A Chance Meeting

  "Look at that view, Miss Hoki," Una O' Conchabhair said with a smile.

  I stepped over to the port window; beyond it was the round, white shape of the moon, with all its little pockmarks and the minuscule gleam of city domes.

  "It's very beautiful indeed. I visited the moon once during cadet training."

  Una's young eyes sparkled under her purple hair, "Really?! I'd love to go there someday. What was it like?"

  "Well, we were mostly there for practice with space training. But we did have a few days free here and there," I trace the shape of the moon in the window pane, "I've thought about asking Scarlet about that day from time to time, but she'd probably just laugh at me,"

  "I'm not sure I follow?"

  "Oh well, I suppose I could tell you - it was a rather exciting day for me at the time. Let's get some tea, shall we?"

  ****

  I was younger then, more, well, naive, you could say.

  It was my first time off planet for me and my friends. We set out into this strange foreign city with a whole lot of vim and vigour. It's almost embarrassing to remember how ‘young’ we all were.

  Oh, the shops, Una! We went to all sorts of places. The moon is known as the hub of new-wave fashion, stuff no one in my home country would have been seen dead wearing, but we were enamoured. We went from shop to shop and tried on everything we could. These dresses with vivid colours and sort of plastic decorations that would mesh and flow. It's probably out of fashion now, but then it was the height of 'hip.'

  The city was beautiful, a real mix of cultures refined over time. The moon is the oldest civilisation after Bhaile and Abhaile. And well, unlike Abhaile, TSU put a bit more effort into cultivating it. There were heated pavements wherever you went and bright open spaces between buildings, with a range of mixed architecture - Klachien arches, Felden brickwork.

  But the best part Una, was simply looking up. The capital is built directly under a dome, and the main boulevard is right underneath its apex. You look up, and all you see is the beautiful sky above: stars or the planets or any number of incredible sights depending on the time of day. That may have overwhelmed me because I got lost. All these years later, and that still feels a little bit embarrassing - one moment, my friends and I were giggling our way through every store - the next, I was alone in a foreign city.

  I panicked a little inside. There's just something lonely about being surrounded by unfamiliar sights and sounds. That's how I stumbled into him, literally.

  "Oh, sorry," I said. I'd walked into a man taller than myself, which is saying something. For his part, he didn't even flinch, instead offering his hand. "No, I should have been more careful. My apologies, Miss."

  I took the handshake a little shyly. He wasn't just tall either; broad shoulders, long legs - a musculature evident in his build and a face with a rugged charm to it. You know I don't swing that way, but I can still tell when I'm looking at someone quite handsome.

  "Are you perhaps lost?" he asked when I didn't say anything.

  Snapping out of my stupor, I nodded, "Ya, I guess I am, haha..."

  He smiled this slow, warm smile. "Well, it’s my first time in this city, too, but I happen to know a rather good view. Perhaps you could spot your destination from there?"

  I'm a little ashamed to admit I accepted this offer. He was a total stranger and evidently not a local. Clothing-wise, he wore this green jacket that almost looked military and a big warm overcoat. His hair, a greenish-grey colour I had never seen before, was kept in a neat wolf tail of sorts. Quite the dashing ensemble.

  He took the lead, and I fell into step beside him. Perhaps I was just grateful to have someone to follow. I've never been the best at being alone in my own company.

  "Your hands are awfully calloused; do you perhaps practise material arts?" I said - it wasn't just that, though; the gait of his walk and his muscle structure, as I mentioned before - all gave the impression of a practitioner.

  He seemed surprised, but that soon faded when he glanced at my own hands, "Ah, a fellow student, is it? As it happens, I do practise the sword, yes. An old school from Bhaile, the name lost over the years. It’s gone now, though. I could well be its last member."

  "Oh, that's unfortunate. I'm from the Bachika school myself!"

  "The bow and arrow, then? Respectable, but I've always found the blade more… personal."

  I leered at him, "Hmph, more brutal, perhaps. A savage weapon."

  He grinned, "As aversed to a coward off in the distance?"

  We glared at one another before bursting out in laughter, "You're alright, mister. It's nice to meet one of my kind all the way out here."

  He looked at me thoughtfully, "Yes, and what a nice turn of phrase you have. Perhaps if everyone thought in terms of material artist or not, we could avoid all sorts of conflict."

  At the time, I was a little bit lost on that comment, but in retrospect, I suppose he meant our race. His accent made him a clear Abhailien, and mine was a dead giveaway to my Bhailien-ness.

  I guess at that age, despite The First War having been so recent, I still didn't really think about how much tension and resentment existed between different people. Back then, the idea of more wars never factored into my mind, strange when you consider I was a TSU cadet.

  I was about to get a crash course in that racial disparity, whether I wanted it or not. Just ahead of where we were strolling was a small crowd and the sound of pain.

  Pushing our way to the fore was an absolutely abhorrent site awaiting us. On the ground was a man with lightly tan shaded skin, probably Abhailen, and bleeding. A Stab wound in his side, and standing above him, four men, ruthlessly laughing and kicking the grounded man.

  I didn't so much think as leap into the fray, striding right up the nearest man and pulling him back.

  "Oi, you want somen’ missy?" he snarled like some bit-part punk.

  "What do you think you are doing to this man?" I said.

  "Relax, he's a filthy Abhailen," the thug said with a shrug and went in for another kick - I was faster - I spread my legs firmly, twisted my waist and shot my arm out with a nice twist. You know my family specialises in archery Una, but we do quite a bit of training in other forms aside from that, which comes in handy sometimes.

  The man took the blow to the ribs with a grunt. Another second, and he'd turned to take a swing at me. He was fast; I'd give him that much, but not fast enough. I shifted my weight and grabbed the incoming right hook, twisted, and, using his own weight against him, flung him over my shoulder and onto the ground hard.

  The crowd… booed.

  I kept my eye on the guy’s other friends, who had stopped kicking the Abhailen and seemed to be heading my way, but the crowd’s reaction was unexpected.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  "What'd you do that for?!"

  "Abhiailien sympathiser!"

  "Maybe she is one; you never know with their mixed-race shit."

  "Mongrels, the lot of 'em."

  Someone threw a soda can. He knocked it aside.

  Stepping out of the crowd and coming to my side was my strange new friend, "Isn't this a little too close to the action for you?" he said with a smirk.

  "Heh, I thought you were staying at the back, afar from the fun."

  "Wouldn't dream of it."

  Together, we took on the remaining trio, including the one with the knife. Honestly, though, the man hardly needed my help. He was without his sword in much the same way I lacked a bow, but his hand-to-hand combat was flawless - no openings, no wasted movement - his eyes saw everything, and his ears heard every step.

  By the time all four goons were scampering away, licking their wounds, I realised that I was in the presence of a master, not just some wandering student.

  "I take it one of you has at least called the police on us. Can I expect even that much of you? Good, hopefully, they'll bring an ambulance for this poor bastard," my new friend said to the now much meeker crowd, the scorn saturating his voice.

  While he did that, I checked the man as best I could. The wounds and bruises didn't look fatal, at least.

  "Come on," he said to me, "Better make a run for it."

  Well, that was quite bold of me, I appreciate. We'd done nothing wrong, so I should have done the civic thing and waited for the police, but... well, his offer was very charming, what can I say? Hand in hand, we booked it down the side street.

  ****

  We zigzagged through a half dozen blocks like lunatics. In retrospect, my friend seemed very good at evasion, as if he knew where to go and had routes planned in advance.

  Once he'd decided we were far enough, we stopped running and walked casually to a little coffee kiosk. I guess that is a good way to blend in with the crowd.

  Before long, he returned and handed me a matcha; it was like we’d never run across a quarter of the city at all. The drink in question was all the fad at the time. It was very sugary, maybe a bit immature, but I was parched all the same.

  As we walked more casually, apparently back in search of this view of his, it dawned on me that I'd fought thugs by his side but didn't even know his name; when I asked, he hesitated slightly, "Smidth... Kiyo Smidth. And you, Miss?"

  Back then, I didn't really feel the weight of my title. Being heiress to the Bachika Clan was still just a fact of life, so with boastful pride, I announced it, "Hoki Bachika."

  "You mean like?"

  "Yup, yup!"

  "Well I'll be, ‘never thought I'd meet a main family member from one of the Bhailein schools. What an odd day."

  I was embarrassingly pleased by his reaction, so it took me a few moments to process something, "Ya know, there was a famous swordsman called Kiyo once."

  "Oh, is that so?" Mr Smidth replied a little shiftily.

  "I read about him in my studies; he was the last practitioner of the Kigen school. But he disappeared. Rumour said he went to Abhaile during the first mass migration there, but that's only speculation."

  "Probably just a story."

  "Probably, but imagine it. You said your school is nameless, but maybe it's a descendant of the Kigen Clan, and if so, maybe your parents named you in homage! That'd be so cool, don't you think so, Kiyo?"

  You might think me a bit of a dunce, Una, but this was a couple of years before the Remembrance Incident, before Supreme Commander Kiyo Kigen became infamous as much more than a rumour. Back then, the name meant nothing to most people.

  My companion just shrugged, "That would be something. More pressingly, I see our destination."

  "You do, where? ...Ah!" it dawned on me like a lightning bolt. We'd been gradually heading towards the very centre of the city and, by proxy, beneath the apex of the glass dome above.

  "Is it open to the public?"

  "It's not closed to the public," he said simply. He wasn't wrong. Feeling a bit criminal, we began climbing the ladder around the central pillar, the massive metal column that rose from the ground all the way up.

  "Say, what is it that you do?" I said, bored halfway up the climb with no end to the steps in sight; it was quite a tall structure.

  "I'm a surveyor." Kiyo said ahead of me, "I evaluate whether buildings, satellites and so on are suitable for… redevelopment."

  "Really? Do you get to travel much for something like that?"

  "Oh yes, yes indeed. I've visited almost every corner of the solar system, even Ghealeach City, before it was destroyed. Well, everywhere except there," he said as he came to a stop.

  I stepped up beside him and followed his gaze. We were wonderfully high up, an observation or maintenance deck just a few metres beneath the doom itself, so much higher than the city's tallest buildings.

  Being so close to the dome made Bhaile's rich blues and verdant greens feel so very near; they were as beautiful as the city spread around us.

  Kiyo cupped his hand over a cigarette and lit it. He gave me an apologetic look and said, "I am trying to quit them; they just remind me of better times."

  "Oh, you mean like before the war?"

  He nodded solemnly. I'd come to the conclusion he was probably Abhailein. It was a guess, of course, but that was the vibe I was getting. "A friend and I used to sneak out to share a smoke nearly daily. Our drill sergeant hated us," he added with a laugh.

  "So you were a soldier?"

  He nodded again.

  I leant against the railing, gazing upon the city below. "Did you know these central towers are completely pointless? The dome is entirely structurally sound; the tower just makes people ‘feel’ safer, as if it’s holding up the sky."

  Kiyo smirked, "Yup. If anything, it makes the dome weaker. If you destroy the tower, you can ruin the entire structural integrity of the glass. Humans, we're funny like that. Have you spotted your lodgings yet?"

  "Yup, just over there," I pointed to the East, towards the docks. Kiyo humed, "Ah, good. Will you be able to get back?"

  I held up my handheld, "I'll take a few photos; it should be easy with those. Where are you headed?"

  He pointed his chin to the west, the warehouse district. "Use those archer’s eyes of yours, what’cha see?"

  I pouted a little at that, feeling teased, "Most swordsmen have plenty good eyes, but alright," I said. It was pretty far away, so I couldn't see much. Some slanted-roof buildings, little fenced compounds, ordinary stuff.

  "Those fuel tanks are a bit exposed, not regulation at all."

  "Very good, you're a fast one. That's where I'm headed: building evaluation. I like to get a bird's eye view first, and luckily for me, every single dome city has a tower like this, which makes things easy to scout out."

  "Huh, ya, I can see how that would be."

  "Well then," he stubbed out the cigarette on a little tin box from his coat pocket and offered me his free hand. At that moment, I felt rather melancholic. It wasn't often you met someone new who shared your interests and gelled with you off the bat.

  "Yes, I suppose this is where we split up." I took his hand, and we shook firmly.

  "You never know," I added, “Maybe when the war is long forgotten, the borders will lighten, and you can finally visit Bhaile. You could come East and see the old material arts schools in person."

  He'd smiled a slow, sad smile at that, "Maybe, but I fear that chance may have slipped me by for good."

  With my impromptu map in hand, I did successfully make it home. My friends gave me hell, worried I'd been mugged or something and complaining that I should have just used the inbuilt map system every handheld has - that part was quite embarrassing.

  After that strange day, I never did meet Mr Kiyo Smidth again, but that wasn’t the end. The entire class was summoned to the entrance hallway, and the instructors began telling us how the police had gotten a report of a foreign cadet embroiled in a street fight. I was getting ready to own up when the mother of all explosions happened. Let me tell you, Una, it was ridiculously loud - you can't imagine!

  The city went into a panic, and the electricity was gone about a second after everyone’s hearing returned. Our moon trip was cut short, and there was no time for the instructor to ever get a confession from me.

  We'd learn the next day, as we prepared to go home, that the warehouse district had been completely blown up. It was chalked to a terrorist attack at the time, but a few months later, when the Remembrance Incident broke out, people would speculate it could have been a trial run for the guerilla tactics that faction would go on to use so effectively.

  His build, his way of talking and fighting, the look in his eye when we spoke atop that view - I can't help but look back and wonder who that man might have been, but I suppose it doesn't really matter anymore, does it? Our world is full of funny little meetings like that.

  Even so, an image of him comes to my mind so readily: His great coat blowing in the breeze, a cigarette in his hand - and an almighty explosion at his back.

  END