I claim no ownership rights to any of the works of Rumiko Takahashi or Steve Jackson Games.
"So we're on our own." Jason scowled at the open window on his laptop screen, trying to keep from gritting his teeth. He was not happy about the news he'd just received that there would be no reinforcements.
"No, they are on their own," Mike corrected. "You're essentially the chief of a station with a body count of one. You can't go, either."
"What? But ... Mike, this an ice worm infestation! We can't send just two men in to deal with it!"
"What about getting some backup from the Japanese? This Mr. Otsu provided the data you asked for, he should be able to scare up some warm bodies."
"Yes, warm bodies of unknown capabilities, that would have no idea what they're getting into." Jason ran a hand down his face. "And I suspect this is a test, to see what we're capable of."
Mike sighed and leaned back in his own chair, tilting his head back to stare at the off-camera ceiling. After a few minutes he straightened to looking into the camera again. "Recruit Toshiko."
Jason stiffened. "No! She's a civ—"
"She's an adult, and a fighter able to throw fireballs around and walk away from hits that would cripple our strongest Grunts. She may not have their training, but would an ice worm's teeth do more than bruise? And she's married to a US fighter pilot, so the Japanese can't claim requisitioning any of their own people." When Jason continued to glare, Mike sighed again, his shoulders slumping. "I know, ignore the epicanthic folds and she looks like she came right off the farm. Just ... ask her, okay? She has a right to make her own decisions."
Jason grudgingly nodded. "I'll go see them after her husband gets off his shift and ask."
/oOo\
Win had barely sat down at the dinner table when he heard the knock at the door. Toshiko glanced that way, then shrugged and put down the tin of meat loaf on its silicone place mat in the center of the table next to the instant mash potatoes and microwave-heated corn, and pulled off her oven mitts. "You dish up your plate, I'll go see who it is."
He was in the middle of dishing up his plate when his wife appeared again in the kitchen doorway, speaking in English, an unfortunately familiar face behind her. "Mr. Davidson, grab a seat, I'll get you a plate. You might want to be careful with the meatloaf, though, it's my second attempt. Win, Mr. Davidson says he needs my help. We'll talk about it after dinner."
Win stood there for a moment, frozen in place holding the spoon for the mashed potatoes, as his mind raced down the same path Toshiko's must have followed—from the folder in Davidson's hand any explanation of the help he needed would take long enough that the food would get cold, he wasn't going to leave a member of a secret conspiracy unattended in their main room while they ate, so ... they had an unexpected guest for dinner.
The meal was as quiet and awkward has Win expected.
/\
"So you want my help dealing with these ... 'ice worms'." Toshiko's grin had Win worried, she didn't seem to be taking this as seriously as she should be.
Davidson seemed to agree, from his stiff expression. "You're all we have available by any reasonable timetable."
"That's not a 'yes'," Win pointed out as he looked through the photos that had been in the folder Davidson had brought with him.
Now Davidson's stiff expression was broken by a grimace. "I think your wife is a civilian—highly dangerous, extremely tough, but a civilian—and so lacks the training to deal with this. And I think my superiors are whistling past the graveyard when they talk about just how tough she is. Maybe the Wanderer—Ryoga, I think you said his name is," he added at their lack of recognition, "but not you, Toshiko." He stabbed a finger at one of the photos lying on the low table between couch and chair in the front room, the one showing the few items left behind by the vanished plumber. "Anything able to bite through and chew up bone ..." He leaned back and sighed. "But my superiors are right, we can't wait, the ice worms have already killed at least one person—the numbers of homeless are lower than they should be—and every day we wait gives them more time to kill someone else. And three is better than two, even if it isn't ideal."
Toshiko nodded, but her grin didn't waver, she was practically bouncing in her own seat, and Win felt his heart sink—he was the husband, it was his job to be the protector, the one that stood between his family and any danger the world threw at them... Yeah, don't try telling Toshiko there's any danger she needs to be protected from, at least for something like this. She might bend you into a pretzel. There was no way he was going to be able to keep his wife out of it, and trying would just strain the bond they'd been forging if not break it. But that didn't mean he couldn't at least try to shake that confidence a little. "The real danger from these ... things ... is that they're ambush predators, right? That's why you need at least four to be safe, so they can watch in all directions?"
Davidson switched his attention from Toshiko to Win, eyes considering. "Yes, that's it exactly ... well, that and that they always come at you from all sides, including the floor and ceiling if they can manage it. So four is usually the minimum. How did you know?"
Win shrugged. "I grew up hunting, and while I've never hunted the big game, I've dreamed about it—and thought about how to hunt something that might be hunting you, out in the tall grass."
That got Toshiko's attention, and her grin finally faded into a more considering expression. She opened her mouth, hesitated, closed it, one hand slid to her stomach for some reason ... after a few minutes she slowly said, "I maybe know where to get some more help. But I'm gonna have to talk to someone else first. Give us a a phone number, I'll call you when I know."
Davidson gazed at Toshiko for a long moment, then slowly nodded. "Time is of the essence, make it fast."
"I will. Tonight. So, just how do you fight these things?"
/oOo\
Toshiko hesitated, one hand raised, in front of the door to Mercedes' quarters. Did she really want to do this? Mercedes was fun and had been a huge help, but she was a civilian, no military or martial arts training to speak of. And while Toshiko hadn't met her mother, Ms.—Sergeant—Baker was a mechanic. Sure, she would have gone through basic training, but ...
Before she could talk herself out of it, she knocked. She heard Mercedes call out, "I've got it!" and a moment later open the door, her eyes widening at who she found there. "Toshiko, what are you doing here this late, is something wrong?" She grinned lasciviously. "I'd think you'd be in bed with your husband."
Toshiko blushed fiery red—she still didn't know how her friend had realized what she and Win had been up to the night before, but whenever they'd been private at school the teasing and innuendos had been relentless. Toshiko had learned a number of new words in English she'd have rather not known. But now she just held up the folder Davidson had given her and her husband. "Yeah, you could say something's wrong. Maybe you can help me out, maybe not, we'll see."
Mercedes sobered, eyeing the folder, then stepped out of the way. "Does this involve Mama?"
"Yeah. Maybe?"
A few minutes later they were seated around the kitchen table where Toshiko and Mercedes had had their tutoring sessions, Toshiko sipping a soda she'd accepted to be polite while Mercedes and her mother reviewed the folder's contents. Mercedes had gone bone-white, but Ms. Baker hadn't so much as flinched. Finally she closed the folder and set it down. "Those things are as fascinating as they are ugly, I'm surprised no one knows about them. Well, obviously someone knows about them, but ..." She waved off the thought. "But what does it have to do with us? Or you, for that matter, aren't you a little young?"
Toshiko shrugged. "They think so, but they're shorthanded, only got two men to deal with the ... 'infestation', is that the word?" At their nods, she continued, "So with me that's three, and as good as we are four would be better."
Mercedes had stiffened, but her mother simply gazed a Toshiko for a long moment before asking, "And you think we can supply a fourth?"
"I don't know, that's what I'm asking." Toshiko pointed at the dagger she had examined on her first visit. "Do you know what that is?"
Ms. Baker raised one eyebrow. "It's a dagger."
"Yeah, but— Right, trust." Toshiko raised her hand, focused, and a blue-white glowing ball appeared above her palm.
Both her hosts bolted upright in their chairs, staring. Mercedes began to rise only to freeze, then sink back into her chair at the touch of her mother's hand on her arm. Ms. Baker rose instead. Stepping over, she held one hand a few inches away from the slowly spinning light. "That's not magic."
"No, it's ki. I guess the two are close enough that if you can sense one, you can sense the other."
"Which is how you knew that the dagger is an athame."
"If that means the dagger is magical, yeah." Toshiko clenched her hand into a fist and the glowing ki vanished.
"Wait, you mean all that manga and anime is true?" Mercedes burst out.
"Kinda?" Toshiko shrugged. "Some of what's in there is possible, most of it's garbage." She took a deep breath and straightened in her seat, motioned toward the folder on the table between them. "The guy that gave that to me, from what he said it sounds like his people deal more with things from Outer Space. They're trying to recruit me, and don't seem to know anything about Martial Artists. I figured they might not know about magic, either. And like I said, four would be better. And with the girls bouncing around Tokyo in miniskirts, it's not like magic or ki is gonna stay hidden much longer, anyway. So I told them I might know someone else that could help. Am I right? Do you know anyone with enough ... firepower's the word, right?" At two nods she continued, " ... enough firepower to help? Fast? We're already losing people."
Ms. Baker sat back down next to her daughter. "I'm afraid—"
"Yes." Mercedes held up a hand, and a small pillar of flame blossomed above her palm. "Me."
"Mercy—! You haven't been really training since I was assigned here ... You've never ... homeless ..."
Mercedes smiled at her mother and softly sang, "Some say he's worthless, just let him be. But I for one would have to disagree. And so would their mamas." Ms. Baker winced, and her daughter grinned at her. "It's your music, Mama, I wanted to listen to rap but nooooo." She laid a hand on her mother's arm, expression turning serious. "I've been training for this all my life, Mama, missing a few months won't hurt that much. And it may be something from Outer Space instead of the Pit or Underhill, but the victims are the same. Besides, Toshiko's the first person I've met that doesn't care that I'm gay."
Ms. Baker paled. "Mercy, you know I—"
"I know, Mama, you've accepted it. You're not the only one, some others have as well. But that's the point—it was hard, but you all accepted, except the ones that didn't. Toshiko's the first person I've met that simply doesn't care. She's married, so who I sleep with—or at least want to, considering my lack of a love life—doesn't matter one way or the other. I'm not letting her get herself killed doing my job because she doesn't have enough backup."
Ms. ... no, Sergeant Baker took a deep breath, and straightened. "You're right. But I am going to be having a talk with the soldiers you'll be supporting—supporting, you understand, you'll be providing that backup while the experts deal with these things—I'll be having a talk with them about how we're doing this first."
Author's Note: The chapter title and snippet that Mercedes sings come from the song by Pirates of the Mississippi. The quality kinda sucks, but you can see the video on Youtube (youtu. be /IqpVG4yHMdc, remove spaces).