RP (non-canon) [Yamatai] Future found her

[Doshii Jun]

She had never liked sake.

It burned so little. It blighted less. A poisonous beverage that killed none of the brain cells that needed to die ... the zenith of pointlessness. Yamataians, with computerized brains, considered it a fine drink. One they happily consumed and became giggly, abusive, miserable, lustful for doing so. Nepleslian liquor, even after nine decades, was better. Across the board. Even the ratgut vodka sold by peasants refining their meager potato rations was superior for her purposes.

The bartender thought she was funny. Plain hair. Plain face. Nice eyes. Worn airbike leather jacket, concealed armor vest, loose pants. But what a goddamn drunk she was! Never stumbled out of the bar, never hung onto the arms of sleazy men. Getting her to fucking blink was a chore, let alone say a few words! It amused him. He served her at a discounted rate. Watched as she ignored people who for some stupid reason hassled her. Idiots. It was like hassling a tank.

She did not care for the master of the establishment. Especially when he served her sake. "Take the edge off that shit you sip at," he said nearly six years ago. "Let you drink more." It did not matter how little or how much she consumed. Her body would not let her brain be shrouded by chemical compositions. She sipped for taste. Texture. Totality of the existence that was "human." She understood it so poorly. It made her sick, not understanding it.

The police officer walked through the short, chest-level doors and locked eyes with the master. He nodded his head up and grinned. "Johnny!" he said. "How's it hangin', coppa?" John just nodded back. He was here on official business. The master got the hint. "Fuck, now?" he mumbled and walked toward the other end of the bar.

She did nothing when he sat next to her. He was not her concern. No matter what he said. He took out a small envelope and poured the contents onto the bar. A volcard landed right-side up and activated.

"Took me days to get this. Had to dig back in the Army archives, before The Great War. All I could find was the picture, and even that took some help from my sister." The officer's eyes pierced her skull, chiseled points of emerald boring deep. She gave him nothing; her eyes were inside her cup of sake.

"She was distinguished. No one to write home about. No one important. But still, she served with honor."

Another sip. He was trying to wear her down, she surmised. Why?

"Figure she died near the end of The Great War. Sound right to you?"

She did not stir.

"Yeah, me too. Well, tell you what. This can go one of two ways, since my superiors know I'm here. One, you tell me who you are. I conveniently lose this picture. Two, you sit there like a lump and I haul you in for impersonating a dead woman. Take your time."

"She was a traitor," she replied, hushed.

"Record doesn't say that."

"She betrayed her family, and her Empire."

"Record doesn't say that."

"Your record would not say those things."

"Sister didn't say that, either. She seemed to think the woman did what she had to, just to feed her family. Seems the former Empire wouldn't let her go be a stay-at-home mommy like she wanted. Had to go fight them tentacle monsters one last time."

"Your sister is wise."

"Thas what our older brother says."

Her eyes were still rolling inside the sake cup like melting ice cubes. "I will not be arrested."

"Then you'll talk."

" ... What do you wish me to talk about?"

The officer's tough facade fell from his frame and into the grimy floor below the stool. Shoulders slouched; frowns turned up; his head was suddenly too heavy for his neck.

"Tell me about you."

"You know what I know." She called the bartender over with a mental command. "Water, please."

"Then tell me about Dad," he said, desperation hemming his words. "How he died."

The water arrived. Sighing, she got up, and started to walk for the door. He got up as well, but did not follow. She could feel the tips of his gaze in her head again, but this time it hurt.

"I can protect you. Sis and Will can, too! We're not kids anymore! Can't you come home? Will has kids that would want to see their grandmother."

She stopped at the doors. Bluish night, mixed with misty rain, waited for her. She pushed through the doors and quickly was lost to the night.

" ... " "That count as an admission?" John asked his sibling.

"Not really, but looking at her ... I was so young. William will know for sure. I think it was her."

"We've got the trace on her ship already. She's the most likely candidate we've ever tracked down."

"Are you going to follow her?"

"Shit, Yasumi," he replied, almost grinning. "If that's really her, she's been avoiding SAINT, then the Army MPs, for damn near 60 years. I'm better off having a drink."

"Mastah," John said. "A bit of whiskey, if you would, with some sake to follow -- y'know, on second thought, fuck that." He took the seat she'd been at. "Just gimme the whiskey."

 

[Doshii Jun]

[Yamatai] Green with envy

No tails. Damn.

If the man was not tailing her, it meant he did not feel he had to, for some reason. A trap? Trace? One way or another, he was not averse to letting her leave.

It did not matter. She had to leave. A job to do. A living to make.

* * *

The ship was thirty years old, but was grandfathered in with better technology than what was available to civilians currently. The limitation of fusion for citizens was in her judgment the reactions of a scared and weak government, too terrified to trust its citizens with technology that could be used against it. She had an anti-matter reactor for her engines and her power.

It was an Aegis R-class "pram" — which meant it was a starfighter the Hegemony had neutered and tried to sell back to the populace as some sort of joyride vehicle. She had purchased it on the Edges, from some asshole at the Familiar Haunt in orbit above Miyamae. He had been kind about selling it to her. It was price she disagreed with. The offer of "20 nights and a piece of ass" was greeted with 10,000 DA. He didn't take it, so she took him — to the ground. He got to keep the 10,000 DA, though his pride was left "reamed," as he had so eloquently put it.

It was everything a starfighter was supposed to be. Sleek, fast, yare yare yare. The important thing about it was that it was comfortable. It was designed to be a two-seater, but the thin, folding back seat was usually stowed. She liked space. It was coated in sturdy armor that was infused with an dull, dark, olive-drab green color. With occasional black highlights. Appearance was important, after all.

The man wasn't inside the small hangar office as he was supposed to be. She cursed. How was she supposed to leave when he was not around? It did not feel like a trap, though — no Kyoto Municipal Police or Hegemony Bureau of Inquiry would do something so plain. She could smell an inexpensive dinner being cooked in the obscured part of the office, past the clear plastoid window she stood in front of. Everyone has to eat, she reminded herself.

She took out enough DA to pay for what she owed and slipped it through the slot. The sound of a couple coins clattering on the wall would get his attention eventually. Stuffing her hands in her jacket, she braved the mist and went out to the outdoor pad. She could not afford the indoor one. Not this time.

She wanted her hat. Her hair was going to frizz, she was sure. At least she would have time to clean herself when she returned to Star's Crossroads. If they had not raided her apartment already. She zipped up her jacket and grabbed the end of the pipe sticking into the coolant vent of her ship. She turned the whole pipe end by the two handles sticking out the ends of it; it popped off and began to snake back toward the coolant machine as soon as she dropped it.

With the vent closed and sealed, she was ready to go. Her eyes glanced at the marking below the cockpit — a sword with wings on either side, all in black. Her moniker. Kind of silly, she knew, but it helped business. Even if the name of her ship changed depending where she was landing, she was always that.

"Kitsurugi's Curse, this is Dave's Port Service. You've got a refund of about six DA coming back to you. Still want it?"

She held her head. It was annoying, telepathy. Modern telepathy was a far too blunt an instrument these days; no one had any respect for the emotion it naturally carried. People treated it as just another tool.

The communicator in her inside pocket was a tool. She took it out and flipped it open, scrolling through the name until she found it. "Do not use telepathy with me, please. I have told your superior that several times."

"Sorry ma'am," the young man replied, sounding genuinely sorry. "Still want that six DA?"

"Thank you. ... Yes. I will. One moment, please." Six DA was six DA, after all. She decided it was a little bit of good karma. She'd go eat out when she got home. She walked inside, unzipping her coat and shaking some of the water from her person.

But when she arrived at the counter and got her money, karma had apparently tricked her. Two men in dark clothing and with putrid scents to them started to come out from around the corner, her back to them at first. The only light source was the office, and when she turned and faced them, the light was to her back. She would have preferred the reverse.

"I have six DA to my name," she lied. "I am going home. You can have it. Please leave me alone."

Her firm tone was not persuasive. One brandished a knife. "No cash," the knife-wielder said. He was the taller of the two, and bigger. "Just pussy."

Vulgar. The word was bad enough; the smell made her want to retch. It was easily thick enough to taste, to digest. It stirred inside her stomach and sickened her further. Was this the rot of the Horror? "I refuse," she spat.

"Dumb bitch," the smaller one said. He was drawing a gunknife —

That was all she needed. She knocked the right side of her jacket back and drew her pistol. Squatted a little. Two in the chest, one in the head. Other started to go for her. Two in the head. Both were down.

Shit. She hated killing like that. Though they were barely alive. Now she could smell it. The tall one was particularly ripe with the Horror. If she'd had the presence of mind, she would have been disgusted that Yamatai had let people go this far without treatment.

The creamy yellow oozing from the tall one finally made her throw up, but at least not on herself. She swiped at her mouth with her jacket sleeve and looked back at the office. The young man was nowhere to be seen. Shit! She looked at the smaller one and examined his weapon. A .22-caliber gunknife, four shots. He could have shot four times in the same place and then stabbed her; still he would not have penetrated her vest.

They did not have to know that, thankfully. But waiting to give a good story was not a possibility. She holstered her pistol and flew to her ship. The canopy was already open; it slid closed after she sat down. She snarled that it did not start instantly, but it soon slowly lifted up from the ground. Landing gear retracted, she headed for the stars.

* * *

"Whoa. Getting something here, John. KMP responding to shots fired at Dave's Port Service. Caller's referencing a pistol, not energy gun. Feeding you the data."

John had thankfully only sipped his whiskey a bit. He rushed out of the bar and to Dave's Port Service, just 10 minutes away.

He got the throwing up out of the way when he arrived, then held his hand to his nose with some mints in it. Kid at the counter looked shocked as all shit. John pulled his badge and slapped it against the window. "HIB," he said behind his hand. "What the fuck happened and have you got any cleaning solution? Bleach?"

The kid was holding a scarf to his nose. "They tried to rape her! Came at her with a knife and a gun-like thing! I saw her move, and then flashes and bangs — fuck! This! She was fast!"

"Was she a customer?"

"Yeah!"

"Where is she?"

"She just left in her ship, maybe five minutes ago."

"I'm already on it John; get more from him!" "What did she look like? You get a name, address, anything?"

The man was shaking, but he nodded and brought up the terminal inside his little office. "'Hrist Valkyrie,' officer," he said. "No other information. She was kinda short, had on a leather jacket ... greenish pants. Brown hair, wavy."

Fuck! "KMP's gonna be here real soon, OK, so be straight with me and I'll make them as painless as possible. Were they trying to rape her? What did they do?"

"They came up from over there, where it's dark. I didn't see them until she did. She tried to give them money, but they wouldn't take it. That one there, the tall guy, said, 'Just pussy.' She refused and they started drawing on her!"

"OK. That's good. Just stay in there, OK?" "Sis, you got ideas?"

* * *

"Yeah," Yasumi said, already having left her chair and was headed for a dock. "I'm going to chase her."

"Whoa, sis, hold up, that's not an authorized action!"

"They'll deal." Yasumi encountered no further resistance, and was shortly in a HBI fighter-shuttle.