“Yes,” Klyber admitted. “I thought I had been all over this Arm. I’ve been assigned here for several years now.”
Low-level bureaucrats peered out of office doorways as we walked down the hall. I worried about security even though the Rising Sun police had searched the building earlier that morning and there were guards and X-ray machines at every entrance.
For his part, Klyber focused his attention on Governor Yamashiro, pausing only once as we passed an indoor courtyard with a large pond and some sort of shrine. I saw several works of art around the capitol, but the best piece sat behind the desk just outside the governor’s door. She stood as we approached, and I had a hard time staring straight ahead.
“Admiral Klyber, this is my assistant, Ms. Lyons,” Yamashiro said.
I would have expected the governor to have a Japanese assistant, but this statuesque woman was cosmopolitan with brown hair that poured over her shoulders and flawless white skin. She had green eyes, and her dark red lipstick stood out against her white skin.
Admiral Klyber paid no attention to her. He walked past Ms. Lyons as if she weren’t there and into the office.
She followed him, shuffling her feet quickly to keep up. She wore a short blue dress that ran halfway down her thighs. “Can I get anything for you, Admiral Klyber?” Ms. Lyons asked.
Klyber might not have noticed her, but Lee homed right in. He stole an obvious gander as he snapped to attention and pretended to take in the entire room.
“I am quite fine,” Klyber said, without turning to look at the woman.
“We’re fine for now, Nada,” Yamashiro said.
“Very well,” the woman said.
My first thought when I saw the woman was something along the line of, Yamashiro, you sly dog. But there was intelligence in her voice. I had misjudged.
Yamashiro’s assistant turned to leave the room and stopped in front of me. She looked at me, and said, “Can I bring you gentlemen anything?”
With some effort, I looked past her and said nothing. When she turned to leave, I felt relieved.
Admiral Klyber might not have paid attention to Ms. Nada Lyons on her own, but our little exchange had not escaped him. He stared into my eyes until he was sure that I saw him, then he made the smallest of nods and turned his attention back to Governor Yamashiro.
Yamashiro did not retreat behind his wide wooden desk. Klyber sat in one of the two seats placed in front of the gubernatorial desk, and Yamashiro sat beside him.
“Okay, Admiral Klyber, the gloves are off. What can I do to prove my planet’s loyalty to the Republic?” Governor Yamashiro asked, sounding stymied. “We have the entire Ezer Kri police force searching for leads. I have authorized the wholesale questioning of anybody affiliated with the Atkins movement…a sizable percentage of our population, I might add, and you still have no proof that the Atkins believers were behind the attack.”
“I appreciate your efforts,” Klyber said, still sounding relaxed. “All the same, I think the manhunt will go more smoothly if some of my forces help conduct it.”
“I see,” Yamashiro said, his posture stiffening.
“From what I have observed, Hiro’s Fall was overrun by Mogat sympathizers. I understand that several Mogats held posts in the city government. I am sure you were aware of those problems, Governor Yamashiro.” Klyber folded his hands on his lap.
“I see,” Yamashiro said, looking nervous. “And you hold my office responsible for the attack?”
“Not at all,” said Klyber, still sounding conversational. “But I will hold you personally responsible for any future hostilities, just as the Joint Chiefs will hold me accountable for anything that happens to my men.
“I will insist, Governor, that you remain in the capitol for the next few days. I have assigned one of my platoons to see to your protection.”
“Am I under house arrest, then?” asked Yamashiro.
“Not at all. We are simply going to help you run your planet more efficiently.”
“Then this is undeclared mart—”
“Martial law?” Klyber asked, his smile looking very stiff. “Friends in the Senate warned me about your gift for historical references.”
Klyber leaned forward in his chair, and his voice hardened. His back was to me, but I imagined that his expression had turned stony as well. “This is not martial law, Governor Yamashiro. I’m trying to protect you.”
Admiral Klyber retained five men from our platoon to guard his quarters, then set the rest of us loose on Rising Sun. He gave us full liberty so long as we remained dressed in battle armor. Apparently Klyber wanted to make sure that the locals knew we were there.
We, of course, used the occasion to acquaint ourselves with the bars.
Most of the men went out in a herd, but Lee and I got a late start. Lee was fanatic about his sleep. We had liberty, but we did not leave to try the local drinking holes until well past eight, and he insisted on trying the upscale institutions along the waterfront. When I told him that the rest of the platoon was checking out the bars on the west side of town, Lee responded, “Those clones may be satisfied with mere watering holes; we shall look at finer establishments.”
“Asshole,” I said, even though I knew the attitude was a sham.
We took a train to the “Hinode Waterfront Station.” Everywhere we went, I saw signs referring to Hinode. Many of the signs were also marked with those strange squiggling designs that I understood to be the Japanese form of writing. It wasn’t until the next day that I realized that “Hinode” was the Japanese word for “Rising Sun.”
The bars we found were posh and elite, with swank names; some had Japanese lettering in their signs. The late-night dinner crowd strolled the waterfront streets. Men in business suits and women in fine dresses stopped in front of restaurant display cases to look at plasticized versions of the foods.
“This looks pretty expensive,” I told Vince as I looked at a menu. “Yakisoba, whatever that is, costs fifty dollars.”
“Maybe that’s the name of the waitress,” Lee said.
“Pork tonkatsu costs forty-five. If pork tonkatsu is the name of a waitress, I don’t want her.”
“How about over there,” Lee said, pointing to a small, brightly lit eatery.
“That place is too bright for drinks,” I said.
Lee ran across the street for a closer look, and I followed. The place was crowded. People used chopsticks to eat colorful finger foods off small dishes.
We entered, and the crowd became quiet. A man came up to us and spoke in Japanese. We, of course, did not understand a word of it. “Think he speaks English?” I asked Lee over the interLink in our helmets.
“Sure he does,” Lee said. “This is why the Senate does not want them to have their own language.”
After a few moments, I looked at Vince and shrugged my shoulders. The diners became loud again as we turned to leave.
I hated admitting defeat, but the Rising Sun waterfront beat me down. After a frustrating hour, Vince and I caught a taxi to the center of town. We found a likely-looking bar and went inside. The place was nearly empty. Three men sat slumped in their seats at the counter.
“This must be where the clerical help goes,” Vince said.
Two Japanese women waited just inside the door. A hostess came and seated them. When Vince started toward the bar, she turned, and said, “Please wait to be seated.”
After twenty minutes of waiting to be seated, we gave up and left to find another bar.
By 2300 Kamehameha time, Vince and I retreated to the west end of town. We were hungry, thirsty, and frustrated. In any other town, the bars would be the only lit buildings by that time of night. Not in Rising Sun. In this town every building’s crystal finish glowed with the same goddamned honey-colored lights. At that point I wanted to stow my armor and walk into the next bar pretending to be a civilian; but if I took off my gear, I was technically AWOL.