Randall N. Bills - Black Mist Rising 4

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BATTLECORPS

BLACK MIST

RISING

Chapter Three

By Randall N. Bills

BATTLECORPS

Black Mist Rising - Chapter 3 • Page 2

Near Imperial City, Luthien

Pesht Military District, Draconis Combine

1 September 3067

Shin Yodama walked alone through the frantically-industrious

warehouse-sized assembly plant. Pulled a four-wheeled mainte-

nance dolly behind him, the loose front wheel creaking as it spun

awkwardly and gave him an occasional tug, as though a pup

testing its master’s leash. Marveled once again at the size of the

facility.

He could easily have hidden enough DropShips to transport his

entire Izanagi Warriors regiment amidst the gargantuan space—if

not for all the machinery occupying most of the ﬂoor—and still

have room for enough additional transport craft for the Otomo as

well…perhaps even more.

The brand new Isesaki Shipping satellite assembly plant, built for

its new Roku Royal II tracked landtrain, was exceptionally impres-

sive, especially considering how eerily absent the facility was of

people. Unlike so many facilities in the endless Industrial District

near Imperial City which continued the long tradition of using

a large stream of human labor—slave labor, some whispered—

Isesaki made the rather progressive move to almost complete

automation for the new pride of their growing business empire.

Servos whined and the huge mag-rail conveyer system hummed

along at a good pace, running parts and half-ﬁnished mechanisms

around the factory. The sound of his boots clomping against fer-

rocrete he knew to be almost ﬁve meters thick hardly reached his

ears. Course, might not even hear tap shoes over the din. He smiled,

continued walking. His right hand behind him, he absentmindedly

smoothed the neon-blue singlesuit with his left, the ghost of a

pinky tip tingling with remembered pain causing him to jerk his

hand away. Stop.

He glared at his pinky. Cleverly manufactured latex—and a hint

of make-up—made it appear as though the wound was years old.

No evidence of the nightly use of a preserving sleeve and constant

injection of some liquid (didn’t want to know!) to speed recovery.

He grimaced.

Have to remember. Years old. And I’m no longer Shin Yodama.

Taro. Taro Toguchi. Hai. Hai!

That’s my name.

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摘要：

BATTLECORPSBLACKMISTRISINGChapterThreeByRandallN.BillsBATTLECORPSBlackMistRising-Chapter3•Page2NearImperialCity,LuthienPeshtMilitaryDistrict,DraconisCombine1September3067ShinYodamawalkedalonethroughthefrantically-industriouswarehouse-sizedassemblyplant.Pulledafour-wheeledmainte-nancedollybehindhim,t...

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