Heart of a Traitor

by Aaron Lee Yeager

  “Should have just left him there,” Michi commented.

  “Hey, this one isn’t chocolate, it’s carob!” Keiko complained, slapping her robot on the dome. “Are you trying to poison me?”

  “So, he wasn’t on Correll when it...you know...fell?” Dargner asked.

  “No,” Keiko grumbled, jamming chocolate into her mouth.

  “So is he...you know...cursed?”

  Everyone went quite for a second. Despite its overwhelming presence in their lives, it wasn’t something they normally discussed openly.

  “To be honest, we’re not sure,” Keiko said at length. “He doesn’t seem to be. I guess we won’t know for sure till he dies.”

  “Sorano Jinnai,” Mai announced over the loudspeakers, “will be representing Shiro squad in Tsuken-pod charming. Please report to the Tsuken-pod station in five minutes.”

  Sorano’s bloodshot eyes opened in horror.

  “I don’t know how to charm,” she gasped.

  Stumbling and mumbling, Sorano approached the Tsuken-pod station apprehensively. The Tsuken sprout stood up vertically from its pot, its young green pod held up by its wide stem.

  Sorano looked bewilderingly at the selection of traditional instruments provided, like the hourglass shaped Otsuzumi drum and a thirteen stringed zither called a Koto. There were also some more modern instruments, like the side-blown Sashi wind flute and the electric Biwa. She selected the Sashi, mostly because it was the only one that seemed remotely familiar to her and smiled nervously at the judges, who smiled neutrally back.

  She brought the mouthpiece up to her lips and placed her fingers on the control levers, trying to remember how she had seen other people hold it and imitated them as best she could. With a gentle hum, Sorano breathed into the instrument.

  The sound that came out was the most horrible screech. A gagging howl of sputtering discordance, which caused one of the judges to drop his data slate and cover his ears. The sound echoed throughout the bay, sounding like some horribly wounded animal.

  Sorano continued her charade with unflappable optimism.

  “Perhaps I am a savant,” she thought. “Today, I will discover a hidden ability and I will cause the pod to do something spectacular. These things respond to melody, but maybe they respond to the opposite of melody too, in a new and unusual way that no one has ever seen because no one has ever thought to try it before me. Perhaps the vine will bloom right before their eyes and everyone will be forced to applaud me as a prodigy.”

  Sorano imagined the judges shaking her hands and smiled. She stopped her screeching cacophony and glanced over at the Tsuken-pod, to see what its reaction would be.

  The Tsuken-pod turned a sickly color of brown and fell over, dead.

  Sorano timidly put the instrument back into its recess and apologized to those nearby then made her way back to the table, where Michi and Taka were having a good laugh at her expense.

  “There has got to be an event better suited to my skills,” Sorano complained as she sat back down.

  “Sorry, Sora, but they don’t give out points for oversleeping and overeating,” Michi commented, stirring cream into her saucer of chocolate mousse.

  Reika walked by with some of the members of her squad, her tail swishing happily, until her eyes met Nariko’s. Reika didn’t lower her eyes, but Nariko looked away, thoughtfully chewing on her lip.

  “Why do you look away? I thought you were better than me,” Reika prodded.

  “Not now, Reika.”

  Reika put her cupped hand up against her feline ear as they walked away. “What’s that? I can’t hear you all the way down there at the bottom of the scoreboard. Speak up next time.”

  Scoreboard?

  Ami watched Kuroi squad longingly as they walked by.

  “Kuroi squad has the best nickname,” she sighed, “’The Widowmakers,’ it just sounds so kawaii.”

  Ami fidgeted with her plate of cookies and then suddenly brightened up.

  “Hey, we should come up with a good nickname for our squad too,” she suggested.

  Everyone else at the table became silent, unsure of how to respond to such an absurd request.

  “Um, Ami,” Michi finally spoke up, “a nickname is something that other people give you. It doesn’t count if you give it to yourself.”

  “Yeah, but if we come up with something really catchy, other people will pick it up really quick and start using it as well,” Ami insisted.

  “Let’s give it a shot,” Keiko suggested. “Maybe we’ll come up with something good.”

  Keiko is the only one whoever takes Ami seriously.

  Ami thought for a second and then brightened up further, like she had just been injected with a ray of sunshine.

  “I got it! Our squad was responsible for helping win the battle on Kall, so we can be ‘The Kall Girls.’”

  Everyone looked at Ami like she was crazy and Keiko began choking on the brownie she was eating.

  “That’s horrible, Ami,” Sorano said. “We can’t be ‘The Kall Girls.’”

  “Well, why not?” Ami persisted.

  “Well...because a call-girl is...well,” Sorano stuttered.

  Taka chuckled to herself. “You gotta admit, it certainly would be something that the other squads would pick up on and start using,” she said.

  “Keep your voice down,” Keiko counseled, pounding on her chest to dislodge the brownie. “If Reika hears us we’ll never hear the end of it.”

  “If we become ‘the call girls,’ I’m putting in for a transfer,” Michi stated.

  “Sakurako Shimizu,” Mai announced over the loudspeakers, “will be representing Shiro squad at the crystal-trial. Please report to the crystal station in five minutes.”

  The others changed their attention over to Sakurako and wished her luck.

  “Go get ’em Saku,” Sorano encouraged with a slap on the back. “Hit ’em with your broom; throw a black cat at ’em.”

  Sakurako paused and turned back. “Was that a witch joke?”

  “Awww, don’t get mad,” Sorano admonished, taking a swig of wine. “We know we only tease you because we like you.”

  Sakurako’s silver eyes twinkled and she gave a small smile. “Oh, I don’t get mad; I just curse people with baldness.”

  Sakurako walked off and everyone had a good laugh. Everyone except Sorano, who asked concernedly, “She was joking, right?”

  As soon she was gone, Taka grabbed an ivory shaker from the table and began maniacally emptying its contents onto Sakurako’s plate.

  Sakurako spoke quietly as she walked; removing the charm she had placed on herself to mask her presence. It was one of the few incantations she felt quite confident with and it helped her get through unbearable social situations like this without having to talk much. It was Mika, however, who had truly mastered the spell. She could make her presence disappear completely, so that an unwary person could look directly at her and not even notice her.

  Sakurako sighed. She longed for her mentor to return to the Seventh. There was still so much that she needed to learn and she couldn’t learn it from the mundane.

  “I’m sure by now I must have formed some really bad study habits since Mika left, but I am not experienced enough to identify them.

  Even without looking back, Sakurako could feel the demonic aura that Nariko was giving off. “She is losing the struggle and she knows she is losing the struggle. I just pray she does the right thing, or I will be forced to act.”

  Sakurako approached the station and was handed a small pointed dagger, little more than an icepick, barely able to scratch the surface of the crystal, let alone shatter it. The crystal itself stood about four feet tall, a deep lavender color. “Someone in the Seventh must have come from a family of crystal sculptors to have produced such a rare and beautiful color,” she thought.

  Trial by crystal was one of the thirteen trials new inductees would face as they reached the end of their initial training. It was a sacred and ancient ritu
al, going back to the earliest days of Correllian sword training.

  Sakurako closed her eyes and reversed her grip on the dagger, tapping the crystal with the pommel. The crystal hummed sweetly as the tap caused it to vibrate. Sakurako spoke quietly, so quietly that it was barely above a whisper. Ancient and elegant words of power, taught to her by her mentor. The world around her came to life, as her skin absorbed the vibrations coming off of the crystal. Nearby objects and people were perceptible to her as ripples in a pond that defined their surfaces. Within her world of sound the crystal itself shone brightly, like a fading star. She could feel every point of its exterior and interior, a three-dimensional perception of its form and structure. She could also feel...its flaw.

  Sakurako flipped her dagger back over and stabbed at the crystal, her eyes still closed as she aimed at the flaw in its heart. Her dagger made a sharp ping as it hit the surface of the crystal, barely scratching its surface. A heart beat later, the crystal cracked and split in two with a horrible bang, the two halves falling to the ground on either side of the mount that had held it.

  Trial by crystal had little practical application. Its purpose was spiritual, to instill in the young warrior the concept of shui-nin-jau, or force correctly applied. The value of precision over power. A dagger could split a large crystal when it struck the flaw intentionally placed in the heart of the crystal as it grew. By using her craft, Sakurako had given herself an added advantage, but there were no rules against that, after all.

  Sakurako walked back toward her table, to the applause of those who had been watching.

  “That was well done, Saku,” Taka said triumphantly as she gave her a hearty slap on the back. “I heard the purple ones were the hardest to break.”

  “It’s not purple, its lavender,” Ami corrected.

  “Whatever,” Taka dismissed. “To me, it’s purple.”

  Sakurako sat down silently and returned to eating her udon noodles. Ami and Taka’s attention was drawn back to Sorano, who was beginning to doze off again.

  “That oughtta be enough to pull us ahead of Momoiro squad,” Michi pointed out as she shoved another spoonful of purin pudding into her mouth.

  “What do you mean by that?” Nariko asked.

  “Didn’t you know? We keep score in the Seventh.” Michi pointed at the large three-dimensional display that hung in the air over Mai’s command desk. It listed all ten Senshi squads in the Seventh Division, as well as the cyber-priests, medical staff, and command staff. Next to each was a breakdown of the participants, the events they had drawn for the day, and points awarded.

  “The winning squads get first pick of assignments for the coming year, while the losing squads get stuck doing all of the shinkay work,” Michi explained as she sent her robot off for another serving of ice cream.

  Nariko found this practice very disrespectful to the spirit of Shogatsu.

  Doesn’t that woman keep any of the old ways sacred? This isn’t supposed to be a contest. Besides, my own squad is disgracefully low on the chart, second to last place. If I have to participate in Inami’s sacrilege, we should at least be in the top three.

  Most aggravating of all to her, Reika’s Kuroi squad was currently in first place.

  “We better not come in last again this year,” Taka complained as she stuffed another rice ball into her mouth. “There’s no way I’m patrolling the methane bowels on the queen ships again. I threw my combat-suit in the plasma furnace and I still couldn’t get the stink out.”

  Michi’s face suddenly darkened at this.

  “If you wanted to do better this year, then why didn’t you try harder at the combat range?” she barked.

  Keiko put down her bowl of lobster bisque and sent her robot off for another bowl.

  “Did our squad already get selected for that?” she asked.

  “Yeah, you two weren’t here yet so Michi and I had to fill in for you,” Taka announced.

  “How did you do?” Nariko asked, fearing the answer.

  Michi pointed an angry finger at Taka.

  “This little aho died six times in simulated combat!”

  “One was a suicide,” Taka added proudly.

  Nariko put her face in her hands. She could tell that this was going to be a long year.

  Suddenly Sakurako leaned forward in her chair and began choking and gagging in agony. Her face turned beet red as she grabbed the crystal pitcher of water off the table and began guzzling it down clumsily, water spilling down into her lap. The frantic sounds woke up Sorano, who looked at Sakurako lazily. Ami threw up her arms in frustration.

  “Stop waking Sorano back up,” Ami complained. “I’ve been the first one to fall asleep for the last three years and I want it to be someone else for a change.”

  Taka began laughing heartily to herself and held her glass up to toast what she obviously thought was a wonderful joke.

  No one else joined in.

  “You’re mean,” Ami accused as she picked the nuts she didn’t like off of her brownie.

  “Come on, Ami-bear, consider it part of her ongoing training. All of this rich food is going to spoil us. We need to train our stomachs to eat anything should the need arise in the field,” Taka justified.

  “Like widdle frogs?” Michi quipped.

  “And just when will I need to subsist off of an entire shaker of curry flakes?” Sakurako asked coldly, panting from the burning in her mouth.

  “It could happen,” Taka finally said and raised another bottle of cherry-wine up to her lips.

  Sakurako timidly snapped her fingers and there was a flash of silvery light. When the flash subsided, Taka’s hair fell off of her head and evaporated before it hit the ground.

  Taka’s eyes shot open and she choked, spitting out her mouthful of cherry-wine as she gagged.

  “By the throne, what did you do to me?” she gurgled, grabbing her bald scalp.

  Everyone began laughing energetically at Taka’s expense as she fluttered around in the air in a panic, indignantly wiping the wine off of her face and uniform.

  “She told you she would do it!” Ami giggled.

  “This better grow back! Tell me this is going to grow back! If it doesn’t grow back, I’m gonna kill ya! You hear me, you stupid witch?!”

  Sakurako giggled shyly, covering her mouth with her hand.

  Taka spun around madly in the air, eliciting laughs from several of the nearby tables.

  Sorano licked her lips hungrily as her robot brought over an ice cream sundae. Striking a match, Sorano lit the little sparkler that had been stuck in the top.

  Ami’s pink eyes grew large and she screamed in fright, running away from the table as fast as she possibly could.

  “What was that about?” Michi asked

  Keiko looked concerned.

  Nariko stood up, slowly at first then with increasing speed. She turned and began walking, but she wasn’t chasing after Ami, she was walking toward Mai’s command console in the center of the hall.

  Where are you going?

  I’ve made up my mind. I’m going to relinquish my command and ask to be confined to a cell.

  Nariko walked swiftly at first, her hand on her rank insignia, ready to tear it off, but as she approached the command console her pace slowed. She thought of a prison cell, endless hours or silence and the madness that was sure to follow.

  If the face of the complete loss of her freedom, her resolution waned.

  I have no objections, of course. It makes no difference to me if you give in to the curse in a cell or on a battlefield. But first, ask yourself something. Why are you doing this?

  To keep the others safe from me.

  And just how safe will they be when they’re all dead and captured?

  What do you mean?

  Think about Inami. She never hesitates to sacrifice others to achieve her goals. How many Carrion died in those raids? How many people died on Kall?

  Nariko began to grow concerned.

  Remember why you were assi
gned to the Seventh Division in the first place. Inami is going to get your entire division wiped out attacking two demon worlds because she thinks it will make her the next Taisho.

  But, if I don’t step down...I’ll...

  You can still step down, but first you need to remove Inami from her position. If you don’t all of your friends are going to be killed and captured. Just what do you think will happen to them in the dungeons of Bael’Eth?

  Nariko stood there, so conflicted she could barely remember to breathe.

  Don’t believe me? Just look at her. Use your power.

  Nariko reluctantly lifted her eyes. Inami was circling around the arena wearing another one of her ridiculous costumes. A skin-tight fuchsia Chipao dress slit up to the hip with white trim. Her hair had been ratted and teased into a giant green afro, probably in imitation of some character from an animated holo-drama. Inami lounged on a pillowed velvet palanquin being held aloft by four hulky men wearing nothing but speedos and gallons of body oil. Nariko’s eyes slanted as she watched Inami drink and laugh.

  Inami’s lust is for power and she will do anything to keep it.

  Nariko thought long and hard about the people she had come to know in the Seventh. Many of them had even called her ‘friend.’ To be honest, she still didn’t know if she could ever return such feelings, or if she could ever return such feelings, but she knew what it was to suffer and she did not wish it upon them.

  If I don’t remove Inami, they will end up prisoners inside a demon world. They will be mutilated and killed over and over again, they will all go through what I am going through right now and then finally they will completely fall to Asfanţit.

  “Nariko Amano,” Mai announced through the loudspeakers, “will be representing squad Shiro in the combat arena. Please have your entry and challenge ready in five minutes.”

  Here is your chance.

  With that realization Nariko’s mind was made up. There was no way she would allow them that fate. This mad woman had to be stopped. She straightened her shoulders and straightened her uniform and walked boldly toward the combat arena.

  I wonder, did you just do it again? Manipulating me. Is this my new weakness?