“I am happy to be of service, Grandfather.” He rose to survey the vast garden of his grandfather's estate. He held the man in high regard, and understood his need to adhere to the old ways. “When is your visitor arriving?”
“Oh, he should be along any time now. I was told to expect a grand entrance.” He was about to point out a particular flower to his grandson and impart some bit of knowledge when they were both startled by a man falling from the sky. Just as it seemed he was about to meet his end in a brutal heap right in the walkway, his descent slowed and he landed gently on his feet directly in front of them.
“Master Nakamura, please forgive my lack of etiquette. My name is Frank Ford.” His bow was crisp and his Japanese was perfect.
“Mr. Ford, I was told to expect a grand entrance, and you certainly do not disappoint.”
“My apologies, sir. But time is of the essence. I am here to ask you to teach me the ways of the Bushido.”
“It goes against tradition to teach our ways to a gaijin. I am sorry. I cannot help you.” He turned dismissively to leave.
“Sir, if I may show you why I must learn, you might reconsider.”
The old man stopped and slowly turned around. “I must admit I am curious. Your entrance was astounding. I wonder why a man of your obvious talents would need lessons from an old man such as me.”
“It would be easier if I just show you.” He gestured toward a shaded area and pulled what seemed to be a chrome ball out of his pocket. “Do you believe in aliens?”
Following the strange American at a distance, with his grandson following intently behind, Nakamura answered, “It would be foolish to assume that this one planet, in all of the cosmos, would be the only one to breed life.”
“That's a fine answer, sir. Probably the best I've ever heard. I've been chosen by a wise and ancient race of aliens to be what they call the Custodian of Earth. And this is what I'm currently up against.” He held the orb up at about shoulder height and let go. Instead of falling, the orb just hung there as if suspended by some invisible string. “Roll the footage from the island, please.” An image was projected from the orb that filled the space of the shaded alcove of the garden. “Observe how sloppy my swordplay is. I really need some instruction.” The video played and ended with the bombing of the island. The two Japanese men just stood in silence, processing what they had just seen.
Finally the elder man spoke. “That was quite an impressive display, Mr Ford. Especially against such a terrifying group. On my best day, I wouldn't be a match for you.”
“I find that hard to believe, sir. I want to express the importance of my request. This goes beyond countries. Beyond race. That group of aliens from the video were low level foot soldiers. They come bigger and stronger. And from what I hear, better at fighting. They are going to invade the United States first, as they are viewed as the strongest. And then they are going to take over the entire planet.”
“I can tell that you believe that, Mr. Ford.”
“They have done it before. To other worlds.”
“And you have proof of this?”
“Only the word of our benefactors. They have given me no reason to doubt them.”
“Are they the ones who made you bullet-proof?”
“Yes, sir. They have given me gifts. Enhancements. That is how my reflexes are so fast. And how I am able to fight. But I need instruction.”
“Just get some guns, Mr. Ford. Swordplay is a dying art.”
“The shield that blocks their bullets also prohibits me from firing guns, sir. That is why I use a sword.”
“A warrior's heart must be pure. It is too difficult to weigh the desires of outsiders. That is one reason we don't teach our ways to foreigners. What are your motivations? What is in this fight for you?”
“I have no answer to that particular question. I have asked myself the same thing. All I can say is, I was chosen out of dozens of candidates to do this job. I am a carpenter. I have no battle experience. I never had any desire for fame or glory. But when I'm hired for a job, I give it everything I have.”
The elder Nakamura just looked at Frank for a while as the younger waited patiently, looking back and forth between the two men. Finally the elder spoke, “May I see the sword you used in that battle?”
“Yes, of course. Gladys?”
“Take two steps to the right to ensure safety.” The female voice came from the orb, in perfect Japanese. Frank reached out and caught the sword that seemed to have fallen from nowhere and turned to present it to the old master.
The elder Nakamura unsheathed the katana to inspect it carefully. His eyes saw details that Frank's could not. “It's as fine a blade as I've ever seen from outside Japan. In fact, it's better than a lot from Japan. But it looks as though you have been cutting down trees with it.”
“All I cut down was Mingrein. That's what they're called. The large reptilians.”
Returning the blade to it's sheath, Mr. Nakamura looked Frank in the eye. “These, Mingrein...what are their intentions?”
“We assume they intend to set up a long term occupation. They are driven by power and wealth, much as the same as us, but unfortunately they covet food as a sign of wealth, and the acquisition of food as power. The strongest rules, and is always defending his throne, and his ability to feed his armies is paramount to his success, and survival.”
“What do they eat?”
“Meat. Nothing but meat.”
“I see. I know the United States has many farms that are full of livestock. The defense of so much land will be a challenge. Luckily for us here, Japan doesn't have so many.”
“Unfortunately sir, Japan has something else they actually prefer.”
Nakamura stopped dead in his tracks when he realized what Frank was alluding to. The younger Nakamura stared wide-eyed at his grandfather and asked, “Please, Grandfather?”
“Yes, Hiroya?”
“I believe Mr. Ford to be worthy of your instruction.”
“Yes, I agree. But I am an old man. Perhaps you should accompany Mr Ford and act as his swordmaster.” The younger Nakamura bowed deeply, with great pride. Turning to Frank, the grandfather said, “Hiroya is my best student. He is the best swordsman I have ever trained, actually. He may very well be one of the best ever. But he is young. I will let him come with you, and teach you, so long as you promise to look after him, and instruct him in the proper etiquette of the West. I believe our world is going to be getting a lot smaller soon. Old enemies will become friends. And new friends will be met.”
“I shall do everything in my power to look after the young man, and I am greatly honored, sir,” Frank said with another deep bow.
Turning to his grandson, Yohei said, “I know you will conduct yourself well, and if you happen to see battle, you will bring honor to the house of Nakamura, and all of Japan. I am so very proud of you. Your father would have been proud.” Cutting the bow short, he stopped and embraced the young man. “Now gather what you'll need. And please get Mr. Ford a proper Japanese sword.”
* * *
“Please, just call me Hiro.”
“Okay Hiro, as long as you just call me Frank. Are you ready to meet your first ever live extra-terrestrial?”
“Uh, sure.”
Frank pressed the button on his bracelet and within seconds both men were lifted into the boat. Hiro never really lost his balance but Frank could see the joyful surprise spread across his face. He looked around the curved corridor where his feet sat down.
“I know it doesn't look exactly like you would expect, but it grows on you.” He noticed Hiro's eyes widen as Phildan rounded the bend. “This is Phildan. He is a dynamite engineer and mechanic. He's also a very cool dude. Phil, this is Hiroya Nakamura, my new swordmaster.”
With a deep bow Hiro said, “I am very honored to meet you, sir.”
Phildan mimicked the bow. “And I am very pleased to meet you too, Hiroya Nakamura.”
“Please, just call me Hiro.”
<
br /> Frank interrupted, “And you already met Gladys. Her full name is Gladosanthos Mod Suercey. She is present via these orbs, which she calls her remotes.”
“I am very pleased to meet you, Hiroya Nakamura.” She had switched the conversation to English, and her voice was as melodic as always.
“Madame, it's an honor.” Hiro's English was pretty good. “If I may ask, how long will this journey take, and where are we going?”
Frank answered, “We're going to our secret island hideout. And we should be just about there.”
“Correct, Frank. Drop or ramp?”
Smiling at Hiro, Frank answered, “Phil, I get the feeling that Hiro would enjoy the drop.”
“Yes, of course. It looks like your Marine friends are already here.”
“That's good news. Put us down about twenty feet in front of them. Now Hiro, the trick is to relax. You'll free fall for a bit but you'll slow down before you hit. Just stay upright and you'll land right on your feet. Now step inside that red circle. Ready?”
“As ready as I'll ev........” The floor opened up and the men fell. Hiro was able to stick the landing and he found himself unable to stop smiling. Directly on the opposite side of the Marines was a freshly erected, large tent.
The startled Marines jumped to their feet and were instantly ready for whatever when Sgt. Dave Elmore recognized Frank and rushed to greet him.
“Dave, you look about a million per cent better.”
“Thanks to you, Frank. That's two we owe you.”
“Just doing my Job. Gentlemen! We haven't been properly introduced. I'm Frank. And this is Hiroya Nakamura, the great swordmaster.” Hiro bowed deeply and the men all took turns introducing themselves. The first three Frank recognized. Cpl. Damon Potts was Dave's right hand man. Pvts. Kenny Weston and Enrique Chavez were good guys, and Frank was pleased to see that all four of them had pulled through. And then there was Cpl. Robert Jones. He was a hulk of a man with some of the darkest skin Frank had ever seen. “If you don't carry an M-60, there is no justice,” Frank joked.
“Oh, I got one of those laying around here somewhere,” he joked back as he shook Frank's hand. “I was on leave and missed the action in Texas. But thanks for pulling my brothers out of there.”
“Corporal, I'm sorry I couldn't get them all.”
“You rescued the civilians. That's all that matters. Now these guys are up for medals for walking twenty feet and getting wounded.” He flashed a winning smile at his comrades.
“Don't worry. There will be plenty of wounds to go around. Dave? Where's the hand-to-hand coach?”
“Let me check. Potts, see if you can raise Taylor.”
“Yes sir.” Potts was an African American with lighter skin than Jones, and an easy way about him. He reminded Frank of one of Estelle's grandsons.
“Well, Frank, this is what's left of the Wrecking Crew. But we're all yours.” Dave was serious for just a moment. Frank could tell how much losing eight men was affecting him.
“The Wrecking Crew? That has to be the coolest name ever!”
“Thanks. We get to do the jobs that everyone else is afraid of.”
“Yeah, you've already proven that.”
“There's only two ways out of the Crew,” Chavez interjected, “death, or marriage. And we can't decide which is worse.”
Frank laughed. “Is that true?”
“Actually, yes,” Dave answered, “As soon as one of the guys gets engaged, he gets transferred out. We're not in the widow making business. Most of our missions are borderline suicidal.”
Frank instantly felt like he fit right in.
“Bad news, Sarge.” Potts said as he was hanging up the handset.
“What is it?”
“Garret. Due any minute.” The men all groaned in unison.
“Who's Garret?” Frank asked.
“Navy Seal. He's considered the best hand-to-hand combatant in the armed services,” Dave answered.
“Dude's a real asshole,” Potts said.
“Yeah, he's a dick,” Kenny added. Frank noticed a couple of the guys rubbing their arms in a strange way, as if remembering a run-in. Even Jones looked concerned.
“I wonder how much he knows,” Frank thought out loud.
“I'm pretty sure he's in the dark. He gets loaned out for training purposes a lot. And he hates it.”
Frank looked away from Dave and called out. “Gladys? Please have Phil move the boat out of the way to avoid a collision. And you should probably lay low when he gets here until I can feel him out.”
“I'm on it.” No one had noticed her orb floating several feet behind Frank. And no one even commented when she flew into Frank's pocket.
“Blackhawk inbound.” Potts called out. The men all stood and watched as the helicopter circled once and set down in the section of the clearing where the beach met the vegetation. One man disembarked carrying three large bags and a machine gun, the likes of which Frank had never seen before. After a few paces forward, the helicopter lifted off and flew away. Frank mused that there must be a carrier nearby as they were nowhere near anywhere.
“The Wrecking Crew. What is it? A new recruit for me to beat up?” Garret really was a dick.
“I'm a civilian actually. I understand you're the best?” Frank said.
“Yeah. What are you? Agency?”
“Nothing like that. I'm in a brand new position that was recently created. It calls for special training.”
“I see. More top secret bullshit. So, let's get started.”
“Wouldn't you like to get settled in first?”
“No. This shouldn't take too long. Right over here will do.” He led Frank to an open area with no vegetation. Frank removed his hoodie and as he laid it on the ground, removed the orb and placed it on top so Gladosanthos could observe. “Assume your fighting position.” He began circling Frank and they sized each other up. Garret was about six foot four and only slightly smaller than Jones. There didn't seem to be an ounce of fat on his body. He feinted a hay-maker, and when Frank went to block it, Garret quickly reached across with his other hand and got Frank into a wrist-lock. Frank had no choice but to bend over at the waste and was ready to restart. But instead of letting go, Garret bent his arm until he heard it break.
“Goddammit, Garret!” Dave shouted. Garret only looked at him and smiled.
Finally he let go, and Frank held up his arm to survey the damage. His wrist was bent in an unnatural angle and it certainly felt like it was broken. “Call that chopper back and get me the fuck out of here,” Garret commanded as he turned toward where he'd dropped his gear.
With his undamaged hand, Frank grasped the broken one and pulled on it outward until he could feel the bones set into their natural position. Within seconds, the intense pain was gone and full range of motion had returned.
“Garret, I think I'd like to have another go at it, if you don't mind.” All of the men looked shocked. Hiro was watching with particular interest.
“What the fuck? I felt that shit break. Oh well, it's your funeral.” Garret began to circle again and once again he faked a punch. But this time instead of blocking, Frank reached across and snatched Garret's wrist and returned the favor. No one was expecting that kind of speed out of him, including himself.
“Damn!” Potts exclaimed. “He's about to make Garret tap out!”
Frank released Garret from the hold instead of breaking his wrist. “Now you're supposed to be instructing me, not crippling me. If there are any more shenanigans, I'll see to it that you're horse-whipped. Understand me? And do something with that flat-top. You look ridiculous.”
Garret looked dumbfounded. Not only had no one ever beaten him before, no one had ever dared talk to him that way. He was confused on what to do or say.
So Frank decided to take sympathy. “Maybe if you understood the nature of my job, you'd be more inclined to do yours.” He picked up the orb and his hoodie and started off toward the tent. “Follow me, the projections will show up bet
ter inside the tent.”
The tent was surprisingly spacious. Frank could tell that the Crew was planning on using it as a makeshift dorm until they could figure out better accommodations. And for now it provided shade, which was a commodity on the new island. It had a fraction of the trees that the old one had before it got leveled. After all the men had filed in, Frank began.
“Garret, do you believe in aliens?”
“I haven't given it much thought.”
“Well, this might come as a shock then. Gladys?” Frank then did what has become his favorite trick, holding up the orb and letting go, letting it hang in mid-air.
“Yes, Frank?”
“Would you please play back to footage from where I first met the Wrecking Crew?”
“Certainly.” The tent filled up with the three dimensional image of the edge of the fog dome outside the cattle ranch in Texas. The men all backed up in unison to make more room for the show. Garret watched in awe while the Crew took turns making comments.
“There's Sarge, laying all by himself, bleeding all over the prairie,” Chavez said, and the men, except for Garret and Hiro, laughed.
“I'm pretty sure they were planning on coming back for me,” Dave answered.
“Those little bastards were fast,” said Kenny.
“And accurate as fuck too,” Potts added.
“Yeah, I want to see what happened after you carried me out,” Dave said excitedly. But when the audio of the scream came trough, everyone fell silent.
They stayed quiet throughout the rest of the playback. When it was over, Hiro asked, “Frank, did you get shot in the hand, really?”
“Good eye. It happened pretty fast.”
Dave took notice. “How did you overcome the blood poisoning so fast?”
“It was a non-issue.”
Garret took two steps back, and his back was against the edge of the tent. “Blood poisoning?”
Dave explained. “The alien bullets cause blood poisoning. Frank and his alien friend brought us a cure or we'd all be dead right about now.”
Custodian_Monster of Earth Book One Page 13