Second Archon War: Imperatrix Umberosa 15 (Patreon)

Imperatrix Umberosa 15: Fish or Cut Bait

Beta'd and edited by The Grand Cogitator, October Daye, Dr_Feelgood, and Philosophysics

The door to Alexandria’s office burst open, and she looked up as Contessa rushed in, slamming the door behind her. “Were we involved?”

Alexanrida set her pen down and collapsed her hands before her. “In what, exactly?”

“You know,” Contessa said, coming forward and planting her hands on the desk, actually leaning over Alexandria. “Were we involved?”

Alexandria glanced over at a newspaper, which had the headline that had rocked the globe on it.

ATTEMPTED COUP AGAINST SHOGUN: FORMER PRIME MINISTER NAKAMURA DEAD

She looked back at Contessa, meeting her eyes. “No. To the best of my knowledge, the Protectorate and the PRT had nothing to do with this.”

Contessa studied Alexandria for a moment, which made her frown. “Don’t you know this already, Contessa? You could have just asked-”

“I had to know,” Contessa said with a sigh, and dragged over a chair, slumping into it. She took her hat off, revealing frizzy and sweat-slicked hair. “This is bad. I didn’t see this coming. At all.  It’s bad, Alex.”

A chill ran down as Alexandria realized that Contessa had been genuinely confused earlier. Shifting uneasily, she cleared her throat. “How bad?”

“We’ve never seen her angry,” Contessa said, looking up at the ceiling, her tone far away. “Not truly. She got ticked off at you when she thought you told You-Know-Who on her, and she was upset when Heartbreaker tried to take her…but we’ve never seen her truly furious before.”

“What about her battle with Leviathan? The Kill Order? What about the Kamikaze?” Alexandria asked, leaning forward in her seat.

Contessa lowered her gaze and met Alexandria’s eyes. “She enjoyed fighting Levithan. She was upset that it attacked Japan, but she saw that fight as mildly amusing. The Kill Order she barely noticed. She was irritated with the Chinese but didn’t consider the CUI a legitimate threat, because, well…they weren’t. But she’s pissed now.”

“I heard Princess Ami and her companion were hospitalized,” Alexandria said slowly, her eyes drifting back to the paper. “You don’t think…we assumed she was just collecting powerful Parahumans.”

“Whether or not she started off that way, she actually does consider Ami to be her daughter now, which makes the robot extra weird,” Contessa said with a shake of her head. “I can sort of Path Raiden now, original Raiden that is, but it’s still unreliable. You don’t have to be a Thinker to realize that her official statements ring of a mother whose baby was hurt though.”

“And of a country preparing for war.” Alexandria picked up the paper and grimaced, flipping it to show a picture of Lord Nakamura. “I have a feeling we’re about to find out how much the former Prime Minister was holding her back.”

“I’d give you an answer, but you might as well ask Eighty,” Contessa said with a sigh.

“Eighty?” Alexandria asked, tilting her head to one side.

In response, Contessa produced a Magic Eight Ball, to which someone had glued a pair of googly eyes in the holes of the eights.

Despite herself, Alexandria snorted in amusement. “I’ll pass. There is something else I wanted to ask you about, however.”

Contessa sat up, her eyebrows rising. “Oh?”

That was odd. Normally, she’d just spit out the answer unprompted. “Yes. It’s about Keith.”

“I’ve told you, I honestly can’t get any answers about what happened to him. I know Barbados did it, but how or why? I can’t even begin to get my Path to answer,” Contessa said with a shake of her head, and what looked like a slight blush of embarrassment. Alexandria was well aware Contessa had been stranded for nearly a day at Disneyland Paris by Venti, though no one had been able to work out exactly how he’d managed it.

“Not that. Well, not entirely.” Alexandria set aside the paper and grimaced, rubbing her temple with two fingers. “Keith…Legend…we’ve completed our investigation, which was mostly a farce, and come to the conclusion that he did abandon his post, and that he did defy orders and the rules to fight at Munich. I don’t personally want to see him run out on a rail; God knows he did do the right thing, but that combined with the possibility that he is compromised by Barbatos…”

“Oh. Oh!” Contessa’s eyes went wide, and she leaned forward in her chair. Was she…surprised? The only times Alexandria had seen her actually surprised had involved Raiden and Venti, which this did from a certain perspective, but Alexandria had thought Contessa would have seen this one coming.

“Well, hmm, let me see,” Contessa’s eyes darted back and forth, and she started muttering to herself, all while caressing Eighty, the little eyes bouncing up and down in a rather unnerving fashion. After half a minute, she nodded, then shook Eighty and peered at the answer.

“Is that…really necessary?” Alexandria asked, feeling more than a little disturbed. This wasn’t like Contessa at all, though she had become increasingly odd in the past few months.

“I like to think of myself as quirky instead of odd, but yes, I am…well, let’s just say that I’m trying out something different,” Contessa said in the now all too familiar dreamy and detached tone. While in the past Alexandria had found that unnerving, now it was comforting. “So, I think your best solution is to reassign Legend to PRT ENE.”

“Brockton Bay? Why?” Alexandria asked, taken aback by this abrupt answer.

“The people who want to see him punished will see it as a demotion. The people who want to see him rewarded will see it as a chance to free up his time and let him respond to global crisis points more easily, since while Brockton is a bit of a cape hub, it’s not really a problem city like New York,” Contessa explained. “Plus, it will give the new PRT Director a more experienced cape to mentor him.”

“Calvert, right?” Alexandra asked, reaching for the file. He’d been gravely injured during the Ellisburg mission and had been promoted as part of a deal to keep his mouth shut that it had been the Shuumatsuban that had cleaned up that mess.

“Exactly,” Contessa agreed, and Alexandria gave up on looking for the information. “Move Armsmaster to Philadelphia though, and put Chevalier in charge of New York.”

“Why am I the PRT head again?” Alexandria asked with a wry smile.

“Because I’m quirky, and you’re reliable,” Contessa said with a smile and wink. Then she sobered. “But Alex. I can’t stress this enough: Do not further anger Raiden. If she finds out we were involved at all, and we were, she’s going to come after us.”

The sudden change of subject caused Alexandria’s gut to clench, and she remembered.

DEPART, MORTAL. AND NEVER RETURN.

Suppressing a shudder, she managed to ask, “How are we involved? Weren’t you just asking if we were involved?”

“Vials. We sold vials to the North Koreans and several Japanese dissidents. I haven’t been able to follow my Path to see if she will find out with absolute certainty, but the odds are not in our favor,” Contessa said, her tone grim.

“And if she does find out?” Alexandria asked, her gut churning like it had when she was on chemo.

In response, Contessa jiggled the Magic 8 Ball again. A moment later, it gave its answer.

“Outlook Not So Good.”

Adjusting the cowl of his jacket, Ishihara glanced around him nervously, then banged on the metal door of the garage. He heard a car honk in the distance behind him and flinched, but a second glance showed nothing moving in the shadows of the docks around him. A moment later, the shutter of the garage opened, and a tall muscular woman dressed in coveralls and a stained shirt peered out. “What do you want?”

“I’m here to deliver a package to a… Captain Bukdu?” Ishihara said, standing up straight.

“You’re looking at her,” the woman said, her visible eye gleaming in the purple light of the street lamps. The other was covered by a red handkerchief with a black square at the center where the pupil would have been.

“Ah.” Ishihara stepped forward, cold sweat forming on his spine. “Then you are the one I contacted. I am ‘Mackerel.’”

“You do look like a little fish,” Bukdu said, eyeing Ishihara up and down. She glanced up and down the alley, then jerked her head into the garage. “Come on.”

Hastily, Ishihara stepped over the threshold, and Bukdu slammed the shutter shut behind him. Within, he found a cluttered garage full of parts of machinery and scattered buckets and crates, as well as three toughs, all large men who glowered at him.

One of the men growled something in Korean, which Bukdu responded to in the same language.

“I’d appreciate it if while I am present, you speak Japanese or English,” Ishihara said, his lip curling in distaste. The thugs gave him blank looks, but Bukdu laughed.

“Fine, fine. I was just telling the boys to get the boat ready. Go on, we’re not getting paid to stand around!”

The sailors saluted sloppily, then exited out of the back of the building towards the nearby docks. Bukdu kicked a stool towards Ishihara, then pulled out an electric kettle from a pile of junk on a nearby table. “Tea while you wait?”

“No, thank you,” Ishihara said stiffly. He certainly didn’t want to drink whatever swill this scum would serve.

“Suit yourself, I’m thirsty,” Bukdu said, and dug out a cracked ceramic mug, heating up a cup of tea for herself. She was halfway through it when one of the sailors stuck his head in. “Boat’s ready, captain.”

“Great.” Bukdu downed her tea, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and nodding to Ishihara. “Well, come on then. No time like the present.”

The boat itself was small, only about 20 meters long, with rust staining the sides and plenty of fishing tackle and nets adorning it. On the side of the boat, written in English was the word “Crux” along with a crude spray-painted black cross.

“You got any shit to throw on board?” Bukdu demanded, turning her one eye on Ishihara.

In response, he held up the one small bag he was carrying. “Only this, and myself. As the job stipulated.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time a customer tried to swap cargo on me at the last moment,” Bukdu commented, and sprang aboard the ship, her legs carrying her much farther than a normal human’s should have.

Ishihara’s heart skipped a beat, but as Bukdu straightened, he caught a purple glint in her hair, hung there as an ornament: Vision. An electro one by the look of it. She turned, offering a hand down to Ishihara, who was clutching his valise to his chest. “What’s wrong? You did your research, didn’t you?”

“I… I had heard you defeated Umibōzu as an unpowered human,” Ishihara said slowly, feeling dread grip his chest. If this woman was a Vision Holder, then the Shuumatsuban would know of her…

“And I did! Didn’t get this until after Her Excellency showed up. Now get on board before her pet ninjas catch wind that I’m breaking the law again,” Bukdu ordered grimly.

Swallowing, Ishihara took her hand. He was out of options. They were already rounding up dissidents, and his name was at the top of the list.

Especially since he’d been instrumental in planning the assassination attempt. What fools they’d been. He’d actually thought they could kill, or at least wound, the Endslayer. They’d imported Tinkertech, hired foreign mercenaries, and as much as it shamed Ishihara, gotten help from the damned Koreans and Yangban. It still hadn’t been enough. Taken by complete surprise, and with dozens of powerful capes and tinkertech weapons pointed at her, Raiden hadn’t even been scratched. Mushu and Keiga had been almost worse. Their vehicle had been immolated with them in it, only for two giant dragons to burst forth and slaughter those who had attempted to attack them.

At least that traitorous dog Nakamura was dead. Small consolation. They’d killed a few of the Sentai and several Shuumatsuban, but not a single member of the Royal Family. Well, aside from the true Royal Family. The Emperor and his family had been mournful but ultimately necessary collateral damage.

It took agonizing minutes, but the Crux finally cast off, with the sailors working quickly and efficiently, talking in low tones in Korean. Ishihara wondered if they’d been here before Raiden had shown herself, or if they were a part of the wave of immigrants she’d allowed in. As far as she was concerned, to become Japanese, one simply had to swear loyalty and devotion to her Eternity. She cared not for blood. Another sign of the complete disaster she was.

The boat motored out, leaving the city of Niigata behind. Ishihara turned his back on Japan, deliberately not gazing at the lights of the city, or the sun that would soon be rising behind it. Instead, he faced towards his future to the West. And desperately fought to keep his rebellious stomach under control.

After another round of dry heaves and vomiting, Ishihara slumped against the gunnels, feeling utterly drained and miserable. A sailor stepped over him, preparing nets and machinery as Bukdu called orders. Staggering to his feet on the rolling deck, he stumbled over to her.

“Why are you fishing? We should be making all speed for North Korean waters!” he hissed.

Bukdu gave him a look that seemed to drip condescension, though she schooled it to neutrality soon enough. “If a JBN patrol boat sees a fishing boat that isn’t fishing, what do you think they’re going to do? I’m the smuggler: I’ve run back and forth on this route often enough to know how to get things in and out of Japan. And it’s a lot easier if my holds are full of fish when they come looking for drugs.”

“You have drugs aboard!?” Ishihara hissed, horrified at the thought. This was what was wrong with Korean filth: they had no respect for the law.

“Not on the way to Korea, but I’ll pick up a load for the way back. Why, you want a hit? One of the boys might have some pot in their bunk,” Bukdu asked.

One of the sailors nearby turned and shot the captain a grin. “Not worth our hides to be smoking on the job, Captain!”

“You’re damn fucking right, Kazoo!” she shouted back, and the sailors all laughed as they went about their work. She turned to Ishihara, frowning at him. “Here, take some Dramamine. Then go hole up in my cabin. It’ll be a day or so before we hand you over to the NKs. And we’ve got fishing to do. Lubber like you will just get in the way.”

Gratefully, Ishihara took the medication and then went to collapse on Bukdu’s bed. He found a picture of her with another woman, and by their posture, one she was intimate with. The back of his mind tickled, and he thought he recognized her. Maybe she was a Korean comfort woman. He’d had enough of those over the years. The thought of sharing a woman with filth like Bukdu disgusted him, and he rolled over, managing to pass out.

Hours later, he was awoken by a rough shake. “Get up. We’re at the contact point.”

Bukdu was standing over him, a massive axe strapped to her back. It was one of those weapons Raiden churned out for her sentai, and Ishihara felt another stab of paranoia. “Where did you get that?”

“Prudence?” Bukdu fingered the axe, a sharklike grin on her face. “What do you think? I’m a smuggler. Through illegal means.”

Accepting that, Ishihara let himself be dragged from the bed and out onto the deck. The air was dark, fog and mist surrounding the boat as they rocked on what felt like massive swells, but was probably fairly calm for January on the Sea of Japan. The nets were out, and the sailors were working, but the one she’d called Kazoo turned to the captain.

“They’re out there. The winds tell me they’re about three clicks out, that way,” the young man said, pointing. Now that Ishihara was paying a bit more attention, he noticed that the boy had an educated accent, and didn’t have the rough-and-tumble appearance of the other sailors. He did have a bright orange kazoo on a thong about his neck and a glowing green gem at his belt. Another Vision holder.

“Do all smugglers employ capes?” Ishihara snarled, turning to Bukdu.

She regarded him calmly. “The ones that steal Electro Crystals out from under her Excellency’s nose do. Now shut up. Sound travels farther than you’d think in this fog.”

The next few minutes passed with nail-biting tension until a light appeared in the fog. Ishihara’s heart pounded in his chest as Bukdu went over and used a lantern to flash a signal, which after a few moments, was returned.

“That’s them,” Bukdu said grimly. “Get ready, boys. I want this handoff to go smoothly, but if it doesn’t…”

There was a series of metallic clicks and rattles, and Ishihara started as he realized each of the sailors was armed. They tucked their weapons under leather aprons and heavy jackets, but they were clearly ready for a fight.

“What are you doing?! If this is my contact-”

“Maybe they want a better deal. I’ve dealt with some frisky NKs before. And if these are really Yangban…well. Things could get real interesting.”

The tension continued to ratchet up in Ishihara’s gut as the other ship pulled closer. It turned out to be another fishing vessel, even more rusted and ill-maintained than the Crux, with dozens of grim-looking sailors on the decks. Ropes were tossed over, and the two vessels pulled together. Bukdu conference with the captain of the other ship, then motioned to Ishihara.

“This is your stop. You’re their problem now.”

Nodding, Ishihara stepped forward, the sailors on the other ship reaching out to haul him over with rough hands. He didn’t appreciate the handling, but he was grateful to finally be safe away: His nightmare was over.

“Minister Ishihara. Welcome aboard the Lu Rong Yuan,” the ship's officer said in lightly accented Japanese.

But it was the wrong accent. And the wrong name.

“What?! You’re CUI? I was traveling to-”

The officer backhanded Ishihara, sending him to the deck. Then he raised his voice. “Dispose of them.”

One of the Lu Rong Yuan’s sailors crackled with power, sending off a bolt of lightning, while three others cast off nets to reveal heavy weaponry. Ishihara cried out, then screamed as the deck beneath him shuddered and rung like a bell, followed by a deep echoing boom.

Sirens blared, and out of the mists, two other boats suddenly emerged, prompting shouts of shock and surprise from the sailors of the Lu Rong Yuan. Bukdu, on the other hand, seemed prepared.

“WE WANT THEM ALIVE!” she bellowed, glowing with sudden power as she unlimbered her axe. “FOR THE SHOGUN!”

The next few moments were a chaotic blur as Ishihara tried to crawl into a hole to hide. Men screamed and shouted, lightning and wind roared, one man grew an extra set of arms, and Bukdu cleaved others in half with Prudence. At first, the Yangban and Chinese sailors seemed to have the advantage, but then uniformed officers of the JBN with machine guns and Sentai in power armor joined the fight. Ishihara didn’t get a good look at any of it, though he did try to crawl over to the other side of the Lu Rong to jump into the water, only to be grabbed by the collar and hauled to his feet.

“So sorry, sir. But you’re wanted alive. For now,” Kazoo said. Ishihara tried desperately to claw at him, but he was no match for a Vision Holder’s strength, and bonds of wind wrapped about him. He was hauled off the listing and burning Lu Rong as Bakufan sailors fought flames and took captive the Chinese sailors and onto the deck of a JBN destroyer, then tossed at the feet of a woman in civilian clothes.

“Here he is, Ms. Noriko,” Kazoo said. “Mostly undamaged, as requested.”

“Very good.” A hand reached down, tilting Ishihara’s face up, and he realized he recognized the woman.

“You! You’re Bukdu’s lover?!” he demanded. The name had finally triggered his memory. “Noriko Goya. You betrayed me? One of my own subordinates?!”

Her lip curled in disgust, and she drew her hand back, delivering a slap that sent Ishihara to the deck, ears ringing. “I am no traitor. Unlike you. I serve her Excellency.”

Spitting out blood and what felt like a tooth, Ishihara rose up to glare at Noriko. “Without me, you’d be nothing! If I hadn’t given you the contracts-”

“Then I’d have found someone else to sell to. Jade Chamber Industries didn’t need your patronage. You needed me to finance your campaigns. Something I deeply regret doing now. Kazuha, did you sweep them all up?”

“A few escaped our grasp by dying most inconveniently,” Kazoo replied, his tone apologetic. “But we found identifying papers. They’re DPRK and CUI intelligence officers.”

“And a real Yangban cape!”

A beaten and bloodied man, now with only three arms, was shoved to the deck beside Ishihara by Bukdu, Prudence on her shoulder as she grinned wolfishly. Her axe was gore-stained as well, and there was a cut on her cheek that was dripping blood down the side of her face.

“Tch. Another scar?” Noriko sighed, digging out a lacy handkerchief, pressing the soft cloth tenderly to Bukdu’s injury.

“Ah, it’s nothing! Barely even a scratch! These fuckers didn’t even put up a good fight!” Bukdu laughed even as a faint blush crept up her cheeks.

“You sold me out, bitch!” Ishihara snarled, glaring at Bukdu, his hands extended towards her like claws.

She turned a side-eye towards him and had the audacity to chuckle slightly before looking back to Noriko. “So we’ve hooked our catch. Do we still need the bait?”

“He does seem a bit over the weight limit,” Noriko said, her own tone icy. “Lighten his burden. Toss the rest to the bottom feeders.”

Bukdu kicked Ishihara over onto his back, hefting her axe.

“No, wait! I have money still! Hidden accounts! I’m worth more to you-”

He was still crying out when his head bounced off the deck; his body falling in the other direction. His deaf ears could not hear his decapitated body splashing into the water. His sightless eyes never saw the finely carved box that Noriko placed his head in. His cut bonds meant none mourned his passing.

An appropriate end for a false patriot; a fitting gift for the Raiden Shogun.

And the opening salvo of the Third Sino-Japanese War.

Author's Note:

Yes, that's Beidou and Ningguang. 

PHILO: I don’t know why, but I instinctively suggested making things gayer between Ningguang and Beidou during the after-battle aftercare, adding in blushes. For some reason, it appeals to a side of me to have lesbians flirt as they take down conservative nationalists.