Heart of a Traitor

by Aaron Lee Yeager

  The soothsayer yelped in pain and crawled backwards, pulling her hands away as if from a fire.

  “An immor’ereal,” she whispered, “His words are on the stones, but his feet are not.”

  Rochestri nodded, soaking in the evidence dispassionately. Naturally he had made sure that she had received several deep psychic probes before she joined his staff. She always amazed Rochestri. She had a purity of spirit, completely without guile or deception, a quality that Rochestri found both alluring and disturbing at the same time.

  One of Rochestri’s cyber-priests brought in a ruined data slate and handed it to him.

  “We found this in the fortress core. It doesn’t fit with anything else we’ve found. It’s still got traces of deuterium, from recycled air in long space voyages, which is inconsistent with the rest of the Uragan forces who were reportedly here for months,” she reported.

  “They might have brought in some specialists,” Rochestri opinionated. “What about the reports of the female soldiers who fought off the traitors at the Temple of Sanctity?” Rochestri inquired.

  “A vigilante group in the capital is claiming responsibility for that. The Cardinal is expected to give them a full ceremonial purification in gratitude.”

  Rochestri’s soothsayer took the ruined data slate in her hands and scryed it, a doubtful look on her face.

  “You can feel the taint of the demonic, can’t you?” Rochestri said.

  She hesitated for a moment, unable to form a response. “I don’t know what to feel. A beast has definitely left its mark upon it, but I do not sense a demonic aura.”

  Rochestri thought on this for a moment. That was not supposed to be possible.

  “Well,” he mused, scratching the salt and pepper stubble on his chin. “If it wasn’t strange, we wouldn’t be here.”

  The oracle opened his eyes, revealing the white pupil-less orbs underneath.

  “We have received contact from an individual who would like to open discussions with you for the sale of an artifact known as the Eagalo Stone.”

  Rochestri looked over at his oracle, confounded. “Oh really?” is all he could say.

  Chapter Twenty Two

  The Art of Kesshouhin

  And then the sails slackened and the winds eddied and died. Before us stood the great expanse beyond the halo stars. The unfathomable distances that separate each galaxy from the next, where the ether does not flow because no life exists there. The discovery of a barrier we could not overcome fell over us and there were no celebrations that night.

  -Excerpt from the journals of Ferdinan Solaris, the Great Explorer 15.15.5067rl

  Nariko slowly opened her eyes and found herself staring up blankly at the halo lights of the Onikano’s recovery ward. Her long platinum blonde hair floated lazily around her in the amber liquid.

  I’m myself again, but for how long?

  A part of her was disappointed that she had woken up at all. To most humans, the thought of oblivion and an endless nothingness is too frightful to even consider, yet Nariko knew there were far worse things that can befall a person.

  Nariko stirred slightly in the healing tank and something metal clanked against her wrist. She moved it more and found that her wrist was restrained. Similar movements confirmed that her feet and neck were likewise shackled.

  Being restrained brought on a moment of panic, but Nariko fought the urge to struggle, reminding herself that it would accomplish nothing.

  There were light footsteps and Sakurako appeared standing over her. Her silver hair glimmered in the light. Sakurako’s silver eyes slanted and Nariko could feel her pushing into her mind.

  Nariko felt too tired to resist her and there really didn’t seem much point in hiding things from her now. Rather than resist her, Nariko simply closed her eyes and allowed her in.

  The sensation was strange. Terribly invasive, but not necessarily painful. It felt to Nariko like her mind was a bed with many sheets and each one was being slowly lifted up one at a time and examined. As her mind was peeled back layer by layer, Nariko caught little glimpses of what was being viewed. The siege of Bannock Fortress, her honor duel with Contessa Isco, the battle of New Hancaster.

  One glimpse was very old indeed. A beautiful marble kitchen, accented with flowing grape vines and grape bunches. Soft sunlight coming in and landing on the sumptuous meal being prepared by the servants as they hustled and bustled amongst each other to prepare the noon day meal. A small, dark-skinned child wandered in, the tip of her wooden practice sword dragging limply behind her. Her black hair was secured in the back by a topknot and her leather practice armor was polished and embossed with precious stones.

  Is...is that me?

  “Oh, Master Chizu, you should not be in here,” one of the servants carefully rebuked.

  “What are you making?” The child asked with wide eyes as she climbed up onto a chair to better see what was on the table.

  “Your favorite, of course,” the servant answered gently. “Stuffed peppers and chanko-nabe.”

  “That’s not my favorite,” the child complained, sticking her little tongue out. “I like pork dumplings.”

  “Oh, Master Chizu, pork dumplings is peasant food; you are from the warrior class, it just isn’t proper for me to make something like that for you.”

  “Then teach me how,” the child begged, jumping up and down in her chair. “I can learn to be a cook like you and then I can make it myself.”

  “Oh, dear child, why would a warrior waste her time on something like that?”

  The door flew open and a stern-eyed man walked in. Everyone in the room froze at his appearance

  “There you are,” he roared, grabbing the child. Your first combat trials are in less then a week and you are wasting your time in here!” The child began to cry, but the man raised his hand and she fought the tears back down.

  “A Senshi never shows weakness,” he reminded her, before turning his attention to the servant.

  “I’m sorry, master, I was just...”

  The man struck the servant with the back of his hand, knocking her to the floor.

  Just as fast as it had come, the glimpse was gone again as the next layer of her mind was peeled back.

  Nariko was shocked. She was sure that the curse had consumed every detail about her early life by now.

  I want to see more. Go back, please go back.

  Nariko now began resisting the process, fighting it in her desire to see the little girl again. Sakurako fought back, continuing to pull back the layers and then the process became very painful. Nariko felt her mind being forcibly torn apart, layers scattering this way and that as her most intimate and private areas were exposed to inspection.

  No, bring it back! I want to see more.

  Nariko pushed back even harder, railing against the invasion and throwing the scattered layers on top of one another, searching for more of the glimpse she had seen.

  Her attacker was momentarily shoved aside and Nariko found it again. It was different this time. An aged woman, in a lovely silk kimono, weeping on her knees. Before her a pair of men bearing the unmistakable emblem of the tithe masters on their shoulders.

  Is that my mother?

  “Each first born belongs to the Taisho,” the man repeated. “That is the tithe.”

  Sakurako broke the connection and staggered back. For a moment they both breathed heavily, wearied from their struggle.

  It had only taken a moment. Anyone watching nearby would have seen the two of them only looking at each other for a second, but to them it had felt much longer.

  “So much for respecting the privacy of others, eh?” Nariko quipped as she looked up at the witch standing over her.

  “I’m very sorry,” Sakurako said, her voice quiet and meek. “But, there are things more important than privacy.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like the safety of others.” Sakurako grabbed a lock of silver hair and stroked it slowly, turning her eyes away.

>   “You need to tell the others what is happening inside of you. You know that, right?”

  Nariko lowered her eyes, the fierceness leaving her expression. “I know I do. I’m just afraid of what will happen.”

  “You may not believe this, but I actually consider you my friend,” Sakurako said, barely above a whisper.

  Nariko could only look at her, unsure of how to respond.

  “Because you are my friend, I have to do what is best for you,” Sakurako explained meekly. “If you don’t tell them, then I will.”

  Nariko sighed as Sakurako gave a tiny smile and walked out of the room. The thought of being placed in a stasis cell, isolated from everyone and everything, living out her years in solitude. Years? It could be much longer than that. Several lifetimes even, or dozens, or hundreds...

  I hope the cell is dark. They say the madness comes faster in the dark, you know.

  Nariko turned her head, unwilling to make a decision and unwilling to think upon it anymore at this time. Michi was sitting calmly in the doorway, working on a small four-legged robot.

  “What are you working on?” Nariko asked weakly.

  “Oh, you’re awake. Welcome back to the land of the living.”

  “Is that the new Hachikou?” Nariko asked again.

  “Mmm, hmm. Human emotions were overloading the sift, so I’m trying out a simpler canine emotional set,” Michi affirmed as she set it down. The robot scampered about, its tail wagging happily, the sensors mounted on its head flopping around energetically.

  Michi brought the communicator on her wrist up to her mouth. “Hachikou, go say hi to Nariko,”

  Hachikou barked happily and scampered toward the healing tank, running right past it and running smack into the wall with a metallic crash.

  Hachikou shook its dented head and scurried back over to an embarrassed Michi. “He’s kind of a work in progress.”

  The lights turned red and warning klaxons rang out, signaling a prison break.

  “They got out again? How are they doing this?” Michi complained.

  “Who got out?” Nariko grunted as she pulled herself up out of the tank.

  “We took a few traitors prisoner back on Kall, but they keep breaking out the detentionary. They’re like, phasing through the walls or something.”

  Michi opened the door and sounds of gunfire and battle came in from the main corridor. As Nariko quickly dried herself off and donned a uniform, a gurgling traitor with tentacles for limbs slithered past.

  “This is it, Hachikou, this is your chance to show everyone how useful you can be and win your mama the prize at the festival.”

  Hachikou leapt up and down, nearly bursting with excitement.

  Michi brought the communicator up and threw her other hand forward dramatically.

  “Assault, Hachikou! Drag him back here by his foul tentacles!”

  Hachikou barked affirmatively and took off down the corridor, ricocheting off the walls in a zigzag pattern as it ran. He caught up with the creature just as it rounded a corner and, with a bounding leap, landed on the creature’s back and tackled it to the ground. A moment later, the corridor was filled with a sickly crunch, followed immediately by the most horrific, blood-wrenching scream that Nariko had ever heard. As Nariko stumbled into the corridor she could hear Michi yelling around the corner.

  “No, Hachikou! No! I said tentacles, TEN-tacles.”

  Nariko rounded the corner just as Hachikou released the creature, which made no attempt to escape and instead only curled itself into a ball and moaned in pain.

  Hachikou skipped over and barked, asking for praise. Michi reluctantly patted it on its metal head and tapped a rune on her communicator.

  “Note to self: Adjust language processors to be more literal.”

  The next morning Nariko straightened the white gloves and cap of her Correllian dress uniform and pushed the chime rune on the door to Keiko’s room. It had been several days since the fighting on Kall and everyone was relieved to put some distance between themselves and battle, especially on a day like today. Nariko, however hadn’t slept a wink all night.

  “Who is it?” Keiko asked without opening the door

  “Gunsho Amano,” Nariko answered formally. She had been dreading coming here all night.

  “Can you come back later? I’m kind of busy,” Keiko answered.

  “No, this is official business, please open the door.”

  There was a long pause and after a moment Nariko started to wonder if she had been heard.

  “I said this is official bus...”

  “I heard you...it’s just that...”

  “Just what?”

  “I...I don’t want to open the door.”

  Nariko reached up and rubbed her forehead. After spending all night rehearsing over and over again in her mind turning control of the squad over to Keiko, this is not what she was prepared to deal with.

  This is the one you picked to replace you?

  Shut up.

  “Look, I’m giving you a direct order, open this door.”

  “What was that?”

  “Stop that! I know you can hear me,” Nariko said, getting angry.

  “I’m sorry, but Keiko isn’t here right now, if you leave your name and I.D. Badge number after the beep, she will call you back when she gets the message.”

  “You’re not fooling anyone!” Nariko yelled, banging on the door with her fist. “Now, open this door or I’ll force it open!”

  “Beeeeeeeeeeeep.”

  “Namakemono no kuso!” Nariko swore as she punched in the over-ride code and the door whooshed open.

  Keiko shrieked and quickly covered herself with a towel. She had obviously just stepped out of the shower. Nariko’s verbal lashing died on her tongue, instead she stood there stunned.

  Keiko’s hair turned a dark marigold and she began screaming at the top of her lungs. Out of the corner of her eye, Nariko could see people further down the hall turning to see what the commotion was about.

  “C-Calm down, Keiko. Get a hold of yourself,” Nariko stammered as she took a step into the room, hands outstretched. The gesture only seemed to frighten Keiko further as she let out another scream, even louder than the first. Nariko could hear people and robots approaching to investigate the noise. She realized that if they got to the door at that moment they would assume the worst and she would have to endure yet another infuriating round of gossip.

  Quickly, Nariko turned back to the door controls and turned off the over-ride. The door closed and locked itself with a whoosh.

  Keiko slapped a rune on the wall and her closet opened. She began frantically yanking clothes out of her closet, looking for something with one hand, while she held up the towel in front of her with the other, all the while screaming at the top of her lungs.

  “How can you just barge into someone’s room like that? This is completely inexcusable! You used the override code, didn’t you? That’s only supposed to be used in emergencies. Does this look like an emergency to you? Just who do you think you are?”

  “Wait a minute,” Nariko stammered.

  “Was my room in danger of suffering explosive decompression? Did you detect an intruder? Was there a poisonous gas leak that you came to save me from?”

  “I was just...”

  “Well, those are the situations listed in the operating procedures. I can’t believe you would just intrude on my privacy like that. I should go up to the command deck right now and report you!”

  “I didn’t mean...”

  “I’ve never been so humiliated before! Don’t you have any respect for other people’s personal space? I’ll never forgive you for this! What are you, some kind of pervert?”

  “Maybe I shouldn’t...”

  “And NOW I’m going to be late...and I can’t find my stupid robe...I still have to do my hair but I can’t find my favorite hairbrush...or my leather belt that looks so good on me but Ami still has it and I think she lost it. It doesn’t matter anyway, beca
use my dress-pants don’t fit me right because I’m retaining water like a canteen...”

  Keiko finally yanked a coral-colored robe from her closet and used it to cover herself up. She plopped herself down on the edge of her bed and sulked, her eyes beginning to water.

  “...and now you’re probably going to go around bragging to everybody about how you were able to make your Gocho tear up, aren’t you?”

  Nariko didn’t know what to say. Her brain searched through everything she knew about etiquette for the proper phrase or gesture for this situation and produced no suggestions.

  “I...uh...my apologies, Keiko,” Nariko stammered, feeling completely overwhelmed by Keiko’s emotional outburst. “I, uh, apologize for the intrusion, but there’s really no reason to get so worked up. I mean, it’s not like it should matter if I saw you...but I didn’t see anything...but if I had it shouldn’t matter...right?” She cut herself off and took a deep breath before continuing.

  “I’m really sorry. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?” Nariko said, now disgusted with her own behavior.

  Keiko sniffled pitifully and wiped away an emerging tear with the back of her hand. She took a deep breath and her anger seemed to slip out of her. Her hair returned to black.

  “It’s okay, Nari-chan,” she assured, standing up. “Just wait there a minute while I get ready and then we can go to the festival together.”

  “Thank you for understanding,” Nariko said, relieved. “I assure you this will not happen again.”

  “See to it. Just assign yourself a day of fasting for your infraction and I won’t report you,” Keiko said, turning her attention to her reflection in the mirror. She re-secured her robe and began happily primping herself.

  Nariko accepted the offer and halfway saluted before she realized how strange this all was.

  How did this happen? It should have been Keiko apologizing, but somehow the situation is completely turned around and I’m the one who has been assigned punishment.