Detective Sergeant Miko Brooks stayed next to her
cruiser with her partner, Corporal Rick Casey.
Brooks, standing at 1.4 meters tall in her black boots and peaked police cap, gazed out over the crowd and the suddenly materialized Daisy armored column ready to stun them into submission. She kept her arms folded in front of her, the hint of a frown tugging at the corners of her thin lips. Casey, a Jskitan man of dark skin and curly, short black hair, sucked on one of his teeth as he watched the scene unfold.
"Permission to speak freely, ma'am," Casey asked the former military police officer.
Brooks nodded her head, her blond bun tipping up like a counterweight.
"I wouldn't go into that even if we had jurisdiction," the longtime patrol cop said. He grazed the crowd again with his dark brown eyes, able to see over many of its complement. He was 2.3 meters tall, a giant compared to Brooks.
"Mm," Brooks said. Casey was a wiseass, but a good officer. Knew his shit, street smart, good with people. He was going to make a good detective someday. "Like we'd 'go in' anyway."
Casey had his hands on his belt, one near his baton. Just in case. "Who in the SA-of-Y got their panties in a bunch?"
Brooks sucked on the mint pocketed in one of her cheeks. Bad habit she picked up in the Star Army. She relaxed her sharply pointed Neko ears and sighed. "I don't know. They put people in command of garrisons and stations who have no business running a guard shack."
Casey nodded, watching the crowds get restless and the armored column form a barrier around the station. The broken arm of the Geshrin was a military problem, as was the reporter.
"What about that?" Casey asked, referring to the altercations.
Brooks rolled her eyes. "You think the commanders are bad, don't get me started on the enlisted they stick at those stations. Not even an MP."
Casey nodded, then tipped down his peaked cap and sent to the nearest router.
"King Adam Seventeen Thirty-Nine."
"King Adam 1739," dispatch replied.
"Are the crowd control units in position?"
A pause.
"Ryokai, 1739. 20 units on stand-by, awaiting orders."
Casey looked over to Brooks. She kept her eyes on the crowd. The Hei who was busy abusing protesters, she'd let go. Someone needed to give her a cuffing, and order severe remedial training, but other than that, no harm done. The broken arm would heal, probably with Star Army-funded settlement money.
"Ma'am?"
"Nah," she said, predicting his question. "SA wants to deal with it, they can load up their brigs with them if they want to level charges." She looked at him without narrowing her wide, tangerine eyes. "We don't arrest people for failing to obey military orders."
Casey nodded and relayed the message to dispatch.
"King Adam 159, dispatch," dispatch then sent to Brooks.
"King Adam One Fifty-Nine."
"Papa 029 is monitoring a feed right now." "Papa" stood for Police Plaza, the Kyoto Municipal Police headquarters. Badge No. 02 was the division chief of District 9, where they were.
Brooks' boss. She sucked hard on her mint.
"King Adam 159," she said in acknowledgement, and waited.
"DS Brooks," her chief, a sour old goat (of a Neko), said.
"Not moving in?"
"No ma'am," she sent back.
A few beats of silence. Brooks didn't offer any other explanation.
"Alright," the goat said.
"Good work, DS Brooks."
"Thank you ma'am," Brooks sent back, taking in a deep breath of fresh Kyoto autumn air and letting it out nice and slow. She liked the goat, but she wanted to promote her to lieutenant. That meant no more 80/20 detective/patrol work, and 100/0 deskwork/real policing. She hated brass.
"So we're just gonna watch?" Casey asked, bored.
"Yeah," Brooks said, bored. "For now."