RP: YSS Miharu Mission 5, Part 2: The Fight For The Lost

"Are you suggesting we then kill Kotori or stand by and allow her to die?!" Tom asked. "Why tell us all of this now, and keep it from her? If this has all been some kind of twisted misunderstanding, she at least has the right to know why she's being killed..."

Nyton listened and listened. His grandfather's words once again rang true and that was not to hate his enemy. Hate was a weakness and a cloud in the mind. The burning of earlier had been the thrill of the challenge though not without a good bit of anger. And so he listened and understood. The despised name of Shinichiro was mentioned, a man as complicit a partner as Uesu had been in the unleashing of the plague in his opinion.

There was a new found understanding and indeed a possible respect found with this race of 'Umbral' Melisson claimed to be from. Conflict had seemed inevitable and now it was moreso because they had arrived at another impasse. Thus he determined to at least put forward some offer in respect to his opponent.

"Mistress Interpreter, you say that Kotori has to die. However there is yet another option that I am willing to attempt to offer in honor of your race and to perhaps alleviate the transgressions that have been wrongly visited upon you in the past. I wonder if you would even considered it. It is selfish, I will admit that, but I am certain you understand my position in proposing this. Rather than killing my princess to undo the loyalty imprint placed upon the personnel of this fleet, we could instead depart this zone. Heal Kotori and free her from her Signaler body. Restore all of our crew and yourself to pre-battle losses, and then we all leave together and you join us. Abandon the fleet and sacrifice their lives. Seal this dimension off. It is a hellish option, certainly. It would leave you without the means to challenge the Eyfrlurpjaker. It would condemn millions of people to this null void until the end of time. I may even have to offer my life to my princess for my failure to kill you. I cannot even fathom how we would be able to work together to possibly change this tiny corner of the galaxy wherein we would be better off enough that you could depart and continue your explorations. For all I know it may not even happen in my lifetime." Nyton said, and then heaving a slight breath before crossing his arms.

"But if I am allowed to live and this alliance does work then I can swear on my family's lineage that all those that come after me would work together with you in this pursuit. While I am currently honor bound to serve my princess I will do so to the best of my abilities to keep such an allegiance running smoothly. Those after me would be free to choose but I will put forward the impetus to do so. My family is run deep with warriors and there will be conflict. We would welcome it if it would go towards establishing a better means of life." Nyton finished, his arms falling to his sides and clenching his fists.

"I am telling you what I can of this. I am not keeping anything from her if you are not going to," Melisson replied to Tom, her voice like a sugared knife. "Maybe it is because I want you to know. Maybe I even want you to contribute to that choice, if there is any to make."

She afterwards answered Nyton. "Even I will not throw away millions of lives just for one, be her princess or not. She needs to be taken out of the equation one way or another but I will not abandon the Second Draconian Fleet to its fate like Yamatai did, and leave it to predations from people such as Eve. If I simply leave it be, people like Irim or Kikyo could find out about it and deal with it next."

"Though the value of lives weight far less on me than it does, we are talking about many more people than there were on a colony like Taiie's. When I eliminated Taiie, it was to attempt to save the rest of your Empire and the Mishhuvurthyar. Here, I cannot trade all those people only for the sake of one life."

Yukari felt her blood catch inside her chest. Rin! As they talked — negotiated, bloviated — Rin was dying.

She stepped past Nyton.

"I trust Kotori-san with my life, Interpreter. We all do. I trust she does not operate under your Vaaker Talkaup, but with her own moral compass, which will consider the lives of our sisters and brothers on those ships. They will not be enslaved leverage to her. I will make sure of it. The same cannot be said of you.

"Outside of now, there might be a chance for peace. However, our sisters are dying, and we do not have any more time. If Kotori must die, then you should be done with us and move on to her."

"You are being obstinately blind," Melisson hissed in displeasure. "But in your hypocrisy you have at least settled on what you want with informed convictions rather than assumptions."

"I suppose that is all I can settle with from your kind, after all," the redhead said, her wine-red eyes looking at them - feeling at they looked at their very essence. "You are in the way," Melisson finally agreed.

A thundering clamor broke off the conversation, as a Mindy power armor teleported to the scene right besides her. Though the Mindy appeared as a melted, warped, bubbling ruin of fused metal and hemosynth flesh, its entry shockwave blasted the slight woman back. Melisson landed in an unsteadily crouch, a surprised wince on her face.

"Now's your chance!" Hinoto sent over the Knights' comm channel. Whatever Melisson had done to them, Hinoto's ploy of teleporting a Mindy point-blank had apparently shaken her concentration - perhaps enough for them to act as they saw fit!

Nimura was the first to test that and responded to Hinoto's prompt almost immediately, snapping off a shot from her plasma rifle that streaked past Nyton and Yukari to connect with Melisson, the latter whom managed a last second dodge with a clumsy roll to the side. The dodge flashed a part of her buttocks under the flapping skirt and perhaps to Asher's delight, he discovered Melisson wore no underwear.

Yukari was a poor armor pilot. She was, perhaps, a bad soldier.

But she could shoot. And she was teeming against her own ineffectiveness.

Her mind stopped thinking about the potential for peace. She might have been blind, but she saw what she needed to see. Melisson's bright red hair. There was not a better target.

Instincts. Training. She went into a wide stance. Gun raised up, hammer cocked along the way, blade sights just over the red. She wasn't killing Melisson. She was hitting the target.

She fired.

Nyton did not need to be told twice. He had been like a coiled snake waiting to strike. He had been true in his word but it was an offer he already knew Melisson would not likely accept. It would not have advanced her in accordance with her Vaaker Talkaup.

My turn, 'Mistress.' Nyton thought. Nimura fired, Melisson dodged, Yukari fired. There were only so many avenues Melisson could use to avoid Yukari so he flew in at high speed to intercept her. This time Arethusa was not silent but quivering with nodal blades lashing out to strike. Nyton's own hands were not empty either. Hidden away within the nodal flesh of the forearms had been the two Mishhu tentacle blades he had grabbed earlier now being wielded against their former master.

Nyton sent out to everyone, finally able to relay orders.

Kyou burst into action, having been silent out of sheer confusion and a feeling of being completely overwhelmed this whole time. She'd never imagined that Melisson would look so human, or be so reasonable, for that matter. Regardless though, her place was not to question; that was for the officers, who had seemingly finished as well. Her place was to shoot things, and that she could do, and happily so, since that was something she didn't have to understand to do. She leveled her weapons, and broke off to the side, firing with both her gauss cannon and her plasma rifle in tandem. Regardless of how human Melisson seemed, Kyou had no desire to chance missing the kill by underestimating her already obviously extreme power.

As soon as Kai had the order, he leapt into action. After so much talking, so many things that he was trying to wrap his head around, and so much reasoning for this and that, so much history, Kai knew that he still needed to act. Whether or not it was the right thing to do no longer mattered- He had had enough answer. Kotori, their princess and commander, was the one actually in control of the fleet. Kai trusted Kotori, enough to come out to the edge of nowhere, follow her into oblivion, even die. This was his place, what he was to do.

Blasting off the ground to hover near the ceiling and get yet another angle on the Interpreter, Kai brought both his plasma rifle and forearm plasma weapon to bear, opening fire as fast as he could. He notified his AIES to be ready to help him switch to the LASR as soon as the plasma rifle was out of its temporary charge, cycling the weapon to let it cool and recharge itself.

Re: Mission 5, Part 2: The Fight For The Lost[

It was hard to comprehend, hard to think about. Everything Melisson said seemed to dizzy him. Recollections of the past, explanations of intention, things that grayed the field of battle... It all just clouded his mind. Ever since Melisson had spoke so fondly of what he was, things seemed to twist around. Was Melisson really who they thought she was? Was it all just a misguided attempt at self-righteous justice? Were they wrong in going to kill a person they had never met?

No no no no! That's what soldiers did! They killed people they were ordered to, and not knowing them only made them easier to kill. He was ordered to kill Melisson, to spread her insides up and down the length of her damned ship! Ketsurui Kotori was their Captain! Their leader! Crazy Captain Kotori! It was not a soldier's place to question the order's of their better's, Asher believed this firmly. Yet, could Kotori be wrong? Could everyone be wrong?

The brutality of Melisson, was it any different from his own level brutality? Sure, Melisson destroyed much more than him, but it was on a scale, a proportionate scale between Admiral and Infantry. Could this alien being easily be more of a kindred spirit of bloodshed than he previously knew? Why were words causing so much conflict!?

No! No! No! Soldiers weren't supposed to be swayed by words. Men and women of arms spoke with action, and fare-welled with bloodshed. It was what Asher had believed! But such words! It made him think! It made him think of everything! His mind was at chaos! Chaos!

Why were words so hard!?

"Now's your chance!"

Click to expand...

Asher looked up, just in time to see it. It. The thing that his mind needed to rise from the murkiness of words. The shining symbol of glorious clarity through his confusion, through his doubt! A beautiful beacon through the fog of hesitation! A hand reaching out to his very soul to pull forth the trueness of his being!

Melisson's bare, exposed bottom.

Words weren't what Asher fought for! Ideals, morality, glory? No! No! Asher fought something greater! Something that was more beautiful than the very concept of life itself! Asher fought for something real! His one true inspiration! His source of power! He fought for the tits and ass of Yamatai!


Still locked onto their target's buttox, Asher's AIES lined up the lock-ons for six mini-missiles and unloaded a hellish volley onto her. Kindred or not! She threatened the one thing he ever found meaning in!

Tom smiled. Yukari's conviction shined through in the end. No matter how impressive Melisson's arguments were, it would have been impossible to turn back now. To trust a mass murderer, despite her intentions, would have destroyed his character and left him morally bankrupt.

Yamatai had its atrocities to answer for, but change would come from within, from those who honestly cared about her people... no one else.

He thought once more of his snowy home as Melisson decided their fate. The lessons learned, the foundation of his character and sense of right and wrong, they all came from that small community hidden to the north.

Pride filled him. He raised his gun to prepare for the onslaught, the end.

Suddenly, a Mindy came in with a thunderous rush of air. Hinoto had bought them an opportunity!


The order came in and people flew into action. Nyton was entering Melee, bladed to the extreme. Yukari was firing her pistol. Kyou unleashed a torrent of powerful weaponry in the form of her gauss cannon and plasma rifle and moved to one side. Kai contained her from above with plasma support of his own. His armor notified him of Asher's impending missile lock.

Tom raised his rifle and tried drawing a bead on Melisson. He learned to unleash concentrated bursts of fire from his LASR. Tight, controlled rounds that hit where he needed them to. It was what he did best.

They could not let up in their assault. If Melisson found some way to focus her tremendous psionic energy, they could all find themselves under her influence.

He would try to peg her like a wasp, constantly irritating her with his sting.

Yuzuki wheeled and backed as the rest of the armor team engaged Melisson; she interposed herself between Rin and the firefight. Effectively, Yuzuki could do very little but sacrifice herself for the injured sprite, should any retaliation come.

Yukari had done it. Yukari had stepped up and done what Yuzuki felt to be the right thing.

But, what now? Staring down the hallway they had come from, at the door she had blown, Yuzuki wondered just how long it would take if she were to bolt, and what sort of resistance they might meet on the way back. These thoughts were momentary and fleeting, though. The ship was in the same situation they were - enemies all around, with no respite forthcoming. Even if they killed Melisson how...?

Yuzuki didn't even want to think about it.

So, she didn't.

@black Knights:

Melisson moved to dodge from Yukari's sights but the shot Yukari snapped at her was fast enough to still hit the alien woman, flashing plasma obliterating most of Melisson's upper arm, sending the rest of the amputated limb flopping to the floor with the severed ends smoking.

Nyton came in, Arethusa brimming with battle tentacles meant to dismember her. Kyou came to the side loosing plasma and LASR hail while Kai rose above intent on pouring down plasma fire as well. Asher's guided mini-missiles arrowed in like angry shrikes as Tom lined up to effect more cautious semi-automatic bursts of suppressive fire in support.

Melisson circumvented most of the attacks concentrated on her by leaping through Nyton has the Taii flailed at her with deadly intent, phasing through and ignoring the gouts of plasma and the exploding missiles she left in her wake.

Clear of the initial salvo her semi-transparent countenance filled out with solidity while she was out of the immediate firing arc of most whom had rushed in to engage her, but the watchful Tom quickly wrenched his LASR around and while his hurried attack lacked accuracy, he still managed to land several withering shots through Melisson's right leg, sawing through it at mid-thigh. Melisson gracelessly toppled down and her running momentum had her smack facefirst on the metal flooring, her remaining arm doing a poor job of cushioning the blow.

Before they could exploit the apparent vulnerability of the interpreter, a telepathic presence filled their minds: "You are NOTHING! I can break minds with my power! I can UNMAKE you!"

As if on cue to her telepathic words, Melisson's opponents went as limp as puppets whom suddenly had their strings cut. One power armor after another crashed senseless to the ground and was left unmoving - Yukari, Nyton, Kyou, Kai, Asher, Tom and Yuzuki all collapsed with their minds having brutally been blanked out.

• @Yukari:
  
  • Yukari was a young nekovalkyrja. She had started out as a red-haired, green-eyed pilot for transport vessels before she had been arbitrarily pulled away, chosen due to some particular affinities to qualify as a strongly psionic NH-17T.
    
    Two-months she had spent living as a forehead horned psionic-warfare creation, two-months she had been all but too eager to archive in an external data repository. Retaining only trace information for time-referencing purpose, there was little Yukari ought to have remembered from that time, but Melisson probed deep and what traces she found, she made flower.
    
    Her recollections the bones of the reimagining, Yukari relived that time.
  
  @Nyton:
  
  • Nyton offered plenty to toy with for Melisson, and she had him delve deeply into his youth, bringing to his mind the gang wars he started participating in so young, when the weight of a sniper rifle was born with childish enthusiasm as he hurried after the longer strides of his grandfather Thomas.
    
    They climbed through the imagined ruined cement and mortar skeleton of a building to find a suitable sniping spot, where Nyton would be able, under his grandfather's careful directives, to help their side win the day.
  
  @Tom:
  
  • Tom found himself smacked on the side of the head with a snowball, which exploded into powdery white flakes upon impact. His clumsy, thickly mantled, diminutive child's body was made to topple from the blow into the thick layer of yielding white snow that blanketed this playground in his home village of Ralt.
    
    He heard the childish giggles of his playmates compete with the trashing of a large hound that waded into the thick snow to come next to him and scent him, wet nose coming into contact with his rosy cheeks as the canine's tail wagged in good humor.
    
    Nearby parents stood remotely to the side, leaving space for their children to play as they chatted with each other while still casting a frequent watchful glance their way to assure their safety.
  
  @Kai:
  
  • "Kai! Dinnertime!" Kai heard his mother, Reiko, call from downstairs.
    
    The young boy, still going at elementary school back then, had been quite good at drawing when he wasn't going out with his father and friends on outings. Now, he was home on Yamatai in the time before Tami had been colonized.
    
    His mother's summon had caught him while he was in his room, industriously doodling a story about gruff Grand Star Army soldiers confronting some alien menace only to have the entire team struck down by the supernatural powers of the villainous alien witch, leaving only the hero standing.
    
    His drawing - especially thanks to him intermittently standing up to playact the scenes he was drawing - had helped him work quite the appetite. The smells coming up from the kitchen threatened to draw an hungry growl out of his stomach.
  
  @Asher:
  
  • Asher was reliving a nightmare from his childhood.
    
    The halls of his father's cargo ship quaked as space privateers closed in loosing attacks upon attacks upon his father's vessel. White-knuckled, the young Asher gripped the doorframe leading to the vessel's bridge, watching on as his father barked orders in an effort to keep things together.
  
  @Kyou:
  
  • Kyou was enjoying a particular time of when she had been back in Basic Training. She had a kitchenette all to herself after dinner hours in the cafeteria and several of her friends had tagged along with her on the offer that she could have them sample one of the outlandish snacks she made herself an hooby of making up.
  
  @Yuzuki:
  
  • Yuzuki was buried something familiar and recent. She had spent a grueling, busy day working feverishly in the docks the Nerimians had let them borrow to repair and refit Miharu with the new energized armor.
    
    Now, she was standing bare skinned below a showerhead, luxuriating under the downpour of warm water, recollecting on bits of her day, contemplating what to do now that her shift was over.

Nimura was the sole standing member of the group.

Her vision had briefly swam and greyed out, and she had stumbled a few steps, but her consciousness had reasserted itself to witness her allies all disabled. After an initial gasp in shock, she made to shoot at Melisson still, but her target phased away and vanished. The same went for the two severed limbs whom spontaneously divided into many wet fleshy parts, which in turn shapechanged into bug-like Mishhu, and whom then made themselves scarce by phasing away as well.

"Take them away. Have them processed," Nimura understood Melisson's words as if they had been etched in her thoughts, but she only understood the import of the request when eight Mishhuvurthyar Elites rushed into the observation chamber, two of them going to pick up the helpless Tom and Yuzuki into their tentacled coils while the others moved in after the others.

Nimura grit her teeth and sprang, interposing herself between the rest of her fallen teammates and the Elite group. Even though badly outnumbered, she opened up with her plasma rifle.

For little, six year-old Asher Orkin Westwood, the past few days had been what he considered some of the greatest experiences of his life. He had ridden on his father's ship so many times before, but this time, he really felt a part of the crew. Katsu, Kenta, Tadashi, Taro, and Yuji, the main members of the vessel, treated him just like any other hand. They expected things from him, and that made the little red-eyed boy feel important, and very adult-like. There was work, and lots of it, and Asher had been happy to do as much as his little body could muster to complete. So, it was only reasonable that the boy had felt very tired on the return trip back home. So tired, he felt the need to take a nap after his 'shift' had ended.

Though... Before that, he wanted to talk to his father about being instated as a full-time member of the ship's crew. Obviously, the young boy deserved such an honor after all of his hard work! He loved space, he loved ships and he loved experiencing both with his dad. Seriously, what more was there to consider on a six year-old's résumé? No doubt sat in his mind about his father's answer.

Oh! To work with someone like that man, Blaze Veruk Westwood. Asher admired no person more than the one responsible for his birth. Sure, his name was a little silly, but his father made up for that flaw in pure grit. He wasn't scared of anything! He never flinched in pain! He was respected by all of his crew! And! Unlike little Asher, had never shed a tear in his entire life. Blaze was the man, and Westwood Jr. idolized him for it.

That's why it was so strange to see that same man, with such a desperate look on his face. Asher felt his heart sink into his stomach as he saw his father look so unnerved. He couldn't help but wonder what was going on, before the ship shook so violently. The tremors forced the boy's feet from under him and sent him tumbling into the floor. Yelling and the blaring of klaxons followed as he forced himself up, grabbing onto the edge of the doorway at the bridge.

"Kenta! What tha' fuck's goin' on!?" growled Blaze loudly, "Why can't we kick in FTL!?"

"They've got interdiction fields!" shot back Kenta, looking over his managing console, "And that shot went straight for our engines! We're crippled!"

"Oh... Dear god..." gulped Yuji, staring gauntly at the identified pirate vessel, "They're coming! They're coming for us! We're dead!"

"Oh quit y'bitchin', Yuji, we juss' need t'think!" settled Blaze, slapping his hand flat over the edge of his chair quickly. He settled back into the seat, an grabbed hard at the untamed beard on his chin.

"Think about what, Captain?" wailed Katsu, "They're pirates, with guns! They'll mow us down at take everything we've got."

"Don' know 'bout you guys, but I have guns." Blaze tapped his finger on the arm-chair of his seat, "You fucka's can borrow some'a mine, and pay back tha' difference latta'."

"You really think we'll live that long to pay that?" Katsu seemed to draw a little hope from that strange confidence.

"A'course!" said Blaze with a very forced smile, his pearly-white teeth trying to put on the best show in their life. "We juss' need t'outlast'm 'til tha' GSA arrives. Ain't that right, Taro?"

"Way ahead of you, the pirates made the mistake of putting their interdiction field down after they killed our engines. So I'm sending our emergency FTL comm-buoy to the nearest GSA posting... now." reported Taro, as his fingers danced quickly over his own console. "The distress signal probably won't arrive until they board the ship."

"Then iss' settled, fella's!" said Blaze, holding up his hands in the air, fingers coated a glowy red from the buzzing alarms. "We hold'm off til' big sistah Yui comes wit' her calvary, yeah? Tadashi, pop open that panel ova' there. Thass' where I keep my gun-stash f'occasions like this."

Asher could only look on in amazement with a partial grasp of the situation. His father, despite how scared and unsettled he looked, some how managed that cool resolve that got everyone to collect themselves just enough to organize themselves. The young boy wished he could have just an ounce of his father's bravery. Asher was scared stiff, his fingers still digging tightly at the door-way. More tremors tore across the ship, sending the scruffy little boy to the floor.

"Multiple hull breaches! They're using hooks and lines to draw us in!" reported Kenta, before an SMG was lobbed into his lap.

"Looks like we don' got much in tha' way a'time." grunted Blaze as he shouldered his own black SMG. Whatever kind of weapons the man had loaded into the panel wall, he had ordered up quite a bit of it. To Asher, this seemed like an opportunity.

"Dad! Dad!" said Asher, forcing himself up off of the floor to trying run to his father. His balance wasn't helped as the inertia of the vessel shifted and shook with the pirate vessel luring them in. "Dad! I wanna help out!"

"Asha'?" said Blaze looking at the little tyke hopping at his feet. "Son, I ain't got time f'this shit."

"B-but... But Dad! I cn'shoot! Y'know I cn'shoot!" yelped the boy to his father. "I wanna' fight pirates too!"

"Son, y'get y'ass in that chair right there, n'you stay there." growled the father to the son. Blaze loomed down over his eager boy, trying to tempt away from the idea of throwing his life away. Another tremor shook the cargo vessel, shaking the crew within'.

"They've connected! They're starting to breach the hull! They're trying to get in through one of the bunk rooms!" reported Kenta, his voice turning hollow at the realization. Despite the mewlings of Asher, Blaze picked up his son, and placed him down onto the Captain's chair.

"I ain't got time f'this. Son, y'don' move from this spot til'I get back, aw'right? You try t'follow me an' you ain't comin' on this ship eva' again." threatened Blaze, before standing up and summoning the rest of the crew members on the bridge to move towards the bunk rooms. Asher, threatened by the idea of never coming back into space, felt rather stiff in his chair, but could not help more of his defiance.

"Dad!" yelped Asher, choking his words from a lump forming in his throat. Blaze didn't seem to hear him. So, Asher repeated himself, but still no answer from his father. In fact, it seemed like no one heard him. Towering figures of hardy crew members, people he had gotten to know and respect ignored him as they all vacated the bridge. "Dad!" Asher choked again, a few tears running down his face. He started to panic more when he realized that everyone except himself was leaving the bridge. "Don' leave me alone!"

And then, a voice broke over the exiting crowd, it was Blaze.

"I'll be back, son! I promise ya!"

----

The next few minutes were tortuous. Asher shook feebly in the Captain's chair, the writhing fear within him making it impossible to hold himself still. The anxiety welled up in his stomach, causing a sick sensation to rise over him. Walls, screens, consoles, chair, all blurred into a feverish ailment which began to consume him. He needed something, someone to hold him or him to hold them. The very adult-like feeling he had earlier had washed away as his unknowing child mind took over. He closed his eyes, and grasped the air, trying to imagine some form of security.

Young fingers touched nothing but the recycled air of the bridge. It wasn't working. He needed something. So, he tried to imagine harder. He imagined his mother, right there, ready and waiting for him. She was always there to comfort him. It quieted him for a moment, as Asher isolated himself from the current world.

The warmth of her body, it enveloped him, defended him, and quieted all of his fears. It wasn't there, but he pretended it was, and even if it wasn't as warm as the real thing, it was warmer than nothing at all.

Momma... rang Asher's word in the depths of his mind. His heart began to settle, and the world seemed a little safer.

Though, the cracking of firearms and screams in the distant bowels of the ship, however, caused him to lose focus. His mother disappeared, and the blaring klaxons filled his mind with an infectious fear that veined through him. He wasn't sure what those sounds meant, the guns and screams, but it squashed out whatever bravery and willpower he had left in his little body.

He began to break down, he drew his legs in, and curled himself up. Tears began forming at the edge of his eyes, and the very air around him didn't seem to be enough to support his choking lungs.

"Dad..." he rasped, shakily heaving the name. "Dad..." It was like a chant. His father was an anchor, a source of inspiration and power. As long as his father lived, nothing bad could ever happen! Asher opened his moist eyes, reinvigorated slightly by the thought.

Shots rang out again, closer this time, and it forced Asher back into his state of insecure loss. He couldn't hold it back, his little body was about to break. He cried, and didn't hold back. His hands went up to his head, covering his ears, the sounds of the world dampening out of his mind by force of will. "Dad!" screeched Asher, salty tears running over his lips, his face reddening in fear and sadness. "Momma! Momma!"

Those cries seemed to summon a pair of hands that scooped up him up and wrapped him in a pair of comforting arms. Suddenly the shots were louder, as if right next to him. Something warm and wet seemed to stain on his chest. Was this another attempt at grasping in his own mind for comfort?

"Shhh... Iss' alright..." said a comforting voice. It was strong, if not a little pained. "Dad's right here..."

Asher's eyes opened, and he looked up to see his father, Blaze, holding him in his arms. Half of the man's face had been covered in blood, and more of it oozed from his stomach.

"Captain! What the hell is going on!?" went Taro's voice. The world was returning back to reality. "The GSA still isn't here!"

"They're not fuckin' magic, Taro! They cn'only get here as fast as they can!" growled Blaze, as more shots rang into the room, forcing the small number that had seemed to return back into their cover. The bleeding Blaze dove to the side, his son tucked tightly within his arms.

"If they don't show up, we're going to die here!" wailed Katsu, ever the lowest on morale.

"I'm going to shoot you if you don't shut up!" yelled Kenta, aiming his SMG at Katsu, who held his arms up to defend himself.

"Will you fuckin' ladies get tha' tampons out!? We're gettin' shot at!" yelled Blaze, shaking Asher slightly with his own temperament flaring. "We're in a tight spot, and we need t'worm our way out. Any ideas?"

"The escape pods! We can get out of here if we reach them!" went Kenta, leaning out to fire into the hallway.

"If we do that, they'll--..." started Taro, silenced by a hail of gun-fire in their direction. He continued when it ceased. "They'll space the pod with their ship's guns."

"Well, we can't just wait here and die!" argued Kenta, throwing an arm up in the air.

"Naw... Naw we can't..." said Blaze, the weight of the situation beginning to weigh down on him. Asher had taken to digging his face into his father's chest, feeling safe despite the despairations of those around him. Blaze looked down at his boy, and then up to the rest of them. "The GSA might not even make it 'ere."

That declaration seemed to sink the morale of the room. Katsu seemed to have had enough, and he threw himself out into the open, firing wildly. "I'm not going to die like this! I won't die! Not cowering in a corner like some animal!" He screamed, holding down the trigger until it was empty.

"Katsu! Don't just sta--...!" yelled Taro, trying to warn Katsu, but it was too late. Returning had already torn through the air and itno Katsu's body, one shot tearing open the top of his head, and spilling the insides of his head out onto the floor. "... K-... Katsu..." The group of surviving crew, three, not including Asher, went silent. The guffaws and mocking laughs of the pirates could be heard down the halls.

"Taro." said Blaze finally, breaking a lost stare, and the silence of the horrific situation.

"Yes, Captain?" asked Taro shakily. Kenta still stared at the dead Katsu, biting his lip in what looked like regret.

"Take m'boy." was what Blaze said before Asher felt himself sailing through the air, and into the arms of an almost caught-off Taro. "Get t'tha' 'scape pods. I gotta' plan."

"What are you--..."

"Get movin'."

"Yes sir... C'mon Kenta."

"Yeah..." grunted Kenta, jumping up shakily, before joining Taro at the second entrance into the Bridge.

"What are you going to do, Captain?" asked Taro, Asher's eyes had gone wide as he tried to struggle so he could return to his father's side.

"Gunna' lock up tha' bridge, hold'm off while you fella's stroll on down to tha' pods. When you're out juss' 'nuff, I'll ova'load tha' capacita's, n'floor tha' engines. Should 'cause a big'nuff boom, yeah?" said Blaze with a grin too casual for the situation. "Should keep tha' pirates off y'back."

"That's suicide!" yelled Taro. Asher began to panic, but could not force himself free of Taro's grasp.

"Dad! What are y'doin'!? Why aren't y'comin' wit'us!?" wailed Asher, tears beginning to form at his cheeks. Blaze's gaze softened as he looked at his son.

"Son, y'gunna have t'be a man f'me right now, so suck up them tears.." said Blaze, to which Asher responded by wiggling in Taro's grip. The tears were difficult to stop, but they did, with much strain. The Captain's quivering jaw was a bit of give away that the strain wasn't just on the son.

The stomping of boots began to clamor down the hall-way they had returned from.

"Alright! Party's ova', move it! We ain't got no more time t'sit!" yelled Blaze. Taro and Kenta complied, taking themselves and Asher out of the bridge.

The doors slammed shut, and the locking mechanism engaged. For some reason, regret piled over the young boy being hauled by the two Geshrins to the escape pods. Luckily, with the design of the ship, they were able pass by what pirates had piled at the door of the bridge, and made a B-line for the turbo lifts.

"Dis' thing workin'?" went the ship-wide sound, Blaze's voice ringing through out the vessel.

"Dad...?" asked Asher, looking up at the ceiling.

"Awright, here we go. I figga'd I'd go 'head n'get this out tha' way 'fore you fellas ran off, yeah?" said Blaze.

"Bastard..." growled Taro. Asher stayed enraptured with the ceiling, until they made their ways into the turbo-lifts.

"First off, Taro. Ketsu. Tha' last five years have been a blast. Can't say I'd have anyone else otha' than tha' fellas I worked wit' on this ship. I'd trust you fella's wit' anythin'. S'why I gave you my boy. N'no, you can't fuck my wife. I'll haunt your asses." chuckled Blaze, surprisingly cheery for his fate. As they reached the lower levels, he seemed to continue with a more somber tone.

"Asha'... I know y'can hear me. N'I wantcha t'listen." said Blaze, the hissing sound of a torch filling the background of his transmission. Asher continued to stare silently into the ceiling, his face dry and red, twisted into a painful expression of sadness. "This ain't gunna' be fair t'you, but I'm gunna' need you t'be strong f'ya Mom, n'ya sistah. They're gunna' need you, juss' like you need them." Blaze hiccuped what sounded like the start of tears, being unable to hold them back. Asher seemed to follow suit, tears tracing down the sides of his face. "God... I wanted t'see you grow up so bad. I wanted t'teach ya how t'fly this thing. T'teach how t'drive, so y'wouldn't kill nobody. Send y'off t'ya first day in high school. Meet y'girlfriend, then beat y'ass f'gettin' her pregnant! Heh..."

"Dad..." Asher curled up in Taro's arms, the tears streaming down his face. Taro held the boy close, his own tears staining down his cheeks.

"I wanted t'watch you grow up. I've wanted to eva' since I found out y'momma was gunna have ya. I hate that I'm gunna' miss it..." the man sounded like he was struggling with his composure rather fiercely as he choked what sounded like another sob. "Asha'... You be a good boy, aw'right?"

"I will..." said Asher meekly, his chest feeling as if someone had replaced his heart with a lump of iron. Taro and Kenta arrived at the escape pods, and opened one.

"I love you, son..." finished Blaze, before the sound of a crashing door filled the air. Gun fire ensued over the loud-speaker.

"I love you too, Dad..." said Asher, barely able to see through the fountain of tears escaping him. He held himself tightly, as Taro and Kenta took him into the pod. The two secured themselves in, and secured Asher as well, before launching out into space.

It was a cruel moment in time. The three surviving members of the cargo-ship got a view of their attacking ship through the thick ship-grade windows of the pod. As Taro and Kenta watched the pirate ship to see if it would take aim of them, Asher watched his father's ship becoming smaller and smaller as the flew away. The young boy began to tear up once more, his body shaking.

And then, their visions were blinded by a noiseless explosion, consuming both star-ships and propelling the pod further away. Both Taro and Kenta looked in away in silence, staring at the walls and floor of their rescue chamber.

The only thing that could be heard was the sobbing wails of a young man mourning the death of his father.

A starship. A starship with black walls. The marbled kind of walls, smooth and reflective and easy to clean. Polished. Like mirrors.

She saw herself first, in the cool light. Small. Thin. Pink-skinned. Icy blue eyes beneath the bangs of her bob of pure red hair. Horn rising up from her skull. Long, darting ears.

Naked. She was naked. No reason to cover up. Touch sensory data were blocked. Other inputs were enough.

Smelling the air registered its temperature — 2 degrees Celsius. Also registered trace elements used to filter air. Registered iron. Blood. She looked down. Blood on her. Not hers.

"Subject," said a voice in her head. Female. Young. Geshrin. Lead scientist."End the simulation."

She turned away from the wall. At the other end of the polished room, a woman. Young. Also Geshrin. Objective.

The woman had a Type 28 Mass Production Pistol. Empty. She shivered as she reached for another magazine. Heard the clatter of the woman's teeth. Blood on her, too. Hers.

The woman's hands stopped as she was angling the pistol to receive a new magazine. She screamed. Angry. Shouting obscenities at the project. At the Neko. At PNUgen. Tears rolled down her cheeks, though her hands remained still.

"End the simulation, subject."

She closed her eyes. Concentrated. Considered. Many ways to end it. The woman was crying. Begged for her life. Said she was sorry. Would never again steal secrets.

What secrets? Curious. She found out. Reached deep into her mind. It was harder with organics. Everything was jumbled, criss-crossed, linked. Avoided most of it. Saw some secrets — cheating at a dice game, having intercourse with a friend's mate, did not report entire tithing to PNUgen — but nothing of substance. Then found it. Secrets on NH-7 project. Avatar-related research. AvaNet.

Okaa-san.

"SUBJECT." Her head became fuzzy. Male voice. Not very deep, but forceful. The PNUgen representative. "You have failed this simulation. You have lost the privilege of self-control."

No. No, did not want that. She attempted to reply. Could not. Asked lead scientist to intervene. No response. Her body was moving on its own. Toward the objective, who fumbled over herself on the floor as she tried to back away without the use of her hands. The body kept coming, stepping over the nickel-jacketed bullets that it stopped with its power.

No! She resisted. Tried to slam herself into the wall. Nothing. Tried to take gun away to shoot herself in the head. Nothing. Activate self-destruct! Insufficient privileges. Shut down! Insufficient privileges. Enter stasis mode! Insufficient privileges. DISABLE LEGS!

Insufficient privileges. The body stood over the woman, who was backed into a corner, screaming through light brown hair strewn over her face. Her hands tossed the pistol and magazine away, and she screamed even louder.

The screaming became hoarse. No ... choked. Labored. Woman's core temperature was dropping, dropping. The body was freezing the woman's lungs. Could have flash-frozen them, instead was turning them into ice. Suffocation.

She screamed for the woman. Sound came out. They had left her control of her mouth, it seemed, and voicebox. She screamed for them to stop. She did not want this. No. NO! STOP! DO NOT KILL HER!

The woman no longer drew breath. Her bright green eyes looked up at the body, pleas still in them, begging, please make the pain stop. She was sorry.

Then, the woman slumped. Dead.

The body turned and went for the door. They took away control of her mouth, forcing her tongue back behind her teeth before shutting it. The body stepped into a laboratory, with displays and data entry devices and monitoring equipment and scanners and a couple "beds" for the subjects. The body stood a meter or so from the doorway, waiting.

* * *

The PNUgen representative looked at the body, facial muscles taunt. Looked in disgust. The lead scientist was behind him. She was upset.

"There was no justification!" The lead scientist. "Even if she had obtained the information, she wasn't going to understand any of it!"

The PNUgen representative most certainly did not care.

"That punishment is reserved for when she's failed to execute a command five times, not three, and she was attempting to extract valuable data!"

The PNUgen representative ran a finger over the barcode over her chest, then faced the scientist.

"It's data no one was supposed to know, including her. Your unit now is compromised. You understand that?"

"We have ST data from an hour ago. We'll initiate emergency reformatting, simple."

The representative sighed, adjusting his plain grey suit jacket.

"It's not. Your only instruction was to kill her before she talked. You didn't."

"She was the best tester we had! She offered stimuli the NH-7 never could, and she lasted far longer. Dammit, we made advances! Data that will put the project ahead! PNUgen needs the research, and with another tester, we could get this one to rival even Naraku."

The representative shook his head, just a little, and started to walk away. "Corporate'll have to deal with you. I have reports to file. Don't reformat until permitted."

The lead scientist's blue eyes followed the representative's back as he left the laboratory. A query to the ship's Avatar suggested he was heading back to the shuttle bay. He would be there in two minutes. They were on a modified Sojourner-class, he had a Ge-T1. Assuming close to maximum roundtrip range ... they were five days outside of Yamatai. Perhaps 60 light years. Likely to the east. Safest. Edge of Lonely Expanse. It's where she would go.

The lead scientist made a rude gesture to the representative's back, then held her head in her hand, holding back some of her wavy blond hair. "Fuck," she said, the other researchers in the room keeping still in their chairs. She let out a long sigh, then turned to the other researchers. "Once he's away, target him with the defense lasers. We'll say his shuttle had a malfunction."

"Ma'am?" one of the researchers said.

The scientist swung a hand at the body, pointing at it. "We're THIS fucking close to Naraku's theorized output! I'm not throwing all of this away because some suit accuses me of a breach of protocol!" She stomped her foot, then went to one of the monitoring stations, hanging over a researcher. "Back up the data. Send it to the secure server on Delsauria."

The researcher nodded, and the scientist came over to the body. Stood in front it. "Subject Five. You are to make yourself safe in the event the ship is compromised. If possible, protect the human crew. Kill Neko on sight, but ensure you survive."

The body was hers again. "Hai," she said.

The scientist left the body for a moment to check on something else. That was when two Neko soldiers blasted through the door, GP-13s drawn.

Everyone turned and shouted. The left Neko fired from her pistol, cutting down the two nearest researchers. The other one raised her gun toward her.

It never made it past the Neko's waist. The battery magazine fell out of the gun, and the Neko discarded it, rushing her.

The Neko was NH-17R, fast and strong. But she was 17T. She flattened the 17R to the floor without so much as a gesture, then manipulated the Neko's OS to force a shutdown. She was not supposed to know that, but it worked very well.

The other one had killed everyone but the lead scientist and the researcher sending the backup. She stopped the Neko and manipulated the OS. Success. She walked out of the laboratory to the sounds of shouts echoing through the deck. The four remaining Neko had turned on the crew, gunning them down with their pistols. Many already were dead. The bridge crew was not, but they were up a deck.

Energy reserves were low. They always kept her at 50 percent power; now she was at 28. One of the Nekos was coming down the main corridor at her, raising her gun. She glared at it, and it was cast aside. The 17R took to flying at her, as fast as she could. She crashed to the ground when her flight capability was shut down, followed by her primary systems processor. The OS came last.

She went for the bridge. Bodies littered the way. One of the Neko was in front of her, but she was sprinting for the door, having flown up the gravity-less passageway to get there. She walked, conserving power, as she manipulated the Neko's legs, causing the weapon to facefault into the deck. The Neko rolled on the ground and turned to fire, but ended up throwing her gun away instead. The Neko snarled as she approached, but stopped after she was shut down.

The bridge door opened before her. She did not approach the crew, who were too busy chasing the shuttle, trying to blast it with untuned self-defense lasers. So far, they were succeeding. While they did so, she asked the computer to lay in a course for the fleet near Tami, where before she had been a pilot. The computer promised to acknowledge the request at the next available time, but first had to suspend the bridge's operations and release the nerve toxin used to cleanse the ship of invaders.

She acknowledged the priority, then turned to leave the bridge. She only had stepped inside about a meter, so it was a quick exit into the arms of a 17R.

The Neko shot her body in the stomach with the GP-13. The blow wasn't fatal and missed her spine, but body threatened to switch over to hemosynth repair. She stopped that, then reached inside the black-haired Neko's mind. The desire to kill became the desire to protect, and instead of pulling the trigger a second time, the Neko turned about face and stayed in front of her.

One weapon left. Energy reserves were below 10 percent and falling, as hemosynthetic healing took over. Time was running out. The medical bay was on the aft end of the deck below.

The two Neko made it down, and the last enemy was between them and the medical bay. The sound of dead humans filled the corridor. The weapons shot at each other, unloading their GP-13s into one another's bodies. No shot made it through her protector, but she fell first, and the other Neko tossed her gun and rushed, knife drawn.

She had too little energy for her usual methods. She violently smashed the Neko's head into the deck, as hard as she could. Then, she did it again.

She was at 4 percent energy reserves. She staggered past the bodies, but tripped and fell when the last Neko grabbed her leg. Though its head was a mess, its OS was willing it to continue. It crawled onto her, eliciting a scream from her when its hands grasped her horn.

She did not have the remaining energy to hit it with anything, and could not stop it when it wrenched the horn from her head. She shut off all sensory data, except for visual and audial, before the pain shocked her system into premature shutdown. She still screamed. She had to place the lead scientist's commands above her OS' other functions to keep moving, lest she register the death of her "T" status.

The Neko looked sluggish. It likely was running low on power, too. She pushed it off of her, and it did not fight. It must have used too much power tearing the horn from her head.

She crawled into the medical bay. Blood from her head wound had flowed into one of her eyes, so she used just the one. A hemosynth chamber was there, near the back, with the frightened medical assistant slamming a data input device, screaming "CANCEL BOARDING RESPONSE! CANCEL IT!" She ignored her. The chamber's door opened, and she dragged herself inside.

Energy at 2 percent. The computer closed the hemosynth chamber as the nerve gas reached the medical lab. The assistant stopped screaming, her jaw going slack. Hemosynthetic material started to fill the tube as the assistant wobbled from the data input device. The assistant sprawled against the hemosynth tube as it was filling.

A name patch was on her chest. "Suzuka."

Energy at 0.5 percent. The hemosynth material went over her eyes.

* * *

Her internal clock estimated she resumed conscious functioning two weeks after the project's end. The hemosynth chamber was drained, opened. Two men were talking a short distance from her; they wore Star Army uniforms. She was relieved by that. Memories of what had happened very much were inside her mind, easily relived before her eyes. Her hand went to her head — all she found was her red hair. No divot. Her wounds she expected to heal, but her head? ....

It was a gap in her knowledge — the importance of the horn. Was it the source of telepathic power? A conduit? A key? She remembered how it felt like tearing out a bundle of wires from sockets, but some of the wires were left behind inside the sockets.

How did she just now remember how it felt? She remembered pain before, but not in such a clear way. She queried her OS for the answer, but it came back "unknown." Results of a self-diagnostic showed she was at 100 percent functionality. Energy provided by the tank had brought her to above 10 percent, but she needed to eat.

One of the men took notice of her moving. He knelt down beside her. She did not understand him at first, but he did not recognize her blank look. She closed her eyes and waited for her hearing to right itself. It took just a second or two.

" — eems OK despite that. Can you tell me where you are?"

She nodded. "Hemosynthetic tank, medical bay, second deck, Sojourner-class transport SS Sacrament. Galactic location unknown. Unable to sync with shipboard computer."

"Well, that's a start," the man said. He was 1.4 meters tall, with cropped brown hair and brown eyes. He looked at her wide-eyed, lips forming a smile she recognized as "relieved."

"What's your name?"

"We know that already," the other man snapped, stomping next to the one closest to her, but he did not kneel. He was 1.8 meters tall, long brownish hair that curled at the ends, and sneered through his hazel eyes. She recognized him.

"Aso Yuya, commander, Sojourner-class transport SS Snake. Commissioned by the Grand Star Army. Good afternoon, sir!" She added a bubbly touch to her tone, recalling he liked that.

"See? She's fine. And since her replacement isn't worth a shit, I'll take her back."

The other man's lips curled downward. "Her barcode registers her to PNUgen, not you. Just 'cause we're first on the scene doesn't mean we get to loot the place like pirates."

Aso peered down at the smaller man, who looked up. That man's body tightened under Aso's gaze.

"Get this, Heisho," he said. "I'm the damn commander here. Finding this one again after she was nicked from us is a sign. A sign we need to send that other Neko to the pushin' pit and put this one back at the helm."

The Heisho stood and gathered himself. He was stocky compared to the longer, skinnier Aso. "PNUgen might want this one. Especially after all the shit that happened here! Do you really want to piss them off?"

"You know who I'm worried about?" Aso tried to loom over the Heisho, but the effect did not expand beyond his eyes. "The fuckin' pirates that nearly spaced us last week! The ones our helmsNeko about turned INTO instead of away from! TWICE!"

She leaned forward, just a little. "Perhaps I could te — "

"Shut up," Aso said, glaring at her. "Humans talking here."

She leaned back, eyes on her thighs, legs folded beneath her.

"This one here is good at the helm," Aso continued. "As long as the patrols on the route to Xyainbor are spread as thin as they are, I'm taking any edge we can get. I don't see PNUgen helping us, do you?"

"Well no, but — "

"But nothin'! We're taking her. You are also modifying her barcode, since you're so damn worried."

" ... " The Heisho looked back at her, then hung his head as he turned back to Aso. " ... It's your ass."

"Ours if the pirates get us first. C'mon, you can take her to the pit first. We need to get out of here and junk this hulk before anyone else gets to it."

The Heisho stared at Aso for a second, then nodded.

"Alright. I'll see you back on the ship. Nothing else on this bathtub anyway." Aso turned and walked away, boots thumping on the deck.

The Heisho looked back at her, then knelt down and helped her to her feet. She was not wobbly, but she liked that he was nice enough to help her.

"What's your name?"

She smiled. "Yukari ... Suzuka Yukari, Heisho-san. Thank you for helping me!"

His smile was tight, but he nodded. "You'll have to tell me what happened here," he said as they walked toward the airlock. The bodies in the hallway were gone, but their remnants — blood, other bodily matter — stained the walls.

"I do not recall," she lied. She blinked. She lied? Her OS said it was the correct reaction, but why? She did not ever recall lying.

"Figures," the Heisho sighed. "Whatever it was, PNUgen probably isn't happy about it."

"Will they punish you for returning me to the Snake? I do not want you to risk things for me," she quietly said, floating over a pool of dried blood.

The Heisho shook his head. She noticed his eyes lingered on her. She wanted to smack him for it. It was another reaction her OS suggested was appropriate. "No, it's no problem. Commander's a bastard, but he's right. We'll destroy this ship and move on."

"Oh," she said, still smiling. " ... Will I get a uniform?"

"Sure," the Heisho said, absently. "Eventually. I have to process you first."

She giggled a little bit. "Of course!" Her OS shifted blood out of her arms, deflating her tightened muscles. Fight or Flight routines were suspended. The impulses, however, were considered correct.

They were soon at the mouth of the umbilicals leading to the Snake. Her smile flattened, though the Heisho could not see that.

Home sweet home.

Kai sniffed, taking in the smell of his mother's cooking. While his father was the one who usually did the cooking, and Kai wasn't all that sure of his mothers' abilities, he didn't smell anything burned tonight, so it was likely going to be good, regardless. The blonde Geshrin hopped up out of his chair upon the insistence of a second call by his mother, and trundled down the stairs, thudding sounds echoing through the cavities of the old-fashioned wooden home. A little clumsy, the young man thudded into the wall at the bottom of the stairs, ignoring any pain that might have been caused by the action, and slid into the kitchen, making a left turn and heading for the dining room.

The table was, as usual, set simply, plates, forks, cups, with some food on top. The meal wasn't anything extravagant, just some rice and chicken with vegetables and a choice of sauces, but to Kai, it smelled delicious, as he'd been so concerned with drawing that day that he had yet to eat much. As Kai sat down, the family gave thanks for the food, and then dug in, his mother and father starting a conversation about the day's work, and Kai promptly ignored them, thinking back on what he had been drawing. He was no pro, to be sure, but he was proud of the work he had done, and was looking forward to showing it to his friends when the school week started again. They always seemed to enjoy Kai's work, though if it was out of a feeling of obligation or because they actually enjoyed it, the young man neither knew nor cared.

It was a nice time, sitting here, with his family, knowing his friends would be around, and Kai enjoyed it. But somewhere inside, the young Geshrin felt an urge to go and explore. Yamatai wasn't exactly the best place for it- too many cities, and all the wilderness was so far away from home as to require effort and permission to explore. Kai longed for a bigger world to live in.

Still, this was not so bad for the mean time.

It was...


Warm.

Yuzuki took her time washing her hair, even though it was short, and afterwards simply stood beneath the stream, soaking. She would stand there for another fifteen minutes, at least, with her mind working doggedly away as it always did, storing information and recalling it and storing it again. Yuzuki made it an active process; she picked apart all of the things she had seen memorized, as if she were actually reading technical manuals. All sorts of things. People were among them.

The time passed all too fast, and before she knew it, it was time to get out. There was no reason to conserve water on the Miharu, but Yuzuki was on a tight schedule during this port visit. With reluctance, she turned the water off, pulled her towel from where she had tossed it over the curtain, and began to dry herself off, enjoying the steamy temperature of the shower area and the feel of the dry cloth against her skin.

Yuzuki thought she heard something passed over the intercom, and paused with the towel pressed against her hair and scalp. She was disappointed - whatever it was, she had completely missed it. Had it been important?

The curtain went 'shiiiiik' as she slid it open, and her bare feet went 'pat, pat' on the tile floor of the showers. Yuzuki didn't bother with humility; the sheer number of sprites onboard now and the hours they were working made privacy useless. Yuzuki was bigger than everyone. Everyone else was prettier. It was old news, so with a faint smirk, Yuzuki remembered the argument between...

Between who? That was odd - Yuzuki couldn't really remember who it was between, and she hadn't really forgotten anything before now. But they had stood there, as naked as the day they were born, in front of the fogged-up mirror, and made jokes and laughed. It had been a lot of fun, even if it had been more than a little bit lewd. That was something she couldn't have with the human members of the crew, or the males. Nobody would have laughed if the XO or the Captain had walked in. Nobody would have been laughing if the males had been around - or, maybe they would have laughed harder. It was just a sprite thing.

There were a lot of sprite-only things that Yuzuki found comforting. The stupid shit that they passed over the engineering communications when nobody important was listening; "Hey, where's Junko?" "Negative, port engine room." Negative, starboard. Negative, central. Negative bridge. Negative Yamatai. Hold on, let me check Nepleslia Prime. No, negative for Nepleslia Prime. Did you check Funky City? No. I didn't. Well, check. Negative Funky City.

Late at night, they would play really stupid games like that. As alone as Yuzuki sometimes felt, as solitary as she could sometimes get, that warmed her soul like the shower warmed her body - every once in a while it was better to know that although you were suffering, other people were suffering with you. It wasn't that misery loved company, it was that the company in question needed a sister. They were sisters. Yuzuki hated her rank as much as she loved it, as much as she was proud of it; Heisho was a big accomplishment for someone born on a ship, but in the end, she was a sprite after everything. There was not a single thing that she shared with the real crew.

Well, the mess decks was something they shared. And she had tried to share with Kai Nakamura, and the Shosa, and the Juni. Every single one of them seemed so big, so unreachable, like they were little gods moving around with experiances so important and singular, and purposes so bold and unreachable. It was admiration. It was worship. It was unconditional love. Yuzuki wished, in the abstract, with all her heart to be like those people.

And the Captain...

She was a goddess. Yuzuki couldn't explain why she loved the Captain, but it seemed like only yesterday that Yuzuki saw the Captain standing in front of Junko's hemosynth tank, and heard the raven-haired Nekovalkyrja apologizing. As if it had been her fault. As if, in the end, she cared. What could Yuzuki do, but love the Captain? If she had not been the Captain, she could have cried or said something hollow, but she didn't. Kotori had quietly accepted the burden of command. For that, she had earned Yuzuki's complete and unquestioning loyalty.

Yuzuki scrunched her nose, looking at the picture on the wall as she dried the rest of herself off. No matter how many times she viewed the scenery there, with its dark shores and sparkling water, Yuzuki always felt in her heart an abject sense of awe and wonder, as if she were looking at heaven. That was a place that she wanted to see, before she died. That was a place that real people went.

But, did she really want to?

Yuzuki stood there staring at the mural, considering every detail in depth, every single tile that made it up. She had impressed the image into her secondary memory, so she could look at it any time she wanted, but the emotions that it elicited were particular to the original. She dryed off a bit more, just to justify wasting more time as she examined it. A lot of people looked at this mural, and they all took away different impressions. Sometimes they talked about it. Cho said she thought it looked sad, and forlorn; Haya always talked about how much she wanted to swim; Rin had never said anything particular, just stared at it, and Yuzuki had never asked her why. Nao had never even spoken to Yuzuki, so she didn't know how she felt. Ozuno stated, with a conviction that had surprised Yuzuki, that it represented the existance of something bigger.

Yuzuki stood with her towel dangling, staring.

It was something bigger, like a bunch of little consciousnesses, cominging into a single picture. There were a lot of black grains of sand, there, that made up the beach. The molecules of the water in reality were uncountable, but the water as depicted was approximately three hundred and fourty seven tiles. The black sand was two hundred forty one. The sky was nearly a thousand.

Yuzuki wondered if the picture spoke to other people like it spoke to her. Did other people, other sprites, give the picture such consideration? Did they look upon its shores, upon the white crest of the ocean pouring over the sand, as a beacon and a promise of a new and different world, so far removed from their isolated existance on the Miharu, and wonder at the possibilities? Did they believe, like Yuzuki believed, in something better than this endless mission? Something that someday, if they worked hard enough, they would be able to touch? A promise?

The sprite-Heisho folded her towel over her arms and stood naked in front of it, completely alone in the world, awed by the picture's quiet majesty, impressed by its depth of feeling. Whoever had composed this work of art, and woven its soul, had truely believed in whatever this picture represented. Freedom? Hope? The promise of a better world, or the rememberance of one long passed...?

Yamatai. Yamatai Prime.

It was something that Yuzuki couldn't understand. It was something that Yuzuki couldn't comprehend.

Yukari and Tom Freeman believed in it. That much, Yuzuki could gather from her brief conversations with either. It was definately a real place. It was definately out there beyond the endless expanse, and it was supposed to be her 'home'.

A pity she had never seen it.

(( CAUTION: RATED PG-13 for scene at the very end. Standard foul language warnings also apply. ))

It was early evening in Roger Wilco City. The Urban Rezone district was growing dim from the receding sun. Because many of the blocks did not have power there was little electrical light to hold back the night. Instead, man lit it up through other means.

Fire. Explosions. Gunfire.

Barrels had been lit on fire. Wrecked husks of cars were strewn about. Buildings were ablaze with no hope of being put out. The fire provided lighting to the ruined city which formed the backdrop for this conflict.

Once again Anthony's warehouse was under siege. Security had managed to keep the encroaching gang members at bay until the rest of his personnel could be mustered. One such team had been Thomas and Nyton. While Anthony arrived with the main force, Thomas had decided this would be a prime opportunity for Nyton to gain some sniper experience. The two were dropped off several blocks away and already were on the move.

Nyton breathed heavily as he ran. Enthusiasm and adrenaline was pumping through his veins, preventing him from noticing the weight of the rifle or the gear he carried on his back. Thomas continued to lead the way, his body so massive and yet possessing of so much more grace than one would have believed possible. Every step the massive cyborg took did not seem to disturb even the dust of the derelict building. The young boy watched in complete awe no matter how many times he saw it.

Both were dressed in black. Nyton wore boots, gloves, and black BDUs. On his back was a medium sized pack with ammunition and supplies. A pistol was strapped to his leg while he carried a high powered rifle and scope. His head was concealed in a black wrapping that obscured all his features save his eyes. Thomas was dressed much the same except he carried no pack and his clothes conformed to his body tightly.

The conflict could be heard from several blocks over. These sounds had been imprinted into Nyton's mind over the years. Like a man who listened to a car's engine and could tell what kind of it car was, so too had the boy begun to discern the sounds of the battlefield.

Gunfire....... Heavy. 50 caliber. The shooter isn't firing steady. Preoccupied? Injured?

Explosion..... Loud pop. A hint of echo. Grenade inside a structure.

Scream.... Abruptly cut off. Likely dead.

Thomas led Nyton up to the fourth story of the building. Most of it had been a climb since the elevator was non-existent and the stairs were just barely stable. A few scaled heights later and they arrived. "Alright boy, settle here." Thomas announced. The vantage point kept them from seeing much of the battlefield. The pitched conflict was occurring a few blocks away. Nyton looked out with some binoculars and gave his grandfather a quizzical look.

"Are you sure, old man?" Nyton asked, calling Thomas by the code name he designated.

"Of course, boy. I have your firing trajectory mapped out. Lay down here and settle in. You'll see once you look through the scope. Target should be passing through in two minutes." Thomas replied. Their code names were in no way original or cool.

Nyton just nodded and began setting up the sniper rifle's tripod and stabilization hooks. He did not stick the rifle out of the break in the wall but kept it concealed within the building. After setting up and looking down the scope he suddenly realized he could see the battlefield. It was through several buildings but each building had an opening that was perfectly set to give him a clear view. "How did you know, old man?" the boy asked, amazed yet again.

"Any place can be megido if we work at it hard enough." he replied. The mention of the legendary battlefield made Nyton's heart leap. It was said that megido was the site of the greatest battle ever. Not because of the size of the armies but because it was the perfect field for two armies to fight. To be able to make any field into one's own megido would require amazing intuition. Nyton returned to focusing on lining up the scope with the field in anticipation of his target's arrival.

Sure enough there he was. He was a rugged looking giant of a man who likely had ID-SOL genes. His dark brown beard was ragged and he had scars around his face. He wore old style Reds military fatigues and bristled with weapons. At the same time he was shooting he was also shouting out orders. Without wasting a moment Nyton lined up his sights, timed movement for wind effect, eased his breathing to control his body's movements, then centered on the man's temple.

When he fired, the shot created an explosive red mist that replaced the targeted man's head. "Good shot boy. Pick off the gawkers and lets go home." Thomas said in commendation. Nyton grinned a little. He loved being praised by his grandfather. The former man turned machine was his idol. Nyton could not help but feel adoration to this figure who taught and trained him with so much care and attention. "Yeah, that was a good shot. Looks like you inherited some of old Matthew and Dolores MacHudson's skill. They were some our family's best snipers."

Nyton began to beam before he took his next shot, killing another man although not as cleanly. A solid thump to his leg was given in reprimand. "Don't go getting cocky, boy. You're only thirteen and you've got a long way to go." The lesson was just as welcome as the praise. It was one of the ways to learn discipline. As Nyton began to carefully choose another target he saw something odd. Pausing from the shot he observed more carefully.

There was a man strolling through the battlefield. He was dressed in a uniform Nyton did not recognize. He seemed to be young and the face was strangely familiar. However it was not so much the man that was odd but rather the battle raging around him. Literally around him. He walked steadily as though he were looking directly at Nyton all the while ignoring the gunfire just as much as the gunfire seemed to be ignoring him. "Old man, there's something weird going on."

"Hm?" Thomas replied, lazily looking down with the scope on his own rifle. While Nyton studied the man he saw the mouth beginning to move as though he were trying to tell Nyton something. Peering curiously he attempted to make out what the man was saying.

'Wake up'

Wake up? What is that supposed to mean? Nyton thought. The thirteen year old Nyton pulled his head away from the scope to look directly at his grandfather-

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The cityscape of Funky City was choking with smog and exhaust. It was even worse than what Nyton was used to and he found himself in a fit of coughing. For some reason just before he began to cough, Nyton had been thinking back to one of his sniping lessons. The city evening was growing as the sun set into the horizon. Nyton stood by a street corner watching his surroundings cautiously as traffic, both human and motorized, sped by. He was wearing an old pair of jeans, dingy gray sneakers, a t-shirt, and worn jacket. Standing next to him was his father, Anthony, also dressed to match the appearance of a low standing street rat.

"This way kid." Anthony said gruffly as he motioned with his jaw towards the darker alleyways. "Alright pops." Nyton said and followed his father, curious to see what it was he was going to learn. This was one of those rare times Anthony had gone out of his way to spend time with Nyton.

"I brought you here to show you something. Your grandfather isn't the only one who has lessons to teach. Not everyone is as fortunate as him with his precious lineage and wisdoms he imparts from generations past that actually cared enough to learn something. What I show you is just as much a part of you as all that crap so pay attention." Anthony said, a hint of bitterness to his voice. Nyton just listened and wondered what he meant.

As the son followed the father they walked a good ways. Anthony was looking for something. Earlier that afternoon he had said he would be teaching Nyton something about the birds and the bees. Eventually they ended up in front of a prostitute. "This one should do. Come here kid." he said while approaching the bored looking woman.

As soon as the two approached her face became alert. "You looking for something?" she asked, with a hint to what that something may be but cautious to avoid any trouble. "Yeah, the boy needs a life lesson and I think you'll do fine." Anthony stated.

The woman wore a trench coat but what was beneath could be seen through the opening. She wore blue cut off shorts, fishnet stockings, high heel shoes and a midriff revealing top colored white. Her light brown hair was pulled back into a pony tail. She had a heavy layer of makeup and tribal tattoos across her stomach that curled around the navel. "What are you, a sicko? I ain't doin' no kid." she retorted.

Anthony gave a disapproving snort. "I meant he'd watch, woman. What are you a sicko?" he sneered in response. Without waiting for any further approval he then looked over to Nyton. "Alright kid, this is a hooker. A prostitute. A whore. Observe the heavy make up. Sometimes they use it to make themselves look more appealing. Most of the time they use it to hide all the scars and injuries they get from the job or their associates." he explained. The woman was perplexed at what she thought was going to be a job turning into a lecture.

"Unfortunately, even without the get up, many women are like this. Everyone thinks that the whore is the victim since she sells her body and is used by guys to make money but a lot of times she's just as guilty." Anthony said.

"What the fu-?"

Anthony quickly interrupted her. "Take this bitch for example. Look at that whore glitter around her eyes. The make up isn't cheap either. She's using the guys she screws. That's what a lot of women do. They use men. She's probably got a handler or pimp or whatever. She uses him just as much as he uses her. Sooner or later, provided she doesn't get killed, she will get rid of him."

Anthony then reached out and roughly grabbed her arm. He quickly pushed back the sleeve of the coat and revealed the scars and tracks of continued drug use. "Just as I thought. Another junkie. Look at these marks and learn them well, kid. The bitch is just a slave to her drugs. Never let someone or something make you a slave. And never let these disgusting whores get near you. You can find them everywhere. They don't even have to be on the street working like this. I don't care how pretty they come across. They're all just out to use you and steal what you have for themselves."

At this point a man walked up behind Anthony and put a gun to the back of his neck. Nyton had been so absorbed in the odd lesson that he failed to notice this until it was too late. He observed there was no one else but the failure to be alert was already stinging him. "Mother fucker, what th' hell you doin' with my bitch?" he shouted.

Anthony did not move a bit but the woman took the moment to wrestle her arm free from his grip. "It's not my fault T-Ray! This freak just walks up and starts going off!"

"Shut up bitch! I'll talk to you later!" the man shouted, cutting her off. He wore a pair of jeans, a brown coat, a black t-shirt, was bald and had a mustache. His face had several piercings running from above his eye to just above his ear. "I'm talking to you fucker. What the hell are you doing." Anthony's body tensed slightly but not from fear. It looked more like concealed rage.

"And here's her pimp. Another disgusting example of human trash. Just as much a parasite as she is. They feed off people and eat each other but in the end they're just miserable and weak. A man like this is what killed my mother, kid. A pathetic miserable excuse for a human being. This is all I see around me sometimes." Anthony said as though he didn't even have a gun to his head.

The woman decided not to hear anymore and pulled out a large knife from a pocket inside her coat. Holding it with both hands before her she thrust forward to drive it into Anthony's chest. As she dove to stab, Anthony moved. He pivoted his entire body sideways with his right foot, the shift also moving his head so that it was clear from the barrel of the gun. The man noticing that Anthony was moving squeezed down on the trigger. The gun went off but it was too late. Anthony was clear of the blast.

The prostitute was not. T-Ray's reaction had not considered the fact that the woman was directly in front of them. The bullet missed Anthony and went straight into her forehead. She twitched, being stopped so suddenly that for a second she just stood there as her muscles locked. Anthony's movement was not done however. At the same time during his pivot, Anthony reached out with his right hand and grabbed T-Ray by the wrist.

Using the momentum of the spin Anthony then pulled T-Ray forward, forcing him into a clumsy stumble. Right into the knife. Anthony gave T-Ray a good shove, pushing him so that the knife drove deeper into his chest. T-Ray screamed as his legs gave out, collapsing him into the whore whose muscles had also finally released with her expiration. The two landed on the pavement, a bizarre couple in death.

Anthony snorted again and stared at them coldly. "Your grandmother died like this. She was just like this woman too. Just another street tramp who gave birth to me on a whim. She claimed she got a lot of business with men who were turned on by screwing pregnant women. She did drugs while pregnant with me. When rearing a child didn't fit in with her lifestyle she ignored me. She and her pimp got into a fight and they ended up killing each other. After that it was just me." Anthony recalled.

Nyton just stared. He had begun to grow accustomed to death that it was no longer an issue for him to kill. This death was different though. It wasn't a battle. It was random. Almost pointless. Wearily he nodded his head. And no one even seemed to care about the gunfire. In fact, several more shots could be heard in the distance as though responding to the first shot.

"I don't have a lineage and quite frankly I don't need one. I made myself what I am today even if it did involve a lot of blood. But I did learn something from that whore of a mother of mine. That was not to let pieces of trash like her infect my life." Anthony said gruffly.

Without another glance at the whore and pimp, Anthony turned on his heel and began to walk away. Nyton hurried after and caught up to him. To Nyton, his father had always been a hard and self-centered man. He knew his father had come from a rough life which had chiseled him like a slab of rock. He had never understood why he felt as though a wide gulf had existed between them. Now Nyton was more aware that while he had been enamored in the discipline and training of his grandfather, the separation had also been partially his own making. Anthony was working hard not just to support his family but to also put as much distance from his own past as he could. A past that he could not escape from. There was sadness behind the bitterness in Anthony's heart. Nyton could see that now.

They walked together and returned to the crowded area of the city. As they blended back into the crowd Nyton was stopped as he bumped into someone.

"Excuse me-!" Nyton said and looked up at the man. When he saw who it was he thought the man looked familiar. The man looked directly at Nyton and said two words.

"Wake up."

Nyton blinked and the fourteen year old was rudely shoved from behind by the impatient crowd. Unprepared, the boy fell down to the pavement. Instinctively he closed his eyes and braced himself-

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

The couch in the living room was a soft brown color. It was also even softer when it came in contact with Nyton's face.

"Oh, did you fall asleep, Ny?"

Nyton blinked for a second as he got a hold of his bearings. He was in the living room of his home, his face laying flat on the seat cushion. After a second's pause the teen realized he had fallen asleep and fallen over. He was home in his living room. The typical peaceful setting surrounded him. Soft carpet, the couch, modern steel entertainment center with the large screen TV, book shelves, an easy chair for Anthony and a massive chair for Thomas. Looking up to his mother he blushed a bit at having realized that he dozed off. "I had such a weird dream."

"You looked really worn out after training with papa earlier. I can understand if you want to go to bed early." Celine stated.

Nyton shook his head. "No, I'm fine mom." he replied, sitting up. "I must have zoned out and gotten tired." he said, stretching a little.

"So was it a good dream?" Celine inquired. She was wearing her house clothes; linen tunic styled green blouse with embroidered hems, and green cotton flowing capri pants with an elastic waistband, and house slippers. Her wavy brown hair was held up so that it looked shorter than it usually was.

Nyton shook his head. "It was more like a memory." he said, thinking back to the time, almost a year ago already. Celine chuckled a little at her son. "You know Ny, I look at you training under papa and it makes me think back to my training days when I was younger." The teenage boy looked over at his mother with a look of surprise. Celine put her hands on her hips and gave him a mock scowl.

"Oh and what did you think I used to do when I was your age? I had trained to be a warrior too you know." Celine said with distaste at the son who underestimated her. Nyton could only shrug helplessly as he looked around trying to avoid her piercing eyes.

"I dunno... I never really got around to wondering that I guess...." he replied, helplessly. Celine walked over and sat down hard on the couch.

"I suppose with all the homemaking I do you never stopped to wonder how I shoot so well, hm? Typical boy." she sighed. "Ny, before our family was nearly wiped out by the plague I was training to be a warrior, just like you are. Papa took me out just like he does with you whenever he wasn't fighting in the war. Just like he did my brothers."

Another sigh escaped Celine but this one was not so whimsical. It bore some sadness to it. "You remember how I was the youngest of five. Your uncles.... my older brothers. Eddie and Donny died fighting during the war. Those two-"

Celine paused to wipe the side of her eye. "Donny was so gentle and he used to carry me on his shoulders when I was a little girl. And Eddie was always such a clown. Papa used to worry whether or not he could cut it as a warrior but mama never stopped believing in him."

With a shake of her head she forced herself to move on. "But when we lost my oldest brothers Alan, Brewster, and Chaim, the plague took their families too. They each already married and had children by then. I try not to tell papa how much I miss them because I know he still blames himself for it."

Nyton sat there, silently listening to the story of his mother's lost family and past. "Anyways, I didn't mean to go on about that. But papa decided not to risk losing his last remaining child so he discontinued my training. Instead he decided that I should get married and continue our lineage. It was a hard decision to accept. It was a very difficult sacrifice to make. I wanted to be a warrior like auntie."

Celine then shook her head and smiled a bit, laying her hands on her knees. "Just because I accepted this decision didn't mean I wasn't going to give papa a hard time though. I agreed to marry and bear children sooner than I would have liked. But I would have to be satisfied with who I married."

"So you chose pops?" Nyton asked.

"Of course I did. But I made him regret it sometimes. Lets just say its a good thing your father is as durable and stubborn as he is. Stubborn enough to match my hard head. And resilient enough to capture my heart. I suppose we do make an odd couple, don't we?" she added.

"Anyways, that's all in the past now. What matters is that I have my two boys to raise. And you need to keep up your training in my stead, mister. Family traditions aren't just going to keep going by themselves you know." Celine said, smiling before giving Nyton a hug. He protested a little but didn't refuse her. Nyton's mother was always a source of warm loving support to him. There were countless times now that he had been injured and nursed back to health by her tender care. Nyton loved and respected his mother for the sacrifices she had made for her family. To him it was a sign of her true hidden strength. Knowing she had gone through much of the same training assured him that she understood the training he endured.

"My show is coming on!"

Nyton and Celine looked over and saw Nellis, the younger boy, running in. He barely nodded to his mother and older brother as he turned on the television. The two just shrugged.

"I need to get started on dinner. You two stay out of trouble." Celine announced before departing. Nyton leaned forward and observed the show Nellis was watching.

"So what is this? Some new show?" Nyton asked his younger brother.

"Yeah, it just came on this week!" Nellis replied trying to focus on the show. Nyton could tell his brother was too wrapped up in the program so he got quiet and began to watch with him. They watched the show for five minutes when Nyton saw someone familiar on the screen. He leaned even closer as recognition began to dawn on him. As if on cue, the moment he realized where he had seem him before, he heard the same familiar words.

"Wake up."

Nyton stood up to get closer to the screen. As he stepped closer he wasn't paying attention to Nellis and bumped into him.

"Ow! Watch it dummy!"

Nyton overcompensated his footing and tripped, falling backwards towards the floor. As he fell he closed his eyes, too overwhelmed to catch himself-

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The pavement felt solid against Nyton's back, adding further but completely ignored injury. Right now he was too preoccupied with the fiery intensity of pain he was feeling in what was left of his left arm to notice the sharp chunks of mortar and pavement that were jabbing into his back.

"Hey, it's the boss's kid!"

"The boss kid's been hurt bad!"

"Shit! Don't tell me he's dead!"

"He'll have our asses for sure!"

Nyton could barely hear those voices. Just a few seconds ago he had been setting and arming a claymore mine in preparation for the big money drop raid. For some reason he became distracted by a memory from almost two years ago. The next thing he knew his world was on fire. The mine went off and his left arm had been in the path of the blast. The explosion shredded the entire forearm and damaged the remaining upper part of the same arm. It resembled a piece of shredded meat now with a chunk of bone protruding. Blood was pouring out profusely. Nyton could not even remain coherent. He lay on his back, twisting and screaming in pain.

Anthony's men began running over to tend to his injuries but the young man could barely comprehend this. The blast had been so close that he was nearly deafened by the sound. Regardless of whether he could hear them or not he was too busy swimming in a sea of agony and lost in it to take any notice of what was going on around him.

"Fuck, boss, we're gonna need to evac your boy. Do we stay and secure the site or do we all bug out?"

"Hold him down! Hold him down! I gotta get this tourniquet on him!"

"Dammit! He's moving around too much! I think I'm gonna have ta knock him out or something!"

Nyton thought he was going to die. The pain was so intense that he believed this was death. Tears were pouring out from his eyes from fear. Everything in him was twisting. On top of the pain he could feel himself beginning to go into shock. Despite all the preparation and pain training, nothing had readied him for this. Another scream and then a stream of incoherent shouting.

"I'm dying! No no no not like this! I can't believe I fucked up like this! Arrrgh! FUCK it hurts! No, grandfather, not like this! Dammit! Dammit! GODDAMMIT! I can't die like this! HELP ME!! Mom! Mom! It hurts! Please make it stop!"

"Shit kid, if you'd hold STILL long enough we could help you but-" one of the men grunted. That was when another voice came across, forcefully taking control. It was a familiar voice and the stark contrast to all the others actually made some registry in Nyton's insane pain broken mind.

"Get out of the way! Let me do this."

The next thing Nyton knew he felt his face gripped tightly between two hands. His cybernetic eyes were forced to look deeply into the black eyes of the woman who had now grabbed hold of him. He tried to twist free so he could writhe in agony but she sat down on top of him and restrained him further.

"Mr. Claymere. Over here. Look at me! Stay with me! You're not going to die. We're going to get you out of here. But I need you to focus on me."

While the woman kept Nyton restrained the others were able to lock down a tourniquet onto the remains of Nyton's stump. He continued to yell but now he was able to refocus. He looked at the woman's eyes. The intensity in them was fierce. They were focused. Nyton could sense determination coming from them. Taking a deep breath Nyton then forced himself to stop screaming and instead grit his teeth. He couldn't stop himself from grimacing intensely but it was a slight improvement from the yelling. He forced his body to stop squirming and redirected all of his pain towards his remaining arm. Nyton's right arm then began pounding on the pavement while he clawed at it with his hand.

"That's it. You're going to make it. Come on now, Mr. Claymere, you can do this. Stay with me."

"I got him tied down! Let's get him out of here!"

"The boss says scrub the mission. Clean up and clear out! Let's go!"

The woman let go of Nyton's face and climbed off him. "Mr. Claymere, we're going to move you out of here. It's going to hurt but you need to stay strong. Stay awake. Don't leave me!"

Nyton was breathing hard but steady. He let out a few yells as they began to move him onto a stretcher. After a long ride of pain he realized he was inside a large van. For a moment he blacked out as relief filled him but then a strong hand began shaking him.

"Hey keep him awake! Don't let him pass out!" cried out the woman from earlier.

A few forceful shakes later and Nyton awoke. When he opened his eyes he swore he was looking at a familiar face again.

"Wake up."

Nyton was only seventeen years old but he began to wonder if he was going insane. He blinked and became lightheaded before things went black-

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nyton was rudely awakened by a very unwelcome sensation. Being tickled. "Gaaah!" he shouted as he shot up from his bed. Looking over to the source of this attack he immediately heard the giggling coming from his younger brother Nellis.

"A surprise attack! Counterstrike!" Nyton yelled in response, a chuckle escaping him. The younger boy laughed as he ran away. "You can't catch me!" he shouted.

"No fair! I'm still recovering, you little punk!" Nyton called out as he struggled to get up and out of bed. He had already completed his physical therapy for adjusting to life with a new cybernetic arm. The recovery process however would take a little longer. That didn't mean he wasn't about to pursue his brother.

"Come on Ny! I'm leaving ya behiiiiiind!" shouted Nellis from down the hall. Nyton had trouble getting up and out of his bed. He saw the younger Claymere from the doorway to his room and began to pursue him. He was barely halfway down the hall when he realized he was already winded.

"Nellis *pant* I won't *wheeze* forgive *huff* you...." Nyton said, with more than a little melodrama. After a few more steps he slowed down and fell to his knees, collapsing to the floor and onto his back in an overly dramatic fashion. "Okay.... you win this time. *gasp* But just you wait till I've recovered."

With Nyton vanquished Nellis returned and tickled his brother some more. "Gah! You little punk! Ah keell yoo!" Nyton protested, using some of the sillier lines from the characters on the shows Nellis loved to watch. With his right arm he managed to grab Nellis into a bear hug and hold him down enough to stop the tickling.

"Hey no fair! I won!" Nellis protested, laughing.

"You did win. The battle, but not the war! Rahr!" shouted Nyton and he began to tickle Nellis.

"Boys! Keep it down! Ny, you should be resting!" Celine warned from afar, not quite ready to intervene. With their mother's proclamation the two brothers disengaged and called a truce.

"You *gasp* done with *huff* homework, Nellis?" Nyton asked.

"Not yet. *puff* Still have some more *huff* to go." Nellis replied.

"Okay, how about we go back to your room then." Nyton gasped out before standing up. Nellis did so too and they walked back to the 8 year old boy's room. As soon as they entered, Nyton collapsed onto the bed while Nellis went over to his desk.

While Nyton rested, Nellis resumed working on his school work. After a few moments the younger boy spoke up. "Hey Ny, can I learn how to fight stuff like you?"

Without opening his eyes Nyton replied. "Of course I will. So will grandfather and maybe even pops."

"Dad says I need to learn how to run a business first and use my head more. Is he right?" Nellis asked.

"Fighting is more than just throwing your fists around and shooting. You have to think too. Pops is definitely right about that." Nyton answered.

"So are you going to leave and join the Star Army when you're old enough?"

"That's the plan. I'll need to expand my horizons and work hard to become the grand strategist one day."

Nellis was silent for a while. "Ny, will you come back?"

"Of course I will. What makes you ask that?"

"Well, Travis and Chuck from school had older brothers who joined the Star Army. And they died. Then one of my teacher's had a daughter who was in the Star Army and she died. And there was-"

"Whoa whoa whoa, Nellis. I'm not going to die." Nyton said, rolling over and opening his eyes to look at his brother. "We both understand that death is a reality in this galaxy. We all have a part in this war though and we can't just look away right? I have my part to do just like someday you will."

"Dad says I won't go to war. He says I'll just do business and stuff. I don't know if I want to do that though." Nellis replied.

"Well then you'll do your part from here. You know, its hard to fight if you don't have any money to buy weapons with. You can do your part by keeping me armed with the best. That can be your way of fighting." Nyton said.

Nellis shrugged unsurely. "I guess. But I won't be old enough for a long time. Are you going to be okay until then? I don't want you to die before I get the chance to help you."

Nyton chuckled at his brother's fears. "I won't die before you're old enough. And I'll be looking forward to see you supply me with the best guns there are."

"Okay!" Nellis said excitedly before returning to his school work.

Nyton laid back down to rest when curiosity drove him to look over at the work Nellis was doing. "Nellis, just what are you learning there?"

"Oh this was just some spatial trigonometry review I was doing. I'm already done with the hydrophysics and I'm starting to work on some theoretical biogenic philosophy study." Nellis explained to his brother. Nyton could only find himself a little overwhelmed by this level of knowledge his nine year younger brother was studying. None of this was anything like what he had learned in school. But then again, Nellis had always seemed to be really smart. Their father had caught this early on and capitalized on it by sending Nellis to a more advanced private school which focused the intelligence levels of young children.

"What is theoretical biogenic philosophy?" Nyton asked, somewhat embarrassed at his lack of knowledge in this.

"Oh this is something that mom wanted me to look into. It was one of the courses they offered at the school and she thought I might want to do it."

"So is it interesting?" Nyton asked, unsure.

"Yeah. I'm reviewing this paradox theory called the Ship of Theseus and how it applies to biological organisms."

"The ship of what and how it applies to huh?"

"The Ship of Theseus is just the title of the object but what it represents doesn't matter. Pretend there's a spaceship. It travels around and gets damaged. You keep fixing it until eventually the original parts of the ship are all replaced. Is the ship still the same anymore after having all its parts replaced?"

Nyton looked at Nellis perplexed.

"So what this book reads is how this can be applied to people or living things. You know how the cells in your body keep regenerating, right? We have like, new cells being born to replace the old ones. Well if you think about it, is your body still the same body you had when you were first born? Or ten years ago? Five? Even a year?"

Nyton tried to wrap his head around this one and nodded after some thought. "I think I see.... what the paradox is saying." he said, glancing at his cybernetic arm. "Kind of like how I lost my arm but this is like the whole body."

"Yeah! That's it. That's what this book is teaching. And lots of other stuff too. This is just the first chapter." Nellis replied, beaming at having taught his older brother something new.

"Geez you're smart kid." Nyton said, smiling. For all of Nellis's childhood antics he was very intelligent. It was easy to forget that behind that smiling mischievous grin of a young boy was the mind of a genius already blossoming. Nyton loved his younger brother and enjoyed playing with him any chance he got. It was the only time he got to really lower his guard and act immature. After spending his whole life as an eager child soldier and training himself to be hard enough to endure the battlefield, the young boy was Nyton's link to a childhood that never was. He was still the 'big brother' but in relating to the whims of childhood, he allowed himself to be a little kid again.

Nyton began to feel overwhelmingly tired and was starting to fall back asleep when Nellis interrupted him. "Oh hey, here take a look at this picture, Ny." Nellis said, holding up the book and bringing it over to the bed to show him. With half closed eyes heavy with sleep he tried to look at the images. In the book there was a picture of several items that represented the theory. An old seafaring boat made of wood. An axe. Even some socks. There was even a picture on the page of the man who supposedly promoted the current application of the paradox theory.

Nyton tried to look closer to see the face of the man when he noticed there was something familiar. The same face of someone who seemed to be haunting him. There was a quote underneath the portrait that Nyton read.

"Wake up."

Blinking in an effort to fight against sleep it soon became a losing battle. He blinked and opened his eyes, seeing his brother smiling and holding the book.

Nyton blinked again-

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------


The small dull locker room was dimly lit. There were two rows of vertical lockers lining the wall next to the bench. A small sink was on the opposite wall and further down were some showers. It was late at the Claymere Arms building which Anthony owned. Nyton opened his eyes after fighting the urge to nod off again. For a brief second he dreamed of a time not so long ago. Instinctively he reached over and gripped the cybernetic arm that he had become used to. It had been very helpful in this last fight too.

Certain moments of the battle kept replaying in his mind like a broken record. There was a man he shot at point blank whose body fell back into a grenade and was shredded into bloody pieces. The chunks flew onto Nyton even as the shrapnel had avoided him or been caught by his body armor. Then there was the man whose head he blew off at point blank with the shotgun he picked up during the fight. His eyes captured the flight of every single piece of bone and brain that flew out. His memory recorder memorized every bit of blood and gore in picture perfect time. When another man managed to get too close for Nyton to bring his gun about his cybernetic arm whipped over. It struck the man's face with the intensity of a baseball bat. The man was stunned so Nyton reached out and grabbed his face with his hand and began to squeeze with the fingers. The mechanical finger servos tightened down like a vice and crushed the bones of the skull until there was nothing but a pile of mush in his hand.

The violence was intense. It had been so intense that he was tired and yet stimulated. Just thinking about killing got him excited. It as as if he could not wait for the next time he got the chance to kill. His breathing intensified as he sat on the bench, staring at his hands that had begun twitching in expectancy.

Have I been killing for so long that now I enjoy it? Is this some sort of addiction? Nyton thought. Just as he began to wonder about what his mind was going through there was a sound behind him. Looking over in welcome distraction from the intense bloodlust he was feeling he saw a familiar woman.

She stood just even with his height and had a finely muscled body, visible beneath her combat suit. The combat suit was all black and had a zipper that ran down the front. There were empty holsters hanging to the suit. Her boots were black and matched the form fitting nature of her outfit. A dagger was strapped to the left boot. Her purple hair hung down to just above the small of her back and it contrasted against the white skin of her face. Her breasts were somewhat accentuated by the suit although earlier when she wore her body armor it had not been so obvious. Her eyes were deep black as though no light could escape them. Her lips were thin with a slight hint of pink.

She had fought alongside him and some other members of the security force during the conflict. Her presence had been welcome when she saved him during a moment where he was reloading and vulnerable. Right now though she was acting a little off and seemed to ignore him while staring at the mirror. Her face was covered in blood and her long purple hair had bits of gore in it. It was gore from the man whose head Nyton shotgunned off. She was nearby and got hit by the blast of the blood spray.

"Minerva?" Nyton called out the woman's name. They had already fought together several times on these outings. She was a part of Anthony's security team and his personal secretary. Anthony had chosen her to be his secretary only because she was a well trained former Grand Star Army soldier to work as his body guard.

Right now though she appeared to be in an unresponsive haze after he called her. Standing up, Nyton cautiously walked over to Minerva and tapped her shoulder. "Minerva, are you alright?"

Minerva heaved a sigh as she wiped the blood off her face with a towel. "I'm alright Mr. Claymere. I just need..... to rest a moment." she said, panting as though out of breath.

"It was a tough fight tonight. You and Jimmy fought real hard out there." Nyton said, smiling a bit. "We're both a mess, aren't we?" he stated, looking at their outfits. He was wearing a black combat suits like hers but it was a top and pants rather than a one piece suit. Nyton's had a shoulder pad and several belts with empty holsters strapped to his body. The body armor and helmet was sitting on the floor next to the bench. The black of their suits was tinted with the red from all the blood they had spilled on each other.

"Yes, sir. I saw you fight out there and was impressed by the way you killed those guys with just your arm. To think you were the same guy I pulled through when you lost that same arm." Minerva said. Her face was becoming flushed.

"Are you alright? Your face is becoming red." Nyton asked.

Minerva wiped her face with the towel again, removing more blood. "I can say the same for you sir. You seem to be flushed as well. Maybe we're both getting sick." she replied, as though trying to rationally explain something she knew was not it. She took off her glove and put her hand to his forehead. To Nyton, the sudden contact of her hand was like fire washing over his body.

"You are rather warm sir. Maybe you should hurry and clean yourself up. Your family will want you home." Minerva reminded him.

With a slight nod, Nyton let out a deep breath. "Yeah, maybe that's it. I am feeling a little off."

Minerva had not removed her hand from Nyton's face when she then let it slide down to caress his cheek. "Sir, you should probably go. There was so much blood.... I get... very.... distracted when I'm like this."

"What do you mean?"

Minerva shuddered a bit and steadied herself, leaning slightly on Nyton. "I've been killing for a long time. After so much killing it just got into my system. Sometimes when there's a lot of blood I can't help myself. If I don't keep killing I need.... something else."

There was fire burning over Nyton's body as he felt the woman leaning against him. Her breath was so close to his face and it sent shivers down his spine. Without realizing it he began reaching up with his arms and held her closer. Minerva shook her head but did not resist.

"No sir, I can't stop thinking about the blood. All that blood you spilled, all the people we killed. Its intoxicating to me so you need to leave me alone. Before I do something I may regret." she said.

Nyton did not pull away but paused. "I have not been able to get the thought of all this blood out of my mind since we got back either. We're not that different. I've been killing for such a long time I think I know what you're talking about." he said while his hands traveled up her back and encountered the gory bits in her hair. He pulled them off with his fingers and flicked them away before breathing in the smell.

It was a combination of Minerva's scent mixed with blood. "I've smelled this so many times before but it has never smelled more enticing than right at this moment." Nyton said before leaning forward to kiss her. Minerva's eyes widened and then softened before she reached up with her other hand to hold his face. They drank deeply of each others' kiss before breaking off.

"Sir, when you bled all over me after you lost your arm I could barely control myself after we got back. I touched myself furiously while imagining you covered in blood. Its sick, I know but- please don't think any less of me! I don't just go screwing anyone when I get like this! I've already regretted it so many times and-!" Minerva spouted, but Nyton cut her off with a bloody finger to her lips.

"Don't bother explaining. We're killers, aren't we? We're drawn to each other because of this. The blood is just the trigger. We either kill or fuck. The question now is what are we going to do?" Nyton stated, his own body roaring with the conflicting desire to fight and kill or unload passion with Minerva.

The locker room was soon filled with the loud crashing noise of two bodies slamming into the metal lockers. Grunts and screams could be heard just over the noise. What sounded like a raging fight continued unabated for almost an hour as Nyton and Minerva expended their murderous lusts on each other. Their desires did not release normally but was bolstered by their physiological need to kill. When they were finally done they both lay naked on the cool floor of the locker room panting in exhaustion.

Nyton gasped and sat up to get himself a drink of water from the sink. He ignored the destroyed lockers or the torn towels scattered about. He turned the faucet handle and let the water flow for a second before placing his hand underneath. Blood that had been on his hand was washed off and he cupped some water into it before lifting it to his lips to drink. As he looked at himself in the mirror he saw more blood on his face and quickly wiped it off. As he did so he began to notice someone familiar in the mirror.

Staring at the reflection Nyton's thoughts somehow connected with memories and images that were surfacing all at once. The man that he had been seeing in all those memories was the same man that now stared at him in the mirror. Without even thinking his lips moved on their own to form two words.

"Wake up."

"Ow!"

That sure did SMART! But it was ok because it was just snow. Snow was everywhere, and it was always falling almost EVERY DAY! The snow was INNOCENT! It wasn't the SNOW'S fault!

The boy looked around, targeting the others in the playground with accusing stares before settling on the guilty party, a boy named Daisuke.

Stupid Daisuke!

"I'mma gonna get yew back fow tat! Yew jus' WAIT now!"

The small child started to lift his hand to wipe the snow from his cheek, but the large hound had beat him to it, first sniffing him then extending a wide, sloppy tongue to lick the remnants from his face.

"Ackfttt!" The child's face contorted in disgust. His stubby arms feebly pushed against the white fur on the hound's neck, but the hound's dominant size left the boy flailing his arms helplessly as the animal left slobbery trails all over his face. "STAWP IT!"

The children all around the boy were laughing. The boy pushed again, harder, but finding his strength inadequate, he soon resigned himself to his fate, lying back in the snow.

Dog kisses are the worst! They're hot and smelly and wet! EWWWW!

Suddenly, awhistle broke the air, and the dog ran off. The boy sat up, wiping at the quickly-drying moisture on his face. He then heard a familiar voice.

"Tommy! It's time to come in!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later, the boy is sitting at a circular table with a bowl of creamy soup. He is with his parents. His father is chatting with his wife.

Potato soup AGAIN?! Aw man...

The boy plops his spoon into the thick stock, slowly submerging the utensil then lifting it out and twisting it over. He watches the white rivulets seep off the spoon and pool back into the bowl, making little ripples.

"Tommy, stop playing with your food."

The boy looks up at his mother, his grey eyes pleading.

"But Moooooommmmmmm! We 'add potato sewp yesterday too! And before that and before that too!"

"I don't care. Eat your soup before it gets cold."

The boy dips the spoon back into the soup with an irritated sigh.

"HMPH! We never eat anything GOOD. I HATE potato sewp."

The boy doesn't notice the pained look on his mother's face, and the concerned glances she shares with her husband. The father speaks.

"Son. Everybody in town is eating the same thing. We all have to make sacrifices."

The boy frowns angrily.

"This SUCKS!"

"Tommy Anthony FREEMAN! You will be quiet and eat your soup!"

The sharp tongue of his mother causes the boy to shrink back into his seat. Wet sniffles come out of his nose. Sad, incoherent, murmurs begin to bubble out of him, a precursor to his tears.

"Son..." The father searches for something to say.

"Did you know that on Yamatai there are all kinds of different food?"

"...Yeah..."

"Oh yeah? Tell me."

"I don't know... stuff thas not potato sewp..."

The father sighs.

"Other than potato soup, Tommy."

"...no..."

The father slides his chair towards the boy and leans forward, a slate of confidentiality marking his face.

"Well, let me tell you a secret. There's all kinds of yummy food out there. In Yamatai, they use all KINDS of combinations like ice cream candy and pizzafish!"

The boy is drawn into the story. It's as if the two are sharing secrets. The boy's mother shakes her head with a smile, returning her attention to her soup.

"PIzzafish, dear? Honestly." The father waves a hand dismissively at his wife, scrunching his face to the boy.

"She doesn't know the secrets, Tommy, but I do. There's all KINDS of stuff out there to eat and it's FREE!"

"Fwee!? Yew mean they don' haveta work for it?"

The father nods.

"Yup! When I went to the capital, I ate anything I wanted! Pizza, pasta, meat, candy... you name it!"

The boy's eyes light up.

"ReallY? I wanna go! Take MEEEEE!"

The father leans back into his chair and crosses his arms. He lets out a long breath as he measures the boy up.

"I don't know son. I'm pretty busy here. I can't go anymore."

The boy looks devestated for a brief moment before the father speaks up again.

"But... I know that they only take strong people in capital because only strong people can make the trip from Ralt. If you grow up to be strong, I'm sure you'll make the trip someday. But the only way you can be strong is if you eat right and let your body grow."

The boy looks disappointedly at his soup, his dreams deferred for the time being.

"...Sew if I eat stoopid potato sewp that'll help?"

"Yes. Definitely. Potato soup is a power food."

The boy considers his options... the weight of the decision seems to be very heavy. Finally, with a nod, he lifts his spoon.

"Okay!" The boy begins eating the soup. The father looks at his wife with a knowing smile, but says nothing.

The boy's bowl is soon empty. The boy looks up at his mother.

"More pwease!"

Kyou sighed happily, turning the switches on the grill to high, and waiting a few moments with her hand hovering over the grill before nodded in satisfaction and turning back the the counter where her friends were sitting. It had been a while since any of her friends had come back with her to grab something she made, and she'd only just found this suggestion, and it involved two things she loved, so she'd really been hoping they'd agree.

Grabbing her ingredients, and working on the little shelf behind the counter where they couldn't see what she was doing, Kyou quickly sliced something into pieces, and did something with it, though her friends couldn't tell what. As she turned to check the grill again, one of her friends leaned over towards her side of the counter, trying to get a look at what she was making, but Kyou absentmindedly bopped her on the head without even looking. “Just wait for it. Trust me, you'll like it. You have to try it before you know what it is though.”

The young neko stuck her tongue out at Kyou's back, but sat back onto her seat, folding her arms. “Well fine then. I don't know why you have to be so secretive about it, though.”

Kyou turned back and winked at her friend. “Because it's more fun to watch your reactions when you guys don't know what you're getting. Besides, I've only gone wrong with one recipe so far, have a little faith in me.” That said, she picked up little balls of something and plopped them on the grill, spreading them out evenly. As she turned back to her friends, she reached under the counter and pulled out a wine bottle, setting it on the counter in front of her. “Now, this half of things is something fairly simple. It's a Carménère Cabernet, which is a darker, softer variant on the normal Cabernet. Based on what I know, it should go well with my snack.” She quickly opened the bottle, setting out four glasses for her friends, pouring each of them a taste.

As soon as her snacks were done, she pulled a small serving plate off of the counter as well, and turned back to the grill, quickly pulling the small blobs off and placing them on the plate. She turned back to her friends, revealing that the dish contained bacon. Or rather, bacon wrapped around something, though it wasn't immediately apparent what the wrapped objects were. Kyou set the plate down in front of her friends a grin on her face. “Now, don't rush here. They're meant to go with the wine, so make sure you actually try them this time. I think you can tell what the outer layer is, just some grilled bacon, and the rest is just a fig.” One of her friends made a face at the fig part, though apparently the temptation of bacon overpowered any dislike she had of the fruit, since she reached for them just as readily as the others.

Kyou wasn't quite sure what she wanted to do with her life, assuming she made it through her military service in one piece, but she had a feeling that it should involve doing this, because she couldn't imagine being much happier.