Sword of Minerva (The Guild Wars Book 10) by Mark Wandrey (great books for teens TXT) 📕

contact, and then to the Japanese space navy unit Night Birds.

“You’re making me sound a little crazy.”

“We’re both a little crazy.”

“What about Dakkar?”

“We’ll find a hotel we can be sure he’ll stay out of trouble in.”

Sato made a face but then slowly nodded. “We can probably find somewhere to keep him buttoned up.”

<I can hear everything you are saying.>

“We’ll have to pick a place better than the kind of dumps we’ve been staying in,” Rick said.

“At least we can get Dakkar some fresh seafood to munch on.”

“After that last stunt he almost pulled back there, we should leave him to eat recycled food in the module.”

<Hello, I am right here!>

Rick looked at Sato, and the two grinned. They moved the module aboard the flyer and flew away from the port.

* * * * *

Chapter Eight

Rick’s points proved too difficult to counter. Ultimately Sato was forced to concede; having the Æsir-equipped former marine accompany him was smarter than leaving him to watch Dakkar.

They stopped off at a fish market first. It was now early morning in Tokyo, the ideal time for such a trip. The fishing ships had just offloaded their catches from the night, and a thousand vendors were selling all manner of sea life for consumption. The Japanese people, a massive population on a tiny chain of islands, had long ago learned to appreciate everything, from sea urchins to kelp.

As they maneuvered the long lines of stalls and tanks, Sato felt a memory tickle his mind, though nothing fully materialized. In the end, they settled for a bag of live crabs and another with half a kilo of seaweed. Dakkar kept up a running dialogue the entire time, everything from his desire to try several different crustaceans to how he didn’t appreciate them talking about him. Sato wondered if he should have left the two-way communicator off in the module.

Dakkar really wanted to eat the crustacea fresh out of the tank.

“Do you want us to pop your tank open in an open-air seafood market?” Sato asked.

“What difference does it make?” Dakkar asked.

“You look like seafood.”

Dakkar was quiet for a long pause. “Oh.”

An hour later via surface cab, they’d checked into a hotel. Sato found it via the Aethernet as specializing in aliens. When they’d pulled up to the hotel, a trio of MinSha were having an animated conversation. The three didn’t seem to pay any attention to the Humans and their cargo. At least Sato didn’t think so. Since the MinSha were similar to praying mantises, their compound eyes made it difficult to be sure what they were looking at.

As the hotel catered to aliens, there were no Human personnel. Instead, it was operated by bots exclusively, including at the door. A pair picked up the support module and loaded it onto a similarly robotic cart to be taken to their room. There wasn’t even a desk, only a Tri-V-style kiosk, where a simulated AI would answer any questions or requests.

“Modeled after a hotel you’d find on many space stations around the galaxy,” Sato said.

“How come there aren’t any like this in Houston startown?” Rick asked.

“Japanese are a little different in the way we adopt technology and processes.” Sato shrugged. “Goes back to the era of the Shoguns. In 1869, we were a feudal country; by 1900, a network of trains ran throughout the country, telegraph was in every city, and local rule replaced feudal lords. It happened really fast. Of course, it also created an overly patriotic attitude fueled by xenophobia. That didn’t end well.”

“World War II,” Rick said.

“And then some.” Sato might not remember much about his earlier life, but his memory of Japanese history and the never-quite-admitted atrocities committed in the name of the Japanese Empire were firmly on his conscience. After the war, the country had all but committed ritual seppuku for its former warrior spirit. It had taken nearly a century to find their will to defend themselves again. Of course, nuclear weapons had a way of adjusting your attitudes.

The hotel might be the most modern in Galactic Union terms, but it was also the smallest, reminding Sato about a fact of Japanese hotel rooms. Space was at a premium on an island nation, especially one of many hundreds of millions. Once the bots deposited Dakkar’s module in the center of the room, Sato and Rick had to carefully maneuver around it, as it took up nearly a quarter of the total floor space.

“Pretty tiny for 500 credits,” Rick muttered.

“This is actually fairly roomy for a two-bed,” Sato said. “Since you’re good standing or in a chair, I almost went for the one-bed, but there wouldn’t have been room for Dakkar.”

The module door popped with a hiss, and the Wrogul immediately surfaced. “Food?”

“Well, priorities first,” Sato said, and got the bag of crabs. Rick fished one out of the bag. He wasn’t concerned about the pincers. They were rubber-banded closed, and even if they slipped, the crab would shatter its claws on the alloy of Rick’s hands. He didn’t even get the flailing crab into the water before a tentacle shot out and relieved him of it.

“You’re welcome,” Rick said as the alien disappeared below the water to eat.

Sato helped ensure Dakkar had eaten his fill, eventually releasing the surviving crabs into the support tank, where they’d be sustained as well until its owner was hungry again.

Sato went around the room, inspecting the design. He’d known the alien architecture was on purpose to make off-world visitors feel more at home. However, he also knew it likely meant it was compatible with space borne construction. After a short time, he confirmed. “It’s airtight.”

“Why would they do that on a planet’s surface?” Rick asked.

“I doubt it was the intention. Likely it’s just a side effect