Eleven
"You were totally out of line!" Sylia threw her helmet to the
ground, the sound of shattering glass startling both Linna and Nene as
they tried to ignore the ensuing battle of wits between their leader
and Priss. Priss, ever defiant, refused to budge on her position.
"If I hadn't stepped in, you'd all be dead!" she retorted.
"If you hadn't stepped in, the Motoroid would still be
intact, as would that Boomer's AI. I needed the information stored
in its brain and your carelessness and complete disregard for my
authority ruined our chances at gaining knowledge of a new type of
Boomer. You have cost time, money, and possibly lives. Moreover, your
flagrant disinterest in the well being of your teammates as opposed
to your vendettas is destroying the stability of the Knight Sabers.
We're a team, Priss, not a backbone of your operations. If you want
to fight Boomers like that, go out and do it on your time and with
your equipment. I'm tired of paying for your foolishness."
"Screw you!" Priss threw her helmet at Sylia, who easily
caught the object. Priss briefly showed more than a hint of surprise
on her face before leaving to sulk while she removed her battle gear.
Sylia set the helmet down on the desk next to the computer, taking a
seat in one of the chairs. She leaned her head in her hands, shutting
her eyes and rocking back and forth slightly as though having just
suffered a severe trauma.
"Are you all right, Sylia?" Linna approached her, putting a
hand on the back of Sylia's Hardsuit. "Are you hurt?"
"No, I'm fine." Sylia did not look at her. She gestured
toward the changing facilities. "Go. You've got things to do."
"Aren't we going to go over the data from the battle? This
was a new type of Boomer."
"Go!" Sylia's voice reached a point of agitation that Linna
had not heard before. She was not accustomed to an angry Sylia, nor
did she want to become so. She hurried away, gripping Nene's wrist
and dragging her along. They left Sylia alone to mull over her
thoughts.
"Three hours..." Sylia did not need to glance at a clock.
Precisely three hours had passed and she had not moved. She hadn't the
energy in her. She had suffered during the battle, but it was due to
Priss' negligence rather than hers or the Boomer's actions. The
explosion resulting from Priss destroying the Boomer had knocked the
other three women off their feet. Sylia had hit her head on the
pavement at an angle that would have snapped anyone else's neck. She
did not care to think about the physical pain, however; it would pass
within another hour or so she never bother her again. What caused her
to be distraught was that, once more, Priss had proven herself to be
less than trustworthy as a member of the Knight Sabers.
She had initially recruited Priss due to an accident. She had
not meant to meet the young woman, but the second she had attacked
Sylia, Sylia had known that her rage was an asset that her team could
use. She had tracked Linna and Nene due to their known talents. Her
search for a long range expert had not been going well, as most
experts had to use an extensive supply of equipment. She wanted
someone with raw skill for long range. That someone was Priss. What
Priss lacked in close combat capabilities she more than made up for
with her endurance and eyesight. She had superb vision and could hit
nearly any target. Her general training scores were the third
highest, but they still ranked well above those of most women in that
day and age. Sylia had thought she had found the perfect addition to
her team. The rage would be a problem in time, she realized, but she
had believed that Priss' will was strong enough to save her from
herself.
She had been wrong.
Priss had never become disciplined. Sylia had not wanted to
discipline her, however, knowing that Priss' greatest strength lay in
her anger and bitterness. Taking that away from Priss would make her
a completely counterproductive member of the team, without anything
important to offer. Sylia had allowed her to break the regulations
frequently, even encouraging it when she knew she had something to
gain from Priss' actions. Priss was a loose cannon, but her fire was
worth the hazard. Or had been. Suddenly her attitude was having
nothing but bad effects on the team. Linna did not want to be paired
with someone so unreliable, Nene so less than feared her, and Sylia
did not trust her.
The damage Priss had done unto the team's equipment ranged
well into millions of yen. She made notable cracks and dent in her
armor nearly every week, and several times had had to have whole
sections of her suit, and a few times the suit itself, replaced. It
only happened when she did something foolish. Had Priss not known she
was acting like a fool, Sylia could have forgiven her. Ignorance is
one thing. But her blatant "devil may care" attitude, such as the one
she had displayed to Sylia earlier, was what was tearing the team
apart. If Priss wanted to do something, she would. It was too late to
reign her in. Sylia inwardly knew that she was somewhat at fault,
having bent the rules so often. Linna and Nene were never problems,
but Priss... Priss had been a problem from the start. She was only
getting worse with time.
"It's come to this..." Sylia shut her eyes tight. A single
word repeated itself in her mind: Eleven. The eleventh regulation.
The penalty for violating any of the ten regulations listed
above is death.
Death... At the hands of someone Priss trusted with her life;
at the hands of someone Priss viewed as a mother. An arrogant, cold
mother, but a mother nonetheless. Such was the price of trust, Sylia
thought to herself. She had designed the regulations as a general
guideline, fully realizing that they would be shunned to an extent,
yet ultimately they all knew that the regulations were a serious
statement on Sylia's behalf. She had given them a warning: "To treat
them as nonexistent is to wittingly place your life in my hands."
Linna had listened. Nene had obeyed. Priss had scorned.
Sylia mentally activated the team's personal files and sorted
through them, locating Priss'. Inside her mind the file appeared,
displaying all the information she had gathered on Priss, enough to
write a short novel. With a faint, sad smile on her face, Sylia
uttered a single word:
"Delete."
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