1.6

The technician’s ID glowed brightly on Atsu’s monitor.

“Toshiaki Sando.”

Ren stared intently at the display as Atsu swirled a spoon around in a coffee mug.

“SDF in training, before being discharged on ‘psychological grounds.’”

A group photo of some Japan Special Defense Force recruits filled the screen. A more plump-looking technician could be seen smiling cheerfully in the back row.

“Search history indicates an interest in crude gun making, but…”

“He’s a hobbyist.”

“Not our guy. But maybe he knows something.”

“Negative. We’re not sending her into random targets. It’s too much strain on her ego. Keep scan–”

【—Akashiii, do I really have to stay like this?】

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

The clinician (Emi) followed Guy and Nagasawa down a corridor—hands still tied behind his back.

【You tightened these too tight, Guy.】

【Sorry, kid.】

The clinician (Emi)’s face scrunched up in annoyance.

【Come on! Since when am I not allowed a gun?】

【After the Telos incident, we’re taking extra precautions.】

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Akashi breathed on the lenses of his glasses and wiped them with a small cloth.

【Maybe pay attention during your briefings.】

As he held them up to check for smudges, a beam of light illuminated a crack on the left lens.

【It’s not like I shot those people! I had him under control—until New Girl went and pulled me.】

Yuki made a face like she wanted to die.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

The clinician (Emi) pouted indignantly. 

【You’re not there to shoot. You’re there to get us inside.】

【But what about my right to self-defense?】

Nagasawa turned his head around.

【Why do you think we’re here? Hard to do our jobs though, with you yapping in our heads all the time.】

The clinician (Emi) made a face and stuck out his tongue.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Ren turned to Akashi with a stern look.

“We pull her at the first sign of trouble. Got that?”

“Of course. On your order.”

【Got that, Emi?】

【Ughhh. Whatever.】

Akashi tapped Yuki on the shoulder as he stood up from his chair.

“Remember, you're her second pair of eyes.”

“Yes, sir—Doctor! Sorry!”

Yuki promptly squeezed her eyes shut, lips pursed, brows pinched in concentration. 

Akashi climbed backward down the metal rungs bolted to the rear of the Archon.

【Nori, should something happen, aim for the torso.】

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Nori trailed behind, his gun pointed at the clinician (Emi)’s back.

【You are not to damage the head under any circumstances.】

【Yes, Commander!】

The clinician (Emi) turned to squint at Nori.

【NO ONE will be shooting me AT ALL, thank--Oh!】

The clinician (Emi) abruptly walked into Nagasawa’s outstretched palm. Guy stood in the adjacent corridor—ADS.

【...Clear! Found the elevator.】

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Akashi stood at a curved drink station beside the Archon, yawning as he poured himself a cup of coffee. He slowly brought the mug to his lips, gently blowing on the rim.

“Akashi!”

Startled, he spilled some on his hand.

“Ow!”

Akashi tilted his chin, watching the coffee dribble off the hydrophobic material of his lab coat and onto his shoes. He turned to see Ren glaring at him.

“I can’t do this alone. I need you on Emi.”

“I thought we were letting Yuki drive on this one.”

Ren continued to shoot daggers at him. Akashi glanced up at Yuki, who peered down at them with one eye—before quickly shutting it again, pretending not to listen.

He sighed.

【Alright Emi, find anything useful from the clinician?】

【Not really. The deeper I go the noisier it gets. Must’ve modded the hell out of his Ichor.】

Nagasawa chimed in.

【These privacy freaks.】

As did Guy.

【Well, was he wrong?】

【Keep digging through his archive. Names, places, anything.】

【Okay, but it feels like I’m in a hedge maze.】

【Just don’t get lost in there.】

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Guy slammed open the door to the dark procedure room—ADS.

【...Clear!】

After a moment, he brought his arm up to cover his nose.

【What’s that smell?】

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Keshi stumbled down a corridor as the technician led him deeper into the bunker, pulling him along by the arm. He could feel his feet hitting the floor but struggled to keep the pace—his legs barely in sync, heart pounding out of his chest.

“Don’t worry, kid. We got a whole armory back here. Ever play Dreadzone? It’ll be just like that.”

As they passed a room on the left, Keshi caught a glimpse inside—more living quarters—three bedrolls with green wool blankets were laid out on the ground. The men inside were readying themselves with what looked like SMGs, but their smooth white shells were like nothing Keshi had ever seen.

Who are these people?

In a flash—they were gone. As the technician pulled him into an adjacent corridor, Keshi frantically scanned for any sign of an exit.

There had to be a way out. Another hidden passage—something.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Nori plucked the uninstalled implant off the arm of the surgical bot and inspected it.

【I don’t get it. Why do people risk it with these Chinese knockoffs?】

Guy ran his hand along one of the wall panels. 

【Ma’am. Looks like they’re running an implant operation on the side.】

【Oh yeah. Forgot to mention that.】

【Emi...】

One of the posters—a JSDF recruitment flyer featuring three stylized anime girls, each representing the ground, maritime, and air defense forces—had a small tear along the edge. Guy slipped his fingers into it and ripped off the bottom, revealing a handle-like groove.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

“It’s my own fault.”

A surly old man sat at a workbench, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. He inserted a long tool into a slit on the side casing of an especially large rifle, tightening a component inside. Like the SMGs, its muzzle was perfectly flat and smooth. Keshi could just barely make out a series of concentric rings where the barrel should be through the opaque outer shell.

“Don’t know what I expected, getting involved with a bunch of fucking amateurs.”

The man wore a bright-orange wool knit cap and a dirty beige Aran roll-neck sweater. Like the technician, he appeared somewhat malnourished—his skin pallid—dark circles under his eyes.

Despite his rough appearance, Keshi thought he had a certain dignity to him—like an aristocrat who’d fallen on hard times. 

His gray hair winged out behind a pair of large, pronounced ears, on which rested expensive-looking gold-framed glasses. A layer of stubble signaled he was overdue for a shave, but his thick, salt-and-pepper moustache suggested that—unlike the technician—he hadn’t completely abandoned personal grooming.

The gun maker grunted as he lifted the freshly assembled rifle over his shoulder and aimed it at the technician’s head, who stared back at him with a helpless expression.

“So how’d they find us, huh? You sneak out for more midnight snacks? I told you, didn’t I? You’ll ping their system.”

He lowered the rifle again and reached for a loose modular component on the workbench, inserting it into an empty socket on the underbarrel. As he tapped it into place, a pulse of light shot through a strip on the side of the gun.

The gun maker furrowed his brow—his bushy black eyebrows grazing the octagonal lenses of his glasses.

“Who’s the kid?”

Keshi took the opening. Maybe this old guy would take pity on him.

“Pleesh! Howdah gedowdahere? Ah canhgoda prizhon!”

God-damnit.

The technician slapped Keshi forcefully on the back, sending his limp head swinging out of step with his body.

“Don’t worry, he’s with us.”

As Keshi’s head wobbled, he took in the scope of the gun maker’s workshop. 

An armory was right—it was stockpiled wall to wall with racks of alien-looking rifles and metal workbenches cluttered with experimental prototypes in various stages of completion.

He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“So what do we do now? How do we keep them out of our heads?”

“Your head. I told you, an Ichor’s all they need. You sold your soul to play video games. I should shoot you right here.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Atsu leaned back in his chair.

“No matches, Commander.”

“Show me their visual feeds.”

Ren turned toward the main holo-display. The feeds of the field agents were replaced by those of the men in the bunker. The gun maker could be seen on one window via the technician’s POV—his large rifle out of view.

“There. Him.”

The system automatically ran facial ID on the gun maker—his digital ID appeared on Atsu’s screen, along with his personal records and digital footprint. Like the technician, he appeared younger, happier, and heavier.

“Former mechanical engineering professor at Waseda…”

Atsu’s pupils danced about as he scanned the information.

“…so that’s it. No Ichor registered with the MIC.”

Atsu turned to Ren.

“He’s native.”

Ren turned sharply to Yuki and Akashi.

“Yuki, prep her for ID Transplant.”

“Yes, Commander! But…”

“Not him. This Sando guy. We need to neutralize the gun maker, stat.”

【Emi. We’ve found you a new alter. Prepare yourself.】

Emi replied sarcastically.

【Hah, right.】

【Ma’am. We’re in position.】

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Guy and Nagasawa stood behind the hidden door—ready to breach. 

【Move on my signal!】

Nori continued to inspect the implant on the surgical arm.

【Nori. Drop it. I need you on cleanup.】

【Yes, ma’am. Ready on your signal.】

Nori aimed his PK9 back at the clinician (Emi).

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

The technician gripped his head in a panic.

“Where the hell is Nous, anyway?! Tell him we need serious backup over here!”

The gun maker stood up. The large rifle was now attached to his waist via a harness with a gyroscopic stabilizer. 

“It’s not a phone call, stupid. I don’t choose when he talks to—”

The sudden sound of gunfire cut him off. Keshi recoiled in terror. 

“Leave these assholes to me.”

The gun maker walked toward the exit, then turned around.

“If you do plan on fighting, at least use a real gun.”

Keshi watched him disappear into the corridor.

So this is it. This is how I die.

He stared down at the makeshift pistol in his hands.

It was more likely to detonate than shoot, he thought. He wondered if there were any more of those SMG-looking guns lying around.

Suddenly, he felt a hand grip his shoulder.

The technician stared down at him, wide-eyed.

“Listen, kid. These people are bad news. I don’t know how, but they can possess you. Make you do stuff you wouldn’t do. Don’t trust them, no matter what they say. They may wear police uniforms, but they’re not cops. They work for the enemy. The real enemy.” 

This guy’s out of his mind. 

Alright, time to get it together.

What was he thinking? The best thing he could do is drop the gun and wait there with his hands in the air. Maybe if he turned himself in, they’d let him go. Clearly, they had bigger fish to catch.

“Hey, you listening?”

The technician pointed at his forehead with his gun.

“If they get me too, I want you to point that thing right here and pull the trigger. Gottit?”

“What! No way, I can’t do that!”

Keshi touched his mouth. Strange—he could suddenly speak. The feeling was starting to return to his limbs.

For a moment, the Technician’s pupils appeared to stare straight ahead.

“Don’t worry. You’ll be doing me a favor.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

“Commander Sasaki, IDs linked!”

Yuki stared intently at the Archon’s holo-display—Emi and the technician’s IDs appeared on screen. Akashi nodded at Ren.

Ren gave a nod back. 

She turned sharply toward the main display, then threw out her hand in a dramatic gesture.

“Signal clear!”

“Yes, Commander!”

The Archon groaned, which morphed into a strange, undulating tone.

The halo of light above Emi’s head pulsed and flared, glowing steadily brighter.

“Initiating ID Transplant!”