Blue

How the hell did I get here? she wondered, looking around her. The last thing she remembered was bringing up something from the ship's library . . .

Where were we going? I think it was Regina. This isn't Regina. She used to live on Regina, and there wasn't anyplace like this anywhere on the planet. Hell, there wasn't anyplace like this anywhere in the system . . .

"Hey, what have we here?"

The voice pulled her out of her woolgathering and her eyes flicked to the mouth of an alleyway where two rough-looking indigs lounged. The thought passed under consideration and was discarded quickly - no use getting information out of these guys. Street toughs. Better to dig in somewhere and take stock of the situation before getting intel.

She moved on, brusquely, alert now, eyes scanning the street as she walked. Behind her she heard the men's heavy steps shuffling in the roughness of the primitive boulevard - dirt. This place really was primitive. What was this, tech level three?

"Hey, pretty lady - we wanna talk to you."

Their footsteps hastened behind her. She stopped, pivoting neatly to face them. The move seemed to surprise them a little; they halted short of her as her sharp gaze raked over them. They regained their composure fairly quickly as predatory grins crossed their unshaven faces. "She's got funny clothes," one said to the other, "but she looks real nice."

"Can I help you?" she asked sharply in tones that usually had recruits jumping.

The toughs laughed roughly. "Yeah, honey, you can help me. I got this swelling right -"

She broke his hand as he reached for her. Whirling past the first man, she drove her foot into the stomach of the second, ramming her elbow into his back as he bent over double. She then footswept the first fellow when he turned towards her. In mere moments, her opponents had been dispatched with quick efficiency, and she glanced around quickly to see if the local law had been summoned yet. Low-tech worlds usually had low law levels, but better safe than sorry.

Turning back in the direction she'd been heading, she saw him - must be local law. He had real nice armor, for primitive stuff. Actually, it was pretty ornate. Therefore, he was something more than a guardsman, someone of rank and distinction. She whipped out her snub pistol. Local law would be pretty damn inconvenient right now, and important personages even more so.

He held out empty hands, universal symbol for "I'm unarmed." She hesitated for a moment, and in that moment, the man before her spoke in a deep voice:

"I've found you, Seiryuu no Miko."

Her gun never wavered. "Are you talking to me?" she asked him.

"Yes," he replied. "I am Nakago."

"Well, Nakago," she said, "they attacked me first. Nice place you've got here. I'm going to go now." She began to back away, still covering him.

"Then for that, they shall die, Seiryuu no Miko," he replied simply, not moving from where he stood.

That gave her pause. "What?"

"These men shall die for daring to lay hands on Seiryuu no Miko, savior of our country," he explained, slowly moving his hands towards his head.

"Don't move!" she barked, her body flowing into a shooting stance, both hands on the pistol. The man froze.

"I mean you no harm," he assured her. "I only wish to take off my helmet."

"I think you're going to stay right where you are," she said. "I'm real nervous right now."

All she could see of him were his eyes, cold and blue like the lakes of her family home on Tarsus. She wished desperately for something more substantial than her company fatigues, charcoal grey and actually not bad-looking for fatigues. But they simply weren't battle dress, the outer shell that was part vacc suit and mostly armor, her preferred ensemble on strange worlds.

"I give you my word, Seiryuu no Miko, that no harm shall come to you," the man promised.

"Why do you keep calling me that?" she asked him waspishly. "Seiryuu no Miko." She frowned a little as memory tickled at the edges of her mind.

"Because you are Seiryuu no Miko," he responded, spreading his fingers wide. "Savior of our country. You are from another world, aren't you?"

She saw no reason to lie. "Yes."

The corners of his eyes crinkled with his unseen smile. "Then you are indeed the one we have been waiting for," he announced. "Please, come with me."

Slowly, she lowered her gun, holstering it underneath the uniform jacket. "Why should I go anywhere with you?" she challenged.

Just as slowly, Nakago removed his face cloth and then his helm. From his forehead a glow emanated, blue as his eyes, blue as lake water. "Because I am the first of your seishi, Seiryuu no Miko. I am called Nakago, and I am Kutou's shogun."

She frowned at him. Rubbing a hand over her neck, she could not feel the comdot communicator she would normally wear for a ground mission. She'd been looking at something she'd called up from the ship's library . . .

"Very well," she told Nakago. "I will go with you, for now."

Hole up. Dig in. Take stock. Gather intel. She didn't like going with the indig, but until she could get more info, this was probably the best course of action. Until she could remember how she got down here and why she was here. She glanced down at herself. Mjollnir patch on one sleeve, rank pins on the breast. This wasn't a sterile mission. Something was wrong. There was no reason for her to be dirtside with no briefing, no weapons other than a sidearm, and no local clothing.

Nakago smiled at her, a very small smile. It looked like triumph. She kept her face neutral. "And how may I address you, miko-sama?" he asked.

"Jackson Sakurako," she responded automatically. Colonel, Retired, Imperial Army. Commander, Mercenary Troops, Mjollnir Corporation.

"Sakurako-sama," he said, and she corrected him.

"Jackson," she told him firmly. "I prefer to be called Jackson. And I will be following you to wherever it is you're taking me."

"Of course." He looked amused. He then looked at the two thugs who were just now regaining consciousness and pushing themselves to their knees. They looked up, paling at the intimidating sight of the tall shogun in his magnificent armor. "You have assaulted the person of Seiryuu no Miko," he intoned. "Such insult is punishable by death. I shall carry out the sentence."

Before Jackson could stop him, his hand glowed blue, and he said, calmly, "Die."

Jax's eyes widened as the blue glow blasted into the two men, knocking them along the street like stray waste paper caught in a wind. In the silence that followed, she asked, "What was that?"

Nakago fixed her with his gaze. "I chi-blasted them," he explained. "They won't trouble you again, Jackson-sama."

She looked up at the tall man, and for the first time since her arrival on this dirtball, she felt fear. I'd offer him a job, she thought, I'm sure Doctor Knobell would love that - that display. But somehow I have this feeling that this fellow's not too keen on following orders.

The thin veil of triumph still tickled at the edges of his expression. Jackson's face remained impassive -- not a difficult trick at her age. "I see," she said to the man who called himself her seishi, whatever the hell that was. "Well, then - it was Nakago, wasn't it?" At his minute nod, she continued. "I believe you were going to lead me - where?"

"The palace," he told her. Removing his cloak, he handed it to her, said, "Cover yourself, Jackson-sama. You will be less conspicuous if you do so."

"Just the way I like it," she muttered, wrapping the voluminous garment around herself. And because he couldn't see through the fabric (she hoped), she held her gun in her free hand. It made her a little happier. Goodness knew little else around here did.