by Ben Wolf
“Then I might as well do it from the start,” Justin mumbled, and he squeezed his right fist hard and fast.
Quan opened his mouth to say something else, but he went silent at the sight of Justin’s orange energy sword extending from his robotic wrist.
6
“Is this really how you want this to go?” Justin asked. “Because I’ve been through a hell you couldn’t even begin to fathom. You want a taste of that, then come on over.”
[That’s right, JB,] Keontae said. [Don’t take any shit from these bastards.]
Quan glanced back at the other three, all of whom stood their ground, well trained, disciplined. Waiting for Quan’s direction.
He nodded to them, and they each pulled plasma repeaters from the back of their waistbands and pointed them at Justin.
[Uh… I take it back.] Keontae yelled, [Run!]
Justin took off and ran to the side, deeper into the Asian District. As he ran, he released his clenched fist, and the energy sword fizzled to nothing once again.
Plasma blasts sheared into buildings as he passed them by, but his legs didn’t stop moving. Shouts sounded behind him, and they made him run even faster.
That’s what I get for bringing an energy sword to a gunfight.
He turned off the main street, rounded a corner, and found himself facing an alley with a dead end and no more glowing cobblestones under his feet.
[On your right,] Keontae said.
Justin looked to his left and saw nothing.
[No, your other right!]
On his right, Justin found a side entrance to some sort of business. Orange Asian symbols glowed from the metal door’s surface. Justin put his hand on the door. His fingers tingled, the symbols turned green, and the door slid open.
“Thanks,” Justin said.
[Got you,] Keontae replied.
More shouting behind him. Definitely not in English.
Plasma crackled toward him, and Justin ducked into the shop just in time. The blasts sizzled past and smacked into the back wall of the alley.
The door shut behind him, and he placed his hand on it again so Keontae could lock it. Similar characters on the inside of the door went from green to orange.
[Don’t stop. That door’s not very strong. They’ll get through.]
“Great.”
Justin stood in a room lined with shelves of food—everything from sacks of rice to boxes of produce and crates containing… something. They were all labeled with Asian characters, and Justin didn’t have time to explore.
It looked like some sort of storage room, and he saw another sliding door ahead, between two shelving units.
Pounding sounded on the side door, another reminder that he had to keep moving. He bolted for the door, and it slid open on its own.
On the other side, Justin found a grocery store of sorts. The same food and boxes lined the shelves out here, but it had a more inviting, welcoming feel, and it was smaller than the storage room had been—more homey. Blue-white light shined throughout the whole store, giving it an almost clinical feel.
A clerk, or perhaps the proprietor, stood behind a counter, wearing a white apron stained with blood. Embedded in the counter, a case displayed various meats. Dead chickens and ducks, both plucked clean of feathers, hung from hooks on the ceiling around him.
The proprietor gawked at Justin, pointed, and said something Justin couldn’t understand.
“Hi.” Justin waved, then he rushed toward the front of the shop.
But as he made it to the front, two of the four Ikari thugs strode into the store. They both noticed him immediately and raised their repeaters.
Shit.
The proprietor ducked behind his counter, and Justin dove behind the nearest shelf as plasma blasts sheared into the back wall and the bags of rice stacked there.
On his hands and knees, Justin scrambled across the other two rows of shelves and took cover behind one of them.
The two thugs spoke to each other—Justin made out distinct voices, but as usual, he couldn’t understand them.
[They’re tryin’ to box you in,] Keontae said. [One on your left, one on your right.]
“You speak their language now?” Justin joked.
[Actually, yeah, I do,] Keontae said. [It’s Chinese. Learned it from the door I just hacked. Only some, but it’s enough to make out what they’re saying.]
“Nice that you’ve become a sentient Rosetta Stone, but that doesn’t help me get out of here. What do I do?” Justin hissed.
[I’m gonna scare the shit out of ’em,] Keontae said. [When you see me move outta your arm, use your stun gun to take the first one down. Stay low, aim well. Headin’ to your right.]
“Okay. Damn good idea.”
[I know.] Keontae quickly added, [Now.]
Justin’s arm tingled, and Keontae materialized to the right of the shelf, wreathed in green light.
An obvious gasp sounded from the first of the two thugs, and then Justin curled around the shelf, took quick but careful aim with his palm, and shot a stun blast.
The thug seized, went rigid, and went down. His repeater clattered away, but not toward Justin. But he was out… for now.
His friend rushed over to him, spouting off something in Chinese, but he stopped when he saw Keontae still standing there. Then Keontae started to hover toward him.
Justin followed, but he stayed low.
The Ikari thug shouted and yelled and fired his repeater at Keontae in erratic shots, each of which passed through Keontae as if he were… well, a ghost.
With his green arms spread wide, Keontae descended toward the thug, who now cowered in fear at the apparition before him. He covered his face with his arms and looked away, quivering.
When next the thug looked up, Justin stood in Keontae’s place, pointing his metal palm at the thug.
“Lights out,” Justin said. Then he stunned him.
Keontae jumped into Justin’s arm again with a tingle.
“Good work, Key.” Justin reached down to grab one of the plasma repeaters.
Behind them, the door to the storage room slid open, and the third thug in black stepped into the store. Justin froze.
[Don’t celebrate yet, JB!]
The thug fired fresh blasts at Justin, who abandoned his hope of grabbing one of the repeaters. Instead, he ran for the store entrance.
[The cage!]
“What?”
[Control panel. Touch it, and I’ll lock all three of ’em in the store,] Keontae explained.
Justin saw it and dove for it with his right hand extended. His fingers smacked the control panel, and Keontae jumped into the store’s network with another tingle in Justin’s fingertips.
The metal cage in the store’s wide front opening rattled down and locked in place. The thug kept firing, but the blasts continued to miss Justin, who’d stepped clear of his line of sight. Then the cage rattled again, and the bars twisted to the side, revealing that they weren’t bars at all but rather metal panels that formed a solid wall of metal, locking everyone inside.
Another panel on the outside of the store blinked with a green light. A signal from Keontae.
Justin touched the panel and felt the familiar vibration of Keontae reentering his arm. All the while, the metal wall rattled as the thug trapped inside tried to get out, but he couldn’t.
[Now you can tell me I did well.]
“What about the back door?” Justin asked.
[Cage is down over that, too,] Keontae replied. [So like I said, you can tell me—]
“Hey!” a shout interrupted Keontae’s words.
Justin turned back to the street.
Quan stood there, still clad in his white shirt and glowing orange undershirt. The light from the irradiated koi pond under the street gave him a ferocious appearance, especially now that night had fully fallen. He looked like a phantom bent on revenge.
But instead of holding a repeater in his hand, he held a gleaming whote sword. It was curved and looke
d more like a katana than any Chinese sword Justin had ever seen.
[Those dudes were speakin’ Chinese, and so was Quan earlier,] Keontae replied. [Sword’s definitely Japanese, though, and so is the word Ikari. Means ‘fury,’ loosely translated. But I’m not surprised. You’ve seen this place. It’s a blend of lots of Asian cultures. Even included some Arabic ones, too. Probably why it’s called the ‘Asian District’ and not ‘Chinatown,’ or somethin’ like that.]
“So what do you think he’s gonna do with the sword?” Justin asked.
[Probably wants to cut off your other arm,] Keontae said. [And you’re welcome, by the way.]
“For what?”
[My cultural insight.]
“Yeah. I feel more informed than ever.”
Quan pointed the white sword at Justin. “You and me. Man to man. Your sword against mine.”
[I’m gonna go out on a limb here and guess he probably knows what he’s doin’ with that thing. Probably a bad idea to fight ’im.]
“I think I agree with you.”
“Quit talking to yourself and accept my challenge,” Quan demanded.
Justin started toward him. “What do I get if I win?”
“I let you leave.”
[JB, you’re not seriously considering doin’ this?]
Justin ignored Keontae. “And if you win?”
“You die.”
[Yeah… don’t do this, JB. He’ll cut you into sashimi.]
“I’ve got a plan,” Justin muttered. “One swing of that sword, and mine will cut right through it. Boom. End of fight.”
[Not much of a plan.]
“Why complicate things? Occam’s razor scooter, and all that,” Justin muttered.
[That’s not the term.]
“Close enough.” Then, louder, Justin said, “I accept.”
Quan beckoned him into the vivid blue street, which was now empty aside from the two of them. Everyone else must’ve fled once the shooting started.
The glow from the cobblestones beneath their feet provided ample light for Justin to see his opponent, and the abundance of neon lights on the buildings around them cast Quan’s angry face and his blond hair in various colors.
Justin stood about six feet away from Quan, clenched his right fist, and extended his energy sword. It burned orange like Quan’s undershirt, only brighter and hotter.
“Let’s go,” Justin said.
Quan inched closer with the sword cocked near his shoulder, ready to swing.
Justin didn’t move.
The white sword flashed toward Justin’s head, and he took a step back and brought his energy sword up to defend.
But instead of his energy sword shearing through Quan’s blade, the white sword sliced clean through the orange energy, briefly interrupting its flow, and slammed into the side of Justin’s shoulder.
The blow sent vibrations ricocheting into Justin’s chest and down his arm, and he stumbled back, shocked that Quan’s sword was still intact. He looked down at his arm and saw a noticeable groove in the metal where Quan had struck him. Had Justin not stepped back, the blade very well could have sliced through his neck instead.
With his mouth hanging open, Justin asked, “How?”
“Galvanized heatproof alloy,” Quan replied with a cunning smile. “Can’t be destroyed by weapons such as yours.”
Shit.
[You may wanna consider running again.]
But before Justin got the chance, Quan attacked, swinging his sword like a demon. Justin clumsily dodged about three-quarters of the blows, somehow managing to stay on his feet while he did. The other quarter he batted away with his metal arm itself.
Fury indeed.
None of Quan’s strikes actually hurt his metal arm—he’d barely ever felt any pain in it since Garth had lowered his pain settings down to their minimum level back at ACM-1134—but he knew he could only last so long before Quan outmaneuvered him and cut him somewhere else. Then the fight would really be over.
[Your arm’s strong, JB,] Keontae reminded him. [Use that!]
Good idea. Quan’s sword may have been impervious to heat and energy, but it was still only a thin piece of metal. Justin waited for his moment, and on Quan’s next swing, he blocked with his metal forearm and quickly grabbed its white blade with his metal fingers.
He squeezed and wrenched all at once, but instead of the blade bending, it shattered into shards under the force of his grip.
Now it was Quan’s turn to back up with a stunned expression on his face while Justin gloated.
Quan’s surprise vanished in a blink, and he leaped at Justin with his foot extended.
Justin took the kick square to his chest, and it knocked him flat on his back. In his periphery, a big orange koi floated under the left side of his head and emerged from under the right side of his head.
At the same time, Quan’s left foot screamed down toward Justin’s face, and he rolled to the side.
CRACK.
As Justin launched up to his feet, he realized that Quan’s foot had actually managed to crack the faux-cobblestone street. Was his leg prosthetic, like Justin’s arm?
He was wearing baggy black pants, so Justin had no way of knowing. But Justin’s chest felt like he’d been hit with a sledgehammer, and if he hadn’t moved, his head would’ve been reduced to mush on the street.
Quan engaged Justin again, this time with a series of kicks and punches, most of which Justin took as blows on his arms and occasionally to his face. They all hurt, but they weren’t enough to take Justin down. Quan was the smaller of the two, and he wasn’t hitting very hard.
Then Quan’s left foot lashed up at his head, primed to take his head clean off, but Justin’s right arm went up to defend. A muted metallic clank sounded upon impact, and Justin got his answer. Quan’s lower leg, if not his entire leg and hip, was prosthetic.
The kick sent Justin reeling anyway, and he staggered to keep from falling. Quan’s attacks persisted, but Justin didn’t want to get pummeled anymore, so he focused on avoiding as many of them as he could.
Quan moved faster and had way more actual skill than Justin did, but Justin had one advantage: his arm’s enhanced strength. Time to put it to use and end this.
Another devastating kick from Quan’s prosthetic leg launched toward Justin’s head, but this time, Justin’s right arm blocked the attack, hooked around Quan’s shin, and locked his ankle in place. Then Justin took one huge step, leveraged all the strength his arm could muster, and twisted hard.
He’d hoped to throw Quan a mile down the street, but instead Quan’s back crashed into one of the food vendors’ carts, knocking it over and spilling its contents all over the street.
[Day-um, JB!] Keontae hooted. [I thought that boy was gonna kick your ass. You must’ve picked up some fighting shit after all.]
“Learned everything I know from you,” Justin said. “That, and after the mine, I’m just not afraid anymore.”
[I hear that. Still, nice work, bro.]
As Keontae finished saying it, Quan slowly rose from the wreckage of the cart. He wobbled a bit, dazed but somehow still standing. Justin was impressed. He had to admit it.
Food stains marred Quan’s white short-sleeved shirt on both the front and back, and dark sauce dripped from his tattooed hands and forearms. Justin had to do a double take to be sure it wasn’t blood.
“I will kill you,” Quan seethed at him.
[I think we’re done here, JB. Sleep this bastard, and let’s go.]
The ache in Justin’s chest and in sporadic other spots on his human arm and torso echoed Keontae’s sentiment. Quan rushed forward with a barbaric yell, and Justin opened the palm of his right hand and shot him with a stun blast.
Quan slumped to the glowing street, quivering, but alive, with koi swimming all around his body. If Justin were honest with himself, Quan probably would’ve kicked his ass if the fight had continued, so Justin had done what he needed to do to end it.
“Sorry, but I’m
not gonna fight you anymore,” Justin said. “I’m gone. You won’t see me again. Be good, Quan.”
With that, Justin turned back toward downtown and left Quan lying in the street.
If he’d wanted to, Justin could’ve booked a room at one of the ultra-posh hotels downtown, but it would’ve shredded his credit balance. In the end, he’d settled on a modest place outside of downtown but plenty far away from the Asian District—just in case Quan and his friends decided they hadn’t had enough.
The thought occurred to Justin that an environment like this, aboard a colonist ship with its own city inside, shouldn’t have any use for hotels, or at least very little. Unless they got regular traffic from random ships like the Viridian, which seemed unlikely given their empty docking bay, who was meant to stay in these hotels?
He supposed that people from one part of the city might want to visit another part without feeling the need to head home for the night, or perhaps the hotels offered more of a getaway experience for patrons. And even on colony ships, people probably still went out, got hammered, and couldn’t get back home. Maybe the hotels helped out there, too.
Even so, the one he’d chosen seemed pretty empty. He was the only one in the lobby when he walked in, until the concierge emerged from an office behind the front desk. She was a young lady with deep brown eyes, cute, and with dark hair. Might’ve been Asian, in fact, but Justin couldn’t tell for sure.
And even if she was Asian, she didn’t have to live in the Asian District. That kind of segregation based on race was mostly a thing of the past, especially where the Coalition was concerned. They didn’t tolerate that sort of bullshit.
She booked Justin for a basic room and directed him to the grav lifts, and he headed up to his room on the top floor for the night. After a quick shower, during which Justin discovered several new bruises, courtesy of Quan, he retired for the night.
As promised, Keontae jumped out of Justin’s arm and into the hotel’s system, leaving Justin alone and in perfect solitude. Exhausted, he fell asleep in no time.