“He went that way!” the singer shouted in exasperation, pointing to the opposite corner. She wanted them gone.
Reiko and Bishop pushed people aside in their pursuit and saw Sugimoto running through another door.
This led into the kitchen, where several chefs carted bowls of pork miso ramen that smelled very good. Squid was being fried, and sushi was being meticulously crafted. Bishop spotted a tank full of crabs, stacked up so they had no place to go other than to await their end. They were twice as big as normal crabs, and he wondered if these were the ones with the poisonous claws.
Sugimoto was no longer wearing a raccoon suit but in his underwear, the tattoo of a dragon chomping on a man covering his chest. He was aiming his gun at Bishop. Reiko fired her pistol, and the tracer hit him in the right ankle, causing him to stumble and drop his gun.
“You shot me! I can’t believe you shot me.”
“You’ll live,” Reiko said.
Sugimoto fired multiple times their way, hitting one of the chefs in the chest.
Bishop sprinted toward the chef and pulled him behind the kitchen counter for cover. The rest of the staff were huddling there as well. Reiko fired at Sugimoto, but all her remaining shots just barely missed, making them very convincing. Her marksmanship was incredible, Bishop noted.
Sugimoto bolted out the kitchen’s back door.
* * *
—
They got their shoes back and stepped outside of the club. Forty local police officers confronted them with guns.
“This is a huge police presence,” Reiko said.
“Lot of politicians spend time here,” Bishop explained. “Lot of money being thrown around that the police want to protect.”
“Place any weapons you have on the ground and put your hands in the air or we will shoot,” their commander ordered over the speakers.
“What should we do?” Reiko asked Bishop.
Bishop grinned. “I’m Bishop Wakana of the Tokko. Back off before I arrest every single one of you!” he barked at them, raising his badge.
At the mention of Tokko, they did just that, some even bowing in apology. Bishop knew everything about the police officers from the Tokko files on his portical; the bribes they’d taken, charges of excessive violence, and even the illicit relationships some of them had with prisoners.
“No wonder your niece wants to be a Tokko agent,” Reiko commented.
“That’s not a good thing,” Bishop said.
“You don’t want your niece to take after you?”
Bishop thought again about Texarkana. “Never,” he answered.
REIKO MORIKAWA
LONG BEACH
I.
Sugimoto’s tracer indicated he had driven to Long Beach.
Long Beach was a port bazaar, stinking of salt water, seaweed, fried tempura at the nightstands, oil used by cargo boats, and the rusticated metals of automated mechas that had been in the water too long. Bright neon signs stained the building fronts, offering anything imaginable in purchasable doses. Even though it was early in the morning, the streets were full of shoppers, partiers, and drunks looking for a companion among those as lonely as they were.
The Long Beach Fish Market was one of the busiest places to be in the early morning. Thousands of people were coming and going. There were a dozen or so buyers who were hastily carrying large tuna and swordfish on wooden pushcarts. Mechas that were only six meters tall and had a crew of three were carrying crates full of seafood. The floors were wet from being hosed down, and fresh fish were being cut by band saws and electric knives.
A forklift truck honked at them. Bishop and Reiko got out of the way, and a stream of motorbikes followed the vehicle.
“He’s nearby,” Reiko said about Sugimoto.
Bishop and Reiko entered the tuna auction area. There were crates everywhere and enormous tuna lining the floors. The genetically modified tuna were four times the size of their natural counterparts.
“You know a lot about the auctions?” Reiko asked.
“Enough to get by. The main auction was over an hour ago, but this is a cleanup round for the smaller vendors who can’t afford the best fish,” Bishop said. “Purists insist the engineered fish don’t taste as good as the ones grown in the wild—those go for premium prices, especially the fish shipped in from the Tsugaru Straits just off of Hokkaido, as they’re more creamy with rich fatty meat. Theoretically, the cloned ones are the exact same, only at a tenth of the price.”
“Are they?”
“I honestly can’t tell the difference.”
“You think one day they’ll clone all of us and only keep the ‘best’ around?” Reiko asked.
“As soon as humanly possible, and add in a docile gene to keep us tidy and subservient.”
Bishop pointed to the quick finger movements of the purchasers and explained the intricacies of tuna auctioning.
Reiko marveled at his knowledge and said, “It’s not too late for you to become a sushi chef.”
“It wouldn’t feel the same without my brother,” Bishop said. “All the real tuna are sold. Now it’s clone time.”
They spotted Sugimoto limping around the cloned fish.
“He seems in a rush,” Bishop noted.
“Why?”
“He’s not examining any of the tuna.”
“They’re all clones. What’s the point?” Reiko wondered.
“It’s part of the ceremony and ritual,” he said, miffed.
Reiko found his irritation amusing. “Sorry he didn’t respect the ritual of the cloned tuna.”
“Not cool.”
Sugimoto left the fish market and walked briskly toward the docks. He went through several fenced areas, which Reiko and Bishop furtively climbed over. There were mountains of containers, organized into a maze that was confusing to navigate. There were mobile container cranes on rails that could access most of the quay. Labor mechas were outfitted with special equipment to help with the big loads.
Reiko and Bishop spotted guards with concealed weapons, which struck Reiko as highly unusual. They were trying to look like civilians, not military personnel. “Who owns this area?”
“The government,” Bishop replied. “Those two guards are ex-navy, but they’re not employed by the port authority.”
“Who do they work for?”
“My records don’t show. Last official spotting is Bangkok two months ago, where they were working as private contractors.”
Reiko motioned Bishop away from the gates and toward the stacked container crates. She took out the grappling hook on her utility belt and attached it to her pistol. The hook had a magnet that could clinch on to any metallic surface. She aimed, let the portical calculate the distance up to the tenth crate, and fired. It took a few seconds for the hook to secure itself, and she tugged on the rope to be sure it wasn’t loose. She climbed up the rope first, using her feet against the crates to make it a fast ascent. Bishop followed behind. They didn’t see any guards on top.
Reiko gestured toward the waterfront and said, “Sugimoto isn’t far.”
They moved on top of the container crates, using the grappling hook as necessary. It wasn’t long before they arrived at an open space next to the pier. They dropped to their stomachs, as the Labor mechas were tall enough to spot them. Though she couldn’t see Sugimoto, she could see four super tankers that were weighed down in the water by heavy cargo. A Labor was removing a massive cargo box from a ship’s deck and carrying it toward one of the five bulk storage warehouses along the waterfront. Reiko espied several women in working clothes who were giving orders as though they were part of a military regiment. “We have to figure out what’s in the cargo,” Reiko said.
“They’re all ex-military,” Bishop pointed out, then tapped his portical. “Kikkai connection is bad. There might be a disruptor, as it’s r
eally slow. Hold on.” It took a minute for him to get the answers to his search. “Sixty-four of the ninety-two people working down there are ex–mecha corps. The rest are navy.”
“Mecha corps?” Reiko looked back at the cargo boxes. “Can you see cargo manifests on your portical?”
“They haven’t been registered. But it’s a good bet they’re mecha parts.”
Reiko recognized the oversized containers as similar to the ones they received when she worked at Mechtown. “You’re right. They’re assembling mechas here,” she said.
Bishop was reading something on his scans. “Nineteen of those present are mecha engineers.”
“How many are pilots?”
It took another thirty seconds before he could find out. “The eight driving the Labors are certified to drive them, but they’re not military. I’m only spotting three official military pilots.”
“What are their names?”
“Lina Niijima, Pris Watanabe, and your friend Daniela Takemi,” Bishop replied.
“Daniela Takemi?!” Reiko startled. “Are you sure it’s her?”
“Yep.”
“There’s no mistake?”
“No mistake. She must have come here after leaving the Alvarado Sento.”
Reiko was troubled by Daniela’s connection to the bombing. Reiko thought of her last conversation with her right before Bloody Mary attacked. Was Daniela really the one who’d betrayed them? “Is there any chance this whole thing is military related, like a secret operation our forces are carrying out?” Reiko asked, wanting to confirm that it wasn’t official business they were mixing up with something more insidious. She had a hard time accepting Daniela could have betrayed them.
“I wondered that too. But if it’s a covert op, usually my feed will go blank on them with a ‘classified’ notification. I’m not seeing that. I’ve also messaged my boss, Akiko-san, to check if they’re aware of anything going on here, but I’m seriously doubtful.”
“Did she reply yet?”
“The message just barely got out.”
“They’re three of the best pilots we have,” Reiko stated.
“I can see that,” Bishop said as he read his portical. “Their list of awards and commendations is ridiculously long. I’ve read up on them before, but now that I’m seeing this list, it’s incredible.”
Even if Reiko had the Inago, she could not fight against them and expect to win. The idea of fighting against her friend Daniela bothered her more than anything else. “If those are mecha parts, then I need to get the basic measurements and see the way the helmets are shaped,” Reiko said. “I might be able to guess what type of mecha they’re constructing and what their aim might be.”
“You want to get closer?” Bishop inquired.
“We have to so I can do a visual check. How snug is that z-cloak?”
“It can expand.”
“It has camo mode, right?” she asked, remembering him using it at East Texarkana against the TriWalker.
“It does,” Bishop warily answered. “Why?”
Reiko made sure her gun was ready. “Let me under.”
Bishop switched to saggy mode, which stretched out the entire cloak. Reiko came in underneath, and it felt like she was under a small tent that reached down to their feet. The cloak was one-sided as well, so she could look outward and see everything around her. “Put on your hoodie and let’s go.”
The two of them slowly walked toward the storage building. With the hoodie on and the camo doing an effective job of refracting light, no one at ground level spotted them. They were too preoccupied handling their business anyway. Reiko saw the inner tubing of a mecha being carried over by a gigantic forklift truck. There was something about its coating that looked different. Rather than go to the containers that were close to the warehouse, they went around to the backside, where there was minimal security.
“Any ideas how to get down?” Bishop asked.
Reiko took her grappling hook, fired into the top of the container, then threw the rope over the side.
“I’ll go first,” she said, and came out from under the z-cloak, held the rope, and dropped down, occasionally grabbing the rope to soften her fall.
Bishop’s descent was much slower, as he carefully lowered himself on the rope, never once letting go.
When he finally reached the bottom, Reiko looked at Bishop with her brows raised, and he in turn reacted with a defensive, “What?”
There was a soldier guarding the door, but he was distracted reading his portical. “I got this,” Bishop mouthed to her.
He snuck up on the guard, stealthily using the crates to come up from behind. Reiko aimed with her pistol on tranquilizer mode, just in case. Right as Bishop was about to grab the guard, he stepped on a piece of plastic trash. The guard turned around. The two stared at each other in surprise. Before either could react, Reiko fired at the guy’s chest. The tranquilizer dart perforated his armor, but it would still take a few seconds before it could do its work. Bishop punched the guy as hard as he could, knocking him to the ground. He was about to follow up with another punch, but the guard was already unconscious.
“Thanks for the assist,” he said.
“I knew you’d have it all under control,” Reiko said with a teasing smile.
Bishop picked the guard up by his arms and dragged him away from the door. “He’s heavier than he looks,” he said.
“He might have artificial parts,” Reiko suggested. “Most soldiers are getting supplements to improve their strength. Help me take off his uniform.”
The uniform was big for her, but it had an autofit function which made it automatically match her size. He was a hairy man, and the clothing smelled like he hadn’t washed in weeks. Reiko did her best to ignore the odor. Bishop hid the guard inside one of the lockers and swiped his portical to connect with his own.
“Anything fun?” Reiko asked.
“Not much, but there are two encrypted communications with another mecha officer in Los Angeles discussing the patrol routes for their defense force.”
“Does he explain why they need the patrol routes?”
“No. But that would spoil the mystery.”
“I like spoilers,” Reiko said.
Inside the warehouse, Reiko saw the first of the mechas. Only its upper half was assembled, and they were still getting the legs out. She did not recognize its head as it was some new type, based possibly on the Leviathan class, though with far sharper contours. She did notice a distinctive type of wiring for the BPG, which, theoretically, could give it much more energy. She had to check the armaments, even if they were in a separate compartment. There were so many questions she had. Most of the ground crew were too busy on the mecha’s construction to notice her in uniform and Bishop in his z-cloak.
“What kind of mecha is it?” Bishop asked.
“I’ve never seen this type.”
“Can you tell if it’s a combat model?”
“I think so. Based on the helmet, you can tell what kind of bridge they have and if it’s designed to withstand bombardment.”
“Is it?”
“It’s titanium and there’s all sorts of sensors on the helmet. It looks like it has a bridge crew of five, which is small but not abnormal for military.” Something was bothering her. “The hatches and conduits on the armor look different from anything I’ve seen before.”
“In what way?”
“It’s almost like they’re designed to have a fluid field around them, but I’m not sure how that would work,” Reiko said, wanting to get even closer. It had anatomical features like a rib cage and clavicles, rather than the samurai-styled armor most mechas had been designed after.
Suddenly she remembered Bloody Mary’s words: I’ll make sure every single one of you knows what it’s like to feel the terrors of war, unsafe within your own walls
. If you don’t want to take part, you can flee Los Angeles, as I will make no distinction between civilian and military personnel. All are guilty in my eyes. Today’s bombing is only a warning. Starting tomorrow, the real war begins.
“I think they’re going to attack Los Angeles,” Reiko said.
“Which part?”
“I mean the whole city.”
Bishop stiffened. “If that thing attacked Los Angeles, how much trouble would the city be in?”
“Hard to say without checking its weapon systems,” she said. “But with those three piloting, they’d cause a hell of a lot of destruction.”
“I got to get a message out to my sister-in-law and niece.”
“Go ahead,” Reiko said.
Bishop tried to send a message and ended up cursing. “I’m not getting any reception on my portical.”
Reiko pointed up at a Labor that was inactive. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“What are you thinking?” Bishop asked.
“We can’t let them assemble these mechas, and that’s our way of stopping them,” Reiko said.
“I think we’re thinking the same thing.”
Reiko stared back up at the Labor. “What about getting help?”
“We can get help after we kick some ass,” Bishop said.
“I can get behind that.”
“Will the Labor even work?” Bishop inquired.
“No reason it shouldn’t.”
They approached the Labor. It was an older model and had seen its share of rough times. The upper chest contained the BPG and an engineering nook for maintenance crews of two. Labors in general looked like construction equipment if they were anthropomorphic. She climbed up the ladder on its front and entered the bridge in its head. If there was a security lock in place, it would be over before it began. Fortunately, there was only a kikkai restraint which was intended to prevent access. Reiko had dealt with these at Berkeley in a manner that annoyed all her colleagues. She just reset the entire program so that it’d go to its default factory settings and lose any additions or changes others had made. She preferred that anyway, as other users would switch up the controls and adjust camera settings and limb articulation sensitivity so that it was like driving something alien.
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