When it’s done right it is the source of all joy and truth. But what do you do when it isn’t? What happens when you find yourself united to the wrong kind of person, the kind of person that pulls you down? A kind of weight that makes your heart feel heavy and your mind unfocused. The kind that makes you live in a shadow, replaying the words and actions of your last encounter, unable to move on.
That kind of person can hurt you deeper than anyone else ever could and when it happens, you protect yourself with distance. You revoke their ties to you, to make sure that they cannot hurt you so deeply again.
But then a different kind of pain appears, the pain of isolation. Because once you have felt what it’s like to be truly connected to another person you cannot go back to solidarity without realizing how silent and colorless it is, because now you have something to compare it to.
For a long time there was only one person now to whom Ami would give power over her emotions, only one person whom she would call friend. The rest of the universe could die and burn, for all she cared, although she would never say so out loud. That might hurt their feelings. For the longest time, her night sky had only one star left in it.
But now there was a chance for new stars to appear and Ami felt elated at the prospect. It had been a long time since she had felt so excited. She sat on the edge of her bed, trying to contain her energy within her little frame as the minutes ticked away.
Ami picked at the lock of curled pink hair that fell down the side of her face. Normally she didn’t like wearing her hair up like this, but tonight was special.
The walls of Ami’s room were stacked from floor to ceiling with empty cages; each one adorned with a nametag and personalized monogrammed food dish. She waved at her cages happily as she swung her legs back and forth.
The pink chronometer on her nightstand chimed with the hour and Ami sat up straight and smoothed out the wrinkles from her dress.
The time had finally arrived. Deftly Ami reached up with one of her white gloves into the air and slid her finger downward. The air split before her, like a zipper. The opening was bright and earthy, like a light shone down a hole in the ground. Ami opened the empty cage next to her in preparation, then reached into the hole and grabbed tightly onto something.
Chapter Forty-Two
False Gatherings
What profit does it give a man to build a great fortress, but leave its gates open and its windows unbarred? Likewise guard your mind and your thoughts for an open mind is an undefended mind, ripe for invasion.
-Book of Cerinţǎ, Chapter 30, verses 67-68
Within a standard week, five chunky battlecrusiers joined the Onikano beneath the sea of sleeping Kuldrizi. Within another week the number of Confederate vessels had grown to nearly five dozen. The timetable had been accelerated by nearly a month and Nori’s forge was pushed to its absolute limits to complete the yoking process on the last of the smaller creatures. The asteroid belts of the system had been sucked completely dry in the voracious need for materials for the process.
The reaction of Confederate commanders to the unusual summons had been surprisingly cordial. Inami had prepared long and involved explanations about the Kuldrizi as well as the Onikano itself and had been expecting to have to engage in difficult communications every time a new ship arrived in system. There had even been some talk as to whether incoming vessels should be briefed in advance to prevent them from opening fire on the sleeping alien creatures before proper explanations could be given, but no such problems had occurred. The authority of the Marshals was fear and fear had the effect of discouraging questions and encouraging acceptance in subordinates. If the arriving commanders had any objections, they had kept them to themselves.
In less than three weeks, the authority of Rochestri collected the planetary garrisons from eighty-two different planets from the western half of the Confederacy, leaving their worlds largely defenseless. Millions of infantry, including specialized paratroopers, mechanized infantry, armored cavalry, heavy-gauge artillery, thousands of squadrons of fighters, transports, tanks and a full flotilla of warships, and support vessels.
The operation was officially classified as the Excelikas Crusade. Registering the operation in the Terran data-net was surprisingly simple. Any planetary governor or magistrate making inquiries on the crusade, its plans or duration, would find that Marshal authority currently sealed all relevant documents. Inami was becoming drunk with the power of it all and had already declared her birthday as a planetary holiday on a dozen worlds before Mai stopped her.
It was at this critical time, two days before they were scheduled to depart for the Uragan, that Inami decided to invite all of the command staffs from the Crusade onto the Onikano for a ‘pre-campaign victory celebration.’
Captain Lazarus was conscious of how small and vulnerable he felt outside of his armor. Even military dress uniforms from Ormen were made of a bullet-resistant material, for formal gatherings were traditionally prime locations for assassination. Coming from such a culture, it was difficult for Lazarus to see celebrations as something to enjoy. They were something to survive.
Still, he was quite excited about one thing. Among the varied military forces that had responded to the Marshal’s summons were a full coven of the Brides of the Luminarch from Kall and Lazarus was looking forward to finally being able to meet them face-to-face.
The Warrior Shrine-Maidens of Kall were known throughout the Confederacy as a byword for purity and devotion. They were forbidden to touch another living soul, leaving their bodies pure and undefiled for their afterlife with the Luminarch. They were holy angels of the battlefield, striking at humanity’s enemies with the purity from within themselves.
The Captain glanced down at the map on his data slate while his command staff followed a pace behind him through the strange corridors of the Onikano. Normally he would have considered it insulting to arrive on a ship without a guide to greet them, but that grievance would have to be resolved later.
Lazarus took half a step backward when the blast doors sensed their approach and opened automatically, revealing the lavish assembly hall that had been prepared to receive them.
Coral drapes had been hung along the walls of the circular room, interspacing the distance between slim holo-screens that depicted the planetary flags and emblems from each of the cultures present for the crusade. Every few minutes, one of the flag images would be replaced briefly by images of heroes and saints from that planet’s history. Each command staff had an assigned table that was placed so that their flag or emblem stood behind them as they sat. Each table was already served with food and drink native to that particular planet and a large circular table at the very center of the room held identical dishes from each table, for any present who wished to sample dishes from other tables.
Those in attendance seemed to be enjoying themselves and were conversing in small and large gatherings throughout the room, using the translators provided for those who didn’t speak Common.
Lazarus was pleased at the care taken in the room’s preparation. By holding the gathering in a circular room, it subconsciously conveyed a feeling of equality between all of the commanders involved, setting the stage for cooperation and synergy. Even the table set for Hulsey, the planet of Rochestri’s birth, was no more or less decorated than any of the other tables at the gathering, in spite of the fact that it was his authority alone that had gathered them there.
Sitting there, wearing Rochestri’s armor and long coat with her face covered with synthetic skin and a salt and pepper beard that made her the spitting image of Rochestri, Inami had to admit that Mai had completely won this round. The people of Hulsey had very peculiar eating habits and, to keep up the ruse of her part, Inami would have to eat every scrap of nasty food on her plate and drink every drop of non-alcoholic wine that evening.
“Mai is going to pay for this. How can something be disgusting and flavorless at the same time?” Inami grumbled to herself as she placed another piece of br
eaded yellow fish into her mouth. It was very strange for her to hear a man’s voice coming out of her mouth. The nerve-grid mesh bonded to her neck under the synthskin pulled and modified the shape of her vocal chords, making her voice a convincing imitation of Rochestri’s low growl.
The group of officers talking near her table grew silent and parted respectfully when the Angelus Noctem approached the Hulsey table, their muscular bodies towering over the regular humans around them. The Captain announced his arrival and thanked his host, as was his custom.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” the Marshal said warmly, shaking the Captain’s hand without standing up. To Inami’s dismay, Captain Lazarus sat down at her table and after several minutes making small talk, Inami was becoming desperate to interest them in any other part of the room but her table.
“Have you tried the seafood from Kanvovich?” the Marshal asked energetically. “The nitrogen-fish are the delicacy of the sector.”
“I must admit,” Lazarus said cautiously, “you are quite different in person than your reputation would indicate.”
“Uh-huh, you know we also have some authentic Shanite Ale for the more adventurous among you. It’s strong enough that even your augmented bodies will feel the effects.”
Lazarus’ mood visibly improved when a young lady approached their table with her staff, wearing her ceremonial gray purity armor, which consisted of a tight armored bodysuit, decorated with flowing crimson tabards and slit-robes.
“I am Sister Katherine Mary, High Priestess of the Holy Order,” she said, clasping her hands in prayer.
Lazarus returned her greeting, respectfully keeping his distance to avoid any accidental physical contact with her and invited her to sit and join them.
Inami fought to keep the smile from her lips when the ‘High Priestess’ tensed and grunted as she sat down. The Brides believed that pain cleansed the body and focused the mind, so the inside of the bodysuits were studded with small metallic needles that pierced the skin.
“Maybe I won this round after all,” Inami thought as she watched Mai attempt to keep her composure in the armor.
“We find ourselves standing on the edge of history,” the Marshal explained, having completely run out of small talk for the night. “The whole of the Uragan is emptied into the Tyrant sector and we will strike at their exposed heart. This will be a glorious all-out assault of one hundred million fighting men and women...”
“Against a fortress-world of eighteen billion.” Sister Katherine Mary interrupted.
“Don’t you have something you need to be doing?” the Marshal asked, irritated.
“Not really,” the High Priestess admitted.
The Marshal laughed and kicked the priestess underneath the table, causing her to wince as needles were driven deeper into her flesh.
“You know, I just remembered that it is time to lead my sisters in prayer,” Katherine politely excused herself as she slowly rose from the table and walked away.
Lazarus frowned to see her leave, obviously disappointed.
Mai snatched a chocolate from the center table as she walked over to the Kall table, where all of the Gunshos from the Seventh Division were gathered, dressed in the same gray purity armor as she was.
“At least I’m not suffering alone,” Mai said to herself. “I’ll get Inami for this.”
“Look at this place. Eighty-two different planets and they look like their uniforms were all designed by the same old man,” Reika commented, her feline ears concealed beneath a gray head-tress, “Why do they always use that ugly olive-green color?”
“I’ll happily trade with them. This armor is not flattering at all,” complained Tani, Gunsho of Haiiro squad, as she twisted about trying to get a glimpse of herself from behind. Does this make me look fat?”
“No, but your fat thighs do,” Reika responded.
Tani turned a bright red and covered up her backside with her hands, her mouth hanging open in offense. This caught the attention of some of the officers nearby, who obviously found her behavior inappropriate for a priestess.
Keiko separated herself a few paces from the other Gunshos and ate another spoon full of the sweet gruel that the people of Kall ate. She had managed to hide all of her hair underneath the armor’s head-tress, to avoid any difficult questions. From her position in the room she had a clear view of Inami as she made a fool of herself at the Hulsey table, flirting and winking at some of the female command staff from Iberon.
Keiko turned away. Despite several attempts, she had been unable to get any additional information out of Nariko. Nariko just lay there in her cell, speaking to no one, eating nothing, drinking nothing, and doing nothing. It broke Keiko’s heart just to think about it.
Keiko slowly swirled the gruel in her bowl. She wanted to trust Inami, but she couldn’t shake this feeling of foreboding and now that things were heating up she felt even more uneasy about this crusade.
The target had not yet been officially announced, but from Mai’s comment it was fairly obvious. Even in the Uragan there were only a handful of worlds that fit the description of a fortress world with eighteen billion defenders and they were all demon worlds.
Keiko knew that describing it as a suicide mission was being generous at best, but she didn’t know what to do. Her first instinct was to take those close to her and run away, but she had done so in the past and had paid dearly for it.
She was hesitant to make a decision. Should she stay and most likely die, or leave and be branded a twice-deserter and live forever with the shame of it.
Keiko looked at the men gathered around the room. They all seemed so young to her eyes, even though physically she appeared younger than all of them. Keiko considered youth to be, not a physical state, but a mental state.
“Youth is a life that has not yet experienced any real tragedy in it,” she thought as she ate another spoonful. It was regret that made a person old and Keiko felt very old that night.
She had never been especially fond of Don Kielter, but she felt somewhat responsible for his passing. It had been her mission, her watch, and her responsibility. The first time in three centuries anyone had trusted her with command again and she felt she had failed.
“It was his choice to come with us, of course,” Keiko decided, “but he never could have made that choice if he had never met us.” Keiko remembered what he had been like when she had first met him, looking criminally handsome there in the shuttlebay.
Looking around the room, she wondered how many of the men present would be cursed by coming into contact with them as well. She wondered if she, in a few months, would be sitting somewhere and thinking about the first time she met these people.
Keiko quietly exited the hall without excusing herself and walked down the empty corridors of the Onikano, listening to the quiet pulsing of the ship’s living arteries. She had so many things on her mind, which was strange for her. It seemed like in the past she didn’t have so many things to think about. Her life had been filled with routine, hobbies, and chores. She couldn’t decide if that was better, or if that had been the problem.
Keiko tapped the runes on the door controls and entered Shiro’s equipment bay. She was surprised to see that she wasn’t alone. Sorano and Michi were there as well, working on the latest version of Hachikou.
Keiko walked up to them and they sensed her indecision.
“What’s wrong, Kei?” Sorano asked, wiping her hands on her shirt.
“I want you to gather everyone together,” Keiko said quietly. “We’re leaving the Seventh Division.”
“We’re what?” Taka asked, landing alongside her.
“I’ve learned what Inami is planning to do. She is going to attack a demon world.”
The others gasped in unbelief.
“I know this sounds wrong,” Keiko began. “Believe me; I know how it feels to be a deserter. I’ve done it before and it kills inside. But if we stay here we are all going to die.”
“But, maybe Inami ha
s figured out a way to...”
“Do you know what Inami is doing up there right now? She is dressed like a man and is hitting on women,” Keiko pressured. “She has gone mad.”
The others went quiet.
“I want you to pack your things and be back here in an hour,” Keiko said. “Make sure Ami doesn’t bring too much crap.”
“Ami isn’t here,” Sakurako explained as she stepped up. “She was sent ahead on special assignment earlier today.”
“She’s already there!?” Keiko repeated, the color washing out of her face.
Keiko turned around a paced a few steps. She wasn’t prepared for this. She was prepared to be called a coward and even a traitor for refusing to rush in and throw her life away, but she hadn’t planned on leaving a friend behind. Sure, Ami was annoying and childish and loud and clingy and obstinate...and she copied everything Keiko did which drove her nuts sometimes.
Still, without Ami...
“So, what are we going to do, Gunsho?” Sorano asked.
“I...I don’t know.” Keiko said. “I’m...not good at this.”
Keiko paced a bit more, biting her thumbnail.
“We’re not really going to leave Ami behind are we?” Sakurako asked.
When it was put that way, Keiko knew it was right. “No, we won’t.”
“I just hope I haven’t doomed us all,” Keiko thought to herself.
Later that night, the only sound on the command deck of the Diabolus was the faint clicking of the Atrudi as they performed their sacred duties of monitor and control, the cables and leads extending out from their gray-skinned skulls making it impossible for them to ever leave their posts.
The command chair had been moved so that Jenther could establish his auger circle while still being present on the deck. Sacred stones had been placed in a perfect triangle, each stone etched with the prayers of the goddesses their hopes and expectations for their true children. Jenther placed another scroll into the holy blue fire, which flared brightly, highlighting his silvery skin as he meditated.
Heart of a Traitor Page 46
