Someone had broken into their computers; it was well done, but there were always traces. He was staring at the code remnants on his terminal now. They hadn't tried to hack any money; no, that would have made his life so much easier, the Shogun would cover all of Samura's losses there, but the Vice President of Rheinland Distribution (Junior Executive's Office Suite, Shinagawa Station) now had much, much bigger problems on his hands. Specifically, Kyosuke Mishima.
Mishima Mobilization was the name of a relatively small shipping firm; it controlled about sixty or so freighters of varying sizes, the largest of which were its six Advanced Trains. It was an independent hauler of Deuterium for a small offshoot of Kruger Mining and Metals, who preferred its services to the larger shipping firms because, for a slightly higher price per ton, fuels could arrive next day instead of the week or so it took an order to process through BowEx or Samura's own distribution apparatus. They didn't make up a particularly large dent in Samura's profits; they were insignificant.
Or they would have been. But Saito's associates on of the sides of Kusari that didn't have to pay taxes had it that the Lane Hackers had been the ones slicing Saito's mainframe. They had also noticed that, apparently, the numbers were off. By quite a bit, in fact; a good $500,000,000 had appeared a scant month ago in one of Saito's personal acounts on Kyushu. The data had gone to 'the highest bidder'. Mishima had a brother who ran away from home; they were famous back at Primary School, the Deadly Duo. Kyosuke provided the muscle and planning, Hatsuharu the computer skills and good appearances. Chances were there was only one person at that particular data auction.
Tekashi knew there was only one thing to do. Much as he hated this kind of cat's paw, his ass was on the line, and an embezzlement trial was not on his mind. He pulled up his messenger and began to type; the Hogosha would have to take care of this one. Azure Tanto, specifically; he came highly recommended. Time to put some of that hard-stolen money to work...
Quote:Quick comment - we thought that Panzer was the Leader, Swift. -Agmen
"Hotaru! Turn that infernal music down! We can hear you in the back of the ship, for Shogun's sake!"
Hotaru Mishima, fifteen, looked up from her book. She the sole person on the bridge of Kisaragi's Fortune, a two-year-old Advanced Train and the flagship of Kyosuke Mishima's freighter fleet. Well, she would have been the sole person on the bridge, had her father not come barging onto the bridge, once again complaining about Pink Floyd. She sighed, took her legs off of the dash, hit the mute button and stood up.
"There. It's down."
"Good. What's our ETA to Leipzig?"
"Thirteen minutes." She sat back down. "Are we hauling diamonds back again for that idiot on Kyushu? That last time with the "I Don't Have That Kind of Money" line was a complete fiasco."
"He'll pay full price this time." Mishima strolled over to the refrigerator and pulled out a large bottle of the Rhine's finest asteroid icemelt. "He knows I'll terminate the contract if he causes another loss of revenue like that, and he will never get shipping as expedient as ours again."
"Good." She tabbed out of something on the console. "Looks like we're up three percent, too."
"Oh?" He walked over and peered over her shoulder. "Well, what do you know! I don't know how I missed that last time I did taxes!"
"They tried to charge you for 600 tons of H-fuel that never got ordered." She ran a hand through her shoulder-length hair, fiddling with her bangs until they stayed behind her ears. "I got the returns; it was right on top, so I sent an error invoice back in time for them to correct the numbers."
"Good girl!" He ruffled her hair as she beamed with pride. Praise was not often forthcoming from her father; while she was on the Kisaragi's bridge she was just the helmswoman. Saving 4.5 million credits probably constituted something, though, and she wasn't complaining. She was just glad he was there. She remembered back at the orphanage, gone since she was three-and-a-half. Not a fun time; she would have been sent into some cheap textile factory-or, if her luck was particularly unfortunate, a brothel-by now. But Yui Mishima had wanted a daughter, and she got one. Unfortunately, she had died six months after...
Kyosuke had raised her from there on himself. Seeing as he had a freighter to run, she very quickly became educated in the technical field, and learned how to take care of herself. He was always there for her, though; a rarity, she knew, among Kusari parents, and for that she was thankful.
"Thank you, daddy!" She giggled, fixing her hair again. Kyosuke was a relatively short, stocky man, even for a Kusariite; she was almost an inch taller than him. He still managed to be imposing, though, when he wanted. He engaged in this sort of seething frown that seemed to imply that, even though he was small, he'd retaliate in double, no matter what you did to him. He was a shrewd businessman, and a good one; snagging the Kruger contract had been a real bit of genius. "So, how's the planning going?"
"Just fine. The engines are running smooth as can be, the cargo locks are all completely operational, and the decks are shining." He sighed happily, throwing back some of the Rhine's Finest. "When we make Leipzig we'll collect, load up on Diamonds for the Idiot and drop in the bar and have some real food for once."
"Oooh, yay! I want to talk to Yoko again, we haven't actually seen each other in a month. The drinking age down here is fourteen, too, isn't it?"
"NO! You are NOT having anything that strong, you'll fall over dead after half a point of that brew they keep in-oh, you stupid girl!" he threw his hands skyward and stalked off of the bridge as she doubled over in silent laughter. "Gaah, I don't know why I even bother sometimes..."
Hotaru didn't have a good many friends; she was homeschooled and living on a trade ship, after all. The only company were the children of the other spacers, over the comms and when they put into port. She was fine with that, though. The adults suited her more, anyways. Much more intelligent conversation.
Sighing, she hit the unmute button once again and cranked it down. Just in time for the start of Echoes. She picked up her book once more and resumed her foot-to-the-dash position. Leipzig would come soon enough.
Azure Tanto was a simple man. He got up and ate breakfast, just like every other normal man, picked up a paper in the morning, went to the office and looked over contracts. Today there was a rather unusual proposal for him; a certain someone with the hefty sum of fifty million credits wanted a small shipping owner and the crew of his flagship dead...
...he decided to take it. Runs a ship called the Kisaragi's Fortune, usually hauling fuels into Rheinland. Shouldn't be difficult at all to sneak on and knife him en-route.
Tanto slid back in his commander's chair and rolled open his lower desk drawer, pulling out a fine cherry box and almost daintily raising the lid. Inside rested his signature weapon-a knife with a cobalt-dyed blade and a gilded hilt. He slid it into its accompanying sheath and dialed the spaceport to get himself a landing schedule.
Kyosuke looked over at Hotaru, who was staring with distaste at Kyushu's leading diamond buyer. "What?"
"He's shortchanging us by two million. Leipzig charges more than he's paid us for this junk. In essence, we're receiving about two thirds of the agreed-upon shipping fee."
"Mishima-san, this is highly irregul-"
"Yoriami-san, if you are not prepared to pay in full, on the spot, I will be pleased to take my order to the conglomerates on New Tokyo or Honshu. Hotaru, have the lifters canceled."
"Yes sir." She lifted her phone and hit the speed dial. "Yoko, tell the loaders not to bring down the diamonds. We're having some-"
"Very well, very well." Yoriami sighed. "I'll pay, despite these ridiculous price hikes..."
"Scratch that, Yoko, compliance has been enforced." Hotaru smiled as she closed the phone.
*****
Tanto's sleek black EVA stealth suit slid along the edges of the Kisaragi's hull, pawing for the old-fashioned maintenance airlock on the backside of the Train's main body. He wrenched at the circular valve and got it open; slipping inside of the darkened ship, he closed the hatch, ordered the dusty control panel to pressurize, popped his helmet and slid into the hatch. He'd infiltrated Trains like this several times; it was a rather major security flaw. Not that he was complaining...he could use his signature weapon on jobs like these, instead of having to rely on crude, indiscriminate explosives. There was little so artful as a proper incision across the throat...
He popped a broom closet on the darkened corridor and slid inside. The pneumatic doors closed automatically; the only illumination was the soft green "Escape!" button on the inside of the right wall. Hopefully he'd make use of that soon enough.
Hotaru sat down at the five-man circular table, centerpiece of the Kisaragi's dark, cramped kitchen/meeting space. Her father was directly to her left; from there on were the other three shift workers, Hachi, Hiro, and Akito. She began to nurse a bottle of some orange-ish carbonated stuff Yoko had gotten her hooked on as her father began to talk.
"Right, now that we're all here, I'll begin. Kruger's Leipzig operation doesn't want more gas for another four days. So, we're going to haul eight new fishing trawlers out to Shikoku instead. They're being loaded now. Okay, who gets what shift?"
The four crewers remained tactfully silent.
"...in that case, let me get the straws." he slid up and finessed his way over to the cupboards, sliding open the one farthest over and pulling out a set of four straws of varying length. The ritual was performed; Hotaru got the short one. The late shift.
"Mishima-san?" A voice crackled over the comm. "we've got those trawlers loaded in about thirty seconds." Sure enough, over the course of the next minute eight large *THUNKs* were hears as the angling vessels dropped onto the Train cars.
Oh well. She could do that nasty piece of European Lit homework she'd been putting off; stupid Charles Dickens.
*****
Tanto woke up at exactly 2:00 AM, ship's time. There was no alarm, no warning. It just happened. He could do that kind of thing. Everybody should be asleep except the on-duty shiftsman. Time to get to work.
*****
Hotaru sighed as she stretched herself out in the chair and turned up her music slightly. The Trade Lane to Junyo was down for repairs, so she'd set it to fly at a relatively constant distance off the side of the superluminal capapults. She'd stop it when they got within the outskirts of Junyo's gravitational well.
She heard a sudden clunking and a muffled *umph* that sounded like Hachi. Best go check it out and make sure he hadn't gone sleepwalking into the kitchen again.
One of the crewman lay unresponsive in his bed, a spot of red growing fast upon his chest. Tanto looked around silently; there was a stack of dirty schoolgirl magazines in one corner. On the other was a picture of a young barmaid. Tanto felt no regret; why should he? That man's head was worth more than both him and his mistress would ever have made in their lives. After all, where was the point in that kind of a life? You died faceless and nameless. Tanto? He was a king among assassins, rich and well-respected. He would be known forever. This bilge? No one would even notice. He pulled a pure white cloth out of a pouch on the side of his EVA and wiped the blue blade clean, dropping the bloodstained cloth across his nameless victim's face as he went for the door.
He glided down the narrow hallway, completely silent. There was a brief muttering up ahead; he peered around the corner into the cramped kitchen, where a rather chubby spacer of about forty was rummaging blindly around in the cupboards; his eyes were not open. Tanto quickly slid up behind him and placed a hand over his mouth as the knife slid in between the second nameless truckers' ribs. He slid to the floor with a slight *thud* as Tanto cringed. That could have been done with more finesse. He must keep that in mind. He wiped the blade again, once more leaving the kerchief resting on the deceased man's face.
Now, just to get Mishima and the on-duty crewman. He slid into the hallway and keyed the door to the last unopened room. This must be it.
*****
Hotaru tiptoed down the cramped corridor towards the kitchen and living quarters. Stupid Hachi-kun. Probably binge-sleeping again.
She felt a draft and looked right. Father's door was open...that was unusual...
"Agh! Help! Now!"
*****
Tanto glided across the room once more, blade held above his head. He stood over Mishima; this head was worth enough for him to retire and live in luxury for the rest of his life. Not that he couldn't do that already; it would just make life so much less interesting.
He hesitated for a moment to consider the victim's face. A strong chin; good eyes, somewhere in between blue and green. Unusual. What a shame.
He propelled the blue blade downwards...
...it never arrived. A hand shot upwards and caught his wrist at almost lightning speeds as Mishima sprang out from underneath him. Dammit! The man knew Jujitsu! Oh, it was rusty, though...he could tell by the sloppy stance. Wait...
Mishima's hand darted behind the bureau, bringing back a decent-sized handgun. Not one of those .45s that were popular with the military right now, but a decent-sized round, probably a nine-mil. He didn't know, nor did he care. Guns were such an impersonal way of dealing with business, not to mention so messy. He darted forward as Mishima fired; the round grazed his left shoulder, as he expected. No loss. It had missed, and the wound would heal, as would the suit patch itself. He batted the gun out of Mishima's hand as he went into a roll, coming up under Tanto as he was turning. It went flying and landed in some obscure corner. He came at Mishima again, who parried him again. Mishima tried to put him into a throw, but failed. They carried on; he was decent, and Tanto was a bit more out of practice than he'd thought...this operation was quickly becoming more worrisome...
*****
Hotaru stared as her father and the black-suited man danced all over the room. Her father pulled the gun he kept taped behind the bureau; it fired once and came flying in her direction as the. She just stared. Dad would win. He always wins.
Kyosuke lost his balance; the assassin's blue knife buried itself into his ribcage.
Hotaru saw things in slow motion. Kyosuke fell to the floor, a shocked expression on his face. The Assassin turned to face her.
*****
Tanto finally found his mark. He relished the victory, then promised himself he'd start training once he got off this crate.
He didn't have to look far for the fourth crew. It was a girl; no more than sixteen. He spotted her in the doorway as he turned from the corpse after wiping his blade. She was standing there, shocked. To be expected. Children were always unprepared. He stalked towards her, and didn't stop when she went for the gun. They never had the guts to fire them anyways.
How wrong he was. His eyes went wide in the millisecond between the time he saw her pull the trigger and when a nine-millimeter round ripped through his brain.
*****
Hotaru watched without emotion as he fell forward, head landing a scant foot from hers. The gun had flown out of her hand; it was lying somewhere in the hall behind her. Her wrists hurt, but she barely noticed it. She walked forward over the body and proceeded to her father's side.
He was not breathing. His nightshirt was covered in red.
She strode out of the room, back up to the bridge. She was halfway to her chair as she finally realized what had happened and she fell to the floor, unconscious.
Hatsuharu Mishima and the crew of the Hacker Borderworlds Transport Meddle were on a bit of a mission. He wasn't particularly pleased about it, because the premise was that the Kisaragi's Fortune, his big brother's train, was flying off-course and was currently something along the lines of 200 klicks off of the tradelanes, flying in a straight line. The tracers he had on that ship had gone off like a crazy duck last night, so now he was out going to find her, so he'd ordered the small Kusari operation he ran up to Shikoku. He hoped he wouldn't find a wreck when he caught up with her...thank god those crates were slow.
"Fifteen klicks...she's within visual range, Haru." Hatori Sohma was the sensor/nav man. Quiet, calm and collected, he was a crappy shot and a bad negotiator but he could fly his way out of anything, and, as a bonus, he was as competent a hacker everybody else on board the ship.
"Start transmitting the override codes. Slow her down." Haru gritted his teeth. This did NOT look good.
"She's slowing down..." Hari (not Haru) breathed. "...stopped. Commencing scan and airlock controls.
"Course locked in." The helmsman-nobody knew his name, he called himself Bozo-frowned slightly and turned one of the knobs on his board.
Haru unbuttoned the top of his holster and drew out a Detroit Munitions 5500 heavy plasma pistol. He tapped the side of the power cartridge to make sure it worked; you never knew what you'd find on jobs like these. After all, he was better off behind a terminal on Mactan than anything else. These kind of physical operations didn't suit the Hackers at all.
*****
Dimly, in the back of her mind, Hotaru realized that there was once again other life on the ship. It started as a dim realization from her position sprawled out on the floor of the ship that there was movement on the hatch, but she didn't want to think about anything. She didn't want to move, think, do anything requiring brain capacity. She just wanted to lie there on the deck and wait for it to all stop.
It was over. Her father was dead. The man that kept her from that living hell a Kusari orphan could expect was now dead. She was, as they say, screwed.
She didn't resist when Uncle Haru walked in holding the bloodstained cobalt tanto and scooped her up in his arms. She saw two others wheeling out four big black bags; corpses, no doubt. Not that she cared. She was beyond caring about anything.
"Leiden, this is the Meddle. Incoming with human cargo."
"What're we using slaves for again, Haru? I didn't think you were into that!"
"I'm not, genius, it's four dead bodies and my niece, who is currently in a state of shock." He looked away from the comm screen at Hotaru, sitting wrapped in a blanket at the back of the bridge. Her eyes were open, but appeared empty.
"...roger that, Meddle. Permission to land granted, follow the beacon."
Haru watched blandly as the Meddle slid in towards Leiden's mooring fixture. Somebody would pay. Kyosuke's assets needed to be claimed soon, but, more importantly, Hotaru needed to be consoled. She was most likely feeling desperate and without purpose, so he'd need to get her something to do after talking to her for a while. Not to mention the direct heir to Kyosuke's assets was Hotaru, and to claim them he'd need to get her back on her feet.
"Why don't we get you changed, Hotaru-chan, and then we'll go get something to drink, okay? I need to know everything that happened."
"..."
"Hotaru-chan?"
"...yes, Uncle."
Quote:Quick comment - we thought that Panzer was the Leader, Swift. -Agmen
Hotaru was what would be referred to as "Filthy Rich." She had acquired, from her uncle's sale of her father's holdings, 900 million credits, and was now the proud owner of 60000 shares of Samura stock and a Saber in the Lane Hackers' Kusari Operations Squadron (of which she was also a ranking member). Their operation was fairly simple: Hack the lane, disable the train and strip the cargo pods, which were remarked and sold back to their intended destination at a fairly lower price. Nobody but the shippers complained.
She was working a loading crane remotely from the cockpit on Leiden's fligth deck; she'd recently been down to Colorado and seen a rather good Liberty Rogue pilot drop four LPI Liberators-quite the feat, in a Werewolf, possibly one of the most bricklike ships in existence-using four Sammaels, and she'd decided to complement her Hellflurries with them. They'd go well with the Debilitator and the Sidewinder. Leave those bloody Bumblebee pilots something to think about.
Her earpiece pinged as she finished manipulating the crane, and had begun to scramble outward onto the wings to fiddle with the power couplings (bloody touchy things on the Hellflurries, but they were likely to be sturdier on the Sammaels, being the simplistic-but-effective bricks they were). It said Scramble; looks like they'd gotten an easy target on short notice. She finished fiddling with the couplings, flipped back over to the cockpit and pressed the ignition switch. The Sabre purred to life, and the red bars on the side of the new Sammaels lit up like the gates of hell. Grinning nastily, she popped the helmet back onto her vac-suit and hopped into the seat. The canopy descended and her helmet-HUD flickered to life; she quickly qued up for a a position on the launch rails. Another day, another hole in Kusari's pocket. She leaned back as the rails catapulted the Saber out into the vacuum, letting the inertia take hold and deriving as much enjoyment from it as she could. There wasn't much left to her, she knew, besides this little job-she didn't have a social life and she could program any system known to man, so what was there left to do-but by god, she'd give it her all. That's what Dad would have wanted.