Aleks as Matron of Honor and Fanny, Brynhildr, vet Emily Anders, Dr. Rica Rice and the two youngest pit survivors—Pat and Shannon Bell—as bridesmaids. When someone had said that was way too many bridesmaids, Aleks had told the person to go shove their head up their ass and leave her alone. It was her little sister’s wedding, they would damn well do as they please. That was the last time anyone complained to Aleks, as the rumor was she would assist the next person causing problems with the insertion of said head in said ass. So, the bridesmaids were soon called the Squad.
Janette Jamison’s son Tim was the ring bearer, and Tina was the flower girl. Abigail had demanded they be part of the wedding. Aleks as Matron of Honor had helped choose some traditional classical music for the wedding ceremony besides the “Here Comes The Bride” tome. A certain Sister of Steel, once an opera singer in training and now a Banshee, provided her excellent voice to the proceedings as Abigail was walked down the aisle by General Reed.
Torbin headed the groom’s contingent as best man. Standing next to Ichiro, the others were lined up on Torbin, being a much smaller group than the bride’s squad. Doc Stubbs, Stalin, and Lt. Todd Baker rounded out the contingent. Lt Baker had tried to bow out until Torbin had said, “Look it. You helped get Abigail and I—especially me—back here in one piece. You gave us the info needed to free those pit survivors who are bridesmaids today. This wedding party would be a hell of a lot smaller without your efforts. So please, be and show up, in dress blues. Got it?”
When the Marine saw Abigail in her wedding gown, his mouth flew open. My God, his little sister was knock-down, drag-out gorgeous. He whispered to Ichiro on his shoulder,
“You, my friend, have what is called in the U.S. a ‘keeper’. Looks, brains, hard-working, and she loves the holy hell out of you. Don’t screw this up.”
Ichiro whispered back, “I love her. I am samurai. I will not screw up, blood brother.”
As Abigail walked up the aisle on General Reed’s arm, a large audience looked on. Madam President sat on the bride’s side, George Williams IV on the groom’s so as to show no government favoritism. The Vice President, once again, volunteered to stay in a secured location in the new capital—Bismarck, North Dakota. A substantial Free Japan contingent was on hand on the groom’s side, with a matching Free Russia on the bride’s—My Lady of Steel’s—side. The New Vikings or Norsemen tried to spread themselves on both sides, paying homage to both of the warriors they so respected. U.S. personnel were scattered all over, as were military representatives from Deseret. A slimmed down General Huff had flown in that morning in a VSTOL to be the official representative of Deseret, sitting next to Madam President and the Free Russian President, Alina Federov.
At the back of the temporary church, under the watchful eye of veterinarian Emily Ander’s assistant Wendy Johnson and her partner Cindy, were Young Fuzz and Princess Freya. Keeping them company were Torbin’s and Aleks’ trolls, Tristan and Gage, under the watchful eyes of a pregnant Sue Brown. Her husband was part of the interior security detail. Officiating was Chaplain William White, who had overseen the Pit Victims Memorial. He broke into a broad grin as Abigail and the General reached the dais.
“This is a great day. A great day indeed,” Chaplain’s White’s voice boomed.“We are about to join two young people in the bonds of holy matrimony. A man and a woman from different cultures, countries, coming together with the holy bond of love under the watchful eye of God and all their friends and family. Not to mention under the gaze of most of the free world, as well as some areas not so free.”
He looked at General Reed. “I understand you are standing in as her adopted father, performing the traditional role of the one who gives the young maiden away. Although in this day and age, Abigail has something to say in the matter.” This brought a laugh form the assembly, everyone knowing that Abigail was her own person and not one to be “given away” by anyone.
“I am standing here for her blood parents, Anica Vladu and Craig Jorgensen,” General Reed’s voice rang out. “They are here in spirit, not in body. And for her Uncle Buck Vladu, who requested I do the honors.” Abigail squeezed the General’s arm as she looked at him and mouthed “thank you”. General Reed smiled back.
The Chaplain continued. “Yes, in these days of strife, many cannot be here in body. But they are here in spirit, watching over us to ensure we carry on as they would have.”
He looked toward Ichiro. “Now it is time for Ichiro Yamamoto to join his bride before me, as we ask and receive answers in the age old quest for matrimonial bonding in the name of love, honor, and everlasting commitment in the eyes of God.”
The rest of the ceremony was a bit of a blur, as it followed the traditional western patterns of marriage. Ichiro was dressed in the formal kimono of a male groom, but it had been decided to stick with the Western rituals for sake of simplicity and understanding. Japan had been westernized years ago, despite the desire of some for the old ways in the current environment. Thus, everyone could easily follow the proceedings.
The ceremony reached the final part. The Chaplain held his hands to the heavens.
“I now proclaim Ichiro and Abigail husband and wife. Let no man tear asunder what has been done under the eyes of God. You may…”
Ichi and Abby were clinched and kissing before the Chaplain White could finish. The assemblage broke into loud clapping and cheering, with many yells of encouragement in all the various represented languages.
Ichi whispered in Abby’s ear in English. “I will love you forever.”
“And I you,” she whispered back in Japanese. One of the great love stories continued at full throttle.
As they left the auditorium turned church, there was a large Honor Guard of all the various countries, peoples and military. New Vikings with broadswords, Russians as Cossacks with their sabers, Japanese Samurai with katanas, U.S. Soldiers represented by the Banshees in brand new designed dress uniforms and four Deseret soldiers. As the happy couple marched through the sword arch, Abigail saw the four Deseret representatives were of the Twenty. She almost stopped and burst out crying. She knew she would have to give General Huff a big thank you.
Russian Senior Sergeant Marina Rostova led the other three Banshees who made up their portion of the arch. Short their now standard issue Squid Killer blades compared to the other swords, she ensured (with a little help from Hannah, their maker) they shone with a brilliance that flashed in the sunlight of the midday sun. The ceremony had been blessed with a cool clear sunny day, this Ides of March. There was not a cloud in the sky to cast a depressing shadow.
Two large side rooms were turned into one large reception area for the receiving by the bride and groom of all the guests. Aleks had located a pair of large comfortable chairs for the married couple to reside in, with a table placed nearby on which to place gifts. There would be many, despite Abigail’s protests.
“People want to give you things, little sister,” Aleks had explained. “To refuse would be rude, would upset them. Just accept people love you, wish you the best. You and Ichiro are special. Get used to it.”
Abigail had acquiesced, and sighed. As Torbin had said, once again, heavy was the head that wore the crown.
As Abigail sat and made herself comfortable, she again stared at the large wedding and engagement set that had magically appeared in the last few days. Her eyes filled with tears up as she once again thought about the engagement ring had come from Ichiro’s late mother, the wedding band had been given to her by Uncle Buck.
“It was your mother’s,” Dogman said. “She gave it to me as she was dying. It’s been cleared of any radiation.”
All these years, he had hung on to it, never saying a word. A man full of perpetual surprises.
Guests were beginning to queue up to say hello to the lucky couple and wish them the best, then hit the large tables of refreshments, including cash bars. Abigail had put her foot down about having some formal receiving line as in many a state wedding. She demanded she
be able to sit with Ichiro at an out of the way table with comfortable chairs and talk to people one on one. No pomp, no circumstance. After all, she could have eloped and really thrown things into a screaming mess. Forcing her into a very public wedding for the good of the national morale resulted in her demanding some concessions. This was one of them.
Unbeknownst to anyone, Madam President had used her powers of persuasion to insure a specific person was at the head of any informal line. A strong looking young woman in the dress uniform of a Free Japan Military Officer strode up to Abigail before anyone else could approach. Caught a bit unawares, Ichiro’s eyes widened as he realized who was almost on top of them.
“Princess Akiko of the Imperial Royal Family,” he blurted out as he lurched up, trying to stand at attention and pull his bride to stand. Before he could, the young female officer dropped to one knee in front of Abigail, bowing her head low. Ichiro’s mouth dropped open at this sign of almost total submission by the royal personage.
“This unworthy one wishes to express her undying respect to the Avenging Angel, a Sister of Steel,” the Princess’ voice rang out in Japanese. “And I humbly ask you take this small symbol of my families respect for what you have done, have sacrificed in the defense of the human race. If I may add, you are a personal hero of mine, someone I hope I may emulate as I mature.” She thrust a long object in an ornate silk cover toward Abigail, her eyes still averted. “From my family’s collection. May you use it well.”
What no one knew was that the Princess was doing this all on her own, had asked Madam President if she may have a quick meeting with Abigail before the others. The President saw a kindred spirit in the young lady, thought it was a good idea for the two to meet. Her father the Emperor would later tell her that her name should have been Impetuous One though he said it with a smile. She was a warrior princess, a perfect symbol for a country under siege, and he knew it.
Abigail saw she was no older than her, not yet twenty years old. She knelt down before anyone realized what she was doing. “Princess Akiko. I should be kneeling in front of your royal personage,” she said in perfect Japanese.
At this, the Princess glanced up with her eyes, then back down. “Please. Accept my humble gift.”
The Princess’ handlers, senior ranking officers, were flabbergasted, knowing that if they went up to recover the Princess, it would be a loss of face for her, an almost rebuke by the military of a Crown Princess. Thus, they stayed frozen in place.
Abigail took the silk-wrapped gift. “Domo arigato gozaimasu,” she said as she pulled the silken cord to release the wrapping on the gift. As the covering fell away, she saw it was an ornate katana. As Abigail examined it more closely, she could tell it was old, maybe ancient. She handed it to Ichiro who performed the Japanese sign of extreme surprise and mental conflict, sucking in his breath through almost closed teeth.
He looked at the part of the blade nearest the handle and gasped audibly.
“This is a Fujiwara Kanenaga sword. It is ancient, rare, and superbly made,” Ichiro exclaimed.
“It is from the Emperor’s private museum,” Akiko offered. “I decided a blade such as this should be in the hands of a warrior, not gathering dust. I put a new edge on it myself.”
Abigail’s mouth fell open, and she started to say she could not accept such a fine and ancient gift but stopped. To refuse it would be rude, an insult. Though Abigail felt she did not deserve such an honorable blade, she could not refuse it.
On impulse, Abigail reached out and grabbed the Princess’ hands in her own.
“Please, Princess, look at me, I am just a common person, and feel odd that you are averting your gaze.”
Princess Akiko then looked up. Abigail immediately saw a kindred spirit.
“You are about nineteen, yes Princess?”
“Yes, Avenging Angel. I am.”
“Please, it’s Abigail. I can tell that you, like me, accepted the mantle of a soldier at a young age.”
“Yes, Aveng…Abigail-san. My brother, the Prince, was killed during the early attacks by the Takos, the Squids. I took his place as a royal warrior. I have trained ever since, though my mother, the Empress is not happy with that. My father sees the need for royal activity in defending Japan.” She sighed. “Though he wishes there were males to take my place.”
Abigail paused, thinking. Then, she spoke. “Akiko-san, is it? Will you be my friend? I have no, as we would say, girl or lady friends my age. Other than a cousin, they are all older. And none were trained like I was, like you were at such a young age, as child soldiers. I…would like someone I could talk to, confide to about my experiences.” She looked at Ichiro. “I have my husband, but…he is my husband. You understand.”
The two young women who, in an earlier time, could have been called teenagers, looked at each other. A small smile formed on the lips of the Imperial Princess. “That would be nice. To talk to someone who does not treat me as a…Princess.”
Abigail grinned. “Then, from this time forward, we are friends. As a friend I gladly accept your gift, and hope I am skilled enough to do it justice.”
It was Akiko’s turn to grin. “I have my sources who tell me you train with your husband, who is noted at being one of the best swordsmen around. And now, my Royal Family has an official gift, for both of you.” From beneath her uniform blouse she produced two small jewelry boxes.
“Matching rings with the royal seal. You are now both members of the Royal entourage. Ask for help at any time, and I or another of my family will respond. Japan owes you both.” She bowed her head quickly, then looked at Abigail.
The young bride rose, and had the Princess rise with her. They hugged as if long lost sisters. Which, given their similar experiences, they were in the actual sense of the word.
There was a collective sigh of relief from the Japanese representatives. A minor kerfuffle, nothing which the Emperor would not understand. After all, the Princess had a reputation of being a bit of a pain.
Ichiro tried to bow low to the Princess who grabbed him and hugged him in a surprise move.
“I have heard your President likes to hug people,” the Princess stated. “If it is good enough for her, it should be good enough for a Princess. Besides, you are a Hero, not me. I should bow to you.”
Abigail smiled. “He is married to a Yankee now. He will have to learn how to shake hands more often.”
Ichiro was blushing, stammering. Give him a foe to fight, orders to follow and he was in his element. This unexpected complete departure from the more formal parts of Japanese culture, especially concerning the Royal Family, was causing a bit of psychic overload.
Abigail began to laugh, then hugged her husband. “For once, his tongue is tied into knots,” she said in perfect Japanese. She looked into his eyes, her high heels making her as tall as he.
“I…beg indulgence, Abby. My world keeps shifting around you. I am trying to adapt.”
“You are doing a fine job, Colonel Yamamoto,” Princess Akiko interjected. “You and my new friend, Abigail, are symbols of hope, honor and the warrior spirit in Japan. There are many manga and anime depictions of your actions and adventures, not to mention figurines for the young.”
Now it was Abigail’s turn to blush a bit. “A statue or action figure of me? Now I feel strange.”
The Royal Princess squeezed her hand. “Do not worry, Abigail-san. I have made it my mission to insure they are accurate and respectful depictions of you both. I have already spanked a vendor and a couple of artists with my katana for cheap and nasty representations of you both. As I have also done to those who disrespected Colonel Bender and his wife, Colonel Smirnov.”
Abigail began to laugh. “We may ask for your assistance here in the U.S. There is an artist who is producing comic books in Minot and Bismarck, North Dakota of Torbin and me. They are extremely exaggerated, especially of my…physical attributes.”
Akiko looked at Abigail, a wry smile on her face. “I will make some unofficial inq
uiries, my new friend. I know how you value your Freedom of the Press. But sometimes unofficial persuasion…” She let it hang.
The Royal Princess glanced over at her delegation, still with frozen looks on their faces. “I must leave now. My handlers are the edge of bursting for my violations of official protocol.” She gave a short bow. “I will call you after your honeymoon, friend Abigail.”
“I will be looking forward to it. I have one question. Sergeant Fuzz… are they…”
Princess Akiko pulled herself to her full height. “His memory is treated with the utmost respect. I have a personal gift for you I will send it later as it is still unfinished. I have been working on a painting of you and Sergeant Fuzz. I apologize it is not ready for a wedding gift.”
“You are doing a painting, for me?”
“Yes. I think I knew we would be friends someday.”
Abigail hugged her one more time, trying not to crush the Princess as she did Ichiro. “I am truly honored. As is Sergeant Fuzz.”
“I must go now or my senior officers’ heads will soon explode from the stress. Until we meet again.”
Abigail watched her new friend walk back to her delegation, head held high as if to dare them to create a scene by criticizing her in public.
“She reminds me of you. My love,” Ichiro opined, still speaking Japanese.
“How so, Ichi?”
“Strict sense of honor, opinionated, afraid of nothing other than letting her friends down, tough, and deadly. Yet, behind that hard shell she presents, is a heart full of love and caring.”
Abigail looked at Ichi for a moment. Then she spoke. “That is also me?”
“Yes. One of the many reasons why I am so hopelessly in love with you.” Ichiro took her left hand and kissed it. Abigail smiled and then kissed him. The kiss went on a little longer than normal. Aleks, who was hanging around as a bit of a goal keeper as the Matron of Honor, cleared her throat a bit to get their attention.
“Please. There are many people waiting to pay their respects. There’ll be plenty of time in the next few days for kissing.”
Typhoon of Steel Page 27