrist too tightly, and --)

        ''What'' she is, Murasame says, and Yuliana's head snaps up in anger. "Don't speak of respecting her when you keep ''insulting'' her devotion!" Yuliana snarls, tightening her grasp on his shoulder, shaking him. "I am not her ''favoured experiment!'' I'm her ''wife!'' We swore ''oaths!'' Always will she help me, and I am her obedient wife! I'll not hear your petty insults about it!" Those were the words Yuliana wrote. She's the one who spent so much time crafting the perfect vows, did you know?

        She's already angry, when Rita comes up. The 'Ghost of Char' -- a copy -- copies, in the Psychoframe. She's already angry, so the way her volume dies in her throat stands out all the more. "No, that's..." It's true, of course. Char Aznable and Full Frontal ''have'' fought, let alone the reject.

        Her grip slackens. "You're saying... she's a copy? Just a damn -- ''c-copy...?''" Her voice hitches as she repeats the word, tears springing to her eyes. "No... no, you can't just copy a human being! But -- but that's -- it's Rita, isn't it?! It's Rita!"


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Puru-1 has posed.
<poem>

"What, do you think that Puru-1 acted alone in her planning?  Of course Doctor Kafim knew.  The two were co-conspirators.  It was a coup of unprecedented proportions, how she acted to steal you away from your former countrymen while avoiding you turning against her by allowing other groups to do the dirty work for her."

He adjusts his glasses, with a smile, "It was not just a bargain for Alma Stirner's sake, or yours.  She offered to teach her deeper truths of the Void as well, upon learning of her contact with 'Her'."

Yuliana's head snaps up in anger and in his voice, true admiration, "Not at all!  I truly admire her devotion to her favored experiment." And there is real emotion in this moment, "Ah the things she has convinced you of.  Honestly, I applaud her skill."

The subject turns to Rita, and- "What do you think is in the mobile suit Puru-1 pilots Yuliana?  What do you think entity LP0 truly is?  You saw the Qubeley on your way in, didn't you?"

His look turns paternally patronizing, "What is Psycoframe but a network of Psycommu?  What is within the RX-0 Unit 2, is a proto-entity of negative emotions from the girl known as Elpeo Puru, created whenever she projected her hostility within the Qubeley's funnels."

There is a shake of her head, as if he truly pities her for the conclusion he came to, he takes another step forward, "The main difference between her and what's within the Unit 3, is merely that Psycoframe had the storage and processing power to house Rita Bernal's memories as well, not simply the most negative of her emotions."

Now it is his turn to raise his voice, "Cling to the idea that it's still her if you wish to continue deluding yourself, but your childish tantrum has interrupted my work enough for one day.  It's clear you have no understanding whatsoever of the affairs you meddle in, and these creatures you cling to against all logic and sense."

Another step forward towards her, "Out of respect for Doctor Kafim and her work, I will ALLOW you safe passage out of here provided you tell me how our security protocols failed."


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Yuliana Kafim has posed.
<poem>

        "It's not..." Yuliana shrinks back, taking a step away from him, and another. "Don't say it like she's..." Fooling her?

        "... you wretched man," she says, a hand clutched at her chest, as if ''she's'' the one who needs protecting from ''him,'' though she has so many ways to kill him on her person.

        Her expression grows drawn, as she realises: "But, if that's true... then, the Voidframe..!" And not just the core of Emptear, though Yuliana doesn't quite realise Elisa's scrying orb prototyped the concept.

        He's the one advancing on her, now. He's calling all her efforts a ''childish tantrum,'' and she winces, and can't quite summon the will to get away. He'll... ''allow'' her...

        Yuliana looks down. Her arms cross each other, as she grasps herself to herself. "Okay," she mumbles, and there's something in her throat which the word struggles to exit past. She swallows down her misery, as her fingers tighten around her arms.

        "Mag claws. I hitched a ride on the outside of one of your mobile suits flying back... adaptive camo fooled the sensors, and I made sure to grab one running near 36C so my body temperature wouldn't twig the thermal scans." That's cooler than humans ''normally'' run, but nothing terribly out of the ordinary. "You weren't doing organic sweeps, so nothing picked me up. AI security aids, I'll bet, and the suit made sure no humans looked into my activity."

        She pauses for a breath; a glance up to him, but all she has to do is meet his eyes to know she's not done. "Mm... well, I did some digging into your refueling habits... since you rely on photo ID and keycards for so much instead of going straight to staff biometrics, it would have been pretty trivial to fake an ID and a uniform. Could've cloned a keycard if I'd had more set-up time... as it was, I wanted to take advantage of your movements here, so I just procured on-site. Your men don't stick together like they should -- and you're running too much of a skeleton crew. You know your security was compromised by a simple ''bathroom break?''" Afraid as she is, she can't keep the scorn out of ''that'' one.

        It's -- hard, trying to keep herself together, facing up to someone who would sooner take her apart just to see what's inside her. Beneath her tinted visor, her skin is pale. But she has enough thoughts left in her mind to look away, and take a shuddering breath. "I guess... you'll want these back, then," she says, with that same defeat, as she reaches into one of those pockets to pull out the data sticks she grabbed from the file drawer.

        A handful, plus one.

        ''Yuliana's'' data stick doesn't look terribly different from any of the others. She knows she won't get the opportunity to plug it in herself, now; her only shot is tricking ''him'' into plugging it into his computer. She doesn't give any indication she's anything less than beat, as she offers them out, in her trembling palm. If this doesn't work -- if it doesn't work, she's giving up a lot of data for nothing. But... what other choice does she have?


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Puru-1 has posed.
<poem>

"I shall make an effort to ''spare'' your fragile sensibilities then." He tells her, with obvious contempt, but that swiftly turns to admiration for Elisa again, "Ah.  The Voidframe.  Truly I would love to examine it myself, but I have far too much respect for her to take that sort of action."

Yuliana acquiesces to his demands, and he exults for a time in her misery, without saying a single word.  This is the way it always ought to be, with experiments knowing their place in the face of their betters.

He cannot deny that Doctor Kafim's manipulations have been effective, he simply doesn't understand why she's allowed these delusions to persist even after stealing her away.

Still, he listens to her, arms now crossed in the manner of a school principal listening to a child fess up to wrong doing, his expression severe.

"I see." He makes several mental notes on the holes in his security to patch up, before nodding.  And then-

He lets go of that severe expression, instead smiling, "You have done well in that respect.  I will send a message to Doctor Kafim that your efforts are to be commended, in revealing our security breaches.  For that, the two of you have my thanks."

He might as well offer some carrot, now that she has taken the stick.  He takes the data sticks from her at this time, and for now, does not appear to notice there was one extra.

"Now then, I will inform security that you were a consultant on our security protocols, performing expert testing.  My personal transport will be utilized to deliver you to a location of your choosing."

There is a pause...

"I understand that you must be wary of such an offer, but know that I am well aware of Doctor Kafim's capabilities, and would not incur her wrath by risking harm."


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Yuliana Kafim has posed.
<poem>

        Respect for ''Elisa,'' and no respect for Yuliana.

        It stings. It really does.

        "I didn't come here to help ''you,''" she insists, petulant, but her voice is smaller, now. "Just... don't give her a hard time about this. ... please." She hates asking. (Pleading.) It burns in her throat, when she came here to drag her ''home.'' She still has so many tools at her disposal, she thinks -- she could kill him, right here, right now. ''Should'' kill him, by all her sense and logic. He has ''insulted'' her, time and time again. But --

        But he's let up; he's smiling. And it will take more than a few months of therapy to undo the knot that's all tied up in, the relief and the desperate, desperate hope.

        Yuliana is a cruel woman. No more evident is her cruelty than in her treatment of Leina, these past months. But her cruelty is all tied up into her own grief, and perhaps she was doomed from the start, realising someone was drowning so soon after she was dragged from the water.

        Maybe failure really was the only outcome, here.

        ... it really is pointless, Yuliana thinks, in the isle of herself.

        Yuliana looks away. "Thank you," she mumbles, and she doesn't have to ''act'' as if she's cowed. "Might be a hard sell, though... I killed one of your men coming in here. Made it look like an innocent overdose, mind you, but they'll ask questions when the tox screen comes in." And why ''does'' she keep telling him so much more than she has to, like this? She didn't have to tell him so ''much'' about his defenses, either.

        Except... they always knew what was going on, in the Institute. Cooperating was... less painful than lying about it.

        (She does not think of the way Elisa always presses her for the whole truth. She doesn't think of Elisa that way, even if Dr. Murasame so clearly does. She doesn't think of it, but she doesn't have to know something for it to affect her, either.)


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Puru-1 has posed.
<poem>

She pleads, he gives her a more severe look, and then- "I do not punish my test subjects pointlessly. There is always a point, and that point is not cruelty." There is a momentary pause, "That was always Div's vice, her and her people."

He does take a deep breath, with closed eyes, "But, as you have been of some small assistance today, and our Puru-1 has accomplished our primary objective, I will allow her time off, where she will be allowed to break from her regimen."

What is a few days of break?  Nothing.  Soon he won't need her in a combat capacity anyway.  He will move on to different sorts of trials.

Still her growing resistance to the NT-D continues to disturb him.

Murasame snorts as he insists it will be a hard sell, "You hardly need to worry.  If you hadn't killed him, he'd soon be dead anyway.  Martha Vist Carbine does not tolerate this level of incompetence unless they are family."

She is the type of woman who could shoot a Federation Councilor in the middle of an Assembly and possibly get away with it.  This is why he attached himself to her.

Her grasp on power however has become dwindling, desperate, and with his identity in the open it is time to cut and run.

"Currently, she has far greater concerns than avenging the death of a security guard.  It will be forgotten, especially on my recommendation.  She is better served expending resources elsewhere than declaring war against Doctor Kafim for a trivial matter."

At this point, he steps around her, towards the door, however before that he notes, "I would suggest removing the optic camouflage, though you may remain armed of course."

At this point, he considers her so regressed back into her state as a test subject that he does not even worry about showing his back to her.


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Yuliana Kafim has posed.
<poem>

        A ''point?!'' She should shove the point right down his THROAT --

        But Yuliana chokes her own anger down, even hearing Dr. Devi referred to in such a friendly way, again. (Perhaps cruelty creates cruelty. Don't dwell on it.) All she'll achieve by hurting him is worsening Leina's situation, and... and, it's not like minding her temper gets her nowhere. At least he'll agree to that much. "... all right," she agrees, instead. "Thank you, Doctor."

        Disgusting.

        "You'd lose that war," she mutters, darkly. "You're lucky ''I'm'' the one invested here. My Elisa's not nearly as gentle as I am." There aren't many people who would describe Yuliana as gentle; on the other hand, only one person's opinion matters. "Tch," her tongue clicks, against her teeth. "... so, then, are ''you'' family?" She can't help but add, petulant, recalling the Vist matriarch's ruthlessness. "Clock's ticking... they'll try again, you know." Leina's ''real'' friends, that is. "Even if you keep your hostages..."

        Still, his consideration isn't without merit -- she's even calling him by his proper title, now. She snipes at him, but she unzips her stealth suit and removes it, anyway. It's enough of a process that she has the ''time'' to run her mouth -- not only the normal procedure, but removing it from the tentacles coming from her back, too. They have little crests which needed their own camouflage, judging by the bright green markings on black.

        The armour and body-suit beneath aren't much to look at -- they were never designed to be ''seen.'' Her forearms and lower legs are bared, and the scars are evident to see, now. As are the frills behind her ears, half-lowered, and the tendrils like snakes which snap with claws like jaws. She folds all her various murder implements up in the camouflage, and carries the whole bundle, in her arms.

        Perhaps not carrying her gun is a courtesy.

        Perhaps she just knows it won't protect her.


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Puru-1 has posed.
<poem>

"I'm well aware that I have no counter for the Extradimensional Phenomena that she manipulates."

Or if he does, then he doesn't share.  He could after all have some of Div's notes, if she were in a sharing mood.  But even Div fell to Doctor Kafim in the end.

He does furrow his brow and gives her another patronizing look, when she asks if he's family, and tells her the clock's ticking. "Don't presume I'm the same as the so-called 'Empress of the Moon'." He tells her, knowing at least to some extent, he's being baited.

He tries not to rise to it, because he is being quite careful to not tip his hand to Martha prematurely.  It is perhaps, an obvious one, thus he has to take extra precautions.

He does allow however, "I have no intention of allowing a confrontation at all." After all, the only reason he is alive right now is because Yuliana has the mindset of an experimental subject.

If it were someone else holding the knife, he would be much less likely to have survived this encounter, and he realizes that.

As the two walk, there are some lab assistants that gasp, and step away as they see the tentacles.  Some even whisper 'Is that her?' in guarded ways.

Eventually a security guard does approach and, clears his throat, "Doctor, that woman isn't authorized-" "I authorized her to be here.  She is testing our security protocols, and they have failed to pass muster." He tells them.  The guard simply straightens, but doesn't talk back, as he continues- "I will have her recommendations to you within the hour, I expect them to be implemented within the day."

He then steps back alongside Yuliana, a hand nearby one of her snakes, a nail.  A subtle motion, most don't notice the stimulus of a surface scrape as anything more than an incidental touch.

And if they reacted poorly...  well...

...  security is right there.  "Arrange for her transportation out of here on my personal shuttle.  She is neither to be questioned, nor harmed."

"Yes Sir." The man says, then stands ready to transport Yuliana away.  Doctor Murasame then motions for a lab assistant, as he hands over the data sticks to them...

...  including the plus one.

"I need you to conduct a review of all of these.  Be certain the integrity of the data has been preserved."

Yuliana might notice to her satisfaction, he did not in fact, hand them over to security.  Which means, a hapless assistant will soon be inserting Parminder's idiotproof worm right into their systems.



</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Yuliana Kafim has posed.
<poem>

        "Apparently, I can't presume a single thing," Yuliana slings back, and her acid is remarkably dry. She takes some small comfort, at least, in her wife's indomitable power. At least Murasame recognises ''her.''

        She scowls, as he insists he'll win that fight by not having one in the first place. "You people always did leave ''us'' to fight your battles for you," she mutters, and, again, does not think of Elisa safe in her summoning circles as she fights the heroes of the hour.

        ... how fortunate for Dr. Murasame that Yuliana was one of the few people ''not'' blindsided by Martha's revelations, ready and willing to take advantage of their victory so ''quickly.'' If it had been someone else, holding the knife -- someone who wasn't quite this ''close'' to the horror, someone who wasn't part of the 'us' of that equation -- well.

        It's a good thing she's told him how to avoid a second time.

        (She recognises ''that,'' too, and oh -- she'll choke on it.)

        Yuliana hugs her gear to herself, and she's only straight because she's ''reminding'' herself to stand up straight, to take up space. She glowers at the assistants, lips curling over one too many teeth. She's hardly making it ''easy'' on them, approaching them.

        Perhaps the guard who finally screws his courage to the sticking-place ought to be commended, but Yuliana won't be the one to do it. She sneers, when he speaks, visibly bristling. As if she's done what he wanted, this whole time...

        ... isn't that always the way?

        The orchid-faced serpent jerks away at Murasame's gesture -- but their chilly reception isn't quick enough. He's able to get a quick scratch in. Apparently, they don't want scritchies. Not from HIM, anyway.

        Yuliana feels that their instinctual reaction is to bite him for getting so close, but she bids them to stand down. Security ''is'' right there, and -- she promised Elisa she'd be careful. Attacking a head scientist in front of men with guns with no plan and no cover isn't careful at all, and even ''she'' recognises that, though her blood's set to boil.

        She grumbles, but she steps forward with the guard, anyway. She doesn't quite manage to (would never ''stomach'') saying farewell to Dr. Murasame, but perhaps they can excuse the way she looks back, to him, as she moves for the transport.

        At least, she notes, with grim satisfaction, they'll get the data... from the network, and the visor all wrapped up in her equipment, too.
</poem>