I'm feeling all kinds of bent out of shape about making you wait this long for new chapters. So, in an effort to make it up to you, I got you front-row seats to a concert. Who's performing? Well, look who's getting picky about free tickets. Okay, you got me. The band doesn't have a name, they're technically not even a band. It's these two dudes, one with some portal in his head, and the other...well, he doesn't have any super powers per say; he's just super weird. Well, of course they sound good. Just read on and witness for yourself!
. . .
"I still haven't gotten used to flying." Agent Griggs looked back at the C-123 and shuddered.
"But you've gone off planet, haven't you?" Shifty asked, both watching Auxiliary unload supplies and a massive crate containing a Ford GAA engine, then load on stretchers of wounded. "I'd have thought that, space travel, would be harder on you than flying on a plane down here?"
"Oh, I just have them put me in suspension; I'm knocked out the whole time."
"Every time? So, you've never seen Earth from up high? That's the best part! It's like opening that full spread Playboy centerfold for the very first time, it changes your entire life."
"I did see Earth the very first time I went up; wasn't in suspension for that one. It wasn't too bad, but terrifying in its own way since Earth still doesn't have an elevator or low orbit catapult."
"When I was on vacation, a lot of people I talked to mentioned that's why they are hesitant to visit Earth. No space elevator, and our catapult system is behind the Moon; like some, secret, hidden, jerk-off room at the back of the movie store we're too embarrassed to admit it exists."
"Can't say I've heard it put that way before."
"It's just a damn shame. Humans have done so much for this galaxy, for the Republic; and in such a short time too. We're on, what, ten, eleven planets now?"
"A full baker's dozen."
"Exactly. We've gone out, colonized, sent our representatives, fought and died in Overwatch, the I.I.B., and even a few in the Republic Military and further still, the G.S.P.B.! But we're still stuck at the kids table come Thanksgiving? The other systems see us as some kind of interstellar hillbillies, that we as a species 'aren't ready' to let everything be revealed, know that yes, we aren't alone and you really can spend spring break on a tropical planet; we're too 'immature.' Well, excuse the fuck outta me."
"Look, I agree; completely. But in the eyes of the rest of the Republic, we still haven't proven ourselves. Getting atomic energy working was the baseline for getting contacted, but we still have a ways to go. Maybe this, this Medical Mechanica incursion, is somehow meant to be our test. No pressure, right? What do you think Tommy; you've been awfully quiet?"
"Hey there, Hoss." Shifty tapped a stock-still Tommy, standing aside from him and Griggs. "You still with us?"
"Ssnneagghh!-Uh-guh-whut?" Tommy rattled awake.
"You dozed off." Shifty shook Tommy's shoulder to keep him from passing back out. Griggs just tried not to laugh.
"I did, didn't I? It's been…sixteen, seventeen hours, and I only slept for four, and had been up twenty four hours before that…I feel like a braindead zombie…"
"There is a cure for that." Shifty insinuated.
"What's that?"
"Meth."
"Yeah, but see…I don't have any bees in my teeth, so I'll have to pass."
"Bees in your teeth?" Agent Griggs was terribly confused. "I've never heard that one either."
"Oh, it's this joke about how…oh, hey Canti."
"This is a surprise, and pleasure." Agent Griggs extended his hand as the imposing robot approached. Canti enveloped Griggs' hand with his in greeting. "I don't believe we've met, but I've heard all about you and where you came from. How do you do?"
"Quite well, thank you." Canti's screen read. "And while no, we have not met, but I know you as well: Special Agent in Charge Griggs."
"You're as keen as they say. Can I help you with anything, is this just a friendly hello, or are you here for one of these two characters?"
"The first two." Canti held out an olive drab tube. It had a red firing lever and rocket blast burn marks on its ends. "You know what this is, yes? I remembered it was still in our possession, that you specialize in logistics, and to that end it might be of use to you."
"That's an AT4 rocket launcher." Griggs recognized it immediately. "An expended AT4. Wasn't your shop's front door blown in with one?"
"This one specifically." Tommy confirmed. "After cleaning up, we had a lot more pressing issues and, well, we put it down somewhere and forgot about it."
"We've been using it as a door stop for the office bathroom." Shifty confessed.
"May I?"
"Please." Canti handed Griggs the spent tube. Turning it over and around, Griggs located the manufacturer's information, and the weapon's serial and lot numbers. Finding this, Agent Griggs' face lit up the runway.
"You have no idea how helpful this will be!" Agent Griggs cracked his first smile in days. "I could use this to track the supplier, where it came from, and ultimately who bought it, and where their money came from…I…I, I gotta get back to D.C.!" Griggs sprinted off with the AT4, stopped, came back, pumped everyone's hand in thanks, and then raced off for the plane again, yelling for his pilot, with the AT4 clutched tightly to his chest. "Country! How soon can we take off?!"
"Few minutes Mister Griggs. We're almost…"
"Too slow! We must be airborne as soon as possible! I must get back to D.C.!"
"You, excited to fly? You…you okay there buddy?"
"Never better!"
. . .
"Do-la-doo-doodle-dee-do…do-la-doodle-dee-do-dah-do-doodle-la-doodle-la-do…dumb-uhmb-bumb-bumb, c'mon! Baby don'cha wanna go?!"
"Nah, shit, see? I still can't fuckin' get it."
"A'ight, let's try it again. Took me a good afternoon to get it too."
"Okay, and a one, two, three…"
"Do-la-doo-doodle-dee-do…do-la-doodle-dee-do-dah-do-doodle-la-doodle-la-do…dumb-uhmb-bumb-bumb, c'mon! Baby don'cha wanna…whoa, whoa, wait, wait a minute. You stopped. Why'd you stop?"
"It didn't sound right to me."
"Wha'? Why not? That sounded good."
"No it didn't. It sounded like shit."
"Sounded like shit? Bullshit. That was a good take, and you know it. You're just a perfectionist."
"Yes, I am. And that's why I'm saying it sounded like shit."
"I think your hollow, brainless head is affecting your acoustics; your ability to hear sounds properly."
"Hollow head or not, does not, change that I've never tried blues; never been part of my lineup."
"Didn't have much of it in Japan?"
"It's distinctly an American phenomenon."
"Like banjos?"
"And Big Gulps and monster trucks. We're getting distracted, though. Let's go again."
"Try singing it with me this time."
"Singing it? Really? Think that'll help?"
"We've been at this for over an hour. It couldn't hurt."
"Alright, fuck it. I'll sing too…like, a cat…in a woodchipper…"
"Cat in a Woodchipper... if I pull that up on Google and that isn't already the name of a grind-core band, I will be severely disappointed. Alright, enough foreplay, let's fuckin' do this. And a one, two, three… Do-la-doo-doodle-dee-do…do-la-doodle-dee-do-dah-do-doodle-la-doodle-la-do…dumb-uhmb-bumb-bumb…"
*C'mon! Baby, don'cha wanna go?! C'mon! Ah-Baby don't'chu wanna go?!
Back to that same old place… Sweet Home, Chicago!
C'mon! Baby, don'chu wanna go? Hidey-Hey! Baby, don'cha wanna go?!
Back to that same old place…Sweet Home, Chicago!
"See? See how much better that went?"
"Eh…it, it was alright. Something's missing though."
"Y'know…I, I think I know what the problem is."
"Yeah?"
"We have no brass backing band. No horn, no trombone, no saxophone! No wonder the song sounds wrong, we're missing three quarters of the band needed to play the damn thing."
"Do you have a record or tape, or something of this song we could put into the stereo?"
"I think so. I'll have to look…and a good afternoon to you, Mister Shantz!"
"Hey Rig, Naota. I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"
"Not at all. Rig and I are, just screwing off really. Since the Sherman's all ready to go, except for want of a gunner, Tommy gave us the rest of the day off."
"That was nice of him."
"I think it was just so he could go back to sleep." I had seen Tommy go into the office, and four hours later he had yet to come back out. "But, is there something you need help on, with, something we can do for you? As you can see, we're not doing anything important right now."
"There is, if you wouldn't mind. The Auxiliary guys and I have been able to half-hear you two pickin', and were wondering if you could play a bit for us? Like that send-off you did for Pike's, Voyze's and King's men. Everyone's getting a tad homesick or is missing their family. It'd be a huge morale boost."
"Well, yeah, I'd be honored. Yeah, of course. You care to join me Nao'?"
"Do you really have to ask?"
"Stupid question. Now, where'd be a good spot?"
"We haven't put the railing on your new back porch yet." Naota suggested. We were sitting in the carport at the moment. No reason why that spot, just 'cause. "That would make a good stage. We move the stereo from the basement upstairs and put it behind us, and everyone can sit out on the back lawn."
"That sounds real good. All we need are bronzed, blonde bikini babes selling beer and it'd be perfect!"
"Bronzed, blonde bikini babes selling beer…well, look who wants the Moon!"
"So, I can take this as a yes?" Mr. Shantz reminded us.
"Absolutely. Give us a few minutes to set up. When you hear us tuning up, head on over."
"Great, I'll let everyone know!" Mr. Shantz left us fast as he could without running and began to spread the word. Natoa and I first cleared the tools and lumber off the back porch, then began the process of moving the stereo, pulling out microphones and stands, pedals and all the usual stops. A few guys wandered over early, wanting to secure good seats. The trickle turned to a flood once we plugged in and began tuning and doing sound checks. Mr. Shantz acted as our ears in various points around the yard. All set up, it was put-up or shut-up time, with three hundred and change sets of eyes on us.
"Afternoon everyone. Most've y'all know me, but for those who've lived fortunate lives 'till now, I'm Rig Carson, and this's my best main man, Naota Nandaba. I'll be on microphone and rhythm mostly, and he'll be on lead, or bass, or mic too; or whatever he feels like. This's completely spur of the moment, so we have no set list, line up or anything, or cool David Lee Roth jumps planned. Which means…that I'm gonna be a dick and make Naota pick up and take off on whatever he wants, and I'll do my best to catch up. So, whenever you're ready."
"Oh, yeah, no pressure…dick..." Naota fiddled a few random notes. "Now, you promise that if I start off on something, you'll get whatever song it is matched and running on the stereo in perfect, perfect time, so's not to disappoint this gathering of distinguished gentlemen…right?" Everyone enjoyed a little laugh at my expense. I set myself up for that one, didn't I?
"I'll…do what I can."
"Ooo-kay. Ready or not…here…we…go…" Naota began to stomp hard with his foot. *THUNK*…*THUNK*…*THUNK*…*THUNK*… Then he started to play a lead-in guitar riff that anyone above single-cell amoeba can, and should, recognize. I had about ten seconds. Pull the record, on the turntable, spin that shit, turn off lead and rhythm guitars, got it, yep, all good, I love it, love it, and we're up to the microphone, drums are coming in, cymbals rolling, snapping, Naota's on an ascending rise, waaaay up there, falling back down, and here I go!
**Whhhoooaaa-ah! Slow Ride! Take it easy! Slow Ride! Take it easy!
Slow Ride! Take it easy! Slow Ride! Take it easy!
I'm in the mood…the rhythm is right!
Move to the music…we can roll all night!
Ooooo…Slow Ride! Ooooo…Slow Ride!
Slow down! Go down! Got to get your lovin' one more time!
Hold me! Roll me! Slow Ridin' Woman, you're so fine…
Naota maneuvered his short solo with aplomb, giving it an extra little zing at the end of each part, nailing each note perfectly. I went back up to the mic, and away we rolled with a singing along crowd that knew every word by heart.
. . .
After using the Catapult to slow down out of an N.O. induced speed, 1st Special Weapons of I.I.B. 2nd Battalion had come around the Moon and sling-shot to Earth. From low orbit, Mana had always enjoyed seeing the green and blue marble of her ancestry. Three generations ago her ancestors had volunteered to go to Castra, and even though she'd been born and raised on the seat of the Galactic Republic, every visit to Earth felt like she was coming home.
As an official I.I.B. vessel, on official I.I.B. business, they did not have to pass through North America's spaceport in Groom Lake. Instead, they dropped out of the sky and dove for their destination. The freighter's captain ordered their daytime camouflage activated and sections of the ship's hull turned white; making the 300-foot long, 100-foot wide and 50-foot tall craft look like a fast moving cloud. This cloud descended in increasing detail: North America, United States, Eastern United States, Pennsylvania, Central Pennsylvania, Centre County, Osceola Mills, a manicured dirt, and recently upgraded with crushed stone, runway. The ship leveled off and swung around, redirecting power from its main engine trio to dozens of landing thrusters and put out its outriggers. Then the crew touched their ship gracefully down with hardly a bump and killed the engines. Commander Amarao assembled their company in the vast, and empty, main cargo bay and the crew dropped the vehicle ramp. An afternoon wind kicked up a cloud of dust, then blew it away as they descended the ramp. Now finally on the ground, they looked right, left, right again, then all around…and saw no one. Not a soul to meet them.
"Where…" Commander Amarao frowned and looked over at the Auxiliary's encampment; emptied to see the show. "Where the hell is everyone?"
. . .
Josh had excused himself from the concert behind the Carson house to take a leak and have a smoke; everyone knew better than to leave cigarette butts on Rita Carson's lawn. As such, he saw the I.I.B. make their landing; the only others who did were those stuck on patrol or guard duty.
'They're early, a day early. Better get Tommy, those Blueberries are going to be looking at an empty runway, wondering where the hell we're at.' He opened the office door and found Tommy comatose on the couch; still in the clothes he'd been working in.
"Tommy…Tommy…Tommy, get up!" He jostled his commanding officer awake. "The I.I.B.'s here…c'mon, get up! Tom…Captain Carson!"
"Rrrreaeauughhh…blugh…wha'-what, what, what's happened?!" Tommy sat, then stood bolt upright; and nearly passed out from the sudden position change. "Whoop! Too fast. What's going on?"
"The I.I.B.'s here, they just landed."
"Fuck me, how long was I out? It's Saturday already?"
"Nope, still Friday."
"So they're early." Tommy saw himself in the tarnished mirror on the bathroom's open door: unshaven, unwashed, raccoon-eyed, out of uniform…and smiled. "Okay….well, let's go say hello." Josh held the door as Tommy exited and put on his pistol belt. Then the two strolled, as well as Josh's leg allowed, with purpose into the afternoon sun.
"I'll drive." They took Josh's GMC C/K and thundered through the Boneyard while Josh told Tommy about the impromptu and ongoing performance. "Should we let anyone at Naota's and Rig's show, y'know, know…or…?"
"Nah, it'll be fine." Tommy combed his hair with his fingers in the side mirror. "Our guy's morale is more important than putting on an overstuffed welcoming party; especially when we're probably just going to be sending them back home anyway."
"Unless they decide to stick around, since they already made the trip and all. We could use the help."
"For sure…but unfortunately that's not our decision to make. There's good, don't dust 'em too much." Josh skidded to a curving stop, wafting crushed stone dust over the I.I.B. forward ranks. "What did I just say?"
"Sorry, this crushed stone's hard to stop on; it's slippery."
"I suppose it is. Let's get this over with." The pair dismounted, Tommy in front and Josh one step behind and one step to Tommy's left.
"Ah-ttention!" One of the I.I.B. Chief's called out.
"Welcome to Overwatch Section Two-Six-Two, Allegheny Station." Tommy and Commander Amarao saluted, then shook hands. "I'm Captain Carson, commanding."
"Well met, Captain, Carson." Amarao, in his blue fatigues (still crisp and orderly) took in the state of Tommy and Josh's uniforms; or lack of. "I hope this isn't a bad time?"
"Of course not! You're just in time, actually. We're putting on a concert for morale purposes, and your company is encouraged to attend; just follow the music! In the meantime, if you and your executive would follow me…" He gestured to Josh's truck. "Luxury transportation has been arranged."
"It has been a long flight, Sir." Lieutenant Kitsurubami reminded.
"Agreed. Chief Howey!" Amarao called for his senior enlisted. "Take everyone to the show, let them relax. Lieutenant, you're with me please." The body of the I.I.B. company then marched off through the Auxiliary encampment while Amarao and Mana took the backseats of Josh's truck.
"I've heard you've had an Incursion of Medical Mechanica; even a Man in Black?" Amarao asked as Josh, significantly smoother this time, drove back through the Boneyard.
"You've heard right." Tommy turned in his seat to talk, and took out his tobacco tin. "They've taken over a mining facility an hour's drive north of here…" Tap! Tap! Tap! He took tobacco, packed his lip, and offered out the opened tin. "Commander? Start your day off right?"
"No, thank you."
"Lieutenant?"
"Thank you, but I must decline."
"Thought I'd offer. So, where was I? Yes, an hour north and are building an Iron on site; that's how they got here undetected. They're also keeping the area secure with collaborating local law enforcement. Those law enforcement collaborators executed a preemptive series of raids across this whole area, and right here too, two weeks ago; the end results you can see for yourselves." He pointed out his window at an orderly row of stripped MRAP's, and armored SUV' and patrol cars from the State Police; metal carcasses picked clean. On the opposite side of the road and far away up the hill were fifty-three man sized mounds of dirt and a blank marker stone at each.
"What about those?" Mana asked, nodding up the hill at the graves. "Are they from those raids?"
"Yes, aside from one prisoner." Tommy turned away to spit out his window. "Those are what remains of the attempted raid on this station." The ride continued in silence.
"Captain Carson, I don't mean to come off as obtuse." Commander Amarao began as Josh stopped them at the office. "But I was expecting a Major Carson. Is he not here?"
"I'm afraid not. Please." Tommy led them inside and dusted off two chairs. "He was killed in action during the raid on this station two weeks ago."
"My condolences." Amarao said. Josh left the door cracked to let in a breeze and stood by the door.
"I knew I was going to be burying my father one day." Tommy eased into his chair. "But I didn't think it was going to be under these circumstances. But what's done, is done. SO…what brings you to our humble and modest corner of the Galaxy, to Carson Family Farms?"
"One thing: Space Patrol Officer First Class Haruko Haruhara!" Amarao declared with fire in his eyes.
"Ahhh…yeah, uhm…about that. About her." Tommy tried to suppress nervous laughter. "We, heh…we don't…"
"You don't have her, do you?" Amarao's face fell.
"She's gone like the wind, I'm afraid. I'm so sorry, as you can see from the blown windows…" Tommy indicated the empty frames. "We took some damage during the raid and haven't been able to receive or send encrypted communications reliably. And in the chaos of it all, Haruhara was able to fight off one of our agents and escape. We did send out a message to our command letting them know she had left our area of operations. Wait, when did you leave?"
"If today, here, is Friday…two weeks ago."
"Oh no. Your command must have dispatched you when we reported we were moving to arrest. Our Hunter had just returned from six months leave, and you were already too deep in space to recall by the time our message got through. This is all quite embarrassing."
"Communications always move slowest when you need them at their peak." Amarao sympathized. "And too often decisions are made in haste, without waiting for all the information to come in. For example, once my company was deployed to…" As Captain Carson and Commander Amarao went back and forth with pleasantries, Mana took in the office's contents: the photos and newspaper clippings on the corkboards, maps, certificates and all. Having seen and cataloged everything neatly away in her mind's "File this under Miscellaneous'" folder, Mana turned her attention outside; specifically her ears. She knew her place at her commander's side, but a concert sounded a better time than discussing the politics of the day; engaging as they could be. Keeping one ear on the conversation at hand, Amarao filling Tommy in on the events occurring outside Earth's corner of the Republic, she tuned the other ear into the concert across the parking lot.
"Alright, alright, alright…your turn Nao'. Here's the helmet…"
"Time to pick a winner. Let's go wiiithhh…this one!" A tense pause followed. "From, you guys didn't have to put your names on these, y'know? From Mister Dykstra, a request for, I can't read this. Rig?"
"Please play…okay. See there?"
"OHHhhh…Okay, got it. Mister Dykstra, your musical taste is great, but your handwriting suuuucks. Rig, you start this one, right?"
"Yep. Lemme get my voice right…hhuurrgguuhhh…I don't chain smoke or do bumps of amphetamines, so it's a little harder to get down to Lemmy Kilmister's level. Rrrnnuughhh…roight then."
***One, two three, four…
A guitar began playing to hoots and hollers from the crowd.
***Well, we come up from the gutter, the wrong side of the tracks…
Yeah, we come up from the gutter, wrong side of the tracks…
You know the music brought us out Babe… And we ain't never been back…
'Cause we went city to city…all around the world…
Yes, we went city to city…all around the world…
You know you never looked like enough, Honey…even after thirty years…
The singer was a pitch, tone, inflection, three pack of cigarettes a day down to the filters, good imitation of Lemmy Kilmister. And the rhythm guitar player wasn't setting her teeth on edge; only missing an occasional odd note or two. Too bad there weren't any drums…
'Cause we come blazin' like a shootin' star, an' we light you up real good…
We come blazin' like a shootin' star…an' we light you up reeaaalll good…
We're gonna hit you like ah flash of lightnin'…just like a bad boy would...
Play it, Nao'…
The lead guitarist was good, really good. They picked and plucked, snipping the rapid, precise marks of their break; with a quick series of jabs right at the end. Then the singer called out for anyone in the crowd with a harmonica.
"Then get on up here, it's your time to shine!"
Y'know the only thing that's missin'…is a little mouth-harp blues…
Y'know the only thing that's missin'…is a little mouth-harp blues…this's how we do it!
An' you know life's full of surprises…you know we do that too!
"Oh yeah, c'mon! Listen to this man go! How's 'bout a hand for Mister Kroeger here?!"
You know we ain't too good lookin'…but we are…satisfied…satisfied!
No we ain't never been good lookin'…but we are satisfied…satisfied!
We should've opened up a little whorehouse Honey, get a little booty on the side!
"One more for Mister Kroeger, thank you! What a player, what a good sport. Okay, okay…draw us another one."
"Let's see, let's see…from, surprise, surprise! From Shifty Shaufner once again; it's your lucky day."
"Another one? What'd he pick now?"
"Look."
"Oh, of course he did."
"How about…you play the bass on this one?"
"Me and the Rickenbacker? Y'think so?"
"Well, I'm playing lead and that's that; final that is. There's only bass and drums…or you standing there with nowhere to put your hands except in your pants, and no one wants to see you playing pocket pool on stage…so…the choice is yours."
"Well, I certainly wouldn't want to give away my, patent-pending, secret technique in such a public setting, so I'll give bass the ole' community college try. One second guys." There was a pause as those on the stage reorganized their instruments.
"You're awfully quiet, Lieutenant." Tommy said. "What's your take on the Senator's statement to the Assembly?"
"He's absolutely correct, albeit forward with his words." Mana answered without missing a beat. "He made similar remarks before we departed, and I tend to agree with him."
"It is strange, hearing that from a Castran. You have to understand, but what little contact we Terrans get with Castrans gives us the impression you're all a, ah, cosmopolitan bunch."
"With respect, Captain, but…"
"Oh, I'm sorry! That came out wrong. I should have listened to your reasons before assuming; making an ass of me is what assuming does after all."
"Senator Sarasota served in the Republican Navy as a pilot and fully understands the horrors of space-faring conflict. I sat in on a session of the Galactic Senate to hear him rebuke one of his detractors, who had been describing him as a 'soulless and an automaton killing machine'. Sarasota described having to listen to his Weapon's Officer suffocate and die in the vacuum of space when his fighter took a hit and his W.O.'s automatic ejection pod failed; and how the sounds of his dying friend haunt him to this day."
"I can understand that."
"We all can." Josh added.
"Hey, Josh." Tommy noticed Josh was heavily favoring his still braced and splinted leg. "If that's bothering you, sit down."
"I'm…"
"Please. Sit."
"…Thanks."
"I also understand Graff Congressmen are immediately drafted into their country's defense force if they vote to go to war; either in domestic troubles or abroad?" Tommy asked, while outside the guitarist and bassist finished their adjustments. "So this isn't him blowing hot air, he stands a very personal risk if his measures are adopted?"
"That's why Graff has a secondary Congress who go about their normal lives until there is a call to war. They step in to keep things running while those who voted for war go off to fight it."
"Amazing…isn't it? If only we had something like that here; could solve a lot of domestic problems. But we're young compared to the Graff, we still have time. But is there any possibility at all of his proposals not dying in committee? Commander, you're more plugged in to this, I think is safe to say; yes?"
"I am, and I don't really see this going anywhere."
"Why is that?"
"Well, for starters, Castra is much different, and exactly the same, as when you left it when you transferred out of the I.I.B. There's a…" The guitarist made a sudden sharp entrance before immediately cutting out. A deep, throaty chuckle followed, then a bass's thump-ah-thump…ah-thump-ah-thump, ah-thump-thump-ah-thump, bah-thump-ah-thump…
****She's really upset with me again, I didn' give her what she likes…
I don' know what to tell her, don' know what to say, everything got funky that night…
She was really bombed, and I was really blown away…
Until I asked her what she wanted, and this's what she had to say:
A Pearl Necklace! She wanna Pearl Necklace! She wanna Pearl Necklace!
Ah…a song with subtlety. But something sounded slightly off to her. The drums, while certainly Frank Beard's stick-work, it didn't sound like a human was playing them. Was that a…was that a drum machine?! No, they wouldn't…
She gets a charge outta bein' so weird, an' digs getting' downright strange.
But I can keep a handle on anything, just this side of deranged…
She was getting' bombed, and I was getting' blown away,
And she held it in her hand and this's what she had to say:
A Pearl Necklace! She wanna Pearl Necklace! She wanna Pearl Necklace!
"You're all a buncha pervy old bastards!" Someone on stage admonished the crowd as the guitarist played, then faded out to thudding bass again. "Y'all need Jesus!"
She's so tough, an' pure as the driven slush…
An that's not jewelry she's talkin' 'bout, it really don't cost that much…
She was getting' bombed, and I was gettin' blown away!
And she took it in her hand, and this's what she had to say:
A Pearl Necklace! She wanna Pearl Necklace! She wanna Pearl Necklace!
The guitarist took off, and there was no catching him. On a tear he went, wailing and roughing to an audience that roared with laughter, before the musicians quietly faded out and were overwhelmed with cheers.
"Wooo! We havin' fun out there?!"
"HELL YEAH!"
"Hell yeah, hell yeah, you bet'cher asses we're havin' fun!"
"Okay, one second Rig, one second! We gotta pick a new song."
"We do, we do indeed. You've been picking winners, how about one more? And my voice's getting tired, so this'll be our closer; make it a reaaaal good one."
"Happy to…"
"One request though, just one: let me play lead on whatever you pick. Just this once?"
"…Okay. But! But, you don't get to complain if my luck runs out and I pick something lame."
"That's fair. Alright, let's do it!"
"Let's see…let's see…well, look here. Another request from Shifty Shaufner. Dude, how many of these did you fill out?"
"C'mon man, everyone was supposed to get one. What's that? Wha…what's that? You, you bought 'em in exchange for cigarettes? Oh well, that's fine, that's, I said it's fine! No, Shifty, listen…yer not listening. That's the free market, it's cool. You had cigs and wanted tickets, they had tickets and wanted cigs, I get it. So if…if you…what? He, just, just sit, sit down and…well if you'd quit cryin' for ten seconds you'd realize we ain't mad and are still gonna play this song. So quit cryin' and behave yourself. Thank you. Nao', what song did you pick?"
"Huh? Oh, this. This song? Nah, nah-nah, it's dumb. Shifty got one over on us. You wouldn't like it, it's stupid. You'd especially hate playing lead on this, total waste of your time."
"C'mon, give it here."
"No, you really won't like it."
"Count of three."
"Let's pick another one."
"One."
"Rig, c'mon man…"
"Two."
"They'll probably hate it too…"
"Two and a half."
"Here."
"That's what I thou…ha, haha, ha-ha, ha-Ha-HA-HAHAHA! Shifty! You dirty dog you! Love yah, you lecher!"
"And now he's gone. I hope you all know what you've all done, what you've unleashed. I hope you can live with yourselves."
"Woo! Oh yeah, Nao'! You bet your ass. All've you, you bet your ass, Baby! This's gonna be our closer, so we're gonna do it in character. So we're gonna do it one time, today, today's the day today, right here, Osceola Mills we're gonna do it to yah, and I do believe its fine time to find some double-time, if you don't mind, for a little bit of rock-n-roll, little bit here, little bit there, little bit of back there, we're gonna do it to yah, we got to do it to yah, we got to have it, and we've got to do it to yah right, before break of dawn before long, do yah hear me talkin' at'cha?!"
"WHOOAA-YEAHH!" The crowd responded as the singer transformed himself into a Wild and Crazed Motor-City Madman.
"I think I know whatcha like…I say, I think, I think I say…I know h'ain't nobody out here came out to be mellow today, now didja?! I say, I said, I said, there ain't nobody…I said there ain't nobody out here that even wants to be a little bit mellow, now is there?"
"HELL NO!"
"Anybody that wants to get mellow, you can turn around and get the fuck outta here, alright?! Do yah hear me?! Eh, it's good for yah, it's a good scene, yes it is. This's a love song. We'd like to dedicate this to all that Pennsylvania Pussy…" The crowd were nearly beside themselves as the singer whipped them into a mad frenzy. He stuck a few last-check notes over the yelling horde of crazed men. "This's a little love song called:"
WANG - DANG! SWEET POON - TANG!
Across the lot, the thudding drums, pounding bass and blasting guitar rattled any loose panels on the shop wall. The guitarist gave only three warnings, a slide up, ready or not, a slide down, here I come, and the guitar ran away in a here we go; breaking the air to stay above the crowd. Mana put one foot on top of the other to hold it from place and stop from tapping time.
*****Waaaanng-Dang, Sweet Poontang! … Waaaanng-Dang, Sweet Poontang!
That Nadine, what a teenage queen!
She lookin' so clean, 'specially down in between, what I like!
She come to town, she be foolin' around…
Ah-puttin' me down as ah rock-n-roll clown, s'all right!
Waaaanng-Dang, Sweet Poontang! … Waaaanng-Dang, Sweet Poontang!
Wang-Dang, what ah Sweet Poontang!
Ah shakin' mah thang, as ah rang-ah-dang-dang in the bell! Ooh, Baby!
She's so sweet, when she yanks on my meat!
Down in the street, y'know she can't be beat! What the hell?! OW!
Waaaanng-Dang, Sweet Poontang! … Waaaanng-Dang, Sweet Poontang!
The music suddenly lurched to a crawling pace. The bass pumped in the background as the singer made his intentions quite clear; leaving nothing to imagination.
All right Baby… y'see what I got here in my hands?
I got it right here in my hands, just for you Baby…
I think I'm gonna yank on it one time! LOOK OUT!
Now the guitarist toyed with their instrument, running it ragged with their fingers to push it higher, faster, shriller, sharper. Each time it screamed just a bit louder, yanked up and down and up, up, up until almost piercing her eardrums. The guitarist had found his instrument's sweet spot and was working it to frayed nerves and strings until the singing started again in joyous release.
Ah Wang-Dan, what ah Sweet Poontang!
Ah shakin' mah thang, as ah rang-ah-dang-dang in the bell!
She's so sweet, when she yanks on my meat!
Down in the street, y'know she can't be beat! What the Hell?! OW!
And just how it had begun, the guitar, bass and drums gave their final, finishing blows, a final slide-out, one last crash to end them all…and one second of silence before the roar of applause.
"I think I might need a cigarette after that one." Amarao commented as the players gave their thank you's. "One of them playing was Naota? He's improved by leaps and bounds in four years."
"Half was Naota, well, P.F.C. Nandaba now, he did bass on the last song; lead guitar on all the rest. My cousin, Staff Sergeant Jeff Carson, sings, plays rhythm and occasionally lead or bass. He had lead on the last. Jeff would play and sing Ted Nugent songs dawn to dusk if we let him; and through the night to keep everyone awake just because he could."
"It sure sounded like that, both are very enthusiastic." Amarao stood, Mana following suit. "If I may, I'd like to thank Naota and Jeff for entertaining my company. And then, since Haruhara is no longer here, I think we will be on our way."
"If you would like a night with some scenery other than a steel bulkhead, deck, and ceiling all around you, you're welcome to stay the night." Tommy offered as everyone exited the office.
"We will see; but our orders will come first. Lieutenant."
"Sir!" As the pair crossed the lot, Josh hung back for a moment.
"What is it, leg bothering you?" Tommy asked as they followed the I.I.B. officers at distance.
"Didn't Commander Amarao…didn't he used to have those really, really big, freaky lookin' eyebrows? I swore I saw an old picture where he was wearing those things. Was that a Castran fad four years back…some sort of N.O. thing I heard, maybe…or, something?"
"I don't know. Older photos in his service record have them, but none of the newer ones. What's on his face now looks plenty normal to me; eyebrows are the same as hair's on top of his head. Maybe he got these new ones implanted. The old ones must've been a fad, I guess?"
"Castrans are weird, man…"
"Roger that. Weird indeed."
. . .
"What. A. Show."
"Mister Shantz, you're just saying that."
"No, Naota, I really do mean it." Mr. Shantz was the last in a long line of Auxiliary and I.I.B. troops wanting to thank Naota and Rig. "You two were exactly what everyone needed today."
"And it was our pleasure." Rig said, with an exaggerated and sweeping bow. "I didn't count the I.I.B. being here, but they seemed to enjoy themselves." The sudden appearance of the blue-uniformed block was surprising but not un-welcomed. There was ample room on the grass lawn. "They're a day early. But even they can recognize good music when they hear it, ain't that right Nao'?"
"I think they cheered the loudest. Are some of them from other planets, species? Some looked like they've never heard these songs before."
"They wouldn't be able to call themselves 'Interstellar' if they didn't draw recruits from all over; so, yes. But hey, Mister Shantz, if anything, we ought to thank you. If you hadn't suggested this, we'd have pissed our day away. Instead we got to make good use of it. Thank you."
"It was a pretty genius idea, wasn't it?" Mr. Shantz stroked his beard in a philosophical manner. "Glad I thought of it. Well, I've got chores I've put off, and it looks like you're going to be entertaining visitors. Catch yah later!"
"Take it easy, Mister Shantz!" Naota said as the hardware man departed. He turned with Rig, finding two familiar faces from a time four years back. Seeing the shoulder boards of an I.I.B. Full Commander and an I.I.B. Full Lieutenant, Naota and Rig let their guitars hang on their shoulders and snapped to salute.
"Staff Sergeant Carson, Private Nandaba." Commander Amarao and Lieutenant Kitsurubami returned the salute. "At ease. I'm sorry we couldn't catch the show personally, but from what I could hear, and if the smiles on my soldier's faces is any indicator, I'd be remiss not to express my gratitude."
"The pleasure was ours, Commander." Naota said. For some reason, Rig was being unnaturally quiet. "It's good to see you two again; and this time, no one's screaming."
"That certainly is an improvement, yes." Amarao smiled.
"And you're in Overwatch now." Kitsurubami nodded at the O.W. identification tags hanging around his and Rig's necks; if his uniform pants and boots hadn't already given him away. "You've come a long way since I last saw you; has it really been four years? How did you come to join up?"
"Through a series of strange circumstances and wild events, but ultimately through Sergeant Carson here…oh, I'm sorry! Jeff, you've never met, this is embarrassing; where are my manners? Staff Sergeant Carson, this is Commander Amarao of the I.I.B., and his executive officer, Lieutenant Kitsurubami. You know them from the files on the Mabase Incident four years back."
"Well met, Sergeant." Amarao and Rig shook hands.
"Pleased to meet you, Sergeant." Kitsurubami put out her hand and Rig, his jaw locked and pupils visibly dilated to their limits, took it in his. She held onto his hand, looking over the fingers, knuckles and wrist still wrapped in bandages, and then down at his lower right leg still encased in plaster. "What happened there? A bad fall, or a good fight?"
"A, bad fight…" Rig was forcing himself to speak, looking like it was taking every ounce of his willpower. "But this's nothing. You should sEE…" His voice, chords worn out from shouting and singing, cracked. "…ahem. Should see the other guy."
"If half of what your Captain Carson's told us about your encounter with Haruhara is true…" Amarao checked his watch. "Then that's a story I must hear. But I'm afraid it will have to wait. Captain?"
"Yes?" Tommy and Josh were standing by, both giving sly looks at Rig. Naota would have sworn Tommy smiled for a flash, then went back to business. "What is it?"
"If your offer of letting us use your runway is still good, I'd like to cash in. After two weeks in a metal box breathing recycled air, some fresh mountain breezes will do us good."
"Of course it's still good. What kind of a host makes an offer he never intended to follow through on?"
"Thank you, again, all of you. We'll run up our long wave radio, get our orders and depart in the morning. Good evening, everyone!" Amarao and Kitsurubami waved goodnight and headed for their ship. The meeting over, everyone retired to their own sleeping arrangements for the night. This left Rig and Naota under the back porch, knee deep in a heap of tangled cables. And Naota could not help himself.
"So uh…Rig. You've met Lieutenant Kitsurubami…"
. . .
We had said goodbye to Mr. Shantz, I turned and saw a commander's shoulder boards, and saluted out of instinct. Commander Amarao I recognized form his picture in Naota's file and copy of Amarao's report contained within. With him was someone I had only scanned their name once or twice, and did not recognize. It was at this precise moment my brain decided to…decided to…uh…uh…uhm...uhmmdkjatnzekljndlksdkjxxxxxxxxssksldf...
. . .
A problem has been detected and Windows has been shut down to prevent damage to your computer.
The problem seems to be caused by the following errors:
UNEXPECTED_OVERFLOW_TRAP
COPROCESSOR_SEGMENT_OVERRUN
ERROR_MESSAGE_LIMIT_EXCEEDED
If this is the first time you've seen this stop error screen, restart your computer. If this screen appears again, follow these steps:
Check to make sure any new hardware or software is properly installed.
If this is a new installation, ask your hardware or software manufacturer for any Windows updates you might need.
If problems continue, disable or remove any newly installed hardware or software. Disable BIOS memory options such as caching or shadowing. If you need to use safe mode to remove or disable components, restart your computer, press F8 to select Advanced Startup Options, and then select Safe Mode.
Technical Information:
***STOP: 0x0000007f (0x000000000004, 0x000000000009, 0x00000000000F)
*** _ Address 0x00000000000 base at 0x00000000000 DateStamp
0x00000000000
. . .
God fuckin'... Let's see here. Sorry folks, it looks like Rig Carson's crashed. We pushed him a little too hard. Errors, errors…overflow, segment overrun…limit exceeded…ahhh, shit. Gimme a second and I'll see what I can do. Restart…F8…yes, Advanced Startup Options, do I want to start in Safe Mode? Yes…okay, let's give this a try. We're back online in three…two…one…
. . .
"So uh…Rig. You've met Lieutenant Kitsurubami."
"Yeah…I did…didn't I?"
"Are, are you okay? Did you fall down, did you hit your head?" Naota faced Rig and peered into his eyes; expecting to see the hamster inside Rig's head had fallen off its wheel and was scrambling to get back on. "You were doing just fine, then dropped to Pants-On-Head IQ levels."
"I don't know. The last thirty seconds I completely blanked on. I didn't say anything dumb, did I?"
"No, you didn't really say anything dumb."
"Ah, that's good."
"Your voice cracked halfway through your tough guy routine, though."
"Oh, nooo…" Rig put his hands over his eyes. "Remind me what I said?"
"You went with the 'you should see the other guy' line. A real classic."
"Oh, nooo…" Rig's posture suggested he wanted nothing more than to fold in upon himself. "Naota, why am I so dumb?"
"I don'…I don't know…you, don't seed your torrents and this is punishment?"
"That's impossible. I always seed my torrents."
"Then I don't know why you're dumb." Naota looked back over his shoulder, seeing a shrinking pair of blue uniforms. One was topped with red, the other blonde. As he looked, the cylinder in his head rotated and brought a round to battery. "Rig…you, you don't have a…thing for Lieutenant Kitsurubami; do you?"
"NO." Rig was only concerned with the kick plates on the shins of his motocross boots.
"Rig…Rig…Jeff." It was strangely fun to pry at Rig like this. For a moment, Naota wondered if he was becoming his father. "Jeff, look at me. Look me in the eye and tell me that."
"No, I don't find the good Lieutenant an irresistible attraction, that would surely fill my mind with every kind of indecent and erotic fantasy; if I were inclined to even entertain the notion of such a thing."
"…"
"What?" Rig could not maintain eye contact to save his life. "What?"
"You're a lyin' sack of shit."
"Come on, did you SEE her?!"
"Uh-huh, yeah, I did." Naota picked up one of the cables and began to wind it up. "But I, unlike you, didn't go full 'deer in the headlights' when confronted with a female figure and big…eyes."
"They are nice, aren't they; her eyes?"
"How would you know? I thought you said you blanked on those thirty seconds?"
"It's all slowly coming back to me. But uh…" Rig started moving cables and pedals out of the stereo's way so it could return to the basement. "Let's, let's…let's get this cleaned up."
"Sure thing." They started seriously cleaning up their equipment and putting it all away. As they pushed the stereo back, Rig asked a favor.
"Hey, if you could be, y'know, super cool, and not tell anyone about that, I'd really, really, appreciate it."
"Oh, I'm not going to waste this one." They plugged the stereo in, then finessed it into its final position. "I'll be keeping this memory in my back pocket for a rainy day. Just in case your ego gets too big and needs brought down."
"I don't think I have much choice, I'll have to accept that."
"Don't feel so bad, it happens. I'm just immune to it."
"Is it possible to learn this power?"
"Hang out with your brother's girlfriend just about every day, live with my father, my grandfather too, now that I reflect on his porno collection, share a room with Haruko for several months…and your resistance builds up fast. It's all so tiring, actually."
"Hmm, I don't know if I can replicate that experiment in the field. Either way, today was a good day. Did you see the guys, how happy they all were?"
"I did, we ought to invite the other companies or go to see them; especially Pike."
"They've earned it, to say the least. We'll have to run it by Tommy. So, you heading out?"
"Yeah, I'm exhausted; still not fully rested from this week."
"Me neither. See yah first thing tomorrow; g'night."
"Don't stay up too late thinking about Lieutenant Kitsu…"
"Good night, Naota."
"Those kind of thoughts give you hair on your palms, and make you go blind!"
"C'mon man..."
"I'm just giving you shit, take it easy. See you tomorrow."
. . .
*Sweet Home Chicago - The Blues Brothers
**Slow Ride - Foghat
***Whorehouse Blues - Motorhead
****Pearl Necklace - ZZ Top
*****Wang-Dang, Sweet Poon-Tang - Ted Nugent
I want to know if you can find any common theme between the three songs played while Kitsurubami listened in on the concert Naota and Rig put on. Anyone care to make a guess? My lechery aside, this was a really fun chapter to do, listening to all different songs to pick out which ones I wanted to use; rediscovering some songs I had not heard in years. It's like hearing them for the first time all over again! Plus the added bonus of talking out dialogue, one of my absolute favorite things to do; keeps your neighbors guessing based on what they can hear through the walls!
Now, I think all the characters are introduced, everyone's read each other's name tags at the company mixer...unless I completely lose my mind and add more; in which case, gently remind me I have to go outside on the regular. But the important ones have been introduced, and Jeff and Mana have *finally* met, and went about as well as I think we knew it would. Here's to hoping I'll see you in the next chapter, and Rig hasn't lost his sight by then. Thanks as always for reading!
