Lefteye
Part One
"Oh Raharu, haru,
haru, haru, haruuuuuuuu…"
Amarao drooled all over the new girl
on the bridge of the Bureau of Interstellar Immigration's starship. Well, not
literally… that would be disgusting. No, he just found himself incredibly
taken by her, this mysterious girl with the lavender hair, ruby-red eyes,
slim waist, nice ass, ample brea--
Ahem.
The young agent straightened his tie,
knowing full well that he was getting carried away. Maybe it was because Alpha
Centauri was so fucking boring. They'd originally been called here on a tip
that Medical Mechanica's steam-powered wrinkle-reducers was stirring things
up on Centauri's fourth planet. The matter had been quickly and quietly taken
care of, and now, they were stuck with nothing to do. Not even paperwork,
which was especially amazing since the Stellar Police Fraternity was the most
bureaucratic of all of the Galactic Government's organizations. I mean, we're
talking more paper than your average library, and that's just on a daily basis.
Sitting sideways in his chair, legs
dangling over one arm, his junior assistant Gentorubami played a game on his
Bandai Wonderswan, entranced by the bright colors and superdeformed sprites.
The pilot of the Fraternity-maintained ship, some guy by the name of Toren,
was fast asleep, having left the ship on Cruise Orbit. Raharu Haruha, the newest
member of the crew, stood gazing out the large window that filled the very front
of the bridge.
With nothing better to do, Amarao stood
up from his chair and walked over to Raharu, smoothing out his thick brown eyebrows
with saliva-moistened fingers. He knew that his eyebrows were his power center,
and he did his best to keep them neat, with every single strand smoothed back
in the right direction. If he had time, of course he'd be smoothing his brows
with his custom-made brush, and not doing this hasty business with his fingers.
He totally took care of his
eyebrows.
"Raha--"
He was cut short by the simple act
of her turning around. Despite her beauty, she had an icy cold personality,
which stopped men in their tracks without her uttering a word. The genetically-engineered
product of staff scientist Hideaki, she had been assembled from all manner of
disparate parts and fused together with a device called the Ayanami Ray. She
quickly became the envy of all of the other Fraternity divisions, and they all
begged Hideaki to make Raharu-types for their own ships. Hideaki politely declined
all of their requests, so these departments all attempted to make their own
models. The key, they all figured, was in the pastel purple hair. How wrong
they were.
"Yes, Agent Amarao?"
He put on his Serious Face, the stern
look he used when he really wanted to Impress The Ladies. "I was wondering
if you would care to join me for a walk?"
"Sir, where shall we walk to?"
"Oh, I don't know… around the ship?"
Any other girl would've given him a
strange look right about now, but this was Raharu. "All right. I wasn't
doing anything anyway."
She immediately started walking toward
the door to the bridge, without any prompting whatsoever from Amarao. The girl
was, like, an android or something.
They toured the ship, and Amarao was
pleased to find that she had questions to ask of him. Apparently, there were
sections of the ship she hadn't seen yet, such as the Cosmic Scooter hangar,
where all manner of Piaggio, Vespa, and Lambretta scooters sat parked. As Amarao
showed her all the different models, Raharu found herself drawn to a canary
yellow Vespa gathering dust in one corner.
"Ahh, do you like that scooter?"
Raharu ran a pale index finger over
the Vespa's grimy headlight. "Does no one use it?"
"No, no one does. It's a beautiful
model-- very rare-- but there's something… not right about it."
"Something not right?"
"They say that each Cosmic Scooter
has a personality… a temperament. This particular Vespa has tried the patience
of nearly every agent in this Bureau. It's very difficult to control."
"Perhaps you just haven't found the
right rider."
"Maybe… Why, do you think it could
be you?"
Raharu said nothing. Amarao continued,
"Listen, once we get out of this solar system, I can take you out for a spin…
maybe even try you out on that Vespa. We don't want to do any riding around
here in Centauri… Medical Mechanica might get the wrong idea."
"I understand. Another time, then."
"Yes. Now, what else haven't you seen?"
He ended the tour in the Satellite
Lounge, so named because it was a satellite docking bay before being turned
into a bar and chill-out space. Among the accoutrements was a large skylight,
through which the stars shone down. Amarao dimmed the lights and prepared
a dry martini in an aluminum shaker, figuring that she was the bitter-drink
type. He gave Raharu her glass, then seated himself next to her on the couch,
a sleek modern piece of furniture that looked like it had been torn straight
from the IKEA catalog. He sipped from his own drink, an invention of his that
was especially sweet with melon liqueur.
Amarao gazed over at Raharu, his
eyes fondling her every curve as she took tiny sips from her martini and stared
up at the stars through the ceiling. Her bangs got in her eyes as she leaned
her head against the back of the couch; Amarao took the initiative and brushed
them away for her. Raharu's red irises turned to look at him, the rest of
her body remaining motionless, before going back to the twinking, glittery
bits in the sky. Amarao leaned his head against his arm.
"You really like the stars, don't
you?"
"Hideaki told me… that when you look
at the stars, you really get a feel for the size of the universe."
"Eh?"
"Think about it… all of us are so
small… but the stars are so big. Yet, when you're far away from them, the
stars themselves become smaller than you are."
Impressed by this philosophical exchange
they were having, Amarao nodded his head solemly. "Yes. The universe really
is unfathomably enormous."
"Sometimes… I wish… that I was big,
like the stars…"
"Raharu," he said, leaning in closer
to her face-- damn what a pretty face!-- effectively blocking her view
of the skylight. "You are the only star I need."
"Agent Amarao?"
"Please, just call me Amarao…"
He covered her lips with his own,
kissing her lightly, not minding that she wasn't responding. Well, at first
she didn't. Then, she took his lead and returned the kisses, and when he stuck
his tongue in her mouth, she followed that lead too, not once questioning
where all of this was going.
Amarao, on the other hand, knew exactly
where this was going, or rather, where he was going to take it. So
innocent, so demure, but with a fucking hot body… how could he resist? He
hooked his finger into the ring of her jumper's zipper pull and drew it downward,
exposing her soft, pale skin.
Yeah, fucking hot all right.
As his hands caressed her thighs,
and his mouth wandered south of her lips, Amarao smiled. Indeed, Raharu was
sweet… and lucky for him, he had a particularly voracious sweet tooth.
Gossip was practiced silently and
politely at the Bureau of Interstellar Immigration, and the rumors of Amarao
and Raharu's affair was no different. Even so, Amarao was very pleased with
himself, and made sure his eyebrows were in perfect order the morning after
his sexual conquest of Raharu in the newly-christened Love Lounge. The next
few days were fairly uneventful, with the occasional male crew member coming
up to Amarao with questions concerning Raharu's performance, and they didn't
mean on the job. Then, one day, the usually elusive Captain came onto the
bridge to announce the new orders he received from the Fraternity.
"We are to leave at once for Barnard's
Star. Something strange has occurred there that the Fraternity wants us to
investigate."
Amarao was pumped. Finally, some
action. He looked over at Raharu, thinking about their conversation in the
Cosmic Scooter hangar, as well as the little somethin' somethin' he'd coax
out of her in return for allowing her a ride on that persnickety yellow Vespa.
Subconsciously he checked to make sure his eyebrows were in order.
As the starship broke its orbit from
Alpha Centauri's fourth planet, Amarao casually walked up to Raharu as the
others on board curiously watched.
"Raharu, would you like to take a
ride?"
He could swear that her eyes just
barely lit up at that moment. "On a Cosmic Scooter?" she asked.
"Of course. I did promise you a ride
once we left this system."
Raharu simply nodded, her face as
expressionless as always.
"All right," Amarao replied, scratching
his head. He really didn't get this girl. "How about now? You aren't
busy, are you?"
"No, Amarao."
"Cool. Let's get you set up."
Amarao took Raharu to the hangar
and rummaged around for suitable riding equipment. He finally came up with
a scarf the color of vanilla ice cream, a large pair of goggles, and an old
racing helmet with the words "DAVIDA MOTO ENGINEERING" painted in enamel on
the front. Then, he picked out a scarf, goggles, and helmet for himself, shrugged
on his dingy old trench coat, and unlocked the key cabinet. For some reason,
each scooter had been assigned an identifying letter, instead of the usual
number, and this was how the keys were arranged. Amarao found the keys to
the yellow Vepsa under the letter P. Next to the P, some joker had scribbled
an exclamation point, as though to warn potential riders of the unpredictable
nature of this vehicle. He picked up this set, brushing the cobwebs off of
them, then plucked his own keys from the cabinet, which were assigned the
letter K. After setting his key in the ignition of his own scooter, he walked
over to Raharu, who was diligently cleaning the dust and grime off of the
yellow Vespa with a towel she had found nearby.
"This will be your first time riding
one of these things, right?"
"Well, I've driven land scooters
before…"
"Ahh, but these are Cosmic
Scooters. Aside from driving on roads, they are also capable of flight, both
in planetary atmospheres and outer space. Just make sure you have your force
field on before we leave the airlock, and you'll be all right."
"Force field?"
"Yes, so you don't get crushed by
the vacuum of space."
"How do I turn on the force field?"
"There's a small green button, just
below the RPM meter. Press it once you have your engine started."
"All right."
Amarao mounted his own scooter, slipped
on a pair of wraparound goggles, and buttoned his trench coat. He looked over
to Raharu and nodded.
"Are you ready?"
"Yes."
"Let's go."
They fired up the ignitions of their
respective scooters and sped out of the hangars, into the blackness of space.
Amarao cruised half the time, watching
Raharu's progress with the Vespa out of the corner of his eye. She seemed
to be handling the machine quite well, her wrists twisting and flinching to
accommodate for the Cosmic Scooter's frequent sputters and power fluctuations.
Indeed, she was a natural.
Traveling at warp speed, Barnard's
Star was only a few Galactic-hours away. As the star's planets came into his
field of vision, Amarao got to wondering: why the hell were they called to
this backwater system? There was no native intelligent life on any of Barnard's
planets; hell, none of the planets could even support intergalactic mining
bases. There was a maximum security prison on Barnard's fourth planet, but
it had been a few hundred years since the wardens abandoned the place and
left all the prisoners to die. Even Medical Mechanica avoided this nowhere
land. Amarao groaned. This place was going to be even more boring than Alpha
Centauri.
Then, as they passed through the
orbit path of Barnard's third planet, Raharu slammed on her breaks. The yellow
Vespa squooshed into a bubbly mass from inertia, only to immediately snap
back into its rigid metal form.
Amarao picked up a walkie-talkie
from his scooter's small dashboard.
"Raharu! Wha--"
He stopped in his tracks and followed
her eyes, and his ears. Despite the universal vacuum, the sound was deafening,
and quite unmistakable. It was the sound of a thousand taut piano strings
bursting all at once, echoing throughout a performance space billions of times
larger than Carnegie Hall. The amplifier of Barnard's Star pulsed and gurgled
like liquid in Amarao's infrared goggles; he felt as though, instead of a
star, he was looking at an egg with a soft magma shell.
The collective scream of a million
pissed-off dolphins was the next wave of sound to hit their ears as the star
grew brighter and developed a distinct pimple in its southern hemisphere.
"Raharu! The star! Let's get out
of--"
But she wasn't listening. Her Vespa
just hung there in the third planet's orbit, obeying the static will of its
rider, who was staring at the star.
He started hyperventilating, telling
himself over and over again, Don't panic, don't panic. As an Immigration Agent
of the Fraternity, "Don't Panic" was the first lesson he ever received. Needless
to say, he had a hard time believing such theoretical psychological bullshit
now.
Amarao pulled his Vespa up next to
Raharu's in an attempt to speak to her in person. Her unshielded eyes were
captivated by the star's unusual activity.
"Raharu, are you nuts? Put your fucking
goggles on! You're gonna go blind!"
At that moment, Raharu slowly turned
her head. Amarao drew a gasp as he saw her eyes. They were completely white.
What Amarao found even more shocking
was the fact that in the brief second before she reared her yellow steed and
split for the zit on Barnard's face, the edge of her mouth curled up into
a smirk.
TWO MONTHS LATER:
Temporarily suspended from his duties,
Amarao largely confined himself to his quarters. All this time later and they
were still in the cho-boring Barnard system, the small collective
of scientists on board studying the anomaly that popped out of the star the
day Raharu disappeared. They argued and debated in the Love Lounge, reclining
in Poäng chairs while Amarao flipped through back issues of various fanzines
while laying on his bunk. Eventually he began drifting off to sleep, issues
of the irreverent Philly hip-hop zine On The Go and Japanese schoolgirl
fashion bible Egg draped over his face and chest. Egg?! No wonder
he had been thinking in outdated kogyaru slang these days.
Amarao tossed the magazines aside
and gazed at his uglified mug in the mirror. He had enough scruff on his muff
to puff up his fluff, but at least his eyebrows were in order! Proppps!!!
He stood up and kicked the magazines
on the floor, saving his hardest kicks for the On The Gos. Amarao trudged
into the bathroom where he showered and shaved, figuring that the last thing
he wanted to do was to fall into a state of utter immobility. As he came out
of the bathroom, his waist wrapped in a towel, the door to his quarters slid
open. Hideaki stood there, his face devoid of any emotion. Amarao just stared
at him, his pupils becoming tiny little black dots in two vastly enlarged
white spheres. His irises, in the meantime, had gone AWOL.
"Let me tell you what's been going
on," Hideaki said as he stepped into the room, the door sliding closed behind
him.
Amarao tried to argue, "Can I at
least get some clothes on first?" but Hideaki wasn't paying attention. Hideaki's
presence was commanding, all-encompassing, and unnecessarily melodramatic.
In other words, he disregarded any and all interruptions, no matter how sensible
they may seem to the other party. Amarao sighed, letting it slide, fall by
the wayside as the scientist eyed the condemned-due-to-a-joyride Fraternity
agent, a snide manner to his hide.
"A few million years ago," Hideaki
began, "a great civilization flourished, the likes of which no one had ever
seen before, or has seen since. The heart of this civilization lay in the
tightly packed solar systems of the Core Stars, with little regard given to
outer rim systems such as this one. Very few-- if any-- of the cultural
and technological feats of this civilization are with us today, so any new
finds are highly prized, both by the Galactic Government and our foes at Medical
Mechanica.
"What was in that star was the only
known living member of that civilization. Even though he is but one being,
he has incredible power, rivaling that of a god… You have heard of
the legend of the Pirate King, Atomsk?"
Duh. Everyone knows that
story. Of course, his reply to Hideaki didn't quite match these thoughts.
"Yes, I believe I've heard of Atomsk.
Why do you ask?"
"Because the star we are in orbit
around now was once known as 6-C372."
"You don't mean that… that bump on
the side of the star--"
"That was the Pirate King escaping
from his 'eternal prison'."
Jaw slack, a dumbfounded Amarao slowly
sat down on his bunk while Hideaki began pacing around the room. The Pirate
King Atomsk was just a character in a children's story, right? Right?!
The scientist continued, "I have
just gotten out of a meeting with my peers. Unfortunately, we did not foresee
the possibility of Atomsk actually getting loose, especially since our mission
in this system concerned the old prison on the fourth planet, not the legendary
one inside the star. Nevertheless, the loss of Raharu cannot be overlooked.
The consortium is, needless to say, calling for your permanent expulsion from
the Fraternity. They will recommend it to the Immigration Council at the next
session."
Amarao bristled at this notion. Then
a thought occurred to him, and he pinched his immaculate eyebrows together
in a classic Eastwood glare.
"Well, what's the big deal? We lost
Raharu-- so what? I've heard rumors that you actually have a whole big stockpile
of Raharu clones buried away in your laboratory, your main nerve center. I
mean, what was her purpose, anyway?"
Not once breaking out of his stern
demeanor, Hideaki answered, "You mean besides being a hot piece of subservient
ass?"
"Well… yeah."
"And this whole business about 'Raharu
clones'… what nonsense. I suppose you want to believe in such a ridiculous
urban legend."
"Why do you say that?"
"Now that you no longer have Raharu
around to fuck, you need a replacement."
The harsh "fuck" that rolled off
of Hideaki's tongue stung Amarao where it hurt him the most… between his eyebrows.
Trying to remain cool and collected, he waved it off. "No, no… that's not
what I mean. The fact remains that since you have the Ayanami Ray, you can
make another Raharu if you want. If I were you, I'd be more worried about
the Vespa than Raharu. That was a vintage 180 Super Sport, a model which is
no longer manufactured. Do you know how hard it is to find one of those machines
nowadays? Especially in canary yellow!"
"What does it matter? That scooter
was a piece of garbage."
"Whatever. Back to my original question,
please? Why did you make Raharu? Who is she?"
"Who is Raharu?"
"Yes, who is she, or rather, what
is she?"
"Who is she?" Hideaki mused. "Who
is she? Who is she?"
"This is starting to get repetitive."
"Well, who is she to you?"
Amarao sighed as a dreamy expression
sprinkled glittery stars in his eyes, widened his mouth into a grin, and stirred
new life into his loins. "She's an angel."
Hideaki grimaced. The fluorescent
light reflected off the tinted lenses of his glasses, completely obscuring
his eyes as he turned around and pressed the small panel which opened the
door.
His voice bordering between evangelical
and certifiably insane, Hideaki intoned, "Watch your words, Agent Amarao.
They may come back to haunt you."
Completed April 2003 | Copyright 2003, Reeve.