"Traveling around?" Anzu kept her voice steady. Her hands shifted to the edge of the plastic box before closing the lid on it. Vertregg 12 wasn't really a planet to travel to, just for fun. It was one of the smallest, most boring and painfully strict, law-abiding planets in this part of the universe, not even providing accommodations for tourists, let alone interstellar travelers. Not even the renowned Kaiba Corp. had a branch here, simply because nothing happened on Vertregg 12.
Anzu turned around and moved the plastic box under the side table so nobody would trip over it. Her eyes darted over Atemu, noticing that he was still holding a framed picture. It was the one of Yuugi as a toddler, a picture of both his happy, loving parents holding him. She frowned, not liking how he went about and touched things that belonged to her fiancé.
"Tell me…how much has he suffered?"
She was taken aback by the question. Atemu looked sincerely at her, holding the picture so that she could see it. She knew the picture of course, and her eyes darted away from it.
"His grandfather is all the family he has left," she said, rather curtly. That was more than he needed to know, she figured. Atemu was a stranger, and she wasn't willing to accept him as easily as Yuugi had done. She felt protective towards him, adoring his kindness, but watching over him that nobody should abuse it. She didn't like the way Atemu had sprung up on Yuugi, and how eager Yuugi had been to take this stranger home, even offering him dinner. He knew how tight money and food were for him and his grandfather, yet he'd been all but prepared to share his meal with someone he barely knew. It was a tell-tale sign of Yuugi's good-natured and trusting character, and it was praiseworthy in a society as cold and impersonal like Vertregg 12's. Anzu however, wasn't that quick to trust. Atemu's strikingly similar looks were unsettling to her.
"I'm sorry to hear that," Atemu answered, unable to keep the flat tone out of his voice. He did feel genuinely sorry for his Other, but these clichéd words were all that he had to offer. He knew people liked to hear these words in similar situations; it was supposed to offer comfort. When he looked at Anzu, it… amused him to see distrust on Anzu's face. Apparently she didn't buy his sincerity, but she was too polite to say something about it. It didn't matter anyway. He knew about loss, he'd known so much loss that he couldn't help but sound unaffected and distant about it. After experiencing so much loss, the losses itself had lost all meaning to him. Atemu had lost his throne, his life, his own nation, his own people, and he lost his name over and over again.
With a gentle movement, he put the picture back to where it belonged, his eyes darting over the other ones. There were quite a few of Yuugi's grandfather in his younger years. Interesting, he had an affinity for archaeology. Atemu recognized the background in several pictures immediately. Earth. How long had it been? You might be better prepared for your task than I expected, my Other.
"Your fiancé mentioned something about dancing?" Atemu said, continuing the conversation as if nothing had happened.
"I study under Madame Korishnova," Anzu answered politely. She was hoping for a professional dancing career, and her teacher -strict and stern, yet fair- believed she had the talent to accomplish it. She had never shied from hard work and felt fully supported by Yuugi - but somehow she doubted Atemu was interested to hear about her schedule and regimen. She stared at him, her eyes slightly narrowing. There was something about Atemu that didn't add up quite well. He was attractive, certainly, but he lacked the warmth and kindness that made her fall in love with Yuugi. There was a distance about him that couldn't be measured, and it made her feel cold.
"You need a ship to be able to travel around," she finally said, keeping up the strained conversation.
"I have one."
"You have a ship?" She was impressed. "That's amazing." Anzu had never met someone who owned a ship before.
"Insta-coffee for everyone!" Yuugi interrupted them as he swept into the living room, carrying a tray with coffee cups. Atemu turned around to face Yuugi and with the sudden movement, his jacket crept a little up. Anzu noticed a flat, black device attached to his belt at his lower backside. She wasn't technical-savvy; it looked like some kind of sound device to her, but she didn't see any headphones. Maybe it was the latest version of a personal manager applicator that he liked to wear clipped to his belt, right there on his back, though as impractical as she thought it was? Her attention was distracted by Yuugi, who put the tray on the coffee table and served the hot beverages, beaming from one to the other.
"I'm sorry for not serving any cake," he pouted. "We don't have guests often and…"
"It is fine," Atemu said, not interested in cake. He made sure to show Yuugi a reassuring smile.
"I hope our guest doesn't mind telling something about himself?" Yuugi's grandfather sat down, stretching his short legs. "After all, we don't meet many people carrying the name Atemu on a cartouche around their necks."
A rather awkward silence fell. The elderly man pointed at the chair in front of him, inviting Atemu as if he was an old friend. "Sit down, sit down."
"Yuugi, can I talk to you for a minute?" Anzu asked as Atemu had no choice but to take the offered seat. Yuugi was eager to hear what Atemu was going to say, but he couldn't refuse his fiancée. He followed her out of the living room, into the hallway. Anzu took him gently by the elbow and waited until the voices of Atemu and Yuugi's grandfather were dimmed to a mere buzz.
"Yuugi, what were you thinking, bringing someone like him home?" she asked, without anger or disappointment in her voice.
"I don't know," Yuugi answered honestly. The last thing he wanted to happen was to see Anzu upset or unhappy. "I...I just felt immediately at ease with him, like I found a long lost friend. I think it's funny that he looks so much like me."
"I think it's creepy, and he scares me." Anzu shivered at the memory of Atemu's unnerving red eyes. "What do we know about him? Nothing! Yuugi, you know that there are bad people all around. Illegal traders, shady gamblers… they know you run a game store with your grandfather…"
"Anzu, everyone knows we don't deal in Duel Monsters cards. They know there's nothing illegal in our store."
"Yes, they do, but that doesn't keep them from trying. You know how careful you have to be with people and still you invite a stranger in!"
"I'm sorry, I didn't want you to feel uncomfortable," Yuugi said, downtrodden. He opened his arms for a hug and Anzu was happy to answer the gesture. She hugged him close, inhaling his familiar scent. Only her boyfriend would smell of a dusty stockroom and card games, and somehow it was still sexy.
"It's okay, I shouldn't be so paranoid," she said and ruffled his hair. "I'm just afraid people are abusing your kindness, Yuugi. I don't like to see you hurt."
"Isn't the man supposed to protect the woman?" Yuugi retorted good-naturedly. She laughed softly and ruffled his hair again.
"Silly! Let's go back to the living room, all right?"
His eyes lit up. "Sure! I want to know what Atemu-san talks about!"
Anzu refused to comment on Yuugi's use of an honorific for Atemu's name, a tradition his grandfather taught him. It was a remainder of their culture, but many people stopped using it altogether, especially after Earth…ceased to exist. Cultures, customs and traditions had been abandoned, or already forgotten. Anzu didn't want to nag. With a little bit of hope, Yuugi's 'infatuation' with Atemu would blow over soon.
They re-entered the living room and Yuugi's grandfather looked up, nursing his cup of insta-coffee as he blew on the hot liquid.
"There you are," he said, enjoying the company. "Atemu was telling me about his travels. He has even been to Egypt."
"Wow, you've been to Egypt?" Yuugi's jaw went slack. Atemu didn't look much older than him, and Egypt had been gone before Yuugi was born. Anzu seemed to do the same math in her head, but she remained oddly silent. Atemu finished the insta-coffee and put the cup aside.
"It is getting late," he said. "I thank you for your hospitality."
"Are you leaving? So soon?" Yuugi was disappointed. He had been looking forward to talk to Atemu, and now he was leaving? "What about spending the night? Where do you sleep?"
"At my ship. It has a spare room."
"You have a ship?" Yuugi asked breathlessly.
"It is called the Datura," Atemu explained. "It is a very light vessel, only for personal use. It is a perfect ship for traveling."
"What a beautiful name! Can I see it sometime?"
"Of course you can," Atemu said as he rose from his chair. "You are welcome anytime."
"You shouldn't be out on the streets now, Atemu," Anzu said, quite curtly. "It's past curfew, and trespassers will be apprehended."
"No one will apprehend me," Atemu answered cryptically, adding a chuckle to his words. "They have tried, but they have never succeeded."
"Wait! Will… will I see you again?" Yuugi asked, almost exasperatedly. He failed to notice the surprised look on the faces of his grandfather and fiancée.
"Of course you will." Atemu smiled, but the warmth in it was only meant for Yuugi. He didn't care for anyone else. Now that he had found his Other, he wasn't going to let him go. Ever again. "Thank you once again for your hospitality."
"I'll show you out," Anzu said before Yuugi could offer. Atemu didn't seem too bothered and remained silent as she walked next to him, showing him the door.
"Goodbye," she said. He looked at her with an expression she couldn't fathom. The small light above the door of the Game Shop shone upon his face, stressing his red eyes. The light gave them a devilish gleam, combined with the dark shadows of the night framing his face.
"Goodbye, Anzu," he said and with a few steps, he had disappeared into the darkness. Anzu couldn't even hear his footsteps anymore. She closed the door firmly, and needed a minute to compose herself before walking back to the living room.
With a satisfied sigh, Mai turned around in the bed. The rumpled sheets barely covered her naked body and the fabric slid over her breasts as a tender lover's caress, revealing her flawless skin. Her long, perfectly manicured nails traipsed over the bed linens. The only advantage to being stationed at Wremmoor was the easy access to the best skin care products this galaxy had to offer. No cheap knock-offs, but the real deal for a low price - everyone and his mother was a smuggler around here. She didn't care in particular - if there was any advantage to be stationed here, she was going to milk it for every genz worth.
Jounouchi sat on the edge of the bed, strapping on his boots. His shirt was still in a heap on the floor, together with his belt.
"Why do you always have to leave so soon?" Mai pouted. She shifted around and wrapped her arms around his torso. He pushed back to enjoy the feel of her bare breasts against his skin.
"We have a job to do. We'll meet again soon."
"When you're done with this job, you'll ask Kaiba to get me off of this planet, right?"
Jounouchi tilted his head a little. He knew how much she wanted to leave this place. "You have specific orders to wait here in case Ishtar shows up again. I can't promise you that you can leave here soon."
Mai heaved a sigh, but relented. Kaiba's orders had been strict and precise. "I know. Guys like Ishtar search out planets like Wremmoor to not get caught."
"I have to go." Jounouchi reluctantly moved away from her to pick up his shirt and belt. "I'm meeting up with the guys at the bar."
"I'll take a shower and join you soon." She propped herself up, totally comfortable with her naked body. Jounouchi was very tempted to jump her, and it was with great restraint that he only kissed her, almost chastely. Mai used the opportunity to wrap her arms around him and pull him closer, as she wasn't satisfied with the superficial kiss. She ran her tongue over his lips, and he had to grin.
"You devil. I can't keep the boys waiting."
"Oh yes you can."
"I have to get dressed…"
"No you don't." Mai scratched his torso, long nails drawing over his skin. "I've been waiting very, very long for you." She bat her eyes at him, long dark lashes winking. "You should reward a good woman waiting for you."
Thirty minutes later, Jounouchi entered the bar. It was pretty much deserted; at this early afternoon hour hardly any drinkers or smugglers were patronizing the Square Circle. He spotted Otogi and Honda in the corner, both looking disappointed and exhausted.
"What do you've got so far?" Jounouchi walked up to his table, not bothering to properly greet them. Otogi grunted in return and flicked his ponytail over his shoulder. He'd been up all night and day to visit his contacts in search for information. People had proven to be tight-lipped about the October, its mysterious pilot with weapons on display and the kid with the price on his head. Otogi was using his PMA and had opened several vidscreens to scroll through the huge amounts of data. Besides the vidscreens, the table was littered with paper and all kinds of disks and tapes. It piqued Jounouchi's curiosity.
"It's frustrating, but I can't find them at all," Otogi said. "There are no records or tags of the October arriving or departing anywhere, not even on paper!"
He finally looked at Jounouchi and started to grin. He didn't point out his boss' rather disheveled hair -more so than usual- and the smudges of lipstick in his neck. Jounouchi sat down, ignoring Otogi's snicker. "This is interesting, though. The October is registered and tagged as a commercial freight ship."
Honda looked up. He'd been silently polishing his gun, a modified electromagnetic pulse amplifier. He had built it himself. "So? What's the big deal?"
"I haven't gotten to the interesting part yet," Otogi snarled. "Which is, that in all of the years the ship is around, it has never, ever, taken any cargo. There's no documentation whatsoever: no packing slips, no invoices, nothing."
"Huh," Honda said. "That's strange."
"There's more." Otogi shifted through the pile of papers and pulled out a few grainy pictures, blurry stills from a vidcam feed. "As you know, every spaceport is required to use vidfeeds and cameras for registration of incoming and outgoing vessels. I've searched on descriptions of the ship instead of tags and registration codes, and I came up with this."
"What is it?" Jounouchi leaned with his elbows on the table.
"According to all of this, a vessel matching the description of the October has been docking since 1749 BEE," Otogi said.
"Hum… Otogi.. I didn't take Earth Studies and even I know that in 1749, Before Earth Exploded, no space ships were around," Honda pointed out.
"Don't be stupid." Otogi almost spat at him. "What I'm trying to say is that some vessel, ship, boat, whatever you want to call it, with the name of October is around at least since 1749. As soon as space flight was possible," he continued, "it was tagged as a commercial freight ship. It's actually one of the earliest spaceships in existence!"
"What? No way! That would make it at least two hundred and sixty years old!"
"Hey, stop talking shit," Jounouchi interrupted. "What about ownership?"
"You know damn well that a spaceship is registered by code and tags, not by owner," Otogi rebutted. "Except for the brother and sister, Ishtar's name never pops up on the grid. However, the owner has been described a couple of times and caught on vidtape in recent years. It's always, no exception, the one with the spiky hair and weapons on display." Otogi shoved the pictures towards Jounouchi and Honda. Both picked them up and fell silent as they studied the pictures.
"Impossible," Jounouchi sighed. "He can't be over two hundred and sixty years old. The mandatory age for flying a spaceship is eighteen, sixteen at the very minimum…he can't be piloting a ship for near two centuries. Impossible!"
"He looks like mid-twenties, tops," Honda added.
"He needs to get provisions somewhere. He has to take in fuel, coolants, water, he has to make repairs. He can't fly around space for free."
"No receipts, no invoices, nothing. No electronic payments. No paper trail."
"Maybe he extorts people into giving him what he needs?"
"He must have extremely large battery packs and fuel tanks. Judging its size and freight capacity, the October wasn't build for speed. Still, everything runs out of juice at some point, sooner or later."
"Wremmoor must be his one-stop-shop, as Mai spotted him here," Jounouchi reminded his friends. "I don't have to tell you that Wremmoor is tag-free and registration-free."
"You just did."
Otogi glared at Honda. "I do have a few seconds of footage. We're damn lucky I've been able to retrieve it. It's a ghost ship."
"All right, show it," Jounouchi said. He waited until Otogi transferred the data from his PMA to the vidplayer, taking just a few seconds before the video started. Honda scraped with his chair over the floor to sit closer to the others. Using the tiny keyboard of his PMA, Otogi looked intensely at the screen to pinpoint the moment the October would show up.
"There! There it is."
"Freeze the frame. Is that all?"
"That's all. It pans along the hull some more, so you can get an impression of the size." Otogi moved the video frame for frame. It showed a fairly clear picture of the October. "This was logged at… Tazla," he pronounced the name of the planet as 'Taz-law', but nobody corrected him. It didn't really matter anyway. "No footage of the Ishtars unfortunately."
Honda whistled. "I really don't want to foot the fuel bill on that baby."
"What's with the enormous cargo capacity?" Jounouchi stared with wide eyes at the small screen. "Otogi, can you calculate how big it is?"
"Just a moment." Otogi started typing into his PMA. "To answer your first question… I guess Ishtar doesn't like to dock at different planets. He's probably using all his cargo capacity to take in giant stock of fuel and water, until he runs out. I can't think of something else. He has never transported cargo and if he did, I haven't been able to find any trace of it."
"At what other planets can they dock without being tagged?"
"Ibistapola and Kraten Six." Otogi heaved a sigh, as Honda should've known the answer. "Together with Wremmoor, they're the last tag-free planets in this universe. I don't get it. Isthar has to dock somewhere in-between, the distance between those planets is huge. Why isn't he popping up all over the grid?"
"Like you said, he probably uses his cargo capacity to take massive amounts of fuel. I guess his capacity of battery packs alone is enough to cross the galaxy at least once. I take it you have the system set up to alert us when he does get tagged?" Jounouchi lifted his hands up defensively at Otogi's annoyed face. "Hey, sorry I asked! All right, good work."
Honda crossed his arms in front of his chest. He was pretty pissed - his search for information had turned up nothing. He didn't like it; he knew the value of information and wanted to provide it. In this department, he had to acknowledge Otogi's superiority.
"How hard is it to find someone who wears weapons on display?" he complained nonetheless.
"You got nothing, huh?"
Honda harumpf-ed. "Everyone's tight-lipped as hell."
"This is Wremmoor," Jounouchi thought out loud, "if people won't or don't talk, not even for the right price, then something really fishy is going on."
"What do we do next, boss?"
"Divide and conquer," Jounouchi said.
"Back to the Time Wizard?"
"Hey wait!" Otogi tapped at his PMA, an incoming message beeping at him. "This might be interesting as well. One of my contacts tells me that when Ishtar boarded the ship, he was carrying someone. It didn't seem that the third person went aboard of free will."
"Kidnapping? This guy keeps adding and adding to his bad rep."
"Does your contact have any ID on the not-of-free-will guy? A name?" Jounouchi asked hopefully.
"No, just a description. Long white hair and a black trench coat."
"Long white hair and a black trench coat. How are we supposed to find a matching ID?"
"Hey, we found people with less information than this," Jounouchi pointed out. "Aren't we the best team KaibaCorp. has, or are we just a bunch of losers?"
"I'll search the reports on missing persons," Otogi volunteered.
"If Wremmoor had a police station, we could lift some of their records," Honda snorted.
"We are to focus on Malik Ishtar, not on his pilot or whoever he takes on board with him," Jounouchi said. "Malik's the one with the five million genz bounty on his head, not the others. Got it?"
"Got it," both Otogi and Honda nodded.
"Back to work," Jounouchi said. "I want everyone prepped and ready to leave in an hour."
Bakura left the cockpit of the October, still annoyed. The wristlock was heavy and hindered his movements, not to mention it was hurting him. The weight dragged him down and chafed his skin. It was bullying on Marik's part, pure and simple; he knew Bakura had no way of escaping the spaceship, but still he refused to unlock it. Marik liked seeing people in pain. Fucker. Bakura didn't want to go to bed. His body didn't need the rest yet. His free hand went to his lower backside, adjusting a flat, black device clipped to his belt.
As usual, the size of the October was impressive. The hallway was large enough to move around without touching the walls. The number of -mostly locked- doors astounded him; was Marik planning to host his own army on board? Bakura figured that a lot of rooms were destined to hold provisions or any other kind of supplies. All locks were electronic and without his tools, Bakura stood very little chance of forcing them open. If only Marik hadn't stripped him of his coat… maybe Malik knew where the garment was. The engines of the ship thrummed in an almost soothing rhythm. All the lights were on, and everything looked in perfect condition. Bakura had to admit it again; it was impressive, very impressive. Marik's ability to build a ship like this and pilot it as well was astounding. How typical that the most insane of them was also the most brilliant genius of them. That thought never failed to bring a smirk to Bakura's lips.
He didn't know where to find Malik, so he walked around in no particular direction. In the pantry of the ship was nothing much of interest, and the few unlocked rooms held basic furniture. He had no idea of how much time elapsed, and Bakura was about to quit and look for a bunk after all, when he noticed a bright light at the end of another corridor. Soundlessly, he made his way over to the door where the light was coming from, and he took a quick look inside.
Malik was lying on the bed, reading a book. The light came from a lamp attached to his bed, a harsh, bright bulb that made his natural tan look a sickly yellow. The kid had gone to bed as per Marik's orders, but that didn't mean he immediately had gone to sleep. Bakura stood in the door opening and leaned casually against the doorpost.
"He treats you like a little kid, right?" he asked.
"What's it to you?"
"Nothing. You seem okay."
Malik snorted. "Don't even bother. He told me everything about you."
"Everything?"
"He told me you're an asshole. I guess it's one of the few times he's actually right."
"Hey hey, we barely know each other. Don't judge a book by its cover and all that."
"You would've killed me."
Bakura frowned. "Kill you..?" It dawned on him what Malik was referring to. "Oh yeah, outside the bar," he said. "Sorry kid, but you shouldn't be wearing so much gold in public. If Marik told you everything about me, then you should know…"
"You're a thief and a stealer of souls." Malik closed his book. "That's how he called you."
Bakura couldn't help the grin appearing on his face. He liked his own reputation, and apparently Marik hadn't forgotten about it. Which was weird... Marik forgot easily.
"What's that about a price on your head?" Bakura changed the subject.
Malik drew his lips into a tight line. He carefully put the book into the container next to his bed and closed the lid firmly. Silently, he moved to sit up straight on the bed, smoothing out the thin, gray blanket. It looked like he didn't know where to begin, and when he finally spoke, his voice was curt.
"I killed my father."
"I see," Bakura said. He narrowed his eyes. It was nothing different, not different this time either. Malik was an Other and suffering for the actions of his Alternate. It had always been this way and it would always be this way. "Marik killed him, right?"
"What does it matter?" He all but shouted, and his fists clenched at the blanket. Bakura knew he had hit a nerve. "We are the same to my sister: a monster! She will hunt me down until the both of us are dead."
"Nice family." Bakura whistled. He didn't feel any pity for Malik. Pity was an emotion that he had abandoned quickly.
"It's not their fault," Malik continued, softly. "When Marik…was there, my father always yelled and my sister always screamed. They didn't know how to deal with him. I didn't know… I wanted to stop him, I wanted to call him back, but when everything was over, my father was dead and my brother was on the floor with blood all over his face."
It had always been this way. Briefly, Bakura wondered where his own Other was. He was bound to find him, sooner or later. It wasn't his job to tell Malik everything; Bakura grimaced. He liked to give out his information sparsely, to get the most advantage out of everything he knew.
"There's another One, right?" Malik asked. He had turned off his light and his voice floated through the darkness. "Or however you call yourselves."
Bakura nodded, even if Malik couldn't see it. "The Pharaoh is the only one left to be found."
"I thought so."
"Why?"
"Nothing much," Malik said brusquely and tugged at his blanket, covering himself.
"Don't worry," Bakura misinterpreted Malik's sudden brusqueness, "we'll either find him or he finds us. Fate always makes us run into each other. That's why I hate fucking fate."
Silence.
"Bakura, I told you to go to bed." Marik's voice was low. This time, Bakura heard him coming, so he wasn't startled. He didn't pretend to have accidentally walked into Malik's room either. Some things were too obvious to be kept a secret.
"I'm not tired," Bakura said. "This heavy weight is disturbing me." He showed the wristlock for good measure, hating that tiny flickering light that confirmed his constriction.
Marik didn't comment, just showed him a grin and walked past him. Bakura followed him to his own quarters. Marik's room wasn't that much bigger than Malik's. He immediately switched the lights on, even though the both of them could see perfectly well in the dark. Bakura noticed that Marik had constructed a bathroom adjacent to his bedroom.
"So... what happened to you?"
"What do you mean?" Marik turned around. Bakura grinned. He had seen it just fine, nothing escaped him. Marik had walked in front of him, and as a thief Bakura was trained to notice even the smallest changes.
"I get it… your right side isn't working well, is it?"
"And what if it doesn't?"
"It cripples your usual speed. So not only your Other has a problem, you have a problem as well."
"We're old, Bakura."
"Bullshit," the thief answered crudely.
"I need some time to get it all repaired."
"To get it repaired where?" Bakura quickly tried to calculate the trajectory of the October. They had recently left Wremmoor, and his own ship was still docked at the spaceport there. He had to track back and review his plans if Marik was going to dump him on whatever planet; his perfectly forged identification card could get him everywhere, but it would be a huge loss of time. "You're still going to drop me off at the first port we see?"
"At the first moment I get a chance, I'll fucking kick you off."
"You're so sexy when you're grouchy."
"Fuck off."
"So… which side of the bed is mine?"
Chapter 5 | Chapter 7