Memories Left In Dying

"There are many excellent ways to die," Chief Investigator Hashimoto told Naoto on his first day, "by the time you finally reach one, this job will have shown all there is to know about mankind."

Naoto sat crisp, clean and untested beside his superior, "If you say so, sir."

The elder Investigator chortled, "If you say so, he says." He leaned in toward his pupil, managing to make their space efficient shuttle feel even more claustrophobic, "You had best erase that phrase from your understanding, Investigator. No citizen of House Inoue should believe something simply because another says so, no matter the quality of the source."

Quirking his head to one side, Naoto said, "Surely there are moments where one can indulge in trust?"

Investigator Hashimoto laughed, running a hand through his unkempt hair with a practiced absent mindedness, "Already learning, see? No 'yes, sir.' Questions are the heart of being human, Naoto. Never forget this. Without them, we are animals. Pulled about like fools and driven by instinct alone. Questions, and quality questions at that, will be the difference between discovering necessary truths and finding yourself at the mercy of our more creative enemies."

"I can handle myself, sir. I scored higher in marksmanship than anyone else in the history of the academy. Even higher than you."

The Chief Investigator sniffed, "Only does you any good if you see the other guy coming. Everything is about knowing when to shoot and at whom, Naoto. If you don't know that, I really don't give a damn how good you are with a pistol."

Naoto nodded and glanced out the side window. He had never left the Inoue home world before and had to stifle a smile as he saw the rustic looking red planet beyond his craft. It reminded him of zero gravity training. His instructor once nearly killed him with a vicious blow thrown from an angle his mind never conceived of. Perfect spheres of blood had orbited around his head while he tried to regain his wits. This House Reinhardt world, this Zweihan was just that: A bloodstain passing through the void. Against his will, Naoto felt his pulse quicken.

Hashimoto slapped him roughly across the face, an accusatory finger left millimeters from the younger Investigator's nose, "Get your mind out of your mind, boy. I need you focused on the present. Investigations on worlds claimed by other Houses are not to be taken lightly. After all, the Reinhardt couldn't be bothered to tell us Ambassador Jehng was dead. The homeworld heard it through one of her aides. This isn't just police work. It's espionage."

Minor turbulence signified the beginning of planetfall. Their view was painted in the fires of reentry, only a moment later replaced by a swiftly rising land mass. Naoto squinted, trying to make out the planet's capital city. In reaction, the nano computers in his contact lenses magnified his vision a hundred fold. Buildings an impossible distance away bulged toward him, swiftly swinging into focus.

House Reinhardt constructed cities devoid of any notion of serenity or balance. There was a sense of the many gunmetal grey towers being weapons in and of themselves. Surrounding them in swirling clouds, Naoto could see traffic. Not the ordered flow of gleaming silver vehicles that twisted through the skies of Shinri. No, this was like a hornet's swarm of boxy dark cars, belching thick smog in irritation as their drivers maneuvered to take the absolute best position. Slowly, Naoto's lenses scaled back their magnification as they approached the city.

From a nearby fortress, two Interceptors rose to meet their sleek little shuttle. A thick Reinhardt accent came through their comm system, "Inoue ship, identify yourselves. Your presence is not desired."

Hashimoto's eyes flicked to Naoto before opening his own communication channel with a small gesture, "Certainly, honorable Reinhardt warrior. You address a Commissar of the Imperial House of Inoue. It's Chief Investigator, no less. I have been called to this planet on business of your house's Imperator which is certainly none of yours." His head inclined slightly toward Naoto and the Investigator could see the smile hidden in his superior's eyes, "If you see my presence as so undesirable, I will be sure to report this to your Imperator at once."

There was silence for a few moments. Naoto thought perhaps the soldier was scrambling to confirm Hashimoto's claims, "We will escort you with pride to our city's grandest spaceport, Inoue Commissar."

"You are most generous." Hashimoto said and dismissed the gesture opening communications with a wave of his hand.

He turned to Naoto, "Act with certainty and strength and the Reinhardt will fall into line before you like good little soldiers. Remember this, Inspector."

Their ship descended into the open roofed spaceport of Zweihan City. Primitive robotic claws gripped the shuttle tightly, pulling them into dock. Naoto heard the almost imperceptible hiss as pressure equalized in their ship and air from Zweihan was permitted to filter in. The air was rank with a flat, putrid stench of high intensity air pollution. After a few moments to acclimate themselves to the new atmosphere, the door to their shuttle slid silently open.

Beyond the shuttle's threshold was a microcosm of the city outside. It was an angry tangle of power-commerce where only the most skilled salesperson would not be eaten alive. Naoto recoiled from the scene. It seemed too dark and unforgiving, lacking the bright neon signs that painted the streets of Shinri's cities in color. With a patronizing sigh, Hashimoto herded his partner out of the shuttle and lead them into the twisting city streets.

Years had been put into Naoto's training as one of the infamous Inoue Investigators. An organization, it was said, that drew truth from others effortlessly and gave away nothing in return. For this reason only, Naoto kept his composure. Without it, he surely would have been left gaping like one of the irritating cow-like tourists that came to gawk at him through the academy windows.

The people of Zweihan shoved past one another in strange and dizzying patterns. Clothing was functional, muted and uniform. Nearly everyone sported industrial grade body mods, the dangerous looking metal protrusions marking each person as lethal in their very own way. Despite their vicious appearance, the Reinhardt parted like water before a stone as Hashimoto, cigarette casually hooked between two fingers, strolled through their streets. They gave Naoto dirty looks as he trailed along behind his superior, dispensing apologies for the inconvenience in every direction.

"I understand the man we're meeting is a Commissar of their Imperial House." Naoto said, trying to kill time while they traveled.

"The title means different things to different Houses." Hashimoto said with a dismissive gesture, "For all intents and purposes he is a feudal lord voted into his position. They're elected for whatever their House holds dear. For all we know, our host will turn out to be a Commissar of Executions."

After forty-five minutes of walking, the Investigators arrived at a building wrought from sweeping, bright alloys and huge walls of glass. An Inoue building if ever Naoto saw one. There was a perimeter of heavily armed Reinhardt warriors guarding the entrance. Metal blockades marked the building off as a police action in progress. The Investigators slipped through the police barrier, proceeding into the building with no more than an exasperated rolling of the eyes from the Reinhardt.

The interior of the embassy was elegant and serene. The trickle of water, a sound that was ever-present on Shinri, rolled pleasantly over Naoto's ears. The air had been perfumed with cherry blossoms. As they entered the long main hall, one of the tallest, thickest men Naoto had ever seen tromped over to them. Distrust was written in his every movement.

"I am Captain Aehrenthal. Which of you is Commissar of Investigations, Hashimoto?"

"I am Naoto Kyong," said Hashimoto, his voice unreadable, "I speak for Commissar Hashimoto. Where is the crime scene?"

The heavily augmented soldier glanced suspiciously at Naoto and the Investigator did his best to look cryptic and important. After a moment the Captain shook his head, not sure what to make of the two of them and said, "Follow closely."

Naoto quirked an eyebrow in Hashimoto's direction, but the Chief Investigator made a quick and discrete sign for silence. The two Inoue were lead to a graceful looking glass elevator, which appeared to have not been cleaned in a few days. A rust red soil colored the floor and their escort's boots.

Hashimoto gestured to the mess, saying, "I trust you have not contaminated our crime scene as thoroughly as this elevator."

"We were careful, Investigator. It won't matter, anyway." The Captain said, shaking his head.

"And why is that?"

"This isn't some grand conspiracy. The Ambassador was a war hero. She was killed by a Reinhardt weapon. It's revenge for Zho System, plain and simple."

"If it were as simple as that, our presence would be unnecessary, Captain." Hashimoto said while playing with his lighter.

"Whatever you say, Investigator."

Naoto's training had kicked in, turning itself upon Captain Aehrenthal. He wore his armor in a style seen more commonly in deep space colonies. With the subtle signs of discomfort seen in people who worked in unfamiliar gravities, Naoto decided this man must be an offworlder. A neat line of colorful ribbons and large medals adorned the Captain's armor. Naoto couldn't help but wonder if he had been assigned to them in some heavy handed attempt to impress or to lure them into conversation. It was widely known that the Inoue people were naturally curious. Placing them with an escort that was in some way exotic or glamorous seemed logical.

Aehrenthal smelled of clumsily applied cologne. It was not pleasant but very expensive. His breath was heavy with a chemical used in a common House Prothero tooth whitener. At his neck, where his armor ended, Naoto could see the Captain wore a chain that signified he was "bound in love" as the Reinhardt said. The Captain had intended to keep the chain hidden, but little could be hidden from an Inoue Investigator. It peeked out only once as Aehrenthal shifted in discomfort, but it was enough. So, he was courting to a wealthy woman, then. Interesting...

The elevator doors slid open, depositing the three men in a grand meeting room. There was a long table, covered only by a casual dinner for two. On the floor by the uneaten meal was their fallen ambassador. Their briefing had identified her as Ambassador Jehng. She had once battled the Reinhardt fleet at Zho Prime, routing their armada with a force half the size. As such, she made the perfect candidate in the eyes of the Reinhardt for an ambassador. The blast that took her life was from a high caliber weapon. Much of her stomach was missing, small streamers of flesh trailing from the wound. Relatively little blood was present due to cauterizing. Incendiary rounds were common among Reinhardt soldiers. Theories were already spinning through Naoto's mind.

Looking out a large window that opened onto a majestic view of the city was a wiry, well groomed Reinhardt official. He turned toward them, wielding as his weapon of choice a cruel, knife-like smile. His arms spread as the Investigators approached him, a gesture which came off somehow more as an invitation to duel than a greeting, "Hello, my friends! I expected you fifteen minutes ago. Get caught up in the details, did you?"

"Unlike some cultures, the Inoue are still known to walk when it is demanded of them." Naoto said, "It is a curious habit, I know."

The official laughed low and without mirth, "I take it you are not truly Commissar Hashimoto, then. Perhaps my surveillance equipment in the lobby is malfunctioning."

Hashimoto smiled at Naoto before saying, "No, I am Hashimoto. You are Commissar of Justice, Janosi. We met once many years ago and just as many stars away."

Janosi gave Hashimoto a look of realization that was a very good fake, but not subtle enough to pass unnoticed between the two Investigators, "Ah, yes! Somewhere in the border systems, was it not? You were cagy then too."

"As were you." Hashimoto said casually, taking another drag off his cigarette.

"You know, we don't allow smoking in this building." Said the Commissar, his plastic smile never wilting once.

Hashimoto ignored him. He walked to the body and crouched beside her, "This is how you found her?"

"The entire scene is as it was. Hermetically sealed. I knew the Inoue wouldn't be able to resist dispatching Investigators when we found her."

"Who discovered her?" asked Hashimoto.

The Commissar feigned surprise, "The Ambassador was female? I'm sorry, but you know how hard it is for Reinhardt citizens to tell with you Inoue." He turned toward Naoto, "I'm curious, are all of you androgynous or only the ones you permit to interact with other Houses?"

"Just answer the Chief Investigator's question." Naoto said curtly.

The Commissar overcompensated by grinning even wider at the two Investigators. He was obviously not used to miscalculating, "I found her myself. We'd had an appointment."

Hashimoto said, "Did anyone else have an appointment with the Ambassador?"

"Taking appointments is what Ambassadors do, Chief Investigator."

Naoto gingerly turned the Ambassador's head, removing a thin, clear adhesive strip from the back of her neck just above the spine. Every Inoue wore one. They were what the forerunners had referred to as computers; a database of knowledge networked to the Inoue through their own nervous system. It recorded sensory input, managed e-mails and gave her access, albeit delayed, to the Inoue grand information library on Shinri. By the standards of other houses, it was very advanced technology. Naoto let his contacts magnify on the network patch. He tisked as he discovered that it had been severely damaged. A localized electrical discharge against the patch's main processing core had sabotaged it. Naoto wondered whether the Ambassador had been electrocuted before or after being shot.

He handed the patch to Hashimoto, "This is fascinating, wouldn't you say?"

Hashimoto took the patch from his partner, squinting to examine it himself, "Most unusual." He turned to the Commissar, "How many people on this planet could disable a network patch, Commissar?"

"A what?"

Hashimoto glared at him in irritation, "I don't underestimate you so severely as to think you would be assigned to us and not know what this is."

He shrugged, "No more than a dozen men at the most. Your delightful technology is impossible to replicate. Disabling it is only just within the other Houses' grasp."

"Please e-mail me a list of those capable subjects at your first convenience."

"I'm sorry Commissar Hashimoto, but it might take me some time to--"

"Commissar Janosi," Hashimoto snapped, "If I didn't know better, I would think you were about to obstruct a lawful murder investigation. It would be most unfortunate if House Inoue determined that to be an act of war."

"Yes it would." The Commissar replied, his face changing not at all, "I'll go and fetch you that list now, shall I?"

"Please do."

The Commissar left the room, almost eerie in the manner in which he managed his irritation. Once he had gone, Hashimoto examined the room for Janosi's surveillance devices. They discovered a pitiful five scattered throughout the room and crushed the small metal bugs underfoot before speaking.

"What are your thoughts?" Hashimoto asked.

"The Commissar is hiding something." Naoto said, staring down at the body of Ambassador Jehng, his contacts analyzing her remains, "He knows more than he's saying."

"He's a politician." Hashimoto said, stubbing out his cigarette and lighting another, "If he tells you everything he knows, then you should be worried."

"Aren't you also a politician, sir?"

The Chief Investigator scoffed, "Only on paper. That man has politics in his soul. This may explain why his soul seems to be in a state of atrophy." He took another drag off his cigarette, staring into space, "All of this is too contradictory, Naoto. Ambassador Jehng is killed by what looks like a simple soldier's weapon, but her network patch could only be taken down by the most advanced of assassins. The Captain the Reinhardt assigned to this case is an offworld simpleton who asks us no questions and falls for a ruse a child could have seen through. Yet, the Commissar assigned to us is as crafty and manipulative as they come..."

He exhaled slowly, shaking his head, "Something's not right here."

Both Investigators fell silent as they heard the elevator doors open. A moment later, Janosi returned, "Did you get my e-mail, Commissar Hashimoto?"

Hashimoto paused for a moment as he mentally checked his mail, "I did. Thank you, Janosi. Now, if you would procure us living quarters. It seems we will be here longer than originally anticipated."

"Oh? How unfortunate." The Commissar said, eyeing Hashimoto suspiciously, "I suppose you will be interviewing the suspects I sent you personally."

"Asking questions is my job, Janosi. I'm not leaving until my job is done."

"I'm sure you won't." he said and Naoto knew by the Commissar's tone that something had passed between the two men he had not understood. Naoto made a mental note to question his superior about it later.

"Come, then," said the Commissar dryly, "Let us accommodate you."

It had been hours since Naoto had gotten so much as a word out of Hashimoto. He was lost in meditation, his own network patch physically linked to the victim's. They had been on Zweihan for what felt like days, running down suspects, interviewing people working at the embassy, and grinding over physical evidence again and again and again. Somehow, the picture still hadn't assembled itself. Naoto knew Hashimoto was getting desperate. To link with a damaged network patch was risky. Risks Naoto didn't even want to consider. If anyone other than the great Commissar of Investigation had attempted such a thing, Naoto never would have allowed it.

From across the cramped, dirty little apartment Commissar Janosi had scraped up, Naoto heard the tea kettle whistle. He half expected the steam to blow the whole place down. There were still bullet holes in the walls from previous tenants. Brown stains smeared the carpet which Naoto resisted the urge to run blood spatter analysis on for the sake of his own sanity. Everything reeked of purification. Worst of all was that, at present, there was nothing Naoto could do but wait and make tea. He sighed and trudged over to the kitchen. After pouring a cup for himself and the Chief Inspector, Naoto slumped into a chair, wondering what he'd gotten himself into. He set his tea down and sighed, "I hope you bring us good news soon, boss."

Hashimoto was several days away, his mind fully turned upon Jehng's patch. It tossed his consciousness through seas of static and more than once pushed him to the breaking point as he thought his way out of damaged, endlessly repeating memories. It might have been years since first he dove in. Yet, after hours of painstaking work he was rewarded with a point of clarity no more than two days from the incident. Hashimoto saw through the Ambassador's eyes. She looked into a mirror, brushing her hair in preparation for bed. She was exhausted and serene at once, as if a great burden was about to be lifted from her shoulders. At the speed of thought, Hashimoto accessed Jehng's e-mails and personal notes, finding nothing greatly unusual. His attention came back to her memory when he heard the Ambassador speak.

"This is a message for Chief Investigator Hashimoto. House Inoue must trust you to handle a delicate matter. Listen carefully..."

With a gasp of revelation, Hashimoto sprang to life, causing Naoto to spill his tea. Before the younger Investigator could stand up, his partner was already halfway out the door. He rushed to catch up, calling after him, "Did you discover why the Ambassador was killed?"

"Yes!" Hashimoto shouted as he haphazardly pulled on his coat in mid run, "Because of me. Hurry, boy! We have to move fast if we want to lose the Commissar's spies."

Naoto's brow furrowed, "Sir, what are you talking about?"

Hashimoto burst out into the street. He ran to a nearby car and tore its driver from the vehicle. The muscle-bound Reinhardt snarled at Hashimoto, the metallic fingers of his modified arm grinding into a solid steel fist. His heavy brow shot up in surprise as the Chief Inspector drew a wicked looking pistol, leveling it at the Reinhardt's head. With the look in Hashimoto's eye, even Naoto wondered if he would gun this man down in the street. The Reinhardt held up his hands in surrender, slowly backing away. Naoto barely got into the passenger seat before Hashimoto pulled back hard on the controls, pitching them into the air. He wove through traffic like a man with a death wish, a cigarette held between madly grinning teeth.

"Two days ago," the Chief Inspector began, "the Inoue Imperator asked Ambassador Jehng to look into a rumor: a massive fleet buildup at the edge of the Zweihan System. She found it. An armada twice the size of the one she crushed at Zho. Somehow in collecting the intel, she was compromised. Her off world communications were intercepted and edited. The Commissar's appointment with Jehng was to arrest her, but she outmaneuvered him. Jehng always did have a gift for strategy." Hashimoto chuckled with the first genuine amusement Naoto had heard from his superior in recent memory, "She escaped an inescapable situation."

Naoto nodded with understanding, "She hired an assassin to kill herself. One of her aides called the homeworld to tell us she was dead, drawing us to the planet."

"She didn't hire just an assassin," Hashimoto said in the midst of causing three midair collisions at once, "but a courier. She knew Janosi was aware of network patches. He may even have figured out a few good ways to destroy them. Jehng couldn't trust the information to her patch or any of her staff. Any of them could be compromised. How else would they be intercepting her messages?"

"So she left it with the assassin."

"Precisely." Hashimoto said, looking over his shoulder to see police cars falling from the sky. He handed Naoto his handgun, "I was told by a reliable source you received the top score in marksmanship, Naoto."

The two Investigators grinned at each other before Naoto slid into the back seat. His keen eyes trained on the quickly growing silhouettes of the incoming police cars. He felt the gun become an extension of his hand. He corrected for wind velocity, adjusted for the angle and speed of their vehicle. He took a breath.

The sound of the gun was deafening. Shards of glass splashed everywhere and Naoto's hands moved of their own volition. His rounds found weak points in the gunships. Half a dozen police cars fell in rapid succession. The acrid smell of slag filled Naoto's nostrils as he did his best to hold his balance while the Chief Investigator put them into a tailspin. They dove between streams of scorched Reinhardt steel. Naoto fell against the backside of the passenger seat, his sights trained on the enemy ships diving in hot pursuit. The automated guns of the police cars coughed up hot flak, blowing nearby cars to jagged pieces. Hashimoto swore and jerked the controls to one side.

"We're almost there!" Hashimoto screamed over the din of guns and howling wind.

Naoto grunted in reply. He slammed another magazine into the pistol, its barrel glowing an angry orange. He was beyond words or thoughts. There was only his hand, which dispensed death with an artistry the Reinhardt could not match. There seemed no end to the tiny warships bearing down on them. Even in simulations, Naoto had never fought so many targets at once.

Hashimoto looked back at Naoto, a cynical smirk painted across his face, "Alright, this is it. We're going to be coming in a little rough, so...brace yourself, yeah?"

Naoto looked over his shoulder in time to see the face of a building speeding toward the car. With a yelp, he sat down and activated a gravity harness, "Respectfully sir, you're completely insane!"

"Hasn't killed me yet, boy."

They slammed though the wall. Naoto's world burst into blurred, tumbling images: bits of someone's kitchen, a shard or two of living room, a bedroom's worth of clothes tossed into the air like leaves in the wind. In the end, the water spewing from a crushed toilet brought Naoto back to consciousness. That and the sound of Reinhardt warriors being air dropped into the flaming husk the Investigators had made of the building. By the time Naoto tumbled from the wreckage of their stolen car, Hashimoto was already drawing a backup weapon from his leg holster, his back pressed to the frame of a nearby door.

"I crashed us a few floors above the assassin's rendezvous point, Naoto. See if you can get us down there." Hashimoto said before firing blind into the hallway. He drew some very colorful language from the shock troops lying in wait.

Naoto rolled into the hall, drawing a second pistol from beneath his coat. His every shot fell on invisible faults in the soldiers' armor. Nothing was ever missed by an Investigator, even in the heart of battle. The first squad fell before they could react, but Naoto knew eventually greater numbers would overcome them.

"What happens if the assassin isn't there?" He asked as he kicked in a nearby stairwell door, "Or if the assassin fled when we crashed a car into the building he was waiting in?"

"Excellent questions, my boy." Hashimoto quipped as they dashed down the stairs, automatic fire decimating the landing behind them, "I suppose in that case we both die for nothing and our homeworld burns due to our failure."

"Oh, really?" Naoto said, putting a bullet in the brain of a charging warrior, "What's the bad news, then?"

Hashimoto shrugged, "You asked."

They covered their corners, rushing as quickly as possible without being taken down. At last, they came to the door Jehng had shown Hashimoto in her memories. He kicked it in and found a tranquil shrine to the House Okoro philosophy of peace in all things. The room was devoid of furniture save a low lying table. Prayer flags and mandalas decorated the walls and the heady aroma of home cooked Ethiopian food wafted through the air. Sitting just beyond the table was a slender woman, dark of skin with sky blue eyes. She wore the traditional robes of an Okoro Peacemaker. Holy woman, diplomat and brilliant assassin all in one, Peacemakers were an oddity of the galaxy that kept Hashimoto interested in his work, even after all this time.

"You're late." She said in a husky voice,

"That's a matter of opinion, really." Hashimoto said, while Naoto took up a position at the door, "Tell me you have the fleet data. Today has not been a good day."

The Peacemaker held up a small disc and without so much as a thanks, Hashimoto plucked it from her fingers, "We'd best find an exit before they overwhelm my partner."

She nodded, "They were always going to come for me one day, honorable Investigator. I am only glad my people could pay our debt to Ambassador Jehng for the service she performed us in orbit over Zho Prime. There is a passage in the bedroom that leads to the street. Go swiftly and restore peace to our shattered galaxy, my friends."

The Investigators vanished into the back and the Peacemaker moved not a muscle. Even as the Reinhardt filled the room, their crude weapons forced upon her, she remained still as death. The first of their number never saw the knife as she slid it into his neck. After that, there was nothing but muzzle flashes and silence for her. At last, she had earned the peace she had delivered to so many.

The Commissar of Justice sat marinating in haughty impatience atop the iron towers capping his city. He awaited word from the search teams scouring the streets. The Inoue had eluded him for hours now. Soon he would have no choice but to go out and join the search himself. He had already brought the might of his people to bear against this one final roadblock to conquest of their homeworld. All offworld communications had been scrambled. In all likelihood, the Reinhardt fleet would be gathered before any warning could be sent, but better to take every precaution.

The weakness of the Inoue was their dependence on pure intellect to save them when the shadows fell. Hashimoto had again proven a worthwhile foe, but Janosi held every advantage. In the end, he would force Hashimoto into a corner and finish the game Ambassador Jehng had set in motion. He flicked a switch on his desk and the wall behind him parted, revealing Zweihan in all its majesty. Framed in glorious industry, he could see the spaceport left open and waiting for his hidden prey to wander into. This was the only road Janosi had left open to the Investigators. They would have no choice but to enter his trap, given how little time was left.

Janosi sighed at his opponents' predictability as he heard Captain Aehrenthal's frantic voice crackle over his comms, "Honorable Commissar! The Inoue have pierced our defenses somehow. Their shuttle, it's broken free from docking, sir."

"Then scramble Interceptors, Captain. Target it with orbital defenses. Hit it with everything. Their pathetic Inoue shields will never withstand such a barrage."

The Commissar watched with detached amusement as the feminine looking Inoue shuttle took to the sky, glittering like some woman's plaything. Within moments Interceptors roared past the tower and missiles descended from the heavens. Janosi traced a dozen possible kill points across the sky and waited for the Inoue ship to fall into one of them. He poured himself a drink, sitting back to wait for his inevitable victory. The shuttle pitched and weaved through the sky, avoiding its end by inches. Reinhardt ordinance lit the sky on fire. The shuttle's pilot had to be Hashimoto. No one else could do so much with so little.

Languidly, Janosi directed his Interceptors with the steady ease of a conductor making beautiful music. He could feel his mind working against the Inoue's Chief Investigator. It was glorious. Fulfilling. Everything he could ask for in the moment. It took every projectile Commissar Janosi could bring to bear, but in the end he guided his final armed Interceptor right on top of the Chief Investigator's shuttle.

"Take him down, pilot." Janosi said, savoring the words like a fine wine.

The last of their missiles launched and Janosi could feel a wicked smile stretch across his face as it hit home. The shuttle's right side burst into flames. A wave of particles like the remains of a burst bubble came off the ship as its shields buckled beneath superior Reinhardt weaponry. The Commissar was so absorbed in the shuttle's death, he almost missed the Interceptor that broke off during the engagement. Veering way off course, it rocketed toward the atmosphere at full burn.

"Interceptor pilot, return to base." Janosi commanded, his pulse quickening when he received no reply, "Interceptor pilot, change your course now."

"My apologies, Commissar," the voice of Investigator Hashimoto said, the sound of his exploding shuttle ringing in the background, "Yours was a well played game, but I have one last deception for you."

The renegade Interceptor's frequency opened, Naoto's voice coming through in clear Inoue tones, "I'll bring rescue for you, sir. I swear it."

Janosi could feel his face twitching in fury as realization began to set in. Hashimoto's smug laughter came over the comms, "Don't be stupid, boy. I told you there are many excellent ways to die. Don't ruin mine."

"Fire! Someone fire on the Interceptor!" the Commissar demanded in shrill tones.

"We can't, Commissar." The Captain said weakly, "There's nothing left to fire."

Hashimoto's shuttle crashed, spitting fire and shrapnel into the air. Janosi was comforted not at all to hear Hashimoto's mocking laughter no more. He could only watch as his rogue Interceptor trailed off into the sky. Even after it was long gone, he stared blankly at the point in which it had vanished. Soon his comms were alight with messages from the Imperator, all of them no doubt demanding an update on the hunt.

The bested Commissar calmly opened a bottle of his finest liquor. He poured himself a generous glass. Collecting the officer's pistol he had casually discarded on a nearby table, Janosi returned to his favorite chair. He wondered what he might have done differently. He thought about all he would have accomplished had he not failed at this last moment. Most of all, he wondered how long he had left till he would hear the footsteps of the Imperator's guards, come to end his life.

Alexander D. McConnell lives in Olympia, Washington and has been avidly writing and publishing fiction since the age of twelve. A lover of all flavors of speculative fiction, he's tried his hand at fantasy, science fiction and horror and has become increasingly comfortable with blending all three. He fancies the idea of publishing his cosmic adventure novel series, The Pocket Watch Brigade, sometime before the world ends in the next few years.