Minna-san,
Let's see if it works *this* time.
Cheers!
Fred
_________________________________________________________________
Don't just search. Find. Check out the new MSN Search!
http://search.msn.click-url.com/go/onm00200636ave/direct/01/
-- Attached file included as plaintext by Ecartis --
-- File: The Beginning of the Circle.txt
Pashansho, the planet Vos. Earth date: late June, 2001 . . .
"Sandra . . . "
The young man sat seiza before the small memorial inside the public
mausoleum located in the heart of this mid-sized city located in the
mountains of Vos' northern continent. Before him hovered a holographic
picture of his late fiancee, she depicted in a dark-blue military uniform
crossed with a red infantryman's sash and decorated with various markings.
The man was dressed in a similar uniform, though the red-trimmed blue pants
normally worn in this case had been replaced by a grey Scottish Highland
kilt, cris-crossed with gold and red stripes. His eyes were closed, his
breathing controlled, though he could not . . . did not . . . control his
tears.
*Why did it end THIS way?*
Standing at the mausoleum's altar, the local priest intoned the ritual
burial prayers, doing his best as his faith demanded to ensure the deceased
would have an easy journey through Purgatory into Heaven and her eternal
reward. Hearing the words, the bereaved could only lightly smile. It was a
good thing that Vosians didn't believe in something akin to the Christian
concept of Hell. Then again, save for the intimacy of their relationship --
which would have had religious conservatives back home in the Dominion of
Canada spitting damnation as if they were caught in epileptic seizures -- he
couldn't conceive of anything which would delay her receiving her heavenly
reward.
*Why did it end at all?*
"Son?"
He opened his eyes, turning as he sensed his teacher -- and would-be
great-grandfather -- standing behind him. Turning, he moved aside to allow
Kyoosur the chance to kneel before his great-granddaughter's crypt. The
kari'fugh grandmaster, last surviving teacher of the Pashansho School, was a
spry fellow over four centuries old. Almost bald, he sported tufts of hair
over his ears, a moustache and long goatee. He was dressed in a green tunic
and black trousers, a black cummerbund around his waist. Unlike their
Dali'lama rivals, Pashansho Silent Ones never wore kill-belts. "No need to
advertise," Kyoosur had told his great-granddaughter and her then-boyfriend
once.
"You saw the autopsy report?" the younger man asked.
"I did," Kyoosur confirmed with a nod. "Neither of the unborn were
developed enough to begin forging a conscience, James."
"Still . . . "
*Why did it end before THEY could be born?*
"I know, my son," Kyoosur sympathetically noted as he gazed on the younger
man. "Abortion debates seem common across the whole local cluster. But
when one is actually confronted with the coming of the next generation, the
matter becomes mute, eh?"
"Yeah." He bit his lip. "Great-grandfather . . . "
"What is it, lad?"
"I can feel *it* . . . wanting to come out."
Kyoosur's eyebrow arched. "Yes, I have sensed that beast within you as
soon as the bonds with my great-granddaughter were shattered. To believe .
. . you would love Koinba so much that when you lost her, grief . . . would
not be the only emotion you'd feel."
*Why is this happening to me?*
"I don't understand," the younger man hissed through gritted teeth. "I
mean . . . with what happened . . . I know this was a car accident . . .
just a simple CAR ACCIDENT of all things . . . but I feel so . . . so . . .
"
"Angry? Wounded? Wanting to lash out at the cruel galaxy that took Koinba
away?"
"Yes!"
Kyoosur sighed, reaching up to gently squeeze the younger man's shoulder.
"You must fall back on your emotional training, lad," he reminded him.
"Remember: a soul of ice, a mind of ice, a heart of ice. Give the thing
within you the chance to emerge to bleed off the emotional pressure on your
heart and soul . . . but keep it under control at ALL times."
"I'm afraid, Great-grandfather . . . "
*Why must I suffer THIS way?*
"Good. You acknowledge the problem with your fear. I've made
arrangements. Incidents of Mikadoite and neo-Mikadoite activities have
begun to pick up over the last couple years. It's still undefined and
disorganized . . . but the An'san-Mikado believe it'll coalesce into a solid
alliance before long. They want that to be nipped in the bud before that
poisonous flower blooms."
The younger man blinked before he exhaled, "All right. I'll do it."
"So quick to decide, lad?"
"I've no choice now, Great-grandfather."
"Jamie?"
The younger man started, and then he turned to see a tall, red-haired woman
-- she draped in a grey cape, her hair dotted with glistening crystals --
standing nearby. Beside her was a Vosian woman with shoulder-cut
raven-hair, she dressed and festooned with crystals in the same fashion as
her life-mate. "Nicole?! Mujanba?!" he gasped on recognizing his cousin
and cousin-in-law. "When did you . . . ?"
"We came as soon as we heard," Mujanba McTavish declared as they walked
over to embrace him. "Are you all right, Jamie?"
He shuddered. "No . . . "
*Why must it be ME?*
"Dinnae fret, lad," Nicole Carol Elizabeth McTavish, future matriarch of
the Clan McTavish of Scotland's Killiecrankie Valley, soothed. "I made damn
sure Alex'll nae get in the way this time. You'll be clear of the fool
while you're busy working for Gomasur's brigade. But right now, you've got
a lot of pain and anger tae wash outta your system."
"Is that why you took **her** away?" Jamie asked, hoping the hidden
accusation in his voice didn't register with Nicole.
"Aye," Nicole replied with a nod, the elder woman clearly undisturbed by
Jamie's words. "I willnae apologize for it either, lad. I . . . felt
something was about to happen to ye . . . and if *ye* reacted badly, *she*
would feel it worse. Dinnae fret; I think it's time she had the chance to
experience the wide world on her own, no?"
"That's wonderful . . . "
*Why must I walk the path alone?*
"It's time," Kyoosur warned.
The others nodded. "I'm ready," James Alexander McTavish then declared as
he gazed once more on his beloved's portrait.
Soul of ice . . .
Soul of ice . . .
Soul of . . .
*Oh, Sandra . . . *
**** **** ****
Urusei Yatsura Twenty Years Later: "The Beginning of the Circle"
by Fred Herriot <pyeknu@hotmail.com> and Mike Smith <mcmsmith62@hotmail.com>
**** **** ****
C&C by ...
**** **** ****
Second of a series of fan fiction stories based on "Urusei Yatsura," created
by Takahashi Rumiko.
**** **** ****
Vos Colony 100. Earth-time: mid-August 2001 . . .
Darkness cloaked the colony's capital city as shadowy figures darted
through an open window at the main branch of the colony's only financial
institution, the Mansur Development Bank. A computer clicked on as one of
the people sat at the terminal to carry out his work. Information flashed
on the screen before him, and then the operator turned to face his
companions, he nodding.
"Do it."
Hands flew over the keyboard. In seconds, millions of credits were
siphoned out from one account and dispatched to several others in banks on
the homeworld. As soon as the transaction was done, the operator slipped a
special disk into one of the computer's floppy drives, and then he typed a
command. "There," he then declared with a smile. "No record of this exists
anywhere in the Finance Ministry."
"Let's go!" the leader ordered.
The computer was shut off, and then the shadows slipped out of the bank.
A minute later, the building exploded!
* * *
The next morning . . .
"How bad was it?"
"Bad, Madame Governor," the Finance Minister reported with a shake of his
head as he gazed at the reports. "The bank itself was destroyed, all
records lost. Estimated loss of revenue is in the 500,000,000 credit range
if people can't produce their personal records."
Chonba shuddered as she gazed out the picture windows of her office at the
city surrounding the governor's palace. Colony 100's capital city was a
perfect reflection of the state of affairs her 7,000,000 citizens currently
lived in: a flux of unending change. Ramshackle homes -- the first
buildings to be erected here a century and more before -- were divided by
the skeletons of skyscrapers and the many other initial signs of mass urban
modernization. Many streets were still paved with mud instead of asphalt.
There was no decent air-tram system or subway. Water and sewage treatment
were a shambles as new plants were still months away from completion and
activation.
"Cause of the explosion," she then asked. "Or need I guess?"
The Finance Minister ruefully smiled. "Gas main explosion. Just like the
other bank bombings."
"Public reaction?"
"Bad. People are demanding to know what's going on. They're screaming for
the Energy Minister's head, not to mention . . . "
"Mine," Chonba finished.
"Yes, ma'am."
An intercom whistled. "Madame Governor, CEO Mansur is on Line Two," a
secretary hailed.
"On holovision," Chonba ordered, and then she sighed. "Good morning,
Mansur. I trust you heard the news?"
The image of a handsome, slender man appeared beside the governor's desk,
the pleasant smile curving his lips not going as far as his eyes. "Indeed I
have, Governor Chonba. Please, don't feel sorry about it. Accidents
happen."
"They're happening to your banks with alarming frequency, Mansur," Chonba
noted. "Given today's tally, your institute has potentially lost over
8,000,000,000 credits in the last year alone. Your creditors back in
Lecashuto must be fuming."
"They are worried, but not too much," Mansur assured her with a dismissive
wave of his hand. "They know that, when it comes to the development of any
colony, sacrifices have to be made. They are prepared to help compensate
whatever they may have lost. Fortunately, they do have records of what they
sent out back on the Homeworld. There is no worry."
"I see. How about normal clients?"
"We trust them," Mansur declared. "After all, the basic rule of all
businesses is 'the customer is always right.'"
Chonba chuckled. "You've lost a lot, Mansur. I can't begin to believe how
much you've endured because of this."
"As I said, it's the price of doing business in a developing colony, Madame
Governor." Mansur then gave her a theatrical bow. "In the meantime, I'll
have my people investigate this. No need to force Colonial Security to
worry. I bid you both a good day."
The image faded as the link was cut. Chonba and her chief of finances then
exchanged knowing looks. "Lying through his teeth as usual," the latter
mused with a click of his tongue. "What an actor he could've been."
"I doubt people would've stood the stench were he on stage," Chonba warned
with a derisive snort, and then she pressed an intercom switch. "Where's
the Chief of Colonial Security, Kiasur?"
"She's here now, Madame Governor."
"Send her in."
The door then opened to reveal a stocky woman in the dark blue uniform of
Confederation Colonial Security, the Vosian version of Canada's historic
North-West Mounted Police. "Well?" Chonba wondered.
"We can't tell if it was deliberate," the security chief spoke up
immediately with a defeated sigh. "Near as my chief detective could
conclude from the wreckage, it was a fractured gas main near an exposed live
wire."
"Just like the other times." Chonba sat in her chair. "If we don't get a
handle on this soon, Parliament'll be all over me. Do we have ANYTHING that
could point to whoever caused this?"
"Nothing," the security chief declared with a shake of her head. "The only
this we have is coincidence. The bank bombings here, on Colony 102 and
Colony 106 began shortly before neo-Mikadoite activity picked up in the
sector. **But -- we -- have -- no -- evidence,**" she snarled as she bit
off the last sentence a word at a time.
Silence fell as the three people exchanged looks. "Then it's time for an
outside agent to be brought in to look around," Chonba declared. "Chief,
was that report from last week true? About Hunba's son and his wife being
alive and well?"
The security chief's eyes widened. "Nassur?!" These days, people
throughout the Confederation of Vos spoke that name with a touch of awe,
almost to the point of religious veneration. Though Nassur hadn't been the
man who killed the Mikado at the end, that he had been the one who had
sparked the revolution which toppled the dictator was seen as more
important. "Yes, we just confirmed it. He and his wife are now on Earth
recovering from their years on Elle. Supposedly, they're asking the Terrans
to help them construct a new starship."
Chonba hummed. "We can't ask them to come here then; they had a daughter
before that lunatic in Baran captured them." She then gazed at the security
chief. "Wait! I heard that they had a group of trainees working under them
around the time the Civil War ended . . . "
"That's right," the Finance Minister spoke up with an energetic nod.
"Fifty hybrids from the Ipraedies' Project: Superwarrior; there was a real
big stink about it when the Defence Force went after Schwartz."
"Then call Home Base," Chonba ordered as she turned to the security
minister. "Ask if one of them could come here to help us."
"Yes, Madame Governor," the security chief replied with a salute before she
marched out of the office.
* * *
Later . . .
"Contacting Nassur's little brats?" Mansur mused as he poured himself a
drink. "They can't be serious!"
"From what our agent inside Colonial Security informed me, they are,"
Diasur replied with a smile, a bloodless gash which expressed his feelings
perfectly. Unlike his employer, he didn't believe in masking his feelings
to anyone.
"Very well," Mansur breathed out. "Find out who it is, then get me a
dossier on him or her. I'll decide what to do then."
"As you wish," Diasur responded with a bow before he turned to walk out.
* * *
A fortnight later . . .
"Argh! By the Lady Pizalna's Fleece Laces, give me another one there,
honoured friend!" the shaggy Yehisrite trader exclaimed as he held up his
tankard. "It's been a very long journey from Cademus."
"New in town, aren't you?" the bartender mused as he took the tankard and
filled it with Varakos blood ale.
"Aye!" the younger man -- he seemed in his mid-twenties, just starting out
as a small cargo ship owner -- replied with a gruff nod. Like all Yehisrite
independent traders, he was dressed in a black chainmail bodysuit, a utility
jumpsuit slung over him. A lone duelling knife was strapped to one leg.
The only colour to mark a birth principality was a strawberry-red cummerbund
around his waist, the grey crescent moon and gold dragon of Dysos on the
buckle. "I'm wondering if the people I'm supposed to meet are gonna show
up. Feh, cowards!"
"They should be here soon." The bartender handed the tankard back.
"What's your name?"
The younger man smiled. "Aleko of Dysos, at your service."
"Then *you* must be the one we're looking for," a strange voice then hailed
from the trader's right.
Aleko turned to see a rough-hewn native sitting beside him. "And what
makes you think that, friend?"
A crimson-lashed eyebrow arched in bemused curiosity. "Well, the Dragon
Head sent me to look for you," the other man replied with a shrug. "He told
me that if there was a more honest fellow than Aleko of Dysos, he can't be
found."
Hearing that, the Yehisrite grinned. "Get this man a drink!" he called
out. "It seems I've made my first friend here!"
The bartender nodded. "Right away, sir."
* * *
*That's got to be the supplier, Hazel! Cademus IS the standard
trans-shipping point for weapons trading in the Royal Kingdoms,* Althea
psi-linked with her companion as she sipped her spring water. One of the
things that had made Vos Colony 100 popular to potential new settlers was
the purity of the spring water; bottling and shipping it was one of the more
lucrative businesses here.
*Yeah, IF our ultimate targets want to get their hands on some choice gear,
they'd have to get a contact on Cademus or one of the other major 'gun
capitals,'* Hazel replied with a frown. She and her fellow hunter were
currently dressed in casual civilians with some psychedelic colouring in
their tunics in lieu of their normal form-fitting jumpsuits and kill belts.
To the casual onlooker, they seemed Tookonokooen by birth, instead of the
mix of Vosian, Yehisrite, and Ipraedies they actually were. *Pity . . . *
*What do you mean?* Althea wondered as she played with a strand of her
currently auburn hair. Blonde hair -- Althea's natural hair colour -- was,
save for hybrids born of either Vosian or Yehisrite parents, totally unknown
on Tookonokooen. A special drug Naosu had supplied to her had been enough
to darken the golden locks to give her a more "acceptable" look. One just
couldn't be TOO careful at this job. *Hey, Hazel! You okay?* she then
asked on noting the lost look on her best friend's face. *Don't zone out,
huh!*
Hazel blinked, her blue eyes twinkling. *Oh, it's nothing.*
*Bullshit, Kuriinba!* Althea retorted as she addressed her companion by her
real name. *What's with you?*
A sigh. *Just remembering something . . . whoops!* She then tensed.
*They're leaving.*
Althea closed her eyes as she psionically locked on the Vosian who had
befriended Aleko. *Okay, got the mark. Let's go.*
Both stood to leave.
* * *
The spaceport, a hour later . . .
"Nice ship," the native said as he gazed on Aleko's pride and joy, the
"An-qil Ufpif." A standard one-man trader, the ship was fitted with the
usual round of defensive weapons; it was seen as uncivilized on Yehisril to
pilot an unarmed ship. "What've you got for us?"
"C'mon aboard, my friend," the trader invited his new friend up the
gangplank with a wave of his hand. They then stepped left to enter one of
the cargo holds. "It's a good thing I ran into you right away. Given what
I've got, I didn't want to risk being her too long before Colonial Customs
got curious as to what else I have aboard. Now, just a second . . . "
He tapped a wall control. The panels vapoured in the blink of an eye,
revealing storage chambers. The native -- Aleko knew his name was Karosur;
he was one of Diasur's chief lieutenants -- blinked, and then his jaw hit
the deck on seeing what Aleko wanted to show him. "Kamahanite Range
Hunters?!" he gasped, drool appearing at the corner of his mouth on seeing
the deadly assault rifles, third only to Sagussa's Urban Assault Cannon
models and Yehisril's Qu'f-Piaqu'r in overall battlefield performance.
"The latest models just out of their factories," Aleko proudly declared.
Got the nibble. Time to reel them in. "I can let them all go for fifty
credits per weapon. Intrigued?"
"Fifty . . . " Karosur squeaked as he found himself gaping at his host, and
then he icily smiled. "That, my friend, is a steal!"
Aleko held up an objecting finger. "Well, given that I got them VERY cheap
myself, I have a very funny feeling they might've been 'hot' when I got
them, friend. You can understand why I'd want them away from me."
A nod. "No problem at all. Later tonight?"
"I'll be right here."
* * *
*Nice ship,* Althea mused to herself before tapping a secure comm badge
fitted inside her tunic. "Is it legit?" she whispered.
"Yes, all registry papers check out," Daros responded from the orbiting
I.S.S. "Perseverence," the light frigate currently in cloaked orbit over
Colony 100. "Did a background check on Aleko, too. He's pretty clean,
though some investigative authorities in different parts of the
Confederation suspect him of weapons smuggling. No proof enough to haul him
in for questioning, though."
"Understood," she replied before cutting the link, and then she
concentrated. *Hazel?*
*No sign of anyone else,* Hazel replied from her position ten metres to
Althea's right. *Wait . . . *
The boarding ramp lowered. Aleko and Karosur descended, took a moment to
shake hands, and then the latter headed off. Aleko watched him go, and then
he headed back up the ramp to his ship. *Okay, something's about to
happen,* Hazel mused. *Let's get out of here, Althea, then get back to the
ship. Tell Daros to lock all sensors on this hangar bay. If people're
coming, I want to be the first to know.*
Althea nodded. *Understood.*
* * *
A sensor alarm flashed on the "An-qil Ufpif's" pilotage as Aleko stepped
into the ship's small pilotage, sitting down in the lone chair there. "What
the hell . . . ?" he wondered, his voice no longer flecked with the
rough-hewn Dysos accent he had spent a day sleep-learning -- then another
worshipping at the altar of the porcelain goddess -- so he could do the
mission. Damn, he HATED chemical-language learning techniques! Still, he
wouldn't submit anyone to a mind-meld, even with Linna, the Pathfinder Troop
Six liaison officer to the An'san-Mikado. No sense exposing anyone to the
emotions kept locked deep inside his mind; he wouldn't wish THAT on his
worst enemy . . .
Well, except that pervert Alex . . .
Aleko clicked his tongue as he tapped controls. His eyebrow then arched as
a sensor readout flashed before his green eyes. "Two of the Home Base
hunters?" he trilled before turning to tap controls to do an identification
scan. "Okay, Kuriinba of Kyotos, A.K.A. Hazel . . . and Katsunba of Kyotos,
A.K.A. Althea. Oh, Mansur rated the elite, eh? Not bad, Governor . . . "
With that, he sat back in his chair. Karosur would be back in three hours
with friends and payment.
Time to prepare.
* * *
In orbit . . .
"Everything about this guy checks out, Hazel," Hyakka stated with a shake
of his head.
Everyone was currently relaxing on the "Perseverence's" bridge. "Born in
Karchos, Dysos, eighteen years ago," Home Base's computer
technician/operator continued his report. "Did the Test of Life on Cademus
when he was ten; passed that with flying colours. Parents are dead due to
bandit raids on his home town. He has no siblings nor any intimate
relations. He's been trading on his own for the past two years, though
reports of him smuggling weapons have only started appearing two months
ago."
Hazel hummed. "Really?" There were six people assigned to this mission:
herself, Althea, Daros -- they were the field agents -- plus Hyakka (to
maintain the link with Home Base's computer), Naosu (medical support) and
Kyonba (Home Base's chief engineer, to help run the ship). Given that their
target was a very prominent businessman, their presence on Colony 100 had to
be kept as secret as possible. The only people dirtside who knew of Home
Base's involvement in Chonba's investigation on Mansur was the governor
herself and her senior staff. "What about the ship, Hyakka?" Hazel then
asked. "How did that check out?"
"Clean," he replied. "Aleko ordered it from the Ronsho Yards in Varakos
five months ago. Standard Type 20 one-man cargo/long-range transport with
the usual weapons package. From what I can scan of her, the ship's as we
expected. Nothing out of the ordinary."
Daros' brow creased as a concerned look crossed his face. "The name's
funny, though."
Althea gazed at her fianc�. "What do you mean, Da-chan?"
"Well, it translates 'Queen An's Revenge.' I checked it up myself,
Ka-chan. There's no record of an Anna, Anra, or Anba who was a queen or
empress ANYWHERE in Yehisrite history."
Kyonba blinked. "Wait a minute. I've heard that name before, but . . . "
Her voice trailed off as her brow furrowed, she taking a moment to consider
the matter, and then she turned to Hyakka. "Why don't you have the Computer
run through all the possible connotations of that name in our Encyclopaedia
Intergalactica database? Maybe she can find something."
"All right."
Hyakka turned to his board. "Sure is a handsome fellow," Naosu mused as he
gazed at Aleko's picture taken from the records.
"Yeah, he is that . . . but he's nowhere close to Da-chan!" Althea gushed
as she hugged Daros' arm.
"Will you two relax?!" Hazel chided them. "Something's bothering you,
Naosu. What is it?"
"Well . . . " The doctor sat back in his chair, stroking his clean-shaven
chin. "You know, listening to all of you and what you've said, this guy
seems almost TOO perfect to fit the profile of a weapons smuggler supplying
the neo-Mikadoites."
"'TOO perfect?!'" Kyonba wondered.
Naosu nodded. "No real connections to anyone to confirm or deny anything,
he's got a ship and there've been reports on him from other colonies . . . "
A finger rose up to emphasize the point. "Reports, I should remind you
all, that neo-Mikadoite informants could ALSO get their hands on. To our
opponents, he'd be the right sort to contact to get their hands on arms . .
. yet . . . "
"Whoa, what're you saying, Naosu? This guy's working for someone to act as
bait for Mansur?!" Daros wondered.
"It looks like that to me, Daros."
"Okay, if he is, then who's he really working for?" Kyonba wondered.
"Gegranko, maybe? That'd be my first suspect."
Hazel shook her head. "Not Gegranko. He hates anything that even *smells*
of a Mikado connection. The Mikado tried to shut down some of his
operations before the Civil War began . . . and that was something Gegranko
never forgave nor forgot . . . "
"That would make all the more sense, Hazel," Althea objected. "If Gegranko
wants all remnants of the Mikado gone, what better way than to tap into the
arms market, then sink the bastards before they could do any damage?"
"That wouldn't last for long. If I know Gegranko, he wouldn't see any
long-range profit in doing this," Hazel countered. "No, it's not him. But
if this Aleko *is* a plant . . . "
"Wait a sec'! Got something!" Hyakka announced.
"What is it, Hyakka?" Daros asked.
"Just picked up a small historical reference on an Earth wet-ship named
'Queen Anne's Revenge.'" Hyakka pointed to his viewscreen. "It dates back
from the early part of their Eighteenth Century. More legend than fact;
it's backed up by an account written by a man named Daniel Dafoe.
Supposedly, this ship was the headquarters ship of a English pirate named
Edward Teach, also known as . . . "
"Blackbeard!" Kyonba gasped. Luckily for the hunters; one of their
resident engineer's hobbies was studying obscure historical factoids. The
short history of Earth's so-called "Golden Age of Piracy" had been one of
the things which had wrapped her attention whenever she wasn't busy on
missions or repairing the "Perseverence." "That's where I remembered the
name! Blackbeard died on his ship when the British Royal Navy caught up to
him . . . oh, this was around 1718, I think . . . "
Silence. "Now, how in Lecasur's name would someone from Yehisril know
something as obscure as that?" Althea asked.
A sharp intake of breath. Eyes locked on Hazel. The hunter seemed to be
quivering. "What is it, Hazel?" Naosu asked.
"Lecasur's Soul . . . it's *HIM!*" Hazel barely whispered as she stood up,
turning to head back to her cabin.
The others watched her go. "What's with her?" Daros asked.
"Hazel!" Althea called out as she raced back after her friend.
* * *
A fast-paced opera theme song was playing over the speakers in the master
bedroom of the "An-qil Ufpif" as the trader, currently nude, sat seiza
before his personal shrine. Sandra Annette Phillips' picture sat in the
shrine, a traditional Japanese butsudan, complete with an ihai to his
departed fianc� sitting under the picture. The ihai had been blessed by
Budou Chiezou, chief priest of the Clan Moroboshi, sometime after Sandra's
death, and then it had been passed on to him by one of the Gaelic druids
working for Nicole, Connor Macgillvary. The inscriptions were in Japanese
and Vosian, languages as known to Jamie McTavish as his native English and
Scots Gaelic.
So many reflections . . .
So many influences . . .
Which way to go?
An intercom signal buzzed. "*Jamie?*" the ship's computer, which spoke
with Sandra's voice, hailed. "*Colonel Gomasur is calling.*"
Aleko/Jamie sighed. "Pipe it through."
"Jamie?!"
He tensed himself. "Yes, sir?"
"How's the mission?"
"So far, so good," Jamie replied. "A representative from Mansur's number
two man took the nibble and it'll go down late tonight. If I can sweep it
all up in one fight, it'll have all the neo-Mikadoites in the sector running
scared. We can leave it to the squibs in the DIA . . . " -- by this, Jamie
meant the Vosian Defence Intelligence Agency -- "To deal with Mansur."
"Good. I'll pass it onto the Director."
"Oh, did you know some of Nassur's crew is here?"
Silence. "What?!" Gomasur then demanded.
"I spotted two of Nassur's students here: Hazel and Althea. The way I
figure it now, the only person who'd hire them here is the governor herself.
Any confirmation?"
"I'll get it as soon as I can, Jamie," the commander of the An'san-Mikado
replied. "We just got news that Nassur and his wife were found on Elle a
week or so ago by the Moroboshis and some friends."
"Okay, fair enough," Jamie replied. "I'll call back when I'm done. Iceman
out."
"*Link cut,*" the ship's computer announced.
"Thank you," Jamie called back with a nod before he moved to relax himself,
closing his eyes.
Soul of ice . . .
Soul of ice . . .
Soul of ice . . .
* * *
"Jamie McTavish?!"
"It's him, Althea!" Hazel said before biting her lip. "I'm sure of it this
time! The same colony he mentioned all those years ago, roughly the time he
indicated it'd happen . . . except for the skin, Aleko LOOKS like him! And
we have a file on Jamie at Home Base!"
Althea shook her head. For the last year or so, Hazel had become agitated,
as if she had been expecting something important to happen to her. It had
something to do with an incident in Tomobiki back in early 1984, just before
the Planet of Shadows mission and the end of the Vosian Civil War. Nassur,
Benten and Hazel had never mentioned any details to their co-workers, but
from what Althea had come to ascertain over the years, someone from the
Earth year 2002 had come back in time to that moment in 1984, chasing
someone who wanted to kill Hazel . . .
And he had saved Hazel's life.
The man's name was James Alexander -- "Jamie" to his friends and loved ones
-- McTavish of Dartmouth, Nova Scotia, Canada.
Althea strongly suspected Hazel had held quite the crush on Jamie since
that meeting long ago. He had haunted Hazel's dreams for years, throughout
all the ups and downs in the hunter's work on Home Base as temporary leader
of Nassur's group. Althea didn't blame her friend for feeling this way when
it came to the handsome young Canadian. From what pictures Althea had seen
of Jamie McTavish, the guy was what most Terran women called "beefcake;"
"sweet recognition bait" was the usual Vosian term for someone THAT
gorgeous.
Two years ago, information about Jamie, then a freshman high school student
at Robert Land Academy, Canada's only private boy's elementary/secondary
school built on a military theme, percolated to Home Base. Sensing good
hunter material in the lad from Nova Scotia, the hybrids extended an
invitation for Jamie to attend their private training school. To better
sweeten the offer, Jamie did the obligatory aptitude test before he was
accepted. To the hybrids' sheer delight (especially Hazel's), Jamie passed
with the highest grade possible!
Then, to the hybrids' surprise, he turned their invitation down!
That had caused some consternation among the hybrids; despite the troubles
they had endured due to their part-Ipraedies ancestry, the hunters of Home
Base had spent years building on the foundation Nassur left them, creating a
training school where would-be bounty hunters and other law enforcement
officials fought vigorously to attend. For them to confront a rejection
like *this* had been quite disconcerting to those involved; according to
Jamie McTavish's explanation at the time, he wanted to finish high school
before deciding on a future career. While the others running the school
testing committee -- Althea, Daros, and Darsei -- decided to close the file
and leave him be, Hazel overrode them. She persuaded them to wait until
Jamie was closer to graduating before they extend the offer again.
They had done so that summer.
Jamie had turned them down again, but this time, it was for compassionate
reasons. According to his school headmaster, Colonel G. Scott Bowman,
Jamie's fianc�, Sandra Phillips, had died in a tragic auto accident just
after summer vacation began and Jamie needed time to mourn. That response
had hurt Hazel as badly as it no doubt hurt Jamie; the hybrids' leader had
remained locked in her apartment for two days weeping. Her reaction piqued
Althea's interest enough to do some of her own digging around with Hyakka's
help . . .
And before long, they had discovered the secret file Nassur and Benten made
concerning what happened in January of 1984.
"Okay, so it's him," Althea mused. "Hazel, he came back in time from NEXT
year, remember?! He won't know you!"
Hazel sighed. "I know. But . . . this goes WAY beyond the normal rules
when it comes to time-travel problems, Althea. I OWE HIM MY LIFE!" she
screamed out to nowhere in particular before she gazed at her friend. "You
should've seen him go at those people, Althea! Sensei had NOTHING on Jamie!
He wiped them out without breaking a sweat!" Another sigh. "For
seventeen years, I've waited, Althea . . . "
"And had loads of wet dreams about it," Althea added.
"Pervert!" Hazel retorted before she smiled, gazing out the window. "I
can't reveal what I know, not without risking the time- stream's integrity .
. . but deep in my heart, I want to scream it out to the whole galaxy! It's
him! This is the man who I will owe my life to, TWICE! I . . . I . . . "
She closed her eyes. "I love him . . . and at this time, I hardly know him
at all."
"Well, finding out more's gonna be a bitch," Althea warned. "I sent a
discrete inquiry to Robert Land Academy about Sandra Phillips just after she
died." A shrug. "Made it look like we didn't know what had happened to
her, of course." A sigh. "The file was sealed tighter than a safe, Hazel.
I . . . " A pause before she breathed out, "I couldn't find a thing about
her."
"It's all right," Hazel acknowledged. "Thanks."
"Hey, anything for you. 'Sides, if you did recognize him . . . "
"No, it won't happen."
"You can't be sure . . . "
"It won't, Althea. Don't forget, I was there when Sensei and Benten wrote
that report. They didn't record the fact that the person who came back in
time to get Jamie back home to 2002 was his wife."
Althea gaped. "His WIFE?!"
"Yeah. I . . . damn, seventeen years and so many changes in our lives can
really play havoc with your memories, you know that?!" Hazel then clicked
her tongue. "I forgot her name since I only saw her so briefly. She was
related to someone Sempai knew, though . . . "
Althea frowned. "Too bad. I mean, if he's THIS good, then let's get him
to work for us!"
"We'll see."
The intercom whistled. "Hazel, it's Daros!"
"What is it?!" Hazel asked.
"We've picked up a dozen or so people now in the hangar with Aleko's ship.
Looks like it's starting."
"Understood! Let's go!"
* * *
Inside the hangar, Aleko waited by his ship, a cool look etched on his
face. He knew battle was coming. He could feel it. It was a stirring from
within . . . IT was stirring within him, hungering for release. *Not yet,*
he thought. *I can't release you yet . . . *
He then heard the droning sound of one of the doors to the hangar slowly
opening, that followed by footsteps of several people on the concrete floor.
From the sounds of their boots on the pavement, it was easy to guess who
they were: members of Colonial Security. About a dozen of them from the
sounds of it. *Seems Karosur managed to get some friends together to come
for his toys,* Aleko mused.
Turning around, he barely hid his smile on noting how well he had guessed
the situation. Karosur was leading a pack of a dozen low-ranked operatives
if Aleko knew CCS insignia correctly. Obviously, they were there as part of
Karosur's little clique.
"Aleko!" Karosur hailed with a smile as he greeted the trader. "I'm glad
you're still here!" A handshake later, he continued, "My superiors have
given their approval on what you're offering to us. It's still fifty
credits each for the Range Hunters, isn't it?"
"Of course," Aleko replied, slipping back into character. "It's
dishonourable to haggle!"
Both men laughed. Aleko then noticed someone moving behind a nearby
window. Two someones to be precise, both dark-skinned girls dressed in what
looked like Tookonokooen farmer's coveralls and T-shirts. A quick glance
towards his visitors then told the trader that neither Karosur nor any of
his people had noticed. Obviously, their tracking abilities weren't very
strong.
Glance back. One of the girls had long, slightly curly black hair. From
the way her outfit was bunched upstairs, she was probably well-endowed in
terms of breast size. The other had long auburn-hair -- unusual but not
totally unknown colour for a Tookonokooen -- and she possessed a more
daintier body-build than her partner. Both were quite cute, even though
they were drawing weapons. *Can't be Tookonokooen,* the trader thought to
himself as he remembered the odd run-in he had experienced with members of
this unusual humanoid species, people who reminded Jamie McTavish of natives
of the West Indies before he went into space. *They wouldn't act so covert.
Hell, a Tookonokooen with a weapon is almost an oxymoron; they'd be afraid
it would go off!* Only one conclusion could be made. *Must be from
Nassur's crew.*
Karosur then produced a huge wad of 100 credit notes from one of his
uniform pockets to hand to Aleko. "We'll all of take them!"
"A pleasure doing business with you," Aleko replied as he took the money
and began to count it.
Karosur then motioned to four of the larger, stronger-looking members of
his group. "Bring the large green box in the hold."
Five minutes later, the security personnel disembarked, they carrying the
box holding the Range Hunters. Once clear of the ship, they placed it in
front of Karosur. With a churlish grin, he opened the box to pull out one
of the Kamahanite weapons to show off to the rest. "Look at this!" he
crowed with a pride-filled smile, as if he got the present he always wanted
for Christmas. "A Range Hunter! Stronger than anything in the Defence
Force! With these, no one will ignore us again!" He turned to Aleko. "And
we have this man to thank!"
He nodded to his companions. Without hesitation, they pulled out weapons
of their own, they shifting around to surround Aleko before the Yehisrite
had a chance to realize what was happening. "What is this?" he demanded,
his hands rising. "We had a deal . . . "
"I know," Karosur replied. "It seemed a little *too* convenient to us that
someone like YOU managed to get a hold of such restricted weapons. Even so,
you don't think that we'd allow you to live for very long AFTER you given
them to us?!"
With that, he seized the money he gave Aleko and put it into his own
pocket. *Tricked,* Aleko thought to himself, a chilly feeling surging
through him. He half-expected this. Whoever these guys Mansur had on his
payroll, they weren't above doing something like . . .
*CRASH!*
Everyone spun around just as Hazel and Althea smashed their way through the
window, the hunters rolling back to their feet on hitting the floor, their
weapons leaping out of their holsters with oiled precision. "Hold it!"
Hazel snapped. "We've got you covered!"
"What?!" Karosur gaped in surprised shock. "Who in Purgatory are you?!"
Aleko lunged into action, his fists downing the security personnel closest
to him. The other security personnel ran over to attack Hazel and Althea.
The hunters were quick to defend themselves with their own hand-to-hand
techniques. In minutes, the hanger was like a battle royale in pro
wrestling, everyone fighting with each other . . . save for Karosur, who had
run out as soon as the fighting started.
Hazel tried to stop Karosur before he made it out the door. Unfortunately
for her, Aleko had the same idea. As they chased after the fleeing man,
they sprang into the air to tackle Karosur -- and collided with each other
on their heads before they could grab them!
By the time they had recovered, Karosur was out of the hanger, in his car,
and driving off.
* * *
Several minutes later, none of the security team were conscious as Hazel,
Althea and Aleko caught their breath from the battle. "We got most of
them!" Althea panted as she patted her friend's shoulder.
"Yeah, but the big fish got away!" Hazel noted.
"Well, I won't complain!" Aleko replied, his Dysos accent gone as he
addressed the hunters in Vosian that he had learned over the previous six
summers. "If it weren't for you, I'd probably be dead by now. Besides, I
wanted Karosur to escape."
Hazel looked at Aleko strangely. "What do you mean?"
"Simple," he replied. "You don't start with a twig to tear down a tree.
You have to go to the roots and kill it there before chopping it down! This
way, we follow Karosur to his contact, his contact to his and so on, and so
on . . . "
"So, I was right," she interrupted. "You're no Yehisrite!"
He stopped. "Is it that obvious?" A smirk. "Then again, a pro can tell
neither of you're Tookonokooen."
"And here we thought our disguises were perfect!" Althea quipped.
"Anyway," he continued. "You can call me Aleko. You are . . . ?"
"Hazel," the woman introduced herself. "And this is Althea. We're two of
Nassur's Hunters. We're investigating the strange goings on with anything
to do with Mansur!"
"Funny," he then said. "So am I. Would you care to work together?"
"It depends," Hazel replied. "Who are you working for?"
"Have you ever heard of the An'san-Mikado?"
Hazel paused as she recalled the well-known name of the most prominent of
the legendary Revolutionary Special Warrior's Guilds. The An'san-Mikado --
the phrase loosely translated as "Death to the Mikado;" it actually meant
something more deeper -- was a sub-section of the Confederation's Internal
Security Ministry, tasked to capture or eliminate what still remained of the
Mikado's forces, as well as prevent any neo-Mikado groups from springing up.
The An'san-Mikado were not a group which could be easily ignored,
especially given the fact that one of their top operatives -- known only as
the "Iceman" -- had enjoyed a high kill ratio since he burst onto the scene
a month before.
*Still,* Hazel mused to herself, *What would the likes of the An'san-Mikado
want with Mansur?* From what Hazel knew, Mansur was someone who didn't seem
to have any direct link with anything to do with the Mikado or any of his
followers.
"Let's just say I'm freelancing," Aleko replied after she asked him that
very question.
"Right," Althea gave him a suspicious look, before she turned to Hazel.
"Can I talk to you in private for a moment, Kuriinba?"
"Sure."
They walked to another part of the hanger. On noticing that Aleko wasn't
gazing at them, Althea began, "Look, Kuriicha, I know you think this is the
guy who saved your life years ago, but this is an important mission. The
future of this colony depends on us getting the goods on Mansur. Are you
willing to have someone who won't even give us his real name to help us?"
"How long have we been on this planet, dressed as a pair of Tookonokooen
farm girls, without even coming close to a lead?" Hazel retorted before she
waved to Aleko. "Now, he comes along and gives us something we've been
trying to get on the first try!"
"Ladies." Aleko suddenly appeared beside the two hunters, causing both of
them to nearly leap out of their clothes in shock. "The more you bicker,
the sooner Karosur will get away!" the faux Yehisrite warned. "Do you want
to bag Mansur or not?"
"Well . . . " Althea began.
"Okay, let's pool our resources," Hazel cut her friend off. "Still, let's
try not to interfere with each other's work." She then paused as she
considered if she should say this, and then she sighed. "I can't reveal
why, but I trust you, Aleko. You might say we're fated to meet each other.
But, still, we're fellow law-enforcers; once this is over, we go our
separate ways, understand?"
"You got it," he acknowledged that with a curt nod. He had known about
Hazel and the other Nassur hunters for years, long before one of their
representatives -- Darsei, in fact -- had come to Robert Land Academy to
give a young Jamie McTavish an initial offer to come work with them. They
were one of the best groups of manhunters in the known Galaxy; even the
Sagussans, with all their vast resources and the many Pirpirsiw'r living
among them these days, often tapped into the expertise Hazel's group could
call on to capture criminals wanted by the Fifth Republic. Hazel was said
to be the best of the whole lot. *No wonder she's their leader . . . and so
beautiful as well . . .
*Enough of that, McTavish!* he then scolded himself in mid-thought. He had
a job to do; he wasn't here on Colony 100 to chase some beautiful girl, even
if she WAS blessed with a pair of very pretty eyes. He had given that up
when Sandra . . .
"Fine," Hazel acknowledged. She could feel some empathy for Aleko -- or
whoever he really was; she certainly could guess about that! Still, it was
easy to sense the pain within him. A pain so great, she could remember only
two other people having a similar pain inside.
One of them was her "sempai," Moroboshi Ataru.
The other was her teacher and foster father, Nassur.
Still, his pain radiated from the depths of his eyes into Hazel's heart,
urging some type of longing for him.
Could it be . . . ?
*Nah!* she caught herself from going down THAT particular mental path.
*Get with the damned program, Kuriicha! You're here to do a job, not seek a
mate! Besides, if Aleko is who I THINK he is, he's still grieving the loss
of his old girlfriend . . . and, if what I was told would happen over the
next year actually plays out, he'll probably get another girl he would want
to marry back on Earth . . . *
"Let's go to our ship," she then spoke up. "We need to interrogate whom we
have."
"No problem," Aleko said, nodding.
* * *
In a well-furnished apartment in one of the richer sections of Colony 100's
capital city, Karosur staggers inside. *Esquire Diasur won't be pleased by
this,* he thought as he entered his apartment, heading right away to the
videophone. He immediately dialed a number on the phone; unfortunately,
Colony 100's videophone service still had no automatic dial-up service yet.
Diasur soon answered. "What is it?" he gruffly asked. "Didn't you get the
Range Hunters and terminate that fake Yehisrite trader?"
"N-no, sir," Karosur nervously replied. Though he was a seasoned officer
in the CCS, he always felt ill-at-ease whenever Diasur was upset at him.
"We almost had them, but . . . "
An icy glare came his way. "'But?'"
"Two of Nassur's Hunters appeared to save him," Karosur reported. "We
didn't know they were around, sir! None of the people I had with me had
strong enough tracking powers to sense someone like them! I barely managed
to escape myself."
Diasur nodded. "I see. Well, those people whom you brought with you know
nothing about Mansur! We're still safe."
"Do you think so?"
"Look, Karosur," Diasur replied. "If all the government of the
Confederation sends after us are non-Vosians and half-breeds," -- he evilly
grinned -- "Then we have nothing to worry about. Now, if they had sent
Nassur himself . . . that's another story."
Karosur shakily nodded. "True. What should I do in the meantime?"
"Sit tight," Diasur replied. "We don't want anyone to know what I'm really
doing with the money I've transferred from my own banks while you and your
men have been covering up with your 'commando raids.' By the way, how many
men do you still have?"
"Forty-five. They've been slowly adding more people. I'm just surprised
that the chief hasn't noticed."
"It proves some money in the right place will buy you anything," Diasur
noted as he moved to sever the link. Karosur still had some use, but even
he could be replaced. "I'll inform Esquire Mansur about this. I don't
think he'd be happy about it."
The link was severed. Staring at the blank screen before him, Karosur then
felt something welling up in the pit of his stomach.
Fear.
(COMMERCIAL BREAK)
In the meantime, Diasur was busy calling a number on his "safe" list.
"Hello?" Mansur replied.
"It's Diasur, sir. We have a problem. Karosur didn't get the guns or
killed that fake Yehisrite trader who was selling them. Apparently, those
Nassur Hunters intervened."
"How bad was it?"
"Only Karosur escaped. The others are under arrested and in detention."
"That's a sad thing," Mansur breathed out. "We'll have to dispose of
Karosur immediately. You know what to do?"
"I have their numbers on my safe list."
"Do it by tonight! I don't want anyone trying to get anything on us! Our
leader in Sulanda would be most . . . upset if the operation ended before it
has truly begun!"
"Understood. I'll oversee it myself. Goodbye."
The link was cut. Diasur quickly looked over his "safe" list of contacts.
Truthfully, he didn't like doing this. But unlike legitimate businesses --
where firing someone only meant they could then turn around to find a way to
get back at you -- in Diasur's stock in trade, "firing" means going to
whatever reward the Gods may have waiting for you.
* * *
Aboard the "Perseverance" . . .
Hazel, Althea and Aleko were talking over some plans together with Daros.
The female hunters had, by then, stripped off their disguises. Aleko was
still wearing his, though he no longer spoke Vosian with a Yehisrite accent.
"So we know Karosur is in Mansur's camp," Daros mused. "And that the
An'san-Mikado is involved with trying to catch this guy, too. May I ask
why?"
"Mansur may not be a Mikadoite or even an neo-Mikadoite," Aleko reported,
"But he's just as bad."
"As far as we know, he's a just a corrupt businessman who wants to get
ahead by bribing everyone in his way," Hazel stated. "He's certainly
nothing to warrant bringing in you guys."
Aleko gazed on her, and then he stood, walking over to gaze out of the
porthole. His eyes took in the landscape far below, a small city with
several modern buildings in various states of construction, it all
surrounded by temporary shacks similar to those from the poorer sections of
the developing nations on Earth. "When you look out of this porthole, what
do you see?" he asked bluntly.
The hunters rose to gaze out the porthole. "I see a small settlement still
trying to get the basics in place," Hazel replied.
"This colony was established over a century ago," Aleko explained. "Seven
other colonies were established at the same time, but Colony 100 is NOWHERE
near as advanced as they are. Do you know why is that?"
Althea shook her head. "No."
"It's because someone DOESN'T want this colony to succeed, Althea," Aleko
replied. "Why and for what purpose, I haven't been able to understand.
But, for every setback here, Mansur profits."
"What about the bombings?" Daros asked. "His businesses have been bombed
many times on other colonies."
"There's an explanation for that, too." Aleko then smiled on seeing his
companions' baffled looks. "Mansur had it done!"
"What do you mean?" Hazel gasped. "Why would he have his own businesses
blown up and all records lost?!"
"That's what I'm here to ascertain," Aleko replied. "And to find out, we
have to start thinking like him."
"And how do you propose to do that, Aleko?" Althea asked. "We haven't been
able to get close to him long enough to get any idea of his motives.
Besides, his home is designed with people like us in mind and his
communications are scrambled in such a way that even Hyakka and the Home
Base Computer have trouble finding out what the message was."
"There is something going on," Hazel then piped up. "We've noticed that
once every week, Mansur seems to be in contact with someone on Vos. One of
the smaller cities there. It's called Sulanda. It's so far away from the
capital, that you can only get there either by teleporting in or taking a
small plane to its' airport from one of the other cities."
"I know where that city is," Aleko replied. "If I remember correctly, many
of the Mikado's cronies came from that particular sector of Vos. It was
also the site of a key battle in the Civil War."
"I've been there, too," Hazel acknowledged. "It's a pretty conservative
area, even today. The people there didn't like Lecasur too much according
to the history books. The area was a lot like the United States on Earth."
She rolled her eyes. "Ruled by almost unchecked capitalistic practices and
people with a conservative social agenda."
"Now that's interesting," Aleko mused as he remembered his own visits
there; Sulanda wasn't too far from Pashansho. "Then again, it would explain
the number of Mikado supporters the An'san-Mikado have captured who
originally hailed from there."
"I wonder..." Hazel thought aloud, "What's Mansur really doing?"
"Whatever it is," Aleko said, "It could be big! But we won't find out
until we get to Karosur. I take it you've got his address."
"We got it from the Colonial Security's own computers," Althea replied.
Aleko nodded. "Let's go!"
* * *
At his apartment, Karosur sat nervously. He knew that, at any moment,
someone from the still-loyal members of Colonial Security could come
bursting through his front door to arrest him. If that happened, Mansur
would be displeased! VERY displeased!
The doorbell. Karosur could sense someone there, but his tracking powers
-- his ability was about average for a Vosian -- couldn't tell him who
exactly it was. "Who is it?" he called out as he turned to the door, a hand
reaching for his gun.
"It's me!"
"Diasur?" he asked as he moved to open the door. "What are you doing
here?"
Diasur stepped in, a pair of Colonial Security officers -- both larger and
more muscular than the average Vosian -- behind him. Because their faces
were obscured by their visored helmets, Karosur couldn't see who they were.
"Sir?" Karosur then wondered.
"Need you ask?" the older man replied, a slight grin crossing his face.
"I've been in contact with Mansur. He has decided to cut his losses and
remove you from our organization. Goodbye, Karosur."
With that, he motioned to the guards . . .
* * *
By the time Aleko, Hazel and Althea were arriving at Karosur's apartment,
personnel from Colonial Security were already there, the main door of the
apartment marked off as if it were a crime scene. "What's going on here?"
Hazel asked the CSS officer who seemed to be in charge of the matter after
she flashed him her hunter's badge.
"Murder, Miss Kuriinba," he cryptically replied. "According to reports,
someone beat up one of our officers to death and escaped."
"Beaten to death?" Althea gasped.
They morbidly watched as a gurney was wheeled out of the entrance of the
apartment by two medical technicians. The body was covered completely with
a white sheet. Aleko moved to take a closer examination. He found his way
blocked by the other officers. "Hold it!" one of them called out, and then
her breath caught in her throat when Aleko reached up to pull his sleeve
away to reveal the red cygnet-eating-black cygnet tattoo etched into his
left deltoid muscle. "Oh! I didn't know you were one of *them.* Sorry!"
With that, he moved over to gaze under the sheet. "It's Karosur."
"You know him?" the officer asked.
"What do you think, Constable?" he retorted with an annoyed stare. "Do you
honestly believe it's my hobby to go around looking at any bodies covered by
sheets and saying, 'It's Karosur?'"
She shrugged. "It beats collecting music CDs."
*This bunch needs to improve on their public relations,* Althea thought to
herself before speaking up, "We don't know him personally, but he's wanted
for information about the recent bombings on this colony."
"I see," the officer replied. "Apparently then, there's more to it than a
simple robbery attempt."
"What about the other security officers who were arrested recently?" Aleko
asked.
"None of them're saying anything at this moment. It's funny, though."
"What is?"
"Karosur wasn't that high up in the ranks, but he could afford this place."
The visitors gazed into the apartment. "Looks like this is a dead end,"
Hazel said. "Let's go back to the ship!"
"Agreed," Aleko huffed.
* * *
Later . . .
"Karosur was the only direct link we had to Mansur," Hazel groaned as she
ordered up a hot fudge sundae from the "Perseverence's" food replicator.
"It's obvious that Mansur got to him first. Now we're back to square one."
"I understand your frustration," Aleko noted as he watched his current work
partner gorge herself on the sundae. "But, if anything, Karosur's death
proved that Mansur is our target. But, as to what he might be doing and for
whom he's doing it for . . . ?"
He shrugged. "Hazel!" Althea then spat out as she watched her friend go to
town on the sundae, her disgust at Hazel's current eating binge all too
apparent. "You eat that and you'll be going back to the blimp you were a
few years ago."
"You know I eat when I'm frustrated," Hazel retorted as she carried on
downing the ice cream. "Besides, you ordered a larger one yourself! And
your kill-belt's looking a little snug, too."
Althea blushed, she failing to hide her own sundae behind herself. Ever
since the "Perseverance" had been commissioned, Hazel and Althea had
programmed the food units to create dishes from at least one hundred
planets, including Earth. While most of the other hunters in Nassur's group
didn't care much for Terran food, Hazel and Althea seemed to live on it . .
. and it sometimes showed on their hips!
*I have to admit, Hazel looks good no matter what weight she's at,* Aleko
mused to himself as he watched her eat. *Maybe when this is all over, I
could get her to pose for me for my figure drawing . . .
*Better keep your mind on the job, Jamie!* he then scolded himself.
*You're not supposed to be thinking about figure drawing models right now!*
He then blinked. *Besides, why do I have a feeling that this won't be the
only time we'll be working with each other?* "I've got an idea," he then
piped up. "We should look up the backgrounds of all the Colonial Security
members who were involved in this."
"Hyakka's already on the job," Hazel replied.
"Hyakka?"
"He's our computer technician," Althea explained. "The Home Base Computer
is pretty good at getting anything from any computer system in the known
Galaxy . . . though, her methods are unusual."
"Her?" Aleko asked dumbly.
"You really don't want to know," Hazel groaned as she finished her sundae.
* * *
At his office, Mansur was making a call to his hidden benefactor. "I've
had Karosur dealt with," he reported. "The other people arrested don't know
a tenth of what Karosur knew about our operations."
"That's good," the person on the other end of the link replied. The voice
was distorted enough so that anyone listening in wouldn't be able to tell
whether the person was male or female, young or old, or what race they are.
*All the better to keep things secret,* Mansur thought. Especially from
members of Colonial Security not under his control, those of Nassur's
hunters already here or from . . . THEM.
"I hope all our problems would be as easy to solve as that," he then added
with a tired sigh. "I mean, keeping the Vosian government at bay is one
thing, but picking a fight with the Neo-Mikadoites, too? What are you
thinking?"
"Both are too busy fighting each other to know the truth about what's
really going on," the caller sternly replied. "I should know; I WAS a
Mikado hunter. When he was ready to fall, I got away from him. And you
KNOW who's running Vos and the colonies now. Neither side has a clue about
what we're doing. Even if they did, they'd only blame each other and fight
until one side -- or both! -- was destroyed. We're safe to carve an empire
of our own to knock off any survivors! Then the people who SHOULD be ruling
Vos will hold the balance of power."
Mansur soon ended the contact, and then he stood to gaze out of his office
window at the capital city's night scene. Most of the construction workers
had gone home for the day, leaving security personnel and those building
sites who employ a 26-hour shift still in operation. *The puny ants!* he
derisively mused. *They think their work's SO important . . . when against
the REAL scale of things, all they've done'll be forgotten by the start of
the next working day. They don't know what real power is. Neither do those
fools who're in charge. They're pretenders until someone like the Mikado or
my leader comes around. Still, it's hard to believe we've come this far and
ONLY raising the interest of Nassur's group and the An'san-Mikado. But . .
. this is something out of even their league.*
He poured himself a glassful of Terran cognac. He got a hold of a bottle
of this alien alcohol from the western region of the Earth nation of France
during a visit to Uru a few years ago to attend an industrial trade show.
Since any type of Terran alcohol wasn't strong enough to make even a Vosian
*child* drunk, his compatriots had simply shook their heads in confusion
when he announced he had bought a bottle of it at the hotel they were
staying at. Still, despite the weak alcoholic effect, he enjoyed it.
Perhaps someday, he would go visit the city whose name the drink bore and
purchase some more. Until then, he had to be content with only a bottle.
Mansur would only drink it when he felt he had accomplished something.
He had this very day.
He had rid himself of a potentially damaging problem and kept his enemies
on the ropes. *They are young,* he thought to himself. *Naive. They
believe everyone doing something for power has to have grand plans which
will play out like something out of a holovision melodrama. They forget
people trying to get REAL power have no taste for theater. They pursue
their goals slowly until they're ready. And when they're ready, they strike
like a cat pouncing on a mouse . . . without mercy or regret . . . and take
what they want.
*We're soon ready to be the cat . . .
*And this colony's the first to be the mouse.*
* * *
In orbit . . .
"There's gotta be *something* Mansur's up to which is making him hide his
tracks in such an odd way," Hazel groaned as she and her companions gazed at
the report Hyakka gave her sometime before. "There's no proof of him having
ANY dealings with the remaining missing Mikado Marine forces or any
Neo-Mikadoite groups around. All the intelligence we have on him makes him
a clean as soap."
"We must be overlooking something," Aleko said. "If Mansur isn't the
villain, the person he's communicating with is."
"We could prove it only IF we could tap into his conversations," Althea
quipped. "Even Hyakka can't do it."
"There's something about Mansur and this whole case which I should know.
But I just can't remember what it was," Hazel then groaned before she gazed
on their guest. "Aleko, you know, you remind me of someone I met long ago.
Someone who helped me in one of my first cases before Sensei disappeared.
He . . . saved my life, and then he said I would meet him years later."
A shrug. "I wouldn't know anything about that. When Nassur disappeared, I
was only a baby."
"There must be SOME connection we're missing."
The fake Yehisrite then stood. "Why don't you go to bed for a while as I
go out to find some clues?"
"How do you propose to do that?" Althea asked.
"On Earth, in the movies, police sometimes go out to the streets to find
out things about the people they're after," he explained.
"We've tried that," Hazel retorted. "The streets around here are as empty
as most of the buildings here."
"That's because everyone's more scared of Mansur than you," he replied. "I
can change that."
Hazel perked. "How?"
"I have my ways," Aleko mysteriously replied as a steel-cold glimmer
flickered in one of his evergreen eyes. "I'd tell you, but I think it's
something that's best kept a secret. I'll call you if I turn up anything."
* * *
Several hours later . . .
Like most "establishments" of this nature, the bar was mainly used for
drinking and socializing. Tired workers were busy allowing their fatigue to
wash away in the company of work colleagues, friends, and/or more intimate
acquaintances. A few were currently too drunk when dealing with matters
concerning someone of the opposite sex in an extreme way . . . with the
various consequences such an act resulted in. There were a few "people of
the evening" who used the bar as a way to continue their own "commerce."
And then, there were a few people sitting away from anyone so they could
quietly drink the night away.
It was not much different from the other five such bars Aleko had visited
this evening.
When he walked into this particular bar, there were two gentlemen having an
animated "discussion" via the ancient art of fisticuffs. Unfortunately,
they were busy carrying their "discussion" to the door the fake Yehisrite
had been walking through.
Unfortunately for them, he had been expecting something like this. Having
been with the An'san-Mikado for over a month during this working tour (plus
having also served as a trainee hunter the previous summer), Aleko had been
in these type of places more times then he cared to admit to his parents.
What was worse, in many places on Earth, he wasn't even old enough to drink
alcohol!
He knew what to do . . .
Punched them out and threw them out of the front door!
That gave Aleko the respect he needed.
Currently at the bar he then walked over to relax against, only those too
drunk to notice what had happened didn't clear the path for the fake
Yehisrite. The bartender, an average sized, middle-aged man with short
balding hair and a piercing look in his eye, then came up to him. "Whaddaya
want?" he impatiently demanded with a gravelly-sounding voice.
"I'm not here to drink," Aleko replied. "I'm searching for information."
*A Yehisrite NOT looking for booze?* the bartender thought, immediately
realizing how unusual that was. Yehisrites as a whole enjoyed almost a big
reputation for loving drink throughout the local cluster, second only to the
Sagussans. Unfortunately, Yehisrites were known not to be "happy" drunks.
"Hey, this is a respectable bar, mac!" he then noted. "I don't want no
trouble!"
"So I've seen," Aleko replied. "I'm looking for some people who're
interested in blowing up some . . . places."
The bar went silent for a moment as everyone turned to gaze on the fake
Yehisrite, they ALL having heard what Aleko just said. "Blowing up some
places?" the bartender then asked as he made a hidden gesture to one of his
bouncers standing nearby. "You sound like you want to help those guys
who're blowing up things around here."
"That's why I'm interested in them," Aleko cooly replies. "I've been to
five places tonight. There're no more bars around on this colony. Surely
SOMEONE knows about how to contact them."
"I wouldn't know anything about that," the older man said as he gestured
again to the bouncer, a large burly man who could easily be a professional
wrestler on Earth. The bouncer then moved up slowly behind Aleko, his hands
shifting up, awaiting the right moment to strike.
"I think you do," Aleko said, his eyes narrowing. "A Colonial Security
officer named Karosur was found murdered earlier today. He was wanted in
connection with these people who have been bombings around here."
"You with the CCS?"
"No, something better . . . "
And then, like greased lightning, Aleko spun around, grabbed the bouncer
behind him, and then he judo-threw the poor fellow over the bar. The
bouncer hits the floor with a loud *BANG!* Seeing that, the bartender moved
to reach for a gun hidden under the counter. Hands shot over to
effortlessly disarm him, they then snaring the poor bartender in a choke
hold as Aleko leaned up to whisper into his ear, "Do you know about the
Iceman? If you do, you know what I can do. Now, tell me what I want to
know."
The bartender went stark-white. EVERYONE in the Confederation knew THAT
particular code-name. "I don't know anything!"
"Everyone in all the bars on this colony told me that if you want
*anything* brought in or taken out which might be even *remotely* illegal,
you come here!" Aleko hissed as his fingers began to press certain nerve
clusters on the bartender's arms to increase the pain. "Karosur himself was
known to come here. So, tell me, who did he work for? Who's Mansur working
for?"
"I . . . don't know!" the bartender moaned. "Karosur only used me as a
courier to smuggle stuff through."
"What stuff?"
"I don't know. It was always in small boxes. Y'know, the ones used to
carry computer storage disks."
"What was on them?"
The older man began to shake. "You crazy?! I just move stuff when stuff
can't get off this dirtball! I don't look at it! Even if it's alive, I
don't touch it! If I did, I'd be as dead as Karosur!"
Aleko took that in, and then he nodded. "Good survival technique. So,
where did you send it?"
"I ain't telling!"
The grip tightened. "WHERE?!"
"To the Homeworld!"
"WHERE?!"
"Sulanda!"
"WHO?!"
"I don't know!" the older man wailed. "I was told to send it to a postal
depot in Sulanda!"
"Who sent it? Mansur?"
"No! The packages always had his business logo, but . . . the guy who
sends them's someone named Diasur."
And with that, the hold on his arms vanished. "Thank you."
Surprise crossed the bartender's face. "That's it?" he demanded. "Who're
you working for?"
A calm shrug as the fake Yehisrite drew out his communicator. "I could
tell you . . . but if I did, I'd then have to kill you!" Aleko quipped
before the viperous look appeared yet again in his eyes. "Besides, I'm not
finished with you yet. I happen to have two friends up in orbit who'd like
to talk to you very much . . . once I get in touch with them."
The bartender gulped.
* * *
An hour or so later . . .
Hazel, Althea and Aleko stepped out of the bar, they noticeably more
content. It hadn't taken the hunters long to get the bartender to tell them
what they wanted to know in the privacy of a back room while Aleko had kept
the bouncers and waitresses at bay.
"So that's what Mansur's doing," Hazel mused as they headed back to their
beam-down point. "He's laundering money."
"And covering his tracks by having the people he's bought off in Colonial
Security blow up the buildings he's been doing his laundering in," Aleko
added. "That way, no one would notice it. Plus he's having one of his
lieutenants doing it for him."
"There's also another problem," Althea mused. "Why's he laundering money
and why's he sending it to Sulanda?"
"If only we had access to information on some of the clients in his banks,"
Hazel said. "I'm sure we could run a background check on them and find out
which accounts he was laundering money in."
"We don't have enough to run Mansur in," Althea warned.
"Maybe not now," Aleko objected. "Still, I think we should pay a visit to
Diasur."
* * *
As they beamed back to the "Perseverence," a certain bartender was making a
call.
"What is it?" Diasur angrily asked. Like most people, he didn't like to
have his sleep disturbed this early in the morning.
"It's me," the bartender began. "You know that Yehisrite and those two
hunters looking for the bombers? They paid me a visit! They forced me to
spill all I know! They know you put a hit on Karosur, and they know I
pipelined your disks to Sulanda!"
"I see. Don't worry! They're probably bluffing. They don't know a thing
about what we're doing. Relax!"
* * *
Aleko blinked as something in his clothes beeped. "Who's paging you?"
Hazel asked. "I didn't think people like you needed pagers."
"It's not a pager," he replied as he pulled out a small box-like object
from one of his pockets. "It's a tracker. I snuck a bug onto that
bartender's phone in case he used it to contact one of the people he's
involved with."
"Did he?" Althea asked.
"Yep."
"Who?"
"Who else?"
"What do we do?" Hazel asked.
"It's time we made a collar," Aleko replied as he pointed Hazel and Althea
back towards the bar they just left.
* * *
Next morning . . .
In one of the richer sections of Colony 100's capital city, Diasur woke
from a restful night's sleep. As his maids began to get his breakfast ready
and prepare his clothes for the coming day, he stepped out of his bedroom to
enter the living room. "Good morning, Lord Diasur," one of his maids
greeted him cheerfully.
"Good morning," he replied in his usual gruff manner. Diasur rarely
addressed his maids by their name; he didn't feel it was professional to
refer to workers that way. It would give ideas above their station in life.
"Has the morning news arrived?"
"Yes, sir. It's displayed on the dining room table unit, as always."
"Thanks."
In an elaborately-decorated dining room, Diasur sat at a wide table to gaze
over the morning news via a desk-mounted computer terminal as breakfast was
set out for him. It was not unusual for Diasur to read the news while he
was enjoying breakfast; he always wanted to keep on top of what was going on
throughout the Confederation and beyond as he ate. This day's headline,
however . . .
The headline: COLONIAL SECURITY ON THE TAKE!
A sub-headline: PURGE HAS BEGUN!
"What's this?" Diasur gasped. *Couldn't be!* he mentally thundered.
*Those other officers captured by that fake Yehisrite and Nassur's hunters
hadn't known how many people we had under our control . . . *
A finger tapped a button on his computer. The screen flicked for a second,
it then displaying an early morning children's show running on one of Vos'
private holovision entertainment networks. He immediately changed the
channel to one of the main news stations. Appearing there was footage of
several members of the CCS being led away in handcuffs by their co-workers.
"At the moment, forty-five members of the CCS on Colony 100 have been
arrested in connection with the series of bombing involving the Mansur
Development Bank Corporation there and several other nearby colonies," a
commentator's voice echoed from the speakers flanking the screens. "This is
thought to be the biggest case of corruption ever to have occurred since
before the Mikado took power . . . "
"Can't be!" Diasur gasped. "I've got to call Mansur."
"Go ahead," a woman bid him over the sound of a weapon's safety being
clicked off. "Call Mansur."
He spun around to see Hazel, Althea and Aleko standing there, weapons out
and aimed at him. Aleko's personal weapon looked very much like a Terran
automatic pistol. Both of Diasur's maids were standing by the doors, their
hands in the air.
"We'd like that," Hazel added. "VERY much."
"What are you doing here?!" he demanded, though his hands had slowly risen
clear of the computer. Diasur knew he could be seen as corrupt. An idiot,
he wasn't. They had him. It made sense not to deny anything.
"You're under arrest," Althea announced as she moved to put the cuffs on.
He didn't resist her. "The charges?"
"Murder, plus conspiring with the people responsible for the bombings on
the banks here and on other colonies."
* * *
Several hours later . . .
Aleko, Hazel and Althea met with the Chief of Colonial Security in the
interrogation wing. All the rooms were filled as Diasur found himself being
questioned alongside dozens of other officers from CSS caught in the net
with him. "Chief," Hazel inquired as soon as they got together in the
hallway near the holding cells. "How's the interrogation of Diasur going?"
"Not good," the older woman replied. "Diasur admitted to having Karosur
killed and to helping with the bombings, but . . . "
"But?" Althea prodded.
"He won't mention anything about Mansur's role in it."
"The big fish is trying to escape," Aleko quipped. "Have you tried
everything to find out anything about a link to Mansur?"
"Everything except torture and mind-probing," the chief replied. "And
that's because both are against Vosian law. Even still, I've sent personnel
to the space port to make sure Mansur doesn't try to skip the colony as soon
as the news broke of the arrests."
"Would you mind if I had a go?"
The chief looked at Aleko. "You? I know you're An'san-Mikado and all
that, but you're not really a security officer. And you're an alien to
boot! It wouldn't look good if I officially let an alien 'amateur'" -- she
made finger-quotes -- "Do a criminal interrogation."
A nod. "I understand."
"Good." She then smiled, pointing Aleko in the right direction. "He's in
that room over there; number seven. I don't know what goes on in criminal
interrogations on your homeworld, but please: no torture."
"I won't harm a hair on his head," he vowed with a smile and a wink before
he headed into the holding room.
No one noticed the cold sparkle glimmering in his eyes.
* * *
Aleko emerged five minutes later, the same smile he had when he went in
still on his face. "He talked."
Shocked looks responded. "He did?" the chief gasped. "Just like that?!"
"Just like that," he parroted before adding, "With help from a little
cold-hearted friend of mine." To Hazel and Althea: "Let's go."
"Where to?" Hazel asked.
"To get Mansur and end this," he replied. "We have enough to put him
away."
"It's about time!" Althea said as the three headed out.
"I'll send a squad to follow you," the chief called out after them.
"Appreciated!" Aleko called back.
The Chief of Colonial Security watched them disappear around a corner,
thinking to herself, *HE's the Iceman of the An'san-Mikado?! I should've
known.* A pause. *Still . . . I didn't think he was so . . . so
**normal!***
* * *
An hour later . . .
At Mansur's home, the air seemed thick with tension; his servants had told
him about Diasur's arrest as well as the purge of anyone remotely having a
connection with the recent bombings. It was obvious to him: he needed a
way to get off the colony!
But how?! Where would he go?
For once, Mansur had lost control. If he was arrested, their plans would
be dead. Just like Karosur.
He needed advice.
In his office, he accessed his private phone link to his leader in Sulanda.
"I hope he's home . . . "
He then gulped as he pressed the speed dial switch to access his hidden
leader's line. It took almost an eternity as the satellites orbiting Colony
100 sent the signal to the distant Homeworld. It took yet ANOTHER eternity
for the phone to begin to ring. As he waited, he ordered his videoscreen to
lower from the ceiling, it hanging in front of the window behind his desk.
* * *
At the main gate . . .
"It looks like he's still here," Hazel declared after locking on Mansur
with her powers. "The big fish is in the net."
"Should we ring the bell to get them to open the gate?" Althea mockingly
asked.
"On my planet, some cultures believe it's bad manners to ring a doorbell or
knock on the door," Aleko stated as he pulled out his favoured weapon to
blast open the lock with one shot. Hazel and Althea both jumped at the
thunderous sound the Israeli Military Industries Desert Eagle Mark XIX .357
Magnum made when it discharged. Once freed of the lock's grip, the doors
swang open.
"You're pretty good with that thing," Hazel quipped.
"Practice makes perfect," he noted.
Hazel nodded as she gunned their hovercar's motor, sending it thundering
through the half-open gate. As soon as the way was clear, the hovercar flew
down the driveway towards the mansion.
Unfortunately for them . . .
* * *
"Sir, someone's burst through the front gates!" a harried guard announced
over the intercom. "CCS's coming in right behind them!"
"Hold them off as long as you can!" Mansur ordered. "I'll try to find a
way to get myself out of here!"
"Yes, sir!"
* * *
"This is too easy!" Hazel warned. "Mansur's GOT to have some delaying
tactic so he can escape!"
"I think it's coming up now," Althea warned, her eyes glowing.
"Duck!" Aleko yelled.
They dropped behind the hovercar's dashboard as they drew their weapons.
Just in time: two dozen security guards surged out from their hiding places
as the hovercar soared towards the mansion. Weapons erupted, they doing not
much damage save for dents and the windows and headlights getting shot out.
Finally, the hovercar slid to a halt right at the mansion's front door.
Silence then fell over the scene. The guards blinked, many of them
automatically lowering their weapons as they moved towards the vehicle.
Their attackers then surged up from their hiding places, weapons firing!
To their credit, the members of Mansur's security force did do their best to
try and stop Hazel, Althea and Aleko from entering the mansion.
Unfortunately, even their best wasn't good enough against them. By the time
Colonial Security arrived to arrest the survivors, the three young warriors
were dashing inside.
Entering the foyer with weapons drawn, Hazel, Althea and Aleko came up on a
couple of maids emerging from a side room, scaring the poor women out of
their wits. "Where's Mansur?" Aleko automatically demanded.
"W-we don't know," one girl stammered. "He's not in this part of the
building."
Hazel's eyes glowed. "Other side of the mansion! He's not moving."
"Be careful," Aleko warned. "He could be doing anything in there.
Including trying to commit suicide."
"Understood!" Hazel then turned to Althea. "You stay here to coordinate
the Colonial Security teams."
A nod. "Be careful, Kuriicha. Nobody on Home Base would forgive me if you
get killed here."
Hazel smiled. "I didn't know you cared, Althea."
"Hey, I'm gonna live to see you recognize someone and get married,
remember? Don't blow it by dying!"
Hazel laughed as she and Aleko raced off. "Is she always like that?" he
then probed.
A chuckle. "Sometimes, she's worse!"
* * *
The video feed was grainy; someone just walking into the room would have
trouble getting a clear enough picture of whom Mansur was talking to. "I
see..." the figure in the video feed replied. "Our plans were getting
closer to coming true. Even if we lose everything on Colony 100, I can
still pull things off here. The only thing we can't afford to lose is you.
You know what to do . . . "
"I do," Mansur replied, his voice full of regret and understanding. "I
must not be taken alive. If I can't get off Colony 100 and find my way back
to Sulanda, I must never live to get interrogated."
"Regrettable. Your sacrifice will not be forgotten."
"I understand." Mansur smiled as he turned to a hidden drawer in his desk.
There, he kept a gun handy for just this kind of emergencies. "I'll shoot
myself out with this if I have to and rush to the spaceport in hopes I can
get off this . . . "
The door exploded! "Mansur!" Hazel snapped as she locked on him with her
pistol, Aleko doing the same. "You're under arrest for money laundering and
destroying public property. Surrender now!"
Mansur spun around. "On whose orders?"
"By order of the government of Colony One-hundred."
"I see." A serene smile then crossed his face. "You think you have me,
eh? I'm not so easy to capture . . . " His hand shot up, the gun in his
palm as he bore-sighted it on Hazel.
Three weapons barked out at once!
Mansur's buzzed over Hazel's head.
Hazel's went wide to hit the videoscreen Mansur had been using to speak to
his hidden leader.
Aleko's did not.
* * *
To the person in Sulanda, contact with Mansur was immediately lost . . .
but not before he saw Hazel taking her shot.
"M-Mansur!" the figure gasped in horror. "It can't be!" His fists
clenched. "You will pay for that, Kuriinba of Kyotos! You'll pay for
killing my son! I swear you will, even if I have to go through Time Itself
to make it happen! **You -- will -- pay!**"
* * *
Hazel sneezed as Aleko leaned down to check Mansur's body for signs of
life. The field agent of the An'san-Mikado was quick to realize that his
shooting was, as always, a little too accurate; the bullet from his pistol
had gone through the target's heart.
"He's gone," Aleko then said. "Sorry. I was trying to wound him."
"So was I," Hazel mused. "It can't be helped. I've a strange feeling we
just made sure history is correct."
Aleko gazed quizzically at her.
* * *
Next day . . .
Aleko and Hazel were found to have fired their weapons in self-defence by
the proper authorizes. With the last of Mansur's henchmen currently cooling
their heels in jail awaiting trial, the mission was done. At the colony
spaceport, Hazel and Aleko walked into the hangar bay together to say their
goodbyes before boarding their respective ships. Ironically, he was STILL
in disguise despite the job being over. "I'm glad it's done," she mused
with a relieved sigh as they walked towards "Perseverence." "Unfortunately,
we couldn't find out who Mansur was talking to in Sulanda, much less why
Mansur was laundering money. None of his cronies knew anything about it."
"I've a feeling we'll find out," he noted. "Someday."
"So." She stopped to gaze on him. "I guess this is goodbye." Hazel then
smiled knowingly. "Corporal McTavish."
Silence. "You remembered me?" Jamie asked as he turned to gaze in
amusement at her. After she gave him a nod, he then smirked. "I'm quite
flattered, Miss Hazel. By the way, I'm a staff-sergeant at the Academy
these days."
"I AM a hunter, remember?" Her smile grew wider as she added, "It's my job
to find the truth." Concern then flashed in her eyes. "Jamie, why can't
you join us on Home Base? Why work for the An'san-Mikado? We could use
more people like you."
He remained silent for a moment, and then he breathed out, "To be honest,
I've always been tempted to work for you people. And believe me, I was
flattered beyond belief when you gave me that offer. Turning it down --
both times, actually . . . "
Hazel tensed on seeing pain flash in his eyes. "Jamie, I . . . "
"You know about Sandra, don't you?"
The hunter blinked as that name washed through her, and then she nodded.
"I grieve with thee," she formally declared in Old Vosian.
"My thanks, honoured warrior," he replied in kind; Kyoosur had taught him
the ancient tongue over many wonderful summers on the shores of Lake Dvorak
near Pashansho. A time that seemed a lifetime ago to the Canadian. "Well,
because of that," -- he switched back to modern Vosian. "There are things I
have to clear out of my heart and mind first. Working for you people . . .
?" He shook his head. "I'd be a disruption. After all you people've been
through, that would be unfair. Like it or not, being part of the
An'san-Mikado . . . "
"Is the best for you at this time," she finished.
"Yes." He then perked. "By the way, I heard the good news about Nassur
and his wife. Congratulations."
Hazel blinked, and then she beamed. "Thanks! Actually, I'm going to visit
them soon on Earth." A shrug. "Who knows? You'll head back to Earth
sooner or later, I guess. Maybe we can meet each other again there."
He considered that for a moment. "I'd look forward to that. It's a small
universe, after all." Evergreen eyes then flecked over to gaze into deep
azure ones. "Until such a chance comes, IF it comes, please don't expect
much from me."
"I understand," she said as she held out her hand. "Still, stranger things
can happen . . . "
He grasped her hand, and then lifted it to bestow a courtly kiss on her
fingers. Their eyes locked again. Then, their hands dropped as their faces
seemed to drift towards the other's. Before their lips could make contact,
though . . .
"Hey, Kuriinba!" Althea yelled from the "Perseverance." "You coming or are
you gonna moon with your new boyfriend in the spaceport all day?! I thought
you wanted to go to Earth after this was over!"
They paused. Jamie then sighed. "Don't you just HATE that?"
Hazel breathed out, "I do." A wink. "Maybe next time, Jamie."
"Maybe next time," he echoed her. "Safe journey, Hazel."
"You, too."
The Canadian stepped back as he watched Hazel run into the "Perseverance."
His eyes then flicked up to the ship's cockpit. Sure enough, as the ship
began to taxi to a lift-off point, a familiar face appeared at one of the
windows. She waved at him. He waved back, and then he stepped back, his
eyes following "Perseverence" as it began lift-off procedures. His eyes
remained locked on the hunters' frigate as it soared into the sky and
disappear into the heavens. *She has beautiful eyes,* he mused. *I'm glad
I kept my disguise on . . . yet I'm disappointed that I kept doing so even
after it stopped being necessary. After Sandra, I don't think I could take
having a Vosian recognize me so quickly, let alone meeting some girl on
Earth.* Turning away as he headed to where the "An-qil Ufpif" was parked,
he stopped as something came to him. *Going to Earth to meet her
step-parents, eh?* A shrug. *Oh, well. Maybe we'll be just friends from
now on . . .
*Maybe . . . *
Jamie sighed as he turned to boards his ship for his next mission.
*** The End . . . For Now ***
**** **** ****
WRITERS' NOTES: And so the story begins to come full-circle . . .
1) The North-West Mounted Police exists today as the Royal Canadian Mounted
Police.
2) Some translations:
Qu'f-Piaqu'r . . . Literally, "fire-stick." A breech-loading weapon firing
particle-photon based rounds; it would, from a distance, resemble an
1870s-era Snider-Enfield .577 rifled musket then in service with the British
Army. Ataru used this type of weapon in UY-TSY.
butsudan . . . a shrine normally found in most Japanese homes which serves
as a personal place for people to mourn lost relatives.
ihai . . . a special memorial tablet which bears the posthumous name of the
deceased.
3) Robert Land Academy does exist; it's located in the Township of West
Lincoln in Ontario's Niagara Region, eight kilometres west of Wellandport
and 20 kilometres from Welland. Fred attended the school between 1980-84.
In the context of UY20YL, RLA (as the Academy is short-formed) has a
girls'-only sister school, Laura Secord Academy. This is Sandra's alma
mater. In real life, LSA doesn't exist.
**** **** ****
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