"What would you say is the most important piece of advice when dealing with a Samurai? I know, I know, read the book, but what's the single most important thing?"

"It's so important it's the only sentence on the first page of the book. 'Don't lie to a Samurai.' It's easy to remember. It rhymes in some languages. There are many reasons but from a practical point, their time is more valuable than yours, and your lie, no matter how small, may cost lives. If none of that matters to you, keep in mind that summary judgment and execution can happen in a blink of an eye. If for no other reason than enlightened self interest, don't lie to a Samurai."

Streamed interview with Best Selling author Mark Whetstone.

----------------------------------------

"Mylar. Care package for- How many you got here Mr. Wu?"

"Twenty-two stayed," Mr. Wu said. He almost jerked forward to bow again, but managed to stop himself. He dropped the, "Honored Samurai" after the second time Cold Brew asked him to.

"How many live here?" Cold Brew asked.

"Sixty-three," Mr. Wu said. He almost bowed again. It was almost comical.

"Mylar, care package for seventy," Cold Brew said.

Four massive crates appeared.

"Mostly it's nutri-packs and some blood cleaners. A couple of air cleaners. Read the provided instructions. And Mr. Wu, don't double up or hold off dosing the adults to save things for the kids as they get older. The stuff will all turn to goop in three or four days if it isn't used by then. It's a way to make sure people use it, instead of selling it."

Mr. Wu did bow then. "Of course we will accept the gift in the spirit it is given. I am shamed I have no gift of equal value to give you."

Cold Brew let out a loud laugh, "Ha ha ha ha. Mr. Wu you and your people have given me the greatest gift I can receive. Hope. You stood," Cold Brew turned to face the rest of the workers, "against xenos to protect your home. And you survived!" Cold Brew ramped up the last sentence in volume until he shouted the last word.

"Mylar six of the laser turrets, battery backup but city power connections, auto-target for Antithesis and rodents only. Self destruct if moved more than mile from this location."

Six tripods with comically small TV remote-sized metal tubes on top appeared. A roll of extension cord was rolled up beneath each.

"These should last thirty minutes or so once the power goes out if they are firing continuously. If they are on standby the batteries can last months. They will only target and fire upon Antithesis and rodents. If they travel away from this location, because of theft or any other reason they will stop working. You can mount them upside down from the ceiling if you want to cover more area."

Mr. Wu bowed several times before Cold Brew had to physically stop the man with a hand on his shoulder.

For as long as we spent in the sewers, it was the processing plant at the end that took the most time to clear. We probably killed two thousands rats in the course of clearing the massive facility. Most of it was run by automation, but it was old and crumbling and the whole of the facility took up six underground stories and one above ground story. On the surface there were also huge clarification and degassing ponds.

When we reached the surface, the sun was up, and the heat was suddenly oppressive again. He set the drones to work the ponds and he killed nine xenos and destroyed two seeds that we would have never known about except for the points.

When we were done Cold Brew said, "You'll want to see this."

All the drones Cold Brew had could fit inside the larger one, which could sort of matter compact or whatever into a bowling-ball-sized bag with a handle.

"Weights like six kilos," he said lifting it up and down a few times, "Coolest thing I've got but keeps me up at night honestly. Class two stuff is sort of sci-fi in what it can do, but some of the stuff class three can do is just- shit, magic I guess.

They we headed back inside to speak with Mr. Wu, where it wasn't much cooler, but it was shaded.

Now that we were back outside and free of other people Cold Brew looked at me, glanced at Sara and then said to me, "Well I've been putting it off for as long as I dare,"

A non-descript hovercar came to land near us which he didn't even glance at.

"Putting what off?" I asked glancing at Sara but she didn't appear to know, or if she did she wasn't reacting.

"Your name of course. Unless you want to name yourself, like Ninja- err, The Karate Kid now apparently. It's sort of a tradition for older Samurai to name the younger."

"Oh."

"Oh indeed. It's another one of those heavy weights of responsibility I was talking about. I could fuck your whole world up by picking poorly. But it's tradition and I've given it serious thought. So what do you say? Do you grant me the privilege of naming you?"

I glanced at Sara whose head nodded though she tried to turn it into a head bowing motion. Cold Brew caught it and was smiling.

I nodded, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Yes. I grant you the privilege of naming me."

"And you'll keep that name no matter how horrid it is for at least a year and a day?"

"umm,"

"I'm just messing with you," Cold Brew said, "Keep it until it's not who you are any more."

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"Okay," I said.

"I dub you," he said with some gravitas, "The Taxman!"

Then added quickly, "You know, like; The Taxman Cometh! and all that. I figured with you being a tax attorney and all. And the 'Judge' is taken and well 'The Lawyer' may strike fear into people, but I figured who is more frightening than a lawyer?"

"A taxman?"

"I get it you think it isn't a good fit, but remember what I told you the name is for, what it's really for?"

"For humans. To make us seem mighty, so they get out of the way of giants?"

"The Taxman has a sort of expectation to me. Someone whose coming to get their due. Maybe in the before times they weren't as scary. They sue you and take a cut of your wages, but now, they are just the biggest gang on the street and they will fuck you up when you owe and don't pay. Besides it's somewhat mysterious."

He waved a hand into the air.

"But its just a name. If you don't like it, earn a new one saving lives or planting trees."

"Umm. Thank you," I said slowly, then added. "umm thank you for everything for the information and the advice, and the blueprints and-"

"Reach out if you have more questions, or just to let me know how the beer is, and remember what I said. I was serious about it."

"Umm, don't fuck the fanatics?"

"Ha!" he barked out a laugh, "That too, but I meant helping in incursions in the water or jungle or whatever. Build points up, get used to what you know first. Then hook up with an experienced Samurai for that type of shit. Someone who can show you the ropes. It's such a different experience I literally cannot explain it well enough to do it justice. And yeah, don't fuck the fanatics. You got to remember you're going from a guy who could walk down the street and never be noticed to someone people will cross half the world to seek out. Women will want to fuck you for no other reason than you are a Samurai. It might sound great, and the attention is eye opening, but it's not YOU they want to fuck if you get my drift. It's the cape. Or the boots. Or the big ass laser gun. I'm here to talk about that shit if you need to. Just reach out. Your um, Max will know how to get in touch with me."

"And you, little cultist," he said turning to Sara, "Stay safe. You can't know how devastating it will be to him if he loses you."

Sara bowed deeply. When she came back up it wasn't fully upright.

"It has been a true honor to meet you," she said from the bow, not looking at him.

Cold Brew let out a long sigh and then looked at me. Then back at her.

"When did you know?"

"Ten minutes or so after meeting you," she said.

"And you told people already?"

"No sir," she said seriously.

"What was it? The laugh?" he asked.

"I collected the trading cards as a child," she said, "I recognized your face eventually." She was still bowing.

"I changed it for a while, but couldn't stand looking in a mirror. Still got them, the trading cards I mean?" he asked with a bit of hope in his voice.

"No sir," she said, "they were too valuable. We sold them as-" she stopped.

He sighed, "as you had the whole set."

He glanced at me but I didn't know what was going on.

"Look kid, I'd appreciate if you didn't tell anyone who I was. Keyword there being was, understand."

"Yes, sir," Sara said.

"Alright then. I'm off. Maybe I'll see you around. If not reach out if you have questions."

He took five strides, waited on the door to the hovercar, got in, and was lifting off even as the door was closing. Sara remained bowed until he left.

"Who was he?" I asked as soon as she stood up.

"He asked me not to tell anyone," she said seriously "I'll tell you if you ask again, but I'd rather you didn't."

I stood there for a moment looking at her, then turned my head and searched the sky, but he was already gone.

I walked over and got on the seat of the mobile shield wall and had Max drive both the carts.

"I figure we recover the Class Two weapons and gear the Commander went out for. Tackle any issues with the rez wanting to kick all the survivors off their land, and then sleep for two weeks."

We rode in silence for a while. The carts weren't fast. Eventually Sara spoke up.

"Paula says Mark was targeted and people know what floor of the Helios tower your offices are on. She's trying to move your client work load to other attorney's but having trouble with some of the more difficult cases. Dave was injured in the evacuation, something to do with his foot, though he should be fine eventually. Greg reported that Troy's face is all fucked up still but that he grew his eye back and can talk fine. He sent pictures, but it looks like he's getting better every day. Greg want's to know what he should do about you and Helios tower. He thinks it's better if you find someplace else to be for a while. Says there is no security in the world that he can get put in place there that will be, and I quote, 'worth a shit.'"

"Security?" I asked.

Sara had taken her helmet off, her hair matted with sweat as she ran her fingers through them and scratch at her scalp. I saw her turn her head and blink at me.

"You know your life has forever changed right? There are corps who would kidnap you and then willingly give you their CEO as sacrifice in the hopes you get into bed with them for rescuing you from a problem they created just so they could be the heroes. And he wasn't joking about the people wanting to fuck you, or the corpos trying to get you to sponsor shit. Your location being out means you'll have to deal with people day in and day out."

"But I have court cases."

"No you don't," Sara said with a sigh, "You can call the judge and tell them who is guilty and who isn't and how to rule. Hell you can go straight to the companies you are suing and force them to pay out or else, and no one is going to do a thing. Not unless they think they can kill a brand new Samurai who doesn't yet realize how dangerous the waters are in which he swims. And there will be people who think they can pull it off. And there will be people who CAN pull it off."

"More importantly though a General doesn't clean potatoes. You've been called to a higher duty. Every hour you deal with mundane things, is an hour you aren't dealing with Samurai things. And no one else can replace the work you could do as a Samurai. Besides, you won't get any rest at home or the office. Not now. Not when they know who you are."

"So I can't even go home and sleep?" I asked. I refused to admit, even to myself, that it sounded like childish whining.

"You've got a planet sized AI in your head, and there have to be cameras in your building. Take a look."

I few sub-vocalized words later and I was shown a hallway packed with men in suits sweating as they waited for me to return home. I probably should have changed my Samurai name to Anon or something right off. Not that it would matter. Hell it was probably someone I knew like Greg that-

"Did Paula sell the information you think?" I asked slowly. Yet as I said it I grew more sure.

"No. She wouldn't do that," Sara said seriously.

"Bet?"

"No," Sara said with a frown.

"She'd say, 'They were going to find out anyway, this way the charities get the credits instead of somebody else,'" and she'd be right.

"Sixty-three thousand credits," Sara said a moment later, "she didn't even try to deny it."

"Hahahah," I laughed.

Then a moment later it pulled out of me with a much longer laugh, "Ha ha ha ha hahaha."

The laugh triggered something. An end in the sewers perhaps. And end of combat. A moment in time I could look back at and say, "I survived that."

I. Was. Alive. and the joy of it filled me.

I cracked the helmet and pulled it off to take a deep breath of fresh air and almost gagged. I was covered in half the sewer and bought the smell with it.

"Max, show me my points," I said.

4200 points - 4 tokens.

"How the hell did that work out to a round number?"

Max showed me line after line of kills with break down on points and point splits and time stamps.

"I don't actually want to see it Max," I said with a smile as the HUD cleared. A moment later the points faded away as well.

The jubilant feeling faded slowly, and then my mood kept descending down towards depression and fears of inadequacy.

"I'm going to need help," I said softly.

"I'm here to serve," Sara said seriously.

A moment later she cleared her throat, and added, "That sort of sounded wrong. I meant help I didn't mean-"

I smiled and looked at her, "I know what you meant, and I appreciated it. And I need it. You saved a lot of lives today. And going back into the sewer to clear it out when I just wanted to rest, that was also the right call. I just wanted to say that, before shit gets chaotic again."