fic for semikusa! (1/2)

[nino_mod]

For: semikusa
From: :3.

Title: The Inheritance Game
Pairing/Focus: Ninomiya Kazunari/Matsumoto Jun (established)
Rating: NC-17
Word count: ~49,000
Warnings: Sex, peril, cursing, and a character death (not main pair)
Summary: Ninomiya Kazunari, a money-loving retired thief, is just trying to enjoy said retirement. But he soon finds himself caught up in a dangerous quest for the biggest score of his career.
Notes: An AU action adventure in SPACE! for semikusa. This story is inspired by an episode of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine called Who Mourns for Morn?. I hope you’ll enjoy :)



bar platina
tokai station, deck 8
21:17 bst (belt standard time)

It was kind of a slow night. Sure, the regulars had their asses planted in their favorite bar stools or booths, but it was nothing compared to last week’s haul. An ice freighter hitting the halfway mark on its long journey to the rings of New Hakodate had docked here at Tokai to refuel, and Bar Platina had done good business night and day as the alcoholics among the freighter’s crew did their own bit of refueling before the rest of their voyage.

Nino had never initially planned to make an aging space station like Tokai his final stop. He’d grown up at the Katsushika colony on the far side of Kanto IV, had spent his formative years causing trouble on a rock without artificial gravity. He had always envisioned his retirement differently - a quiet, isolated planetside property all his own. One of those fancy robots that could wait on him hand and foot. A toilet seat made out of 100 percent platina to remind people he was so gods-damned wealthy that he could put his bare ass on platina as if it were some cheap plastic.

Well, so much for those dreams.

Instead of that glorious retirement, he’d had to aim smaller. Instead of the platina toilet seat, he’d just named his bar after the galaxy’s most expensive metal. A senpai had decided to get back into the game, offering the bar here on Tokai to Nino, no strings attached. “Keep an eye on it for me, will ya?” Taichi had said, foolishly heading off for some score he was never going to find.

Ninomiya Kazunari was younger than most retirees in his field, having paid off the bounty on his head so he could quit at thirty-three. He’d recently turned thirty-five. But after nearly fifteen years of zipping from planet to planet and station to station, he’d been sick of the danger. He’d been sick of all the effort expended with little return. And he’d been sick of all the traveling.

At first it had been exciting, leaving the colony behind for the adventure of it all. And it had been pretty fun for a while, escaping just before a JXF patrol ship caught him. Liberating jewels and gold and the occasional hunk of unprocessed platina. Beating a rival to a stash and blowing him a kiss as he flew off, leaving the guy in the space dust.

But in the end, thievery was…you know, kind of morally reprehensible.

And Nino had decided that he couldn’t devote his entire life to being reprehensible. Sure the drinks at Bar Platina were a touch overpriced. Sure he looked the other way if someone with a bounty on their head slipped him a few hundred plat-coins. But he wasn’t doing anything that would likely get him arrested anymore, and even if he wasn’t living out his retirement with that robot servant he still had a few things going for him here on Tokai Station.

He had a steady income. He had his (limited) wealth properly invested. He had a regular place to sleep and food in his belly, two things his former life hadn’t always guaranteed him. And, most importantly, he had Jun.

If Nino had still been in the game, there was no way Jun would be with him. Nino couldn’t help but admire men of upstanding moral character like Matsumoto Jun. Nino had thrown away any of his own upstanding-ness when he’d chosen to become a thief because he loved platina too much - pursuing it, getting it, saving it. Jun, on the other hand, believed in the old-fashioned notion of honest pay for an honest day’s work.

He’d been a good boy all his life, enlisting in the JXF right out of high school, rising to the top of his class at the academy, serving in the elite Discovery Corps that flew risky missions to unexplored sectors, mapping the galaxy and seeking out natural resources. Jun had given JXF fifteen years of his life when Discovery Corps assignments typically only ran five because of the sheer danger of the job. A good, good boy.

Honorably discharged with a pension, Jun still helped people now, although in a much more limited capacity. He and Nino were just about the same age, and a thirty-three year old Jun had made his way to Tokai Station within a month of Nino’s own arrival there. While Nino had settled into a retirement of serving shitty, overpriced drinks to people of somewhat questionable morals, Jun was a pilot for hire. The Tojo Belt was a vast expanse of asteroid-dotted territory, many of them populated with mining companies and small colonies. Jun was frequently ferrying workers and migrants from Tokai to places throughout the belt. And, as far as Nino knew, he never overcharged. Sometimes he didn’t even charge the full fuel tax. What a fucking saint.

So why were they even together? At first, Nino had questioned it too. Even after the confession of all his past sins and the begrudging admission of his current ones a few months into their relationship, Jun had still wanted to be with him.

“I like your face,” was the first thing Jun had ever said to him.

He’d already been drunk on overpriced whiskey at the time, slurring and close to falling off his bar stool as Nino took over for the third shift from Yamada, his mostly competent employee. Poor Jun had been depressed, missing the exciting days in the Discovery Corps when he and his comrades saved migrant vessels from marauding pirate types or when he’d been the first to find a new planetoid.

He’d been depressed, so Nino had seen a perfect opportunity to make a few extra plat-coins, plying the ridiculously handsome guy with drink after drink, offering him his already-patented Sympathetic Bartender Ear.

“I like your face,” Jun had said, cheeks flushed and dark hair falling across his brow. “You, I like your face.”

Jun had come by Bar Platina the next two weeks straight, needing fewer and fewer drinks before telling Nino what he thought of his eyes, his nose, his jawline. And by the third week, Nino had taken Jun by the hand, bringing him to the bar’s stock room in back where he had been able to offer opinions on more than just Nino’s face.

And here they were, almost two years later. Despite everything, Jun still liked his face and more importantly, Jun still liked the rest of him. Sure theirs was an odd match, and sure it was a cliche to admit it, but Jun did make him a better man. Sometimes Nino would be negotiating a bribe, would imagine Jun standing close by with his arms crossed and shaking his head. So then Nino would knock a few plat-coins off of what he’d been planning to take.

Jun made him a better man, but Jun couldn’t exactly make him perfect.

So again. It was a slow night. His waitress Wakana-chan was standing by the bar, her eager eyes glancing around in hopes that someone might want a refill. She’d made enough in tips last week to pay next month’s rent on the shitty little cabin she had on Deck 16 of the station. She spilled the occasional drink, but she was pretty, and sometimes that made Bar Platina just as much as overcharging on whiskey might.

He had all the vidscreens in the bar tuned to the lo-grav ball game. It was the first round of the playoffs, and Nino had a hundred plat-coins on the Jotoku Dragons to move on. Jun didn’t like sports betting, seeing as how it was kind of illegal in this system, but Nino still allowed himself a few vices here and there. Unfortunately the Dragons were already down by three.

Wakana was finally off, table 8 in her sights, and Nino sighed, realizing he was almost out of dark rum. He headed for the back, tearing himself away from the game and getting a new one from the stock room.

When he came back, there was a new customer perched on the stool nearest the register.

Nino couldn’t help but smile. The first good thing to happen all night.

“I thought you weren’t back until tomorrow,” he said, setting down the rum bottle and leaning forward.

Still in his flight suit, the customer leaned forward to mirror him. His eyes were dark, as easy to get lost in as they’d been on the first day they’d met. Nino loved platina, but some things were worth a little more.

Jun stared him down, grinning. “What does a man have to do to get a drink around here?”

—

residential zone
tokai station, deck 5
01:46 bst (belt standard time)

He’d made it to just after one in the morning before demanding that Takeuchi-kun come in for his shift early. Tokai Station never slept, ships coming and going at all hours of the day. The good thing about being the boss was that Nino could work whenever he wanted, but that didn’t mean he could risk closing and losing out on potential income.

Takeuchi had finally shown up, eager to please and ready to price gouge, and Nino had been able to flee. He and Jun shared a cabin on Deck 5, something Nino was still adjusting to. Jun was gone a week here, a week there with work, and when he came back there was always the inevitable argument about where Nino had moved something or the mess he’d made of something or other. Wasn’t it enough that Nino usually remembered to water Jun’s plants when he was gone? Nino had gone most of his life without being responsible for any living things besides himself, and it was a testament to his love for Jun that the stupid plants were still thriving.

But those arguments would probably wait until morning because Jun had been gone for nine gods-damned days.

He keyed in their passcode, and the cabin door slid open. They’d mutually agreed to move into the cabin Nino had been renting from the start since it was larger and actually had windows. Jun’s old place had been one of the efficiency cabins on a lower deck, not much more than a place to sleep and shit on account of him being off-station so much.

Nino had opted for more, seeing as how he was a permanent fixture on Tokai these days. He slid out of his shoes, leaving them in the entryway as he entered their living room. He winced at the dirty clothes he had in piles, having delayed laundry day as long as possible. Thankfully Jun wasn’t in here, wasn’t standing at the window taking in their mediocre view of the potato-shaped asteroids in the distance. He wasn’t in the kitchen, twitching at the dirty dishes Nino couldn’t be bothered to put in the sonic-washer.

Instead Nino grinned at the familiar sound of the sonic-shower shutting off, moving through the cabin to their bedroom and finding various bits of Jun back in their rightful place on the floor - his rolling metal travel case, the zip-up gray flight jacket and matching slacks, his shirt, his socks, his boxers…

The bathroom door slid open with a gentle hiss, an overdramatic cloud of sonic steam revealing the body missing from his bed the last nine boring nights. Even though he wasn’t serving in the JXF now, Jun kept up his training. Running, stretching, weight lifting. He was taller than Nino, broad-shouldered and strong. At first Nino had felt a bit inadequate. He was built small and slim, which had obviously helped when sneaking through air vents in his old life. And he was more inclined to exercise his mouth than the rest of his body. Fortunately for him, he still had the face Jun liked so much.

Jun stepped forward, skipping the formality of a towel in favor of going straight for what he wanted. He smelled obnoxiously clean, none of the smoke and liquor that lingered on Nino’s clothes from Bar Platina. He moved his hands to Nino’s face, thumbs stroking cheekbones.

“Missed you, Kazu.”

“Missed you, too,” Nino mumbled. “Gets boring without you here to yell at me.”

Jun rolled his eyes. “I don’t yell at you.”

Nino stepped closer, looking up with a smirk. “You yell with your eyes. Why, you’re yelling right now in fact.”

Jun’s voice was low, needy in the best way. “What am I yelling about?”

Obviously, the messy cabin. But Nino thought that would be a bit of a buzzkill. “You’re yelling about me still being dressed.”

“Ah,” Jun whispered. “You’re right.”

Despite that, Jun stripped the clothes from him slowly, undoing the buttons of his shirt, letting Nino kiss him and distract him from the task at hand. His belt and slacks were next, and it took all of Nino’s willpower to extract himself from the comfort of Jun’s embrace.

“I’ll just be a minute.”

He ditched his underwear and socks, getting in the shower compartment and letting the pulse vibrations strip the bar stink and the day’s sweat from his skin. He found Jun not far from where he left him. Deep down, Nino was begrudgingly sentimental and there was something that just felt so perfect about how they fit together. Against all likelihood, from totally different backgrounds. Jun had turned out to be the retirement present Nino had never expected.

Jun sat on the mattress, his eyes not entirely masking his displeasure at the sheets probably needing a wash. Well, Nino had expected this kind of warm “welcome home” reunion, so wasn’t it more sensible to wait and wash the sheets afterwards anyway? He was just being logical. Not lazy.

Nino stepped forward, Jun moving his legs apart so Nino could stand between them. Jun looked up at him with those demanding eyes, and Nino rested his hands on his shoulders, enjoying the firm familiarity of him. It was hard to watch Jun leave, having him gone for days at a time. But it made moments like these all the better.

“How long do I have you for this time?”

“I haven’t lined up the next job yet,” Jun replied. “Do we have to talk about that right now?”

He grinned, leaning forward so his mouth was only a few inches from Jun’s.

“Then go ahead and shut me up.”

It took only a tug of Jun’s hand, and he was moving. Jun getting onto his back, urging Nino to lie on top of him. He was a good sport, letting Nino pin his wrists down with his hands even though it wouldn’t take much for Jun to flip them over and take charge of the situation.

Instead Jun encouraged the attention, head falling back and exposing his neck, his throat to Nino’s hurried kisses. By the time Nino’s mouth had trailed further down, hearing Jun’s soft moans of approval, he’d already forgotten who had won the lo-grav game. It didn’t matter, the plat-coins didn’t matter.

Well.

They did matter, of course. They’d just matter more in the morning.

But for now he had Jun back, and that was a more pressing thing. He leaned over, snatching the lube bottle and condom Jun had taken out of their bedside drawer. When he was ready, Jun sat up, letting Nino stay on top of him. He moaned, slowly sinking down onto Jun’s cock, feeling Jun’s arm come around his back to keep him steady. He shut his eyes, finding a comfortable rhythm.

After a while he didn’t care if his neighbors hated him for it, but he begged for more, for more, arm around Jun’s neck. Fifteen years of JXF service had made Jun so good at taking instruction, so good at following orders. He did as Nino asked, thrusting harder, setting a quicker pace until they were both panting, filling the cabin with the crude noise of their hectic reunion. They could go slow the next time.

They eventually ended up on their backs, Jun watching him in a gentle daze as Nino finished himself off.

“I missed this face,” Jun murmured, reaching out to stroke his jaw not long after Nino came.

He laughed. “In general or how it looks when I get off?”

“Mmm,” Jun replied, half asleep already. Coming back early probably meant he’d been flying for a dozen hours that day. Based on how content Jun was right now, Nino assumed he felt the effort had been worth it.

“Mmm?” Nino teased, gliding his fingers along Jun’s arm, seeing him squirm a little at the tickling sensation. “Mmm’s not an answer to my question.”

“Both,” Jun finally murmured. “Always both.”

Nino twined their sweaty fingers together, pulling Jun’s hand to his mouth. He pressed a kiss to his knuckles before letting him go again.

Was his life a little boring now compared to his years of planet hopping, tomb raiding? Sure. In comparison to that, sure.

But boring had its perks.

—

bar platina
tokai station, deck 8
22:48 bst (belt standard time)

It was now four slow nights in a row, and knowing that Jun was home waiting for his return made time tick by even slower. Jun’s ship, the Paradox, was undergoing safety inspections and a lengthy tune-up in the docking ring, so there hadn’t been much for him to do the last few days besides exercise, do a bit of reading, and have sex. Nino never joined him for the first two activities, but he was an enthusiastic participant in the third.

If he was ever going to get out of here.

Yamada was on a well-earned but not quite convenient week of vacation off-station, so Nino and Takeuchi-kun didn’t have a lot of wiggle room. Since Nino refused to close, he and Takeuchi were working a rotating schedule of six hours on, six hours off, and Nino only had Wakana-chan to help him in the evenings. Even when it was slow, it was much easier to let his waitress do the smiling and serving. That gave him more time to keep an eye on the less than desirables that might walk through the door.

He’d been watching the customer at one of the tables along the glass. Those three tables had the best view in the whole bar, but nobody else had bothered to sit in the other two because of the person in the middle. Probably on account of how creepy he or she looked.

Nino hadn’t seen them enter, and he was usually against turning customers away unless they started fights. All kinds of assholes found their way to Bar Platina, but most of them didn’t walk in wearing a long hooded cloak. The customer had ordered only one beer since his arrival an hour earlier, and Nino was growing annoyed at the doom and gloom atmosphere the stranger had brought with them. The window tables, even on a slow night, often brought in good sales, if only because people started staring out at the cosmos, drinking and drinking and drinking as they pondered their place in the universe.

“Wakana,” Nino said, waving her over.

She came behind the bar, setting down her serving tray. She knew him well enough by now that gossip sessions about customers meant standing close, keeping their voices down.

“What’s up with the death shroud?” Nino whispered.

“Had a normal enough voice,” Wakana replied quietly. “He wouldn’t let me see his face.”

“Normally if you’re a wanted man, you do your best to hide or blend in. Guy dressed like that draws more attention in the long run.”

Nino was tempted to get out his personal CommTek and search the JXF’s most wanted list. But he’d need to see his face first before either offering the guy some friendly fashion advice or reporting a dangerous criminal to the authorities. Thieves he usually helped or took bribes from, but he drew the line at murderers and abusers on the run.

“Should I ask him to leave?”

“No,” Nino decided. “No, I’ll handle it.”

He came around the bar, offering a nod to a few regulars perched in their usual spots. He ignored the three men in another booth who were clearly making some sort of shady deal. Nino wasn’t a snitch. Finally, he reached for the empty beer glass left on the middle table, its drinker’s face turned out to the starry black beyond.

“Let me get you a refill, sir.”

The man’s hand wrapped around Nino’s wrist before he could move off with the glass, startling him. “Just the one tonight, buddy.”

Nino resisted the urge to yank the stupid hood down. What the hell was he doing here? Soon enough Nino was released, leaving the beer glass alone and having a seat across from the man, leaning back and barely able to stifle his curiosity.

Or his laughter.

He kept his voice just loud enough to be heard over the lo-grav game. Thankfully, it seemed like most of the other customers were watching it and deliberately ignoring the man at the window, even now that the bar’s owner had sat down across from him.

“What the fuck are you wearing?”

The hood and Bar Platina’s low lighting kept most of the man in shadow, but there was no mistaking that mouth full of pretty, perfect teeth.

“Nino-chan, this is what’s known as a disguise.”

Only Aiba Masaki would choose to wander around in a dark, mysterious robe on a space station, thinking himself well-hidden.

“And why do you need a disguise to visit my bar tonight?”

The smile Nino would know anywhere beamed out at him. “That’s top secret.”

He was close to getting up and walking away, but hell, it had been a slow few days and he still had another couple hours on his shift here. He decided to play along. After all, he was retired now and had little reason to care too deeply about any games Aiba Masaki had gotten himself involved in.

They’d grown up only a few settlements apart on Kanto IV, although they hadn’t met until they’d both signed on to the Sobu Crew when they were eighteen, fresh out of school and ready to rob the universe blind. Nino because he loved platina, and Aiba Masaki because he loved adventure.

And yet it was Nino who’d never made much platina and Aiba who had enough now to buy his own planet.

The Sobu Crew had been nothing more than a loose alliance of petty criminals. They’d tell one another about potential jobs, scores that needed a bigger crew rather than just a solo shot emptying some bozo’s poorly guarded safe. He and Aiba had worked a bunch of jobs together in the early days, but it hadn’t lasted because their working styles hadn’t exactly been compatible.

Nino was straightforward and practical. Identify target, develop plan, get in, get out. Platina.

Aiba, on the other hand, was…theatrical. Identify someone else’s target, run in with a clumsy bang simply to get there first, leave calling card to taunt victim. Much more platina.

Aiba’s trademark was spray painting a giant green letter “A” on the wall of a mark’s house or ship or bank vault. The spray painting was childish and petty. Snatching other people’s declared marks, Nino’s included, wasn’t against the rules so much as it was fucking rude. But by some miracle it hadn’t gotten Aiba murdered in retaliation yet.

In fact, it had had the opposite effect as the years went on. People would get thousands of plat-coins stolen, but hey, they had Aiba’s stupid “A” on their wall now. The infamous thief Aiba Masaki had deemed them worthy of being stolen from. Some people simply sent messages Aiba’s way themselves to encourage him to steal from them, just so they could brag about their losses and send his bounty up even higher. He probably had a bounty on his head the size of a red giant star by now, but yet he never managed to get arrested.

He’d made so much money over the years that hauling him off to prison might actually cause outrage. Fellow thieves he swindled didn’t want to be the one who ratted him out. Not even the JXF seemed to want his streak of success to end.

Nino had long since parted ways with him professionally, simply because Aiba’s infamy somehow registered as “cute” with people and Nino knew nobody would have given him the same courtesy. The galaxy only had room for one thief like Aiba Masaki.

Aiba, on every wanted list in every station from one end of the system to the other, usually strolled into Bar Platina without disguising himself. Ever since Nino had retired, he popped in every few weeks to brag about his latest money-making venture. He was friendly with some of the regulars, buying rounds of drinks. Even with his bounty, nobody turned him in.

One time a female customer had even asked Aiba to draw a big green “A” on one of her boobs, and Aiba had been all too happy to comply.

“I can’t disappoint my fans,” the guy had managed to say to Nino with a straight face.

And much as Aiba had screwed Nino over in the past, stealing away opportunities that would have been his if only he had that impatient and impulsive nature Aiba had, Nino couldn’t hate him. Nino couldn’t even dislike him. Loose morals aside, Aiba was a sweet guy. Some people were born with an absurd amount of luck. And others ended up retired and slinging drinks to sleazeballs at 35. That was simply the way the universe worked sometimes. Being jealous of Aiba’s preposterous wealth was just a waste of time and mental energy.

“Top secret, huh,” Nino mumbled, returning to the present, staring across the table at Aiba’s goofy disguise. “Why not just grow a mustache?”

Aiba let out one of his breathy giggles. “Too itchy!”

“Sure I can’t get you anything else tonight?”

Aiba leaned forward, tugging the hood of his cloak a little more to hide his face. “I have to get out of here soon. But I wanted to make sure I stopped in and said hello to you before I go.”

“You’ve been sitting here at one of my best tables for more than an hour frightening my customers. You could have said hello earlier. In fact, I’m the one who came over here. What if I hadn’t bothered to come check on your creepy ass?”

Aiba sighed, his eyes glimmering a little in the low light. “I miss you, Nino-chan. Working with you. It gets a little lonely out there sometimes.”

Well, if you didn’t gleefully screw over everyone in the thieving profession, maybe you’d have actual friends, Nino wanted to say but didn’t bother. For all that Aiba was famous and wealthy and had “fans,” he’d likely burned a lot of bridges with his antics over the years. Nobody hated him. But nobody trusted him, as much as any thief ever bothered to trust another.

Nobody got into thievery to make friends. A lesson Aiba Masaki had never bothered to learn.

“Don’t you have enough money by now?” Nino asked. “You can quit, you know. You could even pay off your own bounty, be a free man. Then you can come see me as much as you want, provided that you’re also buying an alcoholic beverage from me at the time.”

Aiba’s smile in reply was bittersweet. “Platina doesn’t buy happiness, Nino.”

“I will set your wizard cloak on fire if you say something like that to my face again.”

Aiba giggled, surprising Nino by reaching out to grab his hand. He gave it a squeeze, gentle brown eyes looking at him fondly.

“You’ve always been so nice to me.”

He blinked, not sure why Aiba was paying him compliments. He usually came in here to talk about himself, his latest too-easily-won victory. Nino was having a hard time remembering any particular “being nice to Aiba” moments in his life. Usually he teased him, begrudgingly put up with his bubbling enthusiasm and dubiously-earned success. Sure they’d known each other a long time, but that didn’t make them friends.

Well, maybe in Aiba’s eyes they were.

The closing chime went off in the corridor just outside the bar. Most businesses and restaurants on the deck shut down at 2300 hours. Bar Platina was one of the few exceptions.

Aiba squeezed his hand just a bit tighter, blinking back what might have been tears before letting him go and getting to his feet. He wrapped the dark cloak around him a little tighter.

“Can you open a tab for me? I don’t have any plat-coins on me right now. I swear I’ll pay you back. But I gotta go.”

The richest man Nino knew was trying to skip out on a bill, and for the first time that night Nino realized something was seriously wrong. “Aiba-chan…”

Aiba backed away, offering a weak smile. “I swear. I’ll pay double next time. See you around, Nino.”

Nino let him leave, watching the strange black cloak and the even stranger guy inside it head out the door and off to whatever top secret locale he’d be stealing from next. He sighed, heading back to the bar where Wakana had been taking care of things herself.

“Sorry,” he said. “Couldn’t talk him into another beer, and he left without leaving a tip.” Or paying at all, he didn’t bother adding.

Wakana shook her head, adding a drink she’d just mixed to her serving tray. “No problem.” She didn’t seem that disappointed, a bit of odd excitement in her eyes. “So I found out where that guy is from.”

“What do you mean?”

She pulled her CommTek from her pocket, showing him her last search. It was a picture of at least a dozen people in dark black hooded cloaks just like the one Aiba had been wearing. “They’re called the Order of the Last Hope.”

“The what?”

“It’s a religious…organization. Well.” Wakana crinkled her nose. “More like a cult I think. They usually fly off and set up compounds on barely hospitable planets. Like a test of faith or something. From what I was reading, most of them don’t make it or someone gets cold feet and calls JXF to try and come rescue them before they run out of water.”

“And are they here at Tokai?”

“Yup,” Wakana said, tapping the CommTek’s screen and pulling up the departure schedule for the ships on the station’s docking ring. “There’s an Order of the Last Hope ship leaving in about twenty minutes. The Wagaya E.”

Why would Aiba Masaki of all people join what sounded like an end of days cult?

He thought of the sad look in Aiba’s eyes. The way he’d squeezed his hand. Platina doesn’t buy happiness, Nino…

He almost took off running. Almost.

But this was Aiba Masaki. It was more likely that he was going to steal from the religious folks, tag their ship with his stupid green “A,” steal an escape pod, and add it to his list of successes. It was kind of low, stealing from people who were probably quite vulnerable, but who was Nino to judge?

“Was that man trying to convert you to his cult, Ninomiya-san?”

Nino shook his head, sighing.

“No,” he replied, still a little confused by his strange encounter with Aiba. For all that Nino loved platina, he was done chasing it. “No, Wakana-chan, I left that cult a while ago.”

—

residential zone
tokai station, deck 5
13:17 bst (belt standard time)

Jun returned from his run, coming through the door and not appearing the least bit surprised to find Nino sitting cross-legged on their sofa, slurping down noodles as he watched the Shop Tojo Network.

“Anything good today?” Jun asked, refilling his water bottle at the sink.

Nino gestured with his bowl at the screen. Two cheerful women were hawking the usual shitty jewelry the network was known for. Nino mostly watched to see if he could still tell if things were fake or not. “Ankle bracelets with a platina filigree can be yours for only 2,000 plat-coins each.”

Jun shook his head. “Do they take a payment plan?”

“Manufacturer’s at the Saeki colony, so I doubt it.”

Saeki was on one of the asteroids at the edge of the belt. It would take weeks to get something delivered to Tokai. Those kind of dealers wanted full payment upfront. Of course once something was available in the Tokai stores you could pay in installments, but the local distributor jacked up the price to account for the debt they’d taken on just to get the items to Tokai in the first place.

And that was just the cost of doing business in the galaxy. Getting stuff from other planets and colonies and stations could take months unless you paid for expedited shipping. Nino had almost considered joining up with a logistics company before taking on the bar instead. Always jobs available. People always wanted shit from somewhere else instead of the stuff right here at home.

Jun was sweaty and glistening from his run, sitting down beside Nino. He still had that military tendency to sit up straight while Nino slouched and hunched beside him. The women on the vidscreen moved on to their next limited item of the day.

“Get your coins in order, ladies. These fine silver toe rings won’t last long at this price!”

Jun shuddered. “I like jewelry, but I draw the line at toe rings.”

Nino grinned. It was one of Jun’s little indulgences, jewelry. It had broken Jun’s heart when Nino had gone digging through his massive box of rings and necklaces when they’d first started dating, pointing out all the fakes he’d acquired over the years. In the long run, Jun appreciated having him around now to keep him from squandering his pension payments on lesser metals.

“I think you’d look cute with a toe ring,” Nino teased.

Jun rolled his eyes, having a sip from the water bottle. “You think I’d look cute in anything.”

“Guilty.”

He felt himself redden a little when Jun leaned over, pressing a sloppy kiss against his neck. No matter how much time passed, Jun’s adorably affectionate nature still surprised him sometimes. At the very least, it had changed Nino’s pre-conceived notions of how military folks behaved.

“So tell me,” Jun said, gesturing at the screen with his bottle. “Real or fake?”

Nino chewed on another mouthful of noodles, taking in the scene. He tuned out the hosts’ chatter, focusing on the ring set against a purple velvet cloth as the camera zoomed in on it.

“Wouldn’t buy silver anything without holding it in my hand. Couple different ways to test it. Silver makes a ringing noise if you tap it, cheap shit doesn’t. You can use magnets, ice…either way, I need to see it in person.”

“You wouldn’t buy silver anything, full stop. Go platina or go home,” Jun said.

He smiled. “I have refined tastes.”

“Sure.”

“We interrupt this broadcast for some breaking news.”

He turned back to the screen. The women and the toe ring were gone and an announcer from the Tojo News Network had cut in on the feed.

“We’re getting word that the transport vessel Wagaya E, en route from Tokai Station to the ice moon Furano has been destroyed after being caught in an ion storm near the edge of the Tojo Belt. JXF rescue ships have already been launched to search for any escape pods that may have left the Wagaya E in time, but as we know, navigation through these storms can be close to impossible for even the largest ships…”

Nino dropped the bowl of noodles on the floor, spattering the carpet with broth.

He barely registered Jun’s hand on his shoulder. “Hey…hey, what’s wrong?”

“…the Wagaya E’s passenger manifest is still under review, but one surprising name has already emerged.”

“You went out under your own fucking name?” Nino hissed at the vidscreen.

A photo had already appeared in the corner of the screen, the smiling face in sharp contrast to the devastating news.

“Among those listed aboard is one of the galaxy’s most notorious criminals, Aiba Masaki…”

Jun was shaking him now. “Kazu…Kazu, what’s wrong?”

“We turn now to our chief astrometeorologist Higashiyama Noriyuki-sensei who can tell us more about the likelihood of surviving an ion storm. Professor, thank you for joining us as this story continues to develop…”

—

two weeks later

—

bar platina
tokai station, deck 8
19:41 bst (belt standard time)

Yamada, already a bit short, was pretty much lost behind the enormous flower arrangement he was carrying into the bar. “Nino,” came Yamada’s muffled voice from behind the synthetic white chrysanthemums. “Where do you want this one?”

Bar Platina was full of that fake flower stink that gave him a headache, and Nino sighed, directing Yamada to the windows where the other seventeen arrangements that had arrived that day had already been placed. He’d cleared out most of the tables, making sure there was more room for standing guests. More guests meant more plat-coins. So he’d cleared as much space as humanly possible.

He turned, resting his hands on his hips as he stared at the hideous “In Loving Memory, Always In Our Hearts” banner that had been donated for the occasion. He hoped someone would take it with them at the end of the night, maybe sell it to one of the diehard fans. Nino didn’t want to have the fucking thing cluttering up his cabin.

The JXF rescue mission had concluded a week earlier. The Order of the Last Hope’s ship Wagaya E had been blown to bits, and after locating the ship’s transponder, analysis had revealed that there’d been no time to launch escape pods as the storm pummeled them. All 287 souls aboard had presumably been lost.

“Well, isn’t that what they’d wanted all along?” one of the asshole talking heads on the Tojo News Network had commented. “Cults like that awaiting answers from the gods? Isn’t it kind of merciful they got their answer now rather than a year from now when they would have been starving to death on that ice moon anyway?”

The guy hadn’t been fined or fired for his callousness and for that Nino wasn’t surprised.

Speaking of callousness…

Jun would not be attending Bar Platina’s Official Authorized Aiba Masaki Life Celebration and Tribute that evening, and Nino wasn’t surprised about that either.

“He was your friend,” Jun had said repeatedly for the past week. “And you’re going to make a profit from his death.”

“He was a former business associate,” Nino had corrected him, “and it’s what a guy like him would have expected.”

Even though Aiba had stolen from people throughout the belt and across the stars without remorse for nearly two decades, getting himself blown up in an ion storm had brought an outpouring of grief that Nino knew he couldn’t ignore. No longer would walls be spray painted with bright green “A”s. No longer would that bounty go up and up.

The galaxy had lost one of its most entertaining people, and there’d never be another one like him.

…so why not capitalize on it like any intelligent businessman should?

TNN had still been explaining the JXF’s findings a week earlier when Nino had shown up at Admiral Otake’s office with his proposal. As Aiba Masaki’s best friend (a slight exaggeration), Nino was hoping that he could host an official party to celebrate the man’s life. With the expected influx of mourners aboard Tokai Station, would the Admiral allow him to expedite his planned import of Keikarou vodka for the occasion without paying the rush fee?

“It was Aiba-san’s favorite drink, you see,” he’d explained to the Admiral with a most solemn expression.

Nino didn’t actually know what Aiba’s favorite drink had been, but he supposed not many people did anyhow. Who was gonna check up on that? Keikarou vodka came from Aiba’s home colony back on Kanto IV, and one crate cost more to import than Nino usually made in three months. But with the rush fee waived and shots of the liquor rebranded as Aiba’s Favorite, he was going to be flush with plat-coins.

The Admiral, wiping a tear from her own eye at Nino’s feigned but apparently convincing sincerity, had told him to order an extra bottle for her to share with the rest of the station’s leadership team in Aiba’s honor.

And now the fateful night had arrived, and once Nino was certain the flowers were not taking up too much potential customer room, he had Wakana open the door. Takeuchi-kun had a buddy that worked in a metalworks plant at a colony nearby, and a few greased palms had resulted in the box Wakana had beside her at the door.

Platina lapel pins with a neon green “A” for Aiba Masaki, a free gift for any attendee. While supplies lasted.

“So let me get this straight,” Jun had fumed at him when the box of pins had arrived. “You’re selling the galaxy’s most expensive vodka shots and selling shitty merchandise at a funeral!?”

“No, no,” he’d replied. “Jun-kun, the pins are a freebie.”

“And how many ‘freebies’ are there?”

He’d had to look away. Jun was such a good boy. “Well, maybe I’m expecting 1000 mourners and I only made 200 pins.”

He’d been able to feel Jun’s eyes burning a judgmental hole through him.

“Okay and maybe I’ve set a few aside that people can purchase from me after the event. It’s the basics of supply and demand…”

Jun had stopped speaking to him after that. He couldn’t really blame him. Jun was never going to understand. It was the way Nino’s particular niche of the galaxy had always worked. And even though Nino was retired, that didn’t change the basic rules of engagement.

Aiba had been the type of guy who’d felt zero guilt after cheating a comrade out of a score. It was a winner take all kind of game they’d been playing, and he’d been the greatest winner of all. Nino’s Official Authorized Aiba Masaki Life Celebration and Tribute was probably not the only such event taking place since the Wagaya E had been lost. The name Aiba Masaki had a value all its own, and Aiba had known it. And he’d known that other people had known it. Thieves, even ex-thieves, were an opportunistic collection of bastards, and surely Aiba was laughing about it from the afterlife.

Besides, wasn’t it respectful enough that Nino wasn’t forcing a cover charge on the mourners?

Nino hung back, nodding his head as the first group of mourners started filing in to Bar Platina. He’d instructed his staff to take things seriously, all three of them dressed in funereal black just like him aside from the glimmering green “A” on all their lapels. Matching green pins flooded the bar as Takeuchi politely started filling shot glasses with Keikarou vodka and Yamada accepted payment.

Aiba’s Favorite, read the sign at the bar that Wakana had written up. Only the best Keikarou vodka. Shots 500 PC each. Legends Only.

He took a look at the folks coming through the door. There were a few reddened eyes, a few of the regulars Aiba had probably bought drinks for in the past. Nino counted the bottles as they emptied one after another, calculating his profits, stifling a giggle every time Takeuchi bowed in apology. “Let me get another one from the back.”

Gods, he was a genius for this.

He kept a solemn expression, shaking hands and whispering regrets with criminals and law-abiding but curious attendees alike. But by hour two and then hour three of the Official Authorized Aiba Masaki Life Celebration and Tribute, people were really getting hammered.

He was glad he’d doled out a few extra coins and pins to station security. A fight broke out just outside the bar’s entryway, three women fighting and pulling hair as they wrestled over the last green pin in Wakana’s box. “He slept with me first, I should get the pin!” “I have an ‘A’ tattoo on my thigh, I loved him the most!” “You’re both trash, and I got here first!”

The makeup of the crowd devolved from quiet to raucous as the vodka flowed and security dragged them away. Arguments erupted in front of the giant photo of Aiba from the JXF’s Most Wanted list that Nino had hung in front of one of his vidscreens.

Two men Nino recognized, a black market trader named Watabe and his key competitor Sawabe, were pointing fingers and cursing at each other in front of Aiba’s smiling face. “He liked me better!” “You’re joking, aren’t you? He was my son’s godfather!”

Representatives from an allliance of female thieves were in a huddle, sobbing outside of the ladies’ bathroom. All of them had worked jobs with Aiba in hopes of getting in his pants (even if Aiba double-crossed them in the end). Some apparently had succeeded, jealousy radiating from their colleagues. Before the conversation got a little too graphic for a Life Celebration and Tribute (“He went down on me for three hours one night!” “Oh yeah? Have you ever heard of tantric sex?”), Nino interrupted, kindly asking them to take their conversation inside the bathroom.

It was now a competition for who had been closest to the galaxy’s most infamous thief. Who’d known him best? Who’d been his most trusted associate? Who’d been screwed out of the most money? And who, Nino overheard with a shudder, had been the most sexually satisfied?

It was all such a stark contrast from that last night, Nino thought as they closed up around midnight.

Yamada was counting the money, and Takeuchi had the unfortunate task of cleaning the bathrooms. Wakana was sitting in one of the booths, pressing flowers from the arrangements in hopes of drying them out and auctioning them off through the Shop Tojo Network.

He moved the last flower arrangement aside, revealing the middle table with the best view of the darkness of space. He remembered Aiba in that goofy robe, nursing a beer for an hour before heading off for his next grand adventure…not realizing it would be his last.

Nino sighed, cracking his neck after a long and exhausting evening. A few of the mourners had encouraged him to join them for a shot or two, so his somewhat drunken state was surely to blame when he felt the tears stinging his eyes.

He thought of Aiba, holding his hand that night. “You’ve always been so nice to me.”

“Idiot,” Nino muttered, wiping at his eyes, thinking about the bags and bags of plat-coins that Yamada was double-checking before putting them in the safe. “I was never nice to you.”

He blinked the tears away as best he could, sniffling as he felt his back pocket vibrate. He slid his CommTek out, seeing that Jun was calling him. It seemed like the silent treatment was over. He cleared his throat, answering.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“Come home right now.”

He moved away so his employees wouldn’t overhear. “We’re just wrapping things up, what’s the matter?”

Jun sounded more pissed off than Nino had ever heard him. “Right. Now.”

The call went dead.

—

residential zone
tokai station, deck 5
00:19 bst (belt standard time)

When Nino returned, Jun was in his favorite silky pajamas, wearing his dorky, thick-rimmed glasses and his hair rumpled as though he’d been woken quite suddenly from a very pleasant slumber. No wonder he’d been so grouchy on the CommTek call. Nino’s eyes were drawn from Jun carrying a tea tray to their sitting room where an attractive woman in a well-tailored suit was sitting on their sofa.

“Apologies,” Nino said, slipping out of his shoes and gesturing to his clothes. “I’ve just come from…”

“The Official Authorized Aiba Masaki Life Celebration and Tribute, I know,” the woman replied, nodding as Jun set down a tea cup in front of her.

Jun sat down heavily in a chair, looking like he wanted to punt Nino out an airlock. This situation was more serious than just Jun’s loss of his precious beauty sleep.

The walk back from the bar to their cabin had mostly sobered Nino up, but he joined their visitor for some tea. She eventually set down her cup, opening the metal briefcase on the floor beside her, handing over a business card.

“My name is Takeuchi Yuko,” she said briskly. She was far from drowsy, obviously hadn’t been operating on Belt Standard Time. “I’m a representative from the firm Satonaka Murase. We specialize in estate planning.”

He looked down at the card. Lawyer. Satonaka Murase, headquartered on the Puraido colony. He looked up with a start. She’d flown a long way to get here. It was best not to waste her time and ask if she might be related to one of his bartenders.

“How can I help you, Takeuchi-san?”

“First, I’ll need you to confirm that you are who you say you are.” Out of the briefcase came a card scanner. “Your ident, please.”

He got up, heading for the small safe he and Jun kept in the bedroom. He hadn’t left Tokai more than a handful of times since he’d arrived, so there was little point in carrying his ident with him from day to day. He tugged the metal card out and closed the safe, handing it over to the woman. Jun, still clearly annoyed, was sipping his tea with murder in his eyes.

Takeuchi scanned the card, confirming that yes, he was Ninomiya Kazunari, thirty-five years old from Katsushika colony, Kanto IV. Over the years Nino had had plenty of forged idents, but he’d never gone too far without his original.

“Thank you very much,” she said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear and handing him back his card. “Ninomiya-san, I’m here on behalf of Aiba Masaki.”

Ah, Nino realized. No wonder Jun was angry.

“What do you mean?”

Out of the briefcase this time came a WorkTab. With a few taps on the screen, Takeuchi turned it to show him something he hadn’t expected to see. The text was tiny in that way lawyers seemed to like, but there was no mistaking the words Last Will and Testament of Aiba Masaki at the top and after a few more swipes of Takeuchi’s finger, the section heading of Sole Beneficiary.

…the section heading of Sole Beneficiary that had the name “Ninomiya Kazunari” beside it.

“Wait just a moment,” Nino mumbled. He was definitely sober now.

“As I informed Matsumoto-san before you arrived, you have been named Aiba-san’s sole beneficiary in the event of his death. And unfortunately, as you know, with the destruction of the Wagaya E…”

Nino got to his feet, voice shaking. “No, no, no. I mean, they didn’t find any bodies…how can you really ever know for sure…”

“It was an ion storm,” Takeuchi said, looking at him with some sympathy. “In these cases, our firm operates based on the Japan Expeditionary Forces’ conclusions. I understand that you are still coming to terms with the loss of your friend…”

“He wasn’t my friend!” Nino shouted.

Aiba, Aiba, Aiba…you bastard, Nino thought. Oh, you colossal bastard.

“Kazu, she’s come all this way,” Jun snapped.

“And that’s terrific and thank you, thank you very much.” His head was spinning. Shit. Shit shit shit! “But I really can’t…”

Takeuchi got to her feet, holding out her hands to try and calm him down. “Our firm, of course, advised him against naming only one beneficiary, but he was rather insistent. I understand that coming into what is likely a lot of money and property all at once can be a shock…”

Aiba Masaki, Nino thought, if you weren’t already dead I’d kill you myself.

He moved toward her, eyes wild. “Who else knows? Who else knows it’s me?”

Takeuchi blinked, looking confused. “I’m sorry?”

He took a deep breath. “Who. else. knows. I’m. getting. all. his. MONEY?!”

Jun was across the room, grabbing him by the shoulders and trying to haul him away from the lawyer. “Hey, what the hell is wrong with you?” He felt Jun’s breath against his ear. “Shouldn’t you be jumping for joy, you platina-obsessed…”

“WHO ELSE KNOWS!?”

The first plasma gun blast blew a hole clean through their front door, and Takeuchi screamed.

“Gods damn it,” Nino grumbled, grabbing hold of Jun by the arm before he got his face shot off by the opportunists at the door. “We have approximately one minute, two tops before they’re inside. Jun-kun. You need your ident and whatever you need to get into the Paradox.”

“Wait, what?”

Nino shoved his ident in his pocket, then picked up Takeuchi’s briefcase and took the woman by the hand. “This way.”

Another plasma blast hit the door, and already he could hear screaming in the hallway.

“Ninomiya, we know you’re in there!”

Jun growled at him, and he started to move as told, racing for the bedroom. Nino quickly switched into survival mode. Despite a two-year long hiatus, it was best to always be prepared for a last-minute escape. So much for a relaxing retirement. Nino tugged poor out-of-her-depth Takeuchi into the shower room with him.

“What’s happening?” she asked, voice brittle and shaky.

“Again, I have to ask. How many people know about the Last Will and Testament of Aiba Masaki?”

She looked offended. “Satonaka Murase respects the privacy of all our clients.”

“It’s been a week since that will’s been unsealed, once death was confirmed by JXF, right? I hate to break it to you, Takeuchi-san, but computers can be hacked. And even the most upstanding lawyers can be bribed. ”

Takeuchi stared at him.

“You said so yourself,” he replied. “That I’ve suddenly come into a lot of money and property all at once. Well. It seems that some other folks have also found out.”

Her eyes widened as Nino slammed down the toilet seat, hopping up onto it and tugging at the ceiling tile above him. She shook her head, leaning against the sonic-shower to keep herself steady. “That’s not legal. If those…people out there kill you…”

“Legal? People like that don’t care about what’s legal.” Nino laughed bitterly, giving the tile another firm tug.

Tokai Station had been flooded with Aiba Masaki mourners that night. People he’d betrayed, people he’d slept with. People he’d slept with and betrayed. And every single one of them might have been waiting around for Takeuchi Yuko from Satonaka Murase to arrive and scan Nino’s ident - officially transferring all of Aiba’s assets over to him.

Every single one of them might have been there at the Official Authorized Aiba Masaki Life Celebration and Tribute, buying Nino shots and pretending to mourn even though they knew what would happen once Takeuchi arrived. In all those years, nobody had ever taken revenge against Aiba. But now that he was dead, it was open season on the galaxy’s biggest sucker - Ninomiya Kazunari.

“Not sure if they’ll kill me. They could just abduct me, torture me into giving them access to Aiba’s bank accounts. You have all the information I need in that WorkTab, right?”

Takeuchi jumped as another plasma blast hit the front door of their cabin. “Not exactly. Aiba-san didn’t itemize his assets in the will itself. He only directed us to have you take charge of his holiday villa on…”

Nino put his finger to his lips. He couldn’t trust that the cabin wasn’t bugged. “Just whisper it to me.”

He gave the tile one last yank, flinging it aside as he jumped back to the floor, leaning in.

“His holiday villa,” she whispered in his ear, “is on Akashi. From there, he said the rest would be up to you.”

Nino scowled. That double-crossing, back-stabbing, “A”-leaving piece of shit…

“So you don’t actually know where his money is?”

She looked apologetic. “…no.”

Jun had his travel case and was waiting in the doorway of the shower room. There’d been no time to change out of his pajamas, which left him looking far less tough than Nino had hoped. He set down Nino’s shoes for him. “Where are we going?”

Nino pointed to the hole in the ceiling, slipping the shoes on. “That way.”

Jun knew better than to waste time, merely sighing as he got up on the toilet, lifting his case and shoving it up into the air vent that Nino had exposed. He climbed up and then held out his hand.

“Ladies first,” Nino said, gesturing for Takeuchi to go ahead.

While Jun helped the lawyer up and into the vent, Nino pressed the button to shut the shower room door and lock it. They’d just blast through it, but that would hopefully slow them down another minute. They really needed that extra minute.

He turned on the shower to full blast, the room starting to fill with hot sonic steam as he got onto the toilet again, reaching out and climbing up into the vent.

He was going to miss this place.

“Which way?” Jun asked, Takeuchi wedged into the narrow vent between them.

In his usual escape plan, Nino would first stop at Bar Platina, liberating a few thousand plat-coins to help him along the way. But it was likely already that some assholes were breaking into his safe at that very moment. So much for his Keikarou vodka profits.

No, he had to skip that step entirely.

“Go straight until you hit the third left.”

“Do I want to know why you’re so familiar with the station’s air vents?” Jun complained.

“I’m sorry about your pajamas in advance,” Nino replied.

—

central transport hub
tokai station, deck 10
00:52 bst (belt standard time)

They emerged fifteen minutes later, covered in air vent dust and grime but thankfully alive and well. The autonomous shuttles out to Tokai Station’s docking ring were monitored by station security, but with the sheer mess Nino’s pursuers had probably made on Deck 5, they had a few minutes before anyone hacked into the feeds would see where they’d gone.

The three of them climbed aboard the first empty shuttle that came their way, and it zoomed out, away from the station’s central core and out to the docking ring where ships of all sorts were berthed.

“How’d you get here?” Nino asked.

Takeuchi, hair a mess and suit filthy, looked defeated. “My firm sent me here on the Sanada Maru.”

“She’s a good ship,” Jun mumbled.

“Puraido’s on the way to Akashi,” Nino said. “We’ll drop you off. It’s not safe here for you on Tokai since you know where we’re going.”

“I’m sorry for the trouble Satonaka Murase has brought you, Ninomiya-san.”

“Not half as sorry as I am,” Nino snitted.

“Be nice,” Jun said.

He looked over, tried not to be enamored with the greasy smudge on Jun’s cheek just below his glasses. “That was me being nice. My life is over, you know. They’re never going to stop chasing me as long as I might know where some of Aiba’s money could be stashed.”

Takeuchi bowed in apology.

“It’s not your fault,” Nino said. “I’m sure your firm made quite the commission snagging a high-profile client like Aiba Masaki.”

“We all got bonuses,” Takeuchi admitted.

“See?” Nino replied, brushing some dust off of his funeral best, the only clothes he now had on him. “Everybody’s making money today.”

Jun scouted ahead when they arrived at the docking ring, ensuring that there were no shady characters hanging around the Paradox. Jun’s silver-tinted ship was dwarfed by most of the fuel freighters and transport shuttles around them. It wasn’t much more than a cockpit and a passenger cabin, a small engine room in the rear and a storage area in the ship’s belly. She wasn’t the newest ship of her type. She had no weapons. But the Paradox could fly, and that was all they really needed to do right now. Fly away. Fast.

They boarded quickly, and Jun hurried to the cockpit and got on the intercom to the flight deck.

“Deck, this is Captain Matsumoto Jun of the Paradox docked at berth 408 requesting permission to depart.”

The reply came shortly after. “Paradox, we don’t have any flight plans filed for you here. Has there been a mix-up?”

Nino stood in the archway, watching as Jun got the ship powered on, started entering coordinates into the navigation computer. He was diligently keying in a path to Puraido. “No, no mix-up,” Jun replied. “Just taking her out for a test. She had a tune-up the other day. That’s in the log, right?”

The voice over the intercom sounded a little testy. “It’s station protocol that all departures and arrivals file a flight plan regardless of destination or intent.”

Nino could see the stress in Jun’s shoulders as he continued going through his pre-flight routine. “Well aware of that, Deck. I’ll be gone five minutes, can you grant an exception?”

“Ninomiya-san!” Takeuchi cried, and he hurried back, looking out the window of the Paradox’s side hatch. In the distance, he could see a handful of people arguing with station security. There was no mistaking the plasma guns in their hands. Or the neon green “A” pins on their lapels.

He was just about to shout for Jun to take off when he did just that. They declamped from the docking ring with a firm jolt, Nino reaching out a hand to steady Takeuchi and get her into one of the passenger seats in the middle of the ship. Ensuring that she was belted in and secured, he made his way back to the cockpit just as Jun turned off the scolding intercom ordering him to return to the docking ring.

Nino moved to Jun’s side, seeing the fury in his face as he piloted them away from Tokai Station in a pair of purple silk pajamas.

The weight of what he’d forced Jun to do hit him hard. So far he’d been running on adrenaline, fueled by anger and the need to survive, to escape. Thieving instincts. But their cabin, the home they shared, had just been destroyed. They’d left behind almost everything they owned. And Jun…Nino’s kind-hearted, law-abiding, rule-following Jun had just fucked up his civilian piloting career.

He’d never be able to dock at Tokai again.

Nino hadn’t asked. Nino hadn’t allowed a moment for debate. Everything with Satonaka Murase and the will and Takeuchi Yuko and the inheritance of Aiba Masaki’s platina…that was his problem. That was his own gods-damned problem. Not Jun’s.

He was selfish. He was so fucking selfish.

“Jun-kun…”

“They were going to kill you,” Jun said, not looking at him and focusing instead on his monitors. “Now go back there and sit down. I can’t engage the faster-than-light drive until I know you’re strapped in.”

He blinked away a few frustrated tears.

“Yes, sir.”

—

civilian transport ship, registry no. 110399 AKA the paradox
14 hours from puraido
21:52 tsst (tokugawa system standard time)

He leaned back against the crate of emergency rations, legs bent and hand resting on his knee. He stared at the glimmering green “A” pin in his fingers, wondering what he could get for it.

It had been three days.

Three days of reheating freeze-dried noodles and miso soup. Three days of walking around the ship in his funeral suit. Three days of nothing but the emptiness of space to look at, distant stars blurring as the Paradox pushed itself hard.

Nino thought it was best that he spend most of his time here in the storage bay, simply to stay out of Jun’s way. The seats in the passenger cabin could recline, and they’d given most of that space over to Takeuchi-san, giving her privacy except in the moments they needed to use the washroom compartment or heat up some food.

Jun ate and slept in the cockpit, letting autopilot do most of the work for the long journey. They’d spoken only when they had to so far.

With Jun’s almost silent acquiescence, Nino had hacked the Paradox’s computer, encrypting messages to Yamada and the Bar Platina staff. If there was anything in the safe, it was theirs to split three ways. He didn’t know when he was coming back. He didn’t know if he was coming back. He told them to take it all. He told them to stay safe. And he didn’t tell them where he was going.

Jun had distributed the food, explained their route to Puraido. They were going on a less-traveled route in hopes of avoiding any ships in pursuit. Takeuchi-san’s safety was paramount, Jun had said, and Nino hadn’t argued about an extra day being tacked on to the itinerary.

It just gave him more time to think.

Once Takeuchi was gone, they’d be off to Akashi and the holiday villa. That would be another few days of freeze-dried emergency rations. They couldn’t risk docking in an official capacity at Puraido, wouldn’t have time to stock up on essentials. They only had what Jun had packed in his case and whatever was already aboard the Paradox.

Nino simply couldn’t risk Jun tapping into his pension or bank account to keep them afloat. He didn’t know how many people knew about their relationship, but Matsumoto Jun was just another access point to Nino. Another way to trace them. Find Jun, find Nino.

He heard the heavy clunk of Jun’s grav-boots on the ladder, looking over to see him coming down to the storage bay. Most passengers rented grav-boots for flights, the magnets in the soles able to keep them from floating away in case a ship malfunctioned and lost artificial gravity control in the depths of space.

Jun had only had one spare pair aboard, and they’d obviously gone to Takeuchi-san.

Nino was instead dressed in his funeral suit and the pair of slip-on sneakers Jun had managed to grab for him from their cabin. In the minute Nino had spared him back on Tokai, Jun had only had time to pack the essentials. Ident card, CommTek, his contact lenses, electric shaver, motion sickness and g-force pills, clean underwear. Two spare outfits…for himself.

Jun was in his flight suit, a jacket, tee, and slacks made of a special material that could keep him warm or cool depending on a ship’s enviro-controls. Nino only had the option of taking his suit jacket off or putting it back on. He considered the punishment justified.

He looked up as Jun perched himself on a crate of spare parts beside him. This was the first time Jun had come to him since they’d left Tokai. Nino had envisioned all sorts of scenarios so far. Jun leaving him on Puraido to find another ship to take him to Akashi. Or Jun kindly getting him to Akashi and then dumping him there, flying away to a safer future without him. Most scenarios had not involved him and Jun staying together much longer, and he tried to read the look in Jun’s eyes, to see if Jun agreed with him.

“How’s our passenger?” Nino asked, shoving the green “A” pin back in his pocket.

“Asleep,” Jun informed him. They’d also managed to send off an encrypted message to Satonaka Murase, and hopefully a company representative would be able to whisk their employee off to safety as soon as they arrived at Puraido.

“How’s the captain?” Nino asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

“Tired.”

He looked away. There was no point in apologizing. Nothing he could say was going to be enough. “And how’s the ship?”

“Terrific.”

“Glad to hear it.”

The storage bay grew quiet again, save for the hum of the engines and air circulation system.

He shut his eyes, exhausted. “Jun-kun…”

“Why did he leave it all to you? Do you know?”

He looked back up, was a bit surprised by the concern in Jun’s face. It was not a topic Nino had been expecting, having spent the last three days waiting for Jun to break up with him. Of course, there was still time for that, too.

“He told me, back at the bar the last night I saw him that I was always nice to him,” Nino explained. “Maybe he truly believed that. I don’t think I ever went out of my way to kiss his ass. So I have no idea what he was thinking.”

“You knew him for a long time, though,” Jun said. “That’s what you told me.”

Nino had had plenty of time to think about that, stuck down here with only his thoughts and crates of emergency supplies. He’d thought back through every job, every visit Aiba had made to Bar Platina.

He’d thought back to the day they’d met, eighteen and pimpled, sitting together at the overview meeting for the job they’d be working. Aiba had been the opposite of what Nino envisioned a fellow thief to be. Loud, kind of obnoxious. Grinning from ear to ear. Completely free of guile.

“Hey there! I’m Aiba, nice to meet ya!”

Nino vaguely remembered mumbling his own name in response.

“Looks like we’re together! Are you nervous?”

“No,” Nino had lied in reply.

“What a cool guy,” Aiba had giggled back, and Nino had blushed, betraying his true feelings.

In the end, neither of them had seen much profit from that art theft the Sobu Crew had organized. Their cut was maybe one percent of the full score. The two of them had been tasked as lookouts together at one of the museum’s exits. Nobody had come near them, and Nino had left feeling bored, unnecessary, almost disillusioned when the crew leader had called and said thanks, the job was complete, now get out of there.

But he’d remembered Aiba’s adoring smile, shaking Nino’s hand before they split up.

“Let’s try and work together again sometime! I had fun today!”

“Sure,” he’d answered. Nothing more than that. But Aiba had smiled that stupid smile of his as though Nino’s reply had been equally enthusiastic.

Had he said something or done something else that had stuck with Aiba on that job? On any other job? He had no idea, honestly no idea that anything he’d ever said or done was all that memorable. Or worthy of a huge inheritance.

“I wish I could ask him,” Nino admitted. “Why me?”

“Well, he probably didn’t expect to die so young,” Jun said. “Maybe he just had your name in there as a placeholder.”

“That makes a lot more sense,” he said. “But that’s expecting Aiba Masaki to have any sense at all.”

He heard a little more warmth in Jun’s voice now. “You really liked him. Didn’t you?”

He couldn’t help smiling. “I like him a lot less now, you know. Since everyone he ever screwed over wants to find me and poke me until I tell them where all the money is. And by ‘poke me’ I mean stab me, zap me, rip my fingernails off one by one…you get the picture.”

“You think anyone knows about the villa on Akashi?”

He shrugged. “Probably. I’m likely walking into an ambush.”

“Well, I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“Jun.”

Jun held up his hand. “Stop moping down here, it doesn’t suit you. Where’s the selfish asshole I’m in love with, huh?”

Nino got to his feet, heart racing. Jun didn’t move, those honest brown eyes holding none of the anger they had the last few days. Nino’s hands were shaking when he set them down on the crate, trapping Jun between them.

“Don’t,” he begged him. “You can’t be a part of this. You can go anywhere, I’ve got connections. Not just criminal ones, you know. But people who can help you. You can find a job somewhere else, get a fresh start without my stink on you so nobody will hunt you down. I can’t fix what got fucked up for you on Tokai, but you don’t have to give up your career. You’re a good guy, and I won’t bring you down to my level. Just drop me on Akashi. Let me deal with the mess Aiba’s left for me.”

“Not an option.”

“Why?” He made a fist and lightly knocked it against Jun’s head. “I may be the greatest sex partner you’ll ever have, but please think with your brain and not with your dick.”

“I’m not thinking with my dick,” Jun retorted, taking Nino’s hand and holding it against his chest, his heart. “I’m thinking with this.”

Nino shook his head, sighing. “You’re so pretty, but gods, Matsumoto Jun, you are so stupid. That’s even worse!”

Jun leaned in, hand cradling the back of Nino’s head as he kissed him. He couldn’t move away, relishing every soft, quick press of Jun’s mouth against his own. He didn’t deserve the guy. He probably never would. But he felt safer, he felt stronger, knowing that Jun had his back. Whatever was ahead of them, courtesy of Aiba Masaki’s boneheaded attitude toward last wills and testaments, they’d face it together.

Before they got carried away and disturbed their sleeping guest, he stepped back, settling his hands on his hips as a sly smile crossed Jun’s lips.

“Any other person would just want me for my money now,” Nino said. “Since I’ve become unexpectedly wealthy in the last few days.”

“Well, once all of this settles down, you can buy me something nice.”

“I promise,” he answered, ignoring the fact that things might never settle down. Jun was right. Moping didn’t suit him. “A platina ring for every toe on your foot.”

Jun laughed, reaching out a hand to ruffle his hair. “I really hate you.”

“I really love you,” Nino admitted.

Jun reddened a little, getting up from the crate. “You should come back up and change into my extra clothes. Seeing you dressed like that is starting to weird me out.”

“I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

He watched Jun walk away, grav-boots thunking on each rung of the ladder as he climbed back to the main level of his ship. Nino leaned back against the crate, pulling the little green “A” pin back out of his pocket.

“You’re a real pain in my ass, Aiba Masaki,” he grumbled, running his thumb over it.

And missing his friend.

—

civilian transport ship, registry no. 110399 AKA the paradox
akashi, sumire coast
7:27 ast (akashi standard time)

The Satonaka Murase employee that had come to collect Takeuchi-san from the agreed-upon meeting spot had not come empty-handed. He’d come with coordinates for Aiba Masaki’s holiday villa on Akashi. The file itself had been encrypted, only to be presented to Nino upon Aiba’s death. Nobody at Satonaka Murase had any idea where they were going, and Akashi was a fairly big planet.

It gave Nino a bit more confidence as Jun landed the Paradox in a field a few kilometers away from the villa itself. Even if someone knew they were going to Akashi, they’d have to search a good long while to find them. And they weren’t planning to stay long anyhow. Even if it was part of Nino’s extravagant new inheritance, they couldn’t risk a vacation. Not until Nino figured out where Aiba’s money was and moved all of it somewhere else, away from the people who were coming after him. Who knew how much money it would take to start a new life, a safe new life, for himself and for Jun?

It had been eight days since they’d left Tokai Station behind. Without a mostly innocent bystander like Takeuchi Yuko to worry about, things had relaxed a little as they made their way from the crowded bustle of Puraido to the more rural Akashi.

The planet was popular among the rich and famous, vast tracts of land available for purchase so long as the investor paid a sizeable “donation” to the natives who had long secluded themselves on a small continent in the northern hemisphere. The rest of the planet was fair game for development, quiet little fiefdoms that no ordinary person could ever dream of possessing.

As for Aiba, he’d chosen a fairly isolated parcel of land along the Sumire Coast. White sand beaches meeting the purple foam of the ocean. Nino had never seen water in such a strange color before as they’d flown over it, but Jun had been to other planets like it, had even discovered one with his team.

As soon as Jun completed his landing checklist, they unbuckled themselves and left the grav-boots behind, switching into shoes better suited for their long trek to the house. They’d get there in a few hours, scout around to see if anyone was lying in wait. Jun, peaceful man that he was, didn’t carry anything strong like a plasma gun. He instead handed Nino a stunner pistol to match his own. Better than going in unarmed, he supposed.

It was Nino’s hope that Aiba’s dumb vacation house would have something in it that might point them in the right direction. Takeuchi-san had been telling the truth, showing him her WorkTab during the long voyage to Puraido. Aiba hadn’t given any details about where he might have his riches stashed. Would he have been foolish enough to leave files out in the open? A computer Nino could hack into? Surely a man with that much money had put some effort into keeping it safe.

They emerged from the Paradox on a gorgeous summery day, ocean breezes gliding in from the nearby coast. As Jun exited the ship after him, Nino took a few steps on real grass, breathing in real air. Gods, it had been so long. He’d been stuck on Tokai all this time, had almost forgotten what it was like. And it was fresh too, none of the pollution that some other colonies or planets had. He could see why Aiba might have enjoyed his getaways here.

He turned back around, finding Jun standing in the grass near the front of his ship. The Paradox’s registry number, 110399, designated her as an official civilian transport ship, one that adhered to JXF flight regulations and was thus granted permission to operate throughout JXF territory. Those numbers, this ship, had meant something to Jun ever since he’d been discharged. This ship was his livelihood.

On the flight here from Puraido, Nino had already done the biggest bit of dirty work required. He’d tapped in to the Paradox’s transponder, the small device that beamed out a steady signal to radar stations and screens throughout the galaxy. The device that shouted “It’s me, it’s the Paradox. I’m a friendly ship. I’m following all your rules, thanks very much!”

As he’d done on almost every ship he’d used during his old career, Nino had made the transponder speak a little differently. No longer was it a civilian transport ship, 110399. Now it spoke the language of private enterprise, where registry numbers were inconsistent and itineraries were nobody’s business. The wealthy classes and criminal classes (and especially the ones who overlapped) kept things a little looser. The Paradox was now quietly whispering instead proudly declaring itself. It was now flying under the designation 1992*4##111. “What do you want? You’d best just leave me alone.”

Anyone looking for the Paradox under her old registry number or transponder signature would be out of luck. Nino hoped it would buy them even more time.

Jun had a power tool out from the storage bay, was staring at the 110399 plate with the JXF logo that had been soldered into the bulkhead since the day he had used a huge chunk of his pension to pay for it. Nino rested a hand on his shoulder.

“Do you want me to do it?”

“No,” Jun decided wearily. “I can do it.”

It was still the Paradox, Nino had argued with him. On the outside and on the inside. It was still the ship Jun knew and loved. This was only for their protection. Though Jun was loyal to him, so loyal it made Nino’s head spin, that didn’t make each broken rule any easier for him to swallow.

Nino watched Jun fight through the pain, the disappointment as he turned the tool on and started the work of prying the registry plate off of the bulkhead. It eventually fell to the grass with a dull thump.

“Should throw it in the ocean,” Nino said when the job was done.

“I can’t.”

“Alright, then hide it. Hide it good.”

Jun lifted the plate and headed back inside, emerging a few minutes later.

“It’s in the storage bay,” Jun explained, closing the ship’s hatch and keying in the code on the panel to lock her up tight while they were gone. “Shoved it in an old food crate.”

Nino didn’t think keeping it was a good idea, but he decided to let Jun have just this one thing. Nino had stolen away enough of Jun’s other choices already, so he didn’t put up a fight.

Stunner pistols holstered at their sides, the belt cinched tight around Nino’s waist since he was smaller than Jun, they left the Paradox behind and headed downhill to the coast. Aiba’s villa was perched on a bluff, a sandy beach below meeting the water. Nino held in his complaints the closer they came to the place.

It was, in a word, an eyesore. A two-story monstrosity cobbled together out of a bunch of different materials. Marble columns, tiled roof, green brick speckled with white. Every window a different shape from triangles to octagons. Aiba Masaki’s holiday villa was living proof that just because you could build something didn’t necessarily mean you should.

They huddled behind some bushes at the edge of the property, trying to ignore the confusing construction in favor of determining if anyone else was nearby or inside. They hadn’t seen any ships on the way over, no boats docked off-shore, no tire tracks for any land roving vehicles.

If this had been a job, a proper job that Nino would have had back in the day, he’d have come far more prepared. With a device that could register heat signatures through almost any kind of wall. Blueprints for the house. Intelligence about the house’s security system and any theft deterrent devices. Instead they were going in completely blind, and he hated it.

Apparently Aiba himself had been rather trusting, as Nino couldn’t find any evidence along the property line of tripwires, laser fences, or hired guards. Jun’s military training offered him the same answers, and after a good long wait, they got up, heading for the house. They heard no alarms, no shouted warnings. Only the waves crashing to the beach down below.

But as they made their way to the pebbled driveway that led them to a hideous red and black checkerboard-patterned patio, it became readily apparent that they were not the first to arrive. The large front doors were wide open, the house’s entryway splattered with sand that the wind had flung up from the beach. The door had probably been left open like this a few days.

They pulled out their stunner pistols, entering the cool, breezy house. The main room was an open plan, an obnoxious spiral staircase at the far end leading up to the rooms on the second floor. The ceiling was high and vaulted, painted to look like a starry sky, and the marble floors had a swirling pattern that reminded Nino of distant nebulas.

“Your friend’s interior designer should have been shot,” Jun remarked, sneering at all the craziness inside. “His architect, too, for that matter.”

“I get the feeling this was all him,” Nino shuddered.

The room was utterly devoid of furniture, though clearly there’d been plenty of it here in the main room. A few brackets on the wall had probably once held up a giant vidscreen. Gone. Dark scrapes on the marble meant there’d been sofas, chairs, maybe a few tables. Gone. A smattering of books on the floor and on the staircase meant there was a looted library somewhere else in the house. Nino presumed that the rare books in the collection were gone, perhaps already sold off.

“I think you’ve inherited an empty house,” Jun said.

At the very least, the thieves had already come and gone. Nino tried to stay calm, closing the front doors and holstering his pistol as he and Jun scouted through the rest of the ugly house. The kitchen appliances had been taken, sonic-washer forcibly removed from the wall. They headed upstairs, finding a few bedrooms. The beds themselves had been left behind, but the mattresses and even the sheets and pillows had been taken.

No computers for Nino to try and hack. No safes for Nino to try and unlock. Nothing left that might offer a clue as to where Aiba’s money was stashed. If the thieves had taken those sorts of things, then they’d probably find Aiba’s platina first.

They discovered only one room left untouched at the very end of the hall. The door was closed, as the thieves had apparently found nothing of value inside.

Nino had to brace himself against the doorway, Jun nearly colliding with him.

“What the fuck…”

The neon green-painted walls were adorned with artwork, usually a first stop for any thief with a brain. But each and every one of the eight paintings was still hung on the wall untouched, perfectly straight and preserved like a museum gallery.

Also ignored was the room’s centerpiece, a life-size bronze statue of a man standing tall, a permanently frozen smile on his face as he pointed a long, elegant finger toward the doorway.

“Kazu,” Jun said, standing behind him and barely able to suppress his laughter. “I can’t understand why these beautiful pieces are still here.”

The statue, of course, was Aiba Masaki in the bronzed flesh. And every painted portrait on the walls was also Aiba Masaki encased in a tacky gold frame.

Portrait one, Aiba Masaki with what he probably assumed was a very serious expression, seated in a chair with a demonic-looking falcon perched on his leather-gloved arm.

Portrait two, Aiba Masaki sun-tanned and a little more buff than he’d been in reality, wearing a pair of swim trunks and a t-shirt, frolicking in an ocean.

Portrait three, Aiba Masaki sprawled on a bed in a barely tied leopard-print bathrobe offering the artist depicting him a come-hither stare.

Portrait four, Aiba Masaki in close-up with a top hat and monocle, a finger on his chin as though he was pondering the mysteries of the universe.

Portrait five, Aiba Masaki seated in yet another chair, this time with a platina crown on his head and holding a platina orb and scepter. (Nino assumed if those items had been in the house that they were long gone by now.)

Portrait six, Aiba Masaki battle-ready in samurai armor and helmet, a katana in hand (but that same ridiculous smile on his face).

Portrait seven, Aiba Masaki perched on the back of an enormous rhinoceros, apparently ready to ride it into a fight.

And of course portrait eight, Aiba Masaki completely nude as he emerged from a steaming hot bath, his essential bits just barely covered by a thick bamboo stalk in the painting’s foreground. Very subtle.

“I can’t decide which one I hate the most,” Nino lamented, slowly moving through the room and shuddering at each commissioned work of “art.”

Jun was giggling, a rather welcome sound after the stress they’d been through so far. “Your friend was a bit stuck on himself.”

“All the platina in the universe,” Nino said. “And this was how he chose to spend it.”

He took in the room again, the artwork and statue. The glass doors to the balcony beyond, locked from the inside. Nothing out of place. He moved to the statue, reaching up and letting his own finger slide against sculpted Aiba’s outstretched one. Dust. Maybe a month’s worth.

The thieves had gone as far as to steal mattresses and appliances. Even if they’d had no idea who Aiba Masaki was, they could have profited off the art. They could have melted down the bronze.

Nino took the stunner pistol out of his holster. Something was very, very wrong here.

The glass in the balcony doors shattered from a plasma blast as someone came charging into the room with a howl. They’d either been lying in wait or had climbed up.

Nino got one shot off and Jun another before the intruder fired back. Jun was able to get out of the room, to take cover in the hall but Nino was too exposed, forced to dive behind the bronze Aiba statue and its concrete base.

“Whoever you are!” came a screeching, angry voice. “This stuff is mine. You hear me? Mine!”

Nino had to nearly flatten himself against the floor as another plasma shot dinged the statue above him.

“You’re wrong there, my friend!” Nino called back, hearing the intruder’s shoes crunch against the broken glass from the balcony door. “This house is mine, and so are the contents!”

Another shot sent a load of concrete bits and dust at him.

“It’s all I have left of him!”

Nino turned to the interior doorway, seeing Jun’s quick movement as he fired off a stunner shot. It missed a bit wide, knocking one of the portraits off the wall. The intruder screamed in horror when the frame smashed against the floor.

“Go!” Jun shouted. “Now!”

Nino rolled, getting to his feet just as Jun’s next shot knocked the intruder back. The guy was not quite dressed for a thieving occasion in a tropical shirt, shorts, and sneakers, and luckily he was close to Nino in size. He raised his own stunner pistol and fired, easily knocking the plasma gun out of the intruder’s hand.

Opponent disarmed, Nino charged at him. The guy’s eyes widened and he cried out as Nino collided with him, knocking him back against another ugly Aiba portrait, sending both the intruder and the gold frame to the ground.

The intruder looked up at him. He was furious, spittle at the corner of his lips as he pointed at Nino. “Stop breaking everything!”

“Who are you?” Nino asked, training the stunner pistol on him.

Soon Jun was beside him, doing the same as the man sat in a disappointed heap on the floor with the portrait of Aiba and the falcon comically peering out behind his shoulder.

“These paintings are mine! They’re mine, damn it!”

Nino raised an eyebrow. He got a closer look. This guy was no criminal. He was small, normal-looking, dressed for a day at the beach. He probably lived in the neighborhood.

“Aiba-san always said to watch out for thieves. That they’re the worst kind of people in the galaxy. I’m just doing my job!” the guy protested.

Jun sighed and fired the stunner pistol again, knocking samurai Aiba to the ground, the frame shattering and sending up a little dust cloud. Gold paint on plaster then, Nino concluded. He’d been too busy laughing at the paintings earlier to notice the fakery.

“Okay, okay, okay!” the guy replied, holding up his shaking hands in surrender. “Can you call off your thug?”

Nino smiled, turning to Jun. “Aww, you’re my thug now!”

“Am not,” Jun grumbled, holstering the pistol. Nino kept his pointed at the guy’s face.

“Talk.”

“My name is Kazama Shunsuke, I’m the caretaker of this property. And I saw you trespassing. I live in the pool house.”

“The pool house?” Jun asked.

As they’d approached the villa, they’d seen the swimming pool in back, and the small little hut beside it. He and Jun had both presumed it was just a changing room or storage shed.

“Wait, you live in that little hut?” Nino inquired, astonished.

The guy narrowed his eyes at them. “It’s not that little.”

Jun was growing impatient. “Okay, so you live on the property. You’re the caretaker. That’s terrific. But this house now belongs to this man here. Aiba-san left it to him in his will. So maybe instead of breaking and entering and firing a plasma gun at us that you didn’t even know how to use, you could have rung the doorbell and found out that we weren’t trespassing.”

“How come you didn’t put up such a big fight when the other thieves came through here?” Nino asked.

The guy was confused. “What other thieves?”

“You’re a rather shitty caretaker if you didn’t notice that people have already cleared out the rest of Aiba-san’s house,” Nino said.

Kazama rolled his eyes at them. “You’re both idiots.”

“Beg pardon?” Jun asked, fingers itching to pull the stunner pistol back out.

Kazama held up his hands a little higher, reminding them that he was now unarmed and helpless. “The people that took the stuff weren’t thieves. Aiba-san ordered me to sell all the furniture. The last of it was taken out the day before yesterday. I used a moving company from Debikuro, that’s the closest big city. I have the receipts in my house.”

“Wait…what?” Jun asked.

“How could he have still been sending you orders? He’s been dead a few weeks now,” Nino pointed out.

Kazama’s eyes reddened. “Yeah, I know that. I’d only just gotten his message about it the day before they announced the Wagaya E had been lost. I didn’t do it right away. Selling the furniture, I mean. Out of respect for him.”

“Why did he want you to sell the furniture in the first place?” Nino asked.

“He said that…that I should sell it and keep the money myself. He called it a holiday bonus, but it’s not a holiday on Akashi for another month. I was confused, but then, you know, the ion storm and the Wagaya E…so I didn’t get a chance to ask him what he meant. At first I thought maybe he was planning to redecorate whenever he came back, but selling even the appliances seemed a bit extreme…”

Nino was confused. The timing was rather suspicious. Almost as though Aiba had known what was going to happen to him on the Wagaya E…

“Why did you leave the stuff in here?” Jun asked. “The paintings and the, uh, the statue? You could have sold that and probably made a lot of money. Aiba-san was rather famous.”

“What do you mean famous?” Kazama narrowed his eyes at them, apparently oblivious about what his rich employer did for a living. “He was my best friend, I could never sell them. And besides, he said in his message that I couldn’t sell anything in this room. Everything else was fine, I could keep the money from it. But he said this room had to stay untouched. I didn’t get to ask him why about that either.”

Nino shook his head. That son of a bitch. No computer, no safe. He’d left the answers in plain sight. Well. Sort of.

“Get up,” Nino said. “You’ve done a fine job caretaking the place, what with leaving the front doors wide open and all.”

Kazama got to his feet, putting his hands behind his head.

“Sorry about that. If the wind hits them just right, they tend to blow open. You know, I told Aiba-chan a million times to have someone come look at the hinges. The salt from the ocean was wearing them down. But he’d never listen to me! ‘I like the sea breezes, Kaza-pon, stop being such a wet blanket.’ And then he’d just fly off again on one of his adventures and he never wanted me to go with him, even though I didn’t mind. Gods, it’s so boring here, you know…”

“Fine, fine, fine. Shut up already. I hope you made a lot of money from that furniture because your caretaking services will no longer be required here,” Nino said, gesturing with the pistol to the door. “Pack up whatever you’ve got in that pool house of yours and skedaddle. Now. I’m evicting you.”

Kazama looked devastated. “What do you mean? Who the hell are you guys anyway? Aiba-chan never told me about any will.”

Nino got the feeling that “Aiba-chan” never told this guy about much of anything. By keeping him in the dark, Aiba had probably just wanted to protect his innocent caretaker.

Jun took out his own pistol, encouraging Kazama to march himself out of the makeshift art gallery. “Get moving, please.”

“Don’t say please,” Nino moaned. “You’re my thug, remember?”

“Piss off.”

Kazama complained all the way down the spiral staircase. I’m Aiba-chan’s best friend. He’s let me live here for 10 years. I don’t have anywhere else to go! Can I at least have one of the paintings to remember him by?

They moved him out the door, walked him around the house.

“It’s best you don’t know much about us,” Nino explained to him. “People might come looking for you.”

“Why? But I’m nobody,” Kazama protested as they moved to the pool house.

“That doesn’t matter,” he said. “Now that our ridiculously wealthy Aiba-san is no longer with us, there are a lot of people who are very interested in taking what was his. And everything that was his is now mine, thanks to his last will and testament. You should know, Kazama-kun, that most of them won’t be carrying stunner pistols.”

Kazama gulped.

“I’m sorry you lost your friend,” Nino said. “But for your own safety, it’s best that you get as far away from this house and from us as you can.”

“Why should I trust you? I don’t even know who you are. I promise if someone comes looking for me that I won’t say I met you. And besides, it’s not like you’re going to tell me what you’re doing here or where you’re going when you leave. Can’t you at least tell me your name? If Aiba-chan ever mentioned you to me before, then at least I’ll feel better about leaving his house to you.”

Nino and Jun exchanged a long look. Jun’s eyes were telling him no, that it was too risky. They kept walking.

The pool house wasn’t much more than a sad looking cot, a unit bath, and a hot plate. The poor guy could have been living large in Aiba’s villa all this time but had stayed in this crappy hovel out of some misplaced loyalty.

If anyone should have been the sole benefactor of Aiba Masaki’s estate, it was this guy. But maybe Aiba hadn’t wanted him to get hurt. Maybe he’d chosen Nino simply because he’d known that Nino could take care of himself.

Well, mostly. Jun was certainly a big help.

Kazama dug around under his cot, pulling out an old suitcase. “I don’t have a boat or anything. I’m gonna have to walk to the next town, so if you really want me to pack up and go, I’ll go. And I won’t rat you out, I wouldn’t do that. But please…Aiba-chan is gone, and he was my only friend. Can’t you tell me anything?”

Nino was growing sentimental in his old age, unable to look away from Kazama’s puppy dog eyes.

“Fine. My name is Nino,” he said, ignoring Jun’s panicked face. “Does that mean anything to you?”

Kazama brightened. “You’re THE Nino? Why didn’t you say something?”

He stared at him. “Because you shot at me. Like, fifteen minutes ago.”

He was met with a face of embarrassed understanding. “Oh…right. Well! I’m glad to finally meet you. Sorry about the shooting stuff. Aiba-chan said you went on a lot of adventures together.”

“Adventures?” Jun interrupted, dubious.

“He said you were treasure hunters. He said you were a really great one, but that you quit.”

Treasure hunters, huh? This guy really had no idea, did he? The “treasures” Aiba and Nino had hunted already belonged to other people. They had been criminals. Thieves. Scoundrels.

“That’s right,” Nino said. “So please. Pack your things and get as far from here as you can.”

“Okay, I promise. I’m not a snitch, so I’ll get out of here and lie low for a while.”

They left him to his packing.

As soon as the sad little pool house was out of sight, Jun tugged Nino by the arm.

“What am I missing here?” Jun asked him. “There’s nothing left in that villa that’s going to help you find his money. Didn’t you hear him? He sold everything. What are we even doing? We should make like Kazama and get out of here.”

Nino smiled. “No. He didn’t sell everything. He was under Aiba’s strict orders not to sell a room full of important things.”

“Important things?” Jun scoffed. “Don’t tell me the man’s entire wealth boils down to eight shitty paintings and a bronze statue.”

Nino only offered a wink in reply.

—

aiba masaki’s holiday villa
akashi, sumire coast
11:14 ast (akashi standard time)

Plaster coated in tacky gold paint. Aiba had gone to a whole lot of effort getting those paintings done, but they had been a smokescreen all along. The portraits of him didn’t matter so much as their frames did.

During the fight with Kazama, they’d already broken a few of them. As soon as they got back to the house, they waited until they saw poor Kazama and his bag disappear over the crest of a distant hill before getting to work.

Each of the eight gold frames had now been knocked to the floor, the room full of plaster dust that was making Jun sneeze adorably as Nino dug around in search of the answers Aiba had wanted him to find here.

Was it a stupid plan altogether? Yes. Yes, it was. But Nino supposed that Aiba had thought himself very clever.

It took a few more minutes of digging before Nino had what he was looking for. Eight individual pieces of tightly-folded up paper, one from each picture frame, that took him ages to unravel. Even with sneezy Jun’s help.

He got to his feet, dusting off his borrowed pants and leaving the mess behind. Jun trailed him down the spiral staircase and into Aiba’s kitchen so he could lay out the paper pieces on the house’s only remaining solid surface, the countertop. On each piece of paper, Aiba had written a single character in his shoddy handwriting.

HO
KU
MA
N
HA
63
GO
RI

“This is annoying,” Jun said as Nino started moving the papers around, trying to figure out what Aiba had left them. “What’s the 63 mean?”

Nino ignored him, focusing as hard as he could. Jun was a straightforward person. Puzzles like these only served to irritate him. But Nino was used to this kind of nonsense. Rich people loved their riddles, and Nino had been forced to solve his fair share in his old life simply to snatch what they thought they’d so cleverly protected.

This was just another dumb riddle. What was Aiba telling him?

“HO-KU-MA-N-HA-GO-RI,” he mumbled, then tried again. “KU-MA-HO-N-GO-HA-RI.”

“He wouldn’t write in a different language, would he?” Jun wondered.

“Ssh, person with a good brain at work here!”

“I’m going to lock you in the pool house and leave,” Jun threatened, though Nino knew he was still just pissed off about the dust.

Nino mixed and matched for another few minutes before he finally got it.

“Ah!”

“Ah?” Jun parroted back.

“Ahhhhh!”

“What is wrong with you?”

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” Nino squealed, jumping up and down in his excitement.

“Stop celebrating how smart you are and tell me what this means already,” Jun complained. His eyes and nose were still red and irritated from the dust, poor guy.

Nino rearranged one last time, eagerly tapping his fingers against the countertop and encouraging Jun to read what he’d translated.

“MA-KU-HA-RI-HO-N-GO. 63.” Jun looked back at him. “And?”

“And, Jun-kun, now we know where his money is!”

“I don’t follow.”

“Of course you wouldn’t…” Before Jun could say anything, Nino put his hand over his mouth. “And I love you for not knowing. You’re not a rich asshole who needs to stash money in an off-the-grid location. This…this place Aiba’s referring to is a small space station that serves as a bank. Makuharihongo. And I’m guessing 63 is the number of Aiba’s own vault room.”

Jun’s dark eyes and equally dark eyebrows were telling him to hurry up and explain.

“A handful of years ago, JXF was auctioning off outdated radar stations and fueling stations to the highest bidder. I don’t know what the old name was, but it was turned into Makuharihongo, a bank to stash plat-coins, gold, silver, jewels…you name it, you can store it there.”

“It’s just a bank?” Jun asked, pushing Nino’s hand away. “If as many people are after Aiba’s money as it seems, then wouldn’t they already be scouting out a place like this?”

“Well, yes and no. Makuharihongo’s only for upper echelon types. You can’t have a vault room there if you’ve got a criminal record. Sure it’s being used by actual criminals, but if there’s no bounty on your head, they’ll let you in.”

“Your friend was the most infamous man in the galaxy.”

“Precisely,” Nino said. “Most of the bumbling fools going after Aiba’s money would never waste time flying there because they’d have never given him a vault room. Which means he must have tricked them somehow.”

Jun picked up the “KU” paper, wiggling it in Nino’s face. “Okay, genius. How did he do it?”

Nino snatched the paper back, thinking. He knew people had tried to run heists at Makuharihongo before, whether by abducting a vault owner or trying to override the system. But it was risky as hell. The bank could go into lockdown, cutting you off from your ship, leaving you to starve to death trapped inside its walls.

As far as he knew, there were two forms of identification needed to get a vault open. A scan of the owner’s iris and a unique keycard. Well, if Aiba really had died on the Wagaya E, he’d been blown to smithereens. There was no brown Aiba Masaki eye floating around the cosmos that he could use.

But wait, he thought.

Wait.

“Hey Nino-chan,” Aiba said, “let’s take a picture together.”

Nino turned around to find Aiba standing in the doorway of Bar Platina’s stockroom. “What?”

Aiba smiled that cheerful smile of his, holding up a camera. “I want to commemmorate today, you know! It’s an important day! Now that you’ve officially retired.”

“Aiba-san,” Nino patiently reminded him. “I’ve been retired for four months. This bar has been open for…”

“Well, whatever, it’s not like I was able to get here until tonight. So it’s only official to me now that I’m here!”

Aiba closed the door, coming up to him and putting his arm around him. Nino begrudgingly allowed it since Aiba’s arrival at Bar Platina had gone over quite well with the regulars. Aiba had bought drinks for all of them. Either way it meant more plat-coins in Nino’s safe.

“Okay, look straight at the lens, Nino.”

Nino rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

“Just smile okay! Here we go!”

The camera flash was the brightest and most obnoxious Nino had ever seen, and he cried out in shock. “What the fuck?” he complained, rubbing his eyes as soon as Aiba had gotten his photo.

“Perfect,” Aiba said, shoving the camera back in his pocket without even looking at the shot. “Just perfect!”

“Get out of my stock room.”

“That bastard!” Nino shouted, slamming his fist on the countertop, the pieces of paper scattering again.

“What?” Jun asked.

He couldn’t help laughing. “I know how he got himself a vault there! And it explains exactly why I’m the sole beneficiary of his will!”

He took off running, hearing Jun grumbling in complaint behind him. “You’re too excited about this!”

“Shut up and follow me! That’s an order from your extremely rich boyfriend!”

Nino took the steps two at a time, racing down the hallway until he was back in the doorway of the Aiba Masaki shrine to all-around poor taste.

Standing there, it seemed all too obvious now. The bronze statue of Aiba on its pedestal, pointing.

Pointing right at him as if to say. “You, Nino-chan. Yes, you!”

He stepped past the shattered frames and hideous paintings, walking up to the statue. Despite his reluctance, it was obvious Jun had followed him since Nino heard a sneeze from behind him. But he only had eyes for Bronze Aiba, smile frozen in time.

“You’re the worst,” Nino said to the statue, receiving only the same smile in reply. He knocked on it. It was hollow.

Mostly.

“Something we missed in here?” Jun asked.

Nino put his hands against Aiba’s bronze abdomen. “Help me push.”

“Huh?”

“Stunner pistol’s not gonna be strong enough to blast a hole in it.” Nino turned, cocking his head for Jun to join him. “We gotta push it over.”

Jun approached with a heavy exhaled breath. “It’s a good thing Kazama isn’t here to see this.”

“I know, right?”

It took a bit of effort since the base was heavy, but between Jun’s strength and Nino’s sheer determination, they managed to topple Bronze Aiba fairly quickly. It crashed heavily to the floor, sending up more plaster dust that made Jun sneeze again. But Nino didn’t care, hurrying over as the statue broke right at the neck, sending Aiba’s head shooting off toward the broken glass door.

Nino hoisted it into his hands, trying not to be creeped out as he shoved his fingers inside the hollowed-out head.

Jun retreated to the hallway, away from the dust. He called back into the room. “There’s something inside it?”

“Obviously!” Nino hollered back.

Within the statue’s head, Nino found exactly what he expected to find. Taped against the inside of the head was a small gray envelope. Nino gave it a tug, pulling it out and opening it to find a black metallic card, heavy for its size. In stylish text, it read “Makuharihongo Secure Savings” and just beneath it, also as he expected to find, the card read “Ninomiya Kazunari, Vault 63.”

“What is it?”

The envelope had one other item inside, a tiny vidchip. He shoved it in his pocket.

“We have everything we need,” Nino declared, heading for the hall and leaving his mess behind.

“But what is it?”

“I’d explain it,” Nino said, “but I’m fairly certain you’d call bullshit on me. So I think we’re going to have to let Aiba Masaki tell you himself.”

—

private ship, registry number 1992*4##111 AKA the paradox
akashi, sumire coast
13:58 ast (akashi standard time)

“Okay,” Jun said, sitting in his pilot’s seat with his arms defiantly crossed. “What the fuck did I just watch?”

Nino had perched on the arm of Jun’s seat, his own arm stretched around Jun’s shoulders and squeezing him tight since the vidchip had confirmed his suspicions. He wanted to hate this entire process, this stupid and needlessly elaborate game Aiba had constructed. But like most things revolving around Aiba Masaki, Nino just couldn’t do it.

He leaned forward, pressing play on the cockpit’s vidscreen. It started to repeat the short clip on the vidchip that Aiba had stashed away inside his own sculpted head.

The video opened inside a ship, probably Aiba’s since he came dramatically sliding into frame a few seconds later and had a seat facing the camera.

“This video is for Ninomiya Kazunari’s eyes only. Nino, I really hope you’re the one who found this. Then again, we can’t really predict the future, so I guess if someone else is watching this it means Nino is no longer with us or you’re a big meanie stealing the keycard with his name on it.”

Aiba wiggled a reprimanding finger at the camera before continuing in his cheerful voice.

“Anyhow, I’m gonna keep talking like I’m talking to Nino so I really do hope it’s you. So! First things first. I’m dead!”

Jun sighed in irritation, and Nino gave him a tickling poke in the side.

“And since I’m dead, that means everything I possess goes to you, Nino. You always loved platina more than anyone I ever met, so I’m guessing you’re not too sad that I’m gone, are you?” Aiba paused, presumably for dramatic effect. Or expecting Nino to reply to him. “Ah. I see. Well, whatever your feelings at present, the keycard companion to this vidchip will get you in to the bank at Makuharihongo. I know that Nino-chan knows where that is. Please help yourself to the vault’s contents with my sincere blessings.”

Aiba leaned back, and Nino tried not to grin at the sight of him dressed in a tuxedo and a lo-grav ball cap. Who knew what kind of crazy job he’d just gotten back from when he’d recorded this…or perhaps what kind of crazy job he was heading off to.

“All you have to do is use the iris scanner next to the vault door and insert the card. Super easy. You may be saying…Aiba-shi, your benevolence astounds me. What a generous man you are. You’re very welcome, Nino. But knowing you, I’m sure you have another question because I’ve always found you to be quite smart.”

Aiba leaned forward, tipping up the cap a little to show his eyes. He pointed to them with a grin.

“You want to know how I was able to get myself a vault at Makuharihongo in your name when I look like me, Aiba Masaki with that super high bounty. It’s something I like to call…Aiba Magic.”

Aiba leaned out of frame briefly. The cap went flying, and when he returned, he’d tugged on a mask over his head.

A mask so perfectly designed and formed to his head that Nino was still shaking a bit even as he watched the video a second time. Because Aiba’s mask was Nino’s face. Nino’s eyebrows, Nino’s round-tipped nose. His lips. The moles on his cheeks and chin. Even the bags under his eyes, though it was clear that the actual eyes looking out were currently Aiba’s. The mask didn’t cover everything. It was still Aiba’s hair too, falling across the Nino mask’s forehead. But yet every other inch of him had been captured perfectly. Although the mouth couldn’t move as the lips were sealed shut. How did Aiba Magic apply there? Well, Nino wasn’t going to get that answer.

Aiba was there on the video leaning forward, poking at the mask, poking at Nino’s face as if to say “See? See how much this looks like you?”

Finally he took it back off, breathing a bit heavily. Presumably the mask had a few air holes, but it had apparently been quite a tight fit.

Aiba smiled, holding up a case that looked similar to one of Jun’s. “Remember that picture I took of us, Nino? Sorry about that, but I needed a good shot of your eyes so I could have these contact lenses made. For the iris scanner, you know. So there! I know magicians shouldn’t reveal all their secrets, but there you have it! Well! I suppose I’ve talked long enough, but if you’re still watching this…um, I hope you live your best life. See you around!”

The video halted abruptly after that.

Nino watched Jun uncross his arms, and he leaned over, head thumping a bit against him. “Your friend made a creepy fetish mask of your face.”

He grinned, leaning closer himself. “He sure did.”

“He somehow copied your irises and had them made into contact lenses.”

“Yes, he did that too.”

“All so you could inherit his money.” Jun was in disbelief. “All so we could fly to Makuharihongo now and you can walk in the door and walk out with his fortune.”

“Yup.”

“I mean, I believed it before. But fuck, you really are very rich now.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of Jun’s head. “I suppose I am, yeah. But it won’t feel real until I’m in that vault, inhaling that beautiful platina smell.”

“Do you wonder what happened to the mask?” Jun asked, voice a little unsteady.

“Why?” Nino asked. “Would you wear it when we sleep together? Just so I can live out one of my long-time fantasies of getting to fuck my own clone?”

Jun growled in response, getting up out of the chair and nearly knocking Nino to the floor. He caught himself in time, snickering and leaning back against the console for support. But then Jun was tugging him by the hand.

Gods, Nino thought with a smile, even good boys like Jun could get turned on by platina.

It had been a frustrating day up until the last several minutes, and Jun reminded him of it pointedly, getting Nino into the passenger cabin and nearly tearing the clothes off of him, his hot mouth alternating between kissing and sucking at his neck, along his shoulders. Eventually he sank down to his knees, Nino leaning back against the bulkhead half-laughing, half-moaning as Jun’s mouth was soon full with his cock.

He shut his eyes, struggling to find something to hold on to, shivering a little. The wall was cold against his back, against his ass, in sharp contrast to the warmth of Jun’s mouth and tongue. He settled for a hand in Jun’s thick, dark hair, urging him on. For his part, Jun was holding him with one hand while the other felt free to roam, up from the pants and boxers that he’d tugged down, up the back of Nino’s calf, up the back of his thigh. A jolting tickle that made Nino wish for Jun’s finger in his ass, maybe even more, made him wish one of those emergency crates in the storage bay held some lube, maybe a condom or two.

They didn’t, though. (He’d checked as soon as they’d dropped off Takeuchi-san on Puraido.)

So he simply settled for the pleasure of Jun’s skillful tongue, the hot depths of his mouth. He eventually gave in with a loud cry, selfishly loving the sound of his voice echoing through the ship.

He looked down in a happy daze, seeing Jun wipe a bit of come off of his lips with his thumb before slipping it in his mouth to join the rest of it.

“Was it the thought of a Ninomiya mask that’s got you so turned on right now?” he muttered, his voice huskier, heavier. “Be honest. I won’t judge you.”

Jun looked up at him with a grin, and Nino watched the familiar bob of his throat as he swallowed.

“I prefer the real deal.”

He had barely tugged his boxers back up when Jun was tugging on him again, demanding and insistent. “But couldn’t the mask help when we’re not together?”

Jun rolled his eyes, not waiting for Nino to finish zipping his pants before pushing him down onto one of the passenger cabin seats, reaching over to have it recline back. Jun got on top of him, trapping him between his thighs. It wasn’t altogether comfortable in the seat like this, but he’d never say no to Jun wanting to come on him.

“Please don’t finish that thought…” Jun warned him.

“Aww, come on,” he purred, reaching to tug Jun’s zipper down. “All you have to do is cut a hole at the mouth and…”

Jun pinched Nino’s nipple hard, and he whined in complaint.

“What did I just say?” Jun complained, finally freeing himself.

Nino laughed, watching with a lazy smile as Jun started to stroke himself. They had every reason to get the hell off of Akashi, get the faster-than-light drive powered up so they could get moving. It would take days to get to Makuharihongo and the promise of riches waiting there requiring nothing more than a keycard and Nino’s own eyes.

But Jun was their pilot, and Nino would far prefer it if they took off with the captain well-rested and well-satisfied.

Nino reached out his own hand, teasing, helping Jun along. And they hadn’t even gotten the platina yet. He couldn’t even imagine what delights awaited them if the belly of the ship was full of Makuharihongo Vault 63’s contents. Nino could already imagine the horrifying stink of their sweat after so much celebratory sex.

He slipped a few of his free fingers into his mouth, sucking hard and hearing Jun’s moans of approval. Apparently Jun was going to concern himself with the ship’s upholstery later, not caring too much right now as he came on Nino’s chest with a gentle, satisfied sigh, his release sliding down onto the soft leather.

“Mmm…love you,” Jun whispered, small beads of sweat decorating his brow.

Nino looked up, grinning. “I bet a Matsumoto Jun mask would be a top seller. I’ve chosen the wrong career.”

Jun was too content to even fight back this time, shaking his head and letting out a laugh that meant everything to him.

Aiba had told him that day at the bar that platina didn’t buy happiness. But whatever was in that vault might be able to buy Jun’s way back into the life he wanted. As a pilot, as someone who helped others. Nino owed him for putting up with all of this, flying days and days all for him.

Somehow, Nino was going to make this right.

—

private ship, registry number 1992*4##111 AKA the paradox
maybe 79 hours from makuharihongo
16:03 asst (ashikaga system standard time)

Makuharihongo was not on the Paradox’s current set of star charts for the Ashikaga system. Those came directly from JXF, were updated by JXF. Somehow the bank itself had gone to silent running, not sending out a radar signature. But that wasn’t really a problem for Nino.

They simply had to use the old charts. JXF had been the ones to sell their old station to whoever ran Makuharihongo. Some of the spots on the old star chart would not be appearing on the new one in the Paradox’s memory banks. Even if the JXF sent out updated charts to anyone with one of their registry numbers, Jun’s ship included before they’d gone rogue, it didn’t erase the old ones from the memory banks.

That was how they were going to find it.

Nino had been poring over the charts on the larger vidscreen in the passenger cabin for over a day. Aiba had assumed Nino would already have an idea where to go, but the truth was…he didn’t. Why would the Nino of only a few weeks ago, the definitively retired from crime and rather unwealthy Nino, care about a bank for sneaky rich people in a system light years away?

But just like he couldn’t help enjoying Aiba’s previous puzzle from the picture frames, painstakingly comparing the old star charts to the new ones was simply another riddle for Nino to have fun solving.

His eyes were itchy and tired, and Jun had already forced him to sleep for a few hours the night before, but he was back in front of the screen again, fairly certain that they were going in the right direction now. He didn’t know just how many old stations JXF had sold in that last big house cleaning, but between the old chart and the new chart, there were 67 possibilities. 67 places on the old chart that weren’t on the new one.

He’d already managed to eliminate most of them through simple logic. Makuharihongo had not been an old fueling way-station, that much he knew just from memory. It had been a radar station. That alone knocked out 49 possible spots, and that was how he’d spent most of their flight time so far, confirming that.

With the remaining 18 he had to work a little harder. Using the computer to do a bit of digging, he slowly eliminated five, then seven, and then 11 of the contenders simply because of location. All of those stations had been within a few hours’ flight time from either a JXF station or some other JXF-allied territory. No, the whole point of Makuharihongo was for rich people to hide their jewels and platina as far from one of JXF’s usual patrol routes as possible.

He had seven left, seven possibilities.

The hours ticked by, and Jun kept asking if they were going the right way. They’d have to make a fueling stop any day now, and that in itself was going to be risky if their faces were seen. Nino’s gut was telling him they were on the right track, if only because four out of the seven remaining possibilities were in the same direction they were flying.

Jun finally forced him to take a break, his clomping grav-boots interrupting with their usual noise as he came in from the cockpit.

“I’m making you something to eat.”

“Noodles or miso?” he replied. “Miso or noodles?”

“We can get more food at the fueling stop,” Jun said, moving through the cabin to the food storage compartment.

They’d survived so far on the Paradox’s emergency supplies, mostly because using either of their bank accounts would send trouble their way. But they were so far from Tokai Station now that he wondered how many were still in pursuit. Thieves were a persistent bunch, but he hoped the trail had gone cold for most of them by now. Once they had the contents of Vault 63 in their possession, they would have a lot more options.

They sat down in their seats with the warmed up soup and were just about to dig in when the proximity alarm went off, sending a blaring noise throughout the passenger cabin, red lights blinking.

Jun was already up.

“Don’t answer it!” Nino shouted, setting his bowl down and hurrying after him to the cockpit.

Jun was in his seat, tapping wildly at the console.

“I thought we were flying dark?” Nino asked him.

“We are,” Jun said, finally silencing the alarm. “This is just going out on all channels. Every ship within 50 million kilometers can probably hear it. It’s an emergency beacon, highest priority.”

“Okay fine. Let someone else answer.”

Jun looked up at him, eyes serious. “Kazu.”

“You’re joking,” he said, looking down as Jun attempted to figure out where the beacon was coming from. “We’re not the JXF. This is their job.”

“We’re not flying on a JXF patrol route,” Jun reminded him. “The whole point of this is that we’re looking for something that’s not on their maps. What if we’re the only ones out here who can help?”

Nino sighed. Jun had spent most of his old career running towards danger and the unknown, not away from it. Even now, it was impossible for him to ignore his base instincts. To save those asking for his help.

“Well, just listen to it if you can pick it up. If they’re under attack by pirates or whatever ships run out here, we’re unarmed so we can’t do anything to help them and you know that. If they have a few days’ worth of supplies, then they have time for someone else to come to the rescue. We have to put ourselves first.”

Jun slowed the Paradox down, attempting to determine where the troubled ship was. It took a few minutes before the message attached to the beacon was playable.

Before opening the audio receiver, Jun looked up at him.

Nino nodded. “Fine. Listen to it.”

A panicked male voice came over the speaker, echoing through the cockpit. In the background, they could hear children crying.

“Hello? Hello, is anyone out there? This is an emergency, please respond! My name is Yano Kenta. We’re on the ship Kumorinochi out of Samejima Station…oh gods…” The children’s voices only got louder. “I’m a teacher…we’re on a field trip to observe the Maou Cluster…and…and our pilot, our pilot…he…something’s wrong, he’s non-responsive. I’m…I’m just a teacher, I don’t know…I don’t know how to fly this thing. Please! Please, can someone help us? I’ve got twenty-six children on this ship, please help us. Hurry, we need help here. Can anyone hear me?”

The message cut off abruptly before starting over.

“Hello? Hello, is anyone out there? This is an emergency…”

Nino leaned over and shut it off.

He and Jun were quiet for a few moments. Twenty-six kids…

Finally Jun reached for his navigation computer, and Nino reached over, grabbing his wrist.

“No.”

“No?” Jun snapped back at him. “No? Are you serious?”

“He’s lying. Why would a field trip come this far from a station?” If Nino remembered the charts correctly, Samejima Station was over a day’s journey from here.

“If the pilot died, who knows how long the ship might have been flying off course?” Jun argued.

“Someone else will find them. They would have had emergency rations on board, just like the Paradox.”

“It’s kids, Kazu. And one panicking teacher trying to keep them from freaking out any more than they already are. If the teacher can’t fly, that ship might crash into an asteroid or get caught in an ion storm just like the Wagaya E.”

“Have you already forgotten that we’re running away from people trying to kidnap and torture me?”

Jun inhaled, exhaled, clearly trying not to raise his voice.

“I can do it entirely from in here. We just have to get close enough to talk to each other. I can help the teacher program the nav computer, talk him through it step by step, get them set on autopilot back to Samejima Station. JXF can take over once they get close. They don’t even have to see our faces. It’s the absolute least we could do to ensure that a bunch of kids don’t die.”

“Just talking?” Nino asked. “We stay here, they stay there?”

“Yes,” Jun said, though he clearly wanted to do more than he was suggesting to help. “Just talking.”

“Ah, I can’t believe this,” he complained, rubbing his face with his hands in irritation. “You’re too fucking nice, Jun-kun.”

Jun traced the signal, discovering that the ship had a JXF registry number and transponder signature. They were maybe ten minutes from visual range. When they were close enough, Jun opened a communications channel.

“Kumorinochi, come in. Can I speak with Yano Kenta-san?”

The answer came fairly quickly. “Hello? Oh, thank the gods, you heard me! This is Yano Kenta, who is this?”

Jun looked up, raising an eyebrow, not surprised when Nino shook his head.

“We’re here to help you. In your message you said you don’t know how to fly. Well, I can talk you through it, get your ship on an automated course back to Samejima. Once you’re close, you can call ahead to JXF to help guide you to their docking ring.”

“That’s wonderful. Oh, oh…this is amazing. Thank you!”

“Are you in the cockpit right now, Yano-sensei?”

“Ah, just a moment.” The man’s voice was muffled as he presumably told the gaggle of kids to be quiet while Jun saved their lives. They heard a door slide shut. “I’m in here now. The pilot…he…he’s still in the chair…you know, I think he might be dead…”

“Well, is there an alternate seat?” Jun asked. “A co-pilot’s seat?”

“Oh. Yes. Yes, I’ll sit there. Thank you.”

“We’ll get a visual in a minute,” Nino whispered, hand squeezing Jun’s shoulder.

“I’m going to need you to read off some numbers to me in just a second,” Jun said. “That’s going to tell me what way you’re going, and then all we’ll have to do is put in some new ones.”

“Okay, thank you very much. That seems easy.”

“Almost got a visual,” Nino muttered, squinting out into the darkness for a ship large enough to hold a teacher and his entire class.

“Now in front of you, Yano-sensei,” Jun continued, “you have a pretty large console, but within that console are different sections for different things. There’s a fuel gauge, a vidscreen, and there should be a pretty large rectangular section that should be labeled ‘Nav’ for Navigation Control…”

There, Nino realized, looking ahead and seeing a small, blue-tinted ship. There it was.

But it was too small. It was way too small. And it sure as hell wasn’t flying off course. It was lying in wait for them.

“Jun-kun, go back…”

“I think I found that, sir,” Yano said. “It says Nav. Now what?”

“There should be a series of numbers under the words ‘Current Heading,’ can you find that for me and read it off?”

Nino leaned forward, turning off the comms.

“Oi!” Jun shouted, looking up at him.

“Turn us around,” Nino demanded. “Now!”

Yano Kenta sounded much calmer than he had on the emergency message. “Hmm, I wonder if it’s this number here…hello?”

“What’s wrong with you?” Jun complained until Nino pointed out the Paradox’s front glass, and Jun also realized that whatever ship the Kumorinochi was, it certainly was not the ship in front of them.

“Turn us around.”

Jun tried, but as soon as he did, the Paradox’s entire control console went black. “No,” Jun panicked, tapping with his fingers against it uselessly. “What the fuck?”

The Paradox was already out of their control. They’d been hacked.

“Oi, Ninomiya!” Yano Kenta’s voice came echoing through the ship. “You’re in there, aren’t you?”

The Paradox, now under the other ship’s control, slowed down until they were flying at low impulse power side by side. Jun could only lean forward in his seat, thumping his head against the console in embarrassment. Devices that could hack another ship within close range did not come cheap. They were, of course, outlawed, but that hadn’t stopped pirates and the most unscrupulous thieves from using them the last few decades.

Nino sighed. He presumed that Yano Kenta, whoever the fuck he was, could hear them anyhow.

“I’m afraid we don’t know each other, sensei.”

Instead of the frightened teacher from the beacon, the voice that was now speaking was rather cocky, if slow to get his words out.

“That’s not entirely true. I know you very, very well. Ah, I should say that I know your face.”

“Is that so?”

“Aiba-chan really wanted that mask to be perfect, you know,” Yano continued, snickering quietly. “Gods, I had to look at your face for weeks. I was starting to see you in my dreams, man.”

Nino gritted his teeth. Of course the “Aiba Magic” didn’t come out of thin air. Someone had had to make the mask Aiba used to get into Makuharihongo in the first place. He’d have to compliment the guy on his artistic skills at a later date.

“What the fuck do you want?” Jun interrupted.

“You know exactly what I want. Give me just a few moments to dock our ships together, and then you can hand me the keycard for the vault at Makuharihongo.”

“What keycard?” Nino tried. “What vault?”

“Just hand it over, and maybe I won’t kill you and your helpful pilot friend. I’m really not big on murdering. Over and out.”

The comms went silent and despite Jun’s best efforts to go back to the engine room and perform an override, the Paradox remained out of their control. An accordion-like airlock fixture emerged from the small blue ship beside them, sealing itself to the Paradox carefully.

Nino shook his head at Jun’s suggestion of firing their stunner pistols at Yano Kenta as soon as he forced open the Paradox’s hatch. If the man could afford to install a device that could hack another ship, then surely he had the money to buy weapons that could knock them both out or far, far worse before either of them could get a shot off.

Nope. They were screwed.

They stood side-by-side in the passenger cabin, hearing noise from just outside the hatch. The airlock was doing its final seal so the asshole mask-maker could come and steal from them safely.

“What about the kids?” Jun asked, crossing his arms and looking glum.

“Sound effects,” Nino replied. Underhanded, but Nino should have guessed at that from the start.

The Paradox’s hatch opened, and they were greeted with the sight of the newest criminal on their trail. He didn’t feel it was necessary to dress up to rob from them, wearing not much more than a plain black tee, baggy shorts, and a pair of bright pink sandals. Apparently he had the money to hack other ships but none leftover for a proper pair of grav-boots.

He was short, closer to Nino’s size. He had a round, easygoing face but a high-end plasma gun in his hand. “Hey, nice to finally meet in person.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Nino replied with a smile.

The guy inclined his head with a smile of his own before turning to Jun. “Now as I already said, I’m very well-acquainted with Ninomiya-san’s adorable face. This is the first time I’m seeing yours.” Keeping the plasma gun trained on Jun’s chest, he took a step closer, watching him with a grin. “Damn! If I had a mask of your face, I’d have chicks all over me.”

“I told him pretty much the same thing. It’s a good face, isn’t it?” Nino said.

Jun shook his head in irritation. “Give me control of my ship back, and I won’t kill you right here.”

“I wouldn’t try anything, Face Guy. I’m just trying to make a living.”

“So is your name really Yano Kenta?” Nino asked. “Never heard of you.”

“He’s a real teacher at Samejima Station,” the guy pointed out, boasting. “I put a bit of work into this heist, okay? The name’s Ohno Satoshi. Ring any bells?”

Nino shut his eyes. Great. “You were a forger with the Sobu Crew for a while, weren’t you? Back in the day?”

“Good memory.”

But they’d never worked a job together. Ohno Satoshi was kind of lazy when it came to the whole thieving profession. Instead of seeking out jobs, he usually waited for them to come to him, putting his artistic skills to work creating fake art and sculptures to be sold to dummies who wouldn’t know the difference.

“So you made the mask for Aiba, huh? How’d you even make the connection with the bank vault?”

“Well,” Ohno said, not looking terribly modest about it. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a case similar to the one Aiba had been holding in his video. “I also made him those contact lenses. Put a little tracker in the case to see where he was going. For insurance, you know. And I also made sure I had a copy of your face and your eyes for myself. So like, double insurance there.”

Nino shook his head. “You betrayed his trust in you.”

Ohno turned, pointing the plasma gun at Nino instead.

“What do you even know, Ninomiya? He didn’t pay me for the mask, didn’t pay me for the contacts. I worked my ass off, and he didn’t pay me for it. Just left a stupid green ‘A’ on my workshop wall.” He scratched his belly, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Well…okay so maybe one night he and I had been out drinking, and I might have left without paying. That’s on me. But you know, that was like…that was like fifteen years ago. Not paying me for the mask and the lenses I spent weeks working on is not a proportionate response! I’m an artisan!”

“He has a point,” Jun muttered.

“Thank you!” Ohno replied.

“But I still hate your guts for making me think children were in danger. Amongst several other things,” Jun said.

“I came here for the keycard, not a scolding.”

Jun really didn’t like people breaking his ship. It made him rather snippy. “I’d also like to point out that your sandals are ugly.”

“Jun-kun, that’s enough,” he interrupted, not wanting Ohno to fire his gun or for Jun to charge at him and get himself shot. Nino held his hand up in surrender, slowly reaching into his pocket with the other. “I’ll give you the stupid keycard.”

“Good…”

“…but only if you tell us how you found us. You got pretty damn lucky assuming we were going to respond to your fake little cry for help.”

“Got a message from Aiba-chan. All it said was to wait for my payment and gave me the coordinates for this part of the Ashikaga system,” Ohno explained. “Thought he was finally gonna come apologize and pay me back for the mask, but then I found out he was dead.”

Nino’s stomach dropped. “When did he send you a message?”

“Hard to forget. I got it the day before the Wagaya E blew up.”

Kazama Shunsuke had gotten a message that day too. A message from Aiba instructing him to sell all the furniture in the holiday villa except for the paintings and statue. This couldn’t be a coincidence…

Ohno shrugged. “Thought I was never gonna get paid, but then I heard through the grapevine that Aiba-chan had left all his money to one Ninomiya Kazunari. And I thought, hmm, I know where Aiba’s got his money. The vault at Makuharihongo. And I’ve got Ninomiya Kazunari’s eyes. Maybe I could still get paid. He was right. I’m gonna be a very rich man now, thank you very much.”

Ohno held out his hand, having been patient for long enough. Nino pulled the heavy metallic card from his pocket, slapping it down into Ohno’s palm.

“Now that you’ve left me poor and destitute, could you at least do us a favor and not kill us?” Nino asked, nearly quaking with rage as he watched the promise of all that platina go down the drain.

“Well, as I said, I’m not really into murder. I’m also going to be generous and let the insults against my footwear slide,” Ohno said, narrowing his eyes in Jun’s direction. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

“You better fix my ship,” Jun threatened.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. But I’m giving myself a head start. I’m not an idiot.”

“Hope you enjoy spending all of my money,” Nino whined.

“I do have you to thank for this recent good luck, Ninomiya-san. You and that cute face,” Ohno said, smiling. “Maybe I’ll leave you guys a few piles of plat-coins in the vault. I’m not completely heartless.”

“Leave already!” Jun shouted.

Ohno pocketed the card, laughing as he headed back for the hatch, closing it behind him. Nino and Jun returned to the cockpit, watching Ohno detach his ship from theirs. As soon as he did, the Paradox’s console came back online, although the vidscreen turned on with a countdown clock.

Ohno’s voice came back through the comms, sounding rather pleased with himself. The countdown clock got started, ticking down from twenty-four hours. Quite the head start.

“Now listen, you two. If you attempt any sort of override, the computer will shut down again and you’ll be stranded out here. Of course, if you’d like, I could send over the transponder signature for the Kumorinochi that I used. You could copy the same trick…”

“No thanks,” Nino grumbled in reply.

“Fine! Been nice chatting with you. Bye then!”

They watched the small blue ship rocket off into the black, and Nino punched Jun in the arm.

“Ow! Hey!”

Nino scowled at him. “That’s what you get for caring about children in danger. You could have been a heartless piece of shit like me and we could have kept flying. But no. No, you always have to be Matsumoto Jun, the big strapping hero, don’t you?”

Jun held up his hands, nodding his head. “I know. I know. This is all my fault. I fucked up. And I’m sorry.”

“Do you still love me now that I’m broke again?”

Jun grinned at him. “Do you still love me even if I’m the reason why you’re broke again?”

Nino stepped away, beckoning with his finger for Jun to follow him. They returned to the passenger cabin and their long-cold miso soup. He moved to the vidscreen he’d been using all this time, closing out the star charts for a moment and doing a few more quick taps.

The picture he was looking for appeared a few moments later. One of the first things he’d done since the Paradox had started its long journey to the Ashikaga system. A photograph of himself holding the black metallic card. Makuharihongo Secure Savings. Ninomiya Kazunari, Vault 63.

Jun was puzzled like always, bless his never-underhanded heart. “You took a picture of the keycard?”

“As our friend Ohno-san told us, it’s a little thing called insurance. He may have a copy of my eyes and my keycard and a twenty-four hour head start but what’s holding him back?”

Jun thought for a moment. “He…hmm. The bank has a dress code, and they’re not going to let him in wearing sandals?”

“I can’t confirm or deny that,” Nino chuckled in reply, “but no, that’s not what I’m thinking.”

Jun gave him a playful shove. “Don’t leave me in suspense. Just tell me already.”

“The Ninomiya Kazunari mask in Ohno-san’s possession has a fatal flaw. Can you tell me what that fatal flaw is? Here’s a hint.” He pointed to his mouth. “Hey there. I’m Ninomiya Kazunari.”

Jun’s eyes widened in sudden understanding.

“The mask’s mouth doesn’t open,” Jun said.

Nino nodded. “The mask’s mouth doesn’t open. Correct.”

Jun’s excitement was short-lived. “But wait. Does that matter? He just has to look like you, walk in, scan in with the contact lenses and the keycard. Why would he need to talk?”

“To prove that he’s me, of course,” Nino said. “Which is going to be impossible. Because we’ve been given twenty-four blessed hours to confirm where Makuharihongo is. And once we do that, we can figure out how to send them a message before Ohno-san even gets there.”

“And what’s the message going to say?”

Up until now, they’d tried to hide themselves. To fly under the radar as they raced to secure Aiba’s platina. But now, stranded and broke, they had nothing to lose. Nino pointed to his mouth again.

“Hey there. I’m Ninomiya Kazunari. I’m a customer with your bank, here’s a picture of me and my keycard as further proof. And this is the sound of my voice.”

He couldn’t help smiling at Jun.

“By the way, I’d like to report a case of identity theft.”

—

fuel-n-go station ashikaga b64
16 hours from makuharihongo
3:29 asst (ashikaga system standard time)

Nino had always preferred the Fuel-N-Go franchises. Sure, the fuel they sold was only a few steps above sludge, but there were fewer security cams on the premises. In the old days, Nino had relied on them during jobs since they weren’t affiliated with the JXF. Franchisees were usually sad sacks from even drearier colonies that took any job that got them away from their dull lives, even if it meant living on top of a bomb. One errant shot from a ship’s railgun hitting a fuel storage tank and the whole place could go up.

It was a dangerous, isolated kind of job, but at least the clientele could be interesting. Plus, Nino knew, the owners weren’t inclined to snitch on account of that whole “living on top of a bomb” thing. Didn’t mean other folks fueling up would mind their own business, but it was a risk worth taking.

Plus, the little convenience stores at every Fuel-n-Go sold flash frozen hamburger steaks and sauce packets that needed only a few seconds in a wave cooker to taste divine. Nino had spent the better part of his twenties living off of Fuel-n-Go hamburgers, and he’d never gotten sick of them.

Jun was off-ship negotiating a price to fill the Paradox up again and replenish her food stores, and anyone tracking his bank account was going to see the transaction and know exactly where they’d come. But Nino was tired of hiding. Ohno Satoshi had his keycard, and he wasn’t going to let him get away with it. No, he and Jun had come too far already to give up now.

Nino was still aboard the Paradox waiting for Jun to return with a crate full of hamburgers when the comms in the cockpit started screaming that they had a live call coming through, highest priority.

It had worked, he thought with a triumphant pump of his fist. They’d gotten his message!

He routed the call through to the passenger cabin, which would give him more privacy from anyone out in the fueling station’s docking area who might be peering through the Paradox’s front glass.

Incoming Video Call for Ninomiya Kazunari-sama from Makuharihongo Secure Savings
Please be aware of the communication lag time
Currently: 2 minutes, 37 seconds
Accept or Reject Call?

He clicked on “Accept.” They were still more than half a day away, which was the reason for the lag, but he’d put up with it if it meant stopping Ohno. Once they’d figured out for certain where Makuharihongo was, Jun had plotted out the quickest route. Ohno had presumably taken the same one, and so he had probably arrived already. He hoped the bank was calling him to confirm that.

He was greeted with the face of a serious-looking man in glasses sitting at a white desk. He was dressed neatly in a gray suit, white dress shirt, and red tie. There was a company logo behind him, the font the same as the one used on the keycard Ohno had stolen away. In the corner of the vidscreen, the time was already starting to count down.

Anything Nino said in reply to this man would take over two and a half minutes to get to him. He took the time to run his hand through his hair, to make sure there weren’t any stains on the shirt he’d borrowed from Jun.

“Good day to you, and many apologies for the communications delay. My name is Sakurai Sho, Head of Client Satisfaction here at Makuharihongo Secure Savings. Ninomiya-sama, I wanted to confirm that we received your message stating your concerns about the security of your account. Security is our highest priority here, and I’d like to thank you for sending along the photo of yourself and your keycard. As you know as one of our valued customers, each keycard is only printed once and we do not keep duplicates on premises as part of our commitment to your privacy.”

Sakurai leaned forward, meeting the camera recording him with a soft smile.

“Therefore, if someone has stolen your keycard and attempts to use it, they will not be able to access your vault. We’ve gone ahead and locked your account, Ninomiya-sama, and ask that you return at your earliest convenience so that we can issue a brand new keycard that will be unique to you only.”

This was good. This was very, very good. But Ohno ought to have already arrived there by now. Sakurai hadn’t said anything about it. He’d only said if someone had stolen Nino’s keycard.

If.

“Of course, if you have any further questions, I will stay here on the feed for the next few minutes to answer them. Turning the call over to you.”

Sakurai pressed a button in front of him, and a green light came on the vidscreen in the passenger cabin. In two minutes and thirty-seven seconds, Sakurai would hear anything he chose to say.

He cleared his throat. “Yes, hello. Thank you very much. This is Ninomiya. I did want to ask you something, um, based on the message I sent to you in the first place. I thought I made it pretty clear that my keycard was stolen from me, and that the man who stole it was planning to impersonate me and empty out my vault. Ohno Satoshi. His name is Ohno Satoshi.”

He heard the Paradox’s hatch open and shut, heard Jun coming inside.

“Has this person arrived? And when he does, can you tell me what measures Makuharihongo Secure Savings will be taking to retaliate?”

He pressed the button, the green light switching off. He let out a breath, crossing his arms as the seconds ticked by and the message slowly beamed its way across the system to Sakurai Sho.

“Can he hear me?” Nino heard Jun ask from the doorway.

He turned, pretending to scratch at his face to cover his mouth. Just in case Sakurai could read lips. “Not right now, no, audio isn’t being sent to him. But the video feed is. He can see you if you come over here.”

“He with Makuharihongo?”

“Yup.”

“We’re fueled up and ready to go whenever you finish your call.”

He moved his scratching hand over, itching at his other cheek. Sakurai was going to think he had a skin disorder. “My hamburgers?”

Jun sighed. “I’m now on the Fuel-n-Go convenience store’s security cam feed buying 37 hamburgers. Every one they had in stock.”

He turned, unable to keep from smiling in Jun’s direction. This time instead of scratching he pretended to cough. “How can I pay you back?”

Jun pulled a small bottle out of his jacket pocket. “Correction. Since we still have over 16 hours of flight time to get through, I’m on their security cam feed buying 37 hamburgers, a box of condoms, and this bottle of lube.”

“You dirty dog,” Nino said with another faked cough. “I fucking love you.”

“You’d better,” Jun said, blushing and gesturing for him to turn back around.

He did so, finding that Sakurai Sho was now nodding, finally receiving and hearing Nino’s transmitted message. Hopefully Sakurai would answer right away, wouldn’t pay attention to all of Nino’s two minute and thirty-seven second-delayed scratching.

Sakurai folded his hands on top of the white desk, looking rather concerned. It was another agonizing few minutes before Nino was able to see him and hear him speak in reply.

“We’ve been monitoring the premises ever since we received your message, Ninomiya-sama. Nobody has attempted to access your vault in months. We will be on the lookout for this Ohno Satoshi. And if he arrives, he will be dealt with.”

The smile on Sakurai’s face in that moment told Nino everything he needed to know. The risk of dealing with a bank that didn’t have to operate by JXF rules.

Poor Ohno-san, he thought.

“Do you have any other questions, Ninomiya-sama?”

The green light came back on and he only had one thing to say.

“Thank you, Sakurai-san. Much appreciated. Please expect me and an associate to come for the new keycard in the next day or so. We’re already en route. I’d like to confirm that all of my assets are in order. I have no further questions. Ninomiya out.”

He disconnected the call, serious Sakurai and his serious glasses vanishing in an instant.

He turned, seeing that Jun was already gone. “Buckle yourself in, we’re leaving!” he heard him call from the cockpit.

Nino grinned, doing as he was told. Soon after, the Paradox left the Fuel-n-Go behind, and the initial shaking and jolting that came with a quick jump to faster-than-light speed finally started to settle down as the ship got back on course.

Was he perfectly confident that Vault 63 was still going to have anything in it when he arrived? No, not really. Despite Sakurai Sho’s smiling threat, there was no telling how Ohno might still find his way inside. Even if the keycard he currently had in his possession was now useless.

Aiba had sent Ohno a message, telling him almost exactly where to wait. Almost as though he’d meant for Ohno to take the Makuharihongo keycard all along. Would he ever understand Aiba Masaki’s true motives? He had no idea.

But what he did understand was that Jun was now in the doorway, giving up on the safety of his grav-boots and watching him with a certain look in his eyes. Nino watched as Jun slowly unzipped his flight jacket, letting it drop to the passenger cabin floor before tugging on his shirt, revealing his broad shoulders and firm body. Thoughts of platina deserted Nino’s immediate thoughts.

Well. Mostly.

Nino stayed where he was, still buckled in as Jun crossed the floor in only a few strides, bending down for a kiss. But Nino stopped him with a finger to his perfect, plush lips.

“I was thinking maybe I could have a hamburger first?” Nino teased.

“And I was thinking,” Jun said, talking around his finger in a lower, much more dangerous tone of voice. “Of finding out if both of us can fit in that sonic-shower.”

Jun’s hands were on his wrists then, squeezing tight. This was a game they’d played many times before. Thankfully Jun never seemed to tire of it. Even here, even now with all the odds stacked against them.

“But I suppose we have different priorities. Don’t we, Kazu?”

His only reply was a cheeky little wink.

Jun unbuckled him from the seat, hauling him up and into his arms.

Yes, he and Jun discovered with mutual satisfaction…yes, they could both fit in the sonic-shower. Just barely, Nino thought with a laugh as they struggled to keep their feet from slipping and sliding on the compartment floor. As Jun moaned in complaint when his elbow hit the compartment wall with a nasty thud.

But despite those concerns, Nino was soon begging for more, for more and more of Jun’s mouth against the back of his neck, for more of Jun’s fingers digging into his hips, for more of Jun’s hard cock filling him again and again.

They had sixteen hours to go, sixteen hours to Makuharihongo and Vault 63. As the sonic steam fillled the tiny compartment, he could only wonder how many more surfaces of the Paradox they could defile before they arrived.

—

private ship, registry number 1992*4##111 AKA the paradox
makuharihongo secure savings, docking bay 4
19:50 asst (ashikaga system standard time)

Sakurai Sho was waiting for them in the private docking bay where Jun had been instructed to land the Paradox. He was in a dark blue suit and a blue and white-striped tie today, not a hair out of place as he held out his hand.

Nino shook it while Jun locked down the Paradox behind him. “Sakurai-san. Nice to meet you without a two-minute delay.”

Sakurai offered a hearty laugh, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Indeed.” He looked over, gesturing in Jun’s direction. “The associate you mentioned?”

“Matsumoto Jun. My partner.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Sakurai replied, offering Jun a handshake as well.

Jun crossed his arms instead. “Did Ohno Satoshi come here? I believe we sent along as many details about his ship as we could.”

If Sakurai was offended by Jun’s curt response, he didn’t show it. “We very much appreciated everything you did to inform us about this potential thief. I can assure you, your vault is quite secure. Won’t you follow me?”

Sakurai led them from the docking area into a rather cold, sterile corridor. The walls of the station were dark and metallic, similar to the keycard Ohno had stolen. They moved to an escalator bank in the center of the station that seemed to continue downwards for several dozen meters.

As they got on, slowly sinking further downward into the station, Nino started looking around. Each floor seemed to carry only a handful of vaults. It would be a long ride down to Vault 63. It was very quiet, not much more than the hum of the air purifying system and the gentle rattle of the escalators.

“Sakurai-san, I can’t help but notice that you’re a bit under-staffed here today.”

Sakurai, standing in front of them on the escalator, turned around smoothly. He rested his arm against the railing as they continued to descend.

“Perhaps you’ve forgotten our protocols here, Ninomiya-sama. I know it’s been a while since you first visited and made your deposit. I suppose you’ve forgotten about TOMA then?”

“TOMA?” Jun mumbled.

“Total Operating Module Alpha,” Sakurai said. “The artificial intelligence system that serves as our security.” They reached a new floor, turning and boarding the next steep escalator downward. Sakurai pointed to the security camera just above them, then to another one that was now behind them. “TOMA’s always watching, remember?”

Fuck, Nino realized. He ought to have done a bit more research. Or maybe Aiba could have given him a hint in the first place. There was no need for much human staff here if a computer was watching every inch of the place. It was the computer that would catch intruders and punish them as they saw fit, having the ability to lock the place down.

“Yes, of course. How silly of me,” Nino said, laughing his misstep away. “You see, Sakurai-san, I have my assets spread across a few different facilities like yours. You never know what might happen. Please forgive my little brain fart.”

“I completely understand.” They moved to yet another escalator. “I do apologize for the length of our journey today. The elevator has been on the fritz, but the escalators are always in good order. TOMA can be a little fussy from time to time.”

“Does that mean TOMA might miss an intruder?” Jun asked sharply.

Sakurai chuckled. “No. Not at all.”

The further down into the station they sank, the more nervous Nino became. Most of the floors this far down were completely dark, presumably to save on energy costs. As they approached on the escalator, the lights would go on. But as soon as they headed down to the next floor, they’d go out again. He looked up, seeing only the increasingly fading light from the docking bay level at the top.

They finally stepped away from the escalators, arriving at a floor that was marked Vaults 61-65. The lights flickered on, illuminating the metallic walls with their harsh, sickly glow. Sakurai held out a hand toward the curved corridor. With all the levels circular in shape, 63 was the furthest from their current position. He looked up, saw the security cam pointing at them as they walked.

They passed Vault 61, Vault 62.

Finally they reached their destination, looking no different from the ones they’d already passed. It was a gray door marked with a 63. To the left was a slot to insert a keycard and just above it, a small panel with an attachment jutting out that resembled a pair of binoculars.

Sakurai reached into the pocket of his slacks, holding up a familiar-looking black keycard.

“The new one?” Nino asked.

Sakurai smiled, holding it out to him. Nino took it and inserted it into the slot.

A computerized male voice emitted from a speaker just above the slot.

“Keycard registered to Ninomiya Kazunari. Confirmation granted. Please scan irises now.”

He moved to the binoculars, a bit annoyed at having to get up on his tiptoes to best position his face against it.

“What if I had it scan my eyes?” Jun asked.

“Then I’m afraid this entire level would be locked down. Steel doors can shut off access to the escalators and elevator in seconds. So I’d advise against doing that, Matsumoto-san,” Sakurai explained.

Nino heard the computerized voice again once he was looking into the scanner. He couldn’t see a damn thing, eyes struggling a bit to adjust to the darkness. The last thing he needed was a bad reading. “Please hold for ten seconds while your identity is confirmed.”

Nino continued to strain on his tiptoes, holding in a wince. He supposed the scanner had been installed for someone of Aiba’s height to look into it comfortably, since he’d been the one to set up the account.

TOMA kept counting down. “Seven. Six.”

“Kazu…” Jun said.

“Just a moment,” he grumbled.

“Four. three.”

“Kazu!” came a more insistent warning.

“Two. One. Identity verified, Ninomiya Kazunari. Confirmation granted.”

He leaned back, blinking as he heard the metal door slide open. But when he turned, he nearly jumped out of his skin.

Because Sakurai Sho had a plasma gun aimed right at Jun’s face.

“Many thanks, Ninomiya-sama. Not that I really needed your help, but I just wanted to see the look on your face. Ah, yes. That one. The one you’re making riiiiight now.” Sakurai’s smile was bigger than ever. “Gentlemen, please go on inside.”

Nino raised his hands just as Jun already had, turning to face Vault 63. Which, Nino discovered, was almost entirely empty save for what appeared to be two portraits of Aiba Masaki in golden frames…and a gagged Ohno Satoshi tied to a solitary chair in the center of the room, his eyes lighting up at their arrival.

“Come on,” Sakurai said. “Go on in, the gang’s all here now.”

Jun and Nino slowly entered the vault, moving their hands behind their heads as Sakurai celebrated his victory.

“Let me guess,” Nino muttered. “You don’t actually work here.”

“You know, I’ve been here for so long now that I’ve actually gotten used to the place,” Sakurai admitted, resting one hand on his hip while he kept the gun aimed in their direction. Unlike Kazama Shunsuke though, Nino had a feeling that Sakurai knew exactly how to use it. “When I got Aiba-chan’s message, I never thought I’d get so into my role. Perhaps I missed out on a promising career as an actor.”

“Perhaps not,” Jun replied icily.

“Ah ah ah,” Sakurai chided him, firing at the floor only inches from Jun’s feet. It made Nino jolt, but Jun stood firm as the black scorch mark appeared on the floor. “I won’t let you ruin this for me.”

“How do you know Aiba Masaki?” Nino asked.

“We go way back,” Sakurai said. “We could stand here all day reminiscing about the guy, but what I mainly remember is when he completely ruined my life. Ah, but that’s all in the past, I guess. He did inspire me to change careers. Without someone like Aiba-chan to admire, why, I might not be the outstanding thief I am today.”

“I’ve never heard of anyone named Sakurai Sho,” Nino said.

Sakurai shrugged. “That’s okay. I don’t go leaving a giant ’S’ on people’s walls or anything. Aiba-chan was in it for the glory. Me, I just like to travel.”

“Terrific,” Nino said, desperate to keep Sakurai from giving the portraits of Aiba in the corner a second look. “So since it’s pretty obvious to me that you’ve already cleared out all the valuables from this vault, do you have any villainous gloating to do before you take off and lock us in here? Care to explain how you’ve bested both me and this dipshit here?”

He gave Ohno’s chair a little kick, earning himself a glare in response.

Sakurai laughed. If Nino wasn’t so fixated on murdering the guy, he’d almost find his constant smiles and laughter downright charming.

“If you insist,” Sakurai replied with feigned humility. “As I said, I got a message from Aiba shortly before he died telling me that he was proud of how far I’d come, and that he’d heard of an exciting job opportunity. He gave me the coordinates for Makuharihongo and told me to quote ‘keep my special eye on the place.’”

“What does that even mean?” Jun asked, tempting another retaliatory shot at his foot.

Sakurai slipped his glasses off, still smiling as he pointed to his left eye. “Seems Aiba found out about my little secret. This one’s a fake, the newest tech. Got it a year ago after my first big score. I can crack any iris scanner from here to Kamakura.”

“For real?” Nino asked, feeling sick. “Like…you got rid of a perfectly good eye?”

“And you up and retired to run a crappy bar in the middle of a dumpy old space station? I don’t need you to judge my choices,” Sakurai shot back. “You know, I had time to do my research on you, Ninomiya, once I figured out your connection to Aiba. Plenty of time to settle in here and wait for you to bring me your keycard. Can’t say I saw the pink sandals coming, I’ll give you that, Ohno-san.”

Ohno struggled against his bonds, kicking in Sakurai’s direction with his foot. The pink sandal launched itself up the air, only to thud pathetically against the floor in the opposite direction from its intended target.

“Hey now, I was praising you. The mask and the contacts were really cool, even though I didn’t need them,” Sakurai told him with that shit-eating grin of his. “And since you brought me the keycard yourself, it gave me time to clear this place out without even needing Ninomiya’s help or having to print a new one. You have to give it to Aiba, he really knows the meaning of teamwork.”

Sakurai turned back to Nino, cocking his head.

“Is that enough villainous gloating or can I clear up anything else for you today?” he asked. “The thrilling tale of me overriding the security system here? The wonderful laughs I had after our video call? Or how about the employee I replaced when I settled in here? I sent Tabe-chan on a very long vacation.”

Sakurai brought his hand to his mouth with a theatrical gasp. Jun really had been right about Sakurai’s acting abilities.

“Oh goodness, that sounds like I killed her! But don’t worry. I didn’t. I just locked a few accounts, printed a few new keycards, and used my special eye to let her pick what she liked out of any vault she wanted before she left. I’m not a bad guy, just for the record!”

“We’ll agree to disagree on that,” Nino replied.

Sakurai laughed again. “Fair enough! Well then! I’ve got a fortune to go enjoy, courtesy of one Aiba Masaki. What a guy!”

He fired the plasma gun once more, and Nino nearly pissed his pants as the scorch mark appeared right in front of him.

“Gentlemen, it’s been a real pleasure to chat with you today. I’m afraid I only had the one chair to keep Ohno-san from escaping, so if you’ll stay where you are, Matsumoto-san, Ninomiya-san, I’m going to be leaving now.”

Sakurai kept the plasma gun trained on them, waving goodbye with his other hand as he walked backwards to the corridor and closed the door, locking the vault up with them inside it.


Part 2