ok, well here it is. Twenty or so pages, folks.
And when the woman had smiled… she had smiled when Momoko had given her something…
Momoko felt her hand. Her moonstone ring was gone. And that wasn’t a dream
She thought harder but she couldn't remember anymore. She had been fighting Seijaku, and then he had kicked her blaster up toward the ceiling. It must have created an explosion. That explained the memory loss. But her ring was gone.. Her watch... she checked her arm.. her watch was still on her wrist. But what had happened to her ring?
And how had she gotten from the abandoned building to here?
She had lied to Seijaku when she said she had called for backup. She hadn't had a transmitter and it would have taken too long anyway. Even if there was a rescue team sent out, she wouldn't be in her apartment right now. She would be in the hospital.
Her transmitter started buzzing and vibrating from its position on the dresser. It shook so hard that it began to move. Momoko grabbed it before it could fall off.
She looked at the signature. It was the chief, so she turned it on and held it up to her ear. One minute I had Seijaku cornered and the next I’m in my apartment. And I’m missing
“Yes, sir?” she asked.
“Momoko-thank god,” the chief’s voice reverberated over the line, “that explosion- we thought you were dead when we saw it. Nothing in the debris. But this morning I turn on the comm channels for the days shift and yours is still operable. What the hell is going on?”
“I don’t quite know myself, sir,” Momoko leaned against the wall, “-“ she paused and looked at her hand- “I’m missing something.”
“Something valuable? You know, it was probably a street thief. They’ll take anything.”
“Yeah,” Momoko leaned back and sighed, “but if you didn’t find me, sir, who did?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. Got any theories?”
Momoko bit her lip.
“No, sir. Looks like my lucky stars were just shining last night.”
“Well, stars or no stars, you’re pretty damn lucky. Let’s hope next time you won’t need it.”
“Amen, sir. I’ll see you at the office.”
“Office? Are you sure you’re up to that, Momoko?”
“Yeah. I’m good. I gotta go do something and then I’ll come in about an hour or so.”
“Ok. Don’t push it, kid.”
“See you, sir,” Momoko hung up the phone and looked at the mirror. She looked a mess, but it wouldn’t be the first time that she had to pull herself together in five minutes. She undressed and whacked the electro shower, stepping out five seconds later. She found a rather oversized and wrinkled uniform in the back of her closet (normally she washed her one in the evening) and grimaced as she pulled gargantuan knots out of her hair.
She checked her watch. Four minutes and twenty seconds. She was getting good.
Her ship was an old ship, even an amateur could tell that. It was made of brushed silver chrome, for when it was built the sun still shone on earth. Only a few high-end models had been built with mirror chrome, and almost all of them had crashed due to their tendency to reflect the sunlight into an oncoming driver’s eyes. By the beginning of the collapse of earth it had become almost taboo to buy such a ship, and so manufacturers had adjusted with no real cost change by changing the mirror chrome to brushed.
That had lasted for about ten years, but then when the sun was blocked out with all finality, the survivors of the earth switched back to the mirrored. It was easier to see on a cloudy sky.
That’s how you could always tell an earth vessel. Bright, mirrored chrome- any color, so long as it stood out. A sophisticated window apparatus to keep a clear view in the constant rain, and super bright headlights. For every planet the ship style fit the conditions.
She hopped in now. The interior was not pretty- two seats and it was a two handed manual control. You didn’t steer any of it with your feet. It was a sleek design, and two thruster jets protruded out and back-the fancier, muscle ships had three.
Momoko opened the door of her apartment garage and threw the ship in gear. It rumbled for a minute and then zoomed off into the gray earth sky.
___
Midori whistled as he walked down the food court of the titan spaceport. Idly he wandered if the food you ate in the database would in any way affect your body outside the database.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw a Chiron Bakery. Chiron… it had the best pastries. Or so he had heard at Mars. Some of the kids there had money like you wouldn’t believe. Private ships. Concerts every other night. Imported foods- and pastries from Chiron.
If he tried it now, he wouldn’t have to pay for it.
He walked over to the line. It was long. Eager to practice his newfound skills, he concentrated for a moment on making it shorter.
“Can I get you something, sir?” He was at the head of the line. Everyone else was behind him. The girl at the register was smiling.
“Ummm….” Midori put his hands in his pockets and looked around. ”One of everything,” he said.
“One of everything?” The girl blinked.
“One of everything,” Midori said, and gave her a smile.
“Whoa. Ok,” said the girl, “give me a minute.”
She headed towards the back of the room. Midori didn’t want to wait.
“Here you go,” she said.
She was back. Midori allowed himself a smug grin. He was getting good at this. He took the proffered brown bag full of pastries and sat down at an empty table near the window where you could see out into space. In his opinion Saturn had always been the most beautiful of planets, and so he enjoyed watching as titan plodded along its orbit around the many-ringed planet.
He opened up the bag and pulled out a squarish looking tart with filling. Curious, he bit into it.
“JEEZ THIS TASTES GOOD!” He shouted, causing more than a few people to stare. But it was true, though. The pastry was like heaven on earth. Light and fluffy crust, with a honeyish inside mixed with sesame seeds. He took another bite and another, stuffing it down his mouth. He didn’t care about being a messy eater; he didn’t have to worry about being full. The pastry was everything he expected it to be. He was almost through a second one when he was interrupted.
“You know, in the real world they don’t really taste like that.”
Midori looked up and wiped the honey off of his face. Standing in front of him was an exceptionally tall woman with long, green hair tied back in a ponytail. She had a cherubic face, and Midori couldn’t help but notice that her iris was pure black.
“Are you…” He started to ask, not wanting to be rude.
“I am Android Hoshi, model number 120-3843-3042. I was built by Sun twelve years ago. I am of the make Inea 204. Do require further information about my origins?”
“No,” said Midori, shifting uncomfortably. He had never met an android before.
“Good,” said Hoshi, “May I sit…?” She gestured to the chair across from Midori.
“Sure,” Midori said, and got up and pulled it out for her.
When she had sat down, he asked her.
“What do you mean when you say they don’t taste like that in the real world.”
Hoshi sighed. Midori was amazed at how human her actions were. Even her blinks were right. She looked at him.
“In the database, everything you see is created by your imagination. You see, your image of the titan spaceport looks like this. But my image would look different- and probably be more accurate too, since I am an android. You, however, determine how everything is here. Including,” she pointed to his brown bag, “the pastries. You’ve never tasted them before, so you will simply taste what you think they taste like. Everything,” She picked up Midori’s pastry and bit it, “is perceived. This is too dry, and the inside is cream. This is what a real one looks like,” she held the pastry, and to Midori’s amazement it was filled with white cream instead of honey.
“How…”
“I’m afraid I don’t have time for that right now,” she snapped, “Modifying other’s perceptions is a tricky business, and it takes time, even for someone with a high IQ like you, to learn. I have an assignment from the SA.”
“Already?” Midori said, “I would have thought…”
“This is your fifth hour, Mr. Midori. In such a short time many things must be accomplished. Time in this place is perceived, and so it varies from person to person. Some people experience a whole year here in an hour. The longer a subject is in here, the more distorted their view of time becomes. However, the subject you are about to view is around the same time stretch as you, so you not experience any major discomfort.”
“How do you know it’s been five hours,” Midori asked, “I mean, I know you have an internal clock but-“
“I have been instructed to give you this,” Hoshi said, and she held up a plain sliver watch, “You will know the time it is in the ‘real’ world. You will be given appointments, and this way you will be able to meet them.”
Midori accepted the watch and put it on his left arm.
“Now, Mr. Midori, I am instructed to take you to the next location you need to report at. Please excuse any momentary discomfort. Traveling to a static interface often requires a slight shock to the brain.”
Midori watched as Hoshi stopped moving for a moment; an android’s way, he supposed, of concentrating. Her eyes got a far-off stare, and then all of a sudden he felt a rushing cold sensation run through his body. He doubled up on the floor, but then it disappeared- and he was falling.
“Please get up, Mr. Midori.”
Midori blinked.
Chapter Two: The Past Is Just Data
It is dark at night
The young girl’s radio blares loudly
And the boardwalk is filled
The stars are faint
The doorway of the academy at Titan is quite elaborate; built as to make a lasting impression. It was created from a model conglomeration of the ancient buildings of earth- at least, the ones that survived. The grand arch at the top, for which it is the most noted, was modeled after the coliseum’s arch directly above where the emperor of Rome would sit. The two thick brass doors are taken from the Himeji palace in Japan, and the windows in the sides from the cathedral in Charte.
All this makes for quite an eyesore.
Ugly or not, the door still had the ability to take a person off guard, which was exactly what it had just done to the young cadet who had walked through the door.
He was average height; with the face of a ‘good old boy’ from a 1950’s TV show. His hair was a dark red, braided in the Chinese style. His shirt was starched, his pants neatly pressed, and he smelled of aftershave.
He was also completely taken with the door. He stood there absolutely absorbed, his head tilted back and his eyes gazing towards the ceiling where the plaster molds were taken from the palace of Louis the 14th.
His renevoir, however, was soon broken off. Another cadet, shorter and with albino hair that had been tinged green, came up to him and tapped him on the shoulder. He carried papers in his left hand, and it was these he motioned to.
A minute and a half later they were at the sign-in desk.
“Mugen, Tagami,” the first cadet said, handing the women behind the desk the papers. He noticed she had an unusual countenance.
“You are Seijaku Jiten?” she said, looking at the green-haired cadet. He nodded.
“Very good. I will need your signature here- both of you- on this list.”
Mugen signed it and handed the pencil to Seijaku. When he was finished the woman looked them over and filed them.
“Fifth door on the right is the reception hall. There’s a welcoming reception for all new cadets there.”
“Thank you,” Mugen said, and he grabbed his suitcase and Seijaku’s. Seijaku shrugged and followed.
Mugen didn’t say anything. Ever since high school Seijaku had never talked unless he had to, and even then it took some persuasion. He limited himself to yes and no answers, and asked no questions of his own.
Mugen thought it was a very productive way to go about living, and he wasn’t about to stop Seijaku from doing it. Although he did occasionally wish that Seijaku was a little more vocal about what he was thinking. He had made a point leave his acceptance notice to the academy on Mugen’s desk the week before they were going, and that was the first time he ever he talked- well, mentioned- going to the academy. Mugen accepted it as a part of his friend’s eccentric nature and left it at that.
“Hey! What’d she say to you?!”
Mugen spun around. Behind him was a boy with black hair and blue eyes. He looked like a first year cadet as well.
“Who?” Mugen asked.
“The android. At the desk. You signed in. I saw you.”
Mugen blinked, “Android?”
“Yeah. Inea make. Real sweet,” the boy lowered his voice, “She was designed for ‘dancer’ girls and that sort of thing, but her gig was busted last week. The SA took possession.”
“Oh,” Mugen said. He looked down at Seijaku, who was smiling, “I didn’t notice anything. She just was sorta… not human, that’s all.”
“My name’s Mugen,” he said, “This is Seijaku and you are…?”
“Eugene. Just plain Eugene. I’m here for the robotics program,” he looked at Seijaku, “Does he…er… talk?”
“Not really,” Mugen said. Seijaku shrugged.
“Hey! Are you guys going to the assembly?”
“Yeah.”
“Meet me there in a few minutes? I gotta go deliver something from the robotics lab,”
“We’ll save you a seat,” Mugen called out, but Eugene was already down the hall.
“Jeez… Somebody’s hyper.”
Seijaku nodded.
They took some seats in the middle row at the assembly, and Mugen put his suitcase on one to show that it was reserved. Seijaku had started a staring contest with his umbrella. Mugen looked around.
It seemed that other than the door all the rooms he had seen thus far at the academy were largely composed of steel floors and white walls- the epitome of institutional décor. The assembly hall was no exception. Excepting a blue curtain behind the stage, which did little to diffuse the cold light and mechanic atmosphere, the hall could have been an empty gym. Mugen sighed.
“Hey! Thanks for saving me a seat!”
Mugen looked up. It was Eugene.
“Uhh.. sure. No problem, Eugene. Some people wanted it but then Seijaku took out his Glock and started polishing it. They went away.”
Eugene frowned.
“It’s just a joke,” Mugen said, “sit down!”
“Oh, a joke! I get it now. Funny!”
Mugen’s temper was beginning to wane.
“ATTENTION! EVERYONE CALL TO ATTENTION!!”
Fortunately Eugene said no more. Mugen turned his focus to the platform, upon which a tall man in his fifties was standing at a podium. He wore a uniform. Mugen recognized him; he was Teva Hitakova.
“Department head,” he whispered to Seijaku, who nodded and looked up from his suitcase to see what this man was going to say.
Mugen was surprised, because Seijaku gave very few things his full attention. He never needed to, because he was so smart. If he did, it was for no other reason that he was either amused or trying to be respectful.
“I want to thank you all for coming here today,” the man said, “You are the next generation of fighting force, the new infusion of power into the organization. We need you. The SA is an excellent organization, but without you, the people who are willing to dedicate themselves our service, we would be nothing. For this reason I welcome you today.”
Seijaku yawned and leaned back. Mugen guessed he wasn’t interested. Oh well. He continued to listen intently.
“…is not true. The SA united a crumbling race. When the exodus from earth began the major world governments had already reached their crumbling, and left the human race to fend for themselves. But we are an enduring race, and out of the ruins we rose. The crumbling alliance of the terran powers left an elite few men to themselves; I was not one of them, but I was privileged enough to serve under them when they began their crusade to unite humanity peacefully. Before the first space shuttle left the ground a member of what was to become the Solar Introfac had been loaded onto every ship, a whole crew of SA loaded onto the ship bound for Titan, and in the years following we managed to unite the entire solar system- excepting Pluto, of course. They don’t really count.”
There were smiles and laughter. Pluto was the rebel planet that had refused to join the SA and murdered the officer the SA had sent with them. All the other planets had readily welcomed an alliance, for by the time that they were settled and the onboard SA officers discovered, the SA had set up a complex network originating from their headquarters on Titan, through which they controlled and standardized a huge power and food supply, as well as providing transport and medical aid to their members. They represented order and stability, something humanity was in sore need of.
“As a result the human race has finally been able to ‘reach’ the stars. The discovery of fusion power, under the direction of the SA, has allowed us to develop the industrial and manufacturing to heights we never dreamed possible, and the work in robotics done in collaboration with private industry renders us capable of making machines equal to ourselves and capable of helping us as we look ahead into the next era of human history.
“It is with an optimistic mind that I welcome you here today. I feel privileged to be allowed to greet the next generation of people who, I believe, will change the future.”
After the assembly Mugen picked up his suitcase and Seijaku followed suit. They picked up their room assignments from a rather large woman at the front counter. Mugen supposed she was not an android.
“We don’t take requests,” she had told Seijaku when he had motioned that he wanted to room with Mugen. Seijaku had looked at Mugen and Mugen had shrugged. Seijaku had angrily accepted a piece of paper from the woman and stomped down the corridor where his room was.
“Is he going to be ok?” A voice said from behind Mugen.
“Huh?” Mugen spun around, “Oh, Eugene,” he said, recognizing the black hair and regretting it, “He’ll be fine,” he reassured him, “He’ll mope for a little while and then go back to being his normal self- well, his self at the least.”
“Oh,” Eugene said, and looked at the piece of paper in Mugen’s hand, “Hey! You got your room assignment!” he exclaimed.
“Yeah,” Mugen said, and was going to say “What’s it to you?” but before he could Eugene snatched the paper and ran up to the fat lady at the counter.
When he came back he was holding another piece of paper and smiling, “Lab workers get to chose their rooms,” he exclaimed emphatically, “Now we can room together. What do you say, Mugen?”
“Ummm… great,” Mugen said, feeling as if he didn’t have much choice in the matter.
“Excellent! I’ll take the left side, unless you object. I’ve always preferred the left side of rooms. Don’t know why, really. Just have. I’m left handed. Maybe that’s it. Is right okay with you?”
“Umm… sure,” Mugen was doubtful if any side of a room shared with Eugene would be okay.
For the next two hours Mugen unpacked, pulling out clothing and other necessities from the threadbare suitcase he had brought with him. Considering how old it was, however, it was a surprise that this suitcase’s only malady was its thread-bareness.
It had come from earth, an unusual thing, especially on Titan, where quite a bit of manufacturing was done. Most people on Titan only had one or two items from other planets, not to mention earth. But this suitcase had come from earth; it was Mugen’s grandfather’s; and it was this suitcase that he took with him as a young man when he left earth in its final days.
And so now, eighty years later, when Mugen’s grandfather was dead and the spaceships he traveled in long consigned to the scrap bins, this same suitcase led Mugen into a new world.
It was not a kind world; given that. But all things worth doing are rarely under kind conditions, and few people recognize that. Mugen had, however. He had recognized it the day he came to Titan with his little sister, when he was barely five years old. His parents had died in a rare collision between two space liners, and their grandfather had taken Mugen and Enjuku in. He remembered the SA man who came to the door to the house on Io, knocking on the door. And when only Mugen had answered he took Mugen and Enjuku, putting them in his spaceship and taking them to Titan.
Mugen remembered the first time he had come to Titan- they had landed in the main city, Lesis, and the SA officer had taken them to go get some food while the registrations were processed and the SA located Mugen’s grandfather.
The sky on Titan had no clouds, but it was forever occupied by its father planet, Saturn, in at least half of its sky. Mugen remembered looking up at it for the first time, trying to reach it. He remembered the SA man laughing, and then leading him past the gate into the city. He remembered being amazed.
Lesis was a city planned and designed by the famous architect Techn Kevel long before it was ever built, but it was not Techn’s incredible foresight, or his excellent and economical street design, that made the city of Lesis so attractive. It was Titan itself.
The buildings on titan shone. It wasn’t a reflective shine, it was almost as if they generated their own light. Mugen was later to learn the reason: Titan’s atmosphere contained a gas that, when it was absorbed by silicon based objects( which it bonded with frequently) it gave off a phosphorescing light. Silicon was the prevalent building material, and so shining buildings were the prevalent building type.
But Mugen was only four then, and so when the door had open and he had stepped out into the bright sunlight, holding the SA man’s left hand, he looked and did not think ‘phosphorescing buildings’. He looked and thought ‘heaven’. And he asked the SA man if he could see his parents here.
And so in a city he had once supposed to be the home of angels he grew up; he loved the city down to its very roots. And when he learned that the city had been built by the SA, he learned to love the SA.
He figured that anything that could make a place as beautiful as this had to be good; he supposed that the SA was something to which he should be grateful. And he was.
This feeling grew into support when the SA offered to pay for his college education after his grandfather died, wherever he should chose to go, so long as he got accepted and kept good grades. He wasted a year as an art major at Lesis University, which he had chosen simply because he loved the city and was decent at drawing. Then he decided to grow up, and he joined the SA.
And so, a week before he was to leave, while he was packing, Seijaku had come in and discreetly put his own acceptance letter on Mugen’s desk, smiling at the shocked expression on his friend’s face, pausing only long enough to shrug.
Eugene had, fortunately, gone off to repair a broken server, so Mugen had some peace and quiet for the rest of the afternoon. He folded up his spare uniform neatly and stowed it away in the metal dresser next to his bead (on the right side), turning his attention to the only remaining item in the suitcase.
It was a bright red phonograph, with gold lettering on the sides. Mugen only had one track that it could play, but he enjoyed it so much it didn’t matter. Besides, he only played the phonograph when others weren’t around. He considered it a rather private thing.
It had belonged to his father, who had picked it up on Mercury. It was an exchange for a summer’s worth of hard labor in the crystal mines, but Mugen’s father had considered it worth anything the moment he saw it. He had spent the summer sweating in the mines, and by the end he had found enough of the pure Myrian crystal to buy the red spaceship in dry-dock d. Mugen’s father raced spaceships, and this spaceship was perhaps one of the fastest ever built. As he walked down the streets of the market, he planned how he would race it in all the most prominent competitions and win prize money, allowing him to move to Europa and spend his life at ease, in days of long baths and large pitchers of wine.
He had turned his head to the side for a few moments, taking in the sights; for this was the last time he would be on Mercury for a long time.
And then he had seen her.
A simple girl, with black plaited hair and a pink cotton kimono- barefoot. She was standing at the doorway of a small house on the side of the road, picking up a bouquet of white lilies she had dropped on the ground. Mugen’s father had stopped, turned, ran to her, and picked up all the flowers before she could refuse, rearranging them so they looked like they hadn’t fallen down at all.
The girl had simply smiled.
With a shy mien she had accepted the bouquet, and walked back into the house. Mugen’s father had realized that she had dropped her handkerchief, and he picked it up to examine the embroidery on it.
Danielle Nakamura.
Blinking, he realized he had just met the girl of his dreams. He had never believed in love at first sight, but now he did. His heart sang as he ran down the streets, full of rapture at discovering, in a single moment, what everybody longs to discover; the part of them they have always been missing.
Later, on a walk down a different street, he would hear music playing from a merchant’s stand, and he would stop to listen. It sounded like an opera, and he would think that somebody was selling copies of the song.
But when he met the merchant and discovered the source of the music, it became apparent to him that what the merchant was selling was not copies of the track of Turin do.
Instead he was selling a much more valuable item. It was a bright red box, and in it spun a disk. When you wound the crank on the side the disc would go around and around, and then music would spill out of the box.
Mugen’s father asked him where he got it.
The merchant had a smile on his face. Ahh, it was very rare! An antique, and an old one at that. Centuries upon centuries old. Why, it was very possibly the only one left. Had this one not been saved by the Nakamura family-
Mugen’s father interrupted him. What did he mean by Nakamura?
The merchant told the boy. Surely he knew the story of the fall of the great Nakamura family? They were one of the richest families after the destruction of earth. They invested all their money in real estate on Io- a smart choice, it seemed, for Io was one of the closest worlds and easiest to settle. They had not known about the destructive fires that plagued the planet. And so, when the planet took up one of its deadly annual rains, it destroyed all of the buildings the Nakamuras had bought. It also destroyed their fortune. The family had moved to Mercury, where living was cheap, and sold most of their possessions.
Mugen’s father wondered how important the box was to them?
It was the little girl’s, said the merchant, her mother owned it before she died long ago, and her mother owned it before her. An old, old box. It was one of the last things they sold.
Mugen’s father looked mournfully at the money in his pocket, which he had intended for the spaceship.
Ten minutes later he was at the doorstep of the girl’s house. He knocked on the door and she answered. She looked questioningly at the wrapped box he had in his hand. He motioned for her to open it, and she had begun to cry when she saw what was inside.
A year later they were married.
The last song was almost at its end now. Mugen looked at the disc, watching it spin. Round and round. He checked his watch. It was getting late. He would go check on Seijaku, who he hoped had calmed down by now, and then polish his boots before he went to bed. He supposed his first day of training was not going to be easy.
___
“ATTENTION!! ALL CADETS TO ATTENTION!” Mugen stood up straight, as straight as he could. ‘Dr. Pepper’, the drill sergeant, was rumered to be particularly nasty. He was nicked named after an old soft drink, for some ridiculous reason Eugene had mention but which Mugen couldn’t remember. His overly friendly roommate had spent the twenty minutes the cadets were given to prepare for inspection babbling about him, while Mugen straightened up his bed and polished his boots.
Surprisingly, Eugene was totally silent during inspection. Mugen didn’t think that was possible, although he had considered that perhaps he was exaggerating Eugene’s talkativeness. It was entirely plausible, since the last ten years of his life had been spent with a friend that didn’t talk.
“CADET!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?” Mugen’s reverie was interrupted by an image of Dr. Pepper screaming in his face. Only too late he realized what had happened. He had left his head staring intently at a girl far away in the window to his right.
“Nothing, sir!” Mugen turned it back as quickly as possible.
“Yeah, I’ll bet it was nothing,” Dr. Pepper looked at the window, but the girl was gone. “Was she pretty?” He asked. The gruff tone didn’t leave his voice even when he spoke normally.
“She was okay, sir,” Mugen said nervously.
There was laughter.
“Then don’t waste your time on her,” Dr. Pepper stopped at the end of the hallway of beds. More laughter. The cadets were relieved to learn that their commander was, although he didn’t appear to be, human. “Enough,” said Dr. Pepper, and they quieted down.
“I just want to make a little statement to those of you,” Dr. Pepper crossed his arms and looked at the cadets, “to those of you that joined because you had nothing else to do with your lives.”
Mugen knew he wasn’t one of these. He had joined the SA for a better reason than that. He had joined because he was dedicated.
“I’m sure you’ve all heard it one time or another; if you don’t have anything better to do with your lives, join the army. Well, I’m here to tell you different. This is no walk on Venus. It’s not fun. You have to work hard. Some of you are gonna get tired, and some of you are gonna get injured, and some of you are gonna quit. Some out of every class drops out. So if you’re not gonna try, then you might as well not waste my time. You might as well leave now.”
The cadets stood silent.
“Well, no quitters then?” The sergeant chuckled, “That’ll change real fast. First on the agenda for today: sparring.”
“We spar before breakfast,” said Dr. Pepper as Mugen bowed off to his opponent, a rather bulky man named Jean Kiro, “It keep you hungry for blood.”
Jean was about a foot taller than Mugen, and a lot meaner looking. Furthermore, Jean looked like he had spent a lot of time in the gym, while Mugen couldn’t remember the last time he had seen a bench press. Probably sophomore year.
He bent his knees slightly and rooted himself to the ground. He wondered what he was going to do. Nothing, he supposed. It would probably be better to let Jean come to him.
Sure enough, Jean advanced with a jab to the head. Mugen just barely managed to block it with his left hand. He hadn’t, however, taken into account what was to follow. Jean rushed in with a punch to the ribcage under his blocking arm.
“JEEZ!” Mugen cried, and he fell to floor. One of his left ribs gave a sickening crack. He tried to nurse it, and rubbed it gently-
It didn’t work. “ITAI!” He screamed, writhing in pain, “That hurt!
“Stop whining. You sound like my goddam baby sister,” Mugen looked up. It was Dr. Pepper.
“Yes, sir,” he gulped.
“Now get up.”
Mugen sheepishly got up, brushing off the dust from the mats.
“Where did he hit you?”
Mugen pointed weakly to his left side.
“Ah, broke a rib, did he?” Dr. Pepper grinned, “I’ve seen worse. You’ll be fine. Walk in off in a week.”
Mugen stared at him in astonishment.
“This isn’t preschool, cadet! We don’t give you a Band-Aid for all your little boo-boos, understand? Now get back up and try again!”
“Yes, sir,” Mugen got back up into his ready position.
“No! You’re much to tense! Loosen up!” Pepper shouted.
Mugen tried to relax, but found it difficult. Jean was panting like a bull.
“RELAX, DAMMIT! I COULD BREAK EVERY BONE IN YOUR BODY THE WAY YOU’RE STANDING!”
Mugen began to shake. Dr. Pepper sighed.
“Now, look,” he said, in a much softer voice, “hold your feet farther apart.”
Mugen did so.
“That’s better. Now bend your knees more. Just like that.”
Mugen smiled.
“That’s it. Now you gotta relax, ‘cause if you’re tense I can break your bones real easy. Try to imagine you’re somewhere you really like.”
Mugen closed his eyes and began to envision-
“DON’T CLOSE YOUR EYES!”
Mugen opened his eyes.
“Where are you?” Dr. Pepper asked.
“The gateway of Lesis. South side.”
“Ok. Now in a minute, Jean here is gonna attack you. Stay on the balls of your feet, and stay relaxed. What are you gonna do when he tries to hit you?”
“Block it,” Mugen said.
“No, you aren’t. He’s much to strong for that. You’re gonna move out of the way, cause you can move fast now. You’re on the balls of your feet. And then you’re gonna hit him.”
Mugen stared blankly.
“Well, what are you waiting for? Go!”
Mugen bowed off to Jean. Then he moved his feet apart and bent his knees. He tried to imagine the gateway of Lesis.
WHAM! Jean hit him right to the head. It hurt. Mugen massaged it painfully.
Well he hadn’t fallen down. He’d just have to imagine faster.
Bow off, and then-
WHAM!
Mugen sighed and looked at the bruise on his left arm. Oh well.
Bow off, and-
WHAM!
BANG!
“OOWWW!!” A voice cried out in pain. All faces turned to Mugen, only it wasn’t him. It was Jean, who lay on the floor, curled up in pain.
Eugene ran up to Mugen, who was nursing his right elbow.
“What happened, man? I thought you were gonna get creamed.”
“I did,” Mugen said, and pointed to a bruise which was purpling on his forehead, “And I was, until he tried that same stupid combination on me for the third time, and I punched him out,” He pointed to writhing mass of humanity on the floor.
“Better call Dr. Pepper,” Eugene said, “he looks pretty bad.”
“What, he isn’t here?” Mugen said, “He didn’t see me?”
“No way, man. He left after he showed you the counter. Guess he thought you’d be ok.”
____
The speaker in the hallway blared loudly, but it could hardly be heard over the chatter of cadets rushing to the cafeteria. Lunchtime, Mugen had learned, was a precious piece of time, and not a moment of it was to be wasted.
He was in his fourth year, and this was to be the last time he ate in the cafeteria. Today the graduates received their new assignments as officers of the SA. Mugen wondered where he would be sent.
He wouldn’t find out if he couldn’t find out where to pick up his assignment. There was too much chatter in the hall. He was about to shout loudly at the first years for making too much noise, but then-
“HEY! MUGEN!”
“EUGENE!” Mugen turned around to see Eugene thirty feet away, wading in a sea of cadets.
“HEY! I PICKED UP YOUR ASSIGNMENT FOR YOU!”
“COME OVER HERE!”
“OKAY!”
Mugen barely managed to grab onto a nearby wall as a fresh wave of cadets poured into the hallway. He supposed they must be in Mr. Ventura’s class. That man always made the class stay late.
“Hey,” Eugene was at his side, “Where’s Seijaku?”
“I don’t know. I saw him with some chic before weapons yesterday.”
Eugene was incredulous, “You did? Seijaku? I mean, I just don’t see that-“
“-happening,” Mugen finished the sentence for him, “I know. I don’t either. But in a way, I could see how a girl could fall for him. He’s short, kind of pet like-“
“You mean like a rotweiler?”
Mugen glared, “I was thinking more along the lines of a small puppy or cat.”
“Yeah, if they carry a machine gun, ” Eugene was grinning shamelessly.
“Continuing on-“ Mugen started, but he was interrupted by a tap on his shoulder. “What?” He demanded, spinning around angrily, expecting it to be some stupid first year who needed directions. It was Seijaku, smiling sheepishy.
“How long have you been standing there?” Mugen demanded. Seijaku looked as if he was going to laugh, but Mugen knew he wouldn’t. It was one of those things he just never did.
Eugene, however, did laugh. Mugen punched him in the nose. He stopped.
“Watch it, man,” he said, massaging his nose, “not all of us won the championship sparring match.”
Seijaku pulled on Mugen’s sleeve and waved a piece of paper at him. Mugen caught it.
“Earth. New York Division. Well, have fun man. I’m staying right here. I put in a request – hopefully they’ll meet it.”
“Think again,” Eugene said, “You’re going too.” He handed Mugen another piece of paper, this time with his name printed on the top.
Mugen stared at it in disbelief. Underneath his name, next to the word ‘assignment’, was printed exactly what was on Seijaku’s paper: Earth. New York Division.
“Is this some kind of sick joke?” he demanded, swirling around to look at Eugene.
“Don’t look at me,” Eugene said, “I got sent there too.” He held up his paper in front of Mugen, “See- it reads Earth, New York Division right there.”
“I can tell what it says, Eugene,” Mugen growled, “what I want to know is why we- we three cadets, who all put it transfers for places other than New York- get sent there.”
“I don’t know,” Eugene said. Seijaku shrugged.
“Ok, well I’m going to find out,” Mugen declared. He snatched the transcript out of Eugene’s hand, and, with all three papers, he marched down the hall way to Dr. Pepper’s office.
“Somebody’s angry,” Eugene remarked, watching him trail off.
Seijaku put his hands in his pocket and shrugged.
“Don’t you ever do anything other than shrug?” Eugene looked at him, “I mean a hello, or a ‘yeah, you’re right Eugene’ would be nice once in a while. Even once a year! Just some acknowledgement other than a shrug! What do you think?”
Seijaku shrugged.
___
Since the sparring incident on his first day at the academy, Mugen had learned to respect his drill sergeant Dr. Pepper. Even in his senior year, when drill sergeants do not play a significant role in cadet’s training, Mugen found himself constantly seeking the Dr.’s help. Sure, he was rough around the edges, but he was always honest. Mugen knew he could get the straight story from him.
At this moment, however, he was fuming with rage at him. As he walked down the hallway, he meditated on how to best impress upon Dr. Pepper his feelings. By the time he was near the office, he had decided it would be best to throw the door open and shove the transcripts in Pepper’s face and demand an answer. This was not, however, what happened.
The door to Dr. Pepper’s office was a bright red door, and over it hung a wooden plaque with two words in latin: SIEMPRE FIDEL. Mugen never knew what the words meant, but he had been told they were from an old earth military force dating back to the 20th century.
Oh well. No matter. Whatever the words were that Dr. Pepper had posted over his door, Mugen was going to make him regret botching up his assignment. Why, he-
“Come in, Mr. Tagami,” Mugen blinked. Dr. Pepper was standing right in front of him, holding open the door, “or should I say Private Tagami now?”
Mugen smiled sheepishly, “Whichever you prefer, sir.”
Dr. Pepper walked over to his desk and sat down. He motioned for Mugen to sit in the chair opposite him. Then he reached into one of his desk drawers and pulled out a small booklet. It looked to Mugen like a data display.
“Well, Private- that’s what I’ll call you, ‘cause that’s what you are now, and you worked real hard for it,” Dr. Pepper said, “how’s life outta school? You happy with graduation? You and your buddies got anything,” he raised an eyebrow, “planned?”
Mugen grinned. He knew all about the sort of things that happened on graduation night.
“No, sir,” he said, “Seijaku’s got a girl, I think… seems kinda strange, tell you the truth. But we don’t really go to those places. Went once, I think. Girl named Lucy. She smelled like cheap whiskey, to be honest, and she didn’t look too good either. I left before much happened. Eugene threw up all his wine, and I had to carry him home with Seijaku smirking the whole way. Wasn’t very fun. Don’t think I’ll try it again.”
Dr. Pepper smiled, exposing some yellow teeth, “Smart lad,” he said, “my buddies and I, we weren’t as smart as you. But I think we had a bit more fun.” He pushed a button on the side of the data display. “Take a look. I once had my way with the ladies- didn’t always look this bad,” he smiled, “here’s a picture of me and my buddies on graduation night- before we got drunk.” He handed over the display. Mugen held it close.
On it was a picture dating back about forty years. There were five men in the picture, standing in a bar near the counter. The waitress was hugging one of them, and the man next to the one being hugged was most definitely Dr. Pepper. The face was less wrinkled, and the hair a different color, but it was unmistakably him.
“When I joined, the cadets didn’t have any choice as to where they were sent when they graduated,” Dr. Pepper said, “It was sink or swim. You either went there or you quit. A lot of people quit, but most stayed on. Found out they could do what they came here to do almost anywhere.”
“Sir?”
“Why did you join the SA, Mugen?”
Mugen looked at him, confused.
“Tell me,” Dr. Pepper said.
“I-I joined because I thought it was the right thing to do,” Mugen started, “you know when you get this feeling, like, like you know you should do something? Like you’re destined for it? Well, that’s how I felt about the SA. I came to Lesis when I was four, and you know what I thought about it? I thought it was heaven. It was that beautiful to me. And when I learned what ran the city, what was its very backbone. The SA ran it. Any organization that could make something that beautiful deserved my time and support.”
“It wasn’t just the way the buildings shone or how the sun reflected on the lake in the morning. At least, it became more than that. In the beginning that was all it was. But it became more as I got older. I studied a lot about government when I was in high school. I knew the signs of a well functioning one. And when I really started to look closer, I saw all these signs in the SA. Everyone here, sir, for the most part, is content. I don’t walk down the street and see homeless people. We have a very low crime rate. People have life expectancies over a hundred because we can provide our senior citizens with free health care. We have an awesome school system- sir! I mean, take a look around you! How could anyone not want to join the SA?”
“I must admit, though, that at first it took me a long time to realize this. I saw all the signs, and I recognized what a good government we had, but it never really clicked in me until one day my freshman year in college. I had been sitting there doing this drawing for my animation class, thinking how stupid and pointless the subject matter was, when it clicked in me; I could be doing something important with my life every day. I could help people every day.”
“A nice story,” Dr. Pepper said, leaning back in his chair, “Now I’ll ask you: do you really believe in what you just said?”
“Well, yeah,” Mugen replied, “I never would have said it if I didn’t.” He thought for a moment, “If you’re trying to tell me that I’m supposed to go help people on earth, just forget it. You can take your transcript and shove it. Lesis is my city. I live, I breathe, I die Lesis. This is where I want to be- at the very heart at the SA.”
“And New York is not the heart of the SA?” Dr. Pepper looked at him questioningly, “Where is the heart of the SA?”
“Here,” Mugen said, “It’s here. All the people, all the equiptment, all the facilities- they’re all here! Why do you think this is where they put the academy? Because it wasn’t the heart of the SA? No!”
Dr. Pepper smiled.
“What?” Mugen demanded.
“You’re right,” said Dr. Pepper, “absolutely, positively right. I mean, all those other places, they don’t matter, ‘cause they’re not the heart of the SA, you know?”
“That’s not what I meant!” Mugen slammed his fist down on the table.
“I know,” said Dr. Pepper, and he sat up straight now, “but Mugen, I want you to understand something. You know I’m the one that canceled that transcript request.”
“You made it pretty obvious. Only a cadet’s drill sergeant can change it. But how did you change Seijaku’s?”
Dr. Pepper grinned, “I had to pull a lot of strings for that one. This means a lot to me, kid. I’ve seen you and Eugene work together. I’ve seen you and Seijaku work together. That’s why I’m sending you, as a team, to New York.”
“That place is a hell hole!” Mugen cried.
“I know,” said Dr. Pepper, “would you believe, that at its height, it was once comparable to Lesis?”
“Sir?”
“New York is an ancient city, Mugen. It was founded with the colonization of America. I can’t remember the exact date. It reached its peak somewhere in the 23rd century and after that began to decline. It housed over 4 billion people then- think, Mugen, that’s almost one fifth of the current population. Unfortunately for it Earth fell and it disintegrated into chaos. It’s one of the few places left on Earth that is still inhabited and under SA jurisdiction.”
“Earth is a hotspot for conflict. New York doubly so. But the people there are real people- they’re not like those rich bastards on Europa or those self appointed intellectuals in Makartl off Venus’s coast.
“I’m not sending you there because I think it’s a valuable place for the SA. I don’t think it is nor do I ever think it will be again. It had its time, and now it’s fallen like all great empires. Nothing lasts forever. The real reason I’m sending you there is so that you can get something out of it.”
“Oh great,” Mugen said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “teach me, sifu.”
Dr. Pepper ignored him. “You will get something out of it,” he barked. “You will not come back until you do. I have permission from the general to hold you there as long as I deem necessary.”
“This is not fair!” Mugen shouted. “I won sparring championship three years in a row. Seijaku knows more about explosives and terriorist warfare than I- or anyone else for that matter- want him to know. And Eugene spends his spare time in conversation with the AI personality on the computer that he built himself! You can’t do this to us!”
“I can and I have,” Dr. Pepper said, “The matter is closed. You and your companions will remain on earth until I say you can leave. If you try to escape we will find you and send you back.”
“But-“ Mugen began.
“No buts, Private. That is a direct order. Now stand up straight and stop whining. You sound like a goddam girl!”
Glaring, Mugen stood up and faced Dr. Pepper. He’d show that stuck up sergeant- he’d be back in two months flat. No matter that soul-searching crap. He’d be the best e could be- and screw Dr. Pepper right over.
“Yes, sir!” he cried, and saluted.
“Very well then,” Dr. Pepper said, “be on your way then. Oh, and by the way-“ he said with a smile, “I think there’s a Porte’ Roussau by the door with your name on it. Be a shame not to drink it on your graduation night.”
That trick wouldn’t work on Mugen. He did, however, make an effort to mask his anger for the moment. By the door was indeed a bottle of pure Neptunian wine. He walked over and picked it up. Faking a smile, he turned around to Dr. Pepper.
“Thank you, sir,” he said, and tipped the glass at him before walking out the door.
“Hey, Mugen!” Eugene appeared out of nowhere as soon as the door was shut, Seijaku behind him.
“What were you guys doing?” Mugen demanded.
“Ummm…nothing. Just a little creative acquisition of information,” Eugene held up a listening device.
“You know you can get busted for listening in on other people’s conversations, Eugene.”
Eugene grinned, “Yeah, probably,” he said, “No luck, eh? Oh well.” He sighed, “Earth’s okay, I guess. I just wish we had been sent somewhere- somewhere-“
“With more robots?” Mugen suggested. Eugene threw a punch at him. He blocked it.
Seijaku smiled.
“Hey, no comments from the peanut gallery,” Eugene said to him.
“I don’t think he was commenting,” Mugen remarked.
“Can it,” Eugene growled, and marched down the hall, leaving Seijaku and Mugen standing alone.
Seijaku looked at Mugen.
“I don’t know where he’s going,” Mugen said, “probably off to flirt with some android girl, and then to talk Socrates with his computer. Too bad I didn’t show him this- he probably would have stayed.” Mugen held up the bottle of Porte Rousssau, “Nice stuff, this. Pepper’s trying to win me over. Well, that won’t work. Not after the shit he pulled with me.”
___
“No, I’m not quite sure why they’re being sent here,” the voice echoed over the line. Transmission from earth was bad, and inside a steel walled building doubly so. Kenji cursed.
“Can’t you at least send me their files, sir? If I have to supply weapons for four – sorry, three new men, I’m gonna have to know their shooting style.”
“The standard issue will do just fine, Kenji. And no custom makes. And no silencers.”
“What about-“
“No.”
“But you havn’t even seen it yet!’
“That’s irrelevant. The answer is no. The transport ship will arrive at 08:00 hours. Be ready.” The line clicked.
Kenji sighed. Commander Miridian didn’t understand the importance and fine work involved in a man’s own weapon. You didn’t just take any old thing off the shelf and say, “here. Use this. It shoots bullets.” It would be like making everybody wear the same shoe.
Ah well. One week from now and they wouldn’t have to deal with Miridian any more! He was being sent to Venus, and Fromm then on the single manned outpost on earth-New York Central Station- would be sent its instructions by telecom.
In the meantime Kenji had a lot to do. If from now on all orders were going to be routed by the same frequency hae had just used to talk to Jpohnson, then something had to be done about the feedback in the background. Hmmm. He could set up a station behind the wall, but that was going to take a while. Oh well. He didn’t care what Miridian said. He would prepare the weapons when the recruits got here, and in the meantime he would work on the receiver station. Heck, he would probably ed up giving them different weapons anyway.
He went into the office and retrieved a storage box. Opening it up, he removed a screwdriver and a wrench. The station was hundreds of years old, so Kenji felt safer using old fashioned tools on it as compared to the newer ones. He looked up at the ceiling and imagined what the building was like at its height. Even now it was beautiful, with its gilded foil and aluminum ceiling, its majestic columns. Years of dust covered most of it, though, and Kenji wondered how much more glorious it would look shined- with people all around.
“Must have been some place,” he said aloud, and, jumping over a railing, pulled out a screwdriver and a saw and slowly started to work tubes for the wiring.
A half an hour of work equaled twelve centimeters of wall and about 4 bandaids for his hand. Kenji wasn’t the greatest person with a saw, and the bits of wall he cut down kept falling on. He supposed he should work where the bits would fall beneath him, but unfortunately he wasn’t ten feet tall.
When the SA had established this base over 100 years ago, the technology had been quite different. The higher up you placed your receiver, the better reception you got. Now, of course, it didn’t matter.
“And heaven forbid they should make it an aerial base,” Kenji muttered to himself as he nursed another hand wound.
Aerial establishments, although now unnecessary because of the vast availability of land, were once earth’s only way to house its ever growing population. With the development of casual and accessible air flight came the development of pedestrian buildings suspended in the air. High up enough to allow for privacy, yet low enough to be a part of the city, these small saucer shaped buildings formed a literal haze over large cities. Although many were damaged or vandalized, at least 10,000 of various sizes were left over New York. They were, however, all abandoned. Fuel wasn’t cheap, and the ground was closer.
Kenji guessed he was about four more hours away from the receiver at the rate he was going. He considered taking a break but then decided he’d better not. “Leave it to the bastards to send me wire that couldn’t withstand the outdoors,” he grumbled, but he knew that he had been lucky to even get the wire. The type he was using went out of production 20 years ago, and Kenji understood why. It couldn’t be left outside, it only lasted for five years and then it completely eroded with the air, and it was very corrosive.
“Not to mention it’s damn annoying to work with,” Kenji gritted his teeth and he pulled off another bandage with one hand. He had poked himself with the wire again.
He had climbed about 20 feet now, inside the walls of Grand Central. He was narrowly balanced on a ledge. All he had to do was get a little higher and he could get to the connector port.
“Just a little higher-“ He said, trying to grasp a possible handhold. He missed.
“Damn,” he cursed, and slammed his boot onto the ledge. It crumbled.
He tried to grab on but couldn’t. He fell, sliding down with a pile of rubble.
Blackness…
___
Cold. Everywhere. Wetness… he was floating in a sea… a sea…
“NO, Seijaku. No more water.”
Kenji blinked.
“Hey! Eugene! He’s come around!” It was that same voice again…
“Be down in a minute. God, this guy really muddled the transceiver…”
Kenji felt angry. He couldn’t punch the person who said because he couldn’t see them, so he decided to go for verbal abuse. He opened his mouth to speak-
A torrent of water spilled all over him.
“Seijaku, I said NO MORE. Look at the mess! Go get a towel, man.”
“So what if you don’t know where they are! Go find one!”
Kenji experimentally lifted an arm. It felt fine. He tried pulling himself up- slowly. He blinked some more to get the water out of his eyes. His vision was almost back. He rubbed one of his eyes. The other. He could see perfectly.
Kneeling in front of him was an officer about his age- say, 22, with dark red braided hair. Not as tall as he was, but all the same rather tall. Or maybe it was just the exceptional shortness of the officer next to him- only about 4 feet 8 inches. This guy was holding a towel. Kenji figured it was to him that he owed the favor of being drenched in water.
He wondered where the second voice had come from- it had sounded far away.
“Eugene’s got a new transceiver unit he’s installing,” the red-haired officer said, “I think the other one crash landed with you and he has to use some of the parts cause he forgot the adapter.”
“I have one in the toolbox,” Kenji said.
“You mean this one?” asked the officer, holding up what looked to be a flattened piece of tin foil.
“Oh,” Kenji said.
“You are one lucky devil,” said the officer, “If you hadn’t landed exactly the way you did, you’d be dead.”
“I’m sure,” Kenji said, “but I think I’m ok.
correction. 26 pages ^-^
And when the woman had smiled… she had smiled when Momoko had given her something…
Momoko felt her hand. Her moonstone ring was gone. And that wasn’t a dream
She thought harder but she couldn't remember anymore. She had been fighting Seijaku, and then he had kicked her blaster up toward the ceiling. It must have created an explosion. That explained the memory loss. But her ring was gone.. Her watch... she checked her arm.. her watch was still on her wrist. But what had happened to her ring?
And how had she gotten from the abandoned building to here?
She had lied to Seijaku when she said she had called for backup. She hadn't had a transmitter and it would have taken too long anyway. Even if there was a rescue team sent out, she wouldn't be in her apartment right now. She would be in the hospital.
Her transmitter started buzzing and vibrating from its position on the dresser. It shook so hard that it began to move. Momoko grabbed it before it could fall off.
She looked at the signature. It was the chief, so she turned it on and held it up to her ear. One minute I had Seijaku cornered and the next I’m in my apartment. And I’m missing
“Yes, sir?” she asked.
“Momoko-thank god,” the chief’s voice reverberated over the line, “that explosion- we thought you were dead when we saw it. Nothing in the debris. But this morning I turn on the comm channels for the days shift and yours is still operable. What the hell is going on?”
“I don’t quite know myself, sir,” Momoko leaned against the wall, “-“ she paused and looked at her hand- “I’m missing something.”
“Something valuable? You know, it was probably a street thief. They’ll take anything.”
“Yeah,” Momoko leaned back and sighed, “but if you didn’t find me, sir, who did?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. Got any theories?”
Momoko bit her lip.
“No, sir. Looks like my lucky stars were just shining last night.”
“Well, stars or no stars, you’re pretty damn lucky. Let’s hope next time you won’t need it.”
“Amen, sir. I’ll see you at the office.”
“Office? Are you sure you’re up to that, Momoko?”
“Yeah. I’m good. I gotta go do something and then I’ll come in about an hour or so.”
“Ok. Don’t push it, kid.”
“See you, sir,” Momoko hung up the phone and looked at the mirror. She looked a mess, but it wouldn’t be the first time that she had to pull herself together in five minutes. She undressed and whacked the electro shower, stepping out five seconds later. She found a rather oversized and wrinkled uniform in the back of her closet (normally she washed her one in the evening) and grimaced as she pulled gargantuan knots out of her hair.
She checked her watch. Four minutes and twenty seconds. She was getting good.
Her ship was an old ship, even an amateur could tell that. It was made of brushed silver chrome, for when it was built the sun still shone on earth. Only a few high-end models had been built with mirror chrome, and almost all of them had crashed due to their tendency to reflect the sunlight into an oncoming driver’s eyes. By the beginning of the collapse of earth it had become almost taboo to buy such a ship, and so manufacturers had adjusted with no real cost change by changing the mirror chrome to brushed.
That had lasted for about ten years, but then when the sun was blocked out with all finality, the survivors of the earth switched back to the mirrored. It was easier to see on a cloudy sky.
That’s how you could always tell an earth vessel. Bright, mirrored chrome- any color, so long as it stood out. A sophisticated window apparatus to keep a clear view in the constant rain, and super bright headlights. For every planet the ship style fit the conditions.
She hopped in now. The interior was not pretty- two seats and it was a two handed manual control. You didn’t steer any of it with your feet. It was a sleek design, and two thruster jets protruded out and back-the fancier, muscle ships had three.
Momoko opened the door of her apartment garage and threw the ship in gear. It rumbled for a minute and then zoomed off into the gray earth sky.
___
Midori whistled as he walked down the food court of the titan spaceport. Idly he wandered if the food you ate in the database would in any way affect your body outside the database.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw a Chiron Bakery. Chiron… it had the best pastries. Or so he had heard at Mars. Some of the kids there had money like you wouldn’t believe. Private ships. Concerts every other night. Imported foods- and pastries from Chiron.
If he tried it now, he wouldn’t have to pay for it.
He walked over to the line. It was long. Eager to practice his newfound skills, he concentrated for a moment on making it shorter.
“Can I get you something, sir?” He was at the head of the line. Everyone else was behind him. The girl at the register was smiling.
“Ummm….” Midori put his hands in his pockets and looked around. ”One of everything,” he said.
“One of everything?” The girl blinked.
“One of everything,” Midori said, and gave her a smile.
“Whoa. Ok,” said the girl, “give me a minute.”
She headed towards the back of the room. Midori didn’t want to wait.
“Here you go,” she said.
She was back. Midori allowed himself a smug grin. He was getting good at this. He took the proffered brown bag full of pastries and sat down at an empty table near the window where you could see out into space. In his opinion Saturn had always been the most beautiful of planets, and so he enjoyed watching as titan plodded along its orbit around the many-ringed planet.
He opened up the bag and pulled out a squarish looking tart with filling. Curious, he bit into it.
“JEEZ THIS TASTES GOOD!” He shouted, causing more than a few people to stare. But it was true, though. The pastry was like heaven on earth. Light and fluffy crust, with a honeyish inside mixed with sesame seeds. He took another bite and another, stuffing it down his mouth. He didn’t care about being a messy eater; he didn’t have to worry about being full. The pastry was everything he expected it to be. He was almost through a second one when he was interrupted.
“You know, in the real world they don’t really taste like that.”
Midori looked up and wiped the honey off of his face. Standing in front of him was an exceptionally tall woman with long, green hair tied back in a ponytail. She had a cherubic face, and Midori couldn’t help but notice that her iris was pure black.
“Are you…” He started to ask, not wanting to be rude.
“I am Android Hoshi, model number 120-3843-3042. I was built by Sun twelve years ago. I am of the make Inea 204. Do require further information about my origins?”
“No,” said Midori, shifting uncomfortably. He had never met an android before.
“Good,” said Hoshi, “May I sit…?” She gestured to the chair across from Midori.
“Sure,” Midori said, and got up and pulled it out for her.
When she had sat down, he asked her.
“What do you mean when you say they don’t taste like that in the real world.”
Hoshi sighed. Midori was amazed at how human her actions were. Even her blinks were right. She looked at him.
“In the database, everything you see is created by your imagination. You see, your image of the titan spaceport looks like this. But my image would look different- and probably be more accurate too, since I am an android. You, however, determine how everything is here. Including,” she pointed to his brown bag, “the pastries. You’ve never tasted them before, so you will simply taste what you think they taste like. Everything,” She picked up Midori’s pastry and bit it, “is perceived. This is too dry, and the inside is cream. This is what a real one looks like,” she held the pastry, and to Midori’s amazement it was filled with white cream instead of honey.
“How…”
“I’m afraid I don’t have time for that right now,” she snapped, “Modifying other’s perceptions is a tricky business, and it takes time, even for someone with a high IQ like you, to learn. I have an assignment from the SA.”
“Already?” Midori said, “I would have thought…”
“This is your fifth hour, Mr. Midori. In such a short time many things must be accomplished. Time in this place is perceived, and so it varies from person to person. Some people experience a whole year here in an hour. The longer a subject is in here, the more distorted their view of time becomes. However, the subject you are about to view is around the same time stretch as you, so you not experience any major discomfort.”
“How do you know it’s been five hours,” Midori asked, “I mean, I know you have an internal clock but-“
“I have been instructed to give you this,” Hoshi said, and she held up a plain sliver watch, “You will know the time it is in the ‘real’ world. You will be given appointments, and this way you will be able to meet them.”
Midori accepted the watch and put it on his left arm.
“Now, Mr. Midori, I am instructed to take you to the next location you need to report at. Please excuse any momentary discomfort. Traveling to a static interface often requires a slight shock to the brain.”
Midori watched as Hoshi stopped moving for a moment; an android’s way, he supposed, of concentrating. Her eyes got a far-off stare, and then all of a sudden he felt a rushing cold sensation run through his body. He doubled up on the floor, but then it disappeared- and he was falling.
“Please get up, Mr. Midori.”
Midori blinked.
Chapter Two: The Past Is Just Data
It is dark at night
The young girl’s radio blares loudly
And the boardwalk is filled
The stars are faint
The doorway of the academy at Titan is quite elaborate; built as to make a lasting impression. It was created from a model conglomeration of the ancient buildings of earth- at least, the ones that survived. The grand arch at the top, for which it is the most noted, was modeled after the coliseum’s arch directly above where the emperor of Rome would sit. The two thick brass doors are taken from the Himeji palace in Japan, and the windows in the sides from the cathedral in Charte.
All this makes for quite an eyesore.
Ugly or not, the door still had the ability to take a person off guard, which was exactly what it had just done to the young cadet who had walked through the door.
He was average height; with the face of a ‘good old boy’ from a 1950’s TV show. His hair was a dark red, braided in the Chinese style. His shirt was starched, his pants neatly pressed, and he smelled of aftershave.
He was also completely taken with the door. He stood there absolutely absorbed, his head tilted back and his eyes gazing towards the ceiling where the plaster molds were taken from the palace of Louis the 14th.
His renevoir, however, was soon broken off. Another cadet, shorter and with albino hair that had been tinged green, came up to him and tapped him on the shoulder. He carried papers in his left hand, and it was these he motioned to.
A minute and a half later they were at the sign-in desk.
“Mugen, Tagami,” the first cadet said, handing the women behind the desk the papers. He noticed she had an unusual countenance.
“You are Seijaku Jiten?” she said, looking at the green-haired cadet. He nodded.
“Very good. I will need your signature here- both of you- on this list.”
Mugen signed it and handed the pencil to Seijaku. When he was finished the woman looked them over and filed them.
“Fifth door on the right is the reception hall. There’s a welcoming reception for all new cadets there.”
“Thank you,” Mugen said, and he grabbed his suitcase and Seijaku’s. Seijaku shrugged and followed.
Mugen didn’t say anything. Ever since high school Seijaku had never talked unless he had to, and even then it took some persuasion. He limited himself to yes and no answers, and asked no questions of his own.
Mugen thought it was a very productive way to go about living, and he wasn’t about to stop Seijaku from doing it. Although he did occasionally wish that Seijaku was a little more vocal about what he was thinking. He had made a point leave his acceptance notice to the academy on Mugen’s desk the week before they were going, and that was the first time he ever he talked- well, mentioned- going to the academy. Mugen accepted it as a part of his friend’s eccentric nature and left it at that.
“Hey! What’d she say to you?!”
Mugen spun around. Behind him was a boy with black hair and blue eyes. He looked like a first year cadet as well.
“Who?” Mugen asked.
“The android. At the desk. You signed in. I saw you.”
Mugen blinked, “Android?”
“Yeah. Inea make. Real sweet,” the boy lowered his voice, “She was designed for ‘dancer’ girls and that sort of thing, but her gig was busted last week. The SA took possession.”
“Oh,” Mugen said. He looked down at Seijaku, who was smiling, “I didn’t notice anything. She just was sorta… not human, that’s all.”
“My name’s Mugen,” he said, “This is Seijaku and you are…?”
“Eugene. Just plain Eugene. I’m here for the robotics program,” he looked at Seijaku, “Does he…er… talk?”
“Not really,” Mugen said. Seijaku shrugged.
“Hey! Are you guys going to the assembly?”
“Yeah.”
“Meet me there in a few minutes? I gotta go deliver something from the robotics lab,”
“We’ll save you a seat,” Mugen called out, but Eugene was already down the hall.
“Jeez… Somebody’s hyper.”
Seijaku nodded.
They took some seats in the middle row at the assembly, and Mugen put his suitcase on one to show that it was reserved. Seijaku had started a staring contest with his umbrella. Mugen looked around.
It seemed that other than the door all the rooms he had seen thus far at the academy were largely composed of steel floors and white walls- the epitome of institutional décor. The assembly hall was no exception. Excepting a blue curtain behind the stage, which did little to diffuse the cold light and mechanic atmosphere, the hall could have been an empty gym. Mugen sighed.
“Hey! Thanks for saving me a seat!”
Mugen looked up. It was Eugene.
“Uhh.. sure. No problem, Eugene. Some people wanted it but then Seijaku took out his Glock and started polishing it. They went away.”
Eugene frowned.
“It’s just a joke,” Mugen said, “sit down!”
“Oh, a joke! I get it now. Funny!”
Mugen’s temper was beginning to wane.
“ATTENTION! EVERYONE CALL TO ATTENTION!!”
Fortunately Eugene said no more. Mugen turned his focus to the platform, upon which a tall man in his fifties was standing at a podium. He wore a uniform. Mugen recognized him; he was Teva Hitakova.
“Department head,” he whispered to Seijaku, who nodded and looked up from his suitcase to see what this man was going to say.
Mugen was surprised, because Seijaku gave very few things his full attention. He never needed to, because he was so smart. If he did, it was for no other reason that he was either amused or trying to be respectful.
“I want to thank you all for coming here today,” the man said, “You are the next generation of fighting force, the new infusion of power into the organization. We need you. The SA is an excellent organization, but without you, the people who are willing to dedicate themselves our service, we would be nothing. For this reason I welcome you today.”
Seijaku yawned and leaned back. Mugen guessed he wasn’t interested. Oh well. He continued to listen intently.
“…is not true. The SA united a crumbling race. When the exodus from earth began the major world governments had already reached their crumbling, and left the human race to fend for themselves. But we are an enduring race, and out of the ruins we rose. The crumbling alliance of the terran powers left an elite few men to themselves; I was not one of them, but I was privileged enough to serve under them when they began their crusade to unite humanity peacefully. Before the first space shuttle left the ground a member of what was to become the Solar Introfac had been loaded onto every ship, a whole crew of SA loaded onto the ship bound for Titan, and in the years following we managed to unite the entire solar system- excepting Pluto, of course. They don’t really count.”
There were smiles and laughter. Pluto was the rebel planet that had refused to join the SA and murdered the officer the SA had sent with them. All the other planets had readily welcomed an alliance, for by the time that they were settled and the onboard SA officers discovered, the SA had set up a complex network originating from their headquarters on Titan, through which they controlled and standardized a huge power and food supply, as well as providing transport and medical aid to their members. They represented order and stability, something humanity was in sore need of.
“As a result the human race has finally been able to ‘reach’ the stars. The discovery of fusion power, under the direction of the SA, has allowed us to develop the industrial and manufacturing to heights we never dreamed possible, and the work in robotics done in collaboration with private industry renders us capable of making machines equal to ourselves and capable of helping us as we look ahead into the next era of human history.
“It is with an optimistic mind that I welcome you here today. I feel privileged to be allowed to greet the next generation of people who, I believe, will change the future.”
After the assembly Mugen picked up his suitcase and Seijaku followed suit. They picked up their room assignments from a rather large woman at the front counter. Mugen supposed she was not an android.
“We don’t take requests,” she had told Seijaku when he had motioned that he wanted to room with Mugen. Seijaku had looked at Mugen and Mugen had shrugged. Seijaku had angrily accepted a piece of paper from the woman and stomped down the corridor where his room was.
“Is he going to be ok?” A voice said from behind Mugen.
“Huh?” Mugen spun around, “Oh, Eugene,” he said, recognizing the black hair and regretting it, “He’ll be fine,” he reassured him, “He’ll mope for a little while and then go back to being his normal self- well, his self at the least.”
“Oh,” Eugene said, and looked at the piece of paper in Mugen’s hand, “Hey! You got your room assignment!” he exclaimed.
“Yeah,” Mugen said, and was going to say “What’s it to you?” but before he could Eugene snatched the paper and ran up to the fat lady at the counter.
When he came back he was holding another piece of paper and smiling, “Lab workers get to chose their rooms,” he exclaimed emphatically, “Now we can room together. What do you say, Mugen?”
“Ummm… great,” Mugen said, feeling as if he didn’t have much choice in the matter.
“Excellent! I’ll take the left side, unless you object. I’ve always preferred the left side of rooms. Don’t know why, really. Just have. I’m left handed. Maybe that’s it. Is right okay with you?”
“Umm… sure,” Mugen was doubtful if any side of a room shared with Eugene would be okay.
For the next two hours Mugen unpacked, pulling out clothing and other necessities from the threadbare suitcase he had brought with him. Considering how old it was, however, it was a surprise that this suitcase’s only malady was its thread-bareness.
It had come from earth, an unusual thing, especially on Titan, where quite a bit of manufacturing was done. Most people on Titan only had one or two items from other planets, not to mention earth. But this suitcase had come from earth; it was Mugen’s grandfather’s; and it was this suitcase that he took with him as a young man when he left earth in its final days.
And so now, eighty years later, when Mugen’s grandfather was dead and the spaceships he traveled in long consigned to the scrap bins, this same suitcase led Mugen into a new world.
It was not a kind world; given that. But all things worth doing are rarely under kind conditions, and few people recognize that. Mugen had, however. He had recognized it the day he came to Titan with his little sister, when he was barely five years old. His parents had died in a rare collision between two space liners, and their grandfather had taken Mugen and Enjuku in. He remembered the SA man who came to the door to the house on Io, knocking on the door. And when only Mugen had answered he took Mugen and Enjuku, putting them in his spaceship and taking them to Titan.
Mugen remembered the first time he had come to Titan- they had landed in the main city, Lesis, and the SA officer had taken them to go get some food while the registrations were processed and the SA located Mugen’s grandfather.
The sky on Titan had no clouds, but it was forever occupied by its father planet, Saturn, in at least half of its sky. Mugen remembered looking up at it for the first time, trying to reach it. He remembered the SA man laughing, and then leading him past the gate into the city. He remembered being amazed.
Lesis was a city planned and designed by the famous architect Techn Kevel long before it was ever built, but it was not Techn’s incredible foresight, or his excellent and economical street design, that made the city of Lesis so attractive. It was Titan itself.
The buildings on titan shone. It wasn’t a reflective shine, it was almost as if they generated their own light. Mugen was later to learn the reason: Titan’s atmosphere contained a gas that, when it was absorbed by silicon based objects( which it bonded with frequently) it gave off a phosphorescing light. Silicon was the prevalent building material, and so shining buildings were the prevalent building type.
But Mugen was only four then, and so when the door had open and he had stepped out into the bright sunlight, holding the SA man’s left hand, he looked and did not think ‘phosphorescing buildings’. He looked and thought ‘heaven’. And he asked the SA man if he could see his parents here.
And so in a city he had once supposed to be the home of angels he grew up; he loved the city down to its very roots. And when he learned that the city had been built by the SA, he learned to love the SA.
He figured that anything that could make a place as beautiful as this had to be good; he supposed that the SA was something to which he should be grateful. And he was.
This feeling grew into support when the SA offered to pay for his college education after his grandfather died, wherever he should chose to go, so long as he got accepted and kept good grades. He wasted a year as an art major at Lesis University, which he had chosen simply because he loved the city and was decent at drawing. Then he decided to grow up, and he joined the SA.
And so, a week before he was to leave, while he was packing, Seijaku had come in and discreetly put his own acceptance letter on Mugen’s desk, smiling at the shocked expression on his friend’s face, pausing only long enough to shrug.
Eugene had, fortunately, gone off to repair a broken server, so Mugen had some peace and quiet for the rest of the afternoon. He folded up his spare uniform neatly and stowed it away in the metal dresser next to his bead (on the right side), turning his attention to the only remaining item in the suitcase.
It was a bright red phonograph, with gold lettering on the sides. Mugen only had one track that it could play, but he enjoyed it so much it didn’t matter. Besides, he only played the phonograph when others weren’t around. He considered it a rather private thing.
It had belonged to his father, who had picked it up on Mercury. It was an exchange for a summer’s worth of hard labor in the crystal mines, but Mugen’s father had considered it worth anything the moment he saw it. He had spent the summer sweating in the mines, and by the end he had found enough of the pure Myrian crystal to buy the red spaceship in dry-dock d. Mugen’s father raced spaceships, and this spaceship was perhaps one of the fastest ever built. As he walked down the streets of the market, he planned how he would race it in all the most prominent competitions and win prize money, allowing him to move to Europa and spend his life at ease, in days of long baths and large pitchers of wine.
He had turned his head to the side for a few moments, taking in the sights; for this was the last time he would be on Mercury for a long time.
And then he had seen her.
A simple girl, with black plaited hair and a pink cotton kimono- barefoot. She was standing at the doorway of a small house on the side of the road, picking up a bouquet of white lilies she had dropped on the ground. Mugen’s father had stopped, turned, ran to her, and picked up all the flowers before she could refuse, rearranging them so they looked like they hadn’t fallen down at all.
The girl had simply smiled.
With a shy mien she had accepted the bouquet, and walked back into the house. Mugen’s father had realized that she had dropped her handkerchief, and he picked it up to examine the embroidery on it.
Danielle Nakamura.
Blinking, he realized he had just met the girl of his dreams. He had never believed in love at first sight, but now he did. His heart sang as he ran down the streets, full of rapture at discovering, in a single moment, what everybody longs to discover; the part of them they have always been missing.
Later, on a walk down a different street, he would hear music playing from a merchant’s stand, and he would stop to listen. It sounded like an opera, and he would think that somebody was selling copies of the song.
But when he met the merchant and discovered the source of the music, it became apparent to him that what the merchant was selling was not copies of the track of Turin do.
Instead he was selling a much more valuable item. It was a bright red box, and in it spun a disk. When you wound the crank on the side the disc would go around and around, and then music would spill out of the box.
Mugen’s father asked him where he got it.
The merchant had a smile on his face. Ahh, it was very rare! An antique, and an old one at that. Centuries upon centuries old. Why, it was very possibly the only one left. Had this one not been saved by the Nakamura family-
Mugen’s father interrupted him. What did he mean by Nakamura?
The merchant told the boy. Surely he knew the story of the fall of the great Nakamura family? They were one of the richest families after the destruction of earth. They invested all their money in real estate on Io- a smart choice, it seemed, for Io was one of the closest worlds and easiest to settle. They had not known about the destructive fires that plagued the planet. And so, when the planet took up one of its deadly annual rains, it destroyed all of the buildings the Nakamuras had bought. It also destroyed their fortune. The family had moved to Mercury, where living was cheap, and sold most of their possessions.
Mugen’s father wondered how important the box was to them?
It was the little girl’s, said the merchant, her mother owned it before she died long ago, and her mother owned it before her. An old, old box. It was one of the last things they sold.
Mugen’s father looked mournfully at the money in his pocket, which he had intended for the spaceship.
Ten minutes later he was at the doorstep of the girl’s house. He knocked on the door and she answered. She looked questioningly at the wrapped box he had in his hand. He motioned for her to open it, and she had begun to cry when she saw what was inside.
A year later they were married.
The last song was almost at its end now. Mugen looked at the disc, watching it spin. Round and round. He checked his watch. It was getting late. He would go check on Seijaku, who he hoped had calmed down by now, and then polish his boots before he went to bed. He supposed his first day of training was not going to be easy.
___
“ATTENTION!! ALL CADETS TO ATTENTION!” Mugen stood up straight, as straight as he could. ‘Dr. Pepper’, the drill sergeant, was rumered to be particularly nasty. He was nicked named after an old soft drink, for some ridiculous reason Eugene had mention but which Mugen couldn’t remember. His overly friendly roommate had spent the twenty minutes the cadets were given to prepare for inspection babbling about him, while Mugen straightened up his bed and polished his boots.
Surprisingly, Eugene was totally silent during inspection. Mugen didn’t think that was possible, although he had considered that perhaps he was exaggerating Eugene’s talkativeness. It was entirely plausible, since the last ten years of his life had been spent with a friend that didn’t talk.
“CADET!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?” Mugen’s reverie was interrupted by an image of Dr. Pepper screaming in his face. Only too late he realized what had happened. He had left his head staring intently at a girl far away in the window to his right.
“Nothing, sir!” Mugen turned it back as quickly as possible.
“Yeah, I’ll bet it was nothing,” Dr. Pepper looked at the window, but the girl was gone. “Was she pretty?” He asked. The gruff tone didn’t leave his voice even when he spoke normally.
“She was okay, sir,” Mugen said nervously.
There was laughter.
“Then don’t waste your time on her,” Dr. Pepper stopped at the end of the hallway of beds. More laughter. The cadets were relieved to learn that their commander was, although he didn’t appear to be, human. “Enough,” said Dr. Pepper, and they quieted down.
“I just want to make a little statement to those of you,” Dr. Pepper crossed his arms and looked at the cadets, “to those of you that joined because you had nothing else to do with your lives.”
Mugen knew he wasn’t one of these. He had joined the SA for a better reason than that. He had joined because he was dedicated.
“I’m sure you’ve all heard it one time or another; if you don’t have anything better to do with your lives, join the army. Well, I’m here to tell you different. This is no walk on Venus. It’s not fun. You have to work hard. Some of you are gonna get tired, and some of you are gonna get injured, and some of you are gonna quit. Some out of every class drops out. So if you’re not gonna try, then you might as well not waste my time. You might as well leave now.”
The cadets stood silent.
“Well, no quitters then?” The sergeant chuckled, “That’ll change real fast. First on the agenda for today: sparring.”
“We spar before breakfast,” said Dr. Pepper as Mugen bowed off to his opponent, a rather bulky man named Jean Kiro, “It keep you hungry for blood.”
Jean was about a foot taller than Mugen, and a lot meaner looking. Furthermore, Jean looked like he had spent a lot of time in the gym, while Mugen couldn’t remember the last time he had seen a bench press. Probably sophomore year.
He bent his knees slightly and rooted himself to the ground. He wondered what he was going to do. Nothing, he supposed. It would probably be better to let Jean come to him.
Sure enough, Jean advanced with a jab to the head. Mugen just barely managed to block it with his left hand. He hadn’t, however, taken into account what was to follow. Jean rushed in with a punch to the ribcage under his blocking arm.
“JEEZ!” Mugen cried, and he fell to floor. One of his left ribs gave a sickening crack. He tried to nurse it, and rubbed it gently-
It didn’t work. “ITAI!” He screamed, writhing in pain, “That hurt!
“Stop whining. You sound like my goddam baby sister,” Mugen looked up. It was Dr. Pepper.
“Yes, sir,” he gulped.
“Now get up.”
Mugen sheepishly got up, brushing off the dust from the mats.
“Where did he hit you?”
Mugen pointed weakly to his left side.
“Ah, broke a rib, did he?” Dr. Pepper grinned, “I’ve seen worse. You’ll be fine. Walk in off in a week.”
Mugen stared at him in astonishment.
“This isn’t preschool, cadet! We don’t give you a Band-Aid for all your little boo-boos, understand? Now get back up and try again!”
“Yes, sir,” Mugen got back up into his ready position.
“No! You’re much to tense! Loosen up!” Pepper shouted.
Mugen tried to relax, but found it difficult. Jean was panting like a bull.
“RELAX, DAMMIT! I COULD BREAK EVERY BONE IN YOUR BODY THE WAY YOU’RE STANDING!”
Mugen began to shake. Dr. Pepper sighed.
“Now, look,” he said, in a much softer voice, “hold your feet farther apart.”
Mugen did so.
“That’s better. Now bend your knees more. Just like that.”
Mugen smiled.
“That’s it. Now you gotta relax, ‘cause if you’re tense I can break your bones real easy. Try to imagine you’re somewhere you really like.”
Mugen closed his eyes and began to envision-
“DON’T CLOSE YOUR EYES!”
Mugen opened his eyes.
“Where are you?” Dr. Pepper asked.
“The gateway of Lesis. South side.”
“Ok. Now in a minute, Jean here is gonna attack you. Stay on the balls of your feet, and stay relaxed. What are you gonna do when he tries to hit you?”
“Block it,” Mugen said.
“No, you aren’t. He’s much to strong for that. You’re gonna move out of the way, cause you can move fast now. You’re on the balls of your feet. And then you’re gonna hit him.”
Mugen stared blankly.
“Well, what are you waiting for? Go!”
Mugen bowed off to Jean. Then he moved his feet apart and bent his knees. He tried to imagine the gateway of Lesis.
WHAM! Jean hit him right to the head. It hurt. Mugen massaged it painfully.
Well he hadn’t fallen down. He’d just have to imagine faster.
Bow off, and then-
WHAM!
Mugen sighed and looked at the bruise on his left arm. Oh well.
Bow off, and-
WHAM!
BANG!
“OOWWW!!” A voice cried out in pain. All faces turned to Mugen, only it wasn’t him. It was Jean, who lay on the floor, curled up in pain.
Eugene ran up to Mugen, who was nursing his right elbow.
“What happened, man? I thought you were gonna get creamed.”
“I did,” Mugen said, and pointed to a bruise which was purpling on his forehead, “And I was, until he tried that same stupid combination on me for the third time, and I punched him out,” He pointed to writhing mass of humanity on the floor.
“Better call Dr. Pepper,” Eugene said, “he looks pretty bad.”
“What, he isn’t here?” Mugen said, “He didn’t see me?”
“No way, man. He left after he showed you the counter. Guess he thought you’d be ok.”
____
The speaker in the hallway blared loudly, but it could hardly be heard over the chatter of cadets rushing to the cafeteria. Lunchtime, Mugen had learned, was a precious piece of time, and not a moment of it was to be wasted.
He was in his fourth year, and this was to be the last time he ate in the cafeteria. Today the graduates received their new assignments as officers of the SA. Mugen wondered where he would be sent.
He wouldn’t find out if he couldn’t find out where to pick up his assignment. There was too much chatter in the hall. He was about to shout loudly at the first years for making too much noise, but then-
“HEY! MUGEN!”
“EUGENE!” Mugen turned around to see Eugene thirty feet away, wading in a sea of cadets.
“HEY! I PICKED UP YOUR ASSIGNMENT FOR YOU!”
“COME OVER HERE!”
“OKAY!”
Mugen barely managed to grab onto a nearby wall as a fresh wave of cadets poured into the hallway. He supposed they must be in Mr. Ventura’s class. That man always made the class stay late.
“Hey,” Eugene was at his side, “Where’s Seijaku?”
“I don’t know. I saw him with some chic before weapons yesterday.”
Eugene was incredulous, “You did? Seijaku? I mean, I just don’t see that-“
“-happening,” Mugen finished the sentence for him, “I know. I don’t either. But in a way, I could see how a girl could fall for him. He’s short, kind of pet like-“
“You mean like a rotweiler?”
Mugen glared, “I was thinking more along the lines of a small puppy or cat.”
“Yeah, if they carry a machine gun, ” Eugene was grinning shamelessly.
“Continuing on-“ Mugen started, but he was interrupted by a tap on his shoulder. “What?” He demanded, spinning around angrily, expecting it to be some stupid first year who needed directions. It was Seijaku, smiling sheepishy.
“How long have you been standing there?” Mugen demanded. Seijaku looked as if he was going to laugh, but Mugen knew he wouldn’t. It was one of those things he just never did.
Eugene, however, did laugh. Mugen punched him in the nose. He stopped.
“Watch it, man,” he said, massaging his nose, “not all of us won the championship sparring match.”
Seijaku pulled on Mugen’s sleeve and waved a piece of paper at him. Mugen caught it.
“Earth. New York Division. Well, have fun man. I’m staying right here. I put in a request – hopefully they’ll meet it.”
“Think again,” Eugene said, “You’re going too.” He handed Mugen another piece of paper, this time with his name printed on the top.
Mugen stared at it in disbelief. Underneath his name, next to the word ‘assignment’, was printed exactly what was on Seijaku’s paper: Earth. New York Division.
“Is this some kind of sick joke?” he demanded, swirling around to look at Eugene.
“Don’t look at me,” Eugene said, “I got sent there too.” He held up his paper in front of Mugen, “See- it reads Earth, New York Division right there.”
“I can tell what it says, Eugene,” Mugen growled, “what I want to know is why we- we three cadets, who all put it transfers for places other than New York- get sent there.”
“I don’t know,” Eugene said. Seijaku shrugged.
“Ok, well I’m going to find out,” Mugen declared. He snatched the transcript out of Eugene’s hand, and, with all three papers, he marched down the hall way to Dr. Pepper’s office.
“Somebody’s angry,” Eugene remarked, watching him trail off.
Seijaku put his hands in his pocket and shrugged.
“Don’t you ever do anything other than shrug?” Eugene looked at him, “I mean a hello, or a ‘yeah, you’re right Eugene’ would be nice once in a while. Even once a year! Just some acknowledgement other than a shrug! What do you think?”
Seijaku shrugged.
___
Since the sparring incident on his first day at the academy, Mugen had learned to respect his drill sergeant Dr. Pepper. Even in his senior year, when drill sergeants do not play a significant role in cadet’s training, Mugen found himself constantly seeking the Dr.’s help. Sure, he was rough around the edges, but he was always honest. Mugen knew he could get the straight story from him.
At this moment, however, he was fuming with rage at him. As he walked down the hallway, he meditated on how to best impress upon Dr. Pepper his feelings. By the time he was near the office, he had decided it would be best to throw the door open and shove the transcripts in Pepper’s face and demand an answer. This was not, however, what happened.
The door to Dr. Pepper’s office was a bright red door, and over it hung a wooden plaque with two words in latin: SIEMPRE FIDEL. Mugen never knew what the words meant, but he had been told they were from an old earth military force dating back to the 20th century.
Oh well. No matter. Whatever the words were that Dr. Pepper had posted over his door, Mugen was going to make him regret botching up his assignment. Why, he-
“Come in, Mr. Tagami,” Mugen blinked. Dr. Pepper was standing right in front of him, holding open the door, “or should I say Private Tagami now?”
Mugen smiled sheepishly, “Whichever you prefer, sir.”
Dr. Pepper walked over to his desk and sat down. He motioned for Mugen to sit in the chair opposite him. Then he reached into one of his desk drawers and pulled out a small booklet. It looked to Mugen like a data display.
“Well, Private- that’s what I’ll call you, ‘cause that’s what you are now, and you worked real hard for it,” Dr. Pepper said, “how’s life outta school? You happy with graduation? You and your buddies got anything,” he raised an eyebrow, “planned?”
Mugen grinned. He knew all about the sort of things that happened on graduation night.
“No, sir,” he said, “Seijaku’s got a girl, I think… seems kinda strange, tell you the truth. But we don’t really go to those places. Went once, I think. Girl named Lucy. She smelled like cheap whiskey, to be honest, and she didn’t look too good either. I left before much happened. Eugene threw up all his wine, and I had to carry him home with Seijaku smirking the whole way. Wasn’t very fun. Don’t think I’ll try it again.”
Dr. Pepper smiled, exposing some yellow teeth, “Smart lad,” he said, “my buddies and I, we weren’t as smart as you. But I think we had a bit more fun.” He pushed a button on the side of the data display. “Take a look. I once had my way with the ladies- didn’t always look this bad,” he smiled, “here’s a picture of me and my buddies on graduation night- before we got drunk.” He handed over the display. Mugen held it close.
On it was a picture dating back about forty years. There were five men in the picture, standing in a bar near the counter. The waitress was hugging one of them, and the man next to the one being hugged was most definitely Dr. Pepper. The face was less wrinkled, and the hair a different color, but it was unmistakably him.
“When I joined, the cadets didn’t have any choice as to where they were sent when they graduated,” Dr. Pepper said, “It was sink or swim. You either went there or you quit. A lot of people quit, but most stayed on. Found out they could do what they came here to do almost anywhere.”
“Sir?”
“Why did you join the SA, Mugen?”
Mugen looked at him, confused.
“Tell me,” Dr. Pepper said.
“I-I joined because I thought it was the right thing to do,” Mugen started, “you know when you get this feeling, like, like you know you should do something? Like you’re destined for it? Well, that’s how I felt about the SA. I came to Lesis when I was four, and you know what I thought about it? I thought it was heaven. It was that beautiful to me. And when I learned what ran the city, what was its very backbone. The SA ran it. Any organization that could make something that beautiful deserved my time and support.”
“It wasn’t just the way the buildings shone or how the sun reflected on the lake in the morning. At least, it became more than that. In the beginning that was all it was. But it became more as I got older. I studied a lot about government when I was in high school. I knew the signs of a well functioning one. And when I really started to look closer, I saw all these signs in the SA. Everyone here, sir, for the most part, is content. I don’t walk down the street and see homeless people. We have a very low crime rate. People have life expectancies over a hundred because we can provide our senior citizens with free health care. We have an awesome school system- sir! I mean, take a look around you! How could anyone not want to join the SA?”
“I must admit, though, that at first it took me a long time to realize this. I saw all the signs, and I recognized what a good government we had, but it never really clicked in me until one day my freshman year in college. I had been sitting there doing this drawing for my animation class, thinking how stupid and pointless the subject matter was, when it clicked in me; I could be doing something important with my life every day. I could help people every day.”
“A nice story,” Dr. Pepper said, leaning back in his chair, “Now I’ll ask you: do you really believe in what you just said?”
“Well, yeah,” Mugen replied, “I never would have said it if I didn’t.” He thought for a moment, “If you’re trying to tell me that I’m supposed to go help people on earth, just forget it. You can take your transcript and shove it. Lesis is my city. I live, I breathe, I die Lesis. This is where I want to be- at the very heart at the SA.”
“And New York is not the heart of the SA?” Dr. Pepper looked at him questioningly, “Where is the heart of the SA?”
“Here,” Mugen said, “It’s here. All the people, all the equiptment, all the facilities- they’re all here! Why do you think this is where they put the academy? Because it wasn’t the heart of the SA? No!”
Dr. Pepper smiled.
“What?” Mugen demanded.
“You’re right,” said Dr. Pepper, “absolutely, positively right. I mean, all those other places, they don’t matter, ‘cause they’re not the heart of the SA, you know?”
“That’s not what I meant!” Mugen slammed his fist down on the table.
“I know,” said Dr. Pepper, and he sat up straight now, “but Mugen, I want you to understand something. You know I’m the one that canceled that transcript request.”
“You made it pretty obvious. Only a cadet’s drill sergeant can change it. But how did you change Seijaku’s?”
Dr. Pepper grinned, “I had to pull a lot of strings for that one. This means a lot to me, kid. I’ve seen you and Eugene work together. I’ve seen you and Seijaku work together. That’s why I’m sending you, as a team, to New York.”
“That place is a hell hole!” Mugen cried.
“I know,” said Dr. Pepper, “would you believe, that at its height, it was once comparable to Lesis?”
“Sir?”
“New York is an ancient city, Mugen. It was founded with the colonization of America. I can’t remember the exact date. It reached its peak somewhere in the 23rd century and after that began to decline. It housed over 4 billion people then- think, Mugen, that’s almost one fifth of the current population. Unfortunately for it Earth fell and it disintegrated into chaos. It’s one of the few places left on Earth that is still inhabited and under SA jurisdiction.”
“Earth is a hotspot for conflict. New York doubly so. But the people there are real people- they’re not like those rich bastards on Europa or those self appointed intellectuals in Makartl off Venus’s coast.
“I’m not sending you there because I think it’s a valuable place for the SA. I don’t think it is nor do I ever think it will be again. It had its time, and now it’s fallen like all great empires. Nothing lasts forever. The real reason I’m sending you there is so that you can get something out of it.”
“Oh great,” Mugen said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “teach me, sifu.”
Dr. Pepper ignored him. “You will get something out of it,” he barked. “You will not come back until you do. I have permission from the general to hold you there as long as I deem necessary.”
“This is not fair!” Mugen shouted. “I won sparring championship three years in a row. Seijaku knows more about explosives and terriorist warfare than I- or anyone else for that matter- want him to know. And Eugene spends his spare time in conversation with the AI personality on the computer that he built himself! You can’t do this to us!”
“I can and I have,” Dr. Pepper said, “The matter is closed. You and your companions will remain on earth until I say you can leave. If you try to escape we will find you and send you back.”
“But-“ Mugen began.
“No buts, Private. That is a direct order. Now stand up straight and stop whining. You sound like a goddam girl!”
Glaring, Mugen stood up and faced Dr. Pepper. He’d show that stuck up sergeant- he’d be back in two months flat. No matter that soul-searching crap. He’d be the best e could be- and screw Dr. Pepper right over.
“Yes, sir!” he cried, and saluted.
“Very well then,” Dr. Pepper said, “be on your way then. Oh, and by the way-“ he said with a smile, “I think there’s a Porte’ Roussau by the door with your name on it. Be a shame not to drink it on your graduation night.”
That trick wouldn’t work on Mugen. He did, however, make an effort to mask his anger for the moment. By the door was indeed a bottle of pure Neptunian wine. He walked over and picked it up. Faking a smile, he turned around to Dr. Pepper.
“Thank you, sir,” he said, and tipped the glass at him before walking out the door.
“Hey, Mugen!” Eugene appeared out of nowhere as soon as the door was shut, Seijaku behind him.
“What were you guys doing?” Mugen demanded.
“Ummm…nothing. Just a little creative acquisition of information,” Eugene held up a listening device.
“You know you can get busted for listening in on other people’s conversations, Eugene.”
Eugene grinned, “Yeah, probably,” he said, “No luck, eh? Oh well.” He sighed, “Earth’s okay, I guess. I just wish we had been sent somewhere- somewhere-“
“With more robots?” Mugen suggested. Eugene threw a punch at him. He blocked it.
Seijaku smiled.
“Hey, no comments from the peanut gallery,” Eugene said to him.
“I don’t think he was commenting,” Mugen remarked.
“Can it,” Eugene growled, and marched down the hall, leaving Seijaku and Mugen standing alone.
Seijaku looked at Mugen.
“I don’t know where he’s going,” Mugen said, “probably off to flirt with some android girl, and then to talk Socrates with his computer. Too bad I didn’t show him this- he probably would have stayed.” Mugen held up the bottle of Porte Rousssau, “Nice stuff, this. Pepper’s trying to win me over. Well, that won’t work. Not after the shit he pulled with me.”
___
“No, I’m not quite sure why they’re being sent here,” the voice echoed over the line. Transmission from earth was bad, and inside a steel walled building doubly so. Kenji cursed.
“Can’t you at least send me their files, sir? If I have to supply weapons for four – sorry, three new men, I’m gonna have to know their shooting style.”
“The standard issue will do just fine, Kenji. And no custom makes. And no silencers.”
“What about-“
“No.”
“But you havn’t even seen it yet!’
“That’s irrelevant. The answer is no. The transport ship will arrive at 08:00 hours. Be ready.” The line clicked.
Kenji sighed. Commander Miridian didn’t understand the importance and fine work involved in a man’s own weapon. You didn’t just take any old thing off the shelf and say, “here. Use this. It shoots bullets.” It would be like making everybody wear the same shoe.
Ah well. One week from now and they wouldn’t have to deal with Miridian any more! He was being sent to Venus, and Fromm then on the single manned outpost on earth-New York Central Station- would be sent its instructions by telecom.
In the meantime Kenji had a lot to do. If from now on all orders were going to be routed by the same frequency hae had just used to talk to Jpohnson, then something had to be done about the feedback in the background. Hmmm. He could set up a station behind the wall, but that was going to take a while. Oh well. He didn’t care what Miridian said. He would prepare the weapons when the recruits got here, and in the meantime he would work on the receiver station. Heck, he would probably ed up giving them different weapons anyway.
He went into the office and retrieved a storage box. Opening it up, he removed a screwdriver and a wrench. The station was hundreds of years old, so Kenji felt safer using old fashioned tools on it as compared to the newer ones. He looked up at the ceiling and imagined what the building was like at its height. Even now it was beautiful, with its gilded foil and aluminum ceiling, its majestic columns. Years of dust covered most of it, though, and Kenji wondered how much more glorious it would look shined- with people all around.
“Must have been some place,” he said aloud, and, jumping over a railing, pulled out a screwdriver and a saw and slowly started to work tubes for the wiring.
A half an hour of work equaled twelve centimeters of wall and about 4 bandaids for his hand. Kenji wasn’t the greatest person with a saw, and the bits of wall he cut down kept falling on. He supposed he should work where the bits would fall beneath him, but unfortunately he wasn’t ten feet tall.
When the SA had established this base over 100 years ago, the technology had been quite different. The higher up you placed your receiver, the better reception you got. Now, of course, it didn’t matter.
“And heaven forbid they should make it an aerial base,” Kenji muttered to himself as he nursed another hand wound.
Aerial establishments, although now unnecessary because of the vast availability of land, were once earth’s only way to house its ever growing population. With the development of casual and accessible air flight came the development of pedestrian buildings suspended in the air. High up enough to allow for privacy, yet low enough to be a part of the city, these small saucer shaped buildings formed a literal haze over large cities. Although many were damaged or vandalized, at least 10,000 of various sizes were left over New York. They were, however, all abandoned. Fuel wasn’t cheap, and the ground was closer.
Kenji guessed he was about four more hours away from the receiver at the rate he was going. He considered taking a break but then decided he’d better not. “Leave it to the bastards to send me wire that couldn’t withstand the outdoors,” he grumbled, but he knew that he had been lucky to even get the wire. The type he was using went out of production 20 years ago, and Kenji understood why. It couldn’t be left outside, it only lasted for five years and then it completely eroded with the air, and it was very corrosive.
“Not to mention it’s damn annoying to work with,” Kenji gritted his teeth and he pulled off another bandage with one hand. He had poked himself with the wire again.
He had climbed about 20 feet now, inside the walls of Grand Central. He was narrowly balanced on a ledge. All he had to do was get a little higher and he could get to the connector port.
“Just a little higher-“ He said, trying to grasp a possible handhold. He missed.
“Damn,” he cursed, and slammed his boot onto the ledge. It crumbled.
He tried to grab on but couldn’t. He fell, sliding down with a pile of rubble.
Blackness…
___
Cold. Everywhere. Wetness… he was floating in a sea… a sea…
“NO, Seijaku. No more water.”
Kenji blinked.
“Hey! Eugene! He’s come around!” It was that same voice again…
“Be down in a minute. God, this guy really muddled the transceiver…”
Kenji felt angry. He couldn’t punch the person who said because he couldn’t see them, so he decided to go for verbal abuse. He opened his mouth to speak-
A torrent of water spilled all over him.
“Seijaku, I said NO MORE. Look at the mess! Go get a towel, man.”
“So what if you don’t know where they are! Go find one!”
Kenji experimentally lifted an arm. It felt fine. He tried pulling himself up- slowly. He blinked some more to get the water out of his eyes. His vision was almost back. He rubbed one of his eyes. The other. He could see perfectly.
Kneeling in front of him was an officer about his age- say, 22, with dark red braided hair. Not as tall as he was, but all the same rather tall. Or maybe it was just the exceptional shortness of the officer next to him- only about 4 feet 8 inches. This guy was holding a towel. Kenji figured it was to him that he owed the favor of being drenched in water.
He wondered where the second voice had come from- it had sounded far away.
“Eugene’s got a new transceiver unit he’s installing,” the red-haired officer said, “I think the other one crash landed with you and he has to use some of the parts cause he forgot the adapter.”
“I have one in the toolbox,” Kenji said.
“You mean this one?” asked the officer, holding up what looked to be a flattened piece of tin foil.
“Oh,” Kenji said.
“You are one lucky devil,” said the officer, “If you hadn’t landed exactly the way you did, you’d be dead.”
“I’m sure,” Kenji said, “but I think I’m ok.
correction. 26 pages ^-^
posted by Aveda at
Tuesday, December 03, 2002
