TRPTCH
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.