(Golden Lion AU) Hachiman, Hard Boiled (Complete, Comments welcome)

[Wrangler]

Interesting update!

[AlphaMirage]

Isoroku Kurita loomed large in the door having inherited the formidable stature of his father and forceful presence of his maternal Grandfather. He stepped forward to Minoru and Mitchell putting the Yumi, locally produced and highly prized artisan wares, away. “Mind if I shoot a round?”

Mitchell offered up the Yumi and Ya. “I'm certain you can teach the youth a few things in the process. Chandreskar and I will head to the house.”

Chandrasekhar lifted his arms in an exaggerated motion of weariness. “Speak for yourself Mitchell. I'm headed to the bath house.”

“No amount of water will be sufficient for your filth.”

Like a veteran Kabuki actor, no doubt due to his favor among them, Chandrasekhar's face twisted in a most unnatural configuration. He dropped it and brushed his hands down his coat. “I'd worry if it were actually.”

With that Mitchell and Chandrasekhar departed with bows on all sides to their quarters within the family complex. One that had grown dramatically since Chandrasekhar had become the resident Kurita of Hachiman and de facto Chairman, when he wanted to be.

Akane sat closest to him as Isoroku chose a Yumi and set of arrows. He always treated her well despite their distant relation and his own history of aversion to the fairer sex. “Uncle Isoroku is it true that you were the youngest Kurita to score a perfect five?”

He raised the bow to its ready stance as dusk started to fall over the forests of Deolali. His Ya found its mark just off center of the target with a solid thwack. Isoroku readied another arrow. “Is that what Constance says?”

She nodded in agreement with the others. “Presently there are over three thousand in our Clan. Trying for five kids before you die will do that.

Fortuitous Five in Flight has been around for more than a century.”

Minoru had an off feeling about Isoroku's expression but his face was calm as he drew the bowstring. The youngest Kurita present paid close attention to the master.

Thwack, dead center. “So I'm sure she is mistaken.”

“Isn't that her job though, as Keeper of House Honor?”

Another arrow nocked and released to a solid impact downrange. “Among other things.”

Instead of choosing one arrow Isoroku drew the final pair from the jar holding them firmly between his fingers. Hideoyoshi and Minoru watched in awe, double arrows from a Daikyu.

A stillness fell over the range as he lifted and drew both arrows to his opposite ear holding them for tense seconds.

Two hits registered on the hill. Only one of which caught the target. Isoroku returned his kimono to the shoulder covering scars and injuries sustained on his torso throughout a long DCMS career. He looked over to his nephew who looked mildly disappointed that the Kyudo round had ended imperfectly.

“Minoru would you go and retrieve the arrows for me?”

He fast walked across the range while Isoroku showed his older cousins some finer points on the drawing of the Daikyu bow. Minoru walked beyond the target to find the Ya that his uncle had fired and missed. Something felt wrong about it but the light was fading and he retrieved the other four from the target.

Upon returning he handed the stray arrow to his uncle. The shaft was missing two of the three feathers that helped stabilize the heavy arrow in flight. “Did you remove the fletching before you fired it?”

Isoroku held the arrow passing the remaining feather through fingers calloused from hard practice and real war. “No this was caused by the arrow just missing its target.”

The arrow was passed around to the teens. “Do you want to know what the most important lesson I teach everyone that goes through the Kensai Kami program is?

They waited patiently while he looked downrange at the target. "Always take the shot, only then will it find your target."

[AlphaMirage]

08/18/3046
An ornate wooden structure painted red and gold sat majestically atop the Kurita Clan's own Hill Shrine to Hachiman, patron guardian of Warriors and namesake of this proud world. An alternating pattern of eight banners, either black arrow red background, or red arrow black background, fluttered along the roofs of the shrine's buildings animated by the trade winds over Deolali. Dark bronze lanterns hung in front of its veranda and Toro, stone ones, rose from the garden. Their fires were only lit for special occasions, most commonly the crowning of a new Coordinator or the death of the Keeper of House Honor.

Isoroku Kurita wearily climbed narrow and rough wooden steps cut through a bamboo grove clustered on a steep hillside eschewing the easier ramp and concrete stairs on the eastern slope. No attention was paid to him by the plain clothes as he passed under a red Torii spirit gate. Above him the pure white birds of the Shrine's carefully tended dovecote flew freely across the lightening forest.

A fat Pachiritsu, one of Hachiman's alien 'lightning squirrels' chirped on a nearby bamboo pole feeding off fallen seed and nuts from the birds above. It eventually found its way next to him before being brushed away with a mild shock of irritation to Isoroku's hand.

He continued the ascent of the hill spotting the SLDF green profile of 'Revenant.' “Aleksandr Kerensky's” rebuilt Orion given to his cousin Theodore by Aunt Florimel, then Keeper of House Honor, now entombed on Kagoshima after a lifetime of faithful service. It had been locked into a fighting pose and secreted away to stand across the Sando entryway like some great colossus of yore. One that could at any moment animate to break down the gates of a Castle Brian once more.

Ribbons and prayer flags danced in the wind upon their cables anchored to its shoulders. The effect was one of a dome of protection either from or to its former owners, now long distant, or in Kerensky's case long dead. Pillarine acolytes paid appropriate respect before continuing about their normal business, cleaning the paths and managing such a prestigious property.

As he neared the Hodan he could see the small wooden tags for petitioners to the spirits within. Two dove shaped ones of light wood were selected and filled out using nearby brush and well. Kanji as precise as its bearer was placed in the sun to dry. White jade and ivory Magatomi stones attached by a slender chain brushed his kimono as he closed his eyes to listen to the shrine's ambient noise. Birds chirping among the bamboo, straw brooms sweeping on stone, flapping of silk flags on the wind, and his own steadied breath.

Sounds of sandals on stone and clank of prayer beads woke him from his trance. Isoroku didn't open his eyes. He knew the bearer's gait by ear because he had been there when he was injured during the Ronin War, on the wrong side. “Alexander.”

A stern voice neared as its owner sat on the bench nearby. “Isoroku.”
“Bit of a Kurita Clan reunion on Hachiman of late.”
“Having an ongoing mob war in Masamori right after the Expo will do that. At least they had the decency to wait for the last visitors to leave or Migaki would be having fits. Chandreaskar assures us that Sumiyama will step in before it gets out of control.”

“Do you believe him?”

The pause between the priest and warrior lingered. “Is that why you are here?”

“In part. My cousin's insistence and COMSTAR's influence with the Ghost Regiments have come back to bite us. As I expected it would.

You can't give gangster's bigger guns on their honor to behave and not expect them to use them. Even the Amphigean groups have higher standards.”

“So what will you do Isoroku?”
“For now, honor Kanoko and I's anniversary and her memory." Her thumbed an ivory pendant with faded ink writing on it.

"After that, I suppose I figure out how to fight Ghosts.”

[AlphaMirage]

Chapter 6 – Salvage

08/26/3046
Two shirtless tattooed figures held onto cargo netting with bare hands within the unfinished galley of some spacecraft in the midst of microgravity. A mural of a donkey wearing a space helmet and propelled by ‘gas’ from its rear was painted on the battered steel bulkhead behind them. On either side floating spectators shouted ”Tenir Fermement!” (Hang Tight) or “Mamorinuku!” (Hold Fast) to their preferred combatant as they kicked and became entangled in one another while ‘web wrestling.’

One of the spectators, a teen wearing a gray Masamori Mechanical Services jumpsuit, shook his fist at the center. “Come on Frank. Finish him!”

Another one wearing a tan Alpheratz Executors Orbiball jersey yelled back. “Yoke the Yak Rogan! I got money on you.”

The fighter with less ink grappled the irezumi Yakuza with his legs translating hand over hand through the space between them. Cheers erupted from the crowd as they neared. He drew back a fist to punch forward firmly mounted in a three-point stance. Still Franklin stayed, watching the first intently, but making no move to block.

As the Outworlder drew back Franklin pushed off with all his upper body strength to wrap his feet into the cargo netting. Reversing their positions in a pseudo-suplex of which he had the superior bracing position.

Rogan’s hand slipped as his center and trim shifted in microgravity leaving his head dangerously exposed. Franklin wrapped an arm around the man’s head and used the other to break the leg grapple and rotate him into a head-to-head position.

With control of Rogan’s neck and his feet ‘grounded’ Franklin had the superior mount. He pushed Rogan out toward the opposite wall (‘down’) where he settled in a crouch looking up at his opponent.

Metal ration coins were exchanged between the betters. “You win this time Franklin. Pity most of your crew can’t even drink legally in the Outworlds.”

They both slipped their shirts back on and rolled the jumpsuit back to its normal position. “Good thing we are in Combine space then.”

Rogan gestured to the crowds. “You can drink your winnings after your shift. Get back out there and keep at it! That Nebula isn’t going to bring itself out of mothballs.”

Browbeaten spacers pushed off and out of the galley closing the door behind them to leave two figures within its volume. They both slung part of their tabis into one of the many recessed holds set into the Burro dropship’s walls. “You’ve been practicing.”

Franklin did a quick core circle. “It’s all in the hips and back. I spent a lot of time working on it.”

The lights dimmed and an off-white portion of the wall lit up with a projected image of outside. Togura VIIc’s icy surface reflected a portion of the yellow giant primaries light up to a tangle of cables and ablated metallo-textiles surrounding the distinct profile of a Nebula (Merchant) jumpship.

“Your special port workout is all too familiar to me friend.”

Captain Rogan slipped over to the stainless metal galley table pulling two reusable metal cylinders out. “DCPA Chief Engineer and Orbital Salvage certified. Between Isesaki and the Guild you could write your own meal ticket. Or hell, strike out on your own. Stellar Trek is desperate for cash. We could make a fortune together.”

Both paused to take a draught of the pressurized beer inside. It lacked most of the finer qualities of an ale but that was just the nature of spacer life. “It would be boring. Smuggling is much more exciting and profitable. Plus I’d miss the port life and my group.”

“Hard to believe that. You’ve lived almost your entire life on a dropship.”
“People change.”
“Isn’t that the truth. Did you ever tell those…what was it…Bosozokos? About that Rumspringa around Rushaven?”

Franklin almost choked on his beer and had to slurp up the bubbling spheres that got loose. “No.”

Laughter filled the room. “Hey it was my first time ever. Hadn’t even tried it on the ground yet. We hadn’t had that talk yet.”

His eyes grew darkly serious. “If you tell them I will ensure that you have an unfortunate incident at some time in the near future that will never be traced to me.”

“Your embarrassing stories are safe with me. I expect reciprocity.”
“Well I already told them about Al’Nair.”

Rogan stopped for a moment. “That’s fine. I was very closely investigating the Azami culture.”
“Breaking into a harem and almost getting spaced doesn’t count.”

“Maybe to you. Unlike you it wasn’t my first time.”

[blacktigeractual]

Nice, I'm really liking the microgravity mma. Very nice slice of life stuff.

[AlphaMirage]

Nice, I'm really liking the microgravity mma. Very nice slice of life stuff.

Thanks. It is something I really like to think about. What a change that would be.

09/01/3046
Nebula hulk #45-2778-AA drifted soundless living between a world of light and shadow as it orbited the icy moon of Togura VIIc. Like a bloated yet reverse tick the Burro Salvage Tug OAS Reclaimer 4's attached itself to the hulk providing essential utilities and life for the salvage teams.

Traveling across metal cables crisscrossing the fuselage Franklin kept his hands on the reel controls of his OHM Sutākurīchā. A readout assured him that the cable's tension on the electronically actuated reel was within safety limits. The headset built into his helmet's softcap buzzed to life. “Beats zipping on our own.”

He looked through his helmet at the Sutak's display showing a trio of secured Bosos in their shiny new engineering space suits which had arrived with them last week. His own was modded with everything precisely where he wanted it. “You can go much faster in that suit than using a Sutak. ESS suits have their own transfer reel.”

“I'm good. Only done a few EVAs at academy. Still getting used to it.”
“I'll get you if you fall off.”
“Which I appreciate, but would not like to test.”

“The most hazardous part is the initial cable coil. Which the Outworlders have politely done for us.”
“Just how did the UOC start before you showed up a month ago? Aren't they using your salvage credentials?”

“Rogan tapped me to file the paperwork for Port Authority bureaucrats after the UOC won Stellar Trek's auction. He and I go back a long time.”
“Do you think the Jiris know we are here?”
“Don't know. I do know that at least we will see them coming if they find out.”

They reached the work zone where thin armor sheets shaped to repair the docking collar were stacked atop a cable sledge. The Sutak's arms held the heavy objects into position carefully welding them to the frame.

His student's watched carefully as the exoskeleton's tools switched through a revolving arrangement until the plasma welding torch lit up. Bright white sparks illuminated the ESS and darkened collar junction. In the enclosed but unsealed cockpit Franklin watched filtered video on the display as he moved his suit's waldos, which were slaved to the exoskeleton's.

“How did you get that good?”
“Practice.

A Sutak is just a very tiny IndustrialMech that runs on batteries, really big batteries, the kind that run a Support PPC.
I even have a small neural band built into my soft-cap controlling the RCS thrusters just like a gyro.”

“Can't wait to see what you can do with that Komodo.”
“Me too. To bad it doesn't have any space for re-mass or I'd practice with it more. I've only utilized the internal simulator and tutorial. At least it looks pretty handsome in the Mech Bay.
Once you get the hang of the suit in micro-gravity I'll let you float around in it for a shift.”

A text alert from Captain Rogan appeared on their HUD's. 'Everyone inside. Meeting in Galley. Danger approaching.'
“What could that be for?”
“I don't know but if the Captain wants in then we should go. Secure the sledge and clip on to me.”

Franklin, Arrow, Esper, and the others finished up leaving the Sutak and their work in one of the small craft bays next to the damaged docking collar. Their helmets were secured in satchels to keep them safe and secure while clipped to the suit's harness. The back pack's outer surface was left bare as users couldn't reach back that far and to provide mounting for thruster packs. A variety of electric and mechanical tools, D-rings, carabiners, cable reels, and no fewer than three straps for security while conducting spacewalks. All of which floated around them as they translated through the white textile covered transfer tunnel and into the Reclaimer.

With slightly more than 50 active spacers even the expanded mess deck of the Reclaimer could barely accommodate them. Tan and gray jump-suited spacers held onto the cargo net beneath them as the room grew increasingly hot. Captain Rogan stood in front of the display screen steadying himself on the net below. “Twenty minutes ago we spotted and hailed this.”

On the screen a stock image of a DragonStar in PAST livery appeared. “At least that is what they said they are when they requested Mr Sakamoto. Unfortunately they were not broadcasting a beacon signal until after we hailed them.”

All eyes moved to Franklin. “PAST is totally by the book they would have broadcast their beacon proudly and put an administrative lock on this ship. They wouldn't try to sneak up on us.”

“I surmised as much considering how much paperwork I have to submit to the Port Authority. Sneaking up on a regular freighter might work but this ship is an Outworlds flagged vessel with better sensors and crew. We caught them with time to spare and surprise on our side.”

A holographic display marking Togura VIIc, the Reclaimer, 45-2778-AA, surrounding objects, and PAST-3046-876's present trajectory and velocity appeared before them. “Although time is short. At their present deceleration we expect they will be upon us with two or three hours. Too fast to request a DCA vessel to intercept.”

Esper, the youngest and one of the few girls on Franklin's crew looked scared although she was quickly reassured by Jerri. “We don't have any weapons. What will we do?”

Rogan and Franklin laughed slightly alongside Shan, Tuyen, and the other Outworld officers. Franklin was first to regain his composure. “Its only their first salvage op Rogan.

Esper open the cam beneath your feet. Uni-key-D.”

She withdrew one of the universal keys that every member of the crew carried for maintenance purposes although D was not commonly used. Inside the void space 'below' the galley were a few polymer boxes marked with the Alliance Defenders Limited logo. Captain Rogan attached the ADL-45 extended cylinder revolver to a holster on his ESS's chest-plate next to the spacer standard 'buster' multi-tool. “Grab a box and a drink then meet us Cargo A. Ten minutes.”

[DOC_Agren]

Nice, I'm really liking the microgravity mma. Very nice slice of life stuff.

:thumbsup:
we did something like this in a RPG was very fun

Pirates off the Port Bow, thinking the prey is unarmed

[PsihoKekec]

I don't think these are ordinary pirates, they are coming for Franklin personally.

[Wrangler]

I'm sure their coming just have a Frank conversation with him.

[PsihoKekec]

All of his exes have banded together, God help anyone who comes in their way.

[DOC_Agren]

All of his exes have banded together, God help anyone who comes in their way.

well that could be a issue >:D

[Wrangler]

For a guy who grew up on DropShips, he made too may exes in every port I guess.

[AlphaMirage]

well that could be a issue >:D

A Dragonstar normally carries around 50 people in tight quarters so that might be an issue. Frankie's ladies are used to a little more space.

----------

Spindly legs extended from the bright yellow Dragonstar, the Yoshimatsu Chemical's Logo was illuminated in the amber colored running lights. 'Above' them the small craft bay's door closed in silence but inside Yosuke's crew felt the thud as it reverberated through the legs into them. Air returned to the chamber and with it the electronic noise of the spheroid's ramp like a tongue to rest just above the bare metal 'floor.'

“Get me an atmo read.”

A 'Silverfish,' so called due to their reflective metallo-textile combat grade space suits, accessed the airlock's panel.

“Five twenty millibar, sixty forty N/O mix. Outworld's standard.”

Yosuke latched the breathing mask on before donning a soft cap and helmet over a tattooed scalp. The others mirrored his actions. “Keep your helmets on Silvers. Air's breathable for now, but that could change.”

Thirty individuals gingerly pushed off letting small jets of cold gas from their thruster packs shift them into position. Their helmet and gun-lights illuminating each shadowed alcove in the darkened bay. “No welcoming committee Chief.”
“That must mean we are unwelcome.”

Two of them took positions near the closed airlock which had a blinking yellow status light meaning it was in emergency override. “Maybe they intend to run away from us.”
“We can catch them. That Burro is unarmed, its Captain an already ran for a bunch of pacifists. They have not yet met real Warriors.”
“Hoah!”

A pair of Silvers engaged their entry tools to force the portal open with the help of another pair. “Eyes open.”

He leveled the SMG ensuring its cartridge bag didn't snare on the debris. “They could be hiding anywhere.”


Inside the Nebula Franklin manned his post, Sunbeam laser rifle and its attached grenade launcher, at the ready. His face puckered as he sucked on the attached energy gel pack within his helmet. Lemon flavored based on user taste and to prevent scurvy. As he caught sight of the enemy his face turned to a hardened grimace. “Fujio hired the Silverfish. I'm honored.”

“Everyone, our enemy is the Saar Silverfish. Not some random Yaks. Former Third Ghost, keep frosty.”

Rogan came in on his personal channel. “I've heard of these guys. Should we cut and run?”

“No. They'll run us down before that DCA patrol ship already en route can get to us. The Sutaks can still overpower them.”
“You have a lot of trust in Tuyen and Shan.”
“They've earned it.
Rogan, pull your squads back to their fallback positions. They'll take us apart right now.”

Franklin cycled through the POV cameras of the squad leaders. Each hustled through the darkened corridors engaging traps as they passed.


Yosuke passed through a cargo bay stacked with ergonomic units marked with suppliers from all over the Draconis Combine and Outworld's Alliance. A confounding maze that seemed tailor made to confound his suit's sensors. The Silverfish's atmospheric sensors went into overdrive as the atmospheric pressure began to drop. They tabbed buttons on their gauntlet computers to silence the alarms. “No surprise there. All teams check in. I expect contact soon.”

Cold gas thrusters fired in tandem as the Silverfish cleared the cargo bay. Two of them exploded throwing their operators into the unyielding metal of a MEU. Canisters fell from 'above' creating spherical clouds of gray smoke in their midst. Yosuke brought his thermal sight up and found his LOS blocked. “Thermal smoke. Hit steel!”

Bullets created whorls through the smoke aimed for the thruster packs. Silverfish fired their sub-machine guns through their legs at unseen foes. Kicking off the plates and using the limited thrust from their weapons to clear the smoke. They spun in microgravity using their core muscles rather than gas thrusters. Enemies above them used narrow gaps between containers for cover.

Orange fire flew from the barrel lighting up the pitch black with rapidly fading spheres. 10mm Armor Piercing rounds punched through containers burying themselves into the rugged impact armor of the Engineering Space Suits.

The Silverfish that suffered a thruster failure leaned against the walls of a Ibuki Robotics container. “COD Internal decapitation.”

Unseen through the breathing mask and armored face-plate Yosuke grimaced at the amateur's success. The flashlight under his barrel pointed toward the enemy's last known location. “Police their gear...”

[Wrangler]

Exciting boarding action.   Hope Franky is able to hold them off and repel them.

[AlphaMirage]

Within the silent oily darkness of another cargo bay two Sutaks held bolted together armor panels before them like great segmented riot shields. Their three fingered claws gripped scrap steel handles as they slowly jetted about the bay.

Beside him Black Dragons leaned out from behind the shield holding onto handholds. They fired revolvers and cruiser shotguns at Silverfish espatiers moving amid the open volume under automatic weapons fire.

Shan looked through a roughly laser cut vision port through the Sutak's own cage-like cockpit. His eyes and the exoskeletons' sensors searched for intermediate but persistent gun shots and an opportunity to force the boarders out of the ship.

“Keep up the pressure. They are running out of ground.”

Elsewhere the world was calm yet illuminated in faint right light, glow stripes attached to the CSS provided the general profile of Yosuke's troopers. They immediately halted as he signaled a caution another junction, another possibility for ambushes or traps. Their magnetic tabi boots held them to the ‘floor’ where strips of ferrous metals were installed for that particular purpose.

The point-man worked over-sized controls on his stock adjusting the sub-machine gun. A thermal scope attached to the unit looked around the corner. Residual heat and an IR emitter allowed him to see a large open room with two long tables.

“Galley. No contacts.”

Yosuke pointed to one of his operators. “Check it out.”

He pushed off the wall floated through the passage, moving his helmets carefully to search for ambushes while maintaining trim. Metal tabletops held magnetic bottles common in any spacecraft atop them. The galley showed no signs of activity which made him grow increasingly suspicious.

A bright noiseless flash, a magnetically attached pipe bomb, sent out concentrated shrapnel at incredible velocities. Shards of metal embedded themselves into the warm flesh beneath the silvered spacesuit through gaps.

Through the radio Yosuke and his team heard the injured Silverfish gritting through pain as shrapnel cut into him as he impacted the wall driven as he was from the table's mass. His squad-mates returned fire as their prey tried to take advantage of his lack of cover. The cable attached to his back allowed squad-mates to pull him out of danger as bullets began to fly.

Yosuke leaned out laying down cover fire with his SMG keeping a hand on the corner to control recoil. A lucky shot passed through the jumpship's light structure and into his suit's articulated carapace. He felt a hammer blow across his chest that knocked the air out of him.

Silverfish casualties were mounting as it became apparent his foes were better armed and more cunning than anticipated. He checked the time counting down in his HUD. The DCA gunship's interception time was shorter than anticipated due to early detection and despite it being an Outworld's flagged vessel.

His men tended their squaddies' suit with adhesive patches. Fingers ran over the gauntlet computer activating motion override as integrated med-packs took effect. Others looped the cable around him for transport back to shuttle.

Between the evasive and prepared defenders he had five dead and half dozen injured. Injuries were dangerous situations needing immediate attention and reduced acceleration to mend.

“They're wasting time. Fujio's money isn't worth this...

Silverfish head back to the Dragonstar.”


Back in the cargo bay the Sutaks stopped their press as the Silverfish withdrew and reports of them disengaging propagated on their comm-net. Shan's squad shook their fists and jeered at the retreating Silverfish.

Franklin floated up from Engineering as the Sutaks secured themselves to their appropriate anchors inside the cargo bay locking the myomer actuated vehicles to the jumpship's structure. He saw that Esper and the others faces had turned from fear to elation at their apparent victory. Pistols pointed 'up' but were not fired. Fortunately they had learned some discipline.

“We did it! We fought them off.”

Captain Rogan's voice came in over the comm-net. “The Dragonstar is accelerating away at one point two gee. By current heading it looks like they are trying to slingshot around Seven.

DCA is inbound within forty two minutes. No one talk to them before I do.

All crew are to hand over the guns to Hogan then inspect the jumpship for damage or sabotage.

If anything important is broken I'm counting it against your tab Franklin.”

“The scales will come into balance one of these days Rogan.”

“What a dark day that would be. Back to work everybody.”


Esper and Jerri started with the galley finding it a mess. Shrapnel and larger impacts caused by the remotely operated pipe bomb in addition to armor piercing bullets had severely damaged the fuselage to the point where it looked more like a cheese grater than spacecraft. It was going to be a bitch to fix. “Where's Arrow?”

They searched throughout the corridors finding the rigging set up to draw Arrow and Herrin to their fallback positions. Red frosty flecks in the corridor caused them to hasten their efforts. Esper saw the motionless forms of her friend and fellow crew-member floating motionless against the wall. Crimson ice sealed the suit like fresh scabs.

Jerri arrived right behind her as she drifted toward one of the forms placing her hands over the helmet's face-plate. “Don't open it!”

Franklin heard her anguished wail over the comm-net before he muted her to all but himself and nearby techs like Jerri. He rushed up to the galley reporting to Rogan that he would resolve the situation before the DCA arrived.

At that location he found Jerri holding her away from the still warm corpse of their friend.
“I'm sorry Esper. I thought it would be safe here for everyone. Make some money, count it against your apprentice time, and head back to Masamori.”

“They were hunting you, and Arrow died because of it.”
“He knew the risks. I was very clear in what I do.”

“Was there really a choice? He was only fifteen.”
“And I was six when I made mine.”

“I hate you. I want to go back to Hachiman and away from you.”
“We will leave with the next resupply shuttle.

If they found me here better I face them there.”

09/13/3046 Srinager, Hachiman

Fujio knelt in front of a low wooden table in some mostly automated warehouse. Robotic forklifts raced along clearly marked paths below. Eisuke Jirigawa, president of the Syndicate, loomed large above him. Gray haired senior leaders surrounded him, each one looking increasingly stern.

“You have failed utterly Fujio. Losing our cargo, drawing heat from the MiPS, and once more failing to settle the scales. The Jirigawas have been set back years due to your adolescent and destructive feud with Franklin Sakamoto, caused by a girl of all things.

I would normally not give you a choice but I have chosen to in this instance. Since you are already banished and disowned will you be a coward as well or face the full consequences of your actions.”

He drew a Nagamaki, a long blade and handle used traditionally as an anti-cavalry weapon, from a sheath carried by a younger lieutenant. “So the choice is yours.

Hand

or

Head?”

[AlphaMirage]

Interlude

Case File# Hachiman-MMP-30460627-826705
Investigation into Ibuki Robotics Chief Sales Representative Uchida Kinoku
Filed by Constable Miya Kibo, Murasaki Metropolitan Police

Due to interference from the Jirigawa Yakuza Syndicate I was not able to bring Mrs. Uchida in for questioning nor confirm any of our suspicions regarding her vulnerability to Sokaiya. Now that she is off world the MMP cannot pursue further investigation. We will forward this report and associated material to Oshika Prefectural Investigators.

A POI, Franklin Sakamoto, was identified during the encounter from headshots in the database. According to Yoshitune Starport records Mr. Sakamoto departed for Togura VIIc three days after the incident in the Neon Arcade district. According to DCPA records he left with his apprentices and a work crew from Masamori Mechanical Services (MMS). They boarded the Unity Freighter DCCS Kwaidon, presently end routed to Al’Nair with a cargo of electrical and computer equipment, according to the manifest.

MMS upon deeper investigation is a sub-contractor/franchisee of Isesaki Shipping owned by Rentaro Sakamoto. Its assets are relatively concentrated in Masamori with leased workshop space and IndustrialMechs around High-5 neighborhood. Mms has majority ownership of two Hana (K-1) dropshuttles and a Hoshiryokou. The DCCS Nagira is presently operating in the Proserpina system as an inter-planetary transport. Both Hana shuttles have been rented by the United Outworlder’s Corporation as transports for ongoing salvage operations in the Togura system.

Rentaro and Franklin Sakamoto’s records as well as those of MMS are clean within Combine space. However there are a number of former criminals on the employee database, and we have no access to their histories as Free Traders outside Combine space. Requests for personnel historical records from Isesaki Shipping have produced no new or relevant information.

Despite my suspicions there is not enough evidence to implicate any parties besides the Jirigawa batmen, for assaulting security officers, in criminal activity.

Case Closed
MK

[AlphaMirage]

Chapter 7 – Public Insecurity
08/22/3046 Genryu (Headwater) District, Masamori Metro, Hachiman

“Unit five oh two report.”

A blue uniformed woman beside a white motorcycle quietly perched upon stairs. Its police lights were set to low power but reflected off bronzed 'MMK.' (Masamori Metro Keisatsusho 'Police Department') This early in the morning the area was mostly abandoned. She watched a group of Tai Chi practitioners flow through their exercises as fluidly as the river beyond. “Just early rising elders.”
“Roger. Keep your eyes open five oh two.”
“Affirmative.”

Miya Kibo nodded as she looked across the river exhaling nervous tension and breathing in cool early morning air. Dawn brought predatory shadows playing across the water cast from behind Murasaki District's bronze shark fin towers. The river churned where tugs pushed a container barge marked with 'Hachiman Taro Enterprises' distinctive demon helmet logo beneath one of Masamori's many bridges. Their bassy rumbling overpowered the birds chirping above her along one of the cities' nicest greenbelts.

She leaned back on the seat where her helmet rested and yawned. Fragrant steam rose from her cup of perfectly brewed green tea, a gift from the elders. Miya looked around for a reason that she was stationed here while stretching cold muscles. “Its too early for VIP protection. Who would choose to wake up at this hour?
Prankin' the new girl with some 'secret' assignment.
Bunch of jerks.”

Another hour passed and the city gradually came to life. Water taxies and her normal ferry from Genryu to Murasaki began to run across the city's lifeblood. Her assigned area was becoming active with cyclists and more pedestrians. Sweet smells from neighborhood bakeries drifted over to her and across the water. “I could really go for something to eat.”

Her placid surroundings were interrupted by a thunderous sound behind her followed by a weak blast wave. She turned to see the tortured remains of a bridge section teetering dangerously close to the ferry below. Training kicked in as she donned her helmet and activated the whirring siren on her motorcycle. “Headwater Dispatch. Explosion on Schantrie bridge. Unit five oh two on site. Requesting backup.”

Three motorcycles dropped off the main road throttling up as they tore up the gravel track scattering onlookers in their wake. Both riders heavily armed and armored but paid her no attention as they ripped past her. “Armed suspects heading toward explosion.”

The smell of burning rubber on concrete filled her nose as smoke then rock billowed behind.

“Five oh two in pursuit.”

[AlphaMirage]

Whirn, Whirn, Whirn

Miya weaved around trees edging dangerously close to the guard rails along the river's edge. The tailing motorcycle gunner leaned out firing automatic bursts from the bulbous Mydron machine pistol. Bullets whizzed through branches, into tree trunks, or narrowly missed their mark. She felt sharp pain as small branches whipped through her jacket at high speed. “Shots fired.”

Ahead of her helmeted bikers fired rounds into the air scattering crowds while speeding toward Schantrie bridge.

Her comm-unit blared with reports. “Intercept them five oh two. Ironhide Seven engaging armored exoskeletons on the bridge. Reports of officers down.

Six two nine and oh five three are setting up a blockade in the Arcade district.”

She kept an eye out for a secure path to follow while accelerating to catch the black and tan Izaki Outriders her opponents were riding. Her Pesht PM700, designed for all day patrolling, struggled to keep up with the tuned choppers even on the gravel path. “Roger.”

Miya pulled the clutch out to idle her ride drawing from the shoulder holster to place it in a hollow within the instrument cluster. She put it back in gear accelerating along a solid patch of concrete. They neared the Neon Arcade neighborhood which she had memorized in the dark. Its streets narrowed as peddlers and food carts brimmed with a panicked breakfast crowd. “More pedestrians.”

The bikers turned into the Neon Arcade proper with Miya in hot pursuit. “Suspects going through the neighborhood to dodge the barricade.”

Reika and Shogi's voices came over the radio. “Dammit! We'll try to cut them off at the expressway entrance. Keep on them Miya.”

Pedestrians cleared out as a police siren echoed off the close, covered alleyways of the Arcade. Narrow winding streets forced them as they crash through nets of lights and around blind corners. Bullets blasted concrete chips that cut into Miya's jacket and front tire as she wove around bollards. Her knee came perilously close to the ground while leaning into the curves tighter than they could with two people onboard.

She realized where she was based on the unlit signs speeding past her. “Straightest spot. Best chance.”

Miya's pistol kicked as two shots amplified by the tight confines of the Arcade rang out. A suspect's rear wheel spiraled apart as the shot in its 10mm shell found the mark. Its driver spun out of control crashing into a storefront with a crash and whistle from the gas cylinders within. She returned the pistol to its chamber accelerating back into the chase while dodging debris. “Dispatch. One bike, two suspects down near Sixth and Orange, suspect condition unknown, approach with caution. Officer still in pursuit.”

Neon Arcade faded away to the wider streets of the prosperous Hachi-Machiya neighborhood. Well tended and constructed houses clustered next to each other like a great conveyor molded them to the ground beneath. Narrow alleys separated every four to six houses into neatly ordered blocks, the metro alert system had ordered everyone inside so the streets were finally clear.

The sidewalk undulated beneath her as she dodged young trees, children's bikes, and toys parked by the roadside. Glass shattered at the impact as her siren wailed in pursuit. Manned barricades drew the suspect's fire allowing her to sneak into the rear bike's five o clock. She drew her pistol firing twice. Hollow thumps were met with a whistling ricochet as the shot bounced off asphalt. Her shots failed to pop the tire instead destroying windows across the street.

“Reika, Shogi Hold your fire. I can't hit him from this angle.”

Both officers took cover behind their bikes as she holstered the pistol taking hold of the handlebars once more. A narrow space between parked Kei cars was all she had available before the bikes overran the barricade.

Her bike jumped the curb propelled into the air before landing in a crash of suspension springs. Miya angled herself toward seven o clock of the rear motorcycle firing twice to shred the tire before speeding past alongside the remaining biker. An out of control bike threw the suspects into parked cars on either side of the street. Reika and Shogi had their guns and cuffs out before they came to. “Collars yours.”

Sweat rolled down her hair as she followed the remaining biker white-lining across the highway. A Wakizashi SG-58 nestled in her armpit as the gunner fired over and around motorists while passing at high speed. “Dispatch. I cannot safely engage the remaining suspects. To many civilians present.”

“Keep on him five oh two. Backup is en route to White Tiger's location.”

Hands white from strain, she engaged the throttle even as she could see the bike running low on power after this extended chase. An attempt on the Galedon Warlord's life was underway; and she was ordered to chase down some outlaw bikers instead!

She switched over the public band. “This is PC Miya Kibo of the MMK. I am in pursuit of armed suspects and am sounding a hue and cry compelling assistance to any on the public band.

Suspects are on a motorcycle white-lining between lane two and three near marker three six two heading south on highway eight from Hachi-Machiya.”

A Fusomori truck veered into the outlaw's path forcing them onto the rough shoulder and throwing the gunner from his seat. The driver managed to right themselves, braked hard enough that the magnesium pads caught fire. He ditched the bike just before it flew over the concrete divider onto the ground below before taking cover in the median. His companion got to his hands and knees, clothes tattered and bloodied from road rash, helmet lost in the crash, its rider dazed from the impact.

Miya braked hard pulling the bike with all her might as white smoke trailed behind her and over the highway. With two shooters she decided to ditch the bike in the gunner's rough direction. Now dismounted at speed she assumed a position like a flipped tortoise shielding her limbs by taking the road rash on the back of her body armor, ruining her brand new jacket in the process.

Still sliding she firing in the general direction of the shooter forcing him behind the concrete divider as she skidded to a stop. The SM-56 barked loud as traffic sped by them. Horns honked at foolish pedestrians on the highway, presently engaged in a life or death battle. Miya removed her helmet freeing immobile damp black hair. She scrambling to cove as the smell of burned metal and rubber filled the air as her motorcycle found its intended target. It and the stunned gunner fell off the highway together.

“I'll never be able to do that again. I hope they caught it on my patrol cam. Otherwise no one would believe me.”

Muzzle flash and the supersonic snap of bullets emerged from the remaining suspect who had also ditched his helmet to reveal a bald man with Maori style head tattoos. She didn't recognize them as belonging to any Yakuza she had studied. Miya dove over the divider to avoid incoming fire. Her vest twisted and flopped as she hit the ground within the narrow median. “Shit! Side panels torn.”

She reached down to her patrol belt unbuckling it as quickly as possible. “These pants are plenty tight already.”

Bullets chiseled out shards of concrete as she tied it higher while keeping low. It just barely buckled around her off hand side. Breathing was harder but it would keep the plates mostly where they needed to be. “You dead yet, bitch?”

“Where'd you learn to shoot Yak? I know little girls that could do better.”

Miya's eyes barely peered over the edge when a shot hit nearby throwing concrete dust into them. She coughed as she inhaled the particles and quickly rubbed her eyes trying to clear them. Inside her vest were sunglasses but they and he extra magazines had been crushed during the fall. “The one time where you actually need sunglasses and don't have them.”

Her bullet count had dipped to twelve from twenty three. “Half ammo. One bad guy in body armor.”

Something dropped across her neck. Strong arms pulled her up bending her across the coarse broken surface of the concrete divider. The Manriki chain tightened as Miya tried desperately to breath ineffectively punching to free herself.

All the strength in her feet and hands left. Surprised she lost grip of the sub-machine gun which draped across the divider, just out of reach but still attached to the vest. “No funny quips now huh?”

The last bit of her strength in her hands was enough to unbuckle the belt around her armor releasing it and giving her just enough centimeters to turn into the choke. Her feet and hands pushed off the concrete divider that now bent the larger man. With his balance compromised she kicked off and he didn't let go of the chain that bound them drawing him closer. He fell over the divider and onto her chest with a thump that knocked the wind out of both of them.

Still coughing Miya struggled for the gun pulling on her retention sling. The SMG clattered along the ground toward her. He wrapped her right hand with his own, punching her in the face with his left. Blood trickled from a busted lip as she palm struck him in the jaw with her own left hand as he reared up for another.

With him dazed she punched the inside of his right elbow wrapping his head on the reverse with her left arm. This was enough space to reel in the sling. She screamed as the last dozen rounds were fired into him at contact range.

Although she heard the click of an empty mag she pulled the trigger one last time to listen to the clack of the action before her hands lost all feeling. Miya watched the life drain from his eyes could smell his last rancid breath.

His dead weight settled on her chest, her breathing labored under the strain. Blood poured out of the dozen entry and exit gun shot wounds he sustained until she was almost drowning in it.

She turned her head to keep her airway clear hoped for the best as warm blood poured down her face.

[AlphaMirage]

Bells rung as Isoroku Kurita woke in an overturned armored car. His head ached despite wearing a helmet. He could taste blood in his mouth even as he wiped some off his face from a bloodied nose. “Better a headache than a busted skull.”

Smoke filled the cabin as he worked the lever on the back door of the V-hulled 6x6 truck. He scrambled over injured MPS officers all of which bore signs of bruising or worse. Some were coming to but most of his security team was knocked out. The lever clanked as the armored hatch revealing the carnage left in the wake of the explosion.

Fiery cars and broken concrete surrounded him. A portion of Masamori's intentionally weak bridges leaned dangerously threatening a passenger ferry passing below with the wreckage of a kei van. The ferry's horn was the first thing he heard and it almost deafened him. He drew the pistol attached on his armored vest taking in the scene. Nothing other than the failing bridge seemed to be threatening him.

“Try harder than that you bastards. I survived Rasalhague.”

Isoroku returned the pistol to his holster returning to the rear hatch, white smoke rose from the cabin inside. “Wake up!”

His White Tigers woke amid groaning police officers. “What the hell Chief?”

“No questions. Grab the blues, pass them this way, and clear out with the guns.”

He activated the HTE-TR505 tactical radio positioned on his shoulder blade. “This is White Tiger. Demanding emergency services on Schantrie Bridge. Sixteen civilians and officers wounded, five dead. Head, Neck, and Back injuries probable.”

Despite his age Isoroku was still strong enough to carry wounded and fully kitted out men to safety. He knew some likely had head and neck injuries and shouldn't be moved without a board but there was no time for that. Less wounded officers supported themselves on abandoned cars sitting in pockets of broken glass.

The White Tigers pulled out the vehicle's bulging medical bag and handfuls of guns shuttling them to safety as quickly as possible. Flames erupted from the fuel tank singing exposed hairs and skin while charring their gray DCMS tanker fatigues.

One of Isoroku's fingers pointed toward the MMK Sergeant Hiryo Kitowashi. “Order your men to stabilize the injured. We will keep an eye out for a clean up crew.”

Hiryo shouted the ragged sounds of his voice barely carrying over car alarms and the flames consuming their truck. “What makes you think there will be a clean up crew?”

Through the smoke Isoroku spotted a trio of shambling monstrosities through the smoke and dust, Heavy Industrial Exoskeletons mounting heavy ordnance and armor. They were followed by a group of armed men shooting their guns in the air. “Every good ambush has a back up plan.”

Any remaining motorists fled from idling cars to safety. Isoroku calmly loaded HE grenades from a bandoleer into the drum of a MMK grenade launcher. Tigers found cover readying the MMK's shotguns and PDWs for the firefight.

Ten minutes later

Isoroku's eyes burned as the tear gas his Tigers were using as improvised yellow white smoke drifted toward them. He dove to the ground as the armored exoskeleton fired its last volley of short range missiles. Their explosions threw a lightweight Kei car into the air, it plunged to the river below throwing up a mist stream high enough to clear the bridge deck.

Two heavy thuds filled the air around him as a pair of low-velocity HE shells whistled overhead. Armor plates and one of the myomer actuated arms flew off the diabolical machine. One landed next to him, sparks and shards of asphalt flew around him as he covered his face. Once the horrid twitching limb came to a rest Isoroku opened his eyes to see a Shimatsu 42 assault rifle with a drum magazine still in the mounting bracket before him.

In the distance he could hear the heavy thrub of a diesel engine. Toward the Murasaki district was the high turreted profile of an Ironhide Urban Assault Vehicle. Its paired light rifles barked again sending another shredded exoskeleton crashed to the ground. The machine rose again using its pair of heavy claws to dig deep into metal of a parked cars to use it as a shield.

Satisfied that the biggest threat was being handled Isoroku crawled toward the assault rifle mounted to the still twitching arm of the exoskeleton smoldering nearby. Enemy infantry fired toward his position the intermittent report of their bullets drowning out the cries of wounded soldiers. This was not his first time in a firefight...and it would not be his last.

He pulled at the twisted bracket ripping the rifle from its mountings. The Shimatsu was a normal unmodified version connected with a simple electronic firing circuit. It was jammed, he rammed the charging handle forward ejecting the troublesome shell. Isoroku reached out to the twisted piece of brass inspecting it closely, finding its defects beautiful today. “If it weren't for you I might be dead. I'll keep you for good luck.”

Scrambling for cover Isoroku lifted the Shimatsu firing it in long bursts at the enemy. One hundred rounds went fast as he raced across the bridge suppressing and striking down his foes with a calm efficiency of a warrior monk. MMK and Kõan-Bu (Ministry of Public Security) reinforcements swarmed their position from both sides of the bridge. Incendiary grenades set the Ironhide alight forcing the crew to bail and join their allies to fight the diminishing masked marauders on foot.

Sergeant Hiryo tapped him on the shoulder, Isoroku's helmet had been lost in the fight and his vest was dented with enemy fire. Blood and sweat seeped through one of his pant legs. “Sir you're hit. Sit down. I'll tie it off.”

Instead of waiting Isoroku removed the tourniquet he kept around his upper arm. He tied it off himself using a metal pen from his vest pocket to tighten the knot and reduce blood flow to his left leg. “Take care of the people that are actually hurt. This isn't my first time.”

“With all due respect sir. You are an insufferable old man.”
“I am a survivor.”

Isoroku gently pushed the MMK officer away with the empty rifle barely held in his nerveless fingers. “Do your duty Hiryo... I'll do mine.”

The insufferable Hiryo waited just long enough for him to lean against a burned out car. Isoroku felt his vision go dark, his hands grew slack, his skin lost its color.

“Duty before comfort.” came in a whisper as Isoroku struggled to keep upright while using the rifle as a cane.

He dropped the rifle forward only to fall with it into the officers arms. His stumbled with the sudden dead weight after carrying and caring for so many others.

“Medic!”

[AlphaMirage]

Firefighting boats kept a cordon around Schantrie bridge their powerful water jets fighting fires as they arose. Customs Police Gunboats forced all river traffic to remain on their docks. MMK helicopters flew overhead searching for additional terrorists in support of patrol cars and foot patrols. News choppers hovered over the Headwaters Medical Center and away from restricted airspace above the bridge.

Miya gritted her teeth as she felt burning antiseptic being applied to raw skin. “Ow!”
Her face was still dripping wet after having the perp's blood washed out of her hair and off her face.
A man's voice came from behind her. “You got lucky today constable.”
“If I felt like I was going to get lucky...”

“Ow!” She felt the pressure and alcohol of the bandage being applied. “I would have worn cuter underwear.”

Her tattered uniform had been cut away to reveal road rashed limbs and a sopping wet sports bra and briefs. “There's still time to meet a nice guy young lady. Its not even nine o clock.”
“I get that from a lot of guys.”
“Well not from me. You're young enough to be my daughter.”
“That too. Anyway thanks Unai. ”

Miya wrapped herself up in a silver emergency blanket before turning to face an RN whose scrubs were purple with blood beneath a plastic apron. “All done. By the way Miss Kibo your lab results came back with no issues.”

“That's a relief.” She exhaled sharply. “I certainly didn't want any more surprises today.”

“See if you can find an open bench outside. You've been through a lot and I have more patients.”

She opened the treatment tent flap ushered out by an orderly to the treated area. Another patient with scratches caused from broken glass took her place. Outside was cacophony and ordered chaos as medics rang between patients struggling to triage so many injured. Police officers maintained order, security, and communication with medics on site.

Tarps were draped over those that had succumb to their injuries. Walking wounded littered the nearby park under the careful watch of neighborhood volunteers who did the best they could to help. Stabilized patients were loaded onto the ambulances under careful supervision to be treated at the better appointed Murasaki General.

“Its not like I have anywhere else to be right now.”

Her head hurt from being punched and although she hadn't seen herself in a mirror lately she could feel bruises on her face. She touched her busted lip which had been stitched back together. Vibration traveled through her palm, it was her landlady, and emergency contact. 'On my way with the clothes dearie. Traffic is bad.'

She squeeze the phone so hard it cracked and cut her palm. “Just walk. It's six blocks!”
Rage and despair entrained themselves into her sense of duty.
She was a police constable!
There was a major terrorist attack still in progress within her city!

Yet she was stuck here in her underwear with no one telling her what she could do to help. She couldn't contain it any longer and shouted at the top of her lungs to the sky.
“There is no justice in this universe!”

The shout rang out over the park as Miya blushed at the outburst as people looked towards her with worried faces. “Sorry”

An ambulance arrived at the medical center right next to her. A frantic paramedic burst out of the door heading in her general direction to the intake station. He couldn't control his volume. “I need at least two units of Oh positive. Its urgent. We're losing him.”

The doctor consulted their note-puter to the dismay of the paramedic who continued shouting. “What do you mean you don't any! Give me somebody that has some. Right now!”

Miya's eyes lit up as she hustled over to the doctor and associated MMK Sergeant in charge of the scene. “I'm Oh positive.”

“Who are you? Let me see some ID.”

She produced her Patrol tags/medical bracelet. 'Kibo, Miya. MMK Constable. Age 20. Type O Pos.'

"You'll do."

The frantic paramedic grabbed her by the arm in the same motion wiping her forearm with an alcohol swab. Although she tried to step up she was instead pulled up by the strong arms of a DCMS Combat Medic.

He laid her on one of the bench holding her down while sticking her vein with a needle. The paramedic closed the doors and got back to putting pressure on a leg wound. Her blood flowed into an older man who had one gray pant leg roughly cut off. His head rolled over, blue eyes locking with hers as the ambulance sped away and everything faded.

[AlphaMirage]

Bright light and incessant beeping woke Miya. She opened her eyes then immediately closed them in tears at the blinding light. Her voice was weak, mouth dry. “Will someone please close the curtains?”

She heard someone stepping lightly into the room which smelled faintly of lavender. “Sorry. We've been busy today.”

“Its not even ten o clock yet.”
 
The blinds closed with a rough plastic on plastic noise. Miya sensed the woman's hesitation. “Right?”

“Miss Kibo you've been asleep all day. You lost a lot of blood and passed out.”

Miya's eyes snapped open and an alarm sounded from the instrument behind her. She found an IV stuck in her arm and her surprisingly pale body under a clean hospital gown somewhere high up with a nice view of Murasaki's skyline. “But I wasn't even hurt that bad."

Her arm moved across her chest feeling for any unseen injuries. “I didn't get shot. I don't feel anything.”

She tried to lift herself and felt immediately faint. The nurse rushed over to her, easing her back onto the pillow. “Please don't do that Miss. We replaced your lost volume with fluids but your red count is very low and you haven't eaten all day. You're in no condition to stand up and walk around on your own.”

Alarms faded as her pulse eased back to its normal resting number as panic faded. She tried to put her arms behind her head but got tangled up in the leads. They returned to her chest instead. “Today sucked.”

The nurse nodded, Miya noticed the woman's hair was a tattered mess. An up-do that had fallen down over time. “You're telling me. I was supposed to get married today but they called everyone back in...No excuses.”

“What happened to the other guy?”
“I'm heard he pulled through thanks to one and a half liters of your blood. He would have died in that ambulance without you.

Once he gets out of post-op I'm sure you can visit if you'd like.” She pointed to a neatly folded bundle of clothes lying on the bench. “Your land lady dropped those off for you. She seems nice.”
“A real senile sweetheart.”

A bottle of some kind of chunky dark red smoothie and thick straw appeared on the tray. Its colorful cuddlefish mascot stared at her through holographic eyes. “I will assign someone to help you dress later if you'd like but drink this first. It will help.”
“Strawberry?”
“Pomegranate.”
Miya sighed and uncapped the bottle drinking some of its tart contents. “I guess it'll do.”
“I'm sorry Miss Kibo. I have to complete my rounds. Rest.”

Her stomach growled at its mistress' neglect. “Any chance I can get some solid food tonight.”
“If we get any donations from local eateries someone will tell you.”

Miya nodded and got back to the sugary vending machine snack. “Pssh. I only like the strawberry one.”

[AlphaMirage]

Chapter 8 – Crossed Connections

08/23/3046 Location – Murasaki General Hospital, Suite 1182, Masamori, Hachiman

Miya had finally gotten dressed under the supervision of the night nurse when a man in a damp trench-coat with a worn expression and all round five o clock shadow on his tan face walked in.

She tried to stand and salute but her limbs refused her orders and she settled unceremoniously to the bench. “Inspector Genju!”

“At ease Constable Kibo.”
The nurse finished zipping her up before standing to depart. “Listen to your boss Miss. I'll be outside if you need anything.”

Inspector Hector Genju watched her as she walked out the door. He settled down on the hospital bed opposite her leaving the bag by her side as he passed. “I brought you coffee and doughnuts.”

The smell drifting off a four pack box of doughnuts and steaming extra large cup of coffee was the best thing she had felt all night. “Thank you sir.”

“The department appreciates everything you did yesterday so don't give me any lip about this.
You are ordered to take a week of paid leave and at least two weeks on desk duty pending medical clearance before you are allowed on the beat again.”

“A week of forced leave?”
“That's right Constable. You have to share the hero spotlight with someone else for a little while. It won't kill you.
 
By the way I read your report.”

He adjusted his glasses as he turned away from her. “I look forward to seeing that patrol cam footage from your bike when it is recovered. Its the talk of today within the precinct.”

If she any extra blood it would have gone to blushing but nothing came as he departed. Miya stood up to go into the lavatory and check herself in the mirror. She moved her fingers over the bumps and scratches held together with butterfly bandages. “I am a total mess.”

Her swollen lip was held together with stitches and sore. She attempted to pucker them to a feel of pressure. “That's probably gonna scar.”

A deep and disappointed exhale filled the room. “That's life though. Not like I have a boyfriend to disappoint, yet.”

She checked out of the hospital walking past fully kitted DCMS Infantry conducting presence patrols throughout Murasaki. They paid her only scant attention dressed as a civilian and injured as she was. “Amateurs. I could be carrying a pistol in this jacket and they'd hardly know.”

The ferry terminal was packed with civilians. A synthesized woman's voice came in over the Public Address. “Schantrie Bridge has been deemed unsafe for traffic. Citizens we appreciate your patience during this trying time.”

A major hole in the transport network had opened up. One that strained a city so unaccustomed to hostilities spanned both banks of the River Yamato. Miya was reading the crowds from the Raman stand she sometimes went to after work enjoying a spicy bowl of broth and the sweet taste of a strawberry smoothie.

Yesterday's attacks had caused as much psychological damage to the population as the bombs did to the bridge. The ferry ride across felt ominous as MMK gunships patrolled between the riverbanks. From the terminal she could see the top of her apartment block a short walk away. Two blocks in her vision blurred slightly. She muttered, “Damn vampire,” as she took a deep breath settling down on the sidewalk with her back to a bus stop vending machine.

[AlphaMirage]

Interlude – General Assembly
08/28/3046 – Hachiman Taro Enterprises Complex, Masamori, Hachiman

A bald, red and black robed Physician of the Dragon stood in front of an old man in an impeccably white DCMS Officer uniform. “Tai-Shu Kurita. I must recommend you remain seated.”

“I have heard your advice Brother Isaac.” Isoroku rose unsteadily from his wheelchair with the assistance of a cane. “And after careful consideration I am disregarding it.”

Brother Isaac bowed his head, his voice filled with disappointment. “As you wish Tai-Shu. If I may? I would like to walk beside you.”
The white haired Warlord let out a grunt. “I will allow it.”
“Thank you sir.”

Isoroku and Isaac walked along the catwalk and down metal stairs where blue clad BTE Technicians assessed the armored exoskeletons. Sparks erupted from metal and myomer twitched as it was probed with instruments. A scientist in a white coat walked up to the pair and bowed deeply. “Tai-Shu Kurita. It is an honor to meet you.”

He stood straighter than before. “What can you tell me about the exoskeletons?”

“Very advanced yet brute force pieces of engineering. They are an upgrade to the normal Heavy Industrial Exoframes commonly used in the support corps. Indeed it weighs slightly more than double them, almost a full metric ton. The vehicle can only move due to the triple strength myomer composite.

It's chassis is more reinforced than any in normal industrial types. It runs on a very compact fuel cell not patented anywhere else in the Inner Sphere. It will make HTE very wealthy if we can reverse engineer it.”

“That's all very nice. How bout weapons, armor, any sign of who made them?”

He pointed to one of the discarded dual missile tubes fished out of the river. “Standard Heavy SRM Launcher. One shot. Most of the weight is in the mounting and fire control.”

Shattered plates of armor littered the ground with numbers written on them in colored chalk. “The armor's crude, not quite up to par with standard plate. Fortunately for us the guns of our Koan-Bu's Ironhide could penetrate it. Anything short of that would have a tough time.”

Isoroku leaned on the cane carefully watching the technicians as they cut sections free for examination. “I know. I hit it with a full drum of HE grenades and it hardly mattered.”

“However, even though we have spent the last couple days working solid we haven't found anything that we can pinpoint to source or origin.”

“Keep working on it. ISF has gotten no leads from the corpses. To many different factions involved but they are obviously professional hitmen with a deep pocketed backer.”

“Speak with President Chandrasekhar Tai-Shu Isoroku. This complex was attacked concurrently but I have no additional details.”

“I shall. Keep me updated.”
“Of course sir.”

The pair took an elevator to Chandrasekhar's office which had a view all the way to the ocean where dropships launched into the sky. With a gesture the portly president of Hachiman Taro Enterprises dismissed a dark skinned secretary or at least a women pretending to be one. She re-buttoned her blouse as she passed them. “You should have called ahead of time roku. In a couple of minutes that might have been embarrassing.”

Warlord Kurita pointed his cane at President Kurita from his wheelchair. It was not his strength that failed him, the doctor made a convincing pitch regarding faster healing. Hachiman had been more interesting than he anticipated but he had other duties to attend too once he was able to travel safely.

“You sicken me Chandrasekhar.”
“What is the use of wealth if one cannot enjoy it to the fullest?”
“Why didn't you tell me HTE was attacked?”

Chandreskar sat in the grand chair pushing the computer monitor out of the way. “You were in the hospital. My security dealt with the issue. A report would have been made. In time.”
“What were they looking for?”
“Mister Abdulsattar is investigating as we speak. Its a corporate matter.”
“You're a Kurita same as I. We are valuable commodities. What if they were aiming for you or Minoru?”
“I don't think it is money they were looking for.”

Chandy tapped his finger to his face. “Minoru though I hadn't considered that. We put a lot of effort into make him disappear as requested. Would you like to ask Tomoe or should I?”
“Tomoe entrusted her son's security to you. You send the message.”

He sighed deeply. “I was hoping you weren't going to say that.”

[AlphaMirage]

09/01/3046
Miya hustled to get out of the sudden autumn rain. She entered her building's lobby with dripping hair and a damp uniform. A well-dressed older woman sat in her rocking chair doing needlework under an ornate blanket. “Oh my Miya-chan. Let me get you a towel.”

“That's really not necessary Mrs Sato. I was going to take a shower anyway.”

“I must insist. Sit right there and enjoy a cup of tea. Help yourself. I'll be right back.”

Her firm statement left no room for interpretation so she respectfully poured from the kettle, placed the delicate ceramic cup on the glass table that marked Mrs Sato's 'observation post.' The old widow was fond of making all manner of statements critical to the youth these days.

Masamori had grown dramatically in the past thirty years as trade volume for its product increased alongside COMSTAR and the Draconis Combine's post-Helm Core efforts to bring more jumpships on line. Manufacturing growth and urban sprawl rapidly overran the Yamoto River basin and Yoshitune's launch schedule had tripled with bigger vessels being more common than before.

Mrs Sato returned with a white towel and a black envelope. “A very handsome young man dropped this off for you while you were away.”

She dried her hair and took the offered envelope. Red ink surrounded the black dragon of the DCMS Logo. A raised wax seal bore a tiger posed in mid-strike. Her fingers lost some of their strength but kept enough control to drop the letter in her lap rather than on the floor.

Only a whisper came out as she focused on a light across the room. “Its from Tai-Shu Isoroku.”
“Open it up and send a prompt reply. I'm certain he included a contact card for that courier or maybe another one just as handsome.”

“What could he want with me?”
“You won't know until you open it up.”

Miya stood up suddenly juggling the envelope into her hands. “I have to go!” She bowed politely to Mrs Sato. “Thank you for the tea.”

Her apartment was dark and sparse. The week of forced leave had consisted of rest and organizing bags left unpacked since her arrival in April. She had slept so much one day that Mrs Sato let herself in to check on her. Today was not much better and despite it being late afternoon Miya had been ready to settle down for the night.

There was no letter opener in the apartment, she hardly knew anyone not related to work on world and hadn't expected to get any unsolicited mail from powerful Warlords. A long hair pin was substituted as she carefully separated folded paper and its wax emblem. Within were three items, the DCMS's Garrison and Warlord Isoroku Kurita's contact cards, and a small note written with very formal and bold calligraphy. A small decorative design drawn in ink filled in a blank space beneath the short note.

'Constable Miya Kibo.
Thank you for helping save my life.
I would like to show my appreciation to you in some fashion.
Please accept my invitation to dinner to discuss.

Best Regards,
Isoroku Kurita.'

The final signature must be his personal stamp, a spread palm mirrored by an open fan below. Not his professional one, the tiger, used on official paperwork. And it was in gold ink!

Shocked she walked over to the small fridge in her kitchenette and silently took a long pull right from the sake bottle. She redressed into a Yukata before walking into the building's well appointed bath, locking the door and settling into a deep soaking tub. Her mouth hovered over the sudsy water as she reclined into the grooves hoping the warm water would melt away this unusual situation she felt trapped in.

“What am I going to do now?”

[Dave Talley]

Holy crap, my blood is in the Dragons body

[PsihoKekec]

I reckon this wasn't in her horoscope for the week.

[AlphaMirage]

I reckon this wasn't in her horoscope for the week.

Which is a Taurus by the way

[AlphaMirage]

09/02/3046
Miya eyed the white police motorcycles parked outside the bustling and newly fortified, with bollards, Genryu Koban. The pagoda style building blended into others located within a scenic riverside park characterizing a relaxed lower-middle class neighborhood adjacent to more interesting ones.

Shogi, Saburo, and Reika of the Koban's mobile patrol stepped out of the station and settled on their motorcycle seats. Shogi and Saburo nodded before heading out on patrol. Patrols which had principally concerned traffic issues and drunks until a few weeks ago. Now they headed out with PDWs at the ready, just in case.

Reika kept her helmet tucked into her arm trying to get a look at her friend. “How are you feeling Miya? You seem to have more color then yesterday.”

Instead Miya kept her head low trying not to show any expression. “Its all bronzer...I barely made it back to the apartment.”

“You should take more time off. Buy a train ticket to Srinagar. Get some sun and spices to regain your strength.
The Inspector would understand.”

“The Inspector would understand what Constable Yara'n?” Inspector Hector Genju stopped mid-stride behind them with keys in one hand, putting a hat over tight cut brown hair with the other. So close that his cologne drifted over to them although neither found it appealing.

“Miya is...”
A pale hand came over Reika's mouth muffling the rest. Miya's voice rose over the surrounding noise enough that it would have draw attention had anything other than chirping birds been present. “Perfectly fine Inspector.”

She pumped her other hand almost fumbling her lunch pail. “and ready to file those reports...The ones that have been piling up.” Miya nodded madly as Hector eyed awkward smiles. “If you're not feeling well Constable Kibo, you know...”

“Was up late last night...that's all.”

He stared at her for several moments. His brown eyes searching her blues for something hidden beneath. “You should get proper rest Constable.” He dipped the brim of his toward the ladies. “We all should.”

“Thank you sir.”

Inspector Genju pulled past the pair in an unmarked car before heading off to conduct his business. Reika Yara'n put her helmet on the back of the motorcycle, putting hands on hips as she leaned toward Miya.
“Very subtle, and to think you worked undercover at one time. You know he's a detective right? In addition to being our boss. Not that you need to be one to know something's off about you.
Spit it out!”

Her face and body turned to walk toward the entrance. The other woman grabbed her wrist. Her firm grip arresting any attempt to escape despite Miya's efforts. “I don't want to. You can't make me.”

“I think you really do. Let's talk over lunch...in a more private area, my treat. We both have work to do until then.”

Miya lifted her head to face the other woman. “Your treat huh?”
“You get raman, like usual.
Nice raman, but no crab and caviar.”

“I don't even know if I'd like it.”

“Well maybe you'll get a chance. On someone else's credits.”
Reika watched Miya's face tweak curiously at the mention of very fancy food far above her pay rate, or status. “Eleven?”

Constable Kibo nodded, Reika departed to deal with a wakening city, its worsening traffic, and other issues. The desk sergeant looked up from his paperwork. His stern countenance accentuated by the harsh light overhead and shadows cast from his own hat.
“Morning Henrique. Any word yet?”
“Morning Miya. No, afraid they still haven't replaced your armor. They probably figure you'd pay off the guns first.”

She looked at the new larger metal cabinet behind him painted in dark red letters 'ERT.' Her revolver was kept close with a pair of speed-loaders and folding knife on the opposite side of the shoulder harness. A harness that incidentally served to mildly 'bump' her otherwise meager 'assets' under the jacket. “Armor is really nice to have though but they are not wrong. Its the only way to get them. Are those the Shimatsus?”

“Aye. Want to take a look.”

Miya nodded and Henrique took out a heavily key ring, picking a shiny one. Inside were twelve matte gray Shimatsu 42 assault rifles with a DCMS logo stamped onto the stocks. Several pistols, a pair of personal defense weapons (including her own), filled magazines and cylinders for both, and boxes of ammo filled out the leftover space.

“Armored car dropped them off last night. Took the old arms locker away, probably for target practice.”

He pulled out a gray satchel which clacked and an ammo box thumped as he put them on a cart. “If you don't have any work waiting for you. You're helping load magazines.”
“But I'll break a nail.”

Henrique slammed the heavy steel doors closed before locking them. “It'll grow back Constable. There's a fast loader device in the satchel. So you can keep them looking fresh for your boyfriend.”

A blush came to her face through the bronze cosmetics that tried but failed to restore her country complexion lost after months of night and inside work. “I don't have one. I haven't even been on a date since planet-fall.”

“Good for you.
Men are nothing but trouble in relationships. Trust me I know.”

An immediate response was quickly squelched as the man sat back into his chair and re-assumed his responsibilities. She rode the elevator with the ammo cart in tow settling at the desk right outside the Inspector's office. Piles of paperwork awaited her hand. Four deep baskets occupied a nearby cart, 'Physical Archive' 'Digitization' 'Destruction' and 'Transfer'

Recent events had increased the number of daily and weekly reports just as she was put on desk duty. Her hands ached even before she pulled out the Koban's Hanko stamp and ink pad. The analog clock read 05:58 and Hachiman's sun struggled to clear the horizon.

At 11:08 Miya and Reika sat across from one another in a metal booth over steaming cups of oolong tea. Constant rubbing failed to ease the pain in Miya's hands and the motion mildly irritated Reika.
“Why does it never end?”
“That's the job. I know its all new to you but it won't be for long.”

“I hate being Inspector Genju's secretary.”
“You're at least a well-compensated one Miya-chan.
Well I hear Chandrasekhar-sama pays better but working for him is 'strenuous,' or so I hear.”

“Eww.” Miya played with the restaurant menu and its bright bold pictures. “If this is some kind of ploy to avoid me ordering the spicy beef bowl it won't work.”

“I wouldn't dream of it. Now spit it out! You are acting strange. What's wrong?”

She dithered at the response mercifully alleviated by the waiter arriving to take their orders.

Reika leaned in whispering. “Were you or are you pregnant?”
“What no! That's not it.”

“Well I don't know how far you took your little undercover gig.”
“Gross. No I spent more time beating men with a stick than theirs.”
“Alright so is it a guy? Or girl, no judgment.”
“Ummm....Well a man asked me to have dinner with him.”
“That's great. Why is it so weird then?”

Now Miya leaned forward and whispered into Reika's ear. “It's the man I saved with the transfusion. Tai-Shu Isoroku Kurita.”

Reika's face barely contained the shock. “You...and him for dinner?”
“He says he wants to thank me for saving his life.”
“In what way?”

“I don't know. He's old enough to be my father. He can't possible want that, but I don't know.”
“So the crab and caviar from earlier?”
“Yes.”
“Well he doesn't have a record for lechery like Chandrasekhar. He at least gave you the option to refuse. I guess he could have summoned you since he's a Warlord and all. That would have been all kinds of creepy.”
“Even asking me to dinner is. He signed with his personal Hanko.
What should I do? I don't even have a dress that nice, or money to get one, I'm too embarrassed.”
“Well if you go to the Dawn Circus in Srinager you can get one. They rent all kinds of costumes and formal-wear at reasonable rates, with fitting included.”

“What part of I don't have any money for that did you miss?”
“I guess you could pay them in trade or maybe he has an ummm...'entertaining' account on file. They'd probably take his invitation as approval without question.”

Miya sighed, “But I'll look like a tramp.”
“Where do you think we got your outfits when you were undercover?”
“What! They came from those Canopian hussies. The Inspector said they were from a storage unit.”

She shrugged and crossed her arms over her chest. “Now I feel like a trollop too.”
“I thought you looked nice.”
“I was playing a whore.”
“And now you can play a different role.”

Their waiter returned with bowls laden with noodles, broth, and vegetables. Each woman removed their chopsticks and got to work. “I'll refuse him. Then I won't even need to worry about it.”

“That might not be wise. High status men aren't used to hearing no from those they deem lesser.”

Rich broth and simmered vegetables occupied their attentions for a time until only the liquid remained. “Maybe he is sincere in his appreciation. Everything I hear says that he has remained true to his dead wife throughout his life despite probably having all kinds of options. He used his personal stamp. That shows a great deal of respect for you.”

“You have proven unhelpful in this matter Sensei.”

“Well I would have said hell yes to whatever he had in mind. Been a while.”

The older woman paid the bill by placing her cred card against a disk on the table. They both stood and walked out to her motorcycle. “Of course I'm a little more experienced than you are in that way.”

“A bold claim.”
“Well surprise me then.”

Reika put her helmet on, “If you're not interested send him my way. I think I could handle the White Tiger.” Before she put the face-plate down she made a playful cat gesture. “Rrww”

Her motorcycle sped away and Miya's head dipped low. She pulled out her personal HTE Handipad, licked the stylus and tapped the screen until she pulled up the train schedule to Srinager. A ticket was purchased with her public servant discount. She sent out a text to Hector Genju's official comm-pad

'Will be coming in late tomorrow. I have an appointment.'

[Wrangler]

Interesting, situation Miya is in.  Hope it turns out favorable for her. I kinda like the young woman/older woman police woman thing in the cyberpunkish city thing.

Reminds me sort of manga "You're Under Arrest", with motorcycles.

[AlphaMirage]

Reminds me sort of manga "You're Under Arrest", with motorcycles.

I didn't know that was a thing. 80s anime/manga and cyberpunk are both definitely influences on the setting so I am definitely leaning into that