Sispyhus Rising
…more than just a memory…
It was late at night when the Sisyphus landed on Jiangyin, at the Taiyuan Docks just outside the town of Shanxi. The planet's three moons – Tongyi, Dangun and Rhilidore – were high and bright in the starry sky overhead as the ship came to rest in port. Shannon stretched in his seat, coaxing cramped joints and muscles back into use, and Jared bit back a wide yawn. It had been a long day, both in time and excitement, and the brothers were both looking forward to taking to their bunks.
"Wan an, Jared," Shannon said as he rose to his feet. "I need my bed."
"‘Night, Shannon," Jared responded as he hooked into the local Cortex network. "Sleep well."
Bare moments after Shannon had departed the bridge in search of sleep, Jared had found their contact's name in the database and had opened a wave. "Jared Leto of Sisyphus, waving Derrick Wilder," he said into the microphone embedded into the dashboard's Cortex panel.
"Wilder here."
On the Cortex screen was the face of a man nearing middle age. His hair was thinning slightly atop his head, crow's feet were present at the outer corners of his eyes, and a thick moustache hid a good deal of his mouth. Perched at the very end of his long nose was a pair of round rimless spectacles. "What can I do you for?"
"I believe you're having issues with fugitives here in Shanxi," Jared replied.
"Yes, that we are. And your team is here to solve those issues for us, correct?"
"Shì. I apologise for waving so late, but it was a long flight from Greenleaf and we've only just arrived."
"Think nothing of it," Wilder said. "Shall we meet at the Four Winds in the morning, then?"
"That sounds best. At what hour do you want to meet?"
"Let's say…" Wilder trailed off, and Jared figured he was consulting a clock. "How does nine sound to you?"
"That works for me," Jared said. "Nine it is, then."
"Do you require directions to the Four Winds?"
At this Jared shook his head. "I'm familiar with Shanxi. I don't believe it will be difficult to find."
"All right then. Wilder out."
The connection was severed, and the familiar flag of the Union of Allied Planets appeared on the screen. He knew from his history lessons in school that it was a combination of the old flags for the Earth-That-Was nations of the United States of America and the People's Republic of China, a reflection of the two cultures that had come together to become the ‘Verse. He rolled his eyes at it slightly before rising from his own seat and leaving the bridge.
On his way through to his bunk, he came across Taylor. The ship's lone passenger had fallen asleep at the kitchen table, sprawled forward in his seat across the worn surface. His head rested on the pages of an open book, and his back and shoulders rose and fell in time with his breathing. Across the tabletop stretched his left arm, bent slightly at the elbow, his fingertips falling just short of touching the opposite edge of the table.
Biting his bottom lip hard, and hating what he was about to do, he stepped forward and touched Taylor on his shoulder. To Jared's surprise Taylor's eyes popped open straight away.
"What time is it?" he asked as he sat up straight and rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his right hand. "And how long have I been asleep anyway?"
"It's a quarter to midnight," Jared replied as Taylor closed his book. "You've been asleep for around four or five hours."
"Jesus Christ," Taylor mumbled. "I had no idea I was that tired." He braced himself against the table with his right hand as he stood, and looked quickly around the kitchen once he had straightened. "Oh, please don't tell me I fell asleep at the table," he groaned. "Sorry."
"Don't be." Jared caught Taylor by the elbow as he stumbled slightly. "You needed to sleep – and you still do, otherwise it will take you even longer to heal. So do I, for that matter. It's been a very long day for all of us."
They parted ways at the door of Taylor's room. "Can I ask you a question?" Taylor asked before he stepped through the doorway, and Jared nodded. "This is probably going to make me sound like the universe's biggest idiot, but…" He looked briefly at his shoes. "What year is this? Because even I can tell that it's not 2012. It's not even Earth."
That must be his home year and planet, Jared realised. And it truly must have been something violent for him to have been flung so far forward in time. "It's 2512," he replied. "January nineteenth, to be exact."
As he spoke the date, Jared could have sworn he saw Taylor's eyes widen just a little in what could only be shock. Taylor nodded once and turned to go into his room, sliding the door closed behind him.
"Sleep well, Taylor," Jared said to the closed door before turning around to head through to the crew corridor and his bunk.
In the privacy of his own room, only then did Taylor finally show any sort of emotion – even if it was just to the floor, ceiling and walls. He collapsed against the wall just inside the doorway and slid down to the floor, closed his eyes tightly and drew in a harsh, hitching breath.
Five hundred years. He had been catapulted five full centuries into the future, into a world, a universe that he knew he had no hope of understanding on his own. The world he knew and his family were long gone, and for all he knew he was the very last member of his line still left alive – the last Hanson.
He knew he had missed out on so much. The birth of his third child, his son's first birthday, Rhiannon and Lucas' first days of school, their high school graduations…he bit back a quiet, grief-stricken sob. One of his biggest regrets in all of this was that he had not said a proper goodbye before he had left the house – and if he'd been able to live this day over again, he knew he would have.
"I miss you guys," he whispered miserably.
He let out a shaky breath and swiped the back of his right hand across his eyes. There was nothing to be done for it now. Staying up all night wouldn't help his wrist or his ribs to heal, he knew that much. And sitting on his backside on the floor wouldn't get him out of the mess he was in. Jared was right – he did need to sleep.
He pulled himself to his feet, using the wall to steady himself, and winced against a spike of pain in his side as he straightened. "Ow," he whispered. He pressed his hand gingerly to his left side, feeling his fractured ribs move under his palm as he breathed, and waited for the pain to die away before moving toward his bed.
So profound was his exhaustion that he was asleep almost before his head landed on his pillow.
"Derrick Wilder?"
The man sitting at a table in the corner of the Four Winds looked up from his tea. "Jared and Shannon Leto," he replied in recognition when he saw Jared and Shannon standing in front of him. "Sit down, please – would either of you like something to eat or drink?"
"Tea, please," Shannon replied as he and his brother seated themselves. Derrick caught the attention of a passing waitress and held up two fingers, to which the waitress nodded and hurried off. She returned quickly with a ceramic teapot, two cups and two saucers, setting them in the centre of the table.
"To business, then," Derrick said as the brothers poured tea for themselves. He reached into a pocket and drew out a handheld, placing it in the middle of the table. "What I desire from you is simple – capture Leopold Roxburgh and his accomplices, alive if at all possible, and return them to custody."
"Are either of them a flight risk?" Shannon asked as Jared leaned forward to study the handheld.
Derrick nodded. "All four fugitives are, and they've had monitoring chips implanted beneath the skin of each of their right wrists. They haven't attempted to leave Jiangyin just yet, but once they even make an attempt at breaking atmo you'll know straight away."
While Shannon and Derrick negotiated the terms of the job, Jared spent his time committing the appearances and personal details of their quarry to memory.
They were chasing three men and one woman. The leader of the gang was a fierce-looking character with a shaved and tattooed head and cold grey eyes, almost akin to an old Earth-That-Was skinhead. Both of the other men definitely looked like people Jared wouldn't want to meet late at night in a dark alley – one was blonde with brown eyes, the other had black hair and green eyes. All three men had very sour looks on their faces.
The lone woman of the group looked strangely familiar. She wore her light brown hair cropped close to her head, and Jared thought she might have been pretty – or even beautiful – if not for the scowl that twisted her face. A long, jagged scar ran along the left side of her jaw, marring her pale skin.
But it was her eyes that stood out. A clear, bright blue, they were strikingly similar to the pair possessed by the Sisyphus' resident Traveller. But where Taylor's eyes were warm and friendly – or at least Jared believed they might be were they not shadowed, as they currently were – these eyes were much akin to two small chips of ice, cold, cruel and uninviting.
"Jared."
He tore his focus away from the handheld to find Shannon and Derrick watching him. "Sorry," he apologised, and indicated the handheld. "May we borrow this?"
"Dangrán," Derrick consented. "I will need it back at the conclusion of the job, but I'm quite happy to leave it temporarily in your capable hands."
"So it's agreed, then?" Shannon said as they concluded the meeting. "The two of us, along with other parties if we require assistance, will track down the fugitives and return them to custody. And in return, you will pay us five thousand platinum – two-five now, and the balance when the job is completed."
"That's correct," Derrick confirmed. "I'll have the coin transferred into your account by the afternoon." The three stood up, all having finished their tea, and Derrick shook hands with the brothers. "A pleasure doing business with you both."
Their business concluded, Jared and Shannon left the Four Winds and started to head back through Shanxi to the ship. As they walked Jared studied the handheld again, slowly paging through the law enforcement files on their quarry. It was going to be an interesting job, and already he was beginning to make a mental list of what they would need to complete it.
Sarika and Taylor were sitting in the entryway of the ship when Jared and Shannon arrived back at the Sisyphus, both of them bent over a pile of coloured cards. "What exactly are you two doing?" Shannon asked as he stepped onto the loading ramp.
"Taylor's teaching me to play UNO," Sarika replied without looking up. "And I'm beating him." She pulled a card out of her hand and dropped it on the untidy pile between them. "Draw four blue," she said, eliciting a groan from Taylor. "And UNO."
"That's not fair," Taylor grumbled. "I should never have taught you how to play this game." He reached across to a much neater pile of cards and slipped four off the top, adding them to the many cards already in his hand.
"And I win!" Sarika said triumphantly as she dropped her final card – a blue 7 – onto the discard pile. "That was fun Taylor, thank you."
"You're welcome," Taylor replied. He started to gather up the cards into a neat stack, combining them with the draw pile and those in his hand. "I'm not going to go so easy on you next time, just be warned."
"Thanks for the warning," Sarika said cheerfully. She hopped to her feet, dusting off the back of her skirt as she moved. "So is the job worked out?"
"It is," Shannon replied. "You can go wander around the docks and markets now if you like. Jared and I are going to wave a few people to see if we can get a Tracer on crew for the job."
"Shiny," Sarika said happily. "You want to come, Taylor?"
Taylor didn't answer at first, instead focusing on packing his playing cards away and then getting to his feet without falling over and breaking more ribs. "You don't mind me tagging along?" he asked as he stowed the pack of cards away in a pocket.
"No, of course I don't mind," Sarika assured him.
"If you're sure, then okay." He glanced down at himself, wishing not for the first time that some clothes other than what he'd been wearing since the morning before had come to the future with him. That would be his first port of call, providing he could borrow a little bit of money.
"And before you ask, Rika, you can have some money to go shopping," Shannon told Sarika. "Get Taylor here some clothes while you're at it, I suspect most of his are drifting halfway across the galaxy."
Taylor could have sworn that Sarika's eyes lit up when Shannon spoke the word ‘money', and he suppressed a chuckle. Every time he looked at Sarika or heard her speak he was reminded time and again of Caroline, but in a good way – she embodied all of Caroline's positive qualities.
"How much?" Sarika asked immediately.
Jared and Shannon looked at each other. "I think we still have half a thousand platinum left over from the last job," Jared replied. "The money's in one of the coffee cans in the kitchen, it'll be the one that rattles. Take it, and do what you like with it."
"Yes, sir!" Sarika said happily. She ran up the landing ramp and into the ship, returning around five minutes later with a leather satchel. "Come on Taylor. This money ain't gonna spend itself."
Save me, please, Taylor mouthed at Jared and Shannon as Sarika latched onto his right wrist and started to drag him down the loading ramp. Shannon shook his head and chuckled as he started walking up into the ship, Jared following his lead not long afterward.
"First things first," Sarika said as she and Taylor entered the docks' markets. She cast an eye around at all of the nearby stalls, presumably hunting for one in particular. "There!" she said happily and grabbed Taylor's wrist again, pulling him across to a tent-like enclosure. Hung on wires strung across the tent's ceiling and on racks lining the walls were a wide array of clothing. Taylor bit back a groan, knowing that Sarika was only trying to help him out but hating it anyway.
"Zao shang hao," the stall's proprietor greeted them.
"Zao shang hao," Sarika replied. "What would you have in the way of men's clothing?"
While Sarika and the stallkeeper talked, their speech shifting seamlessly and effortlessly between English and Chinese, Taylor did a little exploring of the stall. Even if he hadn't known he was in the future, he definitely did now – and he finally understood why he had been on the receiving end of so many strange looks. Just from a cursory glance he could see clothing from Asia (or what had been Asia), army gear, the old American West, and even a few pieces styled to look like they had come from the Victorian era. Not any of the clothes he could see were anywhere close to what could be considered the style of the twenty-first century.
But a long coat hanging in a dark corner caught his eye, and he walked across to have another look. He wasn't about to reach up and take it down, not knowing if the stallkeeper had a ‘you touch it, you bought it' policy in place, but it was brown leather and looked to be long enough that on him, it would just about reach his knees.
"You don't want that one."
He looked back over his shoulder to see Sarika coming up behind him. "Why don't I want it?" he asked. "I've always wanted a leather jacket."
"Taylor, for the love of Buddha, you need to trust me on this. You don't want it."
Taylor was about to ask why he wouldn't want it when the stallkeeper joined them. "You are Browncoat, yes?" she asked upon seeing what her customers were looking at.
"No," Sarika replied vehemently. "Neither of us are. And I'll thank you not to make that sort of insinuation."
The stallkeeper bowed her head. "Wo bú shì gù yì de," she said, her tone deferential.
Sarika shook her head and waved off what Taylor could only assume was an apology. "Suàn le," she replied diswavely. "Come on Taylor, I found a few things you might like."
They left the stall about ten minutes later, Sarika stowing her purchases in her satchel as they walked, and Taylor took the opportunity to ask his interrupted question.
"So why exactly wouldn't I have wanted that jacket? And what's a Browncoat anyway?"
Sarika stopped walking abruptly and stared at Taylor for close to a minute. "You're kidding me, right?" she asked, incredulous.
"I'm not kidding."
"Wo de ma hé ta de fengkuáng de wàisheng dou," she muttered.
"Can you speak English, please? I don't understand Chinese."
As soon as those words left Taylor's mouth, he found himself on the receiving end of a very intense stare. "It's Mandarin," Sarika corrected. "And how the dìyù can you not know Mandarin? Didn't you go to school?"
"Of course I went to school," Taylor replied, feeling somewhat insulted. "I went to college too. Doesn't mean I had the chance to learn Mandarin. I learned Spanish instead."
Sarika dropped her bag on the ground and covered her face with her hands. "Jingcai," she groaned. "Come on, back to the ship. I think it's time I had a word with Jared and Shannon."
She picked up her bag and led the way back to the ship, weaving and wending her way between stalls as she went. Taylor followed as closely as he could, which wasn't easy considering how fast Sarika was moving. "Can you slow down a bit, please?" he called out as he tried to match her pace.
"Wo duì ni bù wén bù jiàn," Sarika called back, not even bothering to slow down.
The morning before, when she had first met Taylor, there had been something about him that she hadn't been quite able to put a finger on. Now, though, after finding out that he not only had no idea what a Browncoat was, but that he didn't know Mandarin, she was pretty sure she had a reasonable idea of what exactly was going on with him. Not only that, she was almost certain that Jared knew the whole story. Now it was only a matter of getting him to admit it.
+++
Translations
Mandarin:
wan an: good night
shì: affirmative
dangrán: of course
zao shang hao: good morning
wo bú shì gù yì de: it was not my intention
suàn le: forget it
wo de ma hé ta de fengkuáng de wàisheng dou: holy mother of God and all her wacky nephews
jingcai: brilliant
wo duì ni bù wén bù jiàn: I neither see nor hear you
Slang:
atmo: atmosphere
Browncoat: a soldier in the Independent Factions, so named for the brown coats worn as part of their uniform