Martian Jazz Riff
Well, folks, the third installment of Frontier: 2170 The Novelization is here!
: Like the first two, this story has been based off the script for the manga. If you want to read the action version without knowing the plot beforehand, read no further.
Chapter 3: Martian Jazz Riff
The Martian Blue was a largish building, not unlike a small mansion, sitting alone in the rust-colored desert nearby one of Mars’ many mesas, just off the highway thirty-five kilometers away from the nearest town, and over a hundred away from the nearest city, New Sapporo, which was the capital of the Chryse Planitia region. The building was originally painted white, but years of exposure to dust storms and other aspects of Martian weather left it with a red-brown hue stained unevenly across all of it’s faces. There were two towers in the box-shaped structure; each one on opposite diagonal corners from the other one, and each tower was about four stories high, twice the height of the rest of the building. Each face of the building was studded liberally with windows, many of the kind used for bedrooms, which is exactly what they were used for. Martian Blue was a brothel, owned and operated by a woman trying to make a living in a world dominated by men.
Two denizens of the house, a woman wearing grey harem pants, a tight-fitting tank-top and a t-shirt made of wide-weave fishnets named Sydney and a man dressed in blue jeans and a blue work shirt worn rather carelessly named Owen, were hanging clothes on a line out front when they noticed a large dust cloud, with the setting sun behind it, come from down the road leading to the town. As it got closer, Sydney could see that the dust cloud was being left by a large ATV and a pair of motorcycles. The markings on the hood of the larger vehicle were very familiar to Sydney, and she was suddenly frightened. “Oh, my God… ASHITA!” she yelled into the building, “He’s come back!”
A Japanese woman wearing a dark blue turtleneck sweater and a slinky black dress with a long slit down the left side stepped out from the inside of the house. “What is it, Sydney?” she asked with a sense of authority. Sydney pointed in the direction of the approaching vehicles and said, “Look, over there.”
“Chikushou,” Ashita said as she gazed in the same direction, “Owen, hide Arcelia, then get me my gun,” she said to the man, “The big one.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Owen replied as he ran off towards one of the side doors into the house. Sydney swooned, and fell to her knees. Ashita crouched down to her level and put her arm around the girl’s shoulder as she began to cry. “Sydney, stay here with me,” said Ashita, “We need to show them we’re strong.” The girl nodded as she wiped away her tears.
Owen soon returned with a shotgun, which he handed to Ashita. She took it as Sydney stood up and ran to Owen’s wiry arms, and the two held each other in a tight embrace. “Try to take her from us now,” Ashita said to herself as she worked the pump on the shotgun, loading the first round into the chamber, “…Arcturus…”
The three vehicles slid to a stop several yards away from the three people. The left-side door of the ATV opened upward as a man in a business suit, cowboy hat and large, mirrored sunglasses stepped out, flanked by the drivers of the motorcycles, both in leather jackets and cowboy hats. The man strode pridefully and purposefully towards the house. “I thought I told you you ain’t welcome here anymore, Byrne,” Ashita said to the man in the suit, “We’re closed to you and yer flunkies.”
The men strode past her as if she wasn’t there. “Find the girl, boys,” Byrne said to his companions, “She’s in there somewhere.”
“You won’t find her here, Byrne,” Ashita replied as she turned around to face him, “Arcelia left this rock two weeks ago.”
Byrne turned to face her. “Don’t lie to me, baita,” he said as he gestured threateningly, “You know your little establishment owes me a tidy sum, as well as…”
He stopped as his two minions bodily dragged a girl, no older than seventeen, out from the sanctuary provided by the house. She was dressed in a cropped red T-shirt and a knee-length red skirt worn loosely about her hips, and she was quite pregnant. She struggled violently and was repeatedly screaming, “Let me go!” as the two man hauled her to Byrne and forced her to her knees, holding her there. “…Arcelia,” Byrne said in a mockery of compassion, “Dear, have you been taking good care of my baby?”
The girl, with fear glistening in her eyes, said defiantly, “This baby ain’t yours. It’s from another man.”
“See? She don’t owe you nothin’,” said Ashita, “Now get the hell off my property.”
Byrne ignored Ashita completely. “Now Arcelia,” he said with false kindness in his voice, “Don’t you lie to me.” He snapped his fingers, and one of his minions handed him a silver case from over his shoulder. He took it, opened it up, and removed the syringe contained within. He removed the safety cap, revealing the two-inch-long needle. Holding the syringe backhanded, he rammed the needle into Arcelia’s belly, causing her to scream in pain. He pulled the piston back, filling the chamber with fluid, which began to gain a kind of cloudy redness as some blood began to mix in with the girl’s vaginal fluid.
“Remember this, my dear,” said Byrne as he pulled the needle out of Arcelia and wiped the needle clean with his handkerchief before replacing the safety cap and gestured with the full syringe, “If this DNA checks out, I’ll come back for my baby, an’ I’m gonna take it.
“Even if I have to gut you to get it.”
He stood up and placed the syringe in the silver case, placed the case in his inside coat pocket, and turned to Ashita. “I’m gonna want my money when I do come back, or else.” He and his minions walked to their vehicles, and they drove away, leaving Ashita, Owen, Arcelia and Sydney alone in the dust. Arcelia, still bleeding from the syringe wound, collapsed into Ashita’s shoulder, and began to cry. Ashita placed her arm around the girl and said, “It’s okay, Arcelia. We won’t let him take it.”
Sydney kneeled next to Arcelia on her other side while Owen crouched behind Ashita and Arcelia. “How?” Sydney asked, “We don’t know how to fight.”
“We’ll get someone to fight for us,” Ashita replied, “We can afford it.”
Owen’s face hardened. “But we’re whores,” he said cynically, “Who’d help people like us?”
Ashita merely smiled.
* * * * *
“And he threatened to kill her? Damn, that’s cold.”
“I know it’s bad, coz, but could you help me out here?” Ashita said over the videochat line, “I’ve got this sneaking suspicion that he’s gonna take more than the money and the girl’s baby.”
“You know I’m not supposed to speak to you, Ashita, ever since my father kicked you out of the kazoku,” Ayane said to the computer screen on which her cousin’s likeness was displayed, “I happen to know a bounty hunter who could help. Can you pay?”
“Payment won’t be a problem,” Ashita’s likeness replied, “What’s this bounty hunter’s name?”
“Jon Aeros. He captains a ship called the Peregrine.”
“How soon can you get him to help us?”
Ayane sighed. “Shinzoku, I don’t even know if he’d be interested.”
“Would it help if he knew who the man was?”
“Only if he’s got a bounty on his head. What’s his name?”
* * * * *
Arcturus Byrne: 金200,000
LIVE CAPTURE ONLY
This was the heading on the dossier displayed on the Solar System’s Most Wanted website. Also displayed were photographs taken upon arrival at his most recent prison visit, as well as description and background. Jon read the last out loud. “Arcturus Byrne, notorious gangster. Thirty-seven years old, married but no children. Positively identified as Alistair Benson’s right hand man. Last seen on Mars, in the Chryse Planitia region.”
He turned to Ayane, “That’s where this brothel your cousin runs is, right?”
“Hai,” Ayane replied, “It says here that the bounty comes from the Martian Rangers. He must be a bigger menace than I thought to have attracted that kind of attention.”
“It looks like we have some allies,” Tallen pointed out, “Your brother’s in the Rangers, isn’t he?”
Jon leaned back. “I haven’t heard from him in seven years, Tallen,” he replied, “I don’t know if he’s even alive anymore. Anyways, we haven’t committed ourselves to anything yet. No point in gettin’ paid if we don’t come out of it alive.”
Ayane frowned a little. “So, you’re not going to do it?”
“Ayane, they’re aishou,” Jon replied, “No man in his right mind would kill them just to get money and a baby.” He paused for a moment. “Why does he want a baby, anyway?”
Tallen ponderously stood up. “Because some people are weird like that,” he said, “I’m sure he has a reason which makes perfect sense to him.”
No one in the room could have guessed that someone was listening in on their conversation, hearing every word that was being said. Misty was standing behind the doorjamb, leaning on the wall, listening. Even though there wasn’t a lot in common with Misty and the inhabitants of Martian Blue, Misty could still feel for those people, and she didn’t understand why Jon was being so hesitant to help them out. “Maybe he just likes hurting people,” she heard Jon say, “or maybe he’s gonna use the baby as collateral on this massive debt your cousin supposedly owes.”
“She doesn’t owe anyone money,” Ayane replied, “The Martian Blue is totally independent. It looks like Byrne here’s simply extorting the place.”
Jon pointed something out on the computer screen. “Look: ‘in battle, he often employs laser weaponry and other such gadgets. Even so, he is extremely dangerous and is suggested for experienced bounty hunters only.’”
He paused. “Laser weapons… That’s pretty damn stupid. You’d only get a few shots off with any real stopping power, and they’re almost useless on Mars ‘cause of all the dust. Scratch the lens and it ain’t gonna fire straight.
“Besides… I smell a trap. How do you know that we can trust this Ashita person?”
“She’s shinzoku, Jon,” Ayane replied, “I’m inclined to believe that she’ll be truthful to me.”
Jon stood up and headed for the door out of the common room. “This discussion is over,” he declared, “We are not going to fight and die for some oversexed kids, and that’s final.”
“Jon-“
“I SAID THAT’S FINAL!” With that, Jon stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.
Misty started slightly as Jon strode angrily past her, and she turned to face him as he began to head down the corridor. “Mister Aeros, sir,” she began meekly, “Are you just going to leave them to their fate?”
Jon, surprised, turned around to address her. “You too, Misty?” he asked, “Why can’t anyone accept my decision? And is this any of your business?”
“Sir…” Misty said with a pleading look on her face, “many of the girls there are about my age, according to Ayanesenpai. Would you do differently if I was the victim, sir?”
“I suppose you were listening at the door, weren’t you?” Jon asked angrily, “Why are you trying to make me change my mind? Are you trying to make me feel badly about what I’ve already decided?”
“No, sir. You are doing that yourself.”
Jon suddenly lost control and struck Misty across the face, sending her to the floor. “WHAT THE HELL MAKES YOU THINK YOU CAN SAY THAT?” he shouted at the girl. Misty began to get up. “Please, mister Aeros, sir, do the right thing!”
She stood up and clasped Jon’s hand in hers. “Help them, sir. Get rid of this guilt you’re feeling.”
Jon looked at the spot on Misty’s right cheek, where he had hit her. Her cheek was still a little red, and he was beginning to feel sorry for what he had just done. “I’m sorry, Misty,” he said, “Thank you for making me see sense.”
She smiled. “You’re very welcome, sir,” she replied.
The door slid open, and both Jon and Misty stepped through. Tallen and Ayane both looked surprised at this, but this was only the beginning, as Jon said, “Lock and load, people. We’re gonna help those folks.”
“What made you change your mind, Jon?” Tallen asked, bewildered.
Jon exchanged a meaningful glance with Misty before turning back to Tallen. “’Cause it’s the right thing to do,” he replied.
* * * * *
The Peregrine landed in the nearest canyon Jon could find, and the four began the long hike across the Martian desert. After a couple hours’ travel, Ayane spotted a building off in the distance. “That’s it, over there,” said Ayane as she pointed at the house, “The Martian Blue. We should be there before noon.”
As they approached the Martian Blue, They could see two figures standing out in the front, a man and a woman. The man had a shotgun in his hands, but the woman was unarmed. “Konnichiwa!” Ayane called to them, “Kyoka o hanashimasu ka?”
“Maybe,” said Owen, who was the man holding the shotgun, “Who are you?”
“I’m Jon Aeros, and I believe the owner has asked us-“
“Anata wa Jon Aeros!?” the woman, Sydney, interrupted, “Well, why didn’t you say so? Come this way!” Owen shrugged as Sydney ushered them in.
The interior of the Martian Blue’s common room was cool and comfortable; there was a ceiling fan blowing slightly, and the room was full of both men and women, lounging on the couches, sitting on stools, or leaning against the walls. “Ashita!” Sydney called, “Ano shujinko wa kurimashite yo!”
Ashita came out of a side room and said, “Ayanekohai! It’s been too long."
Ayane embraced her cousin. “So it has,” she said, “Ashitasenpai, I’m glad to see you too.” They held this embrace for several more seconds.
A couple girls sidled up to Tallen on opposite sides. “Hey, big boy,” one whispered into Tallen’s ear, “What’s your name?”
“Listen, outoko,” her counterpart purred into his other ear, “Why don’t you come with us for a little fun?” The two girls began to usher Tallen up a spiral staircase to the next level, one on each of the giant’s arms. “You look so strong!” one said as they moved out of earshot of the rest, “Are you the captain?”
Tallen’s disappearance went unnoticed by Jon or his companions as he introduced himself to Ashita. “I’m Captain Jon Aeros of the Ryokosha-maru. Ayane here tells me that you need protecting from one Arcturus Byrne.”
“Actually,” Ashita said slowly, “It’s not me who needs the protecting…”
Almost as if it had been planned in advance, Owen ushered the timid Arcelia in from the side room. The pregnant girl was obviously nervous about a strange man protecting her, and it showed in her stooped posture, shuffling feet and downcast eyes.
“Is this the girl?” Jon asked Ashita.
“Hai, Erosusan,” Ashita replied, “This is Arcelia.”
“Tallen, would you- chikushou…” Jon said as he spun around, only to find that Tallen wasn’t in the room, so he turned to the second-most capable medic in his crew. “Misty, would you examine Arcelia for Tallen until whatever seiko addict he walked off with finds about his problem?”
“Very good, Erosusama,” Misty said with a bow, and she took Arcelia gently by the arm and escorted her out of the common room. Ashita turned to Jon. “What’s his problem?” she asked quizzically.
Jon merely smiled.
During all this exciting conversation, Tallen was busy lying down on an ornate queen-size bed having his shoulders and chest massaged by the two beautiful young women who spirited him away from the common room. These two girls had quite a bit of experience in this particular form of providing company to strong, tired men. Between the two of them, they had serviced men with lots of rough, wiry hair, welts and blisters, particularly vicious and twisted appetites, and sometimes even built-in weaponry such as knives built into snap-draw sleeves on their wrists or guns grafted onto arm stumps. The girl rubbing Tallen’s chest got much more than she had bargained for when she opened up the front of his pants, only to dart back in disgust. Tallen looked at her, surprised. “What’s wrong?” he asked her.
She didn’t know how to respond, since she had never encountered any man so scarred in her life. “I-I didn’t know that you were…” she struggled to find a polite enough word to describe what she had seen.
“…Mutilated…” she finished.
Tallen laughed a little as he pulled his trousers down more to reveal the extent of his injuries. He appeared to be a mostly normal human being, albeit a gigantic one with a robotic arm, from his head down to his waist. Everything below that was robotic. “Oh…” he said, “You mean my battle scars. It’s kinda a long story how I got ‘em.
“You see, I was a soldier once upon a time, back when your grandparents were about your age. My platoon was sent to Ganymede during the War, and we were the spearhead for the invasion of Tsukikyoto, when the entire landing force’s transports were suddenly under fire from thousands of anti-air cannons…” Tallen began as the two girls snuggled up next to him and listened to his story with adoring eyes, because they had never encountered a customer who wanted to talk before, either.
* * * * *
Ashita’s parlor was a smallish room, lavishly decorated, and contained little more than a couple sofas, a chair, a low table and a wet bar set into a wall. Ashita poured Jon and Ayane sake from a glass decanter, and was about to take a sip from her own glass, when Jon decided that he wanted to talk. “So Ashita,” he began, “tell me a little about this Byrne character.”
Ashita looked at him, confused. “What do you want to know?” she asked, “He’s probably comin’ tomorrow, so why don’t you just shoot ‘im and get it over with? No sense in gettin’ to know him, is there?”
“Well, you know what Sun Tzu wrote in The Art of War,” Jon answered, “‘Know your enemy and know yourself, and victory will always be yours.’ I take that to heart.”
“Why? It’ll only cause you pain.”
Jon set his cup on the table. “Maybe,” he began, “But it’d be a lot worse to die, I’d imagine. Besides, I don’t quite feel like dying yet.”
He paused for a moment. “Do you really think that the baby the girl’s carrying belongs to Byrne?”
“I say it’s Arcelia’s,” Ashita replied, “Even if the DNA matched, he’s got about as much right to it as I do. He said that he’d kill her if he had to in order to get the baby.”
“That thoughtless little hiretsukan,” Jon muttered under his breath, “Something’s gotta be done.” He smiled suddenly, and even chuckled a little.
“Shinzoku,” Ashita said to Ayane, “What to you imagine that the captain here has in mind?”
“You’re not going to believe this,” Jon said before Ayane could respond, grinning like a maverick, “…But I was thinking of meeting him face-to-face.”
Ashita looked at him as if she believed that he was insane. “What are you, stupid?” she asked, “Soon as he finds out who you are, he’ll shoot you down like a dog!”
“I’ve got an idea,” Jon said, “Where does he make his base?”
* * * * *
The town nearest to Martian Blue, a ramshackle little shantytown that looked like something out of an old western, was called “shounichimei,” or “Little Sunshine,” and it was situated just off the highway exit that it shared with the brothel, some thirty miles away from the highway. The only was into Martian Blue from onto the highway was through Little Sunshine, and as such the town got a lot more business from bikers, truckers, mercenaries, thugs and lowlifes of similar professions for this very reason. There was no accommodation made for hovercraft or other flying vehicles made in this little town, but one landed there anyway. The Delta Flyer cruised over the town and made a smooth landing on the main road, creating a small dust cloud as it touched ground. With a slight scraping sound, the canopy slid open, and soon afterwards a pair of combat boots hit the dirty street. The man wearing them had a bandoleer of shotgun shells over his right shoulder, full combat webbing with several firearms and grenades of various sizes strapped onto it, and a cowboy had on his head. His right hand had a sixth finger, his wild, spiky hair was a violent shade of indigo, and although they were obscured by sunglasses, his eyes were a violent purple. Passers-by stopped to stare at him as Jon Aeros fished his keychain out of his pocket and pressed a button on it, causing the running lights to flash for a second, the canopy to slide shut, and a short chirping sound to be emitted from the vehicle as it shut down. He strode into the nearest saloon.
Hank’s Saloon and Grill was not a well-known place, nor was it particularly reputable, famous or even clean. It was the only drinking establishment in the entire town, and so the proprietor, a burly man who was not burdened with an overabundance of schooling named Hank, didn’t feel that the place needed to be kept in the best condition. He had met many thugs, hired guns, crooks, drunkards, bandits and wayward youth in his time (and has the scars to prove it), but when he saw Jon walk through the swinging double doors, he felt as if his bar would get shot to hell at any time, so his normally friendly demeanor quickly disappeared, although he remained cordial. “What’ll it be, stranger?” he asked as Jon sat down on one of the barstools with more than a little difficulty. “Scotch, on the rocks,” Jon replied. Within seconds, Jon’s drink slid down the counter into his hand. Jon looked at the board behind the counter and rummaged through his pockets until he found a well-loved five credit note, which he slapped down on the table and shoved in the direction of the barkeep. “You just arrive?” the bartender asked as he took the note and began counting out the change.
“Yeah,” Jon replied, “I just landed a couple minutes ago.” He knocked back his drink, slammed the glass on the counter and cracked his neck both ways. “I needed that,” he continued, “Well, I’m lookin’ for an Arcturus Byrne. Ya seen him anywhere, tomodachi?”
“Iie,” the bartender replied, “but his boys’re hittin’ this place all the time. Lost a good deal o’ profit from ‘protection.’ Din’t need no protection afore he showed up.”
“The money’s for protectin’ you from them, man,” Jon said as he leaned in conspiratorially, “Heard they’re doin’ the same thing over at a whorehouse nearby. Martian Blue. You ever heard of it?”
The bartender swept Jon’s change towards him, with many more single-cent pieces than Jon was sure was necessary. “Why would I wanna know what happens out there?” he asked the bounty hunter, “We’re respectable. We don’t mix with them folk.”
Jon heard a short burst of giggling and glanced up at the upper level, where several provocatively dressed women were conversing and mingling with an equal number of men. Having a good idea what was going on up there, Jon turned back towards the bartender with his left eyebrow raised skeptically.
“Well… maybe we ain’t that respectable,” the proprietor said ashamedly as he suddenly busied himself with “cleaning” a glass, “But why do you wanna talk wi’ the likes o’ Byrne?”
“Well, I’m lookin’ to-“ Jon began as a gloved hand clapped down on Jon’s shoulder and the owner spun him around. Jon saw that several men in leather jackets with huge sidearms and cowboy hats were accompanying the similarly dressed man whose hand was on Jon’s shoulder. “Kuso…” Jon cursed.
“Yer comin’ with us, pirate,” said the man who was gripping Jon’s shoulder in his hand, “ You look to be the kind of chikushoume that our boss bin lookin’ for.”
Two of the thugs half-dragged Jon out of the saloon and down into an alley, where several other men stood, waiting. One of them, a man in a business suit instead of a leather jacket, was obviously the leader, and it was to him that Jon was brought. “What’ve you got, boys?” he asked.
Jon shrugged free of the thugs’ grips, standing under his own power. “The name’s Bill Riker,” he said, making the name up on the spot, “People call me ‘Bastard Bill.’”
“Why you called that?” Byrne asked.
Jon was unprepared for that question, so he did what was natural to him, and really hammed up the whole “heartless mercenary” archetype. “’Cause I kill shit,” he said, “An’ I make bastards wi’ any woman I take a fancy to. You got a problem?”
Byrne smiled. “No problem, Bastard Bill,” he said, “You’re just the sort of man I’ve been lookin’ for. D’you like whores?”
At this, Jon had to draw a line, but he also wanted to live, and he still had to find a socially acceptable excuse for him to get away, and back to the relative safety of Martian Blue. What the hell, Jon thought, I’m goin’ to the hot place anyway…
“I likes to rape ‘em, yeah,” he said, playing his improvised character as far gone as he could bring himself to go, “Okashimasu ‘em real good, ya ken.”
“Good. Is there any way I can contact you?”
“No, sir. My fighter’s only equipped with real-time radio. I can’t take messages.”
“Then meet us here tomorrow night.”
Jon looked a little concerned. He had accidentally crafted a persona that was so mind-bogglingly perverted that it made him sick, and Byrne was actually looking for people like that in order to accomplish whatever it was that he wanted! He had to know the truth. “What’ve ya got planned, boss?” he asked.
Byrne began to pace. “We’re hittin’ a whorehouse that owes me a pile of money called Martian Blue the morning after tomorrow. You’ll git yer rapin’ an’ okashimasin’ soon enough, an’ I’ll even pay you fer it, if it works out.”
“All right. I just need to head back to the spaceport,” Jon said, relieved that he now had an excuse to leave, “Can’t leave my fighter here for a couple o’ days. Might get stolen, ya ken.” He hurriedly climbed into the canopy and took off, leaving Byrne in the dust. Soon after the dust cleared, Byrne’s cell phone began to ring.
“Nani?” he asked, “Good… Good… And there can be no mistake? That’s excellent.” He hung up and put his phone away. “What is it, boss?” asked one of his minions.
“The DNA matches,” said Byrne triumphantly, “That means the child is mine!”
* * * * *
It was still night when Jon returned to the Martian Blue. Soon afterwards he, Tallen, Ayane, Misty, Ashita, Owen, Sydney, Arcelia and a couple other girls who decided to tag along were either standing or sitting in a rough circle made by the sofas in the common room, where he told them of his encounter with Byrne. “This don’t sound good,” Ashita said after Jon had finished, “What’re we gonna do now? He’s coming the day after tomorrow with whatever he can muster, an’ only a few of us can fight.”
“Whether or not you’re in the kazoku,” Ayane said to her, “you’ve still got the training that all Miyamotos have. It may not count for much, but it might turn the tide of the battle.”
“No, what we need is some time to teach the people here how to fight,” Tallen objected, “I can help train them in marksmanship.”
“In the meantime, however, we need allies,” Jon said, “Ashita, do you know of any mercenaries or bike gangs that might help us?”
“Not any who ain’t workin’ for Byrne,” Ashita replied sadly.
“What about the ‘Valkyries?’” Owen asked, “You know… the hovercycle gang that sometimes comes here?”
“There’s only four of them, an’ they won’t come,” Ashita replied, “Only reason y’all are here is ‘cause Ayane’s shinzoku.”
Jon stood up. “Hate to say it, Ashita, but we’ll have to run for it,” he said.
“I understand, Captain Aeros,” she replied, “This ain’t your fight.”
“No, you wakarimasen, Ashita,” Jon said, “When I say ‘we,’ I mean both your people and mine. We load Peregrine up with your people and anything they can’t bear to leave behind, and we take them somewhere Byrne can’t find them.”
“Captain Aeros,” Ashita said, “I spent six years building Martian Blue up from the dust, carvin’ out a little place that these girls could truly call home and feel safe in a world dominated by men. This is our home, and it is for that that we will stand, fight and maybe even die to protect.”
“I guess we’ll have to break out the armory, Jon,” Tallen said, “I just hope this works.”
Sydney, looking sad, silently slipped out the front door during this conversation, and no one had noticed her disappearance, since they were too involved in what needed to be done to pay attention.
“We’re gonna need some heavier stuff, though,” Jon said to Tallen, “Maybe you should consider breaking out the Atlas.”
“She’s too heavy, Jon,” Tallen replied, “You said that they might be riding in on bikes, right? They’ll run circles around her, and I’m havin’ some issues with the control systems. Don’t want our heavy support to shut down, do we?”
Sydney couldn’t hear any more of the conversation as she ran down the road towards town, with tears in her eyes. I’m sorry, Ashita, Owen, Arcelia… she thought as she ran, …But I’ve gotta do what I can to save us all, and this is the only way I can do it without anyone gettin’ hurt. She continued down the road, thinking similar thoughts as she ran.
* * * * *
“So…” Byrne mused while standing on the balcony overlooking the street below him, “Lil’ Miss Miyamoto’s got herself a shujinko.”
“Yes…” replied a figure behind him, obscured by shadows, “His name’s Jon Aeros.”
Byrne turned to the crowd standing outside the saloon below him and said, “Did y’all hear that? Martian Blue’s got a champion. That WOMAN and her whores think they can steal my child!
“Martian Blue made our town into what it is today, but this time, they've gone too far. This is nothing less than heresy, and she’s oversteppin’ her boundaries! It’s about time that someone went down to that trash heap and showed that baita Miyamoto who’s really in charge! THIS CAN ONLY BE FIXED WITH BLOOD!”
The crowd responded favorably to Byrne’s proposed course of action with loud shouting, chanting and throwing of glass bottles. Byrne beckoned for the figure in the shadows to step into the light. Sydney did so obediently, with tears in her eyes. Is selling every last one of my friends to these shoshi the right thing to do? she thought to herself.
“At least one of them is honest!” Byrne yelled to the crowd, “She knows a whore’s place!”
Don’t call me that, Sydney thought; I’m just as human as you are.
She looked at the ground in shame. Of course, that means I’m less than human too…
“You made the right choice, girl,” Byrne said to Sydney, “I’ll see to it that you git a fair share, but you’ll have to do a few more chores fer me, ya hear?”
Is this the right choice? Is it worth turnin’ on Arcelia an‘ the others for a bag of silver coins?
“But friends, this ain’t gonna be easy,” Byrne said to the crowd, “Miyamoto’s gone an’ hired herself some bounty hunters to protect her sorry lil’ ass. This Jon Aeros an’ his crew spit on our town, and disgrace the integrity inherent in men. He thinks he’s doin’ the right thing, but what does a bachelor such like him know about decency, respectability, honor or even the sanctity of family?”
He paused, letting that statement sink in before continuing. “I’ll tell ya: NOTHIN’ AT ALL! He an’ his gang are keepin’ my child from me! Does that sound like the proper behavior of a man? He is a whore sympathizer and should be burned at the stake for that!”
He calmed down for a bit before continuing. “Now I want y’all to be on my side with this. Can you bring yourselves to do what’s right?
“FOR FAMILY!!”
Byrne then turned on Sydney rather violently. What have I done?! Sydney thought in remorse. “As fer you…” Byrne said with contempt, “Get on your knees.”
Sydney did so obediently. I’m so sorry, Arcelia, she thought, Please find it in your heart… …to forgive me…
* * * * *
“Rise and shine!” Ashita yelled as dawn broke on the Martian Blue gloriously. She continued her rounds about the building, until she found a curious sight: Sydney lying asleep on one of the sofas in the common room. “Hey, sleepyhead,” she said to the sleeping girl, “Get up! We got work to do!”
“What work?” Sydney asked groggily.
“Turnin’ this place into a fortress, of course,” Ashita replied, “C’mon, get up!” Sydney was still not entirely awake, and after seeing this, Ashita assumed that she had had a rough night. “It’s not workin’ out with you and Owen, is it?” she asked.
“No,” Sydney said, “I just wanted some time alone, Ashita.” She paused for a minute, trying to form her next question without letting slip that she had betrayed all of them to Byrne. “Ashita… have you ever done something that… you thought was a good idea at the time, but when you actually did it, it didn’t work out how you thought it would?”
“Yes, Sydney,” Ashita replied, “I’ve done that lots of times. What did you do?”
“Oh… Nothing…” Sydney lied uncomfortably, ashamed at herself. Oyamaa, she thought to herself, Arcelia, they’re gonna kill you…
And it’s all my fault.
Tallen and his two girls were among some of the crews that were nailing boards over the windows, hoping to give the defenders a little more cover when the battle would be under way. One of the girls looked at Tallen’s crucifix. “You were your unit’s chaplain, weren’t you?” she asked.
Tallen nodded. “Yeah,” he said, “I led the funeral for all my squadmates.” He looked out the window, reminiscing. “A lot of people died in that battle,” he finished.
One of the girls began to look depressed. “Too bad no one’s gonna bury us when we die tomorrow,” she said sadly as she began to cry.
Tallen put his left hand, the flesh-and-blood one, on her shoulder. “Don’t say that, shoujo,” he said reassuringly, “We’re not gonna die…”
“Still… Couldn’t you pray for our souls now?” the other girl asked, looking as sad as her partner.
“I only bury the dead, child,” Tallen replied reassuringly, “Don’t worry, It’ll be all right.”
Sydney found herself in the tower furthest from the road, holding a six shot revolver uncertainly in her hand. “You’re up here because I’m the sniper support for our side, Sydney,” Ayane said, “And I need you up here to cover my back in case any enemies reach us here.”
She gestured to a row of rifles, shotguns and pistols of various sizes and styles lying on the bed with magazines and spare rounds set in neat rows next to them. “These are the weapons I will be using against the opposition when we fight,” she said, “When I run out of ammunition for one, I will say ‘next,’ and I need you to hand me the next largest weapon until there are no more to be had. Wakarimasu ka?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Sydney replied sadly, “I understand.”
Ayane sat down on the bed with Sydney. “Sydney, what’s the matter?” she asked the girl, “You look a little sad.”
Sydney looked away in embarrassment. “It’s nothing,” she lied, “Nothing more than anyone else is going through right now.” How can I tell you that you and everyone else here are going to die… she thought, …because of me?
Jon walked along a line of about twenty young men and women like a drill sergeant. All of them, Jon included, were holding lever- or bolt-action rifles, and Jon saw that almost all of them looked scared and uncertain about what he was training them to do. “First thing you’ve gotta know about shootin’:” Jon said, “trust in your iron sights. See those little raised bits on the barrel?” There were some confused nods among the line. “If you line ‘em up so there’s no gap between ‘em,” Jon continued, “You’re gonna hit almost all the time.”
Jon pointed out the window at a scarecrow set up in the direction of the highway. “See that scarecrow?” he asked, “I want y’all to shoot it down. One shot.”
Jon ushered the line forward up to the open window bank and shouted, “Ready!”
There was a loud staggered clicking sound as twenty rifles held by uncertain hands were cocked back.
“Aim!”
Twenty rifles uncertainly pointed out the window at the unsuspecting scarecrow.
“Fire!”
There was a staggered series of gunshots as twenty rifles discharged almost simultaneously. A lot of dust built up around where the scarecrow had stood.
Jon squinted as he searched the area for signs of scarecrow parts. As the dust began to clear, he saw, much to his chagrin, that the scarecrow, partly riddled with bullet holes, was still standing. “Okay…” Jon said, regaining his composure, “Let’s try that again.”
The door burst open as one of the girls ran into the room, slamming the door shut behind her, panting heavily, and obviously frightened out of her wits. “Someone’s coming up the road!” she cried out, and Jon led his shabby little platoon out to the second level of the common room, where he looked out of the window as a lone motorcycle drove up the road towards the house. “Tenshuchikushou…” Jon swore, “looks like Byrne’s sent us a messenger.”
The bike slid to a stop, and the man in the back seat pulled out a megaphone and said, “Ashita Miyamoto! I’ve come to you with a message from Arcturus Byrne! Let me in, so I can give it to you!”
“We can hear you just fine from down there, shoshi,” Jon yelled back, “Spit it out!”
“He’s giving y’all this last chance to hand over his baby and his money,” the messenger replied, “If not, he’ll burn Martian Blue to the ground!”
“We don’t have time for this,” Jon muttered, annoyed, “Open fire!”
Jon’s platoon all raised their rifles, cocked them back, and fired upon the motorcycle. Most of the shots hit the ground, but the intent of the attack was not to kill the messenger, instead to frighten the pilot, which it did, to great effect. “Oh my God!” the driver screamed as he drove back down the road to town as fast as his bike would go. Some of the angrier members of Jon’s platoon fired off a few parting shots until the motorcycle was out of sight.
Ashita, followed meekly by Arcelia and Misty, stormed out of a side room after hearing the gunfire and headed in Jon’s direction. “What was all that about?” Ashita demanded.
“Just a messenger who confirmed our worst fears,” Jon replied confidently, “We gave him a warm reception, though.”
“What exactly did he want?”
“Well,” Jon began, “Byrne has threatened to-” He was cut off by a cry of pain from Arcelia as she slumped down on her knees, clutching her bulging belly. Misty and Jon hauled her back onto her feet, but she then arched her back in pain, screaming. “We should get her to the infirmary, sir!” Misty said to Jon, and he, Misty and Ashita helped Arcelia get to the bedroom that doubled as a hospital ward.
* * * * *
Back in town, Byrne was waiting impatiently for his messenger to return when he saw his motorcycle come down the road. Just before the bike drove up to him, the passenger in the back seat fell off the bike, dead as a doornail. “They’s armed, Boss!” the pilot screamed, “They done shot up Hank!”
“Damn them!” Byrne shouted, “Rally the boys, an’ tell them to attack at dawn!” The pilot nodded, and then drove off to fulfill his orders. Byrne turned to look in the direction of Martian Blue and said under his breath, “So… You choose to fight me, Miyamoto. So be it. This will end with your blood spread all over your precious little girls, bitch.”
: Like the first two, this story has been based off the script for the manga. If you want to read the action version without knowing the plot beforehand, read no further.
Chapter 3: Martian Jazz Riff
The Martian Blue was a largish building, not unlike a small mansion, sitting alone in the rust-colored desert nearby one of Mars’ many mesas, just off the highway thirty-five kilometers away from the nearest town, and over a hundred away from the nearest city, New Sapporo, which was the capital of the Chryse Planitia region. The building was originally painted white, but years of exposure to dust storms and other aspects of Martian weather left it with a red-brown hue stained unevenly across all of it’s faces. There were two towers in the box-shaped structure; each one on opposite diagonal corners from the other one, and each tower was about four stories high, twice the height of the rest of the building. Each face of the building was studded liberally with windows, many of the kind used for bedrooms, which is exactly what they were used for. Martian Blue was a brothel, owned and operated by a woman trying to make a living in a world dominated by men.
Two denizens of the house, a woman wearing grey harem pants, a tight-fitting tank-top and a t-shirt made of wide-weave fishnets named Sydney and a man dressed in blue jeans and a blue work shirt worn rather carelessly named Owen, were hanging clothes on a line out front when they noticed a large dust cloud, with the setting sun behind it, come from down the road leading to the town. As it got closer, Sydney could see that the dust cloud was being left by a large ATV and a pair of motorcycles. The markings on the hood of the larger vehicle were very familiar to Sydney, and she was suddenly frightened. “Oh, my God… ASHITA!” she yelled into the building, “He’s come back!”
A Japanese woman wearing a dark blue turtleneck sweater and a slinky black dress with a long slit down the left side stepped out from the inside of the house. “What is it, Sydney?” she asked with a sense of authority. Sydney pointed in the direction of the approaching vehicles and said, “Look, over there.”
“Chikushou,” Ashita said as she gazed in the same direction, “Owen, hide Arcelia, then get me my gun,” she said to the man, “The big one.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Owen replied as he ran off towards one of the side doors into the house. Sydney swooned, and fell to her knees. Ashita crouched down to her level and put her arm around the girl’s shoulder as she began to cry. “Sydney, stay here with me,” said Ashita, “We need to show them we’re strong.” The girl nodded as she wiped away her tears.
Owen soon returned with a shotgun, which he handed to Ashita. She took it as Sydney stood up and ran to Owen’s wiry arms, and the two held each other in a tight embrace. “Try to take her from us now,” Ashita said to herself as she worked the pump on the shotgun, loading the first round into the chamber, “…Arcturus…”
The three vehicles slid to a stop several yards away from the three people. The left-side door of the ATV opened upward as a man in a business suit, cowboy hat and large, mirrored sunglasses stepped out, flanked by the drivers of the motorcycles, both in leather jackets and cowboy hats. The man strode pridefully and purposefully towards the house. “I thought I told you you ain’t welcome here anymore, Byrne,” Ashita said to the man in the suit, “We’re closed to you and yer flunkies.”
The men strode past her as if she wasn’t there. “Find the girl, boys,” Byrne said to his companions, “She’s in there somewhere.”
“You won’t find her here, Byrne,” Ashita replied as she turned around to face him, “Arcelia left this rock two weeks ago.”
Byrne turned to face her. “Don’t lie to me, baita,” he said as he gestured threateningly, “You know your little establishment owes me a tidy sum, as well as…”
He stopped as his two minions bodily dragged a girl, no older than seventeen, out from the sanctuary provided by the house. She was dressed in a cropped red T-shirt and a knee-length red skirt worn loosely about her hips, and she was quite pregnant. She struggled violently and was repeatedly screaming, “Let me go!” as the two man hauled her to Byrne and forced her to her knees, holding her there. “…Arcelia,” Byrne said in a mockery of compassion, “Dear, have you been taking good care of my baby?”
The girl, with fear glistening in her eyes, said defiantly, “This baby ain’t yours. It’s from another man.”
“See? She don’t owe you nothin’,” said Ashita, “Now get the hell off my property.”
Byrne ignored Ashita completely. “Now Arcelia,” he said with false kindness in his voice, “Don’t you lie to me.” He snapped his fingers, and one of his minions handed him a silver case from over his shoulder. He took it, opened it up, and removed the syringe contained within. He removed the safety cap, revealing the two-inch-long needle. Holding the syringe backhanded, he rammed the needle into Arcelia’s belly, causing her to scream in pain. He pulled the piston back, filling the chamber with fluid, which began to gain a kind of cloudy redness as some blood began to mix in with the girl’s vaginal fluid.
“Remember this, my dear,” said Byrne as he pulled the needle out of Arcelia and wiped the needle clean with his handkerchief before replacing the safety cap and gestured with the full syringe, “If this DNA checks out, I’ll come back for my baby, an’ I’m gonna take it.
“Even if I have to gut you to get it.”
He stood up and placed the syringe in the silver case, placed the case in his inside coat pocket, and turned to Ashita. “I’m gonna want my money when I do come back, or else.” He and his minions walked to their vehicles, and they drove away, leaving Ashita, Owen, Arcelia and Sydney alone in the dust. Arcelia, still bleeding from the syringe wound, collapsed into Ashita’s shoulder, and began to cry. Ashita placed her arm around the girl and said, “It’s okay, Arcelia. We won’t let him take it.”
Sydney kneeled next to Arcelia on her other side while Owen crouched behind Ashita and Arcelia. “How?” Sydney asked, “We don’t know how to fight.”
“We’ll get someone to fight for us,” Ashita replied, “We can afford it.”
Owen’s face hardened. “But we’re whores,” he said cynically, “Who’d help people like us?”
Ashita merely smiled.
* * * * *
“And he threatened to kill her? Damn, that’s cold.”
“I know it’s bad, coz, but could you help me out here?” Ashita said over the videochat line, “I’ve got this sneaking suspicion that he’s gonna take more than the money and the girl’s baby.”
“You know I’m not supposed to speak to you, Ashita, ever since my father kicked you out of the kazoku,” Ayane said to the computer screen on which her cousin’s likeness was displayed, “I happen to know a bounty hunter who could help. Can you pay?”
“Payment won’t be a problem,” Ashita’s likeness replied, “What’s this bounty hunter’s name?”
“Jon Aeros. He captains a ship called the Peregrine.”
“How soon can you get him to help us?”
Ayane sighed. “Shinzoku, I don’t even know if he’d be interested.”
“Would it help if he knew who the man was?”
“Only if he’s got a bounty on his head. What’s his name?”
* * * * *
Arcturus Byrne: 金200,000
LIVE CAPTURE ONLY
This was the heading on the dossier displayed on the Solar System’s Most Wanted website. Also displayed were photographs taken upon arrival at his most recent prison visit, as well as description and background. Jon read the last out loud. “Arcturus Byrne, notorious gangster. Thirty-seven years old, married but no children. Positively identified as Alistair Benson’s right hand man. Last seen on Mars, in the Chryse Planitia region.”
He turned to Ayane, “That’s where this brothel your cousin runs is, right?”
“Hai,” Ayane replied, “It says here that the bounty comes from the Martian Rangers. He must be a bigger menace than I thought to have attracted that kind of attention.”
“It looks like we have some allies,” Tallen pointed out, “Your brother’s in the Rangers, isn’t he?”
Jon leaned back. “I haven’t heard from him in seven years, Tallen,” he replied, “I don’t know if he’s even alive anymore. Anyways, we haven’t committed ourselves to anything yet. No point in gettin’ paid if we don’t come out of it alive.”
Ayane frowned a little. “So, you’re not going to do it?”
“Ayane, they’re aishou,” Jon replied, “No man in his right mind would kill them just to get money and a baby.” He paused for a moment. “Why does he want a baby, anyway?”
Tallen ponderously stood up. “Because some people are weird like that,” he said, “I’m sure he has a reason which makes perfect sense to him.”
No one in the room could have guessed that someone was listening in on their conversation, hearing every word that was being said. Misty was standing behind the doorjamb, leaning on the wall, listening. Even though there wasn’t a lot in common with Misty and the inhabitants of Martian Blue, Misty could still feel for those people, and she didn’t understand why Jon was being so hesitant to help them out. “Maybe he just likes hurting people,” she heard Jon say, “or maybe he’s gonna use the baby as collateral on this massive debt your cousin supposedly owes.”
“She doesn’t owe anyone money,” Ayane replied, “The Martian Blue is totally independent. It looks like Byrne here’s simply extorting the place.”
Jon pointed something out on the computer screen. “Look: ‘in battle, he often employs laser weaponry and other such gadgets. Even so, he is extremely dangerous and is suggested for experienced bounty hunters only.’”
He paused. “Laser weapons… That’s pretty damn stupid. You’d only get a few shots off with any real stopping power, and they’re almost useless on Mars ‘cause of all the dust. Scratch the lens and it ain’t gonna fire straight.
“Besides… I smell a trap. How do you know that we can trust this Ashita person?”
“She’s shinzoku, Jon,” Ayane replied, “I’m inclined to believe that she’ll be truthful to me.”
Jon stood up and headed for the door out of the common room. “This discussion is over,” he declared, “We are not going to fight and die for some oversexed kids, and that’s final.”
“Jon-“
“I SAID THAT’S FINAL!” With that, Jon stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.
Misty started slightly as Jon strode angrily past her, and she turned to face him as he began to head down the corridor. “Mister Aeros, sir,” she began meekly, “Are you just going to leave them to their fate?”
Jon, surprised, turned around to address her. “You too, Misty?” he asked, “Why can’t anyone accept my decision? And is this any of your business?”
“Sir…” Misty said with a pleading look on her face, “many of the girls there are about my age, according to Ayanesenpai. Would you do differently if I was the victim, sir?”
“I suppose you were listening at the door, weren’t you?” Jon asked angrily, “Why are you trying to make me change my mind? Are you trying to make me feel badly about what I’ve already decided?”
“No, sir. You are doing that yourself.”
Jon suddenly lost control and struck Misty across the face, sending her to the floor. “WHAT THE HELL MAKES YOU THINK YOU CAN SAY THAT?” he shouted at the girl. Misty began to get up. “Please, mister Aeros, sir, do the right thing!”
She stood up and clasped Jon’s hand in hers. “Help them, sir. Get rid of this guilt you’re feeling.”
Jon looked at the spot on Misty’s right cheek, where he had hit her. Her cheek was still a little red, and he was beginning to feel sorry for what he had just done. “I’m sorry, Misty,” he said, “Thank you for making me see sense.”
She smiled. “You’re very welcome, sir,” she replied.
The door slid open, and both Jon and Misty stepped through. Tallen and Ayane both looked surprised at this, but this was only the beginning, as Jon said, “Lock and load, people. We’re gonna help those folks.”
“What made you change your mind, Jon?” Tallen asked, bewildered.
Jon exchanged a meaningful glance with Misty before turning back to Tallen. “’Cause it’s the right thing to do,” he replied.
* * * * *
The Peregrine landed in the nearest canyon Jon could find, and the four began the long hike across the Martian desert. After a couple hours’ travel, Ayane spotted a building off in the distance. “That’s it, over there,” said Ayane as she pointed at the house, “The Martian Blue. We should be there before noon.”
As they approached the Martian Blue, They could see two figures standing out in the front, a man and a woman. The man had a shotgun in his hands, but the woman was unarmed. “Konnichiwa!” Ayane called to them, “Kyoka o hanashimasu ka?”
“Maybe,” said Owen, who was the man holding the shotgun, “Who are you?”
“I’m Jon Aeros, and I believe the owner has asked us-“
“Anata wa Jon Aeros!?” the woman, Sydney, interrupted, “Well, why didn’t you say so? Come this way!” Owen shrugged as Sydney ushered them in.
The interior of the Martian Blue’s common room was cool and comfortable; there was a ceiling fan blowing slightly, and the room was full of both men and women, lounging on the couches, sitting on stools, or leaning against the walls. “Ashita!” Sydney called, “Ano shujinko wa kurimashite yo!”
Ashita came out of a side room and said, “Ayanekohai! It’s been too long."
Ayane embraced her cousin. “So it has,” she said, “Ashitasenpai, I’m glad to see you too.” They held this embrace for several more seconds.
A couple girls sidled up to Tallen on opposite sides. “Hey, big boy,” one whispered into Tallen’s ear, “What’s your name?”
“Listen, outoko,” her counterpart purred into his other ear, “Why don’t you come with us for a little fun?” The two girls began to usher Tallen up a spiral staircase to the next level, one on each of the giant’s arms. “You look so strong!” one said as they moved out of earshot of the rest, “Are you the captain?”
Tallen’s disappearance went unnoticed by Jon or his companions as he introduced himself to Ashita. “I’m Captain Jon Aeros of the Ryokosha-maru. Ayane here tells me that you need protecting from one Arcturus Byrne.”
“Actually,” Ashita said slowly, “It’s not me who needs the protecting…”
Almost as if it had been planned in advance, Owen ushered the timid Arcelia in from the side room. The pregnant girl was obviously nervous about a strange man protecting her, and it showed in her stooped posture, shuffling feet and downcast eyes.
“Is this the girl?” Jon asked Ashita.
“Hai, Erosusan,” Ashita replied, “This is Arcelia.”
“Tallen, would you- chikushou…” Jon said as he spun around, only to find that Tallen wasn’t in the room, so he turned to the second-most capable medic in his crew. “Misty, would you examine Arcelia for Tallen until whatever seiko addict he walked off with finds about his problem?”
“Very good, Erosusama,” Misty said with a bow, and she took Arcelia gently by the arm and escorted her out of the common room. Ashita turned to Jon. “What’s his problem?” she asked quizzically.
Jon merely smiled.
During all this exciting conversation, Tallen was busy lying down on an ornate queen-size bed having his shoulders and chest massaged by the two beautiful young women who spirited him away from the common room. These two girls had quite a bit of experience in this particular form of providing company to strong, tired men. Between the two of them, they had serviced men with lots of rough, wiry hair, welts and blisters, particularly vicious and twisted appetites, and sometimes even built-in weaponry such as knives built into snap-draw sleeves on their wrists or guns grafted onto arm stumps. The girl rubbing Tallen’s chest got much more than she had bargained for when she opened up the front of his pants, only to dart back in disgust. Tallen looked at her, surprised. “What’s wrong?” he asked her.
She didn’t know how to respond, since she had never encountered any man so scarred in her life. “I-I didn’t know that you were…” she struggled to find a polite enough word to describe what she had seen.
“…Mutilated…” she finished.
Tallen laughed a little as he pulled his trousers down more to reveal the extent of his injuries. He appeared to be a mostly normal human being, albeit a gigantic one with a robotic arm, from his head down to his waist. Everything below that was robotic. “Oh…” he said, “You mean my battle scars. It’s kinda a long story how I got ‘em.
“You see, I was a soldier once upon a time, back when your grandparents were about your age. My platoon was sent to Ganymede during the War, and we were the spearhead for the invasion of Tsukikyoto, when the entire landing force’s transports were suddenly under fire from thousands of anti-air cannons…” Tallen began as the two girls snuggled up next to him and listened to his story with adoring eyes, because they had never encountered a customer who wanted to talk before, either.
* * * * *
Ashita’s parlor was a smallish room, lavishly decorated, and contained little more than a couple sofas, a chair, a low table and a wet bar set into a wall. Ashita poured Jon and Ayane sake from a glass decanter, and was about to take a sip from her own glass, when Jon decided that he wanted to talk. “So Ashita,” he began, “tell me a little about this Byrne character.”
Ashita looked at him, confused. “What do you want to know?” she asked, “He’s probably comin’ tomorrow, so why don’t you just shoot ‘im and get it over with? No sense in gettin’ to know him, is there?”
“Well, you know what Sun Tzu wrote in The Art of War,” Jon answered, “‘Know your enemy and know yourself, and victory will always be yours.’ I take that to heart.”
“Why? It’ll only cause you pain.”
Jon set his cup on the table. “Maybe,” he began, “But it’d be a lot worse to die, I’d imagine. Besides, I don’t quite feel like dying yet.”
He paused for a moment. “Do you really think that the baby the girl’s carrying belongs to Byrne?”
“I say it’s Arcelia’s,” Ashita replied, “Even if the DNA matched, he’s got about as much right to it as I do. He said that he’d kill her if he had to in order to get the baby.”
“That thoughtless little hiretsukan,” Jon muttered under his breath, “Something’s gotta be done.” He smiled suddenly, and even chuckled a little.
“Shinzoku,” Ashita said to Ayane, “What to you imagine that the captain here has in mind?”
“You’re not going to believe this,” Jon said before Ayane could respond, grinning like a maverick, “…But I was thinking of meeting him face-to-face.”
Ashita looked at him as if she believed that he was insane. “What are you, stupid?” she asked, “Soon as he finds out who you are, he’ll shoot you down like a dog!”
“I’ve got an idea,” Jon said, “Where does he make his base?”
* * * * *
The town nearest to Martian Blue, a ramshackle little shantytown that looked like something out of an old western, was called “shounichimei,” or “Little Sunshine,” and it was situated just off the highway exit that it shared with the brothel, some thirty miles away from the highway. The only was into Martian Blue from onto the highway was through Little Sunshine, and as such the town got a lot more business from bikers, truckers, mercenaries, thugs and lowlifes of similar professions for this very reason. There was no accommodation made for hovercraft or other flying vehicles made in this little town, but one landed there anyway. The Delta Flyer cruised over the town and made a smooth landing on the main road, creating a small dust cloud as it touched ground. With a slight scraping sound, the canopy slid open, and soon afterwards a pair of combat boots hit the dirty street. The man wearing them had a bandoleer of shotgun shells over his right shoulder, full combat webbing with several firearms and grenades of various sizes strapped onto it, and a cowboy had on his head. His right hand had a sixth finger, his wild, spiky hair was a violent shade of indigo, and although they were obscured by sunglasses, his eyes were a violent purple. Passers-by stopped to stare at him as Jon Aeros fished his keychain out of his pocket and pressed a button on it, causing the running lights to flash for a second, the canopy to slide shut, and a short chirping sound to be emitted from the vehicle as it shut down. He strode into the nearest saloon.
Hank’s Saloon and Grill was not a well-known place, nor was it particularly reputable, famous or even clean. It was the only drinking establishment in the entire town, and so the proprietor, a burly man who was not burdened with an overabundance of schooling named Hank, didn’t feel that the place needed to be kept in the best condition. He had met many thugs, hired guns, crooks, drunkards, bandits and wayward youth in his time (and has the scars to prove it), but when he saw Jon walk through the swinging double doors, he felt as if his bar would get shot to hell at any time, so his normally friendly demeanor quickly disappeared, although he remained cordial. “What’ll it be, stranger?” he asked as Jon sat down on one of the barstools with more than a little difficulty. “Scotch, on the rocks,” Jon replied. Within seconds, Jon’s drink slid down the counter into his hand. Jon looked at the board behind the counter and rummaged through his pockets until he found a well-loved five credit note, which he slapped down on the table and shoved in the direction of the barkeep. “You just arrive?” the bartender asked as he took the note and began counting out the change.
“Yeah,” Jon replied, “I just landed a couple minutes ago.” He knocked back his drink, slammed the glass on the counter and cracked his neck both ways. “I needed that,” he continued, “Well, I’m lookin’ for an Arcturus Byrne. Ya seen him anywhere, tomodachi?”
“Iie,” the bartender replied, “but his boys’re hittin’ this place all the time. Lost a good deal o’ profit from ‘protection.’ Din’t need no protection afore he showed up.”
“The money’s for protectin’ you from them, man,” Jon said as he leaned in conspiratorially, “Heard they’re doin’ the same thing over at a whorehouse nearby. Martian Blue. You ever heard of it?”
The bartender swept Jon’s change towards him, with many more single-cent pieces than Jon was sure was necessary. “Why would I wanna know what happens out there?” he asked the bounty hunter, “We’re respectable. We don’t mix with them folk.”
Jon heard a short burst of giggling and glanced up at the upper level, where several provocatively dressed women were conversing and mingling with an equal number of men. Having a good idea what was going on up there, Jon turned back towards the bartender with his left eyebrow raised skeptically.
“Well… maybe we ain’t that respectable,” the proprietor said ashamedly as he suddenly busied himself with “cleaning” a glass, “But why do you wanna talk wi’ the likes o’ Byrne?”
“Well, I’m lookin’ to-“ Jon began as a gloved hand clapped down on Jon’s shoulder and the owner spun him around. Jon saw that several men in leather jackets with huge sidearms and cowboy hats were accompanying the similarly dressed man whose hand was on Jon’s shoulder. “Kuso…” Jon cursed.
“Yer comin’ with us, pirate,” said the man who was gripping Jon’s shoulder in his hand, “ You look to be the kind of chikushoume that our boss bin lookin’ for.”
Two of the thugs half-dragged Jon out of the saloon and down into an alley, where several other men stood, waiting. One of them, a man in a business suit instead of a leather jacket, was obviously the leader, and it was to him that Jon was brought. “What’ve you got, boys?” he asked.
Jon shrugged free of the thugs’ grips, standing under his own power. “The name’s Bill Riker,” he said, making the name up on the spot, “People call me ‘Bastard Bill.’”
“Why you called that?” Byrne asked.
Jon was unprepared for that question, so he did what was natural to him, and really hammed up the whole “heartless mercenary” archetype. “’Cause I kill shit,” he said, “An’ I make bastards wi’ any woman I take a fancy to. You got a problem?”
Byrne smiled. “No problem, Bastard Bill,” he said, “You’re just the sort of man I’ve been lookin’ for. D’you like whores?”
At this, Jon had to draw a line, but he also wanted to live, and he still had to find a socially acceptable excuse for him to get away, and back to the relative safety of Martian Blue. What the hell, Jon thought, I’m goin’ to the hot place anyway…
“I likes to rape ‘em, yeah,” he said, playing his improvised character as far gone as he could bring himself to go, “Okashimasu ‘em real good, ya ken.”
“Good. Is there any way I can contact you?”
“No, sir. My fighter’s only equipped with real-time radio. I can’t take messages.”
“Then meet us here tomorrow night.”
Jon looked a little concerned. He had accidentally crafted a persona that was so mind-bogglingly perverted that it made him sick, and Byrne was actually looking for people like that in order to accomplish whatever it was that he wanted! He had to know the truth. “What’ve ya got planned, boss?” he asked.
Byrne began to pace. “We’re hittin’ a whorehouse that owes me a pile of money called Martian Blue the morning after tomorrow. You’ll git yer rapin’ an’ okashimasin’ soon enough, an’ I’ll even pay you fer it, if it works out.”
“All right. I just need to head back to the spaceport,” Jon said, relieved that he now had an excuse to leave, “Can’t leave my fighter here for a couple o’ days. Might get stolen, ya ken.” He hurriedly climbed into the canopy and took off, leaving Byrne in the dust. Soon after the dust cleared, Byrne’s cell phone began to ring.
“Nani?” he asked, “Good… Good… And there can be no mistake? That’s excellent.” He hung up and put his phone away. “What is it, boss?” asked one of his minions.
“The DNA matches,” said Byrne triumphantly, “That means the child is mine!”
* * * * *
It was still night when Jon returned to the Martian Blue. Soon afterwards he, Tallen, Ayane, Misty, Ashita, Owen, Sydney, Arcelia and a couple other girls who decided to tag along were either standing or sitting in a rough circle made by the sofas in the common room, where he told them of his encounter with Byrne. “This don’t sound good,” Ashita said after Jon had finished, “What’re we gonna do now? He’s coming the day after tomorrow with whatever he can muster, an’ only a few of us can fight.”
“Whether or not you’re in the kazoku,” Ayane said to her, “you’ve still got the training that all Miyamotos have. It may not count for much, but it might turn the tide of the battle.”
“No, what we need is some time to teach the people here how to fight,” Tallen objected, “I can help train them in marksmanship.”
“In the meantime, however, we need allies,” Jon said, “Ashita, do you know of any mercenaries or bike gangs that might help us?”
“Not any who ain’t workin’ for Byrne,” Ashita replied sadly.
“What about the ‘Valkyries?’” Owen asked, “You know… the hovercycle gang that sometimes comes here?”
“There’s only four of them, an’ they won’t come,” Ashita replied, “Only reason y’all are here is ‘cause Ayane’s shinzoku.”
Jon stood up. “Hate to say it, Ashita, but we’ll have to run for it,” he said.
“I understand, Captain Aeros,” she replied, “This ain’t your fight.”
“No, you wakarimasen, Ashita,” Jon said, “When I say ‘we,’ I mean both your people and mine. We load Peregrine up with your people and anything they can’t bear to leave behind, and we take them somewhere Byrne can’t find them.”
“Captain Aeros,” Ashita said, “I spent six years building Martian Blue up from the dust, carvin’ out a little place that these girls could truly call home and feel safe in a world dominated by men. This is our home, and it is for that that we will stand, fight and maybe even die to protect.”
“I guess we’ll have to break out the armory, Jon,” Tallen said, “I just hope this works.”
Sydney, looking sad, silently slipped out the front door during this conversation, and no one had noticed her disappearance, since they were too involved in what needed to be done to pay attention.
“We’re gonna need some heavier stuff, though,” Jon said to Tallen, “Maybe you should consider breaking out the Atlas.”
“She’s too heavy, Jon,” Tallen replied, “You said that they might be riding in on bikes, right? They’ll run circles around her, and I’m havin’ some issues with the control systems. Don’t want our heavy support to shut down, do we?”
Sydney couldn’t hear any more of the conversation as she ran down the road towards town, with tears in her eyes. I’m sorry, Ashita, Owen, Arcelia… she thought as she ran, …But I’ve gotta do what I can to save us all, and this is the only way I can do it without anyone gettin’ hurt. She continued down the road, thinking similar thoughts as she ran.
* * * * *
“So…” Byrne mused while standing on the balcony overlooking the street below him, “Lil’ Miss Miyamoto’s got herself a shujinko.”
“Yes…” replied a figure behind him, obscured by shadows, “His name’s Jon Aeros.”
Byrne turned to the crowd standing outside the saloon below him and said, “Did y’all hear that? Martian Blue’s got a champion. That WOMAN and her whores think they can steal my child!
“Martian Blue made our town into what it is today, but this time, they've gone too far. This is nothing less than heresy, and she’s oversteppin’ her boundaries! It’s about time that someone went down to that trash heap and showed that baita Miyamoto who’s really in charge! THIS CAN ONLY BE FIXED WITH BLOOD!”
The crowd responded favorably to Byrne’s proposed course of action with loud shouting, chanting and throwing of glass bottles. Byrne beckoned for the figure in the shadows to step into the light. Sydney did so obediently, with tears in her eyes. Is selling every last one of my friends to these shoshi the right thing to do? she thought to herself.
“At least one of them is honest!” Byrne yelled to the crowd, “She knows a whore’s place!”
Don’t call me that, Sydney thought; I’m just as human as you are.
She looked at the ground in shame. Of course, that means I’m less than human too…
“You made the right choice, girl,” Byrne said to Sydney, “I’ll see to it that you git a fair share, but you’ll have to do a few more chores fer me, ya hear?”
Is this the right choice? Is it worth turnin’ on Arcelia an‘ the others for a bag of silver coins?
“But friends, this ain’t gonna be easy,” Byrne said to the crowd, “Miyamoto’s gone an’ hired herself some bounty hunters to protect her sorry lil’ ass. This Jon Aeros an’ his crew spit on our town, and disgrace the integrity inherent in men. He thinks he’s doin’ the right thing, but what does a bachelor such like him know about decency, respectability, honor or even the sanctity of family?”
He paused, letting that statement sink in before continuing. “I’ll tell ya: NOTHIN’ AT ALL! He an’ his gang are keepin’ my child from me! Does that sound like the proper behavior of a man? He is a whore sympathizer and should be burned at the stake for that!”
He calmed down for a bit before continuing. “Now I want y’all to be on my side with this. Can you bring yourselves to do what’s right?
“FOR FAMILY!!”
Byrne then turned on Sydney rather violently. What have I done?! Sydney thought in remorse. “As fer you…” Byrne said with contempt, “Get on your knees.”
Sydney did so obediently. I’m so sorry, Arcelia, she thought, Please find it in your heart… …to forgive me…
* * * * *
“Rise and shine!” Ashita yelled as dawn broke on the Martian Blue gloriously. She continued her rounds about the building, until she found a curious sight: Sydney lying asleep on one of the sofas in the common room. “Hey, sleepyhead,” she said to the sleeping girl, “Get up! We got work to do!”
“What work?” Sydney asked groggily.
“Turnin’ this place into a fortress, of course,” Ashita replied, “C’mon, get up!” Sydney was still not entirely awake, and after seeing this, Ashita assumed that she had had a rough night. “It’s not workin’ out with you and Owen, is it?” she asked.
“No,” Sydney said, “I just wanted some time alone, Ashita.” She paused for a minute, trying to form her next question without letting slip that she had betrayed all of them to Byrne. “Ashita… have you ever done something that… you thought was a good idea at the time, but when you actually did it, it didn’t work out how you thought it would?”
“Yes, Sydney,” Ashita replied, “I’ve done that lots of times. What did you do?”
“Oh… Nothing…” Sydney lied uncomfortably, ashamed at herself. Oyamaa, she thought to herself, Arcelia, they’re gonna kill you…
And it’s all my fault.
Tallen and his two girls were among some of the crews that were nailing boards over the windows, hoping to give the defenders a little more cover when the battle would be under way. One of the girls looked at Tallen’s crucifix. “You were your unit’s chaplain, weren’t you?” she asked.
Tallen nodded. “Yeah,” he said, “I led the funeral for all my squadmates.” He looked out the window, reminiscing. “A lot of people died in that battle,” he finished.
One of the girls began to look depressed. “Too bad no one’s gonna bury us when we die tomorrow,” she said sadly as she began to cry.
Tallen put his left hand, the flesh-and-blood one, on her shoulder. “Don’t say that, shoujo,” he said reassuringly, “We’re not gonna die…”
“Still… Couldn’t you pray for our souls now?” the other girl asked, looking as sad as her partner.
“I only bury the dead, child,” Tallen replied reassuringly, “Don’t worry, It’ll be all right.”
Sydney found herself in the tower furthest from the road, holding a six shot revolver uncertainly in her hand. “You’re up here because I’m the sniper support for our side, Sydney,” Ayane said, “And I need you up here to cover my back in case any enemies reach us here.”
She gestured to a row of rifles, shotguns and pistols of various sizes and styles lying on the bed with magazines and spare rounds set in neat rows next to them. “These are the weapons I will be using against the opposition when we fight,” she said, “When I run out of ammunition for one, I will say ‘next,’ and I need you to hand me the next largest weapon until there are no more to be had. Wakarimasu ka?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Sydney replied sadly, “I understand.”
Ayane sat down on the bed with Sydney. “Sydney, what’s the matter?” she asked the girl, “You look a little sad.”
Sydney looked away in embarrassment. “It’s nothing,” she lied, “Nothing more than anyone else is going through right now.” How can I tell you that you and everyone else here are going to die… she thought, …because of me?
Jon walked along a line of about twenty young men and women like a drill sergeant. All of them, Jon included, were holding lever- or bolt-action rifles, and Jon saw that almost all of them looked scared and uncertain about what he was training them to do. “First thing you’ve gotta know about shootin’:” Jon said, “trust in your iron sights. See those little raised bits on the barrel?” There were some confused nods among the line. “If you line ‘em up so there’s no gap between ‘em,” Jon continued, “You’re gonna hit almost all the time.”
Jon pointed out the window at a scarecrow set up in the direction of the highway. “See that scarecrow?” he asked, “I want y’all to shoot it down. One shot.”
Jon ushered the line forward up to the open window bank and shouted, “Ready!”
There was a loud staggered clicking sound as twenty rifles held by uncertain hands were cocked back.
“Aim!”
Twenty rifles uncertainly pointed out the window at the unsuspecting scarecrow.
“Fire!”
There was a staggered series of gunshots as twenty rifles discharged almost simultaneously. A lot of dust built up around where the scarecrow had stood.
Jon squinted as he searched the area for signs of scarecrow parts. As the dust began to clear, he saw, much to his chagrin, that the scarecrow, partly riddled with bullet holes, was still standing. “Okay…” Jon said, regaining his composure, “Let’s try that again.”
The door burst open as one of the girls ran into the room, slamming the door shut behind her, panting heavily, and obviously frightened out of her wits. “Someone’s coming up the road!” she cried out, and Jon led his shabby little platoon out to the second level of the common room, where he looked out of the window as a lone motorcycle drove up the road towards the house. “Tenshuchikushou…” Jon swore, “looks like Byrne’s sent us a messenger.”
The bike slid to a stop, and the man in the back seat pulled out a megaphone and said, “Ashita Miyamoto! I’ve come to you with a message from Arcturus Byrne! Let me in, so I can give it to you!”
“We can hear you just fine from down there, shoshi,” Jon yelled back, “Spit it out!”
“He’s giving y’all this last chance to hand over his baby and his money,” the messenger replied, “If not, he’ll burn Martian Blue to the ground!”
“We don’t have time for this,” Jon muttered, annoyed, “Open fire!”
Jon’s platoon all raised their rifles, cocked them back, and fired upon the motorcycle. Most of the shots hit the ground, but the intent of the attack was not to kill the messenger, instead to frighten the pilot, which it did, to great effect. “Oh my God!” the driver screamed as he drove back down the road to town as fast as his bike would go. Some of the angrier members of Jon’s platoon fired off a few parting shots until the motorcycle was out of sight.
Ashita, followed meekly by Arcelia and Misty, stormed out of a side room after hearing the gunfire and headed in Jon’s direction. “What was all that about?” Ashita demanded.
“Just a messenger who confirmed our worst fears,” Jon replied confidently, “We gave him a warm reception, though.”
“What exactly did he want?”
“Well,” Jon began, “Byrne has threatened to-” He was cut off by a cry of pain from Arcelia as she slumped down on her knees, clutching her bulging belly. Misty and Jon hauled her back onto her feet, but she then arched her back in pain, screaming. “We should get her to the infirmary, sir!” Misty said to Jon, and he, Misty and Ashita helped Arcelia get to the bedroom that doubled as a hospital ward.
* * * * *
Back in town, Byrne was waiting impatiently for his messenger to return when he saw his motorcycle come down the road. Just before the bike drove up to him, the passenger in the back seat fell off the bike, dead as a doornail. “They’s armed, Boss!” the pilot screamed, “They done shot up Hank!”
“Damn them!” Byrne shouted, “Rally the boys, an’ tell them to attack at dawn!” The pilot nodded, and then drove off to fulfill his orders. Byrne turned to look in the direction of Martian Blue and said under his breath, “So… You choose to fight me, Miyamoto. So be it. This will end with your blood spread all over your precious little girls, bitch.”