Hotaka Tanaka dreamed again of his first sushi from Earth. The tuna tasted so clean. It almost melted, absorbed by the rice as the wasabi warmed his tongue. The eel nigiri was light with a hint of sweetness, the sauce dark and smoky. 

The delivery had taken months to arrange. He hired the cheapest courier on the service board, unthinkable to him now. He hated imagining what the fish experienced making planetfall from the station. 

But he’d been young. Young and in love. He still managed to propose to Aiko that night, even as his mind reeled from the taste. She said yes. 

The sushi dream faded. Though she was dead, he could still feel the weight of Aiko lying next to him, the incline of the bed as her body pressed against it. A sliver of skin on her lower back would show where her shirt shifted in the night, the softness of her hair spreading across her pillow to graze his arm. 

He opened his eyes to confirm he was alone. With a groan, he sat up and put his aching feet on the cold floor. His reflection showed an old man in a robe blinking sleep from his eyes. He turned away, his wedding ring catching the morning light as he kissed his fingers and pressed them to Aiko’s pillow. 

He passed through the house, to his backyard and the rice paddies. Aiko walked her biology students down the rows of crops as they took notes, a field trip. Hotaka blinked the memory away and stepped outside. 

A light drizzle fell as the automated harvesters moved through the rice, leaving behind a trail of slashed stalks. The paddy drained itself into automated trenches in the night, the water bound for the treatment plant. 

He arrived at a series of tanks near the harvester garage. Hotaka had partially subsidized to afford the tanks, despite his grandfather having bought out their shares from the collective. Theirs was the first colony farm to go private; thankfully his father passed before Hotaka’s first subsidy. He never had the heart to tell him his true passion lived in these tanks. 

He climbed the wooden steps and lifted the lid, revealing the carp inside. They swam in the seaweed, feeding on the crabs crawling along the bottom of the tanks amongst clams and mussels. Aiko stood next to him, watching a carp as it darted from one corner of the tank to the other. She drew sketches in her notebook, except she wasn’t really there. 

Hotaka took a bucket of water and net from the side of the tank and scooped the fish out. It flopped in the air as its gills searched for water, and he dropped it in the bucket. 

Aiko explained the ecosystem inside the tank to her students. “The carp eat the crabs, the crabs eat the seaweed, and the mussels help filter the water. Four different species, working together to form a stable ecosystem. The same spirit of cooperation that brought us here, to this system, this world.”

One of her students raised a hand. “Weren’t the original settlers forced laborers? Before the revolution?”

Aiko nodded. “Yes, that’s true. Although it’s important never to forget, the cooperation that built our collective is only possible because of forgiveness.” She looked into Hotaka’s eyes. “Forgiveness built a better world.” He replaced the lid and climbed back down with the fish. 

The memories evaporated as he stopped short at his porch. Wet footprints traveled across the wood towards the open back door of his house. He’d closed the door. Now it stood open. 

He approached with curiosity instead of fear, unlike the night Aiko had been killed. What else could be taken from him now?

He stepped into his house and could see nothing disturbed. Water was running in the kitchen. A man stood at the sink, washing his face and hands. He lifted his shirt, splashing water under his arms. 

Hotaka retained a sense of calm. He put the fish on the kitchen table, and the man looked up at last. Their eyes met, and the man took a few quick steps backwards, startled. 

The man wasn’t Japanese. He had short, black hair and light brown skin, his chin peppered with a few day’s stubble. He appeared to be in his early forties. The lower right corner of his shirt was bloody.

“Hello,” Hotaka said in Japanese, the language of the colony. 

The man blinked and said something in a language he didn’t recognize. 

“What are you doing in my house?” Hotaka moved closer. 

The man took another step back and bumped into the kitchen counter. His face was frightened, as if he were the homeowner and Hotaka the intruder. 

Hotaka held up his hands to show him there was nothing to fear. “Do you speak Japanese?” 

Again the man didn’t respond. 

He put a hand on his chest. “Tanaka-san,” he said, tapping his collarbone for emphasis. 

The man tapped on his own chest. “Juan.” 

Hotaka nodded. Everyone in the colony spoke Japanese, so he’d never needed a translation app. He pulled up his wristpad. With the colony’s low-speed connection, the app would take ninety minutes to download. He shrugged and made the purchase before pointing to the blood on the man’s clothing. “Are you hurt? Do you need help?” He walked around the kitchen counter. 

Juan again stepped away, and for the first time Hotaka noticed the gun sticking out of the waist of the man’s pants.

Aiko’s body, torn apart by the exit wound, blinked in and out of existence on the floor between them. This wasn’t the man who murdered her. He was dead. They’d caught and executed him. 

But Hotaka couldn’t help feeling this was the same person, returned to finish the job. Or maybe they were both possessed by the same murderous spirit. His lips peeled back in a snarl, his muscles tensed, his heart racing. 

“You son-of-a-bitch, that’s not your blood. You killed someone with that gun, didn’t you? Didn’t you!” His voice rose in intensity, shouting the last few words. Juan’s eyes widened, glancing towards the open back door. 

Aiko leaned over to whisper in his ear. “I wonder what kind of murderer eyes the exit instead of killing an old man who blocks his escape?”

He took a step and shoved Juan with one hand, surprising himself. Juan raised both hands in protest, letting himself be shoved. He was much younger than Hotaka and could easily overtake him, especially with the gun. 

Aiko’s voice returned, telling him he should try communicating. Instead Hotaka found himself emboldened by the combination of Juan’s passivity and their inability to understand each other, unleashing twenty-three years’ worth of grief and helplessness and anger. 

Adrenaline flooded Hotaka’s veins, strengthening his stiff joints as he battered him with closed fists. Juan shielded himself with his hands, crouching down to make himself a smaller target. Hotaka grabbed a glass, throwing it at his head. Juan ducked, and it shattered against the counter behind him. Hotaka was cursing now, yelling a string of obscenities he was surprised he knew. 

Juan lunged past him, attempting to flee before slipping on his own wet footprint. He crashed to the ground, the gun sliding across the floor. Hotaka and Juan blinked at the weapon before both lunging after it. 

Hotaka was closer. He stood with it pointed at Juan, his first time holding a gun. It was heavier than he expected. Juan froze. 

“Get up,” Hotaka said. When Juan didn’t move, he remembered the man didn’t speak Japanese and motioned with the gun for him to stand. Juan scrambled to his feet. 

“How dare you come into my house. How dare you take the life of another. You’re scum. You aren’t worth the air you breathe. I should kill you right now. Nothing would happen to me if I did. They’d call it self-defense, and no one would care what happened to you. You son-of-a-bitch. How dare you take Aiko from me.” These words poured from Hotaka, like water rushing from a collapsed dam. 

He kept the gun trained on Juan. The man muttered under his breath, his hands folded together as if in prayer. 

Hotaka hesitated. Juan didn’t act how he expected a murderer to act. He pictured a shadow stalking the streets and searching for blood, a vampire from a silent film. This was the second murderer he’d met in his life, and neither matched up with this image. 

The man who killed Aiko had been fleeing a robbery, trying to hide until he could sneak aboard an outgoing transport. Hotaka had been at the spaceport, waiting for his shipment of mussels. Aiko had been sick, running a slight fever and vomiting. Nothing serious, but he still felt guilty for leaving her. She insisted, though. She said she wanted to get some rest, and besides, she wanted some fresh mussel rolls when she woke up. 

The murderer later testified he didn’t mean to kill her. She’d come into the room behind him. He thought no one was home, pulling the trigger when startled. When he saw what he’d done, he immediately called for an ambulance. It passed Hotaka on his way home, and he could still see the flashing lights in his memory. 

At the trial, when his lawyer asked if there was anything else he wanted to say, the man looked Hotaka in the eye and said "I'm sorry." Hotaka had spit before getting up to leave. 

He didn’t return to hear the guilty verdict. Now Juan stood in his kitchen, looking pathetic as he cowered and prayed. 

He lowered the gun and sighed. Juan lifted his head. A light flashed on the side of the grip, and Hotaka inspected the weapon. A message waited on the read-out screen. 

“Warning, unauthorized user detected. Weapon will not fire until fingerprint identification with user Haru Sasaki.” A picture of Sasaki-san flashed beside the words. 

Hotaka looked up. “This isn’t your gun, is it?” He pointed it at the floor and squeezed the trigger. Nothing happened. He offered the gun to Juan, who hesitated before taking it. “Try to fire,” he instructed, miming the trigger. 

Juan nodded, pointing the gun at the floor like Hotaka. He squeezed the trigger. Again, nothing happened. The two men stared at each other. 

The forgotten bucket still sat on the kitchen table. Juan glanced over and his stomach growled audibly. Hotaka sighed and pulled a chair out, offering it to him. The man sat slowly, eying him as if he might erupt again. 

Juan said something he didn’t understand and took them, nodding at Hotaka in thanks before changing. He reached into his pocket and took out a wrinkled picture. Hotaka ate a piece of sushi, his eyebrows raised at the sight of a physical photo. 

Juan sat down and handed it to him. The photo showed Juan and a young girl, obviously his daughter. The resemblance was strong. 

Juan pointed at the girl. “Isabel,” he said between bites of fish. Hotaka listened as Juan said more, pointing at himself and using his hand to mime a rocketship taking off. 

Hotaka pointed at Isabel. “Your daughter?” he said, and Juan nodded, the meaning clear. He spoke more, miming himself crouching before turning and holding his hands up, then running and shoving air. 

Hotaka ate another piece of sushi and nodded, though he didn’t know what the man was trying to communicate. 

He must have escaped from a forced labor colony, Hotaka thought. Not all colonies had abolished the practice like theirs had. 

Juan trailed off, and they both lifted their heads at the high-pitch buzz of an approaching transport shuttle. The phone rang, and Juan froze. Hotaka motioned for him to move to the kitchen, then swiped to answer the call. 

Hotaka jolted as the head of colony security, Goda-san, appeared. "Tanaka-san. Sorry for the sudden notice. Is your yard clear for a security unit to land?" 

"Hold on, I’ll check. The harvesters are out today. Everything all right?" 

Goda-san wore a suit, as usual, light glistening off his shaved head. The holographic image trailed Hotaka as he stepped out to his backyard. "It’s nothing major, something we need to check out. I'll explain when we arrive." 

Hotaka nodded. The shuttle grew larger in the distance. On his wristpad, he instructed a harvester to return to the garage. “The yard should be clear in a minute. See you soon.” He swiped to end the call and went inside to Juan. “Come with me.” He motioned for him to follow. 

He grabbed Juan’s old clothes along with the gun as they walked outside. Hotaka set a quick pace. The harvester rumbled past, and he threw the gun into the straw walkers, hoping to get it stuck in the metallic conveyor. 

He led Juan to the fish tanks. One of them had just been cleaned, and he opened the biofilter panel on the side. 

“You’ll have to crouch down,” he said, miming and pointing to the empty chamber where future fish waste would go. Juan nodded and climbed inside. 

Once secured, Hotaka handed him his clothes and closed the panel before rotating the tank, pressing it against its neighbor. The security unit was still several minutes away. He returned to the house, waiting for the shuttle to land. 

If they discovered Juan, he would be deported back to wherever he escaped from, likely executed. The labor colonies made examples of failed escapes. Hotaka tried not to think about what his own punishment would be as he went to greet them.

Goda-san climbed out of the front passenger seat. Four men climbed out of the back, the pilot remaining inside. They wore helmets with augmented reality visors covering their eyes. 

Goda-san shook his hand, yelling over the sound of the shuttle’s engines as they powered down. “Tanaka-san, didn’t mean to alarm you.” 

“Not at all.” 

The men fanned out to the property behind him. They moved in an organized fashion through the muddy fields of rice. Hotaka hoped the tanks would mask Juan on their thermal imagers. 

“What’s going on?” 

“We had a stowaway on one of our delivery shipments, probably trying to reach the station. They found him in the cargo hold during the security sweep. Caught one of my guys by surprise and rushed him. Even stole his gun, for all the good it’ll do him with the print lock." Goda-san stood with his hands on his hips, surveying his men as they searched. 

“Is your guy okay, the one he attacked?” 

“Oh, he’s fine. He needed a skin patch on his forehead for a nasty gash when he got knocked over. Otherwise he’s fine.” 

The men reached the end of the paddies. He could hear their chatter over Goda-san’s radio. No mention of the tank, but one addressed Goda-san directly. “Sir, Sasaki-san’s gun is pinging from inside the garage.”

Goda-san picked up his radio. “Anything on the thermals?” Hotaka glanced at the fish tank, his pulse quickening. 

“Negative, just the weapon.” 

He exhaled. 

Goda-san turned to him. “You didn’t see anything, did you? He was spotted nearby.” 

Hotaka shook his head. “The only thing out of the ordinary was one of the harvester’s jamming up. I recalled it for maintenance.” They walked to the garage as Goda-san’s men converged ahead of them before the docked harvester. One of the men reached in and pulled the gun from the straw walker. “It’s Sasaki-san’s, all right.”

Goda-san nodded. “Where was this one when it conked out on you?”

“It was just finishing the south field, on the edge of the property. He must’ve ditched the gun sometime in the night.” Hotaka tried to sound convincing.

Goda-san motioned his men back to the shuttle. Hotaka followed them out of the garage. They approached the fish tanks again, and he tensed as they passed.

“Keep an eye out, will you?” Goda-san said, and Hotaka nodded. The men got back in the shuttle, and the whine of the engine increased in preparation for take off. 

“Thanks for your help, Tanaka-san. And save some sushi for me sometime, eh?” He disappeared into the shuttle as it climbed higher and shot across the rice paddies, out of sight.

Hotaka let out a breath and walked to the tanks. He turned the third one around and opened the biofilter panel. Juan blinked in the light. “They’re gone, it’s safe to come out,” he said, indicating with his hand. 

Juan stepped out, scanning the sky as if expecting them to return. Hotaka took this as a cue, returning to the house with haste. 

Once inside, Juan became visibly more relaxed. Hotaka filled the kettle with water and set it to boil. He paused, then turned and went to the study. 

Aiko sat at the computer with a steaming cup of tea as she graded assignments. The room was dark and empty. Hotaka opened Aiko’s teaching folder, finding files from her Astronomy course. He called Juan. 

Juan appeared, watching curiously as Hotaka projected the local star cluster. Colonized systems glowed green.