Causality and casualty

[jammi]

Kyou Isamu, Junsa-chō of the Kusari State Police was on patrol around the industrial sector of Nichinan City - the equatorial spaceport city of Planet Kyushu. The additional insignia resting on his shoulder epaulet that gave him his chō status had been granted to him by the Chōkan, Tomimoto Tachiko, for exemplary service. Mostly it was based on his conduct in the face of political ambiguity, when he'd rescued a Kishiro Geisha he'd run across being attacked by a small group of Hogsha thugs. Politics shouldn't impact on the law.

He'd returned home on leave that week to tell his parents about his promotion. His father, Hiroko was furious with him. Firstly for daring to sunder the reputation of the Samura kiretsu's samurai and secondly for having the audacity to consider assisting those of the Kishiro conglomerate considering his own family heritage that tied him to Samura. He'd left his house disgraced, hating the fact he'd reduced to little more than a scolded child by his father.

He'd returned to the State Police barracks after that, not wanting to spend another night in his parent's house. The duty Keibu had been surprised to see him, even more so when he signed on for port duty for the duration of the time he was grounded for leave. So he'd taken a night's rest then set out to do his duty.

The sun had risen about twenty minutes ago, so now everything was tinged a sort of reddish orange. All the concrete high rises of industry. In the middle distance the stylised housing blocks of the residential district were obvious. Samura had pumped money into the residential areas to reinforce the concept of form over function. It did wonders for tourism at least.

He checked his baton and side arm was carefully holstered before continuing. After ten minutes he got into a steady pace, his feet pounding on the hardened concrete floor, sight and sound becoming a secondary function to mobility. Giant warehouses stretched up either side of him, the rising sun a flaming orb at the end of the endless corridor he was stalking. There was no-one about at this time in the morning. Well, not in the cities anyway. The farmers in fields all over the planet would be awake and getting ready for their days work.

He blanked out for a moment, letting the steady rhythm of his feet guide him; the undulating tempo of the streets. He was brought back to reality by the harsh shout of a workman. They were a fair while ahead, on an overpass that allowed pedestrians to cross a busy spaceport supply avenue. There was three of them, a pile of debris surrounding them. Occasionally they'd haul a larger piece up onto the barrier and drop it over the edge. There'd be a resonating boom, as if it was being dropped into a large container.

He quickened his pace. When he was within earshot he slowed slightly. "Konnichiwa! This is Junsa-chō Kyou, State Police. What are you doing up there, citizens?" Two of the men continued their work, while the other one stopped and beaconed for him to come over and look.

"Konnichiwa Officer-sama! It is good to see the Emperor's samurai policing our streets." Isamu nodded, and walked a little closer, slowly proceeding up the overpass' stairs. The worker was silhouetted at the top of them. "Don't worry, this is all above board, Officer-sama."

"I'll be the judge of that," he murmured mostly to himself. "Excuse me, could you two stop what you're doing for a second?" There was a muttered 'hai' from one of them, and they stopped, peering at their feet. Isamu himself leaned over the edge to look at what was down below, half expecting to just see a large pile of furniture spread across the road. It was an industrial crushing unit on the trailer of a Heavy Transportation Unit. He turned. "Do you have a license for tha-" A fist crunched into his face, snapping his nose, throwing him back against the railing.

Another first pummelled into his stomach, winding him. "Compliments of the Hogsha, dog-jin," the first spat. Before he could react, they'd grasped his belt and hauled him over the edge, like the sofas they had been pretending to dispose of. As he landed, he felt his spine snap and screamed.

"You should have remembered your place, officer," one of them shouted down from far above. Slowly, the great mechanical wings of the crushing unit began to fold shut, Isamu quietly sobbing to himself. A few seconds later there was a horrific scream followed by a sickening orchestra of snaps and crunches.

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