Aftermath
This chapter starts just before the close of Episode 13, and proceeds into my version of Season two.
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Lucas toyed with the pair of glasses in his large hands, neither hearing the drone of the television behind him nor the muted, worried words of his fellow diners discussing the day's events.  In his mind's eye, he saw Adrian sitting across from him, smiling his enigmatic smile and fading away, like Alice's Cheshire Cat. "Damn!  She sure pulled the wool over MY eyes!  I sometimes wondered what the guy was thinking, given the way he smiled the way he did, and now I know!"

The memories came flooding back, both good and bad.  The literary wisecracks.  The hesitation at going with him to the movies.  The hurt feelings and angry protests when accused of seeing Cybersix behind his back.  The fear and reluctance at going to the hospital and seeing a doctor.

It was strange and difficult, but now he tried to merge those memories with those he treasured of Cybersix, from the first time he was struck by those large, onyx black eyes when she had turned, caught sight of him, and had exclaimed, "YOU!", to "Please believe me!  And Adrian!" to her hesitant, " But I'm not human Lucas!"

It all made sense now.

Thinking about the Lori fiasco forced him to a decision.  Rising, he slipped the glasses into his shirt pocket, paid for the barely touched drink, and left.

He headed for the school, making his way through the crowds of displaced people standing in the streets.  Classes had been let out early, and it was very unlikely that classes would be held tomorrow: The principal had told everyone to lock down their desks and cabinets and prepare their rooms for emergency occupancy.

While on his way, he passed by a storefront with a television set tuned to the local news.  He stopped to listen, along with the others in the crowd.  "-unable to reach the site of the explosion due to sniper fire coming from the hillsides along the coast road that passes by the old observatory.  Although our reporter informed the police of this, the resources of the police force are stretched so thin maintaining order that they couldn't spare any officers to investigate.  The mystery of what happened on the San Carlos Peninsula must remain that until morning.  For those who have been displaced, the following shelters are being opened now-"

As Lucas suspected, Meridiana High School was on the list of shelters.  When he got there, the school was already teeming with aimless, bewildered people.  Surprisingly, the Civil Defense authority was better prepared than everyone had suspected, given the large number of trucks with pillows, blankets, sleeping bags, and food.  There was, however, quite a bit of confusion as glitches in the emergency plans were discovered and worked around by the aid workers.  Lucas showed his school ID, got into the building, and headed for Tilman's office.  Tilman was there, displaying a surprising level of competence and authority as he dispositioned his employees, "Ah, Amato!  What can you do?" he asked him.

"I'm worried about Cy-Seidelman!  I need his address to check on him."

"Could you check on Tournas, Partillo, and Zacharias as well?"

"Frances said she was leaving town, and you know how she is!  We'll be lucky to see her before next Monday.  I think I saw Andre helping to unload a truck, but I'll make sure."

"And if you find Dr. Zacharias," the Civil Defense worker coordinating with Tilman glanced up at Lucas, "Make sure he calls the mayor!"
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"AHHH!!!! HELP!  HELP A POOR CHILD!  HELP MEEE!"

The branches of the huge tree that had fallen on Jose's getaway jeep moved and shifted, "HEEELLLLPPPP!" Jose's voice went up an octave in shrillness.

"Duh!"

The main trunk lifted off the back of the jeep, moved, and fell to the ground.  Jose glanced up at the face of a very puzzled and surprised looking Fixed Idea, "DON'T JUST STAND THERE, YOU IDIOT!  GET THE CAR OUT!"

"Broken." The Fixed idea pointed at the flattened tires.

"Argh!!  BEND DOWN!"

The Fixed Idea bent down obediently.  Jose hopped up onto the back of the Idea's neck, "Ohhh!  You're soaking WET!"  Jose clouted the head in front of him, "Get moving!  Back to the Mansion!"

"What about me?" Sylvester asked.

"Follow me!"

"And what about-" Sylvester pointed to the flaming promentory.

"Never mind him!  I'M THE MASTER NOW!"

"Uhh, YES SIR!"

"I had it all planned out, just in case the opportunity presented itself!"

"Hey!" Sylvester pointed at the muddy pant legs of the Fixed Idea  "Where were YOU?"

"Uhh, big boom knock me into water.  Got stuck in mud." the Fixed Idea replied, tearing his eyes from the burning heights.

No one noticed the look on his face as he started leaping toward town.  After all,  they thought, he was just your average, no-account Fixed Idea.
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It would prove difficult for Lucas to get to Dr. Zacharias' house: The trail of destruction left by that huge creature had nearly gotten to the city's central park, so the entire area had been cordioned off and placed under martial law.  Lucas decided to see Adrian's apartment first.  He'd never been there before, Adrian having come up with one excuse after another for him not to visit.   Well, if Lori could find it, he could too.

He knew that Adrian lived in a top-floor apartment, for he, no Cybersix, he corrected himself, spoke about the view from it.  So when he rounded the corner and saw the light coming through the uppermost window, he just KNEW that she had to be there!  Heart thumping, he ran quickly to the door, bounded up the stairs, and rushed to the only apartment door on the top floor.  He heedlessly grabbed the doorknob and pushed the door open without knocking.

"OH!"

"LORI!" Lucas exclaimed between pants, seeing the redhead jerk her head up from looking over the crowded table, "What are you doing here?"

She grinned, eyes narrowing, "And what are YOU doing here?"

"Is-" he hesitated.

"Is SHE here?"  Lori shook her head, "No.  I came here looking for her too."

They both regarded each other for a long moment.  Then Lucas sighed, "She really had me fooled!" he admitted.

"Hah!  I can't believe that *I* fell for a girl in drag!" she complained.

"And thanks to you, *I* accused her of having an affair with herself!"

"You didn't!"

They glared at each other for a few seconds before Lucas started to chuckle.  Despite herself, Lori began giggling too.  Thus, it was a few minutes before both were recovered enough to speak again, "Do you think-" she started hopefully.

Lucas sighed, "She was there.  She-saw me this afternoon.  Said she was going to try to stop it.  Sort of.  I have no idea how you can stop something that big.  I dunno.  I hope she got away.  I hope."

Lori looked around, "She's not here, that's for sure." she patted at her hair nervously, "I-just dropped by to see if-I think I'll go check up on my friends.  Just to make sure they're okay.  Jitter's apartment was south of the park.  Hope it wasn't- Bye!" she finished in a rush, turning to leave the room.

"Lori?"

"What?" she stopped.

He pulled the glasses from his shirt pocket, "Want these?"

"Uhhh, no thanks."

"She gave them to you."

Lori read the tone of his voice, "I think she'd be happier knowing you had them." she said, heading for the door.

"Bye." Lucas said with a hollow voice as the door closed behind him,.leaving him alone with his thoughts.

"Now what the HECK do I expect to find here?" he wondered.  "After all, it's not exactly a guy's apartment.  Well, it sorta looks like one, but-"  He'd broken into friends' apartments and rooms at college before, mostly to leave behind a variety of pranks, traps, gags, and practical jokes.   The occasional thought of doing the same thing to Adrian had crossed his mind, but he was glad he had never followed through.  Knowing what he knew now, this felt like breaking into a woman's chambers and violating her privacy by clumsily pawing through her personal effects.

But deep inside, he knew that his real motive for staying was purer than that.  He used to laugh at the silliness of people who left the rooms and houses of dead people, famous or otherwise, EXACTLY the way it was on the day they passed away.  But now, having suffered his own loss, he understood.  This was where they slept, ate, thought, read, dreamed...

And lived.  He wondered if the feeling he felt now was what people called the sense of the sacred.

He slowly began to walk through the room.  He opened one cabinet and smiled, despite the stab in his heart, at seeing the large collection of bandages, rolls of tape, and other medical supplies neatly stacked on the shelves: "I too was mortal and suffered hurt and pain.  I had wounds to tend and aches to endure."

He shook his head at the thought that intruded into his mind, speaking at once in her and Adrian's voice.  He opened the cabinet next to it, and saw some men's shirts and pants on hangers.  A flash of color caught his eye, and he slid the clothes on the bar and wondered at the red, strapless dress that hung there, with a pearl necklace and earrings attached to the hanger: "I had hopes to be other than Adrian."

"Did you succeed, Cybersix?  Did you ever feel free enough to wear this dress?"

The voice did not answer.  The flash of jealousy that went through his head at the thought of another man seeing her in this dress was replaced by shame.  For her sake, he hoped she HAD put it on and HAD felt some small bit of joy, no matter who else had shared that magical moment with her.  If anyone in the world deserved it, she surely did.

He wandered over to the bed, still unmade: "I grew weary too, and had to sleep to regain my strength.  I also slept late and didn't have the time to make my bed in the morning either!"

He felt irritated at the lump growing in his throat.

He glanced up at the shelf of books over the bed, reading the titles of literary greats, Shakespeare being the most common entry: "I found enjoyment, solace, beauty, and wisdom in the words of the best writers of the human race."

As he turned from the shelf, his eyes flicked through the bathroom door and stopped, something catching his eye.  He walked into the bathroom and went to the small, short bench beside the bathtub that seemed to serve as a table for the large collection of bottles on it.  Picking one up, he noted, with some surprise, that  it was a rather expensive brand of bath oil.  At least, that's what his fellow teachers had told him when he broached the subject of a gift for a former girlfriend.

He blinked.  His last "date" had been with Elaine, but what other women had he been more than casual with since those onyx black eyes had riveted him speechless on that bridge?

A quick inventory of the benchtop revealed equally expensive varieties of bath oils and shampoos.  He took one that was nearly empty, indicating that it was her favorite, and twisted the cap off.  A scent reminding him of roses in the springtime came to mind: "I had my own innocent pleasures that I indulged in from time to time."

Absentmindedly, while trying to dig up from his brain the memory of his last date before that fateful meeting on the bridge, he walked out the bathroom, stopped at the bureau that stood by the doorway, and  opened the top drawer. The sight of lacy black bras and panties, mixed in with male underwear, snapped him back to the present, and he slammed the drawer shut.  Face red, he glanced behind him, imagining a feminine chuckle, followed by  a sad sounding sigh, and: "I could dream, couldn't I?"

"Some of those are-uh-rather small." he thought, rejecting using the word "very", even though it was much closer to the truth.

Could an imaginary voice blush?  Being imaginary, it probably could.  And Lucas felt sure that it was doing so  at that very moment, "I, uh, suppose panty lines would be undiginifed." he said aloud.  He wasn't exactly sure why he said it, although he felt he HAD to say it.  Did an imaginary voice need to be relieved from embarassment?

He walked over to the table in the center of the room and surveyed the remains of the hasty, half eaten breakfast.  His eye wandered to the pile of books off to the side.  An open notebook with writing in it made him move around the table to read it better.

It was a poem, written in what he used to think was Adrian's handwriting, with numerous corrections and a couple of notes, "Poetry?" he wondered aloud, momentarily stunned at the depths and complexity of the woman he realized that he had not truly known.  He looked at the books surrounding the notepad, and saw a book of poems kept open by a heavy piece of metal.  It was open to a page on which was a poem that seemed similar in form and layout to what was written in the notebook.  He couldn't tell if it was the exact same piece because it was in a foreign language he didn't recognize.  Then he noticed another book that looked like a dictionary positioned above the notebook, "Portugese?  She's translating a poem from Portugese?  But-"  His attention returned to the book of poems, and he noted that the poet was Pessoa, "Woah!  I've heard of him!  She was translating Pessoa?"  He turned his attention back to the notebook and noticed a folded paper tucked in the back pages.  He pulled it out, opened it, and saw from the letterhead that it was from the largest and most prestigious educational publishing house in South America, based in Lima, Peru.  The letter had been written six months ago.

Dear Mr. Seidelman:

Thank you for your interest in having us publish your translations of Pessoa's works.  Yes, we do have an agreement with the publishers of his works in Portugal, and have been looking for a suitable translator.  Our reviewer, a language professor at the University of Lima, was very impressed with the high quality and fidelity of the sample translations that you sent with your letter.  I and our inhouse reviewers also agree with his assessment.

Unfortunately, our policies forbid us from awarding an advance for this type of project, and I have been unable to get a waiver for your case.  Please understand that this is simply a matter beyond my control, and I urge you not to be discouraged by this setback.

I also regret the rather long delay in responding to your letter, but the reviews were so positive that I took the liberty of sending your samples to the original publisher for their evaluation and pre-approval, as required by the terms of our agreement with them, and waited for their response.  As I expected, they were very impressed, as was the Pessoa Estate trustees.  All parties have given their pre-approval, subject to review of the final manuscript.  I hope this news will compensate for my inability to obtain an advance, and will encourage you to continue your efforts.  Unfortunately, that approval does not extend to magazine publication, which would create copyright problems that would delay, if not prevent, book publication of the final work.

When communicating with me, be sure to include your file number of AS00137.  In the meantime, although it is somewhat unprecedented for a first time author or translator, I am pursuing a request that you be awarded a Premium Translator bonus for your first work if the quality of the final product is consistent with what you sent me.

I am looking forward to the pleasure of working with you in bringing what I hope will be the first of a series of authoritative translations of Pessoa's poetic works.

Sincerely Yours,

Frances Tarillas
Chief Editor, Translations
 

Lucas carefully folded the letter and put it back into the notebook.  His eye glanced back to the book she was translating.

He sat down heavily in the chair, put his head into his hands, and tried to stiffle the twisting pain of loss that surged through him, forcing tears to his eyes and making his shoulders heave.

Cybersix had been three pages shy of completing the translation.

"Yes.  I too pondered the futility and pointlessness of meeting an end like this.  More so than most."

He didn't know how long he sat at that table weeping for the unfinished life that was mirrored in the unfinished book.  When he finally got up, he realized with dismay that his tears had fallen on the notebook, making the ink bleed a little.  He felt bad, guiltily wondering if, in some way, he marred her life as he had just ruined her carefully written work.

Sighing, he walked around the table, ready to leave the room as it was, when his eyes fell on a book lying next to the plate.  It had an envelope stuck in it a quarter of the way through, and it looked like she had been in the habit of reading it while eating.  Curious, he moved around the table to read the title.  It was "Human Determinism in a Quantum World".

"What a strange book for her to read!" he thought.  "Must be a library book.  Better return it before she gets into trouble."  He remembered the look on Adrian's face whenever he entered a library or bookstore.  It would be out of character for someone who loved books that much to be tardy in returning one.  He picked it up, pulled the envelope out, and noticed it was from the publishing house that had responded to Cybersix's letter.  He put the envelope on the table and opened the book to the first few pages to look for the library's return address.

Instead, he found a pre-prrinted sticker that read: From the Library of Dr. Anthony Zacharias.

The door slammed hard behind him, and his footsteps thundered as he pounded down the stairs, the book under his arm and a wild look in his eyes.
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"-but she has courage, and I admire that." the voice of Von Richter came out of the tape recorder.  Jose shut the recorder off and grinned.

"Pretty good if you ask me!" he exulted, "Pretty good!"

He turned the tape recorder back on.

"Attention!  In my absence, I am leaving Jose in full charge.  Anyone disobeying him will have to answer to me upon my return!"  There was a long pause, and then "And I like kitties, puppies, and never go to bed without my teddy bear!"

Jose laughed convulsively.

He did not notice that the Fixed Idea he had ridden back to the mansion had been standing just outside the doorway, hearing everything.  It turned and walked away, a frown on its face.
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"KEEP LOOKING!" Krumens yelled to the crew of technos scouring as close as they dared to the flames of the observatory and the surrounding trees.

"Sir, nothing could have escaped that!" A techno protested; waving at the fire whose heat was purifying the site.

Krumens glared at the techno, pulled out his sidearm and pointed it at the techno's forehead, "You have a chance of redeeming yourself by finding SOMETHING of the master, dead or alive!  Do you hear me?"

"YES SIR!" the techno paled, turned, and ran to an unexplored section of the forest.

Krumens regretted not having insisted on accompanying Dr. Von Richter to the castle or to the observatory.  He had come as quickly as he could when he heard the last frantic radio transmission the Doctor had made to Paris that included the accusation that Jose had betrayed him.  It was on tape, so he did have something to use against the clone.  Unfortunately, if he didn't find his beloved Doctor, Jose would be all that was left that he could work with.

Yes.  Very unfortunate indeed.

"SIR!" A different techno ran up, waving something, "Look at this!"

Krumens looked at the object, then snarled, "That's not his boot, you idiot!"

"I know sir!" the techno replied, circling his thumb and forefinger easily around where the wearer's ankle would go, "It's pointed too.."

"It's a woman's boot!  The renegade cyber's!" Krumens exclaimed, "Did you find anything else nearby?"

"No sir.  Do you think-"

"I have heard of explosions literally blowing men out of their boots.  None ever lived to report it personally, as far as I know." Krumens re-examined the boot and noted the horribly melted heel and sole with satisfaction, "At least your Master accomplished one of his main purposes for this trip.  Keep looking!  He may have survived!"

The techno nodded, trying to hide his doubts as he turned to leave as Krumens tossed the remains of Cybersix's boot aside and pulled a radio off his belt, "How does the perimeter look?"

"Secure!  After we chased off that news van, no one else has come from the city yet!" came the static-filled reply.

"Let me know the moment anyone else comes!"

"Yes sir!"

Krumens paced, kicking stones and trying to resist the urge to pray or shout at the creations scurrying around him, obviously doing their best to find something of Von Richter.

Suddenly, there was a shout.  Krumens broke into a run in the general direction from which it came.

He came upon a group of technos struggling with a stinking pile of unrecognizable flesh.  The smell was mingled with that of sustenance, "Don't bother with it!" he shouted angrily, "I want the doctor!"

"Sir, there are multiple bodies here!" a techno protested.

"SO!?"

"Why would they be together in the first place?  And why weren't the bodies flung apart by the explosion?"

The implications sank into Krumens' brain, and he cursed his anxiety for blinding him.  He grabbed a whistle and blew it shrilly.  Various creatures sprinted toward the sound, "Get these bodies apart!  Hurry!"

There was a lot of tugging, pulling, and cursing as the charred bodies were peeled away from the pile.

"HERE HE IS!"

Krumens leaped on the pile and fell on his knees at Von Richter's side.  The doctor was horribly burned with sustenance, and one of his eyes was missing.  His limbs were certainly dislocated and perhaps broken, but thankfully not torn off completely.  Apparently, the heat of the explosion had fused the group of monsters together, simultaneously encasing and protecting the one they were intending to destroy.  Krumens put his fingers on the doctor's neck, feeling for a pulse.

"HE'S ALIVE!  GET ME MY BAG!  GET A STRETCHER!  START CUTTING THESE FAILURES AWAY FROM HIM!" Krumens shouted.  There was an explosion of bodies as the technos raced to reply, some banging into each other or into a tree in their excitement.

"There's hope!  There's hope! There's hope!" Krumens thought excitedly as he tried to peel off the fingers of a green creature from Von Richter's upper arm, not feeling the burns from the sustenance tainted blood that covered it.  "We weren't prepared for this, so we'll have to start growing a new body for him immediately.  Cloning procedure 3 should work the best, but it'll be at least five months before the body will be ready for the transfer."

When his medical bag arrived, Krumens prepared and injected a tranquilizer, "He'll have to be sedated until the body is ready." he muttered half to himself, half to the others, "Okay!  Is he free yet?" he said, preparing an injection of antibiotics, "Somebody get some plasma!"

Soon, Krumens was accompanying the band of Technos carrying Von Richter in a stretcher toward a waiting helicopter, "We have the doctor!"  he yelled into his radio, "Fall back, get into the other choppers, and go secure the castle!  I'll be taking your Master to the Amazon lab!  Not a word to Jose or any of the European bases!  That's an order!"

"Sir?" a techno that was tagging along asked anxiously, "Why are you leaving out Jose?  Isn't he the master's own son?"

"Fool!  He betrayed his father!  With your master in this state, he is sure to try again!  CAREFUL!  Don't jostle him you idiots!"

"And the European bases?"

Krumens' head snapped around and he glared at the hapless techno.  He then pulled out his gun and shot the techno through the throat.  "You ask too many questions!" he told the writhing techno as he climbed into the chopper, moments before the body went still and vaporized.

The other technos suddenly started taking extra care in lifting the stretcher into the chopper and securing it.  They then took their positions, shifting nervously.  Krumens sat down next to the pilot, "Let's get out of here!" he ordered.

A techno looked down at his mutilated, but alive, master.  He noticed a bit of metal chain, like a broken necklace, coming out from between his clutching fingers.  Curious, he leaned over, reverently pried his master's fingers apart, and pulled out what looked like a round, disc-like  metallic locket.  Holding it up to the small light next to him, he noticed that the outward surfaces of the bluish green metal formed a closed iris, duplicated on both sides of the locket.  Wondering what was inside, the techno looked for a catch or something that would open the locket, but all he could find was a small knob at the top.  He tried turning the knob with no results.   Pushing it in didn't work.

When he pulled it, it came out two millimeters and the locket began to gently vibrate between his fingers.  The metal iris slowly opened, only to reveal another metallic iris underneath.  When the first one finished opening, the second one began to open, only to reveal a third iris, "Whatever this is, it must be very precious to the Master to have this much protection while allowing him to look at it whenever he wished," the techno thought as he watched the fourth iris open, excited to finally be seeing clear glass.

He held it up to the light, only to see several long strands of red hair coiled up inside.

"Strange, but the ways of the master are not mine to question.  I must make sure this is safe until I can return it to him." the techno thought, pushing the knob in and watching the four irises close successively over the encased hairs, not remotely close to comprehending the value to his master of what he was slipping into his pocket.

Krumens stared into the night, "Yes, Jose will pose a problem." he mused, "He is not only a danger, but being his father's clone gives him protection and authority that even I am hesitant to challenge.  It would be in Von Richter's best interests, and mine as well, to let another provide the solution and take the responsibility."
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Red hairs (C) Genesis Seidelman
European solution (C) Anay

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