He snapped his head up, eyes working to pierce the darkness. There, standing still on the roof of the gutted shell across the road, was a silent, black-clad figure, starlight glinting from the circlevision visor. The figure bowed to him. Theodore snapped his own visor down, only to find that the slim figure had vanished. One has found me.

No,he admonished himself. I have seen one. I might hope only one is there, but I cannot assume so. Never underestimate an enemy.

He checked the street and found it deserted. Deserted of people, that was. The derelicts and criminals who occasionally hid among the ruins had gone to roost. Only the night vermin prowled on their own life-and-death hunts. Theodore decided that the small scurryings were a good sign, for it meant that no human presence disturbed their ground-level hunts. Perhaps there was only the one. That thought set him to scanning the roof again, but he found no sign of his pursuer. While checking the ground level, he had left himself open to a long-range attack from above.

No attack had come. He did not know why, but he did know that he was lucky. He presumed that the other was on his way to street level. By heading up, Theodore hoped to confound that maneuver and recover the moments he had lost.

Peeling back the leather palms of his gloves, he uncovered the microhooks set there. A swift crouch and spring started his climb up the side of the building that sheltered him. Fingers and toes sought the minute purchase offered by the crumbling mortar between bricks. Where there were no useful cracks, the microhooks penetrated and took hold of the porous surface of the brick, the barbs offering a secure grip. A flexed palm released tension from the hooks and they slid free, allowing him to reach for a new, higher grip.

All the way up the wall, Theodore berated himself for his foolish lapse. In his mind, he heard the voices of his teachers. Two were most insistent. Brian Comerford, his Special Operations tutor, had nothing good to say about his delays or his physical stamina. Tetsuhara- senseinagged him to reach for and trust his center, promising him all the strength he needed if his haracontrol were strong. While listening to those inner voices, he climbed the fifteen-meter wall in less than half a minute.

On the roof, Theodore checked his surroundings again, but found no sign of the other. He set out across the roofs at a pace that would not overtax the sneaksuit. Eventually, the deteriorating quality of the buildings he crossed forced him to abandon his aerial path and return to the ground. His speed increased when he was no longer concerned that a misstep might send him plummeting through a rotted roof.

Theodore knew that he was not alone, but none of his tricks succeeded in forcing the other to show himself. Discarding the attempt to confront this lone hunter, he resumed the effort to lose his dogged pursuer.

Suddenly, Theodore sensed the other's presence very near and cursed himself for having missed its brief absence. Another mistake,chided the ghostly voice of Comerford- sensei. This time a costly one,Theodore agreed.

A hand snaked out of the gutter to snare his ankle. Before he could react, he was toppling to the pavement. He tucked to minimize the shock and realized that the hand was gone. That's bad,he told himself, feeling the agreement from Comerford- sensei'sspirit.

Rolling as soon as he hit, he caught a glimpse of a manhole cover blowing into the air, impelled by a near-silent huff of compressed gas. A shadow followed the disk, erupting like a demon from the nether hells. The dark figure landed lightly on the street and ran toward him.

Theodore regained his feet and cleared his sword in time to parry a passing cut as the other snaked by, turning in a rustle of black fabric and the glint of polished steel.

The two stood frozen for a moment, the other in muniken,Theodore in tensetsu.He recognized the other's command of the ancient Yagyu sword technique and shifted to katsuninken.The other hesitated a moment, then started a shift to kojothat was never completed. At that instant, the manhole cover returned to the street with a ringing clatter, startling Theodore. The other, clearly expecting the clamor, converted the shift of stance into a lightning attack. Theodore's counter was too slow. The other flashed past.

As he turned to face his opponent, Theodore knew he had been hit because there was blood on his opponent's blade. The sword was so sharp that he had not felt its touch. He felt for the pain as he readied himself. The wound felt small, a tiny cut just above the left hip. He hoped his body was not lying to him, concealing the awful truth of a mortal wound. He had no more time to wonder. The other was moving and Theodore must defend himself.

The next exchange was no passing attack. Each black-clad figure stood its ground, trading attack for counter. Unexpectedly, in the middle of Theodore's attack pattern, the other crumpled to the ground. Theodore's stroke whistled through the air above the falling body, pulling him off balance when it did not meet the expected resistance.

Theodore recovered, returning to a cautious guard-posture as he looked down at the unmoving figure. He was puzzled. He had not thought that he had pierced the other's guard.

There was no time to consider. In the distance, he heard the soft slap of running feet. Whether it was his pursuers or local inhabitants drawn by the clamor of the manhole cover, he did not know. Either was more trouble than he wanted. Turning, he ran down a narrow alley, risking a look back just before he rounded the corner. Three black-clad figures pounded down the street toward the alley, but of his recent opponent, there was no sign.

Knowing that the shadows offered no protection from the light-amplification equipment of his pursuers, Theodore ran on.

2

Streets of Kuroda, Kagoshima

Pesht Military District, Draconis Combine

17 May 3018

By the time Theodore recognized from the echoes that he had entered a dead end, his pursuers had rounded the corner and entered the alley. There was no time to climb away from them unless he could delay them somehow. Reaching for his pouch of flash grenades, he found it gone, cut away in the sword fight. He steeled himself to turn and fight for his life as a stirring in the gloom told him the situation had just gotten more complicated.

From the darkness at the alley's end stepped another black-clad figure. The hood of this one's sneaksuit was pulled down around his neck and his faceplate swung from a loop on his belt. Apparently, he disdained the advantage of night vision to face his cornered quarry. His face was hard, its flesh glistening with a light sheen of sweat. The redheaded man held a katanain his right hand. With his left, he reached into a pocket set into the sleeve of his sword arm and laughed confidently.

Theodore skidded to a halt, his own hand snaking behind his back. Arrogance has no place in a warrior's heart,reminded Tetsuhara- sensei's voice. Quite right,Theodore agreed. And this man shall pay for his arrogance.

He drew a packet from his pocket and squeezed it hard before flinging it at the new opponent. Simultaneously, he dove to his right, using the momentum of his throw to pull himself into a roll.

The sudden move saved him from the redhead's missile, which whizzed past Theodore to strike with meaty thunk at one of the other pursuers. Hearing a clatter of debris and a whuffing sigh, he reckoned that one of the three behind him was out of the fight.

Theodore's own missile disintegrated in flight as the chemicals released by his squeeze ate through the thin walls of the bag and released the contents. A fine mist wreathed the head of the bare-faced man. He collapsed in a fit of coughing, temporarily incapacitated.