James Axler – Keepers of the Sun

Realization came to Ryan just as he was about to step into the room.

The child was a doll, made of some kind of flesh-colored plastic, incredibly lifelike in every biological detail.

As Ryan looked, the samurai began to fondle it with his right hand, turning it over so that the pert little face smiled coyly up at him.

“You make Uncle so wicked that he has to do wicked things to his little Petal”

At that moment Yashimoto had to have sensed that he was being watched, and his eyes suddenly opened, the scar on his face beginning to twitch, livid against his suddenly pale skin. He spotted Ryan’s face, framed in the doorway, watching him at his little game.

“What ?” he stammered, dropping the panties from his left hand, letting the realistic little girl doll fall onto the floor between his legs.

Ryan grinned wolfishly. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to spoil your very honorable fun.”

He moved back down the corridor, quickly, glancing twice over his shoulder to make sure that the enraged and humiliated samurai wasn’t coming after him.

It helped to deepen and enrich their feud.

THE HUNT WAS POSTPONED to the next morning.

No reason or explanation was given, the message being passed along to the outlanders by Toyotomi Hideyoshi.

“Why?” Ryan asked.

The samurai shrugged, his face as blank as a sheet of parchment. “It would be difficult to say.”

“Nothing to do with the ronin?”

“Not precisely.”

“The weather?”

“Not that.”

“The shogun just decided to change his mind?”

Hideyoshi considered that question, eventually deciding that it was a safe one. “Yes,” he said.

“We hunt tomorrow?”

The warrior nodded at Ryan. “If Lord Mashashige wills it, then must it be.”

DOC HAD DISCOVERED a karaoke machine, standing polished and gleaming in one of the largest rooms. He had immediately gone and called for the others to come and see it, collecting Hideyoshi on the way.

Jak arrived with Issie in tow.

“They had one of these most brilliant inventions in the rec room of the whitecoats’ lab on Operation Chronos. I had the greatest of pleasure with it. Have you seen one of them before, any of you?” He gestured proudly to it, thumbs stuck in the buttonholes of his vest.

“Read about them,” Krysty said.

“I remember them.” Mildred cleared her throat into a kerchief. “God, this air! Yeah, they’re the invention of the devil, Doc. Many a good bar and restaurant’s been ruined by having one of those stuck in a corner.”

“What does do?” Jak asked.

“It is powered by waterwheel,” Hideyoshi replied. “Switch on and gives a choice of many singings. Classic American rock, as well as traditional Nippon songs. Words come on screen in front so you can sing to endorsement tape.”

“Backing tape?” Mildred said, puzzled.

“Is such laughter,” Issie squeaked, clapping her hands, her varnished nails glinting in the afternoon sunlight.

“Sounds good,” Krysty said.

“Not for me.” Ryan looked suspiciously at the silent machine. “Me and singing have never been the best of traveling companions. Know what I mean?”

“Do you wish to try, Cawdor-san?” the samurai asked, looking doubtfully at the geisha. “How does it start?”

“Press switch on back, and writing of song names comes on the window.”

“Ah, yes.” He still looked bewildered. “Perhaps you start machine?”

She bowed low, voice fluting up the scale like a little child. “Will be honored, Lord.”

The machine crackled into life, lights flashing across the front, some of them staying on and most of them going out again. White lettering flickered into sight on the large dark screen, offering about a hundred songs.

Roughly half of them were Japanese and the rest American.

“Who go first?” Issie asked. “Jakki? You sing special for me?”

“Don’t know them.”

Everyone, even Ryan, crowded around this rare artifact from the predark days. Mildred read out some of the songs, nodding her head appreciatively. “Some good old rock and roll. ‘Lonesome Tonight.’ ‘Bye Bye Love.’ ‘Everyday.’ ‘For All We Know.’ Real golden oldie. ‘Rave from grave.’ ‘Zoom from tomb.’ ‘Bat Out of Hell.’ That was the truly amazing Meatloaf. ‘Daydream Believer.’ God, that was a hit for the Monkees. Written by one of my all-time favorites, John Stewart. Some stuff I haven’t heard of.”