Rising Son

[Haste]

Accessing database entry: Rokuro Mizushima ...

Access granted.

Viewing: physical characteristics. Error: various components are missing.

Height: 172 cm
Weight: 63 kg
Hair color: Black
Hair texture: Straight
Eye color: Medium brown

Viewing: personal history.

Born the sixth - and last - son of Oda Mizushima, Rokuro grew up on Planet Junyo. Oda, his father, was a fairly successful businessman, in charge of the production of a variety of luxury foods for Samura Industries.

Having five older brothers, he was largely ignored by his parents as he wasn’t going to inherit the business. Largely due to his parents’ lack of care, he ran away from home at age 14. He was found trying to get off-planet, and returned to his parents’ home.

However, events unfolded differently after he tried to run away again days after his 16th birthday. It was 813 A.S., and the Bretonian-Kusari conflict had just begun. Instead of being returned to his family, the men who found him brought him to a naval flight academy - after all, during this time every capable pilot would increase their chances in the war.

He was taught there, but never fully completed his training. Months after he was brought to the academy, his father took him back home.

The tense relations at home only got worse. Rokuro and his father barely spoke, and if they did, it was a heated argument. As word of his son’s running away had gotten out, his father accused him of ruining his reputation. His son’s betrayal, as Oda Mizushima saw it, was affecting him at work.

Almost two years passed, during which the family business crumbled. Rokuro’s father grew more bitter every day. Moral barriers faded. His son was now almost an adult, and would surely leave the household. As a final act of desperation, Oda Mizushima decided to sell Rokuro, his own son, into slavery.

[Haste]

February 9, 820 A.S.
Transport

“Hey, slant eyes,” One of the guards shouted at him, “Get a move on! You’re goin’ somewhere real nice today.” As he spoke those last words, a foul grin appeared on the man’s face.

Rokuro got back into the line of slaves boarding the Bison. The massive, heavily armed ship looked beat-up from its unconventional landing. The slavers’ mines were far away from any cities, and therefore, far away from a mooring point.

Not long after he’d entered the ship’s cargo hold, the loading doors slammed shut. Men and women of all ages and ethnicities were packed together like cattle. Left of him stood a middle-aged woman, thin as a twig. To his right, a broad-shouldered, tall man. It was too dark to see their faces.

After what seemed like hours, the engines could be heard firing up. The ship was shaking as the incredibly powerful forces started to bring it into motion. It took minutes before it calmed down. “We’ve taken off,” he whispered. He wasn’t quite sure to whom, as neither the man nor the woman next to him said a word.

It was getting harder to breathe. The cargo life support systems could barely cope with the number of people aboard. “Stay calm,” Rokuro thought to himself, “you’ll only waste more oxygen if you panic.”

Suddenly, the ship started shaking violently. The hull could be heard creaking as it was struggling to hold together. Rokuro could feel the ship accelerating more and more. Again, he whispered: “We must be jumping to another system now.” The man to his right turned his head towards him, but said nothing. The woman simply kept staring right ahead, into the darkness.

[Fifty.]

California Minor looked no different than usual. Monotonous. John stood in his patrol ship and scanned anything that might pass by. Nothing. Nothing again. He pictured warm beaches and coconut trees, relaxing music and gentle breeze. His blinks became longer and longer.

*** ALERT ***

John suddenly woke up , nearly pressing the mine button on a Starflier passing by. He looked at the comms.
-What the.. ?!
The New York gate scanner showed a battletransport with outdated papers. What was more interesting was the cargo. Biological signatures. "That's never good."
The vessel was not registered by the lanes. Which meant one thing. He tapped the comms.
-This is Lieutenant Aryn, we have a possible slaver ship here. Ship class is battletransport, requesting SWAT backup. I want three bombers and a cargo ship at sector C5, block the anomaly there. Two bombers dispatched to the Cortez jump gate.
He stopped for a second to think.
- Group one at sector C5 block the anomaly and stop all vessels within range. Group two at the gate, stop all traffic and begin gate locking procedures.
" You aren't going anywhere.."

[Haste]

It was clear the ship wasn't built for the cargo it carried. The abrupt slowdown following the jump had people falling over, dragging others with them as they tried to find something to hold onto.

This, too, happened to Rokuro. The woman next to him stumbled with the rest of the crowd and grabbed his arm as she fell. Another body hit him from behind, slamming him to the deck. His head connected with the cold steel and everything went black as he flashed into unconciousness.

"Wake up. Something hit us. The ship stopped all of a sudden."

He felt a stinging pain in his head. As he opened his eyes, he saw the man who was standing next to him before, now kneeled beside him.

"Good. You weren't out for very long. You'll be alright."

Lights in the ceiling flashed on. Rokuro could now see the man's face. He looked to be in his forties and had a very masculine face, with a broad jaw-line, and small grey eyes. Various scars revealed that time as a slave had taken its toll on him.

The man stood up. He stood at least two meters tall. As he looked towards the far end of the cargo bay - away from the loading doors - the expression on his face changed. His eyebrows lowered. His eyes opened further.

Again, he kneeled next to Rokuro.

"Guards are coming this way. I'm not sure what they're up to."

A combination of anger and fear could be heard in his voice.

The guards could be heard shouting at people to get out of their way as they got closer. Rokuro's pain was slowly fading, and he decided to try and get up. To his own surprise, he succeeded.

The guards were close now. They were passing right through the middle of the crowd, which was also right where Rokuro was standing. As they shouted at him to get out of the way, he could get a good look at them. The men - there were four of them - were suited up for a space walk and carried what looked to be military-grade assault rifles.

As soon as they made it to the end of the cargo deck, they took positions left and right of the loading doors.

"We're in position, boss."

[Fifty.]

The nebulae covered everything around it. The rather large transport was struggling to reach the anomaly, taking heavy damage to the engines. A swarm of SWAT units vultured around the transport.
-Disable the damn engines already!
The SWAT units complied and fired. John covered his eyes as the sudden release of that much antimatter made quite the fireworks. The vessel went to a complete halt.
The bombers followed standard procedure and shoot the defense turrets off the slave ship. After a few short moments of rapid fire, the vessel was defenseless and in their hands.
The police heavy transport approached the cargo bays of the slaver ship. What was about to happen was boarding the craft before anyone could react. A tactical strike unit, consisting of highly trained SWAT operatives was preparing. Most held the DM-12K "Spam gun", standard weapon for closed quarters. Two of them, at the back of the unit, held the TS-72 "Headhunter", sniper rifle, obviously for cover fire. The most important asset was the DB-IKY2 "Door Buster".
The hermetised tube hit the hostile ship and was quickly attached to the hull by magnets. Area was hermetised and the SWAT team quickly gathered around and took positions. The DB-IKY2 fired. After the loud noise or ripped apart metal, the team could clearly hear human voices, screaming in fear, and worst of all - plasma rifle rounds being fired...
An intense battle followed. The guards were heavily armed, but not anywhere near as trained as the SWAT team. What was not shot down was sniped. What was not sniped was tazered. A few guards survived and turned theirselves in.
John boarded the transport and looked around. Some slaves were killed as well in the operation. Others were simply crushed by the whole mass trying to escape the barrage of plasma rounds. He shook his head and looked around. A lot of slaves. More officer boarded and started escorting the slaves out. The operation was successful, with minimum casualties.

[Haste]

February 14, 820 A.S.
The Mind

"Ah, you must be mr. Mizushima. Take a seat," she said, "I'm doctor Cunningham. But please, call me Ann."

Rokuro sat down, and stared at the woman. She looked to be in her early thirties. "You're one of the.. prisoners, aren't you?" Instead of waiting for a reply, she asked the question she'd really meant to ask: "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine, thank you"

His face told the psychologist the exact opposite.

"Excuse me if I'm wrong, but you're from Kusari, aren't you?"

He rolled his eyes.
"How'd you know?"

She gave him a brief smile as she wrote something down on her tablet.

"You don't sound very Kusarian. How long was it that you last went there?"

"It's eight-twenty, isn't it? Almost five years, then."

"It is, mr. Mizushima," She said, while looking up from her tablet, "Do you mind if I call you Rokuro?"

"Not at all, Ann."

He smiled.

"Are you planning to return to Kusari soon?"

After a short, but uncomfortable silence, Rokuro answered with a question of his own:

"Do you know anything about my family? My father, Oda Mizushima, specifically?"

"The name sounds familiar.. One moment."

She spent a few minutes typing and looking at her tablet.
Just before she looked up at Rokuro, she frowned. She seemed to hesitate before she spoke.

"I'm not sure how to say this, Rokuro.. I think your father passed away."

She tapped her fingers nervously on the table.

"In 813, your family's house burned down. Six bodies were found. Your father was found dead.."

She paused.

"Elsewhere. They think he killed himself. A bullet to the head."
"I-I'm sorry, Rokuro.

She stared his eyes. She couldn't really gauge how he felt.

"Well then.. To answer your last question: No, I don't think I'll be returning to Kusari."

Even though he showed little emotion, Ann knew that Rukoro had to be close to his breaking point. Yet talking about it right now wouldn't help much. Instead, she changed subjects:

"Do you wish to stay in Liberty?"

"Can I?"

His blunt answer took her by surprise.

"Well.. If you want to stay, you'll need to obtain citizenship.. And a place to stay. You'll need to find employment, as well."

He chuckled.

"Employment? A few days ago, I had plenty of that."

"You seem to be taking your slavery unusually lightly, mr. Mizushima."

"I prefer to think about the future, and not the past" he said without any hesitation.

She shook her head.

"You won't last long like this, Rokuro. But let's stay on topic. What do you do well?"

"Besides working the mines?" he asked, sarcastically, "I almost completed my training at a Kusarian naval flight academy."

She sighed.

"Alright. I'll make some phone calls. For now, you'll have to stay at a nearby refugee camp in district 8-B. You'll get a ride there. I'll contact you as soon as I know more."

[Haste]

February 15, 820 A.S.
Finding my feet

"Mr. Mizushima?"

One of the camp's volunteers walked towards Rokuro, with a man in uniform next to him.

"Rokuro? This is mr. Rogers. He's a recruitment officer for the Liberty Police."

The man stepped forward, and reached out his hand.

"Pleasure to meet you, mr. Mizushima."

Rokuro didn't yet shake the man's hand.

"Pleasure to meet you too, mr. Rogers."

"I assume you have a first name, too?"

The man chuckled.

"I happen to have one, yes. It's Paul."

Rokuro reached out, and shook the man's hand.

"Rokuro. Rokuro Mizushima."

"Now that we're done with the pleasantries.. I'm here because dr. Cunningham sent us your file. Normally, I'd have simply given you a call, but as you don't have a phone.."

"That does make it harder, doesn't it?"

Paul smiled.

"It does indeed."

"Anyhow, as I was saying: we were given your file, and you look capable enough. We're a little worried about your past, but you've had a lot more training than our average recruit.

"My superiors likely feel I've already spent too much time coming here, so I'll keep this short: if you're interested, find a terminal and send us an application. I believe there are a few publicly available ones at the nearby library. I'm sure someone can point you to it."

Rokuro had simply stared at the recruitment officer as he kept on talking.

"I'll consider it."

"I suppose that's that then. Who knows, maybe we'll see eachother again, soon."

"Who knows."

The man smiled, and shook Rokuro's hand once more before walking off, leaving Rokuro alone to his thoughts.

[Haste]

February 17, 820 A.S.
A place to stay

"Ah, there you are."

Rokuro turned to face the man speaking.

"Paul, wasn't it? You're here for a reason, I assume?"

A faint smile could be seen on the recruitment officer's face.

"In fact, I've got good news. Welcome to the LPI, Rokuro. Your badge is waiting for you in your office at Fort Bush." He winked at Rokuro, "I've also arranged a place for you to stay. It's not much, but it's better than - well - this." He waved his hand at the makeshift houses in the refugee camp, "It's down on Manhattan - you'll find the details in your office, as well. A short trip in your Liberator after you pick it up at Fort Bush."

Rokuro nodded.

"Thank you, Paul."

He seemed to think for a while, before continuing.

"I hope I'll like the job."

"So do I, Rokuro, so do I. There's only one way to find out." He signaled Rokuro to follow him, as he started walking towards the exit of the camp, "We'll be taking a shuttle to Fort Bush. Once there, you'll be briefed," he spoke whilst walking, "after that, it'll be time for your first patrol." He paused briefly, "Given your experience with fighter craft, it shouldn't take you too long to get acquinted with the Liberator. It's built to be very user-friendly."

After exiting the refugee camp, they walked towards a nearby landing pad, often used to bring in new refugees. A passenger shuttle bearing the LPI logo had just landed.

"I've still got some business to attend to, so I won't be coming with you." He nodded, "I'd get in. It's leaving soon. Until next time, mr. Mizushima."

Rokuro stepped into the shuttle.

"Thanks again, mr. Rogers."

He pulled in his head, and the door closed. The engines could be heard starting up. The cabin he walked into was surprisingly empty. He took a seat next to a window, and watched as the ground slowly got farther away.