Chapter 14

Friends Reunite

Stardate 2366.084

Shoko opened her eyes as the predawn light shone through the bedroom window. "Today is the day!" she said to herself. She got out of bed and quietly made her way to the front of the silent house, quiet in the early hours before her father and grandfather awoke to join her. She ventured out to the shed where her family stored the produce they had brought in from their orchards to take down to the market and sell today when it opened in a few hours. This would be Shoko's first market day in which she would have her own fruit to sell, and she was determined to prove to her father and grandfather that she was much more useful to the family than any boy could be! One more inspection of her apples, a final polish, and she would be ready. By the time her father and grandpa were up and came outside, she had everything ready.

"Good morning father, good morning grandfather," Shoko said with a bow. "I have

prepared our apples for sale!" she announced. Shoko could not keep the pride out of her voice. Her father merely grunted an acknowledgement, but Shoko knew this was high praise indeed. If her father were not pleased, he would have given her a tongue-lashing.

Her grandfather smiled at her indulgently. "It looks like you have been a busy little swallow!" Her grandfather liked to call her that because she was always flitting from one task to another. It always made her smile.

"Yes, grandfather!" Shoko said. "I am going to sell more apples than anyone today!"

The little family set out into the fall morning, the men pushing large carts full of apples as little Shoko pushed her own smaller cart. There was a brisk chill in the air, and the mists were rising over the mountains beyond the village. At this time of year, the sun would soon rise right between the railings of the bridge that led out of the village. Just a little longer.

Shoko's father's apples were the best in the whole market. Shoko got up early every morning to go out to the orchards and tend to her own trees that her father had planted for her two years before she was born. She watered them carefully and made sure just the right amount of fertilizer was properly applied, as her father had taught her. There was the never-ending weeding and pruning to do as well. With her tenth birthday coming up, her trees were bearing fruit in quantity for the first time. These trees were hers alone and she had been determined that they would produce the best tasting apples in the orchard, to rival even her father's fruit.

This morning, Shoko had carefully chosen the ripest of her trees' harvest for display. She had spent much time washing and polishing the apples and then placing them in the baskets her father had given her to exhibit them in at their market stall.

When they arrived at the market, many of the other vendors were setting up their stalls and preparing their own wares. There was old Mrs. Iwata with her indigo cloth that she was so proud of, a deep purple and blue color that was richer than any Shoko had seen in any of the other nearby villages that she had traveled to with her father when he went to trade. Mr. Meikosan was herding his goats into their pen as his wife set out jars of thick goats' milk. There was also a stall of lacquered chopsticks and hand-painted fans that Shoko hoped to visit before the end of the day if she made enough selling her apples, and also a stall for knitted finery that would be popular with the coming cold season, and another stall of woven mats and baskets of the finest quality for villages around. That was why market day was so popular in her village; people came from far and wide to see what new and different things they could find.

Meikosan's goats were the first to start acting strangely, less than an hour after the market opened. They all started bleating at once, completely out of character from their usual calm demeanor. Then nearby dogs began barking, which was taken up enthusiastically by others down the street as they heard the first group. Shoko laughed at their odd behavior, until she glanced at her grandfather. He was looking up toward the bridge that was the village's link to the main road, then turned back to his granddaughter with pensive eyes.

"We must close the stall," he said abruptly, and began loading apples back into his handcart.

"What's happening, grandfather?" Shoko asked, suddenly alarmed. "Is there something wrong?"

Her grandfather looked at her with serious eyes.

"Yes."

The one-word answer frightened her more than any bleating goats or barking dogs, and Shoko rushed to pack up beside her grandfather. The other villagers were rapidly closing their stalls as well and an unnatural, dead silence fell over the town. Her father hurried over to join them as villagers who lived nearby barricaded themselves indoors, and the rest fled with their wares.

As Shoko and her family quickly carried their apples toward their house, none of the animals normally found roaming the streets were to be seen anywhere. Birds that had been greeting the day with song only minutes earlier seemed to know that now was not the time.

The sun had just begun to rise above the road and between the railings of the bridge, as Shoko had expected. The sun was redder than it would normally be for this time of day, which confused Shoko, until she realized the red hue was caused by the dust raised by something approaching the bridge from across the river.

"Grandfather—" she began, but before she could say another word, a deep vibration cut through the air. The little family looked around, trying to identify the sound. It was coming from across the bridge. Finally, it resolved itself: the rhythmic thrumming of many feet marching in unison.

"Soldiers," her grandfather nearly whispered.

"Here!?" Shoko asked. "But why? There is nothing in the village worth fighting over."

"Hurry, leave the apples! To the house!" her father ordered. They abandoned their carts and fled quickly toward their front door, but a new sound caught their attention: a figure leaping across the rooftops of the nearby houses. It was not the only one; there were many figures shrouded in black scurrying across the roofs, some hiding behind peaks, other slithering into unlatched windows.

Ninjas! Shoko realized.

The sound of marching feet was getting louder.

"Inside!" her father commanded. They ran into the house, barring the door behind them. Shoko crouched down by the window that looked out onto the street; the screen was pulled shut, but she cracked it ever so slightly so that she could peek outside.

Shoko could barely make out the bridge at the end of the street. What looked like a forest of vertical poles appeared, rising and falling in step with the thrumming Shoko heard. In short order, she saw heads starting to appear over the rise of the bridge; they were soldiers holding pikes. The sun rising behind them made them appear as dark silhouettes, without faces. As they came marching down the street into the middle of the village, Shoko saw that there were only about fifty of the warriors. They were dressed in light armor, some with swords hanging from their belts, others with bows and quivers of arrows slung across their backs. Riding on a magnificent white horse in the middle of the company was the obvious leader. He wore a fierce looking helmet inlayed with gold, and instead of the merely functional armor of his soldiers, his was held together with red silk threads and gold wire. Guiding his horse was another soldier who, unlike the others, wore a helmet that hung down and partially obscured his face, and was also the only soldier who carried both a bow and scabbard fashioned from the most exquisitely worked silver. Shoko only saw him for a few seconds before the other men obscured her view. She thought she must have been mistaken because it appeared that this particular soldier had dark skin unlike any she had seen in her village or any of the other villages she had visited.

But then the soldiers moved and she could see him again, closer this time: his skin was in fact a dark and creamy brown. And unlike the other soldiers, this one was always looking from side to side for danger as he led his commander's horse.

Second-in-command, she thought to herself. None of the other soldiers carried a bow and quiver of arrows in addition to a sword. But then, near the back of the line, she noticed another soldier that seemed even more out of place. He stood at least a head taller than any of the soldiers around him, and his helmet looked to be the wrong size, hanging slightly askew and covering his face. She didn't have time to dwell on this, however, because just at that moment she saw the second-in-command raise his bow, slide an arrow from his quiver and fit it to the string in the blink of an eye, and then fire it. Shoko felt sheer terror as the arrow seemed to be coming straight at her! She ducked down with a yelp, but then heard a dull thud quickly followed by an exclamation emanating from the roof of her house. She heard something sliding down the roof and over the side; she risked another look out onto the street and saw laying there, right before her eyes, one of the black clad figures she had seen scurrying along the rooftops. It lay there in an odd moment of suspended calm, as everyone stared at the second-in-command's arrow sticking out of its chest. In the next instant, the air was filled with arrows flying toward the soldiers, and cries of alarm broke out as the battle commenced.

The second-in-command shouted for his soldiers to take cover as he urged the leader to quickly dismount. He used himself as a human shield as he guided the leader to cover in the tight space between two houses across the way. The second-in-command turned to face the attacking figures in black, standing protectively in front of his leader's shelter. She heard the ring of steel as the warrior drew his sword. Then the first opponent was on him and their swords met in a thunderous clash of steel-upon-steel that filled the air. The strange soldier's blade flashed in the sunlight as he swung it in an arc over his head and brought it down toward his opponent. Shoko could hear the shouts and clamor of more fighting all around, but her eyes were riveted on the second-in-command as he defended his leader with a grimly determined ferocity. Shoko watched with a sort of morbid fascination as he dispatched his first opponent and took on the next. She was not afraid exactly; well maybe a little. No, she was excited more than anything else. Part of her wondered why, as by all rights she should have been terrified by the battle that had suddenly erupted just outside their thin screen walls. Somehow it was as if she knew the second-in-command would not allow anyone to hurt them, defending her village as surely as he did his leader.

The fighting raged all through the streets and blocked her view of the second-in-command. She scanned the battle with wide eyes, trying to determine which side was winning. That's when she spotted the odd, tall soldier with his ill-fitting armor, battling his way toward the second-in-command. She still couldn't see much of his face behind his helmet, but she caught glimpses of white teeth flashing in a grin as he fought almost joyfully, wielding his sword with a kind of delight, as though he was not fighting for his life but instead was having the time of his life. She thought she saw, too, flashes of pale, almost pink skin, and a bushy brown beard covering his face! It was an odd sight to Shoko, used to her village where all but the oldest White Beards kept their faces clean-shaven.

Her line of sight cleared and she could see the second-in-command, fighting two opponents at once, but holding his own. But the enemy had superior numbers and they were organizing themselves, falling into a formation to initiate a coordinated attack.

"To the walls!" the second-in-command called out. "Swordsmen in front, archers in back." His soldiers immediately leapt to follow his orders, archers pressing their backs to the walls of the houses as the swordsmen arranged themselves in front. Shoko noticed the tall soldier station himself beside the second-in-command, sword at the ready.

The ninjas in black ran forward with a terrifying battle cry, but the samurai held steady. As the forces engaged, the narrow front prevented the attackers from pressing their numerical advantage to sufficient effect. As the swordsmen engaged, the enemy archers attempted to provide cover, but most of their arrows wound up falling harmlessly into the street or sticking into the walls of the houses behind the soldiers. Their field of fire was just too narrow to be effective given the position of their own swordsmen in front of the men they were attacking. The defenders, however, could fire into the opposing force at will with the walls safely at their backs and the swordsmen defending their fronts.

The second-in-command overcame opponent after opponent, clearly the best swordsman in the force. But the enemy still had superior numbers and they were focusing the bulk of their fighters on him, determined to cut him down and reach the leader he still kept safe behind him. As he dispatched one opponent, another tried to take him from the flank, lunging to plunge his sword into the warrior's rib cage.

"Behind you!" Shoko cried. But she need not have given warning; the tall soldier was there, knocking the sword away and taking up position at the second-in-command's back. The two warriors went on that way, fighting back-to-back, as they kept the enemy at bay together. Many of the black clothed fighters fell before their swords, unable to stand against their combined prowess. A glancing blow, however, managed to knock off the tall soldier's helm, finally revealing his face. To Shoko's surprise, the tall one DID have skin of a pinkish hew, with reddish cheeks and a full brown beard. Even more surprising, he laughed as his helm fell aside, and he easily knocked his adversary's sword from his hand.

"Damn this is fun!" he called out.

The second-in-command's sword stroke faltered and he whirled to see the tall soldier standing behind him.

"Will?!" the second-in-command shouted, shock covering his face.

"Jon Sanderson!" the tall warrior laughed. "You old—SON OF A BITCH!" he cursed, grabbing his cheek as an arrow flashed by, nicking his cheek.

"Will, what are you doing here?!" the second-in-command cried, glancing toward the tall man who had blood oozing out between his fingers.

The second-in-command's opponent seized the moment of distraction to begin to deliver a fatal counterstrike. Simultaneously, the archers on the opposite building loosed a volley of arrows aimed at second-in-command and the leader behind him.

"Look out!" Shoko cried. The second-in-command's eyes flicked to her in her window, and then up at the flying arrows. And then she heard him say the oddest thing: "Computer, freeze pro…"

And her world went black.

"Computer, freeze program!" Sanderson ordered, and everything suddenly froze around him. The sword strike of his opponent halted within six inches of his head; two arrows, one each for his heart and stomach, and two others headed for his companion, were suspended in mid-air. He knocked them out of the way as he walked over to Riker, who gripped his wound and glared at Sanderson with fiery eyes.

"Dammit Jon, did you disable the safeties again?" Riker asked heatedly. "This isn't the Academy, and you aren't playing a game of Parrises Squares!" Riker turned aside and then jumped back, startled to see an arrow two inches from his eye and another headed for his neck. He turned back to glare at Sanderson even harder.

Sanderson shrugged, unapologetic. "Never give up…" he said seriously, as though issuing a challenge. He cocked an eyebrow at Riker, waiting.

Riker glowered at him for a long moment, then finally, resignedly: "…Never surrender." And with that they changed from dead serious to laughing as they grinned and slapped each other on the back.

"It's good to see you, Will," Sanderson said. "How long has it been?"

"Too long, brother," Riker replied. "I just met Admiral Mifune and he said you were here. If I'd realized it was you coming aboard, I would have insisted on meeting your shuttle."

"The Admiral wanted to keep things quiet, meet with Picard privately."

"Yeah," Riker said, cocking his eyebrows. "Do you know what all the cloak and dagger is about?"

"We'll receive our orders when the time is right," Sanderson replied noncommittally, a flicker of displeasure crossing his features before he smoothed his face into an impassive mask.

"Of course," Riker agreed. He glanced at the frozen figure of the leader standing in the opening between the two houses: it bore the face of Admiral Mifune. "You write this program yourself?"

Sanderson's eyes flicked to the holograph. "What? You never use real faces in your holoprograms? I got a couple of you somewhere. One based on that time we went to Risa junior year—"

"Ok. That's fine. No need to talk about that," Riker quickly cut him off.

"What? I can load it if you want," Sanderson offered innocently.

"No need," Riker replied in clipped tones. "Let's drop by Sick Bay so I can get this patched up." He gestured at the oozing wound on his cheek. "Then I'll show you Ten-Forward." Riker led the way toward the exit. "Though I really ought to show you the brig, turning off the safeties like that."

"You can't throw me in the brig, I outrank you," Sanderson smirked. Riker stopped, wheeling on him.

"You do not outrank me. We're both commanders."

"Yeah, but I became a commander first. And I'm commander to an admiral. You only serve a captain."

"That doesn't mean anything. And we're on my ship!"

"On my mission."

"Your mission? You don't even know what it is!" Riker challenged.

"Yeah," Sanderson agreed. "But if you throw me in the brig, I can't buy you a drink."

"The drinks are free," Riker countered.

The glowered at each other, then burst out laughing. They turned to the exit again and the doors opened ahead of them.

"I still outrank you, you know," Sanderson said as he followed Riker out. "I was first in our class."

"Oh for Chri—" The doors closed behind them.

They entered Sick Bay, eliciting strange looks from the medical crew, but Riker just grinned like he wasn't walking around in Feudal Japanese battle armor with an actively bleeding gash on his face, and nodded at a pretty nurse with golden hair pinned up in intricate twists atop her head.

"Nurse Wade!" he said, pleasantly.

"Commander?" she asked, lifting an eyebrow and looking pointedly at the blood running into his collar.

"Oh. Yes. Holodeck mishap." He smiled his most charming smile. She shook her head, unable to suppress an answering curl of her lips.

"Boys will be boys, I suppose," she said. "I'll get the doctor."

She walked away with a swish to her step that Riker watched appreciatively.

"Still at it, I see," Sanderson observed.

"What?" Riker asked innocently.

"Will!" Doctor Crusher exclaimed as she approached, her tricorder at the ready. "What have you been getting up to, Commander?"

"Not my fault, Doctor," Riker said, nodding to Sanderson. "Meet an old Academy buddy of mine, Commander Jon Sanderson."

"A pleasure, Commander," she said, already beginning to scan Riker. "Am I to assume this is your doing?"

"Not at all, Doctor," Sanderson replied with a grin. "Some people just never learn when to duck."

"Hey, now!" Riker protested.

"No moving!" the doctor ordered, making passes over his wound with the dermal regenerator. Riker gave Sanderson a glare, but the other man just smirked. "I don't understand how something like this could have happened on the Holodeck. Were the safety protocols malfunctioning?" Crusher asked.

"I don't know. Jon?" Riker looked pointedly at his friend. "Was something wrong with the safeties?"

Sanderson had the good grace to look slightly uncomfortable, but before he could offer a response, the Captain's voice came over the communications system.

"Commander Riker, Commander Sanderson; please report to the Conference Room at once."

"Aye, Captain," Riker replied. "Better finish this up quick, doc." He threw a look to Sanderson. "Looks like we're about to find out what's going on."