They were all drifting listlessly and nearly lifelessly in a cluster that seemed to spread out forever. The view was terrifying to Nariko as Sakurako struggled to give the creature direction and speed as they weaved skillfully through the swarm toward its center.
Nariko had the sense that there was a planet beneath them, but when she looked down she realized that what appeared to be the vast curvature of a planet was actually the dark chitinous surface of the queen. Larger than the greatest battleships ever constructed, its armored form was rolled out and elongated compared to the others with tendrils hanging out all along its bottom surface.
“This is sheer madness,” Nariko said, wrapping her arms around herself as she took a step back.
“The queen is asleep right now,” Sakurako explained, trying to relieve the tension. “But when she is awake she generates this incredible aura that overrides the natural instincts of the smaller creatures, allowing them to act as one.
This explanation did not make Nariko feel any better.
“It’s almost like these things exist both in the ethereal plane and the material plane at the same time. By changing the shape of the aura, the queen can propel the swarm hundreds of light years in just a few minutes.
“Are they sentient?” Nariko asked, her mouth a little dry.
“That’s kind of hard to answer,” Sakurako explained. “They don’t really have a soul, more like an insatiable hunger. When they are partially awake all I can ever sense from them is an animalistic thrill of stalking prey. Catching prey. Devouring prey. It can be quite overpowering.”
So, they are just like the other me...
“What was that? I have trouble hearing this close to the queen.”
“N-Nothing. I was wondering what you sense when they are fully awake.”
“When they are fully awake I can’t sense anything.”
Nariko furrowed her brow. “How is that possible?”
“I don’t think you get how powerful this aura is. It can shadow a whole system. When the queen is fully awake, her aura actually forces away natural ether flows. It’s like a giant null field in which only the aura of the Kuldrizi exists. When the queen moves the swarm, the disturbance will leave ethereal vortices in the wake that can last for decades tearing apart any ships unwary enough to fly into one.
Sakurako clenched her teeth and the creature they were in jerked and bucked as it flew down toward the queen.
“Sorry, even asleep her will is hard to overcome.”
As they passed underneath the queen, Nariko was transfixed as she studied the thousands of metallic structures that stuck out from its underbelly. Jutting out among the hanging tendrils, they looked like needles inserted into great jagged sores. Hundreds of construction vessels darted around them like flies. They looked vaguely to Nariko like immense versions of the mnemonic rods that the Marshals used to manipulate the willpower of their prisoners. Nariko’s eyes grew wide with fear. In an act of sheer madness, the Seventh was trying to control these creatures.
Miho wasn’t exaggerating after all. The Taisa of the Seventh Division really has gone mad. Nariko knew that she would not be able to wait until the tri-centennial celebration. Inami must be stopped immediately before her insanity destroys the entire Seventh Division, along with Nariko herself.
Beneath the oily expanse of the queen above them hung a spear of pure silver. The Onikano was the only naval-class vessel afforded to the Seventh Division and, if rumors were correct, it had been completely rebuilt over the years. It was sleek and elegant, with long articulated steering rudders on either side and along its back, giving it the profile of a large metallic seaborne creature.
Chapter Seventeen
The Lost Children of Correll
It is my contention that we must end the distinction between witchcraft and sorcery, for they are both abominable and revolting to humankind. The sorcerer’s power comes from their patron deity, through foul contract, while the power of the witch comes from the foul heritage of Ashtari blood. Since both sources are filthy and damnable, they should both be purged with equal passion.
-Davin Larid, the Grand Theologist 6301-6481rl
Nariko had little time to familiarize herself with the layout of the Onikano. Almost immediately after arriving in one of the spacious shuttlebays, a hover skiff was sent to take her up to report up to the Taisa in command. The inside of the ship was like nothing she had ever seen before. Brightly illuminated and spacious corridors trimmed with rare blue steel. Delicate vine and grape patterns were etched into the archways. All surfaces were flawlessly clean.
It was only then that Nariko realized that the walls were made out of a semi-translucent silvery metal, which allowed the viewer, upon close inspection, to glimpse dimly the wires, conduits, and pipes that ran beneath the surface like veins and capillaries. She didn’t have to bind herself to this ship to know that it was alive. It emanated a palpable aura that she could feel all around her. She had always imagined that a living machine would be cold and calculating, but this one felt gentle and protective. There was something almost motherly about the aura it gave off.
Nariko could not help but stare in wonder at it all. Along the walls she noticed dozens of small robots crawling along, energetically cleaning and maintaining the ship’s components with their small metallic pincers.
Nariko couldn’t help reaching over and scooping one up in her hand as she passed. The robot chirped in irritation as she examined it clinically. The art of making intelligent machines had died out ages ago, when the Irathsa rebelled against the old empire, yet here was one complaining noisily in her hands. She wanted to pry it open and examine the components within, but it squirmed out of her grip and leapt back down to the floor.
Nariko relished the thought of what would happen if one of these robots were placed before the Technossiah Council. The conservative sects would surely claim sacrilege, since it placed divine knowledge into an artificial receptacle, while the more liberal sects like the Jobeans would surely point out that cybernetic memory implants performed essentially the same function and had been in wide use for centuries, meaning that they could be used without defilement so long as they were properly anointed beforehand. Imagining the old men screaming at each other through artificial voice boxes nearly brought a smile to her lips.
The skiff came to a stop and the large smooth doors to the Taisa’s office opened silently.
At first it didn’t even seem like an office. Nariko was faced with what was almost a complete wall of things, piles of magazines in strange languages, desk lamps and instruments, boxes marked repeatedly with labels that said: Do Not Throw Away. Nariko could only stand, mouth agape, at the sight before her. No sound came from within, the door only stood there ominously open as if waiting for her to enter. Nariko squeezed inside through an opening barely more than a crack and entered the dimly lit room. Once inside the situation was not much better. Piles of expensive dresses with the tags still attached, layers of dusty data slates, and a dazzling assortment of lingerie from across the galaxy.
“Welcome, Nariko Amano,” came a voice from what Nariko guessed was more-or-less the center of the room. Surrounded by piles of candy wrappers was a splendid array of holo-monitors on a chipped and scratched Correllian Hardwood desk. An oversized black velvet chair slowly spun around ominously, the dim lighting of the room obscuring the occupant.
“How did you know it was me?” Nariko asked aloud, forgetting herself.
“It doesn’t always work. The last two people who came in here were not you.”
“So, you just kept saying ‘Welcome Nariko Amano’ every time someone entered your office?”
“Persistence is the mother of all theatrics, they say.”
No, they don’t. No one says that.
Nariko saluted as best she could, kicking a small box of rattles out of the way to make room for her foot. “Amano Gunsho Nariko, arriving from the Second Division, reporting for assignment,” Nariko said formally, placing her f
ist across her chest in salute.
Nariko was bidden to come closer and the form of Taisa Inami Fukamora became visible as she sat behind her desk. Her feet were propped up on a pile of old maps, her hands locked behind the back of her head. She was wearing a floor-length gown made out of a blue satin with a tall matching cone-shaped hat that her long lime-green hair flowed out from the top like a fountain.
Inami pulled the caramel stick she was sucking on out of her mouth and raised her hand up.
“Dore-Dore,” she greeted cheerfully.
Nariko was taken aback by the informality of the greeting, which, combined with the condition of the room and the outfit Inami was wearing made it quite a surreal experience for her.
“Please forgive the attire,” apologized Chusa Mai Takaya who was standing behind Inami, dressed far more sensibly in her command uniform, “The Taisa was being fitted for her costume for a play next month when some urgent business called her down here.”
“We’re doing the classic play, Yonjuu-nana-ronin, for the festival of Shogatsu,” Inami boasted, smoothing out the fabric of the dress.
But, that play doesn’t have a princess character in it.
“As you were notified, you are assigned as Gunsho of Shiro squad,” reported Mai, trying to get back to business.
“Yes,” Nariko said, clearing her throat. “I will need their weapon-drill and combat simulation stats for the last six months. The dossier I received en-route was filled with irrelevant information, like all fifteen seasons of Valiant Heart,” Nariko stated.
“You should watch that show, it’s really good.” Inami suggested as she sucked on her candy. “It’s about a doll that comes to life and learns what it means to be human.”
“I’m sure there are better uses of my time,” Nariko retorted. “Now, may I have the stats?”
Inami didn’t answer; she only hummed quietly to herself, her green hair swinging side to side from the conical hat. Nariko refused to back down and stood there at attention, waiting.
Finally it was Mai who broke the stalemate. “I’m not sure such statistics exist, Gunsho,” Mai reported.
Nariko tried not to let her irritation show. “All Senshi are required to participate in a daily regimen of drills and simulations.”
You are awfully insistent for someone who hasn’t done her own drills in months.
“Our Senshi have trained for more than four centuries already. What more do you expect them to learn?” Inami asked, yawning. “Besides, weapon drills are boring.”
“Boring?!” Nariko barked, forgetting herself. “It is our duty!”
“Um, I think what the Taisa was trying to say is that our current situation requires a diversity of skills that can’t be obtained by the normal training regimen, so we have instituted a more flexible program that allows individual Senshi to tailor their training regimen to fit the individual needs and skills for their upcoming missions,” Mai explained.
“So long as their battle performance stays at acceptable levels, we trust them to maintain their skills in whatever way they see fit,” Inami added, putting a fresh caramel-stick in her mouth and throwing the wrapper onto the floor.
“And how will we know if they meet acceptable levels without performance data?” Nariko observed.
Inami opened one eye and looked at Nariko lazily. “By how well they perform in battle, of course.”
“If they perform poorly in battle it will be too late to correct the problem,” Nariko retorted.
“You worry too much,” Inami observed as she picked her nose.
Mai sighed audibly. “We apologize for any inconvenience you may have experienced during your unusual passage here from the Second.”
At least Mai has a sense of etiquette.
“I saw several smaller vessels with ether capability on my way up here. I do not understand why it was necessary for me to travel with the Carrion, or why I was required to act as their consultant.” Nariko had secretly decided that Inami had made her travel with the Carrion simply to insult her and she wanted to confirm that suspicion
Mai tapped a rune on her data slate and a holographic image appeared over Inami’s desk, scattering some loose pieces of trash as it formed. It displayed the area of space around them. In a red trail stretching out along the crest of the Uragan was the path of the former Carrion fleet.
“The worlds raided by the Carrion all belong to the Archfiend of Tauros, who is one of the few lords within the Uragan who has not yet fully joined with Heinreich Verräter,” Mai explained. “The majority of the Archfiend’s forces had been operating as part of a joint attack against the cardinal world Kall, taking advantage of the redeployment of Confederate forces elsewhere to expand his own territory. We will be staging a crucial operation on Kall next month, which we can’t do if it is covered by millions of traitors. The Carrion raids forced the Archfiend to abandon his attack on Kall to reconsolidate and rebuild his holdings, as well as to hunt down the remainder of the Carrion fleet, which he still believes to be out there. This has left the traitor forces on Kall too weak to overwhelm the defenders before we can arrive. Likewise, the majority of the Confederate naval forces in that system have been redeployed to other more pressing battle zones. This leaves us free to carry out our plans on Kall without interference.”
Mai was quick and sharp when she explained things like this and there was a certain triumph in her voice.
Amazing, she displaced trillions of soldiers and fleets of warships without firing a shot.
“I admit what you did was impressive,” Nariko said. “But it seems you played long odds and just got lucky. What if I hadn’t led the Carrion on those raids, or what if I had picked other targets?”
Inami opened her violet eyes widely and clucked her tongue. “What if the sky turned green tomorrow? My goodness woman, you worry too much. The point is that it did happen.”
“But, how could you trust that I would do what you expected?”
“Faith, of course. You understand that, don’t you?”
I used to.
Nariko stepped back for a moment. “I’m sorry. I’m just having problems processing this. The first step of command is to list your assets and...”
“See, that is your problem right there,” Inami said, tossing her candy stick aside and grabbing a fresh one. “You are thinking like a Senshi.”
“Of course I am, how else am I supposed to think?”
“Do not list only your own assets. List ALL assets, friendly, enemy, and neutral. I’ll give you Inami’s first rule, okay? Always let another accomplish your objectives for you. When they succeed, they inherit the enemies that follow. When they fail, they incur the casualties.”
“Excuse me, Taisa, I thought you said that the Inami’s first rule was that participation in the drinking contest at Shogatsu was mandatory,” Mai added politely.
“Well, there’s not just one ‘Inami’s first rule,’ you know. There’s, sort of a...a group of rules that are collectively known as ‘Inami’s first rule,’” Inami blustered. “You know what? Why don’t you go do an inventory of our ammunition stocks or something?”
Mai let out a small sniff of derision and walked out of the room indignantly, knocking over a pile of wooden carvings. It was obvious to Nariko that Mai was far better suited to command than Inami was.
Remove Mai and the Seventh will fall apart.
“Of course, Kall is only a step toward our real target,” Inami mentioned as she grabbed a data slate and began tapping away at it.
“What is our real target?” Nariko asked.
Inami set down the slate and leaned in close, looking very serious. “Can you keep a secret?” she asked steadily.
“Yes,” Nariko responded.
“Well, so can I,” Inami said with a chortle and reclined back in her chair.
Nariko sighed and rolled her eyes.
I’ve barely known this woman five minutes and already I can’t stand her.
Nariko stood there at attention,
wondering if Inami would ever remember to dismiss her.
Nariko looked at the map hovering in the air before them. The system names were encoded, as was standard practice, but she could clearly see two large red dots among the sea of stars.
Suddenly there was a flash and Nariko felt like she had been kicked in the back. Streams of data crowded her vision. She could feel the distance between each star; she could sense the names of several of the pulsars, their identity given away by their period. Slowly the image in her mind overlapped with the image before her and she knew the names of the target worlds. Bael’Eth and Min’Draguard.
“A demon world!” Nariko gasped, grabbing the sides of her head. “You are planning on attacking a demon world! Are you mad?”
Inami sat there, eying Nariko suspiciously for a moment. She glanced at the holo-display, as if to make sure she hadn’t forgotten to keep the encryptions on.
“Two, actually,” Ianmi said, the candy in her mouth making a clicking noise against her teeth. “How did you figure that out?”
“Back on Tridia I bound myself to a spaceport,” Nariko said, trying to slow her breathing. “I guess I must still have some of the star charts stuck in my head.”
Inami stared at Nariko in utter shock for a moment, the hard candy nearly falling out of her mouth. She collected herself and leaned forward, steepling her fingers.
“Now who is the mad one here?” she asked frankly.
“You are going to get us all killed!” Nariko shouted, completely abandoning all decorum. “It doesn’t matter how many forces you bring, you can never conquer a demon world. The entire planet is an extension of the demon prince’s body. They can turn the ground to lava, set the atmosphere ablaze, and thrust up jagged mountains to pierce your ships in orbit. No one has ever attempted to attack a demon world!”
Inami nodded thoughtfully, her green hair bobbing happily and then a wicked grin crossed her face. “That is exactly why this will work. They will never expect it.”
“I’m sorry, but I am not going to be a part of this,” Nariko insisted, standing up straight.
Heart of a Traitor Page 15
