Decided to do some minor tweaks after thinking about it while I was busy handling customers' needs. And add some more.
**** **** ****
Local date and time: Monday 10 May 2011, 5:11 AM JST,
Local location: Senshobu-jinja, Tomobiki-cho, Nishitokyo-shi,
Tokyo-to,
"No . . . this is wrong
. . . "
Hearing that moaning voice
from the heiden of Tomobiki's only serving Shinto shrine, Sakurambo Sakura
turned to look at her young ward as she focused her mind and soul upon the
ancient device that had saved so many lives over the previous year.
"Mizuho . . . " the
shrine miko/part-time school nurse whispered.
As she stood to walk over and
try to comfort the shaking Inada Mizuho, Sakura's mage-sight clicked in as she
sensed powerful tendrils of energy – invisible to the naked eye – emit from the
transmitter crystal of the Staff of Gihan to probe into the young girl's mind. After a moment of incomprehensible mumbling,
Mizuho's normally pale blue eyes then snapped open as she stared at the high
ceiling. "NEVER!"
The Staff's focusing crystal
flared to full power and sent a burning bolt of raw energy through the roof of
the heiden – not damaging it, much to Sakura's private relief – and into the
skies over Tomobiki, disappearing behind some clouds as it rocketed into space
. . . and then broke through the dimensional barriers to go Elsewhere.
Sakura blinked as Mizuho
seemed to slump into a barely-conscious daze on the floor as a side door opened
to reveal the younger girl's bond-mate, Niimi Rena. As the other would-be shrine miko moved to
comfort the would-be Zoroastrian warrior-priestess, Sakura tried not to sigh
too much . . . before her cell phone rang.
"Moshi-moshi."
"I will be there in ten
minutes, Sakura."
Click. Dial tone.
Moaning as she hung up her
phone, Sakura shook her head. "What
happened?"
Rena blinked as she gazed at
her guardian. "Mizuho sensed a
wandering warrior caught in the vortex between dimensions . . . and sensed
something dark and evil about to destroy him.
She . . . brought him here for his own personal safety."
"Where?"
Rena gave the older woman a
knowing look. "Wonderful . . .
" Sakura muttered as she moved to head back into her kitchen. Hiromi won't like this . . .!
**** **** ****
The Loon and the Ladies from
Avalon
by Fred Herriot
**** **** ****
Based on Drunkard's Walk,
created by Robert M. Schroeck; and Phoenix From the Ashes, created by
Fred Herriot
**** **** ****
Local date: Unknown,
Local location: Unknown
I woke up in a tall field of
grass.
Blinking as I noted the sun
high in the sky, I then sensed some dirt lying on my face and touching my
lips. Spitting out same as I reached up
to wipe my face clean, I then moaned as I slowly boosted myself into a sitting
position with my elbows. Looking through
my helmet's eye protectors, I was quick to notice that I was in what appeared
to be a well-trampled military training reservation. The worn-down track ruts nearby – while quite
fresh – clearly indicated this was some sort of tank range.
Before I could take a
detailed look around, my ears then picked up something.
A tank's diesel engine going
full-throttle.
Sensing the slight tremor in
the Earth under my butt, I quickly turned to look where the noise was coming
from . . . and then gaped on seeing a very impressive-looking machine come out
from behind a thick stand of trees, racing down a nearby path at a VERY good
clip. On recognising said tank as a
Leopard 2 – the main battle tank of the German Army and a few other armies – I
then blinked as nearly-forgotten briefings on such machines came back to
me. Leopards were diesel-driven
machines; they didn't have the turbine engine an M1A1 Abrams possessed. Yet this machine here . . .!
I then winced as said machine
suddenly came to a screeching halt – a "combat stop" as it was called
amongst regular Army boys worldwide – and then the commander's hatch popped
open to allow said commander to lean out and look my way.
Whoo, boy . . .
"There you are!"
I perked on hearing that
shout from somewhere to my left, and then I turned . . .
. . . to find a small group
of women walking towards me, visibly armed in what seemed to be fighting order
and clearly out for a wonderful constitutional in the boonies. While not recognising the actual pattern of their
camouflage shirts and pants – not to mention their web gear and even then boots!
– I was quick to see the low-visibility flags on their shoulders. One with a simple design of dark sides with a
pale middle the same width as the flag's height, a stylised maple leaf placed
there.
Okay.
I was somewhere in Canada.
Or possibly in Germany
butting in on a NATO exercise being run by the First Canadian Infantry
Division, whose 4th Brigade was – as I barely could remember in my universe –
based in the Black Forest of Baden-Württemberg near the Rhine River.
A glance back at the tank.
Yep. Black maple leaf on the turret.
"I'm in Germany, aren't
I?" I then asked the person whom I believe called out to me.
A shake of the head as a too
cute for words smile crossed her camouflaged face. "No, you're currently in the exercise
area of Canadian Forces Base Niagara, sir," she answered in a polite voice
as she slung her rifle – an M16A2 derivative, not the Canadian-built FN FAL
rifle soldiers of that nation used when I was last on my Earth – over her shoulder. Her friends were also relaxing as they slung
their weapons.
That struck me immediately as
odd.
"You're just outside the
city of Welland in Ontario," the soldier then said. She waved to where I believed was the west
according to the sun's position in the sky, and then she waved northeast. "Niagara Falls is about fifteen
kilometres that way."
Unless . . .
"Am I home?" I
whispered.
Sympathy seemed to flow out
from all their faces. "No,
sir," the woman who had spoken to me replied, looking as if she wished to
take personal responsibly for my decades-long separation from my home dimension
and my wife.
What the heck . . .?
"Haida detected
the space-warp that brought you onto the exercise range about ten minutes
ago. We were busy enjoying some time out
in the field after coming back to rejoin our battalion after graduating from
trades training at the Valcartier Garrison."
I smiled. "Vandoos?!"
A grin came back. "No.
Canadian Guards. First
Battalion."
A nod. Canadian troops assigned to the Warriors
often came from that youngest of the Dominion's six full-time infantry
regiments. "A unit worthy of its
hire," I then complemented them, which made them blush to their toes even
under the camouflage.
"Thank you," she
replied as she gave me a knowing look.
"I assume you come from a universe where the Regiment also
exists?" she asked.
"It does,
Guardsman," I replied, noting her rank slip-on on her front was blank over
the unit tag CG; obviously, the short-form title of the Regiment of
Canadian Guards. Having lived in London
for a long time, I knew all the peculiarities about the various units of the
Household Guards, which had been replicated with the Canadian Guards when they
were formed in the 1950s.
"Sometimes frowned on by the boys in the Vandoos, the Royal
Canadians and the Princess Pats, but they do their job and take pride in it." I moved to stand. "I apologise for butting in on your
exercise. How is it . . .?"
Turning to gaze to the
southwest, I stopped . . .
. . . on seeing HER.
"Oh – my – GOD!"
The guardsmen all grinned.
"That's Haida,"
the one who had been talking to me proudly declared.
I blinked, gazed on her for a
moment, and then turned back to gaze on the cigar-shaped starship
floating serenely over the ground in the near-distance.
One honkin' HUGE starship to
boot!
And incredible as this is
going to sound . . .
. . . it had the Canadian
flag painted on the hull aft of amidships.
"Yeah . . .!" I
breathed out.
THIS was going to be
different . . .
* *
*
Local date and time: Sunday 9 May 2011, 1322 hours EDT
Local location: Over Canadian Forces Base Niagara (east of
Welland, Ontario),
"Hey!"
I perked on hearing that
voice, and then looked up to see a smiling Navy medic – I assumed she was Navy
given her nearly-black work dress uniform, black beret with the badge of the
Canadian Forces Medical Services on it and the blank rank slip-ons on her
shoulders, though those were decorated with a very nicely-designed unit tag
with the word HAIDA in orange-gold on a dark blue field surrounded by
ship's rope and topped by a British-type naval coronet – gazing at me. "Yeah?" I asked.
"You sure you don't need
to get into Sickbay?" she asked.
For the fifth
time since I got aboard this rather LARGE shuttlecraft – it was called a
"Star Flare" and looked like a weird mix of a Lambda-class shuttle
from Star Wars and the Gemini-class shuttle from Battlestar Galactica
– which had, some minutes before, picked up Mrs. Sangoir's only son from the
exercise field now over a kilometre below the keel and was now taking me aboard
Her Majesty's Canadian Starship Haida.
Yep.
You read that right, folks.
Starship.
In the Year of Our Lord
TWO-THOUSAND AND ELEVEN, to boot!
How the HELL that was
possible, I couldn't BEGIN to guess.
Still, it was a change of
pace compared to other times over the last several decades that I've initially
arrived in other dimensions.
Clearly, the tech – which was
WAY above Earth baseline for MY own dimension, not to mention all the other
places I've been to in my travels – could sniff out dimensional breaches with
great ease. And clearly, whoever was
controlling the tech in Canada was either knowledgeable enough or experienced
enough to make going out to find my lonesome self quite easy. Even better, I didn't have to cook up false
identities and find some way to fit in while I waited for the chance to find a
proper Gate song to move onto the next step of my journey. That told me one good thing about these
people.
They had experience in
dealing with dimensional crossings.
How that would benefit me, I
couldn't begin to guess.
But I hoped to barter my own
experiences for all the help they could give me.
Noting a pair of very lovely
green eyes staring knowingly at me, I gave the medic – her family name was SASAMOTO
as stitched in gold on her left chest under the twin-headed thunderbird ship's
crest of Haida – a smirk.
"When I normally drop unexpected into a new dimension, I'm normally
quite whole and healthy if not conscious at the time the actual transition
occurs, Ordinary Seaman Sasamoto," I explained. "I'm just glad that after doing my
latest Gate jump, I came to a place where I could get help right away in lieu
of being sneaky about it and being forced into quasi-legal and
sometimes-immoral acts to forge a false identity so I could interface with the
local population."
"Wow! He's roughing it, isn't he?" the
guardsman – I spotted her name, CROCE, on her tunic – who had talked to
me earlier said as she exchanged a look with the medic.
"That he is, Henrietta-chan,"
the medic answered.
I then blinked.
They were talking in Japanese
. . .
. . . while my ears picked up
their words in clear English.
"Translation
field?" I asked in my accented Nihon-go.
"Omni-translation
field," the medic stated as those green eyes of hers sparkled with
amusement. "It can interpret any
language a sentient can speak and translate it automatically into the native
language of the speaker. So if you're
more comfortable speaking English, sir, speak in English. We can all understand you."
I nodded. "How come you're travelling from
dimension to dimension?" Guardsman Croce – I felt it a little improper to
call her "Henrietta" even if she struck me as being about twenty
years of age – then asked. "Are you
an explorer?"
A sigh as I decided to honour
their obvious concern with the truth.
"I'm a metahuman warrior who serves in a group working for the
United Nations in my universe," I then explained. "In a battle many decades ago in my
time-line, I was propelled into an alternate universe. Over the following years, I've travelled from
universe to universe in hopes of rejoining my wife." I opened up my jacket and pulled out the
necklace bearing my wedding band.
"It's been quite interesting, but believe me . . . HEY!"
The "hey" came from
something that reminded me a little too much of Minakami Wataru's twelve
half-sisters – save Chikage, of course – and how they reacted whenever
something their "Big Brother" did or said broke their hearts.
An honest-to-goodness Hug of
True Love from the medic and ALL the guardsmen!
I tried not to blush TOO much
on feeling that . . .
* *
*
The landing of the Star Flare
on the upper flight deck of H.M.C.S. Haida was pretty much like the
landing of any shipboard helicopter aboard any navy vessel that wasn't a
purpose-built aircraft carrier: Come to
a hover over the green flight deck with the yellow landing lines and the white HA
at the aft end, square off on the centre of the deck, and then gently drop down
until solid rubber tires kissed metal deck.
Even better, since the ship was only about a kilometre above the Welland
By-Pass that split her home base from the urban part of the Rose City of
Ontario, the outside atmosphere was breathable . . . as witness the opening of
the Flare's cargo doors aft onto the deck, thus allowing myself and my current
escorts – with Guardsman Croce and Ordinary Seaman Sasamoto having wrapped one
of their arms around one of mine – to walk onto a very clear day over the
Niagara peninsula, with Lake Erie in the near distance.
As soon as we were aboard the
starship – and my mind was STILL boggling at the idea of a NATION on Earth
having a STARSHIP of all things! – proper, the group around me paused as they
straightened to attention, and then saluted the large ensign flying off what
appeared to be a sensor vane sticking up from the fantail of the ship between
the exhaust ports of a pair of ramjet-like engines that could swallow whole
AIRCRAFT CARRIERS from my universe with room to spare! Realising that despite these girls' quite
friendly attitudes that they were still-serving soldiers and sailors of the
Queen of Canada, I straightened myself and gave the flag – a Canadian version
of the British White Ensign with a blue cross and the Maple Leaf Flag in the canton
– a Sandhurst-perfect salute. That
caused my companions to all blink in surprise.
"Are you a
serviceman?" Ordinary Seaman Sasamoto then asked.
"Technically, I'm a
colonel in the United Nations Metahuman Peacekeeping Force, code-named
'Warriors Alpha,'" I explained.
"The rank is honorary to me but to those who care for it, it's
quite real." I gave her a
wink. "I assume British shipboard
rules still run the Royal Canadian Navy?
Or is it still Canadian Forces Maritime Command?"
"MARCOM for now,"
the medic stated, a smirk crossing her face.
"That might change in the near future; you know how RUMINT can be
at times."
I smirked. RUMINT:
Rumour Intelligence, sometimes the most reliable information one could
get in the military. "Indeed I do. And . . . " I straightened myself as I properly saluted
her. "Permission to come aboard,
Ordinary Seaman Sasamoto?"
She returned my salute. "Grated, Colonel . . .?"
"Douglas Q. Sangoir,
code-named 'Looney Tunes.' Call me
Doug."
She smiled. "Ordinary Seaman Sasamoto Narumi. Call me Narumi. We use proper Oriental name-order in the
United Nations Earth Defence Force.
Welcome aboard, Doug-san."
I shook her hand . . . and
then perked as someone came walking our way from the large hangar deck
structure forward, where the Star Flare that brought us aboard was now being
wheeled into to join three sisters already folded up in their parking spaces. Said person, I was quick to note, also
appeared Japanese . . . even if her brown hair was done up in a low bonnet on
the lower side of her head and she had amethyst eyes. She was in the same uniform Narumi wore, but
her shoulder boards had the single gold stripe – with that funny circular loop
British navy officers wore on their uniforms – of their equivalent of a United
States Navy ensign over her ship's unit tags.
She also had the badge of the Naval Operations Branch of the Canadian
Forces on her beret.
"Our traveller from
another dimension, Narumi-chan?" she asked, smiling.
"Hai, Tomomi-chan. May I present Douglas Sangoir-taisa of the
United Nations Metahuman Peacekeeping Forces in his home dimension? His battle-name is 'Looney Tunes,'"
Narumi then stated. "Doug-san, this
is Yoshino Tomomi-shoi, junior ship's combat warfare director. In case you don't know, her rank in Canada is
'acting sub-lieutenant;' I can hear the London accent in your voice even if
your words are clearly American."
"Yes, I am American,
Narumi-chan," I said as I reached up to unbuckle and slip off my
helmet. I was quick to sense the
appraising looks all the girls around me were giving on unmasking myself. Tomomi's eyes flashed with interest until she
focused on my wedding ring, and then she nodded in understanding. "And believe me, that I'm in the land of
my homeland's brothers born of the same mother does my heart a world of
good."
"Wonderful," Tomomi
stated. "In the meantime,
Hiromi-onesama awaits us. This
way."
She turned and headed to a
recessed stairwell in the middle of the flight deck close to the hangar. "What do you want done with your
motorcycle, Doug-san?" Henrietta asked.
"Could you put it
somewhere safe, Henrietta-chan?" I asked in turn. "And PLEASE, don't take it apart! I had a nosy goddess of the future do that in
one of my longer stays and I prefer not to go through putting it back together
again."
"Which goddess of the
future?" Tomomi asked.
"Skuld."
A surprised look crossed her
face. "From A Megami-sama?!"
I blinked in confusion . . .
* *
*
Somewhere, a different
dimension,
"AH-CHOO!"
"Bless you, Skuld! Are you alright?"
A moan. "Someone's talking about me,
One-sama!"
Belldandy hummed. "I wonder who would it be . . .?"
* *
*
Local Date and time: Sunday 9 May 2011, 1331 hours EDT
Location: H.M.C.S. Haida, Deck A12 Aft, Flag
Officer's Level,
Tomomi knocked at the open
doorway. "One-sama?"
"Enter, minna-san,"
a voice called back in Japanese.
"You found him?"
"Hai, One-sama, we
did," Henrietta stated as she waved me into the room.
Looking around, I was quickly
taken by the somewhat spartan nature of what appeared to be a reception room
for visitors. There was a work desk aft
with a small meeting table in the middle of the room. Bookshelves lined all the bulkheads save for
the main door and a side door that I assumed opened into the personal living
quarters of the – as Tomomi had explained when we came here – Director of the
Volunteer United Nations Earth Defence Force.
Whose insignia – a blue U.N. flag with the wreathed globe over a cross
crusader sword and Japanese katana – was hanging from the wall, bracketed on
both sides by the Canadian White Ensign and the national flag of Japan.
Which made sense since the
woman who had greeted Tomomi had also spoken in Japanese.
So what was she doing on a Canadian
starship?
Starship . . .
Damn! I'm STILL boggling over that!
Said woman – who had been
seated at her work desk typing away on some sort of laptop computer – turned to
gaze at me, and then smiled.
"Welcome aboard, good traveller," she said as she stood up and
walked over, her hand out. "Are you
alright?"
I was gaping at her.
The Director of
the Force was a teenager?!
Okaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay .
. . this was DEFINITELY a new one on me . . .
* *
*
Gazing at the handsome man –
she put his physical age at about early thirties, though his eyes flashed a
look that indicated that he was a lot older; Are the humans of his Earth as
long lived as Vosians or Avalonians? – Moroboshi Hiromi then smiled as she
pulled her hand away, giving him a knowing look. "Never expected something like
this?"
He blinked and then
flustered. "Not really . . . "
A chuckle. "Oh, don't worry about that, good
sir," she stated. "You'll find
a lot of things in this universe to be quite unique. But I'm sure that your universe has its own
many mysteries as well, especially given the fact that you are a
metahuman." As he gaped at her, she
smirked. "Our sensors picked up
those interesting quirks in your DNA when we first detected you on the training
range. Natural-born or
fate-gifted?"
He gaped. "Um, natural-born . . . "
A nod. "Well, no doubt whatever Powers control
our lives felt you worthy to gain such gifts," she stated as she waved him
to a chair. "Here, sit! Be comfortable! You've probably had a bit of a harrowing
journey, so you need to relax."
Another blink, and then he
did as she bade. "One-sama, this is
Douglas Sangoir-taisa, a member of the United Nations Metahuman Peacekeeping
Forces in his universe," Narumi then stated. "He's known by the battle-name 'Looney
Tunes' and he would prefer to be called 'Doug.'
Doug-san, this is Moroboshi Hiromi-onesama, the Director of the United Nations
Earth Defence Force. Her battle-name
amongst those like her is 'Ryuko Kyorei.'
Also a third-year high school student at Tomobiki High School, Class
Four."
He blinked several times, and
then he gaped. "How old are
you?"
He then flustered on noting
that he asked a VERY rude question as it would be seen in the West. Hiromi then chuckled. "It depends on what you actually mean by
one's age, Doug-san. Physically, I'm
eighteen years old. Chronologically – in
this life – I'm only two. And spiritually,
I'm over eighteen hundred years old.
Take your pick."
Doug's jaw dropped . . .
* *
*
THAT answer surprised me like
nothing I had ever heard before.
Without hesitation, my
mage-sight clicked in as I gazed on my host.
The result . . .
Oh, SHIT . . .!
Instantly, I was on my knees
as I prostrated myself before this living Celestial in the form of what I
simply had no choice but to believe was a fully-organic biological
android to boot! "Forgive
me, Most Holy One, for invading . . .!"
"ENOUGH!"
My ears were nearly ripped
apart by that shout.
A tired sigh. "Doug-san, please! I am an emperor of nothing! On top of that – while some of the witless
dullards I've met since I was allowed to take this body for my own two years
ago would think me a phoenix reborn – I do not demand worship from
ANYONE!" the woman/phoenix/bioroid before me growled in clear annoyance at
my simple show of respect to a Celestial.
"I would assume you used some sort of ki-sight on me?"
I gazed up at her to find her
dark brown eyes flashing with annoyance . . . with a bare fleck of
amusement. "Actually, mage-sight,
Moroboshi-sama," I confessed.
Her jaw dropped. "You're a sorcerer?"
A chuckle. "I've dabbled with magic from time to
time."
"Well, do sit down,
please!" she stated. "I care
not to speak to someone's BACK, especially if they're kneeling before me. I may have been the Xiàolíng Emperor of Hàn
in my first life, but I claim no such title now." She then glared off to my right rear. "And may I ask, little sisters, what
you're all doing STANDING there?!"
A chorus of sucked-in breaths
made me turned to see looks of profound embarrassment on the faces of all the
girls who had escorted me there. They
then bowed low to my current host.
"We're sorry, One-sama!" they chanted as one.
"Tomomi-chan, go find
Seina-chan," my host then barked out in a command voice. "I need tea, coffee and fruit juices in
case our guest has a queasy stomach from his transition into our universe. Some soft snacks as well. Rest of you, be off with you!"
"HAI!"
And with that, they nearly
knocked themselves out getting out of the room!
A tired sigh then escaped my
host. "I do apologise for that,
Doug-san," she then said with a voice touched with a little
weariness. "I can sense you have
your own sense of propriety towards dealing with those strongly touched by the Te'a
. . . but despite my origins and my many gifts, I desire only to be a normal
girl. Fate, sadly, decreed
otherwise." She then smiled at me. "So please, call me Hiromi. And try not to use '-sama' with my name, good
sir. Or I will call you 'Sangoir-taisa'
until you're sick to death of hearing it . . . AND arrange for proper navy side
parties when you step on and off this ship or any of her sisterships while
you're with us."
She winked, which made me
laugh. Okay, I could go along with
that. "Deal, Hiromi-chan!" I
said as I offered my hand to her, which she took in both of her own and gave it
a very tender squeeze. "So your
Earth has developed bioroid tech?"
"It was forced on our
Earth two years ago when my adopted race – we call ourselves 'Avalonians' as a
whole – fled lives of sexual slavery which they had been subjected to for a
century after the bioroid factory was discovered by a race calling themselves
'Niphentaxians.'" She then
hummed. "Are you a Trekker,
Doug-san?"
"Somewhat familiar with
the series," I replied, trying not to tremble with outrage at what my host
just said. "Though my experience in
travelling in other dimensions has shown me that there are considerable
differences between various realities when it comes to how various forms of
fiction are played out."
A nod. "We're familiar with that. Are you aware of the Iotians the Enterprise
under Jim Kirk encountered in the second year of their voyage of
exploration?"
"A race of mimics."
"The Niphentaxians are
our equivalent of them, but possessed with a religious fervour that truly is
quite frightening to behold," Hiromi stated as I relaxed myself. "Atop that, once they discovered the
many benefits of having the Avalonians enslaved to them, they lost a lot of
their technological, cultural and social replicating knowledge. One of the men who discovered the Avalon
factory, Master Ganzo dai-Louc, came to realise what was happening right away
and struggled for decades to see them free."
"He succeeded."
"With much help."
A nod. Damn!
Almost like the universe of Megatokyo in 2034 where I encountered the
Knight Sabres and helped destroy my native counterpart in that city, James D.
Quincy. "So your people fled
here," I mused. "What's to
stop them from retaliating?"
"Well, confronting
celestial dragons from two different planets, facing two armies of the finest
warriors, plus wrecking not just their space fleet but their space factories
and everything else they could muster to strike back on Earth – thus making
them quite vulnerable to a race known as the Ipraedies – made them see the
light. Furthermore, the leader of the
latest 'church' to seize control of Phentax Two – their homeworld – was arrested
over a year ago and sent to a planet named Vos to be imprisoned for life for a
wretched incident nearly eight years ago when a biological warfare device was
unleashed on that world's capital city, murdering five million sentient
beings."
I paled.
Bio-war . . .
Oh, joy . . .
"My sympathies," I
whispered before perking as a knock at the main door, and then I turned to see
a tomboyish girl – also an Avalonian bioroid, my mage-sight quickly confirmed –
in the same type of uniform Tomomi and Narumi wore. She was brown-haired and had blue-grey
eyes. In one of her hands, she carried a
big tray of drinks and a plate of snacks.
"Please excuse me for
bothering you, Hiromi-onesama, Doug-san," she – her family name was YAMAGUCHI;
no doubt, this was the "Seina" that Hiromi just asked for – said as
she walked in and moved to serve use.
"What would you like?" she asked as she gazed at me.
"Is that coffee
Tim's?" I asked.
A smirk. "Of course!"
"Double-double,
please!"
"Hai!"
* *
*
Watching Yamaguchi Seina
serve her current guest, Hiromi relaxed herself as she waited her turn, her
ki-sight quickly clicking in as she scanned Doug's body.
The result amazed her.
The fellow before him was
physically over a hundred years old – even if he looked like a man in his early
thirties at the most; Some sort of age-stopping power? the reborn emperor
of the Toshi of the Three Kingdoms wondered to herself – and bore the
considerable physical and mental scars of a life that had been rocked by battle
after battle throughout his lengthy travels.
His emotional ki aura indicated he was determined to do everything to
get home to his wife and friends no matter what; noting the streaks of loyalty
he felt towards his spouse, Hiromi had to nod in admiration at such
devotion. Atop that, there were the
clear signs of magical hexes and curses upon the man. On noting that, Hiromi sighed.
A plaything of the gods! How depressing . . .!
* *
*
Elsewhere, else when . . .
AH-CHOO!
AH-CHOO!
AH-CHOO!
* *
*
"One-sama?"
A sigh. "My apologies, Seina-chan. My usual."
"Hai!"
Tea was then served, and then
Seina left the room, closing the door behind her. On sensing that, Doug then sighed. "You scanned me, didn't you? Martial artist?"
"Jonin-rank in my
family's Art: Saiko Jinseijutsu-ryu."
A blink. "'Way of the Supreme Life?'"
A smile. "A little pretentious, I agree . . . but
it is a very thorough school that not just teaches fighting but how to live
life with as minimal wear-and-tear on one's physical form as possible,"
Hiromi admitted. "Sadly, part of
the reason I came to be the way I am in this life forced such knowledge on my
heart and soul, so I do my best to honour my family's Art and teach it –
despite my considerable lack of teaching experience – to those whom I could
help better their lives. My elder
sister, Moroboshi Negako-onesama – our planet's first true artificial intelligence
to be frank – is the Grandmaster of the Art.
Even if she LOATHES the word 'sensei!'"
He laughed. "First true A.I., huh? How created?"
"A form of powerful
soul-magic based on meson that allowed various warriors of our overall family
to contribute their memories and experiences into a mental 'database' of
knowledge. Eight hundred years after it
was first created, it woke up into One-sama.
But since the Avalonians were still many decades away, members of my
family took up a powerful magical oath known as the 'Promise of Bunka Go-nen'
to keep One-sama alive and well.' My
adopted brother – and the DNA template for my body – was the fifty-seventh such
person to take the Sacred Promise. It
was fulfilled two years ago."
He gave her a knowing
look. "With cost, I take it?"
"A permanently sundered
soul which gave him a true twin sister in Tariko-onesan. Both One-sama's soul and my own – which was
trapped in my earring . . . " – she pointed to her magatama – " . . .
made it happen over a period of ten years." A sigh.
"You weathered it
well."
"Arigato. Now, what on Earth am I going to do with you,
Doug-san?"
He gave her a helpless shrug
. . .
* *
*
**** **** ****
Local date and time: Monday 10 May 2011, 5:11 AM JST,
Local location: Senshobu-jinja, Tomobiki-cho, Nishitokyo-shi,
Tokyo-to,
"No . . . this is wrong
. . . "
Hearing that moaning voice
from the heiden of Tomobiki's only serving Shinto shrine, Sakurambo Sakura
turned to look at her young ward as she focused her mind and soul upon the
ancient device that had saved so many lives over the previous year.
"Mizuho . . . " the
shrine miko/part-time school nurse whispered.
As she stood to walk over and
try to comfort the shaking Inada Mizuho, Sakura's mage-sight clicked in as she
sensed powerful tendrils of energy – invisible to the naked eye – emit from the
transmitter crystal of the Staff of Gihan to probe into the young girl's mind. After a moment of incomprehensible mumbling,
Mizuho's normally pale blue eyes then snapped open as she stared at the high
ceiling. "NEVER!"
The Staff's focusing crystal
flared to full power and sent a burning bolt of raw energy through the roof of
the heiden – not damaging it, much to Sakura's private relief – and into the
skies over Tomobiki, disappearing behind some clouds as it rocketed into space
. . . and then broke through the dimensional barriers to go Elsewhere.
Sakura blinked as Mizuho
seemed to slump into a barely-conscious daze on the floor as a side door opened
to reveal the younger girl's bond-mate, Niimi Rena. As the other would-be shrine miko moved to
comfort the would-be Zoroastrian warrior-priestess, Sakura tried not to sigh
too much . . . before her cell phone rang.
"Moshi-moshi."
"I will be there in ten
minutes, Sakura."
Click. Dial tone.
Moaning as she hung up her
phone, Sakura shook her head. "What
happened?"
Rena blinked as she gazed at
her guardian. "Mizuho sensed a
wandering warrior caught in the vortex between dimensions . . . and sensed
something dark and evil about to destroy him.
She . . . brought him here for his own personal safety."
"Where?"
Rena gave the older woman a
knowing look. "Wonderful . . .
" Sakura muttered as she moved to head back into her kitchen. Hiromi won't like this . . .!
**** **** ****
The Loon and the Ladies from
Avalon
by Fred Herriot
**** **** ****
Based on Drunkard's Walk,
created by Robert M. Schroeck; and Phoenix From the Ashes, created by
Fred Herriot
**** **** ****
Local date: Unknown,
Local location: Unknown
I woke up in a tall field of
grass.
Blinking as I noted the sun
high in the sky, I then sensed some dirt lying on my face and touching my
lips. Spitting out same as I reached up
to wipe my face clean, I then moaned as I slowly boosted myself into a sitting
position with my elbows. Looking through
my helmet's eye protectors, I was quick to notice that I was in what appeared
to be a well-trampled military training reservation. The worn-down track ruts nearby – while quite
fresh – clearly indicated this was some sort of tank range.
Before I could take a
detailed look around, my ears then picked up something.
A tank's diesel engine going
full-throttle.
Sensing the slight tremor in
the Earth under my butt, I quickly turned to look where the noise was coming
from . . . and then gaped on seeing a very impressive-looking machine come out
from behind a thick stand of trees, racing down a nearby path at a VERY good
clip. On recognising said tank as a
Leopard 2 – the main battle tank of the German Army and a few other armies – I
then blinked as nearly-forgotten briefings on such machines came back to
me. Leopards were diesel-driven
machines; they didn't have the turbine engine an M1A1 Abrams possessed. Yet this machine here . . .!
I then winced as said machine
suddenly came to a screeching halt – a "combat stop" as it was called
amongst regular Army boys worldwide – and then the commander's hatch popped
open to allow said commander to lean out and look my way.
Whoo, boy . . .
"There you are!"
I perked on hearing that
shout from somewhere to my left, and then I turned . . .
. . . to find a small group
of women walking towards me, visibly armed in what seemed to be fighting order
and clearly out for a wonderful constitutional in the boonies. While not recognising the actual pattern of their
camouflage shirts and pants – not to mention their web gear and even then boots!
– I was quick to see the low-visibility flags on their shoulders. One with a simple design of dark sides with a
pale middle the same width as the flag's height, a stylised maple leaf placed
there.
Okay.
I was somewhere in Canada.
Or possibly in Germany
butting in on a NATO exercise being run by the First Canadian Infantry
Division, whose 4th Brigade was – as I barely could remember in my universe –
based in the Black Forest of Baden-Württemberg near the Rhine River.
A glance back at the tank.
Yep. Black maple leaf on the turret.
"I'm in Germany, aren't
I?" I then asked the person whom I believe called out to me.
A shake of the head as a too
cute for words smile crossed her camouflaged face. "No, you're currently in the exercise
area of Canadian Forces Base Niagara, sir," she answered in a polite voice
as she slung her rifle – an M16A2 derivative, not the Canadian-built FN FAL
rifle soldiers of that nation used when I was last on my Earth – over her shoulder. Her friends were also relaxing as they slung
their weapons.
That struck me immediately as
odd.
"You're just outside the
city of Welland in Ontario," the soldier then said. She waved to where I believed was the west
according to the sun's position in the sky, and then she waved northeast. "Niagara Falls is about fifteen
kilometres that way."
Unless . . .
"Am I home?" I
whispered.
Sympathy seemed to flow out
from all their faces. "No,
sir," the woman who had spoken to me replied, looking as if she wished to
take personal responsibly for my decades-long separation from my home dimension
and my wife.
What the heck . . .?
"Haida detected
the space-warp that brought you onto the exercise range about ten minutes
ago. We were busy enjoying some time out
in the field after coming back to rejoin our battalion after graduating from
trades training at the Valcartier Garrison."
I smiled. "Vandoos?!"
A grin came back. "No.
Canadian Guards. First
Battalion."
A nod. Canadian troops assigned to the Warriors
often came from that youngest of the Dominion's six full-time infantry
regiments. "A unit worthy of its
hire," I then complemented them, which made them blush to their toes even
under the camouflage.
"Thank you," she
replied as she gave me a knowing look.
"I assume you come from a universe where the Regiment also
exists?" she asked.
"It does,
Guardsman," I replied, noting her rank slip-on on her front was blank over
the unit tag CG; obviously, the short-form title of the Regiment of
Canadian Guards. Having lived in London
for a long time, I knew all the peculiarities about the various units of the
Household Guards, which had been replicated with the Canadian Guards when they
were formed in the 1950s.
"Sometimes frowned on by the boys in the Vandoos, the Royal
Canadians and the Princess Pats, but they do their job and take pride in it." I moved to stand. "I apologise for butting in on your
exercise. How is it . . .?"
Turning to gaze to the
southwest, I stopped . . .
. . . on seeing HER.
"Oh – my – GOD!"
The guardsmen all grinned.
"That's Haida,"
the one who had been talking to me proudly declared.
I blinked, gazed on her for a
moment, and then turned back to gaze on the cigar-shaped starship
floating serenely over the ground in the near-distance.
One honkin' HUGE starship to
boot!
And incredible as this is
going to sound . . .
. . . it had the Canadian
flag painted on the hull aft of amidships.
"Yeah . . .!" I
breathed out.
THIS was going to be
different . . .
* *
*
Local date and time: Sunday 9 May 2011, 1322 hours EDT
Local location: Over Canadian Forces Base Niagara (east of
Welland, Ontario),
"Hey!"
I perked on hearing that
voice, and then looked up to see a smiling Navy medic – I assumed she was Navy
given her nearly-black work dress uniform, black beret with the badge of the
Canadian Forces Medical Services on it and the blank rank slip-ons on her
shoulders, though those were decorated with a very nicely-designed unit tag
with the word HAIDA in orange-gold on a dark blue field surrounded by
ship's rope and topped by a British-type naval coronet – gazing at me. "Yeah?" I asked.
"You sure you don't need
to get into Sickbay?" she asked.
For the fifth
time since I got aboard this rather LARGE shuttlecraft – it was called a
"Star Flare" and looked like a weird mix of a Lambda-class shuttle
from Star Wars and the Gemini-class shuttle from Battlestar Galactica
– which had, some minutes before, picked up Mrs. Sangoir's only son from the
exercise field now over a kilometre below the keel and was now taking me aboard
Her Majesty's Canadian Starship Haida.
Yep.
You read that right, folks.
Starship.
In the Year of Our Lord
TWO-THOUSAND AND ELEVEN, to boot!
How the HELL that was
possible, I couldn't BEGIN to guess.
Still, it was a change of
pace compared to other times over the last several decades that I've initially
arrived in other dimensions.
Clearly, the tech – which was
WAY above Earth baseline for MY own dimension, not to mention all the other
places I've been to in my travels – could sniff out dimensional breaches with
great ease. And clearly, whoever was
controlling the tech in Canada was either knowledgeable enough or experienced
enough to make going out to find my lonesome self quite easy. Even better, I didn't have to cook up false
identities and find some way to fit in while I waited for the chance to find a
proper Gate song to move onto the next step of my journey. That told me one good thing about these
people.
They had experience in
dealing with dimensional crossings.
How that would benefit me, I
couldn't begin to guess.
But I hoped to barter my own
experiences for all the help they could give me.
Noting a pair of very lovely
green eyes staring knowingly at me, I gave the medic – her family name was SASAMOTO
as stitched in gold on her left chest under the twin-headed thunderbird ship's
crest of Haida – a smirk.
"When I normally drop unexpected into a new dimension, I'm normally
quite whole and healthy if not conscious at the time the actual transition
occurs, Ordinary Seaman Sasamoto," I explained. "I'm just glad that after doing my
latest Gate jump, I came to a place where I could get help right away in lieu
of being sneaky about it and being forced into quasi-legal and
sometimes-immoral acts to forge a false identity so I could interface with the
local population."
"Wow! He's roughing it, isn't he?" the
guardsman – I spotted her name, CROCE, on her tunic – who had talked to
me earlier said as she exchanged a look with the medic.
"That he is, Henrietta-chan,"
the medic answered.
I then blinked.
They were talking in Japanese
. . .
. . . while my ears picked up
their words in clear English.
"Translation
field?" I asked in my accented Nihon-go.
"Omni-translation
field," the medic stated as those green eyes of hers sparkled with
amusement. "It can interpret any
language a sentient can speak and translate it automatically into the native
language of the speaker. So if you're
more comfortable speaking English, sir, speak in English. We can all understand you."
I nodded. "How come you're travelling from
dimension to dimension?" Guardsman Croce – I felt it a little improper to
call her "Henrietta" even if she struck me as being about twenty
years of age – then asked. "Are you
an explorer?"
A sigh as I decided to honour
their obvious concern with the truth.
"I'm a metahuman warrior who serves in a group working for the
United Nations in my universe," I then explained. "In a battle many decades ago in my
time-line, I was propelled into an alternate universe. Over the following years, I've travelled from
universe to universe in hopes of rejoining my wife." I opened up my jacket and pulled out the
necklace bearing my wedding band.
"It's been quite interesting, but believe me . . . HEY!"
The "hey" came from
something that reminded me a little too much of Minakami Wataru's twelve
half-sisters – save Chikage, of course – and how they reacted whenever
something their "Big Brother" did or said broke their hearts.
An honest-to-goodness Hug of
True Love from the medic and ALL the guardsmen!
I tried not to blush TOO much
on feeling that . . .
* *
*
The landing of the Star Flare
on the upper flight deck of H.M.C.S. Haida was pretty much like the
landing of any shipboard helicopter aboard any navy vessel that wasn't a
purpose-built aircraft carrier: Come to
a hover over the green flight deck with the yellow landing lines and the white HA
at the aft end, square off on the centre of the deck, and then gently drop down
until solid rubber tires kissed metal deck.
Even better, since the ship was only about a kilometre above the Welland
By-Pass that split her home base from the urban part of the Rose City of
Ontario, the outside atmosphere was breathable . . . as witness the opening of
the Flare's cargo doors aft onto the deck, thus allowing myself and my current
escorts – with Guardsman Croce and Ordinary Seaman Sasamoto having wrapped one
of their arms around one of mine – to walk onto a very clear day over the
Niagara peninsula, with Lake Erie in the near distance.
As soon as we were aboard the
starship – and my mind was STILL boggling at the idea of a NATION on Earth
having a STARSHIP of all things! – proper, the group around me paused as they
straightened to attention, and then saluted the large ensign flying off what
appeared to be a sensor vane sticking up from the fantail of the ship between
the exhaust ports of a pair of ramjet-like engines that could swallow whole
AIRCRAFT CARRIERS from my universe with room to spare! Realising that despite these girls' quite
friendly attitudes that they were still-serving soldiers and sailors of the
Queen of Canada, I straightened myself and gave the flag – a Canadian version
of the British White Ensign with a blue cross and the Maple Leaf Flag in the canton
– a Sandhurst-perfect salute. That
caused my companions to all blink in surprise.
"Are you a
serviceman?" Ordinary Seaman Sasamoto then asked.
"Technically, I'm a
colonel in the United Nations Metahuman Peacekeeping Force, code-named
'Warriors Alpha,'" I explained.
"The rank is honorary to me but to those who care for it, it's
quite real." I gave her a
wink. "I assume British shipboard
rules still run the Royal Canadian Navy?
Or is it still Canadian Forces Maritime Command?"
"MARCOM for now,"
the medic stated, a smirk crossing her face.
"That might change in the near future; you know how RUMINT can be
at times."
I smirked. RUMINT:
Rumour Intelligence, sometimes the most reliable information one could
get in the military. "Indeed I do. And . . . " I straightened myself as I properly saluted
her. "Permission to come aboard,
Ordinary Seaman Sasamoto?"
She returned my salute. "Grated, Colonel . . .?"
"Douglas Q. Sangoir,
code-named 'Looney Tunes.' Call me
Doug."
She smiled. "Ordinary Seaman Sasamoto Narumi. Call me Narumi. We use proper Oriental name-order in the
United Nations Earth Defence Force.
Welcome aboard, Doug-san."
I shook her hand . . . and
then perked as someone came walking our way from the large hangar deck
structure forward, where the Star Flare that brought us aboard was now being
wheeled into to join three sisters already folded up in their parking spaces. Said person, I was quick to note, also
appeared Japanese . . . even if her brown hair was done up in a low bonnet on
the lower side of her head and she had amethyst eyes. She was in the same uniform Narumi wore, but
her shoulder boards had the single gold stripe – with that funny circular loop
British navy officers wore on their uniforms – of their equivalent of a United
States Navy ensign over her ship's unit tags.
She also had the badge of the Naval Operations Branch of the Canadian
Forces on her beret.
"Our traveller from
another dimension, Narumi-chan?" she asked, smiling.
"Hai, Tomomi-chan. May I present Douglas Sangoir-taisa of the
United Nations Metahuman Peacekeeping Forces in his home dimension? His battle-name is 'Looney Tunes,'"
Narumi then stated. "Doug-san, this
is Yoshino Tomomi-shoi, junior ship's combat warfare director. In case you don't know, her rank in Canada is
'acting sub-lieutenant;' I can hear the London accent in your voice even if
your words are clearly American."
"Yes, I am American,
Narumi-chan," I said as I reached up to unbuckle and slip off my
helmet. I was quick to sense the
appraising looks all the girls around me were giving on unmasking myself. Tomomi's eyes flashed with interest until she
focused on my wedding ring, and then she nodded in understanding. "And believe me, that I'm in the land of
my homeland's brothers born of the same mother does my heart a world of
good."
"Wonderful," Tomomi
stated. "In the meantime,
Hiromi-onesama awaits us. This
way."
She turned and headed to a
recessed stairwell in the middle of the flight deck close to the hangar. "What do you want done with your
motorcycle, Doug-san?" Henrietta asked.
"Could you put it
somewhere safe, Henrietta-chan?" I asked in turn. "And PLEASE, don't take it apart! I had a nosy goddess of the future do that in
one of my longer stays and I prefer not to go through putting it back together
again."
"Which goddess of the
future?" Tomomi asked.
"Skuld."
A surprised look crossed her
face. "From A Megami-sama?!"
I blinked in confusion . . .
* *
*
Somewhere, a different
dimension,
"AH-CHOO!"
"Bless you, Skuld! Are you alright?"
A moan. "Someone's talking about me,
One-sama!"
Belldandy hummed. "I wonder who would it be . . .?"
* *
*
Local Date and time: Sunday 9 May 2011, 1331 hours EDT
Location: H.M.C.S. Haida, Deck A12 Aft, Flag
Officer's Level,
Tomomi knocked at the open
doorway. "One-sama?"
"Enter, minna-san,"
a voice called back in Japanese.
"You found him?"
"Hai, One-sama, we
did," Henrietta stated as she waved me into the room.
Looking around, I was quickly
taken by the somewhat spartan nature of what appeared to be a reception room
for visitors. There was a work desk aft
with a small meeting table in the middle of the room. Bookshelves lined all the bulkheads save for
the main door and a side door that I assumed opened into the personal living
quarters of the – as Tomomi had explained when we came here – Director of the
Volunteer United Nations Earth Defence Force.
Whose insignia – a blue U.N. flag with the wreathed globe over a cross
crusader sword and Japanese katana – was hanging from the wall, bracketed on
both sides by the Canadian White Ensign and the national flag of Japan.
Which made sense since the
woman who had greeted Tomomi had also spoken in Japanese.
So what was she doing on a Canadian
starship?
Starship . . .
Damn! I'm STILL boggling over that!
Said woman – who had been
seated at her work desk typing away on some sort of laptop computer – turned to
gaze at me, and then smiled.
"Welcome aboard, good traveller," she said as she stood up and
walked over, her hand out. "Are you
alright?"
I was gaping at her.
The Director of
the Force was a teenager?!
Okaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay .
. . this was DEFINITELY a new one on me . . .
* *
*
Gazing at the handsome man –
she put his physical age at about early thirties, though his eyes flashed a
look that indicated that he was a lot older; Are the humans of his Earth as
long lived as Vosians or Avalonians? – Moroboshi Hiromi then smiled as she
pulled her hand away, giving him a knowing look. "Never expected something like
this?"
He blinked and then
flustered. "Not really . . . "
A chuckle. "Oh, don't worry about that, good
sir," she stated. "You'll find
a lot of things in this universe to be quite unique. But I'm sure that your universe has its own
many mysteries as well, especially given the fact that you are a
metahuman." As he gaped at her, she
smirked. "Our sensors picked up
those interesting quirks in your DNA when we first detected you on the training
range. Natural-born or
fate-gifted?"
He gaped. "Um, natural-born . . . "
A nod. "Well, no doubt whatever Powers control
our lives felt you worthy to gain such gifts," she stated as she waved him
to a chair. "Here, sit! Be comfortable! You've probably had a bit of a harrowing
journey, so you need to relax."
Another blink, and then he
did as she bade. "One-sama, this is
Douglas Sangoir-taisa, a member of the United Nations Metahuman Peacekeeping
Forces in his universe," Narumi then stated. "He's known by the battle-name 'Looney
Tunes' and he would prefer to be called 'Doug.'
Doug-san, this is Moroboshi Hiromi-onesama, the Director of the United Nations
Earth Defence Force. Her battle-name
amongst those like her is 'Ryuko Kyorei.'
Also a third-year high school student at Tomobiki High School, Class
Four."
He blinked several times, and
then he gaped. "How old are
you?"
He then flustered on noting
that he asked a VERY rude question as it would be seen in the West. Hiromi then chuckled. "It depends on what you actually mean by
one's age, Doug-san. Physically, I'm
eighteen years old. Chronologically – in
this life – I'm only two. And spiritually,
I'm over eighteen hundred years old.
Take your pick."
Doug's jaw dropped . . .
* *
*
THAT answer surprised me like
nothing I had ever heard before.
Without hesitation, my
mage-sight clicked in as I gazed on my host.
The result . . .
Oh, SHIT . . .!
Instantly, I was on my knees
as I prostrated myself before this living Celestial in the form of what I
simply had no choice but to believe was a fully-organic biological
android to boot! "Forgive
me, Most Holy One, for invading . . .!"
"ENOUGH!"
My ears were nearly ripped
apart by that shout.
A tired sigh. "Doug-san, please! I am an emperor of nothing! On top of that – while some of the witless
dullards I've met since I was allowed to take this body for my own two years
ago would think me a phoenix reborn – I do not demand worship from
ANYONE!" the woman/phoenix/bioroid before me growled in clear annoyance at
my simple show of respect to a Celestial.
"I would assume you used some sort of ki-sight on me?"
I gazed up at her to find her
dark brown eyes flashing with annoyance . . . with a bare fleck of
amusement. "Actually, mage-sight,
Moroboshi-sama," I confessed.
Her jaw dropped. "You're a sorcerer?"
A chuckle. "I've dabbled with magic from time to
time."
"Well, do sit down,
please!" she stated. "I care
not to speak to someone's BACK, especially if they're kneeling before me. I may have been the Xiàolíng Emperor of Hàn
in my first life, but I claim no such title now." She then glared off to my right rear. "And may I ask, little sisters, what
you're all doing STANDING there?!"
A chorus of sucked-in breaths
made me turned to see looks of profound embarrassment on the faces of all the
girls who had escorted me there. They
then bowed low to my current host.
"We're sorry, One-sama!" they chanted as one.
"Tomomi-chan, go find
Seina-chan," my host then barked out in a command voice. "I need tea, coffee and fruit juices in
case our guest has a queasy stomach from his transition into our universe. Some soft snacks as well. Rest of you, be off with you!"
"HAI!"
And with that, they nearly
knocked themselves out getting out of the room!
A tired sigh then escaped my
host. "I do apologise for that,
Doug-san," she then said with a voice touched with a little
weariness. "I can sense you have
your own sense of propriety towards dealing with those strongly touched by the Te'a
. . . but despite my origins and my many gifts, I desire only to be a normal
girl. Fate, sadly, decreed
otherwise." She then smiled at me. "So please, call me Hiromi. And try not to use '-sama' with my name, good
sir. Or I will call you 'Sangoir-taisa'
until you're sick to death of hearing it . . . AND arrange for proper navy side
parties when you step on and off this ship or any of her sisterships while
you're with us."
She winked, which made me
laugh. Okay, I could go along with
that. "Deal, Hiromi-chan!" I
said as I offered my hand to her, which she took in both of her own and gave it
a very tender squeeze. "So your
Earth has developed bioroid tech?"
"It was forced on our
Earth two years ago when my adopted race – we call ourselves 'Avalonians' as a
whole – fled lives of sexual slavery which they had been subjected to for a
century after the bioroid factory was discovered by a race calling themselves
'Niphentaxians.'" She then
hummed. "Are you a Trekker,
Doug-san?"
"Somewhat familiar with
the series," I replied, trying not to tremble with outrage at what my host
just said. "Though my experience in
travelling in other dimensions has shown me that there are considerable
differences between various realities when it comes to how various forms of
fiction are played out."
A nod. "We're familiar with that. Are you aware of the Iotians the Enterprise
under Jim Kirk encountered in the second year of their voyage of
exploration?"
"A race of mimics."
"The Niphentaxians are
our equivalent of them, but possessed with a religious fervour that truly is
quite frightening to behold," Hiromi stated as I relaxed myself. "Atop that, once they discovered the
many benefits of having the Avalonians enslaved to them, they lost a lot of
their technological, cultural and social replicating knowledge. One of the men who discovered the Avalon
factory, Master Ganzo dai-Louc, came to realise what was happening right away
and struggled for decades to see them free."
"He succeeded."
"With much help."
A nod. Damn!
Almost like the universe of Megatokyo in 2034 where I encountered the
Knight Sabres and helped destroy my native counterpart in that city, James D.
Quincy. "So your people fled
here," I mused. "What's to
stop them from retaliating?"
"Well, confronting
celestial dragons from two different planets, facing two armies of the finest
warriors, plus wrecking not just their space fleet but their space factories
and everything else they could muster to strike back on Earth – thus making
them quite vulnerable to a race known as the Ipraedies – made them see the
light. Furthermore, the leader of the
latest 'church' to seize control of Phentax Two – their homeworld – was arrested
over a year ago and sent to a planet named Vos to be imprisoned for life for a
wretched incident nearly eight years ago when a biological warfare device was
unleashed on that world's capital city, murdering five million sentient
beings."
I paled.
Bio-war . . .
Oh, joy . . .
"My sympathies," I
whispered before perking as a knock at the main door, and then I turned to see
a tomboyish girl – also an Avalonian bioroid, my mage-sight quickly confirmed –
in the same type of uniform Tomomi and Narumi wore. She was brown-haired and had blue-grey
eyes. In one of her hands, she carried a
big tray of drinks and a plate of snacks.
"Please excuse me for
bothering you, Hiromi-onesama, Doug-san," she – her family name was YAMAGUCHI;
no doubt, this was the "Seina" that Hiromi just asked for – said as
she walked in and moved to serve use.
"What would you like?" she asked as she gazed at me.
"Is that coffee
Tim's?" I asked.
A smirk. "Of course!"
"Double-double,
please!"
"Hai!"
* *
*
Watching Yamaguchi Seina
serve her current guest, Hiromi relaxed herself as she waited her turn, her
ki-sight quickly clicking in as she scanned Doug's body.
The result amazed her.
The fellow before him was
physically over a hundred years old – even if he looked like a man in his early
thirties at the most; Some sort of age-stopping power? the reborn emperor
of the Toshi of the Three Kingdoms wondered to herself – and bore the
considerable physical and mental scars of a life that had been rocked by battle
after battle throughout his lengthy travels.
His emotional ki aura indicated he was determined to do everything to
get home to his wife and friends no matter what; noting the streaks of loyalty
he felt towards his spouse, Hiromi had to nod in admiration at such
devotion. Atop that, there were the
clear signs of magical hexes and curses upon the man. On noting that, Hiromi sighed.
A plaything of the gods! How depressing . . .!
* *
*
Elsewhere, else when . . .
AH-CHOO!
AH-CHOO!
AH-CHOO!
* *
*
"One-sama?"
A sigh. "My apologies, Seina-chan. My usual."
"Hai!"
Tea was then served, and then
Seina left the room, closing the door behind her. On sensing that, Doug then sighed. "You scanned me, didn't you? Martial artist?"
"Jonin-rank in my
family's Art: Saiko Jinseijutsu-ryu."
A blink. "'Way of the Supreme Life?'"
A smile. "A little pretentious, I agree . . . but
it is a very thorough school that not just teaches fighting but how to live
life with as minimal wear-and-tear on one's physical form as possible,"
Hiromi admitted. "Sadly, part of
the reason I came to be the way I am in this life forced such knowledge on my
heart and soul, so I do my best to honour my family's Art and teach it –
despite my considerable lack of teaching experience – to those whom I could
help better their lives. My elder
sister, Moroboshi Negako-onesama – our planet's first true artificial intelligence
to be frank – is the Grandmaster of the Art.
Even if she LOATHES the word 'sensei!'"
He laughed. "First true A.I., huh? How created?"
"A form of powerful
soul-magic based on meson that allowed various warriors of our overall family
to contribute their memories and experiences into a mental 'database' of
knowledge. Eight hundred years after it
was first created, it woke up into One-sama.
But since the Avalonians were still many decades away, members of my
family took up a powerful magical oath known as the 'Promise of Bunka Go-nen'
to keep One-sama alive and well.' My
adopted brother – and the DNA template for my body – was the fifty-seventh such
person to take the Sacred Promise. It
was fulfilled two years ago."
He gave her a knowing
look. "With cost, I take it?"
"A permanently sundered
soul which gave him a true twin sister in Tariko-onesan. Both One-sama's soul and my own – which was
trapped in my earring . . . " – she pointed to her magatama – " . . .
made it happen over a period of ten years." A sigh.
"You weathered it
well."
"Arigato. Now, what on Earth am I going to do with you,
Doug-san?"
He gave her a helpless shrug
. . .
* *
*
Canadian lighthouse to U.S. Warship approaching it: "This is a lighthouse. Your call!"