by Mark Wandrey
“Mr. Sato,” Rick said from the display nearby.
“Yeah?”
“You should look at the names on this plaque.”
Sato moved over and looked. It was a brass plaque attached to the hull after the ship returned. A dedication to the crew.
“I can’t read the Japanese…” Rick said.
“I can, it’s just a dedication to the crew, and those who didn’t return.”
“I saw the names,” Rick said and pointed. “Including this one.”
Sato focused on the name; Taiki Sato.
“Dedicated 2029,” Rick said. “I think I understand why you were drawn here,” Rick said, “but did you know you were over 100 years old?”
“No,” Sato admitted. But it also doesn’t surprise me. The ship was too familiar.
* * * * *
Chapter Nine
“Are you sure it’s you?” Rick asked. “Don’t a lot of Japanese share the same name?”
“There are more than a few Taiki Satos in Japan,” Sato admitted, then looked past Rick and shook his head. “However, I’m pretty sure it’s me.”
Rick turned to follow Sato’s gaze. The Tri-V was showing a repeat of the ceremony again. Now that they were off to one side, Sato could see the crewmen on the ramp behind the ship’s captain, who was speaking about the epic mission they were about to undertake. One of the crewmen to the back of the group was a young man, no more than 25 years old. Sato knew the face well; it was his own, only younger.
“Jesus, over 100 years,” Rick said again. “How? You don’t look over 50.”
“I thought I was 48,” Sato admitted. He watched the younger version of himself standing patiently, eyes full of pride and excitement. The scientist took the key out of his pocket and looked at it.
“You should know, museum security has been following me.” Sato turned his head and looked at him. “I suspect my robotic body’s nature has them concerned.”
“You are a war machine. While you’re no real danger to them, they don’t know that.”
“Can they detect my weaponry?”
“I don’t think so,” Sato said. “I’ve built in a lot of shielding to allow you to move around. They shouldn’t have been able to realize you were anything other than someone with cybernetic replacement parts. But this is Japan, so maybe.” He looked at the Sakura Maru and replayed the memory again. He was standing next to the landing leg, touching it. To the side of the entrance was a Tri-V of the ship, slowly turning. Everything matched. “I need to go inside,” he said.
“I assumed,” Rick said. “I’m going to go cause a distraction.”
“Don’t break anything?” Sato asked.
“Trust me,” Rick said, his glowing blue eyes seemingly twinkling in amusement before he turned and walked past the Sakura Maru display and onward into the museum.
Sato did his best to appear interested in the information display outside Sakura Maru for several minutes. Eventually a pair of smartly-dressed security guards scuttled by in pursuit. He dearly hoped they didn’t try to detain Rick. Not because he was afraid they’d succeed, but because he was afraid Rick would level the building stopping them.
Once the security guards were safely past, he walked up the ramp and into Sakura Maru. A chill breeze seemed to blow down his neck until he realized it was an air curtain, and the interior of the ship was being kept in a low temp/low humidity state to preserve it.
Nothing seemed familiar, yet somehow his feet knew where to walk and the angles of the deck. The museum had done a good job of orientation on the display. Sakura Maru had been designed to spend most of its time in space. Even so, the deck tilted precariously in places. In these locations, the museum had installed glowing warning signs and handholds. Sato didn’t need them. Even though his mind was telling him this was new, his feet knew every inch of the ship. It was a surreal experience.
Then he reached a section where a ‘Do Not Enter’ sign was hung. Clearly the tour was going to the bridge, and away from the rear section of the ship. Another sign warned of a radiation hazard. Sato glanced around with his eyes, keeping his head movements to a minimum. Three cameras and one movement sensor, he thought. He’d brought his electronics kit with him, a small case the size of a pack of cigarettes. He opened it in his pocket by feel and touched a control.
The cameras would be scrambled for about a minute. No longer under observation, he removed the toolkit from his pocket, selected the appropriate tools, and disabled the motion tracker. The ‘Do Not Enter’ sign was held across the corridor by a simple carabiner, which he detached, moved through, and then replaced. At the last instant, he spotted a simple low-tech electric eye.
Smart, he thought. Many B&E specialists often overlooked the simplistic, now that they had access to galactic tech. After making sure there was only one, he stepped over it and proceeded into the forbidden area.
Again his feet knew where to go. He walked a short distance down the corridor until he reached a hatchway. ‘Avionics & Computer’ was written in Japanese. Sato nodded and tried the door. Not only was it locked, but someone had also tack welded the door handle in place. No problem. His toolkit included a tiny laser cutter. He selected the device and one of the four powerful hybrid capacitor batteries. A couple seconds later, the welds were defeated.
The handle turned with a bone jarring screeech! He cringed and turned it as fast as he could, knowing the sound was probably audible all the way to the starport. The door clicked, and he quickly pulled it open and slipped inside before pulling it closed behind him.
The compartment was completely dark. Not just dark, it was like the depths of space. Sato was uncomfortably reminded of his time on the Keesius doomsday machine inside his CASPer, recently disabled by an EMP weapon. He swallowed against a growing panic.
* * *
“Get control of yourself!”
“I’m trying, Saisho!” he cried as he flailed about for something to grab.
“Fear is your worst enemy, Human. Master it!”
“I-I can’t,” he sobbed. Inconceivable, lashed his brain. An eternity later, he felt tiny clawed hands moving him, and the cool steel of a stanchion pressed into his hand. Tiny glowing eyes regarded him. “Thank…you,” he gasped.
“You can do this, Human,” the Jōshi said.
He nodded. “I am ready to try again, Saisho!”
“Very well.” He was thrown into the spinning dark abyss once more.
* * *
“Fuck,” Sato hissed as he came back to himself. His knees were in agony, and he felt for them in the dark, his hand coming away wet. With shaking hands, he found the little utility light he kept in a pocket and clicked it on. The compartment exploded into stark, x-ray-like relief. He bent forward, concentrating on breathing and the agony of his knees. Once he could breathe without shuddering, he looked at his knees. The uniform material was tough and hadn’t torn, but his skin hadn’t been as lucky.
He dug out a couple quick-clot adhesive bandages, pulling up his old Hussars suit legs and dealing with his wounds. “I hate blood,” he mumbled as he worked. His stomach roiled slightly. When he was done, he stood and looked around, running over the brief memory as he examined the compartment. The feelings of déjà vu thus created made his brain itch.
“I’ve been here,” he said as his eyes settled on old computer consoles, work benches, and a hive of storage compartments. “Storage compartments,” he said and removed the key. It only took a moment to find compartment 22XF; the key fit the lock perfectly.
The door opened with a slight grind—the lock was old, and this section of the ship had not been restored. If they’d gone over this section, they would have found the locked box, he thought. How long has it sat here, sealed against time? Inside was something wrapped in cloth. He lifted it out carefully, almost reverently. Before he could unwrap it, he was interrupted.
he museum structure.
Sato frowned, trying to imagine what that meant.
The wrapped object was not much bigger than his toolkit, so he left it covered and slipped it into a pocket. Closing storage compartment 22XF, he relocked it and removed the key. Finally, he used the little laser tool to reseal the hatchway. Anyone entering the room after him would have no idea he’d been there.
Sato collected the apparatus he’d used to defeat their rather weak security measures and moved through the rest of the ship. The bridge wasn’t as hauntingly ‘familiar’ as the avionics and computer room had been. He put a hand on the captain’s chair as he passed. Somehow, he felt a feeling of loss. Without a backward look, he left.
* * *
Rick hadn’t had this much fun…well, since he was resurrected, he guessed. His memory was full of many fun events, most shared with Jim Cartwright. After the logjam in his mind had broken, he’d slowly been reliving moments, good and bad. Some events he’d had access to before, others he hadn’t. Some were complete mixtures, having entire events with bits and pieces missing. Now it seemed most were back.
He found a small alcove in the wall next to a display of alien races beside a Human for comparison. Sliding back into the small alcove, Rick engaged his active EM shielding. Three security guards trotted past, yelling into a radio. His translator didn’t catch all of it, just enough to confirm that they’d lost him completely.
As he led the museum security on a merry chase, he’d had time to observe the other patrons. A small group of school-aged children were being shepherded through by a pair of adult women. They’d taken no notice of the strange goings on. A smattering of obvious tourists was mixed in, identifiable by their languages. English, French, a pair of African dialects, and one pair speaking Portuguese. He only realized there were no aliens when he saw an alien.
He’d seen videos of temples in Japan with hundreds of monkeys living off handouts and the food monks gave them, so when he saw a large monkey walking along, he blinked in surprise. Then he noticed the monkey was wearing clothes and holding a slate, which made his logical mind kick in. It’s an opSha, he realized.
The opSha were an uncommon race in the Human arm of the galaxy. They did bear a striking resemblance to howler monkeys, except the opSha possessed tiny, nearly vestigial eyes, and massive ears. Their main sense was more akin to a bat’s echolocation. They were known as master chemists in the same way elSha were mechanical geniuses. Seeing one strolling through a museum in Japan was surprising, to say the least.
The security guards raced past the opSha without giving it a second’s glance. But once they were past, the opSha’s ears moved, tracking the retreating men carefully, even when they were well past being out of traditional sight. Rick moved the barest fraction, and the ears twitched, swinging his way. Holy shit, they’re sensitive!
With a simple command to the armor, he froze all movement. After a long moment, the opSha’s ears moved away, sweeping the area left and right before moving back in the direction of the departed guards. The alien continued to appear to study the displays and its slate, but Rick could see the ears working on other tasks. Knowing the being used its ears more than its eyes told a bigger story. Something was up.
Rick waited until the opSha had moved on around the corner before leaving his hiding place and finding the nearest service door. He didn’t bother with subtlety; he grabbed the handle and use his suit’s strength to break the lock and open the door. Since he didn’t know the layout of the museum, he again used the suit’s code-breaking ability to access the museum’s internal system and downloaded the building schematic. With it, he found the shortest route to the front door.
He moved fast, and through several areas where workers were busy. His speed didn’t allow much sightseeing. In one room, though, he noticed a group of people carefully disassembling a missile. They appeared quite alarmed as Rick entered through a door, gave his jump fans a pulse of power to vault over the missile, landed, and exited the other door.
Someone tried to sound an alarm. Rick was still inside their computer systems, so he overrode it. No doubt that someone was quite confused, because they repeatedly tried to activate it. Not wanting to waste his time continually overriding it, Rick simply disengaged it from the computer. He didn’t have to monitor the alarms anymore, and long after they were gone, he wondered how long they kept trying to activate it.
Rick reached the last door and blew through it into the main atrium, surprising a big group of pre-teen schoolgirls, who screamed and scattered. He took advantage of the situation by racing through them toward the exit. As he jumped and ran, a feeling of dread had been building inside him. A pair of the security guards who’d been stalking him were at the final checkpoint. They yelled and pointed as he pelted directly at them. He laughed as he jumped over them, the checkpoint, and the line of people waiting to get in.
* * *
Sato stepped out of the museum exit into the early morning weather. It was somewhat cold, and a light drizzle fell—typical Tokyo spring weather. The cloth-wrapped artifact in his pocket weighed heavily on him. He hadn’t wanted to get at something more in recent memory. It was exciting and annoying at the same time.
There was a short line of people waiting to purchase tickets and enter the museum. They were all chatting among themselves and hoping the line would move quicker so they could get out of the rain. He was a little surprised there wasn’t a covered waiting area. There was a small overhang of the building just to the left side of the main entrance. At least some people were staying out of the rain. Only these weren’t people, they were monkeys?
The same isolated part of his brain that had led him to Earth, then the mailbox, and now to the museum screamed an alarm so shrill, he shuddered. The monkeys were opSha. Recognition of the rarely seen race had already begun when the alarm was sounded. It momentarily confused him. The opSha weren’t a merc race. They were better known as chemists, and often worked for whatever guild paid for their service. But in another life, in another way, on another world, they were much more.
At the same instant he saw them and recognized the threat, they leaped into action, racing toward him in a half-jumping gait that covered a startling amount of ground quite quickly. There were four of them, and they would be on him in seconds.
For part of that time, Sato froze in indecision. He began to reach for the laser pistol Rick had provided him before remembering he didn’t have it. Next was running. He was in much better shape after spending days on Earth under full gravity. Regardless, the opSha were too damned quick. There was no way he would get away.
A shudder ran through his body, and he felt himself speaking. “They should have sent someone else,” he hissed.
“End of the road, Proctor!” the lead opSha snarled.
“Come learn from me, monkey!” What? Who said that? Everything went blank as the opSha leaped.
* * *
Rick had completely missed Sato dealing with the four punks in Houston. After all, he’d just ridden an exploding garbage truck. By the time Rick came around from the explosive stunning, Sato was standing while the other four men weren’t.
Rick blasted through the museum exit—regrettably causing both glass doors to explode from the impact—and scanned the area to create a battlespace. The behavior of the opSha inside had made him certain trouble was afoot. It seemed Sato drew trouble the way sugar drew bees.
Four opSha were mere meters from Sato, attacking in a wave of blurred motion. Rick armed a laser and brought it up, targeted the lead alien, and fired. At the same instant, someone slammed into him from behind. The weight and momentum weren’t enough to knock him over, but it was enough for his shot to miss, causing it to go high.
Cursing, he left Sato to deal with the
opSha himself. He figured if the slightly built scientist could tackle four brutish thugs singlehanded, he could handle four non-combatant opSha. His sensors allowed him to designate multiple targets, so he set the computer to automatically track and record Sato and turned his attention to his own problem.
His attacker was one of the two guards he’d jumped over a moment earlier. He’d gambled that the two would be too surprised to act quickly. Looked like he’d lost the bet. The man was trying to put him into a Full Nelson. Were he not augmented, it would have been a potentially dangerous situation. A well-executed Full Nelson performed by a person with sufficient leverage and strength was difficult to defeat. At least, without doing serious injury to your attacker. This guy was either a wrestler or had training.
Considering the suit his body was merged with, Rick wasn’t impressed with the attempt to restrain him. The man had only managed to begin applying the hold, because Rick’s arms weren’t at his side. Despite the attacker applying as much force as he could, he hadn’t succeeded in forcing Rick’s arms up so much as a centimeter. “Let go,” he said aloud.
“You are under arrest,” the man said.
“I don’t think so,” Rick said.
The guard doubled his efforts and managed to move Rick’s arms a millimeter. “What are you?” he demanded. Rick just shook his head and moved his arms downward. He did it smoothly, though not overly fast. He didn’t want to rip the man’s hands off. “Gahh!” the security guard screamed as he tried his best to hold the move and failed.
His arms lowered, Rick dipped a shoulder and rammed an elbow backward into the guard’s solar plexus.
“Ooof!” the man grunted, falling to his knees as he gasped for breath.
Rick had just begun to activate the recall of sensor logs on Sato when the other guard performed a decent knee tackle on him from behind. Like the other man’s attempt at a bull-rush followed by a submission hold, the force of his impact was insufficient to succeed in taking him down. It did distract him again.
