“Actually, dear, I do have a backup,” the captain told her. “But don’t spread that around. If people realize that you’re wired for uploading you lose half the advantages. Alice, I don’t suppose that your fathomless library of enhancements includes such a feature?”
“I don’t think so, sir,” I answered slowly, as I considered what my instincts were telling me. “At least, not to standard hardware. Software backups are too big a security risk. Anyone who has access to the data could use it to make extra copies of you, and even edit their memories or personality. Mom was too paranoid to trust anyone that much. I think I’m going to have a, um, what? A hardware backup option? How does that… oh gosh, that’s so embarrassing! Um, anyway, it doesn’t matter. I can’t do it yet. My, um… the fabricator it uses isn’t fully developed.”
I just knew I was red as a tomato.
“What could be so embarrassing about a fabricator that makes hardware backups?” Naoko asked cluelessly.
Chief West looked mystified too. Captain Sokol took in my expression, and gave me a sympathetic look.
“Eggs?”
I nodded and looked away, mortified.
“Ahem. Yes, well, as the capability is not yet available, there’s no need to discuss the matter further.”
Thankfully, the others let it drop. Crash, Mom, what were you thinking? Yeah, being able to survive getting killed would be nice. But laying eggs that can hatch into another me? What kind of weirdo comes up with stuff like that?
I resolutely ignored the little voice pointing out that it was the obvious design, since I needed a fancy fabricator down there anyway if I wanted to be able to have babies that were like me. No, that feature was obviously designed by a man. Wait, no, that was even more embarrassing to think about. Shut up, Alice. Stop thinking about some group of engineers having meetings to talk about the design of your private parts. Just listen to the captain.
“We will remain on the ship until I receive confirmation of my appointment,” he was saying. “That will likely take several hours, perhaps even a day or two if the oyabun is busy. Once we know when we are expected we will take the Speedy Exit down, and time our arrival so that we are not left at loose ends for any great length of time.
“Chief West will be in charge of security for the mission, obviously. The customs of the Masu-kai allow human petitioners to be accompanied by a bodyguard, and he will be filling that role for me. Unfortunately it would be rude to appear in powered armor accompanied by warbots, so we shall have to be rather low-key in our choice of equipment. I recommend attractive but tasteful clothing and sidearms for both of you.”
“Could I bring Emla as my bodyguard, sir?” I asked.
He seemed surprised at the suggestion, but after a moment of thought he nodded. “Yes, Alice, you could do that if you wish. Bringing your own bodyguard would imply a certain separation between yourself and the Square Deal, emphasized by the brevity of our association. If matters go badly for the ship you might escape repercussions, so long as you are respectful in all of your own interactions with the Masu-kai.”
“Is she really up to that job, though?” Chief West put in. “I could set you up with a pretty good security bot. Humanoid chassis, class two AI and as much firepower as you can fit into something that looks human.”
“Emla’s new body is a lot better than anything normal,” I told him. “She’s tougher than a breeching bot, and better armed too. Not to mention that she’s a class four. I’d rather have a loyal friend at my back than a bot any day.”
“Well, if you’re sure,” he said dubiously.
“Simply having an obvious protector will deter most threats,” Captain Sokol said. “As your bodyguard she may wear armor, but I’d suggest something lightweight. Now, here’s how the audience will go.”
He walked us all through the etiquette of visiting the court of the Masu-kai, which was a lot more complicated than I would have expected. Thugs and criminals aren’t usually known for their smooth social graces, but these guys were different. They could trace their origins all the way back to pre-space Japan, and they considered themselves some kind of nobility. Not that anyone else took their pretensions seriously, but when you’re visiting a crime lord’s palace you’d better address him by whatever title he tells you to.
Something about the way these yakuza aped the customs of their betters really grated on me at first, until I asked what the basis of their claim was.
“Oh, they have quite an elaborate mythology about their clan history. I’m afraid we lack the time to discuss it at the moment, but I believe I still have a copy of the data. Ah, yes. Here, you may find it interesting.”
He sent me a link to a collection of data files, which I found were an assortment of history books published over a span of two hundred years. The earliest ones had a few chapters documenting the flight of several families of wealthy industrialists from Old Earth during the Kaiju War, and their subsequent efforts to smuggle survivors out of Japan under the noses of their foreign conquerors. The later ones covered their attempts to make a new home in space, and how their descendants had eventually ended up running a major crime syndicate in the Outer Sphere. It was a long and sordid tale, but it was the genealogy behind their claim to nobility that got my attention.
They had rescued a daughter of the Imperial family during the occupation? Yes, and years later she’d given up on finding another survivor of the Imperial line and married one of her rescuers. The current Oyabun and his family were all ultimately descended from her.
Noble yakuza. I was incensed. What did they think they were doing, sullying the Imperial bloodline with such a base profession? They should have built a new kingdom to rule! Or just taken over one of the Japanese colonies that were dotted all over human space. If they’d done something like that instead of running off to the Deep Black like a bunch of cowards they might even have found one of the other branches of the Imperial family that survived Earth’s first collapse, and reunited poor Rika with her clan.
I realized I was a heartbeat away from going on a rant, and stopped to take a deep breath. Why was this affecting me so much? Why did I care what some ragged band of survivors from a long-dead nation did with themselves?
Why did it feel like I already knew most of what Captain Sokol was telling us about Masu-kai customs?
Okay, obviously there must be some Japanese cultural data stuffed away in the darker corners of my subconscious. That was one of my native languages, too. So, maybe Mom was from a Japanese colony? It seemed to fit. Mom had looked kind of Japanese, even if she did have a Western name. She’d been all slender and elegant, like upper-class Japanese women are supposed to be. I could easily grow up to look like that too.