She had never liked sake.
It burned so little. It blighted less. A poisonous beverage that killed none of the brain cells that needed to die ... the zenith of pointlessness. Yamataians, with computerized brains, considered it a fine drink. One they happily consumed and became giggly, abusive, miserable, lustful for doing so. Nepleslian liquor, even after nine decades, was better. Across the board. Even the ratgut vodka sold by peasants refining their meager potato rations was superior for her purposes.
The bartender thought she was funny. Plain hair. Plain face. Nice eyes. Worn airbike leather jacket, concealed armor vest, loose pants. But what a goddamn drunk she was! Never stumbled out of the bar, never hung onto the arms of sleazy men. Getting her to fucking blink was a chore, let alone say a few words! It amused him. He served her at a discounted rate. Watched as she ignored people who for some stupid reason hassled her. Idiots. It was like hassling a tank.
She did not care for the master of the establishment. Especially when he served her sake. "Take the edge off that shit you sip at," he said nearly six years ago. "Let you drink more." It did not matter how little or how much she consumed. Her body would not let her brain be shrouded by chemical compositions. She sipped for taste. Texture. Totality of the existence that was "human." She understood it so poorly. It made her sick, not understanding it.
The police officer walked through the short, chest-level doors and locked eyes with the master. He nodded his head up and grinned. "Johnny!" he said. "How's it hangin', coppa?" John just nodded back. He was here on official business. The master got the hint. "Fuck, now?" he mumbled and walked toward the other end of the bar.
She did nothing when he sat next to her. He was not her concern. No matter what he said. He took out a small envelope and poured the contents onto the bar. A volcard landed right-side up and activated.
"Took me days to get this. Had to dig back in the Army archives, before The Great War. All I could find was the picture, and even that took some help from my sister." The officer's eyes pierced her skull, chiseled points of emerald boring deep. She gave him nothing; her eyes were inside her cup of sake.
"She was distinguished. No one to write home about. No one important. But still, she served with honor."
Another sip. He was trying to wear her down, she surmised. Why?
"Figure she died near the end of The Great War. Sound right to you?"
She did not stir.
"Yeah, me too. Well, tell you what. This can go one of two ways, since my superiors know I'm here. One, you tell me who you are. I conveniently lose this picture. Two, you sit there like a lump and I haul you in for impersonating a dead woman. Take your time."
"She was a traitor," she replied, hushed.
"Record doesn't say that."
"She betrayed her family, and her Empire."
"Record doesn't say that."
"Your record would not say those things."
"Sister didn't say that, either. She seemed to think the woman did what she had to, just to feed her family. Seems the former Empire wouldn't let her go be a stay-at-home mommy like she wanted. Had to go fight them tentacle monsters one last time."
"Your sister is wise."
"Thas what our older brother says."
Her eyes were still rolling inside the sake cup like melting ice cubes. "I will not be arrested."
"Then you'll talk."
" ... What do you wish me to talk about?"
The officer's tough facade fell from his frame and into the grimy floor below the stool. Shoulders slouched; frowns turned up; his head was suddenly too heavy for his neck.
"Tell me about you."
"You know what I know." She called the bartender over with a mental command. "Water, please."
"Then tell me about Dad," he said, desperation hemming his words. "How he died."
The water arrived. Sighing, she got up, and started to walk for the door. He got up as well, but did not follow. She could feel the tips of his gaze in her head again, but this time it hurt.
"I can protect you. Sis and Will can, too! We're not kids anymore! Can't you come home? Will has kids that would want to see their grandmother."
She stopped at the doors. Bluish night, mixed with misty rain, waited for her. She pushed through the doors and quickly was lost to the night.
" ... " "That count as an admission?" John asked his sibling.
"Not really, but looking at her ... I was so young. William will know for sure. I think it was her."
"We've got the trace on her ship already. She's the most likely candidate we've ever tracked down."
"Are you going to follow her?"
"Shit, Yasumi," he replied, almost grinning. "If that's really her, she's been avoiding SAINT, then the Army MPs, for damn near 60 years. I'm better off having a drink."
"Mastah," John said. "A bit of whiskey, if you would, with some sake to follow -- y'know, on second thought, fuck that." He took the seat she'd been at. "Just gimme the whiskey."
It burned so little. It blighted less. A poisonous beverage that killed none of the brain cells that needed to die ... the zenith of pointlessness. Yamataians, with computerized brains, considered it a fine drink. One they happily consumed and became giggly, abusive, miserable, lustful for doing so. Nepleslian liquor, even after nine decades, was better. Across the board. Even the ratgut vodka sold by peasants refining their meager potato rations was superior for her purposes.
The bartender thought she was funny. Plain hair. Plain face. Nice eyes. Worn airbike leather jacket, concealed armor vest, loose pants. But what a goddamn drunk she was! Never stumbled out of the bar, never hung onto the arms of sleazy men. Getting her to fucking blink was a chore, let alone say a few words! It amused him. He served her at a discounted rate. Watched as she ignored people who for some stupid reason hassled her. Idiots. It was like hassling a tank.
She did not care for the master of the establishment. Especially when he served her sake. "Take the edge off that shit you sip at," he said nearly six years ago. "Let you drink more." It did not matter how little or how much she consumed. Her body would not let her brain be shrouded by chemical compositions. She sipped for taste. Texture. Totality of the existence that was "human." She understood it so poorly. It made her sick, not understanding it.
The police officer walked through the short, chest-level doors and locked eyes with the master. He nodded his head up and grinned. "Johnny!" he said. "How's it hangin', coppa?" John just nodded back. He was here on official business. The master got the hint. "Fuck, now?" he mumbled and walked toward the other end of the bar.
She did nothing when he sat next to her. He was not her concern. No matter what he said. He took out a small envelope and poured the contents onto the bar. A volcard landed right-side up and activated.
"Took me days to get this. Had to dig back in the Army archives, before The Great War. All I could find was the picture, and even that took some help from my sister." The officer's eyes pierced her skull, chiseled points of emerald boring deep. She gave him nothing; her eyes were inside her cup of sake.
"She was distinguished. No one to write home about. No one important. But still, she served with honor."
Another sip. He was trying to wear her down, she surmised. Why?
"Figure she died near the end of The Great War. Sound right to you?"
She did not stir.
"Yeah, me too. Well, tell you what. This can go one of two ways, since my superiors know I'm here. One, you tell me who you are. I conveniently lose this picture. Two, you sit there like a lump and I haul you in for impersonating a dead woman. Take your time."
"She was a traitor," she replied, hushed.
"Record doesn't say that."
"She betrayed her family, and her Empire."
"Record doesn't say that."
"Your record would not say those things."
"Sister didn't say that, either. She seemed to think the woman did what she had to, just to feed her family. Seems the former Empire wouldn't let her go be a stay-at-home mommy like she wanted. Had to go fight them tentacle monsters one last time."
"Your sister is wise."
"Thas what our older brother says."
Her eyes were still rolling inside the sake cup like melting ice cubes. "I will not be arrested."
"Then you'll talk."
" ... What do you wish me to talk about?"
The officer's tough facade fell from his frame and into the grimy floor below the stool. Shoulders slouched; frowns turned up; his head was suddenly too heavy for his neck.
"Tell me about you."
"You know what I know." She called the bartender over with a mental command. "Water, please."
"Then tell me about Dad," he said, desperation hemming his words. "How he died."
The water arrived. Sighing, she got up, and started to walk for the door. He got up as well, but did not follow. She could feel the tips of his gaze in her head again, but this time it hurt.
"I can protect you. Sis and Will can, too! We're not kids anymore! Can't you come home? Will has kids that would want to see their grandmother."
She stopped at the doors. Bluish night, mixed with misty rain, waited for her. She pushed through the doors and quickly was lost to the night.
" ... " "That count as an admission?" John asked his sibling.
"Not really, but looking at her ... I was so young. William will know for sure. I think it was her."
"We've got the trace on her ship already. She's the most likely candidate we've ever tracked down."
"Are you going to follow her?"
"Shit, Yasumi," he replied, almost grinning. "If that's really her, she's been avoiding SAINT, then the Army MPs, for damn near 60 years. I'm better off having a drink."
"Mastah," John said. "A bit of whiskey, if you would, with some sake to follow -- y'know, on second thought, fuck that." He took the seat she'd been at. "Just gimme the whiskey."