The Worthy Enemy

"Things don't look good for you, Major... Ishikawa? Am I reading that right? Boy, you'd think after four years of fighting you guys I'd have gotten good at Japanese."

Major Ishikawa smiled with palpable contempt. "I do not expect barbarians to comprehend languages even a fraction more eloquent than their own," he said in almost fluent English. "And on the contrary, Mister Gaines, I would insist my position is more secure by the moment."

Gaines sat back in his chair and combed his fingers through his beard. "It's that good? Here inside this room at the heart of a Knight Errant command post, about three and a half kilometers from the nearest Protectorate position--that we know of, anyway--I'd have thought you'd be a little more nervous."

Ishikawa waved the fingers of his left hand dismissively, the chains binding his manacles to the table clinked together as he did so. "You may have destroyed my convoy and scattered my marines, Mister Gaines, but your corporate laws forbid you from harming prisoners. You are a man who values his career, are you not? A black mark upon your record would embarrass not just you but Ares as well. I do not need to tell you anything, for there is nothing you can do to convince me to."

Making a show of looking thoughtful, Gaines stroked his mustache using thumb and forefinger. "You are correct," he admitted, "I really don't want to have to resort to anything... unpleasant, Major. You know how soft and undisciplined us Americans are. Would it change your mind if I asked you nicely, one more time, if there's anything you want to share with me?"

The Major's smile twisted into an outright sneer. "The only way anything unpleasant could occur in this room is if my shackles were to come off," Ishikawa declared. "I am quite familiar with the corporate court's regulations of your so-called Knight Errant, Mister Gaines. Any imperial marine is worth ten of your number."

Gaines tapped the datapad on his side of the table a few times before pushing himself away and standing up, taking the pad with him. "Ten of me? Maybe so, Major. It's a real shame you aren't willing to cooperate."

Ishikawa watched carefully as Gaines made his way to the reinforced door leading back out into the hallway. The Major's imperious bearing was diminished somewhat by the poor state of his dress: the left sleeve of his uniform was torn, the bars of his rank had been scraped off in a brush with the concrete and his belt buckle was completely shattered. Still he watched the Knight Errant operations manager stop at the door, Ishikawa wearing an expression of disdain that only lifelong aristocrats could manage.

Gaines turned briefly to look back at Ishikawa. "Funny you should mention barbarians," the man said, unable to keep from curling one corner of his mouth. "I know someone who fits that description pretty well. And Major, I don't think she cares about her career at all."

Before he could elaborate any further the door's integrated bars shifted and the heavy steel barrier swung outward, admitting Gaines into the man trap beyond it before he shut the door and left the interrogation chamber. Major Ishikawa was left with nothing to listen to but the muted rattling of the steel chains keeping his wrists close to the table. He had nothing to look at except the intercom speaker in the corner opposite the door and the wide reflective window from where other Knight Errant personnel were doubtless observing him.

He settled back into the self-satisfied grin he'd been wearing almost perpetually since they'd apprehended him. "You will get nothing from me," he called out, not for the first time. This time though he added for good measure, "Except swift retribution." The Protectorate would come for him, of that he had no doubt. And although the course of history would come to prove him wrong, in this moment Major Aiko Ishikawa did genuinely believe this to be true.

Within a minute the sound of the bars inside of the steel door drew Ishikawa's attention. The person who emerged from the doorway had to turn slightly to one side to fit the span of her shoulders through it. When she was inside the room she stood up to her full height and seemed to loom over the seated Ishikawa from almost ten feet away. Straight black hair framed her face and rested on her neck and shoulders while sharp gray eyes peered at him coldly as if through the scope of a high-powered rifle.

Clad in a sleeveless sweat-soaked white shirt and black cotton shorts, the woman's body was like a sculpture come to life and could surely only be the product of constant physical conditioning. Flesh like stone, beaded with perspiration, glimmered in the low light of the interrogation room, completely free of any hint of chrome save for her boots where the leather had been worn away at the tips to reveal the metal below.

She pulled the door shut behind her and the sudden sound of the bars locking into place in the wall made Ishikawa flinch in his seat. Compelled by pride to cover his shame, Aiko spat the first insult he could summon to mind.

"I assume you are the brute that Knight Errant has tasked with intimidating me into cooperation. As I told your superior, you will get nothing from me."

The woman shrugged. "Not here to ask you any questions," she told him. She reached into the pockets of her shorts with both hands. "We're past that part." Her voice was calm but each word seemed to carry a kind of bristling anticipation of whatever was to come next. Her fists came up: in her left she held a small circular audio speaker. Her right opened to reveal a small straight object held in her palm.

"Got a gift for you," the woman called, tossing it through the air. Ishikawa leaned backwards in his seat as far as his manacles would allow. When the object landed on the table in front of his hands he saw it for what it was: a key.

"What is this?" the Major inquired suspiciously.

"I don't like when people can't fight back," the woman said, walking to the corner with the intercom and setting her small audio device on the wall below it.

Ishikawa scoffed. "Offering me a fool's hope to free myself, is that it?"

But she merely shook her head. "No, there's no chance of that. They'd fill you full of free samples the moment you stepped out of this room. There's only one way out of this place for you and that's in a box."

Sneering, Aiko took up the key in one of his hands and began to unlock his restraints. "You do not scare me, American. You will come to regret giving me my freedom of motion."

The woman spoke as if Ishikawa hadn't said anything. "I realize you've been sitting down for a little while so I'm going to give you the first three swings. I think that's more than fair." Then she tapped the device on the wall again and it began spewing music into the interrogation room.

"There's a reason... For the sun-shining sky... N' there's a reason, why I'm feelin' so high... Must be the season, when that love light shines... All around us..."

The Major began to say something but the woman dragged a finger across the rim of the small speaker, causing the volume to increase to the point where any words were drowned out. The manacles came off and Ishikawa stood up, rubbing at his wrists. The black-haired woman rolled her shoulders and waved him forward with her hands, the beginnings of a smirk forming on her face.

"So let that feelin' grab you deep inside, n' send you reelin' where your love can't hide!"

His face twisted in disgust, Aiko launched into a forward charge that saw him leaping onto the table and across the room, aiming a balled fist at the woman's face. She stepped casually to the right, causing his hand to strike the reinforced ballistic glass of the viewing window with a dull thump.

Stepping away by four paces, the woman held up the index finger of her right hand. That's one.

Lashing out with one leg in a kick towards her face took Aiko close to her again, but the woman was deceptively mobile for her size. She avoided his boot's heel by no more than a few millimeters by ducking to one side, her grin having grown only wider. Index and middle finger came up: That's two.

"'N then go stealin' through the moonlit nights, with your lover..."

Ishikawa put all of his strength into a blow aimed at the woman's throat, for even the most formidable of combatants could be rendered helpless if they could not breathe. But though his aim was adequate, his reach was not: the Knight Errant enforcer needed only to lean back far enough and let the differences in their height rob Aiko of his threatening potential.

Then, without bothering to remark that it was his third strike, the woman grabbed Major Ishikawa by the back and the belt and carried him across the room face-first, over the table and into the concrete wall of the interrogation chamber.

"Just let your love flow, like a mountain stream!"

He crumpled onto the ground, clutching his head. The kicks of her steel-toed boots began at once, to his midsection and legs.

"And let your love grow with the smallest of dreams!"

Aiko curled up in response, trying to protect his ribs and stomach, so the boots went to his head instead.

"And let your love show, and you'll know what I mean, it's the season..."

Rolling away as best as he was able, the Major managed to get just five feet of distance from his desperate scrambling before she was on him again, picking him up by the back of his uniform and hurling him towards the table.

"Let your love fly, like a bird on the wing! And let your love bind you, to all living things..."

Landing on the edge of the metal table, Aiko spit blood across the surface from having bitten his cheek when kicked in the face. She was right behind him, picking up the wooden chair he'd been sitting in with both hands and shattering it across his back. Ishikawa went limp on the table. This would have been where an interrogator would ask their prisoner if they intended to talk yet. But she didn't ask anything.

"And let your love shine and you'll know what I mean... That's the reason!"

The intercom speaker blared, Gaines' barely audible behind the music filling the room. "That's enough, captain. Stand down. Now."

Flipping Ishikawa over onto his back, she began to alternate between hammering him in the mouth with one fist while holding him by the collar, and simply beating his head onto the table.

"There's a reason, for the warm sweet nights and there's a reason... For the candle lights, must be the season... When those love lights shine all around us..."

"Dawson! That's a fucking order, stop! Fuck, get in there!"

Every blow took out one of the Major's pristine teeth. When his head ragdolled away at an inconvenient angle Dawson settled for hitting him in the stomach. The gasp for air made his mouth open up and left it vulnerable to another punch in the jaw to shut it. A hand came up to weakly swipe at her face and she shrugged it away, unassailable.

"So let that wonder, take you into space... And lay you under its loving embrace... Just feel the thunder, as it warms your face... You can't hold back!"

She didn't notice Pickers and Vic rushing into the room to restrain her, grabbing Dawson's arms and with immense effort pulling her back from the table mid-swing. One of her legs came up and the steel tip of her boot shattered Ishikawa's left knee, ensuring he would never walk unassisted again in his life. Only when Vayger got hold of Dawson's midsection did they finally get her far enough away from the prisoner to keep her from finishing the task of killing him.

"Just let your love flow, like a mountain stream! And let your love grow, with the smallest of dreams and let your love show and you'll know what I mean, it's the season..."

= = =

"Let your love fly, like a bird on a wing! And let your love bind you, to all living things and let your love shine, and you'll know what I mean..."

"Dawson?"

She looked to her right briefly, not so much hearing her name as she did the note of concern in Alenia's voice. The cup of frozen yogurt held in the elf's hand was for the moment forgotten. Then she looked back at the road.

Having made sure Alenia wasn't in some immediate physical discomfort, Dawson replied. "Yes?"

"What are you thinking of?" the elf asked timidly.

"Just let your love flow, like a mountain stream! And let your love grow, from the smallest of dreams and you'll know what I mean, it's the season..."

The song trailed off into silence and Dawson realized she'd been gripping the steering wheel tightly. With some small effort she made her hands relax.

"Nothing important," Dawson said.

"You had that scary look," Alenia commented. "Like you were thinking of something you're ashamed of."

Though her first instinct was always to dismiss the concerns of anyone trying to psychoanalyze her, Dawson found that each time it was a little easier to admit how she really felt. At least to the people who were close to her now. If not to them, then to who?

"I'm not ashamed of the thing I was thinking of," she said evenly. "Only that it took as long as it did for me to get a good reason for why I did it."

Alenia's left hand settled on Dawson's right thigh. "If how you used to be," the elf mused, "Made you who you are now, it couldn't have been all bad. Right?"

Dawson's mouth curled in a small smile. "Did Shelara tell you to say that?"

"If I say yes, can I eat her yogurt?"

Hitting the turn signal for the parking lot Dawson commented, "If you keep vacuuming up junk food you're going to turn into a pointy-eared lap cat with a datajack in it."

"Great!" Alenia said smugly, "I'll stay in bed all day instead of just most of it and you'll have no choice but to bring me food and feed it to me by hand."

"Keep acting so bratty and I'll give you more than just food by hand."

The fingers on her thigh tightened and a slight fluttering entered Alenia's tone. "Mmm.. Promise?"

Coming to a stop in her parking spot, Dawson reached with her right hand to cup Alenia's chin gently. "I don't make promises," she whispered, "I issue orders. Then I punish you for not following them to the letter."

Alenia's heavy breathing became audible as the car shut off. She set her cup on the dashboard and leaned her upper body over the center console to fit her head under Dawson's arms.

"Can I lick your pussy before we go up?" she asked desperately. "Just for a little bit?"

"No, sweetheart," Dawson said affectionately, "The yogurt will melt. I can assure you, my pussy will still be between my legs when we get to the apartment."

"Please," Alenia begged shamelessly, "Just once, for the taste. I need it." Heedless of the previously stated position, Alenia began to fiddle with Dawson's belt, trying to open her pants.

It was not so long ago that Impulse Dawson would have broken someone's hand for touching her waist after being told explicitly not to but the last year had softened her considerably, brought her back in touch with the passions of her youth. She had come to see what a blessing it was, to be surrounded by people who took such an enduring interest in her genitals and causing her pleasure through them. So even though she knew it was unwise to encourage this bad behavior, Dawson set a hand on the back of Alenia's head.

"One lick," she granted. The elf made short work of the belt, button and zipper, using two fingers to pull down the band of Dawson's boxers and expose the stubbled mound beneath them. Like anyone with an addictive personality Alenia had no interest in delaying gratification for the sake of romance, pressing her mouth into Dawson's groin and quickly emitting her tongue to press the tip into the sensitive lips waiting for her. Although Alenia had no discipline to speak of, she did have a pleasingly malleable psyche: through her visor toy and Impulse Control she had trained herself (and by extension her friends) to be adept at the art of oral satisfaction, conditioning herself to know just what motions to make with her tongue and lips.

Dawson emitted a long sigh, balling her left fist up on the dashboard and stroking the shaved side of Alenia's head affectionately with her right hand. It wasn't really one lick of course, it was a series of graceful and eager mouth motions imprinted onto the decker's brain and performed by her face with almost no thought on Alenia's part. Dawson would tell her when her 'one lick' was over.

She let it go on for almost fifteen seconds. At the end of soft gasp she murmured, "That's enough, sweetheart. Face up now."

Months on end of self-inflicted loyalty indoctrination had made Alenia mechanically obedient when Dawson gave her direct orders. Her mouth came away at once with a small stream of glistening liquid connecting the two sets of lips. Knowing exactly what she was doing, Alenia didn't move any further from Dawson's groin to speak.

"Thank you, Mommy Dawson. Your pussy tastes amazing. I love you."

Dawson bit her lower lip. Fuck! It was trashy dialogue straight out of the lowest-quality pornographic sims to ever be made... But it didn't matter how stupid it sounded on paper--when it was spoken by someone who meant it the desired effect was achieved.

Dawson guided Alenia's head back down between her legs. "A little more," she instructed. The elf complied eagerly, the Firebird filling up with the wet music of tongue on softest flesh, Alenia's elated gasps and Dawson's heavy breath.

After a full minute, Dawson began to feel a gentle trembling in the frame of the car as a Knight Errant troop transport rumbled down the street beside the parking lot. "No more," she whispered, rubbing the back of Alenia's neck. Her tongue pulled free from Dawson's mound and oozed liquid arousal onto her slickened skin, the elf's hot breath tickling at the sensitive region in a way which was both gratifying and familiar.

"Can I keep going when we get up?" Alenia asked, words slurred slightly from the numbness of her tongue.

"You know how the others get envious and want to join you," Dawson breathed, running her right hand through the unshaven side of Alenia's hair. The elf pulled the boxers back in place and rebuttoned Dawson's pants diligently.

"They can wait their turn," she declared. Even their collective regimen of self-programming couldn't eliminate the street elven inclination towards indulgent behavior when they were certain it wouldn't hurt anyone else. Although the pants remained in place Alenia took the opportunity to lift Dawson's shirt to expose the row of hard abdominal muscles hidden below the white fabric, promptly pressing her lips to them and half-kissing, half-sucking the tough flesh. She paid extra attention to the newest pair of scars, placed there when in another life Illich Mendoza had shot her.

Dawson let Alenia satisfy herself for a few moments more before tapping the back of her neck with one finger. "Yogurt's getting warm."

"I like warm," the decker mumbled.

"It's quite warm upstairs," Dawson promised.

Alenia let the shirt fall back down into place over the now-wet skin she'd been worshiping and pressed her face into Dawson's chest. "Did I ever thank you?" She wondered. "For saving me that night?"

"In more than a few ways," Dawson supposed. "But I don't need to be thanked. I'd have done that for anyone."

"I know," Alenia said, wriggling further into Dawson's lap and nestling her face into the human's neck. "You're perfect. I wish everyone were like you."

"Everyone is like me," Dawson said, "It's just that most of them are like me when I was in my early 20s. And not all of them get the chance to grow older."

The elf's mouth twisted into a grin. "You mean get soft?"

Dawson cupped Alenia's chin with two fingers and forced the elf to meet her eyes. A hot blush immediately spread across her features.